A/N - just a warning, this about the love room, so there is lots of talk about love - I hope it isn't too gushy. Also, there are two direct quotes from the series, so I should disclaimer and say that they are JKR's words and I am getting no financial gain from this (I guess that's what I have to say). Thanks again for your reviews - makes me think I'm doing something right!
Chapter 19 - The Greatest Power of All
Harry walked into the room not caring whether his entrance would trigger some deathly ward, therefore killing him on the spot. In a way he welcomed it - his miserable excuse for a life would finally be over.
But death didn't await him inside the room. In fact, nothing awaited him inside the room - it was totally empty. He turned around in a circle and all he saw were four blank, off white walls. Even the door he had stepped through seemed to have disappeared.
"Great," Harry muttered, "just bloody brilliant. So what am I supposed to do now? Sing a bloody song?"
"That would be entertaining but quite unnecessary," Harry swivelled around to the sound of the voice, automatically drawing his wand, "I've been waiting a long time to meet you, Harry."
"Who are you?" Harry demanded, "how do you know who I am? How did you get in here?"
"So many questions, but yes, introductions are in order," the stranger said, walking closer, "though you do need to lower your wand. There is no need for that in here."
"I'll lower it when I know who you are!"
"I am the Guardian of the Outer Chamber," the man informed him with a smile, "and guide of the Inner Chamber, which means I can come and go whenever I please. And how do I know you? I am the one who allows access into this room and am very particular who can enter. You have joined a very small and exclusive group Harry."
"So you've been checking up on me?"
"I would like to call it research," the Guardian smiled, "lower your wand, it will not work in here."
Frowning, Harry lowered his wand and put it back in his pocket, scrutinizing the man in front of him. He was old, his face bearing the wrinkles of age, and clean shaven with his hair closely cropped to his head - that is, where there was hair as scalp was the more prominent feature. His robes were of white and silver and covered a small, rotund body. He looked friendly but Harry didn't trust him, not one bit.
"What do you know about me?" he asked harshly.
"Many things," the Guardian replied with a frown of his own, "though your sullen disposition is somewhat…vexing."
"Yeah, well, I don't mean to be rude but…" Harry snapped.
"…yet, sadly, accidental rudeness occurs alarmingly often."
Harry paused, letting out a small laugh as he remembered the last time he had heard those exact same words.
"So I've heard," he said with a smile, forgetting for a moment of his distrust and anger at the world.
"Ah, a smile and the Harry I thought I would be meeting," the old man remarked, gesturing to a couple of comfortable looking lounge chairs that had appeared behind them, "was it something I said?"
"A man I knew said something like that to my uncle once," Harry told him, perching stiffly down on the chair's edge.
"With just cause, no doubt," the Guardian commented offhandedly as he too sat down, (but unlike Harry, he made himself quite comfortable), "your uncle is a rude and obnoxious man."
"You know my uncle?" Harry asked, once again wary.
"I've never met him but yes, I know your uncle," was the reply, "but I'm more interested in the man whose repeated words actually made you laugh at a time when happiness is the furthest from your mind. Tell me about him."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me about the man who put your uncle in his place. Describe him to me."
"You mean, what he looked like?" The Guardian smiled.
"That is a start. Tell me Harry, what did this man who can make you smile look like."
Images of Professor Dumbledore entered Harry's mind - the old wizard's face twisted in agony as the poison from the cave did its work, his body arching as he fell off the astronomy tower after Snape's traitorous attack. But those weren't the images the Guardian was after, so shrugging them off, Harry answered the question.
"He was old, really old, with a long grey beard and hair," he said mechanically, "he always wore these half glasses," Harry paused, remembering, fondness breaking through his shell of anger, "he had these really blue eyes that could either bore into you, like they were looking into your very soul, which he possibly was, or they would…I don't know…smile at you. Make you feel like you were the most important person in the world."
"He sounds like an incredible man."
"He was."
"What made him so incredible?" Harry looked up at his questioner, determined not to answer - the memories of the professor hurt and he wasn't ready to share that with a total stranger.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said sourly.
"Please Harry," the Guardian pleaded softly, "it may help…"
"Help what? Me? I think I'm beyond any help."
"I'm afraid I don't agree," the Guardian informed him intently, "what made this man so special?"
Harry hesitated once more, staring at the man opposite him for a moment before dropping his head in silent defeat.
"He was this powerful wizard, the most powerful wizard alive, yet he didn't flaunt it, you know?" Harry looked up, aware of the stinging in the back of his eyes, "he could've been the Minster of Magic, he could've had anything he wanted, but instead he only used his power when it really mattered."
"When was that?"
"When there was danger. When he was protecting those he cared about, those he…" Harry paused.
"Loved, Harry, those he loved. Which included you."
"He didn't take himself too seriously either," Harry continued, ignoring the last comment, dropping his head once more to hide the tears that were starting to form, "some people thought he was barmy, but he wasn't. He just enjoyed a laugh now and then. Even when things were horrid, he could still smile. I wish I could do that. I wish I was more like him."
"You're more like Albus than you know Harry." Harry's head snapped up as he glared at the Guardian, angrily swiping away the few tears that had escaped down his face.
"You knew him?" he growled, "of course you knew him! You know everything about me! Why make me describe a person you already know!" He got off of the chair and began to pace, absolutely fuming
"I needed to hear about Albus from you, in your words," the Guardian said before calmly changing the subject, "why are you here Harry?"
Harry stopped mid pace and glared at the old man (who was still sitting comfortably in the large lounge chair).
"What?"
"Why are you here?" the Guardian repeated.
"Because I was told to come here," Harry spat, slumping back down in his seat, "they thought that you, or what ever was in this room, could cure me…"
"Cure you? From what?"
"I destroyed some Horcruxes and it seems that it has effected my…emotions."
"Horcruxes? Plural?"
"Yes, three of them."
The Guardian seemed to ponder this new news with concern before speaking once more.
"I sense no evil magic in you," he said thoughtfully, sitting forward and scrutinising Harry more intently, "but yes, there was. The imprint slightly remains. However, that is no longer the reason for your foul temper," he leaned back in his chair once more, "who are 'they'?"
"The Hermione and the portrait of Dumbledore…"
"That makes sense."
"So you can't cure me?" Harry asked abruptly, "this was all a waste of time?"
"There is no cure as such," came the reply, "but I can help you see the light once more. Is that the only reason you have entered this chamber?"
"No," Harry answered, himself leaning tiredly back into the chair, "this room is supposed to contain the power I need to defeat Voldemort though I see little evidence of that. I knew this idea that love will conquer all was a load of rubbish."
The Guardian contemplated Harry for a few moments, making him feel uncomfortable under his gaze; but Harry didn't turn away. They sat there staring at each other for a few moments more before the Guardian stood and indicated that Harry should do the same.
"I believe you are ready for the next step," the old man stated firmly, "you are strong enough and your heart is pure. Your destiny has been set a long time before this moment, but it is this act that will help you defeat the horrors that haunt you. Lord Voldemort is a threat to us all and is one we must conquer. I believe you have the ability to do that. Are you ready, Harry Potter?"
"I…I don't know," Harry stuttered, slightly unnerved by the change in his host from a kindly old man to an authoritative wizard, "I guess so."
"The Inner Chamber will help you believe in the power of love, the power that you dismiss so readily," the Guardian continued, "the greatest power of all. What awaits you in the Inner Chamber will change your life, Harry Potter - are you prepared to take the challenge?"
"I hate the person I have become," Harry replied more confidently, "and at the moment I feel I am incapable of riding the world of Voldemort. If what lies in the Inner Chamber will help me defeat my demons as well as Lord Voldemort, then I am prepared to accept the challenge."
"Very well."
The Guardian turned from him (the two chairs disappearing silently and with little ceremony) then raised his hand to one of the four walls of the room - an ornate double-door appeared, its doorframe decorated with intricate swirling designs, the door itself sparkled as if made of silver gems. The Guardian made his way towards it, and as if possessed, Harry followed.
When just a few steps away, the doors opened and the Guardian disappeared inside. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to prepare himself for whatever lay beyond the doors, interested to see just what was the greatest power of all.
What he didn't expect was a room full of people - people he guessed he knew, at least he recognised those in the front.
"What is this?" he growled, "why are they all here?"
"Everyone in this room loves you Harry," the Guardian replied, "and it is time for you to understand that - believe that - with every part of your being."
"This is the great power?" Harry spat, "this is what's in the most heavily guarded room in the wizarding world? I don't believe it!"
The Guardian remained silent as they made their way to the first group of people, who seemed to animate when they were close enough to talk to. Harry grumpily followed, not really noticing anything until a pair of short but strong arms pulled him into a hug.
"Hello Harry dear," Molly Weasley cooed, her arms wrapped securely around Harry's waist before holding him out at arms length to look at him, her eyes sparkling as she smiled at him, "I love you like you are one of my own, you know that, don't you? I am so proud of you!"
"Our seventh son," Arthur Weasley added, laying a fatherly hand on his shoulder, "and our eighth child. You saved my life and the lives of two of my children…"
"Their lives wouldn't have been in danger if it wasn't for me," Harry countered, "neither would've yours. I'm nothing but trouble."
"That isn't true Harry," came a familiar voice, making him turn from Mr and Mrs Weasley to look into the face of their daughter.
"Ginny!" he exclaimed, taken aback, "what are you doing here?"
"Because I love you, you git," she laughed, "but don't worry, it is and was only ever just a crush. I am starting to understand that now and recognise that I feel the real thing for someone else. That doesn't mean you aren't special to me though Harry. You were my first love."
"I'm sorry…"
"Why? You didn't ask for me to care for you," she continued on, "but I did because there is a lot to care about. And don't ever blame yourself for what happened to me in the Chamber. You saved me, pure and simple."
"Don't pick a fight with our sister Harry," George cut in.
"After all, she is your sister as well," Fred added.
"Since you are one of us," George continued.
"An honorary Weasley. Poor you." Fred finished. Harry was going to say something to the twins but they no longer were looking at him, seemingly interested in something else. Harry frowned.
"As a teacher, we are not meant to have favourites," a Scottish brogue informed him - Harry turned to see Professor McGonagall looking at him, a small smile on her face, "but, Mr Potter, I have known you since you were a babe and I can't help but feel a sense of pride when I see you now. You are an incredible young man." Harry just stared at her in shock before he felt a light touch on his arm.
"There are more people for you to meet," the Guardian informed him softly as he led Harry away from McGonagall and the Weasleys and further into the room, "they are just the beginning."
"'Arry, look at you, eh?" Harry found himself suddenly engulfed in a huge bear hug from the one person he knew was most like a bear.
"Hi Hagrid," he choked out, escaping his friend's grasp while trying to pat the overly excited Fang (who was jumping up with enthusiasm at his feet).
"Yeh know I love you, doncha? Yer a treat, yeh 're," Hagrid continued, pulling Harry into another hug.
"Thanks," Harry spluttered out before turning and looking into the tired eyes of Remus Lupin.
"When I first met you, you reminded me of the happiest time of my life," the old werewolf said somewhat sadly, "you look like your father so much, and the time spent with James and Sirius, well, it was the best. But now, you are more than just a reminder of the past Harry. You are a very special person and someone I am proud to know. I love you very, very much."
Harry turned away from Remus and Hagrid with tears in his eyes in time to see Hedwig make her way towards him. His owl landed on his shoulder, affectionately nibbling his ear, telling him in her own way what the others had said in words. Harry stroked her snowy white back gently then watched in amazement as she lazily flew away.
The resentment and anger he had felt since Easter and the Horcruxes seemed to retreat. It was strange to have people tell him they care, and though there were still doubts, his distrust was beginning to dissolve.
"Are…are they all real?" Harry asked the Guardian as they left Remus and Hagrid behind and walked a bit further on, "I don't understand how this is happening."
"You need to believe Harry, believe in what your friends and family are telling you," the Guardian informed him, "only when you believe will you understand. Only when you believe, you will feel the power."
Harry just frowned and followed the old man further in the room. It felt like they had walked some distance, but as he looked back over his shoulder, he could still see the Weasley's and Professor McGonagall near the entrance door.
"Hey mate." Harry turned his head quickly back to see Ron standing there in front of him, grinning ear to ear.
"Hi Ron," Harry greeted him, glad to see his best friend.
"You know, I'm not one for gushy expressions of how I feel," Ron started, his ears beginning their transition to redness, "after living with the twins, you learn very early on not to say anything that resembles sentimental thought."
"I understand," Harry said with a laugh.
"But you're my best mate," Ron continued, "and although at times I'm jealous as hell about what you have, you are still my best mate. I would do anything for you, you know that, right?"
"Yeah, Ron, I know that," Harry replied seriously.
"The reason I'm here is to show you that I, well, you know…"
"Thanks," Harry finished for him, the two boys staring at each other slightly uncomfortably until Ron grabbed Harry in a hug, both patting each other on the back for a few moments before pulling away and staring at each other again.
"You're a good guy Harry," Ron said as an afterthought. Harry went to reply, but before he could he was interrupted by a voice he thought he'd never hear again.
"Harry."
Harry turned around and saw his godfather standing there, relaxed and happy, like he looked in the photos before Azkaban.
"Sirius?" Harry questioned, not quite believing his eyes.
"What, no hug?" Sirius asked with a grin. Harry broke into a smile of his own and drew Sirius into a hug, holding on, not wanting to let go. All the guilt Harry had been carrying around since Sirius's death began to flow out of him and soon his hug of greeting turned into one of grief. He began to sob, his body wracking with sorrow.
"I'm so sorry Sirius," Harry cried softly, "it was my fault you died. I should've listened to Hermione, I should've use the mirror. It is all my fault!"
"It was no-one fault Harry," Sirius countered, his voice choked with emotion, "and defiantly not yours. Voldemort wanted you to get that prophecy and would've done anything to get you there. Chances are, the outcome would've been the same," he pulled back from Harry, holding Harry's face in his hands, staring intently into his eyes, "you need to believe that Harry. You need to let my death go."
"I can't…"
"Yes you can. The short time I spent with you was, to coin a phrase, magical. You are an incredible person who time and time again amazes me with your maturity and outlook on life," Sirius told him, relaxing his hold, but still staring at him, tears filling his eyes, "with all you've been through, the horrors you've faced, you are still able to love."
"I miss you," Harry whispered, breaking the gaze as tears once more began to fall.
"I miss you too," Sirius replied, drawing Harry to him once more, "but I'm with you Harry, we all are."
"He's right," said another familiar voice and as Harry pulled away from Sirius, wiping his nose and face on his sleeve, he looked at the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore.
"Right?" Harry repeated, confused.
"We are always with you Harry," Dumbledore confirmed with a smile, "when you need us the most, we are there for you."
"Your portrait..."
"Is just an essence," the professor explained, stepping up to Harry, "my, it's good to see you again."
"It's good to see you too, professor."
"I think you have earned the right to call me Albus Harry," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, "there is so much I want to say to you, so much I didn't say to you when I was alive."
"You have the time now, Albus," Sirius said with a grin, "and he needs to hear it."
"So true Sirius, so true," Dumbledore replied with a glance to the Marauder then back to Harry, "I told you that I cared for you Harry, and that it was because I cared for you that my careful planning had started to fail. What I didn't tell you, was that you are like a son to me, that I love you with a fierce pride of a father, or maybe a grandfather…"
"I think grandfather, Albus," said a new voice, one Harry didn't recognise at first, "the role of father would be mine."
Harry looked beyond his headmaster and Sirius to see a near mirror image of himself walking towards him, holding the hand of a beautiful redhead.
"Dad?" Harry asked in shock.
"Hello son, it is so good to see you at last," James said with pride, "you have grown into a fine young man. And as handsome as your father, which is good to see."
"Hopefully he didn't inherit your self-modesty James," Lily continued with a smirk before looking at Harry with the eyes that were exactly like his own, "hello Harry. Oh, I have long waited for this moment."
"I…I don't understand," Harry stammered, "what are you?"
"I think the Guardian should explain," Albus said jovially, sitting down in one of the chairs that had quietly appeared.
Harry drew his eyes away from his parents (who also sat down but chose the two seater couch that was next to Dumbledore's chair) and looked at the Guardian.
"Albus, Sirius and your parents have been allowed to come here and see you Harry," the Guardian explained, "they are not like the others you've met so far. They are real. Together they are here to teach you about the power in this room."
"Love, you mean," Harry frowned, still feeling uncomfortable with the term.
"Yes, Harry - love."
Harry looked at his parents who were watching him intently. Sirius had perched himself on the arm of the couch, on his dad's side while Dumbledore sat close to his mum. She held out her hands to Harry, who accepted her touch and allowed himself to be guided to a chair that had turned up and facing the group.
"We're here to help you sweetheart," she smiled, "we know you still have doubts, that you don't quite believe…"
"It's just weird to think that I'm worth all of this…"
"But you are Harry," his dad added, perching on the edge of his seat so he was closer to him, "all the people in this room, all the people who you've spoken to, love you because of who you are. They know you and accept you…"
"And respect you," Sirius added, "you are a very difficult person to know and not like."
"The Dursley's have not been liking me for years…"
"My sister and her husband burdened you with their contempt for me," his mum said sadly, "and I'm so sorry for that."
Harry didn't say anything for a moment and just sat and thought. He definitely felt better, lighter, than he did - his anger was gone, but he wasn't totally free. He looked back to Sirius.
"I want to believe that you dying wasn't because of me, but I can't…" he said, his voice barely above a whisper, then he looked at his parents, "and you both died protecting me. In a way, that was my fault too."
"Harry…" his mum started, but Harry just turned and looked at the old headmaster.
"I couldn't stop Snape from killing you, I couldn't save you. People who love me end up dying."
"And that is why you don't believe," Albus nodded sadly, understanding, but it seemed Harry's mother wasn't as accepting.
"I want you to listen to me," she said, grabbing all of Harry's attention, "your father and I loved you more than life itself. You were a miracle born in a time of heartache and war. Every day spent with you was precious and a gift not just to us, but also to our friends - those who were with us in our struggle. We knew of your possible fate, Harry. We knew that we would be targets for Voldemort and made contingency plans in case of worse case scenarios. We made the choice, the conscious choice, that if there was any way to protect you, we would take it."
"We could've run," Harry father continued, taking over from his wife, "we could've hidden so that we all would be safe but that meant many other lives would've been lost as he looked for us. The spell your mother cast was old and a last resort for us but it meant saving your life. We would do it all again in a heartbeat."
"Harry, don't ever think that loving you is a terrible thing," his mother carried on sadly, "because its not, it's something wonderful - a gift…"
Harry just looked at her, then his dad, before dropping his gaze to his hands, held tightly by his mother.
"Loving me is a curse," he whispered.
"No, Harry," she whispered back, making him look at her, "loving you is precious."
"She's right, you know," his dad added.
"Lily's always right," Sirius piped in, "she was the smart one after all."
"I have to agree," Dumbledore smiled, "about Lily being the smart one as well as what she said."
Harry looked between the four adults and frowned. Did they really mean what they were saying? Did everyone mean it? He started to feel a glow in his stomach, a warmth he had never felt before, making the blood in his veins seemingly pump faster. He began to smile.
"I guess you all can't be wrong," he finally answered.
"You believe us?" his dad asked, his worry immediately leaving his face.
"I'm not a bad person," Harry said after a moment, "I deserve to be loved, right?"
"Right!" his mother exclaimed, and for the first time in his life, Harry was hugged by his mum. He closed his eyes and imprinted this feeling forever on his brain. He knew he'd never get a chance like this again and he wanted to make sure he remembered every second. His mother pulled away and allowed her husband to hug their only child - Harry couldn't help but see the tears in his mum's eyes. He felt it then, really felt it. He understood.
"You've crossed another hurdle Harry," the Guardian advised him, smiling kindly, "but you still have a few more to go through before your time here is complete."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, still basking in his parents embrace.
"There is someone still waiting for you." The Guardian indicated to a lone figure standing a little bit off in the distance. Harry couldn't make out her features but he knew immediately who it was. Hermione. He looked back at his parents.
"Ah, I feel hesitation there," Sirius remarked with a grin, "and I think I know why."
"Why?" the fellow Marauder asked, "we know the young lady loves our son, don't we?"
"Yes, yes we do," Sirius confirmed, looking at his friends and old headmaster, "but your son doesn't know if he loves the young lady." They all turned back to Harry, who blushed terribly.
"It's just that," he began hesitantly, "well, I don't know…I saw this memory, and although Sirius and Remus said it meant nothing…"
"Ah, the memory," Sirius chuckled.
"What memory?" Lily asked, confused.
"A memory from Severus Snape," Sirius continued, "showing one of the many times James and I wasn't particularly nice to the slimy git."
"Which one?" James questioned, "there were so many…"
"By the lake, you had him hanging by his ankles, remember?"
"Yes I do!" James laughed, "how could one forget that underwear!"
"Well, Lily wasn't enamoured by you then, James," Sirius finished, still smiling, "which has your son quite worried."
"And still does, it seems," James stated, looking back to Harry, "why, Harry?"
"Its just, well, it didn't seem that mum liked you very much then," Harry mumbled quickly.
"That's because I didn't," Lily replied with a shrug.
"You didn't?" Harry repeated in surprise, while both James and Sirius grinned.
"No," Lily confirmed seriously, "James and Sirius thought they were so hot, that every girl in Hogwarts should bow down to them and cater for their every whim, that they ran the school - sorry Albus," she added, looking at Dumbledore, who smiled back.
"Oh, no need to apologise Lily," he quipped, "sometimes I think James and Sirius, along with the steady head of Remus, did actually run the school. They were all very, very clever."
"Be that as it may," Lily continued, looking back at Harry, "James was so full of himself that I really didn't like him that much at all."
"I, on the other hand, was totally in love with Lily Evans" James reflected fondly, "from the moment I saw her on the train - red hair blazing, nose in a book, totally resistant to my supposed charms…"
"Remember Harry, he was only eleven when they first met," Sirius interrupted with a wink, "it was really quite sickening. It took six, nearly seven, long years before your mother would give James the time of day."
"So, what changed your mind?" Harry asked his mother, totally caught up in the story.
"We got to know one another," she explained, "we were made Head Boy and Head Girl…"
"One of my better decisions, if I may say so myself," Dumbledore added wistfully.
"…and I found out he really wasn't as pompous and disgustingly annoying when he wasn't showing off to his friends. I found out that he was really rather sweet."
"And even though your mother was the opposite to me in nearly every way," James added, "smart, studious, loved reading, followed the rules, had no real understanding of Quidditch - she was, and still is, perfect."
"Like I say, sickening," Sirius grinned, getting a playful shove from Lily.
"So, you two fell in l…love?" Harry tried to confirm, looking between his mum and dad.
"I was already in love," his dad answered, looking at his wife tenderly, making her smile, before turning back to Harry, "but yes, in that seventh year at Hogwarts I knew without a doubt that your mum was the only woman I could ever love, and it seems she finally felt the same about me."
"You must understand Harry," Lily carried on, "no-one was going to tell me what to do, let alone a handsome, sports mad trouble maker that had girls hanging off his every word. I wouldn't give James the satisfaction of knowing that I actually found him, in a slightly obnoxious way, endearing."
"Thank you sweetheart," James said, feigning hurt feelings.
"You're more than welcome, love," Lily replied before kissing him softly on the lips. Harry watched the exchange and all his fears were put to rest. Seeing his parents together proved to him, without a shadow of a doubt, that they loved each other. The puzzle was nearly complete. He looked back over at Hermione.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "your description of mum is pretty much the same as Hermione," he glanced at his parents, "actually, they're nearly exact."
"She's a very special girl, Harry," Dumbledore said softly.
"I know," Harry replied, his eyes going back to the lone figure, "why is she there, all alone?"
"She's your final lesson Harry," the Guardian told him.
"Final lesson?"
"Yes," the Guardian continued, "we know she loves you, loves you deeply. But, do you love her?" Harry's head snapped up as he looked at the gentle face of the Guardian.
"I…I don't know," he stammered, before looking back at Sirius, Albus and his parents, "how do I know?"
"Don't ask me Harry," Sirius replied, holding his hands up in defeat, "I was more a 'living for the now' sort of man. Never found the right girl to settle down with, played the field a bit - you know?" Clapping Harry jovially on the shoulder, Sirius then stood and moved away.
"I experienced a lot of love in my life," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling, "but being in love is still a mystery to me. I feel your mum and dad are the experts in this." Harry watched in silence as Dumbledore too, stood and went to stand by Sirius. Harry looked back at his parents.
"Describe her to us Harry," his mum said gently, "we don't know this girl. Tell us why she is so special to you."
Harry thought for a moment, trying to get what was going though his mind into words, every now and then looking up at the lonely figure in the distance.
"She's my best friend," he started, his brow lined with concentration, "she has always been there, helping me through…everything. Even when Ron turned his back on me, she didn't. She believed me, believed in me, trusted me through everything. Even when I didn't deserve it."
"Friendship is the best base," his dad interrupted, "mutual respect one of the corner stones."
"There's that," Harry continued, "I mean, she's so smart. And powerful, even though she doesn't believe it. Sometimes she doesn't have enough faith in herself, even though she can do magic well beyond her years."
"How does she make you feel Harry?" his mother asked.
"Like I'm home, comfortable. That I don't have to pretend, be someone else," Harry answered, frowning with thought, "she knows me so well, there's no point hiding anything from her. And I know her too," he smiled softly, "I thought I knew everything but it seems she was quite good at keeping secrets."
"I think if you really looked at it Harry," James said with a smile, "her love for you wouldn't have been that well hid."
"Others thought there was something going on," Harry remembered with a smile, "and we always denied it, brushed it off as stupid. Goes to show, I guess."
"Do you have fun together?" Lily continued to probe gently and once again Harry thought hard.
"We have done, lately," he answered slowly, "though there really isn't really much time to relax what with the Horcruxes and Voldemort. But we make each other laugh, even without Ron."
"Do you see your future with her?"
"Yes." His answer was short and quick. Shocked, Harry looked up at the smiling faces of his parents.
"Harry…?"
"I love Hermione," Harry said in wonder, his mind still digesting the revalation, "I'm in love with Hermione. She…she is…everything to me."
"And I think it's about time you tell her, don't you?" the Guardian interjected, once again coming from seemingly nowhere to speak. Harry looked back over at the figure in the distance, and stood instantly, ready to tell her what was now just bursting to be told.
"No Harry," the Guardian told him, "she is only a shadow. You have passed the test. It is time for you to go home."
"Leave?" Harry cried, madly looking at his mum and dad, who had silently joined Albus and Sirius once more.
"There is nothing left here for you to learn," the Guardian continued, "your lesson is complete."
"But…" Harry started, beginning to panic - leaving meant again saying goodbye to the small group of people standing before him. With a smile, Dumbledore came up to him and held him at arms length, his merry eyes twinkling brightly.
"We will be with you when you need us the most Harry," the old headmaster said calmly, "remember, those we love who die, don't ever truly leave us. Stay strong son." Dumbledore gently drew Harry into a hug, which Harry returned with a hint of sadness. With a final smile, the professor turned and disappeared, his place taken by Sirius.
"Have you stopped blaming yourself for my death?" he asked seriously.
"Yes," Harry replied honestly.
"Good," Sirius replied with a satisfied nod, "you're a good kid Harry. When this is all over and you are finally able to relax, learn to laugh again, okay?"
"Okay," Harry agreed somewhat dispirited.
"Hey, cheer up," Sirius smiled broadly, "this time here was extra, something special. You're going to be fine."
"Right. Thanks."
"You're welcome," Sirius gave Harry a farewell hug and again Harry returned it, not wanting to let go, "I love you kiddo," the Marauder breathed and then he too, was gone.
With a deep breath, Harry looked at his parents who smiled sadly back at him. He approached them and let himself be enveloped by them, a three way hug that meant so much. He didn't want to leave them, but at the same time, he knew he had to. He had to talk to Hermione.
"We are so proud of you Harry," his dad whispered, his eyes full of tears.
"And we love you so much," his mum added, her tears already falling.
"But we don't want to see you again for a very, very long time…"
"Not until you're old and grey, with children and grandchildren of your own and your life had been full and happy…"
"But don't forget us," James ended.
"Because we'll never forget you," Lily finished. Harry looked at them and smiled.
"Thank you," was all he could think of saying. His mother embraced him once more, kissing him on the cheek before holding him at arms length for one last look. Harry watched as she disappeared, her place taken by his father. He too took Harry in his arms, holding him in a tight embrace. Reluctant to let go, Harry finally did, giving his father a small wave as he faded away, leaving Harry standing alone in the chamber.
He vaguely wondered where the Guardian was, but was grateful for some time alone to sort out his thoughts. He realised that he didn't lie to Sirius, he truly no longer blamed himself for his godfathers death, or the deaths of his parents. And the knowledge that he had the love of so many wonderful people helped him hold his head a little bit higher.
But as he stood there in the blank room, reality began to sink in. This place was meant to be the home of the greatest power there is, the tool that was going to help him defeat Voldemort. There was supposed to be a weapon in here - all Harry had done was talk to people.
As he thought about it, he snorted softly. There was no weapon - but there was truly a great power. Harry felt different, he felt an energy surging through him, giving him a confidence that he hadn't felt before. For the first time in his life, he knew he could handle whatever came his way.
There was an awareness as well, a knowledge that he couldn't take all these new emotions and thoughts for granted, that he had to honour and respect what he had learnt - and he couldn't loose sight of who he was.
"Are you ready, Harry?" Harry turned to see the Guardian standing behind him, waiting patiently.
"Yes," Harry replied, "thank you," he added.
"You are more than welcome," the rotund man replied, "let's get you home."
Within moment, Harry was stepping through the fireplace and into the Head's common room to find Ron sitting in a chair, his head flung back uncomfortably as he snored away, fast asleep, while Hermione was curled up on the couch reading a book. She looked up at him as he brushed off non-existent soot.
"Harry," she gasped slightly nervously, waking Ron up with a start.
"Harry," he repeated, trying to focus, "you're back!"
"Yeah," Harry grinned, plonking himself down next to Hermione as he glanced at the dark sky outside the window at the top of the landing, "looks like I've been gone for a while."
"It's nearly eleven," Hermione confirmed, frowning slightly, "you've been gone over eight hours. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah mate," Ron continued enthusiastically, "when Hermione told me where you were, I mean - the locked room! What was it like?"
"It was…interesting," Harry replied cryptically, surprising Hermione by taking her hand and intertwining his fingers with hers, "I can't really explain it."
"But, you're cured?" Ron asked, concerned, "because you really have been quite a prat."
"Yes Ron, I'm cured," Harry laughed, looking down at Hermione who continued to look at him in shock.
"And the greatest power thing," Ron bumbled on, "have you got it? Did it work?"
"I was shown how the power works, yes," Harry replied, his eyes locked with Hermione's, "I now know the key."
"Really? What is it? Where is it?"
Harry didn't initially reply and instead gently stroked Hermione's cheek with his thumb, trying to give her a reassuring smile as tears formed in her eyes. As he watched her, he couldn't believe just how stupid, how blind, he had been. She was perfect - how could he not have seen that.
"The key is right in front of me," Harry answered finally, totally lost in Hermione.
"What?" Ron asked confused.
Although Harry couldn't see him, he could practically hear the cogs turn over in his best friends head as he tried to work out what was happening. It took a few moments, but then Harry heard an understanding 'oh' as Ron hastily stood.
"Right, then," he blurted out, "glad you're back but I think I'll go off to bed now. Won't wait up. Have fun you two." And then he was gone.
"Have…have you eaten?" she whispered nervously once they were alone.
"I'm not hungry," Harry answered with a smile.
"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked, her face inching closer to his.
"I'm fantastic."
"I was worried…"
"I know, I'm sorry," he said, her face close enough that he could feel her breath, "but you were right, I needed to go there, to find some answers."
"What did you find out Harry?" she breathed.
"That I love you," he answered softly, "that I'm in love with you." Her response wasn't one he was expecting as she pulled back from him suddenly, her eyes wide in shock.
"What?" she exclaimed.
"I love you Hermione," he repeated, frowning slightly. She stared at him, her face flushed with emotion. Harry didn't know what to say but realised the best thing to do was to say nothing and give Hermione time. After all these years, he knew how her mind worked and he realised she would be thinking, analysing, weighing his words before she could accept them. And he saw the moment she did.
The look of shock disappeared, her eyes no longer wide and scared. Her face softened as she gave Harry a shy smile.
"You love me?" she asked.
"With all of my heart," Harry replied solemnly, barely getting the words out before she was on top of him, kissing him madly.
Harry was gone. His last thought was that he hoped Albus, Sirius and/or his parents weren't watching over him at this exact point of time - and then his mind was consumed by the wonderful feeling of Hermione.
They began exploring each other, their touches desperate and needing, their kisses hungry. His shirt was off quite quickly, discarded along side her book, forgotten on the floor. He loved the way her hands were on him, her mouth placing small kisses over his chest, gently surrounding the still greenish bruise over his left breast. Meanwhile his hands were feeling the softness of her skin, daring himself to go just that little bit further than he had done before. It was all so wonderful, until…
"Harry Potter, sir."
Hermione was off Harry in a flash, pulling down her shirt as she removed herself from his lap. Harry let out a groan.
"Dobby," he sighed disappointedly, turning to see a very sorry looking house-elf staring back at him, "this better be important."
"The headmistress asked me to get you all, sir," Dobby continued, nervously wringing his hands, "I tried in your chamber, but your Wheezy said you were here and that I should come and get you. I…I didn't mean to interrupt, Harry Potter."
"It's okay," Harry tried to reassure, putting his shirt back on, "what do you need to tell me."
"The castle is under attack."