Chapter Three:
The World We Love
How ever wonderful it was to be back where he belonged Harry found it difficult to sleep. Thankful he hadn't drunk enough to be sick he wished he'd drunk enough to at least have passed out. There were so many things - too many things to consider now that he had come home; for instance, staying. He wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was but he realized some time ago that it wasn't about what he wanted, but about what was best for the people he loved. He also had this place to think about. This used to be Sirius' house, and was given to him after the fiasco of Sirius' death - a death he still felt sickeningly responsible for - and ever since then he found it difficult to be there. With a quick look around the room he realized that not only was Fawkes perched on the headboard of his bed, but that this room was once the room that Sirius called his own. His chest got impossibly tight and the space around him seemed to grow impossibly smaller. He wondered to himself if he was ever going to get over Sirius' death, and decided that what he needed at that moment was air and time to think.
He found himself on the rooftop of Twelve Grimmauld, and found it to be as good a place as any for both air and thinking. He found that the night sky reminded him so much of the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts; the small stars glittered, set in an impossible vastness of velvet blackness. It even reminded him of the speeches that Professor Dumbledore would give at the welcoming feast, every year at the start of term. He took a deep weary breath and sighed. He remembered then something Dumbledore had told him once: "You know, Harry, I understand that you did not wish for any of this to happen to you, but I strongly believe it was you for a reason. There was a great man once, a wonderful writer, William Shakespeare. Have you ever heard of him?" Harry shook his head. "Ah, well yes, you may be a bit young. However, he wrote a great many plays and poems, and in one play called `The Twelfth Night' a character named Malvolio said: Be not afraid of greatness. Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon `em." His eyes twinkled as he looked down at Harry. "I believe you should take those words to heart," he said and sighed with a slightly bemused expression. "And all those people thought, and mind you still think that Mr. Shakespeare was merely a man with a wild imagination; imagine, Harry, what they might have said if they knew their dear Mr. Shakespeare was quite a bit more than a brilliant muggle." He winked at Harry and left him to his thoughts. Sometimes Harry thought it was almost amusing how insightful Albus Dumbledore had been. He knew then that Dumbledore had recited those words to him for a reason, but only now did he understand them.
"It's a bit chilly out." Harry turned his head in the direction of the soft voice, recognizing it immediately. Hermione was carefully walking towards him and pulling a soft blue sweater tighter around her. He mused as she sat next to him, mirroring his position - knees drawn up and arms around them - that Hermione was becoming quite a beautiful young woman.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked her, realizing that she was right and that it was a bit colder than he had noticed.
"Well, I went to check on you, and when I saw that you weren't in your bed I went looking for you. I figured you might be up here thanks to your strange attraction to nauseatingly high places." She smiled a little and so did he. She looked up at the sky. "I can see why you'd be out here, too. It's beautiful," she added softly.
"It is," he replied softly in return.
"How did you get up here?" she asked, stifling a yawn, cocking her head to the side and looking at him. He looked back at her.
"Magic," he said and grinned a little, causing her to do the same. She realized he would have to have gotten up there the same way as she.
"Well of course. And don't grin at me like that," she said unable to stop herself from doing so as well. "I don't think well when I'm exhausted."
"Really?" he said in mock surprise. "I assumed you thought well at any given time."
"Shut up, Harry," she laughed lightly. "But, I guess the more important question is what are you doing up here?"
"Thinking," he replied vaguely, staring off in front of him. There was a dog barking somewhere off in the distance.
"About anything in particular?" she asked. She was watching him now, gauging his facial expressions and body language. As long as she was looking at him he knew, as did she, that he couldn't lie to her.
"Quite a few things, actually," he answered. "I'm thinking about finding another place to live."
"What? Harry, why? This house was Sirius' and he-"
"That's exactly it, Hermione," he said softly, cutting her off. "This house was Sirius'." She understood what he was trying to say, and she sympathized with his pain, but she couldn't agree with his decision to leave and/or giving up the Black house.
"Harry, he wanted you to have this house for a reason, and not simply because you were his godson. For all you know, he left you this house because there may be something in it to help you fight, or even defeat Voldemort." He didn't say anything for a while and she had shifted her gaze to stare at her feet. Harry leaned in toward her and nudged her shoulder gently with his own.
"Leave it to you to come up with something like that, Hermione." He smiled at her a little and she did at him in return.
"So, you're staying then, right?"
"Yes," he said sighing in mock resignation. "I'm staying." And like he knew she would she threw her arms around him, and held him tightly in one of her famous hugs. She'd forgotten how good it felt to hug Harry this way.
"Good," she said softly, and he swore he heard the threat of tears on the edge of her voice. He found he didn't want to let her go. He never thought he would miss anyone so much in the three years he had been gone, but being around Hermione again he was quickly realizing that he was wrong.
"I'm not going anywhere," he said softly, "ever again." She seemed to hug him tighter. He wasn't sure how long they were wrapped in their long overdue and proper embrace, but it had gotten cold and Hermione's teeth chattered slightly. They released one another and Harry had to smile just a little when she laughed lightly while she wiped a few stubborn tear. "Let's go inside," he said standing and offering his hand; she took it and he helped her to her feet.
"Wait," she said stopping and looking up at Harry. "There's something I need to know."
"What is it?"
"The horcruxes, Harry," she said seriously. "Did you find any more of them?"
He nodded. "Two," he said.
"Harry…" she gaped at him. "Where are they?"
"Safe," he replied. "I'll explain it all tomorrow - to you, to Ron, to Lupin, Tonks, and to Professor McGonagall."
"But Harry," Hermione said, "you know that as Headmistress she can't just leave."
"I know," he said and looked away. "That's why we have to go to Hogwarts."
"But… none of us have been back there since…" she trailed off.
"Since Dumbledore was killed, I know," he replied looking out over the city. "But this is too important. This isn't about not wanting to go back there; it isn't about not wanting to relive a painful memory, Hermione." he said quietly. "It's more important than that. This is about the lives of innocent people, and not just in the wizarding world. Voldemort wants more than that, so much more, and that can't happen. I won't let that happen."
Hermione grabbed his hand and squeezed lightly. "We've told you before, Harry: Ron and I are with you no matter what." He nodded and squeezed her hand in return before tugging gently to go inside, and once in the warm confines of their rooms sleep proved elusive once more. The overwhelming anxiety of returning to Hogwarts kept him from getting more than a few hours of sleep, and those few hours were plagued by dream-memories of the night Dumbledore was murdered. He remembered his face perfectly, his eyes and the pleading in his voice, Severus, please… Harry had thought he hated Severus Snape even more than he hated Voldemort, but there was something else… He hated to even think Snape had a reason, hated to even have a single thought in his defense, but something was off about the whole thing that he had been too blinded by rage and sadness to see that night. He wished he could just talk to Dumbledore, even if it was just for a moment; he just wanted to hear his voice again, maybe ask him a question or two… By the time he was done speculating and wishing for things he was sure would never happen the sun had risen. He sighed and rose from his bed, deciding to shower and get dressed.
He had just finished dressing when there was a quiet knock on his door, and Ron opened it slowly. Harry took notice that he was looking more and more like Mr. Weasley the older and taller he got. He told Harry that Hermione was downstairs and she wanted him to come down and have some breakfast before they left. They walked in silence downstairs to the kitchen where Hermione was cooking eggs and bacon and sausage, and from the smell of it burning toast. Ron sat at the familiar table of Twelve Grimmauld followed by Harry. Any other person absent for three years would have forgotten the look of a table, but Harry remembered it in specific detail down to the cracks in certain places, burn marks from hot pans, and gouges from silverware. There was a radio set by the sink softly playing what Harry knew to be a muggle radio station, and what he knew to be oldies. Ron poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice and Harry did the same.
"So, where is it exactly we're going today, Harry?" Ron asked him. "Hermione said she wanted you to come down and have some breakfast before we leave so…"
"Hogwarts," Harry answered, causing Ron to choke on his juice and spit most of it in his lap. Harry would have smiled, but the thought of going to Hogwarts was less than appealing, and made the current state of Ron less funny than it normally would have been.
"For goodness sake, Ron," Hermione scolded placing a large plate of eggs and a large plate of bacon in the middle of the table, and shaking her head.
"It wasn't my fault, Hermione," he spluttered. "I think Harry is trying to kill me. Honestly, Harry, that wasn't a very funny joke."
"He wasn't joking," Hermione said before Harry had the chance to. "After breakfast we're going to Hogwarts to see Professor McGonagall; we have some really important things to discuss with her."
"How does she know?" he asked Harry.
"Because I was up past my bed time and so was she, so we talked before we went to bed. If you'd have been awake I would have told you too…"
"Harry, I owled Professor Lupin, Tonks, and Mr. Weasley to meet us there," she said as she now set down a small plate of sausage and the toast he smelled burning when he first came down. "I figured that while I was awake last night, I might as well let them know rather than sending them all letters early this morning and expecting them to be there."
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said.
"This is beginning to feel like school again," Ron said with something resembling a scowl on his face. "Why are we going there anyway?"
"There are some things that you all need to know. It's important for you all to know because eventually, it may come down to your lives depending on it. Now that Voldemort knows that I'm back with all of you, that I've come home, he won't stop trying to find ways to get to me, to get me to come after him because that way he's the one in control."
"Harry found two horcruxes," Hermione said and this time Ron choked on eggs.
"You what?"
"Well I found one, and figured out where the other one was."
"And that," Hermione said, "is why we have got to go to Hogwarts to talk to Professor McGonagall and especially Professor Lupin and Tonks."
"What does my dad have to do with it?" Ron asked looking worried.
"He was part of the Order, Ron," Harry said. "He needs to know, too."
"And what about the Order, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Dumbledore was head of the Order, and I don't think we've all been together since."
"I think it's time for a New Order," Harry said quietly. "This time, I'll run things. I know that maybe Lupin should, or your dad," he said looking at Ron, "but I'm the one Voldemort wants, and I'm the one who knows the full extent of what we're up against."
"Harry," Hermione said softly. "You don't have to explain. We understand." Ron nodded in agreement, taking it all in. Harry nodded as well.
"Alright, we'll leave after breakfast," Harry said. "We'll go on brooms."
"In broad daylight?" Hermione questioned.
"Well, it's the only way to get there. We can't apparate, and we don't have a flying car, so…" he looked at Ron with a slight smile who gave one in return. "I know you don't like flying, Hermione, but it's the only way to get there."
"You can even ride with Harry," Ron said and looked at Harry. "She hates riding a broom with me. She says that I'm going to drop her." He rolled his eyes.
"You did drop me, Ronald." she shot back.
"That was only once!" he defended himself. "And Fred caught you!"
"And if Fred hadn't been there?" she asked with her arms crossed over her chest. Ron looked at his plate and stuffed toast into his mouth; Harry had to laugh, remembering how they always used to bicker and seeing that things hadn't changed too much. Harry helped himself to more eggs, more bacon, and another piece of toast.
"No bacon, Hermione?" he asked.
"Harry, really, I'd rather not eat a piece of a dead pig," she replied making a rather unpleasant face that reminded him of Narcissa Malfoy.
"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said dropping his piece of bacon back to his plate.
"Harry," Ron said, "don't ever ask her why she isn't eating something, because after she tells you, you won't eat it either."
"Yeah, I see that now." he said shaking his head and grinning a little. The rest of breakfast went smoothly with light chatter between the three of them and a few laughs. He realized just how good it was to be home, aside from the fact that they still had a war to fight. He helped clear the table, and watched as Hermione bewitched the dishes to wash and dry themselves, and he smiled a little. Ron leaned towards him.
"Mum taught her to do that," he whispered. Harry grinned.
"The two of you should go get your brooms," she said turning to them. "Professor McGonagall will be expecting us soon." They both nodded and headed upstairs.
Harry made a slight detour when he reached the top of the stairs, making sure Ron had gone into his room. There was an empty room that he remembered storing several boxes of Black heirlooms and trinkets. He snuck inside, closing the door quietly behind him and started looking for the box he distinctly remembered it being in. They had this war to fight, and he refused to lose; he was determined to win, and this one thing brought him a step closer.
The journey to Hogwarts went smoothly, after convincing Hermione that they were flying high enough not to be seen by muggles. He felt peculiarly weighed down by the object in his pocket, hidden beneath his robes. And when Hogwarts finally came into view he felt his heart drop to his stomach, suddenly wanting to turn back and not step foot on the grounds. Hermione felt his entire body tense and tightened her arms around his waist, as if saying it's ok. Turning back wasn't an option now, maybe it wasn't ever an option, but he knew this was too important to let a bad memory get the better of him. This was far too important to turn away from because he could still remember Malfoy and Snape, and the pleading in Professor Dumbledore's voice - this had to come first, no matter how much it hurt. When they touched the ground and several groups of students stopped to stare at them, mostly him, he was reminded of the days he spent there, of the days he, Ron, and Hermione were once students and got into more than their fair share of trouble, and shared some of the best times of their lives. But that was over now, and they weren't here to reminisce. They were here to save these children from a future that would hardly be worth living. Nodding to a few students along the way they made it, finally, to the entrance and found themselves in the familiar Entrance Hall, greeted by a less than friendly familiar face.
"Potter. What are you doing here? Come to cause more trouble, have you?"
"Maybe later, Mr. Filch, but right now I need to see Professor McGonagall. Is she in her office?" he asked, trying to ignore the dirty look he was getting in return. Some things would never change, and that included Argus Filch's dislike for him. He nodded, picking up Mrs. Norris who was weaving her way around his feet. They headed in the direction of the Head Mistress's office, leaving Mr. Filch behind. Harry's heart was beating so loudly he could hear it in his own ears. They passed the Great Hall, constant chatter flowing out towards them; he looked at Ron and Hermione and gave a soft, sad smile, remembering the days the spent in there, and when they reached the office that once belonged to Professor Dumbledore they found Professor McGonagall herself waiting for them.
"We've been waiting for the three of you," she said curtly. "In." They all looked at one another before following her inside, Harry knowing that before he could get a word in edgewise she was going to lay into him for leaving the way he did.
The office looked almost exactly the same as it had when it belonged to Professor Dumbledore, save for a few things that obviously belonged to Professor McGonagall. Professor Lupin was already there, as well as Tonks and Mr. Weasley, and they were, of course, the last to arrive. Professor McGonagall moved behind her desk and sat down, not taking her eyes off of Harry who was intently staring at the floor.
"How nice of you to join us, Mr. Potter," she finally said. "I should think that you have an excuse for the last three years?" she asked and he didn't answer. "I must tell you, that it was the most irresponsible thing I have ever known you to do; what made you think you could just leave and not tell anyone where you were going?" Her voice was rising in frustration, or anger, but mostly because she had been just as worried as anyone else. "You could have been in serious trouble, which I have no doubt you were, and no one could find you to even help. I should hope, Mr. Potter, that you have learned a very valuable lesson."
"I have, Professor," he said quietly, not looking at her.
"And I hope that we never have this conversation again, because if you worry me the way that you did again, I may not be here to impress upon you the seriousness of your mistakes." He finally looked up at her and saw that along with her voice her expression had softened. She had been truly worried about him, and he knew so because for her to say that if he ever did it again, she would die of worry - that was saying something.
"I'm sorry," was what he replied with. "To all of you, I'm sorry. I know that it was stupid to leave, and I see that, but that's not what we're here for. There is something else much more important than my stupidity," he said seriously. "Voldemort knows that I've come home, and that puts all of you in danger."
"Surely you aren't thinking of leaving," Professor McGonagall said to him.
"No, not at all," he replied, and then continued. "He's getting stronger, and I think he might even be as powerful as he was when he murdered my parents, maybe stronger than that - I can't be sure. But even that isn't the point.
"Dumbledore created The Order of the Phoenix for a reason, and we pretty much abandoned it when he died. I think it's time for a New Order, and I think it's time that we start meeting again."
"Harry, what made you come to this decision?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"I found two of Voldemort's horcruxes." There was nothing but silence as everyone looked at him worried, shocked, and unable to speak.
"Where are they?" Professor Lupin finally asked.
"They're safe. One of them I found while I was away, and the other… the other I just realized where it had been all this time - the Locket. When Professor Dumbledore and I went to get it, it was a fake. There was a note inside from someone with the initials R.A.B."
"Regulus…" Professor Lupin said quietly, possibly without realizing he had spoken out loud until everyone looked at him, and Harry nodded.
"Regulus Atilius Black. I couldn't think of anyone else it could have been. The note in it told us that he had taken the real locket and that the one left behind was a fake." he said.
"So where is the real locket?" Tonks asked.
"It's been at Twelve Grimmauld all this time. When Professor Dumbledore called together the Order in my fifth year, we helped Mrs. Weasley clean the house. We stuffed away a heavy locket that was in with a bunch of other Black heirlooms. That's the real locket. Regulus must have brought it back to the house, and with the Fidelis Charm protecting the house, Voldemort could never get to it." Harry explained.
"Is it still there?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"It's in my pocket."
"Harry, is it such a good idea to bring it out of the house?" Mr. Weasley asked. "There is nothing protecting it from him if it's out of the confines of the Fidelis Charm."
"Except me," he replied. "He won't get anywhere near it as long as I have it. And the reason I brought it here, is because I know that Professor Dumbledore kept books, information on how I might be able to destroy the soul fragment in the locket. Maybe," he added, seeing the unease in their faces. "I don't know for sure if there is anyway for me to destroy the soul fragment without destroying the locket completely."
"And the other horcrux?" Professor Lupin questioned. "What is it, Harry? Where did you find it, and where is it now?"
"Ravenclaw's wand, and it's safe back at the house."
"Goodness," Professor McGonagall blurted her hand flying to her chest.
"Before Professor Dumbledore died, he told me that Voldemort was most likely looking to make things of great magical history into Horcruxes. There was the diary, Gaunt's ring, Slytherin's locket," he held it up for emphasis, "Hufflepuff's cup, the snake Nagini, and since he couldn't get his hands on anything that belonged to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw's wand."
"Where did you find it?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"In the Malfoy Manor," he answered. "After I figured out that Ravenclaw's wand had been kept by descendants of her family, I knew that Voldemort wouldn't be able to resist getting his hands on it. I did some digging and found out that the last descendant to own it was murdered, has been dead for years, and the wand was missing. Maybe it's my hatred for anyone Malfoy, but something told me to look there. He went to Azkaban for Voldemort, so who was to say he wasn't hiding something in the house?
"In my second year I ended up in Borgin and Burkes by accident and he was there with Draco, looking to sell things the Ministry wouldn't be too happy to find in his house. After thinking about that I realized that maybe, just maybe Voldemort might have stashed it there. I mean, who would think to look in the Malfoy manor?"
"How did you even get it?" Hermione asked. "There is no way you just walked into the Malfoy manor."
"I'm still not sure how I managed it. It was almost like… like someone knew I was coming. It was almost like someone helped me get in."
"How can you be sure it's not a set up?" Lupin asked, looking terribly worried.
"I can't explain it, but if you held that wand in your hands… you'd know, too. It's not a fake. It wasn't a set up. I just can't help but wonder how anyone knew I would go there, and who would help me."
"It doesn't sound right, Harry," Tonks said.
"I know, but trust me. It's a horcrux." he said, stowing the locket back underneath his robes, safely in his pocket.
"And what now?" Professor McGonagall asked. "Surely, you know I will give you access you anything you need, but what after that?"
"We do whatever we can." he answered.
"At what expense, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Your life?"
"I hope it doesn't come down to the expense of anyone else's lives except Voldemort's, Hermione," he said. "But if it comes down to mine… The world we love is at stake, and to me, that's worth dying for."
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