Harry Potter and the Battle for Light

DonovanPotter

Rating: PG
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 09/01/2006
Last Updated: 11/06/2006
Status: completed

Chapter 24 - Epilogue. The final chapter of Harry Potter and the Battle for Light. What does the future hold for Harry and Hermione? Ron? Luna? Ginny? This chapter answers a few questions with a good dose of fluff. Thanks to all those who have read this - until next time...

Chapters

1. Life at privet Drive

2. The Wedding

3. An Dowrgi Chi

4. Families

5. Decisions and the Dursleys

6. Where There's a Will, There's a Way

7. A Day in London Town

8. The Return

9. Red and the Brainbox

10. The Cellar

11. Recovery

12. Christmas at the Castle

13. Advice

14. The End is Coming

15. Power and the Powerful

16. No More Secrets

17. Destroying Evil

18. A Harry Full of Angst

19. The Greatest Power of All

20. Plans

21. The Battle

22. Battle for Light

23. Forgiveness

24. Epilogue

1. Life at privet Drive

A/N – so I’m back. I know this has been done many times before, but I wanted to do my take on book 7. Just a warning, H/Hr will be implied for quite a few chapters before it gets into piles of fluff, I just don’t see it happening straight away and I’m going to try desperately to keep to cannon (I am surrounded by my books and other reference material) – so I guess I should warn there will be a bit of H/G and Hr/R action as well (not enough to cause vomiting, I assure you). Oh, and if this proves to be popular and I get the same amount of reviews as my previous story (even I can’t spell the title off-hand) then I won’t be answering your lovely comments – it just takes too much time and I have this, another story and real life on the go.

So, after that lengthy introduction – let the story begin.

Chapter 1 – Life at Privet Drive

“Potter!”

Harry Potter looked up from the game of chess he was playing and turned to the direction his name had just been bellowed from, his frown of concentration changing into a frown of annoyance.

“Bloody hell,” Ron Weasley, his best friend and current chess opponent, grumbled, “what does the great prat want now? Can’t he give you a bit of peace for two seconds?”

“I guess I better go,” Harry sighed as he stood from his place on the floor and made his way to the door.

“Do you want us to come with you Harry?”

Harry turned and saw his other best friend, Hermione Granger, watching him from the book she was reading. She was sitting on his bed and leaning against its bedhead that had been cushioned by his pillow, looking the most relaxed he had ever seen her.

“Only if you want to,” he replied, “I’ve probably just breathed too loud or something.”

“Brilliant,” Ron exclaimed happily as he clambered off the floor, “play time with Uncle Vernon.”

“Ron!” Hermione admonished as she marked her place in her book and made her way to where they were standing, “we’re not meant to rile Mr Dursley up, remember? Getting him angry isn’t going to accomplish anything!”

“Except making me feel good,” Ron grinned as he followed Harry out of the door, Hermione right behind him; swotting Ron’s arm as soon as she was close enough.

It had been just over a week since Harry, Ron and Hermione turned up at number four Privet Drive. After some lengthy shouting matches with his uncle and some clever spell work from Hermione, his friends finally got begrudged permission to shift in – Ron sharing his room while Hermione got the spare room that was usually saved for Aunt Marge. And with Harry still unable to officially do magic out of school, he was enjoying watching his relatives livid faces each time his friends performed one spell or another – especially his uncle, who Ron had made his mission to annoy enormously.

Therefore, it was the three of them making their way down the stairs, Harry first and his two friends one step behind him, all stopping suddenly as their way was blocked by his uncle and aunt putting on their coats.

“What took you so long boy?” Uncle Vernon sneered at Harry.

“No reason,” Harry shrugged back, “you off then.”

“We’re picking Dudley up from Kings Cross,” came the reply, “I don’t want any funny business from you or your freaky friends while we’re gone. And you can start the dinner to be ready for us when we get back.”

“We are having roast lamb,” Aunt Petunia continued, “you know how Dunnikins likes it. He will be starving, my poor little boy, I’m sure they wouldn’t have fed him at that camp!” Dudley had spent the last week at a school camp in the Cotswalds and Harry doubted greatly that his cousin could ever starve.

“And you can put that pile of books that I’ve stacked up next to the door in Dudley’s room into the cupboard under the stairs. He doesn’t need that kind of codswallop now he’s a man!”

“Yes Uncle Vernon,” Harry said automatically and watched as his uncle and aunt walked out, slamming the door behind them.

“That porker could do with not being fed for a week,” Ron chorkled, “he’s the size of a house!”

“That is not very nice Ron,” Hermione said as she turned on her heel and headed back up the stairs, “I’ll get the books since I’m closest.”

Harry didn’t answer and instead made his way into the kitchen, Ron right behind him.

“Why does she always correct everything I say?” Ron grumbled as Harry opened the fridge and removed the large leg of lamb that had been defrosting in there, “I mean, Dudley is a porker. I really think she just likes to have a go…”

“You give as good as you get Ron,” Harry said, turning on the oven and starting to get the meat ready to roast.

“Yeah, but when I have a go, she deserves it! She has a go just to annoy me.”

Harry didn’t say anything and instead pretended he was concentrating on what he was doing. The relationship between his two best friends bewildered him. He thought they were finally going to get together when they made up after the whole poison mead incident, and at Dumbledore’s funeral they seemed close. But since they had moved in with him, he hadn’t seen any indication that their relationship had changed. They still bickered over the smallest of things and it was starting to drive him mad.

With the lamb properly seasoned and dressed and the oven warmed, Harry placed the meat filled roasting tray into the heated chamber, looking up in time to see Hermione walk into the kitchen, flushed and frowning.

“Hermione?” Harry asked, “what’s wrong?”

“There is a bed in the cupboard under the stairs,” she said, looking directly at him, “and your name is etched into one of the beams in there. Is that where they kept you? Before Hogwarts?”

“Er…”

“You used to sleep in a cupboard? Harry, it has locks on the door!”

“Well, yeah…”

“How long would they lock you in there?”

“No longer than a couple of days…”

“A couple of days!” Hermione began to pace around the kitchen and began muttering to herself, looking quite hysterical. Harry exchanged a worried look with Ron, who just shrugged.

“Hermione, its okay,” he tried to soothe, “it wasn’t too bad. I was smaller then…”

“Smaller then!” she yelled him, making him take a step back, “Harry, it doesn’t matter how small you were. No child should sleep in a cupboard under the stairs! How dare they! Those horrid, horrid people!”

“I’ve told you they did stuff like that…”

“But…well, I know,” she said, sagging slightly and sounding more like herself, “oh Harry, how did you stand it?”

“I guess I didn’t know any different,” he replied nonchalantly as he took out some potatoes to start to peel, working on autopilot as he had done this chore so many times before – not seeing Hermione’s eyes fill with tears as she watched him or see her angrily blink them away.

“For goodness sake,” she huffed after a few moments, drawing out her wand, “let me do that. I will not let you lift another finger for these foul creatures!”

Keeping to her word, Hermione supervised the preparation of the evening meal so that by the time the Dursleys had arrived home, dinner was indeed cooked – but not by Harry. He and Ron had continued their game of chess on the dinning room table, moving only when Hermione had ordered Ron to set the dinner placings.

The subsequent meal was in interesting affair. Hermione had tried hard all week to get polite conversation from Harry’s aunt and uncle, often chatting away even when she had no response – Harry thought her stony silence over the dinner table was, in a way, a welcome relief.

Meanwhile, the newly returned Dudley Dursley seemed quite flummoxed that there was a girl his age living in his house – Harry caught him more than once casting Hermione a look that could only be described as a leer. And when Dudley hung around the kitchen while the trio did the dishes before heading upstairs, Harry was more than a little concerned.

“Something wrong Duders?” he asked as his cousin followed them and began to enter Harry’s room.

“Nothing I would share with you Pothead,” was the snarled reply.

“Don’t talk to Harry like that,” Hermione snapped, turning on the man who was at least twice her size. Dudley’s transformation was immediate as he seemed to shrink down and look contrite, blushing furiously as he looked at Hermione.

“Sorry,” he said in a voice Harry had never heard him use before, “ah, I’ll just, um, leave you to it then.” And with a turn, he was gone.

Ron had already entered Harry’s bedroom with Hermione soon following, leaving a confused Harry in the hall until he registered in his brain what had just happened and went into his room, shutting the door behind him.

“What was all that about?” Ron asked, dropping down onto the bunk that was his bed.

“I think Dudley fancies Hermione…”

“What!” Ron exclaimed, immediately standing, looking ready to storm out and pound Dudley into a pulp.

“For goodness sake Ronald,” Hermione said as she pushed Ron back down so he sat rather heavily on his bed, “do you have to act so Neanderthal every time some bloke glances in my direction?”

“Be careful of him though Hermione,” Harry warned, making his way to his own bed, “he usually gets what he wants.”

“I can look after myself,” Hermione replied, retrieving her book and making her way back to where she had been sitting earlier on, “especially against a great oaf like Cousin Dudley.”

Harry found himself believing her, giving her a small smile as he set up the chess set once more, determined to beat Ron at least once at the stupid game.

“Still, I think you should start locking your door,” he continued as Ron once again sat down opposite him and made his first move.

When Hermione didn’t reply, Harry looked up at her and saw the look that usually meant she was wanting to say something that she knew he didn’t particularly want to hear – he had seen that look enough during their fifth year to be able to recognise it.

“What is it Hermione?” he asked, “come on, spill.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking…” she started hesitantly.

“Oh no, there’s trouble just there…” Ron mumbled under his breath – Harry had to fight back a laugh.

“Thanks for your vote of confidence Ron,” Hermione replied with a weariness of someone who had gone through this type of exchange often – which of course, she had, “anyway, I’ve been thinking – we need to find Horcruxes and we need to know how to destroy them and, well, I’ve looked right through Hogwarts library after you told me about them Harry. And I think Professor Dumbledore told you everything he knew about them before he died…” she paused, giving Harry time to fight back the mixture and pain and anger that he felt every time his old headmaster’s name was mentioned – he could feel Hermione was doing the same. After a moment she continued, “…but there may be somewhere that could help.”

“Where?” Harry asked, unable to hide his curiosity.

“Grimmauld Place.”

“I…I don’t want to go back there…”

“I know Harry, but think about it,” she put her book down and made her way to the now unforgotten chess game, ignoring Ron as she concentrated on Harry, “the Blacks were dark wizards and they have quite a substantial library. There may be books there that wouldn’t be allowed at Hogwarts, which may tell us something about…”

“Horcruxes,” Harry finished for her.

She was right, as she so often is, and Harry realised that he was going to have to go back to Sirius’s home, his home now (at least technically). He didn’t say anything as he battled with himself, Ron and Hermione waiting patiently for his response. When he finally couldn’t come up with a logical reason not to go back other than he didn’t want to, he nodded.

“I have to go to The Burrow tomorrow, stupid wedding business,” Ron grumbled, “Charlie’s coming to pick me up at ten…”

“Do you want us to wait for you Ron?” Harry asked, knowing that Hermione would want to go there as soon as possible but he would prefer to have both of them with him when he went back.

“No, I guess not,” Ron replied, “Hermione’s dying to look at a bunch of new books and you guys are better at the research stuff than me. I’ll just come by later.”

Seemingly settled, Hermione gave a small smile before returning to her book while Ron went back to the chess game. Harry, knowing that he had no choice and that he needed to get used to the idea that Grimmauld Place might have a big part to play in the quest for the Horcruxes, also turned his attention to the chess board in front of him and made his first move in a game that he was bound to lose.

Later that night, as Harry lay in his bed attempting to ignore the snores from Ron and to find some sleep himself, he tried stop his mind whirling around with a multitude of different thoughts. Going back to Sirius’s home was going to remind him so much of his godfather, but somehow that didn’t seem as bad as it did last year. Sadly, Harry knew why. This year a bigger loss has over shadowed Sirius, and it was the thought of Dumbledore that was haunting him now. The last moments at the tower played over and over in his brain, mixing with the horror of the potion and Dumbledore’s pleas in the cave. All for nothing.

Harry rolled over so his back faced Ron, hoping that would make the noise less, well, noisy – but it didn’t. Breathing deeply, he just stared out into the darkness and waited for sleep to finally claim him.

By ten-thirty the next morning Harry and Hermione were standing outside 12 Grimmauld Place, its dark and dreary walls as uninviting as ever. Charlie had Apparated Harry there before taking Ron to The Burrow (both not able to themselves) while Hermione made it on her own. Harry couldn’t quite make himself go any further – the memories of Snape egging Sirius on and the treachery of Kreacher rooted him to the spot.

“Come on Harry,” Hermione said softly, taking his hand and leading him to the front door as if she knew he couldn’t do it on his own.

Inside was just as gloomy as the outside yet there was a more lived in feeling that wasn’t there the last time he had visited. He guessed the Order had continued to use the house as their headquarters, as Harry had given permission to do when Dumbledore took him away from the Dursley’s the previous year – the thought made him wonder if the Order still existed now that their leader had been killed. He supposed so, but really didn’t want to think about it any further.

“I guess we should see if there is anyone else here,” Hermione said in a whisper, aware of the curtained portrait on the landing.

“You go,” Harry stuttered, “I’ll…I’ll just wait here.” He felt Hermione squeeze is hand comfortingly with the hand that he didn’t know he was still holding before giving him a small smile and making her way to look in the kitchen and dinning room.

Harry just stood there feeling stupid that he was letting this house make him feel the way he did, berating himself so that when Hermione rejoined him at the entrance way, he made himself join her as they went up to the next levels to check out the other rooms. It seemed the house was deserted, so they finally made their way to the library that lay opposite the drawing room on the second floor.

Hermione’s description that the Black family library was substantial didn’t seem to cover the number of books shelved floor to ceiling in the large room. The sheer volume made it seem quite oppressive – even the large desk facing the only dirt-encrusted window was uninviting. Harry hadn’t been in there before but it was obvious that Hermione had as she seemed unaffected by its horridness.

“I briefly looked at the titles when we stayed here before,” she said briskly, walking over to the first shelf, “there are books that cover dark magic generally; these may have a bit more information of Horcruxes than the books in Hogwarts. And Harry,” she turned to him looking very serious, “be careful. Some of these books have protection spells that can be quite dangerous.”

“So, how do I know which ones are dangerous and which ones aren’t?” he asked.

“Just be very cautious when you open every book and stick to books that look like they could help us,” she continued, returning her gaze to in front of her, “you and Ron have a habit of researching things that looks interesting not necessarily what is required. In this library, that may just kill you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Harry made his way over to where she was standing and glanced up at the seemingly never ending shelves packed with books.

“There must be thousands in here,” he groaned, “how are we going to find anything out of all of this!”

“I think most are useless,” Hermione said, pulling out one from her right, “how ‘bout I select some, hand them to you and then we go into the drawing room over the hallway and look through them…”

“You don’t want to do that here?” Harry asked curiously.

“No,” she replied, “this room gives me the creeps.”

Harry had to agree with her and felt a lot calmer when they sat down in the drawing room with a pile of books scattered around them. With a resigned sigh, he slowly opened the first book, glad to see nothing seemed to want to attack him, and began skimming through the crusty pages for any sign of the word Horcruxes – there was a lot on various gruesome, disgusting subjects but he closed the book with nothing worthwhile and reached for the next volume.

The couple worked in silence, every now and then the sound of Hermione’s quill against parchment causing Harry to look up from whatever horrible fact he was reading about, but she continued to be engrossed in her own study. They returned to the library a couple of times and Harry was happy to see they had made their way two thirds up the first section of shelving.

Harry had just opened a large tome entitled ‘101 Ways to Win in Battle’ when he heard a sound from outside the room. His head snapped up and he noticed Hermione do the same. Silently, they placed their books down and stood wands at the ready. Harry’s heart began pounding although he knew it could be a member of the Order or…

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed as the door opened and the familiar face poked in, “you gave us a fright!”

“Well, I couldn’t call out,” he replied coming into the room, “that stupid old bat is still hanging in the hallway. I have just had three hours being bossed around, I really didn’t want to get hit with a bunch of insults the moment I stepped into this place which, I must say, is just as cheery as ever.”

“Things still pretty stressed at The Burrow then,” Harry asked, putting his wand away and dropping back down to the floor to continue to look at his book.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Ron answered, handing him a roughly wrapped package, “mum thought you might be hungry. You too Hermione.”

All thoughts of reading were discarded as Harry and Hermione began to devour Mrs Weasley’s corned beef sandwiches – Harry hadn’t realised just how hungry he was until he smelt food.

“I can’t believe the wedding is on Saturday,” Hermione said between mouthfuls.

“I can and I can’t wait for it to be over,” Ron muttered as he wandered over to the tapestry showing the Black family tree, looking at it absently.

“I’m kind of looking forward to it,” Hermione continued, “it will be good to see…”

“Harry, you better look at this,” Ron interrupted with an urgency in his voice that made Harry quickly get off the floor and walk over to where Ron stood, Hermione right behind him.

“What?” Harry asked, peering at where Ron was pointing – the part of the family tree that consisted of Sirius and his family.

“Sirius’s brother,” Ron said as if trying to contain his excitement, “Regulus. Regulus Black. R. B. What if his middle initial is an A?”

“He was a Death Eater and was killed after betraying Voldemort,” Harry thought out loud, “it does fit…”

“Oh no…” Hermione interrupted and both boys turned to her as she went deathly pale, “it can’t be!”

“What?” Ron asked.

“Hermione, are you alright?” Harry said at the same time but instead of answering, Hermione rushed over to the cabinet that they had spent ages cleaning out in their fifth year, frantically looking inside its glass sections.

“What is it?” Harry asked again, this time with more urgency as he followed her, “Hermione, what are you looking for?”

“How could I be so stupid!” she said in response, not really noticing Harry as she made her way to the other cabinet, “we spent ages trying to open it – how could I not remember?”

“Remember what Hermione!” Harry yelled before grabbing her arm and making her stop, “tell me what’s going on!”

“The locket Harry, the locket,” she replied, “remember? When we were clearing out these cabinets there was a locket that we couldn’t open! Ron’s right, Regulus fits the RAB tag and what if he hid the Horcrux here? In this house!”

Harry stared at her in stunned silence – could it really be that simple? Ron seemed to be similarly stunned as he, too, was lost for words. But it was for a different reason.

“You think I’m right?” he questioned the flustered Hermione, “you really think I’m right? Did you hear that Harry, Hermione said I was right!”

“Of course I did Ron,” Hermione said haughtily as she removed her arm from Harry’s grasp, “but we have more important things to think about right now! We obviously put it in the rubbish…”

“What happens to wizarding rubbish then?” Harry asked as he followed Hermione out the door.

“I…I don’t know,” Hermione replied, frowning as she stopped at the top of the stairs not liking the fact that she didn’t know something.

“Mum will know,” Ron said, passing by her on the stairs, “I’ll Floo her and ask what happened to all the muck we got rid of.”

“Kreacher,” Harry suddenly remembered making the other two look at him, “he was taking stuff and hiding it. Perhaps he took the locket?”

“We can check in the boiler room,” Hermione said, once more efficient and business like as all three continued down the stairs, staying quiet until they were well away from Mrs Black’s sleeping portrait before carrying on speaking, “that’s where he kept all his other treasures.”

“And you can ask him Harry,” Ron put in, “he’s yours now and if you ask, he has to tell you where he’s hidden it.”

Harry nodded as they reached the kitchen, hoping that it didn’t need to come to him dealing with his house-elf. He and Hermione carried on to the small boiler room that Kreacher had made his home while Ron stayed to talk to his mother, kneeling down and putting his head into the green flames that glowed in the hearth.

Kreacher’s lair looked deserted, making Harry think that the creature not only worked but now also slept at Hogwarts, though many of his treasures remained in the tiny hideout. Cautiously Harry and Hermione searched the space but found no sign of the locket. When they got back to the kitchen, Ron was just standing up from the fireplace.

“Well, it seems they put all the rubbish bags in the cellar because the items were too magical to just throw away,” he said a bit begrudgingly knowing what was coming next.

“I guess we better head towards the cellar then,” Harry said, confirming Ron’s fears. Hesitantly, the three made their way to the bowels of Grimmauld Place, lighting their way with one of Hermione’s portable, waterproof fires which also gave them some measure of heat in the damp, dreary chamber. They soon saw the bags of discarded rubbish and with an unspoken understanding, they each took a bag to scrutinize.

“Remember to be careful,” Hermione reminded them, “some of this stuff was pretty dangerous.”

“Great,” grunted Ron, “just spent the morning be ordered around by Phlegm and mum and now I’m sitting in the dark looking through bags of rubbish which may want to kill me.”

“Not one of your better days then,” Harry laughed trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to break the sombre mood before gently tipping the contents of his bag onto the floor. Ron and Hermione did the same and in silence, the trio picked their way through the small mountain of rubbish.

Harry was giving up hope that what they were looking for was actually there while his stomach told him that it was probably late and that the Dursley’s were going to be extremely pissed off they had missed dinner. He was just about to tell Ron and Hermione to leave it for the night, when Hermione spoke in a scared, strangled voice.

“Harry,” was all she said.

Quickly he was by her side, Ron also clambering over to where she had set herself up. There, amongst broken Black family dinnerware, sat a thickly set golden locket, dull and unassuming. They sat looking at it for a while as if memorised, but Harry wanted to see the reason that Dumbledore died – tentatively he reached out and pulled the locket out of the debris. Ron and Hermione didn’t speak as he turned it over in his hands, inspecting the chunky, ugly piece of jewellery and finally seeing the mark of Slytherin on its surface confirming that it was indeed the Horcrux they had been searching for.

Harry just kept staring at it, thinking over and over again that because of this…thing, Dumbledore was no longer at his side to help him, to be there for him, to laugh with him…He felt a stinging in his eyes and began to blink rapidly to stop any of the tears that he knew was threatening to fall – not trusting himself to look at his friends. Hermione seemed to understand his struggle, reaching out and gently touching his arm.

“Why don’t you take that upstairs Harry,” she said softly, “Ron and I will tidy up here before we go back to the Dursley’s.”

Harry just nodded before climbing the stairs and making his way into the kitchen, closing the cellar door and silencing it with a charm before collapsing into a chair and letting his grief for his absent headmaster be finally released in angry sobs.

A/N – there you go, chapter 1. Hope you enjoyed it. Updates should be weekly, on a Monday so until then…

2. The Wedding

A/N – a quiet week at work meant this chapter is slightly earlier than anticipated and even with the re-writes, I am still a bit unsure about it. Oh, and its quite long (over 5000 words – sorry). And, well, Ginny isn’t very nice – but she will be! Eventually. Anyway, I hope you enjoy

Chapter 2 – The Wedding

The rest of week was pretty surreal for Harry; knowing he had a Horcrux hiding under the floor board beneath his bed being one of the main reasons. Sitting in the gloom of Grimmauld Place reading copious amounts of advice on how to kill others in horrific ways didn’t help. Neither did the impending sighting, perhaps even meeting, with Ginny at The Burrow within the next couple days – in fact, that was the worst.

As the wedding loomed closer, Harry’s constant inner dialogue about what he was going to do when he saw Ginny again pretty much drowned out all other thought. Which was why he wasn’t paying attention to Ron late Thursday night as the redhead vented about his day at The Burrow – it was only when the words ‘Harry’ and ‘Ginny’ registered through Harry’s befuddled mind did he pull himself out of his mental tirade to concentrate on what his friend was saying.

“…and you too, Hermione,” Ron ended, lying flat out on his bed, looking exhausted.

“What?” Harry asked, making Ron look at him suspiciously.

“I said,” Ron said patiently, “that Ginny is in a real foul mood and that you and Hermione better stay clear of her on Saturday.”

Harry stared at Ron from his desk (where he had been pretending to read) before dejectedly dropping his head, trying to hide from his friends what he was feeling. He told himself that Ginny had the full right to be angry at him, that he had broken up with her just when their relationship was really getting underway. But she had accepted his decision so easily, he had hoped they could still be friends – after all she is his best friends sister and her and Hermione are friends as well…

“Just a minute,” he said, looking back at Ron, “why is she mad at Hermione?”

“I don’t know,” Ron grunted, “I stopped listening after a while. I think it’s because you told her to clear off but let Hermione come with you. She’s pretty angry with me too.”

“I thought this might happen,” Hermione said softly, shaking her head as Harry turned to her.

“You did?” he asked, “why?”

“Because she wants to be with you Harry,” Hermione replied knowingly, “and she’s not. Instead of her, your girlfriend, being at your side, her brother and friend are. Ginny’s jealous.”

“Jealous?” Harry questioned, puzzled.

“Yep, that sounds about right,” Ron said tiredly, not even opening his eyes.

“I…I don’t understand,” Harry said, confused, “she said that one of the reasons she liked me was because I needed to do this, to go after Voldemort. That’s what I’m doing…”

“But she thought you’d be doing it alone,” Hermione continued, closing the book she had been reading and standing up from his bed, giving him a small smile, “I don’t think she would have let you go so easily if she knew we would be with you. And on that note, I’m off – see you both tomorrow.” Before Harry could say another word, she was gone.

With a frustrated groan, he thumped his head down onto the desk and closed his eyes. What was he going to do? Ginny hated him because he said no to her and in the next breath said yes to his best friends who, it seems, have been tarred with the same brush as him. Maybe he should’ve said yes to her? Maybe he will say yes to her, on Saturday. Would it be such a terrible thing if she joined them? He was already putting Ron and Hermione in danger, what was one more person he cared about…

“You can’t let her come along,” Ron said, breaking the silence. Harry opened his eyes and looked over at the bed to see Ron looking directly back at him, “I know you’re thinking about it, but you can’t. She’s my baby sister Harry, and the only girl mum and dad have. If something happened to her…”

Ron didn’t need to finish his sentence, he didn’t have to – Harry understood. The Weasley’s had given him so much already, he couldn’t ask them to give them their only daughter. With a sinking heart he realised that no matter what he wanted, no matter how much it hurt or how much she felt for him – he and Ginny were definitely not meant to be.

Although Harry knew the option to get back together with Ginny was now firmly out of reach, and that she would probably not want to talk to him ever again anyway, he still found his brain consumed with what he was going to do if – no, when – he would see her. Numerous scenarios played over again and again in his mind as he sat with Hermione at Grimmauld Place the following day, trying to read a book on a history of worthwhile executions. Suddenly, he heard a book slam shut and with a start, he looked up at her, who looked back with an amused smirk.

“That got your attention,” she said with a laugh, “I called your name three times, and you totally ignored me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Are you al…” Hermione started.

“I’m fine,” Harry interrupted, giving his standard response.

“Right,” Hermione said with a smile in her voice, “well, that must be a really interesting page then, because you’ve been staring at it for the last half an hour.”

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” he said a bit more tersely than he intended before closing his book angrily and throwing it back into the ‘waiting-to-be-read’ pile.

“Fair enough,” Hermione said briefly before continuing to read.

Harry looked at her in frustration, not used to her backing away from probing him on how he was feeling at the exact time he really wanted to talk to her about, well, how he was feeling.

“Is that it?” he shot at her, “you’re going to leave it there?”

“You said you didn’t want to talk about it Harry,” she said sweetly, looking at him from her book, “and if I’ve learnt anything over the past six years, it is not to force you to talk about your feelings and emotions so, I’m not. If you want to talk to me about Ginny and what you’re going to about seeing her tomorrow at the wedding, you will. You know I’m always here to listen.” She looked at him for a moment before once more returning to her book.

Harry just continued to watch her, his mouth hanging slightly open. He had wondered why she hadn’t badgered him the last few weeks about Dumbledore’s death and had thought it was just the remnants of her less-than-perceptive attitude with regards to him that had plagued them throughout the previous year at Hogwarts. It seemed, however, she had decided to give him the space that he always thought he needed which he had to admit, felt a bit weird – now he had all this space, all he really wanted to do was talk.

“I don’t know how I’m going to handle seeing her tomorrow,” he said finally, his voice small, “especially if she hates me.”

“I don’t think she hates you Harry,” Hermione said back, putting her book down, “if she hates anyone, I think it’s more likely it to be me…”

“Why?” he asked, surprised, “I thought you two were friends?”

“I think our friendship has been sorely tested these past few months what with one thing or another,” Hermione continued sadly, “it seems we both want to take care of you, and well, we didn’t quite see eye to eye on how that should be done.”

“You talked about me?”

“Of course we did silly,” she laughed, “we’re girls!”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing incriminating, don’t worry,” Hermione continued, frowning slightly, “actually, we really haven’t talked that much after the whole ‘don’t start acting like you understand Quidditch, you’ll only embarrass yourself’ comment.”

“After the mess with Draco…” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Right, after the mess with Draco,” she repeated, watching him.

“I can’t believe you two have been fighting over me,” Harry continued, thinking out loud.

“Not ‘over’ you Harry but about you, there is a difference,” Hermione grinned before letting her smile fade as she continued, “I think the main problem is Ginny knows how close I am to you and that you have told me things that you haven’t told her. She saw me as a threat – it would take a very strong friendship to survive that. Ours wasn’t that strong.”

“So,” he said, desperate to get away from his embarrassing ‘fighting over me’ comment, “you can’t be looking forward to tomorrow either, then.”

“No, not particularly,” she sighed, “and it isn’t just because of Ginny…”

“Do…do you mean Ron?”

“Ron?” Hermione looked sharply at Harry, “what do you mean?”

“Well, aren’t you two together?”

“There is nothing going on between Ron and I,” she snapped, blushing crimson and returning to looking at her hands.

“I don’t mind, you know, if you go…”

“There is nothing going on between Ron and I” she repeated, “never has been and never will be.”

“What was all the rubbish with Lavender and McLaggen and…everything else, then?” Harry shot out before he could stop himself, “and all that bickering…”

“We fight because he annoys me not because of some stupid ‘sexual tension’ nonsense,” Hermione spat, “I couldn’t believe it when Ginny told me that! Who would believe a couple that constantly find fault with each other could ever be happy? That’s just…mental.”

The use of one of Ron’s favourite words brought a smile to both Harry and Hermione, who finally lifted her head and returned looking at Harry.

“So, what was the deal last year then?” he continued, still interested, “I mean, you must admit you were acting pretty weird.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but, well, it’s complicated. Let’s just say Ron and I have talked, sorted a few things out and have mutually decided that it would be better just to remain friends. Which, in a round about way, brings us back to the wedding and you dealing with Ginny.”

“Right, Ginny,” he said, before sinking his head into his hands, “maybe I should just not go…”

“You have to go Harry,” Hermione said, shocked, “you promised Ron!”

“Yeah, I know.” They both sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

“It will be strange,” Hermione finally said quietly, “to see everyone together but…but Professor Dumbledore won’t be there.”

Harry had been so lost with how he was going to deal with Ginny, he had forgotten that it will be the first time his headmaster would be absent from a gathering he usually would’ve attended. The loss once again hit him full on, making him turn his head away from Hermione.

“I miss him,” he said just as quietly, looking back at her when she took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze, seeing that her eyes had glistened over with unshed tears.

“I know, so do I,” she smiled briefly at him, “whatever happens tomorrow with Ginny or…or anything, I’ll be right by your side, you know that don’t you? We’ll get through this Harry.”

“Together?”

“Together.”

Which is why the following morning he was standing patiently outside her bedroom door, waiting for her to come out so they could go to Mrs Figg’s and Floo to The Burrow. Ron had already gone earlier to help place the final touches and if Harry and Hermione didn’t leave soon, they were going to be late.

He was just about to knock on the door to tell her to hurry up when it opened and Hermione came blustering out.

“Oh God, we are so late,” she groaned as she walked straight past Harry and down the stairs, “I’m so, so sorry Harry! Things took a lot longer doing them on my own. I finally decided to give up on the hair all together…I must look a fright!”

Harry followed her in stunned silence thinking that she didn’t look a fright at all – in fact she looked quite pretty. Her discarded hair was lose and as unruly as ever, though the frizz somehow looked more like ringlets covering her shoulders and upper back, which was bare – her dress a purple halter-neck that hugged her torso but flowed gently around her knees. Seeing her all dressed up reminded him once again that his best friend was indeed a girl.

“Omph,” he grunted as he ploughed unceremoniously into said girl, who had stopped abruptly at the foot of the stairs. Peering over her shoulder, he saw the reason why – Dudley had just come out of the living room and was blocking their way as he stared at Hermione, who intern just smiled.

“Hi Dudley,” she said as she righted herself, smoothing down unseen creases in her dress.

“You look beautiful,” Dudley breathed, still not moving.

“Why, thank you,” Hermione replied hurriedly, “we’re off to a wedding and we are awfully late so we better dash. Bye.”

Manoeuvring around the still immobile Dudley, she opened the door and began walking quickly down the road. Harry followed suit, but not before giving his cousin a ‘keep your eyes off of her’ glare and pushing him out of the way so he could catch up with the rapidly disappearing Hermione.

“He’s right you know,” Harry said as he finally caught up with her.

“What? Who?” she replied, sparing him a quick look.

“Dudley. He was right,” Harry continued, “you do look beautiful.”

They stopped outside Mrs Figg’s gate and she looked at him, giving him a shy smile.

“Thank you Harry,” she blushed, “and I must say, you look rather dashing yourself.”

This time it was Harry’s turn to blush as he quickly looked himself over – black dress pants, a dark green shirt and his dress robes draped over his arm for later (it was blistering hot and knew that a cooling charm will be coming in very handy as the day progressed). He had also given up on his hair and was aware that it stuck out at all angles – but looking dashing?

“Er…”

“Oh, come on!” she laughed before grabbing his hand and dragging him up the path to Mrs Figg’s house. Within moments Harry stepped out of the hearth at The Burrow to a waiting Hermione and a flustered Ron.

“Cutting it a bit fine, aren’t you?” Ron asked tersely.

“Totally my fault,” Hermione replied before Harry could say anything, “how’s it going?”

“Don’t ask,” Ron continued, leading them out into the garden, “Fred and George were nearly banned after being caught spiking the pre-wedding punch with Firewhisky – mum is rope able. The gnomes are making a come back, one of Fleur’s aunts has been sick already and Ginny has been a right cow. All in all, a fun morning. Save me a place will you? I shouldn’t be too much longer.” And without waiting for a reply, he dashed away.

Harry looked around the unrecognisable garden that was now adorned by masses of flowers, seats and an alter of some sort. He recognised many of the faces in the crowd, which had more than the usual number of redheads, though many in the row they were shuffling past were strangers. Hermione was heading for the spare seats next to Remus and Tonks, which Tonks had saved, left a chair (explaining it was for Ron) and just barely had a chance to say hello when the crowd quietened in anticipation. Harry followed suit and let his eyes drift to the small group of men standing at the alter.

Harry recognised the oldest Weasley brothers – Charlie standing next to the scarred Bill who was looking both happy and nervous at the same time. The third man Harry didn’t know and assumed it was a friend of Bill’s from work. An official looking wizard also stood with the male wedding party, doing the role Harry knew was meant for Professor Dumbledore. Harry swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat.

Luckily, he was distracted as Ron squished his way past him to get to the seat next to Hermione. Howeve, just as the agitated Ron went to sit down, the music started and everyone stood making him stop midway and, with a frustrated groan, remain standing.

Harry turned towards the rear of the garden to look for the bride along with the rest of the guests, and instead saw Ginny leading the way down the aisle, only faintly aware of Fleur and Gabrielle following right behind her. She was wearing a shimmering dress of gold that clung to her curves, proving to Harry just how much she had grown up. Her blazing hair was pulled up into a knot at the base of her neck with fine wisps framing her face. Harry was lost in her, her beauty consuming all other thought and with a heart that he was sure couldn’t beat any faster, his eyes followed her until she stood opposite her brothers at the alter.

He sat when everyone else sat but was totally oblivious of all going around him. He didn’t hear what was being said and didn’t even really notice the bride and groom – all he saw was her. He started to remember the time they spent together, how fantastic she had made him feel and how he wanted to be with her so much.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione move, breaking him out of his spell. Turning to her, he was surprised to see her trying desperately not to cry only to fail miserably. He took her hand that lay in her lap to give her the same type of comfort she had been giving him over the last week, squeezing it slightly. She turned to him and gave him a watery smile, which he returned, before looking back to the ceremony taking place in front of them.

Harry’s eyes went straight back to Ginny and was surprised to see she was looking at him, angrily turning away when she saw him looking at her. The hostility on her face caused Harry to frown, barely noticing the wedding coming to an end and the new Mr and Mrs Weasley now kissing to the applause of the guests.

With the crowd dispersing to partake in the food and celebrations, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way to a quiet corner of the garden, excusing themselves from Remus and Tonks when they were sidetracked by some member of the Ministry. Grabbing some food and drinks on the way and ignoring the often false condolences aimed at Harry with regards to Professor Dumbledore, the three of them sat down on the rug Hermione conjured up, each lost in their own thoughts – Harry still stuck on the look of anger on Ginny’s face.

“Here comes Luna,” Ron warned after a few moments before taking another swig from his butterbeer, Harry turning to see the blond head their way.

“Why is Luna here?” he asked curiously, noticing that she was wearing the same dress she had worn to Slughorn’s Christmas party last year, its spangles catching the sun so she looked like a walking pile of fairy lights.

“It seems she and Fleur got on well during the Triwizard Tournament,” Ron answered, “Fleur invited her.” Harry just nodded as Luna stopped in front of them.

“Beautiful ceremony,” she said dreamily, sitting gracefully down next to Hermione, “they must have had lorts bless them last night. Do you want to get married Ronald?”

“Er,” Ron replied, clearly flustered while Harry and Hermione hid their smiles, “I guess, one day, when I find the right…”

“I don’t know if anyone will marry me – boys think I’m strange,” Luna continued in her scarily frank way, “how about you Hermione? Do you want to get married? Harry?”

Harry was still lost with thoughts of Ginny and Luna basically asking Ron to marry her that he thought she had just asked whether Hermione wanted to marry him – he must have misheard.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get married,” Hermione replied with a smile, “boys seem to think I’m strange too, Luna.”

“I think you’ll find a husband quite easily Hermione,” Luna breathed, “Harry?”

“What?” he asked, feeling extremely confused.

“Will you ever marry?” Luna repeated as if talking to a child.

“Er, maybe,” Harry stammered, “if I survive…”

“Harry!” Hermione admonished but stopped before saying anything else, her eyes focused just over his right shoulder. He turned to see what she was looking at and saw a furious Ginny storming her way to where they were sitting.

“Bloody hell,” Ron muttered, “here she comes.”

Scrambling to his feet, Harry tried to compose himself, feeling Hermione take a deep breath and standing to his left while Ron stood defiantly at Harry’s right. Luna rose nonchalantly and made her way to Ron, standing just behind him her eyes glazed and unfocused.

“I believed you,” she started without preamble, her hands on her hips and eyes blazing, “I believed that you were scared for my safety and that was why you didn’t want me to come with you!”

“That was why I didn’t…”

“Then why is she there!” Ginny yelled, indicating Hermione, “what makes her so bloody special that she can be with you but not me?”

“Ginny…” Hermione began.

“Don’t you dare talk to me!” Ginny interrupted with a snarl, turning on Hermione so they were practically face to face, “you stringed my brother on for three years before stomping all over him on your way to Harry! I can’t believe I let you give me advice on how to attract him when the whole time you were trying to get him for yourself!”

“Ginny, just stop,” Hermione said calmly, “you’re embarrassing yourself. Harry and I are not together, Ron and I were never together and…”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Ginny screamed, “I’ve seen you! You and him holding hands, staring at each other – are you trying to tell me that there is nothing going on? I bet Harry sneaks off to your room once Ron’s asleep for a bit of…”

The noise of Hermione’s hand slapping Ginny’s face seemed to echo around the garden and anyone who hadn’t been listening into the shouting match now were.

“Don’t you dare,” Hermione seethed, her face steely, “don’t you ever insinuate that I would betray either Ron or Harry like that. Our relationship goes further than just a quick snog. Besides, I would never lower myself to your level by thinking…”

“So now you’re above me?” Ginny interrupted, sneering, “don’t give me that rubbish! I was there when you came up with your wonderful plan to make Ron jealous by snogging McLaggan, Miss High-and-Mighty. You’ve used boys just as much as I have.”

“I must admit, that wasn’t my finest hour…” Hermione replied, a little contritely.

“Not your finest hour? Now that’s funny! It was a year, a year of trying to get my brother to like you! I don’t believe this, a few short months ago, you were pinning over Ron – oh how quickly you’ve turned…”

“What happened between Ron and myself is between us and I don’t have to explain anything to you,” Hermione continued in a very controlled manner, “you have stood here and accused Harry and me of doing something that is damaging to all three of us. I think you owe us an apology.”

“I don’t owe anyone anything,” Ginny spat, “if my brother hasn’t got the bullocks to stand up for himself and stop you shagging his best friend…”

“That’s enough Ginny,” Harry interrupted, his voice dangerously quiet. During the exchange his anger had slowly grown to a point that he found looking at Ginny now disgusted him instead of enticing him. Never, in all his scenarios, did he ever picture this one.

“I can’t believe you,” Ron said just as quietly, his face drawn into an angry scowl.

“Oh come on Ron,” Ginny turned to her brother, rubbing her hand over her stinging cheek, “you mean to say you’re so blind that you can’t see what’s happening in front of your face? They’ve walked all over you, all over us!”

“I can see just fine Ginny,” Ron replied, “and I know that if anything ever happened between Harry and Hermione, they would tell me. What I can’t believe is that you have let something that was so special to Harry turn into something so ugly. And you let this all out at your brother’s wedding embarrassing not only you but our entire family.”

At her brother’s words, she looked from Ron to Harry, tears starting to form in her eyes.

“Harry?” she whispered, realising finally what she had just done.

“I was scared seeing you today Ginny,” he started slowly as he watched her tears begin to fall, “because I thought that seeing you would make me want you, make it more difficult to keep to the decision I had made at Dumbledore’s funeral. I never thought…never imagined you ever pulling a stunt like this. I guess I should thank you though – you’ve made me realise that I have made the right choice.”

“You can’t do this to me. I…I really care for you…” she sobbed.

“Well, you’ve got a strange way of showing it,” was all Harry could think of saying, holding out his hand to Hermione, who took it tentatively, before walking past the crying Ginny so he could get to the house and Floo back to Privet Drive, Ron right by his side. They ignored all the whispers and stares of the other guests and he was glad to see that Bill and Fleur hadn’t been there to witness the whole episode. By the time they had reached the living room, he felt just that little bit calmer.

“Harry, mate, I better stay,” Ron said tiredly before they reached the fireplace, “there is going to be a bit of fall out over this. I’m really, really sorry…”

“It’s not your fault Ron,” Harry said back, just as tiredly, “thanks for sticking up for us, by the way. And you know there is nothing going on between Hermione and I, don’t you? I mean, I thought you guys were together until Hermione set me straight…”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s all kind of complicated,” Ron shrugged, glancing a bit off to the side, where Luna was standing and watching them, before turning back to Harry and Hermione, “I can’t say that I wouldn’t feel a bit, no a lot, peeved if you guys did start dating...”

“Ron, we’re just friends,” Hermione interrupted.

“I know, I know. It just that…” Ron looked at Hermione somewhat sadly, “I guess we’ve had this conversation, huh.”

“Yes, yes we have,” Hermione replied gently before drawing Ron into a hug.

Harry watched the exchange with interest – obviously something did happen between his two best friends, something they haven’t shared with him and something that they have sorted out between themselves.

“Potter! Miss Granger! Mr Weasley!” The three of them turned to see a flushed Professor McGonagall heading their way, Remus and Tonks in her wake, “thank Merlin I caught you all before you left, after the little episode in the garden I wasn’t sure…well, that is all by the by,” she briskly said, pausing slightly before adding, “the governors have decided that Hogwarts is to remain open, although we have agreed not to accept any new students and I will temporarily act as Headmistress until a replacement can be found…”

“Congratulations Professor McGonagall,” Harry said sincerely, giving his old teacher a small smile.

“Thank you Mr Potter.”

“You aren’t the full time replacement, Professor?” Hermione asked.

“No, not at this stage,” the new headmistress answered, deflating slightly, “circumstances haven’t allowed me to…” She seemed to realise who she was talking to and stopped abruptly, straightening once again before running her eye over the trio, resting her gaze onto the still silent Ron.

“Ah, yeah, well, good work Professor…” he spluttered out, the tips of his ears indicating his embarrassment.

“Thank you Mr Weasley,” she replied with a hint of a smile, “I do my best. As this will be the final year for you three, I wanted to have a quick word…”

“We’re not going back to Hogwarts Professor,” Harry interrupted, knowing they had to say something sooner or later.

“Pardon?” she asked.

“What?” Remus said from behind her.

“Ron, Hermione and I aren’t returning to Hogwarts,” Harry confirmed, “I…we have to finish what Professor Dumbledore began…”

“I see,” McGonagall said tartly, “is this true Miss Granger? You are ready to give up a promising future…”

“Harry needs my help,” Hermione interrupted, “and there won’t be a future if we don’t get rid of Voldemort, which is what we are working towards…”

“That is what the Order is for,” Remus cut in, moving so he stood next to McGonagall, “if you told us what you were doing, we could help…”

“I can’t do that Professor Lupin,” Harry continued, “if Professor Dumbledore had wanted you to know what he told me, he would have said something. Without him here I…I don’t know if we…maybe a bit later we will need help, but…”

“Where are you going to live?” McGonagall asked, spots of red dotting her cheeks, “I presume you will not want to stay with your uncle and aunt once you come of age. Hogwarts was your second home!”

Her words did what they intended to do as Harry realised he hadn’t thought that far ahead and that he would miss the old castle terribly by not going back.

“Grimmauld Place is Harry’s, we could always stay there,” Hermione said bravely, her hand still wrapped in his own. But Harry hated Grimmauld Place – every moment he had spent there the last week had been torture to him. However, the two adults bearing down at him didn’t need to know that.

“We are working on the same side, aiming for the same goal – to get rid of Voldemort.,” Harry said with an authority he didn’t feel, “and I would like to know that if we ever need help, if anything happens that…that puts one or all of us in danger that we can call on you. Because without Professor Dumbledore…”

His sentence hung in the air as he, Ron and Hermione stood shoulder to shoulder facing Professor McGonagall, Professor Lupin and Tonks. They looked at each other, a contemplative silence taking their voices until Remus took a step forward and laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder.

“Albus trusted you Harry, believed in you in a way he had never done for anyone else before,” the old werewolf said sadly, “we will be there if you need us, no questions asked. But you have to give us something, some knowledge of your plans so we don’t work against each other. And you need to be part of what we’re doing so we don’t accidentally kill you or something, do you understand?”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Harry smiled, “don’t worry, we’ll stay in touch.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Your parents would be so very proud of you Harry,” Remus continued, “and so am I.”

Harry let himself be hugged by his father’s oldest friend, his mind going over the events of the day. He lost Ginny, turned his back on the only home he had ever known and more or less isolated himself and his friends from the more than capable adults around him. Not one of his better ones.

Soon he was going to be seventeen and legally able to look after himself, though right at this moment he felt so much older than his age indicated he was. With this new surge of maturity, a thought crossed his mind which caused him to pull back and look into the tired eyes of his friend.

“I’m planning to go to Godric’s Hollow, to see my parents,” he said slowly, “would you…would you take me – us – there?”

“I would be honoured,” Remus replied, those tired eyes showing a spark of life. Harry just nodded then in a flash of Floo powder, was gone.

A/N – not too sure about this one, took a lot of re-writes, so I hope you liked it. Ginny will be redeemed, she isn’t going to always be this mean!

3. An Dowrgi Chi

A/N – firstly – thank you to my reviewers and sorry I haven’t personally thanked you like I have previously. I love that you’ve taken time to comment and I wish I could let you know but I had to choose between writing or answering reviews…

Now this chapter has split into two. Oh, and I apologise to any Cornish speakers out there, or even Gaelic speakers, and if I have the word order incorrect, please let me know. You’ll find out what this all means by the end…

Chapter 3 – An Dowrgi Chi

The number of days until Harry’s birthday was decreasing rapidly and the knowledge that he would be vulnerable and homeless in less than a week began to become a major concern.

Obviously, Grimmauld Place was the best option for somewhere to stay – he had spent so much time there recently it felt like he was basically living there already. And as time progressed, his hatred for the gloomy and depressing dwelling was slowly decreasing.

Every now and then members of the Order were there the same time as the trio, letting the teenagers sit in on the planning they were doing to get rid of a few more Death Eaters while they worked their way towards Voldemort. It seemed that Dumbledore’s death had meant many of those not willing to join the Dark Side before felt more free to do so and Voldemort’s numbers had increased dramatically. Dumbledore’s death also saw many in the wizarding community flee or hide, hindering the recruiting of those willing to fight against the Dark Lord.

Harry had felt a fire start to grow inside of him as he listened to the various strategies, needing to join in and help. Sitting day after day looking through books suddenly didn’t seem enough as others talked about going on dangerous missions, putting their lives on the line, ready to give their lives for the cause.

Although he knew he was doing what needed to be done, that the Order didn’t know of the prophecy or the Horcruxes, Harry was beginning to get restless. When Remus cornered him one afternoon and suggested that they go to Godric’s Hollow the following day, Harry’s restlessness was quickly replaced with anxiety.

Harry spent the rest of the evening staring out the window and thinking about what he might see the next day at the place where it all really began for him, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s attempts to get him to talk, thankful when they finally gave up and left him alone.

The following morning he still remained withdrawn, just going through the motions as he had done since he had been going to Grimmauld Place – this time waiting for Hermione to return after side Apparating Ron to where they were meeting Remus (they had found early on that Hermione’s Apparating skills were such that she had been Apparating herself, Harry and Ron to and from the Black estate all week – although Harry could technically do it himself, they thought it be better not to have the Ministry arrest him right at the moment).

Hearing the familiar crack from Mrs Figg’s garden shed (the Apparation point), Harry entered the shed to see a subdued Hermione waiting for him.

“Ready?” she asked to which Harry nodded and took hold of her arm, expecting the now familiar bone-squeezing sensation to begin. Instead they just stood there, making Harry turn to her wondering why. She was watching him, her eyes filled with a compassion that he had seen so often before. But this time there wasn’t a sense of pity, or the need to fix him – just an understanding of how difficult the day was going to be. He realised her question was about more than just getting to Grimmauld Place…

“I think so,” he replied finally, the first thing he had said for nearly a day.

“Just remember Harry,” she said back with an encouraging smile, “you are not alone. Whatever happens today, and I mean whatever, we’re here for you. We’ll get through it…”

“Together,” he finished, with a ghost of a smile of his own.

“Right, together. You and me.”

“And Ron,” he added, making her laugh.

“Of course, and Ron,” she said, blushing slightly, “who will be wondering where we are. Let’s go.”

After the moments of discomfort that Apparation made him feel, he found himself standing at the designated transfer point in the alley between the buildings on either side of the Black estate. Remus was already there and was listening to a rapidly talking Ron, whose trade-mark red hair was now covered by an American style baseball cap.

“Morning Professor Lupin,” Hermione said brightly as they made their way over, disturbing the conversation.

“Hello Hermione,” Remus replied with a smile, “and I’m no longer your professor so please call me Remus. Hello Harry, how are you feeling?”

“Fine,” Harry mumbled as he looked down at his feet, not seeing Lupin’s frown of concern.

“Right, well, we better be going,” Remus continued with a false cheerfulness in his voice, “I was just explaining to Ron that we need to catch the tube from Kings Cross to Paddington and then a train from there to Truro…”

“Godric’s Hollow is in Cornwall?” Hermione asked, walking in step with Lupin.

“Yes, a little place just outside Kea, on the way to Falmouth,” he answered, “there’s a bit of travelling, I’m afraid. I’d only been to James and Lily’s place a couple of times a very long time ago otherwise we’d Apparate. In fact, I had to get directions on how to get there!”

“How long will it take Pro….I mean, Remus?” Ron questioned, walking on the other side of his old professor, Harry following behind, quietly listening.

“Nearly five hours, I believe. But we can Apparate back to Mrs Figg’s so at least we haven’t got the return journey to look forward to…”

“Five hours!” the redhead exclaimed, amazed, “what are we going to do for five hours?”

“Talk. Read,” Hermione replied exasperated, “honestly Ron, you’re not three!”

“I didn’t say I was,” Ron shot back, leaning in front of Remus to do so, “besides, what has being three got anything to do with anything?”

“Because it is children, hence three year olds, that have such a limited attention span…”

“So you can do nothing for five hours…”

“Of course I can…”

Harry watched as Remus started to drop back slightly, letting Ron and Hermione merge so they could continue their argument without him in the middle, and with a cautious glance at the elder man, Harry saw a sadness mixed in with weariness in the werewolf’s pale eyes. As they continued to walk, Harry realised that this trip must also be difficult for the last of the Marauders.

“This is strange,” he said as they started the decent into Kings Cross Station, the sound of his voice causing Remus to look at him (Ron and Hermione were consumed by the commuting crowds and their never ending discussion).

“What’s that Harry?” Remus asked.

“How much I want to do something and not want to do something, the same thing, at the exact same time.” The two looked at each with an understanding, Remus giving him a small smile.

“Yes, yes it is strange,” Lupin agreed, taking the ticket from Hermione and making his way into the bowls of the London Underground.

Harry had blissfully forgotten what it was like to be with a non-Muggle when doing Muggle things – though Mr Weasley was not as bad as his son when they had caught the train to the Ministry of Magic a couple of years before.

By Baker Street, the fourth stop on the Hammersmith and City Line between Kings Cross and Paddington Station, Ron had driven them close to madness. His observations of the hoards of commuters around him, all hurrying to their jobs on an average Tuesday morning, had unnerved some of the people squashed in close proximity due to the rush hour crush, all quickly moving away from Ron when they had the opportunity.

Finally, the small party had found seats on the 9.05 to Truro and settled in for the four hour, forty-three minute train ride and after many harsh ‘shut ups’, Ron finally did. They sat in silence for quite a while; Hermione and Remus reading books they had brought, Ron reading the Quibbler (the photos made not to move just in case one of the other passengers saw it) with an annoyed scowl while Harry just stared out of the window.

“How far is Godric’s Hollow from Kea?” Hermione asked breaking the silence, as if the question had been playing on her mind for a while, “will we be walking there or catching a bus?”

“Well, we catch a bus to Pennowen,” Remus answered, frowning with thought, “which is where Godric’s Hollow is…”

“Right,” Hermione said, just as thoughtfully, “is…is Pennowen a Muggle town…?”

“Yes, as far as I know,” Lupin replied, “though Dowrgi has belonged to the Potters for generations so…”

“Do-whatsy?” Ron tried to repeat, the Quibbler ignored.

“Doo-wr-gee,” Remus phonetically pronounced, “Dowrgi. The Potter’s estate…”

“The Potter’s estate!” Harry interrupted sharply, “there’s a Potter’s estate?”

“Yes,” Remus continued, “didn’t Albus tell you…”

“No, he didn’t,” Harry snapped again, “I think there are many things that Dumbledore didn’t tell me.” His words left an uneasy silence as the four exchanged looks, Hermione bowing her head when Harry caught her eye as if she didn’t want to look at him. Angrily he returned to the window.

“I’m sure he meant to Harry,” Remus said softly, “he always had the best of intentions when it came to your wellbeing, and everything he did was to help you…”

“Well, he’s not helping now is he,” Harry retorted, “getting himself killed was no bloody help at all!”

Abruptly he stood and stomped away, desperately wanting to get some air but instead found himself storming to the end of the train, staring at a closed door that signalled there was no where else to go. He rested his forehead on the coolness of the metal door and closed his eyes, aware of the curious stares from the other passengers. Taking deep breaths, he tried to get himself under control, rubbing his eyes under his glasses so that the sheath of wetness that had begun to form would disappear.

His anger was unfounded, he knew that, but knowing there was yet another secret kept from him, a family home that he never even knew about, made him wonder when it was all going to end and whether he would ever find out totally about his past and who he really was. He remained like that for quite a while as he thought, ignoring all the sounds around him until he heard a familiar voice

“Harry?” Hermione was tentative and Harry could tell she was standing a little distance back as if not to crowd him. Taking a deep breath he turned around and faced her.

“What?” he said a bit more harshly than he intended, making her flinch slightly.

“We’re nearly at Truro. We need to change trains,” she continued a bit more steadily.

“Right.”

He waited for her to say something more but instead she just turned and led the way back to Ron and Remus. As he was walking behind her, absently watching how her hair bounced each time she took a step, he realised he owed an apology to Remus – plus he had to work out how he really felt about Albus Dumbledore’s death. Sighing, the thought of why couldn’t his life ever be easy flashed across his mind.

He stayed pretty silent as they got on the connecting train to Falmouth and the short trip to Kea, where they then caught the bus that would pass through Pennowen. When he finally stepped out into the main street of the tiny seaside town, even if he was talking, he would’ve been lost for words.

The street was separated from a tiny beach by a shin high stone wall and a steep cliff face that could be accessed by some stairs which began where the bus had dropped them off. Across the cobbled street were five shops, all looking ancient and as typical as you could get – a baker, grocers, fish monger, butcher and a pub. More shops and homes fell behind the lead five filling the small plain.

“Wow,” Ron gasped, and Harry agreed with him – wow pretty much covered it.

They crossed the road, which was bustling with a mixture of local residents and obvious tourists enjoying the quaintness of the town, when an elderly woman rounded the corner and nearly bumped into Hermione.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Hermione said quickly, picking up the woman’s fallen basket.

“That’s fine sweetheart,” the woman assured, “nothing bro…” but the sentence wasn’t finished as she looked past Hermione and saw Harry, her face turning white as a sheet.

“Madam, are you okay?” Remus asked, concerned, but the woman ignored him and kept staring at Harry.

“I don’t believe it,” she said, breathlessly, “after all this time…”

“Are you all right?” Hermione repeated, looking between Harry and the old lady.

“Yes, yes. Thank you dear,” the woman acknowledged absently, once more glancing at Hermione before looking back to Harry, “we never thought we’d see you again…”

“Pardon?” Harry finally managed to splutter out.

“When they took you away,” she continued, taking Harry’s hand in both of her own and holding it fondly, “when you were a baby, on that awful, awful night when we lost James and Lily; we thought we’d never have a Potter in this town ever again. Lily, bless her soul, had the most awful family and when Mr Dumbledore told us that’s where you were going to live, well, we were sure…oh, welcome home Mr Potter!”

“Er, thank you Mrs….” Harry said awkwardly, looking for support from the others.

“Emily Baker, Miss Emily Baker,” Miss Baker gushed, “goodness, I thought you were a bunch of tourists, that’s all that keeps the town going now as you can see, but as soon as I saw that hair – you could only be a Potter! The men in your family have had the same untameable hair for many generations. However it is good to see some of Lily in you too with those wonderful eyes – ah, bless me she was a lovely, lovely woman,” she suddenly turned to Hermione, “seeing you dear, reminds me of her a little – you have the same shine of intelligence that sweet Lily had…”

“Thank you,” Hermione blushed, shaking Miss Baker’s offered hand, “um, I’m Hermione Granger, Harry’s friend.”

“Well, with a name like Hermione, you’d have to be smart,” the old lady beamed before turning her attention to Ron, “and your name young sir?”

“Ron. Ron Weasley,” he said shortly, the tips of his ears going red, also giving a polite handshake before trying to hide behind Harry. The woman then turned to Remus, a light of recognition hitting her eyes.

“Your face is familiar, young man,” she smiled, “but you were only a boy when I saw you last I think.”

“Well, it has been a few years Miss Baker,” Remus returned, also smiling, “the last time I was here was for James and Lily’s wedding…”

“You and that other boy, oh what was his name…” Miss Baker paused in thought, “cheeky lad and very handsome. He and James would get into so much mischief! You were the more sensible one if I recall.”

“I tried…”

“Stephen, Stuart – something like that. An unusual name, and so was yours…”

“I’m Remus Lupin and the man you’re trying to remember is Sirius Black…”

“Of course!” she exclaimed, “how could I forget. Many of the Potter friends had such unusual names! Well, young Mr Potter, what brings you back after all this time. Have you been to Dowrgi yet? Martin has looked after it so well…”

“Ah, no,” Harry answered, allowing himself to be steered off the main street and up one of the narrow winding roads leading away from the sea, the others following behind him, “I…I didn’t know about the estate. Um, I’ve come to see where my mum and dad are buried…”

“Oh my poor love,” Miss Baker cried, tears coming to her eyes, “those horrid people had never let you see where you’re parents are laid to rest! And not know about An Dowrgi Chi? Child, that house has been in the hands of a Potter for close to five hundred years! Well, you have to visit, that’s all there is to it. Martin will be thrilled! He’ll have to draw himself away from the paying customer, though, but oh – to have a Potter back at An Dowrgi Chi!”

Though quite elderly, Miss Baker was sprightly forcing Harry and the others to jog slightly to keep up with her as she made her way out of the village to follow a road that led into the countryside, chattering all the way. He only heard bits of what she was saying, her reminiscences often meaning nothing to him, but as they rounded a corner in the lane and saw an elegant stone house in the distance, he stopped and stared letting the woman continue on without him.

It was beautiful. Not as large as he had been picturing in his head, and was grateful for that, but still bigger than Grimmauld Place with many chimney stacks poking from the slate-tiled roof and a sweeping u-shaped driveway leading to the front. The entrance had about a dozen large curved stairs beginning quite long down on the driveway and decreasing in size as they reached the pillared and covered front landing. People were wandering in and out of the open front door, or walking around the well kept gardens, a continuation of the tourists that were in the village.

“This is amazing Harry,” Hermione whispered in awe, “absolutely beautiful.”

“Just as I remembered it,” Remus breathed.

“Wow,” Ron exclaimed again, breaking Harry out of his spell in time to see Miss Baker hurriedly making her way to them with a beaming, squat middle-age gentleman by her side.

“Do you believe me now Martin!” she admonished when they rejoined the group, “but I must dash, my errands won’t wait. Do say goodbye before you leave Mr Potter, it has been an honour. Look after them now Martin!” And with a departing wave, she was gone.

“Oh my, oh my,” the man called Martin said, shaking Harry’s hand vigorously, drawing his attention away from the quickly disappearing Miss Baker, “welcome home Mr Potter, welcome home. I’m Martin Stephens, I’ve been managing the estate since Mrs Mary…”

“Mrs Mary?” Ron asked, confused.

“James’s mother,” Martin answered, glancing at Ron before looking back at Harry, “your grandmother. I was made trustee and manager after Mrs Mary died as James wanted to keep it all separate from him and Lily…because of the war.”

“War?” Hermione questioned, “what war was that Mr Stephens?”

“The war against You-Know-Who,” he said, sounding a bit surprised, “you know, the first war.”

“You’re a wizard?” Ron blurted out unthinkingly, earning a glare from Hermione.

“Why, yes I am,” Martin replied as he began to walk towards the house, “but we don’t sing and dance about it – after all, this is a Muggle town.”

“Sorry,” Ron mumbled.

“So people like Miss Baker don’t know you’re a wizard?” Harry asked, his voice low as they came closer to the estate’s visitors.

“No, not really,” Martin answered, also quietly, “the villagers know that the Potters were different and that we here at the estate do things unlike other people, but the relationship has been around for so long that the strangeness is just accepted. We don’t openly do spells and they don’t question how a repair job to the roof that should take months only takes days. The Potters have been well loved and respected in this village for many years which makes our lives so much easier.”

“That’s pretty incredible,” Hermione said, “the two cultures working so well side by side.”

“Well, you have your boyfriend’s family to thank for that,” Martin said proudly.

“Oh, no,” Harry said hastily, blushing, “Hermione’s not my girlfriend…”

“…we’re only friends,” she finished for him, also blushing.

Martin stopped at the entrance and looked at them both strangely before smiling apologetically, purposely ignoring the frown from Ron and the amused grin from Remus.

“Oh golly,” the Cornishman enthused, “how presumptuous of me! Please accept my humblest of apologies and I hope I haven’t offended you…”

“Don’t worry,” Ron said grumpily, “it happens all the time.”

Ron shoved his hands into his pockets and slouched into the house where, with a sigh, Hermione did the same. Releasing a sigh himself, Harry followed his friends and entered into the hallway of his ancestral home

Directly in front of him was a large staircase and a portrait of who he suspected were his grandparents and father looking down at all of those entering through the front doors. There was a desk with a cash register, various stands with postcards and tourist information plus a few tourists scattered around, the décor tasteful but undoubtedly old.

“Would you like a full tour?” Martin asked, indicating to the young girl at the register that she was not to worry about payment from his four guests.

“Unfortunately we haven’t got too much time,” Remus answered, “the estate wasn’t on our schedule…”

“Perhaps then the drawing room, ballroom and library,” Martin continued, leading the way down the hall way to his right, “they would be of most interest. First, the drawing room.”

The first door lead into a reasonable sized room that was definitely set out to receive guests – two arm chairs and a two seater surrounded a small table and faced a wonderful fireplace. Various side tables adorned the edges of the room, ancient looking vases and statuettes on their surfaces. A large window over looked the driveway and front garden with a huge mirror over the fireplace reflecting all within. There were little velvet rope barriers keeping the tourists away from the furniture, but Martin unfastened one, motioned the group to go through before putting the barrier back in place and joining them.

“This was Mr and Mrs Potter senior, your grandparents, favourite room,” Martin said fondly, “they loved to sit in here and just relax. But the reason this room should interest you, Mr Potter, is this.”

Martin indicated to a tapestry on the wall, not that unlike the one hanging in the Black estate, which had the Potter family tree. It was intensive and large, the first entry recorded in 1437 but luckily it seemed that resulting families were always small with only one or two offspring for each branch. They all stood and read what they could but for Harry, all they were were names.

“Hey, my grandmother’s maiden name was Bussleton,” Ron exclaimed, pointing to an entry a couple of generations earlier, “I remember because mum made us look at all these old photos one winter and kept going on about Great Grandmother Bussleton and how she used to always smell of fish…”

“What was your grandmother’s first name?” Martin asked curiously.

“Er, Ethel I think,” Ron replied, “she died before I was born.”

“Well, Mrs Mary had an aunt Ethel…”

“So Harry and I are related?”

“By marriage, and very distantly,” Hermione answered with a bit of a smile.

“Wicked,” Ron grinned, exchanging a look with Harry, who genuinely smiled back – he already felt part of Ron’s family and knowing there was an official link, however tenuous, was a good feeling.

“Let’s move on,” Martin instructed, showing them out of the drawing room and into a room on the opposite side of the hall. It was large, with very little furniture – its floor beautifully polished and a grand piano sitting on its own in the corner. There were pictures covering the walls and as Harry looked around, he could see himself in the images.

“Bloody hell,” Ron exclaimed as he too, looked at the portraits.

“Harry,” Hermione breathed, her voice close to his ear, “these are your family.”

He drew his eyes down from the image of a black haired man standing proudly next to a woman with auburn hair and brilliant green eyes who was holding a baby (that was less than a year old) lovingly in her arms, and glanced at his friend, taking a deep breath when he saw the tears in her eyes, trying so hard not to cry himself. Quickly, both of them returned to looking at the paintings.

“This is the ballroom, and these, Mr Potter, are your ancestors – portraits dating back to the seventeenth century.”

“Blimey Harry, you have a ballroom,” Ron muttered as he walked around the room.

Harry stayed silent as he looked at each picture carefully. They all seemed to have a man with hair as messy as his own though looking just that little bit different from their neighbour, all with different women and different babies – but they were all Potters. They were his family.

“Are you okay?” Hermione asked as she walked beside him – Harry just nodded. Ron had already done the circuit and re-joined Harry and Hermione.

“Well,” Ron began, “it seems you Potter men have a thing for redheads.”

“Smart redheads,” Martin corrected, “but not all Potter’s have fallen for red hair…”

“James always went for redheads,” Remus remembered, “which, in our case, was only Lily – no Weasley’s in our year!”

“There you go Harry,” Hermione quipped, “things with Ginny may not be over after all – you are destined to be with a redhead!” Harry could hear the lightness in her voice, but Hermione’s comment dug a bit – as far as he was concerned, destiny had caused nothing but trouble and the way things were going, there probably won’t be any more Potter family portraits added to this room.

“You said the library will be of interest,” Harry said sharply, ignoring his friends and looking directly at Martin, “are we able to have a look?”

“Of course,” their guide said quickly and led them out of the room. They crossed the hall once more and made their way past the drawing room and to a closed door just past the stairs. Martin produced a key and unlocked the door, letting the small party inside.

Harry heard Hermione take an intake of breath and had to smile – this room was his bookwormish friend’s idea of heaven. Every available space was filled with books but unlike Grimmauld Place, this library was welcoming. He watched as she began to circle the room, her hand lovingly tracing lightly over the multitude of spines. Harry glanced at Ron, who rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation but stayed silent with a smile, letting her enjoy the moment.

“The Potters always seemed to marry women who loved to read,” Martin said quietly, “so this library continued to grow.”

“There are quite a few books on the four founders,” Hermione noted, “and the history of magic…”

“Mrs Mary was a history buff and was also a governor on the Hogwarts School board – she liked to collect information on the school…”

Hermione shot a look at Harry that told him she was thinking the same as he was – the information on the Ravenclaw Horcrux could be within these walls.

“No doubt there will be a copy of Hogwarts: A History then,” Ron muttered, oblivious, just before his stomach omitted an extremely loud rumble, “whoops,” he laughed as a way of apology.

“Oh my, what a terrible host I am,” Martin exclaimed, “have you not eaten? It’s nearly three!”

“That’s okay, we can…” Harry began, getting a scowl from Ron.

“No, no I will not hear of it,” Martin bustled, heading for the door, “I will get you all some food. Please, make yourselves comfortable – the public aren’t allowed in this room so you won’t be disturbed.”

Without a second glance, Martin left and the four stood silently in his wake. Harry looked back at an excited Hermione and smiled – this could be the break they were waiting for.

“Why do you two look so pleased?” Remus asked, making his way to Hermione as he waited for an answer.

“Dumbledore needed to find information about artefacts from the four founders,” Harry started tentatively, thinking hard about his words so he didn’t share too much, “we have Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor but don’t know anything about Ravenclaw. We will probably find something out here…”

“Is that what you’re doing at Grimmauld Place’s library?”

“No, that’s something…different,” Harry looked at Remus, who nodded with a wary understanding.

“Well, I’m sure Martin will let you spend some time here looking,” Remus said, sitting down in the desk chair, “but after a quick bite to eat, we better shove on, it’s getting late.”

“We passed the churchyard on the way here,” Hermione remarked, quickly turning back to the books.

“We did?” Harry questioned, not remembering seeing anything. But all discussion ceased as Martin returned with trays of food and glasses of juice, which they attacked hungrily until all that could be heard was munching.

However Harry sat picking at his sandwich, thinking about what he had seen and what he was soon going to see. Everything was so confusing for him – he didn’t know whether he should be feeling angry, excited, scared, sad or even just curious. At times it seemed he was feeling all of these things at once. He suddenly felt very tired.

“You need to eat Harry,” Hermione said quietly, leaning towards him to do so.

“Not really hungry,” he mumbled.

“You haven’t eaten since yesterday,” she said more forcefully, “we are not leaving here until you eat at least a whole sandwich.”

Harry looked at her in surprise – it was the first time she had spoken to him like that since fifth year and he could see that familiar fire in her eyes. Realising it was useless to argue, he took a bite and forced it down, aware she was watching him until she was satisfied before turning back to Martin.

“How long has the Potter estate been open to the public Mr Stephens?” she asked.

“Since Mrs Mary got ill,” Martin answered, pleased to be talking again, “James had indicated he didn’t want to live here and wanted to keep Dowrgi separate from himself until the war was over. Therefore when Mrs Mary died, a manager would be appointed and the estate would be run as a Muggle historical house. James built a home for his family on the property’s boundaries and helped managed the running of An Dowrgi Chi once he graduated from Hogwarts. Of course, he didn’t need to work at all however he felt he should whenever he could spare time away from the war.”

“An Dowrgi Chi, is that Gaelic?” Hermione continued, her brow creased in curiosity.

“Why yes, Cornish Gaelic to be exact,” Martin continued, “meaning ‘the Otter House’. It seems that when Art Potter brought his young family to this site to check on the progress of this building’s construction, they had a picnic by the river that runs through the back of the gardens and saw a family of otters building their home. Art’s young son, Harold, was so taken by the little creatures that the house became known as the Otter House and as Elaine Potter was a fluent speaker of the native tongue, it was quickly translated hence An Dowrgi Chi.”

“What a lovely story,” Hermione sighed dreamily before turning to Harry, who quickly shoved another mouthful of his previously forgotten sandwich in his mouth.

“Legend has it that as long as there is a Potter living in this house, there will be otters in the river,” Martin said relevantly, “which we didn’t really believe until someone noticed that the river was empty after James had been killed. Albus told us to have faith, however, and he was right! Here you are!”

“Don’t get too carried away,” Harry grumbled, “I don’t know about living here. Dumbledore hadn’t even told me this place existed…”

“Well, that isn’t actually Albus’s fault,” Martin started hesitantly, “you see, James willed that if both he and Lily died, that you wouldn’t inherit Dowrgi, or even know about it, until you turn of age. This house is the ancestral soul of the Potter family and James wanted to protect it at all costs. His thoughts were that if both he and Lily were gone, it meant that He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named would have control. He didn’t want them to know about Dowrgi.”

“Then that’s how it should stay,” Harry said forcefully, standing from his seat in one of the large armchairs that were in the room, “I’m guessing there are wards and protections on the place?”

“Oh yes, Albus made sure…”

“Are you able to let Hermione know?” Harry interrupted, “and will it be okay if she comes and uses this library?”

“Of course Mr Potter, of course, we can discuss…”

“Another day, perhaps,” Harry once again interrupted, “right now, I would like to see my parents home and where they…are.”

“I understand,” Martin said, “let me tell the staff where I am and I will take you to the church yard and then Godric’s Hollow. Please, wait for me in the hall, I shan’t be long.”

“That was a bit harsh,” Hermione snapped as she followed Harry out into the hallway.

“Yeah mate, he was only being friendly,” Ron put in.

“Look, I’m tired and I would like to get this over with,” Harry replied angrily, “and I’ve had enough finding out about my family from strangers.”

He didn’t wait for their reply and instead stalked out of the house and into the brightness of the summer day that had continued without him. At the foot of the stairs he paused and waited, knowing that whatever he said, the next part would be the hardest – there was no way he could go to Godric’s Hollow alone.

A/N – there you go. I chose Cornwall because that’s where my dad is from and it’s a beautiful part of England (it’s also quite ‘magical’). Kea? As well as being an actual place, it is also my favourite NZ native bird so I had to use it. The next chapter is just bursting to be written and I want to get it done before our overseas visitors arrive because then I won’t have much time for three weeks! Anyway, it may get posted more sooner than later.

4. Families

A/N – ah, just like the old days with nearly back-to-back updates. I hope you like this chapter, it was so easy to write. I guess cause its full of emotion…

Thanks again for the reviews, many of the familiar names once again! You guys rock!!

Chapter 4 - Family

Hermione was right, of course, and they had passed the church yard on the way to the estate. The small group was silent as they made their way back down the lane to town, following Martin when he left the road and headed for the small, stone steepled church that sat amongst a reasonably large graveyard.

Martin led them past the church’s entrance and went instead to the rear where there was a large mausoleum with the name ‘Potter’ carved in large letters over the wrought iron gate. Harry hadn’t expected this, he thought it would be two grave stones and some old, dried flowers to clean out. Instead he walked into a large, cool cavern where the graves of the various Potters who, over the last five hundred years, had lived and died in this town were now resting.

Their guide continued past those housed in the mausoleum’s walls, and exited through a small door in the back, which led into an area that boarded a small wood that lay behind the church. There were more graves, but slightly less grand than those previous. Martin carried on until he was near the end of one of the rows where he paused and bowed his head in reverence – the others respectfully did the same. Harry realised they had stopped in front of the graves of his grandparents and after a few moments of reflection for Martin, they carried on until Harry stood before his mother and father.

It seemed his heart had ceased beating as he read the inscriptions, aware only slightly of Hermione’s soft sobs coming from behind him. He was so lost in thought, when Remus came and stood beside him, he was startled, but watched as the older man laid a hand on top of James’s headstone and bowed his head, having a conversation that only the two old friends could hear. Remus then gave a respectful little nod to Lily’s grave, a wry smile on his face before turning his watery eyes onto Harry.

“We’ll give you some time,” he said, “and take as long as you need. We’ll be by the church when you are ready.” Harry nodded then turned back to the graves, waiting until he heard the squeak of the gate closing before he moved.

He took a couple of steps closer and knelt down on the piece of earth that separated the two head stones – he was glad they hadn’t been placed in just one grave. He had always pictured them working side by side, separate people but also enjoying being together as a couple and was glad that this reflected in the way they were buried.

Slowly, he reached out and ran a finger along part of the inscription on his father’s tombstone:

Tragically taken October 1981

Harry dropped his head and let the tears he had been holding back all day wrack his body. It felt all he had been doing since Dumbledore died was cry, but he couldn’t help it. Even though he knew he had Ron and Hermione, Harry felt abandoned and alone, unsure of what to do next, knowing he no longer had an adult by him to guide him. And it all started here with the murder of his parents.

When his tears had run their course, Harry took off his glasses and (although no-one was watching him) embarrassedly wiped his wet eyes and nose on the edge of his t-shirt, trying to get himself under control.

“I miss you,” he whispered, looking from the grave of his father to that of his mother, “I wish you were here, I wish everyone was here. I…I don’t know what to do, not really. Dumbledore, he told what I needed to do but…I don’t know if I can…”

He paused so he could sit more comfortably, wiping his face once more before putting his glasses back on.

“Lupin keeps telling me you would be proud of me, Dumble…Dumbledore said that too, but I’m not so sure. Sometimes, especially lately, I just hate everyone, you know? It’s like they don’t really understand what I’m going through, what I’ve given up…Sometimes I just want to be alone, away from everybody, to not have to speak to anyone but I know I can’t…I don’t want to do this alone.”

Once again Harry paused, and he heard Hermione’s voice in his head telling him that what ever happens, they’d get through it together. He smiled.

“Of course, I have Hermione and Ron,” he continued quietly, “I don’t know why they put up with me though, I’m not very nice to them. And they’re giving up a lot as well – Hermione would be head girl this year but…”

Harry looked at his mother’s gravestone and re-read what had been carved into the base.

Through knowledge truth, light and love will be found

“I think you and Hermione would’ve got on really well,” he whispered, “she looks out for me, you know?”

He then turned to his father’s grave with a wry smile.

“Ron too, but he’s up to a bit more rule breaking than Hermione, though I think we’ve corrupted her over the years,” he paused for a moment in thought, “they’re good friends, both of them. I can’t lose them too, I just can’t. But I need them with me, to help me. Especially Hermione – did you know she’s the smartest witch of her age? She doesn’t know as much as Dumbledore, but she’s pretty close.”

Harry sat and thought in silence, feeling a calmness he hadn’t felt since…well, for a very, very long time. Part of him had hoped that by some miracle the ghosts of his parents would come out of their graves and give him all the answers, tell him what to do and how to do it. He chuckled briefly at the absurdity of that hope but realised that instead of answers, his parents had given him peace. Seeing where his mum and dad had been laid to rest, and that their graves had been cared for over the years when he hadn’t been there for them was just that one more step to closure. He now had one last journey to perform on this day of journeys – standing up, he looked down once more at the two graves.

“I dunno when I’ll be back,” he told them, “it might not be until the war is over and I have no idea how long it’s going to take, but you’re always in my thoughts. Say hi to Sirius and Professor Dumbledore for me and if you can help me in any way, I would really appreciate it.”

With one last glance, Harry turned away and retraced his steps back to the church. Ron and Hermione were standing a bit separate from Remus and Martin, talking quite passionately to each other with their heads close together so they couldn’t be overheard. Harry made his way over to where they were, Ron spotting him first and stopped talking which made Hermione turn towards him with her customary concern on her face.

“Hey,” she said tentatively.

“Is everything alright?” Harry asked as a reply.

“Isn’t that what we should be asking you?” Ron quipped back, trying to smile.

“I’m okay,” Harry acknowledged, “just been a rough day…”

“Are you ready to move on?” Remus asked as he and Martin joined them.

“Yeah,” Harry replied tiredly, “yeah, I am.”

Martin began to walk from the church and back into the lane with Remus by his side, leaving the trio to walk a little bit behind them. They went a bit closer to the village before they turned off onto another narrow country road.

“So, are you guys going to tell me what you were talking about?” Harry asked after a while, looking at Ron.

“Ah, nothing…nothing important,” Ron answered, the redness on the tips of his ears telling Harry his friend was lying.

“Right,” he said with a smile before turning to Hermione, who was walking quietly at his other side, “so what were you two talking about?”

Hermione looked at him with a look that said she had no intention of telling him what the discussion was about, her eyes still slightly bloodshot for her earlier tears. Harry smiled what he hoped was an endearing smile, determined to know what they were hiding from him – he saw her resolve weaken.

“Oh, all right then,” she humphed, “Ron thought that we should live here instead at Grimmauld Place and I was explaining to him that you might not be comfortable with that…”

“…and I said of course you would,” Ron interrupted, “and that you’d be barkers to choose that gloomy dump over Dog-wry…”

“Dowrgi, Ron. So I was reminding Ronald that although Grimmauld Place may be slightly abhorred, it was safe and, at the moment, familiar and that the decision was ultimately yours, Harry, and that you had other important things on your mind at the moment…”

“…so we shouldn’t bring it up,” Ron finished.

Harry was about to reply and let Ron know that unfortunately Hermione was right, he wasn’t ready to make Dowrgi his home, but before he could say anything, they had stopped in front of a beautiful little cottage at the end of the driveway.

It was perfect – a modest size, the house was two levels, the lower having two large bay windows on each side of the wooden door in the middle (a stained glass image of a griffin in its centre). Upstairs had three windows facing outwards towards the drive, each window clean and inviting. The house was painted a crisp white, with the eaves and window ledges accented in a deep emerald and the railings of the little covered porch that ran the length of the front of the building was also an emerald. There was a garden that looked well maintained, roses and other flowers in the surrounding beds in full bloom.

Harry fully expected someone to walk out and greet them, the house looked so well looked after and lived in – nothing at all like the ruins he was expecting.

“It looks…whole,” Hermione gasped, obviously as surprised as Harry was.

“Well, and I hope this doesn’t upset you Mr Potter,” Martin began, “James and Lily spent so much time and love building Godric’s Hollow, making it their own, that when…when it was attacked we couldn’t bare to leave it like it was. So, we rebuilt it and it is included in the maintenance schedule of the main estate. No-one has entered the house since the rebuilding was complete so the interior is the same as it was before the attack. Once a year, at Halloween, we let the villagers come here to pay their respects, but other than that, they are encouraged to forget about this little cottage in the woods.”

“This is exactly the same as it was when mum and dad were alive?” Harry tried to confirm, suddenly feeling more anxious than if he was facing derelict rubble.

“Yes.”

Harry began to walk towards the small path that led to the house, flower beds boarding the cobblestones. It was all so surreal and suddenly he wasn’t sure if he could do this. He stopped, looking at the home of his parents with utter fear, knowing that this was what he wanted, what he needed – to see where he had come from and get a little bit closer to acceptance and closure. But he found that he couldn’t take another step.

Aware that he was alone, that the others had given him space so he could deal with whatever he was feeling, he realised that he needed them more than he had ever before. Turning, he saw an anxious Hermione standing next to a nervous Ron, Remus looking at the house with sadness while Martin was watching him with the hope that he hadn’t done something wrong.

“I…I don’t want to do this by myself,” he said, embarrassedly, “I can’t…”

Immediately Ron and Hermione were by his side, Hermione sliding her hand comfortingly into his while Ron stood at his side in support. Remus, however, stayed put making Harry look at him with concern.

“I’ll be there in a moment Harry,” Remus said, his voice hitching slightly, “I…this…this is difficult.”

Harry nodded in understanding before turning back to the place where he began his life, and made his way to the door. He stepped inside to a tidy living room with family pictures on the mantle and on the walls, a rocking chair plus a comfy looking couch and two large armchairs placed in a semi-circle around the hearth. Cushions were scattered on the seat built into the bay window and a baby’s playpen was standing idle, next to it.

Letting go of Hermione’s hand, Harry made a circuit of the room, reading the various titles of the few books that were scattered around, looking at the photos of his parents with various people – pausing at a photo of his mum and dad standing either side of Professor Dumbledore. He got to the small playpen that once was his but now looked so tiny, absently flicking a tiny Pooh Bear that adorned the contraption with his fingers before glancing out of the window to see Remus still standing where they had left him, staring at the house.

Turning from the window, he went through to the formal dinning area that was in the area that occupied the room with the other bay window. Looking like it could be separated from the living room by closing a set of French cadenza type doors, Harry gave it just a quick glance before moving on to the rooms at the back of the house.

The kitchen was homely and warm, another smaller, less formal dinning table sat in the corner and a brilliant view to the tidy back yard filled the windowed back wall. A sandpit and swing stood on the lawn along side deck chairs and table.

But Harry’s eye was drawn to the empty fridge and a picture stuck to it by a magnetic Paddington Bear of three sets of hands – a large pair, a more delicate pair and a pair of hands that were so, so tiny. He put his hands over those of his father’s and saw an outline could still be seen telling him that he hadn’t, as yet, caught up with his dad. Shaking slightly, he removed the piece of paper and took it with him as he made his way up the stairs.

A bathroom and study filled the first two rooms, the study once again full with books. The main bedroom fell at the end of the hall, but Harry found he couldn’t look through the room with any more than a brief glance. Ron and Hermione had followed him as he made his journey, not speaking but just supporting him by their presence and it was when he stood outside the last room – his room – that he felt himself begin to lose it yet again.

Pushing open the door, he saw a cot in an obvious nursery. The walls were pale blue with cartoon images of both Muggle and not-so-Muggle images. Family shots and pictures of baby Harry on his own were scattered around on the walls while soft toys bunched together on a dresser. There was a rocking chair there as well, close to the window, cushioned with a blanket lain down the back. Harry walked over to the cot and picked up a teddy bear that was there, a teddy bear that he could’ve done with all those years at the Dursley’s when he had nothing.

“It’s not fair,” he said quietly, to no-one in particular but aware that both Ron and Hermione were close by.

“No mate, it definitely isn’t,” Ron whispered, putting a hand on Harry’s shoulder. The unfamiliar touch made Harry look at his friend with an abashed smile, before looking around for Hermione. She had stopped at the rocking chair, touching it slightly so it began to move back and forth, lost in her own thoughts. He watched as she swiped away a lone tear that fell down her cheek and suddenly it was just too much for him.

“I’ve got to get out of here,” he choked, ignoring them both as he fled out of the room and down the stairs. Remus looked at him from where he was standing by the mantle, a picture of himself, Sirius and James in his hands – Remus, too, was crying. Without a second glance, Harry ran out of the house and down the driveway, stopping when he reached the edge of the lane and leant against a tree to cry once more.

“Harry?” Again it was Hermione who was checking how he was, but he didn’t want her to see him like this so he moved around the tree and away from her, hastily wiping his eyes as he tried to get himself under control.

“Harry?” Her voice was closer and in moments she was looking at him with concern, Ron hovering behind her.

“It’s not fair,” Harry repeated quietly.

“No, it’s not,” Hermione agreed

“I want to get out of here,” he continued, knowing he sounded like a petulant child.

“Okay, I’ll take you back to Mrs Figg’s and then come back for Ron,” she soothed, “Remus, well, he…he wants to stay for a bit longer…”

“Mr Stephens? I need to thank him…”

“It was my pleasure Mr Potter,” the Cornishman said from behind Ron, coming forward and shaking his hand, “I realise this hasn’t been a pleasant experience, but I hope to see you again soon. After all, in two days, this is all yours…”

“I…I can’t think of that right now,” Harry stuttered, “say goodbye to Miss Baker for me.”

He then took hold of Hermione’s arm and in moments found himself back at Mrs Figg’s garden shed.

“I won’t be a moment,” Hermione assured and was gone. Harry went and stood outside, trying to get some semblance of the day. So much had happened, he had seen and experienced nearly every emotion and was exhausted. All he wanted to do was find a dark room and sleep, and to stop feeling.

He heard Ron’s arrival and when his friends joined him in the garden, he gave them a weary smile.

“Been one hell of a day,” Ron joked, as they walked down the suburban street back to Privet Drive.

“Yeah,” was all Harry said, lost in his thoughts.

“That’s mum and dad’s car,” Hermione said suddenly, making Harry look down the road to see an unfamiliar silver sedan sitting outside the Dursleys, “what are they doing here? Something must be wrong…”

Without waiting for a response, Hermione began to sprint down the road, the two boys exchanging puzzled looks before following her. She had already alohomora-ed the front door and was in the kitchen by the time Harry and Ron had caught up.

“Here they are,” Mrs Granger said brightly, raising from the dinner table to give her daughter a hug, “they can join us for dinner after all Petunia.”

“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked worriedly, “why are you here?”

“Nothing’s wrong honey,” Mrs Granger placated, “we just thought we’d come and visit. We can have a chat after dinner.”

Harry watched as Hermione looked suspiciously between her mother and her father, trying to read their expressions.

“Why don’t you and the boys clean up,” Mr Granger suggested from his seat at the table, “we’ll set some places for you then we can all enjoy this lovely meal that Petunia has put on for us.” Hermione just nodded before leaving the room slowly, deep in thought – Ron and Harry close behind.

“What are they doing here?” Ron whispered urgently when he was sure they were out of earshot.

“I don’t know,” Hermione snapped back, “I don’t even know how they found out where Harry lives! This is…concerning…”

Hermione finished washing her hands and let Ron move towards the sink as Harry waited his turn, all thoughts of his emotional day forgotten as he tried to think why Hermione’s parents have driven all the way from…where, he didn’t really know. He frowned – he had known Hermione for six years and he had no idea where she lived when she wasn’t in Hogwarts! Suddenly, another horrible thought crossed his mind.

“They’re not here to take you home, are they?” he asked urgently, replacing Ron at the sink.

“I don’t know,” she replied, hesitantly, “but that seems the most logical reason they’re here…”

“You can’t go!” Ron exclaimed as they all moved back down to the dinning room.

“Of course I’m not going to go Ron!” she hissed, pausing so she could look at both of them, “but that is the only reason they’d come here! Now look, both of you, this is my mum and dad and you have to let me deal with them my way – do you understand?”

“But…”

“There is no ‘buts’ Ron,” she continued, staring him down viciously, “you either understand or you don’t – do you understand?”

Meekly Ron nodded, Harry copying him when Hermione turned her stare onto him. Satisfied, she led the way back into the dinning room and sat down in the vacant seat next to her mother, Harry and Ron opposite her, next to Dudley.

The dinner was reasonably civil – Mr Granger talking to Uncle Vernon about drills, while the rest of the table just ate in polite silence. Harry glanced at Hermione, who was concentrating so hard on her dinner she didn’t see him, and noted how much she looked like her mother – the same bushy, wild hair, brown eyes and even the mannerisms seemed the same. He smiled just when Mrs Granger looked away from her husband and met Harry’s eyes, smiling back. Embarrassedly, he quickly went back to his dinner.

The meal came to an end and Harry automatically stood to begin to clear away the plates. He didn’t notice the surprise on Mr and Mrs Granger’s faces but was grateful when Ron and Hermione joined him with the now familiar evening ritual.

“Oh, no Hermione dear,” Uncle Vernon gushed, “leave the dishes to the boys. You should go and speak with your parents.”

Harry turned to his uncle in shock, as did Dudley who thought he may be included in the ‘boys’ comment.

“Well, actually Vernon,” Mr Granger said politely, “we need to have a word with Ron and Harry as well…”

“What? Why?” Ron near shrieked, his face going deathly white.

“Oh for goodness sake Ron,” Hermione growled, taking the dishes Ron was holding from his hands and putting them on the bench, “mum and dad aren’t going to kill you because we kissed!”

“You kissed?” Harry questioned, with Mrs Granger and Dudley asking the same question at the exact same time.

“Well, yes, once,” Hermione blushed, removing the plates Harry was holding, “a little while ago…”

“Really?” Harry continued, looking at a now beetroot Ron.

“Yeah,” Ron confirmed, not looking Harry in the eye.

“And this is what we want to talk to you all about,” Mr Granger said gruffly, looking directly at his daughter, “and why you failed to mention that Professor Dumbledore had died.”

Harry tore his eyes away from Mr Granger to his aunt at the sound of broken crockery, seeing her empty dinner plate now in pieces on the floor, her face pale and frightened eyes staring back at him.

“Dumble…Dumbledore’s dead?” she stammered to which Harry gave a curt nod, “why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t think you cared,” Harry answered offhandedly before looking directly at Mr Granger, “shall we go then? Hermione’s room would be the best, it’s bigger than ours.” Mr Granger seemed slightly taken back by Harry’s directness, but without another word he and his wife followed the line of teenagers out of the dinning room and towards Hermione’s room upstairs and at the end of the hall.

No-one sat as the door was closed, each not sure what was going to happen next. Harry and Ron hovered at the edges, letting the Granger family do what they needed to do – Hermione stared defiantly at her father, while her mother stood between them, looking ready to referee them both.

“So, why are you here,” Hermione began, her voice slightly on edge.

“Are you able to put one of those silencing charms on the room?” Mrs Granger asked, smiling in thanks as Hermione performed the necessary charm without a word.

“So, why are you here,” Hermione repeated, putting her wand back in her pocket.

“We want to know why you’re lying to us,” her father answered, “and why you neglected to tell us you weren’t planning to go back to Hogwarts…”

“How do you know…?”

“Professor McGonagall paid us a visit yesterday,” Mrs Granger said calmly, “she said that you three weren’t returning to school…”

“Professor McGonagall had no right…”

“She was perfectly within her rights to tell us that you were giving up your schooling to follow Harry,” Mr Granger interrupted angrily.

“Hermione, this is your last year,” Mrs Granger pleaded, “you are going to be Head Girl, you’re head of your class – please, don’t give that up!”

“Think of your future,” Mr Granger added, “think about what you have planned. This fools errand that Harry has talked you into, it will ruin everything!”

“Fools errand?” Hermione repeated, her voice dangerously low, “Harry’s talked me into? What do you think I am – a weak little girl unable to make up my own mind? That a handsome boy tells me to do something and I just drop everything and do it? It is my choice to do what I’m doing and I am fully aware of the consequences!”

“Are you?” Mr Granger yelled, “are you really? You were nearly killed once because of some mission of Harry’s! Who’s to say that this time you’ll come back? Are you willing to die for him?”

Harry listened shocked, hearing the fears of a parent was something that he wasn’t used to and seeing Hermione answer back to her father like that, about him, was bizarre.

“We are at war dad! Do you understand that – war!”

“And you are a child! Isn’t there a ministry or something, adults better equipped to fight this Voldemort person?” he shouted back, “why is it up to you three to do whatever you’re doing, this great secret task that you can’t share with anyone.”

“I am not a child,” Hermione gritted, “and this is our war! Harry’s war! I am not and will not walk away from him now!”

“I thought we agreed that you would stay away from him!” Mr Granger continued, indicating angrily at Harry, “that he was dangerous! Doesn’t this prove we were right!”

“This is ridiculous,” she seethed, “you’re just twisting my words into something you wanted to hear! I told you I’d be more careful, that I wouldn’t do anything rash and do you know what happened? Hogwarts was attacked and we lost Professor Dumbledore because I put my head in the sand and kept out of trouble! I’m not doing that again, I’m not standing back because I am too scared to do what’s right! Harry needs me and I will be fighting with him, by his side!”

“I’m not going to let you do this! I’m not going to let you sacrifice yourself for this boy!”

“How are you going to stop me? Lock me up? Banish me from the family? Because if you make me, I’ll choose Harry every time!”

“Hermione…” Harry finally ventured, startled when she turned to him, eyes blazing, “please, this isn’t…”

“Isn’t what, Harry?” she snapped, “isn’t right? Isn’t the way happy families should act? Isn’t fair?” Furiously, she looked back at her father, “do you want to know what we did today? Where we were?” not waiting for a reply, she powered on, “we went to visit Harry’s parent’s graves and the home where they were killed. It was the first time he had been back there because the wonderful people he has lived with hate him so much, that they never bothered to take him there!”

“I know Harry’s had a hard life, but…”

“But nothing! You asked why am I willing to sacrifice myself for him? Because Harry has sacrificed so much for all of us already.

“He was raised in this house by a family that didn’t love him, who made him live in a cupboard under the stairs! And then he came to Hogwarts where he has been shunned more than once for things out of his control. He has faced death more than anyone ever should yet he has never backed away from what is right.

“Anyone else would’ve run away but Harry hasn’t! He has been told he is the only one to defeat Voldemort, that only one of them can live at the same time – and you expect me to walk away from him because something may happen to me? Do understand now why I can’t? Harry hasn’t asked for any of this to happen to him! None of it! And he is willing to sacrifice himself for us yet you want me to turn my back on him? Well, I won’t. I can’t.” Somewhere during her speech, Hermione had started to quietly cry and when she stopped speaking, the room remained silent other than her quiet sobs.

“Hermione, you are our daughter and we love you,” Mrs Granger finally said, gently wiping the tears off Hermione’s cheeks, “we’re scared that we’re going to lose you…”

“I’m scared too mummy,” Hermione said quietly, “but I can’t stand back and let Ron and Harry go on without me. I’m part of this, this is my fight too.”

Mrs Granger drew Hermione into a hug, Mr Granger enveloping both women, his anger finally spent. After a few moments, he drew away and looked over at Harry and Ron.

“Are you sleeping with my daughter?” he asked Harry, who thought about the question and wondered if napping on the couch after an all-night study session in the common room counted.

“Dad!” Hermione exclaimed, obviously horrified.

“Let the boy answer Hermione,” Mr Granger said calmly, “Harry, have you had sex with my daughter?”

“What?” Harry spluttered, confused, “me and…what? No! Of course not! I would never…he’s the one who’s kissed her!”

Frantically Harry tried to take Mr Granger’s fatherly stare off of him by pointing to Ron, who had gone a brilliant shade of red.

“Once! We kissed once!” Ron exclaimed, “and it was, well…”

“…like kissing your uncle,” Hermione finished, leaving her mother and standing in between Harry and Ron, “dad, both Harry and Ron are my friends and they would kill anyone who would try to hurt me in any way.”

Wearily Mr Granger sighed, and sat down heavily on Hermione’s bed, his wife sitting next to him before laying her arm tenderly around his shoulders.

“You’re my baby girl Hermione,” he said, looking up at her, “and I feel like we’ve grown so far apart, that I’ve lost you already.”

Hermione went over to her father and knelt before him, taking his hands in hers, her tears once again falling.

“You have brought me up to do what is right, no matter how difficult,” she said softly, “and you have brought me up knowing right from wrong. This is right daddy, what we are doing is right. I will always be your little girl and you will always be the first man in my life. But I’m growing up and I need to make my own choices, choices you might not agree with but that doesn’t make them wrong. Please, trust me.”

Mr Granger looked at her, his tears matching hers, before turning to Ron and Harry still standing by the door.

“Promise me you’ll look after her,” he said sadly, “I know she can probably look after herself fine, but promise me that you will do everything you can to keep her safe.”

Harry took a few steps forward and laid a hand gently on Hermione’s shoulder. Feeling his touch, she stood up next to him, giving him a glance before looking back at her parents. Ron came over and stood at her other side, completing the trio.

“I wish I could say that nothing bad will happen to Hermione, but I can’t,” Harry started, “but I can assure you that as long as both Ron and I are alive, we will do anything and everything to make sure she is as safe as humanly possible.”

“Promise?” Mrs Granger whispered.

“You have my word,” Harry replied. Giving them a small smile, he then turned to Hermione, hoping she understood that she needed some time with her parents alone and if she needed them, they were just down the hall. She smiled back and gave him a small nod. Knowing he was understood, Harry then went to the door and with Ron right behind him, he left the Granger family alone to say goodbye.

5. Decisions and the Dursleys

A/N – thank you all again for the lovely comments and I wish I had the time to answer them, but alas… However, someone did ask where I was from and yes, I am from New Zealand (woohoo)! Now, on to the story!

Chapter 5 – Decisions and the Dursleys

Harry put his quill down and stretched out the kinks in his hand, absently noting that the sun had begun to rise, meaning he had been awake all night. Smiling to himself, he remembered when he thought that all he wanted to do was sleep so he could figure out everything he felt regarding his parents and Godric’s Hollow.

Instead, sleep had been the furthest from his mind after he left Hermione alone with her parents, his brain suddenly focused on what he needed to do and then spent all night doing it. He looked down at the piles of parchment filled with his scrappy handwriting and actually felt quite proud of himself. The next step was to tell his two friends what he had so desperately put onto paper.

Glancing at his clock, he saw that he still had an hour and a half until he needed to wake up Ron and start his day. Re-reading what he had written before pausing, he got the gist of his thoughts and began to write once more, continuing until he got his final idea down. Sitting back in his chair, he was satisfied – the feeling of accomplishment overshadowing the tiredness that was starting to creep into his consciousness.

Glancing once more at his clock, he saw that it was time for breakfast so with a smile, he turned to the still occupied bed and saw Ron oblivious to the world. With his foot, Harry rocked the bed, hoping the motion would wake his friend up – there was no response.

“Ron,” he called, “Ron, time to wake up.”

Grunt.

“Get up Ron,” Harry repeated, standing himself, already dressed and ready.

“Goaway,” was the mumbled reply.

“You’ll miss breakfast,” Harry informed, putting his nights work into a tidier pile.

“Argh!” Ron exclaimed, finally, turning over and forcing his eyes open, “it’s the holidays! I don’t see why we have to get up so bloody early for breakfast when it’s the holidays!”

“Because this is when Uncle Vernon is fed, therefore so are we,” Harry informed, “but it will be the last time – tomorrow we’re out of here!”

“Right,” Ron said glumly, gathering his stuff together to go to the bathroom, “because breakfast at Grimmauld Place will be so much better.”

Harry just gave an understanding smile and headed downstairs. His uncle and aunt were already there; Aunt Petunia in the kitchen making her husband’s lunch while Uncle Vernon was lost behind the morning paper. Harry didn’t bother with a ‘good morning’ and began to get his breakfast. A few moments later Ron arrived and joined Harry, grabbing a bowl from the cupboard and the cereal box that had been placed on the table. Seemingly disturbed by the noise of their eating, Uncle Vernon angrily folded his paper, glared at the two boys before grabbing his lunch from his wife and storming out the house. Both Harry and Ron ignored the display and carried on eating. After a few more moments, Aunt Petunia left, leaving instructions to tidy the kitchen after they had finished eating.

Which they both had nearly done when Hermione finally walked into the kitchen, looking as tired as Harry felt.

“Morning,” she muttered, reaching for the cereal without giving them a look.

“Morning little Miss Sunshine,” Ron said sarcastically, “you look terrible.”

“Thanks Ron,” she replied snarkily, looking up at him, “and just a warning, I’m really not in the mood for your jokes today…”

“Who’s joking…” Ron mumbled under his breath.

“Are you alright Hermione?” Harry asked, a bit concerned.

“I’m fine,” she shot back, turning her eyes to him, “you look terrible.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, “what time did your parent’s leave?”

“About midnight,” she replied wearily, “I think they were planning a late start this morning – it would’ve taken them at least two hours to get home…”

“Where is home, exactly?” Ron asked absently, voicing the question Harry was just about to ask – Hermione looked at them both blankly.

“You don’t know where I live?” she questioned, sounding close to tears. Ron frantically looked at Harry, his eyes saying she better not start to cry.

“Er, actually, ah, we don’t,” Harry answered hesitantly, “which is terrible ‘cause you know pretty much everything about us and we don’t know anything about you…”

“No, no I guess you don’t,” she sighed, looking forlornly at her uneaten breakfast – the boys shared a troubled look.

“So, where do you li…” Ron started but stopped as his eyes focused on something over Harry’s left shoulder – turning, he saw an unfamiliar owl coming his way. They all sat and watched to see who the owl was for, and all seemed surprised when it stopped in front of Ron. With a frown, he took the note off the owl’s leg, which waited patiently for an obvious reply.

“Is it from you family Ron?” Hermione asked, interested.

“Ah, no,” Ron replied, blushing furiously. Harry waited for him to expand his comment but as one wasn’t forthcoming, he gave his friend a nudge.

“So, who is it from?” Harry questioned with a smile.

“Lu…Luna,” Ron said, looking embarrassedly at Harry, “she was wondering if I could meet her today…”

“Oh Ron, that’s fantastic,” Hermione exclaimed, piling the now near empty bowls altogether and cleaning them with a wave of her wand, “obviously, you have to go!”

“I didn’t realise you and Luna were on owling terms,” Harry teased, enjoying his friends discomfort while ignoring Hermione’s scowl.

“Well, we got to know each other a bit during the wedding…”

“Ahh,” Harry acknowledged, “of course you did.”

“So, what do I tell her…” Ron continued as if he didn’t hear Harry’s comment, finally looking at him.

“That you’ll meet her, of course,” Hermione replied enthusiastically, “Harry and I can do the research today…”

“Actually, I was planning to give the research a rest,” Harry put in, a bit more seriously, “and instead, thought we could make some plans…”

“Really?” Ron and Hermione chorused, sharing a chuckle before the three made their way back to Harry’s room, the owl following behind them.

“Well, I’ll only be gone an hour, hour and a half, tops,” Ron said, as he sat down and added to Luna’s note before re-attaching it and letting the owl depart – seeing the bird fly off reminded Harry he really needed to clean Hedwig’s cage and glanced at his pet, who ignored him completely after her night of hunting, her eyes staying firmly closed.

“That’s fine,” Harry said with a yawn, sitting on his bed.

“Yeah, well, maybe when I’m gone you two will try and get some sleep,” Ron remarked, changing his t-shirt (his back firmly in Hermione’s direction), “if you both didn’t look so miserable, I would start thinking that Harry did sneak out last night…”

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed while Harry just laughed.

“So, where are you going?” Harry asked, feeling more and more tired.

“Um, actually, Hermione – would you mind…?”

“I’ll be right back,” Hermione sighed with a resigned smile. Ron gave Harry a small, embarrassed wave and followed Hermione out so they could Apparate from Mrs Figg’s to Diagon Alley. Having to go to Mrs Figg’s every time they needed to go anywhere was a bit of a pain but the new anti-Appariation wards placed on the Dursley’s a while a go were seen as a necessity. Still, soon it won’t matter.

Laying down on his bed, Harry closed his eyes, thinking that he’d just rest a bit and wait for Hermione to come back – there was no way he would sleep before he told them what he had been thinking about, his mind was too cram-packed with ideas. And even as patches of unconsciousness began to invade his brain, Harry still thought sleep was never going to happen…

He was standing in a graveyard, a huge snake was making its way to where he was, but otherwise – he was alone. Raising his wand, he went to destroy the snake but suddenly it turned into a centaur, standing before him, defiant. It was then he heard the noise, a really annoying noise, like a child trying to clear its throat…

“Hem, hem.”

Harry’s eyes flew open – he knew that sound, he knew it very well. But what was Dolores Umbridge doing back at Hogwarts…maybe he had fallen asleep in class! Abruptly he sat up, suddenly realising he wasn’t at Hogwarts at all, but at Privet Drive and that he had fallen asleep on his bed. At the same time as he sat upright, there was a thump to his right and a very disgruntled ‘ow’, but Harry’s attention was captured by Ron leaning against the door frame laughing hysterically. Before Harry could ask why, Hermione’s dishevelled face poked up from the side of the bed.

“Hermione?” he said, confused, “what are you doing down there?” Instead of answering, she just looked at Ron who had tears in his eyes with mirth.

“What’s so funny Ronald?” she questioned haughtily as she stood and tried to straighten herself out.

“You two, that’s what,” Ron snorted as he tried to get himself under control, “Luna dropped me back so I come up here to find you two snuggled up together. So I did a Dolores – Harry woke up and you fell to the floor – it was hilarious!”

“What’s the time?” Harry asked – surely an hour hasn’t passed…

“Well, I’m a bit late,” Ron explained, coming to sit on his bed, “and I had this whole big speech planned, explaining why but really, it’s you two that need to explain.”

“What’s to explain,” Harry started, looking at his clock – it was eleven thirty, he had been asleep for nearly three hours, “I fell asleep…”

“Well then Miss Granger here has some explaining to do,” Ron continued, grinning madly, enjoying seeing Hermione squirm.

“I…I came back and Harry was asleep,” Hermione stuttered, “and I kind of felt tired myself, so I went to Ron’s bed and, well, it stunk…”

“My bed doesn’t stink!” Ron objected, momentarily forgetting his teasing of Hermione, but quickly remembered, “so why didn’t you go to your room?”

“Um, well, I knew Harry wanted to talk, and he wouldn’t know I was back if I went to my room so I thought I’d just sleep on the side…”

“On the side – you were draped all over him!”

“I must’ve moved…”

“Yes, you must’ve…”

“So now I can tell your dad that we slept together?” Harry joked, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“Oh, ha ha Harry,” Hermione snapped, making her way to the desk chair, instead of her normal seat on Harry’s bed, “what’s all this?”

“That’s what I want to talk to you guys about,” Harry began, taking his notes away from Hermione and sat crossed legged on his bed, putting the parchments to the side, all tiredness forgotten, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh great, now you’re doing it…” Ron moaned.

“Shut up Ron,” Hermione barked, before looking back at Harry, “is that what you did last night? Why you didn’t sleep?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, feeling both excited and nervous at the same time, “yeah, well, all of the stuff that happened yesterday at Pennowen, and then the thing with your parents – it got me thinking. I don’t want to do this quest for the Horcruxes on my own, I can’t do it on my own – I need you guys. Before, I was ready to leave everyone behind and go off alone, to keep you all safe.

“But now I know that I could never do that and if I did, I will probably die. This means that I need you and that puts you in big danger. Yesterday I made a promise to your parents Hermione and I’m going to make the same promise to your family Ron – I am going to do everything I can to make sure you both come out of this alive…”

“You make it sound like you don’t expect to live…” Hermione said softly.

“I have nothing Hermione,” Harry answered, “no family to miss me, no dreams or ambitions, no future – not really – all I have is you guys. I’m supposed to end it, I’m supposed to be the one to kill Voldemort and I have no idea how. I want to survive, I really do, but…”

“We’ll find a way…”

“You didn’t let me finish, Hermione,” Harry admonished, “I was going to say, but now I know the only way, the only chance that I have, is if we plan, use all the resources we have available and work with others…”

“We’re going to tell others about…everything?” Ron asked, surprised.

“This is another thing,” Harry continued, his eyes shinning with enthusiasm, “I don’t think I should make all the decisions! You two are as part of this as I am, why should I have the say on everything we do? Any major decision should be voted on…”

“Voted on,” Ron repeated, shocked, “who are you and what have you done with Harry!”

“Don’t worry Ron,” Harry laughed, “I’m me, but don’t you think that’s better?”

“I think that’s a great idea Harry,” Hermione smiled, “so what are the things that you want to vote on?”

“Well, there’s quite a few,” Harry said, flicking through his notes until he found the page he was looking for, “firstly, who should we tell? I was thinking Remus and McGonagall…”

“I agree,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “they are the obvious choices. I still feel we shouldn’t tell many people though, not yet anyway…”

“How ‘bout mum and dad?” Ron suggested, before adding, “but then they’d want to tell the whole family which defeats the purpose really.”

“I’d like to tell your parents eventually,” Harry ventured to Ron, “but at the moment, I think only…”

“Lupin and McGonagall,” Ron finished, nodding his head, “I agree.”

“Brilliant, which brings me onto the next thing,” Harry looked at his friends nervously, “Hogwarts.”

“Look, Harry,” Hermione started, “my parents, they were…”

“Right,” Harry stated, looking at her in the eye, “you have a future Hermione, and it’s not fair that I take that away from you…”

“You’re saying you don’t want me to come with you?” she asked, confused.

“No, because I need you,” Harry replied, “what I’m saying is that we should return to Hogwarts.”

“Bloody hell,” Ron exclaimed, looking between Harry and Hermione, “you mean, after putting up with an afternoon of mum yelling at me and crying hysterically when I told her I was dropping out, we’re going back?”

“If you guys agree…”

“Well, I’m there,” Ron said quickly, “rather be at Hogwarts than Grimmauld Place.”

“Are you sure Harry?” Hermione asked, frowning, “you were so adamant after the funeral…”

“But now I’ve thought about it,” Harry enthused, “it’s safe, it has a library and hospital (if we need it) plus our friends will be there. You guys should have the opportunity to be with other people – me shutting you up in that disgusting house for I don’t know how long, well, it seems pretty selfish.”

“What about the search?” Hermione continued to question, “are you planning to do your NEWT’s and search for the Horcruxes at the same time?”

“Actually, I need to ask you something,” Harry paused as he thought, “what do you do as Head Girl?”

“Do?”

“Yeah, I mean, what extra duties.”

“Well, you’re the liaison between the students and the faculty,” Hermione began in full recital mode, “make sure the first years are settled, which won’t be a problem this year. You’re the head prefect, so you need to make sure they are doing their roles correctly, plus you get your own room and common room, which is shared by the Head Boy…”

“Excellent,” Harry interrupted, “which means either Ron or I need to be Head Boy…”

“You’re going to tell McGonagall who she should chose for Head Boy,” Ron laughed, “love to be there for that conversation.”

“You probably will be,” Harry replied quickly, before turning back to Hermione, “you also get free access to all of the school at all hours as well, right?”

“Well, yes,” Hermione frowned, “what are you thinking Harry?”

“I thought that with you as Head Girl,” Harry rushed, “and one of us as Head Boy, we could make that area our headquarters for our research and stuff. All castle, all hour access means we can move freely about. If we get Floo access to Grimmauld Place and Dowrgi, then we can carry on researching. We will need to talk to McGonagall and let her know what we’re doing and get compensations…”

“Compensations? Like what?” Ron asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Compensations that we can’t abuse,” Harry answered, seriously, “like leaving school if we know where a Horcrux is, possibly being late or missing class, not having time to complete all assignments – things like that. We’d need to do extra defence training as well, you know, so we’re ready.”

“Do you think Professor McGonagall will agree?” Hermione questioned.

“I don’t think she’ll have a choice,” Harry replied, “I thought together we could write down what we need, discuss it with her and go from there. There won’t be any Quidditch this year for us and whoever isn’t Head Boy will bunk in the room anyway. We should all stick together.”

“Are you sure you can do this Harry?” Hermione said after a small pause, her voice soft, “I mean, without…”

“It will be strange,” Harry interrupted, knowing what Hermione was going to say, “I mean, Dumbl…Dumbledore was Hogwarts – but his portrait will be there and surely that would help too!”

Harry watched as Ron and Hermione took what he had told them in, waiting patiently for their reply.

“Are you positive we won’t be able to play Quidditch?” Ron asked, somewhat sadly – Harry nodded, “oh well. I wasn’t that good any way. And I think you should be Head Boy Harry, you deserve it.”

“But you’ve been prefect…”

“And remember the grief I got for that,” Ron grumphed, “imagine what Fred and George would do to me if I made Head Boy!”

“It would be nice to be there,” Hermione said, wistfully before looking at Harry sternly, “as long as you’re sure and that you are doing it because you want to not because of some guilt trip from my father.”

“I think it would be good for all of us to go back,” Harry asserted, “and as long as we stay focused, there’s no reason why we can’t complete our NEWT’s and do what we need to do. We might even use those study diaries you gave us one year.”

“Yeah, right,” Hermione laughed, “as if that’s ever going to happen.”

“So, what else is there, in you notes,” Ron asked as he lay down on his bed.

“Ideas on where to look for Horcruxes and what we know so far,” Harry replied, passing them over to Hermione, who had indicated she’d like to have a look, “I thought you and I, Ron, could continue the research at Grimmauld Place while Hermione could go to Dowrgi and see if she can find out about an artefact from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor – Hogwarts library might help us there as well, we weren’t looking for that last time…”

“These are good notes Harry,” Hermione remarked as she scanned the parchments, “can I keep them for a bit?”

“Er, sure,” Harry replied, a bit embarrassed, “so, tomorrow we go to Grimmauld Place…”

“Do we get to vote on this, cause I think we should live at Dowrgi,” Ron piped up, looking at the other two.

“Actually, I agree with Harry,” Hermione answered, “Grimmauld Place is the safest at the moment…”

“Well, you’re not going to be there most of the summer, of course you won’t mind living there…”

“I don’t think I could live at Dowrgi,” Harry interrupted, quietly, “I don’t think I can even go back there at the moment. Sorry Ron.”

“No, it’s me who should apologise,” Ron sighed, “sorry mate, wasn’t even thinking…”

“When will we talk to Professor McGonagall,” Hermione said, changing the subject rapidly.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, thankfully, “perhaps we could work on the list of compensations now and then start packing. I want to leave here first thing tomorrow morning.” Which, after a spot of lunch, is exactly what they did.

The next morning, Harry woke and stretched luxuriously with a huge grin on his face – he was finally leaving Privet Drive and the Dursley’s forever, the day he had been waiting for for so long had finally come. Grabbing his glasses and looking at his clock, he saw it was six thirty – an hour until breakfast, half an hour before his uncle usually gets up to wash.

Grabbing a change of clothes, he made his way to the bathroom and had his morning shower. After drying himself and putting on his pants, Harry peered at his face in the mirror, seeing if there was a need to shave yet. Ron had begun to grow faint, ginger stubble but so far Harry’s chin remained hairless. Sighing, he was just about to put his shirt on when he heard a thump and a yelp of pain coming from the room next door – Hermione’s room.

Grabbing his wand he ran out of the bathroom and through the open door of the next room to see Hermione kneeling on her bed, flushed and scowling, doing up the top buttons of her pajama top while Dudley was squirming around on the floor, holding his…lower groin area. Harry quickly put two and two together and ignoring his cousin’s already obvious discomfort, grabbed him roughly and held him against the wall, his wand pointed into the bigger boy’s cheek.

“I could curse you right here,” Harry growled, enjoying seeing Dudley pale.

“You…you can’t use magic…” Dudley stuttered.

“I’ve got news for you Duddikins,” Harry continued, “as a matter of fact I can…”

“Let him go Harry,” Hermione said calmly, getting her own stuff ready for a shower, “he’s not worth it.”

“Your girlfriend’s a slut anyway,” Dudley continued, a bit bolder after Harry had dropped his wand and stepped back, “saw her snogging that other guy…”

But Dudley didn’t get to finish as Harry forgot all about magic and punched his cousin in the face – hard. Dudley staggered back, holding his bleeding nose and looked at Harry in horror. Hermione had come and stood beside him, her wand was drawn and seeing he was out numbered, Dudley retreated in a rush. When he was no longer in sight, Harry was unable to pretended he couldn’t feel the throbbing in his hand, sure he had broken a few bones and tried flexing it gingerly to test it out.

“Let me see,” Hermione said patiently and gently took his hand in hers, waving her wand over it before Harry felt a warmness surround his hand and the pain disappeared.

“Thanks Hermione,” he said amazed, “when did you learn to do that?”

“Well, I thought I should learn some healing spells in case we got into trouble,” she replied, stepping back from him and suddenly looking at the floor, embarrassed, “ah, thanks for that Harry. I guess I should’ve listened to you and locked my door.”

“Did he, did he hurt you?” Harry asked, remembering why he was in her room in the first place, “did he do anything…else?”

“No,” she replied a bit sheepishly, “but he took me by surprise, and he is so much bigger than me. I…I couldn’t reach my wand so I went for his most vulnerable spot. I…I need to have a shower.”

Harry could already hear his uncle and aunt moving around, knowing that soon there will be an explosion due to their son’s probable broken nose. But today Harry didn’t care. Today he could retaliate to anything they do to him – today he was the boss of Privet Drive.

“Look, give me a moment to get my stuff from the bathroom then you can get ready,” he instructed, “I’ll deal with my uncle.” Hermione just nodded with a small smile.

“Harry?” she called as he turned to the door, making him turn back, “don’t tell Ron. Please.”

“Why?” he asked, frowning.

“Just don’t,” she repeated.

“Okay,” Harry agreed reluctantly before once more heading for the door.

“And Harry,” she called out again, his hand on the doorknob – he turned to her, “happy birthday.” She came up to him, put her hands his shoulders and then gave him a small peck on the cheek, smiling at him shyly before saying, “and I like the bare chest look. Very macho Mr Potter.”

With that she turned and he watched her stunned. He had totally forgotten that he had no shirt on and he felt the heat of his embarrassment begin to move off of his face to cover the rest of his body. Quickly, he left her room and returned to the bathroom, where he got everything that was his before dashing to his room to the just waking Ron.

“Hey,” Ron said groggily, “happy birthday mate.”

“Thanks,” Harry replied nonchalantly, “you better…”

“Potter!” was suddenly bellowed as the door to Harry’s room crashed open revealing a very agitated Uncle Vernon, dragging an already bruising Dudley behind him, “what is the meaning of this! How dare you! After all we’ve done for you, let your abnormal friends live under our roof – you’ll pay for this boy!”

Which was exactly the wrong thing to say. Wand raised, Harry advanced on his uncle, aware that his aunt was standing behind Dudley, her face white and drawn – but at the moment, he didn’t care. All the years of insults and abuse were flashing through Harry’s brain and he was fighting very hard to keep it under control.

“Do you know what day it is, Uncle Vernon?” Harry hissed.

“Thursday,” came the bold answer, only flinching slightly when the tip of Harry’s wand touch the fat man’s face.

“Today is my birthday, Uncle Vernon,” Harry continued, forcing his uncle against the wall, “today I turn seventeen. Do you know what that means?” Vernon shook his head.

“It means you can now do magic,” his aunt said extremely quietly, “you are now a wizard.”

“That’s right Aunt Petunia,” Harry growled, “I can do magic without consequences. I can hex you, or stun you or make you run around the house clucking like a chicken. You no longer scare me Uncle Vernon, and neither does your idiot of a son. So you have a choice, you can either leave me and my friends alone so we can have some breakfast in peace and then leave this house for ever or you can annoy me and suffer the consequences. The choice is yours.”

“Is that a threat Potter?” Vernon spat.

“Yes,” Harry said back, calmly.

“You, that idiot with the red hair and your tramp are to get out of my….arrrggh!”

Simultaneously Vernon Dursely hung from the air by his ankle, turned bright orange and then began breaking out in boils.

“Who did the colour?” Harry asked as he walked by his screaming relatives.

“That would be me,” Ron said, making his way to the bathroom, “I’ll be down in a minute.”

“So, you must’ve done the furnuncuius charm,” Harry deduced, as Hermione came into step with him on the way to the kitchen.

“Yep, that was me,” she confirmed, smiling as the yells from up the stairs suddenly ceased, “Ron must’ve shut them up.”

“How’re you feeling?” Harry asked as he got himself his breakfast.

“I’m okay,” Hermione replied, joining him with a cup of tea and some toast, “though I must admit, I’m looking forward to getting out of here.”

“Same here,” Ron agreed as he strolled into the kitchen, “so what are we going to do with the Dursley’s before we go?”

“Do with them?” Hermione questioned.

“Yeah, do with them,” Ron repeated, sitting down at the table with his cereal, “pay back for all the bollocks they’ve given Harry over the years…”

“Ronald, we are not…”

“…going to do anything,” Harry finished, “I really just want to get out of here.” Ron just shrugged his shoulders, spilt some cereal and milk on the table and left his dirty empty bowl and glass there before standing up and walking out the door. Hermione and Harry shared a smile and did the same.

They made their way up the stairs and saw Ron standing outside Dudley’s room, absently twirling his wand.

“I put them in there,” he told the others, “Vernon was getting too red and I thought killing your uncle might not be a good move.” Harry smiled.

“Well, since we’re all packed, lets get our trunks and go,” Harry chortled as he made his way to his room.

“Actually,” Hermione said hesitantly, sharing a look with Ron, “er, do you think you could get Dobby to take our trunks for us?”

“Yeah, we were thinking we could pop into Diagon Alley…” Ron continued.

“…so I can get your present,” Hermione rushed, “I haven’t really had the time to get you something.” Harry looked at them both suspiciously but then thought – why not? Today was his birthday, he can do whatever he wanted. He nodded his acceptance with a smile.

“Dobby!” he called and in an instant there was a crack and the little house-elf was standing in front of him.

“Happy birthday Harry Potter sir!” Dobby said enthusiastically, “is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Harry assured, “but are you able to take our trunks and things to Grimmauld Place for us? Just leave the present on the dresser.”

“Oh yes, Dobby can be doing that Harry Potter!” And with another crack, he was gone.

“Right,” Harry carried on, “I guess I should say goodbye.” With a flick of his wand, the door opened to see an orange Vernon, a purple Petunia and a pink Dudley and all were covered in boils – Harry couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh Ron,” Hermione humphed, trying to hide her smile.

“What?” Ron said, innocently, “a good, strong family should share all experiences.”

“Change us back!” Uncle Vernon yelled, still trying to be imposing even though he looked like a rather large piece of fruit.

“No can do, Uncle V,” Ron answered cheekily, “wand broke. Sorry.”

“I’ll do it,” Hermione said and everyone looked at her – the Dursley’s expectantly, Ron and Harry with shock and annoyance, until they saw the smile on her face, “tomorrow,” she finished.

“Tomorrow!” Uncle Vernon shrieked, “you can’t leave us like this!”

“And you shouldn’t have kept a ten year old boy locked in a cupboard under the stairs,” Hermione hissed back, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, she turned on her heel and left the room.

“Bye,” Ron quipped and was also gone, leaving Harry facing the only family he had ever known.

He had no idea what to say – thanks? Good luck with your lives? It’s been great? They stood looking at each other in silence until Harry finally sighed and realised there was nothing to say. Without a word, he turned and went to the smallest bedroom at number 4, Privet Drive. He took one last look around its bare walls with no emotion at all, took the present that he had left on the dresser and then walked out, down the stairs and out the front door where Ron and Hermione were waiting. Without looking back, Harry walked away to Mrs Figg’s, the further he walked, the bigger his smile got.

Instead of making there way directly to the garden shed, like they always did, Harry went to the door and knocked, a curious Ron and Hermione behind him. After a few moments the door opened and a surprised Mrs Figg poked her head out.

“Harry dear,” she said, “this is unexpected!”

“Er, actually, I’m off now,” Harry stated, “and I just wanted to thank you for looking out for me and to give you this.” He handed her the small gift he had, watching nervously as the old lady’s eyes watered over and open her present with shaking hands. It was a small statuette of a cat that he had found ages ago in London and had held onto it for this moment. With a smile, Harry let himself be drawn into a hug.

“You are a dear, dear boy,” Mrs Figg cried, “and it has been my pleasure to watch you grow into a wonderful man, even with those awful people as guardians. Now, you take care.” Harry nodded, and for the last time, he waited by the shed for Hermione to come back and get him so he could Apparate away.

It was after lunch by the time they had finished dawdling around Diagon Alley and the longer they spent there, the more sure his friends had organised something for his birthday. When they went into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and both the twins weren’t there, he knew something was up.

Hermione had already Apparated Ron and so it was just her and Harry facing the grey, dowdy walls of Grimmauld Place when she stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to him.

“That was a nice thing you did for Mrs Figg,” she said softly.

“Well…” Harry looked at her to answer but was suddenly aware of the bags under her eyes and just how tired she actually looked – immediately he was concerned, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to break the gaze, but Harry wouldn’t let her, gently holding her face and really searching for a sign of what was wrong.

“Had Dudley tried something before this morning?” he asked roughly.

“No!” she exclaimed, “no, this morning was a first!”

“Well, what is it?” he asked again, letting go of her face, “you look shattered.”

“I haven’t been sleeping,” she sighed, “like you, I’ve been thinking about the Horcruxes…”

“Have you come up with something?”

“Yeah, yeah I think I have,” she admitted, “but we’re not going to talk about it today. Today is your birthday…”

“…and they’re all in there waiting, right?” Harry asked with a smile – Hermione just nodded. His smile grew into a grin and without another word, Harry took her hand and entered the Black estate, letting himself be led down to the kitchen.

“Surprise!” bellowed through the house as they entered the crowded room (immediately waking up Mrs Black – Tonks quickly exited to calm the painted woman down) and with a grin ear to ear, Harry let himself be engulfed by his new family and friends.

6. Where There's a Will, There's a Way

A/N – here you go, my core of faithful readers!! Thank you all for your wonderful reviews and for the person who asked ‘when is H/Hr going to happen?’ – well, not planning any major fluff for quite a few chapters yet, but I have been putting anvil sized hints throughout each chapter (just had to say it…) with a few more in this one. Enjoy.

Chapter 6 – Where There’s a Will, There’s a Way

Harry spent a happy afternoon opening presents and talking to the small group of people who had come to help him celebrate his coming of age. Mr and Mrs Weasley were there with the twins, Remus, Tonks – even Hagrid had made the journey (thankfully without Grawp). Neville, Seamus and Dean were also there as was Luna and Ginny.

Harry had been uncertain when he saw his ex-girlfriend standing nervously next to Neville, remembering vividly the last time they met but then thought to himself that it was his birthday, he was away from the Dursley’s forever and nothing was going to annoy him today.

As the afternoon progressed, Harry realised with a start that this would be the perfect opportunity to talk to Remus and Professor McGonagall at the same time. The party was ending – Hagrid had already left, so had Seamus and Dean plus the twins. Ron and Luna were in deep conversation while Hermione was talking to Tonks, Remus and Mr Weasley. On the other side of the room, Mrs Weasley was seemingly having a dispute with Ginny while Neville looked on – however, the new headmistress was putting on her cloak, getting ready to leave.

Quickly, Harry made his way to his old teacher but was stopped midway by a flustered Mrs Weasley.

“Harry dear,” she said, slightly apologetic, “we need to be making a move. Ginny, well, she’s not feeling the best.” Harry looked over at the youngest Weasley and saw that she did indeed look ill, but the cynical part of Harry knew it wasn’t due to sickness. So he said his good-byes to Mr and Mrs Weasley and Neville, who left with them (Ginny hadn’t spoken to him all afternoon and remained hovering by the door, her eyes fixed firmly to the floor).

Hoping he hadn’t missed Professor McGonagall, Harry sighed thankfully when he saw that Hermione had the professor talking to her, Remus and Tonks. Making his way over to the group, he smiled.

“Good to see you guys are still here,” he said happily, “I kinda need a word.”

“Well, actually Mr Potter,” Professor McGonagall said, sharing a worried look with Remus and Hermione, “so do I. I apologise for bringing this up at your coming of age celebrations but it seems Albus wasn’t the only one to leave you a bequest on this momentous day.”

“What?”

“It seems you are named in Professor Dumbledore’s will.”

Harry looked at her stunned, all thoughts of what he wanted to talk to them about escaping him – Dumbledore had left him something in his will. Dumbledore, who should’ve been at his birthday. Dumbledore, who was now dead.

“I…I don’t want anything…” Harry stuttered, trying to get himself back on track.

“I’m afraid that choice is not yours to make Mr Potter,” the professor continued, her tone somewhat softer, “the headmaster made it quite clear what his intentions were on his death. Perhaps we can go over the details tomorrow? I understand you will be doing the same thing with Remus.”

Harry turned his attention to Lupin, already knowing what he was going to say.

“The lawyer of the Potter estate contacted me as I am a trustee since both Sirius and Dumbledore are gone,” Remus started sadly, “you have been left the two houses and everything inside them plus the funds in the Potter vault, which has been transferred to yours. I will need you to sign some papers…”

“I don’t want more money,” Harry struggled to say, “I don’t want any of this…”

“Harry,” Hermione soothed, putting a calming hand on his arm, “don’t make any decisions now. Let it all sink in a bit…”

But all Harry wanted to do was yell and scream at them for once again reminding him of people who have died trying to protect him. He didn’t want their money, or whatever they had left him. He wanted them back, in this room, helping him celebrate his birthday.

Turning away from Hermione and the others, Harry breathed deeply, trying to regain the control he had yesterday and then this morning, when Dudley had attempted his attack. It took a few moments but after a while, he felt able to talk calmly – slowly he turned back around.

“We’ll do that stuff tomorrow, right?” he asked, noting the look of surprise on Remus and McGonagall’s faces and the look of pride on Hermione’s, “I – no, I mean we – need to talk to both of you about something.”

“Is everything alright Mr Potter?” McGonagall said quickly, putting her cloak back down on a chair and making her way to the table.

“I guess it depends on what you call alright,” Harry answered cryptically as he too walked to the table, Remus and Tonks following while Hermione went and got Ron (who was still extremely engrossed with Luna). When Ron and Luna joined them, Harry looked uncertainly at the two who weren’t supposed to hear what he was going to say – but Tonks wasn’t an Auror for nothing and with a smile, went to Luna and took her arm.

“Why don’t we go and work on getting my great aunt, or whatever she is, off the wall,” Tonks suggested before giving Remus a small kiss and left, taking Luna with her, who waved to Ron as she closed the door behind her.

Gratefully, Harry sat down with Ron and Hermione on either side, Remus sat next to Ron while McGonagall sat beside Hermione – they all turned to Harry and waited for him to speak. Taking a deep breath, he started.

“At the wedding, I told you we couldn’t come back to Hogwarts because we were finishing off what Dumbledore began, what he died doing. Well, we talked about it and realised that with him gone, we really need your help and so we decided to tell you both what we’re doing and why.”

“Is this about the prophecy? About you being the Chosen One?” Remus asked quietly.

“Yes, partly,” Harry replied, “Dumbledore had heard the real prophecy before I was born and basically it said Voldemort will mark someone born at the end of July as his equal and both can’t live at the same time. Also, one has to kill the other and the other is me.”

Harry watched the different reactions round the table – Hermione hung her head and studied her hands, McGonagall went deathly pale, her mouth drawn into a thin line as she exchanged looks with Remus, who looked both sad and angry at the same time. Ron just looked like he was going to be sick.

“When did Albus tell you this?” McGonagall asked tartly.

“After the mess at the Ministry of Magic,” Harry replied.

“You’ve know this all of last year,” Remus questioned, concerned, “did you two know about this as well?” They all nodded and Remus held his head in his hands.

“It’s okay Remus,” Harry tried to soothe, “I mean, it was kind of inevitable. He kept going after me and he has taken away from me anyone that has meant something – there is a good chance that it would be me in the end anyway…”

“How am I supposed to protect you when you’ve got it in your head you alone are supposed to defeat Voldemort?” Lupin asked suddenly, looking up at Harry, “we made a promise Harry, a promise to your parents to keep you safe. With Sirius gone, that role now belongs to me – but how can I?”

Harry exchanged looks with Hermione and Ron, who both looked back at him uncomfortably. Taking another deep breath, Harry carried on.

“There’s more…”

“More?” Remus interrupted, “you mean, that isn’t the worst of it?”

“Er, no,” Harry began, “have you both heard of Horcruxes?”

“When ones sole is split into two on the murder of a separate individual,” McGonagall responded, peering at Harry over the top of her glasses, “but that has never successfully been done – how have you heard about it? It is the darkest of magic!”

“Because that’s what Dumbledore thinks Voldemort has done,” Harry continued, grimacing, “seven times…”

“Seven times!” Remus exclaimed, “but that’s impossible!”

“It makes sense Remus,” McGonagall said quietly, thinking, “the creature that calls himself the Dark Lord looks nothing like the Tom Riddle we once knew. He is quite…inhuman.”

“But seven times!” Remus accentuated, “there are seven bits of Voldemort out there?”

“Actually, there are four,” Harry corrected, “I got rid of one, it was the diary that possessed Ginny in our second year, Dumbledore got rid of one, Slytherin’s ring…”

“That’s what happened to his hand,” McGonagall thought out loud, “he never fully explained that.”

“…and I have one in my trunk upstairs, a locket…”

“You what!” Remus exploded standing abruptly.

“It’s quite safe,” Ron explained, placing a hand on Lupin’s shoulder and guiding him back to his chair, “well, we think it’s quite safe. It hasn’t attacked us yet at least.”

“…so we’re looking for Hufflepuff’s cup that Riddle stole years and years ago,” Harry continued, “plus something from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor…”

“Why those specific items?” McGonagall asked, curious.

“Because Dumbledore thought that Voldemort would use something of each of the founders,” Harry explained, “and we have something from Hufflepuff and Slytherin which leaves the other two. He also thought that Nagini, the snake, held a piece and then the remaining piece is in Voldemort himself. Seven in total.”

“Was Albus sure about this?” Remus asked, somewhat more calmly.

“He said a lot of it was guess work, but he was pretty sure.” Harry stopped talking and let the two adults digest what he had said. Ron and Hermione also sat in silence, every now and then looking at each other worriedly. After a little while, Remus looked up at Harry and frowned.

“You three are searching for the Horcruxes, aren’t you?” The trio nodded.

“And you need our help doing what, exactly?” McGonagall asked, her tone unreadable.

“Well,” Harry started, suddenly feeling nervous, “we’re wanting to return to Hogwarts. With conditions.”

“Conditions?”

“Um, yeah,” Harry continued and waited as Hermione took out the list they had made the day before and handed it to the headmistress, who opened it and began reading carefully. When she finished, she handed it over to Remus before looking directly at Harry.

“These conditions are well thought out,” she said with a touch of admiration in her voice, “but I have a few conditions of my own.”

The three looked at each other, knowing that all that they had asked for wouldn’t be granted but waited expectantly for what the professor was going to say.

“You are to tell me whenever you leave the castle grounds, even if it is to go to Hogwarts to get a sugar quill, and you will tell me approximately how long you intend to be gone and where you will be…”

“But…”

“That condition is not negotiable Mr Potter,” McGonagall continued, “the fireplace in the Head’s dorm is connected to mine so getting a message to me will not be difficult. On your return from your missions, you are also to tell me immediately. If I am taking a class, you can interrupt.

“I agree to having the three of you share the Head’s dorm, I will get an extra bed placed in the Head Boy’s room for Mr Weasley – congratulations Mr Potter and Miss Granger, you are Head Boy and Girl for this coming year. And as a warning, the protections around the girls dormitory in the Gryffindor common room is in place on both the boy and girl rooms in the Head’s Dorm repealing any member of the opposite gender trying to gain entry. Just a precaution, you understand.

“We will organise the secure Floo access you have requested and Professor Dumbledore’s extensive and private library is at your disposal. You will be updated on the password to my office regularly, as would any Head Boy and Girl, and unless I am dealing with a student or confidential school matters, you will have full access when needed.

“The Quidditch Cup was not to be played this year due to security reasons. As for your studies, I think it is here that discussion and compromises need to be made. Miss Granger, I feel, will be able to cope with the extra research and excursions your quest requires while still pass her necessary NEWT papers. You two, I’m not so sure.”

“That’s why we were hoping for…”

“Compensations,” the professor finished for Harry, “yes, I read your list. My concern is the assignments given during the school year are beneficial for the end of year exams – it is difficult to do one without the other. Allowing you to hand in shorter versions of given essays, or to miss class altogether may not be, ultimately, beneficial.”

“The reality is, Professor McGonagall, we have no idea how long the search is going to take,” Hermione said bravely, “we could be gone for a day or we could be gone for months at a time. What we are saying, is that when we are in school, we will take our classes and learn as much as we can but if we have to choose between finding a Horcrux or going to Charms, Charms will come second.”

“I understand that Miss Granger,” McGonagall replied, “and I am willing to allow you to continue your quest while basing yourselves within the castle walls. What I am trying to ascertain is how we can help you three to pass your NEWTS while you continue your extracurricular activities.”

“Well, to be honest,” Ron sighed, “it wouldn’t be a major if I failed. Mum will just be pleased that I’m back at school…”

“And, to be frank, passing my NEWTS is the least of my worries,” Harry remarked, wryly.

“Honestly,” Hermione puffed, “how are you both going to become Auror’s if you don’t pass your exams?”

“I think that if I survive killing Voldemort, then the Ministry should welcome me with open arms…”

“You are going to survive Harry Potter!” Hermione scolded, eyes blazing, “which means you need to pass your exams to set yourself up for a future without Voldemort in it! And you!” she turned her furious gaze onto Ron, “don’t just accept failure as part of who you are! You are fully capable of succeeding as anyone else if you just gave yourself half a chance!”

“Well said Miss Granger,” the new headmistress interjected.

“Hermione,” Harry continued as if he hadn’t heard McGonagall at all, “Dumbledore, the greatest wizard ever, lost a hand to a Horcrux and then his life! What I said to you yesterday, I meant – I want to survive this and doing what we’re doing is going to help me survive this. But there must be part of you that has doubts? You can’t fully believe that I’m going to live…”

“I can fully believe that you’ll live,” she shouted at him, “and I do fully believe that you’ll live, that we’ll all live! That you’ll win and finally have a normal life without Voldemort breathing down your neck! That there is a happy ever after! And you should too, because if you think you’re going to die, you will die!”

Harry looked at her and saw the determination in her eyes, telling him that disagreement is not an option – but he still had his doubts. How can she be so sure?

“We don’t know what we’re doing…” he started.

“We’ve made a start,” she interrupted, “we will find a way to find the Horcruxes and destroy them and then destroy Voldemort. The answers are there.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I believe in you,” she answered softly, still looking at him.

“What if I let you down?”

“You can never let me down Harry,” Hermione replied, “I’m more scared that I’ll let you down. Like last year,” she sighed, before her determination returned to her eyes, “but that’s not going to happen again. I will find the answers and you will win.”

“You know, Hermione’s pretty much never wrong,” Ron finally spoke, with a bit of resigned admiration in his voice and Harry found himself smiling at the comment. He was still looking at Hermione and noticed that the corners of her mouth crept upwards as well, a small blush touching her cheeks.

“You’re right Ron, I don’t think she’s ever been wrong,” Harry laughed, the mood breaking a bit. Hermione smiled fully then and finally broke her gaze away from Harry, turning to Professor McGonagall.

“We may need tutoring if we are away from school for too long,” she instructed, the older woman listened with an impressed expression, “but I will make sure both Ron and Harry stay up to date with their classes. Other prefects may have to take over some of our duties because time is going to be a premium but I feel we should be able to do both the search and complete our education.”

“I agree,” Professor McGonagall said, smiling.

“The extra defence lessons,” Remus put in, also smiling, “shouldn’t be a problem. We were thinking of doing that any way. Is there anyone else you think should join in?”

“Luna,” Ron said quickly.

“Neville,” Harry added.

“And Ginny,” Hermione suggested, causing everyone to once again turn to her.

“Ginny?” Ron questioned, “are you sure that’s such a good idea?”

”Ginny is a powerful witch, smart and a good ally,” Hermione answered briskly, looking at Harry, “we can’t disregard her just because she’s angry at me. We should give her the option.”

Harry thought about it and knew that Hermione was right (again) – Ginny would be an asset in a fight. It would be difficult in the beginning, but if both Ginny and Hermione can handle being in the same room together, then so could he.

“Right,” he said, “Luna, Neville and Ginny are to join us for extra defence training, if they want. But they aren’t part of the search.”

“Excellent,” Remus concluded, handing the list back to Hermione, “I think that covers everything. But I’m afraid before I go, I need to get your instructions about…”

“Dowrgi,” Harry finished, thinking, “can everything just stay as they are? I mean, Martin running the estate and looking after Godric’s Hollow…I don’t want to go back there, not yet.”

“We can do that Harry,” Remus replied, “we just need to visit the lawyer in Truro to make it official.”

“Which is what we need to do regarding Albus’s will as well,” McGonagall put in, “tomorrow, get it all out of the way.”

Harry nodded mutely, once again letting the talk of the lost of Dumbledore engulf him in guilt. He kept his eyes downcast as the professor rose and put on her travelling cloak, ready to leave the kitchen.

“We’ll see you at Hogsmead tomorrow around midday tomorrow then Remus,” she said to Lupin, who also stood.

“That’s fine,” Remus agreed, ready to escort her out of the house. They were nearly out of the door when McGonagall turned back to the three teenagers, still sitting at the table.

“Goodness gracious, I almost forgot,” she remarked, “my birthday present for you Mr Potter – I have organised the Apparition examiner to test you and Mr Weasley tomorrow at Hogsmead before the usual examination early in the school year. I trust that is fine with yourself?”

“That’s brilliant professor,” Harry gushed, genuinely pleased, “it will make life so much easier!”

“As I thought,” McGonagall said briskly, “I will see you at midday tomorrow then.”

Harry watched as the two adults left, letting out the breath that he had no idea he was holding before sharing a look with Ron and Hermione.

“That went well,” Ron grinned, “early Apparition tests! Excellent!”

“Thanks,” Harry said, ignoring Ron and looking directly at Hermione.

“For what?”

“For…” Harry didn’t finish as the door banged open and Remus poked his head into the kitchen.

“You three need to see this,” he said, grinning madly before retreating. Without further invitation, they got up and went into the entrance hallway in time to see Mrs Black’s picture drop noiselessly to the floor. Luna levitated the picture and began guiding it down the stairs, talking to it all the while, her normal dreamy expression momentarily absent.

“What’s going on?” Harry asked Tonks, who had joined the small amazed group at the bottom of the stairs.

“Luna talked the loony old bat to release herself off the wall,” Tonks laughed, “we tried everything to get that picture down over the last few years – she comes in and gets it down in half an hour! That girl is incredible!”

“She certainly is,” Ron agreed before following the blond Ravenclaw back into the kitchen, oblivious to the looks of surprise and sniggering from the others watching.

The trip to Truro with Remus the following day was pretty uneventful for Harry. He signed some Muggle legal documents with the instruction that nothing changes yet, other than giving Hermione permission to have access to both houses. Harry realised that one day he would probably shift back there, that he would rather make Dowrgi his home than Grimmauld Place – but that would be after the war, when everything was safe.

He also realised that he should make a will of his own, that his possessions now were quite extensive and that if he didn’t instruct legally what he wanted to do with it all, it would probably end up going to Petunia Dursley – a thought that made him quite ill. So after discussing things with Remus, Harry added to the documents at Truro that on his death, the estate would go to the people of Pennowen and managed as it was now. That small step helped put Harry at ease as he also decided to think over exactly what he wanted to do with all the money now sitting in his vault, determined that something would be in writing pretty soon.

Harry and Remus arrived at Hogsmead in time for lunch. Ron and Hermione were already there, Ron getting in some authorised Apparition practice before their test. After a quick bite at the Three Broomsticks, they followed Professor McGonagall, who had arrived while they were eating, to a small clearing just past the shops.

“I trust you remember Wilkie Twycross from the Ministry?” she asked briskly. Harry nodded, noting that the Apparition instructor from last year looked as frail and transparent than ever. The test was quick and successful with both Harry and Ron passing and obtaining their certificates. So it was a happy group that turned and began the walk to Hogwarts.

The closer they got to the castle, the quieter Harry became. Hogwarts and Dumbledore meant the same to Harry and to know that one was there without the other didn’t feel right. He began to slow down, letting the others walk on without him as Ron continued to enthuse about his newly authorised Apparition skills. Remus and McGonagall were listening politely but it didn’t take long for Hermione to notice Harry was no longer with them. She stopped and waited until Harry caught up, then fell into step beside him.

“It’s going to be strange,” she sighed, “being here without…”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed before stopping suddenly, “Hermione, I can’t do this! This is too difficult – Dumbledore was Hogwarts! How can I go back there?”

“Professor Dumbledore was an incredible man Harry,” Hermione started, taking Harry’s shaking hands in her own, “and I can’t even begin to understand how you feel right now, because you and he were so close. But what I do know is that he loved this school, and he loved you. He would want you to be here where he can watch over you and where you feel safe.”

Harry thought about what she said for a moment and realised that because Dumbledore was Hogwarts, it will be in this castle that he would feel the presence of his mentor the most – and that was a good thing, not bad. The greatness that was Albus Dumbledore resided in the walls and perhaps some of that greatness will rub off on him. Taking a deep breath, Harry began walking.

“Thanks,” he said after a while, looking down at Hermione, who looked back at him with surprise.

“What for?” she asked.

“The past few weeks,” he replied, gently squeezing her hand (that he was still holding), “it seems whenever I need some support or help, you’re always there, saying just the right thing to make me feel better. It’s been so difficult, what with one thing or another. Oh, and that reminds me…” Harry began digging through his backpack before pulling out two rather large keys on one keyring, “these are for you – keys to Godric’s Hollow and Dowrgi. Martin will let you know of the wards and security but you have unlimited access to both places.”

Hermione turned the keys over in her hands as Harry watched, curious at her reaction. After a few moments, she looked up at him with an expression he had never seen before.

“I won’t let you down, Harry,” she pronounced before putting the keys in her own backpack and walking off to join the others who had passed through the gates of the school and were nearly at the main entrance.

“I know,” he said to himself as he paused, watching her walk next to Ron with something like pride touching his heart, making him smile. Without another thought, he jogged and caught up with them, once again walking through the large oak front doors of Hogwarts.

All damage from the battle that took place in the castle had gone – the house hour glasses were whole once more, the pictures and windows repaired. Silently Harry followed McGonagall to the now headmistress’s office, Ron and Hermione also quiet as they each relieved their memories of what took place only a couple of months before. By the time they had got to the familiar phoenix, Harry’s resolve was floundering and when he saw the sleeping portrait of Professor Dumbledore over the desk, he felt sick. He had seen it before, but this time it seemed to have more…life.

“Please, take a seat,” McGonagall instructed, “Aberforth will be here momentarily.”

“Albus’s brother is here?” Remus asked, surprised.

“It seems that Aberforth has always been here,” McGonagall replied, her attention drawn away as the door opened once more. Harry swivelled around in his seat to see the bartender of the Hog’s Head enter the room, looking as grubby and grumpy as ever.

“You’re Dumbledore’s brother?” Ron rudely asked, his mouth gaping in shock.

“I thought your parent’s would have taught you better manners than that Weasley,” the old man said before turning to Remus, “good to see you again Lupin, it’s been a while.”

“It has Aberforth,” Remus smiled, taking the other man’s hand in welcome, “though it seems you haven’t been as far away as we thought you were.”

“Albus and I decided that I should keep a low profile,” Aberforth answered, “and it was only Mungdungus who went to the Hog’s Head who, not being the sharpest quill in the pack, didn’t recognise me.”

“I wish we were meeting in happier circumstances,” Remus continued, “Albus’s death is not only the loss of a great wizard, but also a good friend.”

“He always spoke well of you,” Aberforth smiled, something that looked quite foreign on the scowling face, “now, lets get this done. I don’t want to be in this castle any longer than needed. Albus? Albus! Wake up you old fool, the Potter boy is here.”

Harry was still watching the strange man intently, trying to see his old headmaster in the dirty face. His ever present scowl made him look so un-Dumbledore like that Harry was finding it difficult – until he smiled. The twinkle that had made Professor Dumbledore’s eyes have a life of their own briefly showed itself in the darker blue of his brothers’.

“Harry?” Harry frowned, his attention distracted – he knew that voice, but surely no.

“Harry? Look at me.” Very slowly, Harry turned from Aberforth and with wide eyes, looked at the now awake picture of Albus Dumbledore, sitting in his chair and staring out with the compassion that he had so often shown in his life. Harry couldn’t speak.

“Right, shall we start?” Aberforth continued, ignoring the uncomfortable ness in the room.

“Give us a moment Aberforth,” Albus admonished, “this is the first time Harry and I have spoken in this form.” Aberforth fell silent. Harry stood and walked closer to the picture, unaware of the others in the room.

“Why?” he managed to splutter out.

“Harry, I’m so sorry,” Dumbledore consoled, “you must be so disappointed with me. I didn’t mean to leave you…”

“But you have!” Harry yelled, suddenly, “you have left me! You’re supposed to guide me through the next bit, tell me what to do! How could you…”

“It wasn’t quite planned like this, you have to believe me,” Dumbledore interrupted, sadly, “but I have the faith that you will complete what we started…”

“Well, you and Hermione should start a club then,” Harry continued to shout, “because I don’t! They killed you! How can I beat them if they can kill you!”

“I was an old, old man,” the portrait answered calmly, “and yes, I knew quite a bit about quite a lot. But my time was at an end, Harry, and I was trying to prepare you for a world without me in it…”

“Well, you didn’t do a very good job,” Harry mumbled.

“I actually think I did a wonderful job,” Dumbledore smiled proudly, “but I was never afraid to blow my own trumpet, so to speak. My death, I must admit, came a bit sooner than I anticipated but there isn’t anything to do about that now. In time you will understand the truth about what happened on the tower…”

“The truth is Snape killed you because Draco couldn’t,” Harry spat, “he is a traitor and a coward.”

“There are always deeper, more real truths than the more obvious ones that the whole world can see,” Dumbledore continued, still smiling, “but that isn’t why we’re here today. Today, I get to give you some things of mine you might find useful. Aberforth?”

Harry kept watching the portrait until Aberforth came and stood in front of him, giving him no option than to change his focus.

“As the last remaining Dumbledore, it is up to me to distribute my brother’s bequeaths,” Aberforth stated, guiding Harry away from the portrait and back to the middle of the room, “Albus wanted you to have his pensieve, Fawkes’ cage, a selection of books and memories plus his collection of chocolate frog cards. You’ll find them all here.” With a wave of his wand, Aberforth conjured up a medium sized trunk that had Fawkes’ cage sitting on top, “I’m sure we’ll meet again Mr Potter; good to see you again Remus, Minerva, Albus.” And without another word, the old wizard was gone.

“Good to see my death hasn’t softened him,” Dumbledore joked, drawing Harry’s attention once more.

“Are you going to help us?” Harry asked, numbly.

“I will do all I can Harry, but I’m not…”

“I know, you’re only an essence,” Harry interrupted, “where else do you have portraits?”

“It seems I was a most popular subject and I have frames at the Ministry, St Mungo’s, plus a few others – even the Leaky Cauldron!” Harry nodded before looking down at the small pile of stuff piled at his side, normality finally returning to his brain.

“Thank you for thinking of me in your will,” he finally said, once more looking at the portrait.

“You were never far from my thoughts Harry,” Dumbledore replied sadly. Again Harry just nodded before turning and quickly leaving the office, determined that this time, he would not cry.

7. A Day in London Town

A/N – just to let you know, I don’t live in London, and don’t really know the city that well. I chose a street from a map and have no idea whether it’s residential, commercial or what – I claim poetic license. To any Londoners out there, sorry if I got it wrong. Doing the research for this was interesting…but I digress. Enjoy. Oh, PS – there is R/L in this chapter…

Chapter 7 – A Day in London Town

Ron and Luna. Harry smiled to himself every time he thought of the emerging couple. Over the days following his birthday, he began to realise just how much Ron liked the Ravenclaw as nearly every available moment was spent in her company. Now he could Apparate, Ron didn’t wait for an excuse and as soon as the seemingly fruitless search of the Black family library was over for the day – he was gone.

Hermione had begun visiting Dowrgi, often returning to Grimmauld reflective and quiet. Harry tried to get her to talk and after a while, she would – but not about her day or why she was so introspective. He decided to let things be – he had enough on his mind to start to worry about what she was thinking about – but also decided to keep an eye on her as her change of mood since his birthday was slightly concerning.

Therefore it was surprising that Hermione interrupted him and Ron’s reading half way through one morning, a look of determination plastered on her face.

“Something wrong Hermione?” Ron asked cautiously as he looked up from his book.

“I think I know where a Horcrux is hidden,” she said with no preamble.

“You do?” Harry blurted out, surprised, “where? How?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” she continued, making her way to an empty chair, “and the more I think of it, the more I’m sure. It fits all the criteria – it’s a significant part of Voldemort’s life, it is somewhere where he could hide something and it’s somewhere where people wouldn’t look. The orphanage where Tom Riddle lived.”

Harry stared at her as he thought about what she said, amazed.

“You know something, that’s not a bad idea,” Ron said thoughtfully, “except we don’t know where the orphanage is…”

“Harry does,” Hermione replied.

“I do?”

“Yes, you do,” she stated looking at Harry intently, her eyes gleaming, “you saw where it was when Professor Dumbledore took you there to meet Tom Riddle for the first time. Now that we have the pensieve, we can go back and look at that memory.”

“But I don’t know how to get the memory out of my head and into the pensieve,” Harry thought out loud, “we were always using Dumbledore’s memories…just a minute, Dumbledore’s memories!” Harry quickly got up from his chair and made his way to the master bedroom.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Hermione asked as she and Ron followed him into his room. Harry didn’t say anything and instead kneeled down in front of the chest containing his inheritance from Dumbledore that Aberforth had given him. It had been purposely ignored but now Harry nervously opened the lid and peered inside.

Most of the chest was filled with various books except for three compartments on the right – one looked like the collection of chocolate frog cards that Harry guessed would be complete, one held the pensieve and the other contained numerous glass bottles and a note. With shaking hands, Harry retrieved the small piece of parchment and read Dumbledore’s whispy handwriting.

Harry

I have put aside various memories for you in case I am no longer able to share them with you myself. Some you have already seen during our search so far, and are labelled accordingly. The others, however, are memories of sweeter times that I had always hoped to allow you to see, when things got better. They are memories of your mother, father and Sirius. I have enjoyed these memories immensely and was hesitant to part with them but I feel my time is drawing to a close and it is time to begin readying my self for that next great adventure. Therefore I pass the thoughts onto you.

Watch them with pride and happiness.

Yours truly

Albus Dumbledore

Aware that Hermione and Ron were waiting patiently for an explanation, Harry folded the letter and put it back where he got it from, trying not to think about the memories that would be like home movies of his parents and Sirius. Breathing deeply to get himself back in control, he rummaged through the glass vials until he found the one labelled ‘Visit to Tom Riddle, orphanage 1938’.

“Dumbledore’s memories,” he proclaimed, holding it up so his friends could see, “he kept it for me.” They all stared at the small glass bottle, transfixed, until Ron spoke quietly.

“I guess we’re taking a trip then,” he said, breaking the other two out of their spell. Harry nodded and handed the vial to Hermione as he removed the pensieve from the trunk. He was just about to pour the memory in when Hermione stood suddenly.

“Wait,” she squeaked, “I need pen and paper.” Without hesitating, she ran off and was back before the boys could pass a comment, a Muggle notebook and pen in her hand, “right, lets go.”

Harry took the stopper out of the bottle and poured the silvery substance into the pensieve where it swirled around in a small puddle at the base. Harry looked at the other two.

“You just lean forward into the liquid,” he instructed, “Hermione, you go first so you don’t miss anything, but wait for us before you go anywhere.”

Hermione nodded and Harry watched nervously as she bent into the pensieve and in a moment – was gone. Ron soon did the same and with a grin of excitement, Harry let himself be transported back to 1938 London.

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him – Ron just staring at the figure of a younger Dumbledore crossing the road, while Hermione was looking around at where they were.

“This is Westminster Abbey,” Hermione remarked, “the House of Commons and the Thames is that way. I know exactly where we are!” Excitedly, the three began to follow Dumbledore as he made his way through the streets until they reached a more residential area filled with houses. Every now and then, Hermione would stop and note road signs or a landmark she thought might have lasted fifty years, always keeping sight of Dumbledore and his plush plum suit. By the time they began to climb the steps to the orphanage itself, Hermione had filled quite a few pages.

“Do we need to see any more?” Harry asked, wanting to get back to the present so they could discuss what they’d seen.

“No, I think I know where to find it,” Hermione said, just as the door opened and Dumbledore was asking to see Mrs Cole. Not bothering to wait, Harry grabbed each of Ron and Hermione’s elbows and lifted them both out of the pensieve, landing with a thud on the floor of his room.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice Westminster Abbey before,” Harry stated as he went to put the pensieve on his desk, “I mean, it isn’t something easily missed.”

“But you weren’t looking around you, you were looking at Dumbledore,” Hermione reasoned, “who I must say was wearing a smashing suit.”

“That’s what I said,” Harry laughed, turning back to his friends.

“You are joking, aren’t you,” Ron grunted, laying down on Harry’s bed, “that suit was something mum would make me wear!”

“Yes, but Dumbledore could pull that look off,” Hermione quipped, “you can’t.”

“So, are we going to the orphanage today?” Ron asked, disregarding Hermione’s comment.

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry replied after a few moments thought, “I mean, it’s already nearly lunch and we have to make a plan. We can’t just bowl on up and say can we look around the building for a magical object…”

“If the building is still there…” Hermione interjected, “it’s been fifty years, it may have been torn down or blown up during the Blitz…”

“Blitz?” Ron questioned, “what the bloody hell is the blitz?”

“A lot of London was destroyed during the Muggle Second World War,” Hermione explained, “and the destruction was called the Blitz. Westminster Abbey was damaged in May 1941, so the orphanage could have easily been destroyed at the same time.”

Harry sat thinking about what Hermione had just said and the excitement of finding the orphanage began to diminish. His musings were disturbed as she continued to speak.

“I agree that we should go tomorrow, after we think up a cover story…”

“You mean make up other identities,” Ron interrupted enthusiastically, “I want to be…Conrad Sebastian the third, a famous Quidditch player…played for England…”

“Firstly, we will be dealing with Muggles,” Hermione reminded with an annoyed frown, “and secondly – Conrad Sebastian the third? You are too strange Ronald.”

Harry chuckled as he followed the other two down to the kitchen to get lunch. The banter between Hermione and Ron continued until they had all decided on a decent cover story to use to which Ron announced he was once again going for the evening and promptly disappeared.

Hermione stopped talking pretty much as soon as Ron left, and so it was in silence she and Harry began to make the evening meal. Harry felt quite disconcerted about her withdrawal and spent the time eating his dinner to work out what to say to find out what was wrong. Before he knew it, she was clearing away her plate, getting ready to leave – once again retreating to her room and leaving him alone in this horrible house.

“Are you okay Hermione?” he blurted out, stopping her in her tracks.

“What?” she asked as she turned around, her eyes cast to the ground.

“I mean, is everything alright,” Harry bumbled on, his voice a nervous rush, “it’s just that, ever since my birthday – no, it was after the will and Dumbledore – you’ve been so quiet and you won’t tell us what you’re doing at Dowrgi. Then you come up with this Horcrux idea out of the blue, without really talking it through with us – but that’s understandable really. I mean, you are brilliant so if anyone would come up with an idea, it would be you…But that doesn’t account for why you won’t talk to me. You talk to Ron alright, well, argue with him, but with me…have I done something wrong? I’m kinda worried and you won’t tell me what’s wrong…”

The words came out in one big long hurried clump, making him slightly breathless when he’d finished. Harry didn’t know whether he had made any sense and wondered if he had just made a huge fool of himself. With a rapidly beating heart, he waited for her to say something.

After a few moments, she looked up at him with the same look that she gave him when he handed her the keys to his houses – a look he couldn’t read and didn’t understand. She reached out and ran a finger down his cheek, causing him to frown – her hand snapped back and she stepped slightly away from him.

“You haven’t done anything wrong Harry,” she said softly, a blush touching her face, “and I’m sorry for making you think that you have. It’s just that, well, I have a lot of things on my mind…”

“You always tell me it helps to talk about things,” Harry interrupted, “perhaps if you talk about it…”

“I can’t,” she continued, her voice a near whisper, “I can’t…it’s…girl stuff. I’m not sure you would understand…”

Things fell into place – she had ‘girl problems’. Girl problems that she couldn’t talk to her two male best friends about. And with the tension between her and Ginny, perhaps she had no-one to talk to at all.

“Oh,” Harry said, “right. So you’re sure you’re okay? I mean, generally?”

“I’m fine,” Hermione laughed gently, “I’ll see you tomorrow Harry.”

Harry watched her go, still concerned but some of his worries had disappeared. She wasn’t angry at him for some reason, and that was the main thing. Absently, he ran his fingers down the line on his cheek where she had touched him, wondering why she had done that. Shrugging his shoulders, he just realised that sometimes girls did weird things and turned to do his dishes, ready once again for an early night.

He woke up with the birds the next morning, ready for the trip to London. Quickly getting ready, he made his way to the kitchen to see Hermione already there. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Feels good to do something a bit more active, doesn’t it,” she said, sitting down at the table with her breakfast.

“Yeah, it does,” Harry agreed as he began getting his cereal and joining her at the table, sneaking a glance at her and seeing she looked slightly more relaxed, “how are you feeling today?”

“I actually feel pretty good,” she said happily, looking at him squarely, “last night I thought about what you said and realised I was being stupid so, I’ve decided to be a bit more…friendly.”

“I didn’t say you were unfriendly, Hermione,” Harry said quickly, “just…”

“…moody,” Hermione finished for him with a smile, which Harry returned, “do you think it’s safe to wake up Ron?”

“Nah, let’s give him ‘til eight-thirty,” Harry replied, eating his cereal, “Ron isn’t exactly a morning person.”

“No, no he isn’t,” she laughed, “which gives us a couple of hours to kill. Do you…do you want to play cards?”

“Cards?” Harry repeated, nearly choking on his breakfast, “I didn’t know you liked to play cards?”

“Well, I think today may be pretty hard work,” she began, “so a bit of fun might be in order before we go, what do you think?”

Harry looked at her and saw she was really trying hard to be light, hiding the strangeness that he had mentioned the previous night deep, deep down. Concern once again entered his brain but he reminded himself she will tell him what’s going on when she’s ready. So with a nod, he accepted her invitation to spend the morning playing cards and it turned out to be a lot of fun.

When Ron joined them a bit later, it was to find them laughing hysterically over their game of exploding snap, so much so that Harry didn’t even notice his friend’s arrival until the redhead sat down grumpily next to Hermione.

“Decided to join us,” she joked, collecting the pile of cards from the table.

“Not all of us go to sleep before sunset,” Ron grumbled, “besides, it’s not like you’re missing me…”

“’Course we miss you mate,” Harry smiled, “it’ll be more like you not missing us, what with your mouth permanently glued to Luna’s”

Both Harry and Hermione chuckled as Ron turned a lovely shade of red, his bowl of cereal suddenly becoming very interesting.

“So, when are we off,” Ron finally questioned through a mouthful.

“Well, actually,” Hermione started, looking a bit hesitantly at Harry, “I did a bit of research last night which could help us…”

“Let’s see it then,” Ron prompted when Harry didn’t say anything. He just watched her, wondering where and how she managed to do research from her room. While he was thinking, she summoned her work and in moment a file of parchment landed on the table in front of her.

“A bit of research?” Harry questioned, looking at the stack of paper, “when did you get the chance to do all this? How did you get a chance to do all this?”

“Last night I…I Appariated to a library in Brixton,” Hermione stammered out, holding Harry’s angry gaze, “the Lambeth Archives Minet Library to be exact, and found the records for the Orphanage…”

“You left the house without telling me?” Harry snapped, “without telling any one? What if you were attacked! What if you were in an accident and we didn’t know where you were?”

“I left a note in my room…”

“You left a note!” Harry yelled, “bloody hell Hermione, you can’t just go off on your own…”

“Why not?” Hermione yelled back, “Ron goes off on his own every night! You have no problem with that!”

“We know where Ron is!”

“Do we? Do we ever ask? All we know is that he is off with Luna – he never tells us where he’s been or what he’s been doing!”

“I am sitting right here guys,” Ron said quietly, watching the argument with a smirk on his face. Both Harry and Hermione turned to him angrily, making him hold his hands up in mock defeat, “if it makes you feel any better, we hang around Luna’s house mainly, getting…acquainted. She doesn’t live that far from the Burrow actually.”

Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He really didn’t understand why the knowledge of Hermione leaving the house without telling him was upsetting him so much. One minute they were having fun and the next minute they were shouting at each other – it wasn’t right. She was only doing what she thought was best, helping their search, there was no reason to get so annoyed. Sighing, Harry opened his eyes and looked at his friends.

“Thanks for that Ron,” Harry said lightly, trying to smile, “and I guess I don’t really want to know what you and Luna get up to. But you’re right Hermione and I’m sorry for shouting at you. You have just as much right to leave here as Ron.”

They looked at each other for a moment until she nodded ever so slightly and returned his half smile.

“Thank you,” she replied, “and I’m sorry for leaving without telling you. I should have said something before I went to my room, it won’t happen again.”

“Well, glad that’s all sorted,” Ron said sarcastically, “and I’m sorry but you guys will probably never get to know what Luna and I get up to.”

“Fair enough,” Harry laughed, before turning back to Hermione, “so, what did you find out?”

“Quite a bit actually,” she beamed, sifting through her notes, “the building was built at the end of the nineteenth century, and was an orphanage until 1973 when it closed and remained empty until 1986 where it was purchased to be redeveloped. Building didn’t start until around 1990 and due to financial difficulties, wasn’t completed until 1995. I found the building plans which show the interior of the building was practically stripped bare and re-built. The only part that wasn’t touched was the old bomb shelter in the basement…”

“Bomb shelter?” Harry repeated, suddenly excited.

“What’s a bomb shelter?” Ron asked, confused but Hermione ignored him and looked at Harry, her eyes gleaming.

“I thought you’d find that interesting,” she continued, “it seems that the original cellar was built so well that the London authorities felt it was sufficient as a bomb shelter during the war, allowing the orphanage to remain open and even take over the schooling of the few children who remained in the area. It was sealed up when the orphanage closed in 1973, the circumstances confusing. The records I could find never said why, only that it was sealed when the orphanage was closed.”

“We need to find out why the orphanage was closed,” Harry thought out loud, “and why the bomb shelter was sealed.”

“I agree,” Hermione said, extracting some lists from her pile, “here are the occupant listings for the years Tom Riddle lived at the Westminster Orphanage. I’ve removed the duplicates and collated the information so that there is one main list which indicates the name of the child, when they came to the orphanage and when they left plus the names of staff. Mrs Henny Cole was the matron throughout Riddle’s time there and in fact was still the matron when the orphanage closed.”

“She was still matron?” Harry questioned, “she would’ve been ancient!”

“Well, yes, she would have been in her mid to late eighty’s,” Hermione confirmed, “and it seems her death was one of the reasons the place closed. From what I understand, she died under mysterious circumstances but it all got very confusing and I ran out of time to look further. We can go and check the place out and if nothing comes of that, then we should start interviewing the surviving staff members, then the ex-orphans.”

Harry looked at her in awe – after dinner last night, he went up to his room and polished his broom for a bit before trying to read one of the books from the Black library, giving up on that after a while so he turned his attention onto cleaning Hedwig’s cage – then he went to bed. Meanwhile, Hermione had researched, collated lists and come up with strategies plus thought about their conversation after dinner and slept. How is that possible?

“You’re scary, do you know that?” Ron joked, pulling one of the lists to him and looking over it, “very, very scary.”

“We should make a start,” Hermione commented, snatching the list back off Ron and giving him a disgruntled look, “are you guys ready?”

Indicating they were, they left Grimmauld Place (leaving a note on the table explaining where they had gone in case one of the Order came looking for them) and made their way to Kings Cross. They then made the short tube ride to the Westminster stop where they stepped out into the beautiful summer sun and looked around to get their bearings. With purpose, Hermione began striding away, the boys quickly following her though Ron kept staring at the buildings with obvious awe.

“Bloody brilliant,” he gasped as they passed Westminster Abbey, “and to think, they did all this without magic!” Harry smiled though in fact, he was thinking the same. He had never really looked around London and was just as impressed as his wizarding friend.

Hermione, however, just looked at her notes and surrounding buildings and landscapes, oblivious to the sights or the people that cursed her as she stopped suddenly in their way. Harry didn’t even bother to ask if they were going in the right way and just followed Hermione with total trust. It wasn’t until they hit streets that weren’t as busy and the historical buildings were replaced with rows of houses that Harry began to really take note of where he was – and that was when he saw it.

Just around a slight bend, on the other side of the road, sat a large building with a wrought iron fence surrounding it. It wasn’t at all shabby and in fact looked quite well presented, with a little garden at the front and newly whitewashed walls.

“There it is,” she breathed, “Westminster Orphanage, now Westminster Apartments.”

Harry looked at the building and saw some resemblance to the building he visited with Dumbledore. This time, however, the shabbiness was gone and a new modern glamour had taken its place – Tom Riddle would have hated this place. The thought made Harry laugh to himself.

“So, what do we do now?” Ron asked, looking at Harry and Hermione for answers. Harry was just about to speak when Hermione bet him to it as she stopped an old woman passing them in the street.

“I’m sorry, madam?” she began politely, “my name is Jane Gower and I’m trying to find out more information about this building,” she indicated to the orphanage, “you don’t happen to know anything about its history, do you? You see, my grandfather was an orphan there during the war.”

“Oh no dear,” the woman gushed, “it stopped being an orphanage just after I got here. It’s Beryl you want, she’s lived in Morick Street all her life, she has.”

“That sounds perfect,” Hermione smiled graciously, “do…do you think Beryl would talk to my friends and I?”

“If there’s anyone who likes to talk, it’s Beryl. Trouble is, I don’t feel right taking a group of strangers to her house,” the woman continued, “us old ladies have to be careful.”

“Totally understandable,” Hermione soothed, still smiling, “is Beryl able to get out and about? Perhaps we could shout her some lunch for her trouble. You too, Mrs…?”

“French, Doreen French,” Mrs French beamed, “that sounds lovely. We often go to the small café over there, on the corner. We could be there at midday.”

“Thank you so much Mrs French,” Hermione continued, “I look forward to seeing you both at midday.” Mrs French smiled broadly before bustling away, looking over her shoulder once at them and waving, before heading off once more.

“What the bloody hell was that all about,” Ron splurted out once the woman was gone, “do you often randomly pick up old ladies from the street and offer them lunch?”

“She had groceries in her basket so I knew she lived around here,” Hermione explained patiently as she began to walk towards the old orphanage, “she was old enough to know the orphanage when it was still active and even to have been here when Riddle was. I took the chance and luckily she has a friend that may have been here at the time we want.”

“Beryl,” Harry said.

“Yes, Beryl,” Hermione confirmed, “Dumbledore’s search took him to the wizarding world to find answers – we are going to use the Muggle world.”

“But a Muggle wouldn’t recognise Riddle’s magic,” Ron stated, “what’s the point…”

“We’re not all stupid Ronald,” Hermione snarled as she entered the foyer of the apartment block, “some of us Muggles might actually realise when things aren’t quite what they seem.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Ron responded, annoyed, “hey, where are we going?”

“To the basement,” Hermione replied briskly, moving quickly over to the stairwell and went to open the door when a voice called out to them, stopping them in their tracks.

“What are you kids doing?” a gruff man asked as they turned around in time to see him storm over to where they were.

“Er, we were…” Harry began.

“I don’t care,” the gruff man interrupted, his badge informing them he was security, “I don’t recognise you as residents and there is no reason for you to want to go down there. I suggest you leave the property before I call the police.”

Harry saw Hermione get ready to argue but something in the man’s tone told him that it would be useless. Taking her arm, he began to hurriedly lead Hermione away, Ron quickly following. Once they were outside the gate, she turned on him, hands on hips.

“Why did you do that for?” she growled, “you didn’t even give me a chance to explain! He wouldn’t have got us arrested!”

“How do you know that?” Ron asked loudly, “did you see the size of that guy?”

“Size isn’t important…”

“Not something a bloke usually likes to hear,” Ron muttered under his breath, causing Harry to chuckle.

“What?” Hermione yelled, looking between the now grinning Harry and Ron, “what’s so funny?”

“Relax Hermione,” Harry placated, casually putting his arm over her shoulder and leading her further away from the building, “we have an hour before we meet Beryl, why don’t we grab a tea and go through what we’re going to say.”

Though still scowling, Hermione agreed and after a cup of tea, she was talking to them both normally once more. True to their word, Doreen and Beryl arrived at the café right on midday and after the food was ordered, they both sat back in their chairs, sipping their tea.

“Doreen tells me you loves are interested in the old orphanage,” Beryl said finally, eying them all up suspiciously. “can I ask why?”

“Er, Jane’s grandfather lived there during the war,” Harry lied, remembering the story they had made up, “we’re in London for a couple of days so we thought we’d look it up…”

“Granddad talked about the place quite a bit,” Hermione continued, “I just wanted to find out more, see where he grew up.”

“What is your grandfather’s name dear,” Beryl asked kindly, “perhaps I knew him.”

“Daniel Gower,” Hermione answered confidently, and waited as the old woman searched her memories for someone with that name.

“No, no that name doesn’t ring a bell,” Beryl carried on, “but I didn’t know every one that lived there. Children came and left, especially during the war. Many of my friends were sent out to the country, but my parents had no-one to send me to, so I stayed here. The orphanage remained open, due to the cellar, so I spent a lot of time there. Even took classes there as my school was shut down.”

“Must have been difficult,” Hermione said, sympathetically, “during the war. I understand the bombing got quite close here.”

“Quite close,” Beryl cried, “oh my love, the bombs fell all around us! The night the Abbey got hit, we thought we were all going to die, stuck in that horrible cellar all night! We came out to piles of rubble where houses once were.”

“Was it always horrid during the war?” Harry asked, getting caught up by the vivacious woman’s story, “I mean, I know it was tough – but did you manage to have fun too?”

“Oh yes,” Beryl replied with a grin, “I was twelve you see, when the Battle of Britain began and seventeen when the war finished, and it is fair to say I was rather popular. Though, I don’t think even I could claim having two such handsome young men follow me to try and find some old people to talk to about my grandfather as you have managed to do Miss Gower.” Harry felt himself blush as the two old women giggled along with Hermione while they obviously eyed both himself and Ron over – Ron, who remained silent, turned crimson.

“Did you ever date anyone from the orphanage?” Hermione asked, still smiling.

“I did better than that, I married someone from the orphanage,” Beryl laughed, “oh, my parents weren’t too happy, but we were in love. Billy had lived most his life in that place but he was a sweet boy and even sweeter man. Just shows that ones surroundings doesn’t always taint one, as it did others…”

“There were bad people there?” Harry asked, curiously.

“Not many, though one I will never forget,” Beryl answered, suddenly loosing her smile, “Tom was an evil, evil boy…”

“Tom Riddle?” Harry interrupted excitedly, his enthusiasm causing a look of surprise from their storyteller.

“You know of Tom?” she asked, looking between Harry and Hermione.

“It seems he struck a cord with Granddad as well,” Hermione answered, giving Harry a warning look, “Jimmy was there when Granddad was telling us a story…”

“…about a rabbit,” Harry cut in, ignoring Hermione’s stare.

“That was Billy’s rabbit, his pride and joy,” Beryl shuddered, “Billy had told Tom to leave me alone, because that boy used to scare the dickens out of me. The next day his rabbit was dead. The day Tom left to go to that boarding school didn’t come quick enough for us. And when he finally didn’t come back during one summer, I guess when he turned eighteen, we really thought we’d never see him again. You see, Billy and I were a year younger so we were still around and we never really left. Most got as far away from the orphanage as possible once they could leave – but Billy and I, we stayed.”

“But you saw him again,” Ron asked, finally speaking, “Tom Riddle, you said you thought you’d never see him again, but you did, right?”

“See, I told you Doreen,” Beryl nudged her friend, a smile coming back to her face once more, “the boy is just shy – of course he can speak!”

“Oh Beryl, stop teasing the young folk and answer the question – did you see that ghastly fellow again?”

“Yes I did, and so did you Doreen,” Beryl continued, looking back at the trio, “it was 1973 and I know the date because that was when poor Henny Cole died…”

“That was a terrible time,” Doreen agreed, “Henny was an old dragon but she was a big part of this community. Such a shame.”

“And that was when you saw Tom again?” Hermione interrupted, getting the ladies back on track.

“Yes, we were coming home from work and passing the gate when I felt him…”

“Felt him?” Ron repeated, confused.

“Well yes,” Beryl confirmed, “he didn’t look like he did at the orphanage – he must have got burnt or something. He had no hair and was terribly pale but I knew it was him, my skin always crawled every time he was near. Remember Doreen? Remember me pointing him out to you?”

“I don’t think I can ever forget that face,” Doreen replied, “he didn’t look human.”

“No, he didn’t,” Beryl agreed, “and the next day they found poor Henny dead in the cellar. They said she died of old age – she was eight-four after all – but I always thought Tom had something to do with it.”

“Henny Cole,” Harry said, pretending to be confused, “who was she?”

“Why dear, she was the matron,” Beryl informed, “had been as long as I could remember. Her death saw the end of the orphanage – the children were sent to other homes, they sealed the cellar where she died and the orphanage remained empty for many a year.”

Harry didn’t say anything and instead looked past the ladies to the building across the street. Tom Riddle had come back to the place he had called home for eighteen years, killed the matron, made a Horcux and walked away without even a sweat. Now all they had to do was work out how to get it.

8. The Return

A/N – just a warning, this chapter has been a struggle so I hope it’s not too bad. Thanks again to my wonderful reviewers – broke the 100 mark, which is a bit of a buzz – all your comments have been a real joy, the reason I try and get this out at least weekly. You fullas rock.

Chapter 8 – The Return

The rest of the summer went quickly for Harry and before he knew it, he was sitting on the Hogwarts Express, barely conscious of Hermione telling the prefects about the up-coming year as he stared out of the window at the changing countryside.

The thrill of actually finding a Horcrux’s location quickly had worn off as they had no idea how to get it. When they had all Disallusioned themselves one afternoon and snuck past the security guard into the basement, they hadn’t needed Dumbledore to tell them what lay beyond the wall of concrete was full of powerful magic. After a bit of debate, the trio had decided to see if Remus could help – he and Hermione had spent the rest of the summer trying to analyse what lay inside the cellar.

Meanwhile Harry and Ron had continued the seemingly never-ending search through the Black family library. Even the annual trip to Diagon Alley to get their school supplies was a non-event; most of the familiar stores had closed, Ginny had refused to come which had angered Mrs Weasley no end and anyone they met treated Harry as if he was an alien.

Added to that was the actual return to Hogwarts. A Hogwarts without Dumbledore – and a Hogwarts that contained Ginny. So far he had been able to stay away from his ex-girlfriend, but then again, the term hadn’t even really started yet. He didn’t quite know how it was going to be when he did see her – her anger at him and Hermione at the wedding was still very vivid in his mind. Hermione had just suggested playing it coolly, but he wasn’t too sure if he could.

Sighing, he wondered, yet again, if his life would ever be any easier. With a smile, he remembered the morning card games that had become a regular occurrence as he and Hermione often waited for Ron to wake - now that was easy. In fact, Hermione always seemed to make his life a bit easier for him…

“Harry.” With a start, Harry heard her say his name, breaking him out of his reverie and with a blink, he looked at her – seeing all the prefects looking back, with various expressions, at him.

“Er, yes?” he tentatively asked, knowing he had probably just missed something vitally important.

“I said,” Hermione frowned impatiently, “the safety of the students is our primary focus this year and as prefects, we will be setting the example and looking out for the younger years, making sure they don’t do anything stupid and possibly life threatening.”

“Right,” Harry agreed, getting another angry stare from Hermione.

“Thank you for that input Harry,” she said to him, her voice clipped. With a final glare, she turned her attention back to the prefects, Harry guiltily did the same, “there will be occasions where Harry and I will not be available and access to our common room will be denied. The reasons for this I unfortunately can’t share with you …”

“I bet you can’t,” Pansy Parkinson sniggered, catching Harry’s eye somewhat suggestively.

“…but if you leave a message, we’ll get back to as soon as we’re able,” Hermione continued, ignoring Pansy completely, “Professor McGonagall will be aware of all our movements. Right, that’s it. I’ll let you know the time for the first meeting later in the week.”

Aware that they had been dismissed, the group of seniors left the carriage to begin their patrols. Hermione turned to Harry, hands on hips and eyes blazing.

“I realise that this position doesn’t mean anything to you,” she began angrily, “and that it’s only a means to an end but I would prefer more than a one word input when dealing with the other students! You made me feel like an idiot with you obviously ignoring every thing I was saying!”

“I’m sorry…” Harry started but was stopped almost immediately.

“I can’t do this all on my own,” she continued, waving her hands around randomly, “I know you have other things on your mind, but so do I! You need to help me, Harry.”

“I know. You’re right…” Harry agreed.

“And just sitting there agreeing with me isn’t participation!” she interrupted once more before finally pausing, giving Harry a chance to act. Quickly, he stood and took her hands from her hips and gave them a small squeeze before giving her a smile that always seems to make her smile back – which it did.

“I’m sorry Hermione,” he said earnestly, “and I will help you, I promise. What I did today was selfish and I apologise – okay?” And if to accentuate just how sorry he was, Harry drew Hermione into a friendly hug, surprising her so much, it took a few moments for her to hug him back.

Resting his chin on top of her head, a strange feeling came over Harry, something he had never felt before. Holding Hermione there in his arms felt so right, so natural – and so scary. But he didn’t pull away, content just to keep her close to him while he tried to work out what he was feeling and it seemed she was in no hurry to move either.

“Hey, what’s going on here, then?” Harry looked over the top of Hermione’s head to Ron, whose flustered face poked through the compartment door.

“Harry is trying to placate me after being a total prat at the prefect meeting,” Hermione replied calmly, pulling away but still keeping one arm around his waist while his arm lay casually across her shoulders.

“You mean the one word welcome speech,” Ron frowned, “how come when I’m a prat, you don’t let me give you a hug?”

“Ahh, there are so many reasons Ronald,” Hermione smiled, finally stepping away from Harry and making her way to the door, “but right now I need to chat with Luna – do you know where she is?”

“Er, third compartment down,” Ron answered, still frowning, “when have you and Luna become chummy?”

“Since you and Luna have been,” Hermione said smugly before turning back to Harry, “and this isn’t over Mr Head Boy – you and I need to chat as well.”

“Yes Hermione,” Harry said automatically, realising how stupid that sounded as soon as it came out of his mouth – causing him to blush, Ron to smirk and Hermione to leave the compartment with a grin plastered on her face. Harry watched her go before sitting again, Ron sitting opposite him.

“So, what’s going on?” the redhead asked after a few moments, his eyes boring into Harry.

“Nothing,” Harry said truthfully, “I spent the whole of her speech staring out of the window, she had a go at me for spending the whole of her speech staring out the window, I apologised and gave her a hug.”

”That’s all?”

“Yes Ron, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Ron tried to confirm, “I mean, you guys have been all ‘touchy-feely’ a lot lately…”

“‘Touchy-feely’?” Harry repeated, “what the bloody hell is ‘touchy-feely’?”

“You know, holding hands, touching arms,” Ron explained, “giving her hugs. Harry, you never give anyone hugs. Even when mum hugs you, you stiffen up like a board.”

Harry stared at Ron as he thought about what he just said and realised it was the truth – he didn’t give hugs, and he didn’t take hugs that well either. Sure, he and Ginny had spent many a night embracing, but she had been his girlfriend – that’s what boyfriends and girlfriends do. So why did he hug Hermione, and why did it feel comfortable and right? Harry frowned.

“Harry, mate, you’d tell me if there was something going on between you and Hermione, wouldn’t you?” Ron asked tentatively, “I mean, I know I was a prize git when she went out with Krum, and then that plonker last year, but, well,” he paused, looking at Harry anxiously, “this is you. And you’d tell me if you fancied her or something, wouldn’t you?”

Fancied Hermione? Harry shook his head as if to get that foreign thought out – he didn’t fancy his best friend, surely. It had only been a few months since he thought Ginny was the one…no, Hermione was just a friend. Plain and simple.

“Ron, there is nothing going on between Hermione and I,” Harry finally said, not sure whether he was convincing Ron or himself, “and if there was, we would tell you.”

Ron leant back in his seat and relaxed before seemingly tensing up again, looking worriedly at Harry.

“You don’t think Hermione and Luna talk about me, do you?” he asked anxiously.

“Yes, yes I do,” Harry laughed and watched as Ron retreated into silent thought. Still smiling, Harry returned to looking out the window and his mind wandered back to Ginny and how he will be when he sees her again, his smile leaving his face. He wasn’t even sure if he missed her, if he still wanted to be with her – will all those feelings he felt for her last year come back? Or was Ron right, did he have feelings for Hermione? That thought was so strange, it just couldn’t be true – could it? Harry glanced at Ron and all thoughts of Ginny and Hermione disappeared.

“Ron, is everything alright?” Harry asked concerned. Ron looked up from the random spot on the floor that he had been staring at, his eyes still full of worry.

“You like Luna, don’t you Harry?” Ron finally questioned, his voice small, “I mean, you think she’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, I think Luna’s okay,” Harry replied with a frown, “what’s this all about Ron?”

“Well, over the summer,” Ron carried on, “it was just us, you know? I mean, she was slightly strange at times, but that was fine, just one of her quirks I would tell myself. But now, here, well – people just treat her really bad, like she’s…”

“…Looney Lovegood,” Harry finished, causing Ron to blush at the use of his girlfriends’ nick-name – a name he himself had used, “look Ron, Luna is a really nice girl but she is…unique. You need to accept that.”

“I know, I know,” Ron groaned, “and I do. I shouldn’t even be thinking like this. I guess just seeing everyone again, and everyone thought I’d be with Hermione then they see me with Luna…and they’re kinda making fun…”

“So you’re going to break up with Luna because people are making fun of you?” Harry queried, surprised.

“No!” Ron exclaimed suddenly, then more quietly, “no. It’s just that – I’d just worked through being the second to last Weasley coming through this school plus being the side-kick to the Boy Who Lived…”

“You are not a side-kick Ron,” Harry interrupted slightly annoyed, “and I’m not…”

“I know,” Ron sighed, “but that’s how I felt. And now I’m over all of that only to become the weirdo that’s dating Looney Luna Lovegood.”

“You shouldn’t care what other people think,” Harry advised, “I should know. Ron, Luna makes you happy and you make her happy – that’s all that matters. People will get used to it in time and meanwhile, just have fun! You deserve this, you really do!”

“You think so?”

“Stop being such a Wally and be proud of the fact you have a pretty, smart and one-of-a-kind girlfriend,” Harry stated, “she’s lucky to have you just as you’re lucky to have her.”

“Thanks Harry,” Ron said, relaxing once more, “you’re right. I mean, I knew I was just being stupid – I really like her, you know? She helps me forget…”

“And sometimes forgetting is a good thing,” Harry said sadly, once again thinking of how Ginny had done the same thing for him.

“She really cares for you, you know,” Ron said, his eyes catching Harry’s – and Harry knew exactly who he was talking of.

“Ginny is better off without me.”

Ron said nothing but nodded in understanding.

“Oh, that’s what I was going to tell you,” he said after a few moments, “Crabbe and Goyle aren’t at Hogwarts.”

“What?”

“Yep, their parents have withdrawn them from school.”

As it turned out, Crabbe and Goyle weren’t the only ones kept away from Hogwarts as the Great Hall looked decidedly empty when Harry walked in a little while later. The Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables seemed the fullest while the Slytherin table was nearly bare.

Making his way to his usual seat, Harry looked at the teacher’s table and gave Hagrid a small wave in greeting as the half giant hadn’t been at the train station – no first years to collect. Hagrid waved half-heartily back. Slughorn was still there, as was Flitwick, Madam Pomfrey and Professor Sprout. Professor McGonagall sat stiffly in the chair next to the still vacant headmaster’s chair, her eyes catching Harry’s briefly before he continued down the line of teachers. He was just about to sit down when he saw yet another familiar face up on the raised dais.

“Tonks?” he exclaimed as the young witch waved at him, her hair still its favourite pink.

“She must be our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,” Hermione said thoughtfully as she sat down next to him.

“Wicked!” Ron enthused, sitting opposite them so he could see Luna, “she’ll be terrific as a teacher!”

But all other conversation ceased as Professor McGonagall stood and walked to the lectern, her eyes sombre.

“Welcome back one and all,” she began, her tone matching her eyes, “to a year full of many challenges. The first will be adapting to a life at Hogwarts without the presence of this school’s most faithful servant, Professor Albus Dumbledore. We shall have a minute of silent reflection before I will continue.”

Harry watched as McGonagall bowed her head, as did the teachers behind her. Soon all the students followed, so with a deep breath, Harry did the same and closed his eyes to remember. He tried to think of the good things, the great things, about his old headmaster but instead he saw what took place in the cave, the pain Dumbledore had felt and how Harry had made that pain continue. The image then changed to the final moments on the tower and how he had seen the life leave the old wizards face – Harry’s eyes snapped open. He didn’t want to remember any more.

Everyone’s heads were still bowed as Harry frantically looked around, trying to get rid of what he had just seen. As he looked to his left, Hermione was looking worriedly back at him, an understanding in her eyes. She took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze before the Hall began to move once more and she turned her attention back to Professor McGonagall.

Once again Harry was grateful for the way his friend knew when he found things tough and how her touch always seemed to make things better. He dragged his gaze from the back of her head to look once more at Professor McGonagall, but as he did so he looked directly at Ginny, his smile quickly dying. He saw tears begin to form in her eyes as she stared at him so with a determination he didn’t know he had, Harry broke her gaze and concentrated on the new headmistress.

“This school has a history that spans nearly one thousand years, and during that time it has seen the best of the wizarding world, and it has seen the worst. We are entering into a time of conflict not seen in this country for many years and the allies we may once have been able to rely on are no longer our friends.

“You are students of magic and your teachings may be called on sooner than is decent and fair. You are children who may be too soon be made into adults. This is a challenge that we all have to face and the teachers of this school will be doing everything in their power to see that you are prepared.

“Our numbers have decreased but those who have chosen to remain in these hollowed walls will be taught the skills necessary to survive. Our classes will change to reflect this new requirement and the tests you may face this year may not be Ministry approved.

“However, though we are in a time of war, we also understand that there will be a time when this war is over and you all have a future to prepare for. Therefore, those sitting your OWLS and NEWTS will still be required to do so – your education is still important and will not be ignored.

“Class schedules will be given out after tonight’s feast in your common rooms as will instructions on the new safety restrictions taking place. I am acting headmistress and will still retain my position as head of Gryffindor House and professor of Transfiguration. Professor Slughorn has kindly accepted the position of Head of Slytherin House while we welcome Professor Tonks as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter are your student representatives with Ron Weasley as Mr Potter’s second. All further details will be given directly after dinner.

“Thank you.”

The rest of the feast was uneventful (and spent with Hermione having the talk with Harry she had threatened him with on the train, which meant trying to find out from him what had had his attention during her speech. When she realised it was Ginny that he had been thinking about, she seemed content and finally let the subject go – the whole thing seemed highly amusing to Ron). However, Harry soon found himself making the familiar journey to the Gryffindor Common Room.

He stood with Hermione and Ron as they waited for Professor McGonagall to arrive, glancing at those classmates who had returned. Dean and Seamus were there, as was Neville who was standing closely to Ginny and talking in to her whispers. Parviti and Lavender was also there but the numbers started to dwindle after that. The Creevey brothers, Romilda Vance, and a handful of students Harry only knew by sight completed the group.

“Right then,” McGonagall said sharply, as she made her way through the portrait hole, “I want you all to listen very carefully.

“Sixth year students will be sharing classes with seventh years, fourths with fifths and second years with thirds.

“Diviniation and Muggle Studies will not be taught, Care of Magical Creatures, Astronomy, Ancient Runes, Herbology and Arithmacy will be taught in a more secondary role as these subjects are still beneficial but not essential. History of Magic will be available if you want to attend Professor Binns classes as we couldn’t persuade him to stop teaching, his subject matter timetable is on you schedules. All sixth year and above students, regardless of age, will learn to Apparate as well as any other student who we feel is capable of learning.

“There will be no Quidditch played this year and there will be no outings to Hogsmead. No one except prefects and teachers will be allowed outside their common rooms after eight o’clock and if you are caught, you will be expelled – no exceptions. All classes outside the castle walls will require an escort by Professor Hagrid – no exceptions.

“If you notice anything out of place or suspicious, you are to notify a teacher, Miss Granger, Mr Potter or Mr Weasley immediately. All mail in or out of the castle will be checked in case it has been tampered with in transit and if you feel your mail and/or your owl has been interfered with, you shall notify us immediately.” The professor paused and looked around the room, as did Harry who saw a mixture of fear and annoyance in the faces of the younger student as many of their privileges have disappeared, while the older students were hanging on every word their head of house was saying.

“I apologise for the strictness of the regulations placed on you,” she continued, somewhat softer, “but we are in troubled times and your safety is our main priority. Your schedules allow more free time than usual in a school year and I suggest you spend this time wisely either with your friends or participating in the many extra lessons that will be available. I’m afraid that until this threat is over, many of the choices that you make could be the difference between life and death. Yet you are all members of the house of Godric Gryffindor, chosen for your bravery and courage and I hope this means the choices you do make reflect the sanctity of this House.

“Now, here are your class schedules and I suggest an early night – classes start tomorrow.”

The professor handed out each student’s schedule, Harry waiting with Ron and Hermione for his. He thought over what McGonagall had just said and realised that in reality Hogwarts had begun training an army. He wondered if the Ministry had much say in the change in curriculum and guessed not, otherwise things probably wouldn’t have changed at all. Part of him wished it needn’t be like this, that the younger students are going to miss out on the fun stuff that made Hogwarts so brilliant – but the other part of him knew these precautions were necessary and he was glad they were in place.

“Here you go Mr Potter, Mr Weasley and Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall said as she handed them their parchments, “perhaps a private word with you all tomorrow before your first class might be in order.”

“Yes professor,” Hermione replied and the new headmistress turned on her heel and left the common room.

“Guess we should go too,” Ron said, quietly, “it will feel weird not being in here this year.”

“This whole year is going to feel weird,” Harry agreed, waving good-bye to Dean and Seamus as he followed Hermione and Ron out of the portrait hole, catching a glimpse of Ginny standing off to one side, still with Neville next to her – Harry had a thought, “hey, doesn’t Neville seem to spending a lot of time with Ginny? I mean, I know I’ve only seen her a couple of times, but every time I do – he seems to be there…”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Ron frowned, “he keeps showing up like a bad smell. Just a minute, you don’t think they’re dating, do you?”

“No, I don’t think they are,” Hermione joined in, “but I think Neville’s giving Ginny the support she needs right now. And I also think that he is good for her, a calming influence. They would make a sweet couple.”

“He did take Ginny to the Yule Ball,” Harry remembered, “but them dating?”

“Why not Harry?” Hermione questioned, “are you jealous?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Harry thought, “it’s just that, they seem so…opposite.”

“Sometimes, opposites attract,” Hermione replied knowingly, “and here we are.”

She had stopped outside a plain looking oak door – a list of previous Head Boys and Girls on one side, and a notice board on the other. Harry saw his and Hermione’s name had been added to the bottom, and with pride he cast his eye up the list until he saw the names of his parents.

“We need to think up a password,” Hermione advised, “when either one of us is in the common area, students will be able to enter without a problem. But if we’re not here, the door will be locked and only us – with a password – can enter. So, what should it be?”

“How ‘bout something like Quidditch?” Ron suggested after a bit of thought.

“It needs to be a word that no-one else would use or guess,” Hermione reminded him, “something that only us would know.”

“You mean like Dowrgi or Grimmauld Place or something like that?” Harry asked.

“Exactly,” Hermione agreed.

“Well, I can’t say Dow-whatever very well, so I guess its Grimmauld Place then,” Ron said.

“Or just Grimmauld,” Harry continued, “so no-one will know it’s a place if they hear us.”

“Right, Grimmauld it is then,” Hermione stated, got out her wand, waved it over the door (which in turn glowed gold briefly) and then entered – the boys following tentatively behind her.

Harry stopped in awe and looked around his new common room. It looked pretty much the same as his old common room, but smaller – the trio’s favourite chairs and couch curved around the fireplace, a coffee table in the middle. Over on one side was a large table that would be perfect for research as it had various lamps and lights around it, making studying things very easy.

There was a single stairway at the far end, a huge window at its centre where it split in two directions. Harry made his way up the stairs, leaving the other two still in the common area, taking a glance out of the window on his way to his new dorm. The view was of the lake with Dumbledore’s tomb glowing dully on its edge, the full moon reflecting off its white surface.

Taking a deep breath, Harry continued on to his new room and saw once again a familiar sight – a four poster bed with heavy red drapes at its corners. Ron’s bed was the same and sat a little bit away from his own, further than normal in the general dorm.

His trunk was already there, Hedwig sitting patiently on top. Harry went over to his pet.

“Thanks for waiting,” he said softly, the owl gave his finger an affectionate peck to let him know it wasn’t a problem before making her way to the window and leaving to find dinner.

Sighing, Harry went to his trunk to get an item he vowed would be the first thing he’d put in his new room, a reminder of what he was preparing himself for. He retrieved his copy of Hogwarts, A History and opened the front cover to see a piece of paper with three sets of hands – his memento from Godric’s Hollow. Gently, he took the paper out and stuck it carefully to the wall above his nightstand.

“Not bad, don’t you think?” Ron said cheerfully as he walked into the dorm, Harry turning suddenly to see his friend.

“Yeah, pretty good,” he replied, getting out some more of his stuff to put away, “not that much different from the Gryffindor common room actually.”

“Hermione said they do that on purpose, make it near to what you’ve already had,” Ron explained, going to his own trunk, “and she thinks we should go over what we’re going to do before we turn in, so…”

Harry understood. He looked slightly longingly at his bed before heading once more down to the common area. Hermione was already there at the large table, their schedules laid out plus some extra parchments ready and waiting. She looked up at him as he made his way down the stairs and smiled.

“This won’t take long, I promise,” she said, seemingly reading his mind once again.

“That’s okay,” he assured as he reached her side, “it has to be done.”

“Right,” she acknowledged, looking back at the table, “we have quite a bit of time free but I suspect that will be taken up with homework. I would like to continue Runes and Arithmacy, although they probably aren’t useful…”

“…but you actually enjoy those subjects,” Ron quipped as he joined them at the table, “mental.”

“Thanks for that Ron,” Hermione retorted snarkily, turning her attention back to Harry, “the class time for those subjects have halved and the time I spend there, you two can continue looking through the Black library. There are a few subjects that Professor Binns will be covering which may be useful and since he sends you both to sleep, I’ll attend those classes as well…”

“Excellent,” Ron enthused with a smile.

“There will be extra defence, charms and potion classes which I think we should try and attend. I will continue at the Westminster Orphanage once Remus has got through this full moon – we are really close to working the protections out. I have nearly finished at the library at Dowrgi and will see what books are at Godric’s Hollow before looking in the library here. Dumbledore’s library will be interesting as well…”

“You are going to sleep sometime aren’t you, Hermione,” Harry interrupted with concern, “there’s no point us doing all this stuff if we aren’t able to look out for ourselves because we’re knackered.”

“Yes Harry, I will sleep, I promise,” Hermione laughed, “which is what we should do right now. Though we need to discuss how we’re going to ask Neville and Ginny if they want to do the extra defence lessons since Luna has already agreed…”

“I thought everyone had the option of doing extra defence lessons,” Ron said, sounding a bit confused.

“Every one does,” Hermione agreed, “but we’re to get private lessons.”

“Well, we’ll all be in the same classes so I guess we can ask then…”

But as the week progressed, there never seemed to be the right time. Ginny and Neville seemed to try and keep away from Harry and Hermione as much as possible, disappearing from classes as soon as they were over and keeping a distance at meal times.

It seemed a new name had been added to Harry’s already lengthy list of monikers, but this one he didn’t mind so much. He, along with Hermione and Ron, was now a member the ‘Golden Trio’ as the three of them were now called, and treated with an amount of reverence and respect that sometimes could be quite unnerving. Still, Harry thought it was better than having the snide comments that had followed him so many times before.

Hermione had gone back to the orphanage once Remus was feeling better and soon it seemed the only time Harry saw her was briefly at meal times or in class. He realised that he missed her and every now and then he wondered if he did in fact, fancy his best friend – something that he found quite scary.

Professor McGonagall kept an eye on their activities but worked in with the schedules Hermione had worked out. And it seemed Tonks was very popular with the students of Hogwarts, especially many of the males, with her youthful enthusiasm and impish good looks. Both Hagrid and Firenze seemed quite content with their classes being cancelled and spent their time overlooking the school’s security. However, Professor Trelawney wasn’t as understanding and was often seen mopping around the corridors with a haze of sherry surrounding her.

A week after classes had began, Harry, Hermione and Ron were in various spots in the common area, reading and studying after another hard day when Neville tentatively entered.

“Hey Neville,” Hermione welcomed, “is everything okay?”

“Er, actually Hermione, can I have a word?”

Harry looked across at Ron, who looked as surprised as he felt. They watched as Hermione went to Neville by the door then began to talk frantically in whispers. He saw Hermione pale considerably and when Neville left, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and came over to where Ron and Harry were sitting near the fire.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, immediately. Nervously Hermione looked at him before taking another deep breath.

“Draco Malfoy’s back in the castle.”

A/N – ah, a cliffhanger – don’t you love them? And I was going to drag the ‘will they/won’t they’ thing out for Harry and Hermione for quite a bit longer, but quite frankly I can’t do it. Look forward to some fluff maybe not the next chapter but maybe chapter 10.

9. Red and the Brainbox

A/N – look at me, I’m posting early! Well, I’m not sure if this is what you will be expecting after my last promise, but I hope you enjoy it any way.

Chapter 9 – Red or the Brainbox

“Malfoy?” Ron hissed, “where?”

“In the infirmary,” Hermione replied, keeping an eye on Harry, “and he’s asking for you, Harry. It seems…”

But Harry didn’t hear anymore as his brain became engulfed with an unstoppable fury. Without saying a word, he stormed out of the room and began powering his way towards the hospital wing. He faintly heard Hermione calling out for him to stop – but he didn’t. All he could think of was Malfoy was back, Malfoy had tried to kill Dumbledore, Malfoy had let the Death Eaters into the castle – Malfoy needed to pay.

Hermione and Ron had got closer but Harry didn’t wait for them to catch up. He heard her threaten that if he didn’t stop, she’d stun him but the part of his brain that wasn’t pounding with a need to kill Malfoy deduced that she wouldn’t dare and he kept on going.

When he felt his body stiffen suddenly, ready to fall to the ground, it took him a moment to understand what had happened and it wasn’t until he felt Ron steady him and Hermione approach him, her wand still in her hand, that he realised she had indeed hexed him. His anger quickly moved onto her and he tried to show his displeasure in his eyes – which she looked directly into as she stood in front of him.

“I will take the hex off if you promise me you will stop and listen to what I have got to say,” she said, her voice steely, “otherwise you can remain like this and be made to listen to what to what I’ve got to say anyway. If you agree, blink twice.”

Harry just glared at her, knowing that he really had no choice and after a moment, blinked twice and felt the binds of the stun be removed almost immediately.

“What have you got to say,” he growled, shaking Ron’s supporting hands from his shoulders and towering over Hermione, who, to her credit, remained her ground – hands on hips and eyes blazing back.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she spat.

“Going to the infirmary to kill Malfoy,” Harry spat back.

“Well, that’s a really smart thing to do,” she continued, “since when did you become judge, jury and executioner?”

“Since Malfoy confessed to letting Death Eaters into this castle before trying to kill Dumbledore,” he growled, “you don’t honestly think I’m going to sit back at let that…”

“Murderous git,” Ron supplied.

“…murderous git return like he’s done nothing wrong!”

“No, of course not,” Hermione replied, deflating slightly, “but Harry, think about it. Draco was taken by Snape after not completing the job he was meant to do. He wouldn’t be in Voldemort’s best books at the moment and now he’s back here, seriously hurt from what Neville said – why did he come back?”

“Perhaps as a spy,” Ron suggested, “I mean, You-Know-Who has lost Snape from the castle, maybe he’s planting Malfoy?”

“Don’t you think that would be slightly obvious?” Hermione counter-acted, “we can check him out, test him with veritaserum before he has a chance to get any information back to Voldemort! Listen, it would take a lot for Draco to come back here so why would he? You need to give him a chance Harry.”

“He tried to kill Dumbledore,” Harry hissed, “because of him, Snape did kill Dumbledore. That’s pretty hard to ignore Hermione.”

“I’m not asking you to be best friends,” she replied with a sigh, “and I don’t trust him either. But we need to be the better people here, we need to give him a chance.”

Harry stood and looked at her, knowing in his heart that she was saying the words that Dumbledore would have endorsed. Although he had often felt the old headmaster’s concept to try and see the good in everyone wasn’t the wisest of moves (including giving the likes of Severus Snape a second chance, a choice that ultimately cost him his life), Harry knew that it was this ability that had made Albus Dumbledore one of the greatest wizards of all time.

He needed to be the better person which meant listening to what Malfoy had to say. But that didn’t stop Harry still being disgruntled that Hermione had actually stunned him.

“Okay, so I won’t kill him,” he finally grunted, “satisfied?”

“Yes,” she replied, “and I’m sorry for hexing you.”

As they looked at each other, Harry could see she was genuinely sorry and his anger at her began to ebb. Not quite ready to let her see he had forgiven her, however, he turned from her without saying anything else and carried on walking somewhat more sedately towards the hospital wing.

“I actually thought she was going to kill you mate,” Ron joked as he came to Harry’s side, “or you were going to kill her. Blimey, when you guys fight – you don’t hold back, do you?”

“I would never hurt Harry,” Hermione stated from Harry’s other side, “and I know he would never hurt me.”

“Yeah I know, but man you two were scary!”

Harry didn’t say anything as he thought about how she had stared him down, how that had been missing pretty much all of last year and how amazing she had looked with her eyes blazing when she had done it. He shook his to get rid of that disturbing thought.

They finally reached the hospital wing and without hesitation, Harry entered. He saw Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn in discussion near a bed at the end of the ward while Madam Pomfrey hovered around her patient. They all turned when he entered, the two teachers making their way towards him, stopping him before he got too close to Malfoy.

“Potter,” McGonagall started, “this is a rather surprising development but I need your word…”

“I won’t harm him Professor,” Harry interrupted sharply, walking around the headmistress and making his way to the hospital bed. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but he knew it wasn’t what he saw laying in front of him.

Draco Malfoy was nearly unrecognisable. His hair was gone with just small, closely cropped patches showing its once blond magnificence. He was paler than usual though a mixture of green and purple smudges marked his face and the shoulder region that was visible above the white hospital sheet. His face was hollow and his lips cracked and dry. Wherever Malfoy had been in the last few months, he hadn’t been treated well.

“I…I thought he asked to see me,” Harry stuttered, stunned at the shell of his enemy comatose in the bed.

“He did, but Mr Malfoy unfortunately became unconscious only a few moments ago,” Madam Pomfrey answered briskly.

“What’s wrong with him?” Hermione asked quietly as she came to Harry’s side.

“It seems Mr Malfoy is hanging very slimly onto life,” McGonagall responded, herding the three away from the Slytherin, “he is malnourished, dehydrated and has a multitude of injuries that indicate…”

“He’s…he’s been tortured?” Hermione stammered.

“I guess his master really was peeved off then,” Ron muttered. Once again, Harry remained silent as he thought things through. He hated Malfoy, he could never stop hating Malfoy, but he also knew what it was like to be tortured by Voldemort…

“Did he…was he able to tell you why he wanted to see me?” Harry finally asked, noting they were well away from the hospital wing now.

“No, he was quite specific that he only wanted to tell you,” McGonagall replied, placing a hand gently on Harry’s shoulder, “we’ll let you know when he’s able to talk once more.” With a swish of robes, she was gone and the three teenagers continued their way towards their common room, all lost in their own thoughts.

Harry went straight to bed when he got back, his mind going over Malfoy’s return. Why did he come back? What had happened to him? What did he have to say that was so important? This group of thoughts kept interrupting his week with no answers in sight – Draco Malfoy remained unconscious.

There were other thoughts constantly invading his brain as well, thoughts that were getting more and more confusing as the week went by. Harry found himself often looking at Hermione and wondering when she had become so pretty, or when she became such a…girl.

No, not girl – young woman, he corrected himself as he noted the way her t-shirt stretched over her…his thoughts were getting very confusing.

Sometimes he compared her to Ginny and how these new feelings about his best friend were different than when he had begun noticing Ron’s little sister. With Ginny, it had been so dramatic, so…loud. But now, Hermione’s small comforting touches, or ability to know what he’s thinking without saying it or her just being there the way she had always been, felt real. He began to realise that he needed her – that he needed her in a way he didn’t need Ron.

Maybe he did fancy Hermione.

This made the fact that it was her birthday in a few days even more dire as he had had no opportunity to go and get her anything, what with the Horcrux search and everything. This time, he really wanted to get something a little special. He and Ron never really did much for her birthday – she never made a fuss and accepted her gifts of food as the norm. But this time, he wanted to get something different and he knew exactly what he wanted to get.

So he finally got up enough courage on Wednesday after his class with Tonks to tell the others to go on so he could have a word with his new professor.

“Wotcha Harry,” she said smiling as he made his way to her desk, “you and the team are doing well so you can’t be here to talk to me about classes.”

“No, I’m not,” Harry said uncomfortably, “but they are really good, by the way.”

“Why thank you, Minerva will be pleased,” Tonks laughed, “so, what can I do for you Mr Potter?”

“Well, er, I was wondering if you could get something for me,” he started, “um, I can’t get out and Hermione’s birthday is on Friday and, well, would you mind?”

Harry watched as Tonks seemed to start to cry, stop, then a huge grin crossed her face before that disappeared and she was normal once more.

“No problem Harry,” she said softly, “let me know what you want, where I can get it and you’ll have it tomorrow.”

Harry smiled a smile of relief and left Tonks classroom a lot happier than when he entered. He had told Ron and Hermione he’d meet them for lunch and so made his way to the Great Hall when he spotted Neville – alone. Realising this was the first time all term he has seen Neville without Ginny, he decided to take the opportunity and changed his direction.

“Neville!” he called out, startled when the other boy began to quickly walk away in the opposite direction, “hey, Neville!” Harry jogged over to his friend, easily catching up, making Neville finally stop.

“Oh, hi Harry,” he said casually, his face red.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asked, concerned, wondering why Neville seemed so uncomfortable.

“Um, yeah, fine,” Neville replied, nervously, “but I…I need to go…”

“Neville, what’s wrong?” Harry persisted, stopping Neville from leaving. Neville took a deep breath and finally looked up at Harry.

“I…I really like Ginny,” he began hesitantly, “but you two used to date and I…I didn’t know if you’d be mad. And she still likes you so it’s not like we’re dating or anything but you’re my friend and…well, you really liked her. Before. And I wasn’t sure if you still did because, you know, I’m no match against you and I didn’t want to stand on your toes. But if it came down to choosing you over me, well, you’d win hands down and….”

“Neville, stop,” Harry grinned as his friend had continued to babble, “I think the idea of you and Ginny is brilliant – you’d be good for her. I did like her, and I guess I still do, but not in a way that would get in the way for you two to date. You don’t have to avoid me.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“I probably will for a little while more at least though,” Neville continued, “she is really, really hurt by you right now. And Hermione. But she’s getting better.”

“And if anyone can help her, it’s you,” Harry smiled, “but I wanted to ask you something. Hermione, Ron, Luna and I are going to have extra defence training, above the classes offered to everyone else, and we thought you might want to come along. You know, like the DA. We’re going to ask Ginny too.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry turned quickly around to see Ginny moving towards him and Neville, looking both defiant and nervous at the same time. A mixture of emotions flowed through Harry but the monster that had made its appearance so many times before, was no longer present.

“Whether you and Neville would like to join us in extra defence training,” Harry said easily, surprising himself – and it seemed, Neville and Ginny who both looked at him strangely.

“De…defence training?” Ginny repeated, “why? I mean, why us?”

“Because you’re both part of the team,” Harry replied, realising that they had formed a kind of team, the six of them, and that there were no other students he’d feel safer around. Ginny looked at Neville, who gave her a supportive smile. They then seemed to have a small conversation without words before Ginny turned back to Harry.

“Can we think about it?” she asked.

“Sure, I guess,” Harry replied, nonplussed, “just let either Ron, Hermione or me know and we’ll sort it out from there.”

“Right,” she acknowledged, making to walk away. Realising the conversation had come to a close, Harry began to do the same but stopped as she called out to him.

“Yeah?” he asked as he turned back to look at her, noticing the sheen of tears in her eyes.

“Thanks, thank for including me,” she said softly before walking away once more.

“Thanks Harry,” Neville grinned, the most happy Harry had seen him for a while, “for everything. I’ll talk to you later.”

Harry watched as Neville hurried after Ginny, frowning slightly. Was he really okay with Neville and Ginny becoming an item? Not that they were, not yet anyway. But he’s basically given Neville his permission. That brought a smile to his face as he made his way once more to the Great Hall – if Ginny ever found out about this conversation, both he and Neville would be walking around with Bat Bogey’s for quite some time.

Tonks was true to her word, and a small parcel had been placed on his bed while he was at classes on Thursday (he guessed by Dobby) and it was perfect. Harry woke the following day ready to help his friend celebrate her birthday the best way she could, considering it was a school day. But Hermione had already left with Remus for the Orphanage and her morning classes were the ones that were different from his.

She didn’t show for lunch either and as the afternoon began to draw to a close with no sight of her, Harry was beginning to get anxious. Ron didn’t seem to share his concern which is why he was alone in the common area when Professor McGonagall entered, looking slightly flustered, late that evening.

Harry had been trying to do his Charms homework but had instead spent a lot of his time looking at the small pile of presents on the coffee table, looking at the fireplace in case she Flooed and watching the door – just in case. Which is why when the professor bustled into the common room, he let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Ah, Mr Potter,” the professor panted, “thank Merlin you are still up. Mr Malfoy is once again asking for you. Please, follow me.”

Harry hesitated – he wanted to find out what Malfoy had to say but he also didn’t want to miss Hermione, she may come back when he was at the hospital wing. But he desperately wanted to speak to Malfoy…

“Mr Potter?” McGonagall questioned from the doorway, “we need to be speedy, Mr Malfoy is still not well.” Harry made up his mind and quickly scribbled a note on some parchment which he attached to the noticeboard outside their room, knowing Hermione would check there as soon as she returned. He then followed the very brisk walking professor back to the hospital wing.

Once again Professor Slughorn and Madam Pomfrey were there, standing near the far bed. Slowly Harry approached the bed and although Draco Malfoy had slightly more colour than the last time he saw him, he still looked very worse for wear.

“Potter,” Malfoy croaked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Not looking your best Malfoy,” Harry replied, trying to hide his shock from his voice.

“Well, the Dark Lord doesn’t take failure well,” Malfoy sneered, “I’m lucky to be alive…”

“Why are you here?” Harry interrupted with a frown, “what do you want?”

“I’m here because I want to stay alive,” Malfoy replied with a smirk, “and why? Well, that’s the million galleon question isn’t it?”

“One that I think it’s in your best interest to answer.”

“Maybe,” Malfoy continued softly, “but not today, not now. There’s more important things to discuss – more urgent – and though it pains me to say it, it concerns your love life.”

“What?” Harry exclaimed, a bit taken back, “what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Which is exactly what I thought,” the Slytherin continued to smirk, “but it seems the Dark Lord was very interested. It soon became known that you were hot and heavy with the Weaslette but the debate began about your relationship with the mudblood – who did Potter love? It seemed the Lordship doesn’t really care and is planning to get both Red and the brainbox.” Harry heart seemed to stop.

“Ginny and I have broken up…”

“I don’t really care,” Malfoy snapped wearily, suddenly looking very exhausted, “and neither does the Dark Lord.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Harry asked, “what’s in it for you? Why should I believe you?”

“Again, I don’t really care if you believe me or not,” Malfoy answered, even more tiredly.

“That’s enough,” the school matron bustled, “Mr Malfoy needs to rest – everyone out!”

Harry took one more look at his enemy, his mind whirling. If what Malfoy was saying is true, Hermione is out there and she could be in danger –he had to bring her back to safety. Quickly, he once more made the trek between the hospital wing and the Head’s common room, desperate to get to the Floo and go and get Hermione.

“Mr Potter, stop,” McGonagall called out, but Harry kept walking, “Harry – stop right now!” Not quite ready to defy the Head of his House quite yet, he stopped and waited for the witch to catch up.

“I need to get to my room Professor,” Harry insisted, ready to go again.

“Miss Granger has not returned?” she asked, guessing rightly his need for urgency, obviously concerned.

“No, I haven’t seen her all day.”

“Remus assured me they would be back by ten,” McGonagall continued, thoughtfully. Harry didn’t need any more information – Hermione was late, she could be in trouble and he needed to know she was safe. He began walking once more, and his walk soon became a run.

His note to Hermione still hung on the noticeboard so as soon as he entered the common area, he made his way to the fireplace and had a handful of Floo Powder ready to go when McGonagall entered.

“Potter – no!” she exclaimed, and with a flick of her wand, the Floo seemed to escape from his hand leaving it empty.

“I need to get her back Professor,” he told her, his voice steely.

“You can not leave this castle,” McGonagall replied, sternly, “I’ve sent for Tonks – she and Charlie will go and retrieve Miss Granger…”

“She needs to be back here,” he exclaimed, “it’s her birthday!”

“I’m sure she is fine, Mr Potter,” she said more gently, “can I trust you not to go after her?”

Harry didn’t say anything – he had indeed intended to go after Hermione as soon as he was able but with a weary resignation, he knew he had to stay here and wait. He had to be responsible, a new concept that still felt…wrong.

“Yes Professor,” he said with restrain, which she thankfully accepted and left. As soon as he was alone, he began to pace – expecting Hermione to step out of the fire any at any moment. As the moments lengthened, Harry found himself staring out of the window into the inky blackness of the lake at night. Dumbledore’s tomb shone eerily amongst the dark, but even thoughts of his old headmaster were absent – all Harry could think about was Hermione. Everyone seemed to think they were a couple, it had started in the forth year and now it had put her in danger, yet they weren’t a couple, they’d never been a couple or even discussed being a couple. So why was he spending all his time thinking about her and not Ginny.

Harry sighed. He reasoned it was because Ginny was safe in the castle and Hermione wasn’t. He was dreading the conversation with his ex-girlfriend tomorrow when she no doubt ably will be told about Malfoy’s warning, though at least it justifies why he broke up with her in the first place. He could hear the argument regarding the lack of need to be separate now because she was in danger any way and he really didn’t have a come back for that other than he didn’t want to be with Ginny any more.

He wanted to be with Hermione. No, he didn’t – his mind shouted back, he and Hermione were only friends!

Again, Harry sighed. He took out a small box from his pocket and absently rotated it around in his hands, wondering to himself whether he should still give his gift to her…

“Harry?” His head snapped up at the sound of her voice and he looked down the stairs to see Hermione standing by the fire, looking up at him worriedly, “what are you still doing up?”

“Er, waiting for you,” he replied, stunned, “you’re late.”

“Well, Tonks and Charlie arrived while I was in the middle of an incarnation,” she explained quickly, not moving from her spot in front of the fire, “and it took a while to complete. As soon as I was done, they ushered me back to Grimmauld Place so I could Floo here. What’s that in your hand?”

Harry looked down and saw that he was still holding the gift that he had bought her and realising there was no turning back now, made his way down the stairs.

“Your birthday present,” he smiled shyly, “I haven’t seen you all day to wish you a happy birthday. Happy birthday, Hermione. You have other gifts as well.”

He indicated to the small pile on the coffee table which she noted with a smile of her own. Finally moving, she made her way to the couch in front of the table.

“I was so caught up with what I was doing with Remus,” she stated, “that I had forgotten it was my birthday.”

“What have you been doing all day?” Harry asked, sitting opposite her in the chair, his present still in his hands.

“We’ve done it Harry,” she said excitedly, “we’ve marked the wards surrounding the Horcrux. It’s ready to access to retrieve the Horcrux.”

“Really?” Harry questioned, his excitement mixing with fear, “that’s great Hermione, brilliant.” He thought back to the retrieval of the locket and wondered if he would loose one of his friends the way he lost Professor Dumbledore.

“You don’t sound so keen,” she frowned, “is everything alright? Why did Tonks and Charlie come to get me?”

“Malfoy woke,” Harry replied, glad that for once she didn’t pick up the true reason for his unease.

“What!” Hermione exclaimed, her birthday once more forgotten, “did you speak to him? What did he say?”

“Nothing of any use…” Harry lied.

“Which is why I was under guard until I came back here,” Hermione said sarcastically, “now, tell me the truth.”

“He said that Voldemort was interested in who I was dating,” Harry began, uncomfortably, “and was planning to go after those whoever is close to me…”

“But Ginny is safe here in the castle,” Hermione deduced quickly, “what has that got to do with me? Oh!” She looked at Harry as she realised why she had been escorted back to Hogwarts, her eyes wide with surprise.

“It seems Voldemort doesn’t understand that Ginny and I have broken up or that you and I are just friends…”

“People seemed to get our relationship confused, don’t they,” she said shyly.

“Yeah, they do,” Harry responded, breaking away from her gaze and looking back down at the present in his hands.

“I suppose I should open my birthday presents,” she said after a while, reaching for the badly wrapped gift that could only have come from Hagrid. Harry watched silently as she took the rough paper off to expose a small, carved wooden whistle – causing Hermione to gasp with pleasure. She received the customary sweet collection from Ron and birthday card from her parents, their words causing her to smile. Ginny’s present was absent this year so it didn’t take long before Hermione had finished and looked back up at Harry. With one more nervous rotation of the small box, he handed it to her, his heart in his mouth.

“Er, this is from me,” he said unnecessarily, “I…I hope you like it.” She took it from him without a word and gently took off the wrapping to expose a small, velvet jewellery box. He saw her hands were shaking as she opened the lid – he held his breath nervously.

“This is beautiful,” she whispered, her eyes glassy with tears when she finally looked up at him, “Harry…”

“It’s an otter,” he explained, “you know, your patronus…”

“Dowrgi…” she breathed as she removed the necklace from its cradle and holding it up. The firelight seemed to make the small, silver creature dance, and Harry began to breathe again. She liked it. He watched as she went to put it on, trying to do the clasp up behind her head and without really thinking, he got up and went behind her.

“Here, let me do it,” he stated as he swept her hair aside to give him access to her neck.

But suddenly it wasn’t so simple, suddenly the sight of her bare neck and the possibility of touching her made the use of his hands near impossible. Hermione was holding her hair for him and he knew he couldn’t stand there holding the two ends of the delicate chain forever – he had to make a move. Taking a deep breath, he began to fiddle with the clasp. After three attempts, he finally managed it, every time he touched her his heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second.

She let her hair fall down to her shoulders once the chain was completed and with nothing else to do, Harry went back to his seat. The little creature sat contently on her breastbone, it shinning brightly in the firelight. Her hand briefly ran over its body, as if making sure it was there, before she stood to look at her reflection in the mirror that hung over the fireplace.

“Harry, thank you so much,” she breathed, her voice shaky, “this is…lovely.” She then turned from the mirror, bent towards him and kissed him, her lips just inches from his own, before gathering the rest of her presents and making her way hastily to her room.

Harry just sat there and watched, his mind still stuck on the tingling sensation of where her lips had touched his face.

I don’t fancy her, he thought wildly, I don’t fancy Hermione, she is just a friend!

But as he sat there, he realised he was wrong – very, very wrong indeed.

A/N – what a relief!! I loved writing this last bit, I have so needed to do some fluff! Hope you liked it. Next chapter will be action, not my strong point, so it may take just that little bit longer….

10. The Cellar

A/N – hey everyone. Thanks again for all your lovely comments. Every time I post a chapter, I worry that I’ve done a horrible job and will get found out, then are wonderfully surprised. But with this chapter – I really have trouble with action and suspense. After reading such wonderful stories by Lynney and Lorien (I think I’ve spelt their names right) I realise that my ideas aren’t as unique as other authors, and for that I apologise. But I hope you enjoy this any way. Oh, and I also realise that when you write a serial, you find things that you miss that otherwise would be picked up if you wrote it as a book. I’ve seemed to have forgotten about the breading dementors, the fake locket and a few other things. Sorry. I guess my main excuse is that I’m not JKR. Oh, last thing, the opening paragraphs are pretty much word for word from HBP…Thanks for reading.

Chapter 10 – The Cellar

“Ginny, listen, I can’t be involved with you any more. We’ve got to stop seeing each other. We can’t be together.” Harry watched for her reaction, some reaction – she just smiled.

“It’s for some stupid noble reason, isn’t it?” she said, still smiling.

“It’s been like…like something out of someone else’s life, these last few weeks with you,” he continued, “but I can’t…we can’t…I’ve got things to do alone now.” She just looked at him and kept smiling – he powered on, “Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He’s already used you as bait once, and that was just because you’re my best friend’s sister. Think how much danger you’ll be in if we keep this up. He’ll know, he’ll find out. He’ll try and get to me through you.”

“What if I don’t care?” Ginny snarled, her hair now pulled up like it was at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, her face no longer smiling.

“I care,” he carried on, slightly confused but he had to finish what he needed to say, “how do you think I’d feel if this was your funeral…and it was my fault…”

“You’re going to leave me behind?” Hermione asked, hurt and anger in her voice. Harry frowned – Hermione wasn’t supposed to be here!

“It’s to keep you safe – you said you understand! You agreed it was for the best!”

“No, I didn’t,” Hermione yelled at him, “Ginny did and I’m not Ginny! I’m not going to leave you Harry Potter! I’ve always been there and I always will be! We’ll get through this together, remember?”

“But you’re in danger!” he yelled back, “let me help you! Save you!” Harry watched in horror as the scene around him changed and he was no longer by the lake at the funeral but on top of the Astronomy Tower, immobile against the wall watching Hermione, dressed in the dress she wore to the wedding, face Lord Voldemort.

“But we’re not even boyfriend and girlfriend!” Hermione pleaded to the dark wizard, her eyes filled with fear. Harry needed to get to her but he couldn’t move, he couldn’t even shout to her to say that he desperately wanted to be her boyfriend. Now it was too late, now she was going to die because of him, not even knowing how he felt.

“I don’t care,” Voldemort said, his voice sounding a lot like Draco Malfoy, his wand raised.

“No!” Harry screamed as he saw the now familiar green blast of light…

Harry opened his eyes to see the blurry image of Ron hovering over him, cautiously holding out his glasses, which he took gratefully. Pulling himself to a sitting position, he took a deep breath, willing the image of Hermione dying to leave his brain.

“Was it the same as the previous ones?” Ron asked, concerned.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry replied wearily.

“Mate, you need to tell her,” Ron continued, going back to his own bed, “this is the seventh time you’ve woken up screaming and according to you, it’s always the same dream.”

“Right, well, I can see how that conversation would go,” Harry said as he swung his legs out of his bed, “’hey Hermione, just thought I’d tell you that I’ve been dreaming about you being killed by Voldemort because you won’t listen to me about staying behind like Ginny did.’ Yeah, that will go down really well.”

“I actually meant how you fancy her,” Ron muttered, “I reckon that’s really what the dream’s about. Something will happen to one of you before you get the bollocks to tell her how you feel.”

“I don’t fancy her Ron,” Harry bit back, glad it was still dark.

“Whatever Harry,” Ron replied, lying down once more, “I’ll see you in a couple more hours.”

Harry didn’t say anything more but instead got his clothes and headed for the bathroom. It was five in the morning and he knew he wouldn’t get anymore sleep so instead he had a shower and got ready for the day – the day. The day they go after the next Horcrux.

He put on his pants and peered into the mirror for his daily inspection for facial hair. He rubbed his hand over his chin and felt the slightest bit of stubble. Quickly putting on his glasses, he looked a bit more carefully at his reflection and yes – there was the faintest hint of hair. Smiling as he finished dressing, he took this as a good sign. It wasn’t enough to warrant a shave, but he definitely felt a bit more – manly – when he went back into the dorm.

Ron was once more snoring away, having fallen back asleep without a problem. Taking his shoes and socks in his hands, Harry left the bedroom and went down to the common area – stopping in his tracks when he saw Hermione sitting in her favourite spot on the couch going over her notes, Crookshanks curled up next to her.

“Hermione,” he called out, continuing to walk down the stairs, “what’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she replied, turning to watch him, “you?”

“Pretty much the same,” he responded, “Ron doesn’t seem to have the same problem though.”

“That boy could sleep through an earthquake,” Hermione grinned, her eyes twinkling as she watched him go to his favourite chair, “why are you looking so pleased with yourself?” she asked before he was able to sit.

“I finally managed to grow facial hair,” Harry said proudly, jutting out his chin as if to accentuate the point.

“Really?” she questioned with a smirk, “let me feel!” He stooped down slightly so she could reach, her hand gently running over his cheek leaving burning hot trails in its wake. Suddenly realising what he was doing, Harry abruptly stood and went to his chair opposite her, a blush tainting his face.

“You’re right,” she laughed, seemingly ignoring his withdrawal, “I felt stubble. So, Mr Potter, does this mean you are now a man?”

“Are you questioning my manhood, Miss Granger?” Harry joked back, immediately forgetting his previous embarrassment, “I assure you that I’m all man!”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, Harry realised how stupid it sounded and how he was treading into very dangerous and unfamiliar territory. He watched as Hermione blushed, dropped her eyes before looking shyly back up at him – Harry melted.

“I have no doubt Harry,” she said softly, before returning to her notes.

He sat there looking at her for a moment, his shoes and socks forgotten in his hands. He had gone from being embarrassed to feeling comfortable and natural to being embarrassed once more then being hit with a desire to…kiss her? It was quarter past five in the morning and he was already confused. But there was something else, a feeling he was getting from her, something that she was trying to hide…it just added to his confusion.

“What are you doing?” he asked finally, trying to get things back on track.

“Going over my notes,” she answered, not looking up at him “making sure I remember everything, covering all our bases.” Harry nodded even though she didn’t see it and started to put on his socks then shoes. They sat in silence for a little while – she reading her notes, he staring into the fire – until she sat back and looked at him.

“Does Ron ever talk to you about his relationship with Luna?” she asked, taking Harry totally by surprise.

“Er, no, not really,” he answered, thinking, “just once, I ‘spose, on the train here. He wasn’t sure if he could handle the rest of the school thinking he was barmy for going out with her. I told him not to be so thick, that she’s really nice and she makes him happy so who cares what people think. That he was bloody lucky to find someone that actually made him happy.”

“You had someone that made you happy Harry, and you turned her away.”

Harry looked at her with a frown. Over a week ago, Ginny had been told of Malfoy’s warning and it had gone exactly how Harry had imagined it – she had told him he had no reason to break up with her now, that she was in danger anyway, they might as well be together. Trouble was, he no longer wanted to be with her.

“She did make me happy, you’re right,” he sighed, “but I keep remembering what she said at the wedding, how she really didn’t seem to understand what was happening, what I’m going through. Ultimately, I don’t think we would have stayed happy. Besides, Neville really likes her and I said I wouldn’t stand in his way.”

“You’ve given Neville permission to date Ginny?” Hermione questioned, shocked, “oh Harry, I hope she never finds out you two had that conversation.”

“I know,” Harry chuckled, “can you imagine it – ‘how dare you two! I’m not a piece of meat to be traded!’”

“You do a Ginny very well,” Hermione laughed as she gathered up her notes, “do you know that Ron and Luna have been talking about a future together?”

“Future?” he said with a frown, “you mean like marriage and children and stuff? Ron?”

“Yep,” she replied, sitting back in the couch, “which I thought was pretty intense but Luna said that in the wizarding world, most get married before they’re twenty. When I explained to her that most Muggles don’t get married until they’re in their mid to late twenties, she was quite appalled.”

“Ron? Married?” Harry repeated, unable to get that thought out of his head, “but, he’s just broken up with you! Isn’t this like…rebounding, or something?”

“Harry, Ron and I were never together, so we never broke up therefore he isn’t on the rebound…”

“He’s only seventeen!” Harry exclaimed, before his mind caught up on Hermione’s last comment, “just a minute, you can’t tell me that absolutely nothing went on between you and Ron. If I recall, it was ‘complicated’ – you guys must have had a relationship of some sort!”

“If you must know,” Hermione began, sounding exasperated, “Ron fancied me because he thought he couldn’t get anyone else, that girls didn’t find him attractive. I thought, last year, that I wouldn’t get anyone else either, and I knew he liked me so when he went for Lavender for no apparent reason, it hurt. I’ve since found out that he got angry because you told him I kissed Viktor, which is still a poor reason to do what he did. Anyway, after Professor Dumbledore’s funeral, we had a chat and we realised we were trying for a relationship for the wrong reasons, that there was someone who worshiped the ground he walked on, Luna, and that it would be better that we remained just friends. Which we are. Are you satisfied?”

“Ron asked me if you had kissed Krum and I…” Harry tried to explain.

“I know Harry.”

“You’ll find someone too, Hermione.”

“I know that too, Harry.”

They looked at each other and Harry felt it again, the feeling she was hiding something from him, something important. She smiled.

“Do you want to play cards?” she asked, “it’s been a while.”

“It most certainly has,” Harry replied, already reaching for the pack that hid in the draw underneath the table, “and I seem to recall the tally being ninety-four to me and eighty-nine to you.”

“Prepare to be beaten Mr Potter,” she laughed, moving towards the table.

“Bring it on, Miss Granger,” he laughed back and seemed to continue to laugh throughout the friendly and not-so-friendly card competition. When Ron finally came down and joined them, their good mood rubbed off on him and all three were smiling when they entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

But as the morning progressed, Harry’s smile began to disappear, as did the smiles of Ron and Hermione. Harry noticed that Ron kept glancing at the Ravenclaw table and every time afterwards, looking a bit more miserable. But wasn’t until he saw Tonks suddenly step down from the teachers table that Harry stopped smiling all together. He watched as the Auror strode past them to the back of the hall where Remus was waiting. McGonagall and Hagrid also left their breakfast and soon the whole hall was quiet, wondering what was going on.

Harry looked at Hermione and then Ron, who nodded grimly before standing and the three of them began to walk past their classmates to the group of adults standing just outside the doors. Luna quickly joined them, walking at Ron’s side, her hand clasping his. But they didn’t get too far as their way became blocked by Ginny Weasley.

“Are…are you going off to save the world?” she asked Harry nervously, her eyes darting between the Golden Trio.

“Er…” Harry began, not really too sure how to answer that question. Ginny just nodded.

“Be careful,” she continued, quietly, “all of you.” And then she was gone. Harry took a deep breath and continued walking, glad when the Great Hall’s doors were closed behind him, shutting out all the curious stares.

“Can I have a minute?” Ron asked, referring to Luna, whose large eyes were swimming in tears.

“Sure Ron,” Harry replied and watched with a frown as the couple stepped away, Ron looking like he was trying to reassure the usually unflappable Luna. Harry looked over at the group of teachers a few steps away from them, an argument of some sort was taking place. Sighing, Harry looked down at Hermione, who was still watching Ron and Luna with concern.

“They’ll be alright,” Harry whispered as he took her hand in comfort, “let’s go.” He led her to the others, who stopped talking pretty much immediately. Hagrid looked at them with a scowl, before his face dissolved into a worried smile.

“You’ll be careful, now,” he said gruffly, “whate’r this mission is, you take care of each other, y’hear?”

“We will Hagrid,” Harry said purposefully, letting himself be enveloped into one of his friends bone crushing hugs.

“Oh, come ‘ere ‘Ermione!” Hagrid exclaimed and soon Hermione was being squashed right next to Harry. He looked at her with resignation and she smiled (somewhat painfully) back, both grateful when they were released and breathing was once again easy. With one more scowl in Remus and McGonagall’s direction, Hagrid left with a friendly pat on Ron’s shoulder (which nearly brought him to his knees).

“I’ll go too,” Tonks said solemnly, looking directly at Remus, “I’ll see you in a bit, I hope,” she carried on before turning her attention to Harry and Hermione, “you all take care and I hope what ever you’re up to, it works out. Can’t loose my top three students in one go now, can I?”

“We’ll do our best,” Hermione smiled, returning her teachers hug as Ron and Luna joined them. When Tonks drew Harry into a hug, he was beginning to get quite uncomfortable – it was like they were being sent out to war, that the people they were leaving behind weren’t sure they would see them again, which of course, was the truth. It finally struck Harry the life and death nature of what they were about to do.

He had been in similar situations before, but he hadn’t chosen to be there or he hadn’t thought things through before rushing off – like the whole Ministry of Magic debacle. But this time it was different. This time they had researched, come up with strategies and planned. This time, people knew they were going and cared whether they would come back or not.

“Miss Lovegood, I think its time for you to return to the Great Hall,” McGonagall said kindly and Harry watched as the Ravenclaw gave Ron one last kiss before turning her huge, watery eyes onto him and Hermione.

“Come back whole,” was all she said before turning and returning to her breakfast, Ron watching her go.

“We should make a move,” Remus said finally to the headmistress who nodded briefly.

“We have prepared as much as we can,” she reiterated to the three teenagers, “and I trust you have discussed your options between yourselves.”

“Yes Professor,” Harry replied automatically.

“If anything happens that requires you to be removed from your environment for any reason, do not hesitate to initiate the emergency beacon,” she continued to instruct.

“We won’t Professor,” Hermione assured.

“Remember that there will still be variables that we haven’t been able to account for, so…”

“Constant vigilance,” Ron interrupted with an awkward grin, “we understand Professor.” McGonagall nodded primly.

“Take care,” she finished, before turning to Remus, “regular reports and I will relieve you at seven tonight.”

“As agreed,” Remus replied. The professor nodded once more, then she too was gone.

“Sure glad she didn’t get emotional,” Ron muttered under his breath as they began heading for the main door.

“Actually, Minerva is not as tough as she seems,” Remus said conversationally, “loosing Albus has been a terrible strain for her in more ways than one. They were very close…”

“They weren’t, like, dating, were they?” Ron asked, horrified – Harry chuckled at the mental picture of Dumbledore and McGonagall sitting at one of Madam Puddlefoot’s romantic little tables.

“Well, I wouldn’t like to say either way but they had known each other for over forty years,” Remus replied solemnly, “even loosing your friends is quite difficult…” His words hung in the air as the trio exchanged looks. Harry knew Remus was talking about his own losses but his words brought to home just how devastated he would be if he lost Ron or Hermione.

“Isn’t it strange,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “I knew they had known each other for a long time, and their respect for each other was obvious – you could see quite clearly they were friends – but I didn’t even think about how upset Professor McGonagall must be right now.”

“And she wouldn’t want it any other way,” Remus confirmed as he stopped, his way barred by a number of backpacks floating in mid air. Harry looked at the sight puzzled until he saw a pair of skinny legs beneath the pile.

“Dobby?” he questioned.

“Hermy told Dobby that Harry Potter would need some food,” the little elf said, his voice muffled behind his load, “so Dobby made some good food for sir and his friends.” Harry took two of the bags to expose the familiar face.

“Thanks Dobby,” he acknowledged, handing one bag to Ron and went to give the other to Hermione.

“No!” Dobby yelled, snatching the bag away abruptly – much to the surprise of Harry.

“Something the matter Dobby?” Ron asked, amused.

“Oh, Harry Potter sir, please, please forgive me!” the elf pleaded, looking as if he was about to cry, “but Hermy’s bag has healing potions. This is her bag.” With a small smile, Hermione took her bag while Harry hung onto the other one in his hands, also grinning. However, as soon as he was free from his load, Dobby quickly ran over to the door jam and began to hit his head on the wooden frame.

“Dobby – no!” Harry shouted, running over to his little friend, frantically trying to stop him hurting himself. Already a black mark had begun to form on the elf’s forehead as he swayed uncertainly on his feet.

“Dobby must discipline himself, he was rude to Harry Potter!”

“I forbid you to discipline yourself, okay?” Harry told him, trying not to smile which for some reason was threatening to expose itself, “thank you for the bags.”

“You are too kind and great,” Dobby replied, tears welling up in his large eyes, “Kreacher is wrong about what he says about you!”

“I’m sure he is,” Harry smiled, “bye Dobby.” Dobby just looked up at Harry before throwing himself onto Harry’s legs, hugging them tightly. Unsure quite what to do, Harry looked at his friends for inspiration and saw Ron grinning absurdly while Hermione just smiled.

“We need to get going,” Remus chuckled and with a pop, Dobby was gone.

Though nothing much was said during the journey to the gates so they could Apparate to the orphanage’s cellar, the mood was definitely lighter than during all the farewell’s outside the Great Hall. But the moment they all appeared in front of the cellar’s concrete wall, things once again became serious.

“Right, let’s go over what we know,” Remus instructed, “the room has been sealed for over twenty years so the air will be stale…”

“We will use the Bubblehead charm until the air is deemed fresh enough to breathe,” Hermione confirmed, Harry could see her mentally check that off her list.

“…there is some form of invisibility cloaking so disorientation and direction will be an issue until…”

“I decipher what the charm is and cast a counter charm…” Hermione once more confirmed.

“In the meantime, we attach ourselves to each other and move only forwards,” Ron interrupted, his eyes downcast and focused on his own internal list.

“…there is no sign of life within the chamber,” Remus continued, “and the only other magic that can be detected is some form of duplicity…”

“But that doesn’t mean there isn’t any other magic involved,” Hermione intoned, still staring at the ground as she made sure she remembered everything, “and although we know of no creatures that can live without food, water or air – that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything…”

“…there because inferi can survive on nothing,” Ron recited, finally looking up at Harry, his eyes deadly serious.

“The building is empty with the tenants either at work or having the desire to spend the day somewhere else,” Remus carried on, “so if anything happens…”

“We’ll only kill ourselves,” Ron put in helpfully, making Harry smile.

“Right,” Remus finished off with the smallest of grins. Hermione finally looked up and the three teenagers held their old professor’s gaze, “either Minerva or I will be here and monitor what we can regarding what’s taking place. If you get into trouble, activate the beacon and we will endeavour to come and get you.” Harry felt for the small disc on the chain that lay around his neck. It was like the coins they used for the DA meetings in their fifth year except either Ron, Hermione or himself can activate it with the message going to a parchment that Remus and McGonagall will watch, “if we see the life signatures of either one or all of you disappear…”

“You will wait until we signal you for help,” Harry interrupted, speaking for the first time.

“Harry…” Remus started, frowning.

“Promise me that you will only enter if we ask you to,” Harry accentuated, “and if you see no life in the cellar at all, you seal it up and put up a plaque. Under no circumstances do you try and get us.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes you can!” Harry snapped, “if there is something in there that kills all three of us, then more will die trying to retrieve our bodies which is pointless. Promise me you will only enter if we ask you to.” Harry stared at the ex professor, determined that he would understand how important this was to him. He was already putting the lives of his friends at risk and it didn’t want to do that to anyone else unless he really had to. After a few moments, Remus nodded.

Harry turned to Hermione and Ron, who looked at him with the same determination he knew was showing on his own face.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Ron replied, a small quiver exposing his true feelings – Hermione just nodded. No one spoke as Remus attached a rope around their waists, Harry first, Hermione in the middle with Ron at the end. With wands drawn, they followed Remus as he felt along the wall, looking for the gateway to the chamber bellow – the sight reminded Harry so much of Dumbledore looking for the entrance to the cavern in the cave that he gulped hard, as if trying to swallow the memory to the depths of his stomach. The doorway was located two thirds of the way down the concreted wall and with a wave of his wand, a plain wooden door was exposed. The trio grouped together in front of it, Remus slightly to the side, his hand resting on the door handle.

“I guess I’ll see you all soon,” he said, his voice tense, “good luck.” Harry just smiled and nodded – the three activated the Bubblehead charm as Remus opened the door then Harry walked into the nothingness inside.

The disorientation was immediate as although he knew his eyes were working, all he could see was white, never ending, dulling white. It wasn’t bright, like snow, but a dirty lifeless white of faded cloth. He heard the door close behind him, sealing them off to the outside world, and was only aware of his friends presence by the slight movement of the binds that connected them and sound of them breathing.

“Hermione, will you be able to work this cloaking spell out while we’re walking?” he asked, knowing that the sooner she started, the sooner the unnerving blankness will be gone.

“I think so Harry,” her disembodied voice coming from his right, slightly muffled from the bubble he knew was covering her mouth.

“Great, lets go then,” Harry instructed, “and remember, only go forward, one step in front of the other.” He began to walk and the tug on the rope told him the others were doing the same, but the concept of time and distance had disappeared and every step felt useless. His mind was telling him that he was moving at the same time as it told him he wasn’t going anywhere.

“The air is breathable,” Hermione informed them after a few minutes, “this mustn’t be as sealed as we thought.” Harry was thankful do get rid of the irritating restriction around his mouth but said nothing and kept on walking.

“This is bloody strange,” Ron muttered from just behind Harry after a few more moments, before a jarring on the rope told him Ron had stopped.

“Ron, what is it?” Hermione asked, both fear and annoyance in her voice.

“Something else is here,” Ron answered, tense.

“No creature can live in here, it’s been sealed for…” but she stopped her lecture quickly as she must of felt the same thing Harry had just done. It wasn’t a touch and there was no sound but there was definitely a presence of some sort.

“Ron, get back to back with Hermione,” Harry ordered tersely, “I’ll protect her from the front. Hermione, you need to get rid of this cloaking spell, we need to see what we’re up against.” Harry felt along the portion of rope between himself and Hermione until he touched what he guessed was her waist.

“Ow! Ron, that is not my back,” Hermione growled at the same time Harry felt her hand snake its way around his waist, up his back and onto his shoulder. Even as terrified as he was, somewhere in his brain noted how amazing her touch was before he registered that she was now behind him, with Ron on her other side.

“Sorry Hermi…argh!” Ron’s scream echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down Harry’s spine. As his mind began to process the fact that what ever was in with them had attacked Ron, he felt the rope that attached him to the others tauten and when he heard Hermione’s startled yelp, he realised that the attacker was now taking his victim to its lair, he and Hermione along with him. The pace was quick, but Harry remained on his feet and it seemed, so did Hermione.

“Hermione! The spell, we need the spell!” Harry cried, knowing it was a lot to ask, but she was their only chance of breaking the white blindness to see what they were dealing with. Hermione remained silent, which Harry took as a good sign as it meant she was concentrating, but Ron’s yells were making thought difficult.

After what seemed hours, they stopped and frantically Harry felt along the rope to touch Hermione once more. He could hear her muttering to herself as she tried to work out how to get rid of the charm so he left her to it and continued down the line of the rope so he could get to the length leading to Ron; which was no longer waist height.

“Ron?” he called out, “Ron, can you hear me?”

“Help me!” was the strangled reply, “my leg!” Harry could hear no other sound other than Ron, nothing that could indicate the size of the thing that had attacked them or what it was actually doing.

“Ron, what is…” but Harry didn’t need to finish the sentence as the blindness disappeared and he could see exactly what was happening to Ron.

He was on the floor with a creature that looked like a large mole-rat type rodent chewing furiously at his leg, which was already exposed to the bone. The thing seemed totally oblivious that the environment around it had changed or that it had two wands pointing at it, falling immediately when the stupefy spell hit it. Both Harry and Hermione rushed over to Ron who was laying pale and shaking on the floor.

Harry removed the creature and cringed when he saw the wound it had left behind. Hermione quickly took her backpack off and started getting out potion bottles while looking at Ron’s damaged leg and the creature that caused the damage.

“How do you feel?” she asked briskly, gingerly touching the huge gash.

“Oh just brilliant,” he replied sarcastically, “how do you think I bloody feel Hermione?”

“I mean, do you feel dizziness, how far does the pain reach?” she explained, using a salve of some sort to clean away the blood and start the healing – Harry watched as it sort of glowed once it hit the open wound, “can you move your toes? Your foot?”

“I…I can move my toes, that’s good right?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Hermione confirmed, cutting away Ron’s trousers to expose the wound more, a frown touching her face.

“What? What is it?” Ron asked quickly.

“The redness,” she said absently, “I mean, there should be swelling and redness, but the salve should have stopped that…” She moved away from Ron and turned to the still stunned creature.

She turned it over and Harry flinched – it was one of the ugliest things he had ever seen and wondered if Hagrid had ever had one as a pet, or had ever wanted to have one as a pet.

“Do you know what it is?” Harry asked, inspecting the animal along with her.

“No, but it seems to be mammal,” she said thoughtfully, “but how? This room was sealed – no air, food or water…we saw no other entrance ways other than the one in the concreted wall. So how can this animal survive?”

“Does that matter right now?” question Ron, who was now sitting up and looking at his damaged leg, “I mean, can’t you just fix me up and we can carry on looking?”

“We need to know where this thing came from,” Hermione accentuated, “so we know if more are on their way. And I don’t know if its bite is poisonous or not…”

“Poisonous?” Ron interrupted, worried. Harry looked at his friend and thought hard. Ron should go back, but at this stage they didn’t know where back was – the creature had dragged them away from where they had entered. Standing and looking around him, he saw they were in a heavily concreted cellar that seemed to be the size of the orphanage plus some – he couldn’t see the far wall clearly it was so far away. The animal’s lair was by another wall and it seemed that it had been in hibernation – probably waiting for food to awaken it, but hibernation for twenty plus years? It seemed bizarre but where Voldemort was concerned, it wouldn’t surprise Harry that the Dark Lord could find a creature somewhere that could do just that.

He looked back down at Ron, who, besides the wound, seemed fine.

“Hermione, can you heal the leg well enough for Ron to walk?” he enquired.

“Yes, though it looks deep, I don’t think it has damaged any major blood vessels, nerves, bones or muscle” she said confidently, “Madam Pomfrey showed me how to heal things like this. I’m just worried about infection or the presence of poison.”

“Is there nothing that can prevent any poison from spreading?”

“There is, but it requires the patient to be bed rested and the poisoned appendage raised.” Harry looked at Hermione as he tried to think of the best thing to do.

“It might not even be poisoned,” Ron put in, “if Hermione can heal it, lets heal it and move on, find the Horcrux and get out of here. Now we can see where we’re going, surely that will make things heaps quicker.”

“Hermione?” Harry asked, knowing that her thoughts would decide Ron’s fate – for him to carry on with them or go back to Remus as soon as they found the way out.

“I think Ron should be okay once the healing spells take effect,” she said after a few moments, “but only for the short term. We need to reassess the situation when we work the way out and where the Horcrux is.”

“Right,” Harry emphasised with a smile, “you fix Ron, I’ll deal with the animal and then we track back to where we started.” Harry went back to the still comatose beast and tried to work out what to do with it. He didn’t want to kill it, in fact it might prove useful later on. But it was an unknown and its strength was obvious as it was easily able to drag Ron some distance quite quickly even though it was obviously malnourished from its years in isolation. Harry nudged it with his toe and wondered what it exactly was and how could it have survived all this time? The other thought that plagued him was why didn’t it go straight for the kill? Why go for the leg when the prey was blind and unaware of its presence? It was this thought that concerned him the most.

As Harry stared down at the strange creature, something in its position made him frown and cautiously he crouched down next to it and looked closer.

“Be careful Harry,” Hermione warned, helping Ron to his feet to test out his healed leg.

“I think its dead,” Harry replied, confused. He stood and motioned the others to stand behind him, “one way to find out,” he said, more bravely than he felt, “Ennervate!” The animal didn’t move.

“Do you think its just playing with us?” Ron asked, “you know, playing dead?”

Hermione pointed her wand at the creature and silently cast a spell, making it roll over with a deathly thump.

“Its dead but I think we should tie it up anyway,” she said calmly and so the three removed the rope around their waists and tied it around the legs of the animal, binding its limbs together tightly.

“Where to now?” Ron questioned, looking around him curiously. Harry looked around as well, wondering once again just how far they had gone off target but the blank walls gave him no sign on how to proceed.

“When Professor Lupin and I began deciphering this place, we could isolate two separate major magical signatures,” Hermione stated, her wand drawn, “one was the disillusion charm that is now gone, the other was duplication of some sort. If I can trace where the duplication signature is coming from, then that should be the direction we go to.”

“Which is great,” Ron continued, still looking around him, “but how to we get out?”

“Blood,” Harry blurted suddenly.

“What?”

“Blood,” Harry repeated, pointing to the floor, “there’s a trail of Ron’s blood.” And sure enough there were drops of blood on the stark white floor.

“Well, glad my injury and loss of important bodily fluids is of some assistance,” Ron grumbled as he began limping away. Harry and Hermione shared a look of amusement and followed their friend, both smirking.

“Brilliant job of getting rid of the blinding whiteness, by the way,” Harry remarked to Hermione after a few moments, startling her from her revere, “whatcha thinking?”

“Thanks,” she said absently, looking at him briefly before turning her attention back to Ron, who was quite a bit before them, “I was wondering about that creature and why it didn’t kill Ron straight off. It obviously was hungry and had a clear shot at us – it doesn’t make sense.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that myself,” Harry said, “any ideas?”

“Yes, and none of them good,” she replied with a sigh and within moments they had caught up with Ron who had stopped at the trails end. Harry saw the small wooden door to their left, thankful that hadn’t disappeared and once more looked around him, looking for any other signs – it was still blank and lifeless.

“Ron, are you alright?” Hermione asked, worry tainting her voice.

“I’m fine,” he grunted, but Harry could see he was anything but fine. In the short time between the attack and the walk, Ron was sweating profusely, though he was deathly pale. And the bandages that covered his shin were once again red with blood, with a new redness now reaching his exposed knee – an infection was spreading.

“You’re not fine,” Hermione snapped, “you shouldn’t be walking. Ron, you need to get to a hospital.”

“I can’t,” Ron objected, “we have a Horcrux to get…”

“You’re in no state Ron,” Harry insisted, putting a steady hand on his friends shoulder as he swayed unsteadily in front of them, “the door is right here, you should get back to Remus.”

“But, I need to help!”

“You can help with the next one,” Hermione soothed, “come on, lets get you out of here.” Ron seemed to run out of objections and made no complaint as he leant on Harry and let himself be led back to the door. When there, Hermione went to turn the doorknob but withdrew her hand quickly.

“Ow!” she yelped, and Harry could see her hand begin to blister.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Harry asked, now getting extremely worried.

“The doorknob is burning hot,” she replied, slipping her backpack off her back and rummaging once more through the bottles of potions, “it burnt my hand!”

Harry gently placed Ron down, resting him against the wall and went to see Hermione, her hand now red and weeping. Seeing her struggling to open the top of the jar of salve, he took it from her and began to cover her hand in the cooling solution. Immediately, the redness seemed to diminish and not look as angry.

“Does this mean we can’t get out?” Ron questioned groggily from his spot against the wall.

“I don’t know,” Hermione answered with a frown, “Harry, you’ll need to bandage my hand.” He looked at her and saw no sign of pain or discomfort. But his worry began to grow with scary ease – both of his friends were injured and they hadn’t even found the Horcrux yet. What was to come? Will they be able to get out? With shaky hands, he began to wrap a bandage around Hermione’s blistered hand before turning once more to Ron.

“Look, you two stay here and I’ll go and find the Horcrux,” Harry decided, avoiding Hermione’s eyes, “you’ll need to work on the door and get yourselves out…”

“No.” Her voice was soft but hard and with a deep breath, Harry looked at her.

“Hermione, you’re hurt…”

“I can still hold a wand and I’m not letting you go on without me,” she announced.

“What about Ron?”

“I can look after myself,” Ron responded weakly but with determination, “and I can work on the door. Just leave me with some pain killers and the ‘stop the poison’ charm – I promise I’ll stay off my feet.” Hermione nodded and quickly began preparations, her injured hand held closely to her chest.

Harry just watched, torn. He didn’t want to put Hermione in further danger but he also knew it would be quicker with her by his side. By the time they left, Ron was looking a lot better, the flow of poison thwarted just above the knee. With his leg raised slightly and his food within easy reach, they said their goodbyes and Harry and Hermione began walking once again, heading toward the wall to their right.

They walked in silence as Hermione concentrated on the spell she was using to detect the magic signature that told them where they should be going. It felt like the room was never ending but eventually Harry noticed a change in their surroundings.

The blank white walls began to turn into grey brick and stone, while the ceiling had started to descend, making the space smaller. It didn’t take long for the source of the magic to become visible as rows and rows of the same sort of cup lined the walls and covered the floor – each cup identical, each cup looking like the one Harry had seen at Hepzibah Smith’s house seemingly a lifetime ago.

“There must be thousands of cups here,” Hermione gasped, “and they all look exactly the same! Is this what we’re looking for Harry?”

“Yes,” Harry replied, awe struck, “this is Hufflepuff’s cup. But how do we find the real one? They all look exactly the same!”

“I…I don’t know,” Hermione said, dejectedly, “I need to think about this for a moment.”

“I’m not sure we have a moment, Hermione,” Harry stated tensely, “Ron looked in a pretty bad way.”

“I know!” Hermione snapped at him, “but I’m not an expert at everything Harry! I’m not Dumbledore!”

Harry looked at her in shock before realising guiltily that she was right. Hermione had worked out what was in here, got rid of the disorientating screen that would have prevented them getting this far as well as healed Ron – she had done everything.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry,” Harry apologised, “I guess I just rely on you…”

“To come up with the answers,” Hermione interrupted, “I know. Just give me a minute. You said the cup had all sorts of powers and our research has shown that Helga’s cup was mainly used for ceremonial purposes. The duplicates couldn’t all have the same level of powers as the original, but the sheer volume of them means I can’t distinguish one source of power over the multitude.”

“There must be a unique power though,” Harry thought out loud, “something that only the Hufflepuff cup could have…”

“Of course there is!” Hermione exclaimed excitedly, “Helga was a Hogwart’s founding member which leaves a different signature than anyone else! A book in your grandmother’s library said that because each of the founding members were powerful witches and wizards in their own right, their signatures were distinctive and well known ever since!”

“Do you know how to recognise it?” Harry asked, just as excitedly.

“Yes, I made a point of remembering,” she smiled and then with a frown of concentration, she turned from Harry and looked out into the multitude of cups. Harry watched amazed as she bit her lower lip the way she always did when she was absorbed in doing something. But his amazement turned to concern has beads of sweat began to appear on her brow and the colour seemed to go from her face.

“Hermione?” he questioned worriedly, “Hermione, are you okay?” She didn’t answer him and a little trickle of blood seeped out where her lower lip was caught between her teeth – Harry began to feel afraid, “Hermione, stop!”

He shook her roughly, standing in front of her and blocking her sight of the cups, but her face didn’t change. Suddenly, he heard a noise behind him and as he turned to see what it was, he felt her go limp in his arms. Grabbing her before she reached the ground, he saw her eyes regain their focus and her lip released from her bite.

“Did it work?” she asked wearily. Harry looked back at the cups and saw that one was glowing and a smile crossed his face.

“Yes, it worked,” he said proudly, helping her stand, “do you think it’s safe to just go and get it?”

“I didn’t sense anymore warding magic around it just now,” Hermione replied, taking a deep breath and gently stopping the blood from her lip with her bandaged hand.

Harry didn’t wait for any more encouragement and began to make his way through the fake cups to get to the glowing vessel on one of the shelves about shoulder high. With a grin of accomplishment, he reached out and grabbed it just when he heard Hermione scream out his name from behind him.

The pain was excruciating and severe – his shoulder bursting into thousands of daggers worth of agony. He looked down to where the pain was coming from and saw the shaft of a spear piercing his shoulder, the head facing the shelf where his hand was still clasped around the Horcrux. And then there was nothing but darkness.

A/N – ah, another cliffy. Hope you enjoyed it and sorry for any grammical errors but, well, thems the breaks.

11. Recovery

A/N – thank you for your lovely replies, dear reviewers, I really, really appreciate them. Just a few things; this isn’t going to have a D/G pairing at all, no cliffy this time (even though I know how much you like them) and Hermione isn’t going to all the work, though I love her so much, its hard not to make her bigger than Harry. Yay to girl power!! I am tired so I hope I haven’t missed mega big mistakes…sorry if I have.

Chapter 11 – Recovery

Harry woke feeling very disorientated and decidedly sore. He tried to work out where he was, but the world around him was blurry, telling him he was no longer wearing his glasses.

“Here you go Harry,” said a familiar voice and, as things became less fuzzy when he put his glasses on, he saw an anxious Remus sitting at his side.

“Thanks,” Harry groaned, his body complaining as he tried to sit, “what happened?”

“What do you remember?”

Harry frowned in thought as he tried to think why he was once again in the Hogwarts infirmary, which he now recognised. He, Hermione and Ron had gone after something, something they needed…a Horcrux…and it was at the orphanage where Riddle used to live. They had left after breakfast and entered the cellar where they saw nothing but whiteness, but they had been attacked. Ron had been attacked.

“Ron,” Harry said out loud, beginning to panic, “Ron’s been hurt…is he alright?” He began to look around the ward for another occupied bed but saw no sign of his red headed friend; instead he saw Hermione lying still in the bed next to him.

Alarmed, he tried to get out of the bed and get closer to her, to make sure she was fine; but a steadying hand on his shoulder held him back.

“She’s just sleeping,” Remus informed him softly, “we had to give her some dreamless sleep potion – it’s been a hard couple of days for her.”

Harry leant back into his pillows and took a deep, calming breath as the memories of what had happen came flooding back – up to the point the spear went through his shoulder. Cautiously, he looked down and saw a swath of bandages around his upper arm and shirtless chest. He looked once more at Hermione before turning his attention solely to Remus.

“What happened?” he asked wearily, “where is Ron?”

“Ron is at St Mungo’s” Remus replied, his face serious, “and what happened? Well Harry, after you were shot through the shoulder, Hermione activated the emergency beacon, she and I got you out of there and the cellar is now empty. Ron had already activated his beacon a little before you and Minerva had taken him to St Mungo’s for treatment. You both nearly died.”

“Is…is Ron alright?”

“Ron was bitten by a creature called a bagdkor, which is native to Russia, and has never been seen on British soil,” Remus explained, sounding as weary as Harry, “it has the capacity to hibernate for up to fifty years, surviving on nothing but air if needed. When it senses food, it attacks but doesn’t kill as its digestive system can only process fresh meat…”

“Fresh meat?” Harry interrupted, feeling slightly ill, “it was going to eat Ron alive?”

“Yes,” Remus continued, “its saliva has two working poisons, the first disabling the victim by paralysing it but not actually slowing the blood flow and the second helps break down the flesh so it is easier for the bagdkor to digest. Hermione was able to stop the paralysis but wouldn’t have known about the break down of the tissue…”

“What…what do you mean?”

“They had to amputate Ron’s leg Harry,” Remus replied sadly, “just below the knee. The poison was spreading and would’ve killed him.”

Harry felt the air suck out of his lungs as he tried to process what he had just been told – Ron had lost part of his leg. Because of the quest. Because of him.

“This is all my fault,” he moaned, glancing at the sleeping Hermione. Her hand was bandaged and she had large black smudges beneath her closed eyes. He could’ve easily lost her. And Ron nearly died.

“It can’t be all your fault Harry,” Remus said with a sliver of a smile, “because Hermione is saying its all her fault, while Ron is blaming himself as well. I also feel guilty because I let you go in there against my better judgement, I let you talk me into something that I shouldn’t have. It seems we are all at fault.”

“I should’ve gone on my own,” Harry sighed, still looking at Hermione.

“Then you would be dead,” Remus replied a bit more forcefully – Harry turned to him, “Harry, it was close but you all survived. Ron will be fine, the wizarding world is quite competent with prosthetics and he can continue to live a long and happy life…”

“Why did you have to sedate Hermione?” Harry interrupted.

“Because she wouldn’t leave your side,” Remus said, this time with a real smile, “plus she was doing research on bagdkors, making sure Ron was okay, dealing with the cup and not looking after herself…”

“She stopped eating and sleeping, right?”

“Right,” Remus agreed, “she’s very devoted to you, they both are…”

“And its going to get them killed,” Harry muttered dejectedly before he remembered the reason this all happened in the first place, “the cup! Where’s the cup?”

“Hermione had it and put it wherever it should be,” came the reply, “Harry, why didn’t you activate the beacon? When Ron was first hurt – the disillusionment charm was deactivated, it was safe for us to come in. Why didn’t you call on us for help?”

“I…I forgot,” Harry admitted with a frown, “I don’t believe it, I forgot – we forgot! If Ron had got out earlier, would his leg have been saved?”

“No, probably not,” Remus answered, leaning back in his chair.

Harry leant back too, thinking about everything that had happened and they had forgotten one of the most important things. The realisation that he wasn’t as smart as Dumbledore and the chances of him surviving the Horcrux search, let alone the fight with Voldemort, was really so pathetically slim hit him with full force. And he would probably take his friends down with him. Sighing, he looked back at Remus, who returned his gaze with an amused grin on his face.

“What?” Harry asked, not finding anything remotely funny, “what is it? What’s so hilarious?”

“You,” Remus smiled, “you wake up in hospital with your shoulder wrapped up in bandages, knowing you had a spear travel through your body and you haven’t asked me about you Harry. You’ve asked about everything else, but how you are doing. You’re an amazing young man.”

“Oh…er…ah,” Harry stuttered, embarrassed.

“Glad you haven’t lost your grip on the English language Potter,” came yet another familiar voice, but this one not so pleasant. Harry looked past Remus in time to see Draco Malfoy make his way to his bed.

“What are you still doing here?” Harry questioned, having ignored his nemesis’s return since the initial meeting, “are you still pretending to be sick so you can skive away from you adoring fan club.” Draco flushed.

“We don’t know quite what to do with young Mr Malfoy,” Remus put in, “but the general consensus is that he’ll be back with the masses in the next few days. As will you Harry. The wound was clean with no poisons or magic attached…”

“…which is why Hermione didn’t pick it up…”

“…which is why Hermione didn’t pick it up,” Remus repeated, “and another thing she’s blaming herself for. But she saved your life – she left the spear in your shoulder, letting Madam Pomfrey remove it safely and with little damage. You just needed a few days bed rest and then you can probably leave.”

“But Ron can’t,” Harry muttered.

“No, Ron will need to remain in hospital for a little while longer,” Remus replied, “but he’s going to be transferred here soon, so…”

“Is his family with him now?”

“Yes, as is Luna,” Remus said, standing, “and I should get there too. I said I’d let them all know when you woke. Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Harry said back and watched wearily as his old professor left the ward. Sighing, he glanced at the still sleeping Hermione, thinking how pretty she looked, curled up on her side, with her lashes brushing the top of her cheeks…

“If you’re planning to get carnal with the mudblood, give me a warning would you?” Malfoy sneered from across the passage, “I don’t think I could stomach you two touching…”

“Shut it Malfoy,” Harry snapped.

“Good comeback,” Malfoy continued sarcastically, absently running his hand over his head, the slight fuzz of new grown hair barely visible, “I’d almost forgotten your so far undiscovered wit.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Harry said, ignoring the statement, “why haven’t you joined your minions in the dungeons? Don’t tell me you’re scared of your fellow Slytherins.”

“I escaped from the hands of the darkest wizard ever,” Draco snarled, “I’m not scared…”

“How did you do that, by the way?” Harry interrupted nonchalantly, “and why come back here where everyone hates you? To tell me something so pathetic like Hermione and Ginny are in danger? Why should I believe anything you say?”

“But you did believe me,” Malfoy answered, his smirk returning, “you ran out of here to save her…”

“If it wasn’t for her, you’d be dead,” Harry growled, “because I really wanted to kill you Malfoy…”

“Why don’t you?” Malfoy shot back, “they’ve taken my wand away, I’m defenceless. Actually, not that unlike that stupid old fool was on the tower. How anyone could think Dumbledore was more powerful…”

Harry didn’t hear the rest of what Malfoy had to say as the pain in his shoulder from his sudden movement invaded his brain. It didn’t stop him trying to get out of his bed to kill Malfoy, however.

“Mr Potter!” came a cry from the entrance way and Harry turned to see Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall making their way hurriedly towards him, “you shouldn’t be moving like that! What in Merlin were you thinking?”

“That Malfoy needed to…”

“Well, Mr Malfoy can go,” Madam Pomfrey bustled as she positioned Harry back in his pillows and ran her wand over his newly bleeding shoulder, “Minerva, I warned you this would happen. These two have been at each others throats since day one! Whatever possessed Remus to leave them alone together!”

“Just another week or so Poppy,” McGonagall objected from the foot of Harry’s bed, blocking Malfoy from Harry’s view, “we have to prepare…”

“No,” the matron said sternly, “there is nothing wrong with the boy and there hasn’t been for the last week. Mr Weasley will be here in a few days and I don’t want to have to deal with young men trying to curse each other the moment my back is turned. Mr Malfoy is to go.” The two women glared at each other while Harry scowled at Malfoy, who scowled back. After a few moments, the professor nodded.

“Very well, I will notify Professor Slughorn that Mr Malfoy will be returning,” she turned to the Slytherin, “the restrictions will be as discussed; your wand will be returned to your teachers after each class who will then ensure it gets to your next class, your homework will be done under supervision, your curfew will be directly after dinner and all correspondence will be monitored. The professor has your timetable – you may dress and I will escort you back to your common room.”

Harry watched as Malfoy looked like he was about to argue, but instead grabbed some clothes and stormed out of the ward. When he was gone, McGonagall turned her attention back to Harry.

“Welcome back Mr Potter,” she stated with a hint of a smile, “we will discuss the events of the last few days when you are better and time allows it. Needless to say, it is good to have you…home.” Harry just smiled, distracted by the shot of pain that was coming from his now exposed wound that Madam Pomfrey was clearing before wrapping it once more in bandages.

“You can’t move suddenly like that,” the matron admonished, “the healing was disturbed, breaking the seals. It will take a couple more days now.”

“Don’t worry Potter, I’m sure the school can run without you,” Malfoy sneered as he came back to his bed, fully clothed. Harry didn’t bother answering and instead closed his eyes in thought – why was Malfoy here? How did he escape? Why was he such an utter and complete prat?

He felt Madam Pomfrey leave him and with tired relief due to the fact that he was now alone, he opened his eyes. Automatically he turned and looked to where Hermione still lay sleeping, amazed she was able to remain so through all the noise. As he sat there watching her, her eyes began to finally flutter open.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, a huge smile crossing her face as she sat up.

“I was beginning to think you’d never wake,” he joked, returning her smile, “you just slept through an infamous Malfoy/Potter moment.”

“Oh no, and they’re always so entertaining,” she laughed, stretching, “I guess I didn’t realise just how tired I was.”

“Well, not sleeping and eating can do that to you,” Harry replied, a bit more sombre, “how are you feeling Hermione?”

“I should be asking you that,” she replied, sitting cross legged on the bed, facing him, “how’s your shoulder?”

“My desire to kill Malfoy just now seems to have set the healing back a few days, but I’ll live. Thanks to you, I hear.”

“It was my fault you got shot in the first place,” Hermione sighed, “I should’ve checked for all hazards, not just magical ones…”

“It wasn’t your fault Hermione…”

“You could’ve died! And with Ron…” Her sentence hung in the air as they looked at each other, Harry’s guilt returning once more.

“Have…have you seen him?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, her eyes downcast, “after we got you here and I knew your life wasn’t in danger. I secured the cup and then went to St Mungo’s. His mum and dad were already there, as was Luna and Ginny. Ron was awake but in a pretty bad way. He…he told me to come back here and be with you, to not let you wake up alone…”

“How long ago was that?”

“Three days,” she said, her eyes beginning to tear, “oh Harry, it’s been awful! I…I thought I’d lost you both!” Harry wanted desperately to go and comfort her as she hid her face in her hands and cried, but the ache in his shoulder made him stay where he was.

“It’s okay Hermione,” he tried to soothe, “we’re going to be okay…”

“I should’ve done more!” she sobbed, “I should’ve been…”

“Done more!” Harry exclaimed, “Hermione, you spent so much time working things out, you forgot your own birthday! If it wasn’t for you, we wouldn’t have got as far as we did and we’d probably all be dead – there is no way you could’ve done more!”

She looked up at him with watery eyes and gave him a small, silent smile. Wiping her face with the sleeve of her shirt, Harry watched as she began to dig into the pockets of her jeans.

“You dropped this,” she said after a little while, withdrawing then opening her hand. In her palm was the locket from the cave – he went to reach out to take it from her, but his arm wouldn’t move. She unfurled herself from the bed, walked over and placed it in his hand, “I didn’t realise you carried it around with you,” she carried on softly.

“I keep it to remind me,” Harry tried to explain, “not that I really need any reminders, but, I don’t know…”

“He’ll never be forgotten Harry,” she stated quietly and although she didn’t say who, Harry knew she meant Dumbledore. He didn’t reply, trying desperately to control the burning behind his eyes as he once more thought of his old headmaster. Once he felt he had himself under control, he looked up at her.

“I guess we need to catch up on some school work,” he remarked with a resigned grin, changing the subject to one he knew was close to her heart – glad to see a smile appear on her face.

“Yes, we do,” she replied enthusiastically, “I could bring everything in here and we could go through it together if you like.” Harry nodded happily in acceptance.

So for the next few days they spent much of their time reading and writing – Harry working awkwardly with his left armed strapped up securely so it wouldn’t move, while Hermione sat on his bed by his feet working on her own assignments. Harry made a conscious effort to do most of his work by himself as he didn’t want to make Hermione do any more than she already was.

The strange thing was, when he actually paid attention to what he was being told or what he was reading it seemed he wasn’t as stupid as he thought. Hermione understood what he was trying to do and appreciated it, helping him when things got just too confusing and praising him when she looked over his work to see he had succeeded in answering the assignment’s requests.

On the third day in the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey declared him fit enough and Harry was released. Which is why he and Hermione followed Remus down a haphazard ward at St Mungo’s to finally see Ron.

Harry hated the fact he felt anxious and was dreading seeing his best friend – but he was. Everyone who had visited Harry during his own stay in hospital from Hagrid to Fred and George, assured him that Ron didn’t blame him and nor did anyone else. No one else but himself.

Hermione was walking silently beside him lost in her own thoughts and as he had done so many times in the past few months, Harry took her hand in comfort. She looked up at him when she felt his touch, giving him a faint smile. He just gave her hand a squeeze and carried on walking.

When Remus finally entered a room, Harry took a deep breath before following him inside, willing his heart to go back to beating normally. The ward had four beds and looked a lot like the one that had housed Mr Weasley a few years back. All the beds were empty except for Ron’s, which was at the end by the window. Mrs Weasley, Luna and Ginny were in various seats around his bed while Ron was sitting and listening intently to something Ginny was saying.

“…but no one said a word!” the young red head was saying with a smile, “Malfoy ended up sitting by himself at the end of the Slytherin table – not even Pansy would sit next to him!”

“Serves the slimy git right,” Ron growled, “I can’t believe they let him back in!”

“Everyone deserves a second chance Ronald,” Luna breathed before nonchalantly adding, “hello Harry, Hermione and Professor Lupin.” There was a flash of red as all three Weasley’s turned to see the visitors – Harry caught Ron’s eye uncertainly, and let out a sigh of relief when a huge grin crossed his friends face.

“Harry!” he exclaimed happily, “mate, it’s good to see you! I was expecting you yesterday!”

“Er, Madam Pomfrey kept me back a bit after I tried to get Malfoy…”

“Yeah, well, Ginny just told me he’s back at classes,” Ron spat, “that little bugger should just crawl back under the rock he slithered out from…”

“Ron Weasley!” Mrs Weasley admonished as she stood, “watch you mouth! Harry dear, good to see you up and about. Sorry I didn’t visit but, I had my hands full.” Harry let himself be drawn into a hug, slightly embarrassed.

“That’s fine Mrs Weasley,” he stammered uncertainly.

“Good to see you too dear,” she chirped giving Hermione a quick hug, “Ginny, love, why don’t we let Ron and his friends catch up. Luna, will you join us?”

Harry watched as Luna stood and gave Ron a small kiss, spoke to him in whispers for a moment then going to stand by Mrs Weasley who was waiting at the door. Ginny also stood while the exchange was taking place and made her way over to where Harry and Hermione were.

“Glad you’re both okay,” she said simply, “I’ll…I’ll see you at class.” She gave him a smile, which he returned – it was the first time she had smiled at him in a long while.

When the others had gone, Hermione went over to the bed and sat in one of the vacated chairs.

“How are you Ron?” she asked, her face full of worry.

“You know something?” he answered, still smiling, “all things considering, I’m not too bad.”

“How long will you be in here?” she continued to question.

“Another week and then I can go to the Hogwarts infirmary,” he informed her, “they’re going to issue me with a leg in the next few days…”

Harry couldn’t help it, he let out a strangled groan at the same time as Hermione’s head fell to hide her tears. To hear Ron talk about what he was going through so easily was nearly unbearable. Closing his eyes and taking another deep breath as he tried to get himself under control, Harry kept telling himself he had to be strong. For Ron.

“Come on guys, don’t look so blood miserable,” Ron scolded, awkwardly patting Hermione’s shoulder, “I’m not dead and I’m not dying! Sure, I’ve lost part of my leg, but that’s nothing! The Healers say I’ll only have a small limp, after time, and Mad Eye Moody is going to train me! Can you believe that?”

“Moody’s going to train you?” Hermione asked, wiping away her tears, Harry looked at him from his spot by the door, “when?”

“Well, after I get used to the leg,” Ron informed her, “and when you guys have your extra training. Harry, are you okay? Why are you still standing over there?”

“I…er…I guess I didn’t expect you to be so…”

“Mature?” Ron finished for him, “believe me, what with mum carrying on about how well I’m handling everything and how much I’ve grown up to Fred and George telling me that I should be a pirate or something as equally ridiculous, I’m surprising even myself.”

“But you do seem to be handling it all very well,” Hermione observed.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Ron admitted, “and Luna said that I had one of two choices – to let Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named get the better of me and I wallow in self pity or I make the best of the situation and just get on with life. She’s been brilliant, Luna. Couldn’t have got through this without her.”

“I’m so sorry Ron” Harry blurted, making both friends look at him in surprise, “it was my fault you’ve been hurt. And I forgot about the emergency beacon, we could’ve got you out sooner…”

“I forgot too,” Hermione admitted, turning back to Ron, “and I didn’t know…”

“Stop,” Ron instructed forcefully, frowning, “Harry, you have nothing to be sorry for – we all knew it could be dangerous and we all knew there was a possibility that there was something unknown in there. I hadn’t forgotten about the beacon, but I decided that I wouldn’t use it, I wanted to stay with you guys. It wasn’t until I knew something was terribly wrong that I let myself be rescued. This is no body’s fault, not even mine – Luna is right, we did what we had to do, none of us died therefore we were successful. End of story. No more feeling sorry for anyone.”

Harry looked at his friend with a new understanding. Ron had grown up, in a way he had to, and an event that could have destroyed the friendship had instead made it stronger.

“You and Luna are getting pretty tight, huh?” Harry asked, more relaxed as he came over and sat in one of the other chairs.

“Yeah,” Ron admitted with a smile, “yeah, we are. She’s been making sure I’ve kept up with my school stuff,” he looked at Hermione who smiled back, “plus she’s listened to everything, helping me put it all in perspective. I…I want to tell her. About the Horcruxes.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other over Ron’s bed and once again he felt she was able to see what he was thinking. It was only fair, Luna had already accepted her part in their quest without question and without even knowing why. The way Ron talked about her and just seeing them together proved to Harry that their feelings for each other were deep – and Hermione had already said they had been talking about a future together. She had a right to know what Ron was up to. But could they trust her to keep the secret?

“I agree,” Hermione finally replied, her eyes not leaving Harry’s as if waiting for approval.

“So do I,” Harry confirmed, looking back at a smiling Ron, “but she can’t tell anyone, Ron. She needs to understand that.”

“She will, don’t worry.”

And for the next few weeks, Harry didn’t. Ron returned to Hogwarts and spent nearly a month getting used to his new leg. After a while, he got around the castle with a cane for support, otherwise he was fine. The mystery of his injury started many rumours and projected him into the centre of attention – something which Ron enjoyed considerably.

Routine fell into place with Ron volunteering to do most of the research at Grimmauld Place, with Luna joining him. Harry wasn’t too sure just how much research was taking place, but his friend seemed so happy that Harry didn’t have the heart to question or scold – or suggest that Luna might be better off helping Hermione. He decided to let his friend enjoy himself and maybe make the suggestion in the new year.

The boys had made Hermione slow down and relieved her of some of the tasks she had set herself. Harry and Ron had decided between themselves that they weren’t going to badger her to help with their homework and endeavoured to pay attention in classes and keep up with their assignments on their own. Hermione used this extra time to continue to search for information on the last missing Horcrux.

Harry continued to question his feelings for his female best friend, but kept his thoughts to himself. Ron teased him about it every now and then, but Harry felt he was doing a good job at hiding his emotions.

The extra defence classes had begun, with Ginny and Neville joining them. Harry was pleased to see the bond between the two Gryffindors was strengthening all the time and by the middle of December, the relationship between Harry and his ex-girlfriend had become quite amicable.

Draco Malfoy was the only black spot on the otherwise productive autumn months. Pretty much shunned by most of the school, the Slytherin had lost his swagger, but not his confidence. The animosity between him and the Trio never waned and remained simmering under the daily acceptance of the other in their lives.

As Christmas came closer, Harry felt content. Part of him understood thing weren’t always going to be like this, but he was determined to enjoy the peace while it lasted.

12. Christmas at the Castle

A/N – this has been a struggle. I missed a week due to illness, a dragon boat regatta and a wedding – is that an original excuse or what? And I apologise in advance for any grammatical errors, glaring mistakes and, well, everything really. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 12 – Christmas at the Castle

“You know, peering at yourself like that isn’t gonna make it grow any faster.”

With a scowl, Harry looked at the foggy reflection in the bathroom mirror of Ron watching him before turning his attention once more to himself, rubbing his hand over his chin. There was definite stubble there – the only problem, it hadn’t changed that much since he showed it off to Hermione months ago. There was still no reason to shave.

“Typical,” Harry muttered, “they expect me to go and save the world and I can’t even grow facial hair.”

“I really don’t understand this obsession with the need to shave,” Ron replied as he came to the mirror beside Harry, got his wand out of his pant pocket, waved it over his face and the layer of ginger fuzz that had grown on his chin overnight disappeared, “it’s a right pain. And being face follicly challenged, like yourself, doesn’t make you less of a man.”

“Oh, ha ha, very funny,” Harry said, still scowling as he began to dry his hair with his towel, “just because you are mister maturity with a steady girlfriend and…”

“Bloody hell!” Ron interrupted with a yelp.

Harry immediately cleared his towel-hampered vision in time to see Ron trying to cover his bare chest from a familiar figure standing before him – Harry smiled.

“Hello Dobby,” he said as he continued to dry his hair, “what brings you here?”

“Sorry to disturb you and your Wheezy, Harry Potter sir,” the little elf began, his large eyes looking worriedly up at Harry, “but Dobby has some bad news…”

“I’m not his wheezy,” Ron muttered darkly, “I’m no-body’s wheezy...”

“Give it a rest Ron,” Harry said absently before crouching down to Dobby’s level, “what is it Dobby? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kreacher sir…” At the sound of Kreacher’s name, Harry abruptly stood – not really wanting to know about his inherited house elf.

“If this has got anything to do with house elf rights, we better get Hermione,” Ron remarked as he walked past Dobby, out of the bathroom and into their dorm – Harry followed, draping his wet towel over the towel rack by the fire as he walked pass (Ron’s had been discarded in a pile on the bathroom floor).

“I guess you’re right,” Harry agreed, putting on a shirt, “Dobby, can you get Hermione for us? We’ll meet in the common area.”

“Oh, Miss Hermy is already there, Harry Potter. I saw her reading.”

“Of course she’s already there,” Ron smiled, rolling his eyes, “it’s eight in the morning, Christmas break and every professor has said we can take a few days off. What else would she be doing? And Hermy…I like that.”

“It’s what Grawp calls her too,” Harry laughed as he made his way down the stairs, “I don’t think she likes it though.”

“Only one way to find out,” Ron grinned, following Harry with Dobby at his heels, “morning Hermy!” he called out from the landing.

Hermione’s head whipped round severely as she glared at Ron

“The only people allowed to call me that is Grawp and Dobby,” she snapped – Harry was sure he saw Ron flinch, “so don’t you dare think that you …”

“Okay, okay,” Ron surrendered, sitting down in his favourite chair, resting his walking stick next against the wall next to it, “I get the point.”

“Does Miss not like her name?” Dobby asked, his ears drooping in disappointment as he stood by the chair Harry had just flopped into.

“Oh Dobby, no I love the name,” Hermione quickly tried to reassure, “but I just don’t like Ron calling me Hermy.”

“Dobby never meant to offend…”

“She’s not offended,” Harry interrupted, knowing that his little friend is easily side tracked, “you were going to tell us about Kreacher.”

“Kreacher?” Hermione repeated curiously, putting her book down.

“I’m so sorry Harry Potter sir,” Dobby carried on, turning his large, scared-looking eyes from Hermione to Harry, “but Kreacher is dead!”

“Dead?” Ron spluttered, “where?”

“When? Hermione asked at the same time.

“How?” Harry also asked, his voice overlapping the others making Dobby look between them all in confusion.

“He…he died last night,” the elf tried to explain, “we think his…his heart stopped…”

“Heart stopped?” Hermione questioned, “he had a heart attack? Was Kreacher quite old? For an elf, I mean?”

“Kreacher was not that old Miss…”

“But house elves don’t just keel over with bad hearts,” Ron stated with a frown, “I mean, with the work they do, they can withstand heaps!”

“What was he doing before he died Dobby?” Harry quickly asked, seeing the daggers Hermione was shooting at Ron from his offhanded comment – Ron totally oblivious.

“Nothing special Harry Potter sir,” Dobby answered, his thin hands wringing nervously, “the house elves were finishing the dishes and getting ready for our beds. Kreacher, he was saying bad things again, but when Korl was telling us what he had seen, well Kreacher stopped talking and…”

“What had Korl seen?” Harry interrupted urgently. Dobby’s ears drooped as looked anxiously at Harry, who saw the conflict taking place within the house elf. Dobby went to say something, but instead covered his mouth with his hand and without warning, turned and ran into the wall.

“Dobby!” Hermione cried, reaching out and grabbing the elf before he launched himself once again.

“Perhaps Korl would be better telling us,” Ron suggested with a smirk as Dobby hid his face in his hands.

“Good idea,” Harry agreed with a bit more compassion. Kneeling down, he looked at the now crying Dobby in the eye and said as nicely as he could, “are you able to bring Korl here for us?” The elf gave a watery nod and with a crack was gone.

Hermione got up from her spot on the carpet where she had been holding Dobby, and went back to her seat – Harry did the same.

“What do you think has got him so ruffled?” Ron asked while the other two got comfortable.

“It must be about Malfoy,” Harry thought out loud, “that would be the only reason I can think of that he’d have to hurt himself.”

“Malfoy?” Ron questioned, “but…” A loud crack interrupted Ron as two house elves now stood in front of the hearth.

Korl was as opposite of Dobby as you could get – short and squat with darker coloured skin and large brown eyes. He, and Harry only guessed it was a he, wore the standard Hogwarts tea towel as a toga and had a quite curly tuft of black hair sprouting from his round head. He looked absolutely terrified and was peering at Harry from behind Dobby, his bulging eyes gigantic.

“Hello Korl,” Hermione welcomed, drawing the elf’s eyes away from Harry, “there’s no need to be scared – we won’t hurt you.”

“I’s been telling him that Miss,” Dobby explained, “but Korl cleans the dungeons and theys not nice down there.”

“So it does have something to do with Malfoy then,” Ron stated offhandedly – both elves physically tensed and hung onto each other grimly.

“Look Dobby,” Harry quickly tried to soothe, “I know it’s hard for you to talk about Malfoy, but he isn’t your master anymore…”

“Yous my master!” Dobby interrupted proudly, lessening his grip on his friend.

“Well, yes, I guess so,” Harry carried on uncertainly, “though you are free…”

“Because of you Harry Potter,” Dobby interrupted again, this time letting go of his friend completely so he could bow, “Harry Potter freed Dobby but Dobby chooses to serve Harry Potter….”

“Right,” Harry blushed furiously, “and I need to know what Kreacher heard. Korl, this is really important.” All attention turned towards the small creature standing nervously behind Dobby, who gave an encouraging nod and in a squeaky, shaky voice Korl began to speak.

“Korl told the others about the white haired boy, how he was shouting at the other boys and how he didn’t care about…about…” Korl faulted and looked desperately at Dobby for reassurance.

“He-who-shall-not-be-named,” Dobby put in helpfully, Korl nodded thankfully.

“The white haired boy said that he had watched his mother die and…and wanted revenge…”

“Kreacher heard that sir,” Dobby finished for his friend, “and he just died.”

Harry looked at the two house-elves in shock – Malfoy’s mother had been killed by Voldemort. The reason Malfoy was back was because he wanted revenge on the thing that he served only months before. And Kreacher had died of the shock of hearing yet another Black descendant becoming a traitor to the cause.

“Malfoy watched his mother killed,” Hermione said in hushed tones, “I never thought I’d say this, but poor Malfoy.”

“His family knew what they were getting into the moment they began following You-Know-Who,” Ron stated sharply.

“No one deserves that Ron,” Hermione fired back, “his mother was trying to save him, save her son and was killed because of it…” She stopped talking and looked at Harry, who looked wearily back. He could see the concern in her eyes that she had said something wrong, that her unintentional acknowledgement of the similarities between himself and Draco Malfoy had upset him – but strangely it hadn’t. She was right, no one deserved to watch their mother die. But he felt no pity for Malfoy.

“What will happen to Kreacher?” he asked instead, ignoring both Ron and Hermione.

“Kreacher had always hoped to return to his old home,” Dobby answered uncertainly, glancing between the three teenagers.

“He won’t be returned to Grimmauld Place,” Harry stated with certainty, his voice hard. He saw Korl shrink back a bit but he didn’t particularly care – it was Harry’s own act of defiance; Kreacher betrayed Sirius therefore he didn’t deserve to be with his ancestors.

“Do you know where Hogwarts house-elves are buried Dobby?” Hermione asked hastily, “perhaps Kreacher could be laid to rest there? We could have a small service…”

“No,” Harry snapped, angry.

“There is no way I’m attending a bloody funeral for an elf,” Ron said just as smartly, his scowl matching Harry’s. Hermione looked at them both with a frown of her own, before turning back to the nervous house-elves with a smile.

“Dobby, Korl, thank you for telling us,” she said sweetly, ‘maybe if you prepare Kreacher for a funeral here…”

“I am not going to Kreacher’s funeral Hermione,” Harry growled. Hermione turned to him, her eyes blazing.

“I didn’t say that you had to Harry,” she growled back, “Kreacher betrayed Sirius, but he was still someone we knew and he was, in a manner of speaking, yours. I will go!” They stared at each other as Harry tried to understand what she was doing and why she was doing it.

“Is this because of your stupid SPEW…” Ron ventured, paling when she turned to him.

“This is because Kreacher had a terrible life and deserves a little dignity in this final act,” she spat, her face now red too, “and I’m sorry that you find equality between magical races so stupid Ron, but it just might help us win this war!” When she stood, Harry could see tears in her eyes and he was immediately concerned – why was she getting so worked up about this? Hermione made her way to the stairs in angry strides and Harry knew he had to stop her before she reached the landing. Standing quickly, he rushed to her side, grabbing her arm gently.

“Hermione, what is it?” he asked, concerned, “why are you so upset? It’s only Kreacher…”

“Let me go Harry,” Hermione said firmly, angrily wiping away the lone tear falling down her cheek.

“No, we need to talk about this,” he reaffirmed, “and about Malfoy.”

“Fine,” she grumphed, shook his hand off her arm and stormed back to the couch, where she sat frowning and her arms crossed across her chest. Harry sighed deeply before returning to his chair.

“Dobby, could you let us know when things are ready,” he said tiredly, “and thank you again Korl for telling us what you heard.”

“Dobby understands Harry Potter,” the elf said gravely and with a crack the two creatures were gone.

“So what the bloody hell is eating you Hermione?” Ron asked as soon as the room contained just the three of them, “I know you have a thing for house-elves, but, quite frankly, you’ve gone mental!”

“What’s eating me Ronald,” Hermione replied stonily, “is how death, anyone’s death, is treated so lightly. What about Malfoy? His mother’s death? Do we ignore that too just because we all hate him?”

“Well, I’m not planning to send him any flowers…” Ron started nonchalantly.

“Harry,” Hermione interrupted, turning furiously to Harry, “do you not feel any sorrow for Draco? For what he’s been through?”

“No,” Harry replied after little thought, “no I don’t. His family have spat on me, on us, ever since we met. His father was ready to kill us at the Ministry and Malfoy tried to kill Dumbledore. Do you understand that Hermione, he tried to kill Dumbledore!”

“But he didn’t,” Hermione fired back, “he couldn’t! And now he’s watched his mother die…”

“What do you want me to do!” Harry yelled at her, unable to sit any longer he stood and began to pace, “just forget what he’s done! Pretend that he’s my best friend just because the thing that killed my mother has now done the same to his? Because I’m not going to do it, I’m not…”

“Oh grow up Harry,” Hermione retorted, also standing and following Harry around, “don’t let your personal feelings cloud your judgement! Draco has been here for over three months and we haven’t spoken to him, found out how he escaped, where Voldemort is, who’s with him – nothing! He is a mountain of information and willing to give it! Yet because of this feud between the two of you, we’ve learnt nothing! We’re at war!”

“I know!” Harry practically screamed, turning to her so they stood face to face, “I know we’re at war! I’m reminded daily that we’re at war! But you weren’t there Hermione! You didn’t see him stand there threatening to kill Dumbledore – I was! And I can never forget it!”

“You have a battle to fight Harry,” she continued, her voice no longer shouting, “and you need all the weapons you can get to win. Draco Malfoy is a weapon. He has no-one. He feels betrayed by Voldemort and wants revenge. He has information that we can use. All we need to do is talk to him.”

“I really don’t see what all the fuss is about,” Ron said from his seat – both Harry and Hermione turned to him, “I mean, he would’ve told the Order everything when they gave him veritaserum…”

“What?” Hermione gasped.

“When?” Harry asked at the same time.

“Ages ago,” Ron replied, confused, “didn’t you know? Dad told me that once Malfoy was well enough, they questioned him – oh.”

“Oh what, Ronald,” Hermione asked annoyed, her hands on her hips.

“Er,” he started, his face turning bright red, “I think I didn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t tell us?” Harry angrily repeated, “you didn’t tell us! Are you mental? Why in Merlin’s sake didn’t you tell us?”

“Because I was getting my head around the fact that I had lost a leg, that’s why,” Ron spat back, “dad told me during one of his visits, I said I would tell you and I forgot! I’m sorry, but I did have a lot on my mind at the time!”

Harry collapsed into his chair in defeat while Hermione sunk quietly into the sofa. This morning definitely wasn’t one of the best and he hadn’t even had breakfast yet! It was two days before Christmas, they had no school work with just some defence training – they were actually on holiday! This was supposed to be fun.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said finally, “the Order got information and checked Malfoy out. If they felt it would help us, Remus would’ve told us…”

“Both Lupin and McGonagall weren’t there,” Ron interrupted, his anger also gone, “Remus was with Hermione at the orphanage and McGonagall had been called away to the Ministry. The interrogation was done by dad, Charlie and Bill.”

“Which means they weren’t there to get information to help us,” Harry thought out loud, slightly annoyed that it turned out that way.

“The Malfoy library would have a significant collection of dark books…” Hermione ventured hesitantly after a few moments of silence.

“We are not telling Malfoy of the Horcruxes,” Harry said immediately, “and I doubt whether the Malfoy estate would be very safe any way – otherwise he would be there rather than here. Besides, at the moment we haven’t got the time to include even more research to our timetable.”

“But…” Hermione began.

“No Hermione,” Harry quickly cut her off, “Ron and Luna are nearly done with the Black library – if we find nothing when we finished there, then we can look over our options.”

“I thought we voted on things like this…” she grumbled darkly.

“I agree with Harry,” Ron said quickly, “you’re out voted.”

“I still think we should talk to Malfoy,” Hermione continued defiantly, “find out for ourselves what’s going on.” Harry looked at her and saw that her jaw was set stubbornly, knowing she wouldn’t give up on this without a fight. He then looked at Ron and saw the redhead was resigned to the fact she was right.

“I agree,” Harry said with a deep breath, “we should talk to Malfoy. But it will need to be somewhere where if he really annoys me, I can’t kill him.” Harry’s statement was received with a smile.

Kreacher was buried later that day with Hermione, Harry and Ron attending the funeral as well as Hagrid and McGonagall. The only house-elf that showed was Dobby as Kreacher had made few friends during his time at Hogwarts. The service was short and officiated by Professor McGonagall and took place in a large, centuries old cemetery on the edge of the Forbidden Forest well away from where any student would come.

As they were trudging back to the castle through the snow, Ron grumbling all the way, Harry felt glad he had decided to come. Hermione hadn’t pressured them after their morning discussion but Harry knew that both he and Ron making the effort had help bring her out of her emotional tirade of the morning.

McGonagall left them in the entrance way of the castle and as Harry went to make his way back to the dorm, Hermione stopped him and pointed through the open doors of the Great Hall. There, sitting on his own reading a book, was Draco Malfoy. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged his shoulders with resigned acceptance, and as one the three friends changed direction and made their way to where Malfoy was sitting.

As they got closer, Malfoy looked up. The distinctive sound of Ron’s false leg and walking stick was widely recognised around the halls – Malfoy was no different.

“What do you three want,” the Slytherin snarled as they sat at his table – Ron next to him, Harry and Hermione opposite him.

“It’s time for a chat Malfoy,” Harry replied calmly, “a real chat. It seems a long time over due.”

“I have already been interrogated by the blood traitors,” Malfoy scowled quickly at Ron before returning his attention to Harry, “why don’t you have a chat with them?”

“Because we want to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak,” Harry said back, “and, well, we felt sorry for you. You seem to have no friends.”

“I’ll survive,” Malfoy sneered, “I don’t need your pity…”

“You haven’t got it,” Harry growled, “I was just making an observation.” The two stared at each other, Ron and Hermione watching them silently – no-one noticed Tonks approaching the table.

“This is what I like to see,” the young witch said with a smile, “the Houses building bridges, dashing past rivalries. Still, Harry and Ron – best to hand me your wands.”

“What?” Harry cried incredulously, drawing his eyes away from his enemy to look at Tonks, “why?”

“Because every time you four are together, someone gets hurt,” she explained patiently.

“Easily fixed,” Malfoy muttered, “I’ll leave you all…”

“No way,” Ron said quickly, stopping Malfoy from standing with a firm hand on his arm, “we need to talk.”

“Take your filthy hands off me Weasley,” Malfoy hissed, but stayed seated after Ron let go.

“See,” Tonks continued brightly, “co-operation. So, Harry and Ron – your wands.”

“Why doesn’t Hermione have to give you hers?” Ron grumbled as he gave Tonks his wand, Harry reluctantly doing the same.

“Hermione has more restraint than you two,” Tonks informed him, “Malfoy is already unarmed and now you all can have your chat without the fear of someone hexing the other. I’ll hang around and give you your wands when you’re finished.” And with a flourish (and the accidental tripping over one of the benches they were sitting on) Tonks was gone. Harry turned his attention back to a scowling Malfoy.

“Sorry to hear about your mother,” Hermione finally said – Malfoy looked at her in surprise.

“What do you know about that?” he asked harshly.

“We know that Voldemort killed her,” Harry stated unemotionally, “perhaps you should’ve taken Dumbledore up on his offer when you tried to kill him, he would’ve been able to keep your mother safe.”

“How do you…you were there? Up on the tower?” Draco paled considerably as he looked at Harry, all his bravado gone.

“Yeah, I was there,” Harry continued, his voice cold, “I saw your little display, how you weren’t able to do the job you were meant to do. How you were a coward, just like Snape.”

“Snape put an old man out of his misery, you idiot,” Malfoy whispered harshly, back to his cocky self, “and he, for a reason only known to himself, has put his life in danger to save your sorry heroic arse.”

“Snape betrayed the man who gave him a second chance and then ran,” Harry spat back, his voice also low and controlled, “he is a coward and a traitor. Now, why are you here?”

“I’m here because I have no where else to go,” Draco replied, sitting upright once more, “Malfoy Manor is being watched, and all my relatives and acquaintances, well lets just say they no longer welcome me in their homes.”

“Why’s that?” Ron asked curiously.

“Because they think I’m dead.”

“Dead?” Hermione repeated, confused.

“Yes Granger, dead,” Malfoy said as if explaining himself to a small child, “and here I was thinking you were the smart one.”

“How could you make everyone think you’re dead?” Harry quickly asked, ignoring Hermione’s blush, “although your colouring does mimic that of a walking corpse, as far as I can tell, you are very much alive.”

“Ah, yet another display of your poor attempt at wit,” Malfoy sneered, “and since your pathetic anti-Dark Lord task force has already dragged the information out of me, I might as well tell you. After they tortured and killed my mother in front of me for my failure, my execution was planned. Snape got them to delay it, which allowed him to give me a potion that made the drinker seem dead. I was brought in front of the Dark Lord and was tortured, drank the potion and gave the impression that I had died under the duress. Considering I hadn’t eaten for nearly four days, my death was no surprise.

“Snape offered to dispose of my body, which he did at the foot of Hogwarts gates. He gave me the reversing potion and here I am. To all pretence, I am dead. The mail leaving here is searched and all mention of me by our classmates is removed. Snape saved my life.”

“What for?” Ron asked bluntly, “I mean, why go to all that trouble just for you?”

“Because I’m supposed to help Potter.” Malfoy spat Harry’s name as if it was something poisonous and glowered across the table at him.

“Well, I must say, you’re doing a bloody poor job,” Harry scoffed, glowering back, “one warning months ago and a few insults since. Brilliant job of helping there, Malfoy.”

“The werewolf and his cronies seem to think differently,” Malfoy continued, “but of course the Golden Trio are too above anyone else to take time out from your little adventures to talk to people who can actually help. What were you doing in London, by the way? Early Christmas shopping?”

“What makes you think we’ve been in London?” Hermione questioned with concern.

“Because you were so upset when your darling Potty was brought into the hospital ward, I was forgotten,” Draco smirked, his eyes moving to a blushing Hermione, “what is this cup you and Lupin were so anxious about?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” Harry answered – Malfoy returned his gaze to Harry.

“You answer for the mudblood now as well?” his smirk turned into a grin, “how sweet. Poor little Weasel, left out again. Oh no, that’s right, you’re shagging the resident loony…”

Ron was on top of Malfoy in an instant and both boys fell off the bench seat and onto the hard stone floor with a thump. Tonks was there quickly and helped Harry, who had scrambled over the table, pull a bleeding Ron off the also bleeding Malfoy.

“You four are so predictable,” Tonks said with a grimace, letting Ron go but standing in between him and his opponent, “Hermione, are you able to fix Ron up?”

“It’s just a bloody nose,” Hermione replied matter-of-factly as she came over to Ron’s side and ran her wand diagnostically over him, “I can fix that.”

“Brilliant,” Tonks stated, handing Harry the two confiscated wands, “so we won’t need to keep guard up on the hospital ward. Mr Malfoy, you come with me.”

With a parting glare, Malfoy followed the teacher out of the Great Hall while Hermione quickly healed Ron’s nose and cleaned the blood off his shirt.

As Christmas got closer, the animosity between the trio and Malfoy didn’t have a chance to grow as the Slytherin was seen less and less around the castle – on Christmas Eve he didn’t even show for dinner. Part of Harry guessed this would be a difficult time for Malfoy, but the other, greater part didn’t really care. Harry was having his own problems this festive season.

He woke Christmas morning without enthusiasm. There were no presents as the three friends had agreed to leave this year out and celebrate doubly next year – time and opportunity hadn’t allowed them to get anyone any gifts.

Hermione had desperately wanted to go home for Christmas but was told it was too dangerous – which was the reason she had been so moody lately. Harry had tried to cheer her up, but she was content to sit on her own and read so he had left her to it.

There was also the absence of the headmaster. Hogwarts had felt strange without Professor Dumbledore all term but now, it just felt wrong. Harry couldn’t help remembering the image of the old wizard singing carols whole heartily wearing a silly Christmas cracker hat. Christmas was definitely going to be difficult this year.

The boys met Hermione in the common area and wished each other a sombre Merry Christmas before heading out to the near empty corridors of Hogwarts. They met Neville and Ginny on their way, who both seemed a lot happier than the trio.

Ron left them to go a pick up Luna so the two couples continued to breakfast – Neville and Ginny chatting while Harry and Hermione walked in silence. Harry wanted to see Hermione smile, it was Christmas after all, but she wouldn’t look at him and nothing he could think of to say felt right. So he stayed silent.

The doors to the Great Hall were open and the long house tables had disappeared, as the student population consisted of the Weasley’s, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Luna and Draco – all others had gone home to spend time with their families. A large circular table was in the middle of the hall with a small group of adults talking not far from the door. Harry immediately recognised Hagrid, McGonagall, Flitwick, Remus and Tonks but there was another couple there that were definitely not teachers, standing with their backs towards him.

Harry stopped and felt Hermione do the same. Surely it couldn’t be, but the familiar hair that was passed down from mother to daughter meant that it had to be, it could be no-one else.

“Mum? Dad?” Hermione queried, puzzled. Her parents turned around and the smile Harry had been waiting for all morning finally arrived. With a squeal, she ran to them and was quickly enveloped in a hug. Harry laughed at the obvious joy of the family reunion – this is how Christmas should be.

“Merry Christmas sweetheart,” Mrs Granger smiled, tears filling her eyes as she looked lovingly at Hermione, “are you surprised?”

“I most certainly am,” Hermione gushed, “how did you get here? How can you be here?”

“You’ll need to ask Professor McGonagall,” Mr Granger said, indicating to the headmistress, “she organised it all.”

At this news Hermione turned from her parents and went to the watching professor, surprising everyone by giving the strict headmaster a huge hug – which, after a few moments hesitation, was returned.

“Thank you professor,” Hermione said tearfully, “you have no idea how much this means to me. It’s the best present ever.”

“You’re more than welcome Miss Granger,” McGonagall replied awkwardly, “we thought that since you couldn’t go home, we could bring home here.”

“How?” Hermione asked, going back to her parents, “I mean, they’re Muggles, they’re not supposed to be able to see Hogwarts let alone enter it.”

“Being headmistress gives many privileges,” McGonagall continued with a little smile, “choosing who is allowed to see this establishment is only one of them.” Hermione seemed to accept this explanation and joined her parents as they made their way to the table.

Harry went to follow them and found himself next to Mr Granger, who shook his hand warmly.

“Hello Harry,” the older man said, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas sir,” Harry replied, feeling none of the tension from their last meeting.

“We come bearing gifts,” Mr Granger smiled, indicating to some large shopping bags set a little way away from the table.

“Great,” Harry enthused taking his seat next to his friends’ father, “Hermione hasn’t had much of a Christmas – we weren’t able to get her any presents…”

“Ah, the presents aren’t just for Hermione,” Mr Granger interrupted now grinning.

By this stage Ron and Luna had joined the party, arriving with Ron parents and twin brothers. Presents were quickly forgotten as breakfast was served with much frivolity and laughter. Harry joined in as much as he could, but he couldn’t help thinking that something was missing, and that something was Professor Dumbledore.

After all had finished their meals, it seemed that those outside the castle felt they should make up the lack of present giving by those inside the castle with extra gifts for all. Even Harry grinned manically as he watched his friends open their presents.

Hermione was positively glowing even before a gift was exchanged and he could tell she was so proud of her parents as she handed both Ron and himself the Grangers’ gifts – a bunch of Muggle lollies for Ron (against their better judgement but decided they really didn’t know what else to get him) and a wind-up watch for Harry (they explained it wasn’t that expensive so they weren’t going to take it back when Harry refused it, and that the cost was similar to that of Ron’s gift).

Harry watched intently as Hermione opened her own gift, wishing that he had something of his own to give her and curious to see what her parents had bought. From where he was sitting, a few chairs down from her (next to her father), it looked like a book. Harry smiled to himself as he thought, typical – she must get her love of reading from somewhere! But as she turned the pages, he saw that he was wrong. It was a photo album.

“We knew you had photos of us,” Mrs Granger explained, “but we thought this would be nice. You could look at yourself growing up…”

“Hermione baby pictures?” Ron spoke up from the other side of the table, obviously also watching his friend opening her present, “I have to see this.” As Ron made his way awkwardly to Hermione’s seat, Harry found himself doing the same. The two looked over her shoulder as she silently turned the pages.

Harry saw the images of the happy family with a pang of sadness – it looked so natural and right, nothing like his own childhood. The photos followed Hermione’s own timeline with each new photo a different year. All contained all three Grangers and all were snapshots of a loving home. As the little girl grew into the person Harry knew, his own memories of his life with Hermione began to flicker through his mind – the bushy hair, the big teeth and the intelligent sparkle that was always in her eyes.

“This is perfect,” Hermione said as a more recent picture looked up from the album, “absolutely perfect. Thank you.” She turned to each parent in turn and hugged them, once again with tears in her eyes.

The rest of the day continued what the breakfast began with the Weasley and Granger families enjoying their time together. Harry found himself included as if he belonged to both families, but was content to sit back and watch the interactions. The Weasley’s left the following day, but the Grangers remained and had made plans to see the new year in at the castle.

Hermione was enjoying spending the time with her parents and was busy showing them around the school. Ron and Luna volunteered to go to Grimmauld Place and keep on looking through the library, though Harry was sure they were really looking for some privacy well away from any accidental disturbances from either a teacher, the Grangers on their guided tour or Malfoy, who spent his time sulking around the halls.

Harry spent the few days of freedom catching up with Hagrid, who he had missed since his return to Hogwarts. Although still making sure he kept up to date with his school work and defence training over the break, he spent many a day helping the half giant and his brother around the grounds.

Exhausted by a day of clearing snow off some of the many paths to the castle (which was really just an excuse for a very, very large snowball fight), Harry collapsed into his bed, ready to sleep. New Year’s Eve was the following day and he was determined to see the year in no matter how tired he was. He had the dorm to himself as Ron was still with Luna, so with a contented grin, Harry rolled over and promptly went to sleep.

It felt like he had only closed his eyes moments ago when he was woken by severe shaking.

“Harry! Harry, wake up!”

“Whatisit,” Harry replied sleepily as he put on his glasses and an agitated Ron came into view.

“Come on,” Ron replied, “we have something to tell you and Hermione! Come on!” Dragging himself out of bed, Harry grabbed his robe and followed the nearly running Ron out of the room. Hermione and Luna were descending the stairs on the other side and Harry had to smile when he saw Hermione looking just as sleepy as him. They sat down in their usual spots by the fire, Hermione hiding a yawn.

“So, what is it Ron?” Harry asked, the excitement on his friends face priceless.

“We found it,” Ron answered cryptically.

“Found what?” Hermione questioned.

“This,” was the reply. Harry and Hermione leant forward in their chairs to peer at the book Ron held in his hands. It was small and covered in black leather with three very important words embossed on the front:

Horcuxes: A Guide

13. Advice

A/N – okay, this chapter started as one thing and then grew into this great big piece of angsty fluff. I hope you will indulge me. Thank you for your reviews – I seem to have just a core of faithful readers – for which I am grateful. You all rock.

Chapter 13 - Advice

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Harry gasped, stunned, “Horcruxes: A Guide? This has to be a joke.”

“I don’t think it’s a joke Harry,” Luna breathed, “there isn’t anything in it that makes you laugh. I remember a book that I was given once that made rude noises every time you turned the page – now, that book was funny.” Harry stared at Luna blankly as he tried to process what she was saying, realised it meant nothing and returned his attention to the little book now in his hands.

“There’s only eleven pages…” Ron began to explain.

“You’ve opened it?” Hermione interrupted harshly.

“There were no protection spells,” Luna replied calmly, “I checked.”

“…and it’s in a foreign language,” Ron finished, ignoring Hermione.

“Actually, it’s written in Middle English and according to the date at the beginning, it was written in 1432,” Luna added helpfully.

“Middle English?” Harry asked, confused.

“English before our own,” Hermione explained with a patient air, “you know, Chaucer’s language.”

“Who?” both Ron and Harry asked at the same time, bringing a smile to both of their faces.

“Chaucer,” Hermione repeated, “Fourteenth century author? The Canterbury Tales? One of the most well known and studied pieces of English literature ever?” Both boys continued to look at her blankly so with a disgusted roll of her eyes, she turned her attention back to Luna, “are you sure? The cover definitely doesn’t look that old and it’s written in modern English.”

“It has been re-covered,” Luna replied as Harry passed Hermione the book, “and re-covered badly. The pages look like vellum and the style it is written is consistent with that time period.”

Hermione didn’t answer as she carefully opened the small book. Harry watched as she reverently turned each page, the subject matter momentarily forgotten as the idea that she was holding a book over five hundred and sixty years old took over.

“So, can you read it?” Harry asked after a few moments, his voice quiet.

“No,” she replied before looking at Luna, “can you, Luna?”

“No…”

“But someone was trying to,” Ron interrupted excitedly. He opened the large book that had been sitting on the table to reveal a hollowed out centre where, hidden amongst the defaced pages, was a Muggle book on translating Middle English. Ron removed it to show a pile of parchment underneath, filled with scribbled notes, “the Horcrux book was hidden at the bottom. Someone had been trying to translate it…”

“…but didn’t finish,” Luna completed for Ron, “the translator only completed the first few pages.”

“It has to be Regulus,” Harry thought out loud, “maybe that’s how he knew to look for a Horcrux and found the locket? He had found this book in his own library and worked out what Voldemort was doing.”

“That makes sense,” Hermione agreed.

“So all we need to do now is translate the book and destroy the two Horcrux’s we have,” Ron stated triumphantly, leaning back in his chair, “then find the remaining one, get rid of that, kill the snake then presto – the great, big thorn in our side is mortal once more!”

“You make it sound so simple Ron,” Harry grumbled, also leaning back in his seat.

“And what’s this ‘we have to translate the book’ business?” Hermione scoffed, “translating a historical document is not an easy task, it takes a lot of time…”

“Okay, okay, it will probably be you and Luna doing the translating,” Ron conceded, “but you’re both brilliant when it comes to things like this, it won’t take that long…”

“Have you tried to learn a new language recently Ron?” Hermione quipped tersely.

“Hermione,” Harry butted in before Ron could reply, “how are you doing with finding what the next Horcrux will be?”

“I’ve narrowed it down to five things,” Hermione replied, turning her attention to Harry, “low on my list is Gryffindor’s ceremonial glove that is somewhere in Wales and his shield that has been missing in the wizarding world for centuries. I think the missing Ravenclaw artefacts are more probable – a dictionary, a travelling cloak and a decorative hair comb.”

“What makes you think its one of these five things?” Harry asked, interested.

“There were many things mentioned in the books at Godric’s Hollow and Dowrgi about the founders,” Hermione explained, the lateness of the night forgotten, “I concentrated on Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and noted anything that seemed to be of significance…”

“That would be hundreds!” Ron said incredulously.

“There were quite a few,” Hermione agreed, “but many could be discarded straight away. These five items were all significant to their owners…”

“How?” Ron interrupted again, “I mean, a glove?”

“Gryffindor wore a pair of goat skin gloves at all times,” Hermione explained, “they were evidently well adorned and associated distinctly to Godric. When he was killed, one glove was stolen. The importance of his shield is obvious and although it’s missing, there are reports of it being in the hands of a Muggle museum – I’m trying to confirm that.

“Rowena Ravenclaw lost many of her personal items in a fire, but she saved her dictionary. Inside it is supposed to be her family tree and other significant notations – she took it everywhere. The hair comb was a family heirloom, could be worn like a crown and was the image of an eagle and her cloak…”

“…is beautiful,” Luna interrupted.

“You’ve seen it?” Hermione asked, obviously surprised, “when? Where?”

“Yesterday, in the Ravenclaw common room,” Luna replied calmly, “it’s been in the common room since 1897, donated by an ex-Ravenclaw Aquilus de Bray.”

“Right,” Hermione said with a frown, “right, well, we can cross that off our list then…”

“I can help, if you like,” Luna offered, offhandedly, “I didn’t know you were looking for Ravenclaw things. I have many.”

“You two can’t do both,” Harry stated firmly, “the translation and searching for the next Horcrux – you can’t do both.”

“I’m nearly done with the Horcrux…”

“No Hermione,” Harry interrupted, “it’s not fair to expect you to do both. Ron and I can take over the Horcrux search, you and Luna can translate the book.”

“But you’ll have to go back to Dowrgi,” Hermione replied, her voice full of concern. Harry sighed – she knew that he didn’t want to go back to his family home and was prepared to work herself into the ground so he didn’t have to.

“I’ll be fine,” Harry tried to reassure, “I’d prefer to be uncomfortable for a little bit than having you collapse from exhaustion.” They looked at each other for a moment, Harry trying to see what was going on behind her eyes.

“So we’re finished with Grimmauld Place then?” Ron said rather loudly, breaking Harry away from Hermione’s worried gaze, “do you want us to finish up? We only have one more section to go – should only take a week.”

“How ‘bout you and Luna finish there, just in case,” Harry suggested, “Hermione and I go to Dowrgi, she can show me where she is up to and how we can carry on and then when you’re finished, we can swap. Hermione and Luna translate the book, you and I continue the search at Dowrgi.”

“Righto,” Ron accepted with a smile, “though you won’t be as fun to research with as Luna.”

“No, I probably won’t be,” Harry laughed as he got up, “I’m off to bed. See you guys…” he glanced at his watch, “later today.”

“I’m off too,” Hermione yawned, “I was hoping to see the New Year in with mum and dad. I’ll probably end up falling asleep.”

Harry chuckled as he followed Hermione up the stairs, saying goodnight then making his way back to his bed. Hedwig had returned from hunting and sat on the windowsill preening – she gave a little welcoming ‘hoot’ as he entered. Harry just smiled back before lying down and curling up under the covers.

Another step to the puzzle is close to being completed. And Hermione had once again been concerned over his welfare. As he thought about it, Harry realised that Hermione is concerned about his welfare quite a bit – does that mean she fancies him? Or is it just because he gets himself into trouble a lot and she is just being a good friend? Harry’s eyes began to get heavier as the debate in his head continued, but even his internal dialogue couldn’t keep him awake and within moments he was fast asleep.

It was mid morning when he finally woke, Ron still snoring away in the other bed. With a grin, Harry got ready and made his way to the common area. Hermione was already there on the couch, Crookshanks in her lap and a book in her hand – it was such a familiar sight that it felt like home.

“Morning,” he called out as he made his way to her, “guess I’ve missed breakfast.”

“Morning Harry,” Hermione replied, putting her book down, “yes, we all did. I was waiting for you to see if you can get Dobby to get something to eat.”

“You know, he’d get some food for you without me around,” he informed her, collapsing in his favourite chair, “you are his ‘Miss Hermy’ after all.”

“Don’t you get in the habit of calling me that either, Mr Potter,” she joked, “and I didn’t want to eat on my own, so I waited for you.”

“How ‘bout your folks,” Harry questioned, aware that Hermione really wanted to spend every spare moment with her parents, “won’t they be waiting for you?”

“I asked them if I could spend the morning with you,” Hermione explained, blushing slightly, “I feel that I’ve been neglecting you and you’ve spent the holiday by yourself.”

“Hermione,” Harry started with a smile – happily aware that once again she was concerned for him, “I know how important seeing you mum and dad has been and that you needed to get past the argument at Privet Drive. You should spend all your time with them. Besides, I haven’t been on my own, I’ve been with Hagrid and it has been a lot of fun. So, stop worrying about me.”

“I don’t think I can ever stop worrying about you but thanks Harry,” she said after a while, a small smile playing on her lips.

“What for?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“For understanding,” was all she said.

It was New Year’s Eve and as Mr and Mrs Granger was leaving the following day, their last day at Hogwarts was slightly bittersweet. Harry spent some time with them, enjoying their company and the fact that he was with Hermione was an added bonus.

That night, the castle’s occupants decided to see the New Year in together, having a small party in the Great Hall with only Draco staying away. An old wireless was brought into the hall, filling it with a faint sound of music while bottles of butterbeer was available for all. Even Hedwig, Pig and Crookshanks joined in the celebration, the two owls watching from perches in the eves while the large orange cat kept himself near the table of food.

Harry could feel himself begin to tire but was determined to see the New Year in and forced himself to participate in various conversations (he, like Ron, steadily ignored the small group of dancers – Mr and Mrs Granger evidently both enjoyed to dance while Neville and Ginny carried on their Yule Ball evening).

As midnight got closer, Harry didn’t know if it was a subconscious thing or whether it was just that when in the same room with her, he always gravitated towards Hermione. Whatever the reason, she was right next to him as the school’s clock matched Big Ben on the wireless and chimed in the New Year. Every one cheered and kissed their neighbour. With a shy smile, he turned to her.

“Happy New Year Hermione,” he said quietly.

“Happy New Year Harry,” she repeated just as quietly as she gathered him into a hug and gently kissed him on the cheek. He found himself doing the same to her, begrudgingly letting her go so she could go to her parents.

Harry’s eyes followed her for a moment before he looked around the hall. Ron and Luna were in a deep kiss on the outskirts of the small party and not far from them was a more surprising sight – Neville and Ginny were also kissing, tentatively but kissing none the less. Harry smiled sadly and suddenly felt very alone.

Hagrid and a few of the other teachers wished him a happy New Year as he began to make his way out of the hall, the feel of Hermione’s hug and kiss keeping away any deeper thoughts of sadness.

“Harry!” Harry stopped to see Mr Granger making his way towards him, Hermione watching with concern from her spot next to her mother.

“Happy New Year Mr Granger,” Harry said, shaking the other man’s hand fondly.

“Happy New Year to you too, Harry,” Mr Granger replied as he draped his arm over Harry’s shoulders and guided him to an empty part of the hall, “I just wanted to have a quick word before we leave tomor…oops, I mean today. It seems the two women in my life feel I said some things that were unnecessary the last time we met and I tend to agree with them…”

“I don’t understand sir,” Harry replied, confused.

“At your uncle and aunts place during the summer,” Mr Granger explained to which Harry nodded – he had been thinking about earlier that day…yesterday, “I said some things that were unfair and it seems, completely wrong. I apologise.”

“There is no need to apologise Mr Granger,” Harry said earnestly, “you were protecting your daughter and I am…dangerous. But I meant what I said, I will do everything I can to keep her safe.”

“I know that Harry,” the older man stated, pausing as he looked Harry directly in the eye, “the last few days have been precious for us, with Hermione. Our little girl has definitely grown up and we can now see why she loves this place, how Hogwarts has replaced us, taken her away almost. And we’ve actually talked, which has been quite rare lately. The subject of you kept coming up quite a bit.”

“Me?” Harry repeated, his heart beginning to beat rapidly as a million thoughts of why Hermione had been talking about him to her parents rushed through his brain.

“Yes, you,” Mr Granger grinned before sobering quickly, “Harry, what are your feelings towards Hermione?”

“Feelings?” Harry stammered, “I…I’m not sure…”

“I understand this is awkward,” Mr Granger continued, his voice kind, “but, well, I’ve been noticing how you look at her and how she is obviously as important to you as you are to her. You haven’t had much help with working out women, and believe me all men need help working out women, so I was wondering if you’d take some advice. Man to man.”

“Advice?” Harry stammered once more, aware he was sounding like an idiot.

“If you like her Harry, you need to tell her.”

Harry looked at Mr Granger with a frown. He had wanted so desperately to talk to another male about what he was feeling – but Hermione’s father? He hadn’t talked to Ron because he felt that would be a bit strange – it would be stranger to discuss these new feelings with the father of the girl who was causing these feelings. What should he do?

He glanced over at Hermione who was now in deep conversation with Ron, the two of them on their own talking about something quite intensely. His mind then flittered back to the kiss, the hugs, the concern, holding her hand, how pretty she is…

“I…I don’t know,” Harry stuttered, shrugging his shoulders and looking back at Mr Granger, “it’s just that…we’ve been friends for so long, I don’t know if what I’m feeling…it’s all…what if she doesn’t feel the same way back?”

“What if she does,” was the answer – Harry’s heart beat just that little bit faster.

“She likes me?” he asked, suddenly very scared.

“Harry, she’s been by your side for over six years,” Mr Granger said, “she respects you, she understands you, but most importantly, she’s your best friend and you hers. And, she also thinks you’re rather handsome.”

“She does?”

“Yes, she does,” Mr Granger laughed, “you’re a man of few words Mr Potter.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” the older man paused thoughtfully, “because I want my daughter to be happy and I can see that you make her happy. I know she’d kill me if she knew I was saying this to you, though I think from the stares we’ve been getting she’s going to kill me anyway, but you’ve got no-one to tell you this stuff Harry.,” he paused again before grinning mischievously, “so, are you going to tell my daughter you like her?”

Will he? It took him ages before he told Ginny and regretted it later – they had only weeks together when they could’ve had months, years even. Will the same happen now, if he withholds his feelings from Hermione – will he regret it later? And now, since knowing that she in fact does like him, why hasn’t he gone to her, taken her in his arms and given her the kiss he’s been dreaming about for the last few months? Why is he so scared to take the next step? With a sinking heart, he knew why.

“She deserves more than me, Mr Granger,” he said finally, “I have nothing to offer her, nothing…good. Until it’s over, until Voldemort is gone I can’t give her…”

“You can give her your love, Harry,” Mr Granger said softly, “that’s all she wants.”

Harry looked at him in shock – love? Love? Nothing was ever mentioned about love! He fancied Hermione, even Harry couldn’t deny that now, but love her? What did that mean? And to add to his horror, she – Hermione – was walking over to where he was standing, Ron at her heels, right now. Harry frantically tried to compose himself.

“Hey daddy, Harry,” Hermione smiled cheerfully, quickly snuggling into her father’s embrace and looking at Harry with a worried frown, “you two have been over here chatting for a while – is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine pumpkin,” Mr Granger replied, just as cheerfully, “Harry and I were just talking bloke stuff, weren’t we Harry?”

“Er, yes,” Harry managed to stammer out, “your…your dad was apologising for what he said at the Dursleys.” Hermione’s frown deepened.

“That’s good,” she answered, her eyes never leaving Harry, who squirmed slightly under her scrutiny, “are you okay Harry? You look rather flushed.” Harry ignored the very audible snicker from Ron and looked nervously between Hermione and her father.

“I’m a bit tired, I guess,” he lied, feeling very much awake, “I think I’ll make a move. Good to see you again Mr Granger…”

“Think about what I said Harry,” Mr Granger interrupted with a smile, extending his hand in farewell.

“I…I will,” Harry replied, giving the customary handshake, “thanks. Happy New Year.”

With a parting smile (ignoring the continued look of concern on Hermione’s face), Harry left the Great Hall with his mind in turmoil. Part of him wanted to be with her, to give it a go, but another part was too scared; afraid it would ruin something already great as well as afraid that Voldemort would destroy Hermione to destroy him. But she was already a target. She was already in danger just by knowing him. What difference would it make…

“So, Harry, what did you really talk about?” Ron’s voice was close in his ear, making Harry jump, totally oblivious that Ron had even been there.

“Nothing,” Harry mumbled.

“Nothing?” Ron replied, non-believing, “yeah, right. You and Hermione’s dad were at it for ages. Do you want to hear what I think you two were talking about?”

“Aren’t you meant to be off snogging Luna somewhere?”

“She went to bed,” Ron continued, ignoring Harry’s snide tone and easily keeping up with Harry’s steady pace, “I think you and Mr G was talking about Hermione…”

“Well deduced Sherlock…”

“Who?”

“Of course we were talking about Hermione,” Harry sighed, “I was with her father…”

“Ah, but what was the subject matter?” Ron grinned, stopping when Harry did.

“He thinks I like her.” Harry uttered dejectedly, then watched in surprise as Ron’s grin grew into a hearty laugh, “what’s so funny?” he asked, slightly annoyed.

“You,” Ron chuckled, “and her, actually. You’re both pathetic.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you like her, she likes you and you both aren’t willing to make the next move, that’s why,” Ron answered. They both started to walk again, reaching the Head’s common room quickly. Harry’s mind was full of the events of the day so was silent as he walked up the steps to the dorm. Ron, however, wasn’t, “why don’t you give it a chance Harry? Why don’t you…”

“Shut up Ron,” Harry grumbled, sitting heavily down on his bed, disturbing Crookshanks who was curled comfortably up on it. Hedwig was there too, sitting on the headboard, one eye opening up at him as he sat.

“What are you so scared of Harry?” Ron asked, sitting on his own bed, suddenly serious. Harry thought about the question and sighed deeply when he thought of the answer – there were so many things.

“What if something happened?” he said after a few moments, his voice soft, “what if we give it a go, everything goes really well and then I loose her? What if I finally let myself be happy with someone and she’s taken away? Because of me.”

“Which is why you broke up with Ginny, right?”

“This is different though,” Harry continued sadly, absently patting a purring Crookshanks, “something happened within me last year, every time I saw Ginny, like an explosion or something – getting my attention on how pretty she was. But that was it. It never occurred to me to tell her about the Horcruxes or the prophecy or anything outside her and me...”

“It was superficial,” Ron said with a slight nod of understanding, “like what I had with Lavender.”

“Right, superficial,” Harry agreed, “and when we got together, when we were together, it wasn’t me with her. It was someone else, someone with a normal life. She helped forget what a disaster the rest of my life was.

“With Hermione, it’s different. She’s my best friend, she knows me better than I know myself. When I’m with her, it’s still me – Harry Potter, the boy with all this rubbish, with this death mark over me. I don’t have to hide, I can’t hide from her.

“But I have a job to do Ron, I have a madman wanting to kill me and everyone who knows me and won’t stop until either him or I am dead. I know she is already part of that, that she is already in danger but if we start something, if I begin to let all this stuff that I’ve been thinking of, dreaming of, become a reality then I would just walk away from what I have to do to be with her and Voldemort would win.”

“Harry, do you honestly think that Hermione would let you loose sight of your goal?” Ron asked seriously, “do you think she would suddenly become a flighty, love struck girly-girl that gives in to everything you say? She has fancied you for so long and has managed to keep you on track – I can’t see that changing.”

“How do you know she’s fancied me for a long time?” Harry questioned.

“Because she told me,” Ron replied quickly, “because you are the reason we never happened, because when I actually sat back and thought about it, then watched you two together I can see it, can see how you two are just right for each other. And so can everyone else.”

Silence.

“Sorry about you and Hermione,” Harry sighed after a few moments, “I know how much you liked her.”

“Don’t be,” Ron came back, grinning, “if she hadn’t had said anything, I would never have found Luna who is more perfect for me than Hermione could ever be. Look, Harry, keeping this away from her, pretending that these feelings don’t exist – it can’t be healthy.”

“I’ll cope.”

“You’re not going to tell her, are you?”

“I’m not going to tell her Ron, I can’t.”

Ron didn’t reply and instead got his night things and made his way to the bathroom. Crookshanks suddenly sat upright and darted to the door – Hermione must be back. Sighing once more, Harry lay down on his bed and closed his eyes. Hermione liked him. Hermione had liked him for ages and he had been too blind or too stupid to see it. He had always thought she fancied Ron, that they would get together – but he had been wrong.

Harry heard Ron return and get into bed but Harry was still very much awake.

“Ron?”

“Yeah Harry.”

“Have…have you and Luna really been talking about getting married?”

“Yeah, we have.” Harry sat up and looked at his friend.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“But you and Luna…you’re so young! How do you know she’s the one you want to spend the rest of your life with?” Ron thought about the question for a moment before speaking, his brow furrowed deep in concentration.

“We had joked about it, joked about our wedding, where we would live, how many kids we wanted,” he finally said with a chuckle, “I wanted two, she wanted seven. It wasn’t serious, at least not for me.

“But after the thing in the cellar, after nearly dying, I realised how important she was to me, how I wanted to live because I wanted to see our seven kids running around our back garden. You and Hermione, you’re important, you always will be but when I was lying there, waiting for Remus, you were the furthest from my mind. All I wanted to do was see Luna. So now when we talk about marriage, it’s no longer a joke.”

“You seem pretty happy,” Harry said wistfully.

“That’s because we are,” Ron replied, “and you could be too, Harry, if you just let yourself…”

“No.”

“Dumbledore said the greatest power, the thing that you have that Voldemort doesn’t is love,” Ron continued, “maybe if…”

“No Ron,” Harry said a bit more forcefully, “please, just let it go. Hermione deserves more than me, a relationship with me would cause nothing but pain. Until Voldemort is gone and I can live a normal life, there is no Hermione and me.” To accentuate the point, Harry got off his bed and headed back down to the common room. It was blissfully empty and with his mind still whirling about, Harry sat and stared absently into the dying fire.

He didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke with an

unearthly crink in his neck, he was very much aware he wasn’t in his bed but in his chair in the common area. A muted but late sun was shinning through the window and Hermione was sitting on the couch opposite him, reading a book.

“It finally moves,” she joked as he tried to get rid of the stiffness in his seized up neck.

“What time is it?” Harry asked, yawning.

“One thirty,” Hermione replied, still smiling, “you even out did Ron; he woke up two hours ago.”

“Yeah, well, I had a lot on my mind…” As he said those words, Harry remembered exactly what he did have on his mind and in a slight panic, he looked at her and saw her looking curiously back.

“I hope it wasn’t something my dad said,” she continued, “he was acting pretty strangely…”

“No, no it was nothing your dad said,” Harry lied, suddenly very interested in the book on the table, “I should go and change.” As he dashed up the stairs, Harry realised how difficult this was going to be but the knowledge it was for the best, the best thing for Hermione, made him more determined than ever to make sure he carried on like nothing was different.

Which he thought he did pretty well – considering. Spending a week with her at Dowrgi felt so natural that they fell easily into a routine which was relaxed and…happy – Harry had almost forgotten the discussions of New Years. As the week began to draw to a close, he actually felt things were back to normal, that he could easily pretend she was nothing more than a good friend.

They had decided to have lunch by the river, eating the sandwiches that the kitchen had made for them while huddled up against the cool breeze that made a liar of the bright sunshine which was meant to bring heat. It was Sunday; tomorrow was back to classes and Ron would be the one to join Harry at the next trip to the estate.

So Harry was content just to sit with Hermione and enjoy being in her company, unaware that in moments it would all go horribly wrong.

“Harry, can I ask you something?”

That should’ve been Harry’s first clue – Hermione sounded nervous, and when he looked at her, she kept her eyes downcast, staring at her sandwich.

“Er, sure Hermione,” he replied, totally oblivious of what was about to happen.

“It’s just that, well, you’ve been acting pretty strangely lately,” she began hesitantly, “and, um, I was wondering if it’s because, er, um…” Harry’s heart plummeted, he knew what was coming – she continued, “if it was because you fancy me. You know, more than just a friend.” Her last words came out in a rush as she shot Harry a nervous glance before looking back down at her sandwich.

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath and with a voice that sounded nothing like his own, he spoke.

“I guess I’m acting a bit weird because of everything that’s going on, not because I fancy you,” he said softly, “you’ve been my friend for so long Hermione, I don’t think I could think of you as anything more than just a friend.”

He opened his eyes in time to see her look at him, hurt and embarrassed, making him cringe inside. She quickly tried to hide the pain on her face but in an instant Harry knew what he had done – he had hurt Hermione.

“Oh, right,” she managed to say as she stood up, “of course, just friends. Well, um, I need to get back to Hogwarts. I’ll…I’ll see you around Harry.”

Harry watched her go with a sadness he hadn’t felt in a long while. He had just pushed away the one thing in his life that was good, done the one thing he had vowed that he’d never do – that he’d never let anyone else do – that was to hurt Hermione. Leaving the rest of his sandwich for the birds, he dejectedly made his way back to the library.

Hermione had gone and had taken with her the warmth and familiarity the library had had. Sighing, he sat at the desk and tried to concentrate on the timeline of the whereabouts of Godric Gryffindor’s glove but the image of Hermione’s face kept crossing his mind.

“Mr Potter?” At the sound of his name, Harry turned from the desk and looked around the empty room, “Mr Potter, are you there?”

Recognising his transfiguration teacher’s voice, Harry made his way to the fire place and saw the floating green head of Professor McGonagall looking at him.

“Hello Professor,” he said, “is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, everything is fine,” she bustled, “could you come to my office when you return to Hogwarts? We’d like a word.”

“I can be there in a few minutes if you like, I’m finished here,” Harry replied feeling even more miserable – why would the headmistress want to see him?

“Thank you. Just Floo when you’re ready.” And in a puff of green smoke, she was gone. It was only a few moments later when Harry stepped into the familiar office of the headmistress, who looked up at him on his arrival, got up and made her way to the door.

“I’ll leave you two to it then,” she said, sounding slightly disgruntled before going and shutting the door firmly behind her. Confused, Harry stood by the fireplace and looked around the empty room, momentarily forgetting he wasn’t really alone.

“Hello Harry,” said a very familiar voice, “thank you for coming.” Harry turned and looked at the portrait on the wall – Albus Dumbledore looking back at him.

“Hello Professor,” he sighed as he made his way closer to the portrait, “it’s been a while.”

“Yes, it has,” the image replied, “but I understand you’ve been busy. Harry…are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Harry half-heartily tried to reassure, “it’s just been a bad day.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

“No, no not really,” Harry muttered, “you wanted to see me?”

“Minerva tells me you have narrowed the search down for the fifth Horcrux…”

“Hermione has,” Harry cut in, his voice hollow, “she thinks it one of five items.”

“Which are?”

“Gryffindor’s shield or glove, and Ravenclaw’s hair comb, cloak or dictionary,” Harry listed, waiting as the portrait thought the information over.

“The cloak is here at the school,” Albus stated thoughtfully, “I think you can disregard that. I would’ve thought Miss Lovegood would have mentioned the presence of the cloak in her common room.”

“She did,” Harry sighed, “I forgot. Hermione had done all this research thinking that Ron had told Luna about what we were looking for when he told her about the Horcruxes and since Luna never said anything, we didn’t realise that there were any relics here. When Luna did tell us, it got crossed off our list.”

“Good-o,” beamed Dumbledore, “right, what else. I recall Godric’s shield being at the National Welsh Museum in Cardiff and has been for many years but his glove? I had forgotten one had gone missing…”

“Hermione thinks it’s somewhere in Wales.”

“Well, Miss Granger is probably right,” Dumbledore agreed, “Godric was Welsh and spent a lot of time in his home land. But I don’t think Voldemort would consider using a glove for the purpose of a Horcrux, it just doesn’t seem an item he would consider worthy enough.”

“Which leaves Ravenclaw’s hair comb and dictionary,” Harry continued.

“Yes, yes it does,” the portrait said thoughtfully, “the dictionary was something I had considered myself. I seem to recall holding a memory that has some information about it…”

“I’ll have a look,” Harry mumbled.

“Harry, are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m fine professor.”

But Harry felt anything but fine as he left the old headmaster’s office and made his way to the Head’s room. Taking a deep breath before entering, he got ready to carry on the lie if Hermione was there – but she wasn’t, and neither was Ron.

With a sigh of relief, he went upstairs into the dorm and retrieved the small trunk that still housed his inheritance from Dumbledore. He got out the pensieve and placed it on the bed, then began looking through the glass bottles for the one that may have the memories relating to the dictionary.

Instead, his hand hovered over a bottle that was labelled ‘First Meeting with Harry’. With a force that seemed out of his control, Harry tipped the memory into the small pensieve, and without a second thought, bent towards the silvery liquid and found himself falling…

…onto the pathway leading up to Godric’s Hollow. Dumbledore was there looking much the same as the man Harry knew, carrying a larger bunch of wild flowers and a teddy bear that he recognised as the one in he had found on his cot. The wizard made his way to the door and knocked – where it was opened by James Potter.

“Albus, welcome.”

“Thank you James,” Dumbledore said warmly, “how is the new family?”

“Come and see for yourself,” James grinned proudly, “they’re in the living room.”

Harry followed the professor into the hallway and into the lounge where he saw his mother in the rocking chair by the window, a bundle of blankets in her arms that Harry knew was himself as a baby.

“Hello Lily,” Dumbledore whispered and he made his way to the new mother, “and hello little Harry.” The present day Harry watched in wonder as his old headmaster began to coo over the baby, a softness that he had never seen before oozing out every pore, “he’s a beautiful child.”

“Thank you professor,” Lily replied quietly, her eyes never leaving her child. She looked so content and peaceful that Harry felt a lump form in his throat.

“Your mother hasn’t got pass the fact that I’m no longer her teacher, Harry,” Dumbledore stated to baby Harry, “I hope your presence will remind her, she is no longer in Hogwarts.”

“Ah, you can take the girl out of Hogwarts,” Lily laughed, “but you can’t take Hogwarts out of the girl.”

“So, is there any news Albus,” James asked as he re-entered the living room, bringing with him a vase for the bunch of flowers.

“Yes, I’m afraid so James,” Dumbledore replied, his tone suddenly sombre, “but today is a day of peace. You have a son, a handsome little boy who shouldn’t hear of life’s harshness when he is only a day old. We can discuss the war tomorrow.”

“Poor guy has my hair,” James said after a while, “but luckily he has his mother’s eyes. He’s gonna knock ‘em dead when he hits Hogwarts. Sirius’s reputation with the ladies will be secondary to my son’s.”

“Our son will respect women James Potter,” Lily gently scolded, running a finger down baby Harry’s sleeping face, “he’ll fall for a woman with brains and integrity…”

“Just like his dad.”

When Harry watched his parent share a smile, he couldn’t take it any more. He exited the pensieve with the knowledge that the love his parents had for each other was…magical. He could’ve had something like that, but he turned it away. He was alone.

Suddenly, the dorms door flung open and a very angry Ron stood in the doorway, his eyes blazing when he saw Harry sitting on his bed.

“Why the bloody hell did you do it?” Ron hissed menacingly.

“Because I have a job to do,” Harry replied sadly, “because it’s for the best.”

“You’re a stupid prat, you know that?” And without waiting for an answer, Ron turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. Harry looked at the shut door for a moment before placing his head in his hands and willing the day to finally end.

14. The End is Coming

A/N - before anyone says anything about Hermione’s reaction – this is based on me. I fell in love with a good friend and he didn’t feel the same so I hid those feelings from him so we could remain friends – it was difficult, but not impossible. Remember, this is only from Harry’s POV and my understanding is that boys don’t quite think the same as us girls do – Hermione is going through hell but is trying desperately not to show Harry. Also, I love the different reactions from the reviewers from how stupid Harry is to how pathetic. At the end of the day, he thinks he’s doing the right thing. Enjoy.

Chapter 14 – The End is Coming

By Ron’s birthday, things had improved only slightly. Ron tolerated Harry, just, and although he was never rude or ignored Harry, Ron made his displeasure with his friend’s decision known.

This made the visits to Dowrgi quiet, sombre affairs with the boys doing their research in silence, only speaking when one of them needed to check some fact out with the other. Martin sometimes dragged Harry away to see another part of the estate so soon Harry had seen the whole house, and although he liked what he saw, he had no plans to move there. It was definitely too big for one person.

Strangely, the relationship between Harry and Hermione had scarcely changed. She had kept away from him for a few days after ‘the incident’ but then went back to treating him the way she always did. Except they didn’t touch anymore. Or play cards in the morning. Or spend any time alone together. Or smile at each other.

Harry found it hard to admit that things between himself and Hermione had indeed greatly changed, that although they weren’t avoiding each other – they were no longer as close as they once were. He missed her terribly but knew he was doing the right thing, which was his mantra every time he felt himself wavering or feeling down – it was for the best.

The change in dynamics between the trio had been noticed by those close to them so it was no surprise to Harry when Ginny cornered him one day between classes.

“What’s going on between you and Hermione?” she asked bluntly, her red hair swaying with each step she took as she followed Harry down the corridor.

“Nothing,” Harry replied automatically.

“She won’t let you go as easily as I did.”

“Easy being the operative word,” Harry spat, his tone harsher than he intended, “how is Neville, by the way?”

“That was unnecessary Harry,” Ginny retorted, hurt. Harry stopped walking and breathed deeply before turning and facing his ex-girlfriend.

“Yes, that was. I’m sorry Gin,” he sighed, “there has been and is nothing going on between Hermione and me.”

“Well, I can see that, you idiot,” Ginny frowned, “why isn’t there? You both look absolutely miserable.”

“You want Hermione and I to be a couple?” Harry exclaimed, totally surprised.

“I just want you to be happy Harry,” Ginny replied, “and I know that you have walked away from her because of this martyr thing you’ve got going…”

“It’s for the best,” Harry tried to explain.

“No, it’s not Harry,” Ginny answered and with a swish of red hair, she was gone. Harry watched her go, going over what she had said.

Ginny didn’t know the full story, know what lies ahead for him – she didn’t understand. He began walking again, not quite sure where he was going, and without really thinking, he found himself outside the library. Hermione wasn’t in there, he knew she was with Luna in the Head’s common room translating the Horcrux book. So why had he come here? Harry sighed – it was because the library was Hermione. With his hands deep in his pockets, he turned and walked away, berating himself on how pathetic he was.

A week later he was in the Potter library, looking through some manifests of Rowena Ravenclaw’s extremely distant relative for some sign of the dictionary or hair comb when Ron spoke.

“It’s not the comb,” he stated.

“What?”

“It’s not the comb,” Ron repeated, “I’ve just had confirmation from Gringotts that it has been in a vault, untouched, for over one hundred and twenty years.”

“The goblins told you that?” Harry asked, amazed.

“No, Bill did,” Ron retorted tersely, “so that only leaves the dictionary…”

“Which seems to have gone without a trace.”

“Right,”

“Look, Ron…”

“I don’t want to hear it Harry,” Ron cut him off, putting his things away and standing, “it’s nearly time for dinner. I’ll see you back at Hogwarts.”

Harry watched Ron Floo away and with a resigned sigh, went back to his work. He always makes sure he’s late for meals now, or sometimes early, so he doesn’t have to walk with them, with her. They still eat together, of course, but cutting out the travelling time made the meals easier for both of them. However, walking together after dinner was unavoidable but as routine, Ron stood between Harry and Hermione.

“I’ve been telling Hermione about the hair comb,” Ron said conversationally as they made their way back to their dorm.

“Ron, I don’t think we should be talking about this out here,” Hermione hissed, quickly looking behind them to see if they were alone.

“Why not Hermione,” Ron continued, “even if we were overheard, no-one knows what we’re talking about. Anyway, with Ravenclaw’s dictionary the last thing to find…”

“What do you want with Ravenclaw’s dictionary?” All three Gryffindor’s turned as one to see Draco Malfoy standing to their left – he hadn’t been at dinner, Harry just thought, and wondered where he had been.

“It’s got nothing to do with you Malfoy,” Ron spat, his ears already turning red.

“Where have you been?” Harry asked, a bit more calmly, “missed dinner again?”

“I eat in the dorm now,” Malfoy sneered, “better company.”

“Then why are you here?” Hermione continued the questioning, “you’re breaking your curfew.”

“I needed a book from the library for my Potions homework,” the Slytherin answered, “Slughorn gave me a note.”

“You better hurry,” Hermione remarked after reading Malfoy’s permission slip, “he didn’t give you long…”

“So, what do you three want with Ravenclaw’s dictionary?” Malfoy repeated, “is that why you went to London? Because if it is, you’re way off track – which, considering Granger is the brains of your little threesome, is not surprising.”

“What’s it to you Malfoy,” Harry replied, continuing to walk.

“If finding the dictionary means getting rid of the Dark Lord, it means a lot to me,” Malfoy shot back, “I know where it is.” Harry stopped and looked at the blond boy.

“What?”

“It was a gift to my grandfather,” Malfoy explained, then added sadly “it was my mother’s favourite thing.”

“You better get your book,” Harry said calmly, “or you’ll be late.”

Without another word, Harry carried on walking, Ron and Hermione with him, leaving Draco behind no doubt thinking about his mother. They said nothing more until they got to their common area where Hermione sealed the door and they looked at each other in shock.

“The dictionary is at Malfoy Manor?” Ron said incredulously, “it does make sort of sense.”

“But that would mean Lucius Malfoy was entrusted with two Horcruxes,” Hermione said thoughtfully, “the diary and the dictionary. Surely Voldemort wouldn’t have two parts of his soul in the one place.”

“The dictionary was given to Narcissa’s dad,” Harry reasoned, “then passed on to Narcissa – maybe Voldemort didn’t know it was at the Malfoy Manor when he gave the diary to Lucius?”

“The Malfoy’s would’ve got married while He Who…er…Vold…Voldemort was still around,” Ron ventured, “he would’ve known which two families were merging.”

“Perhaps Narcissa didn’t have the dictionary then,” Harry continued to think out loud, “perhaps her father died after Voldemort…”

“We need to get to Grimmauld Place and look on the Black family tree tapestry,” Ron suggested.

“No we don’t,” Hermione replied, walking over to the table (which was full of books and piles of parchment).

“Don’t tell me you can remember the tapestry off by heart,” Ron scoffed, following Hermione to the table.

“Of course not Ron,” Hermione answered as she rummaged through one of the piles, “I wrote it down.” She began to read what was written on the parchment as Harry watched with admiration. She was truly quite brilliant, and he really wanted to tell her. But he didn’t.

“So, what does it say?” Harry said instead, standing next to Ron.

“Narcissa’s father died in 1987,” was the reply – she looked at both of them with a small smile, “Voldemort had already…disappeared,” her eyes flickered to Harry, “he wouldn’t known it had been passed on.”

“Voldemort would’ve visited Malfoy Manor quite a bit,” Ron frowned in thought, “surely he would’ve seen it, or known it was there or something…”

“Dumbledore said that Voldemort doesn’t feel when a Horcrux is destroyed,” Harry put in, “which would mean that he doesn’t necessarily feel when one is near, or moved or anything. Maybe Narcissa kept the dictionary away from everyone else, maybe Lucius didn’t know it was in the Manor…”

“But Draco knew,” Hermione countered, “how would Draco know and not his father?”

“And it’s not something that the Malfoy’s would hide away,” Ron stated, “the dictionary would be something they would want to show off.”

“If that was the case, then why didn’t Voldemort find a new hiding place for his Horcrux?” Harry asked, “Lucius had already destroyed one of them when he gave the diary to Ginny – if he knew the dictionary was with the Malfoy’s as well, I really don’t think he’d leave it there.”

“Which comes back to Draco,” Hermione said, “how does he know of the dictionary? He said it was his mother’s favourite thing so it wasn’t something just put on a shelf and forgotten…”

“She must have hidden it from Lucius…” Harry started.

“Why?” Hermione asked sharply, glaring at Harry, “for what purpose? Why hide something renowned throughout the wizarding world from her husband, but not her son?”

“I don’t know,” Harry retorted, prickling from her hard tone, “maybe it was something special from her father that she didn’t want Lucius to be part of…”

“So you’re saying that her dad actively exposed her to a Horcrux…”

“He wouldn’t have known,” Harry frowned, “you know that Hermione – Voldemort didn’t tell people what he was doing, even his closest supporters. You’re being ridiculous…”

“Ridiculous?” she yelled, her eyes suddenly blazing, “ridiculous! Well, if I’m so ridiculous, you don’t need me! You can work this out on your own!” Harry watched dumbfounded as Hermione stormed away, a slamming door signalling she had reached her room. He turned to Ron in surprise – Ron just shook his head sadly.

“Good work Harry,” he muttered, “I’m going to bed.”

With the knowledge that somehow he had really made a mess of things – again – Harry sat wearily down and let his head thump hard on the table, ignoring the flash of pain that crossed his forehead. He stayed like that until he knew Ron would either be asleep or pretending to be asleep. Half an hour later, Harry made his way to his bed.

Ron had already left by the time Harry got up the following day allowing him to get ready for breakfast alone. Walking down the stairs to the common area, he wasn’t ready to see Hermione waiting there for him. Suddenly nervous, he paused as she stood and looked at him. She looked nervous too, so taking a deep breath, he continued to where she was standing.

“Hey Harry,” she welcomed softly.

“Er, hello Hermione,” he replied, “I…I thought you’d already be at breakfast.”

“I wanted to apologise for last night,” she continued slightly hesitantly, “I think I went a bit over the top and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to apologise for Hermione,” Harry said, “I should be the one apologising. I shouldn’t have said you’re ridiculous, you’re anything but ridiculous. I’m sorry.”

“I guess we can be sorry together then,” she said, with a hint of a smile, “shall we go and get some breakfast?”

Harry agreed and followed her out of their room, smiling his first real smile for a long time. They didn’t speak, but he could feel a bit of the old comfort that used to be between him and Hermione returning. It felt like the apology, as small as it was, covered so much.

They were nearly at the Great Hall when Hermione finally spoke.

“I was thinking,” she began, “that we should talk to Malfoy, find out as much as we can about the dictionary.”

“I agree,” Harry replied straight off, causing Hermione to look at him surprised, “we need to know more but without Malfoy knowing about…the other stuff. I think Remus and McGonagall should be there as well – we’d get more from him than if it was just us.”

“Less chance of you all smashing each other to a pulp, you mean,” she joked.

“Yep,” Harry laughed.

“Good idea Harry,” Hermione continued, “maybe after classes today?”

Harry had once more agreed and worked things out with Professor McGonagall so all parties were contacted and available. He updated the professor on what had happened, accentuating the need to keep the subject of Horcruxes out of the discussion as long as Draco Malfoy was present.

The idea that the last Horcrux was sitting, unprotected, at the Malfoy Manor played on Harry’s mind for the rest of the day. Could it really be that simple? Would it be that simple?

Of course not, Harry thought to himself wryly, nothing in my life would be that simple.

Remus was already in McGonagall’s office when Harry, Ron and Hermione entered and made their way to waiting chairs – Malfoy, it seemed, was running a bit late. Dumbledore’s portrait was watching them intently and it seemed his influence with the other portraits had grown as many that usually feigned sleep were also looking over the room curiously. A few moments later, Malfoy sauntered in but strangely his usual look of contempt was missing – he actually looked interested in what was going on.

“Mr Malfoy,” the headmistress quipped, “nice for you to join us.”

“I had to wait to give my wand to Professor Flintwick,” Draco explained dryly.

“Well, you’re here now,” McGonagall bustled, “let’s begin, shall we?”

“Do you know why you’re here Draco?” Remus asked from his spot next to the desk.

“I’m assuming it’s because of the dictionary the threesom…er, trio are looking for,” was the reply.

“We need to know everything you can think of regarding the dictionary,” came a voice from the wall and for the first time Malfoy noticed the old headmaster’s portrait. Draco paled as Dumbledore looked back at him.

“Pro…professor,” the Slytherin spluttered, his eyes never leaving the picture on the wall.

“Hello Draco,” Dumbledore said politely, “I must say, these are better circumstances than the last time we met.”

Malfoy seemed lost for words as he just stared at the image of the man he tried to kill – Harry’s anger began to fester.

“The dictionary Malfoy?” he prompted, his voice harsh, “tell us about the dictionary.”

“Why?” Draco answered, finally looking away from the portrait and glaring at Harry, his customary sneer back on his face, “what’s so important about a dictionary?”

“All you need to know is we want it…” Harry stated.

“That’s not good enough Potter,” Malfoy shot back, “the dictionary was very important to Mother and I’m not going to give it to you just because you said so.”

“What does it matter to you,” Harry growled, “you can’t get at it, you’re dead, remember?”

Malfoy jumped to his feet, ready to pounce – Harry immediately did the same. Ron quickly went to hold back Harry while Remus put a restraining arm on Draco as the two boys glared at each other.

“Will you just sit down before I hex you both,” McGonagall scolded, exasperated, “you are adults now, not children, I will not take this posturing in my office. If you can’t treat each other like civil human beings, you will soon be taught how to with a few well chosen spells – do I make myself clear?”

“Yes Professor,” Harry mumbled, shaking off Ron’s hand and sitting back down in his chair.

“Yes ma’am,” Draco hissed as he too made his way back to his chair.

“We’ll try again,” Remus said calmly, “please, tell us all you know about the dictionary.”

“Mother inherited from Grandfather Black, her father,” Draco began, still glaring at Harry, “he had got it as a gift from the Dark Lord for his services when Mother was still a child. They both had a love of books and Grandfather had shown Mother the dictionary in private, away from Aunt Bella and the other one – it was a secret between them both.

“When Grandfather died, she was specifically left the dictionary in his will. She hid it from Father because she thought that, knowing its monetary value, he would sell it. Mother kept it hidden in her chambers.”

“How do you know about it Draco?” Dumbledore asked.

“When I first started at Hogwarts,” Malfoy continued, “and did well in my classes, Mother thought her enthusiasm for learning,” he shot Hermione a glance before looking back to the portrait, “had been passed onto me. She showed me the book one night when Father was away on business and explained how it came to her. When I showed no enthusiasm, and indicated I wanted to follow my father in the ways of the Dark Lord than her with academia, she never showed it to me again.”

“So Lucius was never aware that the dictionary was in his house?” Remus tried to clarify.

“My father thought the death of Grandfather Black was something beneath him,” Draco said, disgusted, “he didn’t go with my mother to the funeral or reading of the will. Grandfather kept the dictionary secret as per the Dark Lord’s request so Father had no idea of its existence. When Mother received the dictionary, she hid it from Father straight away. He never knew.”

“Are you sure it’s Rowena Ravenclaw’s dictionary?” Hermione asked.

“Of course I’m sure Granger,” Malfoy spat, “I realise that you’re used to dealing with idiots, but I’m not one of them.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like I think you’re an idiot Draco,” Hermione replied, calmly and controlled (though Harry could tell it was a struggle), “it’s just that, when someone follows the path of a madman just because it is expected, it is hard for me to comprehend that that person is intelligent and with a thought process of their own. I do apologise.”

Harry smiled as Draco seemed to physically squirm from her comments – Hermione just turned her attention back to McGonagall and Dumbledore, who both looked like they were hiding smiles of their own.

“Will it be easy to recover?” Remus asked with his own smirk.

“My mother had her own protections to keep things hidden from Father,” Draco replied snarkily, “he was so wrapped up in his own affairs, literally, that he never bothered with anything she did. Her protections were basic ones.”

“The manor, I assume, is unplottable,” Dumbledore stated from his place on the wall.

“Yes,” Malfoy answered, “and has been used by Death Eaters as a base. Now that my family is no longer of use to his cause, I have no idea if they would still use my home for their purposes.”

“A well protected manor full of expensive nick nacks,” Remus thought out loud, “with Aunty Bella as the last remaining heir, you betcha they are using the manor for their purposes.”

“How are we going to get in?” Harry questioned, looking at Remus.

Remus was silent, sharing a look with McGonagall and Dumbledore before taking a deep breath and answering Harry.

“I don’t think you three should take part in this Harry,” he said softly.

“What?” Harry exclaimed, suddenly angry, “why?”

“Now that Albus is gone, you are the most wanted wizard by the dark side with either Ron or Hermione coming a close second. Every time any of you step out from the protections of this castle, your lives are in danger…”

“I’ve been stepping out of this castle for months,” Harry spat, “remember? Researching at Dowrgi, so have the others.”

“But this is a trip to a place that will probably be swarming with Death Eaters who’s greatest wish is to bring you to their Master,” Remus argued, “your presence will be a liability.”

“No! You can’t leave me behind like I’m a child!” Harry yelled as he stood and began pacing.

“Mr Potter…Harry,” Professor McGonagall began, “Remus is right. This is a job for the Order, for witches and wizards experienced in combat…”

“I’m experienced in combat!” Harry continued to yell, turning on the headmistress, “I can look after myself…”

“Harry, think about it,” Hermione spoke, standing and shadowing Harry in his pacing, “we’ve been through a lot but we haven’t even graduated! Members of the Order, they’ve had experience with this sort of thing, they know what they’re doing – we don’t, not really.”

“Are you saying you are okay not going?” Harry snarled, bearing down on her, “that you can sit here and wait while others finish what you started six months ago? That Malfoy will finish off what you started six months ago?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered after a moment’s pause, her eyes never wavering as she stared at Harry. Still angry, he turned to Ron who had remained in his chair.

“How ‘bout you Ron, are you fine with staying behind?”

A mixture of emotions ran across Ron’s face as he looked at Harry, whose anger began to ebb away almost immediately.

“I’m sorry mate,” Ron admitted, “I’ve been working with Moody, but I’m not confident that I could deal with my leg and everything else in a combat situation. Not yet anyway. Even if you were going, I wouldn’t be.”

Harry sat heavily down in his chair and hid his face in his hands. He heard Hermione sit down as well, but other than that, the room remained eerily quiet.

“Good little tanty there Potter,” Malfoy sneered, breaking the silence, “you really do have to be the centre of attention, don’t you.”

“Shut up Malfoy,” Harry muttered, barely audible through his hands.

“Harry, there will be other battles for you to fight,” Dumbledore soothed – Harry looked at his old headmaster with a resigned sigh as the image continued to speak, “this time others are more suited for the task. You need to let them help you.”

Harry just nodded with a weary acceptance.

He participated little in the planning of the raid on Malfoy Manor. Practically the whole Order helped in the organising of the attack with Draco Malfoy in the middle of it all. The Slytherin was enjoying his spot as the main source of information and barely kicked up a fuss when he was asked to take veritaserum to verify the details he had told the team were truths and not traps.

Two weeks later and the plan was set in motion. Harry waited with pet up frustration in the common area, alone as both Hermione and Ron had given up on him and left him to his angry pacing. Harry didn’t care. He felt a little let down by his two friends – though he could understand Ron’s reasoning and if he was really fair, he could understand Hermione’s as well. But they had revolted against him in front of Malfoy – which had hurt.

Hours had passed and there was still no word on what was happening at Malfoy Manor. Hermione and Ron were with him now, Ron playing chess and ruthlessly beating Harry while Hermione was reading a book. When Harry noticed one of the pictures taking a bow and then saw that many of the other portraits doing the same, his attention was piqued. When he heard the familiar voice of Professor Dumbledore, he was worried.

“Professor,” Harry began, standing up and going to the picture Albus was now looking out of, the usual occupant, a mother and her baby, standing nervously to the side, “what’s wrong? What happened?”

“The mission to the Malfoy Manor seems to have been a success,” the old headmaster explained, but the sadness in his voice didn’t mirror his words.

“Is everyone alright?” Hermione asked as she put down her book and stood next to Harry.

“All the Order members are fine,” Dumbledore continued, “they are on their way back to the castle. But there’s been an attack. In Oxford.”

“Oxford?” Ron questioned from his seat, “what’s in Oxford?”

When Harry saw all the colour leave Hermione’s face, he knew exactly what was in Oxford – her mum and dad.

“How…how do you know?” Harry asked, his heart beating a million times a minute.

“I was at the Ministry monitoring the events taking place at Malfoy Manor when news came through the Auror office,” Dumbledore explained sadly, “it seems the Auror watching the Granger house…”

The image in the portrait didn’t get to finish as Hermione quickly made her way to the fireplace and grabbed a hand of Floo powder.

“Hermione, no!” Harry shouted at her, knowing exactly what she was going to do. In a flash of green smoke and a muttered instruction, she disappeared.

“Follow her Harry, she went to Dowrgi,” Ron instructed as he headed for the door, “I’ll let the others know what’s going on when they get back. Be careful – it might be a trap.”

“Why did you say something?” Harry growled at the picture.

“She had the right to know,” was the reply. Harry just frowned and dashed to the fireplace.

“Bring her back safely,” Ron said and moments later Harry stepped out of the hearth at Dowrgi’s library. The door had been left open and without a moment’s hesitation, he ran out of the room and through the house towards the front door. A startled Martin was in the hallway.

“Has Hermione come this way?” Harry quickly asked.

“Yes, yes,” Martin replied confused, “she ran down toward Godric’s Hollow. Is everything alright Mr Potter?”

“No,” Harry answered as he darted down the steps and across the lawn. Hermione had had a head start, but he knew he was faster than her and should be able to easily catch up. He was also thankful there were a lot of people milling about on the grounds so she wouldn’t have risked Apparition until she was out of sight and beyond the wards of the estate.

He could see her and though he called out, she didn’t pause or reply. She was at the wood’s border now and soon she would be able to Apparate. Harry was concerned – he had never been to her home, he didn’t know what it was like. If she Apparated before he reached her, she would be lost.

Hermione was close enough for him to be able to hear her laboured breath, but not close enough to touch. She still didn’t acknowledge his shouts to her and then, with a final glance at him over her shoulder – she was gone.

Harry pulled to a frustrated halt; what was he going to do now? He knew where she was, but didn’t know how to get there. But he had to, her life could be in danger and something bad had happened to her parents. He took a couple of deep breaths and concentrated. He had to find her so he concentrated on Hermione – not where she was, but her herself. With his mind filled with her image, he Apparated…

And found himself in a bedroom that could only belong to Hermione Granger. The walls were a neutral beige with dashes of Gryffindor crimson and gold in the pillows on her bed and the drapes on the windows. Rows of bookshelves covered the walls and a huge desk occupied the space under the window. Photos of him and Ron scattered around the room as well as an array of stuffed toys. It was a girls room without being too…girly – just like Hermione.

An anguished scream from somewhere outside the room brought Harry reluctantly to the task at hand, and with his wand drawn, he made his way into the rest of the house. The upstairs seemed relatively unscathed, but the downstairs portion was not so lucky. Signs of a struggle were everywhere with hole blasts peppering the walls. There were people there, wizards, who Harry could tell were from the Ministry. He guessed they were there to make whatever happened at the Granger family home seem Muggle related – Harry walked past them without a glance and searched for Hermione.

“Hey, ‘ow d’you get in ‘ere?” a gruff, stout wizard asked him as Harry walked into what was once the living room, “there ‘re wards up, there ‘re.”

Harry just ignored the agitated little man as he made his way to a collapsed figure in the middle of the floor. She was on her knees, her shoulders shaking from her tears as she looked at the bodies of her parents. Harry thought he was going to be sick as he read the five small words sprawled on the wall written in what looked like blood, just like the Chamber of Secrets seemingly a lifetime ago.

The end is coming Potter

Ignoring the feeling of revulsion that knotted inside of him, he knelt down next to Hermione and placed an arm around her shoulders, guiding her away from the horrific sight before them. She let herself be drawn to him and as a multitude of witches and wizards made the site look like a Muggle burglary gone wrong, Harry held his best friend in his arms as she cried.

15. Power and the Powerful

A/N – okay, well, this chapter happened a bit sooner than anticipated, but it felt right and I’ve had a hell of a week and needed this. And yay for being early!! An operation and spending a week at home recuperating has its silver lining!! Thank you once again for your reviews, they’re brill. Enjoy.

Chapter 15 – Power and the Powerful

For what seemed like the millionth time, Harry lay wide awake in the early hours of the morning. Ron obviously wasn’t having the same trouble sleeping as the steady rumble of snores continued to be omitted from the other bed. Harry, however, knew sleep was a long way away for him and with a heavy sigh, he got out of bed, grabbed his robe and made his way down to the common area.

March had arguably been one of the worse months of Harry’s life as he dealt with the aftermath the deaths of Hermione’s parents and the acquisition of the final Horcrux.

Voldemort had been incensed when he had realised what had been taken from Malfoy Manor – the Grangers being the first to feel his fury. He had then checked his other Horcruxes and realised that they too, had been taken. Many died and suffered as Voldemort released his anger – but they were just names in the Daily Prophet to Harry. He knew Mr and Mrs Granger, he had liked them but more importantly, they were the parents of his best friend.

Hermione hadn’t been allowed to go the funerals as it was felt too dangerous – which turned out to be a fair assumption as there had been a further attack where some of the mourners died as they were paying their respects. This news seemed to cause Hermione to retreat even more into herself as the once confident girl that Harry knew was now only a shadow.

For Harry the bone-chilling message on the wall made his skin clammy by just thinking of it. The end was coming. In one way or another, that was the truth. They had the Horcruxes now with destroying them being the last barrier. Once they were gone, the battle for his life will begin. Harry was scared, more scared than he would ever admit to anyone. He had been learning all he could from the teachers at Hogwarts, testing his skills out time and time again – and they still seemed to fall short. He really had no idea how he was going to beat Voldemort.

And then there was Hermione. It had been three months now since he finally admitted to himself that he fancied her, and two months since he had told her that she was only just a friend. But as he watched her struggle with her loss on her own, shutting both him and Ron out of her life, he knew that he couldn’t keep up the lie for much longer. She was more to him now – so much more that it scared him, and he wanted to be there for her so badly. The trouble was, he didn’t know how to do it, how to take back the lie he told so she would let him in and help her live again.

Ron was hurting from her exclusion of him in her struggle as she instead turned to Luna for comfort and made the Ravenclaw swear to secrecy. So Ron relented in his attitude to Harry and together they discussed how they could help their friend. But it was all just talk as everything they tried to help Hermione didn’t work. Ron had Luna to talk to, to help him feel better – Harry had no-one.

And so he didn’t sleep.

Thinking about his potions essay that was waiting for him on the table, Harry didn’t notice Hermione until he was nearly all the way down the stairs. His footsteps must had startled her as she stood up with a fright and faced him, giving Harry a bit of a fright as well.

“Harry!” she exclaimed, “what’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he replied, “which I’m guessing you couldn’t do either.”

“No. No I couldn’t sleep.” Harry continued to walk to her, thinking that this may be his chance, she might finally let him talk to her. But as he got closer, he saw she had been crying which was confirmed when she wiped a stray tear from her face.

“Do…do you want to be alone Hermione,” he ventured, stopping in his tracks, “I can go back upstairs…”

“No, please stay,” she insisted somewhat nervously, “I…I don’t want to be alone.” She sat back down in her favourite spot on the couch while Harry made his way to his chair opposite her. Crookshanks was curled up next to her and eyed Harry suspiciously before readjusting himself into a tighter ball and going back to sleep. He looked at Hermione and frowned – she had large bags under her blood-shot eyes while her face was definitely more hollow and pale. She hadn’t been joining them for meals but Luna and Ginny were making sure she ate something, which obviously was not enough.

“Hermione, you look terrible,” Harry observed outloud without really thinking then blushed furiously when he realised what he had just said.

“Thanks Harry,” she replied with a wry smile, “you don’t look that great either.”

“It…it’s been a bad month.”

“Tell me about it.” Silence.

“This really smart girl I know,” Harry began tentatively, “well, whenever anything bad happened to me, she would try and get me to talk about it. She seemed to think it would help.”

“Did you ever listen to her?” Hermione asked, still smiling.

“No, not really,” Harry admitted, “but I should have.” He paused as he watched her think it over. Of course he was talking about her and all the times she had tried to get him to talk about Dumbledore, Sirius, or Cedric or even just the Dursleys. The smile died on her face and was replaced by tears, though she was fighting hard not to let them fall. Harry waited.

“What ever happened in my life,” she began, her voice barely above a whisper, “what ever choices I made, I always knew there were at least two people in this world that loved me. And now there isn’t. Now I’m alone – I have no-one.”

“Hermione, you’re not alone,” Harry stated earnestly as he made his way to where she was sitting, perching himself on the coffee table in front of her, “you have us, Ron and I…”

“Right,” she said almost sadly, not looking Harry in the eye, “I have you and Ron.”

“You make that sound like our friendship isn’t enough.” Hermione’s head shot up at his words before getting off the couch and turning away from him, “Hermione?” he questioned.

“That’s because it isn’t enough Harry,” she proclaimed quietly, “I want more. I need more from you.” Her words hung in the air as Harry tried to get himself together but Hermione took his silence badly, “but it’s okay,” she continued on, looking back at him with tears in her eyes, “I know you don’t feel the same way, that you can only be friends with me, I understand that. And I don’t want to loose you or make you feel uncomfortable or anything. It’s just that…”

“I lied.”

“What?”

“I lied,” Harry repeated, standing up and going to where she was, “at Dowrgi, when I said I couldn’t be more than just friends with you I was lying…”

“Lying?” she said, a flicker of anger replacing her tears, “you lied to me?”

“Hermione, I thought it was for the best, I really did,” Harry tried to explain feeling very, very flustered, “you deserve more than what I have to give you. You deserve someone with a future…”

“How dare you decide what I deserve, what’s right for me!” she spat, advancing on him, “these last few months have hell for me Harry! I’ve gone over and over in my head why you wouldn’t want me, what was wrong with me! I thought we had got over the ‘I’m putting you in danger’ rubbish…”

“But I am!” Harry shouted back at her, “if it wasn’t for me, your parents…”

“You didn’t kill my parents Harry!” she retorted, her face inches from his, “and although it has taken me a while to realise it but I didn’t kill them either – Voldemort did!”

“Because of me!” he shot back, turning his back on her, deflating somewhat, “because you know me, you’re close to me. He used them to get to me…”

“I don’t blame you…”

“You should.” Silence.

“Harry,” Hermione’s voice was quiet once more, “why did you tell me you lied? Why now?”

“Because I want to help you get through this,” Harry whispered, bowing his head, “I wanted you to know that you weren’t alone.”

“Not because you feel guilty?”

Harry didn’t reply, just hung his head lower. Part of him did feel guilty – that was obvious – and the whole confession thing hadn’t gone quite how he thought it would (there was a lot more shouting than he had imagined). But he also meant what he said, he had wanted to help her.

“Harry, look at me,” she said softly, taking his hand in hers and pulling him around so they were face to face. He took a deep breath and then looked into her eyes.

“Your…your father told me you liked me,” he began, shyly, “at New Years. I told him I had nothing positive to give to you, and he said you wouldn’t care. Then Ron tried to make me admit that I liked you – but I wouldn’t. Trouble was, even though I didn’t want to admit it to anyone, even myself, I did like you Hermione, I liked you a lot. We fit, you and me…I…I can’t imagine my life without you in it…”

Harry paused as two large tears ran down Hermione’s face, though her gaze never wavered from his own. Gently, he used his thumb and wiped away the wetness, causing a little smile to cross her face.

“The trouble is,” he continued, “I didn’t want to hurt you, even more than what I had done, because when this is all over, I probably won’t be here for you. Plus, I was being selfish – just being with you now, I forget. It’s like with Ginny but twenty times more. Everything with you is so…normal, so relaxed. I…I knew that if I let myself take that to the next level, let myself be happy with you, I’d forget what I am meant to do.”

“So you were prepared to give up your happiness…”

“Hermione, until this is over, until Voldemort is finally gone for good, I can’t afford to be happy…”

“Now, that’s just silly,” Hermione admonished, “because you can do both Harry.”

“No, I can’t,” Harry tried to explain, moving away from her slightly, “I can’t because every time I let someone in, think that they can make my life better they die! I can’t, I won’t let that happen to you!”

“Do you think pushing me away is making me love you less?” she asked, closing the gap between them once more.

“L…love?”

“Oh Harry,” Hermione sighed, “you are the most important person in my life, of course I love you.”

“You can’t,” he whispered, “you can’t. Everyone who loves me dies…”

“I can’t stop loving you now.”

Harry was torn – part of him wanted to run into the Great Hall in the middle of dinner and shout from the rafters that Hermione Granger loves him, that there was someone in this world that loved him! But another, larger part was telling him she didn’t mean what she said, that he wasn’t worthy of her love, of anyone’s love, that it was a mistake. Even Ginny, who had been pinning after him for years, never mentioned anything about love during their time together. But Hermione wasn’t Ginny and what he had with Hermione was a lot deeper than anything he had with Ginny.

Hermione loved him. People that loved him died.

“You can’t love me Hermione,” he finally said, stepping away from her once more, “you have it wrong. You deserve someone better than me, someone with a future…”

“You can turn your back on me,” she replied quietly, “you can push me away, do things that you think will turn me away from you but it won’t work. I know, I’ve tried doing it myself. I tried pretending that I could have feelings for someone else, that I didn’t need you – after the Ministry of Magic, I was so scared that I was going to loose you that I decided to try and make things work with Ron. What a disaster that was.

“And I supported your relationship with Ginny, I gave her advice and listened to her carry on about how wonderful you was, and how great you kissed trying desperately to ignore the pain in my heart.

“But this year, since the summer at the Dursleys, something changed. You changed. You seemed to look at me as a girl and not just your friend. That’s why I thought I’d ask – everyone said I should, that you’d say you’d like me back. When you didn’t, it hurt, it really did. The silly thing was, it didn’t matter. I can’t turn my back on you just like I can’t stop breathing.

“I can’t stop loving you Harry, and now I know you like me. Whatever decision you make now, here in front of me, I’ll accept because it won’t change anything. I will still love you and be there for you, fighting by your side. And I believe that you will win. My parents are dead because of an evil that you are destined to face and I will not let him take away another person that I love.”

Harry looked at her and saw the stubborn clench in her jaw that told him she would not change her mind. She still looked way too thin, but there was a healthy flush in her cheeks now and a spark that set her eyes alight. She was beautiful in her defiance.

But he had to make a choice – ignore the longing he had to be close to her, turn her away although their true feelings for each other has been exposed. Or let himself enjoy the few months of happiness he knew this relationship, if he let happen, would give him.

He had made his decision. With his heart beating so fast he was sure it would explode, he took the few steps it took to be close to her and without a word, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently on the lips.

Harry could sense she was taken by surprise, but soon her hands were on his waist, drawing her body closer to his, but not quite touching. Meanwhile, their kiss had grown more heated and the need to feel her – all of her – was over-riding every other thought in Harry’s brain. His hands were suddenly tangled in her hair as he helped her move backwards, towards the wall, where she stopped and let her self be flattened by him as she began to caress his back.

How her hands had managed to find their way to the bare skin up his spine, Harry didn’t know and didn’t particularly care. He was feeling sensations he had never felt before – and they were great. It took him a few moments to notice her hands were now on his chest and that instead of caressing him, they were pushing him away. When she broke the kiss, he looked at her in surprise.

“Wow,” she breathed, her voice soft and husky.

“Yeah, wow,” he replied, aware of her hands on his chest and his hands now resting on her shoulders while their foreheads touched ever so gently.

“That…was…er…amazing,” she continued, blushing. Harry brushed a stray hair from her face and helped it behind her ear.

“Like nothing I’ve ever experienced before,” he added, feeling a blush of his own touching his cheeks. Awkwardly, he stepped back from her, removing her hands from his chest and holding them.

“It definitely wasn’t like kissing my uncle,” Hermione commented with a smile.

“No,” was all Harry could think of saying. Slowly, thought returned to his brain and he realised what had just taken place. He had just kissed Hermione and it was amazing, better than all the snogging sessions he had with Ginny, better a million fold than the kiss with Cho. He had just kissed Hermione. Harry took another step away.

“Harry? Are you alright?”

He tried to think – was he alright? He had just kissed his best friend, who had confessed she loved him, and it had felt incredible! But that meant everything had changed, everything was different now. Hermione was no longer just his best friend.

“I don’t know what I can give you Hermione,” Harry said finally, his voice thick with emotion, “I don’t know what I can promise you. If this, you and me, is going to happen, you have to keep me on track because if you keep kissing me like that, I’m going to forget all about Voldemort…”

“I don’t want anything from you,” Hermione replied, slipping her hands around his waist, “other than just you. And I don’t think I’ll have any problem keeping you on track.”

“Doesn’t this feel weird to you at all?” Harry asked as he pulled her closer, “I mean, we’ve been friends for so long – doesn’t it feel strange to suddenly be this close?”

“No, why? Does it feel weird to you?”

“No,” Harry said with a smile, kissing her once more to accentuate the point, “and that’s the weird thing. This feels the most natural thing in the world to be doing.”

“I…I’m glad,” she tried to smile, but it died on her face.

“Hermione, what is it?” Harry asked, suddenly worried.

“It feels wrong,” she began, her eyes welling with tears, “to be this happy when…when I should still be feeling…”

“Your parents?” Harry finished for her – she nodded, “do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d like that,” she said sadly.

So that’s what they did – they talked, about everything and anything. Harry didn’t know what time it was when they both finally fell asleep but they had been talking for hours. He had thought he knew Hermione so well that they’d have nothing really to say to each other any more, he now realised he was wrong. And he was enjoying learning more about her.

Like how her parents bought her a witches fancy dress costume after she got her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. Or like how she had no friends at her school because they all thought she was weird, enjoying books rather than talking about boys. Or how every year for her birthday, before she came to Hogwarts anyway, her mum and dad took her to Royal Botanical Gardens Kew Library and Archive as that was her favourite place in the world.

He could tell it was therapeutic to talk about the good times she had had with her parents and although there had been tears, they had been a release for her and seemed to make the darkness she had been carrying around with her since their death lighter.

So it had been with a smile that Harry had fallen asleep with Hermione curled up in his arms. When he woke, it was daylight and the crink in his neck told him his head had been uncomfortably turned to the side, resting on Hermione’s head. His smile grew as he saw the still sleeping Hermione with her head resting on his chest, her arms casually on his stomach while his arm lay around her shoulders. Besides the stiffness in his neck, it was a fantastic way to wake up.

“Hem, hem.”

In an instant, Harry was wide awake only to sit upright and see a very amused Ron sitting opposite them, grinning broadly.

“Ron,” Harry growled, “I really wish you wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” Ron laughed, “it’s so much fun! Good morning you two.”

Hermione, awoken by Harry’s sudden movement, untangled herself and then stretched luxuriously as if waking up curled on Harry’s chest was nothing extra-ordinary.

“Morning Ron,” she said calmly, continuing her stretch.

“Morning Hermione,” Ron grinned back, “is there something you’d like to share?”

“Not really,” she replied before looking at a very surprised Harry, “hey Harry,” she carried on, somewhat shyly.

“Morning Hermione…” Harry began, a blush touching his face before Hermione let out a small shriek and stood up abruptly.

“Oh no,” she cried, grabbing Harry’s arm and looking at his watch, “what time is it?”

“Just past nine,” Ron answered, still smirking, “you guys really slept in…”

“Past nine!” Hermione shrieked, dashing for the stairs, “I said I’d meet Luna at nine, and I’m late!”

Harry watched with a dazed expression as Hermione ran up the stairs and into her dorm, not turning back to Ron until he heard her door close. Ron was watching him intently, his smirk still covering his face.

“What?” Harry questioned, hoping his friend was going to let things go – knowing, however, that that really wasn’t going to happen.

“Hermione seems to be in a very good mood this morning,” Ron stated, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms, “much better than she has been for quite a while. Would her improved condition have anything to do with her sleeping arrangements last night?”

“Maybe,” Harry replied cagily, “we had a long talk last night…”

“Talk?”

“Yes, talk Ron,” Harry stressed, frowning, “we talked about a lot of things, including her parents. I think its helped…”

“So all you two did was talk,” Ron tried to confirm, “nothing else?” Harry felt himself squirm, not sure whether he should lie or not.

“Well, we did kiss once or twice…” he ventured uncertainly.

“I knew it,” Ron replied confidently, stretching his long legs out under the table and putting his hands behind his head, “and you told her the truth about how you felt?”

“Yes.”

“Did she tell you how she felt about you?”

“Y…yes.”

“Excellent,” Ron grinned, “about bloody time. You two were making me mental with your little ‘I like her but I’m not going to tell her’ game.”

“This comes from a bloke who liked her for years and never said a thing,” Harry bit back sarcastically.

“That was different,” Ron proclaimed before sitting forward with a gleam in his eye, “so, what was it like? Kissing Hermione? It must be better than when I kissed her – she didn’t want to sleep with me…”

“We only talked!” Harry exclaimed profusely, a definite blush tinting his face. But Harry didn’t get a chance to enhance his declaration of innocence as Hermione bustled down the stairs newly showered and changed. Harry stood awkwardly up, feeling guilty even though he knew they did no more than kiss.

“You boys have fun with Mad Eye at training,” she said briskly as she passed them, “Luna and I are very close with finishing the translation. Oh, she is going to be mad at me! I had such a go at her last time when she was late!”

Hermione made it to the door before stopping and turning back to where Harry and Ron were – Harry standing feeling very embarrassed while Ron remained lounging in his chair with his contented smirk still covering his face. Harry watched in a daze as Hermione walked back over to where he was, put her hands on his shoulders to balance herself as she stood tippy-toe, and kissed him lightly on the mouth.

“Thank you for an amazing night Harry,” she breathed before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

Harry stared blankly at the place she was, unconsciously feeling the spot on his lips where hers just was with the tips of his fingers, only Ron’s hysterical laughter breaking him out of his reverie.

“Oh mate,” Ron spluttered out as he stood and slapped a friendly hand on Harry’s shoulder, “you are in so much trouble.”

Which proved to be the case as Harry wasn’t able to concentrate throughout the training session he had with Mad Eye Moody, much to the old Auror’s displeasure. Ron, however, was excelling in everything fired his way. By lunchtime Moody’s constant reminders of Harry’s faults were starting to grate and when Hermione didn’t show for lunch, Harry went back into training with a lot more aggression and focus.

The lack of sleep from the night before (and the many sleepless nights since the Granger’s deaths) began to take its toll and Harry started to welt. When Remus interrupted them in the late afternoon, Harry was more than a little relieved.

Remus walked briskly to McGonagall’s office and didn’t speak – his face lined with concentration and worry. Harry and Ron jogged slightly to keep up, exchanging concerned looks.

The headmistress’s office was full as Hermione, Luna and Professor McGonagall herself were already there. Harry looked immediately to Hermione who smiled back. He couldn’t help but think how pretty she looked.

“We all seem to be here Miss Granger,” McGonagall started, “you and Miss Lovegood have something to tell us?”

“Yes,” Hermione answered excitedly, putting a pile of parchment down on the headmistress’s desk, “we’ve finished the translation…”

“Isn’t this a bit early?” Ron questioned, “I thought you said it wouldn’t be done until Easter.”

“I know,” Hermione carried on, her face flushed with accomplishment, “but, well, I had to keep my mind off things lately and Luna didn’t mind spending extra time with me doing this. We finished it this afternoon. We know how to destroy the Horcruxes.”

The room was silent as they all remembered the reason Hermione had wanted to keep busy and Harry found himself once more thinking about Mr and Mrs Granger. He looked over at her and she was steadfastly staring at the parchments, not wanting to catch anyone’s eye. Harry wanted to go over to her, to give her support and realised he should! Leaving his place by Ron’s side, he walked over to where she was standing and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly in comfort. She looked up at him and he could see the gratitude in her eyes.

“So, what does the guide say, Miss Granger?” The question came from an interested Albus Dumbledore, his portrait standing and looking out at them expectantly.

“They have to be destroyed by someone pure of heart…” Hermione paused as Ron let out a hearty snigger.

“Something the problem, Mr Weasley?” McGonagall asked, not sounding a bit amused.

“Nothing Professor,” Ron answered quickly, trying desperately not to smile as Harry threw him a furious glare, “it’s just that, when Harry destroyed the diary, he was twelve and extremely pure. And, well, you won’t find many seventeen year old boys who are ‘pure of heart’ any more. It was just a thought.”

“I supposed it depends on the definition of ‘pure of heart’,” Albus mused, “it explains why the ring deadened my arm – after a long life, it was very difficult to remain innocent!”

“Albus, really,” McGonagall admonished with a flush, “there are children present!”

“Minerva, as Mr Weasley has just pointed out to us, the three young people here are no longer children,” Dumbledore said fondly, “I must say though, I had devoted myself to teaching and this school, leaving very little time for the pleasantries of life, especially when it came to the fairer sex – the destruction of my hand may have been the price for the impurities I had had to administer to achieve the larger goal…”

“Like lying and keeping things from me, you mean,” Harry interrupted harshly.

“Yes, like lying and keeping things from you Harry,” Dumbledore confirmed sadly.

“So you’re telling me,” Harry continued, leaving Hermione and making his way to the picture, “that you have been preaching love is the answer to everything, to beating Voldemort and you’ve never even had a girlfriend? Ever?”

“Just because I hadn’t courted a young lady for many a year Harry,” Dumbledore continued, the familiar twinkle in his eye, “doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced the power of love. I have loved, been loved and been in love. Admittedly, the young lady in question was only fourteen when I confessed my undying admiration for her – I being the mature age of fifteen – but I still experienced the joy of knowing there was someone who made my heart shine.”

Without thinking, Harry glanced at Hermione who gave him a shy smile.

“Is there a reason we should look for someone else to destroy the Horcruxes Harry,” Remus asked with a grin.

“What? Why? What do you mean?” Harry spluttered, looking over at his old professor who, along with Ron, was grinning back at him.

“Well, how can I put this,” Remus continued, “um, has your ‘status’ changed?”

“Status?” Harry repeated, really confused.

“Have you ever had…”

“Remus Lupin, you stop right there!” Professor McGonagall interrupted sharply, standing and glowering over at the smirking Remus and Ron, “I will not have this kind of discussion in this forum! Poor Mr Potter and Miss Granger have been humiliated enough thank you. Let’s get this conversation back on track. Now, Miss Granger – continue.”

As the headmistress settled back down in her chair and regained her composure, Harry finally realised what Remus and Ron had been getting at – and with a furious glare, he made his way back to where a very red Hermione was standing stock still. The two other men in the room had the courtesy to look abashed as Dumbledore spoke once more from his place on the wall.

“Perhaps it’s time for the talk that all young men get from their fathers, or in this case, their father’s best friend…”

“That’s enough Albus,” McGonagall snapped before turning her attention back to Hermione, “please, Miss Granger, if you could continue.”

“Um, well, as well as stating the destroyer has to be pure of heart,” Hermione said, finally looking back up at the others in the room, “it states there has to be a connection with the soul inside the Horcrux – either a relative, teacher, colleague or…”

“…someone like Harry,” Ron finished, “you can’t get more connected than you the dark one.”

“Right, Harry fits the criteria,” Hermione agreed.

“Plus, Harry is the only one powerful enough to do the release spell,” Luna added.

“Powerful?” Harry questioned, “the counter-spell requires power? But I haven’t got power! I’m barely of age!”

“Harry does have a point,” McGonagall said thoughtfully.

“Harry has more power than anyone else in this room Minerva,” Dumbledore corrected, “you know that.”

“I agree.” Harry looked at Hermione in surprise as she uttered those two words.

“Hermione, I have…”

“You could do a full Patronus when you were thirteen, have fought Voldemort too many times to mention, you’ve saved lives, side Apparated Professor Dumbledore before even passing your test,” she took his hands in hers and stared him directly, “you are the most powerful wizard in this room, Harry. There is a spell that splits the soul from the object where the soul is vulnerable to destruction. You can do this.”

“What are the dangers?” he asked finally, taking a deep breath.

“That the soul escapes before it’s destroyed,” Luna answered for Hermione, “that it possesses a body, though it can’t enter the person doing the counter charm.”

“So I need to do it alone,” Harry thought out loud, his eyes never leaving Hermione.

“You will never be alone Harry,” she whispered so quietly that only he could hear her and ignoring the fact that he was in a room of people that he wouldn’t usually show emotion in front of, he drew Hermione into a hug and clung to her like he’d never let her go.

16. No More Secrets

A/N – another chapter that started as one thing and then grew into something else. Hmmm, not too sure about it but hope you enjoy.

Chapter 16 – No More Secrets

Harry was trying desperately to concentrate on what Tonks was teaching them, knowing that it was probably important and, as Hermione kept having to remind him, he was Head Boy after all and needed to set an example. Supposedly.

And although Tonks – or as she was known in the classroom, Professor Tonks – was one of the best Defence of the Dark Arts teachers Harry had had during his time at Hogwarts, he couldn’t stop his mind wandering. They had decided to destroy the Horcruxes during the Easter break when the school was reasonably empty – which was now only a week away. More specifically, they had decided that he had to destroy the Horcruxes during the Easter break because of all these attributes he had including the fact that he was the most powerful wizard in the school. Supposedly. Harry chuckled.

A sharp jab in the ribs jolted him back into the present. Turning to his right he saw a frowning Hermione tell him with her eyes that he should be paying attention and that he was really, really skating on thin ice. Getting her message loud and clear, Harry turned back to the front of the class in time to see Neville try and penetrate the new shielding spell that Tonks was teaching them.

Suddenly the class room door swung open and a very dour Professor McGonagall entered, looking directly at the young Auror.

“Professor Tonks, you’re needed immediately,” the headmistress instructed briskly.

“Right,” Tonks replied without question, all sign of her usual casualness gone, “Harry, could you please continue teaching the class…”

“Me?” Harry asked, not even sure what they were being taught.

“Perhaps Hermione can help,” Tonks added as she made her way to McGonagall (tripping on an empty book bag on her way).

“I’m not going to be taught by Potter and…”

“You will do as you are told Mr Malfoy,” the headmistress snapped, “Mr Potter and Miss Granger has full permission to dock you house points and put you on detention if you don’t. Nymphadora – we need to make haste.”

As soon as the door was closed, Hermione was on her feet and organising people into pairs while Harry frantically found out what they had been learning then spent the remaining half an hour helping his classmates perfect a pretty strong shielding spell (happily docking Slytherin house points for lack of initial participation).

Barely noting the satisfaction he felt when he handed Malfoy’s confiscated wand to a worried looking Professor Flitwick (who showed up at the end of the class), Harry’s mind went back to wondering why Tonks had been called out during the middle of a lesson. Placing Hermione’s newly packed book bag on his shoulder, adjusting his position to counter the increased weight, then grabbing his own bag, Harry started to follow Ron and Luna out of the classroom, still lost in thought.

“Harry!” Hermione called out, getting his attention.

“Hmm?” he said absently, turning to face her.

“You don’t have to keep carrying my bag,” she huffed, “I’m completely capable of carrying my own…”

“Bloody hell Hermione, will you just let it go,” Ron muttered, “Harry has this gentleman-y gene thing that makes him want to carry your bag for you. Accept it.”

“But…” Hermione tried to counter.

“I know you’re fully capable of carrying your own bag, but Ron’s right,” Harry interrupted as he began walking once more, “I can’t help it. Besides, I need to work on my upper body strength and this helps.”

“Oh, you two are hilarious,” Hermione admonished with a smile, “what am I supposed to do?”

“Berate Harry for not concentrating in class?” Luna suggested nonchalantly causing a silent groan from Harry.

“Yes! Thank you Luna,” Hermione said, her smile growing, “you should really pay more attention Harry. That spell Tonks was teaching us…”

“I wonder why Tonks left,” Ron interrupted – Harry looked at him thankfully.

He knew Hermione was nervous about the Horcrux destruction and he knew when Hermione got nervous, she slipped into her old ‘bossy, know it all’ persona and since he and her were now an item, Harry had been the target for her, well, nagging. He ignored it and let her comments wash over him, even jokingly replying ‘yes dear’ at times. Harry had explained this all to Ron, who thought it was hilariously funny, glad that Harry was now the receiver of Hermione’s tirades but had pledged to help Harry out when he could. Which was now.

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, gently squeezing Hermione’s hand to let her know he would indeed try and concentrate more in class, “it must have something to do with the Order, McGonagall looked pretty upset.”

Just then they heard a small ‘crack’ and their way was blocked by a worried looking house-elf.

“Hey Dobby,” Harry acknowledged, “is everything alright?”

“The headmistress asked me to tell you, Harry Potter sir, that you, Miss Hermy and your Wheezy needs to go to the black house immediately…”

“To the black house,” Harry questioned, “you mean…”

“Did the professor say why?” Hermione asked, stopping Harry from revealing Grimmauld Place to the few Slytherin’s that were still hanging around.

“No, Miss Hermy,” the elf answered, “but Dobby must find Miss Wheezy too.”

“No,” moaned Ron, “mum and dad…”

“Use the Floo in the Head’s room,” Harry suggested quickly to a very pale Ron. Luna took control and practically dragged Ron down the corridor at a fast pace while Harry turned back to Dobby, “I think Ginny and Neville went to the library. When you find them, tell them to come to the Head’s room – Hermione and I will wait for them there.”

“Yes sir, Harry Potter sir,” and with another crack, Dobby was gone.

Harry and Hermione ran to their room in silence and when they found it empty, Harry quickly put the bags down in a heap and began to pace. The Weasley’s have to be alright, he kept thinking to himself, they have to be fine. Mid pace, Harry glanced at Hermione who was standing near the fireplace, hugging herself in comfort, her face pale and drawn. Mentally berating himself for being so thoughtless, he made his way to where she was standing.

“Hermione?” he asked tentatively, drawing her to him, “are you doing okay?”

“It can’t happen again, can it Harry?” she whispered, “we can’t loose Mr and Mrs Weasley. We…we can’t…”

“We don’t know what’s happened,” Harry tried to reassure though the same thought was going through his mind, “we may be coming to the wrong conclusion…”

She looked up at him in disbelief just as Ginny and Neville entered the room – Hermione pulled out of Harry’s embrace quickly and stood slightly behind him as Ginny came forward.

“What is it?” the redhead asked with a frown, “Dobby said I needed to come here…”

“McGonagall asked for you to go to Grimmauld Place,” Harry explained, “Ron’s already there.”

Immediately Ginny made her way to the fireplace, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder before looking back at Neville.

“I’ll…I’ll see you there?” she asked Neville who nodded. In a flash of green, Ginny was gone with Neville following soon after.

When they were alone once more, Harry turned to Hermione who was standing quietly just behind him.

“Why did you pull away from me?” he questioned her gently.

“Ginny…”

“Ginny is with Neville,” Harry remarked, taking her hands in his, “and I’m with you. She is over me, way over me, you don’t need to worry…”

“But it’s Ginny…”

“So?” Harry asked, totally confused.

“Harry, you liked Ginny for absolutely ages,” Hermione began, stepping away from him, “and she liked you, still likes you as matter of fact. And she’s so beautiful – I could never compete with someone like her…”

“Hermione…” Harry tried to interrupt, but she kept on talking.

“…and now she’ll need you, like I needed you. Which is fine, you know? But, I still need you! And if came down to me or her, well, she’d win what with her playing Quidditch, and that red hair and…and she’s so much more interesting than me. And she lets you get away with stuff. I mean, I’m just looking out for you but I know I come across as bossy and nagging you and one day you’ll get tired of it…”

“Hermione…”

“…but I’m really scared Harry! I know I shouldn’t be, that I should be strong. For you. But I can’t help it! On Saturday we’re going to lock you in a room with three pieces of the soul of a monster that has been trying to kill you for years! And now! I can’t loose another set of parents Harry, I just can’t! But we have to go there and help, I know that, but I don’t want to! Which is wrong, I have to be able to deal with stuff like this, to harden up…”

“Hermione…”

“…I mean, things like this happen in war – Professor Dumbledore, my parents – I know that. And I don’t want to be the girl cowering in the dungeons when the battle is taking place upstairs but….”

“Hermione!” Harry shouted making Hermione finally stop talking and look at him, “stop! Listen to me. You’ve been through a lot, with loosing your mum and dad, this must be difficult for you and I’ll understand completely if you don’t want to go to Grimmauld Place right now…”

“No, I’ll go…” she said quietly, looking at her feet.

“You are one of the strongest people I know…”

“I’m just being stupid…”

“Yeah, a bit.” She looked up at him and smiled ever so slightly, giving Harry permission to take her in his arms once more.

“I’m sorry for acting like a weak, immature, insecure little girl,” she apologised, her voice muffled from being hidden in his chest.

“You are so much more to me than Ginny ever was Hermione,” Harry continued, “you have nothing to worry about with regards to her. There is no competition – you’d win every time. And don’t ever think you’re not beautiful.”

“Th…thank you Harry.”

“You are not weak or immature and I guess we’re all a bit insecure, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Silence.

“They’ll be wondering where we are,” Harry said softly after a few moments, “Ron will understand if you don’t…”

“No, we should go.”

Harry looked at her and gave her a supportive smile. She smiled shyly back before making her way to the fireplace and grabbing a handful of Floo powder.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he assured her and in a flash of green she was gone. Harry took a deep breath – he was just as scared as she was and the need to stay strong, for her, for everybody, was just as great. He didn’t know what was going to be there at Grimmauld Place and he hoped that he wasn’t going to have to deal with loosing the only real family he’d known.

With a heavy heart, Harry went to the fireplace and without any more thought, made his way to the Black estate.

He stepped out into the Grimmauld Place kitchen and was quickly swept up in the urgency that he felt. Hermione and Luna were helping Madam Pomfrey with some sort of potions at the table – Hermione looked up at him as he stepped out of the hearth, no longer looking scared and vulnerable as she did only moments before. Harry gave her a small smile.

“Mr Potter, they’re waiting for you in the drawing room,” Madam Pomfrey instructed, giving Harry only a brief glance, “tell Professor McGonagall we will be there shortly.”

Harry gave Hermione one more glance before making his way to the drawing room where he found Ron, Ginny and Neville talking with the headmistress.

“You took your time,” Ginny spat, holding onto Neville.

“I had to talk to Hermione…”

“She’s here?” Ron interrupted, “mate, she shouldn’t be here. Not after…”

“I’m fine Ron,” Hermione cut in as she, Luna and the nurse entered the room, “I want to be here for you.”

“Thanks,” Ron nodded appreciatively.

“What’s happened?” Harry asked as he and Ron made up a bed, “what do you know?”

“Only that The Burrow’s been attacked,” Ron answered glumly, “and I’m not allowed to go and help.”

Harry went to reply, wanting to know more, but he was interrupted by a yell from downstairs.

“Hey! I need some help here!” In a flash Ron and Harry ran to the entrance way to find Tonks trying to hold a wounded Fred (or George) while the other twin was being helped by Charlie, who also seemed a bit worse for wear. Madam Pomfrey was instantly at their sides, assessing the injuries and barking orders out to Hermione and Luna.

Harry took one twin off Tonks who, once relieved of her burden, went to McGonagall and gave her an update. Harry tried to listen, but his attention was quickly taken by the very pale and bleeding Weasley resting heavily on his shoulder.

The patients were taken to the drawing room where Ginny and Neville were waiting. George and Fred were quickly placed on the make-shift beds and were continued to be taken care of by the nurse and her two helpers. Charlie sat wearily down and though was battered and bruised, didn’t look as bad as his brothers.

Tonks entered the room alone – McGonagall had gone, Harry assumed, back to Hogwarts. The young Auror was limping and also had slithers of blood scattered over her body but she, like Charlie, didn’t look as bad as the twins.

“What’s wrong with them,” Ginny demanded, “are they going to be alright?”

The healers all ignored Ginny as they worked on their patients. Harry watched in amazement as Hermione was once again the cool, intelligent, capable girl that had briefly disappeared only a few minutes ago. Luna, too, seemed to be in her element as they both effortlessly helped the matron in fixing the Weasley twins – Ginny, it seemed, wasn’t as impressed.

“Let me do that,” the youngest Weasley snapped as she grabbed the salve out of Hermione’s hands and nudged her out of the way, “he is my brother after all!”

“Miss Weasley, hand that back to Miss Granger and let us work on these boys,” the school matron admonished immediately, “you are not trained in the Healing arts, Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood are!” With an annoyed scowl, Ginny handed the small jar back to Hermione and stomped back to Neville.

It seemed that whatever the girls and their instructor were doing began to work as colour slowly returned to the twins faces with one of the brothers even regaining consciousness. Charlie and Tonks were then examined and healed with only residual signs of their injuries.

“Charlie,” Ron went to his older brother, “what happened? Where are the others?”

“Bill and dad are getting Fleur to St Mungo’s” Charlie replied wearily, “she went into labour. Remus should be here with mum soon.”

“Labour? But Fleur isn’t due for another couple of months!” Ginny exclaimed.

“I know,” Charlie sighed.

“Was Remus far behind you?” Tonks asked as she walked over to the small group, “should I go and get him? He isn’t in the best of states at the moment…”

“He seemed to be coping,” Charlie answered, “the full moon isn’t until Wednesday – Remus was weak but holding his own. Mum was still getting a few shots away herself.”

“Is mum alright?” Ron questioned, a note of fear hitching his voice.

“I’m fine,” came the reply as an exhausted Remus carried the Weasley matriarch into the room, “just sprained my stupid ankle. Fred! George! Oh, my babies! And Charlie! Oh, you all are a sight for sore eyes.”

Harry stood back slightly as he let the Weasley’s embrace, not wanting to intrude on the family moment. Both Fred and George were barely awake yet were included in their mother’s tearful reunion, Molly only relenting as the constantly hovering nurse insisted that the twins remained lying still when one of them began to waver.

Tonks had gone to where Remus was standing, definitely looking unstable and sick. Harry watched as the small witch gently and lovingly checked Remus out for wounds before helping him to a seat.

“Did dad and Bill get away?” Charlie asked with a worried frown.

“Yes,” Remus replied, “they managed to get Fleur out of the house while Molly and I distracted the remaining Death Eaters. They Apparated moments before we did.”

“What happened?” Ron repeated his earlier question, his eyes flickering between the battered Order members.

“I want to tell you Ron,” Mrs Weasley started, placing a gentle hand on his arm, “but I’d prefer to wait until your father gets here. I need to know Fleur is…oh, heavens if she looses her baby!”

“She’s nearly full term,” Madam Pomfrey remarked with a professional air, “she and her child should be fine at St Mungo’s.”

“I’m sure dad will come here as soon as he can with news,” Charlie reassured, guiding his mother back to a chair.

It turned out Mr Weasley was quite a few hours away as they were all eating a freshly made steak and kidney pie for dinner when he stepped through the kitchen’s fireplace.

“Arthur!” Mrs Weasley exclaimed, quickly standing up and crushing her husband in one of her famous hugs, “oh, it’s good to see you! How is Fleur? Bill? Is the baby…?”

“Molly, dear, let me breathe,” the exhausted wizard gasped through a smile, “Fleur gave birth to a small but healthy baby boy half an hour ago. Henry is his name. Mother and child are fine but the little tyke will stay in for a few days just to make sure and they want to keep Fleur in over night…”

“Henry!” the proud new grandmother squealed, “how dandy! Well, we have to visit…”

“First things first, sweetheart,” Mr Weasley continued, making his way to the table, “we’re going to need to find a place to live.”

“Live?” Ron asked, confused, “The Burrow is pretty damaged, huh?”

“The Burrow is no longer,” Charlie replied grimly, “it was on fire when we left…”

“…and pretty much gone by the time we left,” Remus finished, “I’m sorry Arthur, Molly.”

“We are all alive and that’s what’s most important,” Mrs Weasley said briskly, grabbing the hands of the present but very quiet twins as confirmation.

“The Burrow, gone?” Ginny repeated in a daze, “I don’t believe it.”

“Well, you could always stay here,” Harry offered, glancing quickly at Remus as he said it, “I mean, if that’s okay with you Remus since you already live here.”

“Of course Arthur and Molly are welcome here,” the old professor agreed, “there is more than enough room.”

“That’s very kind of you Harry and Remus,” Mr Weasley replied with a shaky smile, “but we wouldn’t want to step on you and Tonk’s toes, two old dodgers mixing with you youngsters.”

“I don’t think you can quite class me as a youngster,” Remus grinned.

“And I’m not here that often,” Tonks added, blushing slightly as she glanced at Harry.

“I guess I’m the one who should have been asking you whether your status had changed, huh Remus?” Harry laughed, making Remus’s grin grow, “you sly dog.”

“One does try,” Remus answered before being whacked on the arm by an angry young witch.

“Remus Lupin, you watch yourself,” Tonks admonished with a smirk, “otherwise your status will be changing once more to ‘neutered’!”

“I don’t understand,” Ginny said with a frown, “what status…”

“Don’t you mind Ginny,” Ron quickly replied, “just a joke between Harry, Remus and I which it seems Tonks has been clued in on.”

“Well, that’s all by the by,” Mr Weasley interrupted with a chuckle, “on second thoughts, Grimmauld Place would be the ideal place for us to stay until The Burrow can be re-built. Though there is Bill and Fleur as well…”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“…which means a small baby in the house,” Mr Weasley finished with a sigh.

“I doubt the Black estate has had the joys of a child in this house for a very long time,” Remus answered, “it will be an honour.”

“Thank you Remus,” Mrs Weasley joined in, “this is much appreciated. You too Harry.”

“No problem,” Harry replied with an embarrassed blush as Mrs Weasley came over to him and gave him a hug and huge kiss on the cheek.

“Getting back to more pressing matters,” Mr Weasley continued, “I’ve asked Kingsley, Mad-Eye and Minerva to be here by seven – we have to discuss our next move. You-Know-Who has become more personal and direct with his threats towards Harry…”

“Threats?” Harry cut in nervously, “did…did he leave something at The Burrow?”

The battled Weasley’s all shared a look before Charlie left the room briefly, coming back with something in his hand which he handed silently to Harry. With Ron and Hermione on either side of him, Harry unfolded the piece of bloody parchment and read what was written in an untidy scrawl.

You’re next Potter

“It was attached to a gnome which was pinned to one of the trees in the garden,” Fred said quietly, the first time he had spoken since arriving at Grimmauld Place.

“It was the trigger to the larger attack,” George continued, “when we took it off the tree, the next wave of Death Eaters arrived.”

“How did they get through the wards?” Ron asked.

“We don’t know,” Charlie replied with a frown, “the initial attack was five Death Eaters, determined to get to mum and Fleur. Luckily there was an alarm set that told us the wards were breached otherwise it would’ve only been the two there – I don’t think they were expecting us. As it was, five more attackers came during our defence. One of them set The Burrow on fire.”

“Would Snape have been able to break through the wards?” Harry questioned, curious.

“Severus was there,” Mrs Weasley whispered, “he saved Fleur.”

“What?” Harry practically yelled.

“Snape was there?” Ron shouted at the same time.

“Severus was there Molly?” her husband asked slightly more calmer.

“Yes,” she replied, “he saw me but didn’t fire and stopped a curse from hitting Fleur. I…I think he’s on our side…”

“But he killed Dumbledore!” Harry spat, “how can he be fighting for us when he killed Dumbledore!”

“Plus he probably led the Death Eaters to The Burrow,” Ron added, just as angry, “there’s no way he’s not bad!”

“Maybe he’s still undercover…” Hermione suggested.

“You’re defending him?” Harry turned to her, eyes blazing – she stared back at him defiantly.

“We have never asked Professor Dumbledore why his faith in Professor Snape was so absolute,” she explained, “I don’t like him, I hate that he took away the wonderful man that was Professor Dumbledore. But what if the headmaster was already dying? What if Snape actually put him out of his misery? Ended an excruciating agony? You said yourself that the potion that Dumbledore consumed had caused him terrible pain…”

“Snape is evil,” Ginny interrupted harshly, causing everyone to turn to her in surprise, “I can’t believe you dare to think otherwise.” Ginny glared at Hermione from across the table but Hermione did not waver.

“Then why didn’t he kill Mrs Weasley or Fleur when he had the chance?” she countered calmly, “how can two women, one heavily pregnant, survive a Death Eater attack if not without help?”

“Not all females are weak and defenceless,” Ginny bit back, “some can hold their own in battle. Oh, but that’s right, you weren’t there fighting by Harry’s side last year were you – you were down in the dungeon.”

“Ginny, that’s enough,” Mrs Weasley scolded as the two girls remained staring at each other. Harry looked at Hermione and saw her flush, her eyes glistening with tears he could see she was determined not to shed. Taking a deep breath, she turned away from a scowling Ginny and faced Harry.

“I know you hate Snape Harry,” Hermione said softly, “but just think about it, okay?”

Harry didn’t get a chance to reply as a heavy knock sounded at the front door.

“I’ll get it,” Remus offered and as he walked out, Harry took Hermione’s hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. The idea of Snape helping them still repulsed Harry and it will probably continue to be a debate between them all right up until the end. But at the moment Hermione was hurting once again because of Ginny.

The appearance of Kingsley Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye Moody distracted Harry as the kitchen suddenly became even more crowded. When Professor McGonagall arrived from the Floo, the party was complete. With a weary acceptance that there was a good chance his future would be discussed shortly by those within this room, Harry placed his and Hermione’s entwined hand under the table on his knee. He didn’t want the comfort he was getting from her touch to be spoiled by those around him – especially Ginny.

“Good, every one is here,” Mr Weasley started, looking around the room, “as you all know, since the death of Albus, things around us all have become extremely desperate. We’re loosing good witches and wizards every day and although we’ve been waiting for the best time to attack our enemy – I’m not sure whether we can wait much longer…”

“The destruction of The Burrow is unfortunate Arthur,” Shacklebolt said, his deep voice echoing slightly, “but things are not yet in place…”

“This has nothing to do with what happened today,” Mr Weasley shot back, “I was in St Mungo’s Kingsley, waiting for the birth of my first grandchild and, dear Merlin, the wards are filled to over flowing. If we wait any longer, there may not be anyone left to fight or fight for!”

“Our numbers are too few,” Moody growled, “it would be a suicide mission to try to attack with the fighters we have…”

“It’s getting to the point where we have no choice,” Mr Weasley continued dourly, “You-Know-Who is killing too many…too many lives are being lost.”

“I agree with dad,” Charlie asserted, “I’ve spent a bit of time with Hagrid and I know Grawp has five of the fourteen giants on his side which means there is dissent within the giant community – that’s a start.”

“Hagrid is there now,” McGonagall put in, “which is why he couldn’t make tonight Arthur.”

“Five giants on our side is good,” Mr Weasley agreed, “Remus, how is it with the werewolves?”

“Greyback has them all too terrified,” Remus replied wearily, “though I get the impression if they knew Greyback was loosing, weakened, then they would switch.”

“So getting rid of Greyback should be a priority,” Moody grunted, “though the fact he is no longer attacking solely at full moon could make things difficult.”

“He is extremely powerful both as a human and as a werewolf,” Remus added, “he is going to be extremely difficult to destroy.”

“Bill said the goblins are determined to stay neutral,” Mr Weasley advised the group, “but they are getting more and more disgruntled with the demands of the dark community. They have begun to covertly make things more difficult for certain clients to continue to do business.”

“Dobby continues to make headway with the house elves,” McGonagall informed them, “though they can’t betray their masters, many have been mistreated for so long they are willing to use other means to help us. The elf magic is powerful and a good ally.”

“What about Firenze?” Shacklebolt asked.

“The heavens have been quite threatening, evidently,” the headmistress stated dryly, “but the messages the centaurs are now getting supports Firenze. Over half the heard will help protect the castle if needed.”

“Right,” Mr Weasley thought hard, “added to our human fighters we are still only about a third of numbers to the Dark Side…”

“That’s not enough,” Moody growled.

“It’s going to have to be Alistair,” Tonks argued, “I agree with Arthur, the longer we leave this, the less supporters we’re going to have. And this personal vendetta snakeface has against Harry is getting really out of hand.”

Everyone turned and looked at Harry who said nothing.

“Which is why the children should remain at Hogwarts,” Molly Weasley said, speaking for the first time, “the castle is the safest place for them – You-Know-Who won’t be able to get Harry from in there.”

“The castle was already breached once Molly,” Remus reminded her, “and the wards on The Burrow have also been breached. No where is a hundred percent safe.”

“That’s not what I mean Remus and you know it,” she bristled, “Ginny isn’t even of age! Neither is Luna! And the other four, well, they are still at school! They shouldn’t be here, listening to this, being part of what is basically a war council. They are too young! They shouldn’t be part of this!”

“I agree with Molly,” Kingsley stated, “the youngsters have no business here. Ravenclaw’s dictionary we retrieved from the Malfoy Manor has incensed Voldemort, forcing us to act sooner than planned. The trio have their own agenda, I understand that, but it has now interfered with ours. They should go back to their studies and leave the rest to us.”

“It’s not that simple…” Remus began.

“Yes it is,” Mrs Wealey interrupted, “I don’t care how smart Hermione is, or how loyal and brave Ron is – Harry is not the Chosen One! He is just a boy who’s had a horrid life! It is up to us to end this, not a group of children who haven’t even graduated from Hogwarts! My son has already lost a leg…”

“Mum,” Ron tried to interrupt but was ignored.

“…and now my home is gone, and Fred and George are hurt!” Molly continued close to tears, “And my grandson! This is wrong – they should all be at school, thinking about their NEWT’s not here talking about war! They should no longer be a part of this!”

“But I am a part of this,” Harry said softly, the words out of his mouth before he could stop them, “I am the Chosen One.”

“Harry,” Hermione breathed worriedly, immediately turning her full attention to him, “you don’t need to do this…”

“Yes I do,” he replied, noting the concern in her eyes as he looked at her briefly before returning his gaze to the adults in the room, “any war plan that is about the destruction of Voldemort needs to include me…”

“Us,” Ron corrected quickly causing Harry to glance at him in surprise, “because anywhere Harry goes, we go.”

“Harry,” Mr Weasley began, “I realise that out of everyone in this room, your life has been the most affected by…”

“That’s not the reason,” Harry interrupted, sighing deeply, “there was a prophecy, kept in the Ministry of Magic that told the only person who would beat Voldemort would be born at the end of July to parents who had battled him three times. Which meant either Neville or me…”

“Me?” Neville questioned, dumbfounded, “you mean to say, what you’ve been through could’ve easily been me?”

“Yeah,” Harry continued with a wry smile, “but Voldemort marked me in more ways than one,” he pointed to the scar in his forehead, “Dumbledore was sure the prophecy meant me because of the scar. And only I can kill him, well, at least neither one can live while the other does…”

“You’re destined to kill You-Know-Who?” Charlie repeated, shocked, “this changes everything.”

“But you can’t!” Mrs Weasley cried, coming over to where Harry was sitting and engulfing him in a mammoth hug, “you’re just a…”

“Molly, Harry is not just a child,” Mr Weasley admonished, going over to his wife and peeling her off an embarrassed Harry, “it seems he’s been dealing with a lot more than we’ve given him credit for.”

“So these missions you three have been on,” Mad-Eye queried, “they’re about defeating Voldemort? Albus let you know of something more powerful than his notion of love conquering all.”

“Well, no, actually,” Harry said uncomfortably, “we’ve been getting the last Horcruxes…”

“Horcruxes!”

“Did he say Horcruxes, plural?”

“Harry, Harry,” Mr Weasley sputtered, “what do you mean, Horcruxes? Did Albus think You-Know-Who had actually made one?”

“Actually, Dumbledore thought Voldemort had made six…”

The commotion from this comment out stripped the commotion from his last comment. Harry just sat and waited for the news to sink in, his hand still clasped in Hermione’s.

“What’s a Horcrux?” George asked, after a moment.

“Something that is the darkest of magic,” his mother explained, “where a soul splits after the murder of someone…”

“That fits You-Know-Who’s grand scheme,” Fred muttered.

“And that’s what the dictionary was?” Tonks tried to confirm, “a Horcrux”.

“Yes,” Remus admitted.

“You said that Voldemort had made six?” Mad-Eye questioned.

“Yes,” Harry answered, “and he’s the seventh. Two are destroyed – the diary that Ginny had in her first year and a ring that Dumbledore found and destroyed last year…”

“His dead hand,” Mr Weasley thought out loud.

“Yes,” Harry continued, “we have three and are going to destroy them this weekend. Dumbledore thought Voldemort’s pet snake was the sixth so as long as that is killed before we go after Voldemort himself, then he will be mortal.”

“You’re destroying three Horcruxes this weekend?” Tonks asked, obviously concerned as she looked between the trio and Remus, “how?” Harry turned to Hermione.

“We found a book that gives us the spell to separate the piece of soul from the item it’s attached to,” she explained, “Harry is the only person that fills the criteria needed to perform the spell.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Shacklebolt queried.

“It’s the only option we have,” Harry said quickly, “if we killed Voldemort now, it would only activate one of the Horcruxes and he would come back.”

“How does that work?” Neville asked. Harry looked at him as Neville asked his question and saw a glowering Ginny standing at the Gryffindor’s side, her eyes glaring at Hermione as she began to speak.

“The death of the Horcrux owner activates the spell within the Horcrux,” Hermione explained once more, “the object the soul is in acts like a portkey and takes both itself and the Horcrux owner’s to a predetermined safe place where the soul leaves its vessel and reunites with the dying soul of its master.”

“So why didn’t that happen when Harry’s mother’s spell reflected onto You-Know-Who?” Neville continued to question. Harry himself hadn’t thought about this, so with interest he too turned to Hermione.

“Well,” she began, glancing a bit nervously at Harry, “I haven’t really told anyone my theory, even Harry…” Harry understood her hesitancy and was grateful for it – she wasn’t sure if he would want everyone to know something that he may want to keep private. But he wanted to hear so gave a small, reassuring nod to give her permission to continue, which she did, still looking at him, “the magic that saved Harry was extremely old, older than the Horcrux magic. When Voldemort died, a Horcrux wasn’t fully activated because something within Mrs Potter’s spell counteracted the magic that would’ve reunited the soul with the body. Instead, Voldemort’s body was portkeyed to the ‘safe spot’ but a Horcrux wasn’t. Therefore the soul of the dead body had nothing to combine with, taking thirteen years to use another set of ancient magic to get a body back.”

No one said anything as they thought about what Hermione had just said. Harry also stayed silent as he watched the various levels of concern that he could see on the faces of those in the room. When he finally looked at Ginny – he didn’t see concern at all, just anger. When she saw him looking at her, she broke the silence.

“So, you’ve known about all this for nearly a year?” Ginny asked, her voice dripping with ice.

“Dumbledore told me about the prophecy after the mess at the Ministry,” Harry explained with a frown, “the Horcruxes last year…”

“And you told no one but Ron and her,” the redhead continued, arms crossed and brow furrowed menacingly.

“Initially,” Harry explained, bristling with her attitude, “Dumbledore really didn’t want anyone else to know about the Horcruxes but suggested that I tell only those really close to me…”

“Like her,” Ginny spat, indicating Hermione with a jerk of her head – Hermione’s hand left his in an instant.

Harry had had enough. He had really thought that Ginny had got over all this, had told Hermione such only a few hours before – but she obviously hadn’t.

“Can I have a word with you,” Harry demanded to the youngest Weasley, “in private.” Harry stood and left the kitchen without waiting for her response, knowing that she wouldn’t give up the chance to convince him of her case once more. He was right – she entered the entrance foyer right behind him.

“Something wrong Harry?” she asked sarcastically.

“What is your problem?” he growled.

“My problem is that I was your girlfriend,” she answered, firing, “I was the one that made you happy! I was the one that you were supposed to share your secrets with! Harry, we talked about everything…”

“We talked about Quidditch, and school, and your brothers and what gossip you had heard,” Harry glowered, “not the war, or Voldemort or my life! You never seemed too concerned about what I was doing with Dumbledore…”

“You never gave me a chance,” Ginny interrupted, furious, “we were perfect together, you and me. But no, you couldn’t share the important stuff with me! You had to share it with her!”

“I thought we had gotten over this Ginny,” Harry shot back, “you’ve said all this before, at the wedding…”

“Where you told me there was nothing between you two! Now look at you – you make me sick!”

“Well, get over it,” Harry spat, walking over to where she was standing, “I haven’t got time for this Ginny – you need to grow up and stop being a spoilt little girl who is upset because she hasn’t got her own way. Very soon I will be fighting for my life in a battle that is bigger than you and me. Hermione is part of that because she chose to stand by me and because I need her there. If you can’t deal with that, then keep away from me – I don’t want to have to worry whether you can look past your own ego and help me and my friends. Do I make myself clear?”

“I’m part of this too…” Ginny began.

“No,” Harry interrupted, “you are part of the Order, not part of what I have to do. Sort yourself out because I’ve had enough. Until you learn to grow up, keep out of my way.”

Harry made his way past her, ready to re-enter the kitchen, but she reached out and stopped him.

“Why her Harry?” Ginny pleaded, her eyes filling with tears, “why her and not me? We were perfect together, looked perfect…”

“But we were not perfect Ginny,” Harry explained, more calmly, “I’m not perfect. Hermione understands that in a way that you struggle to. She understands me.” He pulled out of her grasp and continued to kitchen, pausing once more just before opening the door, turning back to her standing in the middle of the foyer, “and Ginny – don’t lead Neville on. He’s a good guy and deserve better than that. He really cares for you.”

With that, Harry opened the door to be stared at by everyone in the room. Making his way back to his seat in between Hermione and Ron, he took Hermione’s hand, interlocking his fingers with hers before turning once more to everyone else.

“Right,” he said briskly, “let’s work out how I can kill Voldemort.”

17. Destroying Evil

A/N – thank you once again for all your lovely, positive comments, you guys rock!! It’s been a difficult time for me the last week or two, what with one thing or another so your lovely comments continued to make my day. A big hello to Helen – hey buddy! Good to see your name amongst my reviewers – miss you! Look forward to seeing you again in a few weeks. :o) To all you Latin speakers, I tried but I know my Latin spells aren’t quite right – can I quote poetic licence?

This is to all our fallen soldiers over the years of war as this chapter was started on ANZAC day – least we forget.

Chapter 17 – Destroying Evil

“Harry?” came the droggy voice from the other bed, “mate, do you ever sleep? It must be like, I don’t know, five in the morning!”

Harry looked up at Ron from the parchment he was writing and smiled as all he could see was a shock of red hair and a pair of half awake eyes.

“It’s nearly five thirty and no, I don’t sleep, not really,” answered Harry ruefully, “sorry, didn’t mean to wake you…”

“You didn’t, trust me,” Ron grumphed, sitting up right and running a hand through his sleep-tossed hair, “nightmares of dark wizards seeping through the wall and killing me did that.”

“You’ve been having nightmares?” Harry asked, suddenly concerned.

“Nothing like yours,” Ron assured, “and nothing for you to worry about. Watcha doing?”

“Updating my letters,” Harry said casually going back to his writing, “in case today doesn’t go too well.”

“Letters?” Ron questioned, now wide awake, “what kind of letters?”

“Just letters,” Harry explained cryptically, stopping writing once more as he finished his final parchment, put it in an envelope and placed it on the pile on his bed, “to you and Hermione, your family, Remus and some others. I wrote them first after Mr and Mrs Granger visited us at Privet Drive, remember? Well, a few things have changed now so I thought I’d better update them just in case.”

“You mean your letters telling us what you want to do if you cark it?” Ron queried.

“Yeah.” Both paused for a moment before Ron spoke just above a whisper.

“Believe it or not, I’ve got a few of those myself.” Harry looked over at Ron.

“For Luna?”

“Luna, you, Hermione, mum and dad,” Ron answered as he got out of bed and put his robe on, “just in case.”

“Yeah, just in case,” Harry repeated, placing his letters back in his trunk.

The idea that he was talking about maybe dying with his best friend seemed slightly surreal to Harry – but also felt needed. Hermione still refused to let him discuss that he may not survive so Harry had decided to say all he needed to say on parchment – and it seemed Ron had decided to do the same.

“I hope you’re telling Hermione to carry on without you,” Ron stated as he got his clothes together – Harry’s head snapped up.

“What?”

“I hope you’ve told Hermione to carry on, not give up…”

“Why would she do that?” Harry asked confused, “I mean, I expect her to be upset if I…die, but she’d get over it and find someone else. She’d find someone easily.”

Ron paused and looked at Harry before walking over to his bed and sitting on its edge.

“Harry, you are Hermione’s life,” Ron explained quietly, “and you have been for nearly seven years. If something happened to you, she wouldn’t know how to live without you. Even more so now that you guys are dating.”

“But things have happened to me before and she’s been alright…”

“Has she? You wouldn’t know, you’re usually unconscious at the time. Harry, she’s usually a wreck.”

“She’s smart,” Harry continued, thinking out loud, ignoring Ron’s comment, “she would understand that giving up is stupid, that it would be up to her to enjoy life, enjoy a life I wasn’t able to have!”

“If you tell her to, she will,” Ron finished up, standing and making his way to the bathroom. Harry looked at his friend in shock but knew he had to ask the question that was now pounding in his brain before Ron left to get ready for the day.

“Will you make sure?” he blurted out causing Ron to turn around and look at him.

“Yeah mate, I’ll make sure,” Ron grinned, “though you’re not going to die so it doesn’t matter anyway, right?”

“Right,” Harry agreed, waiting for Ron to go into the bathroom before collapsing back on his bed.

In five hours he will start destroying the Horcruxes and although he is pretty certain that they have covered all bases and he should be fine, he wasn’t one hundred percent certain. He was, after all, dealing with pieces of Voldemorts soul and anything could happen.

When Harry had woken early that morning, it was to a nightmare and the need to see Hermione had been immense – but he couldn’t; there were rules and wards preventing him to do so. Instead, he began to write, telling those around him how important they were in his life and thanking them for helping make him the person he was.

He had nearly finished when Ron had woken, his letter to Hagrid being the last, but now as he lay thinking over Ron’s words, perhaps he need to write more. Perhaps he had underestimated Hermione’s feelings for him. Or perhaps Ron had it wrong.

“Your turn Harry,” Ron stated as he re-entered the dorm, “come on, get showered. It may be bloody early, but I’m hungry…”

“You’re always hungry,” Harry joked, breaking out of his thoughts and getting his gear together.

“I’m a growing lad,” Ron defended, “I’ll see you downstairs.”

“What about Hermione?” Harry asked as he made his way to the bathroom, “should we wake her?”

“Harry, in a few hours you’re putting yourself in potential mortal danger,” Ron explained patiently, “she’s probably slept as much as you have, has read a couple of books, completed a few essays and is waiting for us downstairs.”

Harry just chuckled and made his way to the shower. He knew he should be thinking about the Horcruxes, and every now and then he did, but his mind kept returning back to Hermione and the possibility that she’d give up if something happened to him. He couldn’t let that happen. It was one of the reasons that he hadn’t wanted to be with her, knowing that it would be harder for her if he died. But the idea that she’d just stop living because he wasn’t there? No, that couldn’t happen. He wasn’t that special.

Moments later he made his way to the common area where, like Ron predicted, Hermione was already there. She and Ron were in deep conversation which stopped when Harry arrived, making him think they had been talking about him. He let that thought go.

“Hey,” he greeted her, taking her hand, “you should still be asleep, it’s only six am after all.”

“Couldn’t,” Hermione smiled, “as couldn’t you but Mr Weasley here – this must be a first. Have you ever seen dawn Ron?”

“Yes I have, thank you very much,” Ron grumbled, “I just don’t make a habit of it like you two.”

Harry just smiled as the banter continued while they made their way to the Great Hall in the hope that breakfast may come early. It seemed, however, that they weren’t alone with the inability to sleep as Remus, Professor McGonagall and Tonks were already seated at the lone round table in the middle of the floor, the usual four long benches pushed to the side.

“Speak of the Devil,” Tonks said brightly as she noticed them walk in, “see I told you Remus they’d be up at the crack of dawn.”

“Harry and Hermione, I have no problem with,” Remus replied with a grin, “but Ron? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and about this early!”

“Will you lot just leave me alone,” Ron muttered as he slumped down into one of the chairs, “I need some food.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged Mr Weasley,” McGonagall stated, hiding a smile and in seconds the table was filled with food. Ron’s eyes lit up and he began piling food onto his plate, ignoring the amused stares from those around him.

“So, are you all set Harry?” Remus asked as Harry started to fill his bowl up with cereal.

“I guess,” Harry answered absently, “ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Kingsley, Mad-Eye and Arthur will be here shortly to help seal the room,” McGonagall explained, “I’m guessing Molly will be with them.”

“I thought the less people here the better,” Harry mumbled.

“You didn’t really think Molly would stay away, did you Harry?” Tonks smiled.

“Luna said she’d be here about nine thirty,” Ron said through a mouthful, glancing briefly at Harry who had shot him an annoyed look, “moral support,” he explained. Harry just grunted. His head was too full of everything to complain.

“What about Malfoy?” Hermione asked as she filled her and Harry’s glasses up with pumpkin juice.

“Professor Slughorn has agreed to keep Mr Malfoy occupied in the Slytherin common room,” McGonagall said, “he should be totally unaware of what’s going on.”

Just then, the huge doors of the Hall flung open and a harassed looking Hagrid made his way to where Harry was sitting.

“Hagrid,” Remus greeted with a smile, “we weren’t expecting you back for a couple more days!”

“I ‘ad to come back, dinnt I?” the half giant nearly sobbed, “Mad-Eye told me you were doin’ summint dangerous again.” Hagrid was looking directly at Harry, who blushed under his scrutiny.

“Well, yes, er, I am,” he admitted.

“Then, I’m ‘ere ter ‘elp,” Hagrid proclaimed, sitting down in the chair Tonks conjured up for him and starting on his own breakfast. Harry just shrugged and returned to his cereal.

Conversation started to turn to more normal things and as the meal progressed, Harry participated less and less. He was getting a bit anxious now and when the other members of the Order arrived to safe guard the room the Horcruxes were going to be in, Harry stopped talking altogether.

As the trio began the trip back to the Head’s common room, the walk was made in silence. They just reached the door when Harry stopped and turned to Ron.

“Um, Ron,” he started a bit hesitantly, “do you mind giving us a few minutes? I…I need to talk to Hermione about something.”

“Sure mate,” Ron agreed quickly, glancing between Harry and Hermione, “I’ll see you guys in about half an hour?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered gratefully, “yeah, see you then.” He watched as Ron gave a small wave then made his way down the empty corridor. Taking a deep breath, Harry looked down at Hermione, who looked nervously back at him. With what he hoped was a reassuring smile, he opened the door and gently pulled her inside – closing and sealing the door with a soft squelch.

“Harry?” she questioned tentatively but Harry knew she understood what he was doing and why he was doing it. She looked so beautiful just then, and although there were things he wanted to say to her, things he had to talk about – he bent down and kissed her. In seconds her hands were in his hair and she was pressed hard against him, making him forget about…everything.

It seemed Hermione was feeling the same as she let Harry touch places she hadn’t let him touch before, each moment making him more daring until he felt the small push on his chest, telling him it was time to stop. With great difficulty, Harry pulled away from her, removing his hands from under her shirt so he could intertwine them with hers, who had done some exploring of their own.

“You…you wanted to talk to me?” she panted, her face flushed.

“Er, yeah,” Harry replied as he frantically tried to remember just what he needed to say to her, aware that he too sounded out of breath, “I need to ask you something.” Finally recalling what had been troubling him most of the morning, he guided her to the sofa where they both sat facing each other, disturbing a sleeping Crookshanks in the process.

“What is it Harry?” she asked, a frown immediately crossing her face. Harry thought about what he was going to say, realising the easiest way would be just to say it.

“If…if I died,” he started, “you’d move on wouldn’t you? Find someone else and be happy, right?”

“You’re not going to die Harry,” she stated firmly.

“I know,” he placated, “but if I did, you wouldn’t give up. You’d still live your life – right? Hermione, I need to know that you’ll continue on without me.”

She pulled away from him, turning so that he could only see her profile, her eyes dropping to her hands that now sat in her lap.

“There will be no-one in my life like you Harry,” she said quietly, “ever. If…if you left me, it would be half a life. I would be existing but not living…”

“You have to be able to live Hermione,” Harry replied just as quietly, “because if you don’t, then everything I’ve struggled for, everything I would’ve died for would be worthless.”

“You’re not going to die,” she whispered as her tears began to fall. Harry took her in his arms and let her cry silently on his shoulder.

“No, I’m not going to die,” he agreed, gently stroking her hair.

“What about you?” she asked after a few moments, pulling out of his embrace and looking up at him with watery eyes, “what would you do if I didn’t make it?”

Harry looked at her in shock – if she didn’t make it? Of course Hermione will make it, his mind screamed, she can’t die! But then he remembered seeing her fall at the Ministry of Magic, her body still and lifeless and how he hadn’t been able to think until Neville had assured him Hermione was still alive. She had nearly died once because of him, her parents had died because of him – it is a possibility. It was then he realised that he too, would never find anyone that meant as much to him as she did and if she wasn’t there to share the rest of his life with, then it would be a half life.

“I would be existing not living,” he admitted.

“So if I promise to you that I would carry on and live my life to its full potential if you’re not in it, you’ll do the same?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded slightly, “though you’re not going to die either.” She smiled up at him and wiped away the remainder of her tears before kissing him gently on the lips.

“I love you Harry James Potter,” she breathed, her face inches from his.

“I…I know,” he stammered before a loud knock hammered on the door making them both jump away from each other slightly. Releasing the sealing spells, the door swung open and Ron’s head poked in.

“Time to go,” he informed them, his face breaking into a smirk, “and rearrange your tops you two, mum still thinks you’re both the good children.” Harry looked down and saw his t shirt was still bunched up his back while Hermione shirt tails were outside her jeans and in disarray. Blushing, he straightened himself out then waited for Hermione to do the same.

“Has she given up on you then?” Hermione asked, taking Harry’s hand and joining Ron at the door.

“She caught Luna and I once in the broom shed,” Ron explained with a laugh, “I got the talk from dad after that. Actually, you haven’t had that pleasure yet, have you Harry?”

“Er, no,” Harry answered uncomfortably, “I think Remus is planning to…”

“Fair enough,” Ron said, making his way down the corridor, “probably waiting until today’s over, right?”

“Right,” Harry replied but then stayed silent, his two friends doing the same. No longer consumed with the thought of Hermione wasting her life, pinning after him, his mind returned to the subject at hand – destroying the Horcruxes.

“Where’s Luna?” Hermione asked after a little while, as if to break the silence.

“She was talking to Tonks so I left her to it,” Ron explained, pausing as they turned a corner to see a group of people standing half way down the otherwise empty corridor.

Harry breathed deeply – this was it. In an empty classroom was the last barrier to getting rid of Voldemort. One way or another, the end was coming. With another deep breath, he made his way to the others, gripping Hermione’s hand tightly as he did so.

Remus, Kingsley and Mr Weasley were inside the room, circling the three objects that had been placed on the sole desk warily. Hagrid and Mad-Eye were at the door, discussing something while Mrs Weasley, Professor McGonagall, Tonks and Luna were standing in the corridor, looking up at them as the trio made their way down to where they were standing. Harry was glad to see Ginny had stayed away but wished that there wasn’t so many people here to watch him.

The wall that separated the room from the corridor was see through, and although Harry could see the three Order members in the room, he knew they couldn’t see him. They had decided that it would be best for Harry, or more importantly Voldemort, not to see who was watching and made the transparency one way.

“Ah, Harry,” Mrs Weasley cooed as soon as he was close enough, “good to see you dear. Right on time.” Harry just nodded, his eyes never leaving the nearly empty classroom. His appearance brought everyone out into the corridor – the adults all looking at him nervously.

“Everything is all set Harry,” Remus informed him, his face still pale from the full moon he had just experienced, “the room is sealed leaving you three hours of air…”

“Remember, when you’ve finished,” Mr Weasley instructed, “place your wand on the table and move away from the door. We will test the air, make sure there is no essence of You-Know-Who remaining, secure you and make sure you’re…fine.” Harry nodded.

“Are you sure you want to do all three at once?” McGonagall asked, repeating a question she had asked many times previously, “not on consecutive days?”

“I want to get this over and done with,” Harry stated firmly – the headmistress just nodded.

“Do you have any questions Harry?” Remus questioned, sounding like he desperately didn’t want to do this which, Harry reasoned, he probably didn’t. Sending his best friend’s son into danger for a second time must be terribly difficult for the Marauder.

“Only that you know what to do if he possesses me, right?” Harry asked, looking first at Remus then Kingsley and Moody, knowing they had a less emotional connection to him, “that if he is in me, you kill it.”

“We understand Harry,” Mad-Eye said gruffly, putting a knarled old hand on Harry’s shoulder – Harry nodded, no longer really trusting his voice. He looked over at Ron who was standing between Luna and Hermione.

“See you soon mate,” the redhead said with a nervous smile –again Harry nodded. He heard a sob but didn’t turn to the noise, knowing Mrs Weasley was being comforted by her husband. Instead, he turned to Hermione who looked back at him stoically, her emotions once more hidden deep from public view.

Ignoring the fact that he and Hermione’s relationship was kept exceptionally private, their holding hands and book carrying the only outward sign to those around them that their relationship had changed, Harry hugged her long and hard, enjoying the feel of her warmth next to him. Drawing away, he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her gently. There was so much he wanted to say but instead he just turned from her and entered the classroom.

Hearing the door squelch shut behind him, Harry took his wand out of his pocket and with purpose, walked over to the lone desk sitting in the middle of the room. The three objects on top of the table looked so unassuming yet they weren’t.

Harry picked up the locket and began to turn it over in his hands, feeling its weight. A family died to make the Horcrux that hid inside – and Dumbledore died trying to retrieve it. So many deaths for such a small item. With a sigh, he placed it on the floor away from the desk and with one more deep breath; he aimed his wand and said the spell.

“Diripio animus,” he said confidently, slightly stepping back as the locket began to glow ominously.

The air within the room suddenly became cooler and Harry felt a sadness that hadn’t been there moments before. A mist began to be emitted from the locket, gaining a shape that soon became Tom Riddle; young, handsome and arrogant.

“Who are you?” the vision barked, looking at Harry with disdain.

“What does it matter?” Harry shot back, his wand drawn, ready to strike.

“Don’t tell me an insignificant weed like yourself is trying to destroy this magnificent tool of dark magic! You haven’t got the power!”

“I’ve got this far, haven’t I?” The image of Riddle seemed to think this over, his shimmering form stepping closer to Harry.

“Well then, perhaps you haven’t got the heart,” it sneered, “it’s supposed to be pure. Shall we check?”

Before he knew what was happening, he saw Riddle’s hand shoot out and enter Harry’s chest, making him feel a pain like he had never felt before. Screaming in agony, Harry fell to the floor, his chest burning as his heart was being squeezed tight, its regular rhythm slowly stopping. He could see the look of satisfaction on Riddle’s face, but Harry didn’t have the ability to say the destruction spell even if he wanted to.

Then through the red, hazy fog that was engulfing his brain, Harry heard a scream – someone was screaming his name. It wasn’t his mother, he could tell that; it didn’t sound like the scream from the Dementor attacks – but it was a woman. The voice was familiar and filled with an anguish that made Harry want to do anything he could to make it stop. Suddenly, he knew who it was; it was Hermione.

Her voice was ringing in his head, loud and clear as if she was right there next to him. He could picture her face then, soft and caring – and the pain abruptly stopped. Harry panted with exertion, sweat dripping from his brow as he looked up at the smug, conceited face of Tom Riddle.

“How nice,” it sneered, “a lady love. I wonder what little titbits in your pathetic excuse for a mind could show me about this…woman…” Harry wasn’t prepared to show anyone that part of him and with a shaking hand, he pointed his wand once more at the image in front of him.

“Deleo animus,” he croaked, feeling slight satisfaction as the Horcrux’s eye’s widened in shock before disintegrating. Harry tried to note where the dust went, or what it did – but it seemed to just float harmlessly onto the ground, so light it wasn’t even visible.

Remaining hunched over on the floor, he tried to get himself together. His chest was throbbing painfully but it was nothing he couldn’t handle – he had been hurt worse before. Running a hand over his forehead to remove the excess sweat there, he analysed what had just happened. The Horcruxes can talk and interact, just as the one hidden in Ginny’s diary almost a lifetime ago. And there was a big chance they were Legilimens, which is what scared him the most. He had never been able to master Occlumency and he doubted he could start now.

When he finally felt capable, Harry stood and returned the locket to the desk. Waiting a little bit longer until he felt pretty much back to normal, he finally removed the dictionary and placed it on the floor. This time he was determined not to hesitate, to give his enemy a chance to attack. Wand drawn, he said the incarnation.

Once more there was a glow and the change in temperature dropped to a chilling level. This time when the image began to form, Harry ignored the feeling of dread that had filled the air and concentrated with all his might on the swirling particles in front of him. This time it was a more Voldemort figure, though Tom Riddle was still recognisable in his features. The Horcrux began to sneer but before it could do anything else, Harry destroyed it with one swift motion.

As soon as the dust settled, the feeling of doom finished and with a satisfied sigh, Harry took the dictionary back to the desk. Two down, one to go. The cup had been the last Horcrux to be made, other than the snake at least, and Harry wanted to get rid of this one the most. An old woman and her elf had died for the acquisition of the cup and a woman who had spent her life looking after children who had had no-one died for the creation of the Horcrux. Harry had hated his life with the Dursley’s, but he was an orphan and he could’ve easily been under the care of someone like Mrs Cole.

Once again placing the cup on the room’s floor, Harry pointed his wand at its innate form.

“Diripio animus,” he commanded, seeing the now familiar red glow begin to form around the outside of the cup. This time the room was not just cold, but freezing, distracting Harry momentarily from his task. It wasn’t just the cold that seemed more intense either – there was a real evil in the room, something that began to seep into his every pore,

There was no mistaking whose image came out of the cup – it was the Voldemort that was embedded forever into Harry’s brain. The red eyes searched the room, falling onto a shivering Harry with a sickening grin.

“You’re the one trying to destroy me boy?” it asked with contempt.

“Y..yes,” Harry stuttered, his teeth chattering from the cold. Seeing the image of the thing that had caused him so much pain, made his life so miserable stirred up an anger inside of him that began to fester.

“A wizard who can’t keep himself warm,” Voldemort sneered, “how pathetically sad. But I can feel the power in you, just not the intelligence to use it. What is your name?”

“Does it matter?” Harry growled, transfiguring his t shirt into a jumper and feeling immediately warmer. He glared defiantly back at his enemy, his hate growing along side the need not just to destroy this…freak, but totally obliterate it.

“At the time of forming this Horcrux, there was no-one alive who had the amount of power you do,” the thing stated, circling Harry like prey.

“Albus Dumbledore was more powerful than you…”

“Was? So, the old fool is finally dead? Even a greater reason for me to know who you are.”

“Why? My name isn’t important…”

“Ahh, that anger – feel its strength! Albus had this pitiful notion that love was the most powerful tool, but he was so incredibly wrong! Hate, anger – they are stronger! The ease to manipulate in others, the quickness the emotions are felt – love sometimes takes a lifetime to develop, hate can be enticed by saying just a few well chosen words,” Voldemort came closer to Harry who stood as if memorised, “you speak of Dumbledore with affection and therefore no doubt believe the nonsense he preached. But I can tell you of another way, an easier way to get everything your heart desires…”

“You can offer me nothing,” Harry spat, his mind remembering his old headmaster with fondness – the Horcrux pulled back, wincing as if touched by fire.

“Dumbledore was a fool! What did he ever give you? Respect? Honesty? A future? He gave you nothing – I can! Together you and I could do brilliant things, boy. Let me meld with you and we would know a power that this world has never seen!”

“You killed my parents – there is no way I would join you.”

“Your parents,” the thing said curiously, “so that’s why you hate me so. Wouldn’t it be ironic if this anger you feel gives me enough strength to destroy you? You see, that’s your choice, you stupid little boy, meld with me or die – which would also suit my purpose, though the power would be greatly diminished.”

“You have it wrong,” Harry countered, raising his wand once more, “it will be you dying, not me.”

“Then why haven’t you killed me already? I am defenceless, I have no wand. Strike me down,” Voldemort mocked, “or is it because you are tempted by my offer? You have nothing, yet I am offering you the world.”

“I don’t want the world,” Harry stated, but a shard of doubt started to enter his mind, thoughts of how difficult his life was and how it would be great just to stop fighting…

“If not the world, then…” fingers cold as ice entered Harry’s brain, prodding and poking, seeking the information Voldemort wanted, “…how…sweet, there is a girl. Hermione, is it? If you come with me, she will be with you for ever. Safe, for you only…”

“You…you can’t promise that.”

“Oh, but I can,” the image continued, “in this world, she isn’t safe, she may very well die, ruining everything you’re fighting for. With me, there would be no war, no fighting – you and I would see to that. All it takes would be for us to meld as one.”

Harry’s wand began to waver as he thought about what Voldemort was saying. Hermione would be safe, they all would be safe. The killing of his friends would end and really, that’s what he wanted – wasn’t it? And Voldemort was right, hate was power, not love! How could love ever do more than the emotion that has fuelled wars since the beginning of time?

As the assault on his brain continued without any resistance, Harry began to hear a voice somewhere in the recesses of his battered mind – distant but familiar.

“I cared for you too much, I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth.”

Professor Dumbledore? Harry wondered if it had indeed been his old headmaster he had heard when the kind, comforting face of the professor entered his thoughts, twinkling eyes watching him through half moon glasses. Slowly the image morphed into another familiar figure, the red hair and long, freckled face looking at him intently.

“We’re with you whatever happens,” Ron told him, Hermione standing at his side.

Hermione. Harry suddenly realised he was sharing his most treasured thoughts about Hermione with a monster. Like a fog clearing out of his brain, he looked defiantly up at Voldemort and raised his wand once more.

“No, I will never join you!”

“You stupid, stupid boy!” Voldemort screamed at him, all pretence of niceness gone, “I can feel you, feel your hate! You think you are nothing like me, that this power you have will not kill or maim – but you’re wrong! You have an anger that will consume you and you will be no different than I! Let me show you…”

More images began pounding Harry’s already exhausted mind, but these of death and destruction – Ron being tortured, the Weasley’s mercilessly being shot down one by one, Hogwarts destroyed, Hogsmead on fire, Hagrid floating face down in the Great Lake – each vision more disgusting than the last. Falling to his knees, Harry tried desperately to make them stop but part of him knew that the evil that had entered the room at the release of the Horcrux was working against him – this could well be a struggle that he may loose.

He tried thinking of the Occlumency lessons, the tools he was taught to keep his mind safe – but all that did was make him remember Snape and his anger, now mixed with fear, returned ten fold. He tried to remember Dumbledore, and he only saw the lies and hurt the old wizard had caused him. It was like all good thoughts had been banished.

Until he heard a small voice, hesitant and very distant but Harry concentrated hard so he could hold onto the sound.

“Fight Harry, stay strong.”

Fight, Harry thought dully, that’s all I seem to do. I can’t fight anymore.

Harry, stay with me, the voice continued, stronger now but at the same time gentle and full of…love?

Love? Harry questioned, but no-one loves me! I’m alone!

Stay strong, the voice urged, a female voice, someone he knew but he couldn’t quite work out who, stay strong! Come back to me! You can’t leave me Harry!

Hermione! The voice was Hermione! She wanted him to stay! Her face began to fill his mind, shunting the images of destruction and pain out with little remorse.

I love you Harry, stay strong!

He felt her love cocoon him, driving out the invasion of the evil that had been tormenting him. Hermione’s voice sounded so real, so close that when he looked up from his position on the floor, Harry was sure she would be standing there, by his side.

Instead he looked up into the red slitted eyes of Lord Voldemort, his snake-like face drawn into a sneer. With every ounce of energy Harry had left, he pointed his wand at the Horcrux and cast the spell. Voldemort gave him a look of surprise before disintegrating into flakes of dust; worthless and insignificant.

Harry collapsed once more, too exhausted to move. The feeling of desolation lifted as soon as the Horcrux was destroyed leaving only Harry’s shame of nearly agreeing to the offer of domination by his greatest enemy, and knowing his anger had almost been his down fall.

The realisation that he hadn’t yet signalled to the others he had finished entered his numb brain, and with the weariness of an old man, Harry crawled over to the desk and slowly placed his wand on its surface before inching himself away to fall once more into a heap on the floor. He felt magical energy buzz around the room and after a moment or two, the door was opened letting a gush of fresh air wrap itself around him.

He hadn’t noticed how stale the air had been until he smelt and tasted the early afternoon breeze. He heard footsteps, but his eyes would no longer open – it was just too much effort, but he listened as his fate was discussed by those around him.

“Minerva, take his wand,” the deep, booming voice of Shacklebolt instructed while the more softer tones of Remus sounded close to his ear.

“Harry, this should only take a minute,” the werewolf explained apologetically and Harry felt himself be rolled over and bound with a variety of magical spells. He tried to pry his eyes open, but then gave up as a multitude of tests were done to make sure he hadn’t been possessed. He felt Shacklebolt enter his head and the passing hope that the Auror would ignore the private snogging sessions with Hermione crossed his mind but knew he didn’t have the strength to prevent it.

“He is clear,” Kingsley announced, “the Horcruxes have been destroyed.

“The room is clear,” Mad-Eye informed them from somewhere behind Harry and a wave of relief flew through him.

“Take these bloody spells off of him then!” cursed Hermione – Harry inwardly, smiled. That was the first time he had ever heard her swear. As the bonds were removed, a very strange smell hit Harry’s nostrils that was a combination of animal and earth and when he felt himself be suddenly lifted from the ground by a pair of bear arms, Harry guessed he was being carried by Hagrid.

“Quicker if I take ‘im to the ‘ospital,” he stated, “outta me way!” Although being carried by a stinking, half giant wasn’t ideal, Harry didn’t care and let himself be lulled asleep by his friend’s massive gate and was gently snoring before Hagrid had got halfway up the main staircase.

.

18. A Harry Full of Angst

A/N – this is a long chapter, sorry about that. It just kept growing and what I was planning to write will now be in chapter 19. I hope this chapter isn’t too confusing – let me know if it is. Thanks again for all your lovely reviews, glad you’re enjoying it.

Chapter 18 – A Harry Full of Angst

Harry woke to find himself changed into his pyjamas and lying in his usual bed in Hogwarts hospital ward. Sun was shinning brightly through the windows so he guessed it was late afternoon, but why he was there – he had no idea. Stretching with a contentment he hadn’t felt for a while, a small smile touched his face; he felt good, rested.

As he reached over to get his glasses, he felt an ache in his chest that started to throb with the movement. Realising that this was probably the reason he was back in hospital he sat up and started to undo the buttons of his top so he could see what was causing him so much pain. On the left side of his chest was a large, purpley-green bruise that started at his shoulder and ended just below his nipple. How it got there, he wasn’t really sure and was looking at the injury intently when the school’s matron bustled over to him.

“I assure you it’s all there Mr Potter,” she said as she fluffed up his pillows before running her wand diagnostically over him, “how are you feeling?”

“Sore but other than that, remarkably rested,” Harry replied, doing up his buttons once more, “in fact, I feel good enough to get back to…”

“You’re not going anywhere young man,” Madam Pomfrey commanded in no uncertain terms, “you will be staying here until I feel you are fit enough to leave. You have been asleep for three days so it is no surprise you feel rested. However, your heart has been through a traumatic experience and it will take a bit longer before you are capable to do anything more than just sit upright.”

“What exactly happened?” Harry asked, leaning back into his pillows, digesting the knowledge he had been asleep for three days.

“You don’t remember?” the nurse questioned with a worried frown, her hand touching his forehead gently as if testing for a temperature.

“No,” he replied with a small frown of his own. He has been asleep for three days and has a bludger sized bruise on his chest that hurts quite considerably – what was he doing prior to waking up here? He honestly couldn’t remember, but his mood was so good, he didn’t particularly care either.

“Well, I’ll let the headmistress know,” Madam Pomfrey clucked, handing Harry a potion, “this should help ease the pain in your chest,” she explained.

Harry swallowed the liquid with little argument and immediately felt a numbness replace the throbbing. Sighing, he closed his eyes and thought, his smile never leaving his face. He had been in this ward so many times it was as familiar to him as his dorm. He opened his eyes.

“I’ve been here a lot, haven’t I?” he suddenly asked the nurse who had been walking away, making her turn around and look at him.

“Yes, I must admit you have,” she replied with a rare grin, “I am contemplating placing a plaque on the wall over this bed stating that fact. After all my years serving this school, you have definitely been one of my more frequent patients.”

“Thank you,” he blurted out, “thank you for taking such good care of me over the years. I don’t think I’ve ever really appreciated it enough.”

“You’re more than welcome,” the old matron walked back to the bed and patted Harry warmly on the shoulder, “you’re a fine young man.”

“Though I just had a thought,” he chuckled slightly, “should I be embarrassed that I’m now seventeen and you’re still changing me into my pyjamas?” A slight blush touched her face before she smoothed out his sheets and looked at him in the eye.

“It’s my job, one that I have been doing for many years,” she informed him briskly, though a smile was playing on her lips, “and you have nothing to be embarrassed about Mr Potter.” With that she turned on her heel and left him grinning.

Closing his eyes once more, Harry sat enjoying the sun that was hitting his face. He knew he should be worrying about something – he always had things to worry about – but at the minute he was in peace and it felt brilliant. He absently wondered where Hermione and Ron were, opening his eyes in surprise when at the exactly same time he heard Hermione’s voice.

“Harry!” she exclaimed excitedly as she and Ron entered the room, walking quickly over to his bed, “you’re finally awake!”

“Yeah,” Harry smiled, his eyes never leaving Hermione, who had clasped his hand between both of hers, “just woke up now.”

“How’re feeling mate?” Ron asked, grinning ear from ear.

“Actually, brilliant,” Harry answered, still staring at Hermione, thinking how he really wanted to kiss her right about now, “Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion to stop the pain from the bruise on my chest, but other than that, I’m fine.”

“Well, you have been asleep for three days,” Ron continued, “a dreamless sleep at that, which is quite a surprise, considering.”

“Not really,” Harry carried on, his thumb rubbing the top of Hermione’s hand gently, enjoying the touch of her, “I have no idea why I’m here or what happened…”

“You don’t remember anything?” Hermione finally spoke, worry tainting her voice.

“Nope, not a thing,” Harry replied, slightly concerned at the looks shared between Hermione and Ron but not enough to dampen his mood, “I don’t even remember Madam Pomfrey changing me into my pyjamas – again. I asked her whether I should be embarrassed now, I mean, the woman’s probably seen me naked! Still, she said I had nothing to be embarrassed about…”

“She what!” Ron exclaimed, all seriousness disappearing.

“She said I had nothing to be embarrassed about,” Harry repeated, enjoying the blush on Hermione’s face and the look of shock on Ron’s, “that’s a good thing, right?”

“I dunno,” Ron answered mischievously, “is it Hermione?”

“Why are you asking me, I haven’t seen Harry naked…”

“Yet.”

“Ron Weasley!” Hermione sputtered, her face now beetroot red, “Harry and my relationship…I mean to say, I’m not that type…Harry and I have never…really!”

“I never thought I’d make Hermione lost for words,” Ron chuckled, “besides, I’m not blind. The way you two have been looking at each other since we got here has been quite disgusting, actually. I was about to suggest I give you some time together but the last time I did that, you were both practically undressed when I came back…”

“Really?” Harry asked, sad that he didn’t remember the incident in question.

“We most definitely were not!” Hermione protested.

“…so I thought I better not since Remus and Professor McGonagall are on their way and well, that would just be humiliating. Head Boy and Head Girl, caught by the headmistress on a hospital bed…”

“Ronald!” Hermione fumed, but Harry just laughed.

“Come on Hermione,” Ron continued to tease, “don’t deny that the first thing you wanted to do when we came here was to snog Harry senseless, bugger the fact that I was standing right here…”

“Yes, but…”

“But nothing,” Ron grinned, “go on then. Do it. Before anyone else arrives. I’ll keep watch because quite frankly, watching you two together is just too scarring.”

Hermione looked down at Harry, who looked back at her with what he hoped was a message that said – please, please kiss me! She seemed to have heard his silent plea, and with a small smile she gently ran her finger down the side of his face, make every nerve ending in his body stand on end before she bent down and put her lips on his own.

His hands went immediately to her face, one on each side, holding her softly so she wouldn’t pull away until he was ready. The kiss got deeper and he forgot totally that Ron was still there, steadily looking away in the other direction. Her hands were now threaded through his hair while his had made their way down her back, drawing her in closer to him. He was in heaven, until…

“Potter! Granger! Stop that this instant!” The terse Scottish brogue of the headmistress was unmistakable and Hermione pulled herself off him with sudden abruptness.

“Remus and McGonagall are here,” Ron stage-whispered, grinning maniacally.

“Thanks for that Ron,” Harry grinned back, bringing his knees to his chest in an attempt to get more comfortable and allowing Hermione room to sit at the foot of his bed.

“I am aware of this new relationship between you two but I will not have that sort of carry on in my school!” McGonagall continued as she and a smirking Remus made their way to his bedside.

“Sorry Professor,” Hermione said automatically, making sure no part of her body touched Harry as she perched on the end of his bed, Harry stayed silent, unable to remove the blissfully happy smile from his face.

“We will discuss this later,” McGonagall stated, furiously looking between the two teenagers.

“Welcome back Harry,” Remus interrupted seriously though the corners of his mouth still twitched as he tried to hide his smile, “Poppy has told us you can’t remember anything – can you tell me what was the last thing you can recall?”

Harry thought hard, trying to think of his last memory before waking up in the infirmary. After a few moments of sifting through his thoughts, he realised his answer.

“Um, I think it was breakfast on Good Friday,” he told the group, “hot cross buns with melted butter. Then here.”

“That’s practically twenty four hours missing,” Ron thought aloud.

“Twenty four hours?” Harry repeated, now beginning to worry, “what did I do that makes me want to forget twenty four hours?”

“You got rid of the Horcruxes Harry,” Hermione replied with concern.

Harry stared at her in amazement as her words penetrated before a multitude of images began assaulting his brain – Tom Riddle’s hand piercing his chest, squeezing his heart until it nearly stopped; Voldemort making him see horrific, disgusting things that he now saw again over and over; the taunts that had him believing that they should join together to stop all the deaths. And Harry nearly accepting the offer.

Without warning, he leant over the edge of his bed and vomited. Immediately Hermione was at his side, gently holding his face in her hands as she wiped it with a cloth she had quickly conjured up. But he couldn’t look at her – couldn’t look at anyone – as the horror of what had taken place continued to repeat in his brain.

He had nearly given in, nearly merged with the monster that had ruined his life in so many ways. He had nearly turned against all of those that were fighting so hard to beat Lord Voldemort, he had nearly become Lord Voldemort. Harry was sick once more, barely missing Hermione.

“Harry?” she questioned, her voice full of worry – he just wiped his mouth on his sleeve, turning away from her. How could he let her touch him? He was foul, weak…evil. As he was trying to work out what he should do, how to get away from everyone before he caused anymore harm, his face was once more held between Hermione’s hands, but the touch was no longer gentle. She made him look at her, her eyes full of fire.

“Harry Potter, you look at me!” she growled, “don’t you dare feel anything but pride about what happened in that classroom!”

“I nearly agreed…”

“But you didn’t!” she countered, “you didn’t agree! Voldemort hit you with everything he had and you still got rid of him! Don’t you see, you were too strong, your heart too pure, to give in! You won Harry!”

“I shouldn’t even have considered it,” Harry yelled at her, a pain starting to form in his chest, “it shouldn’t have crossed my mind! That…thing killed my parents! Killed your parents! I actually contemplated joining with him – I don’t deserve…”

“You only thought about it after he promised to keep me safe, to keep us safe!” she yelled back, her hands no longer on his face as she stood over him, “even then, even when he showed you all those foul images of what would happen if you didn’t join with him, you turned away! Why can’t you see what you did was amazing? Why do you always think you’re…”

“Pathetic?” Harry finished for her, “because I am! I’ve had a lifetime of people telling me how worthless and stupid I am – this just confirms it! I can’t win! I can’t even keep him out of my head when he’s only a fraction of a soul!”

“Harry, Hermione, stop,” Remus interjected before Hermione could say anything more and with a weary sigh, Harry fell back into his pillows. His hand went to his chest to try and stop the throbbing that had begun – all of a sudden he wasn’t feeling so good. Along with the aftertaste of vomit in his mouth, he could feel beads of sweat rolling down his temples and his top now sticking to his back.

“Oh God,” Hermione gasped, aware of his deteriorating state, “oh Harry, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to…”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, ignoring her as she wiped his brow once more.

“I wasn’t even thinking,” she continued slightly panicked, “I’m so sorr…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Harry snapped, pushing her hand away, “I’m fine.”

Hermione stood up, her hurt mirrored in her face. Harry saw it then turned away; he deserved no less.

“Ron, please go get Madam Pomfrey,” Remus instructed, “Hermione, I think it best that you stand with Professor McGonagall for the moment. Harry – look at me.”

With increasing discomfort, Harry turned and looked at his old teacher whose face was lined with worry. Hermione was standing a little distance away with McGonagall, her eyes filled with tears.

“What has been going on here?” the matron asked as she stormed over to Harry’s bed, seeing Hermione’s discarded cloth and Harry’s pale and sweaty face, “this boy is recovering from near heart failure, are you trying to entice him to have another?”

“There is more at stake here Poppy,” McGonagall informed her nurse, “we feel that Mr Potter is suffering from residual effects of the Horcrux destruction.”

“That is not going to matter if he dies from a heart attack,” Madam Pomfrey shot back, her wand going over Harry’s body once more.

“I had a heart attack?” Harry managed to ask, trying to ignore the fussing matron, “and what residual effects? What’s wrong with me?”

“Let’s let Poppy get you comfortable, and then we’ll explain,” Remus soothed, “you’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t feel fine,” Harry stated harshly.

“Drink this and you’ll feel better,” Madam Pomfrey told him as she handed him another glass of potion. Harry drunk the bitter liquid and waited for it to take effect – which it did almost instantly. Once again the throbbing in his chest ceased and he felt reasonably normal again. He let himself be cleaned up by the nurse before looking up at Remus with a determined frown.

“What’s wrong with me?” he asked again then waited for an answer.

“Your exchange with Hermione has confirmed something that Minerva and I were concerned about,” Remus started, stepping closer to Harry’s bedside, “and it is with regards to your state of mind…”

“I’ve gone crazy?” Harry exclaimed, suddenly scared.

“No Harry, you haven’t gone crazy,” Remus smiled wryly, “a Horcrux is the darkest of magic made from the darkest of acts – murder of another human being. We knew this but what we didn’t know was that evil remained in the vessel the Horcrux was stored in. When you released each Horcrux, you released some of the evil with it which in turn, effected how you thought.”

“Each time, the room got colder…” Harry thought out loud.

“And when we entered the room once you had completed your task, the darkness could be felt,” Remus confirmed, “Harry, it wasn’t your fault that the thought of joining Voldemort crossed your mind. The fact that you fought off such hatred for the length of time you did was incredible.”

“We will no longer be able to use that room as a classroom,” McGonagall added, “the residual effects can still be felt.”

“How…how did you know that’s what happened?” Harry asked, looking between Remus and the headmistress, “I mean, it was all in my mind, how did you know?”

“Because Hermione told us,” Ron said, speaking for the first time. Harry looked at his friend, and then at Hermione.

“You can read my mind?” he questioned angrily.

“I could…then,” she replied, her chin jutting out defiantly as if determined to not let Harry’s words hurt her, “it was like I could see everything you were seeing. It was horrible.”

“I heard your voice…” Harry said, remembering, his anger ebbing away as quickly as it had surfaced, “you were telling me to hold on and fight. To stay with you.” He looked back at her as her tears finally overflowed and ran down her cheeks.

“You were in so much pain Harry,” she sobbed, “I couldn’t stand it. And then we came in here and you were…happy…”

“I couldn’t remember,” Harry kept on, once more thinking out loud, “I couldn’t remember anything that happened and as soon as I did…”

“You became despondent and depressed,” Remus finished for him, “which is something we need to fix.”

“Pretty bloody quickly,” Ron muttered, “these intense mood swings will do my head in.”

“Can they be fixed?” Harry asked anxiously, “these mood swings, can they be fixed?”

Remus and McGonagall shared a look before looking back at Harry.

“We don’t know for sure Harry,” Remus replied, “as you know, there isn’t much information on Horcruxes and nothing was mentioned in the one book we have.”

“We’ll talk to Albus about this new development,” McGonagall added, “and see if he has any suggestions.”

“So what do we do now?” Hermione asked, coming back over to Harry’s side.

“What we are going to do now is let Mr Potter get some sleep,” Madam Pomfrey announced returning to her patients bed, “we need to let his damaged heart regain its strength.”

“Right,” Remus agreed, putting his hand comfortably on Harry’s shoulder, “we’ll go and talk to Albus and let you get some rest. Someone will be here with you at all times until we can work out a permanent way to remove the…angst.”

“Someone will be here to make sure I don’t do something stupid you mean,” Harry growled, edging his way back down into his bed after drinking what he guessed was Dreamless Sleep potion.

“Pretty much Harry,” Remus chuckled – Harry just glared back. Soon the Dreamless Sleep potion began to take effect and Harry felt his eyes closing, his last conscious thought being just how much he hated himself and all the trouble he had put everyone through.

But dreamless sleep didn’t come for Harry, or if it did – it didn’t last long. Images of him turning into Voldemort, him being the one torturing and then killing his friends, him killing Hermione, began haunting him – the moment of Hermione’s death shocking him awake to find the real Hermione standing over him, trying to calm him down. He drew her into a bone crushing hug, desperate to make sure she was real and she was alive. It was now late afternoon with dusk touching the horizon and the idea of sleep was far, far away from Harry’s mind.

But his exhausted heart couldn’t allow what his brain screamed out for and within a few more hours, Harry’s eyes closed once more. This time he woke screaming into darkness, a disturbed Madam Pomfrey coming to him with a calming potion and some soothing words but this time Harry forced himself to stay awake until the sun reappeared through the windows.

Despite the broken sleep, Harry’s heart slowly regained its strength and a week after he was admitted, he was released. The school was filling up once more as the holidays had ended but Harry spent his time in his room or the Common area, not willing to mix with others. His depression hung over him like a dark cloud keeping everyone besides Hermione, Ron or Luna far away from him while Ron made it his personal mission to make sure Draco Malfoy didn’t as much glance in Harry’s direction.

It was later in the week when he was asked to visit the headmistress’s office and leaving a frowning Hermione and Ron behind, he made his way down the familiar route. When he stepped into the office, he thought there had been some kind of mistake as the room was empty. Turning to go, he heard that infuriatingly calm voice that he knew so well.

“Thank you for coming Harry.”

Harry turned back and saw the portrait of Professor Dumbledore looking at him from his spot behind his old desk. Harry’s frown deepened.

“What do you want?” he asked harshly.

“Minerva has told me of your situation,” the picture said, “and I believe I know what can cure you.”

“Why couldn’t she tell me?”

“She?” Dumbledore questioned, his voice hard.

“McGonagall,” Harry confirmed, “why couldn’t she or Remus tell me of the cure? Why did I have to come and see you?”

“I think you owe Professor McGonagall a bit more respect than that Harry,” the portrait said, “and I was unaware that talking to me is such a hardship.”

Harry sighed and slumped down into one of the chairs facing the headmistress’s desk.

“Sorry,” he grumbled, purposely not looking at the image on the wall.

“Thank you,” the old headmaster replied, once more sounding his jovial self, “and there is a reason why I wanted to pass the information onto you and not through others and that is because I feel this needs to stay between us…”

“More secrets,” Harry interrupted.

“Yes, unfortunately more secrets.” Dumbledore confirmed somewhat sadly.

“So, what is it you want me to do?” Harry asked sullenly.

“Go into the locked room at the Department of Mysteries.”

Harry looked at the portrait abruptly.

“The locked room?” he repeated, “the love room?”

“It is the key…”

“You expect me to go back to the place Sirius was killed?”

“Harry, I know it will be difficult…” Dumbledore was interrupted by a soft tap on the door. Surprised, Harry turned around in his seat to see who was there and was even more surprised when he saw it was Hermione.

“Hi Harry,” she said to him before looking at the picture, “hello Professor Dumbledore.”

“Hermione, thank you for coming,” Dumbledore beamed, “right on time. Please, take a seat.”

Harry watched as she made her way into the room, avoiding his eyes, and sat down in the other chair facing the desk. He looked at her profile and wondered what she was doing there and if it was this great secret, whatever Dumbledore had planned, why was Hermione part of it all.

“Does Harry know about the…” Hermione began before Harry cut in severely.

“You’ve been talking about me?” he asked angrily. She turned to him, her eyes steely.

“Of course we’ve been talking about you,” she informed him calmly, “the destruction of the Horcruxes has changed you into someone quite unpleasant and I would really like to get the Harry I know and love back,” she turned back to the portrait, “perhaps you should fill him in professor.”

Harry just kept staring at her, his mouth agape as he tried to process a couple of things; she and Professor Dumbledore (plus who knows else) have been talking about him and she just said that she loved him in front of Professor Dumbledore. He wasn’t sure what annoyed him the most.

“I was just about to when you arrived,” Dumbledore informed Hermione happily making Harry drag his eyes away from his girlfriend and onto the portrait on the wall, “ah, good. Glad to have your attention back.”

“You want me to go back to the Department of Mysteries,” Harry spat.

“Yes I do,” Dumbledore continued, “I understand your reluctance but we feel this is the best, and perhaps even only, way…”

“‘We’, being you and Hermione,” Harry grumbled.

“Yes,” Dumbledore confirmed, “after I was told what had happened during the Horcrux destruction I felt this was something that should be dealt by Hermione and Hermione alone.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you Harry,” Hermione answered, “even though I don’t like you particularly at the moment.”

“And this is all about love,” Harry grouched, slumping further down in his chair, feeling nothing but embarrassment about her comment.

“Yes Harry, this is all about love,” Dumbledore chuckled, “it has saved you twice already during this particular challenge and I believe it will save you once more.”

“It hasn’t saved me…”

“It was Hermione that prevented Tom from stopping your heart from beating and it was Hermione that brought you back before Voldemort’s hate consumed you,” the portrait patiently explained, “the connection that was formed for the hour you were in that room is unusual Harry.”

Harry glanced over at Hermione who was staring steadfast at Dumbledore. Part of him knew the professor was right, that she had already saved him (if he was really honest, she had saved him many, many times) but a bigger part kept telling him that Hermione didn’t really love him – how could she? Scowling once more, he turned back to the picture on the wall.

“So how are we going to get back into the Department of Mysteries,” he asked, “break in at night? I doubt whether a simple Alohomora will open that stupid door…”

“You are quite right,” Dumbledore replied, “it takes more than simple spells to enter that particular room so we thought we would ask…”

“Ask?” Harry repeated, dumbfounded, “you mean, just go up to the security desk and ask to see the most protected room at the Ministry?”

“No,” Hermione answered, “we thought we’d ask Mr Scrimgeour…”

“The Minister of Magic?” Harry exclaimed, “the git who hates me? Yeah, that will really work.”

“We can but try,” the portrait admitted, “and if we are unsuccessful, then perhaps a more stealth response will be required.”

“Right, because us asking to visit the room isn’t going to make the room more guarded or anything, is it,” Harry muttered sarcastically.

“The room doesn’t require guards,” Dumbledore explained, ignoring Harry’s tone, “it has its own protections…”

“So how are we supposed to get through those?” Harry interrupted, annoyed, “or do you know what they are?”

“We have an idea,” Hermione answered, her voice hard but quiet, “and it won’t be us entering the room Harry, it will be only you.”

“You’re not coming?” he asked, looking at her in shock and for the first time since she entered the office, she caught his eye.

“I’ll be with you at the Ministry but if we get into the Department of Mysteries, you will be going on alone,” she informed him.

“So you’re escorting me, making sure I do this,” he shot back at her, his anger rising once more.

“Yes,” Hermione replied shortly and turned back to the professor, “when do you think we should go, Professor?”

“Nothing like the present,” Dumbledore grinned, “I will let Minerva know you are both safe and where you are, keeping an eye on you myself from the portrait they have placed of me at the Ministry. I think the quicker we do this, the better for all.”

“I agree,” Hermione said, standing, “because if he stays like this for much longer, I swear, I’m going to start hexing him into next week.”

Harry went to start to argue but instead clamped his mouth shut, thinking – why bother? They had his life planned anyway, all he had to do was turn up. He stood as well, stuck his hands deep in his pockets and sullenly followed Hermione to the fireplace.

“Remember what we spoke about Hermione,” Dumbledore said cryptically though Hermione nodded with acknowledgement, “Rufus is a wiry customer but there are other ways to get what we need than the obvious.”

“I understand,” she replied, quickly glancing at Harry before looking back at the portrait, “what will we do if…”

“We will get him back Hermione,” Dumbledore interrupted softly, giving Hermione a reassuring smile. Harry’s scowl deepened.

“I am standing right here, you know,” he growled, “don’t talk about me like I’m invisible.”

“Sorry Harry,” Hermione replied, not sounding sorry at all, “come on, lets go.” Grabbing his hand she pulled him into the fireplace, the two of them cramped together until she took a large handful of Floo powder, activated it and said very clearly, “Ministry of Magic,” and in a swirl of green they were gone.

Harry was still holding her hand when they stepped out into the busy Ministry Atrium. Hermione walked purposefully to the reception desk not far from the Floo network, dragging a silent Harry with her. He looked at the fountain that still sat in the middle of the floor, its statues repaired since the incident that had destroyed it a few years prior. Harry’s frown deepened even more.

“Hello,” he heard Hermione say brightly, drawing his attention to the young blond witch manning the reception desk, her face stuck in an unnatural looking smile, “we would like to see Minister Scrimgeour please,” Hermione asked pleasantly.

“I will just check his availability,” the witch answered robotically, “who may I say is calling?”

“Harry Potter,” Hermione replied confidently. The blond looked up at Harry who scowled back, making her falter slightly but she didn’t stop staring. The other witches and wizards around the desk were also gapping at Harry with un-abandoned awe making him feel like an animal at a zoo.

“What are you all looking at?” he growled as he caught all the onlooker’s eyes before retuning his gaze onto the receptionist, “is Scrimgeour free or not?”

She snapped into action, her fake smile gone and after a hurried conversation into a strange device on her desk, she looked back up at him before quickly looking at Hermione.

“Minister Scrimgeour’s assistant is on his way,” the receptionist informed them, “please, take a seat.”

Harry let himself be led to the row of seats lined against the wall and slumped down into one, glowering at anyone who had the misfortune to glance in his direction. Hermione didn’t say anything and just sat still next to him, her hands folded neatly in her lap. He ignored her. In fact, he tried to ignore everything but it was getting harder the longer they sat there. His eyes kept returning to the fountain and the memory of what happened there – Voldemort possessing him moments after Sirius had been lost for ever.

His thoughts were interrupted as he noticed Hermione stand. Guessing their escort was here, Harry also stood in time to see Percy Weasley stop in front of them, his chin jutting out defiantly as he looked down his nose.

“Harry, Hermione,” he said, still sounding as pompous as ever, “this is an unexpected surprise.”

“Hello Percy,” Hermione replied politely, “we’re here to see the Minister.”

“So I understand,” Percy replied as he began to walk, indicating they should follow, “you are lucky to see him on such short notice. Minister Scrimgeour is a very busy man.”

“I can imagine,” Hermione said conversationally, “we must remember to thank him.” She had taken Harry’s hand again as they followed Percy to the elevators (after weighing their wands at the security desk) as if to make sure he didn’t make a run for it, but he just slouched on behind her. He hadn’t even thought that it would be Percy escorting them to Scrimgeour but now that he thought about it, it made sense. Harry shook his head in disgust.

“You two are looking well,” Percy carried on as they waited for the lift, his gaze hesitating on their joined hands momentarily before returning to Hermione’s face.

“Are we?” she answered, sounding genuinely surprised, “that’s strange, because its been a terrible few months, what with what happened to The Burrow and some other…things.”

“The Burrow?” Percy asked, concerned, “what happened at The Burrow?”

“Didn’t you hear?” Hermione continued, shocked when Percy shook his head, “it was attacked by Death Eaters. Your brothers and dad managed to get your mum and Fleur out – you know who Fleur is, don’t you?”

“Bill’s wife,” Percy answered, dazed.

“Right,” Hermione confirmed, stepping into the lift that had just arrived in front of them, “well, Fleur had gone into labour…”

“Labour?” Percy repeated.

“Why yes, you didn’t know you were an uncle?” Hermione answered with a frown, “I would’ve thought the Minister would’ve told you all this. I mean, Fred was hurt quite badly and The Burrow was totally destroyed. I know it was kept out of the papers, but I thought surely you would be kept in the loop.”

“No,” Percy replied slowly, “no, I didn’t know any of this. Is everyone alright? Fred? Where are they staying?”

“Everyone is fine,” Hermione said with the tiniest of smiles, “and your parents are now in a safe house. Still, you must see your dad around here now and then.”

“Yes, yes of course,” came the response as the lifts door opened finally on the first level, “but we don’t speak. The Minister prefers it if I don’t intermingle with those who were close to…”

Harry could tell Percy looked at him as they stepped out of the lift into the plush entrance hall of the Minister of Magic’s office.

“Professor Dumbledore, of course,” Hermione finished for their escort, “though it must be difficult, they are your family after all.”

Percy didn’t say anything but Harry could see the conflict of emotions cross the young man’s face. He seemed to get himself together before indicating to some oversized chairs and making his way to the large double doors at the end of the room.

“Please, take a seat,” Percy instructed them, “I’ll see if the Minister is able to see you now.”

Harry went to sit down but Hermione remained standing, rim rod straight, concentrating on the doors where Percy had disappeared through. Shrugging his shoulders in a ‘whatever’ gesture, he pried his hand from her clasp and sat down. As the minutes grew, he was glad he had made the choice to sit, although Hermione hadn’t moved an inch as they waited. Fifteen minutes later, Percy came out and held the door open for them.

“The Minister can see you now.”

Hermione marched in, her head held high while Harry got up from his seat and followed at a more resentful pace, not wanting to give Scrimgeour the satisfaction of any resemblance to neediness. As he passed Percy, he saw that there was a new hardness in the redhead’s eyes, his brow furrowed into a frown.

“Ah, Harry and Miss Granger, I presume,” Scrimgeour welcomed from his large seat behind his desk.

“Thank you for seeing us Minister,” Hermione replied politely, ignoring the seat that was offered to her. Percy closed the door behind them before making his way to Scrimgeour’s side, standing slightly to his right. Harry didn’t speak and instead stared at the lion-like head of the Minister.

“How can I help you two young people,” Scrimgeour continued, looking more at Harry than Hermione.

“We need access to the locked room in the Department of Mysteries,” Hermione said with no preamble causing the false smile on Scrimgeour’s face to disappear, “if you allow us, or more importantly, Harry, to enter the locked room, our chances of defeating Lord Voldemort will be greatly enhanced.”

“Let me get this straight,” the minister said, leaning forward on his desk, “you want access to a room that no-one has access to, not even me…”

“But you are the one that holds the key, Minister,” Hermione interrupted, “your lack of access to the room is more about the rooms own safeguards. If Harry is not meant to enter the room, then those same safeguards will apply.” Scrimgeour leaned back in his chair and looked at Hermione shrewdly.

“Percy, could you leave us for a moment,” he said after a few moments. Percy looked as if he was going to say something, but decided not to and instead did as he was told and exited the room.

“Is there a problem, Minister?” Hermione asked sweetly.

“Has Mr Potter lost his voice?” Scrimgeour replied with a sneer, “or are you just the overbearing, domineering type that won’t let him get a word in edgeways?”

“If I speak, I know I’ll say something that I’ll regret,” Harry spoke up before Hermione could answer, “like the next time you’re rude to Hermione like that, I’ll hex you.”

“This room has wards that protect me…”

“You have to leave this room eventually.”

“Is that a threat Harry?” Harry answered the minister’s question with a shrug. The two stared at each other angrily.

“Minister Scrimgeour,” Hermione interrupted – the Minister reluctantly moved his gaze from Harry to her, “we would like you to hand us the key. We will return it as soon as we have finished.”

“Miss Granger,” Scrimgeour began as if he was talking to a child, “I will not give you the key to the room that contains the greatest power in the wizarding world. You are a teenager who is in cahoots with a young man that is mentally imbalanced and has openly threatened the Minister of Magic. I suggest that you leave immediately.”

“Denying our request is detrimental to the war against Lord Voldemort,” Hermione continued, sounding annoyed for the first time.

“The war against You-Know-Who is none of your concern,” Scrimgeour stated, “Percy will escort you back to the Floo network.”

Immediately the doors opened and Percy walked towards them, gesturing to them that they were to leave. Harry did what he was told, smug in the knowledge that he was right – asking for the key had been a waste of time. Hermione was soon at his side, fuming while Percy was silently walking at his other side. It wasn’t until they were in the lift and the doors sealed shut that Percy spoke.

“The Minister isn’t the only one with access to the key,” he said softly, looking directly in front of him.

“What?” Hermione asked, seemingly unsure of what Percy said.

“The Minister isn’t the only one with access to the key,” he repeated. Harry looked at their escort with shock, as did Hermione but Percy said no more as the elevator began to fill with other witches and wizards.

When it paused at the Atrium’s level, the elevator emptied. Harry went to leave as well, but a firm hand gripped his arm and stopped him.

“This isn’t our floor,” Percy said softly and shut the doors before anyone could enter. He then pushed the number nine and the lift sprang into life once more.

“Department of Mysteries,” the lift’s voice announced and once again Harry was standing looking at the black door at the end of the corridor.

A flood of memories struck his brain, none of them good, but none the less he followed Percy through the door and onto the dais with the revolving doors. Drawing his wand, Percy quickly marked the door they had just come through with a blazing ‘E’, reminiscent of Hermione’s crosses the first time they had been here.

The room began to spin, Percy trying a door each time it stopped, marking it with an ‘X’ until the fourth door he tried was locked. Instead of a cross, Percy placed a big tick on the it before the room began spinning once more. He turned to Harry.

“If you are meant to go into this room, the key will work,” he explained, handing Harry a very old innate key, “if the room doesn’t want you, there is nothing we can do. Even the Unspeakables are only allowed in there when the room lets them. There is no spells to counteract the protection wards.”

Harry nodded, waited for the doors to halt and when they did, made his way to the door with the tick and inserted the key. Though both key and lock were ancient, the key turned easily, causing Percy to let out a shocked gasp. Harry turned back to him in surprise.

“We won’t be able to wait, Harry,” Percy said quickly, “we’ll make it look like you’ve left so when you’ve finished, just leave the key here on the floor…”

“So you can put it back,” Harry finished, with a nod, vaguely noticing the doors hadn’t spun since the key went in the lock.

“I doubt whether I will still be an employee of the Ministry by then,” Percy replied, a new hardness in his voice.

“Why are you doing this?” Harry continued, suddenly aware that Percy had put everything that was important to him on the line.

“Because they lied to me,” Percy answered bitterly, “I could’ve lost my entire family and they would’ve hidden that from me. I know mum and dad’s choices have put them in danger and with Professor Dumbledore gone, that danger increased so in a way, I expected an attack on The Burrow. But I didn’t know I was an uncle. That’s one lie too many.”

Harry nodded briefly before finally looking at Hermione, who had been quiet since their arrival on level nine. She looked back at him, her face pale and fear clouding her eyes.

“Be careful Harry,” she said softly.

“I’m just doing what I have to do, like always,” Harry shot back, “it’s no big deal.”

She didn’t say anything and instead grabbed his head in her hands so she could pull him the few spaces closer to her, then kissed him. Hard. At first he was shocked, maybe even a bit repulsed but then natural instincts took over and he returned the kiss hungrily, roughly, all thought leaving his head. When she pulled away from him, he glared at her, annoyed that she had started something she wasn’t prepared to finish.

“I’ll…I’ll see you back at school,” Hermione breathed before hastily making her way to the door with the glowing ‘E’ on it and walking out. Harry watched her before glancing at the momentarily forgotten Percy.

“Good luck,” was all he said as he too left, and with a shrug of his shoulders Harry turned and faced the door that still had the key sitting in the lock. Without a second thought, he opened the door and entered the room.

19. The Greatest Power of All

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.”

20. Plans

A/N – right, onto the final stretch now! Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews and am very impressed by those who have read all the chapters in one go to catch up – very cool. Glad you’ve enjoyed it and hope you continue to do so.

Chapter 20 - Plans

Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried towards McGonagall’s office, Ron having joined them soon after Dobby’s announcement.

The castle is under attack.

Every now and then, Harry would glance out of one of the many windows they were dashing past and saw nothing but blackness and wondered where and how the attack was taking place. In fact, millions of questions were running through his head causing all thought of love and Hermione far, far away.

They entered the headmistress’s office slightly out of breath to find McGonagall in deep conversation with the three head of houses and the school matron.

“…has removed eight of the wards already. She will be unaware of those placed after leaving Hogwarts and since Albus’s death.”

“How much time Minerva? What’s the time frame?” Professor Flitwick asked worriedly.

“They also have Barbarus with them…”

“Barbarus Turner? The Barbarus Turner?” Slughorn nearly shrieked, his chubby face paling considerably.

“Who’s Barbarus Turner?” Harry asked, walking further into the room as the adults turned to them.

“Barbarus is an expert in protective wards,” McGonagall explained, acknowledging their arrival with a small nod, “and had worked for the Ministry until he was taken by force this morning. His family are also missing.”

“They’re making him remove the school’s wards,” Professor Sprout said sadly.

“Can the same be said for Dolores?” Flitwick questioned, not hiding his distaste for the ex-headmistress.

“No,” McGonagall replied angrily, “she has joined…”

“Dolores Umbridge?” Ron interrupted, “the toad that tortured Harry?”

“One and the same,” McGonagall answered before her attention was drawn to the activity taking place in her fireplace. The loud screaming of a baby was soon heard and in moments Fleur and baby Henry stepped out of the hearth with Molly Weasley right behind them. Fleur was frantically trying to stop her child from crying, and failing miserably.

“’Enry wuz fast asleep,” she tried to explain.

“Why don’t you go with Poppy to the infirmary and get him resettled,” McGonagall suggested kindly, indicating to the matron, “Poppy, get the ward set up for casualties. I will send some students up to help you as soon as possible.”

“Will do Minerva,” Madam Pomfrey replied before guiding Fleur and Henry out of the office.

“I should go too,” Mrs Weasley said, beginning to make her way to the door, “that is where I will be most helpful.”

“Before you go, what can you tell us?” McGonagall prompted.

“Arthur was called back to the Ministry around eleven tonight,” Mrs Weasley informed them solemnly, “Bill and Charlie went in soon after as word came through that Diagon Alley had been attacked.”

“Hogsmeade is also being attacked,” Flitwick reported, “Tonks and Remus are there now.”

“What I don’t understand is, why attack now?” Slughorn questioned the others, “no-one is there but the few shop keepers that live over their shops and the one or two patrons that stay in the pubs. The place would be deserted – why didn’t they attack when they could’ve caused the most deaths?”

“Because of me,” Harry said, the words out before he could stop them. Everyone turned to him.

“What do you mean, Harry?” McGonagall asked.

“I was at the Ministry today,” Harry carried on, seeing that McGonagall already knew that, “and entered the locked room at the Department of Mysteries…” he paused at the collective gasp, then continued, “I was back here about eleven, which is when the attacks began. That’s a very large coincidence, don’t you think?”

“You think You-Know-Who found out where you had been?” Mrs Weasley questioned.

“Probably,” Harry mused, “Percy thought…”

“Percy?” Ron interrupted.

“Yeah, Percy helped us,” Harry explained, noting the look of shock on Mrs Weasley’s face, “he thought that the missing key that let me into the room would be detected pretty quickly. Maybe Umbridge told Voldemort.”

“We saw Umbridge,” Hermione piped up, “on the way to the Floo network, after you had gone inside, Harry. She would’ve known.”

“So, Percy may be in danger,” Ron stated matter of factly.

“The Ministry isn’t safe, neither is St Mungo’s,” McGonagall announced, “this is an all encompassing attack.”

“Voldemort is scared of Harry,” Hermione thought out loud, looking at Harry with a small grin on her face, “he felt a shift of power, pushing him to do an all-out assault…”

“To show that he is still in charge,” Ron finished for her. Harry looked at his two best friends and stood that little bit taller. He was ready. He looked back at the headmistress.

“We need to make the castle ready,” he said boldly, “we need to make the castle as safe as possible.”

“How many wards are there Professor?” Hermione asked.

“Two hundred and three,” McGonagall answered, “though they’re all interrelated. The hardest wards are those that have been on the school since its conception and are passed down to every head, safe in the knowledge that whoever is appointed to run this school would never betray it.”

“Until now,” Ron spat.

“Until now,” McGonagall repeated with disgust, “Dolores would’ve known most of the ancient wards and has already disabled…” she paused to look at a device sitting on her desk that looked like a miniature abacus, “twenty of them while Barbarus has worked through fifty more.”

“What do you want us to do Minerva?” Professor Sprout asked. The headmistress looked around the room, including the many attentive portraits in her gaze.

“Molly, you go to Poppy and make sure the hospital wing ready,” McGonagall instructed, Mrs Weasley leaving immediately, “we should rouse the children, make sure they’re prepared…”

“I think we should only get the senior students at the moment,” Harry interrupted, “and members of the DA. Fill them in on what’s happening, make some plans and then they can fill the other students in.”

“That’s a good idea,” Dumbledore’s portrait finally spoke, “and we need to shut the castle down, block all access to it.”

“The Floo will be disabled,” McGonagall confirmed, “those outside these walls will understand. The anti-apparation ward is the final ward that can be broken, we need to protect that ward to allow us more time. Until they break that, there are no other entrances into the castle.”

“Yes there are,” Hermione said, looking at Harry and Ron frantically, “the tunnels. They could be found if Death Eaters are destroying Hogsmeade.”

“You’re right,” Harry agreed quickly, “Remus knows about the one under Honeydukes though. He may be planning to use that to get out of Hogsmeade.”

“Tunnels?” the headmistress nearly growled, “what tunnels?”

“The one under the Weeping Willow should be fine for now,” Hermione continued, “but the Honeydukes one…”

“There are others too,” Harry added, “but they weren’t used because Filch knows about them. Four others.”

“Filius, Pomona and Horace – wake your senior students and have them meet in the Great Hall. Hermione, could you please do the same for the Gryffindors,” McGonagall ordered, “Harry and Ron, secure the Honeydukes tunnel. I will find Filch and secure the other four. We will all meet in the Great Hall in thirty minutes.”

“What about Remus, Arthur and the others?” Flitwick asked.

“My concern is the safety of the students in this castle,” the headmistress stated with a hardness, but Harry saw how much her decision was hurting her. With a resigned sigh, Harry turned to go, following the teachers who had begun to leave, stopped by a small hand on his arm. He looked down into the worried eyes of Hermione.

“Harry…” she began but he stopped her, having an idea of what she was going to say.

“We’re only going to secure the tunnel Hermione,” he said softly, “we’ll be back.”

“Be careful,” she breathed. Harry nodded and bent down to kiss her gently on the lips. As he pulled away, he paused.

“I love you,” he whispered softly into her ear, loud enough just for her, making her smile. She then turned to Ron, who had been waiting patiently, giving him a huge hug.

“You be careful too,” she said before she exited the room.

“What do you reckon?” Ron asked as they ran as fast as his uneven gait let them to the statue of the humpbacked, one-eyed witch, “we can’t leave Lupin and Tonks cut off, can we?”

“No, we can’t” Harry agreed, “but we have to keep the castle safe as well.”

“So what shall we do?”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied, pausing as they came face to face with the statue, “dissendium,” he commanded, and the statue opened, allowing them to enter. Drawing his wand, Harry stepped into the hole in the hunchback’s back, and slid down into the tunnel, Ron copying him so they were soon both standing in the low, narrow passage. Harry began to walk, keeping the tunnel dark – just in case.

“I hope Fred and George are okay,” Ron said after a bit, “and Percy,” he added as an afterthought.

“So do I,” Harry agreed quietly.

“This is it, isn’t Harry,” Ron continued in a whisper, “You-Know-Who…this is the end, one way or another.”

“Yeah, it is.” Ron stayed silent as they made their way through the tunnel. Harry was scarily calm, his mind going over scenarios on how to get Remus and Tonks to safety while not exposing the school to risk. And how to do it quickly. He was still thinking about what they could do, when they heard voices.

Harry stopped, making Ron thump into him. There was no where for them to go, to hide, so all they could do was protect themselves. Harry crouched down, giving Ron room to fire spells off without hitting Harry. With wands pointed down the tunnel, they waited as the voices became clearer and clearer. Soon, they could make the voices out and Ron’s wand began to fall.

“That’s my dad,” he whispered to Harry.

“Keep your wand raised until we’re sure Ron,” Harry hissed back, “we need to be certain before we let them through.”

It wasn’t long before they began to see the light from wands casting elongated shadows on the tunnel’s walls. Harry tensed, ready for anything that could come his way. Seconds later, Mr Weasley came into view.

“Stop right there,” Harry called out, seeing Mr Weasley pause in shock, his wand suddenly drawn.

“Harry! Ron, let us through,” Mr Weasley said urgently, “Fred’s badly hurt.”

“We just need to ask you a few questions,” Harry continued, not budging, “you understand, don’t you Mr Weasley.”

“Yes, yes,” Mr Weasley replied impatiently, “ask away.”

“What happened to me on my fifth birthday?” Ron asked, his voice hard.

“Fred and George glued you to your chair and it took us two hours to release you,” Mr Weasley smiled sadly – Ron lowered his wand, Harry doing the same.

“Who’s with you?” Harry asked, as they got closer.

“Quite a few, some badly injured,” Mr Weasley informed them, “including Fred. We need to get them to the castle.”

“Right,” Harry answered, thinking, “we need to block this tunnel, the castle is under attack…”

“What?” came a voice from behind Mr Weasley – Harry recognised it as Mad-Eye Moody.

“Ron, you take your dad and the others back to the castle,” Harry instructed, “I and maybe Mad-Eye can destroy the tunnel.” Ron nodded and began retracing his steps, his wand now lit and leading the way. Harry tried to flatten himself as much as he could against the tunnel’s wall and watched the disturbing possession pass him. George was carrying his brother who looked like was hanging on only barely. Behind him was Bill, who gave a small smile as he passed, himself carrying a woman Harry didn’t know in his arms. A few more strangers passed, about five in total, all looking worse for wear. When Charlie walked past, Harry stopped him, indicating with his head at the others – Charlie got his question.

“They are patrons of the Leaky Cauldron and the owner of Eeylops,” Charlie explained, “they were all we could save from Diagon Alley.”

“Are they safe?” Harry asked, this time facing Mad-Eye.

“There are no spies, we’ve checked,” Moody growled, pausing with Harry as Charlie carried on, “we need to secure this tunnel, right?”

“We need to wait for Tonks,” Remus cut in, coming to stand by Harry but looking anxiously past the unfamiliar yet strangely familiar face of Aberforth Dumbledore behind him, “she said she would catch us up.”

“We can’t wait Remus,” Moody grumphed, “if this tunnel is located, it leads straight to the castle…”

“I’m not leaving Tonks stranded out there…”

“We have no choice…”

“We always have a choice!” Remus argued, “let me go and get her.”

Harry watched silently as Moody and Aberforth exchanged looks, Aberforth blocking Remus from running off.

“We can guard the tunnel for a little bit,” Harry ventured, looking at Remus, “give you, say, fifteen minutes.”

“I agree with Harry,” Aberforth said after a moment, standing aside so Remus could go, “but only fifteen minutes. I don’t think we have much time to spare.”

“Go then,” growled Mad-Eye, “but at twelve-forty five, this tunnel is destroyed.” Remus just nodded his understanding before sprinting away towards Honeydukes. Harry watched him for a moment before turning to Moody and Aberforth.

“Is Fred going to be okay?” he asked, determined to find out all he could while they waited.

“It looks pretty bad,” Aberforth answered, leaning against the tunnel wall, “the twins had been destroying their products so the Death Eaters couldn’t use them and hung around just that little bit too long. They attacked Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, St Mungo’s and the Ministry all at the same time…”

“It seems to me both well planned and rushed,” Mad-Eye remarked thoughtfully, “the simultaneous attacks were orchestrated, there’s no doubt, but I don’t think they were meant to happen tonight.”

“Whenever it was meant to happen, Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade is no more,” Aberforth stated with a frown.

“They’re totally destroyed?” Harry questioned.

“Every building is either burning or being blasted,” Moody grunted, “we were lucky that they were nearly empty otherwise it would’ve been a massacre.”

“How about the Ministry?” Harry continued to question, “I mean, I left there just before eleven, and everything was fine.”

“You were there?” Moody spat, bearing down on Harry, “why?”

“I needed access to the locked room in the Department of Mysteries,” Harry replied, standing his ground.

“I thought there was something different with you,” Aberforth commented with a nod, “this all makes sense now.”

“You were let in the locked room, weren’t you?” Mad-Eye questioned, this time stepping back a fraction.

“Yes,” Harry said, “we think Umbridge told Voldemort…”

“Which is why we lost some innocent lives today and the wizarding world is under attack,” Aberforth finished, “that little bit of information has Voldemort running scared.”

“Umbridge is out there removing Hogwarts wards,” Harry informed them bitterly, “probably with Snape helping her.”

“Don’t be too sure about that Harry,” Aberforth said as he stood and looked up the tunnel in the direction Remus should be coming back, “Albus trusted Snape and so do I.”

“Snape killed your brother,” Harry nearly growled, “how can you still trust him?”

“I would’ve thought your visit today would answer that question,” Aberforth replied, glancing at Harry with a look that was eerily like his brother’s, “love and forgiveness is stronger than revenge and hate…”

“Before you both get all philosophical, Lupin’s been gone now for fifteen minutes,” Moody interjected, “there’s no sign of him. We have to destroy this tunnel.”

For the first time that night, Harry began to panic. Part of him knew they had to do this, for the safety of all those in the castle, for the greater good. But he couldn’t turn his back on the man who had given him so much, who had been his father’s best friend. He couldn’t betray the old Marauder like that.

“Just a few more moments,” Harry pleaded, all ready knowing that in reality they didn’t have a few more moments.

“We can’t wait any longer,” Moody growled, though Harry saw a glint of regret in the old Auror’s eyes and with a heavy sigh, Harry stood behind the two wizards, waiting for the sound of the necessary spell.

“Reducto!” Moody called out and there was an instant rumble of falling rock.

“Wait!” Harry heard the faint cry over the sound of rubble and he along with the other two, peered down the now obstructed tunnel. Sure enough, Tonks was running towards them, bleeding and out of breath; stopping only when she knew she had been seen.

“What is my favourite song?” Moody demanded, his wand aimed squarely at Tonks.

“My…my Way by that…Muggle…singer,” Tonks puffed out, frantically trying to catch her breath. Moody lowered his wand.

“Where is Remus?” Aberforth asked, still looking down the tunnel.

“He’s carrying Rosmerta,” she explained, sounding more herself, “that’s why I was delayed. She’s hurt pretty bad.”

“We need to go,” Moody growled.

“And now we can,” came a new voice, and Remus came into sight, carrying the injured innkeeper in his arms.

“Let me take her,” Aberforth said, taking Rosmerta from Lupin, “you two destroy this tunnel. Harry, best that you and Tonks return to the school. I expect they’re waiting for you.”

“Right,” Harry agreed and began to run back to the school without a second look, aware that Tonks was close behind him. In no time at all, he was clambering back up the slide and stepping out into the castle. Waiting briefly for Tonks and when she had joined him, he once more began to run, this time to the Great Hall.

They entered the Hall to see a group of teachers clustered together in the centre while the group students had their own huddle to the side. Hermione saw them and was instantly next to him.

“You took a while,” she stated, before looking at Tonks, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the Auror said briskly, “what’s going on?”

“We’re trying to work out the best thing to do,” Hermione informed them as they made their way to the bigger group, her hand instinctively going into Harry’s, “there are wards still standing but soon they will all be disestablished.”

“Professor Tonks,” McGonagall welcomed gratefully, “good to see you. Are you and Mr Lupin straight from Hogsmeade?”

“Yes,” Tonks confirmed, “he and Mad-Eye are securing the tunnel.”

“Who else is with you?” Slughorn asked.

“Arthur, Charlie, Bill, Aberforth, Mad-Eye, Remus and myself.”

“Kingsley?”

“Protecting the Muggle Prime Minster,” Tonks replied, “and probably Scrimgeour as well, now that he’s lost many of his closest advisors.”

“Where’s Ron?” Hermione asked, her fear making her voice crack.

“Fred is pretty hurt,” Harry explained, “I’m guessing he is still in the infirmary.”

“We brought through survivors,” Tonks told the headmistress, “including Fred, there are eight.”

“Poppy will need help,” McGonagall stated just as the doors opened again, the rest of the present Order members, except for Mrs Weasley, entering the Hall. Ginny, who Harry hadn’t even realised was amongst the students, ran to her father and brothers where they talked for a moment – Ron made his way straight over to where Harry and Hermione was standing.

“How’s Fred?” Harry asked immediately.

“Not good,” Ron answered unnaturally stoic, “and we’ve had more bad news. What’s been going on here?”

“We’ve just started,” Hermione informed him quickly, quieting as Mr Weasley began to talk.

“What do we know?” he said, directing his question at McGonagall, “Minerva, tell me the facts as they stand.”

“We have two hundred and fifteen students, twelve teachers (including myself), two hundred and twenty three house elves, a number of ghosts and of course, Madam Pomfrey,” she listed, “of those two hundred odd students, sixty six are second and third years, forty two fourth years, thirty seven are fifth years, thirty two are sixth years with thirty eight in the senior class. Hagrid has enlisted the help of five giants and we now have the support of two thirds of the centaurs.

“At this point in time, one hundred and seventy six of the wards have been disestablished giving us approximately fifty six minutes before they can access this castle.”

“Do we know what’s out there?”

“Dolores Umbridge is breaking through the wards as is Barbarus Turner but no, we don’t know the numbers of attackers.”

“We’ll go and find out dad,” Bill said quickly, and at a nod from their father the two oldest Weasley’s dashed off.

“Right, Remus, Tonks – what happened at Hogsmeade?” Mr Weasley asked, turning his attention to Remus and Tonks.

“There were at least thirty Death Eaters there, randomly destroying the buildings and killing anyone who were trying to escape…” Remus started.

“How many casualties?”

“Not many,” Tonks replied, “the village was empty bar from Aberforth and Rosmerta…”

“I saw merely two bodies on my way to Honeydukes,” Aberforth interrupted, “and I think they were patrons of the Three Broomsticks.”

“Which is why Rosmerta was hurt,” Tonks continued, “she had stayed to try and protect those staying over. There were four more dead there.”

“The status of Hogsmeade?”

“Hogsmeade no longer exists,” Remus said glumly, “the Death Eaters from there would now be here.”

“I suspect the same from Diagon Alley,” Mr Weasley carried on, breathing deeply, “we managed to get a few out, as you know, but Diagon Alley is gone and the attackers are no doubt here.”

“What about the Ministry, Arthur,” McGonagall asked, “has it really been penetrated?”

“Umbridge’s betrayal has been devastating,” Mr Weasley informed them, his voice suddenly filling with emotion, “Percy uncovered her deceit today, informing me and had tried to contain her for Kingsley. He died trying stop her.”

“Percy’s dead?” Hermione repeated, shocked.

“Oh, Arthur, I’m so sorry,” McGonagall breathed.

“Does Molly know?” Tonks asked sadly.

“Yes,” he said softly before looking up at his two children, “George and Fleur are with her. We can say that both the Ministry and St Mungos is now under Death Eater control. Scrimgeour has gone into hiding and the wizarding community is leaderless.”

There was silence in the hall for a moment as the news sunk in. Harry glanced over at Ginny, who was standing rim-rod straight, her face hard. Harry then turned his attention to Ron who was standing stock still beside him, small red patches touching his cheeks showing his only discomfort.

“Ron, I’m so sorry,” Harry told him.

“So am I Ron,” Hermione added, “I can’t believe that he’s…”

“He died a hero,” Ron answered, looking at them both, “and he apologised to mum and dad. We knew stuff like this was going to happen, this is a war after all.” Harry watched as his friend tried to keep his emotions in check, but it all turning to custard as Hermione wrapped her arms around him, drawing Harry in so the three friends stood for a moment in a group embrace. Harry heard a lone sob come from Ron, but when they drew apart – there were no tears.

“Where’s Luna?” Hermione asked quietly, looking around.

“I…I don’t know,” Ron replied, his eyes joining in the search.

“I’m right here Ronald.” Harry jumped slightly as Luna appeared right by his side, between him and Ron. The young couple shared a look of understanding while Harry turned his attention back to the group of teachers and Order members. The students, who had been grouped together slightly separate, had now joined in with everyone else. Harry couldn’t help but notice a shock of blond hair as Malfoy stood slightly alone on the fringes. Frowning, he turned away from the Slytherin when he heard someone mention his name.

“Harry, have you felt You-Know-Who?” Mr Weasley asked, his voice still thick with emotion.

“No, nothing,” Harry answered, his frown deepening as he thought about it, “but I think my entering the locked room is the reason for all of this.”

“You think he’s felt the change in you?” Tonks questioned.

“Change?”

“Yes, Harry – change,” Tonks confirmed with a small smile, “you’ve definitely grown up since I saw you last!”

“Grown-up is a good way to put it,” Harry smiled back, “maybe. I haven’t felt him probing and didn’t get any reaction during my time in the room or since. I think Umbridge told him.”

“What’s our plans Arthur?” Remus interrupted, just as Bill and Charlie returned to the hall.

“There are at least one thousand Death Eaters out there,” Bill breathed, “probably more.”

“Plus, we can see the giants waiting with them,” Charlie added.

“Which means we are terribly out numbered,” Mr Weasley thought out loud, “ideas?”

“Hagrid, Grawp and I could use the giants and forest creatures to secure the forest,” Charlie put forth, “stop any attackers coming through there…”

“The giant squid and merpeople will keep the lake safe,” McGonagall added.

“So that is the rear and west of the castle more or least protected,” Remus said.

“We can use the senior students to help defend,” Tonks suggested, “they are ready. DA members can help organise them…”

“However, I feel the second and third years should be kept around the infirmary,” McGonagall argued, “they may have been taught, but they are not ready for combat.”

“None of the children are Minerva,” Remus stated dryly, “except for a select few, but I agree – second and third years should stay out of trouble.”

“Perhaps a few seniors could stay with them, ready to help out when needed,” Harry suggested.

“Lavender and I could do that,” Paraviti spoke up quickly, “I mean, we’re members of the DA but…”

“That would be perfect,” Mr Weasley agreed quickly, “thank you girls.”

“I have got a team together to help Madam Pomfrey,” Luna announced calmly – everyone turning to her, “there are three Ravenclaw’s and two Hufflepuff’s who are skilled in healing, plus we can think of eight second and third years in our houses who could help.” Her statement was met with shocked silence until Professor McGonagall spoke up.

“Well done Miss Lovegood,” she complimented, “perhaps you should go now as she will already be busy.”

“No, not yet Minerva,” Mr Weasley ordered, “we need to formalise a few more things before we split. Pompona, take some students and get all that you can from the greenhouses, especially healing plants and herbs. Anything that could be used as a weapon needs to be destroyed.”

“Neville and a few others can help me,” Madam Sprout informed him, “I understand.”

“Horace, we need all potions that can heal or are ready to be used in defence – everything else is to be destroyed.”

“Understood.”

“Prefects, go to your houses and wake up all students,” Mr Weasley continued, brisk and business like, “Lavender and Pavariti will be waiting for all second and third year students here, in the Great Hall. Minerva, they will need a roll to make sure all students are accounted for.”

“Will do Arthur,” McGonagall noted.

“Forth and fifth years will join the rest of us and will be separated into teams,” Mr Weasley commanded, “the teams will be led by myself, Remus, Tonks, Bill, Aberforth and Moody. Harry, what do you need?”

“I need to know when Nagini, the snake, is dead,” Harry said coolly, ignoring everyone looking at him, “Voldemort can’t be killed until after that snake is no more.”

“Snake?” one of the sixth years asked tentatively.

“Yes, huge, reptile thing,” Ron replied, “follows its master around, kills people? Can’t miss it.”

“Right,” Mr Weasley carried on, “the plan is to keep as many safe as possible while allowing Harry to get to You-Know-Who…”

“Why is it up to Potter to get rid of the Dark Lord,” Draco Malfoy finally spoke up, “surely anyone who has a open shot should have a go…”

“Because, like it or not, Malfoy,” Harry interjected, standing tall, “I am the Chosen One. It is my job,” without a second glance, he turned back to Mr Weasley, “we’re running out of time,” he said.

“Yes, yes, we are. Let’s…” Before Mr Weasley could finish his sentence, Harry heard a muffled groan from next to him.

Turning, he saw Luna have Ron’s face firmly clasped between her hands and was engaging him in an extremely passionate kiss. It seemed Ron had initially been taken by surprise, not returning the embrace, but soon his arms were wrapped around her, pulling her so close that they began to meld. Harry could hear Bill and Charlie chuckle while others turned away in embarrassment. Harry just shook his head and turned back to Mr Weasley (who was watching in shocked horror).

“I think what you were about to say Mr Weasley,” Harry said, ignoring the continuing sound of Ron and Luna snogging, “is that this is it. What happens today will mean the make or break of us, those fighting for what is good and right. Many of us, perhaps even most of us, are scared - and that’s okay, because it means that this isn’t normal and what ever takes place on the fields of this castle is in defence of the light. We are going into this battle proudly knowing that this castle, Hogwarts, represents everything that we are fighting for – truth, freedom, equality, bravery, loyalty and knowledge.”

He hadn’t planned in making a speech but it seemed he had done just that. Blushing, he looked nervously at Hermione who just smiled proudly back. Gently, she reached out and stroked his cheek, her fingers running down his jaw and fluttering over his lips – which she soon covered, feather light, with her own. Her eyes locked onto his and he had never, ever felt so loved. Imprinting the memory into his brain, with reluctance he returned to the present, in time to see Luna move away from Ron and face him.

“I’ll see you in the light, Chosen One,” she breathed, and in a flash of blond hair, she was gone – her selected students following her.

“We’ll get through this Harry,” Charlie said as he passed, “for Hogwarts, right?” Harry just nodded as the older Weasley thumped him on the shoulder and left for the forest.

Ginny and Neville walked over to them, Neville walking a bit taller and slightly more confident than usual.

“You make us better people Harry,” Neville said, taking Harry’s hand and shaking it vigorously, “we can do this.” Harry smiled at him before looking at Ginny, aware that Hermione instinctively stepped closer to him, her hand clasping his tightly.

“I understand now,” Ginny said softly, “I understand what you’re doing, what you’re sacrificing and realise how bloody stupid I’ve been. I’m so sorry for all the rubbish I’ve put you through and I need you to know, that you can trust me Harry. I won’t let you down. Do…do you believe me?”

“Yeah, I do Ginny,” he replied and with a smile, she too was gone. While he had been talking, the Hall had emptied quite considerably, leaving the trio alone in their own little group. Harry turned to his friends.

“We haven’t really planned that much for this moment,” Ron started uncertainly, “I mean, we spent so much time get the Horcruxes and then you went all…”

“Grumpy,” Hermione added helpfully.

“Yes, grumpy, on us, we haven’t really worked out how to finish old Voldy off,” Ron finished.

“You can’t use your wand Harry,” Hermione instructed seriously, “the cores are the same and there is no guarantee it would work…”

“I couldn’t do an unforgivable anyway,” Harry said thoughtfully, “so if not a wand, how am I going to do this?”

“Have something fall on him?” Ron suggested, “stab him with a sharpened stick…”

“That’s it!” Hermione exclaimed, excitedly, “Gryffindor’s sword! That’s how you can do it!”

“That’s brilliant!” Ron enthused as well, “you need to go and get the sword!”

Harry looked at them both and thought hard – Godric Gryffindor’s sword? Should he? It does make a kind of sense and as he thought about it, he felt a certainty hit him, something telling his brain that it was the right choice.

“Hermione!” All three of them turned to Professor McGonagall as the headmistress strode over to them, “sorry to interrupt, but you need to get the Gryffindor students, we’re running out of time.”

“Certainly Professor,” Hermione replied, turning urgently back to Harry, “you need the sword Harry,” she demanded before taking his face in her hands, making sure he was looking at him, “you be careful, you here me? You do what you have to do, but you can’t die. I won’t let you die. I love you Harry.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, kissing her once more, his eyes never leaving her departing form until she was out of sight.

“Come on mate,” Ron said after a few moments, “it’s time to go. I’ll let the others know where you’ve gone.”

“Thanks Ron,” Harry nodded.

“You’re a good guy Harry,” Ron remarked with a grin before turning away and making his way to where his father was standing. Harry smiled at the fact that the real Ron said exactly the same words to him as the Ron in the locked room said just hours before. And with that memory, Harry left the Great Hall and began his dash to the office that he knew so well.

21. The Battle

A/N – yes, it’s me! Sorry for the delay but one room in our house got robbed and guess what they stole – my laptop. Therefore the only access to Portkey and writing is at work and (how dare they – expect me to work at work?), I have had to work and not write hence the delay. To June, Antonio and Barbara – I can’t send from the ‘bevkim’ address at the moment – I can receive but not send so sorry I haven’t replied to you!

And now the story. Just to let you know, I don’t like war/battles, don’t watch war movies/t.v., read war books and really have no idea how a battle situation would be with regards to strategy etc. Therefore, I’ve kind of not gone into specifics in this chapter and if I have done something that just would not have happened in a battle situation – I apologise. This was quite hard for me to write and it will be the next chapter that will be a bit more…flowing. Anyway, enough of all that – here we go!

Chapter 21 – The Battle

Harry entered the empty headmistress’s office slightly out of breath, but he could feel his adrenalin pumping around his veins. He barely registered that it was still pitch black outside and that he had now been awake for seventeen hours, his mind was stuck on ways to keep himself and his friends alive.

Ignoring the cries of indignation from the portraits that he had entered the office without permission, Harry searched for the sword, finally seeing it on the shelf below the Sorting Hat. Drawn to it, he stood for a moment taking in its jewelled beauty and thought for the first time that he was taking a prized heirloom without asking. Frowning, he hesitated, wondering whether he was doing the right thing.

“You should take it Harry,” the portrait behind the headmistress’s desk advised, “I will let Minerva know, if she asks, where it has gone.”

Harry turned to Dumbledore’s picture and saw the old wizard standing and watching him intently.

“Am I doing the right thing?” Harry asked and Dumbledore smiled.

“Yes Harry, you are.” With those words of comfort, Harry turned back to the sword, firstly removing the leather sheath and belt from its hold, gently inspecting the finely made garment before strapping it around his waist. It felt odd, the light sheath hanging down the side of his left leg.

With steady hands, Harry gripped the handle of the sword, lifting it off its holder. The weight was heavy but not uncomfortably so but as Harry stood there holding it, a slither of panic hit him – he has had no sword training and the last time he had held a sword was when he was twelve, battling the basilisk. This idea was stupid.

Yet somehow, he knew what to do. Gripping the sword’s handle, he found the position that was comfortable before doing a few practice swishes, enjoying the ease in which the ancient weapon sliced the air.

“Godric would be proud,” one of the portraits watching Harry commented – Harry just looked up, then slipped the sword into its leather home. Strangely, the new weight didn’t feel uncomfortable against his leg as he walked over to Dumbledore’s picture.

“This is the end…” Harry begun to say, but stopped as Dumbledore held up his hand.

“No Harry, this is the beginning,” the professor said, his eyes twinkling though a hint of hardness hid in their depths, “what ever happens today will be the start of the next part in your journey. I have the faith that you will succeed.”

“Thank you professor.”

“The castle will help you,” Dumbledore carried on, “these walls hold many secrets and have been standing for a very long time. They will not fall easily.”

Harry nodded and then with a deep intake of breath, he quickly left the headmistress’s office and began the trek back to the Great Hall. He ran, holding the sword steady with his left hand while his wand was clasped tightly in his right, acknowledging Parvati and Lavender with their group of young students with a quick wave as they passed him heading in the opposite direction.

He entered the Hall to see everyone facing a large map of Hogwarts hanging freely at the end of the chamber, where the teachers usually sit. There was a clock next to it, only minutes remaining as it counted down until the time the wards disappeared. Everyone were bunched in groups, listening to Mr Weasley, who was indicating how they were going to handle the battle, how the ghosts were to be used (as messengers between teams), that the house-elves would help the injured and how to stay alive.

Harry went over to where Ron and Hermione were standing together, slightly away from the others, joining them in listening to Mr Weasley.

“What have I missed?” he whispered to Hermione.

“Everyone has been put into teams,” Hermione whispered back, “and they’re now being shown where they need to go.”

As she said that, Mr Weasley had finished and everyone began to move – faces solemn and scared but at the same time determined.

“So, whose team are we in?” Harry asked, frowning as his two friends exchanged looks, “what?”

“You need to tell him Ron,” Hermione said urgently.

“I know, but…”

“But what,” Harry interrupted impatiently, “what do you need to tell me Ron?” They looked at each other again before Ron took a deep breath and turned to Harry.

“It’s just that,” Ron started, pausing to look at Hermione again, who gave him an encouraging smile, then back to Harry, “well, I’ve improved a lot with Moody and fighting with this new leg and stuff. But I don’t…I can’t…I don’t want to let you down Harry.”

“Let me down?”

“I’m not fast enough,” Ron tried to explain, “and I don’t think I can cover your back like I should. I…I think you should go without me. I can stay here with McGonagall and organise things with her, defend the castle if needed, but…”

“I understand,” Harry reassured, “and you’re not letting me down.” Ron gave a relieved grin.

“Thanks Harry.”

“I better go,” Harry began, “so, which team am I in?”

“You mean, we better go,” Hermione interrupted.

“Hermione…” Harry tried to reason; now knowing that Ron wasn’t coming with him, he felt himself wanting her to stay within the relative security of the castle walls as well.

“Don’t you dare, Harry Potter!” she growled, hands on hips and eyes blazing, “don’t you dare try and shut me out now! Accept the fact that I will be fighting by your side!” Harry sighed – it was worth a try.

“Okay, okay,” he relented, “let’s go. I hope no-one is waiting for us to join them.”

“We thought it best that you two just help where needed,” Ron explained quickly, “giving you the freedom to get to Voldemort when it’s time.”

“I don’t think he’s here yet,” Harry answered thoughtfully, absently rubbing his scar as he watched the last team leave the hall, “I’m guessing he’ll let me know when he arrives.”

“Right,” Ron replied, his eyes darting worriedly between Harry and Hermione, “well, I guess I’ll see you guys later.”

“Yeah,” Harry said back. They stood looking uncomfortably at each other until Hermione let out a frustrated “for goodness sake!” and drew them both into a hug. He couldn’t quite believe he was taking this next step without Ron but he knew it was for the best. The trio broke apart silently and with a small smile and wave, Harry and Hermione turned from Ron and made their way out of the Hall.

They stepped out onto the top of the main stairs and looked at the sight before them – which really wasn’t much as darkness covered most of the grounds.

“This is madness,” Remus said in hushed tones, joining Harry and Hermione from his team, “we need more light! We have no idea where they are!”

Harry was about to agree when it seemed that every light in Hogwarts lit up, blazing out of the many windows and out onto the grounds. Darkness was now punctuated with squares and rectangles of light, exposing the enemy at the school’s boundaries.

“Sweet Merlin,” Remus breathed and Harry knew exactly what he meant. There were hundreds of robed wizards and witches waiting to pounce as the last of the wards were removed. Behind them were giants, trolls and a multitude of other creatures that Harry didn’t know or want to know.

Before he could think of anything else, there was a shimmer as the last of the wards came down – and the battle between the light and dark began. Remus was soon gone, joining his team in their appointed task, leaving Harry and Hermione alone at the top of the stairs.

“Harry,” Hermione breathed, pointing to a heavy black mist in the distance, “what’s that, do you think?”

Harry squinted as he tried to make it out, and then felt an unnatural chill. At first, he thought about the Horcruxes and how their release had made him feel the same – but dismissed that thought with the knowledge that that couldn’t be the reason for the coldness. It then struck him what it was.

“Dementors,” he exclaimed, making his way down the stairs. Battles were taking place before him, but Harry just took a calming breath and thought about his first kiss with Hermione, which melded into seeing his mum and dad, and then hearing from those who loved him – and with a thought, the bold, bright figure of a stag formed before him. It looked at Harry, who held its gaze, “keep the Dementors away from our people,” he instructed, “come back to me before you disappear so I can form you again.” With a shake of its mighty head, the stag bounded away, its brilliant whiteness leaving a trial behind it.

“You can command a patronus?” Hermione asked.

“I guess so,” Harry replied before turning his attention on what was taking place around him. There were a multitude of battles happening and it seemed that even though the numbers on the dark side were great, their skill was not. The Hogwarts students were holding their own.

Harry watched as a group of twenty or so house-elves dashed into the fray and carried a fallen fifth year Hufflepuff into the castle, Nearly Headless Nick overseeing. Harry could make out quite a few of the ghosts then, floating around before returning every now and then to the castle with news.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville standing over the fallen body of Professor Sprout, firing off hexes to half a dozen or so dark fighters. He was alone, the other students that had gone with them to help with the greenhouses already seemingly returned to the castle with their spoils.

“Come on,” he cried to Hermione, and dashed down to the edge of the glasshouses to help. He quickly incapacitated two of the attackers, allowing Neville to concentrate on those closer to him. Hermione soon joined in and as they came to Neville’s side, Harry saw a new figure join the two remaining Death Eaters.

“We meet again Longbottom, baby Potter,” the low drawl of Bellatrix Lestrange carried over the battle, “how fitting.” Neville let of a silent hex that was easily defected before crouching down behind a fallen wheelbarrow, glancing at Harry, who had taken cover behind a massive shelf filled with plants.

“She’s mine Harry,” he said, his voice like steel, “that murdering cow is mine.” Harry just nodded, covering Hermione who had begun to inspect the comatose professor. Bellatrix had killed Sirius but what she had done to Neville, if possible, was worse. Harry could understand his fellow Gryffindor’s need to fight this battle himself.

“Sprout’s alive,” Hermione breathed, glancing up to Harry from Sprout’s side, regaining his attention, “but she needs to get to the castle.” Harry looked around for a ghost to inform, but saw none, unconsciously deflected attacking spells as he did so. He looked briefly down at Hermione.

“Can you take her?” he asked, firing a hex to the second to last Death Eater, seeing out of the corner of his eye Neville and Bellatrix were now engaged in a fierce duel, Neville doing more than okay.

“With help,” Hermione barked back, “let’s go.” With a wave of her wand, Professor Sprout floated just above the ground, and reflecting off hex after hex, they made their way back to the castle, leaving Neville to fight his demon.

Harry’s eyes seemed to be everywhere, constantly aware of any danger to Hermione, their charge or himself. They were up the top of the steps when a contingent of third years (under the watchful gaze of Lavender) joined them, taking the injured Herbology teacher back into the castle.

Once more, they turned back to the fighting. Harry saw a huge tentacle reach out from the lake in the distance and casually pull towards the water a number of dark fighters, who soon disappeared into the lake’s inky depths. The next group of fighters tried taking a wider berth around the lake’s edge, but the squid’s reach was underestimated and they too met a watery death. Harry couldn’t help but smile.

Hermione got his attention and indicated to one of the teams that were seriously out numbered. They both dashed towards their comrades, joining in as soon as they could much to the relief of those fighting. They saw it was Bill’s team, their patch to defend close to Hagrid’s hut and the forest. Bill had been wounded but not enough to take him out of the fight, his damaged face scowling in concentration, ghastly under the eerie light from the castle.

“Where’s Hagrid?” Harry called out, disabling two Death Eaters bearing down on Bill.

“He and Grawp have gone into the forest to stop the giants,” Bill shouted back, “and will deal with the trolls.”

“Charlie?”

“With the centaurs,” was the hasty reply, “many Death Eaters have died in the forest because of them.”

Harry didn’t answer and instead concentrated on the battle taking place in front of him. The fallen dark fighters were mainly very young or very old – they were just cannon fodder, protecting those that could truly fight. A part of Harry’s mind wondered why Bellatrix had broken that mould and was at this moment exposed and fighting with Neville. But he didn’t have time to ponder further as a horribly familiar face came into view.

Antonin Dolohov was striding towards them, his eyes fixed on the yet unknowing Hermione. Harry remembered the last time they met and how Hermione had nearly died because of Dolohov. The passing thought on how he got out of Azkaban crossed his mind but that wasn’t his major concern.

Harry had mastered voiceless spell casting early on and now practiced it with ease. He continued to hex the witless numbers that had been sent to attack them, determined to intersect Dolohov before the Death Eater had a chance to get to Hermione.

He was nearly there, side tracked by a few more dark fighters that got in his way (who seemed to be there only to delay him). He was just about in range when Dolohov directed his wand at a still oblivious Hermione.

“Hermione!” Harry screamed, willing her to see her attacker and not turn to the sound of his voice. She spun towards Dolohov, seeing him just in time to put a block up – but not quite. The same slashing hex that he had attacked her with in the Ministry, he used again but this time it hit only her leg. She collapsed into a heap, holding her leg but still fighting furiously. Harry sprinted towards her, firing hex after hex, reaching her in near panic.

“I heard you,” she gasped as he kneeled down next to her, inspecting her wound, “in my head, to look that way – I heard you!”

“Oh, how sweet,” came a voice above them, Dolohov looking at them with disdain, “shame you have to die, girly-girl…” He raised his wand at the same time Harry did but neither fired a shot before the elder wizard collapsed into a pile in front of them.

“Sloppy Potter,” came a sneering voice, “it wouldn’t pay to get yourself killed now, would it?” Harry stood, helping Hermione to her feet to look into the black eyes of Severus Snape. Harry pointed his wand into the heart of his ex-potions teacher.

“I should kill you,” Harry snarled, momentarily forgetting all that was taking place around him.

“Even after I just saved you and Granger’s life?” Snape drawled, “that’s very un-noble of you.”

“You are a traitor…”

“I did what I had to do…”

“You killed Dumbledore…”

“He was already dying…”

“YOU KILLED DUMBLEDORE!” Harry yelled, his wand poking harder into Snape’s chest.

“I did the old man a favour Potter or are you so dim-witted to see that! I had a job to do, a role to play – a role that he asked me to do! Putting Dumbledore out of his misery was a part of that role.”

“Don’t talk about him like he was a dog…”

“Or you’ll do what? Kill me? You haven’t yet. Besides, I know what your role is Potter, your little quest, which I think is drastically coming to an end.”

Harry didn’t move, he and Snape staring at each other with equal contempt. When Harry saw Snape’s black eyes glance, for the briefest of moments, over Harry’s shoulder, he knew something was up.

“Get down!” Snape yelled, ignoring the wand in his chest and roughly grabbing Harry and Hermione by the arm, dragging them down to the ground – a spell whizzing over their heads.

“What the…” Harry began.

“I don’t plan in getting myself killed just so you and I can have a little chat,” Snape hissed, “I am on your side Potter, get used to it.” Snape quickly rose, fired off a spell in the direction they had just been fired at from, then promptly disappeared.

“Wait!” Harry called out, ready to chase after his nemesis, but felt a restraining hand on his arm. Turning, he looked into the frantic face of Hermione.

“Harry, we haven’t got time for this,” she stressed, “Snape just saved our lives because we weren’t concentrating! We need to be more careful!” Harry looked around them and saw what could only be described as chaos. Pockets of fighting were going on everywhere, bodies littered the ground. Harry took a deep breath then looked back at Hermione.

“Are you alright?” he asked, looking down at her damaged leg, which she had healed at some point.

“I’m fine,” she informed him as she went to stand, stumbling as the ground began to shake. Fighting paused momentarily as the rumbling of the earth got more profound, while a deep, guttural cry came from deep within the forest. They, along with many others, watched in fascination as the trees began to sway and disappear – an earth shattering call filled the air.

“Giants,” Harry concluded quickly before returning to the battle taking place on the grounds of Hogwarts. It seemed the initial rush of unskilled opponents had run out as those now fighting against them were more able. Harry knew that those on the light would be tired, the ‘fodder’ had done their job, many paying with their lives. He recognised a few faces that were meant to be locked up in Azkaban making him realise that those on the dark side thought they had the upper hand and were going in for the kill. This thought brought an even stronger focus to Harry as he fought along side his friends, not letting the distraction of Snape deter him.

Standing next to Dean and Seamus as they protected Hermione (who was helping a dazed and bleeding forth year with some rudimentary healing skills) Harry was slightly taken by surprise when his view was blocked by his silvery stag. Remembering what he had done seemingly a lifetime ago, Harry once more concentrated on all his most happiest memories, passing his thoughts back to his patronus who departed with a gallop.

“What was that all about?” Dean asked as he threw up a shield as a curse headed his way.

“My patronus,” Harry explained, glancing behind him and seeing Hermione was nearly finished, “it’s keeping the dementors away.”

“You’ve summoned a patronus, had it running around for nearly an hour and you’re not even drawing a sweat?” Seamus exclaimed, amazed, “man, Harry – that’s pretty amazing.”

Harry didn’t answer as he felt Hermione stand next to him, her patient once more able to join in the fight.

“Harry, I’ve just seen Bill go down,” she informed him urgently, “we need to get him to the castle.”

“We’ll cover you two,” Dean said as he and Seamus moved back to back so that Harry could join Hermione.

“Will you guys be alright?” Hermione asked, “Bill was your team leader, right?”

“With you guys here we’ve managed to hold the line and evened the numbers a bit,” Seamus replied, “we’ll be fine.”

Harry and Hermione didn’t argue and quickly made their way to the fallen redhead – he was a mess, but still alive. Hermione began to see what was wrong with him when the Grey Lady floated over to them.

“Harry, Hermione,” the ghost breathed, “I will make sure Mr Weasley is taken care of. You are needed with Remus Lupin on the east side of the castle.” Harry looked at Hermione with dread, immediately ready to make his way to where they knew Remus was. But before they could move, a loud, anguished cry filled the air, chilling Harry to the bone. He knew that voice.

“Hagrid,” he groaned, looking behind him, back into the forest.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Hermione pleaded, her eyes also fixed at the forest, wide with fear, “Harry, we need to go. We have a better chance helping Lupin!”

Harry nodded numbly and with a deep breath, turned his back on the wizard who had introduced him to the world of magic. With a heavy heart, he began the dash towards Remus, wondering just who would survive this war.

Before they had reached their destination, their way was blocked by a small, trembling figure – still wearing the dress that she had been given three years ago.

“Winky,” Harry acknowledged quickly, “what is it?”

“I’s told to tell you that the snake is dead,” she whimpered and then with a crack, disappeared.

“Naglini is gone,” Hermione repeated softly, “the last of the Horcruxes is gone.”

She looked at Harry who looked back at her with a grim realisation. But they had a more immediate task to take care of, and without saying anything more they both turned and continued to the east side of the castle.

It took a while for them to get to the spot where Remus’s team had been stationed – and saw the Marauder in a fierce struggle with Fenrir Greyback. They slunk to the side of the castle as they assessed the situation – numerous little half hearted battles were taking place around the main fight in the middle (nearly everyone’s attention was focused on Greyback and Lupin). The numbers were heavily lopsided towards the dark fighters, yet it seemed the dark side wasn’t really even trying. Harry got the impression that because their leader was distracted, their heart for killing had disappeared, firing only defensive spells rather than attacking.

Although drawn to the hand-to-hand combat taking place before him, Harry continued to cast his eye across the battlefield and saw, waiting in the shadows of the castle, the cowering, nervous figure of Peter Pettigrew. The traitor was watching the fight with rabid fascination and didn’t notice Harry until he was nearly upon him.

Eyes wide, Wormtail glanced briefly at the approaching Harry before darting towards the wrestling werewolves – a wrestle that Remus was loosing.

“No!” Harry screamed, seeing where Wormtail was heading, casting out a spell that harmlessly hit a tree Peter hid behind. Within moments, Pettigrew had reached his destination, unnoticed by Greyback and Lupin. With a strength that Harry didn’t know the runty little man had, Wormtail dragged the large werewolf off of the injured Remus, before firing a reducto spell into Fenrir’s chest. Fenrir looked down at the wound that had appeared, and with what could only be described as a feral grin, looked back at Wormtail.

“You can’t kill me, you worthless little rat,” Fenrir snarled, closing in on the visibly shaking Wormtail, “it takes more than a spell.”

“I know,” Peter replied and before Fenrir knew what was happening, Peter thrust his silver hand into the still open gash in the werewolf’s chest. Fenrir looked down in surprise before letting out a blood curling scream and falling onto the ground. Peter stared at his bloody hand before looking at the stunned face of Harry.

“My debt to you is paid,” Peter said before disappearing before Harry’s eyes, a rat scouring off into the forest. Harry vaguely remembered Dumbledore telling him that the fact Harry hadn’t killed Peter when he was first revealed four years ago might be a good thing and it seemed that yet again the old headmaster had been right.

“Harry,” Hermione called, interrupting his thoughts, “Remus needs help.” Harry looked down at his fallen friend and saw that he was indeed in a bad way. Hermione was frantically trying to stop some of the bleeding, but the wounds were having trouble healing.

All around them, the fighters on the dark side were dropping their wands and surrendering. Harry remembered Remus telling them that most of the werewolves were too scared to stand up against Fenrir – now that he was gone, they no longer wanted to fight. Those on the light were confused, not sure what to do. Harry needed to make a decision.

“Do you need help to get Remus back?” he asked Hermione.

“Yes,” Hermione shot back, frowning, “and that will be you, right?”

“I need to stay here,” Harry informed her quickly, his eyes darting around as he worked out what to do, “I’ll get someone else to help you.”

He knew she was going to say something, tell him that she wasn’t going to leave him, so without giving her the chance, he left her and made his way to two figures that he recognised amongst the students before him.

“Hey Harry,” Hannah Abbott called out to him when he was close enough, “who was that guy? Is Professor Lupin okay?”

“No he isn’t,” Harry replied briskly, “could you go with Hermione and take the professor back to the castle? She needs protection. Ginny,” Harry dismissed Hannah, who quickly made her way to Hermione, and turned his attention to the youngest Weasley, “we need to secure these prisoners, can your team do it?”

“My team?” Ginny questioned, glancing sideways at Harry.

“You’re the most senior fighter here,” Harry commanded, “this is your team now. What do you think?” Harry waited as Ginny thought things over, noticing that the group of around fifty fighters had meekly sat down and raised their hands in the air, their wands collected making them all powerless.

“Yes,” Ginny finally said, full of confidence, “we can immobilise them until a more permanent arrangement can be found. I probably don’t require everyone either, a selection can join in with the other figh…Harry!”

Harry had been listening to her when the familiar prickle began in his scar which quickly grew into a searing pain, making him fall to his knees in agony. The image of Dumbledore’s tomb filled his mind and with a dull realisation, Harry knew what it meant. For the first time since leaving the castle, he felt the sword that was strapped to his hip, its hardness pressing into his thigh.

And although he was vaguely aware of Ginny kneeling beside him, worriedly asking if he was okay, it was to Hermione he looked to for comfort. She had moved on but when he looked in the direction he knew she should be, he could see her and as if called, she turned around and looked straight back at him. The image of her soothed the ache in his head, giving him the strength to stand.

“I’m fine,” Harry said carelessly to Ginny, his eyes still locked with Hermione. He watched as Hannah said something to her, taking her attention for a moment before turning back to him. He tried to tell her how much he loved her, how much she meant to him and that it was now time for him to carry on alone – all with a distant look.

He could see in her eyes her fear and the knowledge that she would be with him, no matter what. Then with purpose, Harry turned away, rested his hand on the sword’s hilt and ignoring Ginny’s questions, strode off in the direction of Dumbledore’s tomb.

22. Battle for Light

A/N – for all those reviewers that hate cliff hangers, you are going to so hate this chapter. You have been warned. This has been in my head so long, I think I’ve done it justice. Thank you for your reviews. I should get my new laptop this week so the next chapter should be on time (only 2 to go after this one). Sorry again for the cliff hanger….

Chapter 22 – The Battle for Light

Harry began to slow down as the lights from the castle no longer reached him, the area he headed for was now solely lit by the Cheshire-Cat-smile type moon that reflected on the lake’s surface. Dumbledore’s tomb also glowed bright in the otherwise gloom, allowing Harry to see the more than one figure standing there, waiting for him. Frowning, Harry changed his direction slightly and headed for the cover of the trees. He was more than surprised as he recognised who was confronting Voldemort, wondering how he knew where to come and why he was there. Deciding he’d like to find out, Harry hid and watched, their voices easily carrying over in the darkness.

“Young Mr Malfoy,” Voldemort welcomed nonchalantly, not worried about Draco’s wand pointing at him, “this is an unexpected surprise. Haven’t I killed you once already?”

“It takes more than one way to kill me,” Malfoy answered unwaveringly.

“So it seems,” Voldemort replied, his wand held loosely at his side, “I’m sorry if I seem a little confused. You see, I was waiting for Harry Potter and here you are. How did you know where I was?”

“Potter headed off in this direction and I knew a short cut,” Malfoy spat, advancing, “you are going to pay for killing my mother.”

“I didn’t kill your mother Draco,” Voldemort almost purred, “your failure to do as you were told killed your mother. However, failure seems to run in your family – like father like son…”

Harry shielded himself behind a tree as spells began to fire back and forth. He could tell that Voldemort was just toying with Malfoy, though every now and then a look of surprise crossed the snake-like face as one of Draco’s spells came just that little bit too close. Neither seemed aware of Harry’s presence and he was quite happy to keep it that way.

However, when it looked like Draco was loosing the fight, Harry began to debate whether it was time to show himself. But something told him that if Voldemort knew he was there, then Malfoy would just be a distraction and killed immediately; strangely he didn’t want that to happen. Part of him felt a little, tiny, sense of admiration for Draco Malfoy – he was fighting Lord Voldemort after all. He was either very brave or very stupid.

Just like myself, Harry thought with a wry smile, which died as he watched Draco be held down by the throat on top of Dumbledore’s white tomb, his wand dropping from his hand.

“You fought well,” Voldemort acknowledged to the choking Malfoy, “it is almost a shame to kill you. Again.”

“My Lord, let the boy go.”

Both Harry and Voldemort turned to the new voice, Draco falling gasping to the ground.

“Severus,” Voldemort stated with a hint of a sneer, “my, you don’t look that well.”

Harry looked at his old professor and saw that Voldemort was right – even in the unearthly glow of the half-moon and the natural paleness of Snape, the man looked sick.

“Draco is of no consequence to you,” Snape continued, “he is worthless of your time and effort…”

“The fool threatened me,” Voldemort snapped, all pretence of politeness gone, “and you say that is of no consequence? You surprise me Severus.”

“You’re waiting for Potter, you do not want to be distracted…”

“You have the gumption to tell me what I should and should not be doing,” Voldemort sneered, stepping over the still withering body of Draco, “what has gotten into you, my old friend? You know as well as I that I am not easily distracted. When Harry gets here, which I must admit should’ve been by now, nothing will deter me from my course.”

“Then you do not need Draco.”

“Draco was supposed to be dead,” Voldemort carried on, getting closer to Snape, “you disposed of his body yourself…” the Dark Lord paused, a slow smile crossing his face, “Narcissa made you vow to protect her son, didn’t she?” Snape didn’t answer and instead just stared at his master.

All of a sudden, there was a mass of movement. Harry watched with dread as Draco reached out for his wand, pointed it to the back of Lord Voldemort and mentally said his spell. A beam of deadly green light fired towards Voldemort, who turned and reflected the curse harmlessly away. With speed that was unnatural, the Dark Lord repeated Malfoy’s now useless spell and fired back. The Slytherian wasn’t quick enough to deflect it and with a sickening thud, his lifeless body hit the side of the solid tomb and slid to the ground.

A strangled groan came from Snape, drawing Voldemort’s attention back to the Death Eater, but Harry stared at Draco’s body for a bit longer. All the years that he had known Malfoy and all the times he had wished the blond to be dead – now he was. Harry thought he should feel happy that a person that he despised so much was actually dead, but he felt nothing. Draco Malfoy didn’t deserve to die that way.

“I expected more from you Severus,” Voldemort said calmly, “you defied me to honour a vow that was impossible to keep. I should kill you right here for that act alone.”

“I deserve no less,” Snape panted, definitely looking worse for wear, “at the time of the vow, I was still a professor at Hogwarts and Draco was my student…”

“You finished what Draco couldn’t because you thought it would save his life,” Voldemort continued thoughtfully, “Albus’s death was a side bar to your taking of a vow, not because of your devotion to me…”

“I have always served you my Lord…”

“Don’t lie to me Severus!” Voldemort screamed, “crucio!”

Harry watched as Snape fell in agony, his cries echoing through the air. After a few moments, the curse stopped leaving the ex-professor withering on the ground.

“Your occlumency skills are legendary, but you can hide from me no longer,” Voldemort hissed, bending and taking Snape’s face firmly in his hand, locking his eyes with his own, “who is your true master Severus?”

Harry could see the struggle that was taking place within Snape’s mind, already weakened by the cruciatus curse and whatever side effects of the broken Unbreakable Vow. Voldemort’s vice like grip never wavered as he held Snape’s face inches from his own. After what seemed like hours, the Dark Lord broke the connection, tossing Snape unceremoniously onto the ground.

“You betrayed me Severus,” Voldemort spat, “your loyalty was to Albus.”

“He could offer me more than you,” Snape gasped.

“The old fool was dying?” Voldemort continued, unhearing, “even for all his strength and power he let a Muggle disease infect him?”

“We all have to die sometime, somehow,” Snape said, getting stronger, “even you.” Voldemort laughed; a hollow, evil sound.

“You jest Severus,” he announced, standing tall over the fallen Potions professor, “I cannot die. Albus thought he knew all about me but he was wrong. He was old and your mind has told me he was sick, getting more feeble by the day. Even his precious Potter was unaware, protected from the horrible news. How…sweet. Where is that boy, by the way? He should be here by now!”

Harry stifled a groan as he felt the prodding in head, flashing the image of the tomb once more. He quickly turned away so Voldemort couldn’t see he was close, very close. It was then a realisation struck Harry – he had to overcome the invasions in his mind. How could he fight if he was incapacitated with a thought? Frowning, Harry admitted to himself that it was too late to do anything about this now – he had never been good at occlumency. He turned back to see Voldemort once more grabbing Snape’s face in his hand, forcing him to look at him.

“What I don’t understand,” Voldemort said, his voice tight with suppressed rage, “is you have been passing my secrets to Dumbledore yet for what purpose? He was unable to conquer me!”

“His death was a release for him, he begged me to end his life – you did not beat Albus Dumbledore. And your greatest triumphs, your Horcruxes, are destroyed,” Snape hissed, “you are mortal once more because of me.” Voldemort growled, pushing Snape away with disgust.

“I told you I cannot die!” he yelled, “but you can!” With a flourish, he struck Snape again with the crucio curse, making it last longer and harsher than ever before.

Harry had had enough. He hated Snape, hated Snape with a vengeance, but no-one deserve to go through what he was going through right now. Taking a deep breath, Harry stepped out from where he was hiding and strode into the cleared area by the tomb.

“Stop,” he said loudly and with purpose – Voldemort looked up from his task and halted the curse.

“Harry,” he said with forced pleasantry, “I almost thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Let Snape go,” Harry replied, his wand drawn as he approached the two figures. Snape was moving, slowly, trying to get to his feet. Voldemort ignored him totally, seemingly focused on Harry.

“Severus has done me an injustice Harry,” Voldemort carried on patiently, “he has betrayed me all this time. It seems that it was Dumbledore he served and you must understand that I can not let that go unpunished.”

“You have punished him enough…”

“Oh, but I haven’t,” Voldemort sneered, kicking the now kneeling Snape squarely in the face before continuing to talk calmly to Harry, “you see, it seems Professor Snape wasn’t telling me all that he was supposed to while he told Albus as much as he could. Oh, and Dumbledore was dying, did you know? He had cancer, or some such thing, so his death came as no surprise to him. In fact, he was looking forward to it and it seems he was grooming you as his successor. Strange, considering you are about to die.”

“You seem so sure,” Harry countered, hiding his shock of the news that Dumbledore had had cancer, “things have changed.”

“So I understand,” Voldemort agreed, “my servant here tells me I am mortal once more – but don’t be so sure, my young friend. I have many secrets. And so do you, it seems.”

“I try.”

“Yes, you are very trying,” the Dark Lord spat, “and now it is time to end this charade. I feel your strength, so much more than the last time we met, but you are young and stupid. You will not win.”

Harry raised his wand just that little bit higher as Voldemort pointed his wand back. Suddenly a voice sounded in Harry’s brain, a voice that was sickening familiar. Snape.

Don’t look at me, he instructed and it took all of Harry’s resolve not to dart his eyes towards the fallen Death Eater, distract him – I will help you.

“I remember the last time we fought,” Harry said out loud, advancing onto Voldemort but at the same time wondering what Snape had in mind, “our wands didn’t like each other that much. I suspect that the same reaction will happen again – I haven’t killed anyone, yet. However you…I think quite a few people will be joining me this time.”

“So true, so true,” Voldemort agreed, “but, and excuse the expression, there are more than one way to skin a cat – or kill you, as the case may be…argh!”

While Voldemort talked to Harry, Snape had managed to stand (very unsteadily) before charging onto his old ‘master’, nearly knocking him to the ground. Voldemort turned savagely, his wand raised, but Snape attacked first, throwing some sort of potion into his opponents face.

“What have you done to me?” Voldemort screamed, striking Snape hard across the face while wiping his own. Harry went to disarm him, but instead found himself hurtling backwards, landing heavily, the sword digging into his side.

“It was poison. You will not survive,” Snape gasped, his face broken and bleeding.

“It is you who will not survive – Avada K…”

This time Harry’s disarming spell struck, making Voldemort’s wand fly out of his hands before the curse was completed. He turned furiously to Harry, who stood, wand still raised. Without missing a beat, Voldemort summoned his wand back and pointed it directly at Harry. Harry could see Snape was no longer moving, splayed awkwardly next to Draco.

“You have pushed me too far Harry,” Voldemort spat venomously, “I have had enough of this talk, these games. This is going to end.”

Harry felt the first spell come his way but he was faster, deflecting it easily. He knew that if Voldemort continued to use magic, it was only a matter of time before the wands bonding would take place. They both had to be firing spells at the same time – an attack and a defence. It really was just a matter of time.

But the reality was; he couldn’t wait and find out. The panic that had hindered him on the previous encounters was almost non existent yet the possibility of him dying was still very probable. Still, Harry found himself giving as good as he got and his hand every now and then rested on the comforting hilt of the sword strapped to his waist.

They had been duelling with little success for nearly fifteen minutes when the inevitable happened – the wands locked. Harry found his arm nearly breaking from the forces of the connected magic but he kept his hold. He could see Voldemort through the eerie glow looking slightly concerned. Harry smiled.

The ghostly cage began to form around them as they raised above the ground. Voldemort was trying to break the bond but couldn’t – Harry hung on too strong. The first head appeared from Voldemort’s wand and it wasn’t covered with black hair but glowed a brilliant white. Snape was still alive, but it was a reminder that Draco wasn’t.

Other figures joined Draco, images of people Harry didn’t know, but the Slytherin came to Harry, hovering by his side.

“What do you need me to do Potter,” the image said, all contempt and hatred removed from his voice.

“His wand. Distract him enough so I can get his wand.”

It felt strange to work with Malfoy instead of against him but the other boy didn’t argue and instead went over to the other shadows that huddled confused within the cage’s bars. Harry could see Voldemort was failing and the thought that it really was poison that Snape had thrown crossed his mind.

The stalemate continued for a moment longer when Malfoy looked over at Harry and nodded, telling him he could break the connection. He did so, falling heavily to the ground but without missing a beat, he stood up and saw Voldemort get swallowed up by the multitude of the dead.

“Expelliarmus! Accio wand!” Harry cried, using the rare moment of Voldemort’s inattention to disarm his enemy. The long, skinny wand shot into Harry’s hand and without a second thought, he broke in two.

“No!” Voldemort screamed as he fell to the earth, glaring at Harry as he stood. His stance was unsteady and he definitely looked weaker than when he first arrived at the tomb. The visions had faded away, dead once more – Harry advanced.

“Scared Tom?” Harry asked, feeling like things were actually going his way. Voldemort couldn’t do magic now, his wand was destroyed – Harry had the upper hand.

“Of you?” Voldemort sneered, “oh you foolish, foolish boy. Have you ever wondered why you and I have such a strong connection? Why we are so intertwined.” The Dark Lord leant back onto the tomb, no longer able to stand.

“There are many reasons,” Harry answered, getting closer – his wand raised and ready.

“Yes there are,” Voldemort continued, “but there is a reason that your precious Dumbledore didn’t know of. A reason that makes your life and my life interchangeable. I cannot die as long as you remain alive, you see. It’s all so simple.”

Harry paused, not understanding what he had just been told. Was he talking about the prophecy? But that didn’t make sense – the prophecy said the opposite, that one must kill the other, not that one cannot die while the other one lives. Harry frowned.

“You’re wrong.”

Harry’s heart skipped a few beats when he heard her voice, Hermione’s voice, coming from the trees. He quickly glanced to the side and saw her standing there, watching, her own wand drawn and pointing at Voldemort.

“How sweet,” he said sarcastically, “you never told me you had a girlfriend Harry. Have we been introduced?” Voldemort began to walk towards Hermione, his gait unsteady but determined.

“Stay away from her,” Harry growled, realising the time was here for him to do what he needed to do; but it felt wrong. This wasn’t a fight, there isn’t a struggle. Voldemort is unarmed and possibly already dying.

“Or you’ll do what Harry?” he taunted, “kill me? Go on, give it your best shot.” But before Harry could answer, all frailty and sickness disappeared from Voldemort and with a sudden dash of speed, he hurtled towards Hermione.

“Sectumsempra!” Harry yelled and instantly blood began poring out of Voldemort’s body. He collapsed only meters away from an immobile Hermione, his eyes frozen on to Harry. Harry cautiously made his way to the fallen monster, his wand still drawn.

“Are you alright?” he asked Hermione, not quite ready to look at her to make sure.

“Ye…yes,” she stammered.

Harry stopped. Something was happening. There was a lot of blood, he could see it staining the earth, and Voldemort’s breathing was getting more and more shallow. Yet his eyes followed Harry and as a gurgling sound of blood escaped the once powerful wizards mouth, Harry knew his enemy would soon be dead. But Harry didn’t feel relief and when the slightess of smiles crossed Voldemort’s dying lips, Harry frowned.

He saw the light die in the red, snake-like eyes – but that was all he saw. Suddenly it felt like his head had exploded – worse than the crucio’s he’d had, worse than the time at the cemetery, and even worse than when he was possessed at the Ministry. He vaguely heard Hermione screaming but it meant nothing. The pain was immeasurable and it seemed to be radiating from his forehead. From his scar.

Time seemed to stand still as he tried to work out what was happening to him, desperately wanting the agony to end but not knowing how to do it. He felt himself fall to the ground, the sword sticking into him awkwardly. Without warning, he was sick, and he knew he was bleeding but he didn’t know where the blood was coming from. It was then Harry heard the voice, filling his pounding brain.

“You see Harry,” the voice hissed, “as long as you’re alive, so am I.”

“Get…out…of…my…head,” Harry panted, not sure if he was speaking or just thinking his words.

“Oh, but I can’t. I’m part of you now – you belong to me!”

It was like he was watching a movie, that the onslaught of new feelings and thoughts were just the introduction of a new character, something he had no control over. The part that was Harry Potter got pushed to the side as the evilness that was Lord Voldemort came in and took control. It was overwhelming as the goodness that was inside of him disappeared.

Harry opened his eyes.

He felt power, he felt in control like he never had before. The destruction of everything and everyone that had ever stood in his way was now in his reach. He would soon rule the wizarding world, even the Muggle world, with an iron fist. No-one or nothing could now stand in his way.

He saw a girl looking at him, her fear and worry seeping out of every pore. She flinched when she saw him and quickly backed away. Harry smiled. Her face was familiar and the reason struck him – she was an enemy, a friend of Dumbledores. She needed to be destroyed.

The first thought was just to kill her, strike her down with an Unforgivable. The wand in his hand was unfamiliar but familiar at the same time. But something told him that this girl was special. Suddenly a few images crossed his mind – this girl hugging him, helping him with school work…kissing him. Harry recoiled in disgust then relaxed as he realised who she was. She was the girlfriend of the person that once was Harry Potter. This would be fun.

“Come here my sweet,” he cooed, “it’s only me – Harry.”

“You are not Harry,” she cried, “stay away from me!”

“But I want to feel you…”

Harry grinned as she screamed when she was pulled to him, secured tightly in his embrace. He marvelled at how simple that was, it took only a thought and his wand seemed unnecessary – the power within him was indeed immense. He turned his attention back to the girl in his arms, enjoying the look of fear and shock on her face. He could see that because he still appeared in the image of her love that she didn’t know what to do. This would be fun.

“Please, Harry, don’t do this!”

“Do what, honeybun?” Harry sneered, dragging her over to the tomb, thinking it would be quite apt to kill this girl where Albus lay, “kill you? Hurt you? Oh, but I have to. I have all this new power, you see. I have to try it out some how.”

He took her wand from her hand with little resistance, breaking it into two and discarding it on the ground. He then picked her up easily and laid her on top of the white marble, binding her down so that only her head could move. He then climbed on top of the tomb himself, straddling her, sitting on her thighs.

“Harry, no!” she cried, tears seeping out of her eyes, “I know you’re in there somewhere! Listen to me…”

He slapped her, hard. Her talking was annoying him – maybe he should silence her? No, he wanted to hear her scream.

“Sweetie pie, if this is to work, you need to understand,” he said sweetly, grinning as she looked back at him, her lip bleeding, “things have changed. I have changed. If I’m to rule, I can’t have a pathetic wench like you at my side – think about my image!”

“Harry, I love you! And…and you love me, remember?”

Harry sat back as a memory entered his mind bringing with it a feeling. Hermione. Her name was Hermione and he loved her.

No I don’t! Love is weak, unnecessary! His mind screamed at him, telling him she was wrong – he hit her again.

“Shut up,” he hissed, but more memories followed the first – how good she felt in his arms, how she cared for him, looked out for him, how soft her kisses were…

“You and I, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together!” she continued, ignoring the blood now covering her battered face, “we even made a promise because neither of us could live without the other! Do you remember the promise Harry? Please remember! You are the most special person on this earth to me! Come back to me! Fight him!”

Harry could feel a new emotion struggle with his anger and hate, but he didn’t know what it was. It was like a fog cleared and he could remember Hermione, Ron, Hogwarts…He looked down at her in horror; her face was bruised and bleeding, her eyes filled with shock.

“Hermione?” he uttered, not sure what was happening.

“Yes, yes Harry, it’s me!” she exclaimed, “we need to…” but her words died as the fog engulfed Harry’s brain once more. Anger fought away the memories and the need to shut her up consumed him. Without a word, he reached down and wrapped his hand around her throat, squeezing, enjoying seeing her eyes widen in fear. She was choking, but she somehow still managed to speak.

“Lo…o…ve you…”

A force within Harry pulled him off Hermione and off the tomb, landing on his back and temporarily knocking the wind out of him, the hilt of the sword pressing into his backside. He was aware of Hermione coughing as she tried to sit up but the battle taking place inside his brain overshadowed everything else. Once more the fog lifted, allowing him to see what he was doing – and he didn’t like it one bit.

“You can’t fight this Harry,” a voice told him, a voice that was eerily like Lord Voldemorts yet it was within him, inside his mind.

“You will not make me kill her,” he seethed, not knowing if his words were spoken or not.

“You are me now, you will do as I ask…”

“No! I will not let you take over! I will not let you win!”

“It is too late Harry. I have won, can’t you see? You have given me a young body, strong and powerful. Your destruction will be complete and I will continue to live within you. Us combined will be invincible, no one will be able to destroy me!”

“I will not let that happen…”

“How? By killing yourself? Do you really think I will let you do that? Minute by minute your resistance against me is weakening. Soon all that was once you will be gone and this discussion will be useless. Give in Harry. Nothing can save you now.”

Harry forced himself onto his hands and knees, his head bent in pain. He can’t let Voldemort win but how was he going to stop him?

“Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively, kneeling at his side.

“Get away from me,” he heard himself hiss at her, his voice hard and cold – and not his. She flinched but didn’t move, and instead a shaking hand reached out and stroked the side of his face.

“Harry, you can do this. You can fight him – just remember me, us,” she instructed with an intensity that radiated out of her, “remember Ron and how he was your first real friend. Remember Hagrid and his bone crushing hugs. Mr and Mrs Weasley, how you are like a son to them. You can do it Harry, please.”

Once more his mind cleared and he knew what had to happen. With the little remaining strength he had, he lifted his head and looked at her. Her face was bloody and swollen, her hair flying everywhere – but she still looked beautiful. Knowing he didn’t have much time, he took a deep breath and spoke to her.

“He can’t win Hermione.”

“He won’t, you can fight this…”

“No, no I can’t. He’s too strong. You need to destroy him…”

“Wha…what are you saying?”

“You need to kill him. Kill me.”

“No!”

The pain in her voice ripped at his heart but he knew it was the right thing and the only way. Already he could feel Voldemort fighting to regain control and he knew the energy it was taking for him to tell her this would mean this would be the only chance they had. The next time Voldemort would enter his mind would be to take over.

“We haven’t got much time,” he pleaded, “Voldemort is coming back and he will kill you! Hermione, please. You have to do this.”

Harry watched as she began to cry but could see she understood. The fight within him was getting stronger and it was only the image of her face that helped him stay him.

He collapsed onto the ground, no longer having the strength to continue his attempt to stand. This was it. This was the end. Part of him was sad that it had to end this way, that what he was asking Hermione to do would probably haunt her for the rest of her life. But he also knew that he would be starting his next great adventure now. He had done what he had to do and he could rest in peace.

He felt her draw the sword out of the sheath at his side. Rolling onto his back, he looked up at her and saw she was sobbing, the sword held loosely in her hand. He could feel the tendrils of Voldemort fighting their way through and he didn’t want to see her for the last time through Voldemort’s eyes.

“He’s coming back Hermione,” he breathed.

“I can’t…”

“You have to,” Harry replied sadly, “tell Ron I’m sorry.”

“Harry…”

“Remember our promise Hermione,” Harry closed his eyes as Voldemort’s thoughts struck him briefly – when he felt he was once more under control, he looked back to Hermione, “please, he’s coming back. Please, don’t let him take me again.”

She got to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Taking the sword in both hands, she raised it above him so its tip pointed directly at his chest.

“I love you Harry,” she whispered.

Harry smiled sadly then closed his eyes, waiting. He could feel Voldemort’s fear and as Harry relaxed the Dark Lord once more invaded his mind. But he didn’t get a chance to do anything as a wrenching pain hit his chest. He could hear someone screaming, but it didn’t matter. It was over. He could rest now, he was so tired. As the darkness came, he could hear the sound of crying and then there was this wonderful, beautiful song, enveloping him with its calmness. He had done his job, he had rid the world of Lord Voldemort. Harry Potter could now rest in peace.

A/N – don’t hate me! The next chapter hopefully won’t be too far away….

23. Forgiveness

A/N – okay, not too sure about this chapter. Wanted it to be an ‘explain everything about the battle’ chapter to finish it all off. Hope this satisfies. Thank you again for your reviews and I’m glad no-one recognised the ‘Buffy killing Angel with a sword’ or ‘Possessed Max pleading Liz to kill him (Roswell)’ similarities, though with my own twist, I hope! One more chapter after this but I already have an idea for my next fiction! Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 23 - Forgiveness

“I loved you Harry, and you killed me.”

Harry opened his eyes with a start and saw Hermione’s broken face looking at him, her neck raw and red while her right eye was swollen shut. She was carrying Godric Gryffindor’s sword loosely in her hand.

“It wasn’t me,” he tried to explain, “it was him, Voldemort! He made me…”

“Don’t lie to me Harry!” she screamed at him, “you are evil! You killed me! You need to pay!”

Suddenly he felt an excruciating pain in his chest making him scream out. He looked down and saw the front of his shirt sticky red with blood. Shocked, he looked back at her and saw the sword was now covered in his blood.

“Why?” he asked, falling to his knees.

“I told you, you hurt me,” she smirked as she looked down on his dying body, a satisfied smile on her face.

“I didn’t mean to!” he cried, trying to stop the stream of blood with his hand, feeling his life ebb away. She just stood over him, smiling.

Things started to change as he felt fainter and fainter. He looked down at the hole in his chest before returning his gaze once more at her, wanting to say goodbye to her before he died. Instead, Harry watched in horror as her face morphed from something he loved so much into something he hated – Lord Voldemort.

“You tried to hide her from me, but you couldn’t,” he hissed, “and now she is dead because of you.”

“No…”

“You killed her with your own bare hands,” he continued on, the closest thing to a smile crossing his face, “you murdered the girl you were supposed to have loved. And somehow she killed you. See where love has got you?”

“No, you’re wrong,” Harry struggled to get out.

“Oh, am I?” Voldemort continued, “you strangled her, held her down until she couldn’t breathe…”

The image of Hermione’s eyes filled with fear as they looked up at him while he sat on top of her, his hand clasped around her throat splashed through Harry’s mind.

“No…”

“You hurt her, but it wasn’t over Harry,” Voldemort sneered, “she took your sword and stuck it through your heart. Tell me, how could someone who loves you so much do that? In cold blood? I don’t understand, to be quite frank.”

“Hermione wouldn’t do that,” Harry moaned.

“Oh, but she did – remember.”

He felt the pain again, a piercing pain in his chest. He looked down and saw the sword sticking out from within him, the blade had disappeared nearly up to the hilt – and a small, female hand was holding onto the handle. His eyes followed the arm and stopped when brown eyes met his green.

“No…” he groaned again, then screamed in agony as she twisted the sword, cutting his heart even further before wrenching the sword out from him, releasing the flow of blood.

He sunk further to the ground, but his eyes never left hers. He was dying, he could feel it, so when she knelt in front of him and turned the sword so its bloody point now was directed towards herself, he didn’t have the energy to stop her. Harry watched in horror as she drove the sword into herself.

“Hermione! No!”

His eyes snapped open, confusion and fear filling his brain. It was light, sunlight was streaming down on him – it was no longer dark and cold like it was just moments before. He looked anxiously around him, but everything was a blur, all he could see were people shaped blobs. His head was throbbing and so was his chest – his chest!

Frantically he looked down and felt a wave of relief to see there wasn’t a sword there, but there were bandages, and it hurt like hell.

“Harry…” He heard her voice, Hermione’s voice, from just above him and tried desperately to get away from her. She was dead; he had killed her. What was next to him was a lie.

“Get away from me!” he cried, trying to move away but finding everything felt so heavy – his limbs wouldn’t do what he wanted them to.

“Harry, mate, you need to stop moving.” It was Ron this time sounding slightly anxious – but that didn’t make sense. How could Ron be there along side Hermione? Had she fooled him into thinking she was real? Was Ron dead too?

“This isn’t real!” Harry exclaimed, now fully panicked, “I…I don’t understand!”

“Mr Potter, calm down!” Madam Pomfrey? Harry’s confused mind recognised the matron’s voice.

“No!” he shouted, “no, this isn’t real! I’m dead! Hermione, she…no!” He tried to get up but felt some strong hands restrain him. He was vaguely aware that he was bleeding, but he didn’t care. All of a sudden a new memory hit him, overshadowing all that was jumbling away in his mind – Voldemort had been inside him, had been him. He could still be dangerous – he had to get away.

Harry tried once more to get up, but the hands held him back. He was also getting weaker and soon, he was too weak to move.

“I’m dangerous,” he mumbled as he felt unconsciousness engulf him, “stay away…” and then there was nothing but oblivion.

New images fired through his tired brain – Neville fighting Bellatrix, Hagrid’s scream from the forest, Bill wounded, Remus with Greyback, Hermioe broken and bleeding…Harry woke once more with a start.

“Harry, mate, how’re feeling?” Harry turned his head and saw a blurry Ron standing over him in the near darkness, obviously just risen from the chair by his bedside.

“Where am I?” he asked wearily.

“Hogwarts,” Ron answered, his voice barely above a whisper, “your favourite hospital bed.”

“How?”

“We…we brought you here, after the fighting…”

“I’m supposed to be dead.”

“Harry…” But blackness had taken Harry once more.

This time when the nightmare started, Harry was prepared. He felt stronger, more in control, and when he saw Hermione accusing him, he no longer felt fear.

“I loved you and you killed me,” she told him with no emotion.

“I’m sorry Hermione, please, please forgive me…”

“How can I forgive you? You need to pay!”

“Knowing what I’ve done, isn’t that payment enough?”

“You fool!”

There was no morphing this time, the transition was swift as Hermione changed into Voldemort. Harry still felt no fear as he faced his enemy.

“You’re dead,” Harry announced, “you died when I did.”

“Yet you are still alive,” Voldemort snarled, “does that mean so am I?”

“No!”

Again, his eyes snapped open and again there were blurry people shaped blobs looking over him.

“Here you go,” Ron said, handing Harry his glasses. Clumsily he placed them on his face, bringing the world back into focus. It was day again and although he recognised that he was in Hogwarts infirmary, his bed had been separated from everyone else’s with large, solid looking screens.

Harry looked up into the worried face of his best friend, Luna standing next to him, and the memories came back.

“Stay away from me,” he cried, “he’s within me. Voldemort is alive within me – you need to lock me up…”

“Voldemort is dead Harry,” Ron stated calmly, placing a strong hand on his shoulder, “he’s not inside you. You’re free.”

“No! You don’t understand,” Harry exclaimed, once more trying to get out of bed, trying hard to ignore the throbbing in his chest, “he took control of me! He made me kill…oh God, Hermione!”

All Harry’s struggles ceased as the enormity of what he had done struck him. He killed Hermione, the girl he loved, the girl that loved him. She had always trusted him and he betrayed that trust in the most brutal way there is. He killed Hermione. A grief that was indescribable filled him with despair.

“Harry…” Harry didn’t look up at Ron, not able to look his friend in the eye after what he had done. He hid his face in his hands – one heavily bandaged, one bare – and stayed silent.

“Harry, look at me,” Ron said, this time with a bit more urgency but Harry ignored him and instead began rocking back and forth slightly, consumed by grief and guilt – he killed Hermione. Nothing else mattered.

“She’s not dead,” Ron continued on, but Harry didn’t believe him, “you didn’t kill her Harry…”

“I killed her,” Harry repeated numbly.

“Hermione’s alive…”

“I did it, I strangled her. I killed her…”

“No you didn’t Harry. I’m alive.” Harry’s head shot up at the sound of her voice and there she was, standing right in front of him. Her neck was ringed by an angry bruise, and there were more bruises covering her face but it was her. Harry frowned.

“No, you can’t be real,” he whispered, then, “please, let you be real.”

He watched as she took a deep breath and made her way to him. She was slightly hesitant but she had the strength in her eyes that Harry admired so much. She was close enough now for him to see the remnants of many scratches and scars – his heart broke knowing that it was him that had caused them. When she gently took his face in her hands, the realisation that it wasn’t a dream and she really wasn’t dead struck him. When her lips touched his ever so softly, it became real.

She pulled away and looked at him, her eyes searching his – for what, he didn’t know. The relief that she was alive had taken over and he was lost within her. Yet her eyes were troubled and a new concern came to him along with new memories.

She had stabbed him. He had asked her to kill him and she had.

His hand went to the bandage on his chest, a red stain in its centre from his earlier struggles. Hermione wasn’t dead, but he was supposed to be.

When he looked back up at her, she had moved away, once more nervous and hesitant.

“What happened?” he asked her, “why aren’t I dead?” Hermione looked frantically at Ron – Harry did the same, noticing that Luna had just returned silently to Ron’s side.

“Er…perhaps we should get Remus…” Ron started and yet again more images flashed through Harry’s mind: Neville, Ginny, Bill, Remus – when he last saw them, they had all been in combat. Hagrid’s cry of pain. Are they alive? New questions bombarded him and the need to find out the outcomes of his friends became vitally important. Hermione and Ron were alive, Voldemort, it seems, was dead. His story could wait; he needed to know about his friends.

“They are on their way,” Luna said to Ron as Harry tried to process what was happening. Hermione was alive, even though he had strangled her. He was alive, even though she had stabbed him. And Voldemort was dead.

As he lay there he realised what Ron said was true – Voldemort was dead. He knew he wouldn’t be laying there calmly if the Dark Lord was still within him. Relief filled Harry, he was truly free. Soon his little room began to fill with people, all people that he cared about – but there were many missing as well.

His eyes fell on Remus. Leaning heavily on Tonks, the werewolf was scarred nearly beyond recognition. A large wound seemed to cover the right side of his face, starting just above his ear on his scalp and finishing somewhere unseen beneath the collar of his pyjama top and dressing gown. By the stiffness of his stance, Harry knew there were more wounds that were hidden out of sight. Remus seemed to sense his anxiety and smiled.

“I’m fine Harry,” he stated firmly, “everything will heal eventually, I just won’t be volunteering for the English Quidditch team for a while. It’s you that have had us worried.”

Harry barely acknowledged his friend’s concern as he searched his memories and saw Peter Pettigrew, his silver hand in the chest of Fenrir Greyback, killing him.

“Pettigrew saved your life,” he said thoughtfully, watching Remus’s expression change.

“He repaid his debt,” Lupin confirmed, his smile going, “but his death was inevitable, if not the way he died.”

“Death?” Harry repeated, “did he get killed by one of the Order?”

“Not exactly,” Tonks replied, the corners of her mouth twitching.

“Tonks, it’s not funny!” Remus admonished.

“Well, actually it is,” Ron said with a small smile, “kind of.”

“Will someone tell me?” Harry asked, a slight smile touching his own mouth.

“Crookshanks caught him,” Remus explained, “while he was a rat.”

“You’re kidding,” Harry exclaimed, shocked.

“No,’ Remus said, “brought the rat’s body and placed it at the foot of my bed. Poppy nearly had a fit when she saw it there but Tonks recognised it for what it was and, well, there you go. Peter Pettigrew is dead.”

Harry let the information sink in and in a way thought that was an apt end for a man who had spent a majority of his life as a rat. He looked back out at the sea of faces and saw one that brought him a genuine smile.

“Hagrid!” he grinned, “I heard you…I thought you were…”

“Not me “Arry,” Hagrid said solemnly, “it was Grawp. ‘E died a ‘ero, ‘e did. Took two of the ruddy giants with him. ‘E was a good chap.”

“I’m so sorry Hagrid,” Harry consoled, “he was all that you had…”

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Hagrid beamed once more, “now tha’ yur back, ‘Arry. I mean, yur me family, yur ‘re.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled, “so, what happened in the forest? Where’s Charlie?” Harry looked and saw that very few of the Weasley’s were there – Ron and Ginny being the only ones.

“Both Fred and Bill are in pretty bad shape,” Ron explained, “mum, dad and the others are with them at St Mungo’s. Charlie and George are pretty much fine though Charlie got knocked around a bit.”

“Knocked ‘round!” Hagrid put in, “’e saved me life more than once, yur brother. ‘E got the centaurs on our side, ‘e did. Flighty lot they ‘re, inall. Not many Death Eaters made it through the forest tho! Nor none of the ‘ther creatures they brought wit ‘im.”

“Charlie, Hagrid and the other creatures of the forest kept that side of the grounds secure,” Professor McGonagall stated in her no nonsense manner, drawing Harry’s eyes to her, “good to see you back Mr Potter,” she continued with a rare smile.

“Thanks,” Harry acknowledged, but frowned along with it, “though things are really confusing for me at the moment.”

“That I have no doubt,” the headmistress added. Harry looked at the man standing next to McGonagall and at first didn’t recognise him. His head had been shaven with an angry wound (making him look like he had a permanent scowl) crossing the top of his scalp and finishing above his left eye. His arm was heavily bandaged while his free arm held onto a walking stick. It took a second look before Harry realised who it was.

“Neville,” he gasped, unbelieving.

“Hey Harry,” Neville replied, “I guess you can say I have a scar as well now, huh.”

“That’s a pretty big scar,” Harry agreed with a grin before sobering, “when I saw you last you were fighting Bellatrix.”

“Yeah, well, it took a while but I got her,” Neville said quietly but there was a change in his voice – no longer was he tentative or scared, “actually, the greenhouse got her. It collapsed when we got inside, hence the head wound.” Harry nodded, remembering Dumbledore’s comment that the castle would help and it seems it did exactly that. Next to him was Ginny, who was standing closely at Neville’s side.

“You good Gin?” he asked, seeing no real damage other than her being extremely pale and looking exhausted.

“I’m fine,” she confirmed, “good to see you awake Harry. You had us pretty scared.”

Harry then glanced at Hermione who was standing slightly away from everyone else, near the back of the group.

“Do you all know what happened to me?” he questioned, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s, “how Voldemort died?”

“No,” Aberforth Dumbledore answered for the group – Harry hadn’t even noticed he was there, “Miss Granger is reluctant to share. You have been unconscious for over a week, veiled in secrecy.”

“We will know in due time Aberforth,” McGonagall interjected, “there has been more than enough to keep us going in the mean time.”

“Like what?” Harry asked, drawing his eyes off Hermione to look back at the headmistress, then to Remus, who spoke first.

“Rebuilding,” Remus explained, “the Ministry has been stripped bare both physically and with staff. Dolores Umbridge’s betrayal reached the highest level – Scrimgeour was assassinated and we lost Kingsley in the struggle. The Ministry is leaderless, though Arthur has shown that he is more than capable in starting the rebuilding process…”

“Arthur led the battle here well,” McGonagall interjected, “he would make a good Minister of Magic.”

“Is he going to be?” Harry tried to confirm.

“No, his previous rank is too low,” Remus said, “but the Ministry is lucky to have him.”

“How about St Mungos? Wasn’t that destroyed too?”

“It has been severely damaged, but not destroyed,” Tonks answered, “once Voldemort was defeated, the Death Eaters that were there surrendered and control of St Mungo’s returned to us. It’s back to being a working hospital.”

“Which is what we needed, there were so many injured…” McGonagall continued sadly, “quite a few coming from this school.”

“How many professor?” Harry asked, almost too scared to know the answer.

“We lost fifty two students and two teachers with one hundred and one students requiring medical treatment either here or at St Mungo’s,” she told him, “the numbers could’ve been higher but the anti-apparation ward was never disabled. Barnabus knew he would not survive with the Death Eaters not knowing he had defied them until after he was dead.”

“Who…who did we loose?”

“Professor Flitwick and Madam Hooch from the staff,” was the answer, greeted with sombre silence.

“Seamus, that Vance girl, Katie Lind, Stuart Carlson and Dennis Crevy from our house,” Ron said sadly, “Dean is fighting for his life…”

“But they told us they were fine!” Harry cried, looking at Hermione for confirmation, she just looked sadly down at her hands – he slumped back and closed his eyes, “when we left them, they were fine…”

“Here you all are!” Harry opened his eyes to see a smiling Mr and Mrs Weasley make their way to his bed.

“Harry! Oh my dear, you’re awake,” Mrs Weasley cried, giving Harry a firm kiss on the cheek, “this certainly is the day for miracles!”

“Good news Molly?” Remus asked, the sombre mood retreating with the obviously relieved Weasley’s.

“We were just told that Bill was being sent home when word came that Fred had regained consciousness,” Mr Weasley explained, smiling as both Ron and Ginny got happy hugs from the respective partners.

“There is a long way to go mind,” Mrs Weasley added, absently moving some of Harry’s fringe to cover the bandage he didn’t realise (until then) that he had on his forehead, “but, bless me, it is good to see you all back in the land of the living. I’ve been sick with worry, what with one thing and another!”

“It is good to see you back with us son,” Mr Weasley said fondly, gently stopping the fussing of his wife over Harry, who was feeling both slightly embarrassed but grateful of her concern.

“Well, this is a fine how-to-do,” growled a scowling Madam Pomfrey as she forced her way to Harry’s side, “was anyone going to let me know Mr Potter was awake? And you,” she pointed to Remus, “shouldn’t be out of bed. Neither should you, Mr Longbottom.”

“Sorry Poppy, but we thought…”

“Minerva, I expected more from you,” the school matron interrupted, “this boy has been through the wars, literally I must add, and this is the first time of consciousness beyond a few moments for nearly ten days! His body needs time to heal!”

“I actually don’t feel too bad,” Harry started as she began to fuss, running various diagnostic spells over him.

“I think I’m better to judge that than you Mr Potter,” Madam Pomfrey grumphed as she continued her tests, “I want this area cleared! You,” she pointed to Remus, “and you,” then Neville, “back to bed.”

“No.”

The single word stopped everyone in their tracks as they had begun to file out from the temporary room. Harry looked at Hermione, who looked defiantly back.

“Miss Granger, this isn’t the time…” the nurse started.

“Madam Pomfrey, I understand that this is your domain and you are only doing what is best for Harry, Remus and Neville,” Hermione said firmly, “but Harry hasn’t told his story. And I haven’t told mine.”

“Hermione, you don’t need to do this…” Ron started, leaving Luna and rounding the bed towards her.

“Yes, I do Ron,” Hermione replied, still holding Harry’s gaze, “we do. The nightmares, the dreams…for either one of us to heal, we have to talk about it. And everyone needs to hear it, to understand.”

“Understand what, Hermione?” Remus asked, making his way back to the foot of Harry’s bed.

“Why I killed Harry.” Her words hung in the air as every stared in her in shock, Ron being the only one who moved, stopping when he reached her side.

“That’s just stupid,” Ginny stated, a confused frown marking her face, “you wouldn’t hurt Harry – it was You-Know-Who that hurt him…”

“Harry’s not dead Hermione,” Remus said softly.

“He was,” she replied just as softly, “and I killed him.”

Harry watched as her eyes dropped, releasing two large tears that rolled slowly down her face. Awkwardly Ron drew her into a hug and looked over her head to Harry. Harry just stared blankly back – his nightmare was true, she had killed him. Because he had asked her to.

“Perhaps its time to hear Harry’s story,” Professor McGonagall suggested, “Poppy, would it be better if Remus and Mr Longbottom were seated?” Harry could see the struggle within the matron take place on her face but in the end, she relented.

“Oh, all right then,” she humphed, “Mr Longbottom, keep your leg raised. And Remus, you need to continue to keep sitting straight, the wounds on your stomach are not fully healed. Mr Potter seems to be in no great danger – but no sudden movements! The chest wound needs time to knit and your constant thrashing isn’t helping. Now, if you excuse me, I have other patients to deal with.”

And with that, she left. Chairs were conjured up for both Remus and Neville but Harry didn’t really notice. Hermione was still hidden in Ron’s arms and the sight was a bit disconcerting. He didn’t feel jealous as such, but he wished that it was him she had turned to.

“Harry?” Harry dragged his gaze from his friends and looked at Lupin, “can you tell us what happened?” the old werewolf asked.

Harry looked back at Ron and Hermione, who had separated, but his arm was still held protectively around her shoulders. Harry dropped his gaze to his hands, took a deep breath, and began to speak.

“Voldemort told me he was by Dumbledore’s tomb, that that was where we were to fight. I left Ginny and went there and saw that Malfoy was already there…”

“Draco Malfoy?” Hagrid asked, confused.

“Yeah,” Harry continued, “he wanted revenge for his mother’s death and confronted Voldemort. I hid in the trees, thought it was best to let him do what he needed to do,” Harry paused, sighed, then carried on, “Snape came and tried to save Malfoy but Voldemort killed Malfoy anyway. He then turned on Snape.” Harry paused again and looked up to the faces before him, finally turning to Hermione.

“You were right,” he acknowledged, “Snape was on our side,” his gaze returned to his hands, “he threw a potion of some sort at Voldemort which weakened him somehow. Snape was still alive at the time of the wand’s bonding…”

“He died here in the infirmary,” Remus told Harry, “two days ago.”

“Oh.” Harry didn’t know what else to say. He still hated his old Potions teacher but he had to admit that Snape gave his life to help him.

“What happened next Harry?” Neville asked, bringing Harry’s thoughts back to the present.

“I got Voldemort’s wand and broke it. He was already dying, I think, because he couldn’t fight me very well. That’s when Hermione came,” Harry glanced at her and saw she was listening intently. He carried on, “Voldemort went to attack her so I used sectumsempra. It killed him. That’s when it got really strange, where things got confusing. I remember my head exploding with a pain like I’ve never felt before. And then he was within me, he was me. I was thinking his thoughts.

“I…I saw Hermione, but I didn’t know her name, just that she was against me. I guess that’s when I attacked her. When I attacked you.” He looked at Hermione to see she was crying once more, large silent tears.

“It wasn’t you Harry,” she sobbed softly, “your eyes, they weren’t yours. I knew as soon as you looked at me that it wasn’t you.”

“I nearly…I wanted to…he wanted me to hurt you and I tried to stop him but he was just too strong!”

“What stopped you?” Tonks asked, her voice also filled with tears.

“I…I don’t know,” Harry admitted, frowning, “one minute I was thinking about…the next minute on was myself again…”

“I told you I loved you,” Hermione whispered, her eyes locked with his.

“I could feel him inside me, fighting for control and I knew the only way to stop him was to get Hermione to kill me,” Harry continued the narrative, feeling tears filling his eyes. Somewhere in the room he heard a sob, probably from Mrs Weasley – but he didn’t take any notice. All he saw was Hermione.

“Sweet Merlin,” Remus muttered and somewhere there was another sob – but for Harry all there was was her.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, ignoring the tears running down his face, “I should never have asked you to do that…”

“But it was the only way,” she cried softly, “he would’ve used your youth and power to kill more and more people. I…I knew what I was doing was right but…” Her sentence didn’t finish as she fell to her knees in tears, hiding her face in her hands, her sobs wracking her body. Ron knelt with her and held her in his arms, rocking her gently, giving her some comfort.

Harry awkwardly got out of his bed and made his way unsteadily to where she was. Kneeling down, he took her from Ron and held her as she cried, his tears mingling with hers.

“What you did was right Hermione,” he tried to soothe, his voice barely understandable through his own sobs, “you couldn’t let him take me, you wouldn’t let him take me and I love you so much for that.”

“You…you still love me?” she asked, her watery eyes looking at him.

“More now than ever before,” he replied with a small smile.

“I was so scared,” she said, her voice just above a whisper.

“Of me?” Harry questioned, his heart suddenly beating fast in his chest – she had every right to be afraid of him, every right in the world. Hermione continued to look at him and nodded ever so slightly, releasing another tear. His heart plummeted. With shaking hands, he gently touched the angry marks on her neck, knowing that it was his hands that had caused them.

“Hermione,” he started tentatively, once more catching her eyes with his, “do you…could you still love me? After all that I’ve done?”

“It wasn’t you Harry.”

“They were my hands. You saw my face…”

“But it wasn’t your eyes,” Hermione finished, “your eyes showed me when it was him.”

Harry took a deep breath, taking his hands from her so they no longer touched.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

“I could never stop loving you Harry,” she answered firmly.

“But you were scared of me…”

“I know,” her head dipped so she no longer looked at him. Reaching out, he lifted her chin so he could see her eyes.

“Can we get past this?” he asked nervously, “is there still a chance for you and me?”

She didn’t say anything and just looked at him, her eyes once more brimming with tears. He again moved slightly away from her, resigned to the fact that she was going to say no, that too much had happened and she no longer could be with him.

“There has always been and will always be a ‘you and me’ Harry,” she said finally, “nothing will ever change that. I was scared because I could see him taking you, and I thought that I would have to see this evil live in a face that I loved so very, very much. I’m scared now because, well, I put a sword through your heart, and I don’t know if you could ever forgive me for that.”

“Will you ever forgive me for strangling you?”

“It wasn’t you…”

“Will you forgive me for strangling you?” Harry repeated, determined to get an answer.

“Yes,” she said after a moment.

“And I forgive you for saving the world, Hermione,” he continued softly, “because that’s what you did.” He watched as her shoulders rose and fell from a deep breath, his heart still going a million miles an hour as he still wasn’t one hundred per cent sure that they were still together. Her next action eased his mind as she reached out and gently held his face before kissing him. A really long kiss.

“We’ll get through this together,” she told him after breaking away, her forehead barely touching his.

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling what he knew was a goofy smile.

“We need to get you back in bed Harry, because if Madam Pomfrey saw you right now, she’d kill you,” Ron stated matter of factly from just behind Harry. Harry had forgotten he was there, in fact he had forgotten everyone was there. Blushing terribly, he let Ron and Hermione help him back to his bed, noticing for the first time that yet again his bandages on his chest were stained with new blood.

As he settled himself, he looked embarrassedly around the room and saw that everyone had tears in their eyes or indications that they had been crying. Even Aberforth quickly ran a hand over his face as if to hide the fact he had been touched by Harry and Hermione’s story. Harry smiled to himself.

“What I don’t understand,” Ginny said, breaking the silence, “is if Hermione stabbed Harry to kill You-Know-Who, who has died – how did Harry survive?”

“Good question,” Harry nodded, looking back to Hermione who was now by his side, holding on to his good left hand, “why didn’t I die?”

“That’s Ron’s story,” Hermione replied and along with everyone else, turned her attention to the furiously blushing Weasley.

“Well, er, when Hermione brought Professor Lupin back to the castle, she told me that Harry had gone off to fight…um…him and she was going to help,” Ron started, looking slightly uncomfortable with all the focus being solely on him, “I didn’t want her to go off on her own cause, quite frankly, you loose it a bit when it comes to Harry, Hermione,” Ron said, looking at Hermione who acknowledged his comment with a smile. He carried on, “it took me a while to get there, what with this leg and the fighting, and when I did, all I saw was Hermione pulling a sword out of Harry and then looking like she was going to turn it on herself…”

“What!” Harry exclaimed, thinking about his dream (that now seemed a lifetime ago) and the horror she would even consider doing something like that.

“I…I didn’t think I could live knowing what I’d done,” Hermione explained quickly, “but then I remembered our promise, Harry, and I couldn’t do it.” He took a deep breath, calming down his shock, and nodded.

“What was the promise?” Tonks asked.

“That if one of us died, the other would carry on,” Harry answered, squeezing Hermione’s hand a little tighter, missing the looks that passed between the adults around his bed.

“Anyway, Hermione dropped the sword and just sat there crying,” Ron continued, “it was then I noticed Snape, Malfoy and a dead looking Vol..Voldemort. I went over to double check he was in fact dead, secured him just in case and then went to where Harry was. There was blood every where,” he paused slightly as he got himself together, then carried on, “and Hermione, well, she looked bloody awful. I really thought we had lost you mate.”

The two friends shared a look and Harry could see the mixture of emotions in his friends face. He gave a reassuring smile and waited for Ron to continue.

“I started to comfort Hermione when Fawkes came over and landed on Harry’s leg…”

“Fawkes?” Harry repeated, “Dumbledore’s Fawkes?”

“Yeah,” Ron replied, “he brought you back Harry. He walked up as if to check you out and started crying into the wound on your chest. It took a little while, but it started to heal and you began to breathe again.

“I called Dobby and he and heaps of other elves got you all back to the castle…”

“Dobby’s okay?” Harry asked, not sure why that was important but realised that it was.

“We lost only three elves,” Professor McGonagall answered, “their magic is strong and they were able to protect themselves.” Harry nodded.

“And I’ve been here for over a week?” he tried to confirm.

“Nine days, though you’ve been in and out for the last three,” Hermione replied.

“Ron and Hermione have hardly left your side,” Remus stated with an edge of pride.

“You were having shocker nightmares,” Ron explained, “we didn’t want to leave you alone.”

“And everything was such a mess, we didn’t want to tell anyone what had happened until you woke…” Hermione added.

“If you woke,” Ron carried on soberly, “you had us really scared Harry.”

“We knew that Voldemort had definitely died and not returned when Fawkes healed you,” Hermione informed him, already sounding like the Hermione of old, “and I’ve been thinking about it and I think I know what happened, how Voldemort was able to use you like he did.”

“How?” Harry asked, interested.

“Well, originally I thought your mum’s magic had somehow stopped the Horcrux to activate,” Hermione said with a small frown, “meaning that when the spell was reflected back on himself, Voldemort’s soul wasn’t transported to the next Horcrux for him to be ‘reborn’. But I was wrong…”

“What!” Ron exclaimed with mock shock, “you were wrong? Incredible. Quick, inform the papers – ‘Hermione Granger admits she was wrong!’”

“Very funny Ron,” Hermione humphed as there were a few sniggers around the room.

“What do you think happened instead?” Harry quickly asked, trying to hide his own smirk.

“Mrs Potter’s magic couldn’t protect you fully Harry,” she replied, ignoring the grinning Ron, “it saved you but the spell and the force behind the spell that Voldemort used was too much. He had planned to make a new Horcrux with your death but it all went haywire. Your scar became a Horcrux, activating when he died.”

“Allowing him to join with me,” Harry finished thoughtfully.

“Your scar started bleeding the moment you first collapsed and it has only recently stopped,” she continued, “I suspect that when the bandages are removed it will be either gone or nearly gone.”

“No more scar?” Harry asked, grinning.

“No more scar,” Hermione repeated, mirroring his grin.

“What about the prophecy?” Neville questioned, “I mean, it doesn’t quite match, the whole ‘neither can live while the other does’ stuff.”

“It does – kind of,” Hermione continued, “Harry couldn’t live with Voldemort inside him. Besides, Divination is such a…”

“Woolly subject,” Harry and Ron finished with her in unison causing them all to laugh.

“And on that note I think it’s time for me to go back to my bed,” Remus said, still smiling, “I think we’ve annoyed Poppy enough,” awkwardly standing, he made his way over to Harry, “you are an incredible young man Harry – I’ve said it before and no doubt will say it again. What you have done, gone through is amazing.”

“Thanks Remus,” Harry replied shyly.

“Be proud of your achievements Harry,” Remus continued, “enjoy and acknowledge all the accolades that will be coming your way because you deserve them!”

“I just want a normal life,” Harry said truthfully, “one where I can take my girlfriend out on a date without worrying about being killed by a Death Eater or two – I don’t have to worry about a Death Eater or two, do I?”

“There will always be evil,” Aberforth spoke up soberly, “and there will always be wizards that use the power they have to kill. But Death Eaters are no more – their tie to Voldemort was too strong, most succumbing on his demise and now reside in a newly defended Azkaban Prison. Most of the minions that were fighting along side the Dark Side are now dead or also in prison – many were merely unskilled fighters too scared to say no to Voldemort.”

“So you should be safe to go on your date, Harry,” Remus smiled.

“Excellent.”

A/N – did you really think I’d kill Harry?

24. Epilogue

A/N - well, this is it, the last chapter and the end of the ride. It took a day and a bit to write this as its been in my head for a while. Hope you enjoy. Thank you so much for all your lovely, amazing comments over the course of writing this. A serial is a strange thing to write as you realise that things have been missed or changes would’ve taken place if it had been written and edited as a whole story Still, I think I covered pretty much everything. Anyway, thank you all again, and until next time - enjoy.

Chapter 24 - Epilogue

Harry woke up and stretched every limb in his body with a relaxed lucidity, enjoying the feeling of calm that cocooned him in its warm embrace. He was happy. He was content. He was getting married. Today.

Feeling extremely rested from his sound nights sleep (which considering he was in a strange bed and alone was a miracle in itself) he was content just to lay there for a little bit longer and enjoy the early morning sunshine that was fighting its way through the curtains.

The Weasley household never stirred much before eight - well, the Ron and Luna Weasley household didn’t stir much before eight, Arthur and Molly were still usually up at the crack of dawn - so Harry knew it would be safe to lounge around a bit longer.

Besides, it was his wedding day.

Smiling, he got out of bed and chucked on some clothes before heading downstairs to get something to eat. Walking into the kitchen, he was surprised to see Ron already there - it was only eight thirty after all.

“Hey, here he is,” Ron joked, his mouth full of cereal, “the wedding boy. How’re you feeling, mate?”

“Excellent,” Harry answered, poring his own cereal into a bowl and sitting down, “you’re up early.”

“Yeah, well, Luna had to do whatever bridesmaids have to do,” Ron replied slightly sullenly, “woke me up. Besides, I have to be ready for my best friends big day, right?”

“Right,” Harry laughed, eating his breakfast, “so, what are we going to do then?”

Ron thought it over a bit before a smile lit up his face.

“Fancy a bit of flying?” he suggested, Harry grinned.

“Yep, sounds like a brilliant idea,” Harry agreed, already going to get his broom, “but no rough stuff. Hermione would kill me if I showed up today somehow damaged.”

“She’d kill me first,” Ron stated with a grin, “don’t worry, just a friendly game of tag.”

Which didn’t turn out to be too friendly as a sweating Harry made his way to the shower an hour later with a few extra bruises that weren’t there the night before. As he let the water caress his body, his thoughts returned once more to Hermione.

It had been three years since their first official date, which had taken place one month after the fall of Voldemort. Things had been crazy for everyone , but not more so that the Golden Trio. Harry’s healing had taken time and the true nature of Voldemort’s demise never left the Hogwarts hospital ward. The horror of what took place that early June morning took a long time to get over, but the healing started on that first date.

Harry smiled as he remembered showing up at the Burrow in an outfit that was the third one he had tried on, holding a small bunch of flowers and waiting nervously for Hermione to appear. She had gone to live with the Weasley’s while he had shifted to Dowrgi, the Potter Estate in Cornwall. He had previously sworn that he wouldn’t live there, not on his own any way, but he had changed his mind. He wanted to learn more about his family and the best place to be taught was his ancestral home.

So he had been waiting for her, Ron teasing him and Mr Weasley standing there grinning proudly. When Hermione had entered the kitchen with Ginny by her side, Harry seemed to have forgotten how to breathe - Hermione looked beautiful.

They had gone to a Muggle restaurant then a movie and although it had started out slightly awkward, as if they had just met, it hadn’t taken long to fall into their usual companionship. The evening had ended like any other date - he had walked her to the door and kissed her while she stood on the door step. It had been perfect.

That was three years ago and there had been many perfect days since then. Their engagement being one of them - a beautiful night with a beautiful woman who consented to marry him. He had never felt so happy, until now.

Looking in the mirror, the same dopey grin that had been on his face for weeks was still there. Rubbing his hand over his chin, he could feel stubble. He finally managed to start growing facial hair after his eighteenth birthday and reluctantly had to agree with Ron that it actually was a pain. Especially with his dark hair, he often ‘shaved’ twice a day. Performing the necessary spell now, he was satisfied when his face was once again clear.

Next was his hair. Kept short, it had lost a lot of its past messiness but it was still pretty unmistakeable. No longer having to cover the lightening bolt scar that had been such a prominent feature on his forehead, his hair style reflected his more relaxed attitude about who he was. There was no scar and no need to hide behind a fringe.

He still wore the same round rim glasses that he has done for most of his life. He didn’t need to, but they were part of him. When he had relented to pressure from the women in his life (mainly Hermione, Ginny and Luna) that he should get his eyes fixed and not wear them, he felt naked and like it wasn’t him. Hermione agreed and the glasses had returned.

There was a tap on the bathroom door.

“Harry,” Ron called out, “dad’s here.”

“Right,” Harry acknowledged, “I’ll be down in a sec.”

Removing his towel, Harry began to dress, making sure everything was perfect. Looking at his reflection in the mirror confirmed that he done alright. He even could pass as handsome - but he would never admit it to anyone. Smiling again at his weird thoughts, he left the bathroom.

Returning to the room he had slept over night in, Harry began to gather his stuff together. Arthur’s arrival signalled that the girls had left Dowrgi and it was safe for him to take his gear back there now. He paused and glanced around the room, his eye falling on the new cot that stood by the far wall. Four years ago he, Ron and Hermione had come into this exact same room and saw a similar cot that had once bedded a baby Harry. This new cot will look after a baby Weasley, due in four weeks time.

Harry had given Ron and Luna Godric’s Hollow for a wedding present. Ron had refused it at first, saying that it was too much, but gave in when Harry explained that it was for purely selfish reasons that he had wanted his best friend and his new wife to live in his old family home. It was close to where he was living. And it was great to see love and life back into the house that had been built by his parents.

Now, Godric’s Hollow was nearly unrecognisable as Ron and Luna had put their own unique touches to the cottage. Harry thought it was great and over the two years that Mr and Mrs Ron Weasley had lived there, Harry and Hermione had made the regular walk down the small country road from Dowrgi to visit. The trio were still together.

Grabbing his bag, Harry chuckled as he thought of Ron as a father. He’s guessing that Luna will probably end up being the disciplinarian but then again, Ron could surprise him. Stranger things had happened. Like Ron ending up working at the Ministry of Magic. In charge of staff. And doing pretty bloody well.

Job offers had come in thick and fast after the Final Battle. NEWT’s had been abandoned as the rebuilding of the wizarding community took precedence. Ron had gone to help his father out in the Ministry and never stopped. He now was in charge of a small department that liased with all the different magical races from elves to werewolves, from giants to centaurs. Hermione had teased him for quite a while about how he was now carrying on the mantle for elf welfare and a SPEW badge hung proudly on Ron’s notice board in his office.

Still, Ron enjoyed what he did and was regarded highly within the Ministry - as was his father, who was instrumental in its rebuilding and the continuing work in fixing the damage from Umbridge’s deceit and the destruction caused by Lord Voldemort.

“Harry,” Arthur welcomed as Harry entered the kitchen, “there you are! My, you do look rather dashing.”

“Thanks Arthur,” Harry replied, still feeling strange calling Ron’s dad by his first name but it had been insisted on so…

“So, we’re meeting you at Hogwarts at twelve thirty right?” Ron asked from his seat at the table.

“Right,” Harry affirmed, “Arthur, can you make sure Ron isn’t late…”

“Hey!” Ron interrupted, seemingly offended.

“You were late to your own engagement party Ron,” Harry reminded him with a grin.

“Well, Luna wanted to…”

“I don’t want to know!” Harry laughed, before giving his friend a brotherly whack on the shoulder, “just don’t be late. I’m off to do some things before the ceremony…”

“Not planning to run off are you Harry?” Ron joked.

“No show,” Harry replied happily, “I’ve been waiting for this day all my life - the start of a family of my own. See you at twelve thirty.”

With a parting wave, Harry left the little house and started the familiar trek to the Estate. There were three things he wanted to do - no, needed to do - before the ceremony at one and they were things that he had to do on his own. Ron understood this as Harry explained the reasons the night before when the two sat around talking about the old times over bottles of butterbeer.

Detouring off the road, he entered the town cemetery and made his way to the two graves that he now visited regularly. Harry gave a small snort of amazement when he saw that there were fresh flowers already there - Hermione had already been. Still smiling to himself, he stopped in front of his parents graves and sighed.

“Hey mum and dad,” he began, his voice soft as if he didn’t want anyone else to hear - which, in fact, he didn’t, “well, this is it. Today I’m marrying Hermione. You remember her don’t you? The girl that had always been by my side, who was and still is my conscience. The first girl and only girl I’ve ever loved,” Harry paused, looking down at the flowers that had been placed on his mother’s grave, “I see she’s already been here. She really is amazing. I mean, it’s been hard for her, planning the wedding and everything, without her mum. And not having her dad to walk her down the aisle. They should’ve been here.

“I wish you two were here as well. And Albus and Sirius. But you aren’t though hopefully you’re watching somewhere and are happy for us.

“The Weasley’s have been brilliant, Arthur and Molly doing so much to help make today special. We really feel like we’re one of their own but the Weasley clan is so big now, that its quite easy to join in and not really be noticed,” Harry paused again, getting his thoughts together. After a few moments, he continued.

“I hope you’re proud of me, that you agree with the choices that I’ve made. I know everyone expected me to be an Auror, I mean, that’s what I wanted to be when I was asked back in fifth year! But this feels right, the right path to take. Hogwarts is my home and it will be good to go back there and teach. Professor Potter. Doesn’t that sound bizarre?” Harry laughed a small, quiet laugh, “Professor Potter, teacher of Combat at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I still can’t believe it. And with Hermione working there too…it’s going to be weird. But not weird - am I making sense?” Harry stopped as if expecting an answer, but there was only silence. Glancing down at his watch, he realised he needed to go.

“Right, well, the next time I come here, I will be married. Wish me luck, not that I need it mind. Love you.” With a sad smile, Harry regained his bag and left the cemetery to return to the road.

A few tourists were ambling through the grounds as Dowrgi came into view. Harry knew he looked strange, all dressed up and beaming like he had just won the lottery, but he didn’t care. It was his wedding day.

He headed into the building, that had only just opened for the day, said hello to Sarah, the woman taking admissions, then made his way up to the private suites on the top floor. Martin met him halfway and easily fell into step with Harry, who was nearly at his destination - his bedroom.

“Morning Harry,” the estate manager welcomed, clipboard in hand, “how you are you feeling?”

“Perfect Martin,” Harry said happily back, “how’s it going here?”

“Well, the ladies left half an hour ago,” Martin informed him, “and the rooms have been changed as you requested them.”

“Good,” Harry smiled, pausing outside his bedroom door, “and Hermione doesn’t know any of this?”

“No, it was done only after she had gone.”

“Excellent. Is everything in there?”

“Yes, everything that was requested…”

“Right,” Harry put his hand on the doorknob, but before turning it, he looked back at Martin. The Estate’s manager had become a friend over the years, and a wonderful source of information on his parents and his family as a whole. The commercial side of Dowrgi still ran like clockwork and the tourists that inspected his home were generally unnoticed by Harry.

Hermione had shifted in soon after Ron and Luna had got married and Ginny had moved to Diagon Alley with Neville as they ran Fred and George’s store (Fred and George looked after the store they opened in Hogsmeade). Hermione had her own room down the hall as she hadn’t wanted to ‘live in sin’, determined to save herself until their wedding night. Which was tonight. It had been a long three years for Harry - very long.

“The estate will be closed tomorrow,” Martin continued, “so you will have the place to yourselves.”

“Thanks Martin,” Harry acknowledged, “so I’ll see you and Judy this afternoon?”

“We’ll be there,” Martin grinned, “have fun Harry and see you back here next week.”

Harry nodded then entered his room that will soon become their room. It was just as Harry had asked for - hundreds of candles were placed around the room, ready to be lit when needed, while Hermione’s clothes were now next to his in the wardrobe. They had discussed how things would be after they were married so it wouldn’t come to any shock to her that she had been shifted into this room. What will be a surprise is the extras Harry had in mind.

He was slightly nervous about tonight as it was all going to be…new. They had done a lot of things as a couple, but never crossed the line that they were allowed to cross tonight. It was such a big thing that he wanted to make sure they were relaxed. Along with the candles were roses, many, many roses. He had also placed the revised edition of Hogwarts: A History on the bedside cabinet, her name as the author emblazed on the front cover. He knew that this particular butt of many a joke would be a good ice breaker if it was needed.

Harry put his overnight bag away in his closet then made his way to the bed. On his bedside cabinet were two photos and a picture - his parents with Remus and Sirius, Ron, Hermione and himself and a piece of paper that had three handprints - his parents and his own. For the second time that day, a wave of sadness hit Harry - but it only lasted a moment. Time was marching on and he had one more important thing to do before the ceremony.

A bottle of wine had been placed in the corner, two glasses sitting on the dresser - just in case. A jug of water was also there - just in case. Fruit and Hermione’s favourite biscuits also sat on the dresser, in case she was a bit peckish. Harry was trying to cover all scenarios. He knew that all he’ll want to do is what he’s been wanting to do for a long time now, but he also knew it will be a special night for his new wife and he wanted to do everything in his power to make sure she was okay.

Satisfied, he took a final look at himself in the mirror to make sure he still looked like a groom, then Apparated to Hogwarts.

He arrived just outside the gates, which were guarded by Aurors, to an Apparation point that was concealed from the small throng of people set up outside the school in the hope they will see either the bride or groom. Harry peered out carefully from his hiding spot and saw that most of them were girls. Great.

His fame only grew after Voldemort’s defeat to the point where he saw his image plastered everywhere and a fan club had been formed in his honour. Things started to calm down after his personal plea to leave him alone and the security of Dowrgi hadn’t been compromised meaning he basically disappeared for long periods of time with no-one knowing where he was. People soon got bored, stopped harassing his friends and left him alone.

Until the engagement was announced and then a new wave of hysteria started.

Hogwarts had been the obvious place to get married for both Harry and Hermione. It had been such a huge part of both their lives that neither of them had thought about anywhere else. Added to that was the security the castle offered and with the new wards raised after the Final Battle’s attack on the hallowed grounds, no one but invited guests were able to enter.

Harry knew he could make it to the gates undetected but he decided what did he have to loose. Taking a deep breath, he strolled out of the hide-away and made his way to the gates, causing a flurry of photo-flashes and screaming. He gave the girls an embarrassed wave.

“Hello Mr Potter,” one of the guards welcomed, a smirk hinting on his mouth.

“Hey Stuart,” Harry said back, recognising the young Auror as a seventh year Ravenclaw when he had been in his fifth year, “any problems?”

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Stuart replied, “you enjoy your day, now.”

“I will,” and with one more parting wave to the screaming hordes, Harry made his way to the castle.

A few of the guests were already there - Hagrid, Charlie and the twins were easy to spot as he made his way up the steps. He didn’t stop though, and just waved in greeting before being engulfed by the entrance hall. Without hesitation, he passed the House hourglasses and made his way to the headmistress’s office.

Professor McGonagall finally accepted the role of Hogwarts Headmistress after the Final Battle, overseeing the repair work on the buildings and the farewelling of the two lost staff - Professor Flintwick and Madam Hooch. The following year, the number of students was the lowest it had ever been, but steadily increased as things became more settled.

Knocking on his new boss’s door, Harry waited for the permission to enter and then did so, smiling at the feeling of homecoming he always got when he came into this office. The professor was at her desk doing some paper work, but she was dressed in her dress robes, ready for the wedding. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Ah, Mr Potter,” she enthused, putting her things together and standing, “or should I say, Harry - oh dear, but that will be a hard habit to break. Professor Potter will be even more so.”

“I agree,” Harry grinned and made his way to the desk, “Professor Potter doesn’t sound quite real.”

“I assure you that it is,” she continued, stopping him and then holding Harry out at arms length as she looked at him, “you are so different from the scared little boy that came into this castle all those years ago. You are now a fine, fine young man.”

“Thank you professor,” Harry replied, slightly embarrassed.

“Well, I’m sure you are wanting words with Albus, so I’ll leave you to it,” McGonagall continued, returning to her brisk manner, “see you downstairs Harry.”

With a swish of tartan she was gone, leaving Harry to make his way to the portrait that was standing, watching him.

“Hello Harry,” it said with its wonderfully familiar voice.

“Hi Professor,” Harry answered, sitting in McGonagall’s abandoned chair and facing the picture.

“ That suits you,” Dumbledore smiled, indicating to the fact Harry was sitting in the headmasters spot.

“Maybe, one day,” Harry said, “when I know enough, have experienced enough and am able to lead with the knowledge and wisdom needed to run this school. Like you.”

“You are your own man, Harry,” Dumbledore stated gently, “you lead your own life, there is no need to try and copy mine.”

“I could never be you Albus, your shoes are definitely to big to fill,” Harry continued, “but I want to do things that would’ve made you proud…”

“Oh Harry, I really don’t think I could ever be more proud of you! Not only did you face insurmountable odds and over came them, you are a wonderful, caring human being. And today you are doing something that I was never able to do - give my heart to another.”

“Not just my heart,” Harry corrected, “she’s getting everything - head, heart and soul.”

“Then there is nothing left to make me more proud,” Dumbledore smiled, “if the road you choose leads you back to this chair, I will be with you. If that road leads to other destinations - I hope you come back to visit.”

“Accepting a position here, at Hogwarts, felt so right that I can’t see the road changing,” Harry stated, “but thank you for your support.”

“Shouldn’t you be off getting ready for your wedding instead of sitting in here talking to an old man?” Harry looked into the twinkling eyes, took a deep breath and began to say what he had come to say.

“I know you are only an essence of the man you once were,” Harry announced, “but over the years, talking to you has helped me deal with what happened and I can never thank you enough for that. Hermione and I, well, things were tough, but you were there and helped us become stronger instead of falling apart…”

“That strength was already there in both of you Harry, I just helped you see it.”

“I know. Thank you.”

“It was my pleasure.”

The two wizards looked at each other with respect and fondness before Harry stood with purpose.

“I better get going,” he told his old headmaster who grinned broadly.

“I wish you all the happiness in the world Harry, and Hermione too.”

“Thanks,” Harry smiled then made his way out of the office and back the way he had come.

The wedding was to take place in the Great Hall and as Harry entered the place where he had spent so much of his time, his contented smile grew back into a grin. With only half an hour to go, the seats were filling up with the select group of people.

As soon as he entered, he was surrounded by Weasley’s - the twins draping their arms around his shoulders and drawing him away to the side of the hall, their older brothers joining in laughing.

“Here he is,” Fred started, the scars of his near fatal injuries from the Final Battle barely visible.

“How’re feeling Harry,” George continued, “nervous?”

“No, not at all…”

“Of course you are,” Fred said, nodding with understanding, “after all, you’re a young man, minutes away from committing yourself for life with a young lady…”

“A wonderful young lady, I must add…” George put in.

“Yet, she will be all available to you for the rest of your life,” Fred finished with a flourish, “for ever and ever. No other girls. None. Zip. Just the one girl until the day you die.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Harry confirmed smugly, laughing along with Bill and Charlie as the twins scowled.

“Bloody hell, we had Ron nearly running off with fear,” George frowned, “oh well, good for you Harry!”

The rest of the Weasley boys gave him their congratulations (Bill having to hurry off to help a pregnant Fleur catch their escaping two year old son) and Harry continued on.

“’Arry, oh my stars, you look a real treat, you do!” Harry turned and was engulfed in a hug that could only come from Hagrid. Dressed in his favourite moleskin suit, he looked a treat himself and already had tears in his eyes.

“Come on Hagrid,” Harry admonished, smoothing down his robes, “this is a happy day - you shouldn’t be crying!”

“But me little boy…I’m jus’ so proud.” Harry smiled at his large friend and continued to the front of the hall where Arthur and Ron were talking to Remus.

“Here you go Harry,” Arthur said as he got closer, “one best man, showered, dressed and delivered on time.”

“Thank you Arthur,” Harry laughed, standing next to Ron.

“Right, well I must dash and make sure Molly hasn’t driven the girls into distraction,” Weasley senior stated, and with a departing wave, dashed off.

“Where’s Tonks and Remi?” Harry asked Lupin, who is now very rarely seen without his wife and six month old baby girl.

Fortunes had definitely changed for the ex Marauder - working for Harry, he and his wife live in a fantastically re-vamped Grimmauld Place (which was a gift from Harry, again under protest but Harry wouldn’t give in and the Lupin‘s had relented) and he was no longer shunned by most of the wizarding community. Hermione had made it a priority to enhance the wolfsbane potion so it wasn’t so difficult to make and the side effects weren’t as bad. It took her over eighteen months but she finally developed a potion that made the monthly change for Remus a lot less dangerous and painful.

“Tonks is feeding the little one in the hope she will sleep through the ceremony,” Remus explained with a proud grin, “we really don’t want to use a silencing spell unless we really have to.”

“To be honest, my goddaughter can make as much noise as she wants,” Harry confessed happily, “I won’t really care.”

“See, I told you,” Ron piped up, straightening his tie, “sickening happy. Goes around with this stupid grin on his face. Mad.” Remus just laughed.

“Gentlemen,” the Minister who was officiating the service had joined them, indicating to a spot by the podium that the school is usually addressed from, “it’s time to take your positions.”

Harry just smiled and went to where he was supposed to stand, Ron by his side with Remus next to him. Harry looked out at the thirty or so guests and each face that looked back at him brought with it a memory or two. Neville, the clumsy wizard who was now a trainee Auror. Tonks, the clumsy Auror who was now married to a werewolf and a mother to their child. Teachers who had guided him through his school life, Hagrid - the first magical person he had ever met. The Weasley family which was now his family, Madam Pomfrey who had brought him back from near death more times than he could remember. There was Martin and his wife Judy, part of his new life outside Hogwarts, Dobby and Winky - dressed in their mismatched best.

To the side sat a perch were Hedwig and Fawkes, snow white and brilliant red, sitting and watching everything with silent eyes. At the foot of the perch was Crookshanks, his tail twitching with a satisfied laziness as he eyed all before him.

Harry’s attention was taken by a flushed Molly Weasley, making her way to her seat next to her daughter-in-law, tears already in her eyes.

Suddenly everyone stood and looked towards the great doors as a harp began to play, echoing magically throughout the hall. Ginny was the first to arrive and looked beautiful. She was wearing an emerald dress that helped make her red hair, long and straight, stand out. Behind her was the very pregnant Luna, also in emerald green, looking as ethereal as ever.

But neither mattered to Harry as Hermione entered the hall, her hand gently laying on the arm of Arthur Weasley. She was the most beautiful thing Harry had ever seen. Her hair had been pulled up into a loose bun, small tendrils framing her face. She had a small veil on that fell down her back with tiny crystal drop earrings and her otter necklace her only jewellery. Her dress was the purest of white, slightly off the shoulder with the bodice tight then flowing out into a soft skirt. She was holding a bouquet of three lilies bound by an emerald ribbon - simple and understated, beautiful. He was lost in her, she was all he could see.

She was soon by his side, Arthur giving her a small peck on the cheek before handing her tiny hand to Harry.

“You look…wow,” he breathed, making her smile.

“You look pretty wow yourself, Potter,” she whispered back then turning her attention to the Minister, she began to listen to what he was saying. Harry kept looking at her profile until he felt a little squeeze of his hand telling him he should be concentrating on the Minister himself, and reluctantly turned his attention to the man in front of him.

“We are gathered here today to join Harry and Hermione together in matrimony. My understanding is that this young couple have been together so long, this is just a formality so we hope to keep this officialdom short.

“However, before we continue, let us take the time to remember those who should be here, celebrating this occasion but have been taken from us. Please let us all bow our heads for a minute’s silence and remember

“James Potter

“Lily Potter

“Richard Granger

“Emily Granger

“Albus Dumbledore

“Sirius Black

“Seamus Finnigan

“Grawp (a huge sob was heard)

“Severus Snape

“And the many others who paid the ultimate price for our freedom.”

Harry bowed his head and remembered and with a slightly heavier heart, he looked back at the Minister when the minute had passed.

“Though the pain of the loss of our friends and loved ones is immense, today is a day for happiness and our departed will be watching with pride and understanding as we join these two as one.

“Harry and Hermione have asked to say their own vows so Hermione, this is your time.”

Harry turned to face her, holding both her hands in his and waited as she gathered herself together so she was able to speak - he gave her what he hoped was an encouraging smile.

“I was twelve years old when a boy named Harry remembered that I was crying alone in a bathroom and came to save me from a troll, dragging his best friend along with him. From that moment I pledged to myself that I will repay the debt, that he had saved my life and I would do everything in my power to make sure he was safe.

“I realised that I was in love a few years later and I realised that you were my life when I nearly lost you, when we lost a great man and mentor. We have been through hell and back yet you have never lost the ability to care, to think of those around you before yourself, to feel.

“Harry James Potter, you are the most amazing, unique, special man I have ever met and I am honoured that you have chosen me to spend your life with. I love you with my heart, head and soul - you make me feel like I can do anything I want to, that I am the most beautiful, intelligent amazing woman on this earth and that is a gift I could never repay. Thank you for being just you.”

She stopped speaking and looked at him with watery eyes, her lip trembling as she tried not to cry. Gently, he placed his finger on her lips, instantly stopping their quivering.

“Harry? It’s your turn,” the Minister prodded. Taking a deep breath, Harry started to speak, voicing the thoughts that were running through his head.

“I never knew love. I didn’t recognise it until it was shown to me by a stranger. But now I know that part of me have always loved you and all of me always will love you. If I make you feel beautiful, intelligent and amazing that’s because you are. You are my everything Hermione and I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you just how special you are. I love you so very much. That’s all. Head, heart and soul I am yours.”

Silence.

“Hermione, have you got the ring?”

Harry watched as if in a dream as Luna came up and handed Hermione a plain gold band; she turned back to him.

“Take Harry’s left hand in yours and repeat after me…”

“I know what to say Minister,” Hermione interrupted, then looked back to Harry, “I Hermione Jane Granger take you Harry James Potter, my best friend, my soul mate, to love and honour, in happiness and tears, sickness and in health, richer and poorer for as long as we both shall live,” she paused as she slipped the band onto his finger, “this ring is made of gold, precious and strong, and is shaped in a circle - never ending, as is my love for you. The ring is merely a token for my love and life is truly the gift.”

“Wonderful Hermione,” the Minister acknowledged before turning to Harry, “Harry?”

Ron came up and gave Harry the small gold band that was meant for Hermione. Taking her hand once more in his, he looked to the Minister for guidance.

“I may need help,” he admitted causing a small flutter of laughter from the on lookers.

“Please repeat after me…I Harry James Potter,”

“I Harry James Potter…” as Harry repeated the words Hermione had just said to him, he felt a huge sense of pride, he was just moments away from being married. The ring was now on her finger and the words he had been waiting for for so long was heard.

“With the power invested in my by the Great British and Irish Ministry of Magic, the Great British and Irish Governments and God above, I now pronounce you man and wife. Harry, you may kiss your bride.”

With a grin, he gently held her face in his hands and kissed her, as instructed, trying desperately to ignore the whistles and applause from the guests. Pulling away, he looked out and saw that everyone were on their feet, clapping enthusiastically.

“I would like to proudly introduce Mr and Mrs Harry and Hermione Potter!” cried the Minister from behind them.

“Hello Mrs Potter,” Harry grinned to Hermione, who grinned back.

“I like the sound of that,” she said, “let’s go and enjoy our day!”

It was a weary Harry that carried his new wife over the threshold of the Dowrgi Estate, but the event caused much giggling and laughter that he was quickly restored. It was only ten o’clock and the celebrations were still continuing in Hogwarts Great Hall - but without the couple of honour. They had decided it was time to call it a night and left amongst many catcalls and whistles.

Harry didn’t care, he just wanted to spend some quality time with his new wife. Taking her hand, he led her up the lightly lit halls, stopping outside his room, their room. Hermione suddenly stopped giggling.

“Wait here,” he instructed - a small frown crossed her face.

Quickly, he went into the room, and with a wave of his wand, every candle lit, causing a flickering glow. He cooled the wine, made sure everything else was in place, then opened the door for Hermione. Her reaction was exactly what he wanted - she was happily surprised.

“Harry, this is beautiful,” she gasped, “did you do all this?”

“Yeah,” he acknowledge, before adding, “with a little help from Martin.”

She turned from him and went over to the bedside cabinet, seeing the copy of her book sitting there - she chuckled.

“It’s been a brilliant day hasn’t it?” she asked, running her hand over the top of the bed, her white dress shining in the candlelight.

“An amazing day, perfect,” Harry agreed.

“I’m just, well, exhausted.”

Harry stopped making his way to her and instead went to the other side of the bed, hoping that his disappointment wasn’t too obvious. She was too tired. Bugger.

“Yeah, it was pretty tiring,” he said quietly, poring himself some wine. Suddenly, he felt her arms around his waist, swivelling him around so they were face to face. She took the wine glass from his hands, put it back down on the counter, then began to unbutton his shirt (his tie discarded a long time before).

“I was kidding Harry,” she breathed, kissing his chest each time a new button had been opened, “our night isn’t yet over.”

Relief flooded through Harry along with so many other emotions that he forgot to breathe. His shirt fell to the floor at the same time his lips crashed into hers, moving her back towards the bed which she fell back onto, her lips never leaving his.

“I love you Mrs Potter,” he gasped when he came up for air then proceeded to kiss down her neck and shoulders. Hermione just groaned.

Emma Jane Potter was born at the end of September after a relatively easy birth and witnessed by an extremely proud father. As he held his little girl in his arms, Harry cried. His dreams had come true, he had a family of his own. Her little eyes stared up at him, searching, and as he bent down to kiss her, a little hand reached out to his face. Harry didn’t know if it was purely coincidence that his daughter’s newly formed hand rested on the spot where there used to be a scar, but in reality, he didn’t care.

Harry Potter was happy, deliriously happy. Life was good.