Songs of War and Love

Bloody Sakura

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 5
Published: 05/12/2004
Last Updated: 12/12/2004
Status: in_progress

After fifth year, Voldemort rises to power in Wizarding World and Harry is forced to run away. Six years later, he's back, and now needs to confront his nemesis, his friends, and the girl he loves. H/Hr, D/G, R/LL.

Chapters

1. Prelude

2. Overture

1. Prelude

Songs of War and Love

Rating: PG-13.

Genre: Action/Adventure / Romance

Summary: After fifth year, Voldemort rises to power in Wizarding World and Harry is forced to run away. Six years later, he's back, and now needs to confront his nemesis, his friends, and the girl he loves. H/Hr, D/G, R/LL.

Disclaimer: I don’t own the characters. They belong to the wonderfully talented J.K. Rowling. Chapter titles belong to CLAMP. Plot is inspired by CLAMP’s X/1999 novel.

Chapter 1: Prelude

On a dark alley of London, green eyes silently watched the starry sky. Locks of black hair are blown by the wind, crossing the sight. The young man in atypical black clothing brushes the hair away, exposing a lightning-shaped scar to the moonlight.

"London," he says, looking around himself. "It's been six years."

He reaches a crowded avenue, and looks around for a hotel. He had never walked on those parts of the city. In fact, he had barely walked on London at all. Both his childhood and adolescence didn't leave him enough time.

"Excuse me," he says, stopping a woman who passed by. "Can you tell me if there is a hotel nearby?" He asks, politely.

She turns her face to his, and then the street lights show him a face he didn't expect to meet so early. Though expression is changed by maturity, it still carries the signature beauty in its brown eyes and hair. He is sure it is her, but can't get himself to say her name. He can't.

"Oh, there is one right on that corner," she answers, pointing to a somewhat big construction five blocks away. In the few moments it takes him to hide his surprise, the same realization dawns on her.

"Hmm... Harry?" She asks, her voice weak and unsure. He silently thanks his hair that once again fell over his scar - and at the same time, he curses it - before he answers.

"No, I'm sorry. Name's John Greenwood," he says, and realizes it was more convincing than he expected. Last time he had tried to lie to her, years before, he had turned his eyes away in guilt confession. Maybe all the six years of distance had helped.

"Oh, it's okay," she says, in clear disappointment. "You just reminded me of an old friend," she added.

He forced himself to smile at her, and saw she turn away in something that seemed both embarrassment and longing. He sighed inwardly.

"Thank you for the information, miss," he said quickly, and turned away before she could reply with an unhappy "You're welcome".

Harry Potter had spent the last six years away, in France, along with the former Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore. That had been an emergency measure, when Voldemort suddenly stroked the Ministry of Magic, before his sixth year of magical training was started. During these years, Harry had no contact with any of his friends, and found out the one he missed the most to be Hermione Granger, whom he had just met.

When Harry was taken away to France, he was still mourning the loss of his godfather, Sirius Black. Back there, Hermione had been the only one who was able to talk to him properly, and the two of them were very drawn to one another. In France, after months without talking to her, Harry had finally realized that his feelings for his friend had changed. He loved his best friend; but couldn't say anything to her locked away in France.

At the end of the sixth year away, Albus Dumbledore passed away, his age being too advanced even for wizarding standards. In his last words, he had told Harry it was time to go back to England, and to confront Voldemort. Albus had also asked Harry to contact his former friends - the Weasley family, living in a hideout near their former house; Remus Lupin, living in the still unplottable Grimmauld Place; and Hermione Granger, who now lived as a muggle. Upon hearing of Hermione's fate, Harry had decided not to after Hermione again - it was probably safer for her if she remained as muggle, away from everything that was about to happen. That applied to pretty much everyone - the Weasleys probably had problems enough living in hiding, and also had Remus. In the end, Harry Potter had decided he would go against Voldemort on his own.

That's why meeting his former friend had been so shocking.

Hermione was living as a muggle, yes, but she seemed not to have forgotten him, and also not to hate him. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to tell her he was indeed Harry Potter, and to tell her he hadn't stopped thinking about her for a second, and that they could be happy forevermore. Unfortunately, Voldemort was still a threat, and Harry didn't know if Hermione's feelings matched his.

'It's better this way,' he thought while walking to the hotel, and his heart ached.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry awoke in the middle of the night, in one of the hotel’s bedrooms. He looked at the bedside clock; he had slept for three hours only. Yet, he felt refreshed enough.

‘Maybe I slept too much on the trip from France,’ he thought to himself.

He walked away from the bed, picked his wand from the drawer, and walked out from the bedroom. It was two in the morning, but he didn’t care. He left the bedroom keys in the entrance counter, as the hotel rules said, and stepped into the streets.

Regardless of the unusual time, Harry had no problems in walking around the streets. His now impressive six feet build would scare away any street thugs that would otherwise walk on him, and his confident face was somehow intimidating.

He looked for a place he hadn’t seen in almost seven years. The Leaky Cauldron, that was the entrance to the Wizarding World in London, wasn’t visited by Harry since the beginning of his fifth year; he could barely remember what it looked like now. He just hoped it would still be there.

The sound of steps behind him interrupted him from his thoughts. He looked back to see he was being followed by a man and a woman. The man was very tall, and somewhat muscled; the woman was short, with attractive blue eyes and blond hair. Both of them were dressed in wizarding outfits.

“Who are you?” Harry asked, his hand reaching for the wand in his pocket.

“We’re wizards,” the woman answered, showing her own wand, “like you, I suppose.” The man by her side also drew his wand, but none of them seemed ready to attack.

Harry drew his wand by instinct, and the saw the blonde smile slightly.

“So, it’s really him,” the man said. Harry thought the two of them were too suspicious. He couldn’t see the insides of their left arms. ‘Maybe they’re Death Eaters in disguise,’ Harry thought, and gripped his wand more firmly.

“You didn’t tell me who are you,” Harry said. They looked young enough to have been with him at Hogwarts; if Harry knew their names, he would know if they’re trustable or not.

“Come with us, Harry, and we’ll explain everything. Not here,” the man said, and walked towards Harry. That was all the sign he was waiting. Swiftly, he muttered two disarming spells, that caught the two strangers by surprise, and before the tall man could reach for his wand, Harry shot a Stunner at him. As he turned to hit the blond girl, he was surprised to see her wand was already in hand, and that she had fired a Full-Body Bind at him.

“You didn’t need to be so violent, Harry,” she said, picking the man’s wand from the floor. She suddenly stopped as she heard the sounds of muggle police coming. “Guess we made too much sound,” she said, seemingly disappointed. “Catch your wand, Harry,” she said, and with a gesture she dismissed her spell.

Harry was surprised by that, to say the least; but before he could ask her anything, or even apologize, she apparated away, taking her still stunned friend with her. Harry felt something familiar about her, but as the sounds of muggle police got louder, he apparated away, back to his hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Luna Lovegood arrived at the Weasleys’ living room, at the same time a stunned Neville Longbottom came to his senses, in her arms. An anxious Molly Weasley ran towards him, looking somewhat nervous.

After Voldemort took control of the Wizarding Britain, the Weasleys, as big supporters of Albus Dumbledore and the “light side”, went into hiding and joined several groups of “resistance”, who were actually Voldemort’s biggest problem and so far had stopped the dark wizard from reaching the muggle world. Luna and Neville, as friends of Ron and Ginny, had “joined” the Weasley family after their father and grandmother, respectively, have been killed by Death Eaters.

“Thank Merlin you’re here,” she said, and sighed in relief. “Now only Ron’s missing. What happened to you, Neville dear?” She asked, as she noticed Neville’s dizzy look.

“We found him,” Luna answered quickly, as she handed Neville his wand. “I think he was walking towards the Leaky Cauldron. We tried to talk, but as we didn’t say our names, he attacked us. My fault,” she added, and looked down. Molly gave her a comforting hug.

“It’s okay, dear,” the redhead matron said. “Are you sure it’s him?” She asked.

“Yes, I’m sure,” Luna replied. “After he stunned Neville, I got him into a Full-Body and could see the scar on his forehead. Also, there are his eyes and hair, which remain the same.”

Molly smiled at that, and was quickly followed by both Neville and Luna.

“Just as you said, mum, we found him alone,” Luna said, after a while. “What happened to Dumbledore?”

“Who knows, dear, who knows,” Molly replied, in a worried tone. “His letter just said Harry would be back to us, on his own, and that we should look for him because he probably would avoid us. I also wonder what happened to Albus, but for now, let’s just rejoice on having Harry back.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Harry walked into the hotel, someone watched him from the window of a nearby construction. The red mane of hair on his head would be completely unmistakable, weren’t him wearing a cap to hide it. Unfortunately, said cap wasn’t of much help, also; after all, an orange Chuddley Cannons cap worn by a man more than six feet tall wasn’t very discreet.

Ronald Weasley saw his best friend walking into a small hotel in the suburbs of London, and smiled. Six years had passed since the two of them had last seen each other; and Ron had anxiously waited for the moment of their meeting.

Ron reached the street, quietly humming a song from the Weird Sisters. He was about to cross it, towards Harry’s hotel, when he felt a hand reach his shoulder, from behind. He turned around to see who it was. A greasy-haired man was looking at him, calmly. At first, Ron was reminded of Snape; then, he just recognized the man for whom he was.

“Rookwood!” Ron said, louder than he wanted. The man sneered, and the two of them drew their wands. Ron stepped back, and so did the Death Eater.

“Hello Weasley,” Rookwood answered, his tone flat. “Seems like the rats from your family are a bit more courageous now, they are walking on the streets,” he added. Ron’s face went red, but unlike his adolescence, this time it was from pure rage, not embarrassment.

“How dare you speak of my family, traitor? And how dare you come here, in the first place?” Ron replied, before he shot a Stunner at the Death Eater…

2. Overture

Songs of War and Love

Chapter 2: Overture

Harry had barely laid into the bed, when he heard a somewhat familiar name being pronounced somewhere outside. He silently cursed his light sleep, acquired in the six years of runaway, put his glasses back on and picked his wand from the drawer.

“Rookwood” was definitely a name Harry didn’t want to hear so soon, either. He only had a faint memory of the greasy-haired Death Eater (his hair, very similar to the Hogwarts Potions teacher’s, was the strongest part of said memory), but he knew it wasn’t a person to be played with. Also, he was almost sure he knew the voice who spoke the name…

Maybe another person who was after him? He was supposed to be incognito in England. And yet, he had been there for just a few hours and two people had already gone after him…

He walked carefully to the bedroom’s window, and looked outside. There were two people there, both obviously wizards, that weren’t giving much thought to the rule of secrecy. The first one, a not-so-tall man, with the greased black hair, was obviously Rookwood, the Death Eater. The other one, who just got hit by two consecutive spells, was a tall man Harry couldn’t see the face, but that was dressed in a most weird orange-and-yellow outfit. Seemed to Harry the tall man didn’t want Rookwood to go inside the hotel, for some reason; Harry knew it was his duty to go down there and fight for his own.

Harry dashed downstairs, and threw his keys once again in the counter, to the annoyance of a fast-sleep hotel attendant. ‘Usual guests don’t go out twice during the dawn, but I’m not a usual guest,’ Harry thought. He drew his wand, and when he reached the sidewalk, he fired a curse at the Death Eater, who seemed ready to give the final blow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ron had been given a hard time by Rookwood, but he had yet to give up. Rookwood was ready to fire the Avada Kedavra, he knew; and he also knew that was a hard spell to fire, and that even high-level Death Eaters would take some time between the utterance of the words and the firing of the curse. That was the time he needed to take on the Death Eater and fire the most powerful Stunner he knew. He gripped his wand firmer and smiled as he thought how much Hermione would admire his knowledge of theory.

The killing curse never came, though. As Rookwood moved closer and pointed his wand, he was hit by a purplish beam that sent him flying to the other side of the street. Ron looked to the origin of the beam. There stood the black-haired, green-eyed form of his best friend.

Harry walked to him, but Ron quickly noticed he had no idea of whom he had helped. He extended his hand, to help Ron stood; and then, Harry noticed who exactly he was extending his hand for. The rogue strands of red hair that could be seen from under the cap, the freckles, and yet the smile. That man was Ron.

“Thanks, pal,” Ron said, with a smile that hoped for Harry’s recognizance.

“Don’t mention it, Ron,” Harry answered, knowing Ron had recognized him and that he couldn’t run from this meeting anymore.

Ron knew that to be a perfect opportunity to make a good joke and tell Harry he was someone else. Were the situation any less serious, he would have done it.

“That easy to tell, huh?” Ron asked, pointing at the double C’s in his jacket, and at the orange of his cap.

Harry nodded with a small smile as Ron pulled him into a manly hug. Harry was slow to return, but patted Ron’s back in a sign of recognizance. The two of them pulled away, and stared silently at one another.

“I ought to have known it was you, when I saw you from the window. No one would dress like that among muggles,” Harry finally said, breaking the ice of a six-year separation.

“Well, it’s not so weird an outfit,” Ron replied in his defence. “The only weird thing about the clothes is that muggles don’t know the Cannons. I can always say it’s an American team or something.”

“Right,” Harry replied in disbelief. He thought about the reaction of a wizard that saw Ron in those clothes, but thought it better to remain silent. “What about duelling mid-street? How do you explain that to the muggles?” Harry asked, walking towards the knocked Rookwood.

“Since You-Know-Who is in charge now, there are no more obliviators, so we just have to be as cautious as we can,” Ron replied, saddened. “Dad says that if we win, the next minister will have to do a mass obliviating around the country,” he added.

“Speaking of your dad, how’s your family? Albus mentioned you were still around, but never got into much detail,” Harry replied, as he searched for the fallen Death Eater’s wand.

“We’re all good, as much as we can be nowadays,” Ron replied, carefully examining Harry’s actions. “Bill, Charlie and the twins are on the north, near Scotland, fighting on another resistance group. Me, Ginny, mum and dad are still living around Ottery St. Catchpole, but on a different house. Luna and Neville live there with us, too,” he continued.

“Luna? As in Luna Lovegood? I thought you didn’t like her,” Harry said, as he picked Rookwood’s wand from the floor, and twirled it in his fingers.

“Yes, I didn’t like her before… Some things have changed,” Ron said quickly, and sighed. “Isn’t it dangerous to be playing with that? He could wake up and try to fight, you know,” the red-haired added, a bit worried.

“Well, that’s what you’re there for,” Harry replied, pointing at Ron. “If he wakes up, you shot him a Stunner before he gets to me,” Harry added with a smile. Ron turned a bit red with embarrassment. “But don’t worry, he won’t wake up. I’ve used a pretty powerful curse on him.”

Harry looked at the fallen Death Eater, then at the wand in his hand, and snapped it. A black string fell from the core, which Harry caught and burned with his wand. Throwing the pieces of wood in a nearby trashcan, he pointed his own wand at Rookwood.

“What are you going to do, Harry?” Ron asked, curious. He knew breaking a Death Eater’s wand was the common thing to these days, since there was no more Azkaban; but the way Harry looked at Rookwood, Ron was afraid Harry wanted to kill the Death Eater.

“I’m reading his mind, for any important information,” Harry replied sheepishly, trying not to sound too smug. “I’m here to look for Voldemort, as you might have presumed,” he added, the concentrated in the fallen man. Ron looked at Harry, somewhat impressed, somewhat envious. Harry broke his concentration.

“He doesn’t know much; I suppose Voldemort wipes from their minds what he doesn’t want them to know,” Harry said, looking at Ron. The latter seemed a bit disappointed.

“I wish more people could do that in the resistance; we would have reached You-Know-Who already,” Ron replied. Harry smiled, despite the knowledge in his mind that no one but him could kill the Dark Lord. This reminded him Ron and the others probably weren’t aware of the prophecy he learned six years ago; it was his duty to inform them.

“Well, I can teach you someday, it’s not hard,” Harry replied, still trying not to sound smug. “Now, since he’s not worth anything else… Obliviate!” Harry shouted, pointing his wand at Rookwood. “Muggle police will take him as a beggar or something like that.”

Ron tried to hide his impression at Harry’s powers, but failed. Harry had changed too much during these years, not much in the physical sense, but much in mind and powers. ‘The dark side should take care now,’ he thought, and smiled.

“Where are you going now, Harry?” Ron asked. He wanted to take Harry to the Weasley home; that was what he was sent for.

“Well, this night I was looking for the Leaky Cauldron, but couldn’t find it; I met a strange duo who seemed to know who I was, but wouldn’t say who they were. Then, came muggle police and I had to apparate back here… I’m staying on this hotel, as I suppose you know already.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ron replied, wondering quickly about the strange duo. “Well, maybe you’d want to come with me to my home? Mum’s anxious to meet you, you know,” Ron added, trying to sound casual.

Harry had no intention of bringing the Weasleys along with him on his mission; only he could defeat Voldemort, and he didn’t want anyone to get involved. But there was no way he could refuse this offer without sounding impolite to Ron. In the end, he complied.

“It’s fine with me,” Harry said, with a small smile. “Just let me get my things on the hotel, okay. I’ve got some new clothes your mum would like, I guess,” he added, not knowing what else to say, and Ron smiled.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny Weasley had been the first one to arrive from the search for Harry; as Dumbledore informed her mum Harry would be coming by airplane, she had been sent to the London airport to see if she could meet him, but had no such luck. She had just left the shower when she heard Luna and Neville apparate home, and tell her mother they had actually met Harry.

Ginny indeed supported the resistance, and wanted everything to be back as it was, but a sudden succession of events had led her into a way she had never expected herself to be; she was a handler for the Death Eaters.

Everything had started few months after Voldemort took control of the Ministry; her whole family was still living in the Burrow (except Percy, who, in his absolute ambition for power, joined the Death Eaters), when one day, they were attacked by a group of Death Eaters. There was an intense fight, and while Ginny had the guts to stand for herself, she didn’t have the power. She was hiding from the curses in what used to be the Burrow’s backyard, when a hand got over her mouth.

She looked up to see no one but Draco Malfoy himself looking back at her. He told her not to scream, and showed that he hadn’t (yet) got the Dark Mark tattooed on his arm. While Ginny had planned to scream as soon as he let go of her mouth, her mind didn’t do it. Draco explained that while he still didn’t like “mudbloods” and “half-bloods”, he had no intention in becoming a Death Eater, and that his mother herself had asked him not to. Ginny believed his story, and somehow, the two of them became friends.

After three years of rogue friendship (random letters and meetings in-between attacks), their friendship moved into something else. Draco and Ginny had become lovers. At that same year, Draco had received the Mark (due to his father’s oppression) and became a full-fledged Death Eater. As so, he had to oblige into having his mind read by the Dark Lord, and then, his relationship with the rebel Weasley was made known.

From them on, anything Ginny would learn from the resistance would be almost instantly known to the Dark Lord, or else he would have his Death Eaters slaughtering the whole Weasley family. Draco begun working on Occlumency, to hide as much as possible from the dark side; he had no intentions of letting his lover be hurt. And Ginny, fearing anything that could be done to Draco, never complained into slipping information.

That was how, that night, the Death Eaters were aware of Harry’s return, and were around London looking for him. Ginny had told Draco that Harry would be coming by airplane, and that she knew nothing else (what was true). She just hoped Draco would be able to distort everything at the Dark Lord’s lair.

She had just got dressed, after her shower, when she saw someone coming in from her window. Draco. She threw her arms around him, and after they exchanged a quick kiss, she stared at him in surprise.

“What are you doing here?” She whispered to him. “Everyone’s home but Ron, Luna can come in at any minute now,” she added.

“They sent me,” Draco replied, and she understood who “they” were. “They said no one could find any signs of Potter; so I had to come and check the truth of your story,” the blonde replied, still holding the redhead’s body against him.

“Luna just arrived with Neville, and she says they met him near the Leaky Cauldron,” Ginny said quickly. “I don’t know where he’s staying, though. Send your men to look around there, or something,” she added, and gave Draco one more kiss. “Now go, I’m hearing steps at the stairs.”

Reluctantly, Draco let her body slip from his arms, and walked towards the window again. Throwing her one last kiss, he jumped outside just as Luna entered the room she shared with Ginny.

“Hello, Ginny,” Luna said, as she entered. “We found Harry,” she added, contently. Ginny sighed quietly.

“That’s really nice,” the redhead replied, as she thought of how that would change the things between her and her lover.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We found him, my Lord,” announced the black-haired woman, as she entered the dark chambers. “Obliviated, and had his wand broken near his body. The core of it was burnt, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. Bring him in. I have a feeling he was the one that met Potter,” the cold voice replied.

“Yes, master.”

Turning to the entrance, the woman commanded for others to enter. Four hooded men, in black robes, entered, bringing another unconscious one, dressed as a muggle.

“Here’s Rookwood, sir,” the woman said, as the four men laid the fallen one to the floor.

“Leave him here. I’ll examine his mind. If Potter was the one who obliviated him, I can undo his spell with ease. Now you, leave.”

“Yes master,” replied Bellatrix Lestrange, along with the four other Death Eaters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An anxious Molly Weasley expected the return of her youngest son. Though she had no hope of meeting Harry on that same day, she wouldn’t sleep until all of her children were safe back at home. Her husband had fallen asleep at the living room chair, also waiting; her other kids, even if not all of them were redheaded, were fast asleep by now.

The silence in the room was interrupted for the sound of a clock’s hand moving. She knew her clock wasn’t made to show the hours; it showed, instead, the current location of each one of her children. She sighed in relief as she saw Ron’s hand pointing at “travelling”, then quickly turning to “home”. Her last child was home.

She walked to the living room, and had to bite her lips to hold her surprise. Her son wasn’t alone. With him, there was also another son she thought she had lost six years ago. A black-haired, green-eyed son, that even if wasn’t biological, deserved as much of her love as any of the others.

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, with a boyish grin she hadn’t seen in years.

“Hey, mum”, said Ron, obviously noticing his mother’s surprise. “You know, I was walking around the streets, and then I saw this on a shop and thought “Why not giving one of these to mum, eh?””

Harry laughed quietly at Mrs. Weasley’s response, but was soon engulfed into one of her motherly hugs. When he was young, he always thought they were a bit exaggerated; now, he noticed he quite missed that.

“How are you, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, on the verge of tears. “You look quite good on the outside; I’m glad Dumbledore took properly care of you. Wouldn’t expect anything else from him, of course; he always had your welfare in mind and always liked to eat a lot…”

Hearing Mrs. Weasley talk about Dumbledore’s concern with his welfare, Harry remembered his five years in Hogwarts, when he needed to have heard the prophecy and didn’t. He still held a minimal grudge at the former headmaster for that. He also reminded himself he needed to tell them of the prophecy; that was Dumbledore’s last will. Seeing as happy Ron and Mrs. Weasley were, he wouldn’t dare broach that subject now.

“I’m really fine, Mrs. Weasley, just a bit sleepy… You see, it’s almost morning and I haven’t caught any sleep,” Harry said, and faked a yawn. Ron patted his back.

“Yeah, mum, let the man sleep. Tomorrow he’ll have to tell us everything he’s been doing, anyway,” Ron said, winking to Harry. Mrs. Weasley wiped a lone tear from her face and nodded.

“Well then, let me get you a ready bed, Harry; this house hasn’t got rooms enough, so I’m afraid you’ll need to sleep with Ron and Neville on their room,” the matron said, leading Harry towards the room.

“It’s no problem, really, Mrs. Weasley, if you just knew some places I have slept in before,” Harry replied, thinking of his cupboard in the Dursleys’ home. It was the first time he thought of his relatives since he had returned; he wondered how they were, but wasn’t going there to check out. As for his time in France, Dumbledore had provided Harry didn’t have to repeat his childhood experience.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a look of pity, obviously thinking Harry was referring to his time in France, and so did Ron, though the latter actually caught Harry’s meaning. Mrs. Weasley used her wand to ready Harry a bed, waved her children good night and then proceeded to wake her husband, to tell him all their children were finally home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione Granger woke up late morning. She had a terrible night of sleep, but as she had decided to do some things before going to work, she wouldn’t let herself remain in the bed anymore. Walking to her closet, she thought about the person that occupied her dreams this night.

Harry Potter.

Hermione Granger worked as the secretary of a muggle lawyer, while she was still studying to be a lawyer herself. But even if she had so busy a life, she would never forget that she, in fact, was a witch that coursed five years at the Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft. Her wand, which stood there at her bedside table, wouldn’t let her forget.

When the dark wizard Voldemort took control of the Ministry of Magic, many of the muggleborn and half-blood wizards and witches were instructed by their seniors at Hogwarts to go back to being muggles; it would take time until the Dark Lord could reach the muggle population, since there were wizards and witches willing to fight against him. She had been very reluctant into doing that, partly because being a witch was in her blood already, and partly because of one person.

Harry Potter, again.

Harry Potter had been her main concern since they had became friends, at their first year on the school. Mistreated by relatives, chased by Voldemort, target of every single evil plan one can think of, Harry wasn’t allowed to have a normal life – and that was exactly what Hermione had always wanted him to have. Thus, she had always helped him whenever she could, either with studies, adventures, or personal life – exception, of course, being the Cho Chang episode.

She had known, back then, of Harry’s crush on the Ravenclaw girl – but she had her own crush on him, and also realized (some time later) Cho’s interest on Harry wouldn’t last. She didn’t want him to get hurt, so she hadn’t really helped him that time – though he probably believed she did. Unfortunately, even if Cho and Harry didn’t work, Harry had never shown too much interest in Hermione as much as he had shown on Cho – and that left Hermione really frustrated.

Even like that, when Harry was taken away to France, and she finally complied to live as muggle, she hadn’t forgotten him. Unlike what everyone thought, she still kept a contact in the wizarding world – that contact being Professor Minerva McGonagall. As the favourite student of Professor McGonagall, Hermione knew her teacher wouldn’t deny her this minimum favour – just telling her what was happening in the wizarding world. The teacher didn’t disappoint her, and for the past six years, Hermione had been hearing everything that happened on her world of right.

As far as she knew, there were no signs of either Albus Dumbledore or Harry Potter since that fated day six years ago; but yet, the Dark Lord had problems enough that he couldn’t reach the muggle world. Last night, however, Hermione had met a strange man in the streets, which reminded her too much of her former best friend. The same green eyes, and the same messy black hair. That raised a suspicion on the ever willing-to-know Miss Granger – and she was going to check that suspicion right now. If anyone would know about Albus Dumbledore or Harry Potter’s current location, that someone was called Minerva McGonagall.

Hermione got dressed quickly, and left without breakfast; she knew Minerva would offer her something when she arrived there. Not for coincidence, when Hermione moved from her parents’ home to her own flat, she chose a place very near to McGonagall’s place. Just five blocks of walking, and she was there.

The brown-haired girl ring the bell twice, then a third time, faster. That was the usual sign to know it was “her”, and not of the many muggles that disturbed the old witch. Professor McGonagall had chosen to live in a quiet muggle neighbourhood, as she was widely known as Dumbledore’s right arm. Yet, she had a mysterious way of knowing everything that happened on the wizarding world.

“Hello, dear,” the former professor said, as she opened the door. “I was expecting you to come by.”

She had never spoken that way to Hermione; the brown-haired girl was instantly suspicious of something. Or better, she knew her former suspicions were true.

“I was walking around the city last night, Minerva,” Hermione started, not losing time with introductions. The old professor conjured a plate of toasts from her kitchen, and some tea. “And then I’m stopped by this incredibly familiar young man, which asks me for the address of a hotel. Do you reckon how he looked like?” Hermione asks, somewhat ironically.

“Hmm… No dear, I really don’t. As I’ve told you hundreds of the times before, I believe Divination to be very imprecise,” the other witch answers, with the same irony.

“Jet-black messy hair, sparkling emerald eyes… Reminds you of someone? Maybe… Harry Potter?”

McGonagall took a small sip of her tea, then smiled sweetly at Hermione. “First, I must say I am impressed by your description. No one else had ever referred to Mr. Potter as having “jet-black” hair or “sparkling emerald” eyes. And second, I suppose nothing can really be hidden from you, can it, Miss Granger? Mr. Potter is, indeed, back to England, as it seems the power of your affections for him fortunately has told you.”

Hermione blushed, as she would never get used to speaking of her feelings aloud. Besides her, only Minerva and Ginny knew of her love for Harry – and Ginny probably had forgotten, after six years of no contact.

“How long have you known it?” Hermione asked.

“I received a letter from Albus last week,” Minerva answered. “It came by muggle mail,” she added, as she saw Hermione raise an eyebrow. “He told me in it that Harry would arrive in England last night. Seems to me that you caught him even before he had settled somewhere.”

“Settle somewhere? You mean… He won’t be looking for us, or something?” Hermione asked, terrified by the prospect. When Minerva had told her that the man she met last night was indeed Harry, her heart had gone just mad; she wanted nothing more than meet him again, and maybe, she would have the chance to finally confess her feelings. But now, it seemed that the Harry that returned wasn’t interested in meeting her in anyway.

“Well, Albus wanted him to,” the old witch replied, gravely. “But from what you say, Harry didn’t show himself to you. I suppose he’ll be avoiding us until he’s done with what he came here to do,” she added, and stared at the worried look in Hermione’s face,

“And… What exactly he came here to do?” Hermione asked, fearing the answer she would receive.

Minerva sighed. She wasn’t the exact person to speak of that prophecy, but she saw herself in no position to avoid that question right now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny woke up late that morning. She looked at her muggle clock, and seeing it was almost noon, was surprised she hadn’t been awakened. Looking at the bed in the other side of the room, she saw Luna was still fast asleep. Ginny was awfully hungry, and walking off her bed, she hoped there was still something left from breakfast.

She was surprised to see there was no one at the kitchen, neither in the living room. She had hoped her mother would be up already, at least; no such luck. She walked towards her parents’ room, and knocked.

No answer.

Ginny became a bit worried. Where could have her parents’ gone to, without leaving a single message or something?

She opened the door. And suddenly wished she had never done that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry was awaken by a loud scream. He caught his glasses, and saw that both Ron and Neville had also been awakened. Neville was torn between worry at the scream and surprise at the sight of Harry; before he could say anything, Harry motioned for the three of them to move outside.

As the three of them left their room, wands in hand, they saw Ginny crying outside her parents’ bedroom. Neville ran to her, and holding her in his arms, looked inside the room. Ron and Harry did the same, as Luna also came to the scene.

Both Arthur and Molly were lying on their bed, covered in blood. They were dead. And obviously, that wasn’t work of a spell.

“Ginny… Who did this?” Ron asked.

“I don… I don’t… I don’t know...” She replied weakly, and handed a parchment to Ron. Ron looked at it, and his face immediately contorted into anger. He motioned for Harry to see.

“Just as a warning,” Harry read aloud. Then Ron pointed to a smaller pattern under the parchment. Harry didn’t understand at first, but soon it dawned on him.

It wasn’t a pattern. They were a rat’s footprints, in blood.