Foresight

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART ONE

Harry closed his eyes, his breath rapid and tense. It had been a while since he had run for so long without stopping. He was fatigued and wanted more than anything to be able to just climb into a soft bed and sleep. But it was neither physical fatigue nor the enemies he had been running from that plagued his thoughts most at the moment.

There it was again, a sharp pain that ran through his mind, plunging deep into his heart. If he could explain what the pain was like, burning inside of him, he would probably compare it to the same pain he feels when his scar burns, except internally. He had experienced disappointment, loss and suffering in a multitude of ways during his young life, but this was something made terrible not by the blows of an enemy or the death of a loved one, but even worse, by someone very close to him - his best friend.

Perhaps burning wasn’t a good description. It was more like a deep, gaping loss, something akin to the props being knocked out from underneath him, crippling his motivation and sapping his strength. He hated this feeling more than anything. It made him feel terribly vulnerable and weak in the light of what he knew was coming. He honestly couldn’t see how he could stand against his nemesis like this. Something had to be done. This simply would not do. And he knew the answer lay with the one who was also the cause.

Harry opened his eyes again, lifting his head and looking over at a stand of trees only a few meters from his own resting spot. There she was, sitting up against a small ash, her body heaving from deep breaths, like him. She was sitting with her head buried in her arms folded over her bent knees. He watched as she slowly lifted her head, gazing blankly at nothing in front of her. She did a lot of that lately. Despite her attempt to regain a normal breathing pattern, her expression revealed that she too was under a heavy load mentally and emotionally, something which, to Harry, had seemed to consume her.

There, that was the problem. Something in her eyes. Something that he could tell was eating away at her, but was unable to speak of. He was used to her occasional mood swings and even female problems he knew were simply a part of life for girls. But Hermione had always been strong and stubborn enough to move forward no matter what was happening. That’s one thing he really loved about his friend. He also loved the fragile side of her that showed she was sensitive and had real feelings that could be wounded. And it always angered him that Ron seemed to prove that last part more than anyone else. These two sides to Hermione’s personality seemed to form a beautiful paradox that always made her interesting to be around. But whatever was bothering her now had reduced that paradox into a neutrality of neither strong headed stubbornness nor sensitivity.

Her recent tendency for reserve and quietness, keeping to herself even when alone with Ron and him, was something Harry couldn’t get used to. He found that he really missed her quoting from some book she had recently read or giving her obviously correct opinion over some pressing issue. The worst part of all was what he perceived to be a break in the cord of communion that he had shared with her since their first year at Hogwarts together. There it was again. The pain. That generalized nothing that left him feeling empty. What was it? What has happened to Hermione to cause such a change in her behavior towards both of them? What was it that was causing Harry such confusion and loss in his own soul?

They were all seventeen now. Still very young, relatively speaking. But growing up in the wizarding world and already having faced many life threatening dangers together, they were mature beyond their years. But Harry was, like his friends, still learning the ropes. Still trying to understand his place in all this. And, no, he wasn’t leaning on some prophecy or a famous persona to determine his destiny or identity. He would learn as he went. And one thing he had learned over the past couple of years was how much his two best friends factored in his thinking and sense of well-being. But now, with the recent change in Hermione, he had become painfully aware of the fact that he depended more heavily on her, psychologically, emotionally and even in her physical presence, than Ron.

His perception of his closeness with both friends was now very lopsided, tilting towards Hermione, especially as he watched the friend he regarded as a brother become more and more independent of him. Ron was no longer simply playing second fiddle to Harry and living in the shadow of the famous boy with the lightning shaped scar. Harry was very glad of this. In fact, he had been quietly encouraging Ron for quite a while now to stretch out his own legs and be his own man. Despite Ron’s behavior their sixth year at Hogwarts, Harry had begun to see real progress in that. The three of them had been through a crazy sixth year, as he now looked at it. He still wondered if someone put something in Hogwart's drinking water that year to cause everyone to go on a strange binge of flirtation and silliness. At any rate, he was glad they were past all that. He really enjoyed being alone with his two best friends again, even if their quest for the horcruxes had taken them down some very dangerous paths. He felt the three of them were somewhat back to normal. That is, until a week ago.

Harry glanced over his left shoulder. Ron was lying on his back in the grass trying to catch his breath along with Ron’s two older brothers Fred and George. They were both standing up, arms leaning against some larger trees, looking intently around the area, hoping to be able to spot danger before it surprised them all. Ginny too was anxious, sitting next to Hermione trying to recuperate from the intense sprint they had taken from the portkey a few miles back. Harry looked down at the ground in front of him, finally beginning to breath normally again. His shoes were colored in a bluish hue from the moonlight that shone from the large orb hanging low in the evening sky.

What could he do? This sense of loss between Hermione and him was getting to the point where he had trouble just thinking normally. How could something so seemingly small have such a huge impact on his own thoughts and feelings? Why was it affecting him this way? He had been wanting so badly to sit and talk with her about this for days now, but time and circumstance had not allowed it. His strong respect for and trust in his friend were also impediments. This aspect of their relationship was something he had become so accustomed to that he had taken it for granted. How many times did she believe him and believe in him when others, even their mutual friend Ron, was suspicious or accused him of wrong? He held that same kind of faith and trust in her judgment and character without question. Too much to simply assume she didn’t know what was going on between them right now. But he had never really trod into the territory of her personal feelings and desires.

Occasionally she had opened up to him about things that concerned her, in those long talks they used to have in the common room at Gryffindor tower, talks that sometimes lasted into the early morning hours. He really missed that. But he never dared attempt to draw her out. No, he loved her too much to do that. Since the change, however, she rarely spoke with him on personal matters or even just friendly chat. That increased his sense of frustration to the point of feeling like he would lose his mind if she stayed this way much longer. He needed to know. He needed and wanted so much to help her with whatever was bothering her. Or he at least had to let her know, unequivocally, that he was there for her and would not leave his friend whom he had admired so much over the years.

Harry looked over at Hermione again. This time she was staring back at him. In the moonlight he could barely make out that same look he had noticed she would give him from time to time for seemingly no reason at all. That look of…longing?...or was it just sadness? Something seemed so vacant and missing from her beautiful brown eyes now. She glanced down and away from him only a few moments after he caught her looking at him. The pain came over him again, this time beginning to draw tears to his eyes. Hermione, what is it? He screamed out inside. Please tell me! I can’t stand to see you like this! He closed his eyes to keep the tears from falling down his cheeks.

Wait a minute! He opened his eyes again, recalling a former thought, trying to wipe the water from his eyes quickly. Until a week ago. That’s it! This whole thing started a week ago! What were we doing last week? Everything had seemed such a blur over the last several days. He started thinking back. Back before the second assault on Hogwarts by a much larger group of Death Eaters. An assault from which the three of them had narrowly escaped this afternoon. If it weren’t for Ron’s two older brothers and little sister, they might not have escaped at all. He hoped that Hagrid and the special contingent of warlocks brought to the school from all over Britain had thoroughly dispatched those vicious thugs who weren’t part of the group on their tail right now. Harry couldn’t help but smile when recalling the sight of their big friend standing alongside those battle hardened wizards at the front of the castle as the six of them were fleeing the grounds. He had never seen Hagrid so furious and determined before in his life – standing there with his little pink umbrella in one hand and a huge gnarled club in the other. He almost felt a swell of pity for those Death Eaters who ventured close to the castle. Almost.

Anyway, back before that. They had spent half the week at the school, before the attack, taking a much needed break and talking over ideas for the final move against Voldemort. Professor McGonagall had been very kind and hospitable, almost motherly to the three of them. Back further still. The final horcrux destroyed after a search joined by the Order that had actually been quicker than he thought it would be, thanks to the information Dumbledore had left. Wait, that’s it! They had returned to Hogwarts a week ago. He remembered clearly now. He and Ron wanted to see Hermione safely into the school before the two of them left for Hogsmeade to gather some needed supplies. The whole situation seemed really strange to Harry at the time, but even more bizarre now.

An envelope left by Dumbledore in Hermione’s parent’s hands? What seemed even stranger was when he left it with them. He, Ron and Hermione were shocked to learn that he had visited her parents during his brief absence from Hogwarts in their first year! Professor Quirrell had supposedly tricked Dumbledore into leaving the school so he could get the philosopher’s stone and weaken Harry if possible. But to everyone’s surprise, as Professor McGonagall first told them a few days ago, Dumbledore saw through the ruse and instead of going to the Ministry of Magic took the opportunity to visit the Grangers. He left the strange package with her parents and made them promise not to give it to her until a certain time. That time was a week and a half ago. At that time all three of them were stumped on where to find the last remaining horcrux, and they decided to stop at her parent’s house almost as an afterthought, to take a much needed break in their search.

What was it that the note said again?

Dear Miss Granger,

Inside this envelope you will find my key.

The fact that you are reading this note means that now is the right time.

Take the key to Professor McGonagall and she will show you what to do.

It is there that you will find the answer you seek.

Yours Kindly,

Albus Dumbledore

He had racked his brain since then, trying to figure out how Dumbledore seemed to know six years ago what the three of them would be doing right now. And why Hermione’s parents? Why Hermione? She was just a first year then. How did Dumbledore know her or anything about her among the hundreds of other students at Hogwarts? His respect for Dumbledore jumped tremendously as he knocked around all the possible connections and scenarios that logically followed from what seemed to be an impeccable foresight. He sighed at the thought that Dumbledore was now gone. He would have loved to ask him about all this.

He then remembered what Hermione had told them about her visit with McGonagall after he and Ron went off to Hogsmeade. Her surprise at seeing McGonagall waiting for her at the top of the stair before the entrance to the Great Hall. McGonagall’s statement to her before she could even open her mouth - “I trust you have the key?”

Harry leaned back again, closing his eyes and trying to concentrate on every detail he could grasp from his memory. He thought about Hermione’s description of the hidden vault that McGonagall took her to, deep within the bowels of the castle. It was an enormous vault that, up until that time, only the Professor and Dumbledore knew about. He remembered her description of the hundreds of years of Hogwarts history in statues, magical artifacts, paintings, old parchments and even a 400 year old Quidditch uniform, amazingly well preserved. Dumbledore’s key went to a special box in which he had placed an old sheet of parchment, torn at the edges, but with markings, notes and a name near the top – T. Riddle. This note, apparently written by Voldemort/Riddle sometime prior to his exit from Hogwarts, had been in Dumbledore’s possession and in that vault for all these years! How in bloody hell did he know?

But that wasn’t the pressing issue right now. He remembered when he and Ron returned to Hogwarts, they found Hermione in the library, looking up information about what Tom had written in the note. That afternoon was when he first began to notice her strange behavior. It was hard not too, after that first incident. As he and Ron approached Hermione, Ron’s smart-alec comment about “being shocked to find Hermione in the library of all places”, had apparently hit the wrong nerve in her. Harry laughed a little to himself in remembering how thoroughly she trounced Ron over his stupid comment. In all the time he had known the both of them, he had never seen her get so angry and tort back to Ron in such a way that silenced him completely. In fact, as he thought about it, they hadn’t been speaking to each other much at all since then. But that was merely the beginning.

Since then, her withdrawal from Harry and her sulkiness became more and more apparent. This wasn’t simply some mood swing. It was shocking to him to see how she dampened the mood of all three of them. That’s when it began to really concern him. But what was the cause? What had happened to Hermione in those few hours between them dropping her off at the castle and their return? Was it something the Professor said to her? The information in Tom Riddle’s note was exactly what they were looking for and the location of the final horcrux was revealed, just as Dumbledore had said in Hermione’s note. He had ruled out the possibility that Voldemort had somehow possessed her through the parchment, like Ginny had been through that diary in their second year. They had burned the parchment after the horcrux was destroyed, and yet Hermione’s strange behavior didn’t go away. But maybe there was something more to the note that Hermione wasn’t telling them. Or maybe…maybe she had seen something in that vault that had affected her badly. But what? It just wasn’t like Hermione to allow herself be bothered or frightened so easily, or if she was, it never lasted this long. If it was something she saw, it must have been really bad.

Harry looked over at her once again.

He had to know. Now.

He slowly got up and started to walk over to her…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART TWO

Hermione and Ginny were discussing something as they both looked up at Harry approaching. He suddenly felt butterflies in his stomach. Why I am nervous? She’s my friend, he tried to console himself as he started to sit down next to her. She just looked down at the ground, appearing to be a little anxious as he sat with knees bent, folding his arms around them, like her. He looked at her and then saw Ginny give a quick glance at them both before standing up and going over to her brothers. The look she gave them was one of sadness but with understanding.

He had barely spoken to Ginny since their break-up a half a year ago and he could tell in the few times he had seen her since, that she treated him with a cold indifference, acting as though she had never had an interest in the boy she had a crush on for so many years. He tried to be as kind and civil to her as possible, and didn’t blame her for the way she seemed to act towards him now. He felt in some way that it was justified, so he accepted it. Despite what happened between them, he still liked her and even missed some of the little things she did. But he had realized even more in the months since the break-up, that his was more than just your average wizard’s life and he felt that he just wasn’t what she needed. Facing life-threatening dangers can have that sobering effect on someone. Harry was maturing faster and as the list of those whom he loved continued to dwindle, he was learning the hard way what was really important in life and what was simply a passing desire. But yesterday, when she, Fred and George had shown up at Hogwarts to help them escape, he couldn’t help but take her hand at one point and thank her with as much care in his expression as possible. It was the first time in a while he had seen her reciprocate.

He looked down at the ground, drawing up as much courage as he could muster.

“Hermione…” he started.

She turned her head slightly towards him but still looking down.

“There’s something I have been meaning to ask you about…” he went on, then paused.

“Yes?” she finally replied after a few moments.

Her voice seemed tinged with concern, and he could see her body begin to tense up as though she thought he were about to ask her to reveal her deepest, darkest secret. He sensed this and froze. This was the way she had been lately, like she was emotionally trying to stay just out of his reach. This was what bothered him. But he cared so much for her. He wanted to know what had happened to her, but it just didn’t seem right to ask now. He gave her a half smile and shook his head slightly.

“Never mind…” he said, regretfully, “it’s not that important.”

‘Liar!’ he thought to himself. But something else welled up in his mind. That reserve of strength and courage he always had inside when every other faculty seemed to fail him. He reached out and placed his arm around her shoulder, drawing her slightly towards himself. If he could do anything at all, he wanted her to know he was with her in her predicament, whatever it was. She seemed to relax a bit and slump down slightly when he placed his arm around her.

“I hope you’re alright, Hermione…” he began, feeling more resolute.

“I just want you to know that…I’m still here with you…if you ever need anything.” he continued.

She just looked ahead, an expression now of deepening sadness as though something were going to break inside of her and come gushing out in torrents. Harry’s breath stopped momentarily, and he wondered if she would finally reveal what the source of her travail had been. He would have been grateful if she reproved him for something, or at the very least vent out on him what seemed to cause her such pain. Anything at all! Instead, she simply turned to look him straight in the eyes, and he saw the pained expression in her face which was glowing slightly from the light of a now whitened moon.

“I know Harry…” she spoke quietly, “…thank you.”

He thought for a moment that she was about to say something else, but then she turned away again. He removed his arm and just sat there in silence.

He felt greatly relieved to hear her speak that way to him, as though a small sliver of light had finally broken through dark clouds. He also felt, sensing her presence beside him, that even through all the distance that seemed to separate them right now, there was a slender thread of hope that still connected her to him. She wasn’t completely gone yet, he thought. But apparently, IT still bothered her and prevented her from opening up to him.

“What in blazes possessed you two to put that bloody portkey this far away from the house?” Ron suddenly blared at the twins, as he finally sat up.

His voice startled both Harry and Hermione as if they had been rudely awakened from a deep sleep.

“We thought it would be safer for Mum and Dad.” Fred replied, as though it should have been perfectly obvious to Ron.

“Yeah, we don’t want them Black Hats apparating right outside our front door, do we? “George chimed in.

“Yeah, safer for Mum and Dad…WHAT ABOUT US?“ Ron asked incredulously.

“Don’t worry,” Fred stated with a calm, almost neighborly tone, “we’re not too far now.”

“NOT TOO FAR?!?” Ron added incredulously, “We haven’t even gotten to Stoatshead yet! Bloody brilliant, you two are.”

“Don’t worry Ronnie boy,” George sharply torted to Ron, sounding a little miffed now. “We’ve still got some surprises left…”

“SHHHH!” Ginny whispered to the three of them as loudly as possible. “Are you three mad? They might still be behind…”

She never finished as all six of them were jolted to attention and looking back toward a grove they had past earlier. All of them heard that distinct popping noise that accompanies an apparition. Harry’s adrenaline began to kick in. He listened intently as more popping noises began to emanate from the woods. The number continued to rise to everyone’s horror. There must be two dozen of them now, he thought. Harry turned to look over at Ron. He saw that all familiar expression of fear on Ron’s face.

“Bloody hell…” Ron whispered, shaking his head in disbelief.

Harry hadn’t even noticed when Hermione had placed one hand on his shoulder and grasped his arm with the other until he felt his hand going numb. He looked at her as both of them started to rise as quietly as possible, Hermione’s face filled with alarm.

“Run…now!” Fred shouted to the others as softly as possible. But it was too late.

A huge ball of bluish green light flew over their heads. The light hit a nearby tree, snapping it’s trunk in two, the bright orange flames bursting outward along with bits of bark and splintered wood. The group gasped as they saw the top of the tree crash to the ground not too far from Ginny. She had leapt into George’s arms just in time. And then two more bursts of light flew toward their spot, felling two more trees. It seemed that the quiet moonlit glen had suddenly been turned into hell. Harry shot a glance toward the clearing and he caught site of half a dozen attackers moving swiftly in their direction, their pointed black hats unmistakable in the dim light.

The scene became increasingly chaotic as more blasts shot at them from two directions now. A large oak next to them exploded and the debris collapsed near Harry, causing Hermione to let out a short scream. They were cut off from the others. Harry quickly grabbed Hermione’s arm and they both ran as fast as they could through the trees behind where they had been sitting, and away from where the Death Eaters had apparated. He heard some voices, one of which sounded like Ron shouting, but the explosions and noise of falling trees drowned them out.

They had run for almost ten minutes straight and the noises and confusion slowly began to fade from their field of sound. Harry didn’t know how far they had run and he felt several sharp pains in his arms and legs as they crashed through branches and bushes in the dark wood. But Harry quickened his pace with Hermione still in tow. She had begun to lag a little and he felt the pull of her weight. His determination to get as far away from the area as fast as possible overrode his consideration of Hermione’s lesser speed or of her fatigue. But something inside of him was more concerned about getting her safe than about what the Death Eaters were doing. He hoped that Ron and the others had gotten away safely. But right now, he had to make sure Hermione was out of danger.

Finally, when it seemed that they were far enough out, they slowed down, trying to catch their breath again. When they stopped, both of them stood completely still, listening for the slightest noise. All was quiet, however, except for the air rushing in and out of their lungs as though they could not get enough of it. Harry looked around to see the moonlight once again piercing the pines overhead and filtering down softly around them. He turned and went over to Hermione.

“Okay?” He asked her through shaky breaths, putting one hand on her shoulder.

She nodded to him, as they both leaned over, wincing from the pain in their sides.

They finally sat down at the foot of a tree. Harry leaned his head back to rest a bit. He then turned to glance at Hermione again. She was also resting her head against the trunk, eyes closed and slowly trying to catch her breath. For the first time in days, she actually looked peaceful despite the situation. The moonlight seemed to radiate softly off of her skin as Harry followed the silhouette of her outline from her eyes down her nose to her lips, opening and closing with each breath. He couldn’t help but be amazed at how beautiful... He wondered if she knew just how precious, how…beautiful she was to him… He wasn’t sure how long he had been looking at her, but he suddenly snapped out of his trance.

He glanced back one more time and she lowered her head and turned to look back at him, almost on cue. His contemplation of her suddenly soured as that look appeared on her face again. Deep sadness in those eyes, down that nose, her lips now closed but pursed into a frown of concern. He felt that pain slowly coming back again. No!!! For a brief moment, he had seen the Hermione he knew, the friend he cared for. She seemed for just a brief moment to be free of worry and fear, that peacefulness bringing out what Harry saw as a hidden beauty inside of her, coming through her pretty face…then gone again. Feeling desperate, as though he were engaged in a battle to save Hermione’s life from some inner danger, he thought frantically of something to say.

“I hope we don’t have to run anymore tonight,” he blurted, sounding stupid to himself.

“If those Death Eaters surprise us again, “ he went on trying to make something out of it, “we let them go ahead and put us out of our misery, agreed?”

He couldn’t help but laugh a little at the words. Then something unexpected happened. Hermione looked at him as though she were going to cry, then she too started laughing. He felt tremendous relief as both of them kept laughing together. There it was again. He was so happy to see her relax and be free, to see her beautiful face come alive once more.

Harry’s little quip had broken a ton of tension that seemed to hang on both their shoulders. Somehow he had gotten through to her. He felt at that moment the connection with her had been regained. Despite all the dangers they had faced and were facing that night, the two of them were connected once more, even if for a moment. But something in his heart nagged at him. This wouldn’t last. Once the moment was gone, Hermione would still be facing whatever it was that hounded her, and Harry would feel their bond lost again – the pain inside returning. He had to do something, he refused to let her slip away.

It had seemed, through their laughter, as if the two of them had run out of a nightmare into a wonderful dream. And then suddenly the walls of that happy dream were shattered by that popping noise again. They looked at each other’s astonished faces, then listened intently. Only three pops this time. Both of them began to move slowly and quietly around to the back of the tree. They stopped, huddled next to each other, breathlessly listening for footsteps, but heard nothing. Some alarm in Harry’s head, however, was going berserk. They were coming…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART THREE

‘Damn, I wish we had our wands!’ Harry thought as he gritted his teeth. This was becoming really annoying, fast. He felt a pang of guilt again over what had happened at Hogwarts the other day. If he hadn’t been so lax, they might not be in this position now. They were taking the afternoon off and Harry wanted to show Ron and Hermione the secret waterfall he had discovered behind the castle a few years ago. Hermione had mentioned taking their wands, but Harry told them they wouldn’t need them. How stupid! In these dangerous times it wasn’t prudent to let down their guard, and as Harry was unofficially the leader of this little team, he laid the blame at his own feet. If Ron or Hermione got hurt… He also knew that if they got out of this, he owed Fred, George and Ginny a huge debt.

When the three of them returned to the guest quarters that evening, their rooms had been completely ransacked. Beds overturned, parchments and candles strewn everywhere. Hermione was so distraught at the loss of all the copious notes and information she had compiled in her research in the library. But along with anything they had of value, their wands were missing and even Harry’s invisibility cloak. We could sure use that right now, he mused. Professor McGonagall had Mr. Filch and a group of the warlocks search the castle quietly for anything suspicious and maybe even their possessions. She was wisely trying to keep the whole thing under wraps, as it appeared to be someone on the inside, someone who knew passwords and where the three of them were sleeping.

They had been in the Professor’s office the following day, discussing what had happened when the attack on the school started. The Death Eaters had cleverly thrown in enough diversions and feints to make everyone - teachers, students and the special contingent of wizard guards confused about what exactly was happening and where. When the first alarm was sounded, the four of them hurried out to the corridor filled with students panicked and fleeing in all directions. Before any of them could react, a huge explosion blasted a gaping hole in a wall down the corridor, shards of glass, metal and stone flying against the opposite side of the hall and raining down on anyone who happened to be in the blast’s path.

McGonagall had urged the three of them to escape from the castle as quickly as possible. It was suspected that the attack was intended to throw the whole school into disarray and keep the guard busy chasing would be attackers. All to distract from the real targets - Harry, Ron and Hermione. They knew that Voldemort had been trailing them wherever they went with his spies. Apparently the Dark Lord knew that the final horcrux had been destroyed and he was now very vulnerable. Harry recalled the rumors and news about attacks and raids by Voldemort’s minions around the country increasing tremendously since that artifact now no longer held a piece of his soul. He was becoming desperate.

Harry had tried to convince the other two that they should stay and help with the crisis. But Hermione insisted that they do as McGonagall said immediately. He remembered that look Hermione gave him as she grabbed his jacket sleeve, trying to hold him back from running towards the injured students down the corridor. She didn’t know how much he had appreciated the loving way she always acted in trying to watch out for his safety over the years. At times it was annoying and he wanted her not to worry so much, but he knew deep down that she truly cared for him and had seemingly made it a mission in her life to make sure he was okay in whatever he was doing. But this time her concern seemed even more intense than at any other time he could remember. Her eyes had watered to the point that she seemed almost on the verge of breaking down. Seeing her like this, especially after the enigmatic change in her behavior, caused Harry to stop dead in his tracks, feeling as if he would shatter her like glass if he took another step. Something in her trembling words to him in that corridor struck him hard, as though the wind had been knocked out of him. And so he relented, following his friend’s advice as he had so many times in their past together. Her behavior seemed to unnerve Ron too, who gave her a suspicious look, before the three of them ran towards the entrance of the castle. The three of them hoped that in leaving, they might be able to draw the Death Eaters away from Hogwarts and after them.

Their wands had been stolen and were not in their pockets as they hurried towards the Forbidden Forest. It was just outside of the forest, next to Hagrid’s hut, that Fred, George and Ginny had shown up to lead them toward the portkey they had setup to get the three of them to safety. The three Weasleys did have their wands and had to use them several times on their pursuers during their flight to the portkey. Harry continued to be impressed with Ginny’s increasing skill at using the wand in battle situations. She had an instinctive and almost graceful method of parrying and dodging spells and counterspells. And right now he wished terribly that she were nearby to help him and Hermione. As it was however, she was not, and Harry continued to have the feeling of being naked and vulnerable with predators prowling around for them. The only things they had were their wits and cunning to get them through this right now. But, for his part, Harry was determined to make sure that Hermione got through it unscathed, wands or not.

He continued to gaze into the darkened woods, scanning for any sign of movement. Then Hermione leaned forward, moving her body as close to him as possible, while tugging on his sleeve.

“Harry…” she whispered.

He turned his head around to see her motioning back behind them several meters in the brush. There they were. Two figures with pointed hats moving silently through the brush, their heads turning this way and that, searching for their prey. They must be using spells to cloak their footsteps, Harry thought as he watched them seem to glide across the ground. He grabbed Hermione’s hand resting on his back and slowly maneuvered to a crouch, Hermione following suit. They moved as quietly as possible, pausing every few moments. Suddenly, Harry froze. Wait a minute. They had heard three pops. Where was the third Death Eater? He guided Hermione under a large fir nearby and he followed in after, both of them sitting still, hoping they were out of sight.

A few moments of silence passed, then they both felt their hearts racing, hairs standing up on the back of their necks. Something was moving behind them. Harry turned his head slightly to catch a glimpse of the third attacker moving noiselessly only a few feet away from them. Both of them held their breath as the black clad predator moved on past and disappeared out of sight. They both felt tremendous relief and breathed deeply, trying to regain a little composure and allow the adrenaline in their system to subside. They continued to remain under the fir, hoping to outwait the three Death Eaters in case they were still roaming the area.

He felt Hermione lay her head on his shoulder, moving closer to him. He pulled his arm out and placed it around her waist beside him, leaning his head on hers. Despite the situation they had been going through, Harry was glad she was with him. He had taken comfort in her affections towards him so many times over the years. They had always been physically comfortable with each other even from the beginning. There was something between them that made their occasional displays of affection natural and even necessary. Harry also knew, all too well, how many rumors were started among their fellow classmates over the years to the effect that he and Hermione were an ‘item’. Ron himself had shown plenty of suspicion towards the both of them, especially when he and Hermione were going through their ‘together/not together‘ period. He was still trying to figure out what that was all about. None of those things bothered Harry at all however, because he and Hermione both knew what they had together, whether they were misunderstood or not.

Oddly enough, while he viewed Ron as the brother he never had, he had never regarded Hermione as a sister. He couldn’t quite explain it, but there was some dynamic about their relationship that would not allow that connotation. He had never had a real, ‘normal’ family to interact with, but from everything he had gathered about it (especially observing the Weasleys in action), Ron and Hermione’s behavior towards each other seemed to fit the brother-sister mold better. Their incessant bickering and arguing, Ron putting her down, etc. Sometimes he wondered if Hermione didn’t have a little Weasley blood in her veins that no one knew about. To Harry, however, Hermione was his friend in the highest and truest sense of that word. Sure, the two of them had had plenty of disagreements and occasional fallouts over simple trivial matters, but he never perceived any of those things being important enough to destroy their friendship. He even took a little pride sometimes in the steadfastness of their bond, while watching his other classmates go through bouts of friends-becoming-enemies and all sorts of relational mishaps. And it was this very understanding that made the current gap between their souls even more saddening to him.

Harry awoke with a start. Somehow he had dozed off, probably from sheer exhaustion. He noticed that Hermione was still leaning on him, quiet and peaceful. Maybe she was asleep. He didn’t know how long he had been asleep, but started immediately looking around for any sign of movement. Nothing. Perhaps their pursuers were gone completely. He turned to whisper to Hermione and accidentally caught a swath of her hair in his face. He paused, taking in the scent of her hair briefly. For some reason he had never really noticed how good she smelled before. Any hint or clue of ‘Hermione’ was welcome in his soul during these times, and every ‘little’ thing about her now seemed to be magnified ten times.

The seeming loss of her closeness to him heightened not only those things he took for granted, but also those things he had not really deemed important in his regard for her. He was now strongly compelled to know any and everything he felt he had overlooked all these years. Was this part of the problem? Did Harry fail his friend in the one part of her being that seemed to brighten her up so many times with others? Krum’s serious, if humorous, attempt to carry on a relationship with her. Neville, and even a few other boys from some of the other houses, watching her with googly eyes during that Yule Ball several years ago. He had been astonished at how beautiful she was that night, but fear and distraction with what Cho was doing had clammed him up when she needed someone she cared for to simply let her know that she was pretty and worth so much, especially after Ron’s remarks to her. A pang of guilt swept over him, remembering that painful situation. He had stood with Ron and did nothing while Ron berated her and accused her of something that Harry knew was false. He should have come to her defense like she had for him so many times before. But he did not. He was afraid that Ron would quit him again if he took Hermione’s side. Coward! Harry could not reflect on his own behavior that night with any sort of pleasure. How have I been so stupid all this time?

That sense of guilt mingled with sadness compelled Harry to tighten his embrace around Hermione’s waist. She looked up at him, her face distorted by the bits of moonlight and shadow through the branches of the fir. That pain riddled through him again. He wanted so much to tell her how sorry he was for not noticing how special she truly was in his eyes. But again, now was not the time. They needed to find Ron and the others.

“Let’s go,” he whispered as both of them started to crawl out from under the tree and stand up. They stopped momentarily to look around, but seeing nothing, they proceeded to move in the opposite direction of where the Death Eaters had gone.

They came to the edge of the wood, near a long, hilly clearing that dipped down and out of site, not far from the line of trees. Hermione walked forward a bit, turning around and looking in the opposite direction of Harry, who had now just realized how lost the both of them were. They had never been this far out beyond Ron’s house before and had absolutely no idea which direction to even move in.

“Hermione, do you remember which direction we ran from?” Harry whispered to her, hoping for any clues now.

“No,” she whispered back, shaking her head slowly.

She was apparently distracted, for her voice and manner seemed detached, almost listless. Harry sensed that ‘thing’ in her as he watched her standing and looking off seemingly nowhere. But before he could even think the next thought, something moving caught the corner of his eye. His heart roared up again as he quickly reached out to grab Hermione and draw her back with him into the shadow of the trees. With her back turned, she had not seen the black forms approaching.

They stood deathly still in the darkness, hoping against hope that they would escape notice one more time. Harry watched as two of the Death Eaters moved in total silence from the direction he had seen the movement. They walked briskly in front of the two of them, coming to a halt only several feet from the tree line, which was also only a few feet from where Harry and Hermione were hiding. Harry almost jumped as the third Death Eater appeared seemingly out of nowhere, grazing past the both of them unaware. The third one joined the other two, and Harry watched the three of them discuss something quietly. Finally after several moments, the three turned away and drew out their wands. Harry heard them murmur something and the three of them vanished out of sight, the popping noise following their departure.

Too many close calls tonight, he thought. These guys were good, really good and determined. It almost seemed…coordinated. How did the Black Hats seem to know their approximate location so quickly? Twice! The more he thought about the day’s events, the stranger everything was becoming to his mind. He knew that Voldemort was desperate, but he had not seen such calculation and foresight in the Dark Lord’s servants before. The skirmishes that the three of them had been in occasionally over the past several months, had revealed a clumsy side to the usual evil cunning of the Death Eaters. Usually they fled or gave up chase shortly after the three of them had soundly beaten them or gotten away from their traps, but this day’s chase seemed different somehow. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but before he could gather his thoughts, his attention was turned to something unexpected.

Harry could feel something warm and wet on his neck.

He slowly began to realize what he had inadvertently done when he had pulled Hermione into the shadows with him, and he could sense something inside of him now as though a fissure had begun to crack in his very soul. Something hiding within, but always there, was trying to surface in his mind and emotions as the full brunt of what was happening became apparent…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART FOUR

Harry exhaled slowly. He could feel Hermione’s warm body in front of him, being pressed to his chest by his arms which were wrapped tightly around her waist, as though she might suddenly fall if he let go. He didn’t mean to do this. Or did he? He noticed the tightness on the back of his jacket where Hermione had grabbed two fistfuls of cloth, her arms wrapped tightly around him too. Her head was on his shoulder, her face turned toward him. She was crying. Silently. Very still. It was too dark in the shadow of the surrounding trees to see her, but he knew she was crying because he could feel her tears falling on his neck and drifting slowly down into his shirt. His heart was beating so strongly he thought it might burst.

He noticed that she had begun to get worse as the night was wearing on, and apparently something had begun to break, something she couldn’t control. His instinct of protectiveness over her had been constantly on guard during these past few days, but as Hermione now seemed to be losing what strength she might have had to fight this back, Harry felt so helpless. He felt as though he were fighting against an unseen enemy that was attempting to take his friend from him. The problem was, Hermione herself was keeping that enemy concealed.

The pain he felt was now worse than ever and he gritted his teeth, trying to fight back an onslaught of emotions that threatened to overwhelm and break him down too. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He had never thought that something so simple as a friendship could become so complex and envelop his own soul. And how could someone so strong, courageous and intelligent as Hermione be so fragile, so beautifully fragile? He tightened his embrace slightly while closing his eyes and felt a fresh fall of tears on his neck as before. He could not let go of her. Some impulse deep inside his heart, that he could not describe in words, was compelling him in such a focused and strong way that no power on earth seemed able to repel it’s advance. He felt the warmth of her body. He felt her breath and tears on his skin. He could smell the scent in her hair again. He wanted so much to… But his fear returned, trying to convince him that he had gone too far. He did not want to ruin what the two of them had together, and if it was possible, he would help her see it through as the friend he had always been. He simply could not violate the unspoken understanding they had. He respected her too much for that. To tell her what he was going through was a burden he did not want to lay on his friend right now, not with their present situation and not with her so emotionally distraught. These thoughts running back and forth in his mind caused a tremendous conflict in him and he felt torn by two opposing forces that were engaged in an all out battle to the death.

He began relaxing his grip on her, slowly letting his arms move down to his side. She didn’t move at first, still clinging tightly to him, her head still laying on his shoulder. Then slowly she let go, and stood back from him, but still close. He no longer felt her warmth and the gap between them, though only inches in length, seemed to Harry like a vast, arctic wasteland as he felt the cold night air in front of his body. Something caused him to feel an almost nauseating emptiness at the loss of her embrace. He couldn’t see anything but her silhouette against the moonlit glen in the dark stand of trees around them. But he watched her wipe the tears from her face and then cross her arms. He mustered as much strength as he could. They could not stay here. They had to get to the others.

“I…I think…they’re gone…Hermione,” he struggled to say.

He didn’t know why it was so hard to speak to her. The words were like gravel in his throat and nothing he thought of saying seemed remotely relevant to what she was so caught up in. Emotions were running high between them both and silence seemed the only way to cope with it.

Hermione nodded at him and then turned her head to look over at the clearing. When she did, she came within a couple of inches of grazing his face. He caught her scent again and felt the warmth radiating from her face. His eyes closed involuntarily, his breathing intensified. It was everything he could do to keep from leaning forward, closing that gap, and kissing her softly on the cheek, taking her into his arms again. She turned and started to walk out from the trees into the glen. Harry just stood there watching her walk away, trying to regain his composure. Finally, he walked out beside her and the two of them left.

They were still terribly lost and Harry simply had no idea if the direction in which they were heading would lead them towards Ron and the others or not. But at the moment he found that he didn’t really care all that much. He could not stop thinking about what had just happened. He couldn’t take his mind off of Hermione. They had to remain focused in case they were ‘visited’ unexpectedly again, but Harry was having a hard time concentrating.

If Ron had seen the two of them just now, Harry thought while shaking his head, he would have gone ballistic. Harry just knew it. How many times had Ron directly or indirectly assumed that he and Hermione were hiding ‘something’ from him? It was bad enough that Ron had to watch Harry get all the limelight over the years, though Harry himself would rather not have it that way. But the idea that he had ‘gotten’ Hermione too would be the last straw for Ron. Harry did not want to think about that. It was tough enough trying to just keep from losing one friend.

He tried hard to think about other things while the two of them continued on in silence. But no sooner would he focus on something, than his mind would wander right back into Hermione’s arms. What was she thinking about all this, about him? He had embraced her before, many times. That was nothing new. And he assumed that she understood his concern for her again this time, allowing her to just cry on his shoulder, and not trying to force her confidence in him over something that was apparently too personal to reveal even to Harry. But that strangely compelling force in him for her was still there, brewing beneath the surface and he was afraid it might break through at any moment. Oh how he missed her warmth. There was something so calming, so… Harry caught himself breathing hard again.

They walked several miles when both of them stopped briefly upon hearing a noise ahead. They both looked at each other and then moved a little quicker in the direction of the noise. The sound of rushing water became louder and louder as they walked down a small hillock to find a river before them, the moonlight sparkling and reflecting off of the dark water passing over stones and fallen branches. Harry seemed to remember passing near a river several years ago when they had all left the Burrow, toward the portkey on Stoatshead hill, for the Quidditch World Cup. Hearing the river was so soothing and welcome to Harry’s mind right now.

Seeking a little rest, the two of them sat down by a large oak, bulging out of the earth not far from the river. Harry buried his head in his arms wrapped around his knees, his thoughts still circling around the girl beside him. He listened to the sound of the babbling water nearby and then drifted off…

He awoke abruptly, sitting upright with a jerk. He had to stay awake. They couldn’t afford to relax too much. Alarm filled him as he turned to Hermione. She was gone! He got up, looking for any sign of her. He ran back to the hillock, but saw nothing. He then returned to the river, walking downstream a ways, and was relieved when, through a batch of small trees, he caught a glimpse of her. He slowly walked in her direction - moving in a way as to not startle her. He then stopped.

She was standing on a small pebble beach by the rushing water. He couldn’t see her face as she was looking toward the river, her arms folded. There it was, inside of him. Something that was trying to reach out to her. Some force or power that wanted to ease her suffering, to see her happy again. He had never felt so strongly for someone before. He thought he had been in love before, with Cho and Ginny, but this was altogether different. Hermione was a very close friend. There was a tremendous weight behind this that he had never known or experienced before. He had little experience with being truly loved himself, not since his parent’s were murdered. But memories of so many times past when someone had loved him were now as sharp and clear as the full moon overhead. It had finally dawned on Harry that for six solid years he had been loved and accepted by his closest friend for who he was, not for some image of popularity or amazing talents. He had never forgotten her telling him how great a wizard he truly was back in their first year. Her reasons for saying it stuck with him closely ever since. She saw him, Harry, for what was inside him. No one else in his world, save Dumbledore, had done that. Why did I not see it? How did I miss this? A wave of compassion for the girl standing in front of him came over him, causing his eyes to water. He had respected her as a best friend, but now he wondered at her with immense admiration. And right now, this girl he loved more than his own life was hurting and she needed him as much as he needed her.

Harry began to step forward. Before his foot could hit the ground a shockwave of fear rushed over him, his stomach in knots. That old tendency was trying to stop him from going too far again. But the courage he seemed to find in every dangerous situation roared up inside. She was his friend, he argued. She needed him now. He knew now with certainty that if something did not give, their bond, their connection to each other would be broken beyond repair forever. Something had to change or it would die. Harry was terrified at this thought even more than that of the actual deaths of any whom he had loved before. He could not comprehend such a loss and his resolve compelled him forward.

He walked up behind her, his hands trembling. She did not move at all. He then placed a hand on her shoulder. Her head dropped slightly as though something was again starting to break inside of her. She slowly reached across and placed her hand on his, gripping it firmly. Harry thought he might melt and ooze away into the river. But a peace that he could not explain came over him and he felt his strength return. He was no longer afraid.

Harry took his hand off of her shoulder and he felt the resistance of her hand trying to keep his from leaving. He then plunged forward wrapping his arms around her again, holding her tightly while pressing his face against hers. There was the warmth again, there she was again, her scent, her fragileness. He closed his eyes, just breathing it all in. He felt her give a little, leaning back on him, her arms moving to take hold of his. He could tell she was crying again as he felt the wetness of her tears on his sleeves. His chin dropped to rest on her shoulder and the two of them stood silently for eternal moments. He seemed to sense that some communication without words was going on between them, though exactly what was being said he wasn’t sure of. All he knew was that right at this moment, no words were necessary.

He relaxed his hold on her a little, and she turned her head to look at him. He watched as the moonlight sparkled in the tears streaking down her face. He reached up to wipe them away, but no sooner would he succeed than more would take their place. Her water filled eyes were piercing his, a look of longing coming through them so intently. He leaned down and pressed his lips softly on hers, hoping to stop the tears. He pressed a little harder and the kiss was like an electric shock through his system. He heard Hermione sigh a little and he thought he was going to collapse.

If was as though the relationship between them over the years had been some clunky, off-kilter machine that with this first kiss suddenly clicked into place and was running smooth and quiet. Harry was amazed at how strong and beautiful this was. He had kissed Cho and Ginny before, but this made those kisses seem like trite little playground romances. He felt the tremendous weight of six years behind this. It seemed to him that every word they had spoken to one another, every thing they had ever done together was now encapsulated in this one kiss. Harry backed off, trying to catch his breath. He looked at her again. He almost wanted to jump seeing those brown eyes of hers coming back to life again. That vacant emptiness that had been haunting her and the pain he had been feeling this past week was fleeing away like the Dementors by the lake a few years back. But whatever it was that was coming through now was not enough.

Hermione turned around in his arms, facing him. She placed her arms around his neck, grabbing one shoulder and with the other hand, the back of his neck. She leaned in, tears falling rapidly now, and pressed her lips to his firmly and tenderly. Harry realized that not only was the connection between them restored, but was now greater than ever. This was the natural course of everything that had happened to the both of them and he knew it in every bone and sinew of his being. He never thought he would know this kind of happiness in his life. But the knowledge of her love for him had awakened a new respect and understanding for her too. Hermione Granger loved him, loved Harry Potter. Just the idea of it seemed to him like a badge of honor. This beautiful, smart, and strong girl actually loved him. They continued to kiss as though they had been so far behind all these years and were trying to catch up as fast as possible. Finally they stopped and came up for air.

As Harry tried to breathe normally again, still in Hermione’s embrace, something dawned on him. The one thing in his life he had been searching for, both consciously and subconsciously was a place he could call home. A place where he was loved and could love without fear and without pretense. But his young life had taken him on a rough road in that regard. The sadness at the loss of his parents, the Dursley’s lack of any real care for him, the loss of Dumbledore, who to Harry was like a father and then finally Sirius, the one person with whom he had thought he might be able to truly understand what family meant. But now, he knew deep inside something that was always present with him, but had long been buried beneath all the trials, struggles and battles over the years. Hermione was his home. Wherever she was, that’s where he belonged. And right now he didn’t care about anything else in the world. The world would have to wait. Harry Potter was home at last and he never wanted to leave again.

This idea began to bring tears to his eyes and some pent up frustration with all the heartache all these years finally found an outlet to break through. He looked at Hermione and an uncontrolled stilt of laughter came through his tears, he had never felt so happy and free. She too started to laugh and cry a little at seeing him. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to hers and the two of them just drank in the moment. Words seemed awkward and useless now as the two of them stood still in a broadened understanding that required no voice for itself.

Harry wanted to continue to hold her and feel her warmth in defiance of a world which, for the most part, had shown him nothing but hostility. But they both knew that they had to face that world sometime. They were an important part of so many people’s lives and so many depended on them right now. Harry’s burden with Voldemort still had to be finished or no one would be able to live a ‘normal’ life again it seemed. This pang of regret saddened him, and he leaned in for one more embrace. Hermione tightened her arms around him so tight he thought he might not be able to breathe. Neither of them wanted to leave this beautiful spot by the river on such a brilliant moonlit night in the countryside. A spot made more beautiful by the knowledge of the deep love they shared and would always share. They let go and stood in front of each other, quietly for a moment, just looking at each other as though trying to determine if this was all just a dream. Harry then slowly reached out and took her hand. She smiled at him and held his hand fast as the two of them began to walk away from the beach, moving upstream. The two of them never even spoke a single word.

But in Harry’s eyes, everything was so different now. Hermione was different. She had become someone so much more to him than ever before. They had crossed that line and there was no turning back, but he was glad. The world would never be the same or treat them the same again. Then one thought crossed his mind that brought that into a sharp, painful focus. Ron. How in hell would they explain this to him? He would feel justified with all the suspicions he had of them over the years. Harry and Hermione both knew him well enough to know that he would not take this with a smile and big hug for the both of them. This brought such an awkward angle to their present situation and he began to feel nervous again. But being with the girl he loved so much smoothed away this nervousness, and he felt that with her, he could endure anything now.

Hermione clung closely to him, sometimes trying to walk so close to him they tripped on each others feet, laughing like little kids about it. This seemed so unreal to Harry and he wanted to wake up from this amazing dream before he became too lost in it. No sooner had that thought crossed his mind when it seemed he was granted his wish.

Harry and Hermione both froze at the sound of footfalls crashing in the forest to their right. They could tell there was more than one of them and by the sound of it they were rushing towards them quickly. They had been walking together out in the open and Harry knew that there was no way they had not been seen this time. He turned to look at Hermione whose face had filled with concern. With a simple expression, he let her know that this time they would not run. No more running tonight. A flash of anger caused him to tense up and that ever present protectiveness of Hermione rose to the fore like some enormous, deadly beast that had been rudely awakened from it’s slumber.

They both turned in the direction of the forest where the footsteps were rapidly approaching. Harry tightened his grip on Hermione’s hand and she moved slightly behind him. And they waited…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART FIVE

“There you are!” Ron shouted at them from the woods as he and George came blasting out into the clearing.

Harry and Hermione both let out a tremendous sigh of relief, their hearts racing. As Ron and his brother approached them, the hands which had held on to each other so tightly, now shot apart faster than a Firebolt. They both felt uneasy at the moment, unsure of how to act towards one another. Harry was embarrassed at his own cowardice in the face of his friends. Was Hermione’s love, and what just happened between them, not more important than silly pretense in trying not to hurt Ron? They hadn’t yet had the chance to talk about what they were going to do and now they had to face it headlong.

Everything in the past few hours had been like a dream world to both of them – a place where only Hermione and Harry existed. A place where they were free to be together without interference, disapproval or disruption. But now that Ron had appeared, the reality of their lives had charged in and cast all those moments in a strange light. Harry was confused and he sensed the same in Hermione.

“Where have you two been?” Ron asked, glancing down at their hands briefly.

“Lost!” Hermione responded, fumbling around for some rational answer, trying not to look Ron in the eyes.

“What happened back there?” Harry jumped in after noticing Ron give Hermione a strange look.

“Where’s Fred and Ginny? Are they okay?” he continued.

“They’re fine, Harry,” George answered with a smile. “They’re back at the camp right now.”

“What happened, though…when the Death Eaters appeared?” Harry insisted from the both of them.

“When you two bolted, George and Fred apparated after you, while Ginny and I fled in the opposite direction.” Ron replied. “We had a couple of them Death Eaters on our tail, until Ginny surprised them with some moves I’ve never seen before. Man, you should have seen her, Harry! I don’t know where she learned to fight like that.”

Harry smiled, remembering Ginny’s wand work in the Forbidden Forest.

“And you two must have hidden yourselves quite well.” George stepped in looking at both of them. “Fred and I searched for over half an hour for you before we got back to Ron and Ginny.”

“Wait, you said ‘camp’, George, what do you mean?” Hermione asked the tall, lanky red-head.

“Fred and George had one of Dad’s old tents stashed away in case we couldn’t make it all the way home.” Ron replied before George could open his mouth. “You remember that old piece of cloth we stayed in during the World Cup, the one with the three rooms in it?”

Both of them nodded

“So…you aren’t trying to reach the Burrow tonight?” Harry asked.

“No, too dangerous with those Black Hats all over the place.” George said as he began to motion to the three of them. “Speaking of which, I think we better get back to Fred and Ginny. Ron and I haven’t seen any of those thugs lately, but they could show up at any moment.”

The four of them began to walk upstream by the river, as Harry and Hermione had earlier.

“So, what happened to you two?” Ron asked the two of them, turning his head to ask as he walked ahead of them.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. Both of them felt like they had just murdered someone and were disposing of the body when Ron showed up.

“We…were chased by three Death Eaters, Ron,” He started, choosing his words carefully. “They were good too. We can’t figure out how they knew where we had run to so quickly.”

“They are sneaky gits aren’t they?” George responded. “If you two had your wands, though, I’m sure they would have wished they had never set foot near you, from what Ron here tells me.”

But Harry didn’t hear anything George had said. He was struggling. This was harder than he thought it would be. Now that he and Hermione had truly begun to share something he hadn’t been sure he would ever have, the realization that everything would now change between the three of them was overwhelming. He was torn between his love for Hermione, the intense desire to be with her again and his loyalty to his first, best friend. Why is this happening now? The three of them had come so close to finishing this whole ordeal and now with the last leg of the trip before them, Harry was seeing that close knit between them, that had withstood all manner of fallouts and perils, in danger of unraveling – perhaps even permanently. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as he thought, he tried to convince himself. The confusion made it difficult to work out what might or might not be.

Harry looked at Ron walking in front of him. They had been pals since the beginning. No matter how much Ron complained about things in this world, a world which according to him had seemed determined to put him under it’s foot, he had remained a steadfast and loyal friend. Despite their fallout over Ron’s completely unfounded accusations of him over the Goblet of Fire incident, Harry always felt that their friendship would last forever somehow. The two of them had had such good times and had gotten through so many scrapes – he didn’t think he would ever get that expression on Ron’s face out of his head again when they had wandered into Aragog’s lair in their second year. It didn’t hurt too that Ron’s family had taken such an interest in Harry and had pretty much adopted him as one of their own. He liked being considered an unofficial ‘Weasley’, a family he never had.

Because of his loyalty to Ron, he had taken his side more than not when it came to a dispute with Hermione. This made him uneasy. Hermione was dead accurate about Ron’s struggle with a sense of worth and identity among the Weasleys. With so many brothers and an ‘upstart’ sister threatening to outshine him, Harry had come to see how insecure Ron really was beneath all the jokes and quips he would make. He could act tough or indifferent towards others around him, but Harry saw how intimidated Ron would feel when someone even ‘suggested’ showing him up. Especially Hermione.

Harry had always had a hard time understanding why Ron was so intimidated by her. Perhaps because she was smarter than Ron and she was a girl. Or perhaps he felt threatened by the idea that Hermione would get more of Harry’s attention than himself. Maybe that’s why Ron seemed so hell bent, sometimes, on trying to make her look worse than him. Harry shook his head. He had tolerated that nonsense too. It made him angry so many times to hear Ron call her ‘mental.’ And how many times did Hermione, despite her well proven ability to hold her own with Ron, forgive him and even try to make things better between them. He thought about how she had bent over backwards in their sixth year to get Ron to like her. She even did something Harry thought was so un-Hermione-like to help get Ron on the Quidditch team. And yet through all of this, that ungrateful git would just act as though he had deserved it. Harry felt a slow, boiling anger at Ron just thinking about all that now. But maybe it was just because of his heightened feelings for Hermione.

Still, Ron had been such a good friend to Harry who, before meeting him on platform nine and three quarters, had known nothing of friends or loyalty from anyone. He had shown a real spark of valor when he put his own life at risk for Hermione and himself on that chessboard in the Hogwart’s dungeon. Harry saw that Ron could really shine in terms of dedication and sacrifice for others, although he wondered if Ron didn’t do it sometimes just to get the attention. However, he was an essential part of this little team, out to ‘save the world,’ and they needed Ron by their side, as he had been these past months.

Hermione. Just thinking about her now brought out such an ache of longing in him. He turned to look at her. She was walking, looking down at the ground and thinking. He knew her well. He was certain she was going over everything that had just happened to them back at the river. He even sensed something of a hidden joy in her gait and expression now. He was so glad to not see her under the weight of that burden that had come between the two of them. He was thrilled at the idea that she was thinking about him, about their moments together. She was so beautiful. He looked down at her hand as they walked within just a few feet of each other. He wanted so badly just to reach out and take it, intertwining his fingers with hers. He turned away again, breathing a little harder.

“Harry, are you okay?” Ron asked him, upon looking back to see Harry wilt a little in his thoughts about Hermione.

“Fine…I’m fine, Ron.” Harry quickly uttered, feeling nervous again.

“Both of you have to be exhausted,” George stated, “but don’t worry, the camp is just over this ridge.”

Harry looked at Hermione again. She was gazing at him with a deep longing herself now, but a little concerned.

The four of them walked up a steep incline to a small ridge that stretched for several dozen meters on either side of them. When they arrived at the top, they all paused to rest. Harry and Hermione were looking down into a valley before them. A large clearing about the size of a Quidditch pitch was surrounded by woods on all sides. Harry looked up into the sky, the moon was crested slightly over them, it’s light the brightest it had been all night. Not a cloud in the sky and the stars were breathtakingly beautiful, strewn horizon to horizon like a vast array of jewels. Harry looked down into the clearing again. It seemed to be man-made, it’s circular form almost too perfect for nature. Perhaps some ancient people used this ground as a sacred site like so many all over the British countryside. It looked like the perfect place to hold some secret ceremony or sacrifice without being noticed. That something in his mind began nagging him again. He couldn’t place it, but everything from the escape, to the Death Eater’s chase, to Hermione and him alone by the river, to this clearing, seemed odd in his mind while looking into that glen.

“The camp’s over there.” George spoke, pointing to a patch of pines off to the right of the clearing into the woods.

“Harry, can you see it yet?” Ron asked him with a sense of excitement.

“No, not through the trees…” Harry replied.

“Not the tent, Harry, look!” Ron exclaimed motioning his arm in a circle around the whole area.

Harry screwed up his eyes looking into the half-lit woods around the clearing and happened to pick up something sparkling, faintly. As he scanned further, he noticed the sparkling effect seemed to begin on one side, arching over the whole clearing, and sloping gently down on the other side. It was so faint, he thought he wouldn’t have even noticed it if Ron hadn’t pointed it out.

“Wait ‘til we get closer.” Ron added.

As the four of them now descended down the other side into the glen, Harry looked over at Hermione one more time. She now had that look of immense curiosity in her expression that had gotten her into trouble more than one time with several of the professors at the school over the years. She just had to know what Ron was talking about. It was killing her. Harry smiled. That’s my girl.

After reaching the bottom, they walked through the pine studded wood that preceded the clearing ahead. The moon continued to cast it’s light as brightly as possible through the branches overhead.

“Here it is, Harry, watch this.” Ron spoke, acting like he was about to show off.

The redhead stretched out his long, thin arm and Harry saw what looked like the sparkle of diamonds around Ron’s hand as it passed through midair and disappeared. Ron shot a smile at both Hermione and Harry as he moved the rest of his body through it, his shaggy red hair standing on end as though he had put his hand on a live wire, then he disappeared completely. George passed on through and vanished as though he had done it a hundred times, his orange hair doing the same as Ron’s. Then Harry and Hermione walked through. Harry could feel every hair on his head and body standing on end. There was a sensation of floating, that made him feel like he would suddenly drift into space if he remained in the ‘field’ too long. Coming out on the other side, Harry looked back at the tiny sparkles and then he, Ron and George looked at Hermione. The three of them starting laughing at the picture of Hermione trying to straighten out her bushy brown hair that was in frazzles around her face and sticking up in back.

“Shut up, you three!” she shot at them, not being able to keep from laughing herself.

“Cool, huh?” Ron asked Harry.

“What is it?” Harry inquired, noticing that Hermione was now listening intently while trying to get her hair straight again.

“That, is a little spell Fred and I found a few years back,” George spoke with a sense of pride. “You cast it over whatever you want and anyone looking in from the outside can’t see you…”

“And no one can apparate in or out either,” Ron interrupted his older brother, “No Death Eaters surprising us in here.”

“Ghosts aren’t terribly fond of it for some reason,” George mused with an inquisitive look, “Fred and I tried this one out at Hogwarts one time. Sir Nicholas wouldn’t even go near it.”

“Where did you learn this spell, George? What is it called?” Hermione asked, now quite enthralled.

“The ‘Invitalis Incantation’…Fred and I came across it while browsing in the restricted section of Hogwart’s library one time.” George answered almost as if was trying to cover up the real answer.

“And how did you two get into the restricted section?” Hermione quizzed him as though she were a professor catching them in the act.

“Oh, that’s easy, we’ve done it dozens of times – you just have to know how to get Madam Pince and that bag Filch indisposed at the same time. Plus a few other tricks to get around the lock on the door.” George stated, his eyebrows arching slightly and smiling.

They moved out into the clearing. It seemed larger to Harry down here than he thought it was from the ridge. As they walked across it’s grassy length, covered bluish white with the wash of the moon’s glow, Harry felt a little uneasy for some reason. He glanced at Hermione who seemed to be occupied with George’s statements. She too looked a little uncomfortable. Maybe it was the field they had passed through, giving their stomachs a churn, he thought.

The four of them came to the tent, sitting squarely between two pines at the edge of the clearing. George stepped in, followed by Ron, then Hermione and Harry after. When they entered, Harry saw the familiar interior of the old tent. The same furniture in the living space, the kitchen in back and bedrooms off to the sides. And, he noticed, it still smelled like cats. Ginny had been sitting on a plush chair on one side, when she saw them enter, and stood up. Fred looked up lazily from the sofa with the old patchwork cover that looked as if Mrs.Weasley herself had created it.

“Well, it’s about time!” Fred chirped at the sight of Harry and Hermione with a big smile. “Ron and George didn’t catch you two snogging out there did they?” he continued, starting to sit up, shifting his eyebrows at both of them.

It’s was as if someone had poured a bucket of ice water on Harry and Hermione. Hermione’s face tuned beet red in the candlelight that filled the living space around them. Harry’s face went white on the other hand and a strange silence fell over everyone for a brief moment. To Harry’s eyes, Ron didn’t seem to know whether to laugh or cry, his face contorted in a curious display of sudden interest in their own faces.

“Just joking!” Fred bellowed out,” Come on in, relax. We’ve got all sorts of goodies to eat and drink. And I’m sure you’re both very tired.”

Fred emphasized that last adjective as though he were secretly trying to keep the joke alive. Ginny walked by and gave Fred a sound slap on the back of his head, with Fred yelping out an ‘ow!’

“Fred Weasley, leave them alone, will you.” Ginny scolded him, sounding to Harry vaguely similar to Mrs. Weasley.

Ginny walked up to Harry and put her arms around his neck with a tight hug. Harry, astonished, lightly placed his hands on her back in turn, shocked at her sudden display of affection.

“I’m so glad the two of you are alright, Harry” she said, without even so much as a glance towards Hermione.

“Thanks, so am I.” Harry returned, looking over to Hermione who was still red in the face, but for quite a different reason.

Everyone had finally settled down, crashed on the floor or the furniture, and Ron helped himself to some food as though he hadn’t eaten in months. Harry sat down on the floor with his back against the sofa where Ron and Fred were sitting. Hermione too sat on the floor, her back up against an old cabinet on the other side. Fred, George, Ron and Ginny rattled away about the night’s events, veering off occasionally into subjects like Quidditch and the Weasley twin’s little business in Hogsmeade, occasionally arguing and name calling with each other over petty differences. Things seemed normal for everyone except two.

Harry had only one thing on his mind, and he couldn’t shake it. His time with Hermione. The air in the room seemed so tense and awkward to him and when glancing at Hermione on the other side, gathered she felt pretty much the same. Ginny came in from the kitchen with two hot cups of tea, giving one to Hermione, who barely acknowledged the deed, and the other to Harry. Harry tried to sip the warm liquid, but found it difficult – despite all the running and walking, he just wasn’t hungry or thirsty. It was driving him crazy. He had not felt so intense a longing for anyone like this. He would look over at her, trying not to be too obvious, and each time he saw her, it brought to his mind that kiss, being in her warm embrace, seeing her eyes sparkle with such happiness. He wanted so terribly to go over to her now, at the very least to just be next to her… Harry’s head dropped slightly and he shuttered.

“What’s bugging you, Harry?” Ron asked through a mouthful of food. “You’ve been acting funny since we found you two by the river.”

Harry looked up, an expression of surprise on his face.

“I…think I’m just tired,” He managed to say. “I’m going to go to bed. See you all in the morning.” He stood up while speaking.

“Yeah, get some rest, Harry, you’ll need it.” Fred said.

Harry took one last glance at Hermione. She looked at him as though she was bursting to run over to him, and then she returned to her tea cup which rattled slightly on the saucer in her trembling hand.

Harry walked into the small bedroom where he and Ron were to sleep and crashed on his bed, his mind reeling with emotion. He took off his glasses and closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep and release the pressure and confusion that he found himself swimming in since they had been alone together. His last conscious thoughts were of her. Her tears in the dark. Her quiet tears. Tears of his own formed as the pang of wanting to be with her again came over him, until he lost consciousness.

Harry was awakened suddenly. He did not know whether it was a noise that startled him or the dull pain in his scar. He lay on the bed, eyes wide open, horribly awake. Something was wrong…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART SIX

It was only bits and pieces of a dream. Harry had a hard time remembering what it was, exactly, that he saw. Shadows and formless voids that floated across his mind. Shards of nightmares he had in the past. Painful memories of his mother, her screams. The haunting images of so many things he had faced that had brought him to the edge of death itself. Hermione weeping…

Harry’s mind buzzed as he tried to make sense of the dream, but couldn’t see any real cohesion in it. He remembered hearing the sound of a lone owl in the woods, something that sounded so unearthly to his waking mind and wondered if the now receded pain in his scar had been real. He wasn’t sure. It seemed to Harry that something or someone was trying to communicate with him, but the message had been garbled. It took him several minutes to remember where he was. He sat up in bed, his breath rapid and his heart beating wildly. He felt the perspiration on his forehead and reached over for his glasses. A noise caused him to jump slightly. Harry looked over to the bed on the other side of the room. It was Ron. He was laying face down, snoring a little, but clearly in a deep sleep. Harry envied him, wishing he could sleep too.

It must still be the middle of the night, he thought - too dark outside. He began to realize how hot and stuffy the room had become and longed for some fresh air. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, his mind still stuck with the impressions and images that made no sense. Getting up, he quietly walked out into the living space. It was dimly lit from the moon outside and deathly quiet. Everyone else was in bed. He walked toward the opening at the front of the tent and stepped out into the cool night air.

He stood still, feeling refreshed at the cold air enveloping his body, as he took in a deep breath. That was much better. As he began to cool down, he walked a little ways into the clearing and stopped. He looked up to see the stars still making their way across the bluish night sky, the moon had waned a bit, now no longer overhead, but hanging peacefully just on the other side of the clearing. Harry scanned the clearing for anything unusual, but saw nothing. The grass was still glowing slightly in the moonlight and he could just make out the sparkling effect of the Invitalis Field around him. It was so beautiful out here. Suddenly, he was startled by the cry of the owl he had heard earlier, somewhere in the woods far beyond the camp.

As beautiful as the night was, however, Harry couldn’t shake off the broken images of the dream or that nagging sense somewhere in the back of his brain. Something wasn’t right and he couldn’t get his head around it. Perhaps he was just overtired. With all the sprinting, hiding, the sudden kicks of adrenaline and then gearing back down again he should probably be dead from exhaustion. But that was only half of it. He had been on an emotional whirlwind ever since they had fled Hogwarts, the largest part of which was his ‘awakening of love’ for Hermione. The thought of her ran some of those nightmarish images to the background, yet it also drew up that gut-wrenching, longing for her that seemed to make his whole body ache. It still amazed him at how strong and intense that love could be.

Whatever the dream was, however, it had painfully reminded Harry of the thing he had been dreading most for the past six months, and maybe even his whole life – the inevitable confrontation with Voldemort. Harry dropped his head and closed his eyes. Was there simply no way out of it? Had his life truly been leading up to this one event? His ‘miraculous’ survival as a baby from the attack by his enemy seemed to suggest so. Ever since that fateful moment in time, everyone in the wizarding world had looked to Harry as the only hope to prevent Voldemort or another dark wizard from carrying out their conquests, all because he had ‘lived’. Prophecy or not, Harry continued to carry the heavy weight of this ‘responsibility’ he did not want. He had wished so many times that he could just live an average wizard’s life, without all the notoriety and attention.

But now the whole situation had become more complicated than he could have dreamed. Everything began to take a turn for the worse, just prior to the removal of the last horcrux. Hermione’s change in behavior began to weaken the strong bond all of them had with one another, having it’s greatest impact on Harry.

Harry had for some time been secretly formulating a plan to hunt down and finally defeat Voldemort himself, hoping to not involve Ron or Hermione at all. They had had long discussions and even arguments together on ideas of how to go about it, while on their much needed break at Hogwarts. Harry tried to glean as much information and ideas as he could from both of his friends, but never told them he was intending to go the rest of the way alone. He knew that both of them would absolutely object to the idea, especially Hermione. But he could not accept the responsibility for their deaths, he would not. It was necessary to do this, he continually convinced himself. He had actually been planning on the three of them going to the Burrow, as a pretense, to prepare for the upcoming hunt. It would be there that he would leave them, secretly, to face his destiny alone.

But the ransacking of their rooms, prior to the second attack on the school, caused things to get even more out of hand. Harry now saw that his plan was in danger of collapsing and the subsequent chaos of their flight seemed to further dim any chance of carrying it out at all, even if Ron’s siblings were leading them to the Burrow. He had not planned on facing Voldemort without his wand, his cloak or without all the valuable information that Hermione had so beautifully compiled for them during their stay at the school. All of that was now gone.

But as complicated as that had made things, Hermione’s situation had eclipsed it. Her struggle with some inner conflict seemed a greater threat to her emotional and personal well-being than any of the dangers they had been in before. He could not even think about moving against Voldemort without making sure she was safe and okay. He cared too much for her to leave her in that state. This had been such a painful distraction for Harry personally, but when he was able to finally get through to her on a level they had not yet known together, he was so glad to see her somewhat ‘normal’ again and even better than before. But, his newly discovered love and feelings for her and the love they now shared seemed to threaten the third part of this compact – Ron. Harry already saw the jealousy and suspicion rising up in Ron since they had left Hogwarts yesterday. The pressure now, of how to handle that, was becoming too much for Harry to think about. He did not want to lose his other friend, not now.

Everything seemed so out of control. He had no idea how to get back on track and prepare for Voldemort. What could he do? Harry’s eyes began to water with the overwhelming thoughts of desperation over the whole situation before him. Then, one consoling thought crossed his mind like a brilliant light piercing through the dark clouds of despair. The one bright spot in this whole affair that had changed everything for Harry. Hermione’s love. He needed her now, more than ever. If there was anyone who could understand what he was going through, she could. Hermione. That longing hit him again and he felt the strongest urge to run back inside and find her, to hold her again.

But before he had gathered the courage to carry out that thought, Harry was bolted in place by a noise behind him. He slowly turned, half imagining a Death Eater waiting for him with a wand pointed at his heart. Instead, a wave of emotion came over him at the sight he saw. There she was. That ‘stunningly pretty’ muggle-born girl he loved more than anything else. It was as though she had heard his thoughts, appearing right at the moment the cry had left his heart.

The two of them just stood and stared at each other. It had been several hours since they had even touched one another. Harry looked at her, feeling as though everything that had happened between them had only been a dream. But he wanted to know again, that it was real. He began to walk towards her. As soon as he had moved, she started to close the gap between them. They embraced and held each other tightly. Harry just took in her warmth again, feeling as though he had finally returned home from a long, arduous journey.

“Hermione…” he whispered almost involuntarily, burying his face in her neck underneath her hair.

“I’m here, Harry…I’m here…” she replied, her voice breaking.

Harry pulled back and leaned in, kissing her warm lips, both of them sighing. They could have stayed here forever, but Harry’s mind was too troubled right now. He slowly leaned back again, breathing hard, his eyes gazing into hers with the concern that had been building up since he had awoken earlier.

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked him, her own expression now one of concern.

“I don’t know…I think I had another dream,” Harry began, “but I can only remember pieces of it.”

“What were they?” she asked him, drawing a little closer.

“Memories I think. I heard my mum again. I felt like I was reliving all those terrible events – the basilisk, the dementors. And I saw…”

But Harry didn’t have the heart to tell her about the fleeting image of her in tears. He continued on, however, desperately wanting her to know what he was going through, but couldn’t seem to get the words out fast enough.

“When I woke up, it seemed like my scar had been burning, but I’m not sure. None of it makes any sense, Hermione. I can’t help but think that something is wrong, but I…”

Hermione stopped Harry from continuing, putting her fingers over his lips. He stood transfixed as she then slowly placed one hand on the side of his head. Her thumb brushed away the dark, untidy hair from his forehead, revealing his scar. The rest of her fingers drew his head down towards her. She reached up and softly kissed the lightning shaped scar, then brought her head down again and did the same to his lips.

Harry was absolutely astonished. If he did have any doubts or fears, they had vanished as soon as her lips had touched him. In all his life, no one had ever done something so kind to him as that one gesture, Harry thought. That scar represented all the horrors that he had ever known in this world, and this girl, who seemed to share so much of his own soul, had just released his mind from every bad thing with one kiss. She had shown Harry the very essence of how she felt for him.

“Thank you…Hermione,” he said, still stunned. She smiled at him a little. He leaned over and rested his forehead against hers, both of them in each other’s embrace. She again leaned in, and they stood in that silent clearing, kissing softly and holding each other as long as they could.

“I KNEW IT!!!”

Both of their hearts stopped just as quickly as their lips had parted, as though a tremendous clap of thunder had exploded right over their heads. Harry saw in her eyes the same instant dread he felt inside at this moment.

Oh no, he thought, here it comes…

They both turned to look at Ron standing outside the door of the tent.

“Bloody…hell…” Ron rang out, shaking his head at the sight of them together.

Both of them felt apprehensive, but Hermione released Harry and turned to go to Ron.

“Ron, listen…“ she began, but before she could even step in his direction, Ron pointed his finger toward her.

“DON’T YOU TALK TO ME!” He blared at her, with a look bordering on hatred. Then he lowered his hand and looked at Harry.

“Don’t either of you talk to me!” he let out, promptly turning and storming off across the clearing towards the woods on the other side.

Harry felt a mixture of embarrassment and anger, his mind racing to figure out what he should do. Now things were worse. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He and Hermione couldn’t help how they felt for each other, but they had gotten a little careless. They simply hadn’t had the time or the place to talk about everything that had happened between them and how to let Ron know about it. But Harry knew Ron’s tendency to feel put upon by everyone and he knew that it would be extremely difficult for Ron to get over this ‘insult’ anytime soon, if at all.

Hermione started to go after Ron, but Harry stopped her.

“I’ll go.” He stated matter of factly. She nodded her head at him in agreement, her look now of worry. Harry noticed that Fred, George and Ginny had peeked out of the tent at the commotion and then disappeared into it’s interior again. He then sprinted, trying to catch up with Ron who had now left the clearing and was in the woods headed for the outer edge of the Invitalis Field.

“Ron! RON, WAIT!” He yelled out.

Ron stopped, but did not turn around to face Harry, his arms now folded in front of him.

“Ron, we’re sorry you had to find out like this.” Harry started, struggling to find the right words to say, but remaining as stern as possible despite the butterflies in his stomach.

“Sorry,” Ron shot at him, now turning around. “You’re sorry. I’d say you definitely were, keeping something like this from your best mate! So, you two finally decided it was time to hook up, did you? After all that dancing around. I was wondering what was taking you so long.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry shot back, now getting upset himself. “This just happened tonight. We just happened to be…”

“TONIGHT? TONIGHT?” Ron gave out with a harsh laugh of incredulity. “You’ve got to be bloody kidding!”

“Ron, I seriously don’t understand what you are talking about.” Harry replied, his voice tense now. “But Hermione and I haven’t been sneaking around your back snogging at every chance, if that’s what you think!”

“Hmph!” Ron grunted, shaking his head at Harry again. “You don’t know what I’m talking about? Maybe you need to get your glasses changed, mate. I may not be the ‘great wizard Harry Potter’ or the ‘brilliant minded Miss Granger’ but I can see and I sure as hell ain’t stupid!”

Harry felt his temper really rising up now. He hadn’t felt this angry with Ron since the goblet incident.

“Okay, Ron, fill me in on what I’ve been missing. What conspiracy have Hermione and I been brewing around you this time? Because I thought we were all friends up to this point. I thought I had been pretty level with you about everything.”

“You just don’t see it, do you?” Ron torted, becoming more sarcastic. “Maybe you should ask Hermione what I’m talking about, since you two are so close now! She has all the answers, doesn’t she?”

“Ron…” Harry’s frustration had come to a head now.

“You know Harry, I wouldn’t have minded so much,” Ron now threw in, “if you would have told me about it early on. That is what best mates do, right?”

“TOLD YOU WHAT?” Harry now blared at Ron.

“Goodnight, mate. I’m going home.” Ron told Harry with a tone of disgust. He turned again and proceeded further into the woods, passing through the Field and disappearing in the darkness.

Harry let out a yell of frustration, kicking a fallen branch on the ground. He then stood still, trying to let his anger dissipate, his fists clenched tightly, looking down at the ground. Could things get any worse tonight? He wondered.

He glanced over to his right to see Hermione standing there, arms folded. She started toward him saddened at what had just transpired.

“Harry, it was bound to happen sooner or later,” she said, wanting to ease his mind. “Even if we had told him first, he would have still been upset, and you know it.”

Harry did know it, but that didn’t make it any easier. Everything just seemed to be unraveling in Harry’s world right as they were nearing the end of this whole business with Voldemort. Why?

Hermione stepped up to Harry, taking his hands. Harry’s face seemed to sink, showing the despair he now felt over the whole ordeal.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, almost as if to no one in particular.

“You didn’t mean for what to happen?” Hermione prompted him, her voice tinged with concern again.

“I didn’t want to have to choose between you two again.” Harry returned.

“But you don’t, Harry,” she said, “I know you want to keep things together between the three of us, but that may not be up to you. Ron is going to think and do what he wants, and there isn’t anything we can do to change that right now.”

“No, Hermione, you’re wrong.” Harry told her, the realization of what he had to do now sinking in.

“I do have to choose, just like I did so many times in the past.” He spoke, now looking her in the eyes. “But I’ve always chosen the easy way out, what I’ve wanted, rather than the right thing, taking advantage of someone I loved to see that everything stayed the same. But not any more.” He had made his decision, the memories of things he regretted in times past flashing across his mind.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, drawing in closer to him. Harry saw that look of fear in her eyes. A fear that he was about to break her heart irreparably. He looked at her with such compassion and he felt his own heart breaking. He drew her in and held her right up against his body, placing his hands on both sides of her face

“What I mean is…that I will not abandon you this time,” he told her, his voice beginning to break, “I will not take advantage of your friendship and leave you alone to hurt while I try and keep things going with Ron. I refuse to be a coward anymore, to see you in tears at Ron’s insensitivity and do nothing. He is still my friend and I will still remain his if at all possible, but he is going to have to live with the fact that I love you and will not bow to his hurt ego anymore.”

Harry looked into the beautiful, tear streaked face he held in his hands and felt a degree of anger as he spoke the words, not simply at Ron but at himself. He couldn’t stand the idea that he had been so cowardly before with her or that he hadn’t been the true friend he was supposed to be when she needed him. That would never happen again.

Hermione came right up to his face.

“Thank you…Harry,” she spoke softly, as Harry wiped the tears from her face.

They held each other for eternal moments, then started to walk back through the woods towards the clearing. Hermione stopped, looking at Harry, holding on to both of his hands again.

“Harry…there’s something I want to tell you,” she said.

Harry’s mind was buzzing with the curiosity of what she might tell him. He had been wanting so badly to know what had been bothering her for the past week. And now maybe this mystery would finally come to light. They both sat down under the trees and Harry placed his arm around her. She seemed hesitant at first, but then the old Hermione started to come through, drawing up the courage to again face what had been the source of so much pain between them.

“Harry, Ron was right,” she started.

“About what?” he replied, somewhat surprised at her words.

“You remember last year, when Ron and I were…going back and forth over our ‘relationship’, you know…canaries and all.”

Hermione looked a little embarrassed. Harry shook his head, not being able to keep from smiling.

“I really thought I fancied him or had convinced myself of it. But no matter what I did to get his attention, he just seemed to stay away from actually getting involved with me. One day I finally cornered him and told him that I was interested in him and wanted to be with him. But you know what he said? He said he didn’t believe me. He said that he couldn’t take me seriously. When I asked why, he told me…it was because I was in love with you, Harry. Of course I vehemently denied it, trying to convince Ron that you and I were just very good friends, but he still wouldn’t accept that. I was so upset with him over what he said, but I think it was mostly because he seemed to notice what I have been trying to hide and deny myself all these years. But he was right.”

Hermione edged a little closer to Harry, taking his other hand in both of hers.

“I have loved you, Harry, almost from the beginning. I think the first time I began to notice that something special about you was the day we had our first broom lesson. I thought you were so stupid to risk your whole school career over that silly little Remembrall of Neville’s. You barely knew him and I knew Neville’s grandmother could probably buy him a dozen more if he needed them, but you took off after Malfoy like it was a crusade. When you not only showed Malfoy up and caught the Remembrall, rather spectacularly I might add, and then made the Gryffindor Quidditch team of all things, it really put a chink in my ‘perfect understanding’ of things. You showed everyone there that day that doing the right thing wasn’t simply a matter of obeying rules or staying in the bounds of everyone’s expectations.

But it was when you and Ron came to save me from that horrible troll that Halloween, that I saw something so great in you, Harry. You had my heart then and there. What girl could keep from falling for the boy who had not only saved her life, but put his own at risk, too? And you hadn’t really even known me that long either. And yes, I did find out that it was you who thought of me and not Ron. Ron told me. Maybe you noticed how closely I tried to follow you after that. I was so worried that you might go off to do something heroic again and actually get killed for it. I couldn’t help feeling the way I did.

Maybe it was just a crush at first, but as we grew closer over the years, I really came to see that special something about you come out so many times, and there were times I thought I would die if I didn’t let you know what I was feeling. But I was so afraid. I was afraid of what you might say, that you wouldn’t feel the same way. I was afraid of losing our friendship which has been the most important of my life. So I hid it. Trying to move on and just be your best friend.

Of course I wasn’t terribly happy about you and Cho either. You must have seen how flustered I got over that whole ordeal. And then you really made me angry when you wouldn’t listen to me over that stupid potions book. But I couldn’t let go of you, regardless of your disinterest in me. I even tried to encourage you and Ginny a little, thinking that if you were happy then I would be too and then I could really move on. That’s when I started noticing Ron. But after our discussion together, it seemed that Ron just wasn’t going to bite. So, if you were wondering, we came to an unspoken truce in that regard, sort of.

I was so happy after last summer, though, when the three of us went looking for the horcruxes together. It did seem like old times again and I was convinced in my mind that my days of wanting you were over at last, that I could finally just be your friend and look to my own future somehow. That is…until a week ago.”

Harry straightened up a bit. This was what he wanted to hear about more than anything. Hermione paused, then looked at him with a look of compassion.

“What did happen to you?” He couldn’t help but ask her, his curiosity now really fired up. “I’ve been struggling with this all week, Hermione. I didn’t want to force you to tell me, but it’s been killing me to see you in such pain. I felt like I was losing you.”

“I know Harry, I’m so sorry,” She said, placing her hand on his cheek and caressing it slightly.

“It was at Hogwarts, when Professor McGonagall took me to that vault. That’s when I saw it,” she went on, surprising Harry as a smile started to break across her face.

“Saw what?” Harry asked with bated breath.

“I saw…” she continued, but suddenly placed a hand on her mouth, letting out a short scream of surprise, her eyes widening.

Harry spun around to see four Death Eaters practically standing over them both. The two of them jumped up and Harry moved Hermione behind him, her hands grasping his jacket tightly. But it was no good trying to protect her – several more Death Eaters came up from behind and surrounded them. They were trapped.

Harry spun Hermione around in front of him, hoping to be able to react fast enough if one of them tried to use their wand. But oddly enough all the Black Hats just stood there, their half-skull masks silent, looking at the terrified couple. Then two of the Death Eaters moved aside to allow an opening. Harry and Hermione looked at them for a moment and then started to walk slowly through the gap into the clearing. The Death Eaters followed the two of them out into the open clearing, still lit up by the ghostly white moon. Harry now saw that things had indeed gotten worse. When they first caught sight of the clearing, both of them held their breath at the horror they now saw before them…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART SEVEN

Hermione had a thousand questions on her mind as she crossed through the large entranceway into the castle at Hogwarts school. She tried not to look too conspicuous in glancing at the black robed warlocks guarding the entrance and opening the huge wooden doors for her. They looked to her like slimmed down versions of Mad-Eye Moody, but not so scarred and beaten up. They were, by all rights, hired mercenaries but also consummate professionals, she knew that much. Their serious look and strong demeanor made a formidable impression on her. She felt a sense of dread in the presence of these iconical Aurors who hailed from every part of the country, but she was also glad they were on her side.

She felt a little concerned for Harry and Ron, who were heading to Hogsmeade after leaving her at Hogwarts gate. The three of them had been caught by Voldemort’s servants in too many public places so many times now. Though able to get through every trap they had found themselves in, up to this point, all it would take is one misstep and it could all be over very quickly. But she had, after all, insisted on seeing Professor McGonagall alone, though both Harry and Ron had vigorously objected. She could understand that. They were as curious to know what was behind Dumbledore’s note as she was. It had been the center of conversation and debate among the three of them ever since leaving her parent’s house. But she was able to convince them that Dumbledore had left the note for her specifically, for some reason, so she should honor that by doing what the note said, alone. She could focus on what this was all about much better without the two of them standing over her shoulder anyway, she thought. She would fill them in on everything when they returned. They had not warned the Professor, now Headmistress, of their arrival. They had learned the hard way not to do that a few times over the course of the past months.

As Hermione ascended the first flight of steps up toward the main corridor, she began wondering if the Professor might be in her office or in a class at this time of the morning. She again reached into her pocket to feel the key and note, ready to show them to McGonagall and start her barrage of questions over what all of this could mean. And perhaps she would also be able to glean some insight into how Dumbledore seemed to have the most amazing gift of foresight of any person she had ever known or read about. As much as she disdained her and hated her classes, Hermione couldn’t help but see Professor Trelawney now even more as some pitiful side show entertainer alongside what Dumbledore had apparently done. But she was even more curious to know what exactly Dumbledore’s key opened, if it actually opened anything.

As Hermione rounded the landing to the main stairs, her thoughts were so preoccupied, with questions and musing about the whole affair, that she was stunned to find Professor McGonagall standing at the top of the stairs in the main corridor. After pausing, Hermione began to climb toward the Professor who stood almost statuesque in her emerald green robes, her hands clasped together in front of her in a very proper fashion. Hermione saw the dark eyes of the Professor gazing at her with a most serious gaze, but was surprised to see her then smile a little, with the look of a loving grandmother. Hermione smiled back, glad to see the one person she had come to admire so much at the school over the years, the same one she originally dreaded most. Her admiration for the Professor had increased all the more when she saw how McGonagall handled the Headmaster position after Dumbledore had been killed. The school’s continuing operation in such an efficient manner, even since the war had begun, was a great mark of how wise the Professor was and it shone in her personality. Hermione was now more eager than ever to learn what the Professor might tell her, and was about to say as much.

“I trust you have the key?” McGonagall queried, now serious and businesslike again.

Hermione was astonished at the question. How did she… But apparently there was no time. Hermione pulled the golden, jewel encrusted key out of her pocket to show the headmistress.

“This way, if you please, Miss Granger.” The Professor said, turning towards the long corridor leading to the main tower.

Now Hermione’s curiosity has risen to the point of bursting. What did the Professor really know about all this? How could she know that they were coming to the school at this time? Her head swam with so much to take in, but she now perceived that the woman walking briskly in front of her had so much more to her than what she was letting on. She was dying to say something, but for some reason felt that at this moment it was not appropriate. She had just better follow and learn.

Hermione found herself having to pick up her pace a bit just to keep up with the Professor. The two of them passed an open classroom. It was Flitwick’s class, still in session. As she walked by, she peered into the room to see the students busy writing and recognized several of the third years who turned to gaze at the passersby. They instantly recognized Hermione and waved at her enthusiastically. Hermione waved back with a smile, and felt a tug in her heart. She missed this so much. Her time as a prefect of Gryffindor had not only endeared her to many of the students, especially the first years in her charge, but had brought her to an idea she had been bouncing around for some time since – the possibility of becoming a professor herself one day. Perhaps when this whole situation with the horcruxes and Voldemort was over she could return, finish her schooling and move on into a higher wizarding school to obtain the qualifications to teach. She felt that would be the best way to use all the knowledge she had gained over the years. But if it were only that easy.

She, Harry and Ron were nearing the end of their searches, but even when they finally destroyed the last horcrux, the idea of confronting Voldemort seemed like such an immense juggernaut in comparison. Things weren’t going well for the Ministry these days, being stretched so thin in all directions, trying to fight a war with the Dark Lord and his seemingly endless supply of willing servants, while being stymied by bureaucratic red tape that made it almost impossible to get anything done. Professor McGonagall had fought vigorously to have the governors of Hogwarts and the Ministry send the special warlock guard to protect the school. From what Hermione remembered, she had even threatened to resign as headmistress if they did not do so immediately. So the Ministry finally caved, fearing her loss, though Hermione knew deep down that the Professor would not think of leaving Hogwarts and was so adamant about the issue precisely because she loved the students and her fellow professors too much.

With all the chaos and confusion that the war had brought into her world, one thing troubled Hermione more than any of it. Harry. She was so concerned for him, even more than ever. He had taken too much on his shoulders, she thought. He saw himself, not as the ‘saviour’ of their world, but as the only one willing to do anything definite about it’s troubles with Voldemort. She knew no one believed in his ‘responsibility’ more than he did and that he was determined to see it through, if only because Dumbledore had seemed to put such a high expectation on him. Hermione thought of all the times during the past several months when the two of them had argued over Harry’s almost reckless abandon in his quest for the horcruxes. She let him know how worried she was for her friend who she cared so deeply for, but he seemed to get annoyed with her more often and all but told her to let him be on several occasions.

However, she herself was determined to see this thing through, at his side, by all means possible, no matter where that might lead and what consequences the three of them would have to face. She knew Harry needed her, even if he sometimes acted as though he could do this alone. And she found an ally in Ron. She and Ron had discussed what was happening with Harry and they both had agreed to do whatever possible to make sure their friend came through this situation not only alive, but sane. Ron had somewhat matured over the course of their search and she was glad to see him move beyond some of his more self-centered thinking, and begin to really put Harry and even her interests ahead of his own. But that didn’t stop their occasional fallouts and arguments.

She was still upset with Ron for what he had said to her last year. Though the two of them had sort of planed out in regards to their ‘understanding’ of each other, it miffed her that he had so readily dismissed her claims of affection for him. His reaction to her attempts at building a relationship had been at the least frustrating and at the most, deeply hurtful – a la the incident with Lavender. But his explanation for his behavior was what really got her. Sure she loved Harry, as any close friend would. She had been in love with him before, but that seemed so long ago now. She remembered the awe and wonder she held of him after that troll incident. He had saved her life. She had never had such a crush on a boy before that time. And she also cherished the seemingly natural bond that had developed between the two of them. But as their friendship grew, so did her feelings for him.

They had such a way together that she never felt uneasy or awkward with him, even in their occasional displays of affection, something which did irk Ron more than once. But if Harry only had known how much that had meant to her, that it meant far more than simply being a grateful friend. There were so many times she wanted to tell him how she felt, but the bond between them had taken them in a direction where that seemed impossible sometimes. And he was so distracted all the time with Quidditch, Ron, classes, and all those times where he had been engaged in personal battles with Voldemort’s servants and their plots, not to mention Voldemort himself returning in their fourth year. That fourth year.

She remembered being so excited about the Yule Ball. Even though it was Krum who ended up asking her, she was thrilled that someone had noticed her enough to put forth the effort. After fixing her teeth and dressing up like she had never done before, she felt like royalty walking into the Great Hall with a Tri-Wizard champion, watching all the guys oogle her and the girls turning away with disdain. Hermione Granger, a beauty? But the one person she wanted more than any to notice her was strangely silent about the whole affair. A word from Harry about how she looked that night would have made her week, especially coming from a friend with whom she felt such a strong connection. But alas, while he did seem surprised, he never said much of anything. And that was the problem.

Despite their continuing friendship, he never really let on that he liked her more than just as a friend. She didn’t know whether it was because he was just shy or because he simply didn’t see anything beyond what they already had. They were still very young, however. But this disinterest on his part had caused her such consternation at times. She had come to recognize that the connection they did have together was very rare, even in the wizarding world. But the idea of derailing their friendship because of her own feelings, however, was something she simply could not do to Harry, especially as the burdens of what he was facing became greater and greater. She did not want to lose him no matter how she might feel about him, and that made her determined to stick with him at all costs, even the most painful cost – her own heart. It became worse before it got better, but Hermione did everything in her power to try and put her feelings behind her, sensing that Harry just would not budge.

She was rather proud of herself now, despite the frustration she had felt in seeing Harry share time with Ginny, something she discovered had made her jealous more for their friendship than simply because of the way she felt. But she had finally come to a place where she was able to still be with Harry and not chafe at his disinterest in her romantically. After trying to get Ron’s attentions and failing at that, she had begun to look towards her own future and the thought of teaching was becoming more and more attractive every day. She did not know where the future would lead the three of them after Voldemort was gone, but she felt good about the prospects and possibilities for her life, except for one thing.

Something had been bothering her for some time now. It was something she couldn’t exactly put her finger on, but it was always there in the back of her mind, following her like a shadow. She noticed that it caused her to lose her temper a little bit quicker than usual, even Ron and Harry noticed that. Her snaps with Ron would seem more intense too. She seemed to be struggling with some unknown factor that had begun to affect her more than just on the surface. It was so frustrating, the occasional feeling of listlessness or boredom that overcame her, especially when she had something very important to do. This simply was not acceptable to her usually acute and organized way of thinking, but she felt powerless to change it. She just didn’t know what was bothering her so much to cause all these strange feelings. But she hoped that maybe she could find an answer during their stay at the school. If anyone might know, Professor McGonagall would. She would confide in her, if possible, after they had done whatever they were supposed to do with Dumbledore’s key. Maybe armed with knowledge from an experienced, older woman she highly respected, she could get through it. But clearly now was not the time.

Hermione was once again walking up that same marble staircase leading to the main tower that she had so many times before. The Professor had gone to the first landing and then turned, going up a flight of stairs that Hermione knew led to the Ravenclaw dormitories. As she followed McGonagall, she glanced up the stairway leading up towards the Gryffindor tower, the fat lady still in her portrait, apparently busy rearranging flowers.

“Hello Miss Granger!” a voice rang out as Hermione ascended the stairs.

“Hello Mister Thomas!” she spat back at the painting of an old man who would continually fall asleep trying to read a book that he would never finish. As soon as he smiled at her, he drifted off, hunching over his open book, asleep again.

Everywhere the paintings in the tower hall were alive with their seemingly trapped denizens moving about and conversing with each other as they had always done. The stairwells too were still moving about on their own, something that had frustrated Hermione many times when she had been late for some class and forgot an important book or some notes in her Gryffindor dorm room.

McGonagall had reached the second landing and stopped, waiting for Hermione to catch up. When she finally arrived on the landing, the Professor, after giving Hermione a quick glance, turned, pulled out her wand and tapped three times on the railing, muttering something so quietly that Hermione could not understand her. Suddenly the railing shifted out of sight and another sprang out from the wall on the opposite side of the landing. The entire stairwell lurched and then began to move around to face one of the walls on the opposite side of the hall. It came to rest at the foot of another large painting, with a very handsomely dressed man sitting at a dinner table, seemingly eating food that never was completely consumed.

“I’ll teach you the spell to move the stairwells later, Miss Granger,” the Professor spoke softly, leaning towards Hermione as though she didn’t want anyone else to hear. “The paintings are always listening,” she continued with a half smile.

Hermione ascended the stair, after the Professor, up to the landing and stopped again. She did not recognize this painting and had never seen the stairwells move to this particular place before.

“Good morning Professor,” the fine mannered older gentleman in the painting spoke, getting up from his meal.

“Good morning Colonel,” she responded to the portrait as thought they were old friends.

“Do come through, do come through,” he stated in a highly polished English accent. He then glanced at Hermione and gave her a very polite bow and a smile.

“Thank you, Colonel. Good day,” McGonagall responded.

The painting swung open just like it would at any of the house entrances, revealing a locked door behind it. McGonagall then tapped on three specific places on the wooden door. Suddenly, Hermione heard the sound of bolts moving and locks clicking out of place. The door then opened on it’s own and the two of them entered.

“That is our guardian, Hermione. He is one of the more loyal paintings we have in the tower,” the Professor informed her. “I had him brought up from one of the lower corridors to stand watch over this particular entrance.”

Hermione was listening intently to the Professor and was about to ask her a question when the realization of where they were hit her. The third floor corridor! As the pyres began lighting up along the walls, she recognized the old grotesque still covered in spider webs. She hadn’t set foot in here since her first year when she, Ron and Harry had fled from Mrs. Norris and Filch. They approached the end of the hall and Hermione glared at the same door the three of them had fled through, where they had first met Fluffy, Hagrid’s three-headed dog, in a not so good mood.

McGonagall stopped by the door and turned to Hermione.

“I believe you know the password to this door, Miss Granger,” she said very matter of factly.

Hermione felt a little silly at the idea of what she thought the Professor wanted her to do, but then pulled out her wand.

“Alohomora?” she said, doing the same thing she had done so many years back.

The door unlocked and began to open. Hermione’s heart raced a little, expecting one of Fluffy’s enormous heads to pop out immediately. But she then remembered Hagrid saying he had sold him to someone from the Durmstrang school a few years back. Sure enough, as she followed the Professor into the corridor, it was completely empty. As the two of them hurried along the corridor, Hermione glanced down at the trapdoor in the floor, still in place, through which they had gone to find the stone. She couldn’t help but smile at seeing it again.

McGonagall stopped about halfway down the corridor and turned to face the wall, to a place between two of the columns that lined the corridor. To Hermione, there seemed nothing special about the particular spot that the Professor had stopped at, so she watched very attentively as McGonagall pulled out her wand again.

“Exitum Orientus,” the Professor spoke, again tapping the wall between the columns three times, and glancing at Hermione to see if she was paying attention.

‘Hmm’ Hermione thought, she knew the first part of that spell, but the second must be a special password. She wondered how she would be able to remember all this, if that was indeed what the Professor was implying.

There was the sound of a thump of stone coming from behind the wall, then suddenly the wall shifted backwards and then slid to the right, revealing a narrow corridor with a winding stair going down. As the two of them descended now, small gargoyle shaped pyres lit up just before their approach, until they at last reached the bottom. McGonagall moved toward a seemingly blank wall and pressed her hand against it, repeating the same spell as before. Hermione then noticed the outline of an arched doorway form in the wall and watched the Professor open it. They walked into a large corridor that Hermione recognized immediately. The key room!

This was the room with the flying keys, where Harry used the broomstick to catch the one they needed to get through the door. She looked to her right at the darkened doorway on one side of the chamber. That was the door that led back to the Devil’s Snare. She then followed McGonagall through the doorway to the next chamber and Hermione was wondering if it was still the way she had remembered it. Yes it was. She found herself walking across the large chessboard with the Professor. There were no chess pieces to be found this time however, but she did glance briefly over to the spot where Ron had fallen after being hit by that queen.

When she entered the next chamber, after passing the small room where they has found the unconscious troll, a flood of memories and emotions swept over her to see that old table pushed to the side, with all those potion bottles still sitting on top. Seeing so many of these familiar sights again seemed to be awakening something in her of the former days that had been lost in the shuffle of her life over the years. Memories of things she had seen and felt came over her afresh, as though she had just experienced them for the first time.

There were no black flames to impede her progress this time, however, as she continued to follow the Professor into the final chamber – the one where Harry had faced Professor Quirell and Voldemort. As she entered, she looked around to see the columns against the walls and a small stone altar at the opposite end, but otherwise the chamber was completely empty. Too bad, she thought. Harry had told her that Dumbledore had placed the Mirror of Erised in here as the final riddle for the whereabouts of Flamel’s Philosopher’s Stone. She had been so curious about it ever since. She remembered Harry’s vivid and excited description of seeing his parents in the mirror when he had gazed into it for the first time. She would have liked to have seen it herself, she thought, wondering what she might see about her own heart.

Hermione realized that she had wandered off in her mind for a moment and noticed the Professor waiting a little impatiently for her on one side of the chamber, again at a place in the wall that was not terribly conspicuous. She hurried over to McGonagall who then proceeded to repeat the spell and tappings as before. How many secret doors and corridors were there? What was so important that it had to be hidden so secretly and safely down in the depths below the castle?

The wall slid away just as the one above had done and they again descended a narrow corridor. As they approached the bottom, however, this time Hermione could hear the sound of water lapping against stone. They moved out of the corridor into an apparently dark cavern, that could simply not be seen in it’s totality, even when Professor McGonagall lit her wand. What Hermione could see was that they were standing on a stone landing which dropped off into a dark, murky body of water which stretched out of sight on either side of the range of the Professor’s wand.

Directly in front of them was a small, shallow, flat bottomed boat that seemed to stay right against the landing without ropes of any kind. The Professor motioned to Hermione to enter the boat. She did so and sat on one of it’s small benches. McGonagall then entered it herself and the boat proceeded to move of it’s own accord away from the landing and into the darkness.

Pretty soon Hermione couldn’t see anything but water around them and darkness everywhere except for the bluish white glow coming from the tip of the Professor’s wand. The way the noises reflected off of the dark ceiling of the corridor seemed to suggest that this was some enormous underground lake. ‘But where could we possibly be going?’ Hermione wondered to herself.

She suddenly noticed something in the water. She moved closer to the edge of the boat to peer into it’s black depths. At first she thought her mind was playing tricks on her. It appeared to be a very large oblong form about the size of a whale, moving alongside the boat rapidly. But when she noticed several more of these shapes further out in the water, and then saw one criss-cross the other, she knew she wasn’t imagining things. A terror swept over her heart at the sight of these black forms.

“Professor, what are those?” she asked McGonagall, who turned around to look.

The Professor’s eyes widened and a deeply serious look came over her.

“You don’t want to know, Miss Granger,” she stated, looking a little worried. “Suffice it to say, the wrong person attempting to cross this lake would find themselves acquainted with them rather quickly, in which case they would not live to tell about it.”

“They are the Guardians,” the Professor then spoke quietly and firmly, leaning in towards Hermione. McGonagall then turned back to face the direction the boat was taking them. Hermione almost let out a scream upon turning to gaze into the water one last time. She saw for a brief moment, what looked like a blood red eyeball with a deep black pupil gazing back and then disappearing.

Finally, Hermione saw another landing up ahead, looking very similar to the one they had come from. The boat slowed down and turned to rest up against this landing in the same fashion. The Professor stepped out and Hermione followed her to a wall where an old wooden door stood closed. Expecting the Professor to use another spell and tappings to open it, she was surprised instead to see her simply push the door open. If any fool was actually able to make it passed those things in the water, they deserved whatever was behind this door, she mused, no locks needed.

They walked a short ways through another small corridor, lit this time by McGonagall’s wand. Then Hermione noticed they had stepped into another large chamber, but couldn’t make out what exactly what was in it without more light. Suddenly, the Professor’s wand went out and Hermione found herself in complete darkness. Then she noticed the noises. She could hear rattlings, bangings on wood or metal, as well as something whooshing through the air. There were voices coming from some distance away, some laughing occasionally, others whispering or even crying in some bizarre cacophony. Hermione thought that she had either gone blind or there was some muggle construction crew attempting to build something in pitch black darkness.

Suddenly, she was startled by two pyres that lit up behind them on either side of the doorway. Then slowly more pyres lit up around the walls in succession, illuminating the entire chamber. Her jaw dropped when she saw what was before her…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART EIGHT

Hermione gazed out into an enormous chamber, at least three times as wide as the Great Hall and significantly taller. The stone columns that lined its walls were carved, it appeared, out of the solid stone that formed its sides and ceiling. It looked to her to be some sort of warehouse, for she noticed several rows of aisles that cut into stockpiles of old furniture, tapestries, desks, chairs and numerous items that were strewn throughout. Wooden crates were piled on top of one another and she saw what appeared to be very long tables that would be right at home in the Great Hall itself. There was so much to take in; Hermione didn't know where to begin.

"Welcome to Hogwart's vault, Miss Granger," the Professor finally spoke, sounding like she was about to start a tour. "Up until this time, Professor Dumbledore, Mr. Filch and I have been the only ones who have known of its existence. It has been a secret held by successive Headmasters and their deputies since it was built around the second century after the school opened."

McGonagall then turned to Hermione and gave her a very stern look.

"I trust, therefore, that Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and yourself will continue that tradition and keep this between yourselves. If I ever hear tell of its existence beyond the three of you, I may have to resort to using some of Mr. Lockhart's famous memory charms. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione responded, amazed at why the Professor would go to all this trouble over a simple key.

"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Miss Granger, as I am sure you three have learned very well already," the Professor added, as though reading Hermione's thoughts.

"Follow me, please," McGonagall said, turning toward one of the aisles.

As Hermione started forward, some movement caught her eye. She looked up to see one of the strangest sights she could remember and apparently the source of the whooshing noises she had heard earlier. Flying overhead, around the ceiling, were broomsticks of all shapes and sizes along with colorfully designed flying carpets. Some were simply floating, others were dashing around in circles, while some would lazily glide along, pausing every so often, as if to think, and several were chasing each other. Hermione amusingly thought it looked like a bizarre fish tank one might see in a dream. But as they walked down one of the aisles, there were so many things to see that she didn't have time to stop and focus on any single one of them.

Hermione gazed in wonder at what looked to be old wooden contraptions and devices that seemed to hail from the Middle Ages. They passed several statues that Hermione swore were watching her walk by, but when she turned to look at them they were perfectly still. Scores of old school desks and chairs, tattered and worn, were stacked neatly together, obviously having been used by generations of Hogwart's students before being brought down here. A huge metal and glass machine stood ominously in the center of one of the aisles, looking like it had been some sort of ancient star gazing apparatus.

"There are hundreds of years worth of Hogwart's artifacts down here, as you can see," the Professor stated while continuing to walk straight ahead of her. "Most of the really valuable or historical items are kept here for their protection. In other words, items we don't want manhandled by careless students."

They turned right, along a narrow aisle that lead toward the far right wall. Passing by a large collection of crates, Hermione heard something knocking on the inside of one of them, as though someone inside wanted out. They also passed a row of old suits of armor, the legs, arms and helmets rattling as though they were attempting to come to life. They then turned left again, going down the row against the far wall. Hermione began to wonder if the Professor really knew where she was going.

"Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley would be pleased to see this," McGonagall stated with a smile, stopping before a glass cabinet. "I understand it was one of the first Hogwart's uniforms made, not too long after the game itself was invented."

Hermione looked in to see an old, but well preserved Quidditch uniform along with several of the game's implements, including some bludgers that would occasionally fidget in place.

Hermione turned around and noticed that the side wall contained several alcoves lined up one after another, each of them stretching deep inside the wall. The alcoves held all manner of items that glittered with gold, silver or jewels and large shelves filled with swaths of various cloths. And then she saw one of the reasons for the high security measures used to protect the vault. A huge alcove ran deep into darkness away from the wall where iron bars had been built in with a large portcullis, which Hermione figured was magically sealed. Behind these bars lay enormous mounds of gold Galleons - enough to pay every house elf in Britain, Hermione mused. This apparently was the reserve for the school.

The Professor turned again and continued towards the end of the aisle. Hermione had to quicken her pace to catch up with her.

"GET ME OUT...PLEASE...GET ME OUT!" a voice shouted, startling Hermione. She looked to see a multitude of paintings leaning up against the wall. The voice had come from a painting of a man wearing tattered clothes in what would normally be a picturesque scene. However, the man had apparently been breaking limbs off of the trees and trampling the flowers around what was supposed to be a garden. His unruly hair had bits and pieces of flowers in it, and he gave Hermione a strange, twisted smile. In another painting, an old woman in a quaint looking kitchen seemed fixed in a hell of having to cook a meal that she would never finish. She was grumbling to herself and throwing food everywhere. People in other portraits were constantly weeping or laughing themselves silly.

"These paintings are mad, Miss Granger," the Professor said, having turned back to where Hermione was standing. "They originally were hung in the main hall of the dormitories, but had to be taken down after several of the students complained of nightmares due to their odd behavior." The Professor had a worried look in her eyes, motioning her to move along.

When they reached the end of this aisle on the far end of the chamber, they turned left down the last row. Hermione stopped briefly at another amazing sight. This wall had shelves running practically all the way up to the ceiling. The shelves were full of books, parchments, books, stacks of old scrolls and more books. She sighed slightly. She could spend days in here looking over all these volumes. She noticed the Professor had stopped and was smiling at her.

"These books are either too old or too dangerous for students to be looking at, even for the restricted section."

She dragged herself away from the shelves and followed the Professor to the end of the row, the Professor turned around and stopped. As Hermione walked toward her, McGonagall's face had turned to a very serious expression.

"Wait here, if you please, Miss Granger, and I will go and retrieve the box," she told Hermione, who then acknowledged her with a nod. 'A box?' she thought. All this for a box? She had at least expected the key would go to some enormous safe or antechamber containing priceless artifacts or something extremely valuable.

Hermione watched the Professor walk down a short aisle and then promptly disappear into a darkened alcove in the wall. She gazed at the books along the wall again, and then turned her attention to the flying objects at the ceiling, watching one broomstick continually run into the wall, then back up and try over and over again. She then turned around and almost jumped out of her skin to see someone standing behind her. After she opened her eyes and recovered her breath, she realized that it was not a person at all, but her own reflection.

She backed up to take in the whole view of the large mirror before her. As she gazed at its intricate arch-like design, she suddenly realized what she was looking at. She felt butterflies in her stomach as she tried to read the strange writing that arched over and across the top. She remembered Harry telling her that in all the times he had looked at that mirror, he couldn't figure out what language it was written in. Firmly in concentration, her chin resting on one hand, her eyes suddenly lit up.

"I show not your face but your hearts desire...oh Harry, that was too easy!" she uttered with a half smile.

Now her curiosity had kicked into high gear as she moved a little closer. Some part of her conscience, however, warned her against looking, reminding her of what Dumbledore had told Harry about the mirror's effect on people. But the lure of what she might see was too strong to resist. She smiled again and imagined seeing herself in the robes of a Professor. Or maybe even Headmistress?

Hermione waited a few more moments but nothing happened. Suddenly she noticed something. Turning her head slightly, she screwed up her eyes at the reflection. A frown crossed her face as she saw that a bundle of her hair was sticking up and out of place in the back. She reached up, fixed it, and then resumed her wait. Several more moments passed and yet nothing. 'Maybe it doesn't work anymore', she thought. Maybe that's why Dumbledore brought it in here after the incident with the Stone.

"Oh, come on now, my heart's not that hard to read, is it?" she complained to the mirror.

No sooner had those words left her mouth than an image began to form. Hermione's eyes widened and her heart was racing. She watched as the blurred image seemed to linger just slightly in the background behind her. She then flinched at seeing a hand reach out from the image and rest on her reflected shoulder. She spun around, but no one was there. Turning back quickly, she saw that the hand was now gone, but the image remained.

Hermione's heart stopped suddenly as the image came into sharp focus behind her reflection.

It was as if she had been petrified by the Basilisk again, standing there, frozen before the mirror. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Or could she? She felt her natural impulse of resistance rise up, that function of the brain that kicks in when faced with something perceived as a threat to the normal balance of emotion and logic. But what was now flooding her mind, her memories and down in her heart began to overwhelm any ability she had to stop it. Some powerful force that had been lurking beneath the surface for so long, buried deep within the recesses of her being, had now begun to burst through like a tidal wave.

She involuntarily let out a sharp cry of overwhelming emotion, her hands quickly cupped over her mouth as though she could somehow keep it from coming out, but the tears had already formed and began to fall hotly down her cheeks. As if that was not enough, however, now the image did something that Hermione did not expect. She watched in astonishment at what was transpiring before her eyes.

Not only did the image remain, but the Hermione she now saw in the mirror was not the same one looking into it. She looked...happier, different, something of a radiance coming through those brown eyes, the smallest details becoming more apparent. The scene before her was something Hermione had seen in her dreams many times, but never in reality. As she stood transfixed at the reflection before her, her head drooped slightly, the heaviness of tears again - she felt her heart breaking.

"You may need this."

Hermione spun around, startled by the Professor standing next to her. She was holding a small, white handkerchief in one hand and a jewel encrusted box in the other. Hermione took the handkerchief and quickly began wiping the tears from her face and eyes, embarrassed to have McGonagall see her in this state. McGonagall gave her a look of concern.

"The mirror has that effect on those who try to hide things..." she told Hermione as though she were her mother, but then that seriousness returned again. "...especially from themselves," she added. Her words surprised Hermione. Did the Professor know what she had seen?

"Come along, Hermione," the Professor spoke in a kind voice, motioning to her and starting to walk away.

Hermione started to move forward and glanced back at the mirror one last time, only to see her reflection fleeing away, and now feeling a sense of emptiness.

She tried her hardest to maintain a normal composure in the company of the Professor, but every step she took now seemed so heavy. The weight of years continued to press down upon her mind and heart, causing at once a painful paradox both of intense yearning and a sense of impending loss - a loss she could not bear to think about. The tears began again and she wiped them away as fast as possible, hoping not to garner the attention of McGonagall who was walking quietly in front of her.

They turned down another row and the Professor then stopped in front of an old table sticking out in the aisle. She gently placed the curious looking box on the table. It was about the size of a jewelry box and still had cob webs clinging to its cover. It looked like it was made of carved silver, with multicolored jewels set in. The Professor then turned to look at Hermione, her hands clasped in front of her again, with that pensive expression of seriousness on her face.

Hermione sensing what she was to do, pulled out the golden key and moved it towards the box. She was about to insert it into the lock but noticed her hand was trembling. She paused, closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to push aside the emotions that were so thick in her mind at the moment. She then opened her eyes and put the key into the lock, turning it twice.

At first, nothing happened and she finally let go of the key, unable to retrieve it from the box. Then suddenly the key disappeared in a wisp of smoke. Hermione then heard two clicks and the cover of the box lifted up. Her heart was beating rapidly, wondering what would await her inside, wondering in some strange twist of logic, if it had anything at all to do with what she had just seen in the mirror. When the box had completely opened, she saw a small piece of parchment inside. She turned to look at McGonagall who nodded to her to go ahead and pull it out. She did so, and examined the paper, which was worn, slightly torn in places and had all sorts of notes, a partial handwritten map and a name at the top, which sent a shiver down her spine – T. Riddle.

“Very good, Miss Granger, it is time for us to leave,” the Professor then spoke as though they were late for afternoon tea.

McGonagall closed the lid on the box and began to walk toward the front of the chamber. Hermione followed in tow, gazing at the parchment and its odd markings. Normally she would have been completely engrossed with such a strange item, waiting to be dissected and unraveled by her curiosity and thirst for knowledge. But at the moment, she couldn’t think straight, her mind being preoccupied with the image in the mirror and the effect it was having on her – an effect which she realized was intensifying the further they went from the mirror. Hermione felt as though she had briefly lived out a dream and was now walking out of that dream into a cold, blank reality. She also felt a deep gnawing pain in her heart that was growing beyond her control. This was something she had dreaded for so long but now could no longer ignore. No! Not now. Not now. The vault, which had held so many interesting things that could feed her curiosity for days, now seemed so terribly empty.

Hermione was thankful that Professor McGonagall was respectfully quiet on their journey out of the vault back to the upper floors of the castle. But she noticed the Professor occasionally glancing back at her, that look of worry on her face each time. Hermione was struggling now with what she knew to be true and the integrity in her would not allow her to deny it any longer – the mirror was simply incapable of lying. Acceptance of it, however, was impossible. How could she, the way things were, at present? The thoughts of what she saw and the intense feelings that it drew out were getting to the point of overwhelming now. She needed to be alone, to get this out of her system. Hermione was afraid that if she didn’t do so soon, she would break down sobbing, making a messy scene in front of the Professor.

‘COME ON HERMIONE!!! YOU”RE STRONGER THAN THIS!!! FIGHT THIS!!!’ something inside of her seemed to yell out. She sat up abruptly, tears running down her face, suddenly realizing she was still in the boat crossing the underground lake. The cool air rushing by seemed to revive her and she felt a little better. But it didn’t stop the onslaught of memories and feelings that were attempting to reestablish themselves in her mind.

Hermione and the Professor left the lake, headed up towards the dungeon rooms they passed previously and back into the third floor corridor. After descending the stair in the tower hall, they finally were back in the main corridor again. The Professor turned around and stopped, waiting for Hermione to catch up. When she had, the Professor pulled out a slip of parchment and handed it to her.

“I took the liberty of having rooms prepared for you, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley during your stay here. Those are the room numbers in the guest tower and that is the password on the bottom,” McGonagall spoke. “I don’t think you are in the best state to be dining with the students at present, though many of them would like to see you. If you wish, however, I can have dinner sent to your room, later on.”

“Also, I reminded Madam Pince that you have full access to the Restricted Section of the library, Hermione,” she then added and leaned forward a bit.

“I believe that you will find what you need in there, and with your bright mind, I’m sure it won’t take long,” McGonagall told Hermione with a smile, placing a hand on hers, as if to cheer her up. Hermione nodded at her, for some reason finding it hard to say anything.

“Now if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to presently,” the Professor said and smiling at Hermione one more time, turned and walked out of the corridor.

Hermione’s head dropped and she closed her eyes, never so glad to be alone. But the pressure inside seemed to be getting stronger and she turned quickly, heading for the guest tower of the castle as fast as possible. She hoped to avoid any students or teachers, she simply didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now.

She practically ran up the stairwell that lead to the guest room corridor, pausing at the portrait, behind which lay the entrance. The beautiful woman in the portrait didn’t say a word to Hermione as she uttered the password, though she seemed very curious at the sight of the obviously shaken brown haired girl before her. The portrait swung open and Hermione walked briskly toward one of the rooms the Professor had set aside for them. She quickly opened the door and upon entering, closed it just as quickly, bolting the lock in place. She then turned to go to over to the bed, but instead found herself collapsing against the wall next to the door.

She pulled her arms in around her waist and her hair fell forward slightly as she leaned her head against the wall. A tremendous burst of old feelings broke through and she finally gave under the terrible weight. The sobs came out involuntarily and in such intensity that she was shocked, wondering how something so seemingly small could affect her so much. She managed to walk slowly toward the bed and then collapse on it, tears pouring out freely, the last vestiges of resistance gone.

“OKAY! OKAY!” she cried out, finally coming to grips with it.

She did love him. So deeply, so strongly. So much it made her whole body ache. The powerful force inside that compelled her was now stronger than it had ever been, and she cried out if only to try and relieve the pressure it was bringing to bear on her heart. Through her tears she saw that all her efforts to stop this in the past had been utterly futile. Love simply would not obey her commands and now she was feeling the brunt of it.

But how? How could she go on like this? Now was the absolute worst time for this to happen. They were so close, so close to the end. Why now? How could she face him now?

Hermione’s tear-filled eyes suddenly opened with a stark realization of something that scared her worse than anything so far. All this time, her feelings for him, her desire to be more intimate with him had been some hidden guide to what she knew was the only natural course that their friendship could take. A terrible heartache now came over her at the knowledge of the reality of their situation that neither of them had apparently seen before – the fatal flaw in their bond. If it didn’t progress, didn’t move forward, it would ultimately alter and maybe even die. There was simply no way around it. Something had to give one way or another and though she did not want things to be this way, she knew she had finally hit the wall.

Hermione’s thoughts of losing Harry now struck a terror in her soul like never before. She simply couldn’t face the idea that he would go on without her, that the unique friendship and bond they shared would cease to exist at some point. She now saw that she had come to rely so heavily on it and without it her life would never be the same again.

But she couldn’t do this to him either. That integrity in her that respected and admired him as her best friend simply forbid her to reveal this to him. To do so, in her eyes, could be devastating and she didn’t want to place such an immense burden on him right now, he already had too much. She was afraid of losing the very friendship with him, by telling him how she felt, that was in danger of dying if she didn’t tell him, if he didn’t want anything more with her. This caused Hermione such consternation in her soul. A terrible dilemma it was and the uncertainty of their future together now broke hard over the naiveté and simplicity in which she had, up to this point, held their connection.

Hermione laid back and closed her eyes again. She was dreading the next few hours. Harry and Ron would soon be returning from Hogsmeade. How was she going to face him now? The pain again struck her and fresh tears fell on the bed beneath her.

“Harry…Harry…” she cried out softly.

She would get up and go on. She would help her friends who needed her in top form right now, but she also knew that things would never be the same between them. It simply couldn’t continue as it was.

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART NINE

Harry and Hermione walked slowly into the clearing, holding each others hand tightly. Their hearts were beating rapidly, the adrenaline kicking in as it should when the mind is faced with an overwhelming threat. There, before them, stood more Death Eaters than either of them had ever seen in one place. The strange feeling that had been nagging Harry since leaving Hogwarts had now been made painfully clear even beyond what he might have imagined.

There seemed to Harry to be at least two hundred, possibly more, of the black robed figures, most of whom were standing around the perimeter of the clearing, forming a barrier that would not be easy to penetrate. And the two of them did not have their wands, so the idea of fighting their way through, bare-fisted, was completely absurd. Even if they had their wands, Harry knew that they would barely make a dent in the dark wizards surrounding them, before being taken down themselves. But his mind, nevertheless, was going into overdrive trying to think of something he could do – wanting more than anything to get Hermione out of here.

The pang of guilt swept over him briefly again – he had gotten them into this mess. At least Ron was not here, though Harry felt both relief and regret at that too. He could really use his best friend’s help right now. But if he hadn’t made that careless slip of judgment back at Hogwarts, Hermione might not be presently in danger. His heart ached at the thought of her being hurt and even worse, dead, because of him. No!!! He could not lose her. She meant more to his life than he had ever imagined someone could. He had to think, had to find a way to get her out.

Several of the Death Eaters, who had caught them in the woods, were urging them toward the center of the clearing. When they finally reached it, the dark wizards returned to the perimeter, leaving the two of them alone in the midst of all those servants of Voldemort who were now watching them, talking amongst themselves and apparently waiting for something.

Hermione turned to Harry and drew him closer.

“Harry, I wanted you to know…” she stated with a sense of urgency, as though expecting an eminent disaster.

“It was you…I saw you in the Mirror of Erised,” she went on, her expression one of deep affection. “You were holding me, like you did by the river…I just wanted you to know.” She reached up and caressed his cheek, an intense longing in her eyes.

Harry stood still, taking in what she had said and everything that had happened between them over the past week. He then placed his arms around her and brought her face to his. He gave her a smile – he now understood. Looking at that beautiful face he loved so much, he wished the two of them were far away from here, away from this bloody war and all the chaos. Harry leaned in and kissed her strongly, tightening his embrace as though this would be the last time he ever did so. He felt her body give way under the intensity of the kiss and she tightened her grip on him, holding on as long as possible. He leaned back slightly, and simply placed his face next to hers, breathing heavily, taking that warmth in one more time.

No!!! This can’t be it. This can’t be the way it has to go. He never intended for this to happen and now the dread at what might befall them was bringing that deep pain back into his heart and mind.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the lovebirds,” a sly sounding voice cracked at them.

Harry and Hermione both looked at each other, still embracing, then turned their heads to look at who was addressing them. But Harry knew that voice even without looking and loathed it as much as the one from whom it came. They saw three of the Death Eaters approaching them. The one in the middle, who had spoken, now removed his mask and hood. His shiny, black hair falling down around that thin face with the hooked nose.

“So, finally figured it out, did you?” Snape said with a little snarl. “Took you long enough. I thought I would go positively mad watching you two make eyes at each other, all those classes.”

Harry’s blood pressure shot up and his face became fiery red. He let go of Hermione and turned to face Snape, who promptly drew out his wand.

“You’re going to pay for what you did, you coward!” Harry shot out sharply. “I swear it…”

Harry started to move toward Snape and punch his lights out, wand or not.

“Harry, no!” Hermione shouted at him, grabbing his coat sleeves and pulling him back. Harry resisted at first then finally gave in. He realized that despite his hatred for the man and what he did to Dumbledore, there was something more important to consider than simplistic revenge. Hermione needed him if she was to make it out of this alive.

Snape moved forward, his expression one of rage, placing the tip of his wand right between Harry’s glasses. Harry didn’t flinch, but stood defiantly, his own look one of intense anger.

“What’s the matter, Potter? Don’t have your wand? Don’t have that fool Dumbledore to save you this time?” the Death Eater chided. Harry started again at those words, but then restrained himself. Snape leaned in a little closer to Harry’s face, wand still pointed at him.

“If I wasn’t under strict orders I would squash you myself...right now.” Snape torted, his voice rising in disgust. He then drew back, stood up and withdrew his wand, placing it in his pocket.

“As it is, I am going to enjoy watching you finally die tonight, Potter. I have, after all, been waiting far too long for it,” Snape threw in, turning and walking away with the other Death Eaters.

Harry’s angry face turned to one of exhaustion. His head dropped and he closed his eyes, breathing heavily again. He had never felt so helpless before. What could he do? Hermione stepped up and placed her arm around him, giving him a worried look.

“Hermione…I am so sorry for all this,” Harry began to tell her, sounding almost defeated. “I never wanted to put you in danger. If I hadn’t been so stupid…”

“Harry, don’t,” Hermione responded. “Don’t let that bother you anymore. You need every bit of strength right now. And I need you with me, all of you. I told you last summer that I would stick with you no matter what and I don’t regret that even now. We’ll get through this together, somehow. We always have.”

Harry wished he could believe her, but everything seemed to just continue heading downhill, out of control, and beyond his ability to do anything about it. He really wanted Ron here with them, but he hoped that Ron had somehow found out about what had happened and was going for help. They needed every bit they could get right now.

Suddenly, they were startled to hear that popping sound again and swung around. They both felt a sense of hope for the first time at seeing Fred, George and Ginny disapparate behind them, the three holding their wands out and pointing them at any Death Eater that might try and make a move. The three of them then fanned out around Harry and Hermione in a gesture of protection.

“Are you two alright?” Fred asked them.

“We’re okay, for now,” Harry stated. “Fred, can you apparate with Hermione out of here?”

“Harry, no!” Hermione interrupted, perturbed at the suggestion she leave him, giving him an angry look. Harry frowned back at her, his eyes sinking.

“Nothin’ doing, I’m afraid, Harry,” Fred replied. “Can’t apparate in or out of the field, remember?”

“But how did you…” Harry asked with a questioning look.

“Had to sneak up behind those smelly gits,” George answered.

Both Harry and Hermione noticed that the Death Eaters around the clearing had not moved to disarm Fred, George or Ginny. None of them had even taken a step forward after the commotion. They simply stood watching the five of them, waiting. Harry figured that either something big was about to happen or Voldemort’s servants felt secure in their numbers.

“Do any of you have a plan to get us out of this mess?” Hermione now asked intently, almost blaming the twins for creating the mess to begin with.

“We’re working on it,” Fred told her. “But seeing as we’re quite outnumbered…” He never finished.

Harry suddenly cried out, falling to his knees, his face contorted in pain. The other four were astonished, looking down at him. Harry reached up and placed a hand on his forehead – his scar was burning badly. Hermione practically leapt down beside him, trying to find a way to help him get through it, but Harry was reeling from the intensity. He thought his head was going to split in two, but then the realization hit him – this could mean only one thing.

The five of them looked up at the crowd of Death Eaters gathered at the edge of the clearing near the woods in front of them. Suddenly a number of them began to step aside, leaving a large gap between them. Snape and the two wizards on either side of him, stood in place several yards from the gap, their backs to the five teenagers, and looking into the dark woods behind. Eternal moments passed and Harry, still a little dizzy from the pain in his head, saw the silhouettes of several figures appearing from out of the woods. Harry’s heart stopped. Proceeding them was the Dark Lord himself.

No sooner had Voldemort touched the edge of the clearing, than every Death Eater inside fell to one knee and bowed before him. Voldemort walked directly over to Snape and the two wizards who were also bowing. As soon as the evil wizard stopped, Snape stood up and they exchanged words, briefly. Harry saw Voldemort nod his head, and Snape quickly bowed his and motioned to the other two Death Eaters to follow him. They then took their place with the others at the perimeter, the gap once again closed.

The pain began to sear in his head again as Voldemort looked directly at Harry and began walking in his direction. The thin, inhuman looking wizard with the snake-slit nose and dark red eyes stopped, gazing over at the others and then looking back at Harry. Harry now felt a continuing, dull headache pulsing every so often. The tension was thick in the air and every soul inside the clearing waited breathlessly, wondering what would happen next.

“WELCOME TO OUR PARTY, HARRY!” Voldemort shouted, with a wicked smile. He lifted up his arms in a mock gesture of greeting.

There erupted a roar of laughter from the dark wizards surrounding them. To Harry this seemed eerily reminiscent of their previous encounter in the graveyard almost 3 years ago. But this one was ten times the scale.

“And once again, you are the guest of honor,” the Dark Lord continued, with twisted sarcasm. “In fact, I’m throwing this one for you Harry…it’s your farewell party. And believe me, this time you are going away for good.” He spoke that last phrase with solemn disdain.

Harry finally stood up, his mind trying to cope with the burning and trying to figure out what he could do. Hermione leaned close to him, grabbing his arm with both of her hands. He looked at her briefly, watching her roll her eyes and shaking her head at Voldemort’s inane party allusions.

“But before the festivities begin, I have a little parting gift for you,” Voldemort said with a smirk, then raised one hand and motioned to someone behind him without turning around.

The gap in the Death Eaters opened again and two more black robed figures walked forward from the woods. Harry screwed up his eyes to try and see what they were bringing in their arms, but he could only tell that it was heavy enough that it required both of them to carry it. As they grew closer, a shiver ran down Harry’s spine at the realization that it was a body. The two wizards then passed Voldemort and stopped several yards before Harry and Hermione and callously dropped the body on the ground, it’s limp form collapsing like a tailor’s dummy into the grass.

Harry felt Hermione’s grip on his arm tighten, almost excruciatingly. At the same time, a shock of terror ran through him. They both stood fixed in a state of disbelief at the sight before them.

“RON!!!” they shouted simultaneously, dropping to the ground next to his body as fast as humanly possible, Harry on one side and Hermione on the other. Another roar of laughter filled the night sky from the Death Eaters around them.

No! No! No! This can’t be happening now, Harry shouted to himself, looking at the still body of his best friend. His heart was beating rapidly again, trying to cope with the intense feeling of loss before him. Hermione was already in tears, gripping Ron’s arm and trembling.

“Ron…” she managed to utter in a broken voice.

Ron’s usually white skin seemed even paler and lifeless in the moonlight that continued to invade the clearing, but there were no apparent external wounds on his body. Harry’s head was still aching from the pain in his scar, but he barely noticed it. Things simply were getting even worse all the time. He desperately searched for some sign of life in his friend, checking his pulse or for some indication of breathing. Then suddenly he noticed it.

A wave of relief swept through him almost as a shock. He looked at Hermione, trying with his expression to communicate with her – Ron was still alive, but barely. She seemed to acknowledge him, her body beginning to relax a little. They did not want Voldemort to know, they could not afford to give him any more leverage than he already had. Harry was so glad that his friend was still alive, though for how much longer he could not tell.

“I must confess, Potter, that I was rather impressed with your friend Weasley’s determination,” Voldemort spoke. “He bested three of my Death Eaters with his bare hands before we took him down. Not bad for a stupid kid, though probably better with his hands than with a wand, I dare say.” Another cackle of laughter came from the crowd.

The two of them continued to look down at Ron’s unconscious body in the silent moments that followed. Then suddenly, Harry realized that something wasn’t right. He slowly turned to his right to look at Fred, George and Ginny, standing several yards away from them. The three of them had a blank look on their faces, just standing there, wands lowered and looking at Harry and Hermione. Hermione must have read his mind, for she too was staring at the trio.

“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU THREE?” she yelled at them, Harry also feeling a swell of anger rise up inside.

But that anger was quickly stifled. He now felt a sickening feeling in his stomach. The two of them watched in horror as Fred turned to look at George and Ginny, and they turned to look at Fred, huge smiles breaking across their faces which now let out torturous laughter as they turned and gazed down at the three friends on the ground. ‘Oh no,’ Harry thought. His eyes closed momentarily at the terrible realization that was now dawning on him. His mind raced back – back to what he had been feeling for the past day in the back of his brain but until now did not understand.

Their guest rooms at Hogwarts ransacked, by someone who knew the password. Ginny had been there. A couple of days before the theft, she had gotten the password from Ron to get something out of his backpack for him. No. He couldn’t believe it.

The attack on the school as a diversion to get to the three of them and the almost ‘miraculous’ appearance of Fred, George and Ginny to help them escape.

Ron and Harry’s amazement at Ginny’s excellent fighting ability with a wand. How could a sixth year have learned to duel like that, so fast?

And then there was Ginny’s behavior. Harry felt stupid now that he had not noticed something amiss at her warming up to him so quickly again after her cold manner before.

The portkey, taking them who knows how many miles from Hogwarts and nowhere near the Burrow. The three had never intended taking them to the Burrow.

Harry’s heart continued to sink at the memories which were caving in any hope he had of getting through tonight.

He remembered Fred and George’s words:

“…we’re not too far now…”

“…we’ve still got some surprises left…”

“…get some rest, Harry, you’ll need it…”

Ron had apparently noticed something was wrong, but didn’t know what it was. He, like Harry and Hermione, had simply accepted what they saw at face value. And the emotional roller coaster that Hermione and himself had been on all night had blinded their usual acuteness in similar situations.

It had been a trap. They had been set up for this from the moment they had fled Hogwarts. As much as Harry hated Voldemort, he couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed by the Dark Lord’s cunning this time.

They were in the middle of nowhere. No one knew where they were. They had no wands and Ron was down. They were surrounded by Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, inside of the Invitalis Field. No one could apparate in or out. Anyone looking at it directly would not see them, they would only see an empty and peaceful, moonlit glen. Unless, of course, they happened to notice the sparkling effect. But even if they did, upon entering it, they would be overwhelmed by numerous highly trained dark wizards in a matter of seconds.

The trap had been shut and they were totally alone inside of it. No one was coming to their rescue…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART TEN

How could they do this? How could they betray us like this? No. It can’t be true. They couldn’t have…

Harry felt terribly let down at the sight of the three redheads standing there, expressionless and looking at the couple huddled over Ron. Hermione had obviously figured things out too, for she had the same look of disgust at those whom they had entrusted with their lives.

Voldemort let out a harsh laugh and shook his head.

“Ah, Harry. By the look on you and your mudblood girlfriend’s face, I see you’ve figured out our little scheme,” the Dark Lord started. “It was so easy, actually. I merely had to use the source of your greatest weakness – your absolute trust in those you love. A flaw which I learned to dispense with long ago. And so, here you are, helpless in my hands. But because you have been such willing prey this night and because it will be your last one on earth, allow me to put your mind at ease a little. Not all is as bad as are you are presently thinking, Harry…”

The almost reptilian looking wizard paused for a moment in a fixed gaze at both of them.

“How do you like my Invitalis Field?” Voldemort asked, now raising his hands and looking up into the sparkling effect overhead. “You know that I have in years past roamed the world, searching for every bit of dark magic I could find that might help me in my continuing quest for greatness. And I happened to find this little spell in the hands of some monks in a very dark corner of the globe, many years before you were even born. They were using it to hide their monastery from their enemies, whom I happened upon quite accidentally in a fierce battle with the old men.”

“When I came to their aid and used my considerable magical talents to destroy their foes, the monks gratefully gave me the formula for creating this extremely useful, yet rarely known piece of magic. Of course, afterwards I killed all the monks and burned their monastery to the ground. After all, I couldn’t have every other dark wizard or Auror gaining knowledge of all my secrets, now could I?”

“One of the fascinating side effects of the Field, Harry, that I discovered later, is that ghosts can’t materialize inside of it. So as you have probably guessed by now, considering what happened last time, during our little encounter in the graveyard and the fact that no one knows your present whereabouts…” Voldemort now leveled his gaze at both of them and his expression became one of darkest evil. “…no one will be coming to save you this time. Not even dear old Mum and Dad.”

Voldemort now turned his gaze over to the three Weasleys standing together in silence, looking pensively at the Dark Lord.

“As for your three ‘friends’…well, they have served me well this night, especially one of them who needed to do his penance for failing me so miserably last year. But now that you are here, Harry…enough of this ruse!”

Voldemort pulled out his wand and pointed it at the three figures.

“Revelatum!” he spoke sharply. Suddenly the three of them fell over, grasping their stomachs and convulsing as through they were vomiting. They were all on their knees, their faces toward the ground, heaving in pain.

Harry couldn’t make out any kind of color, as everything was washed out by the pre-dawn moon still clinging to its place in the heavens. But he and Hermione now watched as the hair on Fred, George and Ginny began to alter, their bodies changing slightly too. When they finally recovered from the charm, the three of them stood up again, this time looking nothing like their previous appearance. Harry and Hermione both were stunned.

The imposter who had been Ginny, was not recognizable to either of them. She had long, black flowing hair and a very beautiful but sinister looking face. The young man who was George was also unknown to them, but the imposter posing as Fred was a face they knew and hated all too well. His almost whitish blond hair and tell tale smirk, made Draco Malfoy easy to spot a mile away. However, Harry noticed that one side of Malfoy’s face was horribly scarred now. That must account for the hesitance and look of fear he had on his face while gazing at the two of them, Harry thought. Service to absolute evil has its rewards and apparently Voldemort rewarded Malfoy well, after his failure to kill Dumbledore.

Harry now felt a mixture of relief and worry at the same time. He was glad that it was no longer the Weasleys that were standing nearby, but he couldn’t help but feel afraid over what might have happened to the real Fred, George and Ginny. Unfortunately, now was not the time to speculate on something he could do nothing about.

“As you can see, Harry, while you three have been gallivanting all over the place, hunting down my horcruxes, which, consequently, I no longer need anyway, we, unlike you, have been doing our homework. And as you and your mudblood friend can attest to, polyjuice has its uses, although I had to make a few modifications to the formula, otherwise my servants would have altered too soon and you would have received a premature shock at your mophead friend’s new looks.”

A round of laughter again went up from the Death Eaters in the clearing, but suddenly went silent as Hermione jumped up from her place by Ron, ignoring Voldemort, and storming towards Malfoy with a fury. Harry jumped up and tried to catch her, but it was too late. When she stood practically in his face, Malfoy tried hard not to look fearful and uncertain with all the Dark Lord’s servants watching, but he failed pretty miserably. Hermione glared into his newly deformed face, and then surprised everyone. Instead of hitting Draco, she turned and threw a terrific punch at the ‘Ginny’ imposter, hitting her squarely in the jaw and knocking her flat on her back.

An even louder explosion of laughter wafted into the cool night air at the spectacle now unfolding. Hermione, in her effort to strike the imposter, had fallen over on the ground too. She started to get back up, cradling her punching hand in the other and holding her arm stiffly, wincing at the pain. She slowly began to back away. The girl on the ground sat up, glared unflinchingly at Hermione and then rose up herself. She started to move forward, ready to take Hermione’s head off.

“STOP! These two are mine and only mine,” the order went out from Voldemort very threateningly.

The dark haired girl obeyed, glancing briefly at Voldemort then back to Hermione, a mocking smile now appearing on her face. Another laugh went up, then Draco and the other two walked over to stand next to Snape and the rest of the Death Eaters. Hermione moved back to stand next to Harry, still holding her fist.

Harry was tired of this. He needed to do something before the situation became even graver. He started to walk away from Hermione and Ron, who had been laying at their feet. As he moved left to the side of them, he watched every Death Eater he could, hoping that one of them might not be holding their wand too tightly, preparing to do the summoning spell if he caught one off guard. Voldemort simply watched Harry as though he were a harmless bird in a cage that could be quashed anytime he wished.

“How do you want to do this Voldemort? Another duel?” Harry rang out with seriousness and confidence, though feeling little of it himself. He hoped that perhaps the evil wizard might give him a wand like last time, then he could finally make a move.

“A duel? Oh no, Harry, not this time,” Voldemort replied, “You tucked tail and ran out on me last time, remember? And quite ungentlemanly, I might add. No, Harry, I’m in no mood for games with a half-rate wizard bearing a ‘messiah’ complex tonight. You’ve been a real thorn in my side and I’m going to finally pluck you out. I have more important things to do, after all. A war to prosecute, worlds to conquer. And perhaps those who seem bent on fighting me might feel more inclined to see things my way, once their ‘hero’ is gone.”

“No, Harry Potter, first I’m going to visit on you all the pain I have had to endure for seventeen long years and then I am simply going to kill you. Then who knows? Maybe I’ll let my Death Eaters have a little fun with your girlfriend, afterwards. They did dress for the occasion and I’m sure are quite eager for some action…”

Harry’s fury had reached the breaking point and he snapped, losing any concern for his own safety at the moment. The only thing he wanted to do was cram his fist or his foot into Voldemort’s mouth just to stop that incessant ranting, especially at the suggestion of what he would do with Hermione.

Harry started to charge forward but a loud CRACK issued from the tip of Voldemort’s wand and Harry found himself flying backwards and hitting the ground hard. He winced at the pain in his chest and backside, trying to get up on his feet again.

“Harry!” Hermione shouted in fear, seeing him fall back and then moving in his direction. But she immediately stopped and turned to look at Voldemort.

“Oh very well, Potter, if you insist…let’s begin,” Voldemort snarled at him.

Harry had managed to get to his knees when the CRACK sounded and a blue light arced from Voldemort’s wand, hitting Harry in the shoulder. Harry began doubling over in pain. He could feel the burning start from his shoulder and move down through his entire nervous system to his fingertips and toes. It was similar to someone smashing his cold fingers with a hammer, but it was happening over his whole body. He cried out involuntarily, though trying desperately to maintain a strong composure, not wanting Voldemort to have the satisfaction of seeing him suffer.

After the pain had subsided a little, Harry looked up with a determination in his eyes, his teeth gritted in an all out attempt to stand up and fight his enemy’s onslaught. His body, however, was screaming at him to just lay down. Suddenly, another CRACK came from the wand tip and the bluish arc hit his chest, sending him reeling over on his side, the fresh wave of pain racing through his system like electricity.

Harry could barely make out the roar of laughter and noise coming from the Death Eaters around the clearing. His hands were trembling and he felt terribly nauseated at the excruciating pain that continued to pulse in his veins. He was struggling now to just maintain consciousness and he saw that the Dark Lord knew this. Voldemort was simply watching Harry writhe on the ground, biding his time until Harry could recover enough strength to be hit with the curse again.

A deep cry of emotion seemed to wail inside of him at his helplessness in the disintegrating situation around him. He briefly glanced at Hermione, seeing her standing there, watching him, desperately wanting to do something, the tears streaming down her face. And for some strange reason she was still holding her closed fist tightly in her other hand.

“How about another one, Harry…yes?” the Dark Lord called out to the cheers coming from the dark wizards watching.

Voldemort raised his wand once more and pointed it at Harry, who was now turned on his stomach, trying to get his hands to push the rest of his body off the ground.

“NOOOO!!!”

Every laugh, cheer or other noise immediately died at the sound of the female voice and a loud CRACK echoing off the inside of the Invitalis Field. But this time the noise had not come from Voldemort’s wand. Harry watched in astonishment as the Dark Lord lurched off of the ground, floating up several feet in the air, his face full of surprise. The Death Eaters viewing this strange sight then gasped to see their master begin to spin in place, sideways, head over feet, faster and faster. Harry quickly turned to look over at Hermione who was no longer holding her fist.

She was standing firmly, a look of intense rage on her face, her arm outstretched and pointing a wand at Voldemort and twirling it in circles, rapidly. Harry now understood what she had done. When she had decked Ginny’s imposter, the imposter had dropped her wand. Hermione seeing this, fell down, feinting clumsiness. She had been holding the wand behind her stiff arm the whole time, unbeknownst to Voldemort, the imposter, or any of the others. Her cleverness never ceased to amaze him.

Harry watched again as Hermione raised the wand slightly and then jerked it down strongly as though she were hitting something with it in anger. Voldemort’s body slammed into the ground, head first, and the wizard lay still in the grass. Pandemonium broke out all over the crowd around them. Voldemort had apparently instructed them not to interfere or face a stiff penalty, but it appeared that their master had been knocked unconscious. Harry even saw Snape hesitantly whip out his wand, a look of uncertainty in his cold face.

There came a commotion from behind and Harry turned to look at it, while starting to get on his knees again, the pain gradually dissipating.

“HERMIONE!” he yelled out, alerting her to the danger coming from behind.

She spun around, pointing the wand in the direction she now faced. Several Death Eaters had apparently been convinced their master was defeated and had begun to storm towards Hermione, drawing their wands as they moved.

“IMPEDIMENTA!” she yelled out and a shockwave coursed from out of the end of her wand.

It hit the group of Death Eaters and sent them flying through the air, crashing into the other wizards from whence they came. Hermione then turned to her left, the sight of movement catching her eye. Another group had moved forward and raised their wands, hoping to catch her off guard but she was too fast for their indecisiveness.

“PLAGIARUM VENTUS!” she shot out.

Harry saw what looked like a swarm of insects erupt from the tip of the wand and spew into the crowd of Death Eaters standing to their side. He had read of this spell in a book once, and remembered that the particular version Hermione was now using called for Firewasps, whose stings were said to be ten times worse than normal hornets.

The black hats went crazy, trying to swat or wave off the wasps swarming around them, some rolling on the ground and others fleeing through the woods entirely. Still others, who were obviously in terrible pain at all the stings, were attempting to move away from Hermione as fast as possible. She continued to stand there, wand pointed at them. CRACK!

Another audible explosion reverberated off of the sparkling field around them. But now Harry watched in horror as the wand dropped from Hermione’s hand and her arm went limp. She cried out in pain and collapsed on her knees. He turned his head to see Voldemort sitting on the ground, his wand pointed towards her and slowly getting up. The look on his face told Harry one thing and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what Voldemort was going to do next. Shock began to fill Harry’s mind at the terrible thought of watching Hermione being killed by the same curse his mother had been struck with. He had to do something quickly.

“ACCIO!” Harry yelled out, his arm reaching in the direction of Hermione as he began to stand up on his shaky legs. The wand flew from its resting spot in the grass and into his hand, and he immediately turned it on the Dark Lord.

“EXPELLIARMUS!” he shouted and the red light arced out of Harry’s wand and sailed towards the Dark Lord.

Voldemort had been diverted from Hermione by the flying wand and now turned his own wand at Harry again. The blue light flew out and the two streams met in midair, creating a thunderous noise that deafened everyone inside the clearing. Harry slowly stood up, gaining his balance, and steadily walked in the direction of Voldemort, the red and blue beams sparking and creating small explosions of light at their point of contact. The scene looked eerily reminscent of their duel in the graveyard as the two tried to break each other’s will.

Harry felt all of the hatred he held for the dark wizard begin to focus to a point in his mind that brought every memory back of the horrors he had witnessed in his life because of the evil that now stood before him. His mother and father, Dumbledore, Sirius and countless witches or wizards who had died to rid the world of this menace. The thoughts and memories brought forth a determination and anger like never before in Harry. He gained new confidence and began walking even more steadly towards the Dark Lord, trying to break Voldemort’s spell and finally end this tragedy. His thoughts turned to Hermione and the love he felt so strongly for her. The desire to see her happy, to hold her again in his arms, to finally be free to do so without this threat hanging over both their lives. Maybe now it could be over and they could all be free.

Harry watched as the reddish arc from his wand began to overpower the blue light coming from Voldemort’s. Sparks were showering everywhere as the evil wizard began to back up, his arm trembling from the powerful exchange erupting before them both. It seemed that Harry was winning. Perhaps the prophecy was true after all, perhaps this was the purpose for his life, perhaps all the hopes that so many had placed on him weren’t unfounded after all. Harry began to feel a sense of relief – he was finally doing it! He never really understood Dumbledore’s words about how love was the only force that could defeat the Dark Lord. He didn’t know how his mother’s love had saved him before, but it didn’t matter now, Harry Potter was finally doing it! He had become the man his parents had died to save, he had become the wizard that he never knew was in him until that fateful night six years ago. This was the destiny he had been preparing for ever since. But just as those thoughts were crossing his dizzied mind, Voldemort did something Harry wasn’t expecting.

The nemesis he had loathed for so long now raised his other arm, extending it towards Harry. A shockwave erupted from Voldemort’s fingertips, crashing into Harry’s legs, causing him to collapse. At the same time the dark wizard leaned forward, intensifying the pressure he had brought to bear on the spell coming out of his wand. The bluish light quickly overtook Harry’s expelliarmus beam and flew into the wand in Harry’s hand. The wand exploded in a shower of sparks, splinters of wood flying everywhere. The hand he was holding it in was burning in pain as though he had been holding a lit firecracker.

Down on his knees, Harry glanced back at Voldemort, only to see another bluish arc racing toward him and hitting him hard in the chest. The pain began to sear his body all over again and Harry felt himself crumbling beneath the weight of the pain and the aching despair cascading through his once hopeful mind. He had been so wrong. He was foolish enough, in that brief feeling of overcoming the Dark Lord, to believe all that nonsense about his destiny and now it was going to cost him his life and perhaps Hermione’s too.

Harry Potter was beaten and he knew it. Voldemort was simply too powerful and cunning for a skinny seventeen year old kid who knew so little compared to the shadow that now hovered over him in victory.

“Is this all you’ve got, Potter? Is this the champion the world has been waiting for all these years?” Voldemort scowled, shaking his head and looking very incredulous at the sight of Harry reeling from pain in the grass. The Death Eaters around them were silent, simply waiting for the final blow.

“Disappointing. Pitiful. I really will have to level that worthless school of yours after I win this war, if this is the kind of wizards it’s been turning out. Oh well. I’m tired of this episode of ours, Harry. Farewell…”

Harry knew what was coming next and though not surprised, some part of him couldn’t believe that it was going to end like this. But he lifted his head up and set his eyes on his enemy, determined to face his fate as a man. The one thought that now crossed his mind, brought more pain to his heart than any of Voldemort’s spells could. Hermione. I’m so sorry Hermione. I’m so sorry that I failed you all. I love you more than anything that this life could have given me. I hope you can forgive me.

Harry couldn’t stand to even look at her at this moment, words again failing him.

The Dark Lord slowly raised his wand, his expression one of strange solemnity, as though it were a ritual and something he was going to savor. Then his words erupted into the night air.

“AVADA KEDAVRA!”

Suddenly there was a blur of movement, but Harry couldn’t tell what it was. He fell back slightly on the ground and noticed that his view of Voldemort had been blocked by something. As he scrambled to try and process the image in his mind, he saw it was a silhouette standing before him, darkened even more by the green light that seemed to fill the air around it. The green light now dissipated and the silhouette began moving backwards towards him but slightly off to his right. As he watched it come closer, he noticed that it had begun to fall to the ground next to him. The next moment was the most terrifying of his life.

It was as though someone had reached into his heart and tore half of it out, leaving the other half to bleed and burn with pain, and now functioning only half as well as before and not enough to keep him alive. He could not fathom the startling image he now witnessed, watching Hermione’s body collapse beside him, still and lifeless. It was as though time had suddenly stopped for Harry and though he knew he was screaming at the top of his lungs at what had just transpired, he couldn’t hear himself at all.

He mustered every bit of strength he had left and began moving closer to the girl he loved, trying to put all the pain he was under in the back of his mind. The tears had already begun to fall and the shock was overtaking his mind. No. She can’t be dead, she can’t be. NO!!! He finally reached her side and with aching limbs began to lift her up and draw her body closer to him. Her limp arms drooped down by her side and her head fell back as he brought her up to his body. Harry began sobbing uncontrollably. He reached up with one trembling hand and cradled her head, bringing it up even with her body again. He gazed at that beautiful face, seemingly vacant and silent.

A cry came out of Harry’s mouth now that sent a chill down the spine of every Death Eater in the clearing. His heart was breaking into fragments. That pain he had felt only hours before, before the two of them had shared their love for each other, that same pain that he had carried with him ever since Hermione’s ‘change’, it came back in waves over his mind and soul. It was a deathly emptiness and loss that he could not comprehend. He felt for a moment what life would be like without her – a raw, empty existence that would never be the same, a soul having lost it’s true companion, wandering like a restless ghost until it’s final end.

Harry leaned in and pressed her body against his. He was weeping loudly, but didn’t care. The one person who had shown him an unconditional love, who had meant so much to him, whose life was intertwined and enwrapped with his own, was now gone. She had done it. She did what only one other person in his life had done. She proved in this last act the kind of love that is so rare and precious that the thought of her now brought so much more admiration and also amazement at that love’s strangely beautiful essence. He was not sure what this now meant. The sacrifice of his mother, was supposedly voided by Voldemort’s resurrection, but a new sacrifice for Harry had been made. However, unlike the incident during his infancy, he was conscious of this and knew Hermione more than he had known anyone else in his life. The pain that this act had brought with it was more than any he had for his parent’s before – this was different.

Instinct would have normally told him to get up and face his enemy now in light of what just happened. Perhaps Hermione's sacrifice was enough to protect him again and allow him to finish the Dark Lord off once and for all. If anything, it would honor what she had done so selflessly. But Harry couldn’t. Something had broken in him now that was beyond repair and he simply no longer cared. A fact that he knew without any doubt crossed into his brain and remained fixed, it seemed, over the both of them. There was no Harry Potter without Hermione Granger. He simply did not want to face a world without her. He never in his life believed he would find such a surprising and immensely strong love like this again, and he only wanted to be with her. Wherever she was – that was his home.

Then just as suddenly, Harry felt something else began to ebb in him. That same peace that had taken him over at the river, just before he had taken her into his arms. That same peace now flooded into him, causing all the pain and trouble he felt to rush away. The tears stopped and Harry reached up with his other hand, gently caressing her cheek and brushing her bushy brown hair aside. He smiled at her and then leaned in kissing her gently on the forehead, just as she had done for him only two hours ago. He didn’t care about Voldemort, the Death Eaters or anything else. He could only think about her and wanted so desperately to see her smile again, wherever that might be.

“Wait for me, Hermione. I’m coming…it won’t be too long. I’m coming for you…” the words trailed off brokenly as he continued to gaze at her face, still slightly glowing in the morning light of the moon.

He had been oblivious to the world for several moments, but now noticed movement again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the Dark Lord had raised his wand once more. Sacrifice or not, he was determined to kill Harry Potter, but Harry didn’t care anymore. He drew Hermione a little closer to him, slightly turning his back to Voldemort in a final gesture of protection over the beautifully smart and clever girl he was so glad to have met on that train all those years ago. He wanted the last thing he saw to be that pretty face, the last thing he felt to be her body next to his, to feel that warmth one more time, before it was gone forever.

He saw out of the corner of his eye the green flash of light, the arc racing toward his head.

And then everything went blank…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART ELEVEN

Instead of blackness, there was nothing but white. A bright, solid white light that seemed to fill and penetrate everything.

Harry could not see the glasses on his face anymore. He couldn’t feel pain either. In fact he could not feel his body at all. But he was conscious, whatever that might mean now. Everything was simply white.

There was neither cold nor heat, but there was the sensation, or rather, impression of a cool clarity in his thoughts. He tried to look around, if looking around was possible, for he could not feel his head to turn it, and no matter which direction he thought he was looking in, it was all the same. He could not tell what was up, down, left or right. This strange place both frightened him and at the same time drew his curiosity out tremendously.

Is this what it is like? Is this what happens when you die? Whatever may have happened, he certainly didn’t expect this. Eternal moments passed as he continued to gaze into the bright whiteness that surrounded him, wondering where he was, what he was. He then wondered if he was supposed to do something or just wait. Perhaps someone was coming for him, to lead him to the place where the spirits gather, where he might see…his parents! He felt a pang of longing come over him, he had almost forgotten what it was like to want to see his father and mother again, to talk with them if he could – to just be united with them once more and forever. Or perhaps, he might see Dumbledore. He had so many questions to ask him, so much he wanted to know.

He wanted to know why things had turned out the way they had. Why he failed in his stand against Voldemort. Why Hermione’s love had not… He suddenly felt panic. The white nothingness that seemed to pierce his very being, quickly became claustrophobic, stifling and he wanted out, now! He couldn’t feel his body, but he struggled with the fear that he was trapped in some strange hell that he could not understand or release himself from.

Hermione! Where are you? The flood of longing overwhelmed him again in his panic. He wanted to know where she had gone. He wanted to see her again. He wanted her to come to him and take him to a place where they could be together again, it didn’t matter where. Hermione… His heart was breaking again and he felt the terror of her loss once more, the panic increasing at the all encompassing white that now seemed to strangle his spirit as though he would cease to exist completely if he stayed here too much longer. Then suddenly, it appeared.

Harry noticed a slight discoloration in the whiteness directly in front of him. At first, it was nothing more than a tiny, grayish blur that seemed to have emerged and remained fixed in place. He wasn’t sure if his mind was playing tricks on him or not. Then the spot began to slowly elongate vertically, it’s center growing slightly darker and it’s edges remaining blurry. It grew bigger and bigger, the form of something coming through the blurriness. It seemed familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. If he still had eyes he would be straining them hard to try and grasp the impressions of what he saw in his mind.

Now the form began to spread out horizontally too and he noticed varying shades of white, gray and black begin to fill voids and spaces in a symmetrical pattern on either side of the original form, but remaining slightly out of focus and out of the reach of Harry’s comprehension. Then suddenly, as if a light had switched on in his mind, Harry recognized the form. It was a face! Someone was coming for him at last! He watched eagerly to see who it was, hoping against hope that it was the girl he loved so desperately. As the form continued to take shape in front of him, it suddenly came into focus and Harry’s heart leapt at what he saw.

Hermione! It was her! She had come! He looked into that beautiful face again, the familiar curves, her nose, those soft cheeks, her brown, fluffy hair on either side, her eyes…

Wait a minute. Something was wrong. Her eyes were closed. He wanted to look into those deep brown eyes again, but they were closed and still. Then Harry noticed her face was also not moving, seemingly empty and vacant.

HERMIONE! He tried to yell out at her, but had no voice or at least he heard none. His mind was confused, she looked like she was still… But Harry’s panic began to slowly subside as the realization of what was happening took over his thoughts. He watched her form slowly begin to come more into view. Her body, her clothes were still like they were when he had been holding her just before Voldemort’s curse hit him. Or did it? Harry now was amazed to see…his own arms again, still holding her just as before. The brightness was continuing to subside further away and out from his body which he had begun to sense and feel again.

He was not dead! He knew now that he had not gone anywhere. The whiteness continued to spread further away from them, revealing the grass in the clearing on which Harry had been sitting, holding Hermione’s body in his arms. It looked like a circle moving outward from the two of them steadily progressing in size and revealing more and more of the surrounding clearing around them. He looked up to see the white light seem to form a sphere, of some sort, around them, then it began to change. It looked less solid and more translucent as he gazed at it in astonishment. The translucency then started to give way to darker patches and slits, in the white sphere, that were now revealing the environment on the outside.

The sphere finally stopped growing and remained fixed in place around both of them on the ground, its lower part seeming to cut into the earth beneath them. The whiteness around them was now fluxing like whitewater in slow motion. Harry turned his head to gaze through the sphere into the clearing, seeing the light reflecting off of many bodies standing around them. He recognized the familiar robes and hoods of the Death Eaters, some were standing in shock, others were backing away in fear from what was forming around the couple on the ground. Then Harry saw him.

Voldemort was standing only a few yards away from the sphere, a look of total disbelief and shock on his evil face. He seemed almost hypnotized by the sphere of light, looking over its shape and size, trying to understand what exactly was happening. Then Harry saw the Dark Lord stop and turn to look directly at him through the light that was flowing spherically around Hermione and himself. Their eyes locked on each other for a seeming eternity. But Harry no longer felt the burning in his scar nor did he feel anger, hatred or anything at all, looking into those dark red eyes. Voldemort, however, still seemed capable of the hatred and viciousness that defined his very essence, even in the face of this mysterious light,.

A sharp look of fury began to form on that pale face, turning into something so intensely fierce that Harry thought the wizard’s head might explode. Voldemort hunched down slightly, raising his wand again, his eyes squinting from the brightness of the sphere. Harry couldn’t hear anything at all, but saw Voldemort’s mouth move and then watched as the green light flashed out of the tip of his wand, arcing towards him again.

A huge, concussive BOOM exploded from the point where the green arc had touched the white sphere. It was so loud that it shook the ground all around the clearing. Everyone standing outside of the sphere staggered backwards, including Voldemort himself. But the sphere remained fixed solidly in place, it’s brilliant light throwing off water-like reflections on the trees around the edge of the clearing. Death Eaters started fleeing in abject terror at the unknown power that seemed to come to rest in the middle of their ‘party’. Harry saw practically every last body abandon their master to save their own lives, crashing through the woods to get away as fast as possible. But that paled in comparison with what Harry watched next.

No sooner had the beam of the killing curse hit the sphere and exploded, than a white beam, as thick as a tree trunk, blasted out from the sphere and hit the Dark Lord in the chest, also causing his wand to explode in a shower of sparks. Harry watched in amazement as Voldemort began to shake uncontrollably as though he had set foot on a powerful electrical current. His arms were extended outward and a look of fear was etched on his face, his mouth open, apparently screaming out in terrific pain. Then the wizard crashed to his knees, the beam of light still penetrating his body and causing him to writhe in agony.

Harry saw Voldemort slowly look up to gaze at him through the sphere again, a simple expression on his face that spoke only one word to Harry’s mind – How? Suddenly the Dark Lord crumpled over slightly. Light from the beam still piercing his body, began to pour out through his nose, ears and even those red eyes of his. Then something strange occurred. Harry watched that horrific face begin to change. The nose elongated outward, the ears rounding off and…hair beginning to emerge from the wizard’s bald head. His clothes began to change too, the robes became different somehow. Voldemort, apparently aware of this, brought his arms in, looking astonishingly at his hands transform into…normal, younger hands again. When Voldemort finally looked up, Harry was taken back at the sight. It was Tom Riddle – he looked just like Harry remembered him in his ‘memory form’ down in the Chamber of Secrets so long ago. His eyes were no longer the deep red of the Dark Lord’s newer body, but the normal eyes of the handsome, young man of the House of Slytherin.

Tom gave Harry one last look of dread and then let out a yell of pain and terror that Harry would never forget for the rest of his life. Then suddenly there was a terrific flash of bright light and everything went black.

Harry slowly opened his eyes. The silence of the dark, early morning hours seemed deafening to him after all the commotion he had just witnessed. The white sphere was gone and the cool morning air seemed to creep in on him again. He looked up to see the beautiful stars, still sitting peacefully in the sky, staring down at him from the black of space overhead. Harry noticed that the sparkling effect was no longer there either. The Invitalis Field had apparently disappeared. The moon was large once more, as it had been, at the beginning of this whole ordeal. It was closer to the earth and shining through the tops of the trees around the clearing. Its duty done, it seemed to be moving along, bidding farewell to Harry who had just been through the longest night of his life.

It was if nothing had happened in the moonlit clearing at all. Not a single person stood around the edges or in the woods surrounding it. All was peaceful and quiet. But something caught his eye. Over in the woods, not far from the edge of the tree line, he thought he saw…faces. He blinked a few times, thinking maybe his eyes were again playing tricks on him, but still the faces seemed to linger…smiling at him. His heart raced a little faster as it looked like… Harry blinked once more, but now the faces were gone, a breeze had blown through the woods, altering the moon’s light on the swaying branches and leaves of the undergrowth.

Harry then turned to look at where he last saw Voldemort/Riddle kneeling, while being struck with the white light. There, on the ground, was a small mound of ash, smoke rising from its grayish substance. The seventh and last horcrux, the one inside of Voldemort’s body, the essence of his former self, Tom Riddle, was now gone – forever. Harry sighed and began to feel a peace and joy that had been absent from his burdened mind for all the years of his long life. It was finally over. But suddenly, he snapped out of the tranquil thoughts that had given him a glimpse of bright hope at the future before him. A painful thought shot right through him, crashing into his heart, and he remembered what had happened.

He slowly turned to look down at the body cradled in his arms. That sense of loss started to well up inside again, just looking at her lifeless form in front of him. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be with her. He thought he had for a brief moment in the white light. He wished now that Voldemort’s curse had killed him, so he could just see her smile once more. The tears once again had begun falling as the terrible pain from the awareness of it all came into full power over his heart. A wonderful victory, however strange it had been, over the enemy of his parents, his friends and all those whom he had loved over the years, seemed so useless and trivial now, in comparison with the loss that engulfed his soul. He drew her close against his body once more, weeping, the words involuntarily leaving his lips.

“Hermione…Hermione…”

They came out broken and wrapped with a sense of loneliness that he had not known since before his first year at Hogwarts. Harry closed his eyes, trying to disappear somehow, to remove himself from the awfulness of a future he did not want to face anymore without her. Her coldness made his own body ache and tremble and Harry felt that something in his spirit was about to give up. Then, suddenly, he became aware of something that completely stilled the tears and the trembling. He remained pensive and motionless for several moments trying to understand what he was now feeling.

There it was. That warmth. He could feel her warmth again! But how? She was gone. He thought he must really be out of it, that strange light must have wreaked havoc on his mind somehow. But the warmth did not depart, no matter how hard he tried to imagine it away. He then felt something on his neck that several hours ago had also been there in those dark woods in the middle of nowhere. It was warm and wet, falling down into his shirt again.

Astonished, Harry opened his eyes and noticed that Hermione’s arms were no longer drooping limply by her side, but were wrapped around his neck tightly. He slowly pulled back away from her to suddenly find those brown eyes staring back into his, so alive, so beautiful. He involuntarily let out a sharp cry of emotion, half-laughing at what had seemed so impossible only moments ago.

Hermione’s tear filled eyes looked deeply into him, her face slightly red but alive and beautiful once more.

“Harry…” she spoke brokenly, almost in a daze.

Harry thought he was going to collapse at the sound of that voice. She was alive! He didn’t know how, but he didn’t care either. He would take this under any circumstance, no matter how bizarre it might seem. He leaned in to place his forehead against hers like before, wanting to make sure he wasn’t imagining it and she smiled back at him. He simply could not express in words how much this meant to him now. She moved slightly, turning her gaze straight at him again, looking at him with that deep longing.

“Harry…you did it…you came for me…I saw you…come for me…” she spoke, her eyes darting back and forth excitedly, with a sense of urgency.

Hermione’s words had dissolved into a garbled mess of tears and overwrought emotion that Harry tried his hardest to still. He simply placed his fingers over her lips, trying to calm her and then started wiping the tears from her eyes. He didn’t understand what she was talking about at all, he was just glad to have her back. He leaned in and kissed her strongly, restoring that connection and hope that he thought he might never know again. She tightened her grip on him, kissing him softly, their tears intermingling in the moment that seemed so unreal in their minds. Something seemed to shine on them both now.

They stopped, and turning their heads, saw a pale orange light begin to creep upwards into the purplish sky of the new dawn. Then the fiery red light of the sun, rising slightly beyond the hills around them, began to pierce through those dark woods that had surrounded the clearing. It was like they had finally awoken from a nightmare – the daylight had come. Hermione glanced down at the still smoldering pile of ash that lay just a few yards from them. She turned to look at Harry quickly with an expression of puzzlement. He smiled back at her, nodding his head in answer to the question he knew was crossing her thoughts.

Everything was different now and they were free, free to explore this new future together. Then, suddenly, a sound that they had become accustomed to hearing during the night, and one that had brought such trauma to them time and time again, broke the quiet of the early morning. That distinct popping noise, not once, not even three times - many times, all around the clearing. Harry’s heart sunk, looking at Hermione whose face had also filled with disbelief. He exhaled slowly, and they turned their heads once more, expecting yet another gang of Death Eaters, waiting to take their revenge.

Instead, they were tremendously relieved to see the Headmistress of Hogwarts, looking very regal in her emerald green robes, clasping a wand in one hand and a something wrapped in cloth in the other. Her face carried with it the saddest look of worry that either of them had ever seen in her before. But upon seeing the two of them embracing in the center of the field, she let out a long sigh of relief, a smile breaking over that kind, motherly face, and shaking her head. Next to her stood someone they were never more glad to see than now – Hagrid, holding his pink umbrella and looking at both of them with such intense concern, that his eyes had started to tear up. McGonagall looked at him with a curious expression and Hagrid seeing this out of the corner of his eye, straightened himself up, cleared his throat and started acting like he hadn’t been crying at all. A huge smile also came over him at the sight of his friends alive and well.

All around them the popping sound continued to fill the air as the black clad warlocks from the school began disapparating into the clearing, automatically forming a perimeter around them, their eyes watchful for any threats. Several more pops sounded and Harry and Hermione both were so happy at seeing Neville, Luna and several of their fellow seventh years start disapparating along with what appeared to be a group of healers. Suddenly, the happy occasion became dour in Harry’s mind as he realized that he had been so caught up with Voldemort and Hermione that they had forgotten about someone else. A sense of fear took him over as he glanced back at Ron laying in the grass. He immediately turned to look at Hagrid.

“HAGRID! RON NEEDS HELP, NOW!” he yelled out desperately, not wanting to leave Hermione yet, uncertain of her condition.

Hagrid suddenly started as though he had been jarred out of a trance. He motioned to several of the warlocks in Ron’s direction and carried his huge body forward as fast as possible to the redhead lying unconscious in the grass. A few of the healers followed him, rushing to Ron’s side, trying to determine his condition. Thankfully, they both heard groans coming from their friend. At least he was still with them.

The Professor and students, who had apparated into the clearing with her, began moving swiftly towards Harry and Hermione. Harry started to rise, holding Hermione tightly, trying to help her stand.

“Thank goodness we finally found you three! We were all so worried. If it hadn’t been for your signal, our search parties might have never known where you were!” McGonagall said, relieved.

Harry looked at Hermione who was now giving him a look of curiosity at what the Professor meant.

“I’ll explain later,” he told her.

“Explain what, Harry?” the Professor broke in, seeing the exchange with Hermione. “Oh well, anyway, we need to get you two back to the school as soon as possible. We’ve extended the hospital wing into the main corridors to handle all the injured students. I had healers brought from St. Mungo’s to help out. We need to make sure you three are alright.”

“I feel fine, Professor,” Harry stated, realizing that he had actually never felt better. There was no longer any pain in his limbs from the curses Voldemort had hit him with and his scar no longer even ached a little. In fact, he seemed lighter inside and he couldn’t help but feel that it had something to do with that strange sphere.

“What happened, Harry?” Neville bursted out, anxious to hear the tale of their ordeal. “Who attacked you?”

Harry looked at Hermione, then McGonagall and the others, all waiting with bated breath at what he would say next.

“Voldemort, and at least a few hundred Death Eaters,” he replied sternly.

Every jaw except for Hermione’s seemed to drop at that name and they leaned in a little to hear more.

“No way! What happened then, Harry? Where did he go?” Neville shot back.

Harry simply turned his head to look at the smoking ashes on the ground a few feet away. Every head turned to follow his and a moment of stunned silence followed.

“Professor, I need to get Hermione to the school quickly,” Harry broke in on the fixation with the heap of ashes that had come over everyone.

“Oh yes…of course,” McGonagall said, turning as if being brought out of a trance. “Oh, you’ll need these, I’m sure…”

She brought up the cloth and unwrapped it, revealing Harry, Hermione and Ron’s wands in the folds. They both smiled. Harry was so glad to see his wand again and yet he somehow was more glad that he hadn’t had it this past night either. After all, two very important things had occurred in Harry’s life that wouldn’t have if the wands had never been stolen.

“Mr. Filch discovered them, along with your cloak, in one of the corridors below the main level. I’m afraid, along with Ms. Weasley who had been trapped down there for days.”

“GINNY? What happened?” Harry shot out at the Professor, stunned.

“Oh, she’s fine Harry. Perhaps it’s best to hear it from her when you get back. I know Arthur and Molly are also waiting there anxiously for any word about Ron. Now here, Potter, take your wands, we don’t want to stay out here too much longer.”

“Thanks, Professor,” Harry said, reaching out and taking them from her hands. He handed Hermione’s wand to her, while still holding her around the waist and he then placed Ron’s wand in his pocket, holding his firmly in his own grip.

“Harry, if you want, we can help Hermione back, if you’re not feeling up to it,” Luna chimed in.

“No, I’ll take her back, Luna. Thanks. If she can walk, that is…” Harry spoke, looking at the girl in his arm, not wanting her out of his sight again.

“I think I’m alright, actually,” Hermione stated, starting to walk forward a little, then suddenly one leg gave slightly, Harry grabbing her to keep her from falling. She arched her eyebrows and rolled her eyes in embarrassment.

“Maybe not.” she let out with a little smile.

They all heard the popping noises behind them as a large warlock, griping a very groggy Ron in his arm apparated out of the clearing, followed by a couple of the healers who had been attending him.

“Very well now, Potter, go…go. We’ll meet you two there.” McGonagall spoke, urging them along.

Harry looked at Hermione who had clasped her arms around his neck now, looking at him pensively.

“Hang on tight,” he spoke and finally, the one popping noise that they both wanted to hear the most was their own.

The trip back to Hogwarts would not take long, and they could make sure that both Hermione and Ron were okay once inside. But Harry had been thinking over everything that had happened to them and now had a burning question on his mind that he hoped the Professor had an answer for. He also knew that Hermione wanted that same question answered, maybe even more than himself.

They both wanted more than anything to know exactly how Dumbledore knew. How could he have foreseen all this? Or did he?

Perhaps it was just chance, but the evidence seemed to point to something that made this whole affair and indeed their whole lives seem destined for what happened on this fateful night.

This question was still burning on their minds as they arrived just outside of the gates to the school…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART TWELVE

“A mysterious thing, time…powerful, yet if meddled with, very dangerous…”

Those words and that voice seemed to constantly echo through Harry’s mind as he ran flat out, down the main corridor at Hogwarts school, up the large staircase to the second floor towards the hospital ward. The same place he and Hermione had heard those words spoken almost four years ago.

He felt like he was eleven years old again, at school for the first time, the anticipation and excitement returning to the mind that had been so weighed down with a burden and responsibility he had never wanted in the first place. Harry could not express the freedom and joy he felt right now, but everyone around him had become aware of it quickly. He had begun to smile again, instead of brooding with an oppressive spirit that had found it difficult to see any true beauty or warmth in even the simple things. Voldemort, and the world he represented, had hung like a dark cloud over Harry’s life for so long, that he had especially failed to notice that beauty and warmth in one particular person who had stuck with him through it all – Hermione Granger, his best friend.

It seemed to Harry that he had walked out from an inevitable dead-ended destiny onto a new horizon in life, an uncharted territory that was not already laid out by some prophecy or expectations of greatness from a world under threat of extinction. Instead, he was thrilled at the very idea that there was no script, or path set in place in which he was expected to walk now. He was truly free. Free to explore this world he had come to know and nothing seemed impossible to him anymore. And the one thing he knew now, more than anything else, was that he wanted to explore it with the girl who had captured his heart and had proven her willingness to walk off the end of the earth for him if necessary.

These thoughts propelled Harry forward, as he dodged house elves and various wizards repairing the breaches in the walls and corridors of Hogwarts, on his way to see his two friends. The Death Eaters had caused extensive damage to the old school in their recent attack, but some rumors had already started that a lot of the damage was actually due to the warlock guard and their ‘extreme’ battle maneuvers when engaged with the dark wizards. The mercenary guards, under the watchful eye of Hagrid, had soundly thrashed many of the hooded foes in their defense of the castle and its grounds. Several Death Eaters who had been captured in the battle had already been sent, along with hundreds of others from all over Britain, to the newly fortified and rebuilt Azkaban prison, to await trial for their crimes. Severus Snape and Draco Malfoy, it was rumored, had disappeared and gone into hiding in some distant country.

However, no one really cared about that at present. Within just a day, the news had quickly reached practically every wizard or witch in the world that the dread enemy of both wizard and muggle civilization, Lord Voldemort, had indeed been defeated, once and for all, by ‘the boy who had lived’. Harry’s new found freedom had already been, in the day since arriving back at the school with Hermione and Ron, eclipsed by a new celebrity status even more daunting than before. Everywhere he went around the school, he received looks, handshakes, smiles and even requests for autographs from students, some of the teachers and the various wizard government officials who had been arriving at the school to oversee its rehabilitation. Hagrid and the special guard had a particularly difficult time trying to keep reporters from Quibbler, The Daily Prophet, and a few international wizard papers from trying to sneak into the castle, without permission, to catch an exclusive interview with Harry, Hermione or Ron. It was even said that the trio had already been offered five thousand Galleons each for publishing rights to their story.

Professor McGonagall, however, did her best to ensure that the three of them and their privacy was safe from the onslaught of those who desperately wanted to get in on the events of their fateful night together. Harry too had tried to play down the confrontation with Voldemort as much as possible. He simply did not want to talk about the Dark Lord and their duel in the clearing, partly because of the unwanted attention it was bringing him, but also for a much deeper reason.

Harry new the truth behind all the hype. He held in his soul the certainty that it was not in fact him, alone, who had defeated the Dark Lord. No, he couldn’t have. He had been soundly beaten by Voldemort that night. But this was something the wizarding world would not understand or accept in its simplistic view of the whole episode. No, he had in fact been helped by someone he loved more than his own life, and they had both been helped by the one man so many in their world thought had been a crackpot from the beginning. Harry knew that without Hermione and the love that they had finally confessed to one another in silence by that river, and without the curious intervention, in the past, of the white bearded wizard Harry had so much loved and respected, the war would probably still be raging in some form or another, and the three of them would probably be dead.

These thoughts humbled Harry tremendously. How did Dumbledore know? What exactly did he see all those years ago? He couldn’t wait to sit with the Professor and ask her, but right now, there were more pressing things to tend to.

Harry quickly turned left down another hall, running as though he were still being chased by Death Eaters, just barely leaping over the surprised heads of some elves levitating stones to fill a hole in the corridor wall. He made one more turn and found himself in the hospital wing’s temporary annex, just outside of the ward itself. Healers, students in beds, which were materialized into the hall to hold them, and even parents who had come expressly to visit the students, all turned their heads to see the blurred form of Harry fly past. He finally came to a crashing halt at the entrance to the ward, his footfalls echoing off the walls loudly. Several healers and government officials, who were in the ward attending the injured, as well as Madam Pomfrey herself had all turned a glance at Harry upon hearing the noise. Pomfrey gave Harry a stern look at the commotion he had made. Harry shot back an apologetic expression and started walking slowly into the ward. He wanted so badly to see one particular face right now.

There she was. Sitting on the side of a bed, with a healer and Madam Pomfrey herself, conversing with her quietly. Hermione turned around to see Harry after the noise he had made upon entering. A huge smile broke over her face and her eyes just glowed at seeing Harry walk towards her. Harry thought he might melt all over the floor just seeing that incredibly beautiful face shine at him. As he came to her bedside, she reached out with one hand, wanting his hand in hers, a look of longing now on her face. He reached out and they intertwined their fingers as Harry sat on the side of the bed with her. He then turned to the healer who was standing in front of them, who gave a slight smile of understanding at the exchange between the two teenagers.

“Well…how is she?” Harry asked, a little anxious at hearing the answer.

“She seems perfectly fine today, Harry,” the healer replied. “She is free to go when she wants.”

Harry turned and gave Hermione a very satisfied smile. She responded with the same and tightened her grip on his hand.

“Miss Granger told me it was the Killing Curse that had struck her,” the healer now stated with a look of puzzlement.

“Tell me, Harry, what charm did you use to protect her?” she then asked him, everyone sensing that the essence of her question simply seemed impossible to conceive of. Madam Pomfrey also looked at Harry with an intense desire to know what he was going to say next. Harry turned to look at Hermione once more, feeling slightly uncomfortable telling them what even he wasn’t sure of, but had nevertheless come to believe.

“I…I don’t know. It all happened so fast…” he fudged, his words trailing off unconvincingly. The healer gave him a suspicious look and then that look changed into a warm smile.

“Well, whatever it was,” she started to say as she began walking away from the two of them, “…it saved her life,” she finished with strong emphasis. Madam Pomfrey then smiled at them and walked away with the healer to see about some of the others in the ward.

Harry and Hermione both looked at each other for a moment, in silence. Harry then gazed down at the floor, just trying to make sure that he wasn’t imagining this happy scene.

“Harry…” Hermione spoke, breaking into his thoughts. He glanced up into those eyes, her expression making him feel like melting away again.

“…aren’t you going to kiss me?” she then added, looking like a school girl asking that eleven year old boy for a first kiss. They hadn’t really shown their ‘new’ affection for one another out in public yet, and Harry felt as though every eye in the ward was on him – and many of them, in fact, were. His face turned slightly red, but then he regained his confidence and placed his free hand on her cheek, leaning in to kiss her softly. They were no sooner touching each others lips then there came the sound of someone clearing their throat. They both looked up to see a huge smile coming through those tangled tufts of hair on the thick beard of Hagrid, who was towering over them next to the bed. They looked up at their big friend.

“Glad to see yer alright, Ermione,” he said.

“Thanks, Hagrid,” she spoke back.

“Thanks for coming for us yesterday, Hagrid,” Harry chimed in.

“Don’ even mention it, Harry. You three have saved my neck plenty o' times. I was just returnin’ the favor,” he went on, but then leaned in close to both of them, glancing quickly back at the crowd across the way, most of whom had red hair just like the teenager they were gathered around.

“Always thought you two had it in fer each other,” Hagrid said quietly. An open smile again came over Hermione as she turned away blushing.

“Seems like everyone did, Hagrid,” Harry added and then looked at Hermione once more,”…everyone except me.”

Hagrid then stood up again, beaming down at them both.

“Yep, Dumbledore was definitely right ‘bout you two…” Hagrid then said, but stopped suddenly with an expression of fear on his face.

Harry and Hermione both gave him a quick look of astonishment.

“I shouldn’ve said that…” He went on as though caught in the act of a terrible crime. He then shook his arms, cleared his throat and started to walk away.

“Great man, Dumbledore, great man…” Hagrid spoke as thought trying to cover up his tracks, walking away stiffly.

Now the curiosity in both of them was really starting to churn, but they heard a commotion across the way, where Ron was laying in bed. He was surrounded by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the ‘real’ Fred and George who had been at the Burrow, completely unaware the whole time their imposters had been leading the trio into a trap, and the ‘real’ Ginny, still dressed in her sleeping gown and robe from her time spent in the hospital wing, sitting next to Ron on one side. Outside of Harry, Ron and Ginny had both found themselves something of celebrities as well. Ron, unlike Harry however, was rather enjoying his bit of fame. He had certainly gained a number of admirers in several of the female students, all intrigued at his story about fighting Death Eaters with his bare hands.

Ginny’s own tale of her ordeal had been the talk of the whole school prior to Ron, Hermione and Harry’s return. She had recalled being attacked by a young, dark haired witch late one night while returning to the Gryffindor Dormitory. The beautiful looking, but unknown girl had surprised her with a Petrificus Totalus spell and then took her down into the lower levels of the castle. After releasing her from the spell but then binding her in ropes with another, the witch then used a form of veritaserum, possibly provided by Snape himself, to extract the password from Ginny. The witch then was able to take the polyjuice potion to ‘become’ Ginny, first breaking into Harry, Hermione and Ron’s rooms, taking their wands and other items, and then meeting with Malfoy and the other imposter outside the castle at the assigned time during the Death Eater’s siege. It was Mr. Filch and a few of the warlock guards, searching the castle for any remaining intruders, who discovered her tied up in one of the corridors. She had been a little dehydrated for the few days she was alone, but recovered pretty quickly.

Still, Harry felt so bad for her that when he had set eyes on her for the first time after the confrontation with Voldemort, he ran and gave her a very strong hug, which brought tears to Ginny’s eyes. Harry was so relieved that she, Fred and George were okay – they were, after all, part of his ‘family’. After that, Ginny never treated Harry the same. It was as though the two had always been the best of friends.

Harry and Hermone both walked over to Ron’s bedside, everyone turning to look at the couple with a sense of admiration and joy at seeing them alive.

“You still feel okay, Ronald?” Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly, not paying attention to anyone but her son.

“Mum, I told you for the tenth time…yes!” Ron shot back, a little annoyed and embarrassed because of the students lingering around his bedside.

“Lay off him a little, Molly. You can see that he’s on the mend,” Arthur Weasley broke in, looking at Harry and Hermione with a smile. “Give the boy a little breathing room.”

Mrs. Weasley turned to Arthur with a flustered look, shooing at him with her hand and then turned to give Ron a concerned smile.

“I just want to make sure that you still aren’t damaged inside from what the healers said had happened, that’s all,” she went on again.

“We can give Ron one of our new Tummy Twisting Tarts, Mum, to see if he vomits properly!” Fred broke in smiling, and everyone within earshot began laughing.

“OH! YOU TWO! GET OUT!” Mrs. Weasley torted at them angrily, slapping both him and George on the shoulder as they began to walk away from the bedside.

“Oh well, maybe next time, Ronnie,” George said to his younger brother.

“Where are you two going?” Ginny now added.

“We’ve got a business to run in the village,” Fred replied.

“Yeah, can’t stay away too long or people will think we’re up to no good!” George added.

With that, Fred and George both gave Harry and Hermione a big smile and shifted their eyebrows at them, eerily reminiscent of Malfoy’s performance in the tent the previous night. The tall orange haired twins then headed out of the ward.

“So, there you two are,” Ron said rather sullenly to Harry and Hermione who had moved in from the crowd to stand beside to him.

“You’re definitely looking better, Ron,” Hermione said, taking Ron’s hand “We thought for sure that Voldemort had killed you.”

“Thanks,” Ron spoke back, slightly conciliatory in his tone, “By the way, what exactly did happen, Harry? How did you finally beat…well, You-know-who?” Ron had perked up a bit, anxious to hear the story. And again everyone in earshot waited breathlessly for the answer to this mystery. Harry felt uncomfortable again and his face showed it. He looked down at Ron with a grimace.

“We’ll tell you later, Ron…when you can get around better. You need to rest. Besides, we all expect you to be back out on that Quidditch pitch to help Gryffindor win the cup again,” Harry replied smiling, trying to deflect attention away from the original subject.

Ron simply shook his head, giving both of them that familiar smirk of his. The smirk then suddenly turned sour and he folded his arms, giving them a suspicious eye.

“Yeah, thanks mate. But don’t think this gets you off the hook. I’m still mad at both of you,” he returned.

Harry leaned in and put one hand on Ron’s shoulder.

“That’s great Ron. You just keep thinking those happy thoughts. We’ll come back by later to check on you again,” Harry said.

Ron just shook his head once more, the smirk returning. Harry then shot a glance at Ginny, who was smiling at him and he returned the favor. Suddenly there was a commotion in the ward as another large group of Ron’s ‘admirers’ barged in. Madam Pomfrey objected but felt helpless to do anything, there were simply too many who needed her attention at the moment.

“Ron, we heard you were surrounded by a hundred Death Eaters! How did you get out?” a third year prodded him. Anxious eyes brightened up to hear the tale again.

“Yeah, tell us what happened!” another girl shot out.

Ron brightened up instantly, though acting very serious.

“Er…well…there were so many, I didn’t know who to go after first…” he began. Ginny just rolled her eyes and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, smiled, backing away from the students leaning on Ron’s bed.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, shaking her heads. They had slowly begun to walk out of the Hospital wing, their footsteps increasing rapidly. They had one thing on their minds right now. Answers to the questions about Dumbledore, and Hagrid’s statement had simply made it even more unbearable to wait. They headed straight for Professor McGonagall’s office, hoping that there, they might be able to understand the strange events that had followed them since their arrival at Hogwarts, six years ago, all the way up to the previous night.

They arrived at the Professor’s office and were just about to knock when the door swung open on it’s own…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART THIRTEEN

“I assume you are both here to ask me about Professor Dumbledore,” McGonagall spoke as soon as the two had entered her office chamber.

“I know you have many other questions as well, but please, sit down, both of you,” the Professor spoke to the couple with a warm smile, motioning them to a couple of chairs already placed in front of her large desk, cluttered with endless parchments and quills, some of which were writing on their own. The two moved forward and sat down before the Headmistress, who then paused and gazed back at them, her hands clasped together.

“I think now is the right time to explain to you both a few things that neither of you have known, and as it will become clear to you, could not be divulged before now. The consequences would have simply been too dire to even think about…” she continued with a very serious expression.

“The answers you seek, however, are not quite as spectacular as you might be inclined to think. In fact, they’re actually very simple, even natural,” she continued.

“Harry, you know of the prophecy that Dumbledore heard in the presence of Professor Trelawney before you were born.”

Harry nodded to her.

“Do you believe that it was true?”

“Well…it did happen,” Harry replied, admittedly.

“Of course, Harry. But do you know how it happened?” the Professor further quizzed the dark haired teenager.

“Dumbledore told me that Voldemort had made it true by choosing to go after me when I was a baby,” Harry spoke, not certain of what the Professor was driving at.

“Yes, that’s part of it,” McGonagall responded, “And you fulfilled the rest of it by killing him. Here is the proof - you are sitting in front of me alive and well, and Voldemort lies in a pile of ash in the same field in which he had intended to kill you. But this time was different from when he tried to kill you back when you were an infant. Do you know why?” The Professor leaned in a little towards Harry.

“Because he did not have the horcruxes to keep him alive. He was mortal again,” Harry answered. The Professor gave him a stern look.

“Of course, Harry, thanks to you, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger. But what I am asking is, do you know how you killed him? Do you know how a seventeen year old wizard, though very talented and smart for his age, was able to destroy one of the most powerful dark wizards, our world has known, without a shred of magic, skill or talent?”

“I think so, Professor. It was the decision I made, wasn’t it?” Harry returned.

McGonagall’s face lit up with a tremendous smile.

“Very good, Harry. I continue to be impressed with your capacity to see the subtle things that others wouldn’t even notice. Now what was it Professor Dumbledore told you that you possessed that was the only power able to defeat Voldemort?”

Harry looked at Hermione, feeling slightly embarrassed at the simplicity of something that he thought seemed so trite when Dumbledore had first talked to him about it. She reached out and took his hand, wanting so much to be able to know his thoughts. Harry then turned to McGonagall again.

“He said it was my ‘ability to love’ that was the…power the Dark Lord knew not,” Harry again stated admittedly.

“Correct again. Now here is where this mystery begins to unfold. Professor Dumbledore had known of this ‘power’ of yours before you ever entered Hogwarts, Harry, and had learned that the prophecy would indeed come to pass because of it.”

“But how?” Harry responded, his gaze joined by Hermione’s at the Professor again.

“He witnessed it personally, Harry. He was there,” the Professor replied almost nonchalantly. “Albus watched you destroy Lord Voldemort the other night while you and Miss Granger had been preserved.”

Hermione was now shaking her head in disbelief at these words, sinking back into her chair, trying to comprehend the impossibility of it all. Harry too was astonished, but suddenly, his eyes lit up.

“It was you!” Harry exclaimed to McGonagall.

“Harry, what are you talking about?” Hermione shot at him, looking back and forth at the two as though she were going to burst.

“I thought I saw two faces smiling at me from the woods, after Voldemort was gone. I thought that one of them looked like Professor Dumbledore, but I couldn’t see the other face clearly. I thought they might have been ghosts, but it was you with him! I wasn’t imagining things!” Harry added excitedly.

The Professor’s face again brightened with a smile.

“Quite right, Harry. You weren’t imagining things. Once again, you have shown yourself very astute. Both the Professor and myself witnessed, many years ago, your confrontation with Voldemort the other night, and saw you accomplish what had seemed so impossible in the minds of many. And I must admit, that I myself was so afraid that you wouldn’t do it, the way things had been going for both of you. Dumbledore, however was very confident and never once doubted the power residing in you would come out like it did. And, no, he wasn’t a ghost, Hermione. He was as flesh and blood as you are right now.”

“How, Professor?” Hermione responded.

“We used a very old piece of magic known as the Chronosis Charm. Quite simply, it enables one to traverse time, both forward and backward. It is similar to the Time-Turner that I gave you several years ago, Miss Granger, but far more powerful and downright dangerous if not done properly. As a matter of fact, Dumbledore used it very rarely, and that in emergencies only. But no one would question that the time at which we utilized it was an emergency of the highest order. It was not long after your parent’s were murdered, Harry.”

Both of them were silent, trying to take all of this strange information in.

“After you had been rescued on that terrible night, Professor Dumbledore and myself personally took responsibility for your safety and welfare. As you know, he sent you to your aunt and uncle’s house, not simply to hide you from danger, but to protect you with the same blood that your mother had given to save your life. Albus had told you, last year, about his plan for bringing you back to your rightful life in wizarding that you were born into. But he had also become extremely interested in the power that had protected you from being killed. The power that your mother gave you in her sacrifice of herself.

“While most of the wizarding world has viewed your story from a purely external point of view, this aspect of your mother’s love received very little acceptance as the explanation for the seeming impossible events that night. That is why the world has expected so much talent and greatness out of you, Harry. They only see the appearance of things in matters of importance. They just can’t believe that something so ‘simple’ as love could bring down even the most powerful magic. However, Professor Dumbledore believed very strongly that ‘love’ was the key to this entire conflict and without it, there was little hope that the prophecy might be fulfilled - for the good, of course. He knew that if your mother’s love could protect you and reduce Voldemort to the weakened state he had been in for so many years, then according to the prophecy it would be your capacity to love that would destroy Voldemort in the end. More specifically, your love for someone.

“Your parent’s were gone, Harry. Your relatives did little to excite the strong kind of love that would be needed to stop such an evil wizard. It would be years before you would be introduced to your godfather, Sirius Black, and then of course, his death also confirmed the fears that Dumbledore had for your future. It seemed to us that there might never be anyone for whom you could display such a powerful love that it would bring the conflict to an end. Perhaps we lacked faith, Harry, but in light of the circumstances at that time, Albus and I decided to take our little ‘journey’ and cheat, if you will, to find out exactly what the outcome would be.

“Needless to say, we were both absolutely stunned at what transpired out in that field, but we saw the answer to our concern almost immediately, and she is sitting in the chair right next to you.”

Harry and Hermione turned quickly to look at each other, curiously.

“Neither Dumbledore nor myself knew who this young woman was, who had evidently captured your heart. You were facing us and we could not see her face, even in the moonlight that night, but the way you were holding her, and the tears you shed over her, told us that she was someone very special that you would come to know and love as much as your own life. So much that you would die for her to protect her from the danger that threatened you both that night.

“It was with great eagerness, therefore, that Dumbledore and myself afterwards awaited your arrival at the school when you were of age, and we were equally anxious to know who it was that would end up making so amazing a sacrifice for you. After all, such a love is truly rare.”

Harry felt Hermione’s fingers press into his strongly.

“When you met Mr. Weasley and then the two of you began to hang around together with a certain young witch, we became suspicious of course, but I must admit, Miss Granger, that at first, I saw little else than a strong headed young woman who had arrived at our doorstep having already learned everything she needed to know through her books. Suffice it say, that you later proved yourself to be far more than a stale, living reminder of the rules and everything proper. And that was when Albus and I began to take more than passing interest in you and your relationship with the young Harry Potter. In fact, it was the night that Quirrell set the troll loose in the school that we came to see the potential in you of what we had witnessed in that field.

“After Harry and Ron had saved you, we saw the change in you. What was perhaps lurking under the surface all along now came out and I dare say that you yourself probably attribute that to Harry here. After that night the three of you were thick as thieves, but it was the relationship you grew to have with Mr. Potter that attracted our attention the most.

“I have been a professor at Hogwarts for many years, Miss Granger. I have seen everything under the sun within these walls. I have watched as students became the best of friends and then later the bitterest of enemies. I have seen practically every kind of flirting, every practical joke, though Ron’s twin brothers have tried to prove me wrong on that account many times, and every type of romance that teenagers think is so appealing and desirable. But what we saw not only in the character of you both, but in the way you treated each other, the respect and loyalty, the implicit trust and goodness of heart, were qualities that very rarely ever rear their heads in such young pupils. It was this unique and rare friendship that had over the years convinced the Professor and myself that you both held inside the kind of love that it would take to destroy Voldemort. And from this we deduced that you were that very girl in Harry’s arms on that fateful night.

“So it was, the following term, when Quirrell had ‘tricked’ Dumbledore into leaving the school, that Albus visited your parents, Miss Granger. He had known all along about the horcruxes and was planning to tell Harry about them, as he later did, when the time was right. But Albus believed so strongly in you, Hermione, that he began to set certain things in order, to help the both of you at a time when your need would be greatest. That is a tribute to the immense wisdom of the man. I myself wasn’t entirely convinced of the matter in those early days, but under orders from my superior I did everything I could to make sure you both had what was needed for what seemed to Dumbledore an inevitable destiny. That’s why, Harry, Hermione, we allowed the three of you so much liberty and ability to get by with breaking our rules. You don’t think that we were blind to all the times you would sneak out to see Hagrid or run off to Hogsmeade, do you? Running a wizard’s school requires more than just holding classes, you know”

Both of them smiled back at the Professor.

“Anyway, the envelope he left in your parent’s care was intended to be given to you only at a specific time and that time was to be determined by your parents in the event that you, Miss Granger, were in trouble and there seemed to be no other way out. They agreed to Dumbledore’s terms and secrecy in the matter, but I think that it was your mother, Hermione, that read a little more into the situation than Dumbledore even anticipated. I think you know what I am referring to when I say that she saw you were in trouble in more than simply being unable to find the location of the sixth horcrux. I know this because I too began to notice the trouble you were having over the course of the past year. Your behavior became peculiar even for you. I noticed your fidgeting, your temper flaring more than usual. Breaking the rules, especially as a prefect of Gryffindor, in order to get Mr. Weasley to like you. Again, I have seen it all in this place and I know when a girl is in love and trying so desperately to rid herself of it.

“Dumbledore had even become concerned over the past year with both of you and the special friendship you had together. Life as a teenager can be very trying and the pressures that both of you were under, especially you Harry, with Voldemort, seemed to be straining even the strong bond that you shared together. Though neither of us could intervene directly, Albus thought that perhaps another way might be helpful. He had always said that people generally have what they need right in front of them without realizing it and that sometimes they just need to be nudged in the right direction. It was, therefore, sometime before he died that he left me strict instructions on what I was to do in the event that you came to me with his key, Miss Granger. I was not allowed to speak with you about it, even if you asked. I was merely told to take you to the vault, personally, and give you what he had left of his knowledge about Tom Riddle and his horcruxes.”

“But what about the mirror, Professor, did you know that he had placed it in that exact spot you told me to wait,” Hermione asked as though a flood of pent up questions were trying to break out of her. The Professor smiled again.

“I had not even thought of it until I returned with the box to find you standing in tears before the mirror, Hermione. But when I saw what had happened, I realized that Dumbledore must have intended you see the mirror when he moved it from the dungeon into the vault. He obviously knew that what you needed, the answer you were seeking Miss Granger, was indeed right before your eyes,” the Professor said while turning to look at Harry.

“So perhaps, you both might now understand that the really interesting aspect of all this is not time travel, prophecy, foresight or anything else concerning knowledge of the future. I think that what’s most interesting is simply one word - timing.

“But the point I am trying to make to you both has to do with the difference between what happened on the night your parent’s were killed by Voldemort, Harry, and the night you destroyed him for good. Something occurred that not even Dumbledore would have foreseen. As you know, Harry, our ‘faces’ disappeared not long after you looked right at us and so Albus didn’t witness the one amazing thing that happened after we had departed.”

The Professor turned her head to look at Hermione and Harry followed her gaze, tightening his grip on Hermione’s hand.

“No one except you, Harry, has ever survived the Killing Curse...until now. And the same love that brought about Voldemort’s downfall brought her back to you somehow, as you stated, because of your decision. Hermione’s noble and selfless act had indeed protected you again, Harry, and if you had stood up to that vicious man and he tried to kill you, it would have destroyed him and saved your life. That’s why the decision you made was so astonishing and yet it enabled you to do for Hermione what you couldn't do for your mother when she was trying to save your life. It was your sacrifice this time, Harry. It was your willingness to die that brought her back to you. I assume that is why you turned your back on Voldemort in protecting Hermione, even though you thought her to be already dead.”

Harry very solemnly nodded at the Professor, then slowly turned his gaze towards Hermione. His heart ached to see the tears welling up in her eyes, as she gazed at him, hearing this information for the first time. He squeezed her hand tightly and she reciprocated, but no words seemed appropriate for what they both were feeling at the moment.

The Professor herself began to get teary eyed just looking at both of them with another heavy smile.

“I think that both of you need some time alone to think about all this and perhaps get a little rest from all the chaos in the school. But before you go, I want both of you to know that I have made arrangements with the rest of the teachers and they are all in hearty agreement that the three of you will receive a full reinstatement into Hogwarts, if you wish, that is. And we will do everything in our power to see that all three of you are able to graduate with your fellow seventh years right on time.”

They both turned to look at McGonagall, thrilled at her offer.

“Thank you, Professor!” they both uttered excitedly, standing and then embracing each other with the biggest smiles they had shone in such a long time.

“Oh no, thank you. Thank you both,” McGonagall spoke, with tears streaking down her own happy face.

Harry and Hermione turned and walked out into the corridor, the door to the Professor’s office closing on it’s own behind them. They looked at each other for eternal moments, breathing a sigh of relief, but clearly still trying to grasp the whole meaning of the incredible things that the Professor had just told them. They did need time alone to think, and Harry had been wanting to ask Hermione about something she had said to him in that field.

And he knew just the right place for both of them to go…

Disclaimer: All characters, events and references drawn from HP belong to J.K. Rowling, etc., respectively, everything else is my own invention.

FORESIGHT

PART FOURTEEN

Harry’s mind was buzzing with everything the Professor had told the two of them. They had spoken barely a word to one another since leaving her office and now they were in the midst of a ritual that they had performed numerous times over the years. Something that both of them had believed was so sacred to their relationship before and was now even more so.

The two were retracing the same path they used to walk, around the lake below the school grounds. The sky was an overcast, deep grey, the clouds moving slowly over the beautiful late autumn landscape around the black lake. Only a few birds made any kind of noise and the lake itself was as still as glass, except for the few ripples forming from a slight breeze that crisscrossed its expanse every so often. They were walking quietly in the soft green moss at the edge of the water and over many of the rocks that lined its shore. Hand in hand, both of them were preoccupied in their own thoughts over the enormous weight of what had transpired in their lives over the past six years.

“I feel like I’ve aged ten years in one day,” Hermione finally broke the silence between them.

“Me too,” Harry replied, his thoughts turning more somber over the memory of the man who had believed so strongly in both of them. But as soon as Hermione had spoken, Harry became eager again to know what she had tried to tell him.

“Hermione…you were trying to tell me something when we were in the clearing the other night. What was it?” he queried.

There was a brief moment of silence between them and Harry could tell that Hermione was becoming more emotional just thinking about what had happened to her.

“It was when the curse hit me, Harry. I don’t know how to describe it exactly, but it felt like I was falling. It seemed as though I would simply fall forever. Everything became darker and darker, like I was plunging into some deep abyss. Everything was leaving me…you were leaving me,” she spoke these last words with a breaking voice, then paused for another moment. Harry again felt her fingers tighten in her clasp around his own fingers.

“It was terrifying, Harry. I tried to cry out to you, but I couldn’t, I just kept falling faster and faster. And then that’s when I heard you. I heard you call my name over and over, but I couldn’t see you in the darkness. I was so afraid. But then it changed. I suddenly saw this bright light everywhere. I didn’t know what it was, but I still felt as though I were falling, it just wasn’t as terrible in the light for some reason. And then suddenly I noticed that I had stopped falling altogether. That’s when I saw a hand reaching down and grabbing my arm, holding on to me, keeping me from falling any further.

“I waited, uncertain of what exactly was going on, but then the hand began drawing me back up. When it drew me back far enough I saw that it was you, Harry. You were pulling me back towards you. I tried crying out to you again, as loudly as I could, but you didn’t respond at all. You just kept slowly bringing me towards you, with a strange look of peace on your face. So I did everything I thought possible to move myself forward and grab hold of you. At first it was difficult. My heart was breaking because we couldn’t seem to get any closer to each other, but finally I saw that I was reaching you. I tried to grab on to you and when I was close enough to you, that’s when the light disappeared and it became dark again. But then I could feel you in my arms once more as you were holding me so tightly…”

Hermione couldn’t finish. Her words trailed off into muffled breaths and sniffles. Harry stopped and turned to her, seeing the tears fall down her reddened cheeks. His own heart was reeling now as he took her into his arms and they held one another for many moments. He could feel those warm, wet tears again, bringing his own to the fore. But he didn’t care. He welcomed the tears on his neck once more. He was just glad to be holding her right now. He turned his head and kissed her tenderly on the forehead again feeling her hold on to him with almost a death grip. They both just needed to take in the silence once more.

Harry let go and taking her hand once more, lead her over to a large rock on which they both sat and stared out at the lake. Hermione sat next to him placing both arms around his neck and leaning her head on his shoulder. Harry held her tightly around the waist, wanting to feel that warmth again.

“You remember what Professor McGonagall said about the ‘decision’ I made to turn my back to Voldemort when he was going to try to kill me again?” Harry now asked, but Hermione simply remained silent, still sniffling a little.

“Well she was right about my mother. I was too small to be able to do that for her. I might have been able to save her if I had been conscious enough to know what was going on. But I was able to make that choice with you, though I still don’t know exactly what happened. You know that I would have normally done the ‘right thing’ in a situation like that. I would have stood up to face Voldemort one last time so that the world would be rid of him and your sacrifice for me would not have been in vain.

“But I just couldn’t, Hermione. I couldn’t stand the idea of living without you, so thinking you were gone from me, I wanted Voldemort to kill me too, just so I could be with you. That’s all I wanted. Perhaps that was selfish of me, but I didn’t want you to wander alone ‘out there’ forever without me.”

Harry paused, just looking out at the lake again.

“If I had done the ‘right thing’, the world might have been saved. I might have lived. But there would have been no Hermione Granger by my side…” Harry now trailed off into silence.

Hermione stirred and looked up at him, her faced still streaked with tears. She then pulled him closer with her arms and leaned in, kissing him strongly. They continued to embrace and kiss each other gently, then after a long time, Harry stood up and drew her up to his side once more.

They resumed their walk around the lake, but much slower than before.

Harry laughed a little bit at himself, breaking the solemnity which had hung heavily over them the past several moments. Hermione now laughed a little too, just to feel relief again.

“Hermione, you might think me crazy, but I am so sick of wands and magic and prophecies and all that right now. I don’t even want to think about it. I realize how nice it was when it was just you and I alone in those woods out there, by that river. Nothing of our world intruding into that little piece of solitude we had…except maybe a few Death Eaters now and again.”

Hermione laughed again, clinging tightly to the man she loved with every part of her being.

“Maybe what we both need, Harry, is a long holiday,” Hermione finally said almost dreamily after several minutes of silence.

Harry suddenly stopped, standing absolutely still and gazing off in the distance. Hermione let go of him and turned to look at him.

“Harry…” she said. But he didn’t move at all. He just kept looking ahead as though he had been struck by something.

“Harry, what is it?” Hermione asked him anxiously now, her curiosity roaring up again, wanting to know his thoughts.

Harry then looked at her, a big smile crossing his face. Her took her into his arms once more, holding her close to him, a look of intense love and longing in his eyes.

“I’ve got a great idea,” he said softly.

THE END

I’ve been swallowed by your kindness

Every part of me is breaking down

You have let me feel so helpless

As if I couldn’t drown…

It was all in love

You understood the need in me

So much tenderness

You wrap me in humanity…

You touch my soul

My very being

You make me whole

Now life has new meaning

Got a second chance

You could see the change in me

And as we dance

You wrap me in humanity

Others walked on by in their blindness

But you refused to let me be

A disguise, your soul behind this,

You pushed on in and set me free…

And it was in protection

You held on with such certainty

(I feel so happy)

Embraced by your reflection

You wrap me in humanity…

You touch my soul

My very being

You make me whole

Now life has new meaning

Got a second chance

You could see the change in me

And as we dance

You wrap me in humanity

‘Humanity’

ATB: Seven Years 1998-2005