Chapter Two: A Terrifying Discovery
Hermione Granger shook off her umbrella and stepped into the front hallway of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. She automatically turned and waved to her parents as they pulled away in their car, even though she knew they couldn't see her anymore.
Yesterday, Hermione had received an owl from Professor Dumbledore, asking her to come and stay at Grimmauld. Hermione had immediately besieged her parents with pleas to stay, which led to an explanation of how the Fidelius Charm worked, promises to write often and remember to brush her teeth. The only thing she hadn't told her parents was why she wanted to go so badly.
"Honestly, you'd think there was a life and death situation riding on whether you go or not." Her mother had complained as she helped Hermione pack her trunk. Hermione hadn't answered, because her mother could never understand why she needed to go so badly. Harry needed her.
Professor Dumbledore had said as much in his letter, "…Harry has been very withdrawn since his arrival here….not eating much….recluse, staying in his room…really believe it would do him good to have a trusted friend with him…" These words had been stuck in Hermione's head since she had read them. She had no idea why Harry should be so depressed. Nobody believed him to be a liar or mad anymore, Sirius's name had finally been cleared, thanks to Dumbledore, and although Sirius was not around anymore, Harry had no right to blame himself for his death, so what was wrong with him?
So here she was, her parents had just dropped her off at a house they couldn't even see, to help a friend that they didn't know. Hermione silently thanked whatever powers were listening that her parents trusted her judgment enough to not badger her with questions about why she was doing this. Especially as she wasn't sure of the real reason herself.
A door opened to her right, and Dumbledore stepped out, smiling when he saw her. She smiled back, and opened her mouth to ask where Harry was, but Dumbledore spoke first. "Harry is upstairs, in his room from last year. You may go up to see him, but knock first, he might be sleeping again. Dobby will serve dinner in half an hour, so you can have some time to chat. I'm sure he'll be very happy to see you again, Hermione."
Slightly surprised that Dumbledore had called her by her name, and not "Miss Granger",
Hermione dropped the end of her trunk and headed up the stairs. She remembered which room was Harry's, and, taking Dumbledore's advice, knocked softly.
There was no answer.
She knocked again, louder, and called his name. "Harry. It's me, Hermione, may I come in?" Silence.
Hoping she wouldn't catch him in an embarrassing situation (Did he sleep naked?) She opened the door a crack and looked in.
The room was dark, but a lightning flash illuminated the room long enough for her to see a human figure on the bed, motionless.
She instinctively groped for a light switch before remembering there wouldn't be one in a wizard home, so, feeling slightly foolish for not remembering this, she lit her wand.
Looking at the bed, Hermione felt her heart stop.
Harry was surrounded by what seemed to be a dark cloud. His eyes were closed, and he didn't appear to be breathing. His hand was off the edge of the bed nearest her, and on the floor below it was a large amount of broken glass, which was glowing faintly. She ran to the edge of the bed, careful not to step on the glass, and put her hands on Harry's shoulders, shaking him.
"Harry! Harry!" He didn't answer, didn't move, didn't so much as twitch an eyelid. His head moved from side to side as she shook him, but he didn't wake up. It was only then that she noticed the dark circles under his eyes, how sunken his face looked, how cold he felt, even through the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. How he wasn't breathing.
She didn't remember when she started screaming, or when Dumbledore came running, or being led away to the kitchen by Dobby while Dumbledore bent over Harry's still form on the bed. All she could think of was that Harry was dead.
*
Hermione sat at the kitchen table, unaware of her surroundings. All she could think about was the mantra that pounded in her head, over and over again.
Dead, Harry, Dead.
No please, not Harry.
Not my Harry.
She put her head on her arms and screamed, sobbed, cried. It couldn't be true. Harry couldn't die. She had always thought he would die fighting, going down with a wand in his hand, not taken suddenly by some unknown force.
The kitchen door opened, and Dumbledore walked in. She looked at him, silently praying that he would say Harry was all right. But the look on his face was grim.
"Is he…?" She couldn't bring herself to ask.
"No." Dumbledore said.
Hermione stood up, willing herself not to burst into tears again. "What," her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "What's wrong with him then?"
In answer, Dumbledore handed her a book. She vaguely realized that he was doing this so he wouldn't have to explain himself. Looking into his face, she noticed his eyes were bright with unshed tears.
He cares for Harry too, she realized. But if he's not dead, what's wrong with him?
Dumbledore opened the book, and offered it to her again. She took it, and sat down at the table again, staring at the open page before her.
Soul Schism
Definition:
The Soul Schism is a rare occurrence in Wizards. It happens when a person reaches such a state of confusion or despair that the person can no longer cope with the stress. The Soul will then split into Shards, based on Turning Points in the Person's life. These Turning points will represent Stages in the Person's life where burdens were added. The weight of these burdens is a factor in the Schism itself.
Cure:
There are only two known ways for a Schism to be reversed and the Soul Shards reunited into the Person. The first way, is a complete reversal of the feelings and thoughts that caused the Schism in the first place, brought about by a change in the Person's mind. However, due to the nature of the Schism itself, this is almost impossible. The second way is for another person, one who has a previous, strong connection to the person under the Schism, to enter the victim's mind, collect all the Soul Shards, and any pieces of the Soul Glass they can find, and reunite them. How this is done is unknown, as the only people who have ever attempted this, along with their recovered victims, refused to speak of the experience afterward.
In the event that the Soul Shards are not reunited, the Person will stay in a deep sleep, until they die from lack of food. Strengthening potions may postpone this for a short time, but death is inevitable unless the Schism is reversed.
Note: The Victim and Retriever are often of opposite gender, with mutual feelings of trust, love, and companionship between them. This may be a reason for the refusal to relate the experience afterward. The two often end up marrying, if circumstances allow.
Hermione sat still, her eyes glued to the page. Words jumped out at her, penetrating her mind, until the meaning became clear. Harry's life had reached such a low point, that he quite literally, couldn't live with it. He was broken inside of his own mind, trapped in Shards, according to the book. And unless someone found him, and could put the pieces back together, he would be lost forever.
"Professor, do you mean Harry's soul has split apart?"
"Yes, and it has to be put back together, or he will die."
She looked at Dumbledore.
"What must I do?"
*
Harry lay on a thin mat on the floor, his hands crossed on his chest. Dumbledore had drawn runes in a circle on the floor with his wand, and placed lit candles on the points of a nine-pointed star that surrounded the rune circle. He had explained to Hermione that Occlumency wasn't the only area of mind-related magic that he was familiar with. After gathering all the pieces of the Soul Glass that had been on the floor next to Harry's bed and placing them in a stone basin, he had drawn runes on Hermione's forehead, chin, cheeks, and hands with a piece of strange silver chalk that glowed as it touched her skin. These runes, Dumbledore explained, would enable her to enter Harry's mind, and walk the planes of his subconscious without feeling hunger or thirst, enable her to keep her magical ability during the process, and use magic without a wand as long as she was in his mind.
Hermione looked at Harry. The dark cloud, which, according to Dumbledore, was a reflection of the state of Harry's mind, still surrounded him. His skin looked pale, his face, lifeless. In the position he was in, with his hands crossed and the lit candles surrounding him, he looked like a corpse laid out for a viewing. She shivered at the thought.
Dumbledore knelt at Harry's side. He touched his wand to Harry's face, muttering something as he did so. A blue spark shot from the end of his wand into Harry's skin. A second later, the wandtip glowed white, and a small strip of paper emerged from it. Dumbledore tore the paper from the end of his wand like a fax, and looked at it.
"Only four," he muttered. "And not one of them positive."
"Professor, what is that?" Hermione asked, pointing at the paper in Dumbledore's hand.
"It seems Harry's soul, after the initial split, has collected into four distinct Shards. Loss, Abuse, Apathy, and Death. This is highly unusual. Most souls collect into at least five, with one positive Shard, like Happiness, or Laughter. The positive Shard acts as a Gathering Point for the others, and along with the pieces of Soul Glass the Shards possess, is absolutely necessary for the Soul to be reunited. The Reversal of the Schism is, as you have read, a reversal of the feelings that caused it, and the positive Shard is necessary for this change. It is also often the first Shard the Retriever finds; it can, in a sense, feel where the other Shards are, and aids the Retriever in locating them all. The lack of a positive shard will make the Shards of Harry's soul very difficult to find, and even more difficult to repair."
Dumbledore continued speaking. "The setting of the mind will reflect Harry's feelings. It is safe to say that it will likely be cold, dark, and unsettling to an outsider. The Shards will appear as several versions of Harry, probably varying in age and appearance."
Hermione interrupted. "So there's going to be a lot of Harry's in there, all of different ages, and I have to find all of them?"
"To put it simply, yes. However, not all of the Shards will possess the same memories, feelings, or opinions. They will only have the mental makeup that they possessed at that age. For instance, if you meet a five year old Harry, he will behave like he is five years old. The trick will be to convince the Shards that you are there to help." His tone was matter of fact, kind. One might think that he was merely explaining how to dust the furniture, not how to save a soul.
Hermione swallowed nervously. "And, ah, how exactly am I supposed to rejoin the shards? You said there is no positive shard, therefore no Gathering Point. If a Gathering Point is needed, how will I do this without one?"
Dumbledore looked gravely back at her. "That, Hermione, is something you will have to find out yourself." He turned away from her and walked to the bowl of glass on the dresser. He stirred the pieces with his wand and muttered something unintelligible. The pieces of glass glowed white-hot and swirled around his wandtip. Hermione gasped, but Dumbledore seemed not to hear her. The glass spun faster and glowed brighter until it seemed to be a whirlpool of molten glass. Finally, the glow subsided, and Dumbledore was left holding a bowl with a layer of finest tempered glass. Harry had once described a Pensieve to Hermione, and she thought that was what this was. She was only half right however.
"This Scrying Glass will allow me to see what is happening inside Harry's mind while you conduct your search. If things go wrong, I will know when to get you out of there." He explained, sitting cross-legged on the floor and placing the bowl on the floor in front of him.
"Now, come and sit here." He pointed to a spot on the floor, clear of runes, right behind were Harry's head lay. She sat behind him, cross-legged on the cold floor. Bending over him so she could see his face upside down, she felt a pang in her chest at the look on his face. His eyes were sunken, his skin, ashen. She tried hard to remember the last time she had seen him, leaving Platform 9 and ¾ . He had looked happy, with a sense of reassurance that he wouldn't be left at the Dursleys long. And he hadn't been. He had written to her barely two weeks after term ended, to say that he had arrived safely at Grimmauld. However, due to security, he told her he wouldn't be able to write any more letters to her. Hermione understood the reasons, but that didn't help the sadness that came from being isolated from Harry. Only then did she understand what Harry must have felt last summer, being apart from everyone he cared about. She put her hand to his cheek, gasping at how cold he felt. She smoothed his hair away from his scar, her fingertips tracing the lightning bolt shape.
"What do I need to do?" She whispered, tears threatening her vision.
"Put your hands on his temples," Dumbledore instructed, "and close your eyes. Concentrate on Harry, on how much you care for him, how much you want to help him."
Hermione closed her eyes, placing each hand on the sides of Harry's head. She brought back memories of Harry; in her minds' eye she again saw him running at a troll, intent on saving her. She remembered the shock she had felt when she saw him taking aim at Goyle's cauldron with a lit firework while she slipped into Snape's office. She remembered how good it felt to see him after she had been released from being petrified. She remembered, too, the pure horror she had experienced as she watched him fall fifty feet from his broomstick, how badly she wanted to help him when he saw Sirius being tortured, how desperately she wanted to protect him from the pain of loss, from the horrors he had experienced in his life, from everything bad in this world. How much she cared for him.
"Now, relax, and don't lose those feelings." Dumbledore's voice said from far away.
She heard him begin to chant, though what he was saying, she had no idea. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was that she would see Harry again, that she could help him, that she could get another chance to show him how much he meant to her, regardless of what he may feel.
The floor heated up underneath her. Warmth spread from the runes on her face and hands, filling her body. She could feel it spread to Harry, warming his skin beneath her hands. She felt his heart start again, the blood flowing slowly through the veins in his temples. Her pulse quickened, heat enveloping her. A sound rose in her ears, a sound she had never heard, but recognized nonetheless. Harry had once tried to describe Phoenix song to her, he said it was the sound of hope, like a friend was whispering in his ear. This was what she felt now, hope, friendship.
Friendship.
Their Friendship. Five long years of it. Five years. When spoken it was only two words, but during that time Hermione had experienced love, fear, pain, terror, loss, and love.
Love.
Light shone through her closed eyelids, filling her mind. All she could hear was Phoenix song, all she could think of was Harry, how much she loved him. All she could feel was Harry, his skin, warm under her hands, his pulse quickening, until the beat of his heart sounded in time with hers.
She saw a hole in the light appear before her, at the end was Harry, her Harry, she was sure of it. So without a second thought, she went through the hole, into darkness.
(AN: I was going to submit this story chapter by chapter, but I wanted to start off with a bang. Like I said, this is my first fanfic ever, so be nice and don't roast me too badly when you review. I know Hermione sounds kind of Frodo-ish in this chapter, with the whole "what must I do?" line, but it seemed to me like the kind of thing she would say.)