A/N: From this point on, I can "safely" give nineteen as the final length of this story, give or take bits of filler, I now have the ending. Otherwise, in this chapter I should warn that you may not like Harry too much; he does come off as a bit of a jerk. Plus, if any of you are wondering how the final battle occurred, like Psy Girl, this may clear that up a bit too. Please note that Voldemort didn't read the Evil Overlord List and it's a bit lame. Also, there is my attempt at a Horcrux theory; you may laugh at it if you wish.
And again, I find myself apologising for the length of time I'm taking. But this week there was a power outage, the phone got cut, my birthday happened (I'm nineteen now!) and there was a flood.
But welcome, as it's called in Prose Fiction, to the rising action.
Disclaimer: There are excerpts in this chapter from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix and Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince by JK Rowling, which are most definitely, along with everything else, not mine.
*****
Into the Fire
The fall of the Ministry of Magic near the end of the Second Wizard War had been an event both spectacular and terrifying to behold. Late in the night, earlier that year, the building under which it was housed suddenly imploded and crumbled, and then in the wake of this destruction a brilliant green fireworks display was sent up above it. The shockwaves alone attracted the attention of the Muggles around, but this display, it was meant for the wizards amongst them.
The Minister had been unhurt of course, and later assured the Wizarding community through the Daily Prophet of this while regretting the loss of a dedicated young aide. The Ministry then removed to temporary headquarters elsewhere while various defensive spells, Muggle-repelling charms and anti-Apparition wards were set up to protect the secrets within. Most important of these secrets… the Department of Mysteries, mostly untouched seven floors down into the earth.
Three years ago Harry had gone down there into a trap that almost killed his friends but cost him his godfather. He had then vowed never to set foot, along with Grimmauld Place and Privet Drive, in there again. Now, as with Grimmauld Place, he would have to.
For the sake of Emmeline Alice Granger, and her sister, he would have to.
Since they had come to the decision to go back there, over four hours ago, things had thankfully, and regrettably, begun to move along in a brisk pace. Permission was somehow obtained for a private late night tour of the ruin for the Man-Who-Triumphed and friends, accompanied by a guide and select Aurors. While the wards were being temporarily removed, they finalised their plans for battle in the event that they encountered Percy within. Mrs Weasley had been escorted to the Burrow by her sons; Hermione sat in a corner lazily attempting a few simple spells ("Lumos!" "Wingardium Leviosa!" "Incendio!"), and he allowed his mind to drift to a dark place he had conveniently tried to ignore, though not to much avail, in the months since it happened.
Now that he was going to face Percy, he was trying to recall what would forever be his worst nightmare. He was trying to remember the Final Battle.
The last time he had faced a Horcrux-using Dark Wizard it had taken two years, he didn't want it to take that long this time. Then, they had employed Hermione's theory of deduction to calculate the number of Horcruxes they had to destroy. According to the theory, this was all a strange game of numbers.
When Voldemort learned of the prophecy, he had at that time accumulated five Horcruxes. The school diary and Slytherin's ring being the first two, and then Slytherin's locket, Hufflepuff's cup and something of Ravenclaw's or Gryffindor's. Since he had intended to split his soul seven times, or at least so they hoped, he therefore had two-sevenths of his soul left in his body.
At the attack on Godric's Hollow then, Dumbledore believed that he had intended to split his soul once more to make the final Horcrux with Harry's death. When that failed, with the Killing Curse rebounding upon him, he ended up making Nagini the final Horcrux, some years later. But this is where he and Hermione would disagree.
After the attack on Godric's Hollow, Voldemort was mostly shrunk to nothing. He had been like a parasite, attached to the back of Professor Quirrell's head in First Year, drinking unicorn blood to survive. Harry had actually described him as an "ugly baby" being dropped into a cauldron bath at the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione then, could not see him capable of splitting his soul again and believed that if she was one, Nagini must have been a Horcrux all along, and that he had simply gone to the Potter home to kill the baby.
But not only that, according to Hermione's theory, when the Killing Curse rebounded, it had taken with it not only Voldemort's body, but also that part of his soul still in him, and as he said, one of his experiments kept him alive. There was then a transference where a soul fragment from the closest possible Horcrux entered what was left of his "body" and kept him alive.
They never found out what that "closest possible Horcrux" had been, and they didn't really care to. What this meant for them was that there were three Horcruxes gone, the diary, the ring and the fragment taken by the Killing Curse. All they had to find now was the locket, the Cup, Nagini, and then her master.
It was not as simple as it would seem though. The Horcruxes were difficult to find, though they were lucky with the locket, they were continuously being attacked by Death Eaters, and without the connections or guidance of Dumbledore they stumbled along. It was a plain miracle they had survived as long as they did to win in the end.
So now, working with this theory again, if somehow Percy had managed to make a Horcrux, and allowing for Hermione's belief that it was unintentional; when he "died" the soul fragment left transferred itself into his body. That fragment must have been in the Department of Mysteries, just floors below where Bellatrix had killed him. If he had no more, all they had to do now, was find him and kill him. Going to the Department of Mysteries though, was still necessary, as they had to make sure that this was the case.
But Harry was having a most difficult time as he tried to wrap his mind around the memory of killing Voldemort and the navigation of the department.
Continuously, unbidden, memories of that dreadful night in Fifth Year flooded his thoughts. They seemed determined not to leave him, pestering almost as if to remind him of something he may have forgotten or missed. But mostly they stuck on one horrible image, the terrible sight of Sirius Black falling backwards into the veil.
"But Harry- what if your dream was- was just that, a dream?"
"Sirius ducked Bellatrix's jet of red light: He was laughing at her.
"Come on, you can do better than that!" he, yelled, his voice echoing."
"Sirius told you there was nothing more important than learning to close your mind!"
"WELL I EXPECT HE'D SAY SOMETHING DIFFERENT IF HE KNEW WHAT I'D JUST-"
"It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…."
"He's got Padfoot!" he shouted. "He's got Padfoot at the place where it's hidden!"
"- Sirius had only just fallen through the archway, he would reappear on the other side and second….
But Sirius did not reappear.
"SIRIUS!" Harry yelled, "SIRIUS!"
Harry lay fallen on the grass at Voldemort's feet. He could taste the warm earth mingled with the metallic of blood in his mouth and spit half-heartedly.
He immediately regretted it.
He had been under the Cruciatus Curse so many times now that though visibly unharmed he was quite sure his ribs were bruised, a shoulder dislocated or his arm possibly broken and his pants were wet from where he had soiled himself. He was under too much pain, and yet still full of too much pride to be embarrassed for that. It would have just given Voldemort one more thing to laugh about and he had already had so much so far.
Since Harry had come into this misted forest hours before, he had been on the run from him. Voldemort was an aggressive dueller, avoiding Priori Incantatem, shooting off Unforgiveables, alternating between the Killing Curse and the Cruciatus, rather than the normal round of milder stunning spells and Harry had to duck in and out between trees to avoid them.
It took a lot of power, and possibly age and experience to use an Unforgiveable in the first place. And then too, the caster had to mean it. Or so Bellatrix had told him before, and despite his intense hatred for her he found himself unable to forget it.
This was a reason why he could not trust Snape no matter what the Order, Occlumency and Veritaserum said. He remembered that night in the Astronomy Tower:
"Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.
"Severus… please…"
Snape raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.
"Avada Kedavra!"
But at this moment, lying in the underbrush, Harry had none of them. He was weak, drained from being assaulted so many times after Voldemort had finally caught him, and comically too, in the midst of a jump between trees.
As for age and experience, how well does seven years fare against over fifty, and that was just ignoring Voldemort's usage of the Killing Curse at sixteen.
His scar was throbbing so violently that at one point he had felt a trickle of blood run down his face. His breathing was laboured, painful, and he knew that he was fast running out of "happy thoughts" as Ron joked, to force Voldemort out of his head. Voldemort, if he could do it, was yet to break a sweat.
How good did the odds look to you?
He still did have one particular thing though, his ability to be sarcastic and cynical. If at this point he was going to die anyway, he might as well spend it annoying the hell of Voldemort for all that he had put him through since he was born.
He knew that there was no one else coming. He had personally made sure of that by having Ron and Hermione swear that under no circumstances were they to wander into this forest behind him. They both had agreed reluctantly, with Hermione under force, which, if he lived, he would most certainly pay for.
Then there was the Order and Aurors fighting in the streets of Godric's Hollow and near the graveyard in which he had left his friends. He wasn't sure that they had even seen them when they came out to halt the Death Eater raid that had been reported in the area.
There was no one else, just him, and if he was going to die, he was going to do it with a smile on his face. Sirius would have been proud.
When at last the effects of his last bout with the horrible curse were beginning to subside, and his mind had quelled from the fevered thoughts of how long it would take him to end up like the Longbottoms, he dug his fingers into the earth, drew his head up and said, "Tom… oh Tom… I think we should have a talk. I mean, you have been trying to kill me since before I was even born so I think, just before you actually do so, how about we get to know each other? After all, it isn't right that I know everything that I do about you and you know nothing about me. It wouldn't be right that sworn enemies die like random strangers."
"Be quiet boy! My children shall be joining us soon; I should like an audience tonight." Voldemort told him coldly.
"An audience? Since when do you need an audience? Is the fame getting to someone's head? Have we been speaking with Gilderoy Lockhart, or maybe reading his books… can't exactly carry on a coherent conversation nowadays though…" continued Harry, carelessly.
"I said be quiet boy!" Voldemort snapped. His cold red eyes levelled at Harry on the ground.
The effect would have been greater if Harry's glasses weren't cracked so that he only received a distorted image.
"Anyway Tom… I was thinking, let's talk about our mothers. My mother as you know, was rather young when she died, like yours. She came from a Muggle family, was a really talented witch and was very beautiful, unlike yours. But then, they both died for us… though in your case it was because she couldn't stand the thought of giving birth to something so hideous. I could imagine her face when she saw you; the shock alone must have killed her." Harry told him.
"You foolish insolent boy, be quiet!" said Voldemort again, and this time his voice was dangerously low, and colder than ever.
"Did I hit a nerve?" asked Harry innocently. "Tom, are we becoming soft? I thought you didn't care about your mother, I know you didn't care about your father. Or your grandfather, or your grandmother for that matter, you just wiped them out, just like that, and you were younger than me. You know, I think I should be very ashamed of myself. Honestly, you should have given me the chance to kill my parents myself instead, and I would have outdone you as usual."
"CRUCIO!" shouted Voldemort and Harry was once more enveloped in the sensation of invisible white hot daggers piercing through his flesh, clawing to the bone, and now with the added touch of salt and fiery ants going in after them. He clamped down on his tongue, tasted blood and then screamed as he convulsed violently with the pain. And all the while Voldemort just stared at him, the ghost of a smile on his lips.
He lifted the curse and said, "Maybe that will teach you to hold your tongue."
Harry sputtered the blood, saliva and earth from his mouth and managed coarsely, "Is this… a bad time t-to tell you… t-that you're going t-to… die?"
Voldemort laughed, a low, serpentine one, if that was possible, and said, "And how, do tell, are you going to manage that?"
"Well… you see…" began Harry, fighting the urge to fall face down into the earth and let death take him then, "I've been… well… I've done a very bad thing. Remember, I don't know, sometime a long time ago when you were at Hogwarts… and you asked… t-that teacher… that Slughorn fellow… about… about H-Horcruxes?"
There was no answer, only silence.
"Well you see… I've been systematically destroying the damn things." Harry told him, "And let me tell you, nasty little buggers they are, burned right through Dumbledore's hand trying to get one. But don't worry about it too much… we left one… in you. So… even if you do manage to kill me… you don't have that much of a soul left to split to make more… so… inevitably… you're going to die… pity."
There was still only silence. Harry wondered if Voldemort had dropped dead from the shock but knew he was being optimistic. He tried to find him.
"Tom… oh Tom… Tommy boy! Tommy! TOM RIDDLE!" he called, "What happened… snake got your tongue… oh wait, scratch that, horrible visible image of yourself and Nagini, whew, definitely not what I want to see before we die."
And then suddenly, there came the sibilant voice, low, deadly, cold… and close.
"I am going to kill you… and your friends. The boy first… I know he is closest to you… I know a lot about you…. And then the girl… maybe some of my lesser Death Eaters will have some fun first… she is a Mudblood, like your mother had been, there is no need for those most loyal to me to defile themselves with her…. And all the while you will watch… you will hear their screams… you will feel their pain… you will know your failure… and then you will die. My children are almost upon us now."
But at that moment something very strange happened.
Harry would never understand it, he would barely remember it at first, but he would know that it happened.
Somehow, strangely, suddenly, he felt within him a twisted combination of emotions.
On one hand, it was the sheer disgust at the vile creature standing somewhere above him as he explained how he intended to kill him and his friends. With it came the will, the desire to do away with said creature, for even daring to think that Harry would allow him to do so. And then, on the other hand, was the knowledge that while suffering and dying, his friends would love and die for and with him. And because he knew this without even having to ask them, he loved them for it. More than that, he did not want them to die in the first place, and so for them, for their families, and for the Wizarding world around them, he would have to give his life to spare theirs.
That knowledge fuelled his will, a will further spurred by disgust and pity for a life that did not know the things he did, and Harry, much to his own surprise, managed to force himself half upright on the ground, look up to Voldemort and smile.
Voldemort above him looked down and demanded, "What do you want boy? Why are you smiling, wait don't tell me, I can rip it from your head… before they rip out your soul!"
Harry craned his head then, and to his horror spied the fluttering black cloaked shadows of the Dementors. The mist, his "children", the fact that he didn't directly kill him, all the while Harry had been talking Voldemort had been calling the Dementors.
Whatever happened to needing to regenerate with Harry's death?
But for some reason, Harry continued to smile, and dragged his wand arm up, where Voldemort had for some reason left him in possession of his wand, and rested it in the grass where the wand barely pointed up at his attacker. And then, rather brazenly, though with inkling that he could mean it when he said it, declared, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The beginnings of laughter that had appeared on Voldemort's face at that moment immediately died when a powerful beam of brilliant, green light, illuminating Harry's eyes so that it seemed to spawn from them instead of his wand, shot right at him.
He didn't even attempt to move away. He just stood there, as if expecting to deflect it but didn't. It struck him in the chest where his heart, if it was possible that he had one, would have been and his body was forcefully thrown backwards through the trees where he fell to the ground spread-eagled.
Harry, stunned at his success, looked on as then suddenly, Voldemort's corpse, for it was surely one now, was pulled upwards so that his back arched and out of his mouth poured some black, viscous thing. While that happened though, his body began to transform, changing from the hideous snake-like thing, stripping off blood, flesh, bursts of light, swirls of mist that had to be the echoes of some sort of spell, and then finally to the handsome Tom Marvolo Riddle before going back again. The viscous liquid as it was, then began to creep through his eyes, ears, and nose, pooling round his head and burst into an emerald flame like that of the Floo in the fireplace, while the "smoke" swirled like that of the Amortentia above the fallen form. But it was not over though, for suddenly, with ear-piercing wails and shrieks, the Dementors sprang from the trees and clouded round the form of their "father".
Before they did it Harry knew what was to happen next, they were going to kiss him.
The swirling smoke suddenly sped up in its twists, spread into the air and then descended over the body. The Dementors continued their shrieking, there was a horrible sucking sound that made his skin crawl and a tiny, glowing spark, Tom Riddle's soul, emerged before being communally devoured. This was the Dementor's Kiss, and if ever he had pitied Barty Crouch Jr, it was then.
And then the Dementors turned their attentions to him.
But before he could attempt some form of doomed escape, there was a brilliant blast of light, the sound of a woman screaming, "Not Harry, take me instead!" and the world sank into darkness.
It was only when his head collided with the cold stone floor that Harry realised he must have fallen asleep and had toppled from his place on the bench. He yelled as the pain immediately resonated through his skull, blinding him temporarily, before clearing to a wide eyed vision of stars in his gaze.
"Oh gods… Harry!"
He did not have to focus on them for long though, before he caught the scent of something flowery and a crimson shower blurred his vision. From somewhere far off he heard Ginny's voice, "Harry… Harry, are you okay?"
But it was Hermione's that came in closer. Something wooden clattered to the floor by his left ear and he felt warm, soft hands on his face. He reached an arm up dazedly, and it connected with the slight roughness of a polyester shirt and the warmth of the shoulder beneath. Hermione put her hands on his arm and drew it down while asking as Ginny had, "Harry… what happened… are you okay?"
He tried to nod but that only made the pain worse so he forced out instead, "Y-yeah…"
At once Hermione's voice became scolding, though its tone indicated that she was still concerned, "When was the last time you slept? Harry you're exhausted, you look so pale! You should stay here while the rest of us…"
"Us? Where do you think you're going? You can't even cast a light spell!" demanded Ginny.
Harry didn't want to hear this argument but he couldn't move and he knew it was coming.
"She's my sister! I'm not staying here while the rest of you go rushing off to save her!" Hermione replied.
"What if we're attacked, you'd be the first one down! We'd be too busy protecting you, you're a burden now!" snapped Ginny.
She had gone too far. From Hermione's sudden and somewhat frightening silence, he could tell this wasn't going to end well. But a part of him, the part where he couldn't help but feel guilty about, had to agree.
They were going back into the Department of Mysteries. The last time she had been there she ended up in the hospital wing for the rest of the school term from Dolohov's curse. Hermione had to know that he wasn't going to let her go with them now. He still remembered last time, as clear as though it were yesterday.
"Well done Ha- oh!" said Hermione, and then she crumpled to floor, lying there motionless.
"HERMIONE!"
He could still feel the panic, as a matter of fact some of it was rising in him now as he realised that Hermione had been practicing those spells to…
"NO!" he declared suddenly, and fought them off to sit up. "No Hermione, you have to stay here!"
"I'll do no such thing; it's been two days since he's taken her Harry… two days that feel like forever! I'm not staying here while you all go rushing off behind Percy when it's me he wants in the first place! She's my sister!" she told him.
"And she's my responsibility too!" he nearly shouted. "I promised her that I would take care of her! That I wouldn't let anything bad happen to her… and you! I'm not breaking that promise twice Hermione, you have stay here!"
"I'm not! I won't! He might not even be there Harry!" she continued stubbornly.
"Come off it! I'm not going to let you get yourself taken… or worse, killed!" Harry shot back.
"I'm not going to let you do that either! You're not sworn by a prophecy this time Harry, he doesn't want you, he could kill you without stopping to think about it!" she suddenly raged.
"VOLDEMORT COULD HAVE DONE THE SAME!" he roared.
"But he doesn't want you to himself or need you to regenerate or whatever the hell Voldemort wanted in the first place! I don't want you to have lived through that to just die now! Emmeline is only nine years old; she hasn't even begun to live yet! Who's going to take care of her if you die?" she demanded.
And then, to the irritation of them both, Hermione's eyes began to fill with tears.
She wiped them away angrily before continuing, now in a painful whisper, "If you die this time, you know I won't live long after, don't do this to Emmeline! Don't do this to me…"
He didn't know what to say. Underneath all of that, her entire argument, her need to go, it was not only for Emmeline, it was for him too.
She said then, "He can have me if he wants me, but I can't let him have you."
He allowed his anger one last surge as he spat bitterly, "I don't need a mother!"
And then, for the second time in two days, Hermione slapped him. Her hand reared back and then impacted with his face with such force that it surely overtook the pain from his fall earlier. There was now though, the rippling effect of a million tiny bee stings and he was left slightly winded.
He heard Ginny suck in a breath, and then Hermione snapped, "I'm not your mother, I'm not trying to be your mother, my only mistake now is that I love you. I'm sorry for that though, I would've been happier with Ron."
She rose from the floor and began to walk away, and Harry was suddenly aware that the three of them were not the only ones present. Order members, Aurors, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Bill, Charlie and surprisingly, the twins, had all been silent spectators to this exchange.
But he didn't care.
Standing as best he could on his own, for Ginny now did not touch him, he said to Hermione's retreating back, "You take that back!"
She turned him, arched an eyebrow, and then scoffed, "Why? Am I lying? Make me!"
He knew that he couldn't. What was he going to tell her? That he would have been a much better boyfriend than Ron? That Ron was somehow not good enough for her? That he would have been "safer" than Ron?
The last bit though, gave him enough anger to say next, "Accio Hermione's wand!"
It tottered slightly on the floor and then rose into his grasp; he threw it at her where it came to rest at her feet. Her face betrayed no emotion.
"Fine then, come with us! But just know that I'm not going to waste time dragging you around again!" he said.
Still without emotion, Hermione's wand suddenly rose from the floor and flew into her hand.
His eyes widened in surprise, as he was sure everyone else's did too; he didn't know she could do that.
He didn't hear the spell, but he definitely felt it when his limbs became stiff and snapped together and he fell to the floor like a plank. Hermione had petrified him.
But she didn't stand around long enough to celebrate her victory. With great sniffling, she suddenly turned on her heels and ran up out of the kitchen. It was only because of the general silence of the house, that they heard when she collapsed in tears in the entrance hall above. If he could have moved then, Harry would have closed his eyes in shame.
Finally though, Ginny said, "Finite Incantatem!" and he felt his body fall free. She said nothing more though, and walked over to the table with the others.
He sat up heavily and would not look at them.
Lupin broke the silence, "We have to go now… but I'll give you some time… if you need it."
He considered this for a moment. If they waited a bit, maybe he would be able to go up there and reason with Hermione. She was putting herself in danger like this, and for some warped reason, it was for him. And then too, he could figure out if the Ministry had any spare Dementors about, he wasn't sure he could invoke the Killing Curse again, and especially as before.
He brushed away them both though, the former would probably be a hopeless cause and the latter was most likely nil. They were best to go on as they were now.
Harry shook his head, "No, let's go."
*****
She was floating again.
She could not remember exactly when the darkness had overtaken her, or why her delirium had apparently returned, or what had happened to that sickly man when she finally regained enough use of her limbs to force herself to sit up, but she knew that now she was floating again.
It was the strangest thing.
Gone was the flickering light of the fire, the pacing, the muttering, the wild hair, and the warmth of her bed of blankets. Then there was that squeezing sensation again, she knew she must have felt it somewhere. Then there was the cool night air on her warmed skin. She heard a car's alarm, and a few others passing, a dog's bark, the sound of Big Ben's bell and a few, distant voices. And then there was that sickening, icy touch.
Oh no, where were they going now?
Suddenly though, the floating ended. She was laid somewhere stiff and cold and damp. There was a slight griminess to it, that had she been able to, she would have recoiled from. And then she heard his voice.
"Stupefy!" he hissed and she distinctly heard something fall with a sharp "thud!"
But then she heard something else, "Mobilicorpus!" and she was rising from the ground and resting on something like a hammock. There was the floating again, though now she could hear his footsteps. There was a slight feeling of warmth from below, something tumbled slightly while something else groaned and moved away and then they began to descend.
*****
In a few short, quick "pops", the small party Apparated into the darkened alleyway beside the Ministry of Magic. Charlie, Bill, Lupin, Tonks, Moody, Ginny, Hermione and Harry had come for their "tour".
The first thing Harry noticed was the cool of the night around them. Much like that night, months, though it felt like years, before, the stars dotted the sky like sequins on an inky blue-black dress robe. Despite the sounds of the city round, he could hear birds, or rather, a bird, singing a mournful song to air. He closed his eyes slight and felt the warm night wind of the city ripple slightly round him, and open them again to stare at Hermione talking to Lupin, who had Side-Along Apparated with her. Her one burst of magic had apparently been mostly wandless, but that was all, one burst.
How convenient that she still be incapacitated.
He wanted to apologise but couldn't bring himself to go to her. If he saw hatred in those eyes, he wasn't sure he would be able to stand it. He turned away from her then and looked across to Ginny, who also was not speaking to him. Her reasons though, were unclear and none of his concern.
Almost as if he himself had Apparated, a small, eager-eyed young man dressed in robes of light grey, not that much older than the three teenagers, suddenly came at them with a bright smile.
"Oh gods, they were telling the truth… you're Harry Potter!" he began, singling out Harry from the group while his eyes flicked to Harry's forehead and his scar. Moody trained his magical eye upon him and his advancements halted at once.
He took a moment to regain his composure before saying, "Well, yes, Mr Potter and party for the tour of the Ministry of Magic… not much to see in there I can tell you, it's a mess, but you requested it…"
He continued to ignore everyone else as he turned then, saying to Harry, "It's an absolute honour to meet you, you saved us all, you know that? Well of course you do, you were there after all. But say, tone down on it a bit okay, you're showing all the rest of us up with that knight-in-shining-armour thing. Sorry about your friend of course, I knew his brother while he worked here. Rather ambitious if I say so myself, but he was a longs way off, the Minister isn't going to give up his position just like that!"
Ginny gave a sound like a disgusted snort and he said, "Oh yes, the beautiful Miss Ginevra Weasley, Mr Arthur Weasley's daughter… here with your brothers I see?"
Just then Charlie and Bill had closed in behind her and the young man respectfully stepped away from her too.
Hermione stumbled slightly behind them, and they all turned to see her as she straightened up and said, "It's a passed out drunk, and probably a wizard too, completely pissed!"
The young man looked over to her and commented pityingly, "Yes… well he'll wake up eventually… my, you're Hermione Granger… brightest of her generation I've heard… if you'd have finished your studies I heard you were a strong contender for the highest marks in the NEWTS in the world! Of course helping Mr Potter here was far more important!"
He went on behind to help her, as she was now attempting to shake the man, and took hold of her arm to lead her away, "Ignore him, sad state of affairs that, some things never change, even after war. Come on Miss Granger, or may I call you Hermione?"
He paused for an answer, Harry replied, "No."
They all looked at him, even Hermione, but the young man brushed it off, "Don't worry about it, I'm Martin Kidderminster, shall we continue?"
She looked down at the body again, and Harry had a sneaking suspicion that she knew something was wrong. But she said nothing though, and instead turned to Martin, who now, to Harry's chagrin, had his arm linked through hers, and said, "Okay."
He smiled, slightly flirtatiously, and led her on.
But of this party of nine that would go in, only eight would come back out.
A/N: Ah, what a naughty way to end this. Sorry about that. :P
Anyhoo, I've just noticed something. I was reading through the fanfic lists here and found two other fics named Aftermath, one by MischiefManaged and another by Jack Ryan. I liked them both but after reading them though, I find myself stuck with one question… the hell is up with killing Ron?
It was weird, in both fics Ron died in the final battle, (sorry if I spoiled it for anyone) so I have to ask now, are fics named Aftermath potentially fatal to Ron's character? And does this extend to chapters too, because if JKR names a chapter that in Book 7 I'm going to know who died and I won't be able to read anymore due to excessive crying, hair-pulling and bawling like a child.
Coming out of this digression though, please do review, they're always welcome and wonderful to read.
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