A/N - okay, big warning here. I had to think of something happening that was so bad that Harry could no longer do magic so, well, this is the chapter that explains it. So, there are implications of bad stuff but hopefully I've done it in a way that won't offend. And hopefully it doesn't get too confusing. Oh, and I've never been hypnotised or seen it done so…
Chapter 9
Hermione slipped into research easily and without a second thought. Given access to all of Harry's medical records, from the moment he arrived at St Mungo's to the present day, she spent her days ploughing over piles of parchment describing every test, every result, every minute change in Harry's condition.
And she learnt a lot.
It seemed that Harry's magic was horrendously powerful to the point that the information was kept confidential from pretty much everyone.
It seemed that Luna had kept her promise with someone being at Harry's side for at least an hour every day during the time Hermione was gone.
It seemed that Harry's dreams were so severe that sometimes he had to be restrained until they found a potion strong enough to calm him.
It seemed that they had tried every possible way to help Harry remember the final battle with Voldemort - not just for his own peace of mind but because the wizarding world wanted to know - with absolutely no success.
It seemed that it hadn't been an entirely pleasant time for Harry during his stay at St Mungo's. No wonder he didn't like going back.
So Hermione made sure he didn't, letting him spend his time researching with Ron, though how much actual researching was going on, Hermione wasn't entirely sure - there seemed to be an awful amount of time spent playing with little Artie, or playing chess, or just playing.
In fairness, Hermione didn't really mind as it meant that Harry was happy. She sometimes looked out of the window of her study and saw them, Ron, Harry and Artie, mucking around in the back garden while Luna looked on with the baby, and it was a beautiful sight. Harry had a natural way with children that Hermione knew she didn't have and every time she saw him with Artie or Alba, her heart swelled with pride. It made her love him even more.
She also spent a lot of time with Stella, talking over the best way to do things and after a week of discussion, it was decided to use a mixture of hypnosis and legilimency to try and enter Harry's mind. She passed this information onto Harry and Ron and it was met with the amount of resistance that she was expecting and countered all their arguments with thought out answers. After a couple of hours of heated debate, Harry reluctantly agreed.
So Hermione began to learn legilimency from the Auror instructor on the topic and worked hard with Stella to combine it with hypnotherapy. The plan was for Hermione to enter Harry's mind but instead of just seeing random images, as is usual with legilimency, she would be able to control where she was to go as if in a Pensieve. She would still just be an observer, but she would be active in combating any barriers in her way.
It was Ron's job to make sure both her and Harry were kept safe. No one was quite sure what Harry's magic was going to do once released or if, when it felt its defences under attack, it would strike back to protect itself. And it would be Ron's job to bring Hermione back while Stella kept an eye on Harry.
All in all, there were still many unknowns and dangers that Harry was not entirely comfortable with. But they covered every possible scenario, thought of every possible reaction and after a couple of weeks, they were as ready as they'd ever be.
There was a room at St Mungo's that was used for patients with uncontrollable magic. It was protected by a variety of wards and safeguards - but now it had a few more. The trio sat in the middle of the padded floor, all crossed legged and all looking extremely serious. Beyond the spellbound walls was a nervous audience - Luna (the children were with her father), Ginny and Neville, Arthur and Molly, Remus and Tonks, Shacklebolt, Hagrid and Minerva - all watching with concern. But none were as concerned as those in the padded room.
"Are you all ready?" Stella asked, entering the room and sitting next to Harry.
"Sure," he replied shortly, his eyes never leaving Hermione, who was sitting opposite him.
"Yes," Hermione said, holding Harry's gaze.
"Let's do this," Ron answered, sitting between his two friends and the only one to look at the Healer.
"Right," Stella agreed, looking between the three, "Hermione, Harry - hold hands and remember to keep contact at all times. That is vitally important."
"We know Stella," Hermione stated as she took Harry's hands in her own.
"Excellent," Stella carried on, ignoring Hermione's sharpness, "Ron? All set?"
"You know me," he said wryly, placing his wand across his knees, resting his hand on top, "I was born ready."
"Of course you were," Stella smiled before sobering quite quickly, "Harry, I need you to look at me."
With a last long look at Hermione, Harry turned his attention to the Healer, who gave him an encouraging smile.
"Great," she said, "now, hand me your glasses."
Harry did as he was asked, taking off the round rimmed lenses that were so much a part of him. Hermione thought he looked so much more vulnerable without them, so much younger, and she gave his hand a small squeeze when he returned his hands to hers. He glanced at her briefly and smiled before looking back to Stella.
"Close your eyes Harry," Stella said softly; he did so, "breath deep, through you nose so the air reaches the bottom of your lungs then slowly release it through your mouth. Slowly now."
Hermione watched as Harry started to relax, breathing deep and slow. Stella was giving him more instructions, her voice low as she lulled Harry deeper into his trance, but Hermione was as alert as she could ever be, watching out for anything that was amiss with him, any sign that he was in danger.
She glanced at Ron and saw he was doing the same, the red head also tense and aware, ready to act if needed. Hermione smiled then looked back to Harry, just in time to hear Stella give her next command. She told Harry to open his eyes.
Hermione couldn't help herself as she let out a small gasp - his eyes were still the brilliant green that she was so familiar with, but they were unfocused and no longer had the gleam of life that usually sparkled there. And he was staring directly at her.
"Harry," Stella continued, "I want you to think of a happy place for you, a place where you feel safe, where you have no worries or stress. Can you picture that place Harry?"
"Yes."
"Tell me about it."
Hermione expected him to say Hogwarts, the place he always called home and was surprised, nearly to tears, with his answer.
"Wherever Hermione is; she is my happy place."
"I want you to hang onto that Harry," Stella nearly whispered, "because there may be times when you start to loose yourself. When you do, I want you to think of Hermione, to grab onto Hermione and the happiness you have with her. Do you understand Harry?"
"Yes."
"Now, I want you to remember May 19, 1998 - can you remember back that far Harry?"
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"I woke up with Hermione," he droned, a smile crossing his face, "we had had sex. Many times, the night before. It was brilliant."
Hermione blushed slightly but saw the signal given to her by Stella, immediately stopping any other thought other than her purpose. She stared at Harry's dull eyes and began to think.
She heard Stella continue to talk, but no longer understanding the words. Instead, she began to witness the images the Healers questions were conjuring up - she was in Harry's mind.
The memories were of moments she didn't recognise - Harry arriving back at his dorm to be grilled by Ron, sure that his friend had spent the night with his little sister. Harry felt relief when he told Ron that he hadn't, and that it wasn't a lie. When he saw Ginny for the first time, Hermione could feel Harry's unease while Ginny herself seemed totally oblivious that her boyfriend had totally pulled away from her.
The images then became ones that Hermione herself remembered as she had joined them in the Great Hall. But now she realised just how many times Harry had looked at her during the plan making, and how many times he hadn't see her looking at him.
Harry's memories soon turned to the battle that had arrived at Hogwarts castle and the sights they both saw that fateful day five years before. The trio had remained together for the longest time, fighting side by side as they struggled to help those around them, knowing they had another goal they were heading towards.
Ron had been struck down first, Harry's anguish nearly petrifying until he found that his friend wasn't dead. The decision was made to go on without him and the trio was now a duo. Hermione remembered the events herself, her fear of what they had left behind, the outcomes of their friends, and what lay ahead.
She knew the moment she was separated from Harry, the guilt of that moment very hard for her to forget. But seeing it though his eyes made her see that what she felt was nothing like the pain Harry had gone through. He thought she had died, that he was alone and it wasn't until he saw her rise unsteadily, that he carried on.
Harry had looked over his shoulder at her, stopping only briefly when he saw she was no longer at his side. When he saw she was still alive, he had turned back to where he was going - where he faced nothing but un-endless grey. This was it, Hermione realised, the barrier that Harry had built.
She was watching through her own eyes now, not his, and she turned around searching for him, knowing he was there, somewhere.
"Harry?" she called, her voice sounding hollow, echoing slightly in the emptiness around her, "Harry, where are you?"
"What are you doing here?"
His voice came from no where and although she recognised it as his, it wasn't the Harry she knew now - it sounded like a Harry she once knew, many years ago.
"I'm here to help you," she told the nothingness, "please, let me see you."
He didn't answer, his silence making her continue to look around frantically. And then she saw it, a movement that grew into a shape. A little boy stepped towards her - he was skinny, accentuated by the extra large clothes he was wearing (obviously two or three sizes too big), a mop of unruly black hair fell over his forehead while a set of brilliant green eyes sat behind a pair of broken, round rimmed glasses. There was no mistaking it was Harry Potter, except it was the Harry she met first, on the train, when they were both eleven.
"You shouldn't be here," he said sullenly, his voice still high, not yet broken.
"You said I could come," she countered, trying hard not to feel weird talking to a…boy, "you want me to help you, to see what's beyond this…" she indicated to the blankness surrounding her, "grey."
"I don't want you to see," he shot back, "I don't need your help. I don't need to remember this."
"Yes you do Harry," she replied, trying not sound like she was pleading, "you need to remember so you can move forward, move on…"
"But I don't need to," he pouted, "I have you back, I'm happy, I don't need to remember…."
"Yes you do," she said back, but paused as she looked at him - the little boy who seemed so hurt, the abuse that he had had over his years at the Dursley's reflected in his face, stared at her, scowling. She needed to get through to him and she knew that although it was an eleven year old looking at her, he had a twenty-three year old soul. She came up to him and knelt down, taking his hands in hers as she looked up at him.
"What are you doing?" he asked in surprise, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
"I've seen you Harry," Hermione began, ignoring the fear in his eyes, "I've watched you with Artie and baby Alba. I've seen the longing for a child of your own, for your own little boy to play with. For a family. You told me that you want to have a family with me, that you and I will be together forever, that one day we'd get married and then try and have a baby of our own…"
"Don't you want that any more?" The words seemed strange coming out of a child's mouth, but Hermione ignored the strangeness and carried on.
"I want that more than any thing. But I think both you and I know that it can't happen until you release these memories. Harry, I love you more than life itself, but I can't have my child have only half of a father."
"So, having no magic makes me less of a man?" he spat.
"Magic is a part of you and can't be separated from who you are," she explained softly, "and these memories, these horrific memories - Harry, they're part of you as well and as long as you hold them back, you will always be incomplete. Our child deserves more than that."
He looked down at their hands and seemed to think over what she had said while she waited. When the greyness began to shimmer, ghostly images appearing around them, she hoped that meant she had made him see.
"Will you stay with me?"
"I will never leave your side."
"Even if things get pretty rough?"
"Harry, we will get through this together."
Something caught her eye, and she turned to see two figures fighting in a clearing through the trees. She knew it was Harry and Voldemort, that she was beginning to see what she so desperately needed to see. She looked back at the Harry that was still holding her hands and saw that he was no longer a skinny, awkward eleven year old but a handsome, strong young man. He helped her up so they were once more standing.
"Ready?" he asked in his striking baritone.
"Yes," she said simply and together they made their way towards the battling figures only a few yards away.
The sight before her made her gasp - seventeen year old Harry was on the ground, battered and bleeding. Voldemort also looked worse for wear, but he was still on his feet, swaying slightly.
"You fought well Harry," the older wizard sneered, "but not well enough. Though I think it's only fair that I have some fun with you before I kill you."
Harry didn't say anything as he tried to stand. Before he could move, however, Death Eaters began emerging out of the forest. Two went to Harry and dragged him to his feet, taking his wand then binding him to a tree where he slumped forward, raising his head only so he could stare at Voldemort.
It was then that two more figures were brought to the party - herself and Ron. Both were struggling with their capturers and both looked quite badly beaten.
"No," Harry groaned, the real Hermione frowned.
"This is a lie," she breathed, "they never got us, we were never captured…"
"I didn't know that," said the Harry by her side.
"Your friends Harry," Voldemort drawled, trying to swagger towards the bound prisoner but instead just stumbling, causing a Death Eater close by to steady him, "the last of them. There is no one left, you see, they're all dead. I thought I'd save the best for last."
"You're lying," Harry cried, spitting a wad of blood to the ground in front of him.
"No, I'm not," Voldemort hissed, standing close to Harry now, nearly face to face, "you've lost. You and that pathetic Order are gone. Well, nearly gone," he turned to the Death Eater holding Ron, "bring him to me!"
Ron struggled with all the strength he had left, but it got him no where. Hermione could see it was Dolohov that was holding him, and her stomach plummeted. She expected Ron to say something to Harry then, telling Harry to stay strong, that he could still do it - but he was silent. It was then Hermione remembered it wasn't the real Ron, it was a trick of some sort and this Ron couldn't talk.
"The blood traitor," Voldemort sneered, "how do you want to die? Actually, I think you should do something for me first. I don't want to waste my time and energy on killing a mudblood - I think you should do it."
Voldemort turned his wand on Ron and Hermione knew the curse being used was the Imperius. She watched as Ron accio'd a wand from one of the surrounding Death Eaters before pointing it at the fake Hermione still being held by…Bellatrix Lestrange. The real Hermione held her breath as she expected Ron to fire a killing curse her way but watched in horror as he turned the wand on himself and blasting a hole in his chest, soundlessly falling to the ground.
"No," Harry moaned again, his eyes glued to the crumpled form of his best friend just meters before him.
"How very noble," Voldemort remarked, his strength seemingly returning, "rather kill himself than the piece of trash…"
"Let her go," Harry pleaded.
"I don't think so," was the reply, "boys, I think its time for some fun."
Bellatrix sneered, making her face seem even more ugly than it already was. The captured Hermione was pushed roughly forward while the eight or so Death Eaters that were there came forward, forming a sort of circle. Voldemort and Bellatrix hung back, but the real Hermione began recognising faces, frowning when Lucius Malfoy was among them. Some started taking of their robes, while one purposefully walked forward to the cowering girl in the middle of ring of men, unzipping his fly of his pants as he did so.
Hermione looked away, knowing what was going to happen next. She turned to Harry, forced to watch from his position on the tree, tears streaming down his face, trying to look away but continually forced to watch. Hermione then turned to the Harry standing at her side and saw the pain and horror that was a reflection of his counterpart. She now understood why he had hidden this moment away.
The girl in the circle stopped screaming after the third man, but still they continued until they all had had a turn. Even Malfoy pleasured himself but had given her a hard kick in the ribs as he was doing up his pants. Voldemort was watching the scene with detached interest, seemingly enjoying the show.
No one was looking at Harry any more, except for the real Hermione, who was watching every reaction. She saw his look of horror turn to one of anger, his eyes hardening into a need for revenge. It happened so quickly that Hermione wasn't even sure if she saw it happen at all. Harry's bonds broke, his wand shot into his hand as he dived to the ground. Harry then quickly transfigured a branch that his hand had grabbed into a sword and with a speed that surprised all, drove it deeply into Voldemort chest - all before anyone had really noticed he had moved.
But Harry hadn't finished. As their leader fell to the ground, Harry shot curses at all those he could, not really caring about those who ran away. Lucius wasn't that lucky and was felled by a wayward shot from one of his comrades.
Harry stumbled over to where the broken Hermione lay and took her limp form in his arms, taking one of the discarded robes and covering her up so the cause of her death was hidden. He was sobbing as he rocked her back and forth, not seeing Bellatrix return.
"You killed him," the Death Eater growled, getting Harry's attention in time to see her wand pointing at his head. He didn't flinch, and only barely acknowledge Lestrange's presence. Instead, he looked back down to the girl in his arms, laid her gently down on the ground, and then stood.
Bellatrix was transfixed. The spot where her Dark Mark had been etched into her skin was bleeding and raw, the shock of watching her master die temporarily stunning her. But seeing Harry stand brought her back and with a swish of her wand, she fired her first curse. Harry deflected it with ease, no sound coming from him as he advanced on the witch, repelling every thing she fired at him with a casual wave of his hand.
Hermione watched in awe as Harry used wandless magic, a shimmering glow emanating out of him, his power nearly visible. She could see Bellatrix was afraid and finally he over powered her; she tripped and fell and in an instant, Harry was on top of her, holding her down.
"Are you going to kill me Harry?" she asked him, her voice not betraying her fear.
"You deserve to die," Harry snarled and Hermione gasped. He sounded nearly inhuman.
"You are powerful," Bellatrix continued, going down a new track, "more powerful than the Dark Lord. I could show you what he had begun, I could help you continue where he left of. Together, we could rule…"
"There is no together, Bella," Harry interrupted, his face drawn into an ugly scowl, "you have taken away those who would be at my side and now you pay."
"You can't kill me Potter, you haven't got the courage," she spat before adding, "or perhaps you would like to do what was done to your little girlfriend. I could please you in ways you could only imagine."
Hermione watched in horror as Harry ripped open the shirt of Bellatrix Lestrange, exposing her small, barely visible breasts, his face alien and hard as he glanced over the now naked chest of his enemy - Bella looking up at him with a proud smirk.
"Why would I want this?" he snarled, "you make me sick."
"But you still want me," she nearly purred, "you have to admit, watching your mudblood be taken by real men must have turned you on…"
Bella never got to finish her sentence as Harry's hand wrapped itself around her throat, squeezing tightly.
"No!" Hermione screamed, starting to make her way to where he was, wanting to stop him but the hand of her companion held her back.
"You must stay here," he informed her, his green eyes still dull and lifeless.
"But…"
"You must stay here."
Hermione looked back to the teenage Harry and saw that he had stopped, stumbling off the unconscious Bella with a new horror on his face. He frantically covered her chest with her ripped shirt before trying to find a pulse, anything that told him he hadn't killed her.
"No," he sobbed, scrambling back from the dead body only to bump into the lifeless body of the girl he thought was Hermione, before looking over to where Ron lay. He then pulled his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly as he began to rock back and forth, quietly mumbling to himself.
Hermione couldn't handle any more, the pain masking Harry's face too much for her to ignore. She went to go to him, needing to hold him in her arms and tell him it was alright - but she couldn't, her hand was tightly clasped in the grip of the Harry that stood by her side.
"Let me go," she told him.
"You must stay here," he repeated, his voice hard.
"I can't leave him like this!" she exclaimed, frowning, "this is where we've lost him, lost you! I have to go to him!"
"You must stay here!"
"No!"
Hermione stamped hard on Harry's foot, hoping the fact that she could feel his hand in hers meant that she could also inflict him pain - it worked, and the split second it took for Harry to cry out in surprise, Hermione snatched her hand from his loosened grip and ran over to where seventeen year old Harry sat, rocking slowly back and forth.
But Hermione never reached him as the world began to swirl in an angry blur around her, twisting like if caught in a hurricane, trees already breaking and being swept up in the turmoil. She watched the bodies of Ron and Voldemort disappear as the world outside the core of herself and the despondent Harry began to vanish. The girl that looked like her was the next to go, her hair floating around her head like a grotesque veil.
She turned in alarm to where the other Harry had been standing along side her, seeing his clothes dancing in the wind.
"What's happening?" she screamed at him, hoping he could hear her above the noise.
"You did not stay here," he explained, with no emotion, "you let go."
Hermione watched as he was swept away from her, his body limp. She turned back to the boy still sitting on the ground, hunched and haunted, seemingly unaware of what was taking place around him. Fighting the tug of the air that kept dragging her up wards, she made her way to where Harry was sitting, struggling to keep herself on the ground.
She reached him, falling to her knees in front of him as she continued to look around at the devastation that was taking place. She was scared, she knew she had broken the rules by letting go but she couldn't let Harry, her Harry, sit there in his pain. She reached out for him now, breathing a sigh of relief when she found out she could touch him. He didn't react, however, ignoring her embrace when she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.
"I'm here Harry," she whispered into his ear, closing her eyes at the sight of Bellatrix's body being sucked up into the vortex in the sky, "I'm right here, with you. I'm not dead, that wasn't me. It was all a lie."
"No," he groaned, shaking his head, his eyes still staring into nothing.
"Those horrific things you saw, it wasn't real," she continued, holding him tighter as she felt the earth beneath her move, "I don't know how he did it, but it wasn't real. I wasn't raped…"
"No, no," he cried, unbelieving, "he…they…took you. They killed Ron…"
"No they didn't mate," Hermione's head shot up as the familiar figure of Ron stepped through the angry wind, his red hair standing on end as the air licked it. He struggled his way to where they were and knelt down at Harry's side, looking at Hermione, "I'm not dead, I'm here. And we need to get you home."
"I…I can't leave here," Harry continued; Ron took Hermione's hand in one of his while his arm snaked around Harry's back, holding him like she was - Harry carried on oblivious, "I killed her! I'm a monster, like him, like Voldemort. I deserve to die!"
"You are nothing like Voldemort Harry," Hermione growled, "he killed without remorse, for the fun of it. What happened with Bella…her death was a part of war. You have to listen to me, you are nothing like Voldemort!"
Harry looked up at her then, his eyes searching hers. The dullness had gone, but they were full of pain and anguish.
"How can you love me now?" he whispered, as he grew older before her eyes, returning to the Harry of the present, "I killed someone with my bare hands, Hermione."
"And look at you," she said back, "you felt so much guilt for you actions that it took away your magic. You are not a murderer Harry. You've killed, yes, but you are not a murderer. Now, let's get you home."
"I can't," he breathed, "I've failed you, I've failed you both."
"Harry, listen to me…" Ron started, getting Hermione's attention while Harry went back to looking at the ground, "we can't get back without you…"
"I can't go back…"
"Listen to me!" Ron shouted, Harry looked up, "we need you to get us back, to get us all back. You need to save us Harry, like you've always done."
"Save you?" Harry repeated, frowning toward Ron while around them the wind still swirled angrily, taking the world away from them bit by bit.
"You're loosing your mind," Ron told him matter-of-factly and Hermione realised with a sinking heart it was her fault, she had let go, "bit by bit, it's going. And we're here with you now…"
"I don't want to go back," Harry mumbled, dropping his gaze once more.
"Well I do!" Ron yelled, "I have a baby girl Harry! Remember? Alba? I want to see my daughter grow up and I can't do that stuck here in your disintegrating mind!"
"Alba…" Harry repeated thoughtfully.
"And Artie too," Ron carried on, looking desperately between Harry and Hermione, "he wants to play Quidditch, he wants to be a keeper, just like me! Harry, I need to go home!"
"You can go back without me…" Harry said weakly.
"No," Ron shot back, "no, it's either all of us or none of us…"
"Harry," Hermione interrupted, drawing his haunted gaze from Ron to her, "think of your happy place, think of me and how much I love you. Think of us - we were going to start a family of our own, remember? Please, it's my fault we're here, lost. Please, help us get back."
He stared at her as he began to cry, large unhindered tears rolling down his face.
"But I remember, I remember everything…" he whispered.
"I know."
"You still love me, even though…"
"I love you more than life itself Harry." He nodded ever so slightly and unwrapped himself.
Ron quickly took Harry's offered hand in his own while Hermione took the other, completing the triangle, and with a thought, they were gone.