A/N: Hey all! It's me again, and I'm early this week, national holiday in my country means that I can bring this to you. Don't hate me for the fact that it is mostly filler. If you are bored reading this, and really annoyed that I even posted it, what can I say, I too dislike filler for the fact that it is a pain to write. Thankfully though, this means I can jump into the action in the next chapter again! Yay!!!
Anyhoo, all are encouraged to read and review. There might be important stuff in this chapter. I hope.
*****
Fights and Flight
When Harry finally Apparated them into the street before the house, all surprisingly un-splinched, Emmeline freed herself from him roughly and raced through the front door, slamming it behind her. Hermione remained awkwardly beside him a moment then, before she too began to head through the gate and up to the house after her. But Harry stood where he was watching them go, trying his best to sort through all he had just heard.
"And when I looked to find out with whom, it was… it was Percy…"
The "red-haired" man was Percy. He was alive.
"But I didn't even have the time to try to figure it out before Percy… Percy raised his wand and… killed Ron…."
He had killed Ron.
"Three days after the funeral, I saw him for the first time since the graveyard… he was standing in the orchard just looking at me while I was writing… he had been there for who knows how long and just waiting for me to look up and see him…."
He had been stalking Hermione.
"He was the one who met me at the gate this afternoon."
Today he had come to Harry's house with a message he gave Emmeline.
"I saw Percy… I… he was outside yesterday… and before that… at Ron's funeral… his face… the look on his face…"
And Mrs Weasley knew he was alive too.
The life of Harry Potter was just full of interesting surprises.
Here he had been, innocently believing that this red-haired man was just some random murderer he would personally deal with later on. Here he had been thinking that the best friend, who had never broken a promise before, never lied to anyone, and especially him, without reason, and never failed him before, had betrayed him. Here he had been thinking that this was over.
"Hadn't we ended this war?"
Clearly, he was a fool.
He should have known better than that. His life was not supposed to be easy. Did he forget that he was the Chosen One?
Surely he must have, because any other reasonable individual would have caught on to the reality that he was never going to have peace. Any reasonable being would have been more vigilant. Mad Eye Moody was still alive wasn't he? Harry could be just as paranoid as he if he wanted to be, Sixth Year anyone?
He shouldn't have shouted at Mrs Weasley, he should have shouted at himself.
And then there was that little voice telling him that Hermione was still keeping something from him too. Just to further complicate matters of course, as he had no good reason for any of this.
"… This was just my imagination… like with…."
"… and I knew…."
"… Forget…."
He was not sure how he came up with it, he wasn't sure why he was thinking this, but he just knew it.
Those sentences had been going somewhere and then she cut them, abruptly. It was as if she had suddenly realised where she was going and then started on the next sentence as coolly as she could. And they weren't even like the blanket ignorance of the shed from her narration. They were so small to be nonsensical, for all he knew it could have been leading to something about Ron.
Yet, he did not believe it.
Just as her hand grasped the shiny brass doorknob he said her name, "Hermione."
She stopped as she was and without looking round asked, "Harry?"
"Can we talk?" he asked, hoping she would hear the plea in his voice.
She did not respond at first.
She just stood at the door staring at it for a time, slowly becoming less visible as the evening darkened to night and the lights of the other homes round began to come on.
A part of him knew that she must have been expecting this; she would not be Hermione if she hadn't. She must have known that after she told the first story, there would be a second one for them to discuss, alone. Now faced with it though, he wondered if she also knew how hesitant he really was to get into it at all.
But eventually, and just as Harry was beginning to worry, she said, "Yes."
He had started towards her then, half-anxious, half-hesitant, when she dropped unto the front steps and said, "I'm pathetic aren't I?"
That halted his progress, he looked at her confused.
"I'm supposed to be the smartest witch of her generation, I'm supposed to be one of those brave people who faced Voldemort and lived, and I'm supposed to be… I don't know… someone I used to be…. Now I'm pathetic, a shadow, useless…" she continued and began to twist her fingers in her lap, "You were right when you mocked my "logical" claim."
There was then an excruciatingly awkward pause before she said, "If you want to shout at me now, I won't fight… I deserve it… I'm stupid…"
"Don't." Harry found his voice through his confusion, "Don't you dare say that! Don't you ever let me hear you say that again! You are not stupid! Or pathetic! And especially not useless! If you weren't here I'd be dead! If Mrs Weasley had said something before…"
"Mrs Weasley was like me, she saw him… she saw him and she was confused… I…" Hermione protested.
"Yes, yes, you both saw him and chose to keep it to yourselves, just let me rant I'll get over it!" he told her shortly, he was beginning to get annoyed again, "But Hermione, you always encouraged Ron and me to talk about everything; couldn't you trust me to understand? I know about you and Ron… and I mean it's like Cho with Cedric isn't it, it must be hard for you…"
Hermione suddenly snapped, "It's not that! I… I…" and then her voice trailed off.
Harry felt lost again a moment before he realised his mistake. He had compared her to Cho, and Hermione Granger was no big fan of Cho Chang.
"Listen Hermione… I'm sorry… it's just… I should have understood, thought more about how you felt, Ron was your boyfriend, my friend too…" he tried again. And again, Hermione cut him off, though not as heatedly as before.
"He wasn't my boyfriend when he died Harry."
Okay, now he was lost.
"What?"
She looked up at him with a somewhat sheepish smile.
"We broke up… about a week before… before we came here…. We had to help you fight, not fight with each other… and things already weren't going so well… I guess… we just… we decided to stop…"
He stared at her still, taken by complete surprise, this was news to him. And strangely, he also felt a bit… pleased… with this piece of information.
There was no time to dwell on that now though, so he said, and hoping it was the right thing, "You shouldn't have done that… I mean, look at your magic… where's your wand? You must have really… liked… him for this to happen to you, remember Tonks?"
It was not.
"This isn't that!" she snapped again.
A silence descended on them as he wracked his brain trying to figure out the problem, then giving up, said, "Well… I just wanted to say that I'm sorry, I should have been a better friend, understood… and don't worry, I'll get him… Percy won't get away with this."
She gave a bitter smile and looked away from him. If he had not been listening, and the world around them silent, he would have just missed her saying, "No… he won't… not as long as Harry Potter is here to save the day…"
There was not a trace of malice. There was only pain.
The conversation was over for the night.
*****
The next day brought with it, for the first time in days, brilliant sunshine that crept through the curtains and spread lazily on throughout the rooms of the house. When Harry awoke that morning it was facing the wall opposite his bed through the leaves of the tree just outside his window in the back.
It brought a curious smile to his lips. The last time he had seen the sunlight like that, it was shining through the window in their hideout, the morning of the last day before he faced Voldemort. Hermione had told him, and he now realised that it was in fact the first non-war related comment she had made in days then, that it meant that better days were coming. After her revelations at the Burrow though, he wondered if he could still believe that.
And then he was roused from his bed by the smell of oatmeal wafting through the house. Someone had made breakfast. He sniffed the air and then followed the smell into the hall and then the living where he was greeted by the unwelcome sight of Hermione and Emmeline engaged in a fierce, whispered argument.
It ended abruptly as he came in of course, but not before Emmeline jerked out of her sister's reach, shot her a parting glare and rushed off to the bedroom where she slammed it shut. He and Hermione were left to awkwardly stare at each other in her wake.
The morning had just begun and it was ruined. He had forgotten the look Emmeline had on her face when Hermione had declared their parents' deaths the day before. He had, but she hadn't.
It was Hermione who broke it first.
"She hates me… she knows… she thinks it's my fault," she said staring down at her bowl of oatmeal.
Harry ignored her slip.
"She'll get over it… I forgave Dumbledore didn't I?" and as she began to smile a little, "Besides, I'm a wit-wizard like you, I could alter her memories."
Hermione's smile dropped instantly and she looked up at him, appalled, "You will not be using magic against my sister! Our parents didn't like the idea of using magic for quick fixes and there's no reason that that should change!"
"Says the girl who fixed her teeth in Fourth Year by magic when her parents specifically told her not to?" asked Harry, smirking.
In reply she gave him a mischievous conspiratorial look.
She then looked so much like a Hermione he once knew that he actually let his jaw hang loose and eyes widen until she began to feel self-conscious and began looking down at her clothes.
"What… what? Is there something on my pyjamas? Did I miss a button?" she asked as she searched.
Before he could stop himself Harry blurted, "I wish."
Instead of getting up to slap him, as he was very sure any reasonable woman would do in the circumstance, or at least shoot him a reproachful glare, Hermione blushed. She actually sat there blushing, looking down at her bowl with cheeks as red as Ron's hair and then said, "You know, I almost told Mrs Weasley about that yesterday."
And just like that she brought back the doubts that had plagued his mind after she spoke the day before.
"… This was just my imagination… like with…."
"… and I knew…."
"… Forget…."
She had omitted parts of that speech, and here she was confirming it. Well, okay it was his paranoia again, but this was something wasn't it? She had almost told them a few more things yesterday too.
He sat down then, fully intending to question her when she suddenly stood up, still red-cheeked, and said, "I-I have to go… I-I think I should go change… Lupin sent an owl this morning, said that Bellatrix is in a coma but there are some things he wanted to talk to you about."
She said this all rather quickly and was soon stepping past him to the living room. He reached a hand and held her arm, stopping her at once.
"What did you say?" he asked.
"Lupin… Bellatrix is in a coma… the Healers at St Mungo's told him that she lost a lot of blood, she's barely alive really, and he wants to talk… I presume it has to do with what happened yesterday…" she said.
Harry was up and out of his seat in an instant. Hermione was left standing where she was as he went to the fireplace and checked the Floo Powder in the bowl. Satisfied with what he saw, he walked to the closet and removed his cloak and then headed back to the fireplace again just as Hermione finally spoke, "Where are you going Harry?"
"To St Mungo's, I have to see this for myself…" he replied absently as he now began to put on his cloak.
The door to Emmeline's room opened and she stepped out dressed for the day. With a quick look around, she spared her sister a glance before asking Harry, "Can I go with you?"
Hermione immediately protested, "No! Harry, you're still in your pyjamas, and it's not safe out there… what if… what if he's waiting for you… or if he comes here when you're gone?"
Harry's hand paused over the bowl and he turned to look at Hermione. The colour had drained from her face completely; he never wished that she were blushing again more than that moment. He could see her trembling slightly standing there in her little red satin pyjamas, and the fear in her eyes tore into his soul. The realisation that her stalker was real must have torn down what little of her Gryffindor courage she had left and summoned to face him. Standing there now, she was well and truly mortified at the thought of Harry leaving her alone in the house.
"Harry," she went on, "you know that I can't… that I can't even do simple spells anymore… it was a wonder I got home that night… two days in France and I… I'm useless Harry…"
He couldn't believe that he forgot Percy. This was no time to be running off with Hermione alone in the house. As a matter of fact, he wasn't even sure if the house was safe anymore. He had come here to deliver a message once; he could come back for something far more sinister the next.
But he still, really wanted to get to St Mungo's.
And then he thought of a brilliant plan.
"Go get changed, I'm taking you to St Mungo's, you were born a witch, you can't just lose your magic," he told her.
"Do I have to come too?" asked Emmeline, her face showing reluctance where her eyes told another tale.
Hermione protested, "Harry, this is just for a little while, it'll come back, I just need some time…"
"Do you want me to force you to go, I am a very powerful wizard you know?" he asked with a smile.
"You wouldn't dare… I'm not going Harry… this is just… it's not anything medical!" she nearly screamed at him.
On being screamed at where he had just smiled at her, he could not restrain himself, "Then tell me Hermione! Tell me what's wrong with you!"
"I told you that yesterday!" she raged.
He could barely believe it. He knew fear did things to people, but so far he had only seen her panic and lose direction. Today her fear manifested itself in anger.
And sadly, he was also on a short fuse.
"No Hermione, yesterday you told us about Percy! You didn't tell us a damn thing about you!" he retorted angrily.
"What are you talking about?" she asked between clenched teeth.
Harry wanted to scream at her, "What do you mean what am I talking about? YOU LEFT SOME STUFF OUT OF YOUR LITTLE SPEECH!"
"Did you want Mrs Weasley and Ginny to know what else happened that afternoon?" she demanded, with a look of feigned shock.
"NO! But I want to know something, what did you know that day before I had that argument with the Order? WHAT DID YOU WANT TO FORGET?" he shouted back.
She stopped and actually stepped back, and when next she spoke her voice faltered considerably, "W…what are you talking about?"
He got her, he was sure of it.
He forgot his guilt, he forgot his confusion, and he forgot her pain. To his internal horror, he realised that he wanted to get one over on her.
And still he went on.
"Well, if you want to know Hermione, there are some things you didn't tell me… some things I really want to know… I mean, I wasn't sure that I should touch this, you had been so honest before, but you kept Emmeline a secret, SO WHAT ELSE HAVEN'T YOU TOLD US YET?!" he asked.
And then to his utter surprise she burst into tears and sank to the floor near the kitchenette set table. He was completely floored, just watching her sitting there crying, as pathetic as she had called herself the night before. He couldn't stay mad, he didn't actually expect to make her cry, and more than that, his internal horror at his actions was fast coming out.
Suddenly Emmeline launched herself at him screaming, "STOP IT! STOP MAKING HER CRY! I HATE YOU, YOU ALWAYS MAKE HERMIONE CRY! STOP IT! SHE'S ALL I GOT! YOU'LL MAKE HER MAD, STOP MAKING HER CRY,"
If ever he had doubted where Emmeline's loyalties lay, he took it back with interest. Her small fists pounded his side as furiously, as angrily as she could. Her long, bushy hair tangled in her grip and was becoming as dishevelled as her clothes as she fought. And her eyes, those wide brown eyes looked at him tear-filled and displaying all the hatred she felt to the Death Eaters, to Percy, and possibly to her sister, as she hit him.
Under their burning gaze he lifted their owner into his arms and held her until she settled. In the corner of his eyes he was vaguely aware of Hermione looking at them as surprised as he.
Fights and tears were becoming a disturbing recurrence in this house.
He was distracted from this thought though, when Emmeline in his arms tightened her grip round his neck and said through her tears, "And you're all I got too, if you send her mad they'll take me away. Stop making her cry please, you're all I got now too."
Hermione gave a gasping cry from her place on the kitchen floor.
What Emmeline had just said… what she meant… it meant that's she realised… that she accepted… she knew… her parents were finally dead to her. And not only this though, but she was asking him to do something too. In her moment of realisation she had made a decision and now it was his turn.
He knew if he said those words he was damning himself to some sort of hell. He knew if he dared affirm what she was implying he was sworn to it for life. He knew, as he turned to Hermione for advice now, that he couldn't, that he shouldn't say it. That he should remind Emmeline of her relatives, her grandparents, her family that she still had when he had nothing to offer other than fear and possible pain. But he said them anyway.
"You're my family Emmeline; I'm never going to let anyone take you anywhere. I don't mean to make Hermione cry, I'm just a stupid boy… and sometimes, she can be a silly girl too… we're both silly people…. We're sorry, we're so very sorry."
"Then don't do that again!" she cried into his chest, "You're all I got."
A silence fell unto the three of them in the house then. But it was not an awkward one this time.
It was punctuated by Emmeline's lessening sobs, Hermione's mild sniffling, and then, most curious of all, three noisy birds on another tree at the kitchen window. It almost sounded as if they were holding their own little conversation, and as loud as they pleased too. And then eventually, Emmeline smiled against Harry's chest.
The morning was salvaged.
And then it was Hermione who spoke.
From her place on the kitchen floor she said, "Harry, if we don't stop him though, this won't change… and I… I hate fighting with you."
He made to speak, Emmeline herself seemed to struggle with a protest, but she shook her head, "Harry… you have to trust me on this… when I'm ready… when I can… when I'm sure that I can… I'll tell you the rest. Right now… right now I need to understand some things for myself and when I do… then I'll tell you."
"Hermione, if this is about Percy and Ron I need to hear everything… I…" he began.
He knew that she was talking about the subject of their argument, her missing sentences, but he had to be sure.
"I know, you can't help if you don't, you can't stop him if you don't… but what I… what I can't tell you now, it has nothing to do with Percy or Ron, and I need to tell you on my own terms, at my own time and with no fights," she almost pleaded.
Closing his eyes then, reflecting that this was probably the second mistake he was going to make on the same day he said, "Okay, alright Hermione, I'll let it go."
*****
Two days later the headline of the Daily Prophet ran bold, "Harry Potter Sells Home: Hundreds Flock to Godric's Hollow!" The Evening Prophet was next, and as a shocking first, decided to name his friend, "Potter Home For Sale: Move Reportedly Instigated by Live-In Friend, Hermione Granger!" Witch Weekly, decided to be downright scandalous, "Man-Who-Triumphed Looks for Larger Love-nest! (Is there Marriage in the Works?)"
It was open season on him and Hermione and it had actually been Lupin and Moody's decision more than Harry's in the first place.
When Lupin finally arrived that same day to talk to Harry, he was quickly given a summary of Hermione's tale. Once he had the finer points, he called Moody and Charlie over and while Harry and Hermione sat on the sofa looking on, a decision was made. With the new knowledge that there was a stalker on them, it was not advisable that he or Hermione spend any length of time at the Godric's Hollow residence. It was simply determined that they were much safer elsewhere.
Harry had argued vehemently against this, the second fight for the day. This was his house; he had purchased it for his comfort, to live his life and no one else's. Lupin then reminded him that he was not living alone now, that Hermione and Emmeline were with him. After that, Harry crumbled.
It took them only a few hours then for all the arrangements to be made.
Until Percy was caught Harry, Hermione and Emmeline would stay at the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix or number twelve, Grimmauld Place and his house in Godric's Hollow was to be sold. If Harry wanted to repurchase his home afterwards, or find another, he could do so if he wished, but only after they were safe.
A sarcastic comment on this earned him a narrowed look from Hermione and he fell into silence.
A very upset and somewhat apologetic Mrs Weasley was then contacted and informed. Within moments of the message being delivered she was off to Grimmauld Place to supervise the clean-up while Ginny came over to help Harry and Hermione pack up at the house. By nightfall of the next day hundreds of boxes and a few trunks were being sent through the fire to Headquarters, which had been connected to the Floo Network for the night only, to be unpacked on the other side by Mrs Weasley and company.
It was then, a very exhausted and antsy Harry who sank into a corner, at the end of the day, to look around his now vacant house and think. And he discovered that it was now once more a building filled with rooms and air, and soon to be devoid of life.
He had bought it in a time when all he wanted was escape and it had given him that much. If he thought about it at all, then he would have to say that its duty, its purpose, had been fulfilled and there was no need for it anymore. It was time, albeit prematurely, to leave this place. And he should know all about that.
His whole life had been about premature events.
His parents died too young and left him too soon to fend for himself against a world that was less than kind. And then his childhood ended soon after that.
Next there was his second attempt at it when it came to the Wizarding world. This was a new place to him, perfect to start again… and then he faced the Dark Lord at the end of his First Year.
In order of their occasion after this, he lost his innocence of the danger of Voldemort at fourteen with the murder of a classmate. It should have been sooner, considering that he had almost killed him before, and yet it wasn't. Then he lost his godfather too soon, a man he had known for only three years, and much of one of those as a murderer trying to kill him. His headmaster, his mentor, was killed just when he was beginning to guide him on the journey that would take him to Voldemort. His schooling had to end after that, it was no longer safe, he never saw graduation. And then the final blow… or maybe not yet… his best friend was taken from him on the cusp of that new beginning he had almost died for.
What was losing this house in all of that?
He almost laughed at himself then, almost.
And then he was disturbed by soft footsteps coming towards him. He looked up from his place on the floor to find that his intruder was Emmeline and quickly looked down again. He hoped she would get the message and leave, see that he was a big boy, "Mister" she had called him, and that misters needed alone time too. But she was not Hermione's sister just because of the hair.
She walked right over to him and smiled, and then asked, "Are you ready to go?"
Nope, she was definitely not her sister just because of the hair. She too pretended not to notice the moments when he was full of shite and wallowing in it.
He stretched out an arm, she took hold and pretended to struggle to pull him to his feet, and then he allowed her to lead him to the front door and out of the house.
He never looked back.
And he never went back.
When the news finally broke in the newspapers and over the Wizard Wireless Network, Harry Potter had been gone for over a day. And by that time too, he had other concerns.
Percy Ignatius Weasley, born the 22nd of August, 1976, was the son of the family that had given Harry the one thing that Voldemort had taken away, a home. He had been a bright, ambitious young man who had passed with twelve OWLS, a number of NEWTS, been a school prefect at Hogwarts and then subsequently Head Boy. After school he had joined the Ministry of Magic where his younger twin brothers had joked of his desire to one day become the Minister of Magic. But the same Percy had died the 23rd of February, 1999, an outcast to those who had known him, and supposedly at the hands of his own father.
This, "red-haired" man was not him.
And when next they would meet each other, Harry had only one purpose in mind… revenge.
A/N: Whew! That's done… and on to the next chapter. As a teaser, here's the title, "We Who are About to Die." Make of it what you will.
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