Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's note: Please don't kill me for the delay, at least I didn't abandon this story. Next part is coming up tonight.

Part 6: Spiral

'Harry?'

The sudden sound startled him, and he turned his head towards its source, his eyes coming to rest upon Hermione. She was frowning, wearing a bathrobe over her pyjamas, with her hair piled up on top of her head. She seemed dazed, as if she'd just woken up, yet was staring at him with great confusion. He simply smiled softly and turned back to the fire, the soft ruffles of her silk pyjamas pants revealing she was coming to sit by him before he even saw her from the corner of his eye. She sat on the sofa that formed a rectangular angle with the one he was sitting on, both pieces of furniture disposed in such a manner that they formed a triangle with the fireplace. He could feel her eyes on him while his rested in the flames, her gaze burning more than any flame ever could. When it finally became unsubstanable, he turned to look at her.

'You should be in bed', she simply said, knowing him well enough to understand why he could not find sleep. She herself had tossed and turned until she had finally fallen asleep for an hour or so. She had woken up with her throat as dry as the desert and a terrible knot in her stomach. The sun would soon be rising on a day they had all dreaded for weeks now. She offered him a sympathetic smile when he replied that sleeping was sadly a lost cause, knowing better than to press with questions she already knew the answers to. How was he feeling? The look on his face pretty much said it all. Anticipation, fear and resolve, the last of which ripped her heart out. He was not even 17 years old, still a kid, they all were. Yet the last few years had seemed like an eternity. Looking back seven years made her feel like she was looking at someone else's peaceful, trouble-free life. Of course, Harry had never been that lucky.

Both of them turned their gaze to the fireplace and they sat in silence for a little while, Hermione feeling her eyelids become heavier by the second, until Harry suddenly spoke. Her eyes now wide open, as if to compensate for how close to shut they had been instants before, she looked at him as he spoke, leading his head back in an angle so he could look at her. 'Mione...If you could go back to when we met on the train, or when you, Ron and I became friends, knowing all that happened, the fights, the losses... Would you change it? Would you make it so that we never became friends, to spare yourself from all this?'

It took her a few seconds to fully understand what he meant. And when she finally did, she shook her head slowly while reaching out for his hand as she leaned forward. Their fingers linked and she squeezed his much larger hand tightly. He felt his heart miss a beat at the feeling of her warm skin over his, fully registering how beautiful she as the flames' orange light splashed against her features. He had noticed how rather pleasant Hemione was to look at for a few years now, but now he was floored. Maybe it was her simple presence by his side, filling a void that had kept emptying out year after year. Maybe it was because he realized that, as he was facing the prospect of death in mere hours, pushing back his emotions because this frienship was too precious to be ruined seemed a ridiculous concept.

'Never. I wouldn't change a thing. The happiness, love and joy I've gained from your friendship far outweights anything horrible that could ever happen. And whatever happens tomorrow, I know you'll always be there for me.'

***

'Harry Potter! I can't believe you!'

Hermione's outraged voice shook him up from the daze he had been in for the last few minutes, or more like the last hour he realized as he watched the rest of the students hurry out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Barely concealing a yawn behind his hand, he shoved his books in his bag and followed Hermione out of the class as she waited for them to be out of the room to continue. 'I can't believe *you* fell asleep in Defense Against the Dark Arts. Honestly, Harry... Why are you so tired, what's...'

She was cut short by the grin she saw appear on Harry face, and she blushed furiously, elbowing him lightly in the ribs. He burst out laughing, only causing her to turn scarlet and slid his arm behind her back so that it rested around her waist. They had been discreet when it came to displaying affection for one another in public, both thinking more whispers was the last thing they needed after the last few months. But as the corridor emptied out and they were only surrounded by a few Gryffindors that obviously knew about their romance, Harry turned and kissed her temple, making her smile in content. Defense Against the Dark Arts had been their last class of the week, as their last year at Hogwarts slowly but surely came to an end. A trip to Hogsmeade was planned the coming weekend and they could hardly wait to get away from Hogwarts, even for just a few hours. Having the tranquility of Hermione's room was one thing, and they had fully taken advantage of that privilege, Harry pratically moving into the room with her, but staying restricted in the same room was becoming suffocating. In addition to which it was April now and with the temperatures rising, a walk around the village was a rather inviting prospect, no matter what.

'I organised a schedule for the weeks leading up to the N.E.W.T.s. With a few hours a day, we should be able to get back on the time you lost when you obviously had other things on your mind,' Hermione started as they rounded the corner leading up to the portrait that covered the entry of Hermione's Head Girl room. Harry let out a loud groan, but immediatly realized he'd made a huge mistake. Almost fearfully, he turned to Hermione and he felt his cheeks redden when he saw the way she was glaring at him.

'Well, fine then. If you don't want my help and are pleased will failing miserably...', she began in a cold voice, disengaging herself from his arm. Before she could step away, he reached out for her hand and held her back, making her stop in mid-sentence. 'Hermione, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. I can't say how much I appreciate everything you do for me, but it's an instinctive reaction of mine whenever studying is mentionned.'

He saw the anger that was flaring in her eyes only moments before slowly but surely fade away, yet she held on stubbornly. 'Yes, well... It shouldn't be. If you do plan to become a teacher, Harry, you'll have to deal with that sort of stuff for the rest of your life.'

'Well, no, I'll get to torture my students with that sort of stuff for the rest of my life. That, I can deal with', he replied, with a boyish grin. Hermione's resolve was fading, but she refrained a smile, rolling her eyes as a simple response. They began walking side by side again, linking fingers as they crossed the rest of the distance to their room. As they came to an alt in front of the painting, Harry spoke. 'Actually...I'm not sure I'll take up Dumbledore's offer on that teaching job.'

'What? Why!?', Hermione exclaimed, instantly forgetting the password she was about to say as her head snaped in Harry's direction. She found him to be staring down at his feet in an obvious attempt to escape her eyes.

'I'm not sure I'd be best qualified to guide young minds. I'm not...I've never been much of a rule follower, never really had a normal childhood. I quite love the subject, but...'

'But, what?', Hermione pushed when Harry failed to continue. Already, she could think of arguments against his choice, but she chose to allow him to finish, to fully speak his mind before she tried to argue. Finally, he looked up and met her eyes. What she saw in his eyes surprised her and rendered her speechless. It was resolve, yet there was no hint of sadness. It was not only what he thought was best for him to do but also what he wanted to do.

'I don't want to be stranded here half of the year. Hogwarts has been the only place I could ever truly call home, even the Burrow could never win it over, but as much as I love this place and feel safe within these walls... I want home to be wherever you are.'

And there. The words she had planned to say to convince him that teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts was the best thing for him had disappeard from her brain, swept away by his own. She sighed, finally smiling, then allowed him to pull her into his arms. He had won the argument. He always did.

The morning had gone rather dreadfully. They had woken up late, Harry with a headache and Hermione with an horrible nausea, yet they had decided to still head out to Hogmeade with the rest of the students, hoping that it would all pass. They had gone for a short walk around the village, entering a few shops before settling on the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer and sweet tea. Harry was feeling better now, but Hermione still seemed a bit dazed, excusing herself many times to go to the bathroom. Downing the last of her tea, she got on her feet as soon as the cup was out of her hands and excused herself once more. Harry looked after her as she went, with a frown on his face. When he lost her in the crowd, he sat back on his chair and sighed. They had studied until quite late the night before and not gotten much sleep, which probably explained why they were both feeling groggy today. He was disappointed and he knew she was too. They had planned to take a long walk, away for the worries of Hogwarts, together without having to hide from the people that didn't know. And now, they would most likely head back to the castle as soon as Hermione returned from the bathroom.

But the Hermione he saw emerge from the crowd, on her way back to their table, seemed clearly better. She seemed more alert, smiling as she sat in front of him and peered down into her cup, her smile twisting into a cute pout as she realized it was empty. Before he could comment on her new state, she got back on her feet and extended her hand towards him. He gave her a puzzled look and she sighed, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips. 'We finished our drinks, I think I'd fancy a walk now.'

'Are you alright?', Harry asked, as he got up and slipped on his cloak. The weather was surprising chilly today, and eventhough he usually could have gone without a cloak at this time of the year, it had been too cold to go out without one today. Hermione offered him a bright smile then turned away and headed out without waiting for him. His eyes slid from the back of her head, as she made her way towards the door, to the chair she had been sitting in, on the back of which her cloak was still hanging. Grabbing his girlfriend's black cloak, he went after her. She seemed ditzy and it clearly wasn't like her. Perhaps she was even more sick than she let it appear.

It was dark and cold. Those were her first impressions as she began to regain conciousness. Shifting from her uncomfortable position on her right arm to a less painfull one onto her back, she moaned as the first wave of pain hit her. She could feel something warm, obviously blood, seeping from a wound on the back of her head. But far more important, a cloth covered her mouth and the burning sensation around her wrists only revealed what her inability to move had hinted. She was bound and gagged, lying on the floor in clothes that weren't hers and itched against her skin. The floor was dusty, that much she could tell from the grainy sensation against her bare legs, but as her eyes explored the darkness she realized it was pretty much all she could say about where she was.

'Harry...', Hermione moaned against her gag, feeling the first tears of what she knew to be many slide down her face.

'Harry...'

Harry looked up towards the direction the voice came from, finding Hermione standing on top of a large rock, a few meters ahead. She raised her arms above her head and did a small ballerina spin before hopping down the rock and running in his direction to meet him. Harry barelly had time to realize what she was about to do before she jumped into his arms and projected both of them on the ground. He moaned, landing on his back with her weight on top of him, the impact draining all the air out of his lungs. His ears were ringing as he struggled to his feet, coughing and gasping for air. Once he could breathe normally again, he realized that Hermione was still on the ground, giggling like a school girl -which, in a sense, she was-, her cheeks red. There were twigs in her hair and dried leaves on her cloak, which she had finally agreed to put on after he had threatened her to just drag her back to Hogwarts if she didn't. Really, he had thought, Hermione certainly had to know better than that. Brushing leaves and twigs off of his own clothing and hair, he looked down at her, aggravated.

'Mione! It's not funny, you knocked the wind out of me...'

She sat up but kept laughing, one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other one extended towards Harry. Understanding her incentive, he reached out and pulled her up from the ground. As he did so, a strong breeze lifted up, bringing an unfamiliar smell, sickeningly sweet. Wrinkling his nose, he looked around him for the source of the scent, then returned his attention to the still giggling Hermione when he found none. She only stopped laughing when she was confronted with his hard stare. 'What's wrong with you, Hermione? All day, you've been pale and had trouble standing, and now you're acting like a bloody toddler on a sugar high.'

'I haven't got the slightest idea!.', she said, smiling even as she tried to catch her breath. With a sigh, he got to ridding her hair of the small bits of wood that had lodged in it, while she examined the landscape, completely ignoring him and apparently resolved not assist in the efforts to rid her own hair of the twigs. A mischievious grin soon spread on her lips and her eyes slid to a spot just over his shoulders, peering into the horizon. Confused, Harry turned and followed her gaze, finding that they were standing just up the small road leading to the Shrieking Shack, the overgrown garden extending through the gates almost as if it was trying to reach them, even in this cold weather. 'Let's go there!'

Harry's head snapped back to Hermione and he stared at her as though she had gone insane, which he was starting to believe she truly had. First the sudden disappearance of her nausea, the rather out of character behavior and now this? Ever since the events in their third year, Hermione had not expressed the slightest interest in going back to the Shrieking Shack and now, she was looking at it as though it was the Holy Grail, almost craving it. 'Have you gone nutters?'

A flash of anger, not hurt, passed through her eyes and she pressed her lips together. 'Fine, I'll go by myself'

As she pushed him out of the way, he caught it again. That smell, that odd scent that was seemed so out of place. It was her, it was Hermione. But it wasn't. Hermione smelled like jasmine and lavender, and this was completely different, horribly sweet, invading his nostril and making him nauseous, as if he had been forced to stay at Honeydukes for far too long. His eyes followed her as she made her way to the gate and pushed it open, allowing herself one last cold stare at him as she did so. And as she did, he felt it. A tickling sensition sliding down his scar, as if a cold finger was tracing it. It wasn't pain, he realized. It was intuition. 'Hermione!'

She turned back to him, standing in the narrow road leading up the the house, looking increasingly annoyed with him, but also nervous. 'What, now?'

How could he have been so foolish? It all added up, he realized as he made his way towards her, fear gripping at his stomach. The sudden change in her behavior, acting so childish and out of character. Dragging him out here, wanting to go to the Shrieking Shack. And her smell. This wasn't Hermione. He paused, reaching her or at least, what stood for her. He realized she had asked him a question and for a moment, he wondered if it was important at all that he answer or not. He could just shake the truth out of her. But then, what if he was wrong, what if he had just gone paranoid and this was Hermione, trying on a new perfume and simply acting a bit out of character? No. He could feel it now, with every inch of his being. This wasn't her.

Faster than she could have anticipated, his arm split the air, his fingers wrapping around her throat as his other hand reached out for his wand, which he pointed at her chest. 'Where the hell is she?'

She let out a strangled moan and her hands circled his wrist, squeezing as hard as she could in an attempt to free herself. His response was to constrict her throat furthermore. She moaned again, one of her hands leaving his wrist to claw at the front of his clothes, trying anything to allow herself to breathe. When he received no answer, his reaction was to give her a violent but brief shake. 'Harry...Stop...'

Those were the only words she could manage to get out, he realized, with the pressure he was exercising on her throat. He released her and she tobbled on the ground, her cloak billowing around her. As she landed with a cry, her hands went to her throat and she gasped loudly for air. After a few seconds, she looked up at him and he could see she looked horrified. He felt his heart miss a beat, letting uncertainty get the best of him for a short moment again. But no...He was right, he had to be.

'Where the hell is Hermione?'

His voice was aggressive and it seemed to throw her back, but the mask came on again and he was faced with a confused and scared Hermione. 'Harry, what are you talking about? I am Hermione...'

Hermione closed her eyes, feeling the tears dry on her cheeks. Her eyes burned from crying but also because of all the dust. A few shivers trailed down her spine, a cold wind whistling as it passed through the cracks between the rotten wood planks that covered the windows. After her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, she had been able to see more of the place where she was held prisonner and had soon realized where she was, but that was if they had kept her in close proximity of the place where they had abducted her. She remembered feeling nauseous again and excusing herself to the bathroom. Her last memory was of hearing a noise as the door had closed behind her and seeing a brief flash of light before the floor had come crashing towards her - hard.

A sudden rattling came from outside the door and Hermione openned her eyes, starring at the door with apprehension. She had a pretty good idea of who was standing behind it and the last thing she wanted was for the door to open and prove her right. Just this once she could deal with being wrong. She could hear her heart pounding in her chest, almost covering the sound that was coming from what she assumed to be the hall. Resolved, she began to writhe on the floor, attempting to back away in the darkness the best she could. It most likely wouldn't do much good, but the momentary confusion that might follow the discovery of an empty room where she had been placed might give Harry more time. And Harry would come, he had to.

Harry bent down, pointing his wand in her face menacingly. Hermione inched away crawling backwards on the ground onto the road leading up to the Shrieking Shack. She was pale, her eyes as round as disks and her lips trembling. 'Don't lie to me. I know Hermione...and your bloody pathetic attempt is not gonna cut it.'

Yet, even as he spoke with confidence, he could feel the fear that he was wrong grip at his stomach. Would she ever forgive him if he was? Would she still stand by his side with the fear that at every moment, he could go mental like this and turn against her? She probably would, she was Hermione after all. But he knew that if he was wrong, more than anything, it would destroy the faith she had in him and eventhough she might remain by his side, he would lose her.

And then it happened, the proof that he was undeniably right The fear that distorted Hermione's beautiful features slowly faded into something that seemed even more out of place, so much that it threw him back. Malice. The sight of such a spite on the face of the woman he loved made him falter, even for just a split second. And somehow, that second seemed to be enough for his opponent to take the upper hand. Pushing back on her hands, she aimed a powerful upper kick to his stomach and threw him rolling onto the ground with a loud cry, giving her ample time to get to her feet and reach for her wand in her pocket. Now standing over him, it was her who pointed her wand in his face threateningly, a devious grin on her face. 'Feeble child. How the Dark Lord hasn't yet killed you, I'll never know. Points for figuring it out in the end, but really, a simple swap of Polyjuice potion and you're still so easily tricked? I thought you were meant to be clever, don't you ever learn?'

'Well, no. I'm stupid, Hermione's the clever one', Harry said with a sly grin. He seemed unaffected by the fact that he was sitting at whoever took Hermione's appearance's feet, under the threat of a wand. He was being sarcastic and Hermione would have known that this was the method he usually resolved to when faced with a threat, but to anyone else, it was somehow intimidating and more than anything, incredibly irritating. Her amber eyes narrowed, gratifying him with an evil glare and she pressed her lips together so that they formed a thin line. For a moment, he thought she was gathering her strenght to use the death curse on him and he held his breath, trying to think of a way to counter the attack. His wand had flown out of his grasp when he had been kicked and it now lay somewhere behind him, out of reach. As if she was reading his mind, Hermione smiled and called, 'Accio Wand'

From the bushes that bordered the road, his wand flew at lightning speed into Hermione's hand and she caught it without ever taking her eyes off Harry. 'Get up.'

And wordlessly, she lead him up the road all the way to the Shrieking Shack.

Hermione found that all her efforts to hide away in the darkness had been for nothing the moment the door cracked open, throwing a splash of light that blinded her onto her face. She turned her face away, blinking a few times, then heard a loud gasp that made her look back in shock eventhough it hurt her eyes. She saw two silhouettes enter the room, one of which detached from the other one and took long hurried strides into her direction. When it bent over her, she shrieked in fear against her gag, attempting to turn away from it before she realized who it was. 'Mione, oh Merlin, Mione...'

'Are you sure about this, Harry?'

Harry turned away from the book that was set down on the table before him and looked at Hermione, who was sitting by his side. Ron was sitting in front of her, amazingly still awake eventhough they had already been confined in the library for several hours. He was himself browsing through a book with a surprising interest. Hermione, on the other hand, found it difficult to concentrate and spent a great deal of time throwing worried glances in Harry's direction and looking over the things he was writing on the parchment he kept by the book. He could see her eyes were red from the two sleepless nights in a row they had all endured, trying to make sure everything was ready and he felt a pang in his chest at the thought of the danger he was putting his friends in. Her eyes were like magnets and it was with great difficulty that he tore his away from hers, but he knew he wouldn't be able to give her a straight answer if he didn't. 'Yes, I am'

'Of course he is, Hermione. You are too', Ron said, closing his book. He too looked drained, with dark circles under his eyes. Hermione turned to him, looking unconvinced, then dropped her face in her hands and sighed. She could not believe they were about to do this, to go against Voldemort of their own accord. They had dealt with danger as it fell upon them each and every year they had spent at Hogwarts, but had never truly seeked it out, except maybe in their fifth year, but even that was different. Everything that had gone on during their sixth year had indicated the presence of Voldemort or at least, Death Eaters in the Forbidden Forest and with the menace on the school increasing, they had decided to go face him before he took on Hogwarts. Too many people would be in danger if he did, and Harry would only let Voldemort take over Hogwarts over his dead body. Hermione had shivered as he had told them this, the mere thought of losing Harry - or any of her friends, for that is - being too much to bear. Just like Harry, she had been convinced that it was the thing to do, but as the days closed in on the date they had decided on, she found that her confidence was slipping away from her hands like sand. And now, as they sat in the library, making a list of the spells that could be of the most use to them, she realized she had none left.

Suddenly, she felt an hand on her shoulder and she looked up to find Harry looking at her with concern. She felt her eyes fill with tears but she held them back, offering him a smile. He matched her smile and moved his hand from her shoulder to her cheek, allowing it to pause there for a few seconds. And those few seconds offered her more support than any words could. More than ever, she knew that if Harry was there, she could go through anything.

Harry pushed the gag off her mouth, letting it hang around her neck and she took in a long breath, her lungs burning from all the dust she had inhaled in the past hour. In tears, she called out his name and he pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as he held on to her. Her face burried in his chest she took in a second long breath, taking in his smell and letting it, even for a short moment, comfort her and make her forget what was happening. For a handful of seconds, it was all over. And then everything came rushing back.

His arms still around Hermione, whom he had pulled into a sitting position, Harry turned towards the doppelganger who still stood in the doorway. She was smiling proudly, as if she had accomplished just what she had been instructed to do. And, as he heard the faint sound of footsteps in the hallway, he understood that she had. Hermione was crying in his arms, shaking from the cold and he chose to ignore the menace for just a moment more to take care of her, taking off his cloak to wrap it around her shoulders. 'Shh, it'll be okay.'

'Ever so the optimist, Potter'

He could have recognized that spiteful voice anywhere and he set his jaw as he turned to face the man who had just spoke. Sure enouh, Draco Malfoy stood by the side of Hermione's double. Getting onto his feet, between Hermione and them, he clenched his fists, wishing more than anything that he had his wand to curse them both. He could feel his scar pulse with dormant pain and he needn't be told who was still hiding in the hallway. The pain came in full force as the sound of steps resumed and Voldemort entered the room, both of his minions moving to the side to let him pass. Behind him trailed Wormtail, his metal arm glistening in the light. His knuckles turned white as he transfered all of his pain into clenching his wrists on both side of his body, not wanting to give Voldemort the satisfaction of a painful scream. Behind him, he heard some shuffling on the ground as Hermione tried to contort herself in such a way that she could see without falling back on the ground, still restricted in her movements by her bounds.

'You've done good. Now go, both of you', Voldemort said , waving his bony hand in the general direction of Draco and the fake Hermione. With one last look at Harry, they left in silence, closing the door behind them.

The following minutes passed on quickly. The Dark Lord pulled a long bloody sword from his robes, throwing it onto the floor where it fell with a loud clanking sound that startled Hermione into letting out a small cry. Harry recognized it immediatly, how could he not? It had already claimed the life of one of his friends and it was still covered with her dried blood. Raising his eyes from the sword to meet Voldemort's, Harry had little time to react before he raised his wand and used the crucio spell on him. Harry fell on his knees, screaming until his lungs ached yet aware of nothing at all. The pain was ripping him apart, as if a metal hook had a strong hold onto his ribbage and was pulling it away from his chest. He was vaguely aware of Hermione screaming at Voldemort to stop before she herself let out a cry of pain as Wormtail pulled her up roughly by the arm and dragged her to his Lord. At once, the spell was taken off Harry and he fell forward onto his hands, panting heavily as he stood on all fours. On the ground, the sword rotated so that the handle faced him and it slid unto the ground until it reached his right hand with a metallic grind. Without looking up at Voldemort, he wrapped his fingers around the cold metal and slowly pulled himself up, his breathing still laboured.

'Love was the thing that saved your life, your mother's willing sacrifice to save the life of her only son. Who would have thought that love would also take your life in the end?', Voldemort said, satisfaction visible on his inhuman face. Extending his hand towards the sword Harry held in his, he continued. 'I know better than to let you use your wand, boy. But killing you while you're unarmed? Now, what would that make me?'

With his free hand he held Hermione, who was struggling to get away with little success. He gave her a rough shake and she shrieked in pain and finally settled down, breathing as heavily as Harry.

'A bloody pain in the arse, that's what it makes you', Harry said without a smile, clutching the handle of the sword. After a few seconds, Voldemort produced an horrible sound that could only be interpreted as laughter, eventhough it pained even Wormtail to hear it. The minion cowered into a dark corner, petrified. And then it stopped and Voldemort raised his free hand to wrap his cold fingers around Hermione's jaw, tigheting his grip until she screamed in pain. Harry noticeably flinched at that, narrowing his eyes at Voldemort Now unecessary, the magical bounds around her wrists and ankles faded away with a faint light.

'Harry, no...Don't. Please don't', Hermione managed to get out between grunts of pain as Voldemort maintained his hold, his claws digging into her skin until they draw blood. The sight of Hermione's blood trailing down the white skin of Voldemort's hand seemed to bring Harry to his breaking point and with a scream he charged Voldemort with the sword raised above him.

A satisfied smirk on his snake face, Voldemort violently pushed Hermione on the ground then raised his wand. Hitting a chair which broke under her weight as she landed, Hermione felt a sharp pain erupt from her thigh and travel up her body but she did not scream, all of the air dragged out of her lungs as she hit the ground on her back. Ignoring the sight of a large piece of wood protruding from her right leg, she looked on with horror, powerless as green light jutted from Voldemort's wand and hit Harry square in the chest, sending him flying backwards through the air. The sword fell before he did, its weight and small surface making it crack the rotten wound of the floor as it did. And then Harry fell on his back, and Hermione finally screamed. An heartwrenching scream, as if she'd died. And she had, in a way.

Harry laid on the ground, his eyes openned in the darkness. Dead.

Author's Note: Again, I repeat, please refrain from killing me. Let the story unfold. And as I said, next part is coming up tonight.