The End of the Beginning

The End of the Beginning

The rows of mourners stood at the side of Harry's covered casket as Hermione Granger, Ginny Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and Susan Bones laid flowers atop it to memorialize their friend. The hero of Hogwarts would no longer be the bright and shining smile that had sustained them. The feeling of utter despair hung over the garden at the west end of Hogwarts' Castle like a dark cloud. Not one person could manage a dry eye at the sight of those four girls with flowers in hand supporting one another in their time of grief.

Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan as well as George and Fred Weasley surrounded the rear of the casket not only as the pall bearers, but as stalwart friends. The bitterness of the horrible events leading to this day marked each person differently. Some stood in stone cold silence while others were heard saying, “I didn't know him really. He was so magnificently brave and I wish I had known him better.” Never were truer words spoken in a time of sadness than these.

While I attended and watched the proceedings of this said gathering, a thought occurred to me. Who should tell this young man's story? What other magnificent things has he done that were not memorialized today? It seems that we were all blessed with a small portion of the goodness of humanity through Harry Potter. Whether wizard or muggle, it appears that even in death goodness triumphs over evil. May our wizard community never forget the sacrifice of Harry Potter and make his passing the reason for the growth and prosperity that we will enjoy.

Hermione read the article again and again as she soaked Kleenex tissues one after another. She looked up at Ginny as she read her edition of the Daily Prophet as well. “Who do you think wrote it?” asked Hermione.

Ginny was glassy-eyed and appeared uninterested in listening to Hermione at the moment. She read with her lips moving slowly saying the words over and over again. As if she'd just popped out of a trance she responded. “I don't know, but I don't think I have ever heard words about Harry that spoke to my heart like those did.”

Hermione couldn't stop her nose from running. Her cheeks under her eyes were a permanent bloated red as were her big brown eyes. “Why was Cho mentioned in that article? She had little to do with Harry's life. I want to know why my last memory of Harry Potter on this earth is going to include Cho Chang.”

“You noticed that too? I was nearly ready to spew when I read it the first time until I read the last paragraph and realized it wasn't about me or you, but about Harry and what a wonderfully brave friend he was.” Ginny put her arm around Hermione. They sat at the kitchen table at the Burrow.

Hermione sat with that article and read it but also had a small item in her hand that she'd look at every once in a while. It was the size of a small stone or maybe it was a piece of a costume jewelry piece that had broken off. As if in a daze, Hermione began to tell a story as Ginny listened.

(Hermione speaking.)

It was a week ago, Ginny when I was sitting in the library before my very last final that Harry came to see me. He had never been very stealthy unless he had his father's cloak but that day without the cloak he just appeared in front of me. Of course, if we had been here, he could have Apparated but he couldn't in Hogwarts. So, anyway, he scared me as he slid into the chair next to me with a smile. His voice was full of happiness and…I don't know what else or how to describe it. He just talked at a million miles an hour.

“Hermione, have you ever realized all of a sudden that you had to do something that no one in the world could do except you? Or have you ever felt that there was one person you were so looking forward to seeing that all else just faded away? I have those feelings right now and I want to share them with you. You, Hermione. No one else. No one but you would ever understand. Today's the day Hermione. Voldemort will be no more after today.” Harry was talking so fast that I thought he might be under a spell.

I remember saying, “Harry, slow down. You're not making any sense. Are you okay? Slow down.” He interrupted me and kept going on about things.

I began to get an eerie feeling. Everything seemed to turn white around us. The walls, the ceiling, and even the outside light seemed to turn white at that moment. “Hermione, I love you more than I can explain right now. But no matter what happens don't ever worry about me. I will be there for you in ways you cannot know. I will be your strength. Believe me Hermione. We will be happy one day.” He paused and in an instant this little red translucent stone appeared in his hand. “It will turn brown like a rock again soon, but don't worry it will turn red again. When it does turn red again, go to Diagon Alley and have a banana split with chocolate topping.” He gave me two galleons and then said, “When you finish order another one for a friend.” He looked at me and said, “See ya later, Hermione. Meet you for supper in the common room.”

He never showed. Two days later they found him clinging to life in the Hogwarts' Cemetery. He died several hours later.

(Hermione stopped her story as she sobbed again.)

“I don't get it, Hermione. What was he talking about? And what kind of drugs or potions were you on too see everything turn white like that?” Ginny looked at Hermione in fascination.

“I don't know. I am glad that I was able to gather my thoughts for that last final, because I have been cursed with nothing but that conversation on my mind now for the past week,” said Hermione. “I haven't been sleeping or eating like I should either.”

The two of them sat in silence for the rest of the evening. Hermione would be going home at noon tomorrow and it would be the first time in seven years she wouldn't be looking forward to seeing Harry here just a month or two later, thought Ginny as she watched Hermione climb the stairs to the spare bedroom that used to be Fred and George's. Ginny thought hard about the story Hermione told and was convinced that either she'd made it up to deal with her grief or Harry had created some way of keeping his courage and used Hermione to get through the horrible encounter with Lord Voldemort. Mrs. Weasley returned from Hogwarts just as Ginny was getting ready to return to her room to go to sleep.

“Mum, did Hermione tell you that fantastic story about her and Harry the night he disappeared?” She asked looking closely for her mother's non-verbal response.

“Why, no dear, what story was that?” Mrs. Weasley asked.

Ginny painstakingly related each part of the story as best as she could remember it. She even tried to emphasize the parts that Hermione had emphasized to make it more like the way Hermione had told it. When she finished, she looked at her mother who was clearing a tear from her eye.

“Mum, why are you crying? It's a crazy story. Why would anyone make up such a story?” Ginny asked in a confused and distressed tone.

“It's love, Ginny. I think that we need to keep a closer eye on Hermione for the time being. I think all the time you had a crush on Harry; Hermione was secretly in love with him. This horrible tragedy has collapsed the non-logical side of her belief system and she's created Harry as a white knight who will save her from her despair. She'll get over it in a few weeks or months. The story will fade once she doesn't have anyone to tell it to in the muggle world. When she comes back, she'll be better. We'll see if we can't get her to stay just a few more days to help the mending process.” Mrs. Weasley said this as confidently as Ginny had ever heard her mother explain anything. Ginny began to feel a sense of sadness for Hermione that she'd not had before.

“G'nite, Mum. See you in the morning.” Ginny said.

Hermione remained at the Weasley's for two more weeks and finally returned to her home with her parents for a short time before returning for training at St. Mungo's as a Medi-Witch.

A year later, on the anniversary of Harry's funeral an article ran in the Daily Prophet. Hermione sat at the table in the corridor outside the ward at St. Mungo's reading the lovely story of Harry Potter. It was to be written in seven daily installments over the next week. She felt so much more relieved now that time had passed. She often visited Hogwarts to go to Harry's graveside and reminisce with her old friend. She read the article and hoped that the interviews that she'd given over the past year were not taken out of context. She was fairly confident they wouldn't be, but still she couldn't bare the thought of Harry's memory being sullied in any way.

Each day that week, Ginny came to the hospital to have lunch with Hermione and discuss the new article. They laughed and they cried. They were still teenagers now, but it seemed a million years ago that they'd been listening with extendible ears, cleaning doxies out of the drapes at Sirius's family home at 12 Grimmauld Place. The edition today dealt with Harry's horrible feelings of loss when Sirius passed and the revelation that Sirius Black had indeed not been the murderer he'd been accused of being. It stretched through the beginning of that next year and included far more interesting fare about the Half-Blood Prince.

By the following Sunday when the final edition was due to be sent to press, both Ginny and Hermione had their reservations of reading the story. Saturday had brought many old wounds to the surface again. She looked at Ginny that Sunday and said, “How did I go to Hogwarts for seven years, fall in love with Harry and never learn of it until it was too late?”

“You knew, Hermione. My Mum and I discussed it. We're pretty sure that turmoil surrounding Harry made love between you two impossible. You were the symbol of everything that Voldemort hated and the symbol of everything Harry loved. We think that you only made up parts of the story. She and I talked about it until almost three this morning. What parts we don't know, but some of it was true, we're sure.”

Hermione had taken a two bedroom flat in the middle of the same section of London where Grimmauld Place was so that she was near at least one place where Harry had been. She knew it was crazy, but it was also the closest place for walking to work. She loved walking because it gave her time to think. After all, she saw Ron and Ginny at least three times a week one or the other of them would stay a couple times a week and with all that talk of the past the walk allowed her to clear her mind. The clunk of the owl delivering the massive Sunday edition shook both of them. The poor bird still had two more papers suspended by strings under his beak as he struggled to get airborne again. The headline in the paper simply read, “Remember”.

Hermione began reading and handed the sections she could to Ginny as she finished them. The article had been conveniently included as a pullout special in the Sunday paper. Ginny could tell Hermione could feel the anguish growing in her chest. Her hand was clutched at the locket around her neck and she would take very deep breaths to continue. Finally, with nearly a box of Kleenex in the trash can next to her, she finished and smiled through her tears. “I miss him, Ginny. I miss his stupid unkempt hair and those always cracked glasses he wore. I think he broke them on purpose so I'd fix them.” She smiled again.

When Ginny finished reading the article she stood and walked over to Hermione. She hugged her best friend. “Hermione, he touched us all. He was nobody and yet to us he was the most wonderful friend anyone could ever have.” They clutched each other for several minutes. “Hermione, I have to go home for a while. I promised to take care of some things there and I know you want to have some time to yourself today. We'll catch up tomorrow when you are at work. How about lunch?”

“Sure, lunch would be great,” said Hermione looking at the picture of Harry in the paper holding the Quidditch Cup over his head with his teammates holding him on their shoulders in their first year. She set the paper on the kitchen table, pulled out an afghan and put it over her shoulders to take a nap on the sofa.

Several hours later Hermione awoke with a start. She could feel something warm under her chin it had suddenly become very warm. She scrambled to get the afghan off as she could feel the perspiration grow on her neck. The stone that Harry had given her and she'd put in the locket was getting warm and seemed to be changing colors. The prickly feeling, then cold wash of goose bumps made Hermione shiver. She watched as the stone began to turn first brown and then more reddish as time passed. Hermione's mind reeled. She tried to remember exactly what Harry had told her to do. She looked at the clock. It was only a quarter past four in the afternoon and most places in Diagon Alley would close down at five or shortly there after on a Sunday.

Her heart began to pound furiously. Her eyes burned with anticipation as she stared at the rock. It was becoming ruby red, just like Harry had given it to her. She scampered out of the flat almost forgetting to close the door. Once on the street she didn't care, she had almost begun walking out of habit. She DisApparated and found herself in front of the only ice cream shop in she could remember in all of Diagon Alley. She walked up and ordered her banana split with chocolate topping and returned to her seat. She ate bite after bite of the sundae. She couldn't believe how much ice cream and bananas could be put in one sundae. She was feeling almost uncomfortable as she realized that the dish had slowly refilled after each bite she took.

She looked around and then just as the window as about to close she remembered that she was supposed to by one for a friend. She scurried up to the window and ordered another. Just as she sat it down on the table an eerie voice she remembered but couldn't quite place interrupted her thoughts. She looked to her right and standing there was this man in a thoroughly disgusting topcoat and wearing dirty trousers. His pointed nose seemed out of place. It was when she saw the silver glint of his arm that she wanted to scream. The trembling began so quickly she thought she would pee her pants. “Wormtail.” She raised her wand nearly cast a spell on him, when a soft breeze and a voice rung out in her head. It was his voice--Wormtail's. Go home, my debt is repaid. He will be coming back to you.”

It was as if she'd just had a dream, because in a flash of white light she was standing in her living room again. No one was there. She looked at the kitchen table where she'd put the Daily Prophet and it lay just were she left it. The afghan was in disarray as she'd remembered leaving it and she had chocolate on the front of her blouse from the banana split. She was sure she was going crazy. She looked around the room. It was then that she'd noticed that the locket was not about her neck. She tried to remember what she'd done with it.

After a few seconds she remembered taking it off when it had begun to warm and glow. She'd watched it and left it on the coffee table next to the sofa. She looked at it now. It was glowing as red as it ever had. She had imagined that it would stop at sometime and then something gripped her stomach. It was the last words she'd heard as she saw the white light. “Go home, my debt is repaid. He will be coming back to you.”

As those words burned into her mind for the second time, a white flash of light blinded her and an explosion that she thought would have ripped her tiny flat to pieces occurred. It was a few seconds before she could see. But as she opened her eyes, she saw Harry before her. He was naked and looked cold. Her first reaction was one of confusion and then she grabbed the afghan and wrapped it around him and helped him to the sofa.

She couldn't control her sobs. Nor could Harry stop his silent crying as he took her by her shoulders and pulled her to him. “I love you, Hermione. I have always loved you.”

They each shuddered as the world around them seemed to fade away.

Hermione lay quietly next to Harry combing his hair from his eyes. Her body felt the joy of love the way it should be experienced. Harry stared into her eyes.

“Hermione, I tried to tell you. But there was no time. I couldn't tell you everything,” Harry admitted.

“Harry? I didn't just sleep with a ghost did I?” Hermione said in a half-mocking and half-serious tone.

“No, sweetheart, I'm 100% real and in love with you,” Harry said.

“I thought I was going crazy when I remembered you coming to me in the library,” Hermione said. “I thought I made up this fantasy about you to deal with your death.”

Hermione shuddered for the first time since Harry and she had been together. “Who was in the coffin?”

Harry looked at her solemnly and quite unmoved. “My body.”

Hermione sat up straight naked as a jaybird and looked at Harry in the face. “You let us all go to your funeral and put you in the ground while you were having a laugh on us. This whole thing was a sham?”

Harry looked at Hermione and wondered what she was talking about. “What are you talking about?”

“How could you let us think you were dead?” Hermione demanded.

Harry turned toward her and covered her up. “Sweetheart, do you remember much of our battle and discoveries in the Ministry of Magic and Department of Mysteries?”

“A little…you know I forgot a lot after I was hurt and some of my memories were altered...as were all of ours,” she recounted.

“Do you remember there was one room that pulsated and glowed?” Harry asked, knowing she didn't.

“No.” she responded.

“It's a very complicated process and one day I'll tell you the whole thing. Right now I want you get back to snogging so I'm going to give you the short version. Okay?” Harry asked with a glint in his eye. Hermione giggled as he tickled her.

“I get to ask questions until I'm satisfied though,” she said.

“Of course, sweetheart, but if I answer them all without you having to ask questions, we're going to do you know what again, whether you like it or not. Deal?” Harry said with a devilish grin.

“First, who said I wouldn't like that. Second, you'd better be thorough Wizard Boy or I could end up asking a lot of questions,” she laughed as Harry put his finger to her lips.

“Okay, first of all, it was Professor Dumbledore that originally realized that if it were true that Lord Voldemort had passed me powers during his attack on me as a child, he may not have been able to pick and choose. Since Lord Voldemort had found a way to cheat death, Dumbledore had been looking into his methods from almost day one when I was attacked when he knew the prophesy. He found out many interesting things about the Department of Mysteries and came to the conclusion that I might be able to preserve myself in any battle I might have with Voldemort just as he was able to survive the rebounding curse. Dumbledore knew all along that Peter Pettigrew owed me for not letting Sirius and Remus kill him in the Shrieking Shack.”

Hermione looked at Harry as intensely as she'd ever done before.

“Dumbledore used his connections to get materials out of that room that would make it possible for me to leave my essence in this world and reclaim my body without resorting to wholly dark means. But it was the experience of Wormtail working with Voldemort that we needed. For weeks, we worked to get Wormtail to turn on Voldemort. It was when Dumbledore agreed that he could fade into oblivion that Wormtail gave in.”

“The process was the same as Voldemort's where he could transfer his soul living things. He would move from one thing to another, gaining strength as the host became more and more intelligent or sentient. We used the same thing, except the Department of Mysteries held the secret to the true essence of love.”

“This is where you came in. I have loved you from the very first Hermione. But I was not sure of your love for me. Love doesn't require a person to exist. It exists in the natural world as a power unto itself. But Love's power is magnified ten-thousand fold when it is shared by two pure souls. It is how my mother protected me and why my father sacrificed himself. The theory was that given an object beholden with my love for you, if you felt the intensity and purity of love for me it could bring me back to the living world. The magic for bringing my body to meet with my spirit and soul at the same moment was done by Wormtail in repayment of his debt along with helping me defeat Voldemort. I have no idea how he did it. I will learn though.”

“You were carrying my very essence of life and love about your neck for the last year. When I died it went dark, requiring very strong magic to regenerate me. But since it was based in love, each and every time you and Ginny or you and Ron, or anyone for that matter remembered me in a loving way, it fueled my return. None of you were told, because Love cannot be fooled. If any of you were to have gotten any idea that you were the means to bringing me back, but your love was not strong enough it would have been unfair. When Dumbledore explained to me that it all depended on you and those closest to you, I forbid that you be told. I would not let you or anyone feel guilty for not loving me enough. It had to be real.”

Hermione was crying. Her head was tilted to the side as she sobbed. “I must not have loved you enough all this time. Why now?”

“Trelawney. She saw the power in you. But she also saw the need to stimulate your brain the way it best absorbs things…through books…and reading. We hired a young publicist for the former Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge named Percy Weasley to write the articles and cover the funeral. I don't know what he wrote I don't know any details except enough to tell you what the plan was. For all intents and purposes, I have been dead for over a year until your love brought me back to life.”

Harry looked at Hermione. “You are beautiful, Hermione. I mean in heart, mind and spirit. I placed my trust and love in the right person. I knew it too. I knew it would work.” He leaned over and kissed her. As hands found her naked waist, he stopped and looked at her for a moment. “Will you marry me, Hermione?” He smiled and kissed her. “You can answer later.”

They kissed again.

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