Unofficial Portkey Archive

(A/N: "Hello, my name is Real Life, and this is my crowbar Bob. WHAM!" That about sums up 2006 for me so far. Still, I'm sorry to make you wait so long for this chapter.

Thank you, one and all, for your reviews. They've been a world of help and encouragement for me. And double thanks to Mary Caroline, that Beta Without Peer.)

(Disclaimer: I like to pretend you can tell the difference between Jo Rowling's writing and mine. I really like to pretend Jo's lawyers can tell the difference.)

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"Restoring Hope"

by Paracelsus

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31 July 1998 - in the Pensieve

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"Out!" ordered Madame Lasoeur, the midwife. "I cannot deal with two patients at once! Out!" She fussed over Hermione, who looked ready to curse him with a single glare, while the trainee Healer, Apprentice Bloomer, hustled him out of the delivery room into the corridor. The door shut behind him, just firmly enough to make a statement.

Okay, I guess I was looking a little green around the gills, Ron admitted. Maybe a little.

He crossed the corridor to the Maternity Ward waiting room, looking up and down the hallway every few seconds. For once, the decorators at St. Mungo's Hospital had actually shown a speck of good sense: unlike the rest of the Hospital, the walls of the waiting room were adorned with inoffensive landscape murals. Occasionally a baby coney would peek out from behind a bush, wiggle its nose, and disappear again.

Heavy footsteps sounded, and Ron smiled as he turned to look. He only had one friend heavy enough to walk that loudly. And sure enough, Hagrid was approaching him, looking at once a bit nervous and very pleased with himself. He had two people with him, oddly dressed but vaguely familiar, who were glancing about them in confusion.

"Oi! Ron!" Hagrid called. "Got yer message, an' brought 'em like yeh asked. Seemed a mite surprised ter see me, though."

"Um, sorry about that. Hermione must not've told you who was coming for you," Ron said to the couple, as the memory of their faces clicked into place - just in time. "Mr. and Mrs. Granger… thanks for being here. I know Hermione'll appreciate it."

Hermione's father seemed at a loss for words. Her mother, on the other hand, spoke right up. "Thank you… Ron, isn't it? I must say, this is a bit overwhelming."

"Yeah," Ron nodded wisely. "St. Mungo's can be pretty confusing, first time you come…"

"I was referring to the fact that we've only just learned that our daughter is in labor," interrupted Mrs. Granger with a hint of frost. "In fact, it's the first we'd heard that she was even pregnant." She looked at Ron coolly, while Mr. Granger's gaze seemed to measure Ron, as if with calipers. Ron was abruptly reminded of the last time the Grangers had seen him - on Platform 9 and ¾, a year ago, when he and Hermione were still dating! - and felt himself starting to blush.

Where the hell was Harry when you needed him?

"Yeah, well, er…" There was absolutely no explanation Ron could give that wouldn't make him sound even more like a complete and total berk, so he stopped trying. "Anyway, the midwife says it may be a while. Hagrid, why don't you take Hermione's folks upstairs for a cuppa? I need to stay here."

And, standing near the corridor wall and watching the memory unfold, Hope felt a sense of both fulfillment and confusion. "Dad," she whispered, before she remembered that none of the people in the Pensieve could hear her. "Dad, who are those people?"

Dad didn't answer. After a moment, Mum said, "The large one is Rubeus Hagrid. He used to teach Care of Magical Creatures at Hogwarts. He wasn't a very good teacher, but he did love animals."

"And he was Harry's first wizarding friend," said Aunt Ginny. "The other two are Ben and Helen Granger, Hermione's parents. Your grandparents. Muggles… dentists, as I recall."

"They didn't know about…?" Hope began.

"Hermione didn't tell them much of anything about the wizarding world," said Ginny. "It would only have worried them." She looked around. "Ron, where was I? I thought I remembered being here tonight…"

Dad looked at Ginny coldly without saying anything. "You were upstairs with Mum," he said after a moment, "in Dad's room. Granddad," he added as an unnecessary aside to Hope. "He was still confined to bed - your Gran hardly left his side. All this happened only a month after the Ministry."

Hope couldn't help flinching at Dad's stony tone. She turned instead to Mum. "Death Eaters attacked the Ministry of Magic in June… a month before this memory," Mum explained, very quietly. "That's when your Granddad was hurt - he's been in his wheelchair ever since." She paused, and added, "You also had an uncle named Percy, who was killed in that attack."

"Oh." Hope peered into the waiting room. "Are you here anywhere, Mum?"

"I was on my way home when this happened… from Switzerland, I believe. Daddy and I were looking for… well, never mind. Just hush and watch."

Ron, the Ron in the Pensieve, was still looking anxiously up and down the corridor. Most of the messages that Hermione had sent - or that she'd calmly dictated to Ron, once her labor'd begun - had got responses, one way or another. But precious few had made an appearance yet: in Ron's opinion, he was suffering from an acute shortage of guards.

Not to mention an acute shortage of Harry. Where in the Other World was he?!

And then he saw her. Beautiful, beautiful Hedwig! Wonderful Hedwig. Gliding lazily up the corridor… and if an owl could look smug, Hedwig certainly did. And soft footsteps sprinting behind her… with no one visible. Well, that only meant someone invisible, didn't it?

"Hermione! Is she all right?" came an anxious voice from thin air. Beside Ron, Harry drew off his invisibility cloak and stood braced against the wall, catching his breath.

"Harry! Mate, am I glad to see you!" Ron squeezed Harry's shoulder in welcome. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Is - she - all - right?!" Harry snapped. He unslung a knapsack from his shoulders and stuffed the cloak into it. Hedwig settled down on the arm of a nearby chair.

"She's fine, Harry. Blimey, calm down, she's fine. The contractions started after lunch… but she wasn't really worried until her water broke, that's when I brought her here. She's in there now…" Ron nodded at the closed door of the delivery room, "with the St. Mungo's midwife, and that's all I know."

Harry ran his hands through his hair distractedly. "Will they let us in, d'you think?"

"No idea… they just kicked me out. Lasoeur thought I was going to faint, or something." Ron snorted derisively. "As if. Nerves of iron, that's me."

"In other words, a little rusty, were they?"

"Ohhhh yeah." Ron put his hand over his mouth and pantomimed nausea.

They shared a light laugh at that. "Seriously, though, Harry," Ron said, "where were you? You shouldn't've left, you knew she could go into labor at any moment…" He waved his hands, trying to convey the intensity of the moment. "When her water broke and you weren't there… y'know how she gets, like she's all calm outside but inside she's going spare? Yeah, like that, only 'bout a zillion times worse. Merlin's navel…"

"Sorry, Ron. I came as soon as Hedwig brought your note, honest. But I had an idea, and I needed to try it right away… before anyone could tell me how stupid it was." Harry shrugged. "You really want to know? Fine. I've been to Godric's Hollow again."

"Again? Harry, I thought we agreed, the…" Ron lowered his voice. "The you-know-what couldn't be there. We searched, what, three times? Four?"

"Three," corrected Harry. "And we searched my parents' house, and we searched the countryside, and we searched the wizarding part of the Hollow… but there was one place we didn't look. And where the Death Eaters wouldn't even think to look."

Ron knitted his brows in confusion. "Where…?"

"Amongst the Muggles."

"The Muggles? But why would they care…?"

"About Gryffindor's wand? They wouldn't, as such. But it is a thousand years old, and there are Muggle groups that collect historical artifacts." Harry grinned at Ron's puzzlement, and began to sing. "And did those fe-eet, in ancient ti-iimes, walk upon England's mountains green…"

Ron's eyes grew wide. "Are you saying… Muggles have them, too?"

"Women's Institutes, yeah. Preserving Britain's cultural heritage. The local chapter had it in a display case… they thought it was an ancient Roman consul's staff of office." Harry reached into his knapsack and drew out a wand. Unlike every other wand Ron had seen, this wand wasn't made of wood. Instead, it was a slender rod of ivory, buttery yellow with age, the handle carved into a roaring lion's face.

"Wow." Ron looked closely at Gryffindor's wand, but somehow knew not to touch it. "That's it, isn't it? You did it. We feed that to our pet dementor and we're done!"

"Yeah, well, there's still the small formality of actually beating the world's most powerful Dark wizard," said Harry dryly, "but at least now it's possible." He slipped the wand into his pocket. "It'll wait until Hermione's out of danger. You're sure she's all right?"

"Hermione. Is. Fine," Ron said with exaggerated patience. "If you're going to worry about anyone, worry about me. I'm the one who had to face the Grangers tonight."

"So?" Harry looked at Ron for another moment before the light dawned. "Ah," he said drolly. "Right, I see what you mean. Would it help if I assured them you had nothing to do with this?"

"If it wouldn't be too much trouble," Ron replied, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Maybe take an advert in the Prophet… blimey, if they're thinking it, everyone else probably is, too…!" He glared at Harry's way-too-innocent look. "Oh, nobody's said anything, but Nev?"

He jerked his head at a scruffy looking wizard, unshaven and ill-kempt, who was sprawled in a chair at the far end of the corridor, and who seemed to be interested only in his bottle of firewhiskey. "Nev came as soon as we owled him," Ron continued. "Told him to guard that end of the hall, and I could tell when we were talking, even he thought…"

"Good for Neville," said Harry. "I mean, for being here." He caught the scruffy wizard's eye and nodded in appreciation. Neville gave a slight smile of acknowledgment before taking a pull from his bottle. "Hope he has nothing to do tonight, but… well, constant vigilance and all that."

He looked back at Ron. "As for the rest, don't worry. I'll tell everyone myself. The Grangers, your Mum and Dad… Ginny…" Harry's face turned pink, but he continued doggedly, "We'll have to go back into hiding again immediately, but I'll make sure everyone knows. Trust me. No way I'm letting you take the credit for this!"

"Credit's not the word I'd use," Ron retorted, then gave a wry smile. "But thanks."

They stood silently together for a moment, looking in opposite directions up and down the corridor. Harry broke the silence by clearing his throat in an unusually somber way. "Ron? I want you to promise me. If…"

"NO," Ron interrupted harshly. "Harry, don't even say it. I don't want to hear it." He grabbed Harry's upper arm in a firm grip. "You're gonna beat the bastard, and you're gonna live. I'm not giving you a choice here, mate."

"Yeah, but if. Ron, no, listen. If." Harry met Ron's eyes square-on. "If anything happens, Ron, I need you to… to…" He couldn't finish the sentence, but the plea was there in his eyes. Ron knew exactly what was being asked of him.

He didn't even hesitate. "Right. If. If anything happens…I'll take care of her myself. Of them." He squeezed Harry's arm for a second, then let go. He said nothing more than those simple words, but his tone made it more binding than an Unbreakable Vow.

Hagrid returned with the Grangers, walking down the stairs carrying in one hand a tray with a full tea service. The Grangers stayed very close to each other, and made a point of not looking at the murals on the wall. Presumably they'd received some disgusting advice from some long-dead Healer's portrait on the stairs.

"Hagrid… Neville…" tallied Harry, glad of a change of subject. "Who else is here?"

"Tonks, Shacklebolt and Moody are up on the fourth floor, guarding Dad and the other Ministry casualties. Well, they're Aurors, they sort of have to be there. Lupin was here for a bit, then he went upstairs to be with them… he said he'd be back. Other than that…" Ron shrugged. "We sent owls to all the D.A. we thought could get here, but that's not many. And I don't think the Order knows we've arrived."

"Spiffing." Harry's mouth was set in a grim line.

As much as Ron shared Harry's opinion, he felt the sudden need to be upbeat for his friend. "Hey, St. Mungo's still has its anti-Apparation spells in place. So no one's sneaking up on us, right? And Hermione reckons that by showing up unannounced and all, we've reduced the chance that anyone'll find out and come looking for us. We'll be fine, mate."

"Yeah," agreed Harry. "We'll be fine." He was obviously trying to be upbeat for his friend. Ron didn't believe Harry any more than he reckoned Harry believed Ron.

Across the hall, the door to the delivery room opened a crack. Apprentice Bloomer stuck her head out. "Mr., uh, Wetherby? We need you…" She stopped, thunderstruck, upon seeing Harry.

"What is it?" Harry demanded. He and Ron hurried to the door.

Bloomer looked at Ron, back at Harry, clearly putting the pieces together. "Madame Lasoeur," she finally said. "Sent me to find you. There's a problem with, uh, Ms. Ginger…"

Harry and Ron immediately shoved past her into the delivery room. As they disappeared through the door, Bloomer gave a furtive glance up the corridor… then she quickly flicked her wand once, as though shaking off some unseen drops of water, before following them in and closing the door.

"Oh ho," said Dad softly. Seeing Hope's inquisitive face, he added brusquely, "She's just signaled Lord Voldemort. I always wondered how he found us so quickly…"

"Oh," said Hope, and felt a twinge of sadness. The woman had looked so nice…

"Not that it did her any good, all said and done," Dad continued grimly. "C'mon." He stepped out and walked through the door - literally through the closed door, as though it had no substance at all. The others promptly followed him into the delivery room…

Hermione lay unconscious on the birthing bed; her pale face was covered in a sheen of sweat, and her body was so limp it looked de-boned. Madame Lasoeur had her wand pointed at Hermione's chest. "Ennervate!" she commanded, and Hermione's body twitched upwards. She gave a great gasp and her eyes flew open, searching the room until they lighted on Harry's face.

"Everything was normal until a few minutes ago," Lasoeur told Ron and Harry. "She looked in perfect health… then as we entered the transition phase, she seemed to lose all her strength. It is almost as though it were being drained from her." She granted Ron and Harry an angry glance apiece. "If you know anything else about Miss Granger, Mr. Potter," she added, no longer bothering with pseudonyms, "now's the time to tell me."

"She's been feeling really tired for months now," Ron offered. "We just thought it was, you know, normal. For a pregnant mum, I mean."

Lasoeur snorted in disgust, and moved to the foot of the bed, partially hidden behind a screen. From a supply cupboard, Bloomer brought her some towels and a tray of potion flasks. Harry took the opportunity to move to Hermione's side. "Hermione?" he said, never taking his eyes off hers.

"About time you showed," said Hermione, with a flash of her usual tartness.

He smiled, oddly comforted by her tone. "Sorry, love. Forgive me?"

"For being late? Maybe. For doing this to me? Never." She grimaced in pain as another contraction began. "You're so carrying the next one, mister. Don't even think I won't find a way to manage it."

"I'm sure you could." Harry'd taken her hand and was holding it reassuringly. Ron considered going to the other side of the bed, and taking her other hand… but a glance at what was happening at the foot of the bed convinced him to stay where he was. He concentrated on not fainting.

"Urrh!" Hermione grunted, as the contraction reached its peak. Then, without warning, her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed, inert, onto the bed.

"Hermione!!" yelled Harry, gripping her hand tightly. He shot a panicked look at Lasoeur. Without moving from where she stood, the midwife raised her wand and repeated the Ennervation Charm. As Hermione's eyes flickered open again, Lasoeur muttered darkly under her breath. None of those in the memory could hear what she said, but Hope and the other observers heard her clearly. "It loses effectiveness each time it's used… she won't last at this rate…"

"S-Sorry, Harry," gasped Hermione. "I wasn't expecting… the books didn't say…"

"Lasoeur says the birth is draining you, Hermione," interrupted Harry urgently. "Haven't you been saying it for months? It's why you've felt so tired, you've felt drained." He had both hands wrapped around hers now, trying to anchor her to the present moment and need. "Come on, Hermione, please. Stay with me, love. Just a little more to go, hang on, you can do it, I'm right here…"

He talked without pausing for breath, encouraging her, drawing her eyes to his, distracting her from the pain of labour. Yet Ron found himself not listening… his attention was drawn to their clasped hands. For a second, they seemed to blur and flicker, as though he was looking at them through a candle flame. Then their hands began to glow with a nimbus of light, and Ron realized what was happening.

Somehow, Harry was… pouring his magic into Hermione. He was lending her strength, not only in metaphor but in reality as well, giving of his inner self even as he chattered away. She gave him a stronger smile, then tensed as a new contraction began.

"You're doing fine," called Lasoeur. "The baby's starting to crown. I'm going to help dilate you now, be ready." She waved her wand under the hem of Hermione's gown, and Hermione sucked in a deep breath. "Bear down hard, now, push!" There was a spatter of red liquid, and Ron looked away hastily - as did Hope.

"The process is a tad messy," her Mum told her, quite unnecessarily. Hope pinched her lips together as she filed the fact away for future reference.

"Push!" the midwife urged again, casting another unknown spell. "Be ready to catch," she added in a low aside to her apprentice. "Almost there, girl, once more aaaaand - push!" With a determined groan, Hermione grit her teeth and gave her all. Harry squeezed her hand more tightly still, and the light around their hands flared. "Umbilical clamp," Lasoeur directed Bloomer, and there was a flurry of activity behind the screen.

Then the sound of a slap - and the unmistakable squalling of a newborn. "It's a girl," announced the midwife with a broad smile. "Congratulations."

"You did it," whispered Ron and Harry simultaneously, before flashing grins at each other. Hermione grinned back - wanly, but a genuine grin - and gestured for Ron to join her and Harry. She was sweaty, her hair was even more tangled than normal, and she could barely keep her eyes open. She'd never looked more beautiful.

"With help," she said, and brought Ron's head down to kiss him soundly on the forehead. Releasing him, Hermione turned her head and kissed Harry… on the lips, deeply and fervently. The light from their hands gave a final twinkle before it faded away. "Happy Birthday, Harry."

"I love you, too," he replied. Somehow, it didn't sound like a non sequitur.

"Excuse me," said Madame Lasoeur, still with that broad smile, "but there's someone here who'd like to say hello, too." She brought forward a tiny bundle, wrapped in a pink blanket, which she placed in Hermione's arms. It was red and wrinkled, and in Ron's impartial judgment was pretty damned ugly. At least it wasn't crying any more.

"Oh, my," Hermione breathed, "look at her, Harry. She's so perfect. Hello, Hope," she sang gently. "Hello there…" It was funny how quickly she'd become all stereotypically "girly".

"'Hope'?" Ron asked Harry.

"She's had names picked out since before Christmas," smiled Harry. "And I kinda liked this one. Hope Justinia Potter." He reached out and gently stroked little Hope's fingers, as Hermione began to unbutton the front of her gown.

Ron's eyes bugged wide. "Uh…" he began, and found he couldn't speak.

"The colostrum is very important to a neonate's health, Ron," Hermione lectured, as the last button gave way. "Especially for magical children, where it helps fix the ambient magic into their bodies. There we go, Hope," she crooned, slipping easily from expository mode back to new-mother mode, and bringing the baby to her breast. None of them paid attention as Lasoeur magically cleaned up the afterbirth.

"Besides," added Harry with a grin, "as long as you're staying at, uh, the Place with us, you'd better get used to it. Not too used to it, though… And diapers - Unca Ron needs to learn the joy of changing diapers."

"See, now that's the sort of spell they should be teaching at Hogwarts," complained Ron with a pout. The pout quickly turned into a laugh shared by all three of them. The Trio was together, and the Trio would continue…

Without warning, Harry cried out and clutched at his scar. "No," he grunted, "not now…!" From outside the room came the sound of screams, then the sizzle of curses in the air.

"He's here," Harry told the room. "Lord Voldemort's coming, he'll be here any second. You two," and he pointed at the midwife and her assistant, "need to get out of here now. Ron, help me with Hermione…"

There was a scream just outside the door. "Colloportus!" shouted Harry, then snatched up the baby and thrust her into Ron's arms. "Ron, go! Through there - find help, or get to the Place! We'll be right behind you!"

"Harry…" began Ron, as the baby began to cry again.

"GO!!" Hermione and Harry shouted together, just as the door shook violently. Ron turned, opened the supply cupboard, and gestured for Lasoeur and Bloomer to follow him. Cradling baby Hope in one hand, he drew his wand with the other. With a cry of "Reducto!" he blasted out the back wall of the cupboard. Through the hole he could see an empty corridor, beckoning them to safety.

What he couldn't see was Apprentice Bloomer, drawing her wand and stealthily pointing it at his back.

"Ronald, is she planning to…?" began Mum.

"Looks like it. I never knew that," Dad said. "Ignore her. We have to follow, uh, follow me." He led them after Ron's retreating form.

With a deafening blast, the door exploded, sending splinters of wood flying through the delivery room. Ron scrambled madly through the hole in the wall, even as behind him he heard a cold voice, saying the most feared words in the wizarding world: "Avada Kedavra."

There were flashes of green light somewhere behind him. He heard two bodies fall, and thought his heart would stop at the sound. Not Hermione - not Harry! He spared a half second to look over his shoulder…

Madame Lasoeur and Apprentice Bloomer lay collapsed halfway through the hole, their sightless eyes staring at him. Ron felt a pang of remorse, but didn't stop moving. He started running as quickly as he could down the corridor.

Behind him he heard the voice speak again, that clear, high, glacially cold voice: "Bring me the child, Bella. I will deal with this one myself." Ron had never heard that voice before, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind Who it belonged to. He cast a Silencing Charm on baby Hope and redoubled his speed.

Don't dare get in a fight - have to get the baby to safety, he thought frantically. Can't go back to the main corridor, there's sure to be fighting there… and on the stairs, once the Aurors upstairs get wind of this. If I can just reach the main lobby, I can Disapparate…

He slowed as he came to an intersection in the corridors. Which way?

An explosion echoed through the corridors. Ron made a best-guess as to its direction, and immediately took off in the other direction. He wasn't sure where he was headed at this point - St. Mungo's hallways seemed almost designed to confuse - but as long as it was away from the battle, he'd be happy.

But as he rounded a corner, Ron realized with a sickening lurch that the battle wasn't behind him. Whether by a trick in the acoustics, or some magic in the halls themselves, he'd come back to the corridor leading through the Maternity Ward - where the battle still raged. He skidded to a halt and turned to run the way he'd come, but it was already too late.

Without warning, a white-hot bolt of energy struck Ron's leg. He stumbled, started to fall - tried to tuck into a roll but couldn't make his body obey. It was as though he was watching from outside his body, unable to stop it, as his legs betrayed him, as his body went into a violent tumble… and as the contents of his arms, his wand and baby Hope, flew out of his hands and into the air.

Even as he landed sprawling flat on his face, his hands were outstretched, desperately reaching up. Dear God, he prayed as never before, please, this once…

And around Hope's tiny body, a translucent white cloud seemed to congeal for a split-second. She landed on the floor, bounced once, and came safely to rest against the wall, snug within her own personal Cushioning Charm.

"Ron?" asked Aunt Ginny in awe. "Did you just…?"

"Wandless, non-vocal magic," Dad nodded. "For the first, last, and only time in my life." His expression was as stony as ever, but Hope thought she could detect a note of pride in his voice.

The baby was resting budged up, half-hidden, next to an enormous dark massive form - it took a moment for Ron to recognize the form as Hagrid's. Hagrid seemed to be sitting, propped against the corridor wall, resting for a moment before returning to the battle. Except Hagrid's eyes were flat and dull, and a thread of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and not a muscle twitched. Ron knew what must have happened, and he knew he'd suffer crushing grief soon enough, but not now, dammit, not now…

He craned his neck to look back at the wound in his leg. The curse that had hit him was still working, dissolving his flesh into greenish ooze. Ron supposed that, buried somewhere under his adrenaline, it hurt like a bitch.

He looked back and searched for his wand… it lay on the floor well out of reach. Hoping that his adrenaline could stay high for just a little longer, he put his weight on his elbows and began to drag himself across the floor.

A few metres away, curses continued to spark and sizzle. There were several bodies lying about, at least three of them wearing the robes and masks of Death Eaters. Only two people were left standing: Neville was dueling with Bellatrix Lestrange - or rather, firing spell after spell at Bellatrix, while she parried them with casual ease. She blocked and defended, but didn't bother to hex him back; a cat toying with a mouse might have worn her savagely superior smile.

"Well," she said indulgently, "this is been ever so much fun, boy. I'd love to continue our playtime… but my Master has given me a task, so…" One quick flick of her wand sent Neville flying backwards to crash against the opposite wall. With brisk strides she walked over to where Ron lay, still struggling to reach his wand.

"Oooh, look at the little blood traitor," Bellatrix cooed, "trying so hard to be wee Potter's best toady." She planted her foot on his hand as it was stretched out to grab his wand. He thought he heard a finger break… and that unleashed the flood of pain from his leg wound.

Bellatrix towered over him. "Don't be stupid, boy. Even if you had your wand, you couldn't hurt one who's been trained by the Dark Lord Himself." She leaned lower. "All I want is the brat. Tell me where you've hidden it, and I'll give you a painless death, I promise."

Ron forced his eyes to stay firmly on Bellatrix's face - and not glance at Hope, Silenced but only partially hidden by Hagrid's bulk. Distant sounds of magical battle told him that reinforcements were on the way, if he could only hold out long enough.

But Bellatrix seemed to recognize this, too. She grabbed Ron's hair and yanked his head upwards. "Last chance, boy," she snarled.

"The name is Weasley," he managed to say through clenched teeth.

"Splendid epitaph," she smiled, and raised her wand.

A high-pitched scream rent the air - it sounded like it came from the delivery room. "Avada - NOOOOOO!!"

"Master!" cried Bellatrix, looking up wildly. Instinctively she took a step towards the shattered door…

… and Ron, desperately lunging with his freed hand, retrieved his wand. In one fluid motion he rolled and whipped it upwards. He had no time to reason out what spell to use; it was only much later that he tried to reconstruct what must have gone through his mind. She blocked Neville's curses. She can block any curse she knows. She knows all the curses we know.

Except for one, handwritten in an old Potions book. "Sectumsempra!"

Bellatrix shrieked and fell back, clutching at her face. A bloody gash split her features from hairline to jaw. She tried wiping the blood out of her eyes, and shrieked again when the blood wouldn't stop flowing. "My face! My face! Master!"

For a moment she tried to aim her wand at Ron, determined to pay him back for her injury… but she couldn't see to aim, and the sounds of magical battle were drawing nearer. She spat at Ron in her fury, then spun and ran away. As she passed the shattered door to the delivery room, she looked inside and gave a furious sob… then she stooped, picked something off the corridor floor, and continued to run. In seconds she was out of sight… possibly using an illegal Portkey, Ron couldn't tell.

"Accio Hope," gasped Ron. The baby girl slid across the floor towards him; he caught her in his arms. If he could drag himself out of the corridor, maybe into the waiting room, he might avoid the notice of any other Death Eaters…

"Ron?" It was Neville. Shaky, bruised and bloodied, one eye swollen shut, Neville had still come to help Ron. "Oh Merlin, your leg! I'll go find a Healer!" Yet he hesitated, forcing himself to ask: "Is She gone?"

Ron could only nod. "You-Know-Who?" he whispered in return.

"Dead." Neville swallowed convulsively. "And H-Harry… and Her-Hermione… I'm so sorry, Ron…" He choked and fell silent for a moment. "Is that… er, Hermione's baby?"

Pain, and fatigue, and sorrow all crashed together in his head. He closed his eyes, tried to ignore the footsteps running closer, tried to think. If Hagrid was dead, the Grangers were surely dead too. With Harry dead, with Hermione dead, baby Hope would have to go live with her only remaining blood relatives… just as baby Harry had. The Dursleys.

The only way it wouldn't happen… was if the Dursleys weren't related to Hope. And Ron had sworn to Harry he'd take care of her himself. It was the last thing he could do for his best mate, and for the woman they both loved.

"Yeah," he answered Neville, as Lupin and George showed up. "Hermione's and mine. Our baby girl. Hope." Then the pain from his leg - and his loss - proved too much, and he passed into unconsciousness.

Mum stepped back from the scene. "And that, I assume, is when you started your deception in earnest, Ronald."

"After what just happened," Dad said wearily, "there wasn't a lot else I could've done. Hell, everyone was half-ready to believe it anyway." He looked down at Hope. "All right, you've seen what you wanted to see. Let's get out of here, shall we?" He pointed his wand upwards, and the four observers flew out of the Pensieve memory into a rushing darkness.

Only to stop, halfway back to the real world. "Dad?" Hope said into the darkness. "We saw how I was born… but we didn't see how Harry and Mother died."

She could hear Dad swooshing his wand upwards, more emphatically. She grit her teeth and stubbornly willed them to stay where they were. And amazingly, they did - suspended motionless between their physical bodies and the Pensieve.

"That's not part of my memory," came Dad's voice. He sounded testy, with good reason. "I didn't see them die, did I? I wasn't there."

"You didn't see that nurse pointing her wand at your back," Hope pointed out, "but it was in the Pensieve. That's what a Pensieve does, it builds a complete scene. It starts with your memory, but it builds from the ges… gest…"

"The gestalt?" Mum supplied.

"The ges-talt of the collective un-unconscious," stuttered Hope. She waited a moment, then asked hesitantly, "Dad?"

Dad didn't reply. Hope felt her confidence starting to crumble, she didn't want to do this - but she firmly reminded herself this was more important. She pointed her own wand downwards - and slowly, as though swimming against a current, the four observers descended back into the Pensieve memory…

"He's here," Harry told the room. "Lord Voldemort's coming, he'll be here any second. You two," and he pointed at the midwife and her assistant, "need to get out of here now. Ron, help me with Hermione…"

There was a scream just outside the door. "Colloportus!" shouted Harry, then snatched up the baby and thrust her into Ron's arms. "Ron, go! Through there - find help, or get to the Place! We'll be right behind you!"

"Harry…" began Ron, as the baby began to cry again.

"GO!!" Hermione and Harry shouted together, just as the door shook violently. Ron turned, opened the supply cupboard, and gestured for Lasoeur and Bloomer to follow him. Cradling baby Hope in one hand, he drew his wand with the other. With a cry of "Reducto!" he blasted out the back wall of the cupboard.

The door to the delivery room exploded deafeningly, sending splinters of wood flying everywhere. Through the wreckage strode a tall, skeletally thin figure: Lord Voldemort. Hope shivered, struck by a sudden wave of coldness, as though the very presence of the Dark Lord robbed the room of light and warmth.

Harry had moved to stand between the intruder and Hermione, wand ready, but for the moment Voldemort ignored him. His attention was drawn to the figures retreating through the supply cupboard. Lazily he raised his own wand; almost casually he intoned, "Avada Kedavra."

Two bolts of green light shot from his wand. They struck Madame Lasoeur and Apprentice Bloomer just as Ron scrambled through the hole in the wall. Their bodies collapsed halfway through the hole - effectively blocking pursuit. For the moment, Ron had evaded them.

"Bring me the child, Bella," ordered Voldemort. He gave an amused nod at Harry. "I will deal with this one myself." In a lower voice he added, "Recall my command: the Killing Curse is mine alone."

"I obey, Master," said Bellatrix, and took her leave. From the enraged roars that immediately followed, she must have encountered Hagrid at this point, but Hope couldn't make out any of the details. She was focused entirely on this, the final confrontation between the Dark Lord and the Chosen One.

"You should have stayed in hiding, Potter," Voldemort told Harry. "You must have known what would happen if you ever dared show yourself." He paused briefly, as though expecting some witty repartee from Harry, but Harry remained dead silent, intent on Voldemort.

"No final words? As you will," said Voldemort, and raised his wand. "Avada Kedavra."

The green light shot from his wand again, but Harry made no move to avoid it. He cast no countercharm or protective spell. Instead, he swung his wand at the incoming curse like a Beater swatting a Bludger.

The room exploded in a brilliant burst of light and thunder. Voldemort was knocked backward, his wand thrown from his hand, pain contorting his hideous face. It took him a moment to recover his equilibrium… to see Harry, unmoved before Hermione's bed, holding himself upright through sheer force of will. His right hand was burnt and blackened, and it held the charred stump of an ivory wand.

Voldemort's eyes went wide - then narrowed in a terrible rage that didn't mask his fear. "You… you insolent meddling fool! Do you realize what you've done?"

Harry's only reply was to force his crippled hand open, allowing the remains of Gryffindor's wand to clatter onto the floor. He locked gazes with Voldemort defiantly. It needed no Leglimency for Voldemort to see that Harry had, indeed, known the wand was a Horcrux. That the other Horcruxes were already gone. That Harry had spent the last year, not cowering in hiding, but preparing for this very moment, when Voldemort was finally mortal again.

Oh, yes, Harry realized exactly what he'd done.

"You are still a fool," Voldemort hissed at last. He stepped further into the room, circling Harry, watching unblinkingly as Harry struggled to keep himself between Voldemort and Hermione. "You have destroyed my Horcruxes, but now you cannot finish the fight. You are injured, while I am still strong. I am still Lord Voldemort. And I can make more Horcruxes."

He laughed as Harry raised his burnt hand towards him, attempting to summon a wandless spell. "Yes, keep struggling! I would expect nothing less from you. But I will kill you, and the Mudblood, and I will make another Horcrux here, now." He laughed again, feeling more confident. "Your skull, perhaps - that would make a memorable trophy."

Harry shook his head, grimly determined. "Not happening," he spat.

"Fool. Look at you: you can barely stand. Your power is spent, you hold no wand, and you face me alone…"

And Hermione suddenly reached out, to clasp Harry's uninjured left hand. "No!" she retorted fiercely. "Not alone!" Light coruscated around their joined hands, as she gave to Harry the power he'd lent her during her birthing - and her own reserves as well.

Voldemort quickly raised his hand, summoning his own wandless magic to strike them down - but Harry's hand was already in position, and his reflexes were still the fastest anyone had ever seen. "Expecto Nemesem!" he shouted.

"Avada…" cried Voldemort a split-instant later, but he never completed the incantation.

A shining silver animal erupted from Harry's hand, landed on all fours, and immediately gave a great leap towards Voldemort. Its form was that of a huge dog, broad-shouldered and almost bearlike. Savagely it pounced on Voldemort and knocked him to the floor. "NOOOOOO!!" he screamed.

"But…" said Aunt Ginny, puzzled, "but that's not Harry's Patronus..."

"It's Snuffles," Dad said softly.

"Who?" asked Hope. Dad didn't answer.

The giant dog had Voldemort by the throat and was worrying at it, as though getting a good grip. Then it gave an upward tug with its head… and pulled something out of Voldemort's body. A shrunken, deformed ghost of a thing, with misshapen arms and no legs. Voldemort's body convulsed once, then lay very still.

With the soul fragment in its mouth, the silver dog turned to look at Harry. Harry had fallen back against the bed, no longer able to stand… but his burnt hand was still at the ready, and Hermione still had a firm grip on his good hand. The dog nodded once to them both; even with the thing in its mouth, it was definitely grinning. Then it turned and started running away. It never left the delivery room… the far wall always seemed to be on the dog's other side… but the dog kept running, and shrank as though disappearing into the distance, until it finally faded and was gone.

"You did it," whispered Hermione.

"With help," Harry whispered back. They traded simultaneous grins as they heard each others' words from earlier.

"It's over, Hermione," Harry continued after a moment. With the battle over, his body had decided it no longer needed to stand; he sank slowly onto the side of the bed, Hermione's hand still in his. "It's finally over. Oh God, we did it. We did it, love. Together."

Hermione smiled happily, but even that small act seemed to exhaust her. She didn't move or speak, but her eyes never left Harry's face.

It seemed to take a very long time for Harry to get enough breath to speak again. "When we're feeling better," he told her, "we'll go home with Hope. Not to the Place, but a real home. We'll be a family, love." He took another minute to catch his breath… he had to work hard to do it. "And we'll be married, and have more kids after Hope. And…" His voice grew softer as he finished, "And we'll be together for the rest of our lives."

She moved her mouth, but no words came out. It didn't matter: her shining eyes said it all. Of course we will.

He could no longer keep his head erect. He let it settle onto the bed, his face inches from hers. They didn't kiss, but each could feel the other's breath on their lips. Harry managed a tiny smile as Hermione caressed him with her eyes. I love you, Hermione, he mouthed silently back.

I love you, Harry. They smiled at each other, at total peace, hands still clasped, happy to be together.

Then slowly, together, they closed their eyes.

The Pensieve scene became blurry. Hope couldn't make out details any more… then she realized with a start that it was because her eyes were filled with tears. She was crying, Mum was crying… and Aunt Ginny was sobbing. Only Dad maintained his stone visage.

Ginny fell to her knees as her sobs racked her body. "I didn't know…" she wailed, "I didn't know." Her grief was a palpable thing, and seemed to build on itself as she cried. Hope tentatively reached out and put a hand on Ginny's shoulder, only to draw it back as Ginny angrily shrugged it off.

Dad finally spoke in a dull, leaden voice. "Are you satisfied?" It made Hope feel small and insignificant, as though she'd been caught in the act of vandalizing some holy place. She couldn't look at Dad… she tried to brush away her tears, but they kept coming.

Dad pointed his wand upwards, and this time Hope made no protest. The four observers rushed skyward, out of the Pensieve memory, out of the past and through the darkness.