Chapter 7: Fear Within
Harry eyed the snakelike S on the locket carefully. Concentrating with all of his energy, Harry slowly said the spell, Demo atrum veneficus navitas ut est intus simultas, again, this time in Parseltongue.
The effects were immediate. The locket split in half; a stream of light bursting from it, knocking Harry backwards. After Harry had gotten back to his feet, the light was gone, as was the locket; all that was left was a small puddle of gold where the locket had been.
He glanced next to him at Hermione, who was looking at him with a mixture of shock, confusion, and awe. "What just happened?" Hermione asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I did it," Harry said, hardly able to control his excitement. "I just destroyed the Horcrux."
***
There was a party at Grimmauld Place that night.
It was a small party, with only the five of them, but a celebration all the same. Harry had finally given in and explained to Remus and Tonks about the Horcruxes earlier that evening. Tonks had looked shocked, revolted at such a concept, but oddly enough, Remus had not looked too shocked. When Harry had explained to them what Voldemort had done to make himself immortal, Remus had simply nodded, as if expecting such a thing.
Amidst the celebrating, Harry sat at the kitchen table, watching his friends talk and laugh as they drunk bottles of Butterbeer. Despite his excitement, all Harry could think about was Voldemort and the Horcruxes.
He was one step closer to facing Voldemort, one Horcrux closer to the final battle. The thought both exhilarated and terrified Harry. This was what he had, essentially, worked towards his entire life, but destroying the Horcrux made it all the more real. He had known since he was eleven that he would be facing Voldemort, one on one, eventually in the end. He had known since the year before that that time would be coming even sooner than he thought. A shiver went up his spine, causing him to shudder. Three Horcruxes down, three to go…
Halfway.
He was not ready. He had faced Voldemort and escaped four times already; this time should not be any different, yet Harry knew it was. Before, Harry had just concentrated on escaping, on getting away from Voldemort alive. Now, there was no escaping, no running away. In the final battle, it would be him and Voldemort, fighting until one of them died- there was no other way. He could no longer face Voldemort on the defense; he couldn't just throw out any blocking spell that came to mind.
He had to be better that Voldemort; he had to fight harder, think smarter, move faster. And how was Harry ever supposed to be better than the darkest, most powerful wizard of the time? How was Harry supposed to kill him?
Harry was the only obstacle in Voldemort's way to winning the war. Harry would be the only one standing in Voldemort's way; it would be up to him to defeat the dark power.
He would have to train; he would have to train harder than he could ever imagine, pushing himself beyond the goals and limits he had already set for himself.
Harry spent the next several days training as hard as he could. He woke up hours before dawn, using that time to work out, to grow stronger and become faster. He would train like normal with everyone else, but then afterwards, he would stay behind, sometimes working until the late hours of the afternoon.
The evenings he would spend in the library, looking through every book he could get his hands on, in search of something- anything- to do with Horcruxes or spells that would come in handy during the final battle.
Late one evening, Hermione found Harry in the library, his head resting on the table, fast asleep. "Harry?" she said, nudging him gently in an attempt to wake him up.
"Wha-" Harry asked groggily. He yawned and sat up in his chair.
"Ron told me to let you know that his family is coming tomorrow," Hermione said, pulling a chair up next to him. He raised his eyebrows. "He invited them," she quickly added. "They're worried about him…about us."
"I know they are," Harry said. "Yeah, that's fine if they come."
"How long are they staying for?" he asked.
"Shouldn't be more than a couple of days, I suppose," Hermione answered.
Harry yawned and stretched his arms over his head, wincing at the pain the movement caused.
"Harry, you're working yourself too hard," Hermione said.
"I'm fine, Hermione. Just a little tired," Harry said and he mindlessly flipped the pages of his book.
"You're not fine, Harry," Hermione argued. "You're exhausted. Look at yourself! For days now, it has been nothing but training for you. It's not healthy."
"I have to be prepared," Harry said bitterly, feeling his temper rise. "I'll stop when it's gotten to be too much."
"But you won't!" Hermione exclaimed, her voice strangely high pitched. "Harry, I know you. You won't stop for anything; that's just who you are. When you set your mind to something, nothing stops you. That's one of the things I love about you: your determination, your intense passion and dedication when it comes to things you really want. But this has gone too far, Harry!
"I've watched you for days now, more closely than you probably can imagine. I know you don't sleep for more than a few hours every night, I know you get up practically in the middle of the night to train, and I know you stay behind after our normal training sessions to train some more. And when you aren't training, you spend your time in the library, pouring all the rest of your energy into researching- not that I'm not incredibly thrilled about that; I've only been trying to get you to study on your own for years now…
"But I know you, Harry. You won't stop for anything; that's just who you are. You're body may be exhausted, completely drained even, but mentally, you are so driven that you will push yourself, no matter what it takes." By then, Hermione's voice had grown loud, her face red, her eyes holding the evidence of tears.
"My body is fine," Harry argued. Hermione just gave him a disbelieving glare. She grabbed him by the arm, and he did everything in his power not to wince in pain.
"So, tell me that didn't hurt," Hermione said, raising her eyebrows as she waited for his response.
Harry just smiled and stood up. "I'm fine," he repeated, kissing her softly on the forehead before gathering up his books.
Hermione just sat there, feeling defeated. She had expected him to yell back, to make a big deal out of this confrontation, but he had not.
"Remember that the Weasley's are coming tomorrow," she called out after him as he left the room. At least with the Weasley's visit, Harry would be less inclined to train as extensively.
***
"Oh, look at you, Harry- you've grown so much!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, pulling Harry into a tight hug, as if it had been years, not weeks, since she had last seen him.
"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," he said, wincing as he pulled himself away from her. As much as he hated to admit it, he was extremely sore. "Ginny," he said tersely, nodded in the younger girl's direction.
"Oh, I've just been worried sick about you all," Mrs. Weasley said, giving the trio a motherly smile. They made their way into the kitchen where they sat awkwardly at the table, Ron, Hermione, and Harry on one side, facing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ginny on the other. No one said a word for several minutes.
Harry yawned and leaned back in his chair, doing everything in his power not to fall asleep right then and there. He pretended not to notice the look Hermione was giving him. He hardly wanted to admit that she was right, that he was exhausted, that perhaps he was pushing himself too hard.
Harry looked across the table at the Weasleys, not knowing what to say. They looked as uncomfortable as he felt.
"So, what have you been up to?" Ginny asked suddenly, raising her eyebrows at the trio.
"Ginerva Weasley, I told you not to ask them that so soon," Mrs. Weasley hissed in her daughter's ear, causing Harry to suddenly understand why exactly the Weasleys had come.
***
Harry hadn't realized how long he had spent at Grimmauld Place until the following morning, when four tawny owls came swooping through the window, each carrying with them a thick envelope.
"Oh," Mrs. Weasley squealed as she spotted the four birds. "The Hogwarts letters have arrived."
One of the owls dropped an envelope in Harry's lap and flew away. Harry looked down at the letter, slowly running his finger over the Hogwarts seal on the back. He had completely forgotten about Hogwarts, and judging by the gloomy looks of Hermione and Ron, he decided that he probably wasn't the only one who had forgotten.
Harry sighed and set the unopened letter on the table in front of him, glancing down the table where Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were studying Ginny's booklist.
"We'll go to Diagon Alley later this afternoon," Mrs. Weasley announced, making her way to the end of the table where the trio was seated. "We can all go together to pick up your books. And Ronald, do your robes still fit you? I don't know how you manage to keep growing like you do."
Ron's face grew visibly pale. Apparently, Mrs. Weasley was still under the impression that the three of them would be returning to Hogwarts, that whatever crazy mission they were on now would not last, that they would change their minds come the first of September.
"Mum," he said slowly, the tips of his ears growing red, "we already told you…we're not going back to Hogwarts this year…" He trailed off, and looked nervously at the table.
"But, I thought- I assumed-"Mrs. Weasley stammered.
"Yes, that's right," Mr. Weasley suddenly spoke up. He folded up the newspaper he had been reading and set it on the table in front of him. "You assumed. And obviously you assumed incorrectly."
"Arthur, may I have a word with you…alone," Mrs. Weasley said, her voice distraught. The two of them excused themselves to the hallway so they could talk in privacy, though their plan had little success. With the help of Fred and George's Extendable Ears, the four of them could hear every word that was said.
"Am I supposed to just sit back and allow my son to stay out of school, to involve himself with all of the danger this war has brought us?" Mrs. Weasley asked, her voice high pitched.
"Yes," Mr. Weasley said firmly. "Because you told him he could, because you know that it's right."
"But-"
"We've had this argument again and again, Molly. You have to realize that our boys aren't boys anymore. Ron's seventeen, technically an adult; he's allowed to make his own decisions."
"And besides," Mr. Weasley added, chuckling, "he's out there saving the world, isn't he? Our son, saving the world. Imagine that."
Harry could make out the faint footsteps of Mr. Weasley as he left the hallway, and he knew that that would not be the last of that conversation.
***
Later that afternoon, Harry, Hermione, and Ron made their way through Diagon Alley. They had decided to tag along with the Weasleys as they shopped for Ginny's school supplies, for it was good to get out of the house.
Along the winding street, people huddled closely together, talking in low whispers, and looking anxiously about. The once warm atmosphere that Harry remembered was now gone, replaced with fear and anxiety with the war. Shops were boarded up; others had signs hanging in the storefront window saying "Store Closing- Everything 80% Off, Everything Must Go."
As they passed by the variety of different shops, Harry paid close attention to each of them, trying to get a lasting envision of the street, for who knew when he'd be able to come back, or if there would be a Diagon Alley to return to.
He passed store after store; past Madam Malkin's where he had first met Draco Malfoy…past Eeylops Owl Emporium, were Hagrid had bought him Hedwig for his birthday…past Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, now vacant and boarded up, where Harry had gotten free sundaes from the owner…past Ollivanders…
Ollivanders.
Harry stopped walking and he stared at the empty store in front of him. "Mate, you coming?" he could hear Ron call from in front of him, but Harry didn't respond.
For some reason, Harry was drawn to the store, the store that held the most memories for him. Ollivanders was where he had gotten his wand, where he had first truly experienced magic himself…where he had first learned about Voldemort.
He slowly walked towards the store, pressing the palm of his hand against the glass of the store window. On display in the window was a single pillow, faded from its many years of being on display. Harry remembered the first time he had gone to Ollivanders; the pillow had been there before, but with a wand resting on it if he remembered correctly.
A wand.
Suddenly, just as it had happened before, a rush of memories came to Harry, memories that he had not thought of in quite some time.
"Talking of Diagon Alley," said Mr. Weasley, "looks like Ollivander's gone too."
"The wandmaker?" said Ginny, looking startled.
"That's the one. Shop's empty. No sign of struggle. No one knows whether he left voluntarily or was kidnapped."
"Harry, what's going on?" asked Hermione as she walked up next to Harry.
"The wand- there used to be a wand on that pillow," Harry said, pointing.
"Yeah, an old, dirty one, right? Looked ancient," said Ron. "What's your point?"
"I think it was Rowena Ravenclaw's wand," Harry said slowly. "Another Horcrux."
"Another Horcrux?" Hermione repeated. "But Harry…it could be just an ordinary wand, put on display. You have no evidence to support that-"
"No, listen," Harry said, cutting Hermione off. "The wand was on display because it was such an important artifact. And Ollivander…he went missing last year, remember? He left without any struggle- what if he took the wand with him into hiding, because he knew it was important, because he knew it was going to be stolen."
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said, obviously unconvinced.
"It makes sense though, doesn't it?" Harry exclaimed. He could feel his heart beating rapidly inside his chest. "And Florean Fortescue, he somehow upset the Death Eaters and was dragged off. Maybe they wanted information about where Ollivander went, but Fortescue wouldn't give it to him."
"But Harry," argued Hermione, "this is all guesswork. You have no idea-"
"Isn't all of this guesswork?" Harry exclaimed. "I'm not saying it's the right guess, but it's worth a try isn't it?"
Ron and Hermione just stared at him for a few moments before Ron finally spoke up. "You know, I reckon it is worth a try. I mean, Dumbledore wouldn't have let a lead like this go."
The two of them looked anxiously at Hermione, awaiting her response. "You're right," she said finally. "It's worth a shot."
Once again, with the prospect of a new Horcrux, a new lead, Harry felt a wave of emotions sweep through him. Fear, dread, and excitement rushed through his veins as he gave one last look at the faded pillow in the window.
Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please review!
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