Disclaimer: See Part 1.
Author's Note: In which Harry finally gets a wake-up call…
From My Soul
Part 15
Harry couldn't breathe.
His breath, the proper functioning of his lungs, seemed to have been suspended through the crushing pressure in his chest. A hard knot of dread had taken up residence in it from the moment the door bell had rung, the moment he'd seen the grave faces of Remus Lupin and Mr. Weasley.
He supposed he should have expected it. It had been too peaceful these last couple weeks since the meeting of the Order. They had returned to Grimmauld Place and spent their time going through the books Hermione had brought back from Hogwarts and practicing dueling. He should have expected it-but he hadn't and even if he had, nothing could have prepared him for this.
The knot in his chest grew, expanded, during Remus' quiet and brief explanation. "Hermione, it's your parents. They're in St. Mungo's in a special ward. They're unconscious, comatose, right now after being attacked by Death Eaters."
The knot leaped to his throat, nearly strangling him as he saw Hermione's face drain of all color leaving it gray and heard the choked cry she gave. He just managed to make it to her side when she swayed slightly-but she recovered, pulling herself together in a minute and twitching her arm free.
"I'm here to take you to St. Mungo's," Mr. Weasley said, his voice gentle.
Hermione nodded woodenly. "I- I'll go get some things together." Her voice sounded hollow, as if it didn't really belong to her.
Harry flinched, reaching out one hand automatically. "Can I--" he began but she cut him off with a shake of her head as she left.
"How bad is it?" Ron ventured nervously into the heavy silence.
Remus sighed. "We don't know for sure."
"They're still alive," Mr. Weasley added with a wan attempt at encouragement. "It's rare that Death Eaters leave anyone alive and while there's life…" he trailed off, looking uncomfortable.
Hermione reappeared with one small bag. She was still very pale but composed enough-too composed. Harry felt a pang of concern wrench his gut; he knew her too well to think that her composure was a good thing. She was keeping it inside, had closed herself off. There was a palpable, if invisible, wall which she'd put up around herself-to keep herself calm or to keep others out, Harry wasn't sure which and didn't like either option.
Ron started forward, giving Hermione an awkward sort-of half-hug with one arm, while Harry hesitated. He wanted to say something, wanted to do something, but had no idea what to say or do. His worry and his concern and his instinctive, gut reaction to seeing Hermione in so much pain were all welling up inside him, strangling him and cutting off any rational thoughts he might have had. Finally, he settled for putting a hand on her arm, giving it a light squeeze.
"Hermione, I- I'm sorry," he said in a hoarse whisper, lamely.
She didn't react, only turned to Mr. Weasley.
Mr. Weasley gave both him and Ron a last look of sympathy and concern and then left, following behind Hermione.
The moment the door closed, Ron burst out. "Why didn't Snape give us some warning?"
The question jolted Harry back to life. "Yeah, why didn't we have some warning? Isn't he supposed to be telling us of these attacks so we're prepared at the very least?" He clung to his anger, encouraging it; it was easier to deal with than his worry over Hermione.
Remus sighed. "From what we can tell, this didn't involve the- ah, shall we say- more senior Death Eaters, like Malfoy and the Lestranges. Fortunately for the Grangers; if it had been either of them, Hermione's parents would be dead. This was a smaller thing, not really part of any plan, if Voldemort has one master plan."
"Why are they alive?" Harry found himself asking, in a voice that was strangely unlike himself. "They shouldn't be alive."
"Harry!" Ron gasped in a tone of horror.
But Remus understood. "No, you're right, Harry. For Muggles to survive a Death Eater attack-well, it's unprecedented. They wouldn't be alive but for their own good fortune. The attack happened when they were having a cup of tea after dinner and they were, naturally, tortured first."
"The Cruciatus," Harry murmured, still in that strange, detached voice that didn't belong to him.
"Yes," Remus affirmed, his tone gentle. "We cannot know for certain, of course, but we suspect that just before they were going to murder the by-now-unconscious Grangers, they were prevented by something, perhaps one of the neighbors knocking or some other fortunate circumstance. It was supposed to be a solitary attack which would not be noticed by many people, so they may have simply left, satisfied that they had done enough."
"I still blame Snape," Ron muttered darkly.
Remus allowed himself a wan, fleeting smile, though it faded instantly. "Feel free."
He paused, hesitated, glancing at Ron and then back at Harry and, though he wouldn't have thought it possible, Harry felt his insides get even colder as he sensed that there was something worse to come.
He was right.
Remus turned to Ron. "Can I have a word with Harry, Ron?"
Ron left silently, going upstairs to his room.
Remus sighed heavily, passing his hand over his face and through his graying hair in a gesture of weariness before meeting Harry's eyes. "Harry, there's something else you need to know. About what happened to the Grangers. The Dark Mark was left over their house but that wasn't all. In the dining room where we found Mr. and Mrs. Granger, they had left another mark, burned onto the table, the shape of a lightning bolt."
Harry's hand automatically reached up to touch his scar. "It was for me," he heard himself say, his voice sounding hollow, unnatural.
This hadn't been a large, real attack. It had never even been intended to be one, he suddenly understood. It had been meant to be a signal, a warning. It was a warning to him-that no one he knew, no one connected to him was safe.
That the Grangers were Muggles probably only made the whole gesture even sweeter for Voldemort. A bit of Muggle-baiting as well as a warning.
Harry shivered, wondering if he might be sick, but he fought back the wave of horror he felt.
"Are you--" his voice cracked and he swallowed hard, "are you going to tell Hermione?"
"You know we have to. She deserves to know why."
And even though he had known that was what Remus would say and though he knew he couldn't have asked them not to tell her and he couldn't honestly think not telling her would be right-he couldn't help but feel a desperate wish that it could have been otherwise.
"Harry, the Grangers are going to be sent into hiding. This attack was only a threat, a warning. The Ministry has allowed it, given who they are, and the Order's going to move them to a safe location, perhaps in Ireland or Wales, give them new names and modify the memories of their new neighbors. We'll check on them every few weeks or so but other than that, they can't have any contact with the wizarding world, no owls, no nothing. We're going to allow Hermione to accompany them in these extraordinary circumstances."
Harry couldn't breathe, could only stare at Remus in shock, the words buzzing in his mind but not quite sinking in until that last sentence broke through the merciful incomprehension. He finally managed to force out, "I understand."
Remus came over and put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Harry, but you know we have to."
He nodded and watched Remus walk out of the room and heard the front door close behind him as if from far away.
And then collapsed to the ground as his legs gave out.
Oh God, oh God, oh God… His thoughts were swimming, a mass of images and thoughts and fears-but amid it all, one fear stood out.
Hermione would hate him for this.
Her parents had been attacked because of him, would have their entire lives disrupted because of him. She would hate him for this…
He would hate him for this.
He did hate himself for this.
He had just lost his best friend-and it was only now that he realized just what he felt for Hermione. She wasn't only his best friend and he didn't just fancy her. He- he loved her.
All those times he'd thought she was pretty, all those times he'd inadvertently found himself staring at her mouth-he knew why now. It wasn't because he fancied her. It was because he loved her.
That was what was different about his feelings for Hermione and what he'd felt for Ginny. That was why seeing Hermione cry, seeing her hurt, pained him so much, why seeing her suffering when she heard about her parents had filled him with a mad, wild impulse to pull her into his arms and hold her, as if by holding her, he could somehow take her pain into his own body. Why he'd suddenly felt a desperate wish to do something-attack whoever had done this to her parents, attack anyone who ever tried to harm Hermione or anyone she cared about in any way. His reaction had been too intense, too gut-wrenching, for it to only be friendship or a fancy. He cared about her too much-for her loyalty and her steadfast friendship, for all the times she'd helped him, saved him, even for the times she disagreed with him-because he knew that it was a sign of how much she cared.
He loved her.
And she would hate him for this, would be leaving for this.
In all his misery and guilt and fear, he somehow didn't doubt that. Of course Hermione would go into hiding with her parents. He knew how much she loved them; they were her parents! He couldn't blame her; he couldn't ask her not to; he had no right to ask her not to.
She would hate him for this.
He wondered with a sick sense of hopelessness whether Voldemort had somehow intruded into his mind without him noticing it and had planned this. To weaken him by making Hermione hate him, to hurt him by making Hermione hate him.
If Voldemort had, he was succeeding terribly well.
~~
If Ron had needed proof of just how important to Harry, Hermione was, he would have gotten ample proof of it in the days after Hermione left for St. Mungo's.
Harry tried to act normal, even tried to joke a little, but the attempt was lame and Ron could see through it easily.
Harry would be talking and then trail off or, as happened more often, Ron would be saying something but Harry would either not respond or respond at random, his gaze fixed on something, his eyes as far away as his thoughts clearly were.
If it had been any other time and if Ron hadn't understood it, he might have been annoyed that Harry clearly cared very little about his company at the moment. But then, Ron rather suspected that at the moment, Harry cared very little about the existence of anyone and anything in the world that didn't concern Hermione.
Harry, who'd always rather had a predilection for being solitary at times, developed a definite tendency to drifting off into reveries. Reveries during which Ron could tell, from the bleak expression on Harry's face, that he was mentally flagellating himself for what had happened to Hermione's parents and worrying, too, that Hermione would hate him. (Ron could have told Harry that he didn't think anything could make her hate him but Harry wasn't a particularly receptive listener so Ron decided to save his breath.)
Even more telling of the level of Harry's distraction was the fact that Ron managed to beat Harry in their practice duels. Not just once, either, but several times. He disarmed Harry twice, managed to hit Harry with a silent Tarantallegra Hex which had made Harry dance for several minutes (as Ron was too busy laughing to immediately say, "Finite Incantatem" while Harry had glared) and lastly managed to Stupefy Harry.
Ron enjoyed his triumphs over Harry rather unmercifully-more than he might have at another time, except that for one thing, it provided a useful distraction for Harry in that when he was glowering at Ron's gloating, he wasn't brooding about Hermione and her parents and for another, because Harry was so distracted, his response to Ron's gloating was rather less heated than it might otherwise be. So Ron was free to gloat with some impunity.
This state of affairs lasted several days until one afternoon when Harry was (again) in one of his brooding fits and Ron, who'd had a lot of time to think himself, brought up an idea he'd had that effectively distracted Harry for at least a time.
"Harry."
No response.
"Harry?" a little louder.
Harry gave an excellent impression of a stone statue and still didn't respond, lost in thought as he was.
"So I've been thinking of something Hermione said," Ron began, his voice louder than usual and placing rather undue emphasis on Hermione's name.
Harry blinked. "Huh- what?"
"I've been thinking," Ron repeated with more patience than he would have believed he was capable of, "about something Dumbledore said and Hermione repeated."
"What is it?"
"About how V-v-You-know-who hid the horcrux things in places that meant something to him, which was how Hermione figured out about the Chamber."
Harry nodded slowly. "Yes?" he asked, drawing the word out to two syllables.
Ron flushed, fidgeting. "I mean, I know it's probably a stupid idea and all. Wouldn't really have brought it up but I was thinking and I was wondering…"
"What?"
"I thought, well, what about that house of his where he hid out for a while in 4th year, that you dreamed about that one time?"
"Riddle House?"
"Yeah, that place. It had been his father's, Dumbledore said, and didn't he drag you back there, to where his father was buried nearby, that night he came back?"
Harry was silent for a while and Ron shifted rather uncomfortably. "Oh, it's probably a stupid idea. It was just a suggestion; I don't have any idea really. Don't blame you if you think it's barmy."
"I don't think it's barmy," Harry interjected. "I think it makes a lot of sense."
"You do?" The beginnings of a grin brightened Ron's face. "You do! I mean, er, of course, we should check it out."
"Yes." Harry paused. "Hey, Ron?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks."
"It was nothing," Ron shrugged. "Just a thought I had."
"Well, it's one more useful thought than I've had lately, so thanks."
Ron grinned, feeling a surge of satisfaction. Hermione wasn't the only one to come up with good ideas, he thought happily.
~~
"Absolutely not!"
Remus's voice was firm, unyielding, as was his expression as he faced Harry and Ron.
"But--" Harry began.
"We just want to look around!" Ron protested in the same moment.
"Out of the question," Remus vetoed again. "I don't think you two know what you're asking for. This is Riddle House, one of the few places we know of that Voldemort has been using as his headquarters. To let you go wandering off there would be like sending you into a near-certain ambush to be slaughtered! It's impossible. A ridiculous idea. Really, Harry, I'm surprised at you! What in the name of Merlin could be so important that you must go to Riddle House?"
Harry hesitated, glanced at Ron who met his eyes, and then let himself think of Hermione for a moment, before he looked back at Remus, meeting his former professor's eyes. He supposed he'd always known he was going to have to tell Remus about the horcruxes sometime. And he did trust Remus but part of him still wanted to cling to Dumbledore's long-ago injunction of secrecy, if only because he felt somehow safer with fewer people knowing. But this was Remus, their Secret Keeper and his parents' friend-if he couldn't trust Remus, then who?
"We think that Voldemort may have hidden one of his horcruxes there," Harry stated bluntly.
"His- what? What do you know about horcruxes? How?"
"Horcruxes are objects where a Dark wizard has hidden a part of his soul," Harry recited precisely.
"Great ghost," Remus said faintly as he stared at Harry and Ron with something like horror in his eyes. With a wave of his wand, he summoned a chair from the corner of the room and sank down into it.
"Hadn't you heard of them before?" Ron asked rather curiously.
"I'd heard of them, in passing, and found out, eventually, what they were but it's a level of Dark magic that few wizards are capable of and fewer still would even dream of attempting. There's hardly ever been a recorded instance in history of a wizard who's made a horcrux and gotten away with it." He paused. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that Voldemort has made a horcrux--" he stopped, stared at Harry again. "You said one of his horcruxes. He made more than one?"
"Dumbledore thinks he made six," Ron answered for Harry.
Remus recoiled slightly. "Six?"
"One of them was the diary of Tom Riddle that I destroyed in 2nd year. The other was Marvolo Gaunt's ring and Dumbledore destroyed that last year. Then there's a locket of Slytherin's which we found here a couple months ago and Ravenclaw's key that we found in the Chamber of Secrets. The other two are Hufflepuff's cup and lastly, another object, possibly something of Gryffindor's that we're not sure of," Harry listed quickly.
Remus nodded slowly. "And you think one of them will be in Riddle House?"
"I thought of that," Ron interjected with a note of pride. "Dumbledore said that You-know-who would hide them in places that were significant to him, which he has so far. So I figured that Riddle House, which was where he killed his father and got his revenge, would be important to him."
"It does make sense," Remus nodded slowly.
"So, will you come with us when we go?" Harry asked again. "Now that you know how important it is."
Remus shook his head. "Absolutely not."
"But-" Harry began rather hotly.
Remus interrupted him. "I forbid it," he said quietly.
The words were unusual enough that Harry shut his mouth and simply listened.
"I am neither your guardian nor your godfather so I have technically no authority over you, to say nothing of the fact that you are both of age. But, Harry, as your Secret Keeper and, more importantly, as a friend of your parents, I cannot let you go into such a dangerous place. We do not know where Voldemort is right now and either way, Riddle House would be much too dangerous for you. You, of all people, know how important your safety is to our cause and I trust you won't try to jeopardize it like this." Remus met Harry's eyes. "I promised your parents and Sirius that I would protect you and I'd be breaking that promise if I let you and Ron go to a place like that, even if I were there with you."
Harry deflated somewhat but retained enough spirit to say, "But we need to find the other horcruxes. It's the only hope we have of really defeating Voldemort."
"I understand. I will organize a group from the Order to go search, once we make sure that Voldemort is no longer using it as his headquarters."
Harry didn't look entirely satisfied and Remus continued on, having saved the trump card for last. "What would Hermione say if she were here?"
The mention of Hermione's name worked its own magic, in a sense, in making Harry pause and think.
What would Hermione say, Harry wondered, for once ignoring the pang of worry and apprehension he felt at the mention of her. Even as he thought it, he heard her voice in his head, the voice of his conscience, his caution, whisper, You're being reckless. Remus is right.
Part of him still wanted to protest, still wanted to insist that he act; it wasn't in him to tamely hide away. But he'd learned, through bitter experience (brought sharply to the forefront of his mind after Remus's mention of Sirius), that it wasn't smart to ignore Hermione's voice in his head.
"Okay, fine. We'll stay here," Harry relented.
Remus had to bite his lip to hide a fleeting smile at Harry's grudging acquiescence, but as he'd expected, the mention of Hermione had convinced Harry when nothing else had. He was briefly reminded of how Lily had been able to stop James from one of his pranks with just a look in their 7th year and afterwards (much to Sirius's vocal disgust), and couldn't help but wonder, fleetingly, if Harry had realized yet what he really felt for Hermione.
Well, if he hadn't, he would soon enough, Remus expected.
"Good," Remus nodded approvingly. "I will let you both know if and when we find anything in Riddle House. And you needn't worry; I won't tell the other members of the Order exactly what we're looking for and why. It will probably be best to limit the knowledge of the horcruxes."
Harry nodded. "Dumbledore made me promise I wouldn't tell anyone but Ron and Hermione. I finally told Professor McGonagall about a month ago and now you."
"That is probably for the best. Stay safe, Ron, Harry," he said with a nod to each of them in turn and then he left.
~To be continued…
A/N 2: And that's the last summary of the horcrux situation in this fic, I promise!