Harry Potter and the Demon's Soul

Hotaru

Rating: NC17
Genres: Drama, Action & Adventure
Relationships: Harry & Hermione
Book: Harry & Hermione, Books 1 - 6
Published: 08/07/2006
Last Updated: 11/11/2007
Status: completed

AU - During their sixth year, Harry and Hermione drifted apart. Jealousy, indifference and intolerance plagued their relationship until the funeral of their Headmaster. On the train home, Harry suffers from a strange illness and Hermione begins acting erratically, fighting a battle between wanting to punch Harry and wanting to snog him senseless. A mysterious Japanese orphan gets thrust into their lives, whose secrets may hold the key to life, love, and ultimately, the final battle. Excerpt from Ch. 53: “I was going to ask you about why you had lied about contacting the previous employers of all of these applicants…” Harry calmly interrupted as he held up the open folder in his hands so that Vernon could see. Harry then snapped the folder closed, carelessly dropped it on the table, then leaned forward while resting his palms on the surface and said in a low, dangerous whisper, “…but I’d much rather know what happened to the three million, seven hundred seventy-nine thousand, six hundred eleven Pounds that you stole from my Gringott’s vault.”

Chapters

1. Terror on the Hogwarts Express

2. Hermione's Little Secret

3. Rags to Riches to Rags

4. The Search For Harry

5. The Rescue

6. Shishi and Washi

7. The Awakening

8. Lies, Memories and Souls

9. What’s Happening To Me?

10. Hermione’s Road Trip

11. Vanilla Shampoo and Cinnamon Soap

12. The Nargle Hunt

13. Don't Ever Forget

14. The Dream Turned Nightmare

15. More Crunchy Than Mouse

16. Hidden in Plain Sight

17. The Blood of Kotone

18. Welcome Mr. Buck

19. Elixir of Love’s Disaster

20. Love Lost

21. Memories Can't Wait

22. The Twin Serpents

23. The Sin of Kreacher

24. The Demon’s Song

25. A New Nature of Magic

26. Bloody Fidelis

27. The Madness Within

28. Death of a Portrait

29. Pride Swallowed

30. The Banishment

31. The Ties That Bind

32. The Koi Pond

33. The Two Prisoners

34. End of a Fantasy

35. The Tainted Tomb

36. Lily's Love Lagoon

37. A Different Kind of Fire

38. The Necromancer's Ritual

39. Ministry in Turmoil

40. The Flight of the Demon

41. The Bond Repaired

42. Lust in the Loft

43. Kotone's Wildest Dream

44. Tormented Tormentors

45. The Warlock's Ritual

46. The Black Lake

47. Vault Number One

48. The Two Secrets

49. The Return of the Lost Soul

50. A Jagged Alliance

51. A Mistress and a Mission

52. The Fallen Angel

53. A New Morning

1. Terror on the Hogwarts Express

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter Universe, and I don’t make a red cent from writing about it.

A/N: This is my first effort at a novel-length fan fic. It is slightly AU, seeing I’m one of the ‘delusional’ H/Hr shippers, but I think you’ll enjoy this story anyway. It’s set after HBP, on the train ride home from Hogwarts after Dumbledore’s funeral. For a little added fun, I have included snippets of lyrics to relatively obscure (and some not so obscure) songs/artists that sort of pertain to the chapter.

Chapter 1. Terror on the Hogwarts Express

-----~-----

Will I wake up? Some dream I made up?
No, I guess it’s reality.
What will change us, or will we mess up
our only chance to connect with the day?

To see wide open with a head that’s broken,
hang a life on some tragedy.
Plow me under the ground that covers
the message that is the seed.

Excerpt from the song ‘Plowed’ by Sponge.

-----~-----

A red steam engine, pulling a line of smoothly swaying cars, rambled its way Southward through the English countryside, puffing its billowing clouds of smoke and steam. The landscape gradually changed from wild green forests, past wide, sparse fields and into the scattered farmlands that indicated the first signs of civilization. The train was bound for King's Cross Station in London, carrying the students from their boarding school to their anxiously waiting families.

The train cars would normally be crowded with excited, happy, talkative children, who would be planning their summer holiday or bemoaning the homework that was due at the summer's end, while snacking on the treats that were sold by a kindly lady pushing a cart down the usually busy aisle. This year, the students were abnormally quiet. Only occasional, subdued murmurs were heard from the mostly empty compartments. Most of the students had been collected the week before by their families who felt the school was no longer safe after the murder of the Headmaster. Nobody left their seats, except for the few prefects that wandered through the train keeping order, not that there was any disorder to be found, but the patrolling did give them something to do besides sitting and exchanging nervous glances.

A young man sat alone in a compartment, his forehead resting on the cool glass that separated the changing scenery beyond the window from the stifling atmosphere inside. He was a thin, but sturdy boy of sixteen years with round, wire-rimmed spectacles over his emerald green eyes and messy black hair that nearly hid the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. He was returning from his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, for this young man was, indeed, a wizard.

This boy's name was Harry Potter... The "Boy-Who Lived"... The "Chosen One"... Chosen because of a prophesy that was made before he was even born. Chosen by a man who most people referred to as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," or simply "You Know Who," but was called by Harry, and very few others, Lord Voldemort.

Harry sat staring blankly through the dirty glass, not really focusing on any of the rapidly changing scenery. His eyes, normally so full of life, seemed dull... unfocused... hopeless... His face gave no indication of emotion, just an unwavering, neutral stare. His thoughts dwelled on images of cups and lockets, rings, bangles and bracelets... vague and abstract locations... forests... castles... crypts... The faces of Sirius and of Dumbledore, Cedric and his parents... Snape and Malfoy... Dumbledore...

"What am I supposed to do Professor?" Harry whispered, "How am I supposed to do this? Where am I to go?"

Unnoticed by Harry, the compartment door silently slid open behind him. The air in the compartment swirled for a moment from a small draft that came in from the corridor, bringing with it a barely noticeable, flowery scent to his nostrils. He could only see a fall of fire-red hair behind the reflection of his own face on the glass. Immediately, a small lump formed in his throat, the space around his chest seemed to constrict, his blood began to pound in his ears, but the expression on his face remained unchanged.

"H- Harry?" said Ginny with a small, unsure waver in her voice. Ginny was the girl that, up until a few hours before, was his girlfriend for a little more than two weeks. He had broken their relationship off, stating that it was to protect her from the wrath of Voldemort.

"Ginny, please go away." said Harry in almost a whisper.

His voice reached her in a flat monotone that slightly unnerved her. Ginny stood motionless, her hand holding the sliding door open, her blue eyes directed at someplace on the floor.

"Please, Harry..." said Ginny, with a quiet desperation in the tone of her voice, "I'd like to talk with you, just for a few..."

"Get out." said Harry, his voice slightly clearer, but still just above a whisper.

Ginny glanced up at the back of Harry's head for a moment, and then returned her gaze to the same spot on the floor. "Please... I know that you..."

"GET OUT!" yelled Harry in a hoarse, but firm voice, still with his eyes fixed at some distant point outside the window, his forehead still pressed against the glass. His expression, which Ginny could not see, had changed this time into a pained, desperate glare.

Ginny jumped slightly, bringing her hand to cover her mouth and raising her head up with shocked, scared eyes. She made to back out of the compartment, and jumped again when she bumped into someone standing in the aisle behind her. She turned around to see a tall, grim-faced man in black auror robes pulling an invisibility cloak off of himself with one hand, his wand raised in the other.

"Any problem, Mister Potter?" asked the auror in an even voice.

"No," replied Harry, again, just above a whisper, "Ginny, just please leave... leave me alone."

Ginny glanced up at the auror, then to Harry. "I just... I... alright, Harry, I'm so sorry." coughed Ginny as she brushed past the auror with a barely stifled sob. She ran down the aisle and disappeared into the next car.

Harry glanced up at the reflection of the man in the doorway, who was eyeing Harry cautiously. The man nodded, slid the door closed, turned and walked back to his post, covering himself under the cloak once again. Harry's unfocused gaze returned to the landscape beyond the window.

Before Ginny arrived, Harry's thoughts seemed rushed and anxious. Now he could not remember what his thoughts exactly were. The lump in his throat seemed to swell, aching, restricting his breathing. He tried to swallow, but his throat clenched around the lump and sent a wave of pain down his chest. A single tear fell across his cheek and landed on his arm, which was resting along the bottom of the window.

Harry closed his eyes tightly and tried to relax himself. He finally managed to draw in a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh. He shook his head slightly, willing his eyes to dry, relaxed his face into the neutral, stony expression and once again returned his gaze to the world outside of the train.

Harry felt an odd sensation come over him.

Time seemed to slow. It was as if the scenery that had been flashing by the window suddenly became eerily clear. He could see every leaf on every bush along the tracks as they meandered slowly by. He could count the stones on the ground just outside the window. The train seemed to disappear around him.

A copse of trees wandered into his view, it was almost as if he was standing in a small clearing amongst the trees looking down at someone lying on the ground. It was curious the way he just rolled that someone over with his foot, curious the way a bare arm, rigid with rigor mortis, just angled out of bloodstained robes as that someone turned. Curious the way the bushy, brown hair didn't bounce like he remembered; it was caked with dirt, leaves and blood and clung to the pale, blue face, framing vacant brown eyes. Curious the way he just turned and walked away.

In the distance, he saw a small, neglected graveyard enclosed by a rusting wrought-iron fence. Clumps of tall weeds stuck up from the carpet of dead leaves and stunted grass that blanketed the entire cemetery. He then noticed what appeared to be a small girl in the distance, wandering aimlessly among the headstones. She wore a dirty grey cloak and robes, with the hood of the cloak draped low over her head so that he couldn’t make out any facial features… except for her eyes, which seemed to shine out from the shadow of the hood with a soft, violet twinkle.

“Who is that little girl?” he thought to himself, “She looks so sad… so lost…”

The girl stopped in front of a pure white, softly glowing headstone. She appeared to be studying the wilted flowers that were planted on the mound of earth in front of the stone.

Suddenly, the girl’s head snapped up and she faced directly at him. He heard a strangely accented, echoing voice in his head, “Why am I here? Why did you call me? Please to leave me alone.”

Harry blinked, and a sudden sensation of movement hit him, causing him to lurch to the side slightly, but with his gaze still fixed out of the train’s window into the distance.

He found himself still staring at the rapidly changing scenery outside of the window, noting that the landscape had evolved from sparse rural villages to a more populated, suburban sprawl. Harry figured there was less than an hour to go before reaching London when Ron and Hermione, his two best friends, slid the door open and stepped in. They had already finished their patrols and changed out of their school robes in the prefect's car. They sat across from Harry, glanced at him for a moment, and then looked at each other when they saw he was still wearing his dress robes from the funeral earlier in the day. Harry didn't move. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge their arrival.

"Harry, are you ok, mate? Why haven't you changed yet?" asked Ron.

Harry nodded. "I'm fine, I’m fi... I... I'm..." For the first time since he sat down in the compartment and looked out through the window at Hogsmeade station, he pulled his head from the glass. He looked at both of his friends with the same stony expression on his face, his eyes blank and emotionless.

Harry stared at them for a long moment, and then his breath hitched and he suddenly started to pant. He gasped a few times for air and his eyes widened in panic.

"Oh my... Harry…?" Hermione barely got the words out of her mouth, “Harry!” She leaned towards Harry, looked into his eyes and let out gasp. They were not the eyes of her best friend that she had known since she was eleven. Not the usual, shining, emerald green she had seen when he was happy, not the sparkling, fierce, forest eyes she had seen when he was angry, not the clear, intense eyes that she had seen when he was worried. These eyes were hollow... lost... frightened.

"I'm scared." whispered Harry. His hands were trembling in his lap, his fingers intertwined and fidgeting. "I... I don't know what I'm going to do. I know what I am supposed to do, but... but... I think I know what I'm supposed..." his eyes didn't focus on either of his friends, they just darted to the door, the floor, out the window. "I can't think... How am I going to do this? I... I can't see... I can't... I can't think..." Harry's whisper trailed off as his head sank to his chest, his shoulders slumped to his sides.

Ron just stared at Harry, his mouth hung open... speechless.

Hermione rushed to the seat next to Harry and threw her arms around him in a hug. Harry's head fell onto her shoulder as she softly rubbed his back, trying to calm him. "It's going to be ok, Harry." she whispered to him while tears started forming in her eyes. "We're right here." She could feel him trembling in her arms, as if he were freezing. She looked back at Ron helplessly, who just gaped back at her, unsure of what to do, himself.

Harry gave a short, shuddering gasp, and hid his face in Hermione's bushy hair, a loud sob escaping his throat.

Ron, breaking out of his initial shock, pulled out his wand and cast a silencing charm at the door then rushed to draw the shades down over glass blocking the view from any passers-by.

"Hermione," said Ron, "what's the matter with him? I've never seen him like this!"

She turned her face up to Ron with a desperate look, tears running down her face. "I don't know... Harry, did anything happen here?" She pulled Harry's face from her shoulder and his glasses fell into her lap, exposing his wet, still wide-open, frightened eyes. "What happened?"

"It's like the boggart... only I see... I see..." Harry whispered, barely loud enough for them to hear, still with that frightened, lost look on his face, but his eyes were now fixed on Hermione’s. "I see you dead... all the time... I see you on the ground... not moving... not- not breathing... I see like your mother sees, Ron... all the time, but... but..." His voice trailed off again. He looked pleadingly at them both, “but when I see it, I- I... I don't care, but... but how can I not care? I know I should care, but I don't. I can’t stand it…" Panic stricken, Harry looked directly into Hermione's eyes, "I see you broken… covered in blood… dead… but I don't care!” He could barely get the words past his choked throat, “But… but why don't I? I do care, but when I see you, I don’t!"

Harry tried to stand, but only succeeded in falling forward onto Hermione's shoulder.

Harry's voice, now barely a breath in her ear, "But... but I have to care because I... I... lo... I love…"

Hermione's eyes widened and she let out a squeak.

"Ron!" Hermione screamed, "Go! Get help!"

Harry slumped off of her shoulder onto the seat, silent and trembling. The feeling of time slowing down overtook him again.

Harry was standing in Diagon Alley. There was nobody there. No sound, no breeze, no movement at all... deserted.

He walked along the shops. Everything was dark. All the windows boarded up, shutters closed. He stopped in front of Ollivander's and approached the front window. Peering into the shop between the planks, he saw the strange wand on a pillow in the display case, just as he remembered it when he bought his own wand from the shop. It seemed to glow, casting a soft illumination around the pillow on which it rested.

He turned and saw a small park across the road from the wand shop. It looked a pleasant place, with neatly trimmed grass, broad shade trees and quaint little gardens surrounded with white stones. A wide path lined by short columns stretched out to what looked like a dazzling, white and gold fountain.

"Strange...” he thought, "I don't remember there being a park in Diagon Alley."

He walked along the wide path in the park, passing by lifelike busts of famous wizards and witches that were perched upon richly embellished marble columns. Between each column were small, neatly tended patches of multi-colored flowers. Many of the faces he recognized from the chocolate frog cards he had been collecting since his first Hogwarts train ride. He noticed the busts of Merlin, Agatha Cornwallow, Xerxia the Shallow, Warbun Boarflanke. Judging by the styles of their hair and dress, he could tell some of the busts were quite ancient. Some appeared to be American Indian medicine men, Egyptian priests, African shamen and Asian kitoushi, among many others that he could not quite fathom what their origins might have been.

The stone heads turned and watched Harry as he passed. All of the faces had strange, sad expressions. A few shook their heads slowly, as if they pitied the man who was walking past. Some averted their mournful eyes, and some even looked as though they were softly crying.

Harry drew nearer to the end of the long line of marble figures. He stopped when his gaze met a familiar face. A figure with long hair and beard, half-moon spectacles perched on a crooked nose, and eyes that Harry would be sure would twinkle at him, if they hadn't been filled with cold, stony tears.

Dumbledore looked expectantly at Harry, and then turned his gaze to the next bust, the last bust along the path towards the fountain.

Harry stepped closer to the last bust. It was the bust of a young wizard, wearing round, wire-rimmed spectacles with messy hair that nearly covered a strange, lightning-shaped scar. Its shoulders heaved in heavy sobs. Its mouth silently screamed in agony and pain. The statue’s tear glazed face was contorted in anguish and despair. Its eyes, puffy, nearly closed and obviously wracked in helplessness and grief, stared at the fountain. It looked as if the bust was trying to pull free from the marble column and throw itself into the water.

Harry watched the bust writhe and struggle for a few minutes, wondering what on Earth got this poor wizard so upset. He noticed a large pile of glistening white marble tears at the base of this wizard’s column. He watched and listened as more stony tears clattered onto the pile at the base.

“He must have been crying for a very long time.” thought Harry.

Harry followed the statue's eyes to the large fountain. A single geyser supplied the water into the top marble basin, which had small, golden angels dancing around its rim. The water spilled over the rim and ran down through golden, ribbon-like channels, which upon closer inspection actually turned out to be snakes, and splashed into the wide base. He was mildly surprised to see that the water in the base was dark, dirty... bloody.

There appeared to be a body dressed in torn black robes drifting just beneath the surface. He looked down at the unfortunate witch, alone and broken in the murky water. Her head lay at an odd angle, as though she were looking directly back over her shoulder, indicating that her neck was obviously broken. Her vacant, brown eyes were barely visible through the floating brown hair that all but covered her scarred, bloated face.

“Poor Hermione,” thought Harry, “I wonder what happened to her?”

He suddenly heard a faint, oddly accented voice echo through his mind, “Why have you called me?”

Looking up from the body, he noticed a small child, standing a short distance away. She was wearing some sort of school robes, but she looked much too young to go to any wizardry school, maybe five, six years old? The robes looked tattered, threadbare and filthy, with worn patches on the front and on the sleeves near her elbows. The cloak that she wore also appeared to be dirty and frayed. She had her hood pulled over her head, and her collar was turned up to cover most of her face. As Harry drew near to her, all he could see of her face were her eyes. Her sad, but beautiful violet, almond-shaped eyes were silently shedding tears.

She was crying? Why? Curious... he felt very sad for this poor little girl. Had she no parents? Was there nobody to care for her? No money? No home? Nobody to love her? His heart felt like it was going to break just looking at her. He knew how she felt. He knew what it was like to be sad... and lonely... and neglected...

And unloved.

Harry felt tears sliding down his own face. Yes, he knew exactly how she felt.

Harry kneeled in front of the girl. He reached his arms out to hug her, to let her know that someone cared. He needed to let her know that she was not alone, that somebody understood. She backed up a few steps as he reached out to her. She seemed to be afraid of him. “She has no reason to be afraid,” he thought. He slowly dropped his hands to his sides and lowered his head. He understood. He knew what it was like to be afraid, too.

“I won’t hurt you,” said Harry quietly. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Her misty violet eyes slowly made their way to Harry's shadowed face. They widened as she saw the scar on his forehead. She moved closer. Her small, white hand slowly reached out towards his face. She extended a long, bony finger towards his scar, eyes soft with concern, with sympathy. He could see in her eyes that she might have been smiling under her upturned collar.

The faint, strangely accented voice in his head, “I see your pain… I feel your pain… Even if you do not… Let me help you. It is almost too late.”

Harry smiled back at her and nodded.

The tip of her finger gently touched his scar.

Harry's eyes flew wide open. He felt his lungs seize, his body go rigid, his heart stop. Before the darkness enveloped him, he saw the little girl turn and walk away from him, dropping something on the ground. A crushed flower lay on the dirt path, its petals scattered like broken shards of red porcelain.

Harry could actually feel the darkness close around him. He could feel the chill of the surrounding nothingness. He could hear something, though. He heard faint, ethereal music. It was barely audible. It was a calming tune softly echoing as if from some distant mountain. It reminded him of phoenix song, but different. He also heard a soft, distant sobbing that also seemed to echo toward him. He then heard a harsh, firm voice, much closer than the gentle crying in the distance. This harsh voice sounded like it was also singing, it was like a slow mournful chant in an ancient language he did not recognize. Then the chanting suddenly stopped. The feeling of time speeding up caused his body to jerk violently.

“HARRY!” Hermione gasped and jumped from her seat when she saw Harry’s eyes flutter open. Ron and one of the aurors held her back as she tried to reach him.

Harry found himself lying across the bench in his compartment. The grim-faced auror that he had seen earlier was standing over him with his wand in his hand. He was a tall, stocky man with dark brown hair and a bushy goatee that looked to have more grey in it than the hair on his head. Ron was seated on the other side of the compartment, holding Hermione’s left arm and a second auror, who was still mostly covered in his invisibility cloak, was standing silently holding her right arm.

“What… what happened?” asked Harry as he tried to sit up, only to be gently pushed back down by the auror.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” said Ron, “we came in here and you started going on about seeing us dead!”

Harry just looked blankly at him.

“Yes,” added Hermione, “and you mentioned something about you ‘seeing like Ron’s mum sees.’ You passed out, I think… I sent Ron for help… You were shaking very badly, and then you mumbled something like not letting anyone hurt us, and then… and then...” Hermione’s voice cracked.

“You died.” finished Ron. “Right when I made it back with the aurors. Your eyes opened and got real wide, you gasped… then you died, your eyes glassed over and you stopped breathing.”

“I died?” asked Harry incredulously, “How? From what?”

“Well,” said the auror with the harsh voice, “you nearly did die, and I must say it was rather close.” The auror continued speaking while waving his wand in strange patterns around Harry, assessing his health. “It was very lucky for you that I was assigned to this train, Mister Potter. Before I became an auror, I was training to be a healer at St. Mungo’s for a few years after I left Hogwarts.” The auror looked appraisingly at Harry, having finished his diagnosis. “Can you tell me what happened to you?”

“No,” Harry replied, “last I can recall, I was looking at the scenery out of the window. I must have fallen asleep. I had a strange dream about a forest somewhere… I don’t think I’ve seen it before, and then a park in Diagon Alley… I know there’s no park there… and something about a little girl. Then I heard a strange singing, and then I’m lying here.”

“But Harry, you were awake when we got here.” said Ron.

Hermione cleared her throat while drying the remainder of her tears on her sleeve, “Sir, what was that spell you performed on Harry? It didn’t sound familiar to me.”

The auror looked at Hermione, “Well, I don’t expect you would have heard of it, it’s very complex, and quite advanced.” he said smiling, “It’s the Ahmatari Charm, it’s…”

Hermione gasped and then finished his sentence, “a charm to subdue an extreme, a crippling emotional shock! How could you tell…? Oh no… Oh Harry!” Tears were welling in her eyes, threatening to spill again.

The auror was surprised, “I didn’t know they taught such advanced magic at Hogwarts, miss?”

“Granger,” she sniffed and wiped her eyes, “Hermione Granger.”

“Oh,” the auror appeared to recognize the name, “Granger… yes, quite. Well, that’s a type of magic usually taught in specialty schools, but yes, you are quite right, Miss Granger. In any case, it seems our Mister Potter here has recently experienced something that caused him to lose his… well…” he looked Harry in the eye, “will to live. Or more so, his mind was willing his body to shut down, to die.”

“Harry is this about Dumbledore?” asked Ron, “I mean we all took it hard, mate, but…”

“No,” interrupted the auror, “this is something that has happed more recently, I’d say within the last few hours.”

“Could it have been the dream that caused the trauma?” asked Hermione.

“I don’t think so,” he replied, “I wouldn’t expect that just a nightmare could generate that much of a shock.”

“Then again, you haven’t had Voldemort poking around in your head at night, have you?” retorted Harry grumpily.

As expected, everyone in the compartment, aside from Hermione, winced at the mention of Voldemort’s name.

The auror recovered quickly and replied, “Yes, quite… forgive me, Mister Potter…”

“And my name is Harry, please.”

“Yes, well do you remember anything else of this ‘dream’ you had, Harry?”

“No, sir, I don’t.”

“Well, how do you feel now?”

Harry sat up. “Fine, I suppose… a little tired. I feel like I’ve had a good cry, actually, but I don’t remember crying.” He said while feeling the puffiness around his eyes and cheeks.

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. They both saw that he was nearly hysterical when they arrived.

“Stand up, Harry, feel dizzy at all?” asked the auror.

“No, I feel fine.”

“Still, I feel I should advise you to go to St. Mungo’s to get a once over.” The auror said, “Truthfully, I didn’t expect you’d recover so quickly. You seem to be somewhat weakened, but I cannot find anything terribly wrong with you physically, but I am not really equipped here to give you a good diagnostic, you understand. I cannot force you, but if you choose not to, I would suggest you get as much rest as you can for a few days and you should not be left alone. I daresay, if you’re not going to St. Mungo’s, then you’re going straight home from King’s Cross, aren’t you?”

“Yes, my… um, family should be picking me up.”

“Quite right.” Said the auror and turned to Ron and Hermione, “We’ll be outside at our stations. Keep an eye on him, and make sure he tells his family what happened once we get to the station, which should be in a few minutes.”

The second auror removed the silencing charm and slid the compartment door open. A small crowd of students had gathered outside of the doorway and was craning their necks to see inside the compartment.

The grim-faced auror scattered the small crowd, “Off with you! Nothing in here to concern you… back to your booths, all of you! We’ll be arriving at the station momentarily, so best get prepared.” He looked back at the trio, nodded, closed the door and with a swish, disappeared under his cloak.

Ron turned to Harry, “Do you think it was… You-Know-Who…poking around behind your scar?

Harry tentatively felt his scar, which wasn’t tingling in the least, “No, I don’t think so.”

Ron and Hermione sat quietly, watching Harry as he pulled his school robes off and stored them in his trunk.

As Hermione watched Harry close his trunk, his words returned to her. The words she knew were about her alone… Words he apparently did not remember saying… Words that sent thousands of screaming butterflies dancing in her stomach… "But... but I have to care because I... I... lo... I love…”

“Was he really about to say he loved me?”

2. Hermione's Little Secret

Disclaimer: I still don’t own Harry Potter, I just torture the characters for my own and others’ amusement. I don’t own the lyric bits, either.

Chapter 2. Hermione’s Little Secret

-----~-----

Do you hear me? Do you care?
Do you hear me? Do you care?

My lips are moving and the sound's coming out,
The words are audible but I have my doubts
That you realise what has been said.

You look at me as if you're in a daze,
It's like the feeling at the end of the page, when you realize
You don't know what you just read…

Excerpt from the song ‘Words’ by the band Missing Persons.

-----~-----

Harry, Ron and Hermione stepped down from the Hogwarts Express onto platform nine and three-quarters, dragging their school trunks behind them. They scanned the platform, watching the students struggling with their belongings and the anxiously awaiting families who, once seeing their children emerge from the train, rushed to quickly embrace them. Some families immediately apparated their children away, not wishing to linger any longer than absolutely necessary, while others ushered them unceremoniously to the gate that led to King’s Cross Station and to the muggle world.

They looked around the platform, amazed at how few people there were compared to years past. Small groups of people, keeping to themselves, whispered their greetings. Rows of unused luggage trolleys were lined along the walls. Usually, it was a wrench trying to find one without elbowing people out of the way.

“So,” stated Harry as he loaded his trunk and Hedwig’s cage onto a trolley, “You know what the plan is, at least for the next few weeks. There’s not much to do until my birthday, anyway.”

“Well I’m sure I’ll be busy,” moaned Ron, “the family is already going spare with the plans for the Bill’s wedding, and that’s not until next month. They had to move back the date because of… you know, Bill’s…”

There was a pause, as they all knew it would take time for Bill to recover from the attack by Greyback.

“You still have your apparition tests to look forward to,” said Hermione, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Yeah, and we still have to make the appointment with the Ministry,” said Harry, “We’re still taking it together, right?”

“You bet!” answered Ron, “I’ll talk to my dad about setting up the appointment as soon as I get home.”

“Right, then,” Said Harry, who then turned to Hermione, “and you’ll be at your parents until the wedding?”

“Well,” said Hermione tentatively, “I thought I… we would be with you when you left the Dursley’s, if you don’t mind, of course. I could help you move your things into storage at Grimmauld Place. I still think you should let us stay with you until you leave those wretched people, though.”

“No,” answered Harry with a slight sigh, “as much as I would love you guys being with me, I know that Uncle Vernon would never allow it.”

“You probably won’t be there for very long, anyway,” added Ron, “the wedding’s just a few weeks before your birthday, and like I said, I’ll have my hands full with the preparations. Mum’s already talking about shifting the entire garden closer to the pond just in case we need more room.”

Just then, they saw Mrs. Weasley hurrying up to the trio, giving each a smothering hug, “How was the trip, dears?” she asked.

Ron momentarily glanced at Harry, then at Hermione before answering “It was fine, mum.”

Noticing the hesitation, Mrs. Weasley glared at the tree of them. Harry promptly added, “Everything’s fine, Mrs. Weasley, seriously.”

Still not entirely convinced, she quickly surveyed the three of them, and seeing nothing amiss, decided to let it drop. “Well, let’s be off, Ron, there’s so much to do back at the Burrow… honestly, I don’t know how we’re going to get it all done in time!”

It was then that Harry noticed that Ginny was nowhere to be seen, “Where’s Ginny?” asked Harry, looking around, “I’m sure she was on the train.”

I already apparated with her to the Burrow,” stated Mrs. Weasley, “she insisted that I return her right away, she seemed a bit upset, but she wouldn’t say why.”

“I don’t know either,” supplied Harry, “I haven’t seen her since we boarded at Hogsmeade.”

“In any case, we’ll be seeing both of you very soon, I’m sure.” she said to Harry and Hermione as she ushered Ron off to the apparition points.

“Send us an owl once you’re back with the Dursley’s, do let us know if you need anything,” said Ron just before Mrs. Weasley apparated them both away with a loud crack.

Harry turned to Hermione, “Let’s get through the gate before Vernon has a…”

Harry went silent abruptly as he looked over Hermione’s shoulder and saw a very old witch dressed in rather plain grey robes. She was greeting a young student who had just climbed off of the train. Behind her stood a small girl, who was wearing tattered and patched robes. He could tell that her robes were at one time black, but were now gray with age and wear, obviously handed down many times. The little girl also wore a faded, threadbare cloak, its hood pulled over her head, shadowing most of the girl’s face.

A glimmer of recognition flashed in Harry’s mind as he looked at the little girl, although he was quite sure he had never seen her before. He motioned towards the old witch and the student she was greeting and asked Hermione, “Do you know who they are?”

Hermione, who had already turned to see what had distracted Harry, answered, “I think the boy’s name is Barnabas Windon, a second-year Hufflepuff, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Is that his family?” Harry asked, not taking his eyes off of the small girl.

“I’m not sure, I suppose...,” replied Hermione.

Not really knowing why, Harry walked towards the small group. Hermione followed a few paces behind. As Harry approached, he saw the boy look at him with wide-eyed surprise, his mouth hanging open.

“Um… Hello,” said Harry, addressing the young Hufflepuff.

Barnabas stood for moment, not believing that Harry Potter was speaking to him, “Uhh… umm… hello?”

“My name is…” began Harry.

“H-Harry P-P-Potter!” Barnabas whispered in awe.

The old witch raised her eyebrows, “The Harry Potter?” she asked, in a haughty voice. Harry thought she sounded much like Draco Malfoy in her manner of speaking.

“Yes,” Harry answered simply, “and this is my friend, Hermione Granger”

Hermione nodded and smiled meekly.

“Yes…” the old witch repeated, paused for a moment, and then continued, “What can we do for you, Mister Potter?”

“I just wanted to wish Barnabas here a good holiday.” Harry then turned to Barnabas, “I hope you will come back to Hogwarts next term, that is, if the school reopens. I’m sure it will still be one of the safest places you can be, even with the… recent events.”

Hermione stood a few paces back, wondering why Harry was speaking with these people, seeing that since he had to ask her who they were but a moment ago.

“Well, s-sir…” began Barnabas.

“Call me Harry,” he interrupted, smiling.

“Um…” He was quite taken aback, unable to believe that Harry had even acknowledged his existence, “well…”

The old witch, seeing Barnabas’ apparent inability to reply, said, “Rest assured that if the school, indeed, reopens, both Barnabas and this girl here will be in attendance.” She indicated the small girl who had been hiding shyly behind the old witch’s robes. “Her name is Kotone Oota and she will start her first year this fall.”

Harry turned to Barnabas and asked, “Kotone? She seems too young to start school… Is she your sister?”

“My sister…?” Barnabas replied, dropping his eyes to the floor, “No, I have no family. Didn’t you know that I live in the orphanage run by the Ministry? We both do, in fact.”

“Oh… I’m sorry, mate, I didn’t know,” said Harry, who showed a marked embarrassment.

“No need to be sorry, Harry,” he said with a slight, understanding smile, “I know that you’re an orphan, too. Anyway, I know she looks young, but she’ll be eleven in August.”

Harry nodded. He wondered if their life in a wizarding orphanage was any better than his own dismal upbringing with the Dursleys.

He then turned to the small girl who was still hiding behind the old witch, “Are you looking forward to going to Hogwarts this year, Kotone?”

“She doesn’t speak.” Said the old witch, her voice turned somewhat softer, “but she can, in a sense, communicate with you, if she wants to, that is.”

For the first time since Harry approached, the little girl peeked out from behind the old witch’s robes. The little girl still had the hood of her cloak pulled low over her head, and the large collar of her robes were turned up and buttoned over the lower half of her face. All anyone looking at her could see of her face were her amazingly violet, cat-like eyes flashing out from beneath the shadow of her hood.

Harry’s expression noticeably softened the instant his gaze met hers, sad violet locked with bright green. For a long moment, he just stared at her. The train, the people, the whole platform seemed to dissolve fade around them.

He then heard a soft, ethereal -and strangely familiar- voice echo in his head. It was definitely a foreign language, but the words seemed to translate in his mind, ‘Please feel safe, I’ll protect you.’

Harry’s eyes followed hers as she slid behind the old witch’s robes once again. Before her eyes disappeared behind the cloth, he felt that she was smiling beneath her collar, although her almond-shaped eyes remained mournfully sad.

The second that the eye contact was broken, his surroundings slammed back into existence around him and gave him a sudden, disoriented feeling. Harry shook his head slightly and blinked, trying to get his bearings again. He wondered what the girl meant by protecting him.

Harry looked to the old witch, “Is that legillimancy?”

“A form, I suppose… it does take time to become accustomed to her form of communication,” she answered.

“Quite right,” Harry agreed, “Well, it was a pleasure meeting you, ma’am, I’ll leave you to your business.”

“Good bye, Mister Potter,” said the old witch.

“Bye,” said Barnabas meekly, still not believing that Harry had actually spoken to him.

Harry turned to walk away but paused, and then turned back as he reached into the pocket of his jacket and withdrew his moneybag.

“Ma’am, could I ask you could do me a favor?” he asked as he emptied his bag into the old witch’s hands.

The old witch looked at the pile of wizard coins in her hands and eyed Harry curiously.

“Would you please buy Kotone a new set of robes for school, and if there’s enough left over, throw it in for her new books,” asked Harry, “she’ll have a hard enough time fitting in without having to deal with the snobbishness of some people.”

For the first time since meeting him, the old witch smiled at Harry and simply nodded.

“Come on, Harry,” said Hermione, “we need to go to the gate, our families are probably starting to worry…”

Harry gave Hermione a look that clearly stated that the last thing the Dursleys would do for Harry is worry about him.

“Sorry…” Hermione gave Harry an apologetic look, understanding exactly what his eyes were telling her.

They started walking towards the gate that led to King’s Cross Station. Harry noticed Hermione glancing at him as they made their way to the gate. She wore an expression which made it apparent that she was debating with herself whether or not to ask him something, most likely something that she was sure he didn’t want to be asked about.

They were just about to pass through the gate, when Hermione, having finally come to a decision, grabbed Harry by the arm and dragged him aside.

“Harry,” she began, looking nervously at her best friend, “I think you should go to St. Mungo’s and get yourself checked out. What happened on the train nearly scared us to death! Even that auror thought…”

“Hermione,” Harry said with a sigh, “I’m fine. There’s nothing wrong with me, I probably haven’t gotten enough sleep since… well, you know…”

“Harry, you’re not fine!” she whispered fiercely, “’Fine’ people don’t hysterically go on about seeing dead people all over the place… ‘fine’ people don’t go on about being not able to think…” her voice raised a bit higher, he could see the beginnings of tears at the bottom of her eyelids, “‘fine’ people don’t keel over and nearly die!” Harry could hear the plea in her voice, “Harry, what scares me the most is after you woke up, you didn’t remember any of it! If you would have heard yourself, you’d be scared, too!”

Hermione then did something that Harry wasn’t expecting. She wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his chest and hugged him tightly. A small sob escaped her lips as she continued, “Please, Harry… if anything happens at the Dursleys, they’ll have no idea what to do! I’d feel so much better if you’d just get yourself checked out at St. Mungo’s!”

Harry looked around helplessly over the top of her head and whispered to her, “Hermione, I’m ok, really. I promise you that if I start feeling dodgy, I’ll send Hedwig off to you or Ron…”

“By the time Hedwig gets to one of us, it may be too late!” Hermione hiccupped and pulled back from his chest to look into his eyes, “I’d hate to think what would have happened if that auror wasn’t…”

Harry took the palms of his hands and gently rested them below her cheeks. He wiped away the tears that had streamed down her face with his thumbs and smiled at her, “Look, Hermione, I’m just tired. After a decent sleep, I’ll be right as rain.”

Hermione looked into his eyes, trying to make him understand how much she cared, but upon seeing the determined look on his face, she just sighed and admitted defeat. “OK, if you won’t go to St. Mungo’s at least let me go with you to your house.”

“What?!” Harry looked blankly at her, his mind racing. The idea of Hermione staying with him, well, what would Ron say? He quickly dismissed the thought, “Uncle Vernon would never let you stay with me!”

“Not to stay, Harry,” she clarified, although if she thought she could get away with it, she probably wouldn’t have had a problem with the notion, “in order for me to apparate to your house, I’d have to have been there already. Once I get the location, I’ll apparate back to my parents’ house and can return any time I need to.”

“Oh, I see.” Said Harry, who, much to his surprise, felt a brief pang of disappointment hit him. “Well, it won’t hurt to ask Uncle Vernon, but you know how he feels about ‘our type’ of people.”

“Right, then…” said Hermione, straightening herself and wiping the remains of her tears, “Let’s go find out.”

A moment later, they were stepping out from platform nine-and-three-quarters into the bustling King’s Cross Station. Immediately, Hermione spotted her parents, who were talking to each other animatedly a short distance away while patiently awaiting her arrival.

While Hermione moved to greet her parents, Harry wandered around, searching for Vernon Dursley amongst the busy crowd of afternoon commuters. ‘Strange,’ he thought to himself, ‘the fat git is usually fairly easy to spot.’

Harry walked outside of the station, and looked around at the parking area, expecting to see the Dursley’s car, but after fifteen minutes of searching, he started to wonder if his uncle got the day wrong, or perhaps just left after just a few minutes’ wait.

He turned around and hurried back to the station. Hopefully, Hermione hadn’t yet left with her parents. Upon entering the station, he heard his name being called. “Harry! Over here!” He saw Hermione waving to him, making her way through the crowd towards him. He motioned for her to meet him near a closed ticket booth, where there weren’t as many people milling around.

Finally out of the shifting throngs of commuters who were making their way to and from the trains, they had a chance to speak.

“Where’s your uncle? I told my parents that I’d accompany you to your house, that is if he’d let me, of course.” said Hermione.

“I can’t find him,” said Harry while he scanned the crowds, still hoping to catch a glimpse of his uncle in case he was running late, “I looked out in the lot and I didn’t see his car. Are your parents still here? Perhaps they could give me a ride in case he doesn’t show.”

“No,” said Hermione, “they already left with my school things. I told them I’d apparate back to the house after I saw you home.”

“Well, I suppose we’ll have to wait, I don’t know what I’m going to do if he’s forgotten that I’m returning today. It’s earlier than usual, you know.”

Hermione took Harry’s arm in hers and led him towards the exit, “We should wait outside, then.”

They left through the main exit into the warm light of the late afternoon sun. They found a bench where they could watch the station for any sign of the Dursleys.

They sat quietly for a while, watching people come and go, until Hermione broke the silence, “That was a very kind thing you did for that little girl.”

Harry thought for only a moment before he realized what she was referring to, and then a small, short-lived smile flitted across his lips before a somber look took its place, “I felt sorry for her. I know what it’s like to be poor. I never had anything new when I was growing up. All my clothes were the rags that Dudley couldn’t fit into anymore. You must remember what my clothes were like on the train first year. I’m still embarrassed about it, even now. I must have looked pathetic.” He finished with a small frown.

Hermione said nothing, she just kept looking at the dwindling number of people walking by.

Harry continued, “At least I found I had my inheritance when Hagrid took me to get my first set of robes. That girl doesn’t even have that.”

“What did she say to you?” asked Hermione.

“It was strange,” he said, “her voice just drifted into my mind when I looked into her eyes…”

“You saw her eyes?” asked Hermione, “I couldn’t see them beneath her hood.”

“I’ve never seen eyes like them, they’re a hard to describe shade of violet, and they looked really… sad, not the ‘on the verge of tears’ sad, more like, well, like she’s carrying a burden of some sort. I know that’s not much of a description, but… like I said, it’s hard to describe.”

Hermione just nodded.

“When I looked into her eyes, I could hear her voice in my mind. It was a language I’ve never heard before, but I could understand what she was saying, sort of like it is when I’m using parseltongue. What she said was curious, though… first, she told me to ‘feel safe,’ then told me that she would protect me…”

“That’s all she said?” asked Hermione, “That is curious.”

Harry looked thoughtful, “When I first noticed her there, I could have sworn I had met her before, but I know I haven’t, I think I’d have remembered someone like her.”

“I wondered what made you go over and talk to them.” said Hermione.

“I don’t know, I just felt I had to. I felt some kind of connection.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, watching the daylight disappearing below the tops of the surrounding buildings.

“How are you feeling now?” asked Hermione.

Harry sighed, “Still a bit tired, I feel fine besides that.”

“I don’t think your uncle is coming today, we should have seen him by now if he were here.”

“I was thinking the same thing.” said Harry.

“Well, what are we going to do?” asked Hermione, “I don’t think I’m comfortable enough to try side-along apparition, that’s a splinching begging to happen.”

“I suppose I could take the Knight Bus,” said Harry, “oh, but I gave all my money to the old witch…”

“I have enough for two fares, Harry,” Hermione smiled at Harry, “my treat.”

“Are you sure, Hermione? You don’t really have to come along, the Knight Bus isn’t the most comfortable ride, and at this hour, it might take us half the night to get to Surrey.”

“It’s alright, Harry, I don’t mind at all.”

Harry debated with himself for a moment before coming to a decision. “No, actually, I want you to go home. If you can give me a galleon or two for now, I’ll send Hedwig here to pay you back.”

“Harry, I want to come along, this may be my last chance to see where you live. If I go home now, I won’t be able to get to you if you need me.”

Harry looked down at the ground, searching for the right words, “You don’t know how lucky you are, Hermione.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You have a family to go home to, parents who love you and have missed you. I’m sure you have friends at home that will be waiting for you, too…”

“But…” interrupted Hermione. Harry didn’t notice the frown that appeared on her face.

“Hermione, I would give everything I own for what you have… for what Ron has. I spend a lot of time thinking about what life would have been like for me if I had just a little more time with my parents, if they had lived long enough for me to remember what they looked like. I mean, God, I can’t even remember what my parents looked like! I have pictures, sure, but it just isn’t the same. I feel like I’m stealing time away from you, time that you could be spending in a real home, with a real family. You know what we’re about to do. You know the risks involved. I want you to go home now and cherish what time you have with them.”

“Harry, you aren’t stealing anything from me, I just want to make sure you’re…”

Harry took her hands and looked into her eyes, “You know, there’s a good chance that once we start the search, you may never see them again. If I survive, I don’t have a home or anything that I would want to return to. Both you and Ron do. You both have reasons to live, people who love you, and…”

Harry paused, finding the next words rather difficult to get out, “you and Ron have each other.”

Hermione dropped her gaze to her lap, trying to hide the moisture building in her eyes. She remembered what he had whispered to her before he passed out on the train. She knew that, if he truly did love her, he was hiding it, either to preserve their friendships or to protect himself from having to hear her say that she did not feel the same way. She knew her own feelings. She knew that she had a crush on him in first year, but was hopelessly in love with him since their second year. She also knew her own fear of destroying their friendship by letting that little secret escape. The fear of him saying that he did not love her as anything other than a sister was enough for her to keep her feelings to herself. Did he really mean what he said? Was it just some delirious rant? Was he actually going to say that he loves both Ron and her like siblings?

“I know you both are with me for the duration,” Harry continued, “and you know I need you both. Dumbledore told me as much, and I agree that it would be suicide for me to try to get through this without the both of you, but until we get started, please don’t waste any more of your time on me.”

Hermione’s head snapped up at these words and she wrenched her hands out of his, “Don’t you dare try to tell me that any time spent with you is wasted!” she said, wiping her eyes on her sleeves, “That goes to show just how much you know about me! You presume that since I have parents, its hugs and kisses and love and attention all day long. Just because you never had any friends because that bastard cousin of yours intimidated everyone around you into ignoring you, you presume that I had lots of friends around to talk with, or play games, or sports, or to do all those things that friends do with each other.”

Hermione was on her feet, breathing hard and clearly getting angry, “Not to take anything away from you, Mister Potter, I know you’ve had a worse childhood than anyone else I know, but don’t believe for an instant that you’re the only sad, lonely and neglected soul on this planet. Ok, you never knew your parents, Fine, I’m very sorry, but imagine what it’s like to have your parents alive, but gone for most of nearly every day, absorbed in their work. Imagine that even when they came home, you never saw them because they had cloistered themselves in their study, pouring over records and invoices until long after you fell asleep. Imagine them leaving you behind for weeks at a time while they flew off on exotic vacations, leaving you with a mean, rotten nanny who took great pleasure in making your whole, miserable existence a living Hell every time you stuck your head out of your room. Ok, other kids were afraid to be your friend, but imagine, Mister Potter, going to school every day, or just walking around your neighborhood, being called “Muletoothed Jackass” or “Bucky Beaver,” being beaten by all the other kids just because you’re ugly!”

A flame lit behind Hermione’s eyes, “Then at Hogwarts, I thought that being around my own kind I’d be accepted for whom I was, but I quickly found that being a muggle-born witch put me in a class far below a ‘Muletoothed Jackass.’ I suddenly transformed into a ‘Mudblood,’ a dirt-veined stain on the Wizarding world!”

Hermione was face to face with Harry, her hands grasping the back of the bench that he was sitting on, “Why do you suppose I became, as Snape so succinctly put it, an ‘insufferable Know-It-All’? Why do you think having my head stuck in a book comes so naturally to me? I’ll tell you why… because for my entire, wretched life, the only place I could go where I wasn’t beaten, ignored, insulted or neglected was in a God damned book!”

Harry was speechless. He could feel Hermione’s hot breath on his face with every word she spoke. His heart was hammering against his ribs. He had never seen this side of Hermione.

“You talk about love. Imagine, Mister Potter, having parents alive and well, and not remembering the last time you were told by either of them that they loved you? Yeah, lucky me!” she spat, “You say I have Ron. Well, let me tell you, Mister Potter… sure, I admit it, I snog him once in a while, between arguments of course, because he’s one of the two people I’ve ever known who wanted to snog with me, but only hidden away so nobody would see him kissing an ugly, pathetic geek like me! You can’t seriously believe he’d take me anywhere public, do you? I do not consider us a couple because even he has never told me he loves me and he never would! I’m pretty sure he doesn’t even know what the word love means and I’m absolutely positive the coward would never say it to me anyway!”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, burning into Harry’s. Her nose was practically touching his as she spoke. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she forestalled him.

“And now, the one person in my life who I consider my very best friend, one of the only friends I’ve ever had in my whole, pathetic life, the one person I’ve spent countless hours supporting and helping, the person I’ve sat side by side with during nearly every meal, the one person who I’ve shared nearly every, single waking hour in and out of classes with…” Hermione paused and swallowed hard. Her tears were falling onto Harry’s chest and her voice became wavering and rasping, gradually increasing in volume, “the one person I care more about than any other being on this miserable planet tells me that I’m wasting my time?

“I’M WASTING MY TIME?” Hermione screeched as she pushed herself away from the bench and dug her hand into her clothes to retrieve her moneybag.

Harry just sat with his mouth agape, trying to take in what Hermione had just said.

“Fine!” she said, throwing the bag into Harry’s lap. “That should get you to where you want to go. I’ll just head home to my loving family, say hello, then lock myself in my room and bury myself in a book until you decide you absolutely need me, or should I say, until you need the ugly, bossy, know-it-all me to pull your arse out of some fire that you throw yourself into.”

“Hermione…” said Harry as he suddenly leapt up from the bench and moved toward her.

Without even bothering to see if any muggles were looking, she spun around and disapparated with a crack, leaving Harry standing there, reaching out to the empty space that she stood just an instant before.

3. Rags to Riches to Rags

Disclaimer: I still do not own Harry Potter, and I can’t see how you could think that fact could possibly change from last chapter. Same goes for the lyrics

A/N: Harry and Hermione may seem a bit out of character… all right, a lot out of character, but there’s a reason for this, a reason that will become clearer as the story progresses. There’s still a LONG way to go in this story, and the weirdness hasn’t even begun. Things are going to get a lot worse for our pair before they get better, but I swear things will get better… so just pay attention to detail, sit back, and enjoy the ride. Even though I have a bunch of chapters written already, I’m going through each one before I upload, I always seem to find something I’m not happy with, but I guess I’m just anal like that.

Chapter 3: Rags To Riches To Rags

-----~-----

Something's wrong, shut the light,
heavy thoughts tonight, and they aren't of snow white.
Dreams of war, dreams of liars,
dreams of dragon's fire, and of things that will bite.

Sleep with one eye open, gripping your pillow tight…

Exit light,
enter night.
Take my hand…
off to never-never land.

Excerpt from the song ‘Enter Sandman’ by Metallica.

-----~-----

Harry nervously glanced around to see if any muggles happened to notice Hermione’s rather abrupt disapparation. Thankfully, the street was nearly empty by that time, and those who heard the crack, just glanced around briefly searching for the source of the noise before returning to their own business.

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and hastily dried his face with his sleeve. He looked down at the moneybag in his hand for a moment before stuffing it into his jacket pocket. He walked back to the bench and plopped himself down, rested his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He certainly did not expect Hermione to react like that. Why did she get so angry with him just then? Does Ron know she only lets him snog her because she thinks nobody else wants to? An odd mixture of hurt, confusion and sorrow tore at his emotions. He had no idea that Hermione’s childhood so closely paralleled his own. She had rarely ever spoken about her home life, and when she did, she had the habit of changing the subject rather abruptly. Now he understood why.

Harry felt the bench shift slightly as a weight settled into the space on the seat beside him. He lifted his head from his hands and glanced to his side, only to see the empty bench beside him. He returned his forehead into his palms.

“I’m sorry, Mister Potter,” a low, harsh voice sounded from beside him, “I couldn’t help but to overhear the last bit of the conversation.”

“I told you to call me Harry,” he said in a hushed voice, “and if you’re going to be following me around, I suppose I should know your name, as well.”

“Benjamin Bones,” replied the auror, “but please call me Ben, and I’m not following you around, per se, my assignment was to guard the train and to ensure all students met up with their families safely. Seeing that you are the last student from the train, my assignment is not yet complete.”

“I can take care of myself.” replied Harry curtly.

“I know you can, Harry, I didn’t mean to imply you were helpless, but you are still underage, and you can’t expect me to just skive off duty, I mean, how would it look if something happened to you while I was off tilting pints in a pub somewhere?”

Harry nodded.

“And speaking of pubs, I daresay, you’re keeping me from my evening meal. Would you care to join me for a bite before you head home?”

Harry didn’t answer.

After a minute, Ben spoke in a still harsh voice, but with a sympathetic inflection, “Well, after seeing how angry your girlfriend was…”

“She’s not my girlfriend.” said Harry, a little too quickly.

“Really… Really? Well, I just thought you could use someone to talk to, I’ve been told that I’m really not a bad fellow.”

“I’m sorry, Ben, but I’ve not had many pleasant experiences with ministry personnel.” Harry indicated the back of his right hand, the words “I must not tell lies” clearly etched into his skin, the obvious result of a blood-quill, visible by the soft light from the newly lit streetlamp near the bench.

“Yes, quite…” ben muttered uncomfortably, “but you know we’re not all bad.”

Harry thought for a moment, then looked up into the night sky and let out a deep sigh.

“Are you up for the Leaky Cauldron?” asked Harry as he stood and picked up the end of his trunk, “I hear tell the pea soup there is quite good.”

Ben got up and put Harry’s hand on his arm under the invisibility cloak, “Hang on tight.”

An instant later, they were standing in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Ben pulled off his cloak and stashed it in his pocket. A few minutes later, they were in the pub and seated in a private booth. They sat in silence as Tom the barman placed bowls, silverware, bread, a steaming silver tureen of pea soup and a pair of butterbeers on the table and left. Ben wasted no time in ladling himself out a bowl of the thick soup and started slurping noisily.

Harry watched the man as he made short work of his meal. He couldn’t help but to smile, as Ben drained the dregs of his bowl, wiped the remnants of the soup out of his over-large goatee, then scooped up another bowl for himself. It reminded him of the way Ron reveled in the pastime of eating. Ben was already halfway through his second bowl when he noticed that Harry hadn’t even served himself his first.

“Come on, Harry,” he said through a mouthful of half chewed bread, which just served to remind Harry of Ron’s table manners even more, “pea soup is rubbish when it’s cold.”

Harry took the ladle and poured himself a bowl, but then just stared into its opaque, green surface.

“Bones, is it?” asked Harry, “any relation to Susan Bones?”

Ben nodded, “Second cousin, she’s a good girl.” He said while smiling and chewing.

Harry picked up his spoon and probed the surface of his soup.

“Worried about your girlfriend?”

Harry abruptly stopped poking his soup. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Why not?”

Harry dropped his spoon noisily. “Look, I can’t be involved with her, with anyone… not in that way.”

Ben looked intently at Harry. “You heard what she was saying as well as I…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” snarled Harry, “I’m a walking corpse. Maybe you haven’t kept up with the papers, but it seems I’m on the top of Voldemort’s ‘Who I Want To Kill Today’ list.”

As expected, Ben cringed at the mention of Voldemort’s name, but Harry ignored it and continued, “I’ve only survived this long because of sheer, dumb luck and I’m not foolish enough to believe that my luck won’t run out. When I get tossed in a box, If there’s even enough left of me to toss into a box, I don’t want her, or anyone else for that matter, to be cursing my memory over some promise of a happy future I made when I knew damn well I didn’t have a future to share.”

Ben shook his head, “That’s no way to live.”

“Who ever said I was living?” Harry muttered angrily, “In any case, when you look at Hermione, you may see my girlfriend, when I look at her I see a dear friend who has stood by me, even when nobody else would, she has faced dangers with me without any fear or complaint. She has saved my life more times than I care to count. She means more to me than… she’s been my… she’s…”

Harry fell silent, deep in thought. Ben just smiled.

Harry sighed and took a long pull from his butterbeer, “In case you hadn’t noticed, everyone I ever loved or has loved me has come down with a mild case of death. I have no one left, and I’m very sorry, but you have to understand that I don’t intend to start adding more names to that list, not if I can help it anyway, so back off.”

“I see,” said Ben after downing the rest of his soup and placing the bowl back on the table. He grabbed another bit of bread, wiped his bowl clean with it then popped it in his mouth, “Maff oo ivven emy…” he began speaking through his mouthful of bread before swallowing, “thought about going to St. Mungo’s to get checked out?”

Ben involuntarily produced an uncomfortably loud belch, causing the few patrons sitting at the bar to turn towards their booth with disgusted faces. Unable to contain himself, Harry burst out laughing.

“Sorry, I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” said Ben sheepishly as he poured himself a third helping, “and it’s not that funny. Now eat up, like I said, its rubbish once it gets cold.”

They finished the meal in silence. Tom cleared the table and brought another set of drinks.

“I assume from your lack of response, you don’t intend to go to St. Mungo’s. We’ll be taking the Knight Bus to your home, then?”

Harry sipped his butterbeer, “Yes, and I suppose you’re coming with me?”

“Sorry, Harry, you know I have to.”

They finished up and Ben paid the tab. Once outside, they flagged the Knight bus and paid their fares.

“Magnolia Park, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

The bus lurched forward with a bang.

“I see that Stan is still in Azkaban.” Harry coldly stated.

“I’m afraid so. Not a fair cop, that,” replied Ben, “nice chap, that Stan.”

“That’s another one of my issues with the Ministry.”

The knight bus stopped by the deserted park, and having delivered its passengers, sped off and disappeared with a bang. Ben, who had donned his invisibility cloak, and Harry, who was pulling his trunk and Hedwig’s cage behind him, walked down the empty Magnolia road. They walked into Magnolia Crescent, and then turned into the shortcut towards Wisteria Walk, the same alley that Harry and his cousin Dudley had the encounter with the Dementors a few short years before.

After a short stroll down Wisteria Walk, they turned the corner to Privet Drive.

When Harry looked down along Privet Drive, he stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes, “Something’s not right.” He whispered. He heard a soft ruffling as the auror drew his wand underneath his cloak.

“What is it?” Ben whispered.

“My uncle’s car isn’t there,” whispered Harry nervously while checking his watch, “and there are no lights on at the house at all, it’s much too early for them all to be in bed.”

Harry hid his trunk behind a nearby hedge, opened it, withdrew his own invisibility cloak, then let Hedwig out of his cage.

Harry whispered to her “Stay nearby, girl, I may need you.” She softly nipped his finger, letting him know that she understood, and then silently flew off into a nearby tree.

Harry threw his own cloak over his head and drew his wand.

He heard Ben whisper “Which house?”

“Number four” answered Harry.

“Right, you stay here, I’ll go have a look.”

Harry crouched behind the hedge and waited, his gaze darting up and down the street, looking for anything or anyone. Several tense minutes passed, his ears straining to hear anything out of the ordinary.

Several more minutes passed. Harry was starting to get anxious. Just when He was about to leave the hedge to investigate for himself, he heard Ben’s harsh voice whispering to him from the sidewalk, “Harry! Where are you?”

“Here!” said Harry, as he moved his cloak from over his head just enough to let Ben know where he was.

Ben ducked behind the hedge, pulled his cloak from over his own head, and looked right at Harry, “You said number four, right?”

Harry nodded.

“There’s nothing there.”

“They aren’t there?” Harry asked, “Were there signs of a struggle?”

“No,” said Ben, “I mean there’s nothing in the house, no people, no furniture, no food… nothing. It looks as though the place has been empty for a month or two.”

Harry was dumbstruck. Had the Dursleys moved? They wouldn’t have! They couldn’t have!

Ben watched as fleeting glimpses of emotion flashed across Harry’s face. First disbelief, followed by confusion, then for the briefest of an instant, panic before an unmistakable frown of anger took root.

“That bloody bastard!” Harry said bitterly, “He knew I had to come back. What do I do now?”

“I can’t very will leave you alone,” said Ben in a sympathetic tone, “let me take you back to the Leaky Cauldron, you can get a room there for tonight, I’ll send a message off to the Ministry and…”

“No!” snapped Harry, “This has absolutely nothing to do with the Ministry.”

“Alright, Harry, calm down. Let’s get you back to the inn, then.”

Harry called Hedwig and secured her in her cage. He grabbed his trunk and within minutes, he and Ben arrived once more in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Ben went in and after using Hermione’s money that Harry had given him, rented a room for a few nights. Once rented, Harry made his way to the room under his invisibility cloak.

Ben stood in his doorway and looked at Harry, concern etched in his face, “Are you sure you’re going to be alright alone here, Harry?”

“I think so,” replied Harry, sounding exhausted, “I’ll kip out here tonight and in the morning, I’ll owl my friends and visit Gringott’s. I still can’t believe those muggles up and moved on me, my Uncle Vernon must have got a large bonus or something, he certainly couldn’t afford a better house on his pay.”

“I still don’t feel right about leaving you on your own, especially with what happened to you on the train today. This room is rented for two nights, but I told Tom I may want to stay longer and he is to add any additional days onto my tab here.”

“I’ll be ok. I should only need one night,” said Harry, “Thanks for everything, Ben.” Harry shook Ben’s hand and said, “And I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone at the Ministry that I’m here, the less people know about my whereabouts, the better.”

“I won’t lie for you, Harry, but as long as nobody specifically asks me about you, I’ll keep it quiet. I wish you luck, Harry Potter.”

With that, Ben exited the room and quietly closed the door, which Harry quickly locked behind him.

Harry opened Hedwig’s cage and let her perch herself on top of a dresser. He then sat on the bed and placed his head in his hands, thinking about what a miserable day he just had. Between Dumbledore’s funeral, the strange dream that he remembered almost nothing about, Hermione’s revelation about her childhood and the disappearance of the Dursleys, he was nearing his wit’s end.

He understood that Hermione’s emotions were running high because of the funeral, but he still found that her verbal assault had hurt him deeply. The fainting episode in the train bothered him too, but he still figured it was just fatigue catching up with him, because he certainly did not remember having any kind of a ‘crippling emotional shock’ while he was on the train.

What he could not understand is why the Dursleys left. Did Death Eaters threaten them? Did they attack them? He would assume that if they were attacked or kidnapped, they wouldn’t bother with taking furniture. Knowing his Uncle Vernon, he wouldn’t be surprised at all that, if he were threatened by ‘freaks,’ he would almost certainly flee, the cowardly git.

Harry sighed deeply, then quietly changed and slipped into bed, falling into a restless sleep almost immediately. Harry awoke many times during the night, tormented by odd dreams of Dumbledore, horcruxes and of Ginny, Ron and Hermione.

It was just before dawn when Harry got wearily out of bed, drew the curtains, and looked down on the empty Diagon Alley. The cloudless sky above was a dark purple. The sun, still deep below the horizon, cast a pink glow around the buildings in the distance. He cleaned himself up, dressed, and slipped out of his room under his invisibility cloak. After exiting through the Leaky Cauldron’s back door, he took off his cloak and tucked it inside of his jacket, tapped the brick wall with his wand, and stepped through the archway into Diagon Alley.

Within minutes, he found himself walking through the large doors of Gringott’s Wizarding Bank. Having just opened for the day, the lobby was nearly empty of customers. He stepped up to one of the grumpy-looking goblins.

“Good morning,” Harry said politely as he retrieved his vault key from a gold chain around his neck, “I’d like to get into my vault please.”

Harry looked up to hand the teller his key for inspection. The teller looked back at him with an inquisitive expression, shrugged, and then called for another goblin to escort him to his vault. Several minutes later, after a less than enjoyable cart ride, Harry stood before the door to his vault. This was the first time he personally visited his vault in very long time, because for the last few years his school money was withdrawn for him by one of the Weasley’s, so he was curious to see how much he had left. He assumed, with the addition of the gold from the Black estate, that he would have a substantially larger pile than was there when he visited last. The goblin inserted his key and the door swung open.

The last time he looked in the vault there were several very large piles of galleons, sickles and knuts. What he saw before him now made Harry’s mouth fall open in shock and he emitted a loud gasp. He felt very weak and his face became numb.

Inside of the vault laid a small pile of knuts, a smaller pile of sickles, and he could count the galleons on one hand. In a back corner laid a small box full of documents.

He stood in front of the vault for several breathless minutes before he finally whispered in a cracked, shaking voice, “I… I don’t believe it! What happened? Where did it all go?”

Harry felt the panic creep into his chest. He turned to the goblin, and in a tone of voice that was less than polite, yelled, “What happened? Where did all of my money go?”

The goblin replied with a cackling voice, “You will have to talk to a manager.”

With shaking hands, he scooped what little money there was into his moneybag and took the box from the corner, tucking it under his arm as he stepped from the now empty vault and clambered into the cart for the trip to the surface.

The goblin led Harry into a small chamber off the main lobby where he anxiously awaited a Gringott’s manager. Several long minutes had passed before an ancient goblin, wearing an official-looking red crushed-velvet suit and carrying several rolls of parchment, entered the room and sat at the table.

“I am told you have a question about your account?” said the old goblin as he spread out one of the rolls of parchment on the table.

“I most certainly do,” exclaimed Harry while pacing the floor anxiously, “I’ve just been to my vault, and it was nearly empty! Last time I looked in there were great piles of galleons,” Harry dumped the contents of his moneybag on the table, “a far sight more than this…”

The goblin glanced briefly at the meager pile of coins, then unrolled another scroll of parchment and continued to read.

“Well?” asked Harry impatiently as he leaned his hands on the table, trying to decipher the strange writing on the parchment.

“I see…” mumbled the goblin, and then looked up from the parchment, “Two months ago a statement was sent to your home informing you and your legal guardian of the current balance in your trust account and about the change of the account’s status upon your impending coming of age.”

Harry’s eyes hardened and he clenched his fists so tightly he barely noticed that his fingernails were cutting into his palms.

“That very day,” the goblin continued, “the owl returned to us with a message from your legal guardian. It requested, on your behalf, that seven hundred fifty-five thousand, nine hundred twenty-two galleons, six sickles and eight knuts, in other words, your trust account, be converted into muggle pounds. Minus the conversion fee of five percent, that came to approximately three million, seven hundred seventy-nine thousand, six hundred eleven pounds, to be delivered to your home at… let me see…” The goblin glanced down at the parchment, “Ah, yes, to Number Four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, in Surrey. This money that you just retrieved from your vault was the interest from the few minutes that the larger balance was in your account during that banking day.”

“Dursley… that… that… that thieving, fat old GIT!” Harry remembered that the previous summer Dumbledore mentioned the gold his vault in front of the Dursleys, “That’s why the bastard packed up and left. I’m going to murder him when I find him!” yelled Harry as scooped the small pile of coins back into his moneybag, grabbed the small box of documents and stormed out of the room.

“Mister Potter, wait a moment…” was all Harry heard as he slammed the door behind him. He ran out of the bank and down through Diagon Alley until he reached the archway back to the Leaky Cauldron. He slipped his invisibility cloak back over himself and entered the inn. Nobody noticed a nearly full bottle of firewhiskey disappear from the bar when Harry slipped it beneath his cloak. He quietly made for his room, and once locked inside, proceeded to drown himself in the amber liquid.

It was after midnight when Harry awoke to the sound of rapid tapping and bumping on his window, each thump and tap sent a wave of pain through his throbbing head. Ron’s tiny owl, Pigwidgeon, was frantically flapping at the window demanding entrance, eager to deliver the massage that was bound to its leg.

After several attempts at standing, he was finally able to rise from his bed and stagger his way to the window. The moment that Harry slid the window open, the owl swooped in and began hooting madly and chaotically flapped around the room. Harry seized the owl out of the air and carefully untied the note while he slowly walked to his trunk to get some owl treats for the little messenger. Halfway to his trunk, he stopped mid-stride as a faint, flowery scent met his senses as he unrolled the parchment. The headache, the queasiness in his stomach, fuzziness of his thoughts disappeared, although he did feel a strange, dull pain on his nose and in his front teeth.

Time seemed to slow…

“Ginny…” he whispered to himself as he held the letter to his chest.

He released Pig, who swooped towards Hedwig’s cage and perched himself on top of it, much to the larger owl’s chagrin. Sitting back onto his bed, Harry carefully studied the letter and saw that the parchment was completely blank. Harry stared at it for a long moment. He turned it over, but that side was blank also.

He lifted himself from the bed, and slowly walked across the floor, opened the door and stepped through while he folded the blank parchment and stuffed it into his breast pocket.

Harry found himself standing in a large chamber, illuminated by guttering torches set in the walls. Great stone pillars with carved serpents lined the wall on both sides. Just ahead of him, he saw a carcass of a massive snake, oozing some foul-smelling fluid from ruptures all over its bloated, decaying body.

Beyond the rotting carcass, he saw the huge stone statue of Salazar Slytherin towering up from the floor of the chamber.

“I’ve been here before,” thought Harry, “it looks just how I remember it.”

Harry lifted his head and looked into the face of the massive statue, but the face he saw was not the one he expected to see. Instead of the old, monkeyish face with a long, thin beard that he remembered, it was the face of a young wizard, with messy hair, round glasses, bright, green emeralds for eyes and a lightning-shaped scar on its forehead.

The twisted face on the statue looked as if it were in unbearable pain, its mouth stretched in a terrible, silent wail and its bejeweled eyes were looking down at him, wide open and frozen in some kind of hellish torture.

Harry stared blankly at the statue and wondered why it was in such obvious torment. Maybe his presence there was disturbing it. He looked a bit closer at the statue’s open mouth. There seemed to be a greenish glow emanating from within, as if a flickering candle with an emerald flame was burning inside. He then noticed that the eyes of the statue did not seem to be focused directly at him, but at a spot on the floor somewhere behind.

Harry glanced around curiously and he saw, a few paces behind him, a pale body dressed in black robes and a cloak lying in a large puddle of blood. Although the hood of the cloak hid its face, he knew immediately who this was.

For a heart stopping moment, agonizing fear gripped Harry’s chest and panic flashed in his eyes.

“GINNY!” he screamed as he dashed to the lifeless form on the floor.

He knelt before the body and felt the cold blood soak into the legs his pajamas. With trembling hands, he reached out and pulled her from the floor into a hug. He felt the cold through her robes as he cradled the body in his shaking arms. A pale blue hand that was clutching a small bouquet of flowers flopped to the floor. Tears fought their way out of his tightly closed eyes as he rocked back and forth, holding the limp form tightly as loud, terrible sobs escaped from his very soul.

He pulled the hood from over its head and then froze.

He could barely see through his puffy, tear-filled eyes. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He looked down into vacant, chocolate-colored eyes.

“Oh…” he thought, “it’s only Hermione.”

Harry let the body slide out of his arms and watched it crumple back onto the dirty, blood-soaked stone floor. He then got to his feet and tried to brush the slime and gore from his clothes.

Suddenly, a loud crack sounded from behind him and echoed throughout the chamber. Harry turned around and saw that dust and debris were falling around the feet of the large statue from a gaping rift that appeared on its chest. Thick, red blood gushed from the crack, flowed down over its robes and splashed into a quickly spreading pool around the statue’s base.

He looked down at the widening pool of blood at his feet. He could see the reflection of the tall statue in the surface of the dark red pool. As the edge of the expanding pool enveloped his bare feet, he saw in it’s reflection a small girl standing beside him.

As he felt a small, warm hand enter his, he heard a gentle voice drift through his mind, “You cannot stay here, very much danger.” The voice had an odd, but pleasant Asian accent, “come.”

The small girl led him away from the statue, past the body, the rotting snake and then back through the door in which he entered. She motioned him onto the bed. Once tucked into the warm blankets, she sat beside him on the bed.

“Sleep now,” echoed the voice in his head, “I stay with you, please to be safe.”

Harry felt the dark embrace as sleep quickly overtook him.

4. The Search For Harry

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter, or any of the bits of lyrics that appear here in this fic. No money was exchanged, and it’s all in good fun.

A/N: This is the chapter where things really start to fall apart at the seam. If you’re not familiar with the previous three chapters, this one will seem really out there, but if you’ve been paying attention, there’s a few clues in here that should shed a bit of light on why things are happening. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: The Search for Harry

-----~-----

When I read your letter I couldn't believe that you'd gone.
I dialed your number, but no one answered the phone.
I asked your friends to tell me if they knew where you were,
they said they thought that you were ill.

I hired a detective to try and find out where you are.
He managed to trace you; he said you were living in France.
A watchman saw you climb into someone else’s car
and drive off laughing in the night.

Why didn’t you tell me?

Excerpt from the song ‘So Long’ by Fischer Z

-----~-----

Hermione appeared inside of the large garden shed in the back yard of her house. She sat upon her father’s riding lawn mower, crossed her arms over the steering wheel and started crying in earnest. It seems that crying was the activity she spent most of that day doing. Her emotions had been bubbling very close to the surface since well before Dumbledore’s funeral that morning. She knew she shouldn’t have become so angry with Harry, he was just trying to be considerate, as always. She knew she shouldn’t have told him so much about herself. She only wanted him to know she understood him at first, but then her emotions and insecurities took over.

She also knew she shouldn’t have left him stranded there alone, but she was certain that if she spent one moment longer in his presence, she would have told him what she had been desperately hiding for so long. The secret that could erase Harry, as she knew him, from her life had to be kept just that... secret.

What was truly troubling her was the fact that, for the longest time, she couldn’t remember the secret. It was as if it didn’t exist in her mind. What brought it crashing back was seeing Harry sprawled on the bench during the train ride back from Hogwarts. The aurors had to physically pull her from his convulsing body so that they could work on him. Memories came unbidden into the forefront of her mind, memories of emotions and feelings for Harry that she couldn’t for the life of her, remember having.

The fluttery sensation in her stomach as she watched him perform a terrifying dive for a silly snitch… The light-headed feeling when she’d smell the husky scent of earth and grass as he returned from the pitch… The way she could lose her train of thought looking into his eyes darkened to almost a forest green when he was in deep concentration… The adorable way his hair would ‘extra unruly’ look first thing in the morning…

All the things she had loved about Harry for so long… How could she have forgotten? How did the feelings she had for him before the last school year turn into mistrust? Jealousy? Suspicion? Hell, it was borderline hatred at times!

“What have I done?” she asked nobody as the sobs kept wracking her body.

It took a long while before she could fully compose herself. She only left the shed when she heard the automatic garage door open when her parent’s car pulled in the driveway. When she walked into the house, she saw that her father was carrying her trunk and Crookshanks’ carrier up the stairs to her room while her mother was busy in the kitchen putting away the groceries that they had picked up on their way home.

“Hello, mother,” Hermione said as she entered the kitchen.

“Hello, dear, you’re back early, we really didn’t expect you until later.” said Mrs. Granger, who didn’t bother to look away from what she was doing, “I assume your friend made it home alright?”

“Yes,” lied Hermione, “there was no trouble at all.”

Mrs. Granger briefly looked at her daughter when she heard her hoarse voice. She noticed Hermione’s puffy, red eyes and the tear stains on her blouse. Attributing her appearance to the funeral earlier in the day, she just shrugged and returned to her cooking.

“You must have had a long day, dear,” said Mrs. Granger, “Why don’t you go rest up a bit before dinner? I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

Without responding, Hermione stood and left the kitchen for her room. She passed her parents’ study on the way and saw the light coming from under the closed door. Her father was working.

She entered her room and opened a window, hoping that Harry wasn’t too angry with her to send a note with Hedwig once he got settled into Privet Drive. She sat on her bed while Crookshanks settled on the mattress beside her.

“Oh, Crookshanks, what did I do?” said Hermione while stroking the ginger fur of her half-kneazle. “What was I thinking?” Crookshanks let out a sympathetic purr as he nuzzled under her chin.

She sat on her bed until her mother called her to dinner, where the longest conversation during the meal was “Please pass the salt.” She didn’t notice how her father was keeping a close eye on his daughter, paying attention to her unusual mood and how she spent an unusual amount of time arranging and rearranging the food on her plate.

After dinner, Hermione found herself back in her room. She changed, stretched out on her bed and closed her eyes while the day’s events played in her mind.

“Was he really saying that he loved me? How on Earth could he? He loves Ginny! Merlin, he could have practically any girl that he wants! He surely does not want someone like me, ugly and boring. He wasn’t in his right mind… he probably thought he was talking to Ginny… He doesn’t even remember!”

She let out a sigh and then within moments, gave in to her physical and emotional exhaustion and fell asleep.

The next day, Hermione was disappointed to find nothing from either Ron or Harry. She tried to stay busy to keep from thinking about them, but was mostly unsuccessful. After having her friends around her daily at school, she found summertime at the Granger house to be unbearably lonely.

Two more days passed. It was nearly one in the morning when, as Hermione was just getting into her bed, a very old owl flew into her window and ungracefully crash-landed onto her floor. She thought it strange that it was the aged Weasley family owl and not Ron’s owl Pigwidgeon that flopped into her window. She quickly untied the letter, gave the ancient bird a treat, then sat on her bed and began reading.

Dear Hermione,

I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to write sooner, but things have been crazy here since I got home. Of course, Mum is going mental over the preparations for Bill’s wedding, so there is never a quiet moment around here. I had to send Errol with this letter because Pig has been missing since the day I arrived home.

Have you heard anything from Harry? I’ve been so busy that I didn’t realize three whole days had passed without a word from him. He did say he was going to let us know that he got home all right, so I’m starting to get a bit worried. Maybe you can use that felly-tone to see if he’s alright?

Make sure you give Errol a good rest before sending him back… Cor, I’m surprised that bloody old bird is still kicking!

I really wish you were here. I miss you.

Ron

Hermione’s stomach lurched uncomfortably and she felt a sort of buzzing in her brain. She leapt from her bed and only after a momentary pause when she looked at her clock, grabbed the receiver of her phone and hit the number for Harry’s house that she had programmed into the speed-dial years before, but never actually had the courage to use it.

She listened to a few clicks, then a recorded woman’s voice emotionlessly informed her that the number she dialed was no longer in service. She threw the receiver roughly onto the base, quickly dressed herself, and with a loud crack she disapparated from her room.

She appeared at the Burrow on the road just beyond the broom shed, ran the short distance across the yard to the door and knocked loudly. She waited a minute, and she was about to knock again when she heard a nervous voice from behind the door, “Who’s there?”

“Mrs. Weasley, please! It’s Hermione!” she said, panic evident in her tone, “I think Harry’s in trouble!”

Apparently, the words “Harry’s in trouble” was due cause to throw the usual Burrow security questions out of the window. The door flew open to reveal a very agitated Molly, who quickly pulled her in, “Harry’s in trouble? What do you mean? What happened?”

“I’m not sure, but he should have contacted us two days ago and I thought Ron must have heard from him by now, but I just got Ron’s letter and I tried calling him on the phone but it’s disconnected and… oh my,… Please!” Hermione was speaking very quickly as she clutched her own hands together to keep them from shaking, “I’m sure something has happened. I can feel it! We have to find out if he’s ok! I’d have gone directly to him, but I’ve never been to the Dursleys so I can’t apparate there and last I saw he was alone and…” Her voice suddenly became a whisper as a terrible thought hit her, “Oh my… It’s my fault… I left him alone…”

Mr. Weasley, Ron and Ginny appeared at the bottom of the stairs and looked at Hermione with a mixture of surprise and concern.

“Ron!” Hermione ran across the kitchen and grabbed Ron’s shoulders, “Something happened to Harry! I just know it! We need to go to Privet Drive… RIGHT NOW!”

“Ok,” said Ron who couldn’t ignore the panic in Hermione’s eyes. Turning to head up the stairs, he said, “Let me get dressed real quick and I’ll…”

“No,” said Mr. Weasley, “I’ll go, you children stay here.”

“We’re not children,” Ron said coldly, “and I’m going.”

“We both are!” said Hermione.

“You can’t keep me away, either!” added Ginny, who was already halfway up the stairs.

“None of you can apparate there… I am going alone.” said Mr. Weasley firmly.

“Can’t we floo there?” asked Hermione.

“You weren’t there last time we did,” said Ron, “it was a right mess, and his house isn’t connected to the network now, anyway.”

Mr. Weasley threw his cloak over his pajamas and walked to the door, “I promise I’ll be right back to let you know what I find.” He then stepped out into the yard and apparated away with a soft crack.

Hermione, Ron and Ginny sat at the kitchen table while Molly made a pot of tea.

Hermione turned to Ron, “Are you sure you haven’t heard anything from Harry? You still haven’t found Pig yet?”

Hermione noticed a sudden guilty look come across Ginny’s face when she mentioned Pigwidgeon, “What’s wrong, Ginny?”

“Well…” She began, looking down at her hands in her lap, “don’t get mad, Ron, but I sort of ‘borrowed’ Pigwidgeon to deliver a letter for me. I thought he’d be back by now.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed, “Who was this letter to?”

Ginny kept her eyes in her lap, twisting her fingers together.

“It was to Harry, wasn’t it?” asked Ron, “Listen, Ginny, you know he broke up with you to protect you.”

Molly dropped the teacup she was holding, “Harry broke up with Ginny? But I thought…”

“Mum, he just doesn’t want… you know who… finding out that she has a relationship with Harry. She’d be one of… ‘his…’ biggest targets.”

“You shouldn’t make things more difficult for him right now, Ginny,” said Hermione, “Harry has enough problems at the moment.”

“Especially after what happened on the train ride home…” added Ron flippantly.

Hermione elbowed Ron hard in the ribs.

“What happened on the train?” asked Molly icily, glaring between Ron and Hermione.

“So he told you, did he?” said Ginny, not looking up from her hands.

“He didn’t have to tell us, we were right there…,” said Ron while massaging his freshly bruised ribs. Ginny’s head snapped up with a look of confusion in her eyes.

“You were right there for what?” asked Molly, getting slightly annoyed at being ignored.

“I should have insisted he go to St. Mungo’s…” said Hermione.

Both Molly and Ginny stood up and yelled in unison “What happened to Harry?”

“Well,” began Hermione, “he hadn’t been sleeping well since Professor Dumbledore’s death, and he hasn’t been eating that much either. When we met up with him after our rounds, he was acting rather odd…”

“…acting mental, he was,” interrupted Ron, “he talked about seeing things like you saw with the boggart… I don’t know what he meant by that, though…”

Molly’s eyes widened and she put her hand over her mouth, “Oh, dear!”

Hermione, noticing Molly’s reaction, asked her, “What did happen with a boggart?”

“I… well…” Molly’s voice was hoarse, “It was at Grimmauld Place, the summer before last. You remember that boggart that was in the writing desk in the drawing room?” They nodded and let her continue, “Well, I’ve never had a problem with boggarts before, but with everything going on…” she paused to compose herself, “I went to get rid of it and when I opened the desk… when I opened it… Percy fell out. He was dead.”

Ron and Hermione gave each other worried glances.

“I cast the Riddikulus spell, but the boggart only changed to Arthur’s body, then to Bill’s… then to Ron’s, Fred’s… Harry’s…” Molly let out a sob and wiped her eyes, “Harry found me, and then Remus. Remus had to get rid of it for me… I just couldn’t think of any way to make it funny… I couldn’t…” Molly turned away clutching a hastily conjured handkerchief to her face.

“Harry kept saying he saw us dead.” said Hermione as she wrinkled her brow in thought.

“But there wasn’t a Boggart on the train,” observed Ron, “a boggart couldn’t have killed him, anyway…”

“What do you mean, ’killed him’?” asked Ginny with a thoroughly shocked look on her face.

“Well, he didn’t die,” said Hermione quickly, “but it was terribly close… if that auror wasn’t on the train, I think he would have died.”

“Oh, no!” whispered Ginny to herself, “It couldn’t be…” She jumped from her seat and ran up to her room.

Hermione instantly became suspicious and was just about to follow her when Arthur entered the kitchen through the door and drove all thoughts of Ginny from her mind when he spoke.

“We’ve got trouble,” he said, “I looked through Harry’s house, but it’s empty.”

“Harry’s not there?” asked Ron.

“Nothing’s there, no people, furniture, nothing at all. No sign of a struggle, either. It looks as though it’s been empty for quite a while.”

Hermione jumped up with her hand over her mouth, “Oh, my! It’s my fault! I should have stayed with him! I knew I should have stayed with him when his uncle didn’t show to pick him up! How could I have been so stupid? It’s all my fault!”

“Dursley wasn’t there at King’s Cross Station?” asked Arthur, “and you left him there?”

“He didn’t give me much of a choice,” said Hermione defensively, “when he insisted that I leave him there I got angry and we got into a row. You know how independent he is. He said he was going to take the Knight Bus to Surrey.”

“Maybe he went to Grimmauld Place?” said Ron, “I know he hates it there, but if he didn’t come here, he might have thought that was the best place to go.”

“Grimmauld Place isn’t safe now, I’ll go check there,” said Arthur, “You kids stay here, don’t do anything until I get back.”

Ron and Hermione both stood up, “we’re going too,” said Ron.

“We can help search the house,” added Hermione as she ran to the door, “we can search it faster with three of us.” Without waiting for a reply, she ran into the yard beyond the wards and disapparated with a loud crack.

Hermione found herself in the middle of the small square at Grimmauld Place, just as grimy and unwelcoming as she remembered. She glanced around at the rubbish-strewn street, and seeing no one, she rushed to the area between eleven and thirteen. She didn’t even begin to concentrate on the Order’s address when number twelve inflated before her. Without wasting a moment, she drew her wand, ran up the stairs and began to unlock the door. She had just managed to get the door open when Arthur and Ron arrived and joined her in the darkness of the main hall.

Ron started the search in the basement, kitchen and living rooms, Arthur made his way to the roof, attic, and the upper floors while Hermione checked the bedrooms and the library. They soon had every room searched with no sign that Harry or anyone had been there at all.

They met in the drawing room. Ron sat on the couch, Arthur seated himself in the wing-backed chair facing him while Hermione paced nervously across the room between them.

“Why did I leave him? I should have stayed with him…” Hermione was sounding more and more frantic, “I knew something wasn’t right. Why did he have to be so stubborn? This is all my fault.”

“Hermione,” snapped Ron, which made her jump, “sit down… we’re not sure anything bad has happened to him.”

“But Ron, you know as well as I do that he needed to go back to those wretched people,” said Hermione while continuing to pace the floor, “I really don’t know the nature of the protection he gets from his aunt, but Dumbledore insisted that Harry go back there to keep it. Maybe he went to look for the Dursleys? I don’t know where else he would go. What if he was found by… by…” the lump in her throat kept her from finishing the sentence.

Ron stood and hugged Hermione, “He’s ok, I know he is.”

“Maybe he went to an inn,” said Arthur, “the Leaky Cauldron or the Three Broomsticks.”

“I know he didn’t have any muggle money,” said Hermione, “and I gave him what little wizard money I had on me. I don’t think there was enough to stay at an inn for very long.”

“If he is ok and did go to an inn, it would most likely be the Leaky Cauldron,” said Arthur, “he would be closer to Gringott’s there.”

“There’s nothing else we can do right now,” said Ron as he tried to stifle a yawn, “it’s nearly three a.m. and I don’t think Tom at the inn would appreciate us barging in there at this time.”

“Right,” said Arthur, rising from his chair, “We’ll check with Tom first thing. You’re welcome to come back to the Burrow with us, Hermione, You can…”

“I can’t believe you two!” screeched Hermione, “We have to find him! Maybe you can sleep, but I know I can’t. Harry needs us! I’m going to the Cauldron now!”

Before either of the men could stop her, Hermione stormed out through the door, down the main hall and out into the early morning darkness. Arthur and Ron looked at each other, seeing that they both were still in their pajamas, decided to return to the Burrow to at least get changed.

“Let’s inform the family as to what’s going on,” said Arthur, leading his son out of the house, “I’ll get in touch with Lupin and Tonks.”

Hermione found herself in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron next to the concealed entrance to Diagon Alley. She stepped through the door into the darkened inn. The only light source was the crackling embers from the previous night’s fire, which cast an eerie red glow in the empty room. Hermione quietly crept behind the bar and found the registration book for the inn. She lit up the tip of her wand and held her breath as she checked the logs for the past three days and found that there were only three rooms occupied, Mr. Benjamin Bones, Mr. and Mrs. Judas Hornbuckle, and Miss Agnes Applebumm.

Hermione placed the book back where she found it then walked around to the front of the bar and rested her forehead upon her crossed arms between the upturned barstools.

“Oh, Harry,” she whispered to the darkness, “I’m so sorry.”

-----_-----

It was a long night for Tom the barman, for the Leaky Cauldron had hosted a small birthday party for a member of the Ministry’s Office of Magical Games and Sports. At around two a.m., he finally managed to get the rowdy group of drunken men and women safely onto the Knight Bus. He spent another hour cleaning up and prepared to turn in to get a few hours of sleep before he had to open the tavern again in the morning. He just retrieved his pajamas from his dresser when all of the lights in the room sprang to life, signaling that someone had entered the inn.

“Bah! One o’ them blokes musta fergot sumptin’” He grabbed his wand and cracked his door open. He peeked out through the narrow gap and saw a young woman creeping behind his bar. He walked silently out of his room, keeping a wary eye on her as she examined the guest register for a moment, then replaced it and bowed her head on the bar top. As he drew near behind her, he heard her whisper something. He was about to grab her shoulder to give her what for, when she let out a small sob.

His eyes softened and he lowered his arm, “Excuse me, miss…,” he said softly.

The young lady started and turned around quickly with her wand raised. She still had a small tear running down her cheek. Her brown eyes were puffy, with bags under them that made it appear as if she hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in days.

“Yer that frien’ o’ Harry Potter… Hermione Granger?” asked Tom, “What ya doing here this time o’ the mornin’? When I saws ya sneakin behin’ the bar, I thoughts ya was a thief ‘r summut.”

Hermione lowered her wand and tried to compose herself, “Oh, Tom, you scared me, I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“What was ya doin’ wit’ the register?” Tom saw the worried look on her face, and he thought it a shame that a girl so young wore eyes that looked so sad.

“Harry’s been missing for a few days and we thought he might be here. We’re just so worried about him, we thought that he may be in trouble.”

“Missing? Why, I saw him jus’ yesserday, miss…”

“You saw him? Here?” Hermione said excitedly, “What was he doing? Did he look alright?”

“I’m pretty sure it was him,” answered Tom, “I only gots a quick look at him, tore from the upstairs an’ out the front door, he did… never heard a word from him.”

“Out into muggle London?”

“Aye, I didn’ see which way he wen’ though. I dunno what ‘e was doin’ up there, he hasn’t a room, unless he was visitin’ summun up there…”

Hermione thought for a moment, and then her heart sank. It never occurred to her that maybe Harry had found someone he liked. Maybe after seeing his house deserted, he took up company with one of the ‘ladies’ from Knockturn Alley. As innocently as she could, she asked, “Can I please see the register again?”

“Well, ya knows yer not really s’posed to look at it, but seein’ it’s fer Harry…”

Tom walked behind the bar and put the guest register in front of Hermione. She took a deep breath before opening the cover and looked down onto the names again.

“Do you know these people?” asked Hermione, her voice suddenly went icy as she focused on one name, “Who is this one, ‘Agnes Applebumm’?”

“Arr, she’s a sweet one.” He answered, “Visitin’ her family here in London, she is. Insisted on staying here, so’s not to be a burden on ‘em, very inderpendent for summun o’ her age.

Hermione felt her stomach twinge when Tom said she was a ‘sweet one.’ She couldn’t help herself when she asked, “A sweet one? She must be very pretty.” The iciness hadn’t left her voice.

“Well, I wouldn’t ‘zactly call her pretty, though I’m sure she was stunnin’ abou’ a hunnert an’ fifty years ago.”

“Oh,” she said, only slightly less coldly until his words were fully absorbed in her brain, “Oh…! One hundred and fifty years? How old is she?”

“Tha’s why she’s in town, it’s her hunnert an’ eightieth birthday tomorrer.”

Hermione felt her face blush with embarrassment, hoping that Tom didn’t catch on to what had passed through her head about Agnes, but she wasn’t about to give up on this train of thought yet. Her eyes landed on the couple’s names, Mr. and Mrs. Judas Hornbuckle. Maybe they checked in under assumed names…? Assumed married names?

“What about this couple, do you think Harry might have visited them?”

“I don’ think so, they’re here from Bristol, Ministry business, I believe.”

“And this one, Benjamin Bones?”

“Arr, I know that un well, good frien’, he is. Related to Amelia Bones, rest ‘er soul… An auror, too, terrible nice feller. Said his house was being worked on an’ needed a few days here. Anyway, I don’ see why Harry would be visitin’ him. Harry doesn’t know many aurors, do he? Funny, that, now that I think on it… I haven’t seen Ben since the night he checked in, not fer meals or nuthin’”

“Well, that’s strange, isn’t it? I would have thought you’d see him going to and from work, at least.”

“Well, I’ll check in on him in the mornin’ to be sure evvythin’s ok.” Tom gave Hermione an apologetic smile and patted her on the shoulder, “I’m sorry I couldn’ a’ been more help to ya, missy, are ya gonna be ok yerself? Ye don’ look too well…”

“I’ll be all right,” said Hermione wistfully, “If Harry comes back can you get in touch with Arthur Weasley?” Hermione thought for a moment that Harry may just want to be alone and she certainly didn’t want him to think he was being spied upon, “No, just tell him that his friends are worried about him and ask him to please get in touch with me, err… us.”

“Alrigh’ I’ll tells him if I sees him.”

“I’ll go inform my friends that he was spotted here. Thanks a lot, Tom. At least we know he’s still alive.”

When Hermione appeared in the front yard of the Burrow, she could see by the shadows through the window that the kitchen was a beehive of activity. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Ron were sitting at the kitchen table with Remus and Tonks, both of whom had obviously left their flat in a rush, as they were still dressed in their nightclothes under their hastily donned cloaks. Arthur looked as though he were telling the two new arrivals of the situation so far. Their discussion abruptly stopped and they all looked expectantly at Hermione as she entered the room.

“He’s not at the Leaky Cauldron,” started Hermione in a nervous voice, “but Tom said he spotted him leaving the inn yesterday. He might have been visiting someone staying there, but nobody on the guest register looked very likely, an old lady visiting relatives, a couple here for the Ministry, and an auror.”

“Oh?” said Tonks, with her eyes narrowing, “Why would an auror be staying at the Cauldron? Do you know who it was?”

“The name on the register was Benjamin Bones, Tom said he was staying there because his house was being remodeled or something. Do you know him?”

Tonks didn’t answer at once, she sat staring for a minute, deep in thought.

“There is an auror barracks in Diagon Alley, if he needed a place to stay, he would have gone there…” stated Tonks as she stood and walked to the fireplace, “Hang on a mo’”

Tonks grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, tossed it in the fire and kneeled before the hearth.

“Benjamin Bones!” she called out clearly into the now green flames.

After a minute, a grim-faced head appeared, “Oy, Tonks!” said Ben, “What’s wrong? It’s an odd time for a social call…”

Hermione immediately recognized the face. He was the auror that saved Harry’s life on the Hogwarts Express just days before.

“Wotcher, Ben, are you home right now?” she asked pleasantly.

“A’course I am! Where else would I…” Ben’s face visibly fell into a concerned frown, “Oh dear, this is about young Mr. Potter, isn’t it.” He let out an audible sigh, “What happened?”

“We were hoping you could tell us,” answered Remus, who moved beside Tonks.

Ben sighed, “Well, as you know, I was assigned on the Hogwarts Express a few days ago. I saw that Harry’s ride failed to show. He and his girlfriend waited for a while, but then they got into a bit of a spat…”

At the mention of Harry’s ‘girlfriend’, Hermione’s face blanched while Ron’s jaw dropped and his face went the color of his hair. He glared at Hermione, who was so shocked she couldn’t utter a word.

“When the young lady left,” continued Ben, “I offered to accompany him to his home, I couldn’t leave a student stranded, you know… especially not Harry Potter…”

Hermione dropped her head into her hands, still feeling ill thinking about that night and how stranding him was exactly what she did.

“We grabbed a bite, and then went to deliver him to his house, but it appeared his family up and left. Obviously, Harry was quite distraught. At that point, he wanted to go to the Leaky Cauldron, but we both were concerned with his safety. The only way I could get him to stay there was if I put the room under my name and promised him I would not include his whereabouts in my report.”

“So he is there!” said Hermione as she jumped from her chair and rushed for the door, only to be stopped by Ron. He had grabbed her arm a little more roughly than he intended, which earned him a reproachful glare from Hermione.

“Hermione, maybe he wants to be alone, did you even think of that?” said Ron in a voice just shy of a yell.

Hermione jerked her arm out of Ron’s grasp and a fierceness blazed in her eyes, “Listen to me, you prat, don’t you see what’s going on with him? Can you imagine how abandoned and alone he must feel?” Pushing her finger into his breastbone, she continued, “You know what happened to him on the train. Don’t you care at all about what happens to him? I can’t believe you would just turn your back on him like you did during the tournament!”

Ron glared viciously at Hermione. He opened his mouth, but finding himself at a total loss for words closed it again and gave her the foulest sneer he could conjure.

Hermione turned on her heel and purposefully strode to the door, shouting, “Well, I for one refuse to abandon him like those awful muggles did! Not again!” She slammed the door behind her, ran into the yard beyond the anti-apparation wards and disappeared in an unusually loud crack, which shook the Burrow’s windows.

When she reappeared in the alley behind the inn, she reeled and leaned against the brick wall leading to Diagon Alley. Her spent emotions, lack of sleep and the stress of repeated apparations were definitely wearing on her. It took her a few moments to steady herself before she entered the tavern of the Leaky Cauldron.

“Lumos!”

She lit her wand, rushed through the room to Tom’s door and knocked loudly.

Tom, now in his pajamas, opened the door with an annoyed frown then, upon seeing Hermione again, his face only slightly softened, “Oh, it’s you missy, I told yas I’d be check…”

“Please! I heard from Mr. Bones’ and Harry’s in his room!” Hermione gave Tom a desperate look, “Can you please just check on him? I’ll wait in the hall while you look, I just need to know if he’s alright!”

Tom looked into her worried face and sighed. He grabbed his keys and headed up the stairs to the inn with Hermione close behind. He unlocked room six and quietly entered. “There’s nobody here, miss, but there be summut odd here.”

Hermione stepped into the room, and at once her ears were assaulted with loud, shrill hooting as a softball-sized owl sped in an oblong orbit around her head. On the dresser was a very annoyed and hungry looking snowy owl.

“Hedwig!” cried Hermione, “See? Harry was here!”

She looked around the room and saw his still open trunk and his clothes spread out on a nearby chair. There was a box on the dresser containing an assortment of documents and lying next to the box, Harry’s wand. She then noticed a small, partially opened roll of parchment lying on the floor.

She heard footsteps from the hall outside the door and the voice of Remus Lupin softly calling out, “Tom? Hermione?”

Remus and Tonks approached the partially opened door of room six and just as they entered the room, they saw Hermione pick up a roll of parchment from the floor. Her eyes opened wide and she let out a loud, shrill squeak, and then collapsed onto the floor.

As Tom, Remus and Tonks rushed to the unconscious Hermione, they saw what she had seen, Harry’s broken glasses and what appeared to be a broken tooth lying in a small pool of dried blood on the floor next to where the parchment had rested.

-----~-----

5. The Rescue

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to have any rights to the bits of lyrics I put here. It’s still all for fun.

A/N: The bombs just keep dropping! Here, you get to see where a bit of Harry’s cash went. You also find out where Harry ended up after he left the Leaky Cauldron. Enjoy!

Chapter 5: The Rescue

-----~-----

It’s the reason for my pain
in a season to celebrate.
I don't wanna be full of hate
for anybody, but it's too late

everyone has been in my face
telling me that I’m a disgrace,
showing me things that I must face,
telling me that they need their space.

-----~-----

Petunia Dursley was in heaven. She fell absolutely in love with her new home. She loved the huge master bedroom with the huge walk in closet and the huge connected bathroom, which had all the modern fixtures. Its walls were finished with white marble tile and it contained a large walk-in shower, a bathtub that looked more like a small swimming pool, along with an automatic-flush toilet, a bidet, and a large, luxurious hot tub.

There were four other bedrooms almost as large as the master bedroom. She reserved two the bedrooms immediately for her son, Dudley, one to sleep in, and the other to hold the incredible number of possessions that they brought with them, and all of the new possessions that her husband, Vernon, had bought for him since they had moved in three months before.

She loved the large drawing room to greet all of the important guests, and she loved the spacious sitting room to entertain all of the important guests, and an elegant dining room to dine with all of the important guests. However, more than everything else in the house, she loved the massive kitchen to prepare all of the food for all of the important guests.

The kitchen was indeed massive. It featured an enormous walk-in refrigerator and a stand-up freezer unit, a whisper-quiet automatic dishwasher and a conveniently positioned trash compactor, all with a brightly shining chrome finish. There was a six-burner, professional quality, dual-oven cooking range and a large food preparation island in the center. Above the center isle hung an extensive array of cutlery, utensils and state of the art cookware. Along the entire length of one wall was a set of shelving that displayed the collection of her fine china dinnerware, a small breakfast nook was nestled in one corner, and sturdy marble-topped counters surrounded the rest of the room. It was a cathedral of sparkling white and dazzling chrome.

Petunia had just finished her post-breakfast ritual of polishing every surface of her kitchen until every counter was sterilized, every inch of the floor was scrubbed, and every tiny smudge on every bit of chrome was mercilessly polished away. She was sitting at the cozy breakfast nook sipping her morning tea while reading the daily newspaper. She glanced out of the window into the back yard and watched her husband, Vernon, lazily drifting on the floating lounge chair that was half-submerged by his massive weight in the large swimming pool. Along the edge of the pool sat Vernon’s sister, Marge, who was sunning herself on a lounge chair, chuckling as a brood of her dogs were barking and yapping noisily.

Petunia was absently flipping through the pages of the paper, making mental notes on the various sales going on in many of the London stores. She smiled as she inwardly admonished herself for even bothering to scan for sales, realizing that it was a habit she could now afford to break. Her eyes glazed over, as she dreamily thought back to that lucky day four months prior. That was the lucky, lucky day that Vernon came home from his job at Grunning’s Drill Company and announced that he had been rewarded for his hard work and loyalty with a promotion, along with a substantial bonus. That, in itself, made the family jubilant, but what really made that day extra, extra lucky was when he also announced that he won the grand prize in some sweepstakes he had entered.

‘Finally,’ she thought as she sipped her tea, ‘we can afford the life that we so richly deserve.’

She took another mouthful of tea as she lazily turned another page of the newspaper that was spread out on the table. Suddenly, the tea in her mouth sprayed over the newsprint and the formerly immaculate table. Her eyes became as wide as saucers, the dreaminess that was there a moment before was replaced by abject shock. Her mouth, still dribbling remnants of the brown liquid, fell open and she let out a barely audible squeak as she scanned the tea-stained page.

“It can’t be…” she whispered through the fingers that were covering her mouth. She glanced up at a Grunning’s calendar that hung on the wall, “he’s not due back from that freak school for another week!”

She brushed the droplets of tea from the page, smudging the ink as she did. Even though the page was now slightly sodden and blurry, and the face in the picture looked much thinner than she remembered, there was no mistaking who it was. It was the face of her nephew, Harry Potter. Printed above the picture, in large, bold print, were the words, ‘DO YOU KNOW THIS BOY?’

Petunia quickly read the article below the picture. It stated that this unfortunate boy was discovered three weeks before, lying unconscious in the Rose Gardens at Hyde Park in London. He was clad only in pajamas when he was found, and had no identification on his person. The article went on to state that the boy was currently in a coma at St Thomas' Hospital in London, and they desperately needed to contact his family or guardians to arrange his ongoing treatment and care.

Her horse-like face paled, even more so than normal. She suddenly realized that the people in that magic world of his that she hated so much, had no idea where Harry was. She knew the implications for Harry having his face, his location, and his current helplessness spread across the country. She knew the danger he was in.

“No,” she whispered, “oh no!”

She jumped up from the stool she was sitting on, sending it clattering to the floor. She raced through the house, up the stairs and into the spare bedroom, which they had been using for storage of the boxes from Privet Drive they had yet to unpack. She frantically tore through the stacks of sealed boxes, most of them containing Dudley’s things from the old house. She finally came across the one for which she had been searching. She tore it open and fumbled inside for a few moments before withdrawing a very old, very faded purple shoebox that was tied shut with a faded green ribbon.

She sat on the floor and stared at it. It has been many, many years since she opened that shoebox which now rested in her lap. With trembling hands, she untied the ribbon, lifted off the cover, and looked inside. She reached in and lifted out a stack of photographs that were neatly wrapped with a faded green ribbon. In the top photograph in the stack was an image of her sister, who was waving while peeking out at her from behind the ribbon. On the other side of the ribbon was a young man with messy black hair and round glasses. He was grinning broadly at her, then looked down to the tiny bundle in his arms. She looked at the photo for a few moments, wiped away the moisture that was forming in her eyes then gently laid the stack next to her on the floor.

She again reached in the box and pulled out the wand that had once belonged to her sister. She briefly scowled at it and dropped it, as if it were on fire, beside the pictures. She retrieved a stack of letters that were bundled together in the same type of faded green ribbon, and laid them down beside the pictures and wand.

The last item in the box was the letter that Dumbledore had left with Harry when he was placed at their doorstep nearly sixteen years before. The letter that explained why he had to live with them and that asked them to care for Harry as their own. A pang of guilt washed over her as she lifted the envelope from the box. She opened the envelope and withdrew the letter. Enclosed with the letter was a small, square mirror. She didn’t unfold the letter, she never wanted to read the words that it contained again, but she did remember the instructions on how to use the mirror from the first and only time she had read it.

She lifted the mirror to her face with trembling hands and watched her reflection looking back. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She dropped her hands, still holding the mirror, into her lap and looked down. She did not want to do this, this unnaturalness, this… ‘magic’ that she hated so.

She then noticed from the corner of her eye, the picture of Lily. She was now holding the baby in her arms and was looking directly at Petunia. Even through the tears in her eyes, she gave Petunia an encouraging smile, then looked sadly down at the child in her arms and hugged him. Petunia saw how thin and sickly the baby looked, almost skeletal, seemingly reflecting how she imagined Harry looked at that moment.

Petunia brought the mirror back to her face and saw in the reflection the tears that she didn’t realize she was shedding. She quickly wiped her face, looked into the mirror and clearly said, “Albus Dumbledore.”

She waited.

After a minute of staring at her own reflection, she stated again, this time a bit more loudly, “Albus Dumbledore!”

Still nothing. Maybe she was doing something wrong, maybe there was something else she was supposed to do that she had forgotten. She reached down, picked up the letter and opened it so she could only see the very bottom. It read, “If you ever need to speak with me or if there is any kind of an emergency, just hold the enclosed mirror and speak my name, ‘Albus Dumbledore’, and I shall appear.”

Maybe he meant that he would appear in person? She tentatively glanced around the room, but saw no one. She looked back to the mirror and was about to speak again when she noticed that the reflection in the mirror was not her own, but of a very stern looking and much older woman. The woman looked haggard and tired, as if she hadn’t slept in days.

She gasped and let go of the mirror, which dropped and rested in her lap. She looked tentatively into the mirror and said, “You aren’t Dumbledore!”

“Of course I’m not!” snapped the stern looking woman in the mirror, “Professor Dumbledore is… well, he’s… dead.” The woman in the mirror squinted her eyes slightly and seemed to be studying Petunia. Suddenly, her eyes widened and a fierce scowl splayed across her face, “YOU!”

-----~-----

Professor McGonagall had just arrived in her office, the office that had been, until very recently, Professor Dumbledore’s. She sat at her desk and rifled through various sheets of parchment, attempting to bury her worried thoughts in her work. After a few minutes, she realized that she was failing miserably. She leaned back in her chair, removed her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. Her thoughts drifted back to the previous day’s wedding of Bill and Fleur Weasley.

A missing member of the Weasley’s extended family overshadowed what should have been a happy and festive occasion. Sure, the wedding ceremony was beautiful and went as planned, and Molly outdid herself with the wonderful food that she had prepared for the reception. There was music, dancing and plenty of drink to go around, still, Professor McGonagall would overhear whispered conversations about the disappearance of Harry Potter. Ginny Weasley seemed to be in a daze the entire day, Ron Weasley at first seemed just a little down, but as the day progressed, he seemed to get steadily more morose, mostly from having to console Hermione and his mother, both of whom were prone to burst into tears at the mention of Harry’s name.

She snapped out of her thoughts as the sound of someone clearing their throat came from behind her.

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore was smiling down at her from the wall.

“How was the wedding, Minerva? I so wish I could have been there.”

She sighed sadly, “Oh, it was fine, Albus, considering...”

The portrait of Professor Dumbledore frowned, “Yes, our missing Mr. Potter.”

“Oh, Albus… I don’t know what to do. All of our efforts to find him have failed dismally. We have teams from the Order searching day and night and we’ve still not found a trace.”

You mustn’t give up hope, Minerva,” said the portrait, “he will eventually turn up, one way or another.”

“Yes, but he’s been missing for almost a month. I’m also concerned about Miss Granger. She feels that she is responsible for Harry’s disappearance. She’s been searching every day on her own, and I believe she has been neglecting herself in doing so. I daresay the girl looked dreadful at the wedding yesterday, and from what I hear, Ronald Weasley had to practically drag her to the ceremony, but he probably shouldn’t have bothered, considering that she found him halfway through the reception in, shall I say a ‘compromising situation’ with that Gabrielle Delacour girl. Strange, that Hermione didn’t seem to care, she just…”

Professor McGonagall was startled by a voice that called out from behind her, which sounded like, “Albus Dumbledore.”

She looked around. She was alone. She glanced up to the portraits of the former headmasters, all of whom were, or appeared to be, sleeping. She looked up questioningly to Dumbledore’s portrait.

“The mirror on the bookshelf, Minerva” the portrait said.

She got up, walked to the bookshelf at the back of the office, and reached for a small mirror that was face down on top of it. As she reached for the small mirror, the voice called out again, “Albus Dumbledore!”

She picked up the mirror and saw within the reflection a rather disconcerted, horse-faced woman looking around behind her. McGonagall was about to speak when the woman looked back through the mirror, gasped, then abruptly dropped it. She heard the woman say, “You aren’t Dumbledore!”

“Of course I’m not! Professor Dumbledore is… well, he’s… dead.”

The woman in the mirror’s reflection looked stunned, she just stared back at her through the mirror. Something about that horse-faced woman seemed terribly familiar. She studied her face for a moment, and then the light of recognition blazed in her eyes.

“YOU!” she hissed, startling the horse-faced woman, “I recognize you! You are Harry Potter’s aunt!”

“Yes, yes, know I am,” said Petunia indignantly, “and you are?”

“I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, the acting Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

The woman in the mirror flinched at the mention of the school’s proper name, and then asked, “Then why isn’t Harry there at your school?”

“Mr. Potter left the school a month ago, along with all the other students.” Informed McGonagall, “The rest of the school term was cancelled due to the… the passing of the headmaster.” Minerva gave Dumbledore’s portrait an apologetic look, which merely looked back at her and shrugged.

Petunia’s face dropped at this news, “What do you mean, a month ago? We received a notice from that… school… of yours that said the term was extended until next week!”

“Poppycock!” exclaimed McGonagall indignantly, “The notice we sent out to all of the families clearly stated that the term would end early! We received notice that nobody was at King’s Cross Station to meet your nephew, and that day he discovered that his family, your family, moved away without notifying him. Soon after that, he went missing, and...”

“I know where he is!” interrupted Petunia anxiously, “I read it in today’s newspaper. He is at St Thomas' Hospital in a coma. His picture is in the paper! They have no idea who he is, so they’re asking the public for identification! What if that man who killed Lily…”

The rest of her sentence wasn’t heard. Professor McGonagall’s face went deathly pale upon hearing the account. She dropped the mirror on the desk, jumped out of her seat and rushed to the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of floo powder and a moment later, had disappeared in a flash of green flames.

-----~-----

Ron and Hermione were at the Burrow, sitting at the kitchen table while Molly busied herself making breakfast for the Weasley clan. Most of the family had stayed the night, the only exceptions were, naturally, Bill and Fleur, who had left the Burrow the previous night for their honeymoon, and the estranged Percy, who made a brief appearance for the wedding ceremony, but, much to Molly’s despair, didn’t stay for the reception. After hours of convincing, Hermione reluctantly agreed to stay the night. Charlie, Ginny and the twins were still in their beds and Arthur was in the yard cleaning up after the previous night’s festivities.

Ron glanced over at Hermione and watched her staring at the sausage she was pushing back and forth across her plate. Her hair seemed more disheveled than ever, and she had very dark circles under her eyes.

Ron let out a groan and said just loud enough so that only Hermione could hear, “Ugh, I’m so hung over. I shouldn’t have let the twins talk me into drinking so much last night.”

Normally, Hermione would have launched into him, admonishing him on the evils of drink and scolding him on his behavior with Fleur’s little sister, which is exactly what Ron wanted to happen. Truthfully, he hadn’t had very much to drink at all, but he hoped that maybe a nice argument was what Hermione needed to pull her mind out of the abyss that he could see her sinking into.

“That’s too bad, Ronald.” she simply said as she continued guiding the sausage around her plate.

She had called him ‘Ronald,’ that was never a good sign. He looked down at his own plate and sighed.

A minute later, the twins, Fred and George, made their way down the stairs and quietly seated themselves at the table. The twins looked at Ron and Hermione, glanced at each other with concerned looks, and then concentrated on the plates that their mother had just placed before them.

Molly looked around at all the miserable faces, then turned back to the cooker and wiped the tears that were starting to well up in her eyes.

Suddenly, everyone in the room jumped as green flames erupted in the fireplace, and a moment later, Professor McGonagall stepped into the room.

“Molly! Where’s Arthur?” said McGonagall with panic evident in her voice. Everyone in the room seemed to be frozen. Nobody there had ever seen her in such an alarmed state.

“What are you waiting for…? Get Arthur NOW! We’ve found Harry!”

Ron and Hermione both immediately leapt to their feet, Ron dashing out of the door into the yard to retrieve his father while Hermione, nearly knocking George out of his seat, vaulted to Professor McGonagall, “Is he ok? Where is he?”

Ignoring Hermione, McGonagall turned to Molly, “We must assemble whatever Order members we can immediately, is it alright to meet here? As you know, the Headquarters is no longer available to us.”

Everyone gasped as Hermione grabbed the Professor’s arm and turned her so that they were facing each other once again and repeated, “Where is Harry?”

“Miss Granger!” said McGonagall, looking fully taken aback, “I would not expect this from any of my students, but you?”

“We’re not your students anymore, we aren’t returning to Hogwarts this fall…” said Hermione with a strange wildness in her eyes, “where is Harry?”

“What do you mean by that?” McGonagall asked with more than a bit of shock in her voice, “Surely, you are returning to school. The Board of Governors already approved the re-opening of Hogwarts, and you’re the prime candidate for Head Girl this year!”

“Where is Harry?” said the furious Hermione for the fourth time as she drew her wand.

“Accio wand!” sounded from the across the room. Charlie Weasley was standing on the stairs holding his own, and then Hermione’s wands. Ginny was standing next to him, staring at Hermione with a disbelieving look on her face. Arthur and Ron returned at the point where Charlie was disarming Hermione. They both froze, wearing equally shocked expressions.

Hermione spun angrily around and saw Charlie holding her wand. Her shoulders slumped in defeat as she turned back to McGonagall and said, more calmly, “Please, I can talk to him, he’ll listen to me.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Potter is in no condition to talk to anyone at the moment, as he is currently in a coma in a muggle hospital.”

There came a collective gasp from around the room as both Hermione and Molly collapsed onto the floor. As the rest of the room’s occupants leapt to help the fallen ladies, Ginny blanched and ran back up the stairs and into her room.

Within thirty minutes, the core members of the Order were seated around the Burrow’s kitchen table while McGonagall related the conversation between Petunia Dursley and herself. Hermione paced the floor anxiously and listened as a plan to retrieve Harry was worked out. After another thirty minutes, the plan was complete and teams were set. A series of pops and cracks sounded from the Burrow’s front yard as each team disapparated to their designated places around London’s St Thomas' Hospital.

-----!-----

A middle aged woman with jet black hair, bright green eyes and an attractive, heart-shaped face approached the admissions desk of St Thomas' Hospital. A very thin, very tense looking teenage girl with bushy brown hair and tired, chocolate brown eyes accompanied her. The woman behind the admissions desk looked at the teenage girl and then said to her mother, “Oh, dear, are you looking to admit your daughter?”

The woman looked down at her ‘daughter,’ then realized what the clerk was asking and smiled, “Oh, no, actually we’re here about the boy that was in the newspaper this morning.”

“Oh! Wonderful!” the clerk said smiling, “We honestly didn’t expect to get such a quick response. Truthfully, we wondered why the family hadn’t checked the area hospitals sooner. Now,” the clerk looked down, took a sheet from the top of a small stack of forms, and asked, “are you Harry’s aunt?”

Hermione and the disguised Tonks exchanged surprised glances. They both thought the same thing, ‘How did this woman know his name?’

“No,” Tonks replied, I’m his mother, and this is his sister.”

The clerk looked confused, “You’re his mother? That’s strange, his mother is talking to Doctor Peterson right now arranging his transfer to a private care facility.” The clerk looked over both their shoulders and called out, “Excuse me, Mrs. Potter… Could we have a word please?”

Tonks and Hermione spun around and saw a tall, black haired woman speaking animatedly with a doctor. The woman turned around and her eyes locked onto Hermione. Both Tonks and Hermione immediately recognized who this woman was.

“It’s the mudblood!” bellowed Bellatrix Lestrange as she and several other people who were milling around the reception area pulled out their wands. Tonks and Hermione immediately jumped over the reception desk for cover and drew their own wands.

All Hell broke loose as the room suddenly filled with screams and multi-colored flashes of spellfire. The moment they ducked behind the desk, a pair of powerful Reductors splintered the top of it.

“They aren’t playing around!” commented Tonks as she brushed splinters out of her hair, “How many did you notice?”

“Five that I saw,” answered Hermione as she laid over the cowering receptionist, “Maybe one more, I was a little distracted…”

“I saw six, including Bella… good eye, girl!” complimented Tonks as she fired a ‘Stupefy’ at one of the charging Death Eaters.

Hermione grabbed the terrified clerk’s shoulders, pulled her face from the floor and demanded, “Where is Harry Potter?”

The woman had her eyes clenched shut and her arms wrapped over her head, too frightened to speak.

“Please,” Hermione begged, playing the sympathy card, “My brother’s in terrible danger, I must get to him before those people do!”

“S-s-second f-floor, long t-term c-c-care ward…” Hermione peered over the desk and ducked quickly back down as a green flash passes inches above her head. In the brief glance, she saw Bellatrix and another male Death Eater that she didn’t recognize dashing up the stairway on the far side of the lobby.

“Bloody hell…” said Hermione under her breath. Tonks glanced at her after sending a full body bind across the lobby. She then saw Hermione close her eyes and draw a deep breath. “Hermione! Don’t you dare…” warned Tonks, fully aware that nothing she could say would stop Hermione.

“Cover me!” she hissed to Tonks, then leapt over the desk and bolted for the stairs. Fortunately for Hermione, Lupin, Moody, and both Ron and Arthur Weasley chose that moment to charge in through the front doors. The muggle-clad Death Eaters were concentrating on firing spells at Hermione and didn’t immediately notice the new arrivals. The Death Eaters in the lobby were quickly blind-sided and subdued.

Hermione was charging up the stairs and chanced a glance behind her, and seeing Ron just approaching the bottom stair, she called back, “Harry… Second floor… Long term care ward.”

“Coming…” he replied.

Hermione burst through the door into the second floor hallway and was met by a wand pointing at her face, being held by Bellatrix herself.

“Oooh, a bonus!” cackled Bellatrix, “I get to finish wee baby potty’s mudblood as well!”

As Bellatrix inhaled to cast the spell, Hermione heard from behind her, ‘Stupefy!” She ducked just in time for Ron’s spell to singe the hair on top of her head before continuing on to hit Bellatrix squarely in the chest.

Hermione glared back at Ron for an instant, but then gave him a small smile and said, “Thanks.” Ron just shrugged and said, “I figured that ‘the brightest witch of her age’ would be smart enough to duck.”

They raced down the hall, leaving Bellatrix sprawled on the floor, and headed toward the Long Term Care Ward.

They hurriedly approached the nurse’s station in the ward and asked breathlessly, “Where is Harry Potter’s room?”

The nurse looked blankly back at the two out of breath teens, “There’s no one here by that name, miss…”

“No,” puffed Hermione, that’s the name of the boy from the paper!”

“Oh!” said the nurse with a smile, “So that’s his name… Room seven, but you can’t… he’s with… Hey, wait!”

They ignored the rest of her words as they sprinted off towards room seven. They skidded to a halt as they reached the open door and looked in with their wands at the ready.

Harry was lying on a bed, eyes closed and unmoving, his face seemed as white as the sheets he was resting under. He was surrounded by clear plastic bags of varying colored liquids that were connected to him by a tangle of tubing and machines that were blinking and beeping, and even one machine that kept making an occasional ‘Ping’ sound. Standing over him, with his back to the door, was a man whose hands were manipulating some metal device towards Harry’s face.

Just as the man was turning to see who had arrived, Hermione pointed her wand at him and yelled, “Stup…”

She froze.

The man’s eyes widened in recognition and he said to his daughter, “Hermione? What are you doing here?”

“Oh, my!” she managed to say, “Oh, no, Daddy, you have to get out of here!” her mind jumped to the Death Eaters lurking around, “No! You have to hide!” Her imagination then jumped to the lurking Death Eaters finding her father’s hiding place, “Oh, no, Ron! Can you…” Her mind jumped to Ron’s less-than-stellar apparation skills and his very recently acquired license to apparate, but considered the alternative and continued, “Ron, can you side-along my father to the Burrow? I’ll get Harry.”

Mr. Granger looked back and forth between the agitated teens and gave a weak protest, “But this boy’s teeth are broken… I’m right in the middle…”

Ron looked at Mr. Granger in surprise, then back to Hermione with a confident nod, “Ok, no problem.”

At that moment, the desk nurse arrived at the doorway, “I’m sorry, Doctor Granger, they just rushed right past me and…”

Hermione rolled her eyes, pointed her wand at the nurse and said, “Obliviate!”

The nurse’s eyes glazed over and she slowly backed out of the room and wandered off.

Hermione then wrapped her arms around Harry. She gasped and a look of shock washed over her face as she discovered that she could feel each of the ribs on his thin frame through his pajamas. She nodded to Ron, and with a pair of soft ‘cracks,’ all four people disappeared from the room, leaving behind dangling tubing, angrily howling machines and a very frustrated pair of Death Eaters, who had just arrived at the doorway.

Bellatrix was not looking forward to making her report to Voldemort.

6. Shishi and Washi

Disclaimer: I do not own anything ‘Harry Potter.’ Just the plot of this story and whatever original characters that I’ve created. I don’t own any of the lyric bits, either.

A/N: Yes! Another update! I’m on fire! Kotone makes her return, and I’m going to torture Hermione some more in this chapter. This is the longest chapter yet, about 7000 words! It’s an ‘info’ chapter, not much action, but a lot of things get explained and revealed, and new questions get introduced. You find out who, or rather ‘what’ Kotone is, and the nature of Hermione’s relationship (what there is of one) with Ron. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing, hearing your comments and criticism means a lot to me! By the way, her name is pronounced: Ko-Toe-Nee, not Ko-Tone. Enjoy!

Chapter 6: Shishi and Washi

-----~-----

I kinda always knew I’d end up your ex-girlfriend,
I hope I hold a special place with the rest of them,
And you know it makes me sick to be on that list,
But I should have thought of that before we kissed.

You say you’re gonna burn before you mellow.
I will be the one to burn you.
Why’d you have to go and pick me?
When you knew that we were different, completely.

-----~-----

Barely fifteen minutes had passed since the rescue teams had left. Molly paced nervously in the front yard of the Burrow, being watched by the equally nervous Ginny, who was seated on the steps to the house. Inside of the house, Poppy Pomfrey stood next a newly conjured bed and was busy setting up the equipment to a small portable potions lab.

A pair of loud cracks sounded through the yard as four people appeared. Hermione immediately collapsed to the grass under Harry’s dead weight. Ron stood, with his wand in hand, next to Mr. Granger, who dropped to the ground panting from the suffocating sensation that came along with apparation. Molly looked at the man cautiously, nervously pointing her wand at him before recognizing him as Hermione’s father. A look of relief washed over her, but was quickly replaced by dismay. She froze as her gaze fell on the unconscious boy in the arms of the struggling Hermione.

Ginny was racing across the yard towards Harry with a terrified expression. “Mum, don’t just stand there! Help him already!”

Molly shook her self out of her shock and flicked her wand towards Harry, causing him to float a few feet above the ground. “Hurry! Poppy has a bed waiting.”

As soon as the weight was lifted off of her, Hermione pulled a galleon out of her pocket, similar to the ones she created for the DA, and tapped it with her wand, signaling to the rest of the team that Harry was safely back at the Burrow.

Molly led the small procession into the house, Hermione and Ron guided the floating Harry, followed by the terrified Ginny and the confused Mr. Granger.

Moments later, Harry was in the bed and Madam Pomfrey was pushing everyone else from the room. Mr. Granger, Ron, Molly and Ginny were seated at the kitchen table while Hermione slowly paced the floor, looking lost. Molly sniffed quietly, dabbing at her eyes occasionally with a conjured hanky while Ron and Ginny sat quietly.

Mr. Granger was carefully analyzing his pacing daughter. He had never seen her quite so anxious or upset, or so thin. She looked much more tired than her normal hyper-active self, and he was concerned with her sallow complexion and the dark circles under her eyes.

Mr. Granger broke the anxious silence by asking, “I assume that boy is one of your people?” His question was out of curiosity, and had none of the bite that the same question from Vernon Dursley would carry.

“Yes,” Hermione answered as she continued her pacing, “His name is Harry Potter, a friend of mine from school I’m sure I’ve mentioned him in my letters home.”

He nodded, “Ah, yes… I see.” He continued to watch his daughter.

“Dad, what were you doing at the hospital? You said something about his teeth?”

“I was called there to fix that boy’s front teeth. It appears that he broke them a while ago, and every time he’d have one of his ‘fits,’ he’d cut his mouth and tongue on the sharp fragments. That boy’s in bad shape, isn’t he?”

Hermione stopped her pacing, remembering his shattered glasses and the broken tooth that rested in the dried puddle of blood in the room at the Leaky Cauldron. She looked at her father and her expression became unreadable as his full response to her question finally broke through her clouded mind, “Fits? What do you mean?”

“From what the nurses at the hospital told me, it appears that every few days he would have some sort of violent seizure, and he starts screaming out a name, sounding as though he was being frightened to death, sounding as if he’s seeing something horrible happening. Always the same name. From what I’m told, it’s quite disturbing to witness.” He carefully studied her face and noted the slight trace of fear that surfaced.

Ginny sat perfectly still and wore a neutral expression as she listened. Inside, however, she wore a brilliant grin. ‘It’s working again! He still loves me!’ she thought to herself.

There was a silent pause. Hermione began her trek across the floor once again, her eyes cast downward.

“Hermione…” said Mr. Granger.

“Yes, dad?” she answered as she paced.

“No,” he said with his eyes dancing as they met hers fully, “That’s the name that he screams, the name, ‘Hermione.’ It’s not a very common name, is it? Unless you’re fond of Shakespeare, like your mother is...”

Hermione stopped pacing and her eyes grew wide.

-----~-----

All of the Order members felt the coins in their pockets grow hot, indicating the success of the mission. Once they saw the ministry officials arrive, they disapparated back to the Burrow, leaving the aurors and obliviators to clean up the mess that was St Thomas’ Hospital. The ministry had their work cut out for them.

Fortunately, there were only a few relatively minor injuries. Remus Lupin’s arm was bleeding, having received a glancing hit from a reductor, and Arthur Weasley was still feeling the disorienting after-effects of a stunner he took to the back. The rest of the second team, though slightly shaken, returned unharmed. The third team, Fred and George, remained hidden back at the hospital, collecting information about the aftermath of the operation.

Charlie and Moody rushed ahead to inform Madam Pomfrey of the injured Lupin. Charlie opened the door to the house in time to see a furious Ginny fly across the kitchen and slap a stunned Hermione across the face. “I knew it! You’re the reason he broke up with me, you just couldn’t stand seeing him happy, could you!” Ginny then disappeared up the stairs to the bedrooms. Ron and Molly were seated at the table, both frowning and staring suspiciously at Hermione. Another man that he didn’t recognize was also at the table, obviously a muggle who was also looking at Hermione with a curious expression.

“What’s all this, then?”

“It seems that my daughter has a boyfriend in that young Mr. Potter in there...” said Mr. Granger softly, his eyes never leaving his daughter.

Everyone in the room was looking expectantly at Hermione, except for Moody, who kept his magical eye on the muggle seated at the table. Hermione knew exactly what they all were thinking. What other reason could Harry have for calling out her name? At that point, she wanted nothing more than to run from the house, apparate back to her own bedroom and cry for a week. The only thing stopping her was the concern she had about Harry’s condition.

“I don’t know why…” she could feel heat from embarrassment flush her face and the tears that were threatening to burst from her, “He’s not my boyfriend! I mean, there’s nothing going on between Harry and… Oh, how could you think that?”

Tonks was helping Lupin into the doorway. They halted when they saw the mix of puzzled and angry stares directed at Hermione.

“Wotcher, what’s happened?” Tonks saw the uncomfortable glares that Hermione was receiving, and though she didn’t know exactly what was going on, she figured she had better draw some attention away.

Tonks asked, “’Ow’s Harry?” No one answered. She glanced at Charlie while struggling with the groggy Lupin, “Come on, a hand here would be nice.”

Charlie carefully took Lupin’s injured arm and helped Tonks direct him into the other room where Poppy was attending to Harry. Molly fixed her eyes straight ahead of her as she stood and silently walked across the room and followed Ginny’s path up the stairs.

They all heard the door open to the living room where Harry and Poppy were, then heard a collective “Bloody Hell!” from Charlie, Tonks and Lupin.

Hearing their reaction to seeing Harry was all that was all it took for Hermione, it was the last straw, the dam had burst. The adrenaline that had pumped through her during the battle had long worn off, leaving her feeling drained. The combination of the embarrassment caused by none other than her own father, the fear and guilt she felt when she first saw Harry in that condition and hearing the shock in the voices of the others had finally cracked the shield that she had desperately placed over her emotions. She sank to her knees, hid her face in her hands, and softly cried.

“I’ll make some tea,” said Arthur as he made his way to the stove, “I know I could certainly use some.”

Ron was watching Hermione as she cried on the floor. “Is it true?” he asked coolly.

“What do you mean, ‘Is it true?’” said Hermione furiously, “Why would you even care if it was?”

“Well, I’d like to know if my girlfriend was snogging my sister’s boyfriend behind my back…”

“Last thing I heard was that Harry and Ginny broke up… and when was I ever your girlfriend?” yelled Hermione, “You didn’t seem to care who was snogging who when you had your tongue wedged down that Delacour girl’s throat last night at the reception, did you? It looked to me like you got further with Gabrielle than you ever got with me! It didn’t even seem to bother you that the girl’s only fourteen!”

“You know I didn’t mean that!” defended Ron as all the color drained from his face, “She snuck up on me and I got hit with that… that veela thing they do! I didn’t expect it! It wasn’t my fault!”

Hermione looked at him incredulously, “Oh? So whenever your sister-in-law drops by for a visit, everyone’s supposed to turn their heads and smile while you snog her brains out? You expect people to pass the salt over your humping arse while you work in a good shag on the kitchen table?”

“Look, I’m sorry, all right? I couldn’t help it! You know what they’re like!” said Ron quietly, with a flicker of fear appearing in his voice, “It won’t happen again.”

“I don’t care if it happens again or not, it has nothing to do with me.” Hermione said icily.

Ron’s face fell, “So that’s it? You’re breaking up with me over a mistake? I said I was sorry…”

“That was one hell of a mistake, Ronald, and there’s nothing to break up. I was never your girlfriend,” Hermione then turned to her father and continued, “and I’ve never been Harry’s girlfriend, either, regardless of what The Daily Prophet ever said.” She looked around the table, “And you can tell that to Ginny, too… although I doubt she’ll listen to it, never mind believe it.”

Silence fell over the room and everyone’s gaze had long since drifted to various locations around the room, with the exception of Mr. Granger, who continued to study his daughter. Ron opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Madam Pomfrey’s appearance from the other room. Hermione closed her eyes and held her breath as she listened from her position on the floor.

“Mr. Lupin needs to rest up a bit, but he is going to be fine,” she announced, “however, Mr. Potter, well… there’s really nothing I can do for him here, or even at Hogwarts. He needs to go to St. Mungo’s immediately.”

“Can you tell us what’s wrong with him?” asked Arthur, setting down his tea.

“There’s nothing wrong with him that I can tell, aside from being nearly dead. There is no trace of spell damage, poison or disease. I repaired the broken nose and his teeth, and he’s a bit malnourished, but I can’t seem to find anything else wrong with him at all.”

“Madam Pomfrey,” said Hermione tenuously, “You may want to try the Ahmatari Charm, it’s what the auror used on him on the train.”

Madam Pomfrey eyed her suspiciously, “You know what’s wrong with him? You’ve seen Harry in this condition before?”

Hermione and Ron briefly explained what transpired during the trip home from Hogwarts to the group of stunned adults. Poppy cast the charm, but the effects seemed negligible.

“It was worth trying,” said Madam Pomfrey, “I’ll make the arrangements to get him moved to St. Mungo’s as discreetly as possible. Arthur, if you could accompany me?”

Mr. Weasley nodded and followed Madam Pomfrey into the other room.

Hermione knew better than to insist that she go along, and she needed time, not only to sort her own problems out, but also to get some desperately needed sleep. Harry might not be ‘fine,’ but at least he was alive and she knew where he was. Hopefully, she could visit him the next morning. She stood and walked up to her father, “I think I should get you home now, dad.”

“I’ll need to get my car from St Thomas’…”

“It’s too dangerous there right now… mum can bring you tomorrow, can’t she?”

“Yes, I suppose she can.” he answered while allowing Hermione to lead him out of the house, “That teleportation thing you do is rather unpleasant, did you know that?”

She gave her father half of a smile and nodded, “It’s not so bad once you get used to it.”

That night, like most nights, Hermione got very little sleep. Her thoughts kept drifting back, not just to the day’s events, nor to the happenings of the past month, but also to the past several years of her life, more specifically, to her relationship to her two best friends. She was so used to being right. She was so used to having all the answers right when they were needed. How could her personal life have turned out so poorly… so twisted? How could she have been so wrong about so many things?

She was initially so sure that Ron had fancied her and, judging by the types of girls that Harry apparently fancied, he could never have feelings about someone as dismally plain, as painfully boring as she was. As it turned out, Ron clearly wanted someone more physical, more willing, and Harry… well, she wasn’t quite sure what Harry wanted, but she would have never imagined it was her. Cho was beautiful, there was no denying that, as was Ginny. Both were carefree, athletic, popular, outgoing and fun to be with... everything that she was not. How could Harry ever ‘love’ her? As much as she hated to admit it, there was absolutely nothing ‘fun’ about being around her. She wasn’t pretty, popular nor outgoing. Was this her problem all along? Was this why everyone she had ever met considered her a ‘nightmare?’ Was she really an ‘insufferable know-it-all?’

Would things really be different if she had spent more time on her appearance and less time submerged in her books? Would life be so different if she had acted more breezy and blithe? Yes, things would have turned out differently… she wouldn’t have been needed. Without her brains, her cleverness, she probably wouldn’t have been so lonely as a child, she would probably have lots of friends, but she certainly wouldn’t be Harry’s friend. He wouldn’t need another fan of his celebrity staring at him in the great hall. He wouldn’t need yet another girl smiling at him hopefully in the hallways between classes, trying to get noticed. He wouldn’t need her, and now, if all she could get from Harry was being needed for her cleverness, then at least she was needed for something.

Still… he did say he loved her, didn’t he?

-----~-----

There was little change in Harry’s condition over the next two weeks. He had been placed in the Spell Damage ward on the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s, even though they had yet to find spell damage, or any other kind of damage at all. He remained unconscious and unresponsive to any treatment that they administered. Ron and Hermione were at the hospital every day, only returning to their respective homes occasionally to clean themselves up and to catch some sleep.

Ron and Hermione sat across from each other in a booth in the tearoom on the fifth floor of the hospital. Hermione was quietly staring at the sandwich lying in front of her while Ron perused the copy of The Daily Prophet as Fred Weasley entered the room and sat down next to his brother.

“I’ve just been to see him,” said Fred sullenly, “still no change.”

“Yeah, we know,” said Ron, “I hope they find out something soon. They’re still sending for healers from all over, I hear there’s one coming from Australia, and another from Brazil.”

“That healer from Greece wasn’t much help, was he?” asked Fred.

“No, he wasn’t…” answered Ron, “They practically threw him out of the hospital after only an hour, didn’t they?”

Fred was watching Hermione stare at the sandwich that Ron was eyeing furtively. He still wasn’t used to seeing her like this. She was withdrawn and dour, and nearly always wore a wintry expression. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her genuinely smile.

He worked his best ‘Weasley Twins’ smile and said to her, “Hermione, you’d best eat that soon or our ickle Ronniekins will likely do a face-plant on your plate.”

His smile faltered as Hermione, without looking up, slowly slid the plate across the table so that it sat right in front of Ron. Fred was about to tear into Ron as his hand reached for the plate, but then he noticed the hurt look on his brother’s face as Ron slid the plate back to her.

“Please, Hermione,” said Ron, “You’ve got to eat.”

“I’m not really hungry, Ron.”

“Every day we go through the same thing,” said Ron, starting to sound cross, “Look at you, Hermione. You’ve barely eaten for weeks now. Do you really think Harry would want you to starve yourself over him?”

Hermione said nothing, she just continued to glom at her plate.

“What’s going on, Hermione?” asked Fred in uncharacteristic seriousness, “This is more than just worry. What are you thinking? What’s wrong?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Replied Hermione icily.

“Give us a try.” Said Fred, sounding genuinely sympathetic.

Hermione sighed. “I saw it all last year. Harry had his ‘Prince’ book, and he had Ginny. He didn’t need me to help him with his school work. He didn’t need my friendship to make him happy. He didn’t need me! I realized that the only reason I was his friend was that he relied on me so much in the previous years. I was always there to help him, whether it was getting through to the Sorcerer’s Stone, finding out what he was up against in the Chamber or making sure he was prepared for those bloody tasks during the tournament, I was always able to help him. I was always willing to help him, but not last year. Last year I was so convinced he didn’t need me anymore, that I let him drift away. I found myself almost constantly annoyed at him. I refused to believe him about Snape and Malfoy, and I was so jealous of Ginny and that blasted book coming in between our friendship. I was so scared that he’d never need me again, that he’d never… That he wouldn’t want…” She turned away and quickly wiped the wetness that was forming in her eyes, and then said in a small voice, “He was the first friend I ever had in my life. My very first and best friend. How could I treat him like that? What came over me?”

She once again felt the lump rise in her throat, as it was prone to do so often during the past month.

“So here’s my chance to help him. He needs me now, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what to do. He finally needs me again and here I am, sitting here staring at a sandwich when I should be out doing something, but I have no idea where to begin! If someone cursed him, I’d at least know where to start looking. If I only had a clue, any scrap of information that could point me in the right direction. I lie awake at night thinking about it, or sitting at my desk searching through my books, going over everything that I know, but nothing comes to me. If all the brightest healers from around the world have no idea what’s wrong with him, what chance do I have of finding anything? I just feel so lost… so useless!”

She glanced at the two brothers looking back at her sympathetically, then glumly said, “Pitiful, aren’t I?” Her shoulders slumped in defeat and she resumed glowering morosely at her sandwich.

“Hermione, you’ve got to snap out of this,” Said Ron, “We have to keep positive. You know Harry can’t die because of this.”

“Oh, and how do I know that?” asked Hermione, not looking up from her plate.

“You know, the prophesy…” As Ron spoke, Hermione’s head snapped up wearing a horrified expression, “‘one must die at the hand of the…’ OW!”

Hermione had kicked Ron under the table. Not as hard as she wanted, but hard enough so that he instinctively grabbed at his leg and promptly rapped his chin on the tabletop.

“Ronald, you can be so daft at times,” she hissed while glaring at him for only a moment, then upon seeing his pained look change to that of realization at what he was about to say in front of Fred, she gave a small smile, the first genuine smile she wore in a very long time. The smile was short lived as Fred caught on to what happened.

“What prophesy?” said Fred incredulously, “The one from the ministry? You two know what it is, and it’s about Harry dying?”

“Fred, forget what you think you’ve heard,” warned Hermione, in almost a pleading voice, “you have got the wrong idea. We know you’re a fully fledged member of the Order now, but you have no idea how important it is not to have more rumors about Harry spread around.”

Fred considered her words for a moment, thinking about how much he respected Harry and how much both George and himself owed him, and not in just the monetary sense. He simply nodded and rose from his seat, “Right, then, I need to get back to the shop. Try not to dwell on things you can’t control, Hermione, I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

As Fred was leaving, a pair of boys entered the tearoom, one of whom Hermione recognized at once, as he was a student at Hogwarts. Barnabas Windon noticed the two familiar faces and gave a small wave. Both boys looked terribly troubled as they moved to sit in a nearby booth. Hermione, seeing the despondent look on both of their faces, waved them over and asked if they’d like to join. She thought that maybe by cheering someone else up she could help her own dismal mood. Though unsure at first, they reluctantly agreed.

“Hello, Barnabas,” said Hermione, trying to sound as cheerful as she could muster, “Ron, this is Barnabas Windon, he’s also a student at Hogwarts.”

“Hello, Barnabas,” said Ron, “who’s your friend here?”

Barnabas, who looked as though he would rather be anywhere else than sitting with two soon-to-be seventh years, and especially these particular seventh years, answered nervously, “This is Albert Abernathy, he’ll be going to Hogwarts in a few years.”

“Hello, Albert, I’m…”

“Hermione Granger...” finished Albert breathily, his eyes wide with wonder. He turned to Ron and continued, “…and you’re Ronald Weasley! You’re famous, everyone knows who you two are!”

Ron grinned broadly at hearing Albert, causing Hermione to roll her eyes. Ron ignored her and said, “Why are you here, visiting someone?”

The two young boys looked at each other and their faces dropped, “Well, yes,” said Barnabas sadly, “Our friend Kotone is here. We’re really worried about her.”

“Kotone?” asked Hermione, “The girl we saw at King’s Cross Station?”

“Yes, she’s really sick. She’s been here a long time and she’s not getting better. They won’t tell us, but we think she’s going to die.” Albert just nodded.

“What happened to her?” asked Ron.

“Nobody knows. We tried to wake her up one morning, but she wouldn’t. She was whiter than she usually is and really cold when I touched her. They brought her here about a month ago and they say she’s not getting better.” Barnabas thought for a minute, and then hesitantly asked, “You’re both friends of Harry Potter… Do you think you could…” He paused while he looked down at his fidgeting hands before continuing very quickly in seemingly one long, unbroken stream of words, “do you think you could ask Harry to visit her? She never gets any visitors at all, except for us, and she likes him a whole lot, and I’m sure she’d get better if he would visit and she thinks about him all the time and if he’s not too busy she’d really love it and…”

He was forced to stop talking only due to his running out of breath. He inhaled deeply, looking as though he were ready to continue his babbling, but instead looked hopefully between Hermione and Ron and waited anxiously for one of them to speak.

The lump returned to Hermione’s throat. “I’m really sorry, but Harry can’t right now. Maybe if we go to see her?” she asked indicating Ron and herself.

His expression became apprehensive. “I… I don’t think that would be a good idea. She’s really shy about her appearance, and she’s not covered like she normally is.”

“Well, what’s wrong with the way she looks?” asked Ron, “I mean, it can’t be that bad…”

“She’s not a ‘normal’ girl,” said Barnabas, “she’s… well…” He sighed in frustration, trying to find the right words, “I think it’s best if Miss Melanie, she’s our administrator, explains it, I really don’t understand it myself, but people get really scared when they see Kotone, and it upsets her when they do, but it’s nor fair because she’s a really sweet girl. Everyone at the orphanage loves her.”

“She’s an orphan?” asked Ron. Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him an exasperated look.

“Well, yes, and so are Albert and I. It’s not something we like to brag about, you understand…”

Hermione gave him a kind smile and said, “Well, let’s go have a word with Miss Melanie.”

A few minutes later they found themselves in the children’s ward of St. Mungo’s Hospital, a small area set aside on the first floor. It was painted in bright primary colors and the walls were decorated with cute, childishly animated mythical creatures. Pegasi were flying carefree among the rafters high on the ceiling, and friendly-looking baby chimeras, harpitoads and frumishers danced along the walls and played ‘hide-and-go-seek’ and ‘peek-a-boo’ with the giggling children seated in the reception lobby.

Sitting quietly in a small conversation nook was the stern-looking administrator of Haversham’s Wizard Orphanage, Miss Melanie. Hermione immediately recognized this same old woman from platform nine-and-three-quarters at King’s Cross Station. The group followed Barnabas into the nook, and after a brief introduction, all were seated comfortably.

“Miss Melanie,” Barnabas began, “I was wondering if you could tell them about Kotone. They’d asked to visit her, but from past experience… well, I think you could explain about her better than I could.”

“I see…,” said Miss Melanie, with an appraising look at Ron and Hermione, “We’ll have to ask her if she wants visitors, but she’s going to have to get used to being exposed to other people if she’s going to Hogwarts this fall.” Then, as an afterthought, she mentioned, “She’s going to have to learn not to be ashamed of her voice, either. In any case, before you see her, there are a few things you need to know about her.”

Ron and Hermione sat quietly and nodded in understanding.

Miss Melanie began, “Kotone came to us three years ago. She and her parents came from Japan to attend the Quidditch World Cup. Her parents were killed in the Death Eater attack there. I know that it was reported that there were no deaths, but I suppose the minister at the time didn’t think it was worth the negative publicity. She had no other relatives that could, or rather that would, take her.

Both Ron and Hermione looked at each other and immediately thought about the similarities between Harry and Kotone.

Miss Melanie continued, “We found that the reason that none of her living relatives wanted to take her was...” She paused. She had told this story so many times before, and each time she was met with nearly identical responses, fear and loathing. That was the usual the reaction. “…that she leads a cursed life… she is a half-demon.”

She paused again, gauging the reaction of the two teenagers. Surprised that neither one had any noticeable involuntary response, she continued, “Have either of you ever heard of the ‘Oni’?”

Ron and Hermione blankly glanced at each other, “No, we haven’t.” came Hermione’s simple reply.

“Well, that’s not surprising… According to Japanese mythology, the ‘Oni’ were demons that hunted humans, specifically evil humans. It was believed by many that these demons saw ‘evil’ in all people, so they were feared and hated by everyone. In truth, they were dark wizard hunters, and were often employed by wealthy wizards to protect their families and possessions. While mostly benevolent, many of the Oni demanded extreme payment for their ‘services.’ Kotone is a product of one such payment. Several hundred years ago, her ancestor contracted an Oni to defend his castle from the threat of another wizard. In payment, he demanded the last-born child of his family to be conceived by the demon. What her ancestor didn’t realize at the time, was that the demon meant that every last-born child in his family was to be conceived by him. The reason that the child would always be the last-born, is because the mother would become sterile after the birth. The demon honored his contract, and the payment was reluctantly made. Kotone is the last-born child of that family’s line, so she is a half-Oni… a half-demon.”

“So, what does that have to do with the way she looks?” asked Ron, in a rare display of interest.

“Let’s just say that the pure Oni aren’t very pleasant to look at. If she allows you to visit with her, you might see for yourself, but I’d assume she would want to wear her mask.”

Hermione, knowing Ron’s aptitude for tact, suggested that she alone should visit with Kotone. Barnabas left the nook to see if Kotone would allow a visit, and came back moments later to escort Hermione to her room.

“I’ve already put her mask on for her,” explained Barnabas as they entered the room, “To ‘speak’ to her you must look into her eyes. I’ll be right here if you need me.”

The room was typical of most of the patient rooms in St. Mungo’s. The bare walls and floor, the comfortable white light flooding the room, and the crisp white linens on the bed gave the room an antiseptic feel. Kotone was lying on the bed, the sheets pulled up to her neck. She had a pure white porcelain half-mask covered the lower portion of her face, obscuring her mouth and nose. Painted on the mask were small, red lips and a hint of pink blush. The white of the porcelain nearly matched the complexion of the tiny girl.

The first thing that attracted Hermione’s attention was Kotone’s hair. The first time she had seen the girl at King’s Cross Station, her hair was hidden beneath the hood of her cloak. Hermione was quite surprised to see that its color was a stark white, almost glowing, like the hair of an adult unicorn. The color wasn’t the most interesting thing about her hair. What had really caught Hermione’s attention was that the girl’s hair was moving. It swayed and flowed gently across the pillow as if it were being blown by a soft but turbulent breeze, moving as if each strand had a life of its own. A pair of small, golden horns peeked through her hair just above her forehead. The girl’s pale white ears were quite large and pointed at the top, similar in shape to those of a house elf. Hermione then noticed the girl’s cat-like eyes. They were a breathtaking, amethyst-like shade of violet, wide open and staring at the ceiling. Kotone seemed to radiate a strange sort of beauty, much in the same way the veela seemed to do with only men.

“Merlin, she… she’s beautiful!” Hermione whispered absently.

Barnabas chuckled under his breath and quietly said, “You haven’t seen her without the mask, or when she’s angry.”

Hermione stood in the doorway transfixed, wondering how anyone could be afraid of this tiny girl.

Hermione mentally shook herself out of her daze and said, “Kotone, I’m a friend of Harry Potter, do you remember me?”

“You need to look directly into her eyes,” said Barnabas, “she won’t… well, ‘talk’ to you otherwise, she can talk, but she rarely does… it frightens people…”

Hermione cautiously approached the bed and spoke, “Kotone?”

Kotone’s eyes were locked straight ahead of her, fixed on the ceiling. Hermione leaned over the girl’s bed, and the moment her eyes came in line with Kotone’s, a strange sensation overcame her, as if the scope of her vision narrowed onto the girl’s eyes alone and the rest of the room faded into darkness.

An airy, melodic voice drifted through her consciousness, speaking in Japanese, but the words echoed in English through her mind, “I know of you. You are Kawauso, the mate of Ojika. You are Ii-guru, he is Shishi.” The voice sounded very weak.

Hermione heard the word ‘Shishi’ and could only associate it with the nickname that Lavender Brown had used for Ron in their sixth year, ‘Won Won.’ She really didn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what the girl was trying to say. The term ‘mate’ wasn’t lost on her, though.

“Your friend, Barnabas, asked about having Harry Potter visit you, but he’s…”

“Yes, I know of Ojika, I am with him. I am protecting him, holding his soul in place. He awaits the Kawauso, the Washi. I am tired, I can not keep him safe any longer.” The fatigue, the exhaustion of her efforts shone through the look in Kotone’s eyes. Hermione could see the desperation.

“I don’t understand,” said Hermione, “when you say Ojika, do you mean Harry?”

“Yes, Shishi, the lion, Ojika, the stag.” Replied Kotone, “He awaits Kawauso.”

“Who is Kawauso? What can he do?”

Kotone’s eyes told of the difficulty she was having in translating the words she meant to convey, “You are the Kawauso, you are his Washi… The Otter, his Eagle. I beg of you, please to hurry, my power fades… He needs Kawauso… Hurry!”

With a deep, guttural groan, the small girl lapsed into unconsciousness. Her eyes closed and her head turned feebly on her pillow causing the porcelain mask to slide slightly off her lower face, revealing a portion of her cheek and jaw.

Hermione staggered back from the bed as the connection with the girl’s eyes was broken. For a moment, she stared blankly at Kotone, stunned by the difference a small mask could make in someone’s appearance. The small girl’s mouth had thick, blood red lips that stretched across her jaw nearly reaching the bottom tip of her pointed ears. Along the bottom of her wide, squared chin protruded another pair of tiny golden horns, much like the ones that peeked through the hair on her head. A set of glistening black fangs jutted from between her lips, the top pair extended to just below her jaw line, and the bottom pair reached up and seemed to rest on either side of her tiny, turned-up nose. All of the newly revealed features drastically changed how an observer might perceive her eyes.

Now Hermione could understand why people would be very afraid of this little girl. As understanding and compassionate as Hermione was, she couldn’t help letting out a gasp as she finally saw what the small ‘girl’ actually looked like.

Barnabas, upon seeing Kotone’s mask slip, rushed to the bedside and nervously fumbled with it before repositioning it back onto her face. He then started stammering, “S-sorry, Miss Granger, I hope she didn’t f-f-frighten you, I… I understand how, I mean…”

Hermione silently took a deep calming breath through her nose, desperately trying not to look shaken, before she turned to Barnabas with a serious expression, “Barnabas, exactly how long has she been here?”

“As I told you before, it’s been almost a month and…”

Hermione wasn’t listening to the rest of his explanation, being caught up in her own thoughts, ‘That’s about as long as Harry’s been in the coma… Kawauso…? Otter…?’ she thought to herself.

A flicker of comprehension lit in her suddenly wide eyes, ‘He needs Kawauso? My patronus?’

Hermione sprinted from the room, through the hallway of the children’s ward and out into the visitor’s lobby. She saw Ron still seated in the nook, chatting with Albert and Miss Melanie.

“Ron! We need to get to Harry, NOW!”

Ron made a hasty good-bye and raced out of the ward after Hermione. Several minutes later, they dashed by the surprised Tonks, who was guarding Harry’s door, and burst into his room. The scene that they met made them stop in their tracks.

A piercing scream assaulted Hermione’s ears the moment the door had opened. She had heard about the ‘fits’ that plagued Harry from time to time, but had never witnessed one… until just then. A healer was lying on top of Harry, trying to keep him from throwing himself from the bed. His eyes were open, wide with abject horror, and he was thrashing and kicking violently while mostly unintelligible wails poured from his mouth.

The healer looked at the group helplessly as she fought to keep Harry on the bed, “I’ve never seen him this bad! Never! He just started a few minutes ago!”

Suddenly, his body became tensed and still and his face contorted into what could not be confused with anything but despair. In a hoarse, choked voice, he uttered a defeated cry… just one word… “Hermione…”

The sweaty and visibly shaken healer who was overseeing Harry’s care stood from the bed and started to scold them on their rude entrance, but upon seeing the menacing glare from Hermione, quickly went silent.

‘Happy memory… happy thought…’

With all the misery in her recent life, she was having a problem coming up with a decent memory. Back in the days of the DA, she used the memory of herself at the Yule Ball during their fourth year. The way everyone gawked at her, the unbelieving stares that came her way from everyone that knew her. The way Harry had looked at her as she walked down the stairs in the entrance hall.

She found earlier in the year that that particular memory didn’t work for her anymore. All her effort the night of the Yule Ball, as it turned out, didn’t achieve the expected result. That memory wasn’t quite as happy as it once was, in fact, it wasn’t happy now at all. She needed a new one, a stronger one.

Tonks hissed through gritted teeth at Hermione, trying hard not to yell, “What do you think you’re doing? You just can’t barge into the room like this!” Tonks’ eyes narrowed as she studied the pair, and then softened. She was quite sure they were the real Ron and Hermione, especially after seeing the same sad, worried expression that Hermione took to wearing recently.

Hermione ignored the buzzing in her ears that was Tonks’ reprimand, she was too busy organizing her memories. When was the last time she had a happy thought? When was the last time she felt a thrill run through her? When was the last time she felt her heart race from anything other than fear or panic?

‘But... but I have to care because I... I... lo... I love…’

Just the memory of those words that were whispered in her ear, the hidden promise that they held lit a fire in her soul.

Everyone in the room gasped as Hermione drew her wand and pointed it at Harry’s chest.

‘Please let this work…’

Before anyone could make a move to stop her, Hermione yelled in a clear, confident voice, “EXPECTO PATRONUM!”

-----~-----

A/N: Is the story moving too fast? Too slow? Too confusing? Should I give up, toss my computer and take up knitting hats? Leave a review and let me know! Good or bad, criticism helps! I’m not going to throw in a lot of ethnic terminology, in other words, I’m not going to turn this story into a Japanese language lesson. Kotone can speak, (with actual words but she’ll refuse to for a while yet, you’ll find out why.) but she’s not very fluent in English, even with her style of Legilimens.

Shishi = Male Lion

Washi = Eagle

Ii-guru = generic phrase for ‘Bird of Prey’

Kawauso = Otter

Ojika = Stag, Male Deer, Buck

7. The Awakening

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor of the lyric bits reproduced here.

A/N: Postings will be slowing down a bit from here on. I apparently am left without betas again. Once I get my literary problems back on track, I’ll be pushing them out again. As you know from previous chapters, Harry is in a coma at St. Mungo’s. This starts as another one of his ‘visions.’ These ‘visions’ may seem confusing, but they’re an important part of the story, and it’ll be made clearer a bit later. The very astute among you have already figured out what these ‘visions’ are, and have a good idea what they mean and what’s causing them. If you have NO idea what’s causing them, you will by the end of this chapter, and you’re probably going to hate me for it!

I notice that nobody’s paying attention to the lyrics I’m putting up… Are they too obscure? Chapter one was ‘Plowed’ by the band Sponge. I mean I’ve quoted Oleander, Metallica, Missing Persons and others… Should I forget about them? In case you’re wondering about the lyrics below, they’re from ‘Breakdown’ by the band Tantric. Am I too much of a ‘rocker’ for your tastes? Come on, people, I may be old, but I’m not dead yet!

Anyway… on with the show!

Chapter 7: The Awakening

-----~-----

In your life, you seem to have it all,
you seem to have control,
but deep within your soul
you're losing it.

You never took the time.
Assume that you're to blame.
You think that you're insane.
Won't you spare me?

-----~-----

Harry was walking. He was casually strolling through a vast field of multi-colored flowers. There was no sound. There was no wind. Small clouds of vapor escaped his mouth and nostrils with every breath he took. It was very cold. Even though the sun had been out all day, the temperature hadn’t changed at all from the night before, and it was just as cold the previous day.

He couldn’t quite remember when he started walking. He couldn’t remember where he was walking from, or where he was walking to. He scanned the horizon before him. He couldn’t see any hills or mountains in the distance, the landscape was perfectly flat. He briefly glanced behind him, and found the view pretty much the same. He could see the path of disturbed flora behind him, marking the perfectly straight path that he had traveled directly in line with the setting sun.

‘I seem to be traveling east…’

Harry was walking. He could still see the field of flowers, even though the sun had set long ago. He glanced at the cloudless sky as he walked. There was no moon, no stars… just blackness. The sky slowly turned from a flat black to a velvety purple. The sun peeked over the horizon to his right.

‘I must be traveling north…’

He glanced behind him and saw that the path of bent and crushed flowers he had made through the vegetation still led in a perfectly straight line. The thought that he appeared to be traveling in different directions, even though he hadn’t remembered turning at any time, didn’t seem to trouble him. All he knew was that he had to keep walking. He couldn’t stop.

He was tired. He could feel the fatigue in his legs. He felt the heaviness of his eyelids, but he kept walking. Something he couldn’t quite hear kept telling him he had to keep walking. A presence in his mind kept urging him forward.

He had been walking for days. How many days, he couldn’t count. He couldn’t recall the last time he stopped, if he ever did. He knew he needed sleep, but he honestly couldn’t remember when the last time he slept was… he couldn’t remember if he had ever slept, as silly as that notion sounded. Sleep almost felt like a foreign notion to him. Every time he considered stopping to lay down amongst the flowers to rest, a desperate, almost pleading voice pushed him along.

Something was urging him to keep walking, telling him that resting was a very bad thing, as if sleeping would be fatal to him. As he pondered the idea of resting, Harry noticed the sun setting to his right.

‘Strange, I must be traveling south.’

As he walked, he noticed that the strange voice that had been continually prodding him on was getting fainter, increasingly more difficult to hear and understand until the voice died completely. He suddenly felt as if he lost some kind of a vital protection and became very aware of a darkness creeping towards him from behind.

He looked over his shoulder and saw that his wake of disturbed flowers was still in a perfectly straight line trailing off into the distance behind him. It was then that he noticed a brooding darkness in the distant sky. Clouds of black and grey, moving impossibly fast towards him from the horizon. Brilliant red lightning flashed down from the clouds leaving large, dark circles of blackened earth and burnt flowers around the smoking craters where it had struck the ground.

With his eyes fixed on the maelstrom that was quickly overtaking him, he started running blindly, vainly trying to stay ahead of the wall of ‘rain’ that he knew would eventually catch up with him. The wind suddenly kicked up from behind him, almost knocking him forward off his feet. The clouds boiled angrily as they raced towards him, and a moment later, the darkness swept past him and panic set in as the ‘rain’ started. He felt the large heavy drops pelting his back and head as he ran. He watched as the pretty pink, red and blue flowers that were all around him were slowly turning red by the thick, glutinous rain that was showering down over them. He pushed his sodden bangs out of his eyes, which widened in horror as he realized that the rain was actually blood. He stopped suddenly and watched the thick, crimson liquid dripping from his hands. He then noticed through his stained, outstretched fingers a lone gravestone about twenty meters in front of him. Somehow, he knew to whom that grave belonged, but he needed to see the name for himself.

Just as he stepped forward towards the headstone, a bolt of lightning struck the grave, the force of which knocked him back to the ground. He unsteadily got to his feet and staggered to the rim of the crater where the headstone had just stood. He looked down into the crater and saw the shattered, smoldering coffin lying at the bottom., It’s splintered lid had been blown off and laid in fragments along the inside of the crater.

He saw the lifeless young girl lying in the casket. He saw her pallid, gaunt face and brown curly hair. He fell to his knees on the charred, blood-soaked earth and put his face in his dripping hands.

“Hermione…”

A peal of rolling thunder sounded out from the blackened sky above him that sounded suspiciously like menacing, gleeful laughter. He pulled his bloodied hands from his face and looked up at the dark, swirling clouds where he briefly caught a glimpse of red, snake-like eyes leering down at him.

Far ahead of him, he noticed a tiny, golden-white sphere of light emerging from the horizon. The sphere quickly brightened and expanded, much like an explosion, and engulfed the entire sky, almost instantly driving the storm back beyond the skyline behind him. The intensity of the golden light forced his eyes to close. The light faded as quickly as it had appeared. A gentle, whispering breeze that carried with it the scent cinnamon drifted across his face, leaving within him a peaceful sensation, as if he were resting in a comfortable bed, or wrapped in someone’s warm embrace… or… or both?

He heard a soft, familiar voice whispering in his ear, “Please wake up… Oh please, Harry, don’t leave me… I need you… Please, just wake up…”

With great difficulty, Harry pried one of his eyes open and found himself sitting up in a bed being gently rocked by a sobbing and trembling Hermione. He glanced around the unfamiliar room through the mass of her golden brown hair and saw at the foot of his bed Ron, Tonks and a someone he didn’t recognize, a person who appeared to be wearing the green robes of a St. Mungo’s healer. All three were staring at him with their mouths open, although it was hard to tell their exact expressions without his glasses.

“I feel like hell…” was all Harry managed to murmur through his dry, cracked lips. Hermione momentarily tightened her embrace before she pulled back to look at his face.

He gave her a weak smile and said “Hi.” He heard Hermione let out a soft sob as she once again pulled him into a crushing hug, only to be pried away from him a moment later by the healer.

“Out! Out! We need to examine him!” said the mediwitch as she ushered the ‘visitors’ from the room. Within minutes, Harry’s room was filled to capacity with healers and assistants, who were casting diagnostic charms and analyzing his magical aura while poking and prodding every inch of him with their wands. A short, portly healer entered the room followed by a floating chart and quill. He sat down after conjuring a chair next to Harry’s bed and noisily cleared his throat.

“Do you understand what I am saying?” asked the healer as the quill scratched across the parchment on the chart.

Harry was lying back on his pillow, trying to clear the blanket of fog in his mind that was making it difficult for him to think. Barely opening his eyes, He briefly glanced at the healer and nodded slightly.

“I’m Healer Aubrey, I know this is difficult, so just do the best you can. Can you tell me your name?”

“Harry Potter.” He managed to croak out.

The healer smiled, “Good, good…” Noticing his discomfort, the healer conjured a cloth and a bowl of water on the bedside table. He dipped the cloth into the water and carefully placed the sodden end into Harry’s mouth to alleviate the dryness, “and do you know where you are?”

Harry simply nodded, knowing that he was obviously in St. Mungo’s hospital.

“Good, now can you tell me where the last place you remember being?”

Harry was having a very hard time putting his thoughts in order. His body felt weak and exhausted, his limbs felt as though they were made of lead and there was a steady, painful throbbing in the scar on his forehead. He remembered most of the trip on the Hogwarts Express, although it seemed to him that he slept most of the way. He could remember the dressing down by Hermione at the King’s Cross Station, the visit to Surrey and the empty Dursley house, and the meal at the Leaky Cauldron with the auror, Benjamin Bones.

“The Leaky Cauldron,” he said weakly, “I was in my room there.”

The quill was busy scratching out notes, while the healer looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for him to continue. After a few moments, when he saw that Harry had nothing more to add, he asked, “You don’t recall leaving the Leaky Cauldron?”

Harry suddenly remembered his ill-fated trip to Gringott’s Wizarding Bank. He opened one eye and glanced again at the healer, “I only left there to briefly visit Gringott’s. I went back to the room and didn’t leave again after that.”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed, thinking about his empty vault. He leaned deeper into his pillow and asked, “Can you tell me what happened to me?”

“We were hoping you could tell us…” The healer went into the story of how he was found in Hyde Park by the muggle police and was taken to a muggle hospital, where he was in a coma for almost three weeks before being ‘rescued’ and brought to St. Mungo’s.

“Three weeks?”

“Yes, Mr. Potter, and you’ve been here at St. Mungo’s for an additional two weeks…”

Harry’s eyes were fully open for the first time since he awoke, “What’s today’s date?”

“July Nineteenth.” Replied the healer while tipping a potion bottle into Harry’s mouth. “Now, this is a dreamless sleep potion. I know you’ve been out for a while, but it was hardly restful. You still need peaceful slumber. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

Moments later Harry fell asleep as the gang of healers continued to poke, prod and examine him.

In the hallway outside of Harry’s room, Ron and Hermione sat on a bench while Tonks stood by the door carefully scrutinizing each of the healers that passed through the doorway.

“Whatever possessed you two to go barging into the room like that? I was about to stun ya both! I should have stunned ya both!” Tonks was pacing the corridor as she chastised them while still keeping a close eye on the excited healers buzzing through the doorway.

Ron was sitting with a blank expression, still trying to absorb what happened in the room. Hermione didn’t say anything, she just gave Tonks an indignant glare before lowering her head with a tired sigh. She was lifting one of her heels off the floor and nervously bouncing her leg as she sat nibbling a fingernail.

“And what in Merlin’s name were you thinking, casting a patronus at Harry? That much magical energy could have killed him in his condition, and since when could you cast a Golden Patronus? I’ve only seen three wizards cast them before, and that…”

“Excuse me,” Said Healer Aubrey as he emerged from Harry’s room, “could I have a word with you, Miss Granger?”

Both Ron and Hermione leapt from the bench, “How is he? Is he OK?”

“We gave him a sleeping draught, so he’ll be out until tomorrow morning. As far as we can tell, it looks like he’ll be ok. We’re going to keep him for a few days, though. We need to find out what’s wrong with him, and now that he’s out of immediate danger we can hopefully determine the cause of his condition.”

Both Hermione and Ron visibly relaxed. Hermione hugged Ron and buried her face in his chest, “He’s going to be OK…,” she whispered to his shirt.

“Miss Granger, Healer Willoughby said that you brought Mr. Potter out of the coma with a Patronus Charm. Nearly everyone is aware of your reputation, and I certainly don’t mean to disparage you, but I would like to know how you determined that a Patronus Charm would work, I mean it’s never been used medicinally before...”

Hermione did some very quick thinking. She didn’t really want to say that she was told by a ten-year-old Half-Demon to send her ‘otter’ to the ‘stag,’ nor did she think that lying about from where the information came was a very wise idea, either.

She pulled herself away from Ron’s chest and faced the healer, “What does it matter? It worked. Let’s just say I was told from a competent source to try it,” and deciding to turn the table a bit, she continued with a discernable edge to her voice, “It’s not as if all these dodgy ‘specialists’ you’ve been importing have done him any good.”

Healer Aubrey was slightly affronted and after recovering, he opened his mouth to retort when Hermione spun around, took Ron’s hand and pulled him towards the lifts.

“Let’s go back to the tea room, Ronald, I’m famished.”

Ron looked back at the speechless auror and healer and gave them a sympathetic shrug before allowing Hermione to drag him away. A slight smile came to him as he realized that this was the first time in over a month that Hermione actually expressed any desire at all for food, and that he was feeling a bit peckish himself.

They were once again seated in the same booth that they vacated less than an hour before with a fresh sandwich in front of each of them. Ron let out a small smile as he watched Hermione roughly tear off a bite. She quickly chewed, swallowed, sent him a patronizing smirk, gulped down a sip of pumpkin juice, and then ripped off another bite. Ron had yet to touch his own sandwich, being too busy watching her ravenously devour her meal.

“Hermione, how did you know a patronus would work? What happened in Kotone’s room?”

Hermione was about to take another bite of her sandwich, but upon hearing his question, she sighed and lowered it back to the plate.

“Miss Melanie wasn’t joking when she said that people are afraid of Kotone. When I first saw her, she had the mask on so that the lower half of her face was covered. Honestly, I thought she looked rather beautiful, but when I saw what was under the mask, the fangs and horns…” Hermione visibly shuddered at the memory, “Well, let’s just say that I have no doubts now that she really is a half-demon.”

“Fangs?” asked Ron, “Like a vampire?”

“No they were thicker than that, and much longer, more like an ogre’s fangs. Anyway, when I spoke to her, she told me that she was protecting Harry, but she called him ‘the lion’ and ‘the stag.’ She sounded so weak when she said that the stag needed ‘the otter,’ specifically my otter. After she told me to hurry, she passed out. I just assumed that she meant my patronus, after comparing Harry to the stag and me to the otter. That’s when I ran out to get you and to go to Harry.”

“You mean that you just took her word for it?”

“Back at King’s Cross Station, Harry said that she told him that she was protecting him, and I think he believed her. He said he had a kind of connection with her, but he didn’t elaborate any further.”

Ron looked thoughtful, “Anyway, I’m just glad it worked. You did scare the hell out of us when you drew your wand, you know.”

“It’s strange, that she called me the otter, and she also called me the eagle. I understood the otter part, my patronus, but why would she call me his eagle?

“His eagle?” asked Ron, with his eyebrows raised. Kotone’s word ‘his’ didn’t escape his attention.

Hermione shrugged and picked up her sandwich, “‘His eagle’ is what she said, along with Harry being the stag and the lion.

“Do you think she could tell what animagus forms people would be?”

Hermione shrugged again, “Maybe she was referring to the school houses, maybe she thinks I’m in Ravenclaw, or should be.” She quickly stuffed the rest of the sandwich half into her mouth and picked up the second half, hoping that it would give Ron the impression that she wasn’t interested in continuing that topic of conversation any longer, remembering what Kotone said about her being his eagle, the ‘mate’ of the lion.

A sullen look came across Ron’s face. He picked up his sandwich and took a bite, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s. “Why do you suppose he called out your name when, well, you know…” he asked through a mouthful of bread and tuna.

Without taking her eyes from her sandwich, she casually sipped her pumpkin juice then said in a calm, matter-of-fact manner, “Because he’s in love with me, Ronald, you know that. I’ve been shagging him for ages.”

Hermione quickly discovered that teasing Ron like that was a bad idea when she found herself covered with the bits of tuna and bread that had sprayed from his mouth.

“WHAT?” Ron practically screamed, causing a pair of medi-witches sitting nearby to start in alarm.

“Honestly, Ronald, how am I supposed to know why he called my name?” she shot back with a frown, sounding slightly annoyed as she brushed the food from her blouse.

Ron tried to compose himself, but looked like he was unconvinced that she was merely taking the mickey out of him, “Well, your father said that he called your name out before when he was in that muggle place, too.”

“I see, so you think he is in love with me?” asked Hermione, clearly getting more annoyed by the minute.

“Of course not! That’s mental to think that Harry would fancy…”

Hermione stood and tossed the remainder of her pumpkin juice into Ron’s face. “Oh? So there’s no way Harry could fancy anyone as ugly as me, is that what you think?”

A look of dismay appeared on Ron’s dripping face as he realized what was implied by what he said. “No, I didn’t mean that! I… I meant… I…”

“Don’t bother, Ronald. You’re right, there’s no way anyone could love a dreadfully plain and boring witch like me!” Hermione stormed across the tearoom and disappeared through the door, leaving pair of stunned medi-witches and a stuttering Ron sitting alone in the booth.

-----~-----

Ginny was sitting at the writing desk in her room on the second story of the Burrow. She had made sure that she placed locking and silencing charms on her doors and windows. She tapped her wand on the wooden panel that spanned the upper tier of the desk and muttered quietly, ‘dissimulo.’ A small, secret door sprung open revealing a hidden compartment containing a page that another student had given to her two years before. The page was torn from a book that was banned from the Hogwarts library, a book that she didn’t know the title of, nor did she care. The page contained the recipe for a perfume, a very special perfume, one that held the promise to make her fondest dream come true. The dream that was spectacularly realized up until the end of the last school term, at which time things began to go horribly wrong. She was almost ready to believe that the misfortunes that were befalling her life were due to her own ambitions, were caused by the very thing that brought her dream to life.

She withdrew the paper from the small, concealed compartment and carefully unrolled it and spread it out onto the blotter on the desk. She carefully scanned both sides of the page, going over every step in her mind, to convince herself that she hadn’t made an error.

Distraho Careo Diligo Venenum

Elixir of Love’s Distraction

Ingredients:

1. 10 Firefly Abdomen (dried; finely ground)

2. 50 ml Marigold Root Extract, fresh

3. 1 gm. Marrow from the Bone of an Eagle Owl Wing, fresh

4. 3 gm. Irish Emyr Horn, Dried, Powdered

5. 15 ml Fruit Bat Blood, fresh

6. 16 ml Oil of the Black Rose, Concentrated

7. 5 ml Rylalah Urine

8. 3 Hair of Object, > 5 cm in Length

9. 3 Hair of Subject, > 5 cm in Length

Hermione’s hair was easy enough, as she had slept in the same room as her on numerous occasions. A few strands extracted from her hairbrush was all it took. Harry’s was a bit trickier. She had to check the bathroom every time he used it, eventually collecting the black strands from the shower drain. After all, who else at the Burrow had black hair?

Combine items 1 through 5 into a standard pewter caldron, type 1, grade C+.

Heat until rolling boil; stir CCW 30x immediately after boil. Allow to boil for at least 60 hours, stirring CCW 30x every three hours.

Remove heat, add items 6 and 7, continue stirring CCW 5x, CW 5x for 16 Hours, 21 Minutes, 30 seconds (Time must be accurate)

Return mixture to boil within 20 seconds.

Add item 8, stir CW 10x, CCW 1x

Add item 9, stir CCW 10x, CW 1x

Reduce heat to simmer - minimum of 50 hours.

Remove heat, introduce mixture to crystal bottles and seal with standard wax. Allow 5 weeks to cure before use.

Ginny was positive that she used the correct ingredients in the proper amounts. She turned the page over and continued to read to see if the effects turned out differently from the ones stated.

Effects:

Subject- will begin to feel animosity towards Object within 30 days of exposure, and at the same time acquire a certain degree of awareness for the wearer. Feelings of abandonment from the object will take hold after 120 days. After 200 days, object should be totally disregarded by the subject while attention should be being paid to the wearer to the point of distraction.

Object- will begin to feel jealousy of subject within 40 days of exposure. After 100 days, object should begin to actively avoid, if not be repulsed by the subject. After 150 days, the object should be actively seeking to sever all relations with the subject. There should be no discernable reaction between the object and the wearer.

Wearer- should see an increased level of attentiveness from the subject within 40 days. Effects should remain constant from day 40 to day 300, after which the effect will slowly, but steadily increase to the point where the subject’s true feelings are converted to the wearer’s advantage.

A detailed Arithmantic formula followed the effects list. Ginny had no idea what the formula meant or how to read it, Arithmancy wasn’t one of the subjects she studied. It was considered by all to be a ‘Ravenclaw’ subject.

At the bottom of the page read,

Application:

1 drop behind each ear, 1 drop center of throat, 3 drops on chest, triangular pattern, over heart.

The full effects should be realized within 400 days. After the initial exposure, the re-application of the elixir should…

“Be performed as often as required.” Ginny said to herself. The page ended, but she could tell what it would say. She read through the formula one more time. She was absolutely sure the ingredients were correct. Four hundred days had indeed passed weeks ago, the elixir worked exactly as promised by Penni Pinder, the seventh-year Hufflepuff that had given her the page almost two years before. She remembered how she spent many sleepless nights brewing that elixir, following the instructions to the letter. It was a difficult potion to make, but she put her mind at ease knowing that she brewed the elixir correctly. She was now sure that the reason it stopped working was because of Harry’s illness and not from her ineptitude at potion-making. She had top marks in her year in potions, she was confident in the ingredients and her abilities.

The last time she used a dose was in the carriage from the castle to Hogsmeade Station. She thought he got a whiff when she tried to hug him before getting on the train. She knew it made him angry, he stiffened uncomfortably and refused to meet her eyes. She was upset at the time when he just stared off into the distance. She ran into the train crying and when she looked out at him through a window, he hadn’t even bothered to glance back at where she ran to. She surprised herself, and embarrassed herself by breaking down like that, she didn’t even cry when he broke up with her just hours before. She tried to talk to him again in the train. He still wouldn’t even look at her, never mind talk to her.

‘Why did it stop working?’

She reached into the back of the cubbyhole and withdrew the nearly empty vial of elixir. She had gone through most of it in the past year. Brewing more of it may be a problem, it took almost all of the money she had squirreled away to buy the ingredients for the first batch. She had to wait for the right moment to use the remainder of the elixir. She knew Harry loved her, he just needed a nudge in the right direction, or more specifically, a nudge away from the wrong direction. She couldn’t afford to lose Harry. Not after she held on to hope for so long. Not after she had worked so hard to get what she wanted. She would not lose him now. She would not lose Harry to her. Ginny loved her like a sister, but losing the man she’s loved for years to that ‘plain Jane’ would be more humiliation than she could bear.

Ginny heard rushed footsteps ascending the stairs outside of her door. She hastily stuffed the vial and page back into the secret compartment, sealed it, and then removed the wards on the door. A moment later, her excited mother burst into the room.

“Tonks just flooed from St. Mungo’s, Harry just woke up! He’s still very ill, and the healers put him to sleep for the night, but we’ll be able to visit him tomorrow if he’s feeling up to it.”

Ginny jumped from her seat and rushed into her mother’s arms, with tears of relief leaking from both their eyes.

-----~-----

In the garden that lay just behind the house, a garden gnome was dangling from a branch of a bush, his curled toes just barely brushing the ground as he tried to free the juicy strawberry that was tenaciously clinging to the branch. Suddenly, a furiously scampering rodent that was racing through the garden and away from the house crashed into him, knocking him to the ground. With a flash of silver, the gnome felt a quick stinging pain across his throat, and then knew no more.

The rat glanced around, as if to make sure it wasn’t spotted by any of the residents of the house, and then clambered over the gnome’s lifeless body to continue its frantic dash out of the garden through the hedge, across the field and into the shadows of the woods.

-----~-----

A/N: Ok, now you know that our sweet little redhead has been up to something, and our favorite bloke with the red eyes has been monitoring the situation. Now’s your chance to let me know how much you disapprove of me treating Harry and Hermione so wretchedly by leaving a review!

8. Lies, Memories and Souls

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters or story, just this overly-confusing and convoluted plot that very few people seem to be enjoying, but I’ll keep plugging away! I have nothing to do with the snippets of lyrics found here, either.

A/N: Here we go again! If you hated Vernon before, he’s going to fly to the top of your ‘Who I want To Kill Today’ list! Some of you people are going to KILL me over what Harry finds out in this chappie! Harry’s also going to become aware of certain memories he had mysteriously lost at some time. He still has some uncontrollable urges to become annoyed with Hermione, but it looks as though he’s fighting it, and this chapter gives him a bit more ammo to do it. Ron’s still ticked off about Harry calling out Hermione’s name, and about Hermione’s recent fanatic behavior over Harry. Kotone makes another short appearance, and good ol’ Tommy makes his presence known. Oh, and another easy song here, and it fits so well.

Chapter 8: Lies, Memories and Souls

-----~-----

Getting edgy all the time,
There's someone around me just a step behind.
It's kinda scary, the shape I'm in,
the walls are shakin' and they're closing in.
Too fast or a bit too slow,
I'm paranoid of people and it's starting to show.
One guy that I can't shake
Over my shoulder is a big mistake.

Sitting on the bed or lying wide awake,
there's demons in my head, and it's more than I can take.
I think I'm on a roll, but I think it's kinda weak
saying all I know is,
’I gotta get away from me.’

-----~-----

The morning after Harry awoke, he had a long discussion with Healer Aubrey about his condition. He was told all that had happened to him while he was unconscious, the periodic violent fits he would have between the deathly stillness, how he was found in a muggle hospital and how none of the healers that were summoned from around the world had been able to determine what exactly was wrong with him.. He was also told who had brought him out of his coma and how. He still looked deathly ill that morning, but they assured him after a few restorative draughts, he would look and feel has healthy as ever in a few days, as if he hadn’t been unconscious for nearly an entire month. They wanted to keep him for a few more days anyway to try to find out the cause of his mysterious illness.

After his conversation with the healer, there came a stream of visitors that had been waiting to see him, all of whom were warned that they only had a few minutes each to visit. First was the sobbing pair of Weasley women, Molly and Ginny, neither of whom could get out a full sentence between their hugging and crying.

At first, Harry felt awkward in the presence of the weeping women, but once he looked into Ginny’s eyes and saw that her emotions appeared a bit forced, he was put on the defensive and kept a close eye on her reactions. She seemed to be unusually clingy, she sat very close to him on the bed as soon as she entered the room and made every effort to make as much physical contact as she could discreetly manage. She sat cross-legged next to him on his bed so that her hip pressed firmly against his thigh and her crooked leg nearly rested on his hip, as well as taking every opportunity to gently pat his hand or lightly stroke his arm under the pretense of concern for his well-being, all of which made him oddly uncomfortable. To the casual observer, it all appeared innocent enough, but Harry soon realized that Ginny’s actions were a cloaked attempt to gauge his feelings toward her.

She didn’t let out any indication of what she was truly sensing, but she certainly didn’t like the ‘vibes’ she was getting from him. When Harry asked if Ron and Hermione were waiting to see him, she took that opportunity to let a little bombshell drop.

“Oh, yes, they’re both here.” She said casually, “They’re probably out in the hallway snogging right now… oops, did I let that slip out? They didn’t want anyone to know yet…” She didn’t know whether to smile or cringe at his reaction. It was mildly amusing to her to see the shock briefly flash across his face, but it also confirmed her darkest fear. ‘It’ wasn’t working anymore. She inwardly cursed to herself for not dabbing on a dose of ‘perfume’ before she came for the visit.

As she went on about how inseparable Ron and Hermione were, she surreptitiously studied his reactions to every word, movement and touch right up until the time came where they had to leave. She still didn’t like what she saw, but hopefully the seeds she planted in his mind would take root and he’d realize exactly what was best for him, namely, her. For some reason that he couldn’t quite bring to the front of his mind, he was relieved to see them both walk out of the door.

Nobody seemed to notice the satisfied smirk Ginny wore as she exited the room.

His two best friends, who were acting far from how he would have expected, entered as the Weasley women were leaving. Hermione, while not openly sobbing, was very nervous and looked as if she were ready to break down at any given moment. Harry could instantly tell by her expression that at least her emotions were genuine. She repeatedly apologized to him for saying the things she did at Kings Cross, and for letting him go on his own. He knew she felt guilty for leaving the way she did, and probably felt responsible for what happened to him since then, but he was still surprised at her current behavior, because leaving was what he wanted her to do, only not exactly under the circumstance that they parted.

He found himself becoming slightly annoyed at Hermione as she asked him ‘Are you okay?’ for the seventh time in as many minutes, but the honest concern she was showing gave him a sort of fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This sensation of being both annoyed and comforted at the same time was also surprising to him.

He seemed to remember having that same sort of ‘comforted’ feeling around her a few years before. He lost track of the conversation as certain memories of that feeling came unbidden to the front of his mind in a very short amount of time. Memories that, until that moment, he didn’t realize he had.

‘…You’re a great wizard…’ ‘…Books and Cleverness …’ ‘…Friendship and bravery and…’

The first true hug he ever remembered receiving in his life…

‘A frozen figure lying on the bed in the Hogwarts infirmary…’

‘The newly un-petrified young witch running the length of the Great Hall, yelling ‘You solved it! You solved it!...’’

‘The body pressed against him while riding Buckbeak…’

Feeling the spot on his cheek where he received his first meaningful kiss…

‘The girl hugging him while squealing in delight, ‘You’ve got it! I’m so proud of you, the Reductor Curse is a very difficult spell!’

‘Hermione descending the staircase in the entrance hall at the Yule Ball...’

‘His vision completely blocked by a large quantity of very bushy hair, her arms wrapped around him after the incredibly difficult summer of the Dursleys and dementors...’

He felt slightly nauseous as more and more of the forgotten memories quickly broke through the surface and forced their way into his consciousness, each giving him that same fluttery feeling in his stomach.

‘The fallen witch lying on the floor in the Department of Mysteries…’

Then something occurred to Harry after that last memory emerged, why hadn’t he experienced that same feeling since then? Was it because he almost got her killed? How could he have forgotten most of those specific memories? Where had all the animosity between them come from? What had happened to him? What had happened to them?

Then the words Ginny said minutes before came to his mind, ‘They’re probably out in the hallway snogging right now.’ He couldn’t prevent the frown from appearing on his face as he wondered why that notion disturbed him so much.

At that moment, Hermione noticed a shadow pass over Harry’s face as she was telling him about her finding his broken glasses and the blood in the room at the Leaky Cauldron. “Are you sure you’re okay, Harry?” she asked with true concern for the eighth time, breaking him out of his internal pondering.

He automatically responded for the eighth time, “I’m fine,” but his eyes showed that he clearly didn’t mean it this time. Hermione noticed his troubled expression, but didn’t push the issue.

“Did they tell you what woke you?” asked Hermione hesitantly, afraid to meet his eyes.

“Yes, the healer told me that you used your patronus. How did you know that would work?”

“Do you remember that boy you were talking to, Barnabas Windon? He was visiting here and asked about having you visit that …um, ‘girl…’ you met at King’s Cross Station, Kotone. She was brought here when you first went missing. When I visited her yesterday, she… well, she said some very odd things, about how she was protecting you and ‘holding your soul in place.’ When she called you ‘the stag’ and told me that you were in danger and needed my ‘otter’, well, she obviously meant my patronus. She just seemed so sincere and sure, she just seemed to know.” Hermione conveniently left out the bit about her being his ‘mate,’ the idea of which still gave her goosebumps.

There were several times during the conversation where Hermione looked as if she were dying to ask something of him, but she always seemed to avoid it after fighting some sort of internal battle.

Ron’s attitude throughout the entire visit surprised, and disturbed him more than Hermione’s unusual anxiety. He was much quieter than Harry had ever seen him. He seemed detached while standing at his bedside, and a hint of iciness could be heard in his voice whenever he spoke, which wasn’t very often. He almost appeared to be angry about something. Ron’s eyes seemed to be flicking back and forth between Hermione and himself, as if he expected some ‘out of the ordinary’ action to occur. He thought that maybe Ron expected him to start yelling at her at any given moment, or vice-versa. In any case, it was an uncomfortable visit to say the least.

After they left, Remus and Tonks entered, both looking hesitant at Harry as he lay in the bed with a clearly preoccupied look about him. Tonks’ hair was black as jet, her eyes were a strange pale blue, and the features on her face made her look more like a sixteen-year-old than the twenty-two years that she actually was. She, much like Hermione was, seemed to be on the verge of tears. Remus looked like… well, Remus. He still looked pale and thin, with the same drawn and tortured air about him that was an effect of his lycanthropy.

Most of the previous conversations were the same… ‘We’re glad you’re better,’ ‘We were worried,’ ‘We’re sorry you missed Bill’s wedding,’ and ‘You’ll be out of here soon.’ Only Remus had something different to say.

“As soon as you’re well enough, we have to move you out of here. This isn’t exactly the safest place for you.”

“I know, I hope someone got my things out of the Leaky Cauldron.” Harry’s face dropped, “I suppose Grimmauld Place? ” He still felt reluctant to revisit all of the memories that Grimmauld Place held.

Remus shook his head, “No I’m afraid we had to abandon that building, with the death of Dumbledore, the old wards have dropped and the Fidelis is broken, or at least we think it is, but we’re not about to take chances. All of your things are stored in that locker over there in the corner, and Hedwig is at the Granger’s.”

“Well, I can’t very well go to the Dursleys, now can I? The fat, thieving tosser just up and moved away, but I suppose you already know that.”

Remus caught the ‘thieving’ comment, but didn’t really understand it. “Yes, we found out about the Dursleys moving away from Privet Drive. Your Aunt Petunia is the one who informed us that you were in a muggle hospital, although we haven’t been able to get in touch with her again, nor have we found where the family had moved to.”

“She informed you? How did she know I was in a hospital?” asked Harry angrily.

“It seems that the hospital was trying to find out who you were, since you weren’t carrying any identification. They printed your picture all over England in the muggle newspapers. Your aunt saw it in the papers and contacted us immediately.”

Harry stared blankly at Remus, not really knowing what to think. “But why…?”

Remus knew that Harry wouldn’t want to hear what he was going to say next.

“Harry, when we arrived at the muggle hospital to get you, Death Eaters were already there, trying to do the same thing. They must have seen your picture too. By your aunt informing us as quickly as she did, she essentially saved your life. We believe that was her intention, but we still don’t know…”

“Get out,” said Harry softly, but with more than a hint of anger in his voice.

Tears welled up into Tonks’ eyes, “But Harry, I know that they abandoned you at King’s Cross, but it appears that they still have your best interests…”

“’My best interests,’ my arse! ” he yelled, cutting off what Remus was saying. “I said get the bloody hell out! Those people took everything I had from me! I don’t want to hear another bloody thing about those… those people… just get out!”

Remus sighed and ushered the now crying Tonks out of the room. A healer immediately entered to see what the commotion was about when Harry informed her that he did not want any more visitors. At all. He also practically demanded another dreamless sleep potion. He had much too much to think about without having nightmares about it all, too.

Harry abruptly awoke at two in the morning, still slightly disoriented from his long illness. After a few minutes, he unsteadily rose from his bed and after ensuring his legs would support him, he crossed the room and opened the cabinet that contained his possessions. He found his school trunk, wand and the box of documents he retrieved from his now empty Gringott’s vault. He let out a depressed sigh as he again remembered that he went from being quite wealthy, or so he was told, to being quite poor. He thought it was a good thing that he did not intend to return to Hogwarts for his last year… he couldn’t even afford the required books now, never mind the other supplies and tuition.

“Rags to riches to rags… At least Ron has no reason to be jealous of me anymore.” He sadly muttered to himself as he carried the box back to his bed. He idly perused the documents in the box, not really reading any of them as his thoughts were dominated the odd sensations he was having about Hermione, and by the fact that without his funding, the search for Voldemort’s horcruxes would be virtually impossible. He knew Ron had no money, and he certainly couldn’t ask Hermione to fund the project. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Should he tell the Order and have them search? If he did, they would just lock him away as they’d done in the past. It probably wouldn’t matter to them that he would be of age in less than two weeks.

Again, Ginny’s words echoed in his mind, ‘They’re probably out in the hallway snogging…’ He felt a pang of nausea sweep over him as the image of Ron probing for Hermione’s tonsils flashed in his mind. Even though he knew they liked each other at one time, he could never imagine that they’d stop arguing long enough for it to progress to that point. Ron was always belittling her, calling her ‘mental’ and ‘scary.’ Hermione would get so annoyed with Ron that Harry had to physically restrain her from hexing him more often than he cared to think about. Just the thought of them ‘together’ that way was giving him a headache. Still, Hermione, herself, admitted to him that they snogged, but she certainly didn’t give any indication that she particularly enjoyed the experience.

He was pulled from his strangely depressing thoughts when he absently opened a rolled up parchment from the box and happened to notice the words ‘Privet Drive.’ He looked closer at the document in the dim light and saw that it actually was the property deed for the house at Number Four Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surry, showing that it was actually owned by the Potter Estate. An attached document was a legal contract that provided for the payment of all utility bills and a generous monthly stipend to be paid to Harry’s legal guardians to cover all food and clothing costs for him, along with a healthy monthly spending allowance for Harry’s personal use.

A pit in his stomach opened and anger bubbled out of it as the realization hit him… He owned the house on Privet Drive, not his Uncle Vernon. All those years that he was told that the Dursleys were keeping a roof over his head, keeping him ‘clothed’ and ‘fed,’ when it was actually the other way around. He was paying for the food, gas, electricity, even the telephone! He was paying for the telephone that he could have used to call Hermione to make his holidays somewhat more bearable. He was supposed to be getting an allowance!

It suddenly became painfully clear how Vernon could afford the fancy car he drove, how he could lavish such expensive gifts on Petunia and Dudley on Christmas and birthdays and any time they actually had the notion. Top of the line computers and video game consoles, fine crystal and chinaware, Petunia’s huge jewelry cabinet stuffed with necklaces, rings and bracelets… mostly paid for by him! Rage coursed through him at the memory of all those years that Harry was insulted, beaten and ridiculed, told how he was nothing but a leech on the Dursley household, given nothing but threadbare, oversized, hand-me-down rags to wear, fed nothing but table scraps, when he was fed anything at all, and being imprisoned in a cupboard for nine years.

‘They stuffed me in a bloody, spider-infested cupboard for over nine years! In the house that I owned!’

The dim lighting in the room started to flicker. The empty potion bottle that sat on his nightstand shattered, sending bits of glass flying. He felt a few pieces of the splintered bottle hit him on the side of his face, but he didn’t appear to notice. A crackling current of magic swirled around him, sending the shattered glass, the documents he had been perusing, the box, even the pillows and sheets from the bed flying around the room. Harry didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream, so he did all three randomly and in rapid succession. The vortex suddenly stopped when he angrily slammed his fist into the side of the metal nightstand leaving a sizable dent. All of the airborne debris immediately fell straight to the floor, except for the various documents that were just lazily fluttering down.

He had to get out of there. He wasn’t sure where he would go, but he needed to find a place where he could think without constantly being watched, coddled or prodded. What would anyone care anyway? He’s no good to anyone anymore without his money, Ron and Hermione still have each other, they certainly didn’t need him around complicating their lives. The further away he went, the better off everyone will be.

Harry quickly stood up, which caused a sudden dizziness that forced him to sit back on the bed. He tried to calm his ragged breathing for a minute, but failed miserably. He again rose from the bed more slowly, walked to his trunk and opened it. He hastily pulled off the patient gown, the only thing he was wearing, and threw it on the floor. He apparently didn’t hear the muffled, nervous giggle that came from somewhere across the room. He pulled a set of clothes from the trunk and quietly dressed himself.

He looked longingly at his shrunken Firebolt, wondering if he should chance using it. He figured that he could use magic to expand it while inside the confines of the hospital and not get any nasty-grams from the ministry, but could he risk being spotted flying across London? He figured that he still had about three hours of darkness before sunrise, probably enough to get to where he was going, wherever that ended up being.

After pulling out his invisibility cloak and moneybag, he looked appraisingly at the trunk, debating with himself on how best to deal with it. He couldn’t very well lug it through the hospital while trying to make a stealthy escape, and he was almost certain there was an Order member outside his door. He just hoped it wasn’t Moody, who would be able to see him under the cloak. He decided to leave the trunk and hoped that it would end up at the same place as Hedwig.

Harry unfolded his cloak and prepared to wear it, but he didn’t notice the iridescent blue glow that softly flashed from his left trainer. After he secured the cloak around himself and cast a hasty silencing charm, he cracked his door open and upon seeing that the corridor outside the room was quite empty, he slipped out of the doorway and down the hall.

Harry had little problem navigating through the hallways and soon found himself on the floor that held the children’s ward. He couldn’t explain why, but he suddenly felt the need to visit the young Kotone.

He silently entered the ward and went from room to room, searching for the young girl. He knew right away when he found Kotone’s room. As he opened her door, the dim sliver of light from the hallway stretched along the floor and over her bed, the thin strip of light illuminating her violet eyes in the otherwise dark room. He could see that the sheets were pulled up so that they covered most of her face. His attention was first drawn to her mane of eerily moving, stark-white hair. As the light fell on her face, she slowly turned her gaze from the ceiling to the crack in the door.

The instant his eyes fell directly onto hers, he felt the sensation of his surroundings fading into blackness, and all he could see were her eyes.

Her soft, ethereal voice floated in his head like a reverse echo, where he could hear the reverberations of her words in Japanese before the actual English words themselves.

‘Shishi, I am glad you are well. We must speak.’

Harry was about to ask how she could see him when her voice stopped him before he could start.

‘No, I cannot see you, only your souls. We have not much time, your guardian approaches as do your enemies. Two things you must do. You must return to the mother, it is the only way I may help you.’

Harry was about to ask who this ‘mother’ is when she again answered before he could ask.

‘The Northern Mother, the school warts of hog, the school of protection. You must come. The second is a gift to Shishi and Washi. On table is book of kijutsu-kon, soul magic. You must give to Washi for understanding.’

He was about to ask who this ‘Washi’ was, when she again answered before he had a chance to ask, ‘Washi… your mate. Ii-guru…’ Harry could see the frustration in her eyes as she struggled for words, ‘ I do not know how to say… wait, I give to you memory of Washi.’

Kotone narrowed her eyes in concentration. Suddenly Harry saw a ghostly image of Hermione staring intently into his eyes, apparently a projection of Kotone’s memory of Hermione’s visit the day before, but something about the image wasn’t right. Her normally brown hair looked more like a mass of ruffled white feathers and her normally brown eyes were more a golden yellow hue.

Harry thought, ‘That’s Hermione? Wait a minute! What did she mean by ‘mate?’’

‘Yes, that is name, He-my-nee… mate of Shishi. Please to give book to Hemynee, book to understand, very important.’

A pained look flashed through his eyes as he said to her, ‘But I’m not going back to the school, I have no money. I can’t buy books or pay the tuition or anything. I can’t…’

‘You must. I know what you are doing, and you will not succeed unless you go back to the mother. Things are not as they appear and there is much danger now. Time is gone, go now and leave this place, you must flee.’

Kotone abruptly broke the connection and resumed staring at the ceiling. The room came into focus again as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. He saw the book that she spoke of lying on the night table next to her bed. The old tome was huge, but when he lifted it, it seemed feather light. He tucked it under his arm beneath the cloak and quickly left the room. Several minutes later, he found the exit and enlarged his broom before he exited the hospital quietly and, unseen by anyone, flew off into the early morning darkness above muggle London.

-----~-----

A heavy oak door slowly opened and a short, heavy-set man with a balding head and beady, watery eyes hesitantly entered the dimly lit chamber. A figure seated on a makeshift throne watched the man with cruel, serpent-like eyes that seemed to glow with a red luminescence. The heavy-set man kept his head lowered in a cowering bow as he approached the throne.

“M-master, I have news of the Potter boy”

“Speak, Wormtail.”

“Master, I was watching the Weasley house as ordered when a message arrived there. It seems the Potter boy is in St. Mungo’s Hospital as we speak. From what I could gather, he’s very ill, and it sounded like he won’t be leaving there very soon.”

Voldemort flashed an evil smirk at the news. “Well, done, Wormtail. Return to the blood-traitors home, you know what to look for. You may go, and send in Bella and Lucius.”

“Thank you, master! Thank you!” Wormtail hurried from the chamber, feeling very fortunate, for this was one of the few times he was able to leave the Dark Lord’s presence without experiencing the touch of a nasty curse.

Moments later, Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lastrange entered the chamber. They both approached the Dark Lord and bowed deeply, not rising until they were addressed.

“Lucius, any word from your boy?”

A brief look of fear flashed across Malfoy’s face before he answered, “No, my lord, Draco has not contacted me since the muggle-lover’s death.”

“I see…” Voldemort held his gaze on Malfoy’s steely eyes and sifted through his thoughts, searching for any sign of deception, “and what news of Snape?”

“We still have nor been able to locate him since he fled Hogwarts, my lord. We have people watching the usual places, Spinner’s End and Knockturn Alley, and we have patrols in the countryside around Hogsmeade and…”

“I suggest you re-double your efforts, Lucius. Do not make me regret freeing you from Azkaban. Go now, I expect more from your next report.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Replied Malfoy as he bowed low and hastily made his exit.

Voldemort looked to Bellatrix, who was still locked in a respectful bow. He rose from the throne and stood before his servant.

“Rise, Bella.” He said, placing a pale, bony finger under her chin and drawing her up. “It appears that the plan set in motion so long ago is beginning to come to fruition, although I am curious as to why it has taken so long for me to break through, It was as if his mind were shielded by something, but I did eventually get the message across. I could feel how weak he has become, it won’t be long now. He has lost his greatest source of power. You were quite correct in capitalizing on Potter’s greatest flaw. This proves that emotions are nothing but that, a weakness.”

Bellatrix let out a sinister cackle. “The choice of the blood-traitor’s daughter was inspired, Master. She has been smitten with the baby Potter since before he re-emerged onto our world. It was a simple thing to corrupt her morals.”

The Dark Lord continued, “We must send the proper thanks to the Greengrass family for their daughter’s fine contribution to our cause. Make sure there are none left to disclose what transpired, loose ends at this point could undo what we have carefully constructed. Once Potter returns to that school, the plan will be executed, until then, I must rest. You may go now, and report back when the ‘business’ with the Greengrass family is finished. Bring as many of the newer Death Eaters as you need, but remember, no survivors and it must look like the Order had attacked them… no Unforgivables!

A disappointed frown briefly flashed over Bellatrix’s face as she bowed deeply. She always felt a nearly orgasmic thrill using the Unforgivables, especially the Cruciatus, but she quickly resigned herself to the more mundane spells, after all, any chaos is good chaos. She practically danced out of the Dark Lord’s chamber, thrilled with the opportunity of creating more havoc, even if it would be against a pureblood family.

As she opened the door, Voldemort called out to her, “Send in McNair, we have to arrange a party for our dear friend Potter.”

-----~-----

9. What’s Happening To Me?

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the Harry Potter universe. I just make them do silly things. I don’t own the lyrics, either, and I will give due credit to the composers.

A/N: In this one, even stranger things begin happening. POVs skip around a bit, giving you a glance deeper into what’s really going on. Naturally, as the story progresses things will get clearer. And no, no H/Hr in this chappie either, but believe me, we’re getting closer! It starts in Tonks’ POV while she’s guarding Harry’s hospital room. The repercussions of what Ginny did emerges in full force as the ‘illness’ starts affecting Hermione as well as herself, and finally, Harry has to swallow his pride and ask for help.

Chapter 9: What’s Happening To Me?

-----~-----

Drowning deep in my sea of loathing,
Broken, your servant I kneel.
It seems what's left of my human side
is slowly changing in me.

Looking at my own reflection
when suddenly it changes,
violently, it changes (oh no.)
There is no turning back now,
You've woken up the demon in me.

-----~-----

Nymphadora Tonks arrived at St. Mungo’s to cover her midnight shift guarding Harry. She almost asked for a replacement guard for the night, her auror duty ran much longer than usual, so she ended up only getting a few hours of sleep before her guard shift came up. She really didn’t feel too tired, so she decided to take her turn anyway. She didn’t mind, though. She actually enjoyed being around Harry. She had heard all the rumors and read all of the articles about him, but she knew it was mostly rubbish. She’s been around him long enough to know the ‘real’ Harry and she felt like he was like a kid brother to her.

She relieved Hestia Jones, covered herself in her ministry-issue invisibility cloak and took her place outside of Harry’s room. After about two hours, she felt her eyelids drooping and started to regret not asking for a replacement. She set up intrusion alarm wards on each end of the corridor outside his room. She stepped through the door and quietly cast a strong locking charm and alarm ward on the door, then a motion detection ward on Harry, who was sleeping peacefully in his bed.

She eyed the chair in the far corner of the dimly illuminated room. As she passed Harry’s bed, her hip caught the edge of the footboard and jostled the sleeping boy. She held her breath and silently cursed to herself while keeping an eye on him. She crept along the floor, settled herself in the chair, and let out her breath. Just when she thought she was home free, her wand started vibrating in her hand, activated by the motion detection ward she had placed on Harry. Again, she silently cursed herself.

She watched as Harry unsteadily rose from his bed and opened the nearby locker. She heard him mutter something under his breath as he pulled a box from the locker and returned to his bed. She couldn’t help but to feel sorry for Harry, because at that point he was looking absolutely miserable. Even in the dim lighting, she could see how pale and gaunt he still was.

He was absently pulling random bits of parchment out of the box until he came across one sheet that seemed to upset him greatly. He appeared to read it over a few times, and then flipped a page and she saw him become whiter than he looked before. She saw a flurry of emotions flash on his face… anger… despair… anger… sadness… anger… frustration… anger…

Rage.

The lights began flickering and a bottle that was on his nightstand shattered, sending jagged glass throughout the room. A whirlwind of magic suddenly erupted around Harry, causing her to hold the cloak that concealed her tightly around her body. She had never witnessed such a display of raw magical power before, and it scared her.

Harry started laughing, a cold, biting laugh that sent a chill up her spine. She could see the blood from the small cuts on his face mix with his tears as they flew off from his cheeks and into the swirling wind. Harry let out a terrible scream, which she was sure could be heard throughout the entire ward if the silencing charms weren’t in place. He took a few more gasping breaths before continuing to laugh. Harry suddenly slammed his fist into the nightstand, nearly causing her to jump from the seat. He sat on the edge of the bed sobbing while the debris that was flying around the room dropped to the floor as the magical vortex disappeared.

Tonks tried desperately to quiet her ragged breathing. She was very scared. Even after the vortex collapsed, she could still feel various parts of her body twitching, as if there were small electrical currents running along the surface of her skin.

Again, Harry unsteadily rose from the bed, shedding his clothes as he walked back to the locker. As the now naked Harry bent over and rummaged through his trunk, Tonks, although still terrified, let out an involuntary, nervous giggle that she quickly stifled. She watched as he dressed himself, withdrew a few items from his trunk and stepped towards the door.

Her eyes widened as she recognized his invisibility cloak. As he was about to cover himself, she quickly cast a tracking charm on one of his trainers with the tracking code Sirius just a moment before Harry disappeared from sight. She didn’t want to reveal herself, not knowing how Harry would react to her in his agitated state. With a flick of her wand, she dispelled the locking charm she had placed on the door. When she saw the door open and close, she quietly murmured, “Sequor Sirius” while holding her wand flat in the palm of her hand. The wand pointed out of the doorway to the right indicating the direction Harry was going. After a few seconds, she exited the room and followed to where her wand led.

After a while, she found herself in the children’s ward. At first, she thought the tracking spell wasn’t working properly until she saw a door ahead of her click shut. She flattened herself against the wall and saw the vague outline of a concealed figure move past her towards the exit of the children’s ward. After a few more minutes of tracking Harry, she realized that he was heading for the hospital’s main entrance.

‘He’s leaving the building? Oh, bugger!’

Tonks started running towards the main lobby. She just turned the corner into the reception area when she saw the exit door slide closed.

“Harry!” she yelled across the nearly empty lobby, causing the welcome-witch and a few waiting patients to jump in their seats. Tonks burst through the door into muggle London and quickly renewed the tracking spell, “Sequor Sirius!”

The wand rotated in her palm then pointed up towards the southern sky. She looked up and muttered, “Bugger!”

Tonks immediately sent off a messenger spell to the Order, notifying them that Harry had left St. Mungo’s on his broomstick. As the silver spell leapt into the air and disappeared into the sky, she heard the multiple cracks of apparation and looked around at the score of black-cloaked, white-masked Death Eaters appearing in the street in front of St. Mungo’s.

“Bugger!”

Almost in perfect unison, the Death Eaters extended their wands towards the defunct clothing and oddment shop and called out, “Reducto!” A virtual wall of spellfire surged towards the concealed hospital entrance. Tonks, who was still wearing her invisibility cloak, dove to the side and tucked herself along the bottom edge of the hospital wall. She heard the spells impact against the building just above her and the last thing she heard herself say before being buried in shattered brick, mortar and glass…

“Bugger!”

-----~-----

Ginny awoke the next morning with a grim smile fixed on her face. She pulled off her nightshirt so that she was only wearing her knickers. She walked over to her wardrobe to pick out a suitable outfit to wear on her visit to St. Mungo’s. ‘Something sexy…’ she thought, and then remembered that she was going with her mother again. She let out a sigh, ‘Not too sexy, though.’

She stopped halfway to the dresser and looked over to her desk. Her eyes fixed on the small, hidden compartment. ‘Well, he is feeling better, and he should be released tomorrow. He’ll probably come here when he’s released. Maybe a little ‘pick-me-up’ is what he needs.’

She sat at her desk, opened the hidden compartment and withdrew the small vial of the opaque, pink liquid. She stared at the little bottle with her jaw set in fixed determination. She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath, held it for a few seconds and slowly blew it out of her mouth. Today’s the day.

‘The last dose,’ she thought to herself.

She loosened the stopper, and then carefully placed a drop behind each ear, one on her throat and three drops in a triangular pattern over her heart. Instantly, the familiar aroma, that reminded her of gardenias and roses, filled the room. As she placed the now empty vial back onto her desk, she felt the familiar burning sensation that quickly faded into a pleasant warmth that spread throughout her body. ‘Please let this work… I just can’t lose him…’

Suddenly her eyes flew open as vivid images of Harry coursed through her mind. Instantly she felt the heat radiating in her lower abdomen. Her breath came in ragged gasps and her face flushed a bright red. Her eyes narrowed into slits as one of her hands involuntarily slid into her knickers while the other roughly grabbed onto one of her breasts, painfully kneading the nipple. She sat writhing and squirming on her chair until she let out a long, shuddering moan and slid from the chair onto the floor. She laid there gasping for breath while her body quivered and writhed. A minute later, she let out a horrified gasp and tried to get to her feet.

‘What the bloody hell was that? That’s never happened before! What’s happening to me?’

A loud knocking came from the door followed by the concerned sounding voice of Molly Weasley, “Ginny? Are you okay? What’s the matter?”

“N- nothing, mum… I- I’m just getting dressed,” she replied breathily.

“Well, hurry up, we’re leaving for St. Mungo’s in a half hour, and breakfast’s ready.”

The moment her mother mentioned St. Mungo’s, a vision of Harry’s face forced its way to the front of her mind, causing an involuntary shudder throughout her body. Ginny took a long calming breath, which did absolutely nothing to alleviate the warm ache that was still present in her loins, or for the sudden roaring in her chest that apparently happens every time anything remotely related to Harry entered her mind. Ironically, most things she looked at reminded her somewhat of Harry.

It took Ginny much longer than usual to dress herself. With every article of clothing she touched, her mind flickered to the question of whether Harry would like seeing her in it, which, in turn, caused a new wave of physical desire to claw its way into her chest. Her hands were trembling so badly that she found it nearly impossible to fasten the laces on her trainers. She stood at her bedroom door, breathing deeply while attempting to stop her body from quivering. She opened the door and slowly made her way down the stairs. As she entered the kitchen, she heard the voice of Kingsley Shaklebolt through the floo connection in the fireplace. Her mother was crouched over the hearth, as Ron stood ashen-faced beside her.

“Mum?” asked Ginny, trying to make her voice as even as possible, “What’s going on?”

As the floo connection terminated, Molly stood up from the hearth and steadied herself against the mantle. With a cracked and halting voice, she said, “There was an attack early this morning.” She slowly turned around to face her daughter, “Death Eaters attacked St. Mungo’s. They don’t know much at this point but Harry is… Harry… he’s missing… Nobody knows where he…” Molly couldn’t finish the sentence as she buried her face into Ron’s chest and burst into loud sobbing.

Ginny felt her mind freeze. She instantly became light headed as her mother’s words reached her. The last thought that came to her before she collapsed onto the floor was ‘He’s dead…’

-----~-----

The bright, early-morning sun blazed through Hermione’s bedroom window and fell across her back as she sat in front her vanity and sullenly stared at her reflection in the mirror. She picked up her brush and tried running it through her motley hair with very limited results. She tried pulling the brush away, but it became hopelessly tangled and she ended up ripping out more than a few hairs from her scalp before freeing it. She carelessly tossed the brush over her shoulder and gave the mirror the best smile she could while slowly batting her lashes a few times. The smile quickly died on her lips and she let out a long, depressed breath. She squinted slightly then leaned into the mirror while running a finger over a spot on her chin near the corner of her mouth.

‘Brilliant,’ she thought morosely, ‘I’ve got ‘bird nest’ hair, a creepy, big-toothed smile and yet another pimple. I’m hopeless.’

She perused the sparse items of muggle beauty products that sat on top of the vanity and let out a sigh, ‘lip gloss… eye liner… nothing to cover a pimple.’

Hermione never understood how Lavender, Pavarti and all of the other girls could spend so much time and waste so much effort primping and preening themselves. They were always so concerned how boys would view them. She could never be bothered with all that nonsense, not when there were books to read and essays to write. It always amazed her how the girls could name every shade of lipstick that they and all the other girls in school owned, but couldn’t name the four basic ingredients to a sleeping potion.

Sitting there in front of the vanity, she found herself wishing she had paid more attention to the other girls over the years. The only time she ever got ‘dolled up’ was during the fourth year for the Yule Ball, and even then all the work on her was performed by Lavender, Ginny and Pavarti… if left on her own, she probably would have met Viktor looking like a Knockturn Alley streetwalker. Of course, she wasn’t actually getting ‘dolled up’ for Viktor, she was hoping to make an impression on a certain other boy.

She opened the drawer in the vanity and found a rubber band, three bobby pins, a nail clipper, tweezers and an old, empty tube of lip balm. With a frustrated grunt, she slammed the drawer shut. She picked up the bottle of ‘Sleekeasy’s Hair Potion,’ the same bottle that was left over from her fourth year. She shook it and found it was nearly empty, then tossed the bottle over her shoulder.

‘Ugh… magic is the only thing that could work on this mop. Why am I bothering?’ She thought as she grimaced at her reflection, ‘All I need is a missing front tooth and a big wart on my nose and I’d look just like a ‘real’ witch from a children’s muggle colouring book.’

A giggle escaped her lips. ‘…a ‘real’ witch…’ She started laughing. She pushed away from the vanity and stood up, laughing even harder. “A ‘real’ witch! Imagine that?” She wiped a tear from her eye as she walked back to sit on her bed. She let out a yelp as her bare foot stepped on the hairbrush she had tossed away moments before and crashed to the floor. She was laughing hysterically… or at least she thought she was.

She was surprised to find tears spilling from her eyes as she lay on the carpet. She suddenly realized that she wasn’t laughing anymore, she was actually crying. She angrily pounded her fist on the floor as sobs wracked her body, ‘Why am I acting like this? What’s happening to me?’

Alex Granger wore a serious frown as he stood in the doorway of his daughter’s room and watched her crying on the floor. He slowly shook his head as he studied her and thought, ‘When did she get so thin? Am I that out of touch with her?’ He slowly walked over and knelt beside her.

“What’s wrong, Pun’kin?” he softly said as he lifted her up from the floor into a kneeling position facing him. He never remembered seeing her quite so emotional.

She threw her arms around him and cried into his shirt, “I- I don’t know! I just don’t know!”

He held her close and softly rubbed her back, noticing that he could clearly feel each of her ribs through her flannel nightshirt. His heart ached as he felt her frail body shudder with every sob. He wiped a tear from his own eye as he thought to himself, ‘Well, I’m going to find out, then.’

After a few minutes, her sobs diminished to a few sporadic sniffles and her eyelids started to droop. When he lifted Hermione from the floor, he was startled by how little his seventeen-year-old daughter weighed. He gently placed her on the bed and after making sure she was comfortable, left her room to head for his study. He had a long letter to write to the headmistress of her school. He needed answers, and he was going to get them.

Just as he opened the door to his study, he heard the doorbell chime. He walked through the living room, into the entrance hall and peered through the window beside the front door. There on the doorstep was an odd-looking old man wearing a rumpled, ill-fitting pinstriped suit and an old, black felt bowler that was tilted over his face.

Speaking through the closed door, he addressed the odd man on the other side, “Yes, what can I do for you?”

The man answered, “I have no time for this, Mr. Granger, I need to speak to your daughter right away.”

“I’m very sorry, but she’s resting at the moment.” Responded Mr. Granger, “She’s not feeling well and…”

He was suddenly cut off by the sound of the lock and deadbolt disengaging from the frame. The door swung open roughly as the odd man stepped through. He removed the bowler hat, revealing a scarred, disfigured face and a wildly spinning, magical eye that was fixed in a frame over where one of his normal eyes would normally be. Alex Granger then recognized him as ‘Mad Eye’ Moody.

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Granger, but I’m afraid I must insist that I see her. I wouldn’t have barged in if this wasn’t extremely important.”

Alex sighed as he followed Mad Eye through the living room and up the stairs. “Does this have to do with the Potter boy?”

“Yes.” Was Moody’s simple reply as he opened the door to Hermione’s bedroom. Alex was taken aback by Moody’s brashness of walking into his daughter’s room without even knocking, but remembered that the old man could see through walls and could tell if she wasn’t decent, which caused him some concern in and of itself.

Hermione had her eyes closed, but was still awake when she heard her bedroom door open. She bolted upright in bed when she recognized Moody’s gruff voice.

“Miss Granger, Headmistress McGonagall sent me here to get you. We just found out that Death Eaters attacked St. Mungo’s Hospital early this morning and… Miss Granger, steady on!”

Hermione heard ‘Death Eaters’ and ‘St. Mungo’s.’ Before the rest of the words were out of his mouth she let out a loud gasp and yelled, “Harry!” then launched herself from the bed, grabbed a set of robes and her wand from the top of her dresser and, before anyone could make a move to stop her, she disapparated from the room.

-----~-----

Harry had been flying over London for a few hours, trying to decide where he could go. He didn’t feel the usual exhilaration that flying on his broomstick usually provided, being so angry and wrapped up in his thoughts. He briefly entertained the thought of entering Quality Quidditch Supplies and offering to sell his Firebolt, assuming he could get quite a few galleons for the ‘broomstick owned by the famous Harry Potter,’ and could probably double that if he signed it but the idea of selling off the gift from Sirius turned his stomach. Unfortunately, he needed money badly, and a good deal of it if he was going to continue his quest for the horcruxes. He could try to sell the house on Privet Drive, seeing how every emotional attachment he had to that place was firmly cemented in the negative, but that might create a paper trail directly to him.

He noticed the sky towards the eastern horizon was changing to the velvety purple that signaled the coming of the dawn. As he looked down, he saw the street that the Leaky Cauldron was on, and he was surprised to find that from the air, he couldn’t see Diagon Alley, or any of the commercial wizarding areas.

‘Diagon Alley… The twins’ shop… Maybe I could get a loan from them. After all, I did give them the start-up capital for Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes…’

Harry flew down towards the darkened, deserted alley behind The Leaky Cauldron. As he descended, he saw the wall that separated Diagon Alley from the rest of London. From the air, he could only see a dirty, rubbish strewn passageway that ran from the other side of the wall, between two large old buildings and emptied into the street on the other side of the block. He landed, drew his wand and tapped the appropriate brick and the arched opening sprung into existence. Awkwardly tucking his broom under his cloak, he stepped through the archway into the darkness of pre-dawn Diagon Alley.

Minutes later Harry found himself standing at the door of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Still concealed beneath his cloak, he fumbled with the large tome he was carrying, wedging it beneath his arm that was carrying his Firebolt. With his free hand, he reached for the hanging cord beside the door and gave it a tug then stepped back. He heard a chiming tinkle of bells coming from the open window of the flat above the shop.

He waited a minute and was about to step forward to ring again when he noticed a small object fly from the window above and drift down to the door. The small, white sphere had tiny fluttering wings on either side of it, much like a snitch, and a pupil that seemed to be scanning the area in front of the shop. Harry looked at it in wonder, thinking it looked much like ‘Mad Eye’ Moody’s magical eye. Realizing that the floating eyeball couldn’t see him, he lifted the hood of his cloak to expose his face. He heard excited voices coming from the window, immediately followed by a set of footsteps rushing down a set of stairs and across the floor of the shop. A moment later, he was quickly being ushered into the shop by the Weasley twins, Fred and George.

“Oi, Harry, what’cha doing out of the hospital?” asked Fred.

Harry, wanting very much to avoid any questions about what he was up to, quickly asked, “What is this thing?” pointing to the eyeball that was lazily floating in front of George.

“That, my friend, is one of our newest products, still experimental, mind you,” said George.

“We call it a ‘Peeper,’ said Fred.

“We expect it to be a big hit amongst the voyeur crowd,” said George.

“once we figure out how to make it smaller,” continued Fred.

“and quieter,” added George.

“and waterproof,” finished Fred.

“Wait a minute,” said Harry, with a shocked expression, “You’re going to sell these to people just so they can peek in showers?”

“Well, I’m sure there are plenty of other uses…,” answered George in a fake abashed tone.

Harry thought about it for a minute, and then said, “I think it’s brilliant! Not the ‘peeping into showers’ thing, but I can see how it could be dead useful. How do you see through it?”

“Once the occulus is charmed, just incant, ‘Loginquitas Visum,’ and it binds the vision of one of your eyes to what the Peeper seesn” explained Fred.

“You control it by your wand movement,” said George.

“It takes a fair shake to get used to…” said Fred.

“We still have quite a bit of work to do on it,” said George.

“It has a very limited range,” said Fred.

“and a very limited duration,” continued George.

“and it doesn’t work under water, it seems to block the magic so you lose control of it,” finished Fred.

“Brilliant!” was all Harry could say as he watched the floating eye with awe. Fred and George looked at each other, both with uncharacteristically serious expressions, then looked back to Harry. They could plainly see that he was still in bad shape.

Fred began, “We’re sure you didn’t disturb our beauty sleep just so you could get a demonstration of our prototype products…”

“What are you doing here, mate?” asked George with none of his usual jocularity.

The wondrous smile that Harry had worn while watching the Peeper fell into a worried frown. He instantly started having second thoughts. He let out a heavy breath then asked, “I… I was just wondering how the shop was faring… How are you guys fixed financially?”

The brothers looked at each other again inquisitively. Whatever they were expecting Harry to say, that wasn’t it. They both just shrugged and turned back to Harry.

“We’re doing okay, we don’t need any more money, if that’s what you’re asking.” Said Fred.

“Yeah, you’ve given us quite enough, and we’ve been in the black for months, now.” Said George.

“You don’t understand,” said Harry hoarsely, and then muttered under his breath, “Merlin, I hate doing this…”

“Harry, what’s wrong?” asked Fred concernedly.

“I… Well, I… I need to borrow some money.”

For the third time, the twins looked at each other, this time with dumbfounded expressions. Harry opened his mouth to explain when both twins broke out into riotous laughter.

“You had us going there for a second!” said George while gasping for breath.

“Yeah, imagine one of the richest wizards in Britain asking a Weasley for a loan!” said Fred while holding a stitch in his side.

George was wiping a tear from his eye when he caught the cold sober look on Harry’s face. He stopped laughing as he elbowed Fred in the ribs. Fred pushed his brother in the shoulder in retort, and then followed his gaze to Harry. All laughter stopped.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” asked George softly.

Fred’s mouth dropped open when he saw Harry nod.

George shook his head as if he were trying to clear the cobwebs from his mind, and then asked, “What happened, Harry? Did the Ministry freeze your Gringott’s account?”

Harry shook his head, “No, it seems that my ‘legal guardian’ heard about my vault, and about the inheritance I got from Sirius. It seems he made a substantial withdrawal from my vault, ‘on my behalf,’ of course.”

“Dursley?” asked the twins in unison

Harry just nodded while he pulled his moneybag from his pocket and with a shaking hand, he tossed it to Fred and said, “My vault’s empty. The Dursleys cleared it out, and then moved away while I was still at school. That’s all I have left. I can’t even afford to go back to school this year. I’m sure you can understand what this means.”

Fred opened the bag and both twins gasped when they looked inside. Harry’s stomach constricted and he felt a lump appear in his throat, as it did whenever the thought of his situation came to mind. ‘Get a grip, Potter!’ he thought while trying to push his despair down, ‘Just get it over with!’

Harry squared his shoulders and steeled himself, “I really have nobody else I can turn to… how are you guys fixed financially?”

“Gringott’s opens in an hour. We’ll do what we can, mate.” The twins said in unison.

An hour and a half later, the twins walked out of Gringotts and back to their shop where Harry was silently waiting. They handed Harry a bag containing five hundred galleons and one thousand muggle pounds.

“I have no idea when, or even if I can pay you back, you know.”

“We wouldn’t even have this shop if it wasn’t for you, little brother,” said Fred.

When Fred said ‘little brother,’ Harry felt the lump in his throat swell.

“Too right, consider that interest on your investment,” said George.

“If you need more, let us know, we can do a little liquidating of our stock, but it’ll take time.”

Harry had to force down another surge of emotion. With a faltering voice, he said, “You have no idea how much this means to me.” He turned around just as he was about to cover himself with the cloak, “One last thing, guys… I’d appreciate it if you kept my situation a secret… you know what a disaster it would be if this got out.” Harry gave a wave and disappeared under his cloak. As George opened the shop door to let Harry out, an owl entered the upstairs window, swooped down the stairs, and landed on the counter, waiting for Fred to remove the message from its leg.

Harry quietly walked down the nearly empty street. When he was passing the now defunct Florean Fortescu’s Ice Cream Parlor, he ducked into the empty patio and sat down in the far corner of the enclosure. He was breathing heavily and his heart was pounding against his rib cage. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle the sobs that escaped his throat. As tears trailed from his eyes, one phrase kept repeating in his mind:

‘What’s happening to me?’

He sat for a few minutes, trying to get his chaotic emotions under control with only limited success. He only managed to turn the despair he was feeling back into anger. He slowly stood and clutched the book and his Firebolt firmly to his body.

“Ministry be damned!” he softly grumbled to nobody in particular and an instant later, he disapparated with the slightest of ‘cracks.’

-----~-----

10. Hermione’s Road Trip

Disclaimer: I still do not own ‘Harry Potter,’ I just make the characters do silly things.

A/N: In this chapter, Hermione arrives at St. Mungo’s and witnesses the devastation fom the Death Eater attack, only to find Harry gone again. This time, she has the key to finding him. You’ll also find out about the recurring dream (that seems much like the ‘visions’ that has been plaguing Harry) that’s been keeping Hermione from getting a decent night’s rest. No Kotone in this chapter, but she is mentioned, (and she’s relatively safe.) So, here we go!

Chapter 10: Hermione’s Road Trip

-----~-----

Bring it back or when it's over take me home,
I'm healing.
And when in doubt, you'll live without all you have known
you've been feeling.

So what if you said, ‘It's over and out for you,’ my friend?
When painting the view, I'm standing beside, but I'm all over you.

If I run tonight, would you promise to be there?
Would you say the words that comfort me? They're all around, I swear!
If I run tonight, and I take it overboard with a word or two
I give to you, it's all I can afford...

-----~-----

Hermione appeared with a loud crack on the street just outside of St. Mungo’s Hospital and immediately froze when she met a dozen wands being pointed at her. She looked around, stunned at the chaotic scene of destruction around her. Bodies and debris littered the area around the demolished front entrance to the hospital. Members of the hospital staff were frantically assisting the wounded, some milling about aimlessly, some crying, and some just staring off in a daze. Scores of emergency response wizards were rushing around interviewing muggles before modifying their memories and sending them away while ministry Unspeakables were bust setting up muggle-repelling charms around the area.

The aurors holding the wands on Hermione stood perplexed, warily considering the red-eyed, crying young woman who apparated on the street wearing nothing but knickers and a flannel nightshirt. Before anyone could speak, Moody appeared next to her and signaled to the nervous aurors that she was no threat. He turned to her and grabbed her arm before she tried to enter the hospital. He gave her a reproachful look and was about to tell her just how foolish apparating into an unknown situation was, when his magical eye that had been scanning the area wildly moments before, fixed on a pile of smoldering debris near the destroyed entrance.

“Great Merlin’s beard! Tonks!” Moody exclaimed as he hurriedly pointed his wand at the pile of rubble and began to levitate large chunks of broken bricks and mortar. “Don’t just stand there, girl, lend a hand!” A few of the aurors along with Hermione soon cleared away the debris, revealing a battered and unconscious Tonks, partially covered with a bloodied invisibility cloak. If she hadn’t cast a shield around herself at the last moment, she would most likely would have been crushed to death by the destroyed wall.

Once a medi-witch began tending to Tonks, Hermione rushed into the hospital, desperate to find out if Harry was safe. As she ran through the corridors, she saw evidence of the battle everywhere. The walls held scorched patches where curses and hexes had landed, bits of shattered plaster and dust covered the floors and in nearly every room she passed there were people either obviously dead or being tended to by the hospital staff, which only fuelled her anxiety further. By the time she reached the floor Harry’s room was on, she was in a full sprint, her bare feet slapping noisily on the tiled floor and tears streaming from her eyes. She skidded to a stop in front of Harry’s room and threw herself against the door, causing it to slam against the wall.

She had to cover her mouth to prevent a scream from escaping when she saw the condition of his room. The floor was littered with parchment, the bed sheets looked as if they were thrown into a corner and shattered bits of glass covered most of the surfaces. Harry’s hospital gown was on the floor next to his trunk, which laid open in front of the large locker in the far corner of the room.

Hermione laid her hand on her chest and unsteadily leaned against the doorjamb. She fully believed that the Death Eaters had taken Harry. Through tear-blurred eyes, she waved her wand, collected the scattered rolls of parchment, and sent them into the box that was lying on the floor. With another wave, she vanished the jagged bits of glass that covered the floor, bed and table, and then levitated the pillow and sheets to the bed and magically tucked the edges under the mattress leaving the room in near perfect condition.

As soon as she finished cleaning the room, she put on the robes she had brought from her home, trying to recover at least some of her decorum. She walked across the room, sat heavily on the bed and rested her face in her hands, still feeling the exhaustion from the ‘episode’ that she experienced earlier in her bedroom. The only thing that allowed her to hang on to the hope that Harry was still alive was the fact that she didn’t find his body in the room. Still, the idea of his pale, battered form being dragged before Voldemort made that hope tentative, at best.

She laid back on the bead and let out a deep sigh. She could detect the faint but distinctive essence of Harry that still lingered on the pillow. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to ease the tension that seemed to be embedded in her psyche.

-----~-----

Hermione opened her eyes slowly. She was standing in a vast room, or what she thought was a room. Everything around her was a brilliant white. She could see the walls of the room far in the distance, which stretched so high that she couldn’t see the ceiling. The room was familiar to her, as if she had spent a lot of time there. She slowly walked towards one of the walls. She somehow knew what she would find there. Facts about the room slowly started emerging from her memories. She knew that when she reached the wall, there would be nothing to find, no doors or windows, no signs or writing of any sort. She seemed to remember having walked around the entire room. She suddenly stopped walking, remembering that in this room, there was no exit, no escape.

There was something else about the room that she knew was important, but couldn’t recall what that something was. It was something scary, or maybe dangerous. She once again focused on the wall facing her, and was surprised to see just how close she was to it. She knew that she couldn’t have walked that long to have the wall that close to her. She quickly turned around and saw that the walls to the sides and behind her were just as close.

She suddenly remembered. The walls were closing in on her. It happened every time she found herself in this room, and every time it ended the same way. She drew her wand and sent a Reductor towards a rapidly approaching wall, only to have the red beam dissipate into a cloud of pinkish smoke before it impacted. Panic started to take hold of her. She started screaming out every hex and curse that came to mind… ‘Reducto!... Impedimenta!... Arresto Momentum!...’ Every spell she tried never even made it close to the wall before dissipating.

Out of desperation, she called out a very advanced spell that she had only read about recently. Normally, she would never consider using such a powerful penetration curse at such a close range, but knowing that if she didn’t break through somehow she would be crushed to death. The wall was only a few metres away. She narrowed her eyes in concentration and loudly called out in a clear voice, ‘Perfringo Permaximum!’ An opaque, black jet of energy shot out from the tip of her wand and impacted loudly against the encroaching wall, but the effect was non existent. There wasn’t even a scorch mark on the smooth white surface.

She just closed her eyes, expecting the worst to happen, when she heard a coarse, yet gentle voice calling, “Granger?” She felt a heavy hand on her shoulder softly shaking her.

-----~-----

Hermione opened her eyes and jumped in fright when she saw Moody’s scarred face looking down at her as she lay on Harry’s hospital bed.

“Up you get,” said Moody, “we were just getting Tonks patched up when she said that she wants to have a word with you.”

Hermione just laid on the bed for a few moments before getting to her feet, trying to get her ragged breathing under control. She looked up at Moody and asked, “Harry’s not here, does anyone know what happened to him?”

Moody nodded, “That’s what Tonks wants to speak to you about, and she was guarding him this morning when the attack occurred.”

Hermione followed Moody through the halls while going over the dream she just had. It was the same dream that she had every time she tried to sleep, and she would always wake at the same point, where the walls had closed to a point where she could feel the bones in her shoulders and chest cracking from the pressure. Even after waking, she could still feel the pain throughout her chest and arms, which effectively kept her from drifting off to sleep again. She really didn’t know how much longer she could last by getting only a few hours of sleep each night.

As they entered the first floor from the stairwell, Hermione glanced into a large room and stopped short. Inside of the room stood rows of cots, upon them were obviously bodies covered in white sheets, most of which were stained with blood.

“Mad Eye, how… how many…?”

Moody stopped a few paces ahead and bowed his head, “We don’t know yet, they are still counting, but we figure there are well over a hundred dead. The worst area was…”

She heard Moody take a deep steadying breath, apparently trying to keep emotion out of his voice. He cleared his throat and continued, “I’m told that the worst area was the children’s ward. Most of the little tykes were sleeping and never knew what hit them. It was pretty much a massacre.”

Hermione just stood for a moment, trying to absorb that information. Her thoughts rested on a tiny girl with white hair and wide violet eyes. In her mind’s eye, she imagined the girl sprawled on the floor covered in blood.

Moody looked back in time to see Hermione’s face contort in grief and heard her whisper, “Kotone…” before she lunged at him, wrapped him in a hug and began sobbing into his shirt. Moody stiffened and looked around helplessly while he softly patted Hermione’s back as she cried.

“Come on, girl, buck up.” Moody quietly said to her, “This is no time to fall apart. I heard there were a few of the kids that survived.” Truthfully, Moody was having a very difficult time keeping the tears out of his own good eye.

Hermione, realizing that she was clinging to Mad-Eye, let out a squeak and jumped back away from him. ‘What am I doing?’

“I… I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me! I’m not usually this emotional. It’s just that there was a girl I knew in that ward, she was due to start Hogwarts this September. She was the one who told me to use my patronus on Harry. She has white hair and these strange eyes… almost purple… she was so small…”

“Oh, you know her?” asked Moody, who was looking at Hermione with a somewhat surprised expression, “She was one of the survivors. She actually stopped one of the Death Eaters, we’re not exactly sure how, though. An auror who was searching the ward after the attack found one in her room with his wand painted at her, but he was just standing there staring. She won’t answer any questions on how…”

“She can’t,” interrupted Hermione, “she either can’t talk or just doesn’t, I don’t know.”

“Moody started walking again, “Well, come on. You can visit her later, if the bloody ministry doesn’t take her in, that is.”

A few minutes passed before they made it to the room where there were about a dozen people laid out on hastily conjured beds. Moody led Hermione to the back of the room where Tonks was laying with a privacy curtain was blocking the view from the rest of the room. Moody waited outside of the curtain while Hermione stepped in. Tonks was on the bed, mostly covered by a white sheet that had a rather large blood stain around where her legs were.

Tonks tried to smile at Hermione, but the swelling on her battered face made the smile look more like a grimace. “Wotcher, Hermione,” greeted Tonks weakly, and then noticed her staring at the stain on the sheet, “Yeah, I know… I won’t be up for dancing any time soon, but they say I’ll be alright in time. Do us a fav and put up some privacy, won’t ya?”

Hermione quickly placed a silencing charm on the curtain surrounding the bed and waited for Tonks to speak. A minute of silence went by, as she seemed to struggle with what she wanted to say before Hermione’s patience wore thin and she asked, “Well? What happened to Harry?”

“I think he’s okay, but he’s really angry, and when I say that, I mean scary angry. I was under my invisibility cloak, sitting in the chair watching him while he was reading through some of the papers he had in the box in his room, then he read something that really set him off. His magic just sort of… exploded, I can’t begin to describe it. Trashed the room, he did, and he didn’t even have his wand After he threw his magical tantrum, he decided to get himself dressed in front of me and go for a walk around the hospital in his father’s cloak.” She remembered the sight of the naked Harry as he dressed himself and let out a weak giggle, “Did’ja ever notice he’s got a sexy bum?”

A blank expression washed over Hermione’s face as her mind automatically thought back to the times she actually did check out Harry’s arse before she caught herself and glared at Tonks who just tried to smile again then attempted to wink.

“Before he covered himself up, I put a keyed tracker on his shoe and followed him. I tracked him to the children’s ward, and after he left there, I saw that he was heading for the exit. I thought he was just taking a walk around the hospital, but when I realized that he was leaving, I ran after him. I didn’t realize that he brought his broom with him from his room because when I made it outside, the tracker was pointing up in the air. I was about to go back inside to alert someone when the attack happened.

“Well? Is someone going after him?” Hermione was partly relieved and partly worried, she was glad Harry wasn’t in the hospital when the attack happened, but was concerned about him being out on his own so soon after waking from a month-long coma.

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you. Harry was really, really beside himself. I mean, I’ve never seen him quite this angry. What do you suppose would happen if he finds out that an Order member was tracking him down while he’s like he is?”

Without hesitation, Hermione answered, “He’d hex them into next month.”

“Exactly, which is why I want you to find him and keep him safe until he cools down, or let us know if he gets into trouble. I know how he is around you. I think you’re the only one who he wouldn’t run from.”

Hermione looked unsure, “I don’t know, we haven’t been on the best of terms with each other recently.”

“Well, do you think Ron, or anyone else for that matter, has enough tact to keep Harry under control?”

Hermione remembered the mysterious, foul mood Ron was in the previous day during the visit with Harry and quickly said, “Ok, I’ll do it.”

“Great, it’s the Sequor Tracker, and the key to the charm is ‘Sirius,’ you’re familiar with it, right?”

Hermione nodded, and then just said, “Sirius?”

Tonks gave a slight shrug and simply said, “It’s the first thing that came to mind.”

Hermione nodded again in understanding. After saying her good byes to both Tonks and Moody, and had them arrange to get Harry’s things to her house, she left the room. She briefly considered searching for Kotone, thinking that she was the reason Harry went to the children’s ward that morning, but her need to ensure his safety overrode all concern for anyone else. She made her way to the entrance and back out into the chaos that was the muggle street and finding a concealed spot, she apparated back to her house.

Hermione sprinted from the utility shed in her back yard, across the lawn and into the kitchen door. She made her way to the one place in the house she knew her parents would be. She knocked on the study door and heard her father’s voice allowing entry.

“Dad, I need to use one of the cars.” Said Hermione in a tone that suggested it was more of a demand than a request. Her father closed the ledger he was working on and turned to look at his daughter. Her mother was sitting at her own desk, perusing a catalogue of updated styles of dental surgery chairs.

Alex Granger looked carefully at his daughter, instantly detecting the anxiety that she was obviously trying to conceal. “This has something to do with your friend, that ‘Harry’ fellow, doesn’t it?”

A glare flashed from Hermione’s eyes only for the briefest instant before she dropped her head and gave a small nod.

Alex sighed, having caught the glimpse of his daughter’s anger, and then softly asked, “That Moody chap didn’t say much when he followed you. What happened at the hospital? How is Harry?”

“Well, you already heard that the hospital was attacked by Voldemort’s followers, but it was over by the time I got there. It seems that Harry’s missing again. He left the hospital just before the attack, and it appears I’m the one who has to find him. He’s still very ill and…”

“How long will you need it for?” interrupted Alex.

“I really don’t know, as long as it takes to find him and keep him safe.”

Alex produced his wallet and withdrew a credit card and several twenty pound notes then handed them to Hermione along with a set of keys, “Take the SL, it needs some petrol, so just top it with the card and do your mother and me a favor, will you?”

Hermione hesitated before reaching for the offering, “Favor?”

He looked into her eyes and said, “Just please, be careful.”

Hermione had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, “Dad, nothing will happen to the car, you know that I’m a very safe driver.”

Alex glanced at his wife, who was no longer reading the catalogue, but looking at her family.

“No, Hermione,” Alex took a deep breath and then said concernedly, “You be careful. We love you and we don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Hermione stared blankly at her father, not knowing how to respond to what she just heard. She wasn’t even sure that she heard what she had just heard. After a long moment, she very quietly asked, “W- What?”

Alex shifted uncomfortably on his feet before saying, “I know I haven’t been the warmest father a child could have, and you can blame your grandparents for that, but I want you to know… well… You’re my little girl. You’ve always been my little girl, and I know now that maybe I should have been a bit more emotive towards you as you were growing up. I guess I just took it for granted that you knew that I loved you… that we love you.”

Hermione let out a choked breath that sounded something like ‘Daddy’ and threw her arms around her father, hugging him as tightly as she could. She managed to suppress a sob as she whispered into his shirt, “I love you, too.”

She felt him gently return the hug as he said to her, “You had best be off to save your boyfriend.”

She gave him one last squeeze before she stepped back and gave him a playful slap in the arm, “I’ve told you before, he’s not my boyfriend!”

Alex handed her the card, money and keys while glancing to his wife, who wore a knowing smile. Hermione took the items then went and gave her mother a quick hug.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” said Hermione as she rushed out of the room towards the door that led to the garage.

Her mother leaned out of the room and spoke before Hermione opened the door, “Hermione? Can you do us another small favor?”

She looked back towards her mother and nodded.

“Smiling, her mother said, “Maybe, just for me, you can put on a decent set of clothes?”

Hermione looked questioningly at her mother before she looked down at herself and reddened, noticing that she was still wearing her nightclothes under her robes. She ran to her room and quickly dressed, gathered some toiletries, spare clothes and a towel into an overnight bag.

A few minutes later, Hermione pulled out of the garage in her father’s black Mercedes-Benz SL600 Roadster Convertible. She stopped before the end of the driveway, placed her wand on the palm of her outstretched hand and said, “Sequor Sirius.” The wand rotated on her hand with the tip pointing towards the west. She turned right out of the driveway, heading to the main road in St. Osyth that would carry her through Essex towards Greater London.

Nearly two hours later Hermione found herself on the A25 in Abinger Hammer, Surrey and still heading roughly west when the petrol warning light flashed on the panel. When she stopped for petrol, she asked the attendant for the easiest route to Little Whinging and discovered that she was about ten kilometers from the small village near Ottershaw, which happened to be to the northwest. Thanks to the directions she was given and the tracking charm, it didn’t take long before she arrived in the neighborhood of Privet Drive.

‘Why would he go back to Privet Drive? There’s nothing there.’

The late-morning sun beat down upon the residents of Privet Drive as they spent their Saturday mowing their lawns, washing their cars and tending the gardens and flowerbeds surrounding their homes, all except for the residents of Number Four. The lawn of Number Four had patches of weeds protruding up from the over-tall grass, giving it the unmistakable appearance of neglect.

She parked the car in the driveway, and while hidden from prying eyes by the dark tinted glass, Hermione sat in her car for a moment and again incanted, ‘Sequor Sirius,’ causing the wand to point directly at the door of Number Four. She climbed out of the car and after making sure there weren’t any muggles looking her way, she cast disillusionment on it, effectively hiding it from view. Concealing her wand, but making sure it could be quickly drawn, she approached the front door.

Inside of the house was somewhat dark, due to the fact that all of the blinds in the windows were fully drawn down, blocking out most of the daylight. She stood at the door and listened intently, trying to detect any sound or movement. She looked around into the furniture-less living room with its dusty carpet and blank walls.

She again said, ‘Sequor Sirius’ and watched as the wand pointed towards the stairs. She quietly crept to the staircase and slowly made her way to the second floor. As she put her weight on the fourth step, an ominous creak sounded from the loose stair causing her to freeze. She strained her ears to hear if the noise prompted any movement within the house. Hearing nothing, she made a mental note of the loose step and continued to the top landing. She quickly searched each of the three bedrooms, the bathroom, and another spare room that almost seemed like nothing more than an over-sized closet, all of which were empty.

Puzzled, she stood at the top of the stairs and cast the tracking spell again, ‘Sequor Sirius.’

Her wand canted between her fingers and almost slipped out of her hand as the tip pointed straight downward. Surprised by this, she silently returned to the first floor, being careful to avoid the fourth step this time.

‘Sequor Sirius.’

The wand pointed to the stairs. She looked on the side of the staircase and saw a small door with a sturdy-looking bolt lock on the outside, which was currently unlatched.

“Harry?” she whispered to the small door. Hearing nothing, she slowly pulled the cupboard door open and said, ‘Lumos Minimus,’ which caused a small, candle-like glow to emit from the end of her wand. She was met with a wave of stale, stiflingly hot air that came from the cramped space of the cupboard. In the dim light, all she could see was a small, dirty mattress pad and a dingy old, threadbare throw pillow.

Again, she said, ‘Sequor Sirius’ and watched as the glowing wand tip pointed inside of the cupboard, toward the bottom of the grimy pad. She reached into the tiny space, grabbed hold of a silky-feeling cloth, and uncovered her best friend.

“Oh, Harry…” she sadly whispered as she saw how thin and gaunt he still looked. His skin was flushed and sweaty from the stagnant summer air in the tiny space. Not wanting to wake him, and not wanting to wait out in the open, she carefully crawled into the cramped space that was the cupboard under the stairs along side Harry and pulled the door closed. In very quick succession, she cast ‘Obfirmo,’ ‘Dissimulo,’ and ‘Silencio,’ at the door, then ‘Novo Aeris,’ and ‘Aeris Tepesco!’ which sealed, obscured and silenced the door to the cupboard, as well as cleared and slightly chilled the air inside, respectively.

She then covered both herself and Harry in the invisibility cloak and then gently rested her head against his shoulder and quickly joined him in what she would find to be a very restful, dreamless sleep.

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A/N: Another one down. I hope you’re enjoying the story. Harry and Hermione, alone together? Could this be the start of the promised H/Hr relationship? (insert evil laugh here) This is the last of the ’power updating,’ the rest of the story will come as I write it. Don’t forget to leave a comment and tell me how dreadfully confusing the story still is!

11. Vanilla Shampoo and Cinnamon Soap

Disclaimer: I do not own anything ‘Harry Potter,’ nor any of the lyric bits I place here, this is all for fun, no money is exchanging hands.

A/N: I suspect I’m going to get a lot of reviews to this chapter. It took a relatively long time to write, and I’m not sure I’m entirely happy with it. Ron laments his relationship with his two best friends, and after hearing about the St. Mungo’s attack, he makes a disturbing discovery about his sister’s actions. Something ‘breaks’ in Harry’s mind after finding himself in a very, shall we say ‘stressful?’ situation. Due to his ‘broken’ emotions and raging hormones, he blurts out something he regretted even before he said it. I’d appreciate it if you could let me know how I could have worked this better, like I said, I’m not sure I’m happy with it, but here it is. Enjoy and review!

Chapter 11: Vanilla Shampoo and Cinnamon Soap

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I’m the man in the box,
buried in my shit.
Won’t you come and save me?

Save me.

Feed my eyes, can you sew them shut?
Jesus Christ, deny your maker.
He who tries, will be wasted.
Feed my eyes now you’ve sewn them shut.

I’m the dog who gets beat.
Shove my nose in shit.
Won’t you come and save me?

Save me.

Excerpt from the song ‘Man in the Box’ by Alice in Chains.

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Ron was having another nearly sleepless night. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t manage to shut his brain down. Thoughts of his two best friends kept rampaging through his mind.

First, there was Harry. He was rich, famous, charismatic, and relatively handsome. With that killer combination, he could have any girl he wanted. No, he could have every girl he wanted wrapped around his finger. He took Parvati Patil, the prettiest girl in Gryffindor, to the Yule Ball. He dated Cho Chang, the prettiest and most popular girl in the entire school. He even took Luna Lovegood to one of those ‘Slug Club’ parties, which still irked him that he was never invited, being friends with both ‘The Chosen One’ and ‘The Brightest Witch of Her Age.’ While it’s true that Luna wasn’t the most attractive girl in school, she was certainly no Eloise Midgin. With the vast number of choices available to him, whom did the ‘Chosen One’ choose? Ginny. His baby sister.

Harry knew that he was going spare trying to keep all the lecherous Hogwarts boys from taking advantage of her. He nearly fainted whenever he would catch her snogging some bloke in a broom closet, empty classroom or deserted hallway. Then he kissed her. He nearly had a stroke as he watched them kiss in the middle of the Gryffindor common room, in front of everyone. He remembered the initial shock of seeing his best friend mashing face with his little sister. The shock only lasted for a moment before anger reared its’ ugly head, but that passed, too.

Ron knew that Harry was the type of bloke who would never make the first move. He remembered when Harry was forced to find a date for the Yule Ball. Even though he needed a date for the ball, being one of the Champions, and he knew whom he wanted to ask, it took him so long to work up the nerve to ask Cho that it was too late, she already had a date. Ron knew at the time it wasn’t a rejection on her part, but Harry saw it as such. Knowing Harry’s personality, and knowing that he would never want to risk their friendship, Harry never would have kissed his best mate’s sister if she wasn’t the one that ran up to him first and practically assaulted his face.

Okay, the thought of one of England’s wealthiest wizards becoming part of the Weasley family was enough to keep him from hexing Harry’s naughty bits clean off. He admitted to himself that Ginny could do a hell of a lot worse than Harry, even though fate seemed to have handed him the crap end of the stick as far as the foreseeable future goes. Ron was jealous of a great many things about Harry, but being the ‘Chosen One’ of the Prophesy was not one of them.

So, he finally comes to grips with the idea of Harry being ‘with’ Ginny. Then what does Harry do? He ‘publicly’ breaks up with her at Hogwarts. He initially understood the reasoning behind it, it was to keep Ginny safe. As long as everyone at school knows they aren’t together, there would be no reason to harm her, or less of a reason to harm her, anyway. What he couldn’t come to grips with is why, when around trusted friends and family, he treats her like a flobberworm?

Okay, so he really wants to protect her and to keep her safe by making sure everybody knows they aren’t together. Yes, Harry loves Ginny so much that he calls out Hermione’s name when he sleeps. Hmmph. He knew that Harry had deeper feelings about Hermione than he’d ever admit. He doubted if even Harry was aware of his own feelings, but to everyone around him it was painfully obvious and had been for years.

Yes, then there’s Hermione. The other reason why sleep eludes him. He screwed up at his brother’s wedding, he knew he screwed up. He was hoping to catch Hermione after the reception and get in a bit of quality snogging… Well, it was never really quality snogging, exactly, but any snog is a good snog. Unfortunately for him, it was a little more work getting Hermione in the mood since that ‘one’ time where he pressed his luck a bit too far and tried to work his hand up the inside of her blouse. It took a month of apologies to get back to the point where he could even get a peck on the cheek from her.

Any hope of him ever kissing her again was binned when she caught him in a very compromising position with Gabrielle Delacour in the broom shed. Damn those twins… ‘Sure, Ron, you’re of age now! Here’s another firewhiskey! Down the hatch! Have another!’ It wasn’t that Ron was pissed that night, he didn’t even have a hangover the next morning, but he had just enough alcohol in him to effectively skew his judgment, and add that to the stupid ‘veela blast’ thing they do… he never really stood a chance.

Gabrielle sat through most of the wedding and reception alone, disconsolate over the disappearance of Harry. She had barely spoken to anyone, but then again, barely anyone was speaking anyway. He was just passing by her table, wobbling only slightly from the firewhiskey, when he suddenly got a dose of those ‘pheromones,’ or whatever it is, from the miniature Fleur. Actually, he didn’t think that Gabrielle could be described as ‘miniature’ anymore. At fourteen, she had a mature looking face and a relatively well-developed body for her age, a startling difference from when he last saw her during their fourth year.

He didn’t remember how he got into the broom shed with her. He didn’t even remember how long he was in the shed. However, he did remember being found by Charlie and Hermione. He recalled the briefest flash of hurt on Hermione’s face before it was replaced by the look of stoic sadness that she had been wearing since the day they discovered that Harry was missing.

‘Stoic sadness.’ Ron let out an ironic chuckle as he laid on his bed. She was going absolutely spare since his disappearance. Even before he disappeared she was acting oddly. He thought he knew the reasons why she was so irritable during the last year, especially towards Harry. First, there was the issue with their best friend and the Prophesy. He knew that was the big one. There was the fact that Harry was right all along about Malfoy and Snape, and he knew that she felt guilty for not even trying to believe Harry about them. It was as if she was intentionally pushing Harry away with her constant contradiction of everything he said.

There was also the Prince’s book, which ticked the both him and Hermione off. It bothered Hermione for the obvious reason, he was showing her up in front of Slughorn. Harry was actually outperforming her, something she never would have expected in Potions class. He was annoyed because there always seemed to be an excuse that prevented Harry from sharing the wealth of knowledge that the book contained with him, which made Ron seem even more pathetic than usual compared to the Great Harry Potter. He had been so used to being ‘partners in failure’ with Harry that he felt betrayed, left in the dust, so to speak.

Ron knew that he was a mediocre wizard. He wasn’t totally inept, but he certainly was no Merlin. Harry wasn’t his first or only friend, but he certainly was his best friend. He knew what Harry had to do once the Prophesy was revealed to him, and he’d need powerful allies to finish the job. Sadly, Ron was painfully aware that he didn’t fit that description.

There was one other thing that bothered Ron for the longest time. Just like everyone else, he thought for sure that Hermione was destined for Harry. Before their sixth year, all the signs pointed to it. He knew that she fancied Harry. What happened since the previous summer that changed her from daydreaming about him constantly to cursing him under her breath the minute he was out of earshot? And why does it seem that since Dumbledore’s funeral she’s been so focused on him to the point where she’s neglecting herself? Everybody was worried about him, but she took worry to an entirely different level. It was as if she couldn’t live without him being nearby, as if she needed him with her. What caused that sudden change in her?

He also knew that Harry needed Hermione. Not only was she ‘the cleverest witch of her age,’ but she was just as adept and nearly as powerful as Harry. Add to that her incredible power of deduction, her ability to ‘think on her feet’ and to adapt quickly to both advanced spellcasting and to whatever environment or situation she found herself in, and her fanatical passion for books and research, she was indispensable to Harry.

The words that Hermione spoke in the hospital tearoom kept coming back to him: ‘He didn’t need my friendship to make him happy. He didn’t need me! I realized that the only reason I was his friend was that he relied on me so much in the previous years. I was always able to help him. I was always willing to help him, but not last year. I was so jealous of Ginny and that blasted book coming in between our friendship. I was so scared that he’d never need me again, that he’d never… That he wouldn’t want… He was the first friend I ever had in my life. My very first and best friend. How could I treat him like that? What came over me?’

Ron never admitted to anyone that he felt the same way, but had been feeling that ‘uselessness’ a lot longer than Hermione had, since that stupid tournament in their fourth year where he felt like he was more of a hindrance than a help. Hermione really had no reason to think that way. Harry did need her more than either one of them knew.

Therein lies his problem. Harry couldn’t live without Hermione. Harry, while needing him as a friend, didn’t need him for the task at hand, and might even consider him a liability. His only way to stay close to Harry was to get into a relationship with Hermione, because, no matter what, Hermione would always be with Harry in one sense or another.

Ron sat on the side of his bed and sighed as he hung his head. He really screwed up badly. How long will it take Harry to push him aside as he did Ginny ‘for his own protection?’ How long will it take him to realize that his best friend isn’t really that much of a help? Then how long would he be his ‘best friend?’

When people look at him, all they see is ‘Harry Potter’s best mate.” He really didn’t much care for being known as ‘The Boy Who Lived’s’ sidekick, but it was better than being unknown entirely, or worse yet, -insert better, older brother’s name here-‘s little brother, who everyone knows would never measure up. Everyone knew that now, Harry was an integral part of the Weasley family, which put most members of his family at equal risk. How long would that last? What could possibly convince Harry now that he was needed on this quest?

Ron looked out of the window from his bedroom and saw that the sky was already lit by the early morning sun. He could smell the aroma of breakfast wafting up from the stairway into his room. His mother’s voice carried up the stairs, she was rousing Ginny for breakfast before yelling up the stairs for him to come down. He dressed himself and made his way to the kitchen where his mother was busy at the cooker, filling a platter with the freshly prepared eggs and sending it to the table with a lazy flick of her wand.

He sat heavily in a chair, filled his plate and started hastily shoveling his breakfast into his mouth. He was just filling his plate for a second helping when green flames burst to life in the fireplace and the head of Kingsley Shaklebolt appeared in the fire.

“Molly!” he called out loudly.

Mrs. Weasley quickly removed the heat from the cooker and rushed to the fireplace. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Thank Merlin you haven’t left yet!” said Shaklebolt, “A few hours ago, there was a Death Eater attack at St. Mungos’. Our entire department was called in, along with all available Obliviators and those Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries, which should give you an idea of how large the attack was.”

“Is Harry all right?” asked Molly shakily.

“We don’t know. When we got there, the attack was over. Harry wasn’t in his room, and it looked as if a tornado had hit it.”

Molly wavered on her feet slightly upon hearing the news. Ron rose from the table and placed a steadying hand on his mother’s shoulder. Ron looked at the stairway and saw Ginny standing at the bottom landing.

He heard Ginny ask, “Mum? What’s going on?”

“Death Eaters attacked St. Mungo’s. They don’t know much at this point, but Harry is… Harry… he’s missing… Nobody knows where he…”

She couldn’t finish the sentence as she broke down in tears. Ron watched all the color drain from Ginny’s face, then saw her crumple to the floor.

Upon seeing her youngest child collapse, Molly immediately composed herself and rushed over to scoop Ginny into her arms and carry her into the living room.

“Ron,” ordered his mother while placing Ginny on the sofa, “hurry and go up and get your potions kit, I need to make up a calming draught for her,” then added under her breath, “and one for myself, too.”

Ron raced up the stairs to his bedroom, opened his trunk and pulled out his potions kit. When he looked inside, he noticed that he was nearly out of most things, and completely out of the rest. He went back down the stairs and into Ginny’s room to get her kit. He opened her door and started gagging as he was hit with the strong scent of gardenias and roses from her perfume.

As he crossed the room to get to her trunk, he noticed an open panel on the front of her desk that obviously shouldn’t have been there. He stopped and looked inside of it, but it was empty. He then saw the empty glass vial sitting on top of a page that appeared to have been torn from some Potions textbook. He blanched as he scanned the page and read the name of the potion, ‘Elixir of Love’s Distraction.’

His eyes narrowed as he read the intended effects. He began to understand why Harry and Hermione had been so short with each other all last year and why Harry suddenly became infatuated with his baby sister. He knew that Ginny had a crush on Harry since she first heard about ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ but he never would have dreamed that she would go so far as to use some kind of potion to get close to him.

Then a thought came unbidden into his mind, ‘Is that much different than trying to date someone you don’t even like very much to stay close to him?’

Ron sighed deeply, fighting with himself about what to do… ‘The right thing or the easy thing?’ The ‘right’ thing would be to warn Harry and Hermione about what he discovered. The ‘easy’ thing would be to ignore it, but what if this elixir has something to do with Harry’s illness?

“Bloody Hell…” he mumbled to himself. He couldn’t just ignore it, but he wasn’t sure if this was actually causing all the problems. If it wasn’t causing all of the recent problems, then how could he fault his sister from trying to keep Harry? Again, the thought of one of the richest wizards in England being joined with the Weasley family was something he wouldn’t want to willfully sabotage. If he didn’t know what the real effects of this elixir was, he was sure as hell going to find out before he ratted his own sister out, and he knew just the Ravenclaw to ask.

He quickly grabbed a spare bit of parchment and a quill and quickly copied the Arithmantic formula from the page. He grabbed another blank sheet and cast a duplication charm on the page, copying what was written onto the parchment, and stuffed both papers into his pocket. He was careful to leave her desk just the way he found it before retrieving the potions kit from her school trunk and left the room to bring it to his mother.

As he handed both kits to his mother, he said, “I’m going out for a while, I’ll be back in a bit.”

Molly just waved an agitated hand while she was hastily adding bits of this and that to a cauldron. Ron stepped out of the front door of the Burrow, walked past the broom shed beyond the wards and disapparated with a loud crack, finding himself a moment later in front of a large, but cozy cottage on the far side of Ottery St. Catchpole, the quaint residence of the Lovegoods.

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Harry awoke to near total darkness. His back and joints complained angrily from sleeping in such a cramped and uncomfortable position. He tried to stretch himself out, only to have his toes stubbed on some rough, unfinished wood. It took him a few moments to clear the disorientation from his mind, trying to remember where he was when he fell asleep.

‘Oh, yeah… that’s right… ‘The cupboard under the stairs.’’

He could recall why he ended up at Privet Drive, to see what condition it was in and prepare it for sale. He didn’t recall why he chose to sleep in his old ‘bedroom.’ Maybe he thought it would give him some sick sense of security. As he thought about it, despite the physical discomfort, he felt that he had gotten the best sleep he ever had in his life. His mind felt clear and relaxed. He actually felt rested for the first time he could ever remember. He could barely recall a pleasant dream he woke from, a dream about being snuggled up with a soft, brown teddy bear, which he thought was unusual because he had never owned a stuffed animal as a child.

He cracked the cupboard door open to allow in enough light to check the time. As the door opened, he saw that the time was around seven in the evening. He suddenly heard a distant sound of running water. He didn’t remember trying any of the taps in the house when he got there, but maybe he did while half-asleep sometime during the day, or maybe there was a broken pipe or something that he didn’t notice when he first arrived. He quietly left the cupboard and could tell the sound was coming from the upper floor. He cautiously made his way up the stairs and could see light coming from the bathroom through the door that was left ajar. Apparently, the Dursleys never bothered to shut the utilities down, seeing how they weren’t paying those bills anyway. Silently, he crept to the door, listening to the rush of water coming from the bathroom as he inched closer. He caught a whiff of something… vanilla and cinnamon? With his wand in hand, he slowly peeked in through the partially open door.

Harry froze. He felt his mouth instantly go dry. After a few heartbeats, he blinked, not believing what he was seeing.

Inside the bathroom was his best friend, Hermione. Obviously, when the Dursleys packed up and left, they took everything, including the shower curtain, with them. She was standing in the bathtub, with her body facing the door, but had her eyes closed and her shampoo-covered hair thrown back behind her in the stream of the shower. Her soapy arms arced upwards and her back was arched as her hands guided her hair through the spray of water. She appeared very thin, but not frighteningly so. His eyes followed a trail of lather that streamed down from her shoulders and between her breasts, splitting into two trails along the line of her ribcage, down around her nearly flat, stretched belly ending up in a neatly trimmed triangle of curly hair.

He wanted to touch her. He needed to know if that creamy skin was as smooth and silky as it looked. His minds eye took her soap from the dish, lathered up his hands and ran them over the satiny mounds…

“Sweet Merlin’s Quaffles!” exclaimed Harry as he fell backwards away from the door. He landed noisily against the hallway wall and slid down to the floor. A sharp, blinding pain tore through Harry’s head. It wasn’t centered on his scar, but seemed to explode out from the center of his brain. Suddenly, he felt what he could only describe as a thick fog in his mind clear away. How could he not have noticed how much she’s grown, it seemed like the image of her at fourteen was somehow blanketing his perception of her until that moment where he saw her standing in the shower.

His eyes became as large as dinner plates, and his breathing was coming in short, ragged pants. The image was seared into his consciousness… Hermione… Hermione naked… Hermione naked, wet… Hermione naked, wet, soapy… His hands caressing… His body pressed against…

“Blood- dee- Hell!”

A few moments later, the bathroom door burst open and a still soapy and dripping Hermione appeared in the hall, wrapped in a loose-fitting towel and brandishing her wand. He saw the concern in her eyes as she looked down at him sprawled against the wall. She made a quick scan around the hallway, checking for any sign of intruders before returning her gaze to him.

Harry was staring deep into Hermione’s eyes. He read the concern, the caring that shone through her eyes as they met his. For only a fleeting instant, he could have sworn he saw what could only be described as… love? An instant later, a look of distress shadowed her face.

“Harry! What happened? Are you all right?” she asked as she bent down in front of him, looking him over and trying to determine if he was hurt in any way. As she did, the towel loosened slightly around her chest and opened at her side, revealing half of her naked form from her waist, past her hip and uncovering her entire right leg. Hermione had a horrified look on her face. She was afraid Harry was having another of his ‘fits.’ She reached out her hand to touch his forehead, which caused him to scramble away from her in panic.

“Bloody Hell, Hermione! You’re starkers!”

He saw comprehension dawn on her and she visibly reddened. She stood up quickly and smoothed the towel back around her.

“Oh… Ummm, well… I’ll just go finish up, shall I?” With a shy, nervous smile, she quickly disappeared back into the bathroom, this time firmly closing the door.

It took Harry a few minutes to get his breathing, and his hormones, back under control. The image of Hermione that kept flashing in his mind made that task quite difficult. When had she grown those? When had she begun looking like that? He had seen her numerous times in muggle clothes, but they were always so layered and loose fitting that he never realized just what she was hiding beneath them. They seemed so… so big, but he really had nothing to judge them against. To anyone else, they might have been considered quite small. He had no idea because he had never seen a naked woman before in his life. He’d never anyone starkers before.

Harry got to his feet, still leaning against the wall as he lifted his shaking hand and ran it nervously through his hair. ‘The length of those legs… the curve of those hips…all of that milky skin… the shape of those big, soapy…’

He painfully pulled a fistful of his hair, ‘Stop it, Potter! That’s Hermione you’re leering over!’

“But all that soap…those suds running down those two creases on each side of that belly… the lather running into…”

“Get a grip on yourself!” he angrily commanded under his breath, which caused his mind to snarkily reply, ‘You’d like to get a grip on yourself right now, wouldn’t you?’

He growled angrily at himself as he made his way to the staircase and sat on the top step. He miserably placed is sweaty face in his hands. He took a deep, calming breath and again muttered, “Bloody Hell!”

What happened to that short, skinny girl who was cowering on the dirty floor of a loo? When did that pushy, bossy bookworm that was endlessly drilling him on the Summoning Charm become a woman? Was he paying so little attention? He knew that Hermione wasn’t a raving beauty that had every male within viewing distance drooling on her like Fleur so mindlessly does. Most people look at her as being quite plain, but in order to see past the physical, in order to see her true beauty, you had to know Hermione, and if he wasn’t sure of anything else in his life, he was sure that he knew her… or at least he did know her at one time… What happened to change that?

A soft voice wafted from behind him, “Harry?”

He stiffened as he heard the patting of Hermione’s bare feet on the hardwood floor behind him. He made a point of not turning around, being afraid of what he might see, and even more afraid of what he knew he would feel if he did get a good look.

“Harry?” she asked again while putting a hand on his shoulder. He shot to his feet at her touch and descended a step, desperately trying to conceal the obvious effect the situation was having on him, causing Hermione to squeak and step back in surprise. “What’s the matter?”

Harry turned his head slightly and tentatively peeked at her from the corner of his eye. Seeing that she was fully clothed, he relaxed somewhat, but still wouldn’t turn to meet her eye.

“I’m sorry.” He almost whispered.

Hermione wore a confused look, “What?”

He hung his head and continued, “I saw you… in the bathroom. I didn’t know who was here or what was happening. I heard the water and the door was open and I looked and I saw you, and… and the door was… there was no curtain, and… Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry…” At this point, Harry was so red that he could match his uncle Vernon’s complexion during one of his worst tantrums.

“Oh… you saw…? Oh! Oh, my!” was all Hermione could say. She continued after a pregnant pause, “I’m sorry, it was my fault. I was going to wake you, but you looked so peaceful, I didn’t have the heart, and I’d thought you’d sleep through...” she added with a very nervous laugh, “I hope it wasn’t too dreadful for you.”

‘Dreadful? Hardly!’ he thought. Harry was finding it difficult to stammer out a complete and coherent sentence, “Yes, well, no, of course not… I… I… I’ve never seen anyone… you know, like that… I’m nearly seventeen, but I never… well… and you’re just so…” Harry abruptly stopped, realizing that he was beginning to babble.

Hermione stood frozen. Yes, she was horribly embarrassed, but also very afraid of what his words would be to complete that last sentence. ‘ugly?’ ‘scrawny?’ ‘plain?’ ‘scary?’ ‘boring?’ ‘nightmarish?’ It certainly wouldn’t be ‘pretty’ or ‘beautiful.’ He probably wouldn’t even consider her ‘cute.’ How could he?

Nevertheless, she just had to know. She closed her eyes and, against her better judgment, prompted, “I’m just so…?”

Harry paused a moment, then started walking briskly up the stairs saying, “I think I’ll take a shower too, can I borrow your soap?”

As he passed by her, she grabbed his arm and spun him around to face her, “I’m so what? What am I? Ugly?”

Harry let out a small laugh, which immediately caused a dull ache to appear in Hermione’s chest. He still didn’t meet her eye when he said, “I’ve told you before, and I meant it, I surely don’t think you’re ugly, but I don’t think you want to hear what I was thinking.”

She felt the wetness build under her eyelids, but she managed to keep her voice even when she said in her bossy tone, “I do want to hear it. I’m just so what?”

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor and mumbled something that sounded to her like ‘erffet.’

‘Did he just say ‘effete?’ He thinks I’m ‘worn out?!’’ Her eyes narrowed, “Excuse me? I didn’t quite catch that.”

Harry let out a loud sigh. “Perfect, alright?” he said in a near yell, “I think you look perfect! Are you happy now? I can’t imagine how you can think that anyone could look at you and say that you’re ugly. Now, please, just wait until I’m in the bathroom before you start laughing at me.” Harry sullenly wrenched his arm out of her grasp, walked quickly down the hall and into the bathroom, leaving a speechless Hermione standing near the top of the stairs.

Harry closed and locked the door, then noisily expelled a long breath as he leaned his back against it and slid to the floor.

‘Smooth move, Potter, you’ve really borked things up nicely now,’ said the annoying little voice in his head that sounded strangely like Hermione. Harry undressed and stepped into the tub, intending to take a very quick, very cold shower. When he turned on the tap, the spray that hit him was already icy-cold, telling him that the last person in there, namely Hermione, had also taken a very cold shower. That caused him to ask himself, ‘Why was she taking a cold shower?’

The icy water only marginally worked to quell his ‘problem.’ When he stepped out of the tub, he found that he had to use the same towel that Hermione used, and realizing that the fluffy, still-damp cloth had been wrapped around her naked body just minutes before sent a jumble of improper thoughts through his almost-seventeen-year-old brain.

After drying himself the best he could, Harry thought briefly about casting a cleaning charm on his clothes, since they’re the only clothes he had with him, and a drying spell on the floor, which by that time had a large puddle around the tub. He decided to have Hermione do it, if she was still in the house, he didn’t need any ‘Ministry Nasty-Grams’ for using underage magic so close to his birthday. The thought had occurred to him that he just might have chased her away. Did Hermione really flee at what he said?

He hastily dressed himself and packed away all of Hermione’s toiletries into her bag. He picked up the bag, tucked his wand in the waistband of his pants and draped the damp towel over his arm. Harry’s gaze dropped to the floor as he pulled open the bathroom door, realizing that he was either going to meet a very angry Hermione waiting for him on the other side, or a once again lonely, empty house.

He silently prayed that he wouldn’t find the latter.

12. The Nargle Hunt

Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Harry Potter,’ nor do I have rights to the bits of lyrics I use.

A/N: I must apologize to all of you that received alerts on this story before. I accidentally created a new chapter when I meant to replace an old one that had a few spelling errors… That’s what I get for being so anal about my writing, so again, I’m sorry. :( This chapter was fun to write in some ways, difficult in others. In this chapter, Harry finds something he didn’t expect on the other side of the door, and Ron pays a visit to our favorite little airhead, Luna, who finds that she’s probably much less of an airhead than he thought, and he discovers something about the nature of Ginny’s ‘elixir.’ I hope I did OK with Luna, of all the canon characters, she’s probably the most difficult one to recreate. Let me know how she turned out!

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Chapter 12: The Nargle Hunt

-----~-----

I finally got to talk to you and I told you just exactly how I felt,
then I held you close to me, and kissed you and my heart began to melt.
Girl, you've got control of me,
'Cause I'm so dizzy, I can't see,
I need to call a doctor for some help.

Dizzy.

I'm so dizzy, my head is spinnin',
like a whirlpool, it never ends,
And it's you, girl, makin' it spin.
You're makin' me dizzy.

Excerpt from the song ‘Dizzy’ by Tommy Roe.

-----~-----

It looked a pleasant little cottage, the shingled walls were stained a sunny yellow, while the trim was painted a clean white. An ancient looking fieldstone wall surrounded its well-kept front lawn, which was divided by a brick walkway that led to the front farmer’s porch. Ron opened the wide, wooden gate and walked into the yard.

He paused when he heard some odd, grunting noises coming from around the side of the house. He followed the dirt path that led around to the garden that was barely visible from the front of the house. As he entered the garden through the rose covered, trellised archway, he saw Luna Lovegood swinging a broom haphazardly around an apple tree. As usual, she had her wand wedged behind her ear, held in place by her waist-length, dirty blonde hair that was whipping violently around her like a blonde tornado as she jumped around and swung her broom madly. She was wearing a pair of red, spandex shorts that caught his attention immediately. He eyed her shapely bum for a few moments before his eyes traveled a bit further up to see that she was also wearing a powder blue half-tee, which hung off her breasts to dangle loosely about her tanned midriff well above her belly button.

Ron chuckled to himself at the uncharacteristic look of concentration on Luna’s face as she purposefully swung the broom at seemingly nothing. He found the look amusing because it was so atypical of her usual vacant expression.

She heard his laughter and looked towards him for only a moment while she continued to madly swat at the air. He walked up to her, being careful to stay just out of the broom’s radius.

“Hi, Loon- a,” greeted Ron, just catching himself from calling her ‘Looney.’

“Hello, Ronald. It’s a pleasant surprise seeing you here. Have you come to help me with the mistletoe?”

Ron looked up into the apple tree and indeed saw dozens of sprigs of mistletoe clinging to the branches.

“There’s another broom by the shed. Make sure you get the one with the split-reed bristles, they’ll chew on the straw bristles, you know.”

He looked up at the branches again. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, he asked, “What will chew on the straw bristles?”

“The Nargles, of course. A family of them moved in last month and they’re starting to multiply. I told daddy about them, but he didn’t think it was a problem then.”

Ron decided to humor her, hoping to put her in a good enough mood so he could ask her to look at the formula. He grabbed the appropriate broom, walked back to the tree, and with a barely concealed smirk, started swinging at the air under the apple tree.

He was loathe to admit it, but he was having fun, standing in a garden, beneath a tree, wildly swinging a broom around and laughing the whole time. On about his tenth swing, he felt a slight impact vibrate through the handle of his broom, at the same time Luna’s head snapped to the side, her protuberant eyes following an invisible ‘something’ through the air. A moment later, he heard a slight ‘snap’ sound against the side of a nearby birch tree.

“You got one!” squealed Luna excitedly, “there are only three more left.”

Ron’s jaw dropped and his mouth hung open as he stared blankly at the trunk of the birch tree, looking for any sign of… anything. He felt it. He heard it. He didn’t see it. He was about to turn and ask if she could actually see the Nargles, when he felt a sharp impact on the top of his head. Not hard enough to hurt him, but still hard enough for him to yelp out, drop his broom and hold his hands on his head.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Ronald,” apologized Luna, who had evidently just swatted his head with her broom, “It looks like they are attracted to your red hair.”

Ron couldn’t tell for sure, but he could have sworn that he saw the corners of her mouth twitch, nearly breaking the vacant expression that always seemed to mask her face. He picked the broom back up and started swinging wildly again, but keeping a surreptitious eye on Luna’s broom. He saw her eyes lock onto something and she gave a mighty swing, turning her head away from him with the follow-through. He grinned and took the opportunity to swing his own broom, swatting her sharply on her bum.

She gave out a loud squeak as her head snapped quickly towards him, her crystal-blue eyes, wider than he’d ever seen them but still with the vague, detached stare, locked onto his.

He grinned at her and cheekily said, “You’re right, they do seem to have a thing for red.”

Luna stared blankly back at Ron, which didn’t surprise him at all… at first. A full thirty seconds passed with him expecting some kind of reaction, comment, retort, reply, response… anything… The grin that he was holding soon became very uncomfortable and began to falter. Still, she held her vacant, distant gaze in the general direction of his face. His smile dropped completely, and he was just about to mutter a hasty apology when she suddenly burst out into hysterical laughter, the abruptness of which made him nearly jump out of his shoes.

His grin returned after a few moments as he watched her double up in laughter. He even found himself laughing along with her for about a minute. Long after his laughter ceased, she was still snorting at each breath between her riotous chortling. He was becoming concerned, as her face had flushed to a bright red and her breathing had turned into coughing. He gingerly patted and rubbed her back, trying to settle the convulsing blonde.

He had his hand on her upper back between her shoulder blades, when his hand abruptly stopped rubbing. He gulped and a very surprised look washed over his face as he realized that he couldn’t feel a bra strap under the relatively loose-fitting half-tee she wore. His hand flew from her back, opting instead to gently pat her shoulder as his own face reddened at the thought of her bare breasts being only hidden by a few inches of material.

Luna didn’t notice his expression or his sudden crimson flush. She had stopped laughing at that point, but she was still bent over with her hands on her knees, gasping for breath.

“That was funny, Ronald,” she managed to gasp out, “You thought I hit your head… as a joke, so you hit my red shorts… as a joke, but everyone knows that Nargles are allergic to Lycra, that’s why I wore them.”

Ron stood there, looking into her bulging eyes, which were staring back into his. She wore an odd expression… well, odder than usual. He thought she looked as if she were expecting something, but was unsure what. After an uncomfortable minute, he broke the silence by retrieving his broom from the ground and started swinging it again. Luna smiled distantly, grabbed her own broom, and joined Ron, bouncing on her feet as she waved the broom.

Now that Ron was fully aware of the missing undergarment, he couldn’t help but to keep glancing to her tee, mesmerized as it rode up ever so slightly with every swing she’d take. She was smiling happily, as she bounced around under the tree and brandishing the broom, arcing it above her with abandon, seemingly oblivious to his frequent, lingering glances.

Ron’s eyes suddenly widened and his breathing hitched. During a particularly high bounce, he caught a glimpse of it. The lower half of a pair of nicely tanned orbs peeked out from under the torn hem of the half-tee. His throat went dry as the fact that they were ‘tanned’ sunk in. He was blatantly ogling her shirt after he caught that glimpse, his mind playing with the idea of Luna, naked, stretched out on a lounge chair while lazily sunning herself.

He was so enthralled with watching her breasts jiggle and jostle around under the loose cloth, that he didn’t notice that she snuck a glance at his face. Her smile widened as she turned to face him and leapt high off the ground. A grunt escaped her throat as she gave a particularly violent swing with the broom, knowing exactly what that would cause.

Ron’s blood pressure skyrocketed and his face turned redder than it had ever turned in his entire life. A small trickle of blood ran from one of his nostrils, the result of the aforementioned blood pressure spike. His eyes, that seemed at that point more protuberant than Luna’s had ever been, rolled up into his head as he fell flat on his back, out cold.

Luna still had her vacant, empty stare, but she also had a wide, satisfied grin plastered on her face.

Ron came to about thirty seconds later. He opened his eyes to find Luna standing above him at his head. Her upside-down face was smiling down at him as he laid there. As his eyes regained full focus, he realized that, from his vantage point on the ground, he could see directly up under her half-tee. His mouth, once again, gave a very convincing impersonation of a goldfish as he stared at the undersides of the bronzed mounds of flesh. His eyes traveled further south along her body, where he discovered that the spandex shorts she was wearing displayed a very clear ‘camel toe’ through the thin, clingy material.

“Welcome back, Ronald,” said Luna airily, “at first I thought a Nargle got you, but we chased the rest of them away over a half hour ago.”

She bent down at the knees and wiped the blood from under his nose, giving him an even closer view of the underside of her breasts. She wiped her fingers on the back of her red spandex shorts. “Don’t worry… being a girl, I’ve got blood on these before. Sometimes it can’t be helped… it won’t stain, it blends right in, see?”

She turned around to show him that the color of the blood did, indeed, blend right in with her shorts, but he was much too busy observing how well the material of the shorts hugged the shapely bottom that was being wiggled a few feet from his face.

He gulped again.

She turned around, and, upon seeing that he was making absolutely no effort in lifting himself from the dirt, she reached down her hand to his and tried to pull his rather large frame from the ground.

Only when he was on his feet, and didn’t have her womanly bits staring him in the face, did he become coherent enough to understand what she had said earlier.

“Wait a minute… They’ve been gone for a half hour? Then why have we been swinging these brooms around since then?”

She wore a slightly confused expression and shrugged, “You’re the one who started swinging the broom after they were gone.” A smile then twitched at the corner of her lips, a smile that anyone who didn’t know her would never have caught, “I thought you were doing it for fun, so I joined in.”

He stared blankly at her for a moment before a smile crossed his lips, too. The smile quickly faded as he remembered his reason for the visit. He was having so much fun, that he completely forgot about the formula. He drew a deep breath, preparing to ask the favor when her voice interrupted his train of thought.

“It’s doesn’t only work at Christmas time, you know.” She stated flatly, her eyes fixed on someplace in the distance behind his head.

“What?” he asked stupidly.

She simply pointed up into the apple tree and started humming a vaguely familiar tune. His gaze followed her finger up into the boughs. His eyes furrowed in concentration, maybe she meant that the Nargles had come back? Then his eyes locked on the sprig of waxy, dark green leaves surrounding small red berries that hung directly above Luna’s head. He looked back down at her, and realized at the same time that the tune she was humming was, of course, ‘Weasley Is Our King.’

Now, Ron knew he wasn’t the sharpest tack in the box, but he wasn’t exactly stupid, either. The thought began playing in his mind that maybe, just maybe, all the jumping, swinging and flashing was her way of letting him know that she was, indeed, a woman… and maybe she was trying in her own odd way to find out for herself if he fancied her?

By the tightness he felt in his pants, just maybe his did fancy her. She seemed to sense his thoughts through his eyes, because she chose that moment to flash him a beaming smile. He bent his head down and lightly touched his lips to hers, giving her a chaste little kiss.

A shock ran through his body when she suddenly threw her arms around his neck, crushed her lips hard onto his and thrust her tongue into his mouth. He only resisted a moment out of surprise before he wrapped his arms around her bare waist and lifted her off the ground, pressing her shapely body firmly against his.

Again, he was surprised when she quickly wrapped her legs around his hips the moment her feet left the ground. He barely had the presence of mind to spin her around to rest her back against the trunk of the apple tree, snogging each other into a stupor.

The instant that the need of oxygen caused their lips to separate, she pulled her arms more tightly around him and crushed herself against him in a bear hug, resting her chin on his shoulder and keeping her legs firmly wrapped around him. They both were panting loudly, trying to catch their breath. Ron felt dizzy as he held her to his chest. That kiss was better than anything he ever got from Lavender, and it was nothing like the ones he got from Hermione. What a difference it makes when the girl puts a little emotion behind it, something he never felt with Hermione.

“That kiss was adequate, Ronald, but I think that with practice, we can do much better.”

His smile dropped at the mention of ‘kiss practice,’ causing thoughts of Hermione to surface in his mind. That returned his attention to the real purpose of his visit. He figured it would be best to ask now before she caused him to forget again totally.

“I need help interpreting an Arithmantic formula,” he stated bluntly.

Puzzled at the disappearance of his smile, and at the sudden change of topic, she climbed off of him and replied, “Why not have Hermione do it? She’s much better at it than I am.”

He almost cooked up a quick lie, but something inside told him it would be best not to, so he just held out the parchment that he copied the formula onto and asked again, “Could you just take a look at it?”

Luna shrugged, took the parchment from his hand and unfolded it. Her eyes were uncharacteristically focused as they danced across the paper. She studied the formula for about five minutes before stating, “This is a very complex spell, Ronald.”

“It’s not a spell,” he simply stated.

Her eyes flashed up to his and she said, “Of course it’s a spell. It’s a non-verbal spell cast by ritual, it looks as though there’s a physical component to it, too. Hmm… One of these reagents is rather dark. And this equation here… it is… it’s… no…” Her usually large eyes got even larger and an angry scowl appeared on her face. Ron heard a guttural growl escape her lips before she suddenly yelled, “NO!”

Luna abruptly crushed the paper in her hand, quickly snatched her wand from behind her ear and, before Ron could move to stop her, vanished the paper into nothingness.

“Why did you do…” began Ron before being interrupted by Luna who looked oddly unnerved.

“Forget you ever saw that formula, Ronald,” Commanded Luna, with absolutely none of her usual dreaminess, “I don’t know where you got it, but I never want to see it again.”

Ron instantly became worried, he has never known Luna to become flustered over anything, “Why? What’s wrong with…”

“It’s Necromancy, Ronald. It’s very, very, dark magic. I can’t imagine where you got that formula, but it’s not safe to even experiment with it, if that’s what you were thinking of doing with it. I should know. That’s what happened to my mother. She was so consumed with acquiring knowledge, she just had to know everything there is to know… The experiment that killed her was about Necromancy. That’s what will happen to you if you even think about…” Luna paused and wiped the moisture from her large, slate-coloured eyes before continuing, “As I said, I suggest you forget you ever saw it.”

Ron opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off by saying, “It’s almost time for lunch. I have to cook for daddy, and he will be home soon. I’ll talk to you later, Ronald.”

With that, she turned on her heel and went into her house at a near run, slamming the door behind her, leaving Ron staring at the ground with a pained look on his face.

He left the garden, walked across her lawn and out to the main road through the front gate. He looked back longingly at the house, not really believing that he was actually regretting showing that formula to Luna, not believing that he could get so upset himself about her being upset with him. He clutched at the second parchment in his pocket, the copy of the entire page that he found in Ginny’s room.

He let out a heavy sigh, and a moment later, he disapparated with a loud crack.

-----~-----

*Harry’s gaze dropped to the floor as he pulled open the bathroom door, realizing that he was either going to meet a very angry Hermione waiting for him on the other side, or, a once again, empty house.*

He was surprised to see a pair of dirty, black boots sticking out from beneath a faded, black cloak. His eyes widened and shot up in time to see a pair of beady, black eyes peering out at him from under a mop of greasy, unkempt black hair. He heard an oily voice mutter ‘Stupefy’ before blackness enveloped him.

The same pair of black, beady eyes greeted Harry when he awoke. He found that he was still in the Dursley’s house… his house, bound to a conjured hard, wooden chair in his uncle’s old bedroom with Hermione similarly tied, but apparently still unconscious, sitting in the chair next to him. Her hair was still damp, and small beads of water were clinging to the very tips of the curls that were limply hanging over her face.

“Snape!” hissed Harry, “You murderous, cowar…”

With a flick of his wand, Snape silenced Harry mid-sentence. “Don’t… call me a coward,” whispered Snape dangerously. He started pacing the floor in front of the pair, tapping his wand against his palm and looking as if he were trying to find words that seemed to be eluding him. He stopped and gave Harry a sideways glance, accompanied by the sneer he always reserved just for him.

“I must admit, I was rather surprised when the ward I placed here alerted me to your presence. I didn’t expect you’d actually return to this… place,” said Snape as he glanced around disdainfully. He noticed that under the hateful glare Harry was silently giving him, he detected a glimmer of fear.

“Come now, Potter. If I were so inclined, you would already be dead, and if I wanted to take you to the Dark Lord, you wouldn’t still be here. I obviously knew of this place, Merlin knows how many nights I’ve stood outside of this hovel protecting you for the Order.”

Snape resumed his pacing and continued, “I am a dead man if I stay here, Potter. Obviously, both the ministry and the Order are out for my head. Although I was forced to end Albus’s life, I’m afraid that by doing so, it sealed my fate with the Death Eaters, as well. I have known all along that I was never really fully trusted, and since I can’t resume my role as a spy, my ‘usefulness’ to the Dark Lord has come to an end. After I leave here, I’m leaving Britain… even if you aren’t as incompetent as I believe you are and you manage to kill the Dark Lord, I can never return.”

Harry, while still holding a glare, gave a half-shrug indicating that he couldn’t possibly care less about Snape’s ‘employment’ problem. Snape seemed to be pointedly avoiding looking directly at his eyes, keeping his gaze on the floor in front of where he was pacing.

“I’m here to fulfill Dumbledore’s last instructions to me.” Harry was surprised to see a pained expression flicker across Snape’s face before the scowl returned. “I know what you are doing. I know about the horcruxes, and I know how many you have managed to find. With the diary, ring and locket out of the way, assuming, of course that you managed to destroy it, leaves three to be…”

Snape paused when he caught the strange expression on Harry’s face. It wasn’t an expression of surprise at him knowing about Voldemort’s horcruxes, it was more of an urgent need to impart information. With a flick of his wand, he cancelled the silencing hex on Harry.

“How do you know about them?” demanded Harry, “The Professor never told anyone about…”

Snape let out an exasperated sigh. “Of course, he told me about them. I was the one who helped him destroy the ring without getting himself killed. It was unfortunate that he had to lose the use of his wand hand, but it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make. I knew where you both were going to on the night that…” Snape fell silent and closed his eyes as the pained expression returned. Neither of the men noticed the slight twitch of Hermione’s head.

“On the night you murdered him!” yelled Harry, unable to keep his emotions in check.

“I had no choice! Albus ordered me to kill him to spare Draco’s and my own life!”

“I was there! I watched you murder him in cold blood! He said nothing to you, except to plead for his life! He was defenseless, and you just… just…” Harry couldn’t continue, a sob escaped his throat at the memory of that night on the Astronomy Tower.

Snape looked into Harry’s eyes and simply said, “Vernon Dursley.” He only locked eyes for a moment before he looked away again and said to Harry, “Fat, thieving git… I can see the ‘fat git’ part of it, but he didn’t appear to me to be the type that takes after Fletcher.”

Harry stared open-mouthed at Snape. That was the single phrase that popped into his mind the moment he had mentioned Vernon’s name, and Snape seemed to pick it up without actually casting legilimency on him.

“In any case, that is how Albus gave me his last instructions, which were to save Draco, to assist you with what I’m about to tell you, and to kill him before the poison did, so that the Unbreakable Vow, which he knew about in its entirety, would be fulfilled.”

“You expect me to believe that he ordered you to kill him? You could have done something! A bezoar, or some kind of antidote, or”

“If you paid attention in any of my classes, you would know that bezoars do not work on all poisons and there are some poisons that do not have an antidote at all. I’m telling you that he was dying, there was nothing that could be done about it, and he knew it! Tell me, when you returned to the tower with him, did he tell you to fetch me?”

Harry looked as though he was going to be ill, “I told him I was going to get Madam Pomfrey, but he insisted on…”

“Me,” finished Snape, “because he knew he would be dead before long, and if he didn’t die at the hand of either Draco or myself, then all three of us would be dead. Draco was forced into making an Unbreakable Vow, just as I had been. With both Albus and me dead, you wouldn’t stand a chance to complete the Prophesy.”

Snape gave Harry a final glare, but still not meeting his eyes directly, before continuing to pace the floor. “I hope that tale was amusing for you, but I doubt that your arrogance would allow you to believe me. It doesn’t matter to me. As I was saying, with three of them destroyed…”

“Two of them.” Harry mumbled, just loud enough for Snape to hear him.

Clearly annoyed, Snape stopped again as a sneer once again crossed his lips, “So, the ‘Famous Harry Potter’ can’t figure out how to destroy a magical object. I knew you were…”

“We didn’t get the locket.”

“What did you say, Potter?” snarled Snape with a true expression of alarm.

“The real horcrux was gone and a fake was left in its place,” spat Harry, “Dumbledore died for nothing.”

“How do you know it was a fake? What spell did you use to determine its properties?”

“I saw the real horcrux in Dumbledore’s pensieve. I know what Slytherin’s Locket looks like and the one we found wasn’t it.” Seeing that Snape seemed to know almost as much about the horcruxes as he did, he decided to just spill the rest of the beans, “and there was a message to Voldemort inside of the fake. It taunted him, and said that he was one step closer to mortality, so for all I know, the locket was destroyed by this ‘R. A. B.’ character.”

“Regulus Aldebaran Black,” whispered Snape, staring at an empty spot on the wall in thought, “so that’s why he ran. He must have discovered the Dark Lord’s secret…”

“Regulus Black? Sirius’s brother?”

“Yes, as I’m sure you heard from the mongrel that his brother was a Death Eater before he ‘disappeared’ almost twenty years ago. It makes sense now.”

Harry gave a hateful scowl at the ‘mongrel’ comment, but let it slide. There wasn’t much he could do about it in his current position anyway.

“Time is running out for me, so I suggest that you pay attention. Before I abandoned my role with the Death Eaters, I found what may be useful information. The Dark Lord discovered something recently that seemed to upset him greatly. I can only assume he found out about the search for his horcruxes, but I cannot be certain. He has had a few of his inner circle stationed in East Anglia near Clacton-on-Sea in Essex. That may be an area you would want to concentrate your search on. He has also sent teams out to the Continent, I don’t know where, except that it’s somewhere in Eastern Europe.”

Snape began pacing again, wearing an unreadable expression that Harry had never seen on him before. After a minute, he stopped pacing and fixed his gaze on the same point on the wall in front of him.

“The Dark Lord has standing orders to the Death Eaters that if you are found, you are to be taken to him alive. Do you have any idea why the he doesn’t want you killed by anyone other than himself?”

Harry simply shrugged.

“Dumbledore told you that he believes that the Dark Lord’s snake, Nagini, is his sixth and last horcrux. What he didn’t tell you that there might be one more, one that even the Dark Lord isn’t sure about. Dumbledore thought that your scar might be a horcrux that the Dark lord accidentally created. It’s well known that the Avada Kedavra leaves no marks upon the people it kills, yet you ended up alive, and with that scar. Dumbledore was afraid to suggest to you that, if it is indeed a horcrux, then the Dark Lord wouldn’t be able to truly die while you are alive because a piece of him will always be within you.”

Snape walked towards the door saying, “Do what you will with this information, my job is done.”

Harry was having a difficult time believing anything Snape was saying. The only thing that gave him a glimmer of trust was the fact that he was neither dead nor kneeling before Voldemort. He couldn’t help but to ask the question that had always gnawed on him.

“Although you’ve never physically hurt me during your classes, I know that you’ve hated me with a passion. I’ve never fully understood it, but I accepted it. Now, I have every reason to ignore everything you just said, and almost nothing to suggest that you can be trusted in the least, but Professor Dumbledore always stood up for you. He always said that he trusted you implicitly. Why? What could you have possibly told him to convince him that you’d turn your back on your ‘master’? What could he know about you that would generate that kind of loyalty? You surely understand the importance of what I have to do… I need to know! I need to believe what you are telling me!”

Snape turned and walked to the door while saying, “You should be safe in this house for the next week, at least until your birthday. The wards on this building should be enough to shield you until then, but absolutely no longer than that, after then you will have to find a more secure location. Miss Granger should be awakening soon, your wands are downstairs on the counter.”

Not turning back to face him, Snape casually flicked his wand over his shoulder at Hermione and she slumped in the chair as her bonds fell loosely to the floor.

“What Dumbledore knew of me is of no concern of yours. Suffice it to say that you do not want to know, and I’m not the one to tell you. Good-bye, Mister Potter.” He said as he stepped out of the doorway.

“Professor!”

Snape stopped.

“Please, I need to know. If you truly want me to follow Professor Dumbledore’s instructions, if you want me to stop Voldemort’s madness, you need to tell me!”

Harry watched as Snape’s shoulders slumped and he bowed his head. “As much as it would please me to see the look on your face, I cannot, I…”

Snape remained silent for a full minute, just standing in the hall and, from what Harry could tell, staring at the floor.

“Very well. If this is what it will take for you to believe what I say, then so be it, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Snape turned around and looked Harry directly in the eyes for what seemed like the first time ever. Suddenly, a youthful image of a vibrant, beautiful girl forced it’s way into Harry’s mind’s eye. Flowing red hair glowed with brilliant highlights from the mid-day sun. Beneath a pair of piercing green eyes that seemed to stare into his soul, a wide, beaming smile splayed across an angelic face… his mother’s face. Harry’s breath hitched as an emotion, with as much intensity as what Harry felt as he looked at Hermione after stumbling upon her in the shower earlier, crashed into his soul. His mind staggered at the implication. He did not want to believe it, but he could tell that the emotions projected by his former Potions professor were genuine.

“No!” Harry whispered desperately, a wave of nausea overcame him before shouting, “NO! You loved her? You loved my mother? You were the one to cause her death! It’s your fault she’s… she’s…”

Harry’s shouts trailed off into silence. He finally understood. He had the face of his father, reminding Snape of the man who married the woman he loved, and he had his mother’s eyes, reminding him that it was, indeed, Snape’s fault that the woman he loved was killed. It wasn’t Harry he loathed, it was the memories, the guilt…

For the first time that Harry could remember, he saw Snape express an emotion other than hatred. His eyes conveyed a profound sadness as he simply said, “I told you that you didn’t want to know.” Snape, once again, turned his back on Harry and said, while walking down the hallway to the stairs, “Good-bye, Mister Potter, we shall not meet again.”

-----~-----

13. Don't Ever Forget

Disclaimer: I do not own anything ‘Harry Potter,’ nor the lyric bits, and I don’t make any money from writing about it.

A/N: *Sigh* Another installment of The Demon’s Soul. It took a while to get this done, I sent portions out to someone who seemed anxious to beta for me… I never heard back from him. This is un-beta’ed, so any errors are mine alone. I’m not entirely happy with the way this turned out, but I’ve spent too much time on it already. This chapter deals with the fallout of Snape’s visit to Harry, and what happened with Ron when he left Luna.

-----~-----

Chapter 13: Don’t Ever Forget

-----~-----

Forgetful or pretending.
Tired, ill, or angry, or cold.
More assured of what to do,
but I do care for you.

Reach and you won't lose me.
Destroy the objective, but still survive.
You are angry, and that's okay... yes.
I am not afraid of your anger.
What do you need? What do you want?
I love you and I know that you can figure it out

Vengeance won’t wound me.
Destroy the objective, but still survive.
You are angry and that's okay... yes.
I am not afraid of your anger.
What do you need? What do you want?
I love you and I know that you can figure it out.

Excerpt from the song ‘Pur’ by the band, The Cocteau Twins.

-----~-----

Harry listened as the heavy footsteps of his ex-professor as they lumbered down the stairs and faded into the distance. He was still trying to subdue the queasy feeling in his stomach when he heard movement from the chair next to his. He looked over to Hermione, who he could see was now awake and facing him with a noticeable wetness in her eyes.

“I was right,” she whispered, “I was right all along.”

The scowl on Harry’s face deepened.

“See? I was right! You should have listened to me!” Hermione said, her voice getting increasingly louder and shriller. “You never listen to me!”

“He killed Dumbledore,” Harry hissed icily. Harry was still furious, and in a mild state shock over hearing that Snape fancied his mother and that he might have a bit of Tom Riddle’s soul stuck inside of him.

“But he didn’t have a choice! You heard him, he said that…”

“He’s still a murderer!” Harry yelled while struggling against his bonds, “and I was right about Malfoy! I knew he was up to something, but you wouldn’t lift a finger to help me! You were too busy whining about my ‘obsession’ with Malfoy and harping on me about that bloody book! If I could have stopped him from letting those Death Eaters in…”

“Dumbledore would still be dead,” screeched Hermione, as she stood from the chair, “and Snape and Malfoy would be dead, too! Snape was trying to help!”

“The only person Snape was trying to help was himself! He really ‘helped’ by making our lives miserable in Potions class… He really ‘helped’ by murdering Dumbledore, didn’t he? You’re actually sticking up for that murderer… that… Merlin, he was lusting after my mum!”

“You didn’t listen!” Hermione yelled, “Dumbledore would still be dead from the potion, anyway. If Snape didn’t do what he was told and instead protected Dumbledore, the Death Eaters there would have killed all three of them, and then who would you be blaming for what happened?”

At those words, Harry went silent as the realization hit him, ‘It would have been my fault… I forced the potion down his throat.’

Hermione could read it in the shadow that instantly darkened his eyes. She knew exactly what he was thinking. He was blaming himself again for Dumbledore’s death, which only seemed to fuel the exasperation she was feeling.

“Oh, no you don’t! That’s not what I was saying! You are not responsible for his death, so don’t give me that ‘persecuted martyr’ act! Merlin, you never listen to me!”

“Why should I? You never listened to me when I was trying to warn everyone about Malfoy. You were too busy plotting with Ginny to get her together with me while obsessing over Ron’s spit swapping sessions with Lavender!”

“I what?” bellowed Hermione with an incredulous look on her face, “I did no such thing!”

“Hah! You were going mental over him, confounding McLaggen at the Quidditch try-outs, tossing around canaries when…”

“Not about that,” interrupted Hermione crossly, “where did you ever get the idea that I was plotting to get you together with Ginny, of all people?”

“She told me, of course! She said that you were giving her loads of advice on how to ‘get’ me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she snapped, “Why on earth would I give anyone advice on getting the man I… getting you?”

“You’re telling me that you never told her to ‘just be herself,’ or to ‘just relax around me,’ or ‘don’t treat me like some superhero?’ You never told her my favorite dessert was treacle tart, you never told her to…”

“I never told her any of that rubbish! I never talked to her about you at all, other than the fact that I told her to move on, to date someone else because you obviously weren’t interested in her, but I guess it turned out that you did fancy her after all.”

“What does it matter to you, anyway? At least she liked me for me…”

“Liked you for you?” laughed Hermione incredulously, “Is that what you think? All she went on about is how you were such a hero! How you were, not just everyone’s savior, but her personal ‘knight in shining armour.’ If you want to talk about obsessions, that girl has one over you a mile wide! The first time I stayed at the Burrow, I got so sick of her constantly prattling along about you, about how the ‘Great Harry Potter’ would could never love a poor, penniless waif like her, that I told her I didn’t want to hear any more of it.

“Is that all you can do is pick on Ginny?”

“I wouldn’t have a problem with her if it were only her ‘hero worship’ over you… Personally, I was more disturbed by how she was always spying on you while you were at the Burrow. She’d try to stay hidden, of course, while following you wherever you went. She made the mistake of telling me how she made a hole in her bedroom wall through to the bathroom so she could watch you while you bathed. She actually thought I’d get as excited about it as she did! I really gave it to her, I’ll tell you! She was always careful around me after that…”

“Excuse me?” growled Harry hotly, “She used to watch me in the shower?”

What? Do you think that’s beyond ‘little miss unhealthy fixation?’ Did you know she has an old pair of your dirty underwear hidden under her mattress at the Burrow? Honestly, the sounds she made while wearing them when she thought I was asleep! And she absolutely worships the way you fly, it’s as if…”

“Merlin, it almost sounds like you were jealous! At least she was there when I needed someone most!”

A scowl appeared on Hermione’s face. She gave him one last glare, and then let out an exasperated growl before storming from the room, leaving Harry struggling against the ropes that bound him to the chair.

“That’s right, just walk out on me again! Who needs you, anyway?” he spat after her.

Hermione stopped in the hallway and, from what he could see from her shadow on the wall, visibly stiffened for only a moment before continuing to march down the hallway towards the staircase.

He regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. He let out an aggravated grunt as he futilely struggled against the magical ropes that fastened him to the chair before he settled back in resignation and sighed. He wished he could free his hands to rub the tension from his eyes.

“I was right all along…” muttered Harry venomously, mocking Hermione’s voice, “She always thinks she’s right.”

‘That’s because she usually is right,’ commented the annoying voice in his head. He hated to admit it, but the voice was right. As he willed himself to calm down, he wondered why he was yelling at her in the first place. It’s not as if she were the greasy slimeball that wanted to have a go at his mum. How could it be that he gets so angry with her when they’re face to face, but when she’s not in his presence he feels as if he’s constantly missing her?

Already, he was missing her, even after only a few moments. He was suddenly gripped with an unreasonable panic. He chased her away again, just as he did at King’s Cross Station. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘bloody prat.’

“Hermione…” he urgently whispered. He began struggling at his bonds again before he called out loudly, “Hermione!”

Harry hung is head, not believing he chased away the one person he needed most in the world, and not just because of the book that Kotone had given him. Without ‘proper’ funding, he’d need her resourcefulness and intellect more than ever to even hope to see the end of the war alive. Especially since there’s a chance of his scar actually being some quasi-horcrux, he’d be insane to push her away, even to ‘keep her safe.’

Harry suddenly felt the bonds that were holding him to the chair loosen. His head jerked up as Hermione’s small voice came from the doorway, “Harry?” She stood there fiddling with both of their wands in her hands. “Do you?” she asked in barely a whisper.

Harry gave her a puzzled look, and then asked, “What?”

“Do you still need me?” Her voice sounded weak and frightened.

He felt wretched when he saw the wetness on her cheeks from the tears she had been shedding. He didn’t even have to think about the answer to her question.

“Of course I still need you,” Harry truthfully said, “more than I can even tell you.”

Hermione let out a choked sob through the pained smile as she rushed into the room. Much to Harry’s surprise, she planted herself on his lap, wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed onto the top of his head as she hugged him tightly. He tried to reach around her to hug her back, but his arms were still tangled the loosened ropes, which now wouldn’t move because of her weight on him.

“Why are we arguing all the time?” she asked with in a squeaky voice, “Why are we always fighting? I never want to argue with you, but it’s like I can’t control myself!”

Harry found it impossible to come up with an intelligent answer, mainly because his chin was nestled in the cleavage of the breasts that he had ogled not even an hour earlier. All other coherent thought was driven from his brain. He never before realized exactly how much Hermione had grown over the last year. He used to be much taller than she was, but from the view he got earlier in the bathroom, her legs had become long and lean, and from where she was sitting now, he could also tell that her torso had lengthened proportionately. His befuddled brain conjured up images of her lying next to him, judging where certain body parts would be if he were kissing her straight on. He wondered if he wouldn’t have to crane his neck if he were laying on top of her while…

Almost instantly, the evidence of where Harry’s attention was focused became abundantly clear to Hermione. She squeaked when she realized that she had pulled his face into her throat and jumped from his lap while blushing furiously. She hastily began helping Harry remove the loosened ropes as she stammered, “Oh, God, I’m sorry! I… I didn’t realize… I…”

Her eyes narrowed at him when she saw the vacant expression in his eyes and the stupid, lop-sided grin that was plastered on his lips, but then she couldn’t help but to start laughing.

With the removal of the fleshy orbs from his chin, Harry’s higher brain functions slowly returned to him and it was his turn to blush. His shy smile only lasted a moment before a concerned frown appeared in its place.

Upon noticing, Hermione abruptly stopped laughing and she asked, “What is it?”

“It makes sense, you know? The connection to him, the Parseltongue, all the weird similarities… it all fits. What does this mean? Am I going to have to die to get rid of that bastard for good?

She knelt down in front of him, placed a hand softly on his knee, and calmly said, “Truthfully, I don’t know, but you know I’ll do everything I can to prevent that, don’t you?”

Harry gave her a grim smile and nodded, “You just about exhausted the Hogwarts library, how much is there left to search through at Grimmauld Place?”

“Well, I read all the titles and there are loads of books that the Death Eaters would love to get their hands on, but there didn’t seem to be much in the way of horcruxes. We can go back there and look, if you like.”

“Lupin thinks that the Fidelis on Grimmauld Place fell when Dumbledore died, with him being the secret keeper, but if Snape was telling the truth, maybe he didn’t inform the Death Eaters about where it is. Do you think you can create a Fidelis?”

“I don’t know… I mean I’ve read up on the charm, but it takes quite a bit of time, and some really powerful magic. Of course, I’d be willing to try if it means our safety, but I can’t make any guarantees.”

Harry smiled at her and said, “I have full confidence in your abilities. I’m talking to the girl who mastered the Protean Charm in her fifth year.”

Hermione blushed and waved a dismissive hand at the compliment, but he could tell that she was beaming inside. She handed him his wand and said, “Well, fancy a spot of dinner? I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m famished.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t have much here. I only bought some bread and some lunch meat before I arrived to last a few days.”

“You were planning on staying here? But there’s no furniture here. There isn’t even a bed, and you can’t use magic to transfigure something for another week.”

“There’s the mat in my old bedroom. That’s where I took a nap today.”

“Harry, I found you hiding under the stairs, you weren’t in your bedroom.”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the floor and he said quietly, “That was my bedroom until just before my eleventh birthday.”

Hermione nodded, “Well, we can always…” Her face fell into an angry frown, “What did you say?”

“It’s no big deal,” said Harry with a shrug,” actually, for some strange reason, I felt I got the best sleep of my life today. I had an odd dream that I was hugging a big, brown teddy bear, even though I never owned one in my life… maybe it was a memory from when I was still with my parents.”

Hermione was livid. How could anyone with a shred of human decency force a young child to sleep in a cupboard? If she wasn’t so angry at the Dursleys, she probably couldn’t have contained the giggle that likely would have escaped her from the memory of waking up with his arms wrapped around her, his face buried in her hair with one hand resting on her belly, and the other softly cupping one of her breasts. It took a while to extricate herself from his embrace, partly because she didn’t wish to wake him, and partly because she really didn’t want to leave in the first place, but she needed a shower desperately… a very long, very cold shower.

“Well, it’s nearly eight,” said Hermione as she glanced briefly at her watch, “are there any restaurants around here that are still open at this time of night?”

Harry shifted on his feet. Her question brought his financial situation to the front of his mind.

Hermione immediately noticed his discomfort and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I just don’t have a lot of money on me right now, so I…”

“Don’t worry about, I’ll cover us. My dad gave me a bit of money and his credit card, and I just topped the car with petrol, so no excuses!”

Harry smiled as he followed her down the stairs, asking, “So you drove here? How did you even know I was here?”

Being reminded of Tonks’ tracking spell, Hermione stopped mid-step, realizing that Harry knew nothing of the raid at the hospital.

“Oh, my, I just realized that you didn’t know! There was an attack on St. Mungo’s this morning! It was horrible!”

“What? What happened?”

“Right after you left, Death Eaters stormed in, they were probably looking for you. Tonks was in your room under her invisibility cloak and followed you until you left. She was right outside of the building when the Death Eaters arrived, and when they blasted open the front of the building, she ended up buried by the falling debris.”

“Wait… Tonks was in my room?” Harry let out a pained groan, “I… I was naked right in front of her?”

Now Hermione understood why Tonks mentioned Harry’s ‘sexy’ bum.

“Just before you left your room, she put a tracking charm on one of your shoes. That’s how I found you here,” explained Hermione, before adding with a scowl, “under the stairs.”

Harry dropped his gaze to the floor in embarrassment. This was one of the reasons why he had never told his friends much about his ‘home’ life. He hated the thought of them pitying him, although he was strangely grateful for her animosity on his behalf towards the Dursleys.

“It was bad,” said Hermione quietly, “at the hospital… So many people are dead. They even attacked the children’s ward there, most of the kids didn’t make it, but Moody said that Kotone’s alive. Somehow, she even captured one of the Death Eaters.”

‘Kotone…’ Harry went to the cupboard, opened the door and pulled out his broom, cloak and the book that the little girl had given him. He handed the book to Hermione, saying, “She gave this to me for you. I haven’t even had a chance to open it. She mentioned something about ‘Soul Magic.’”

Hermione took the book and opened it. She flipped through different sections, seemingly looking for something.

“Well? What is it about?” asked Harry curiously.

“How am I supposed to know? What made you think I can read Japanese kanji?” she snapped impetuously, then, upon seeing the shocked look on Harry’s face, her eyes immediately widened and she put a hand over her mouth, “I’m… I’m sorry… I have no idea where that came from!”

Harry sighed, took the book out of Hermione’s hand and said, “It’s alright, we’ve had a bad day, to be sure. Let’s go get something to eat.”

When they stepped out from Number Four, Harry looked around, “You said you drove here? Where’s…?”

Hermione still had a troubled look on her face from her outburst. She casually flicked her wand at the driveway and said, “Oh, I disillusioned it… ‘Finite.’”

A moment later, her father’s Mercedes-Benz SL600 Roadster Convertible appeared, just where she had left it. Now, Harry didn’t know much about automobiles, but he knew a very expensive car when he saw one. His mouth hung open until he heard Hermione say, “Since you know where we’re going, would you like to drive? You have a license, or a permit, don’t you?”

Harry let out a bitter laugh while still staring at the car, “You’re joking? The only time I ever touched Vernon’s car was when I was washing and waxing it. Hell, I’ve only been in the thing during the trips to King’s Cross and the times when he couldn’t leave me with Mrs. Figg. In other words, you’re driving… I wouldn’t even know how to start the thing.”

“Well, we’ll take care of that tomorrow. There are definite advantages in knowing about muggle transportation. It would have taken me ages to find you by apparation, I’ve never been here before.”

After stowing his things and her overnight bag in the boot, Harry sat in the passenger seat while Hermione unlocked the roof and hit the switch to retract it. When she started the engine, he was surprised at the deep, guttural sound that came from the exhaust.

“This car is amazing!” he commented, “I’ve never been in a car like this.”

As she wrapped her mane of hair into a shaggy ponytail, she recited, “It’s got a 6.0Litre, 12 Cylinder, 389 hp Engine, multi-point fuel injection system, 5 speed automatic, with overdrive, of course, 4 wheel disk brakes, and can go over 260 KPH, but I’d never drive that fast...” She noticed the dumbfounded look on Harry’s face as she narrated the car’s specifications. “What? I was there when daddy bought it. I read the brochures in the dealership while I was waiting for him!”

Harry smiled and shook his head as they backed out of the driveway. It still amazed him that she could recall everything she had ever read. They just pulled out onto the street when a trio of girls who were passing by saw him and stood staring at the fabulous car and the pretty girl who was driving. He whispered to Hermione, “Those girls always give me a hard time, they’re friendly with my cousin Dudley and his gang of punks.”

Hermione glanced at the girls, who were surprisingly attractive, considering that they hung around with the obese Dudley and his motley crew. She watched them staring at Harry with awe-struck faces. Hermione smiled, then childishly bunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at them before leaning into the accelerator and leaving a patch of smoking rubber along Privet Drive.

Harry had a death-grip on the door handle as Hermione sped down the street. When they got to the corner, Hermione gave him a little smirk and said, “Oh, relax, I don’t always drive like that! I was just giving those snotty girls a little show, that’s all.”

Harry did relax after a few minutes, and found that he very much enjoyed motoring around Little Whinging with the top down and the stereo blaring Hermione’s ‘The Smiths’ CD. He was amazed at how people’s heads would crane at them as they passed, surprised at seeing such a fancy car in this decidedly middle-class town. The restaurant that Harry had in mind was just closing, so they ended up in a small but pleasant looking tavern on the far side of the village. They seated themselves in a corner, far away from prying ears. After both ordering the beer-batter fish and chips and getting their drinks, Harry brought up the subject of the book again.

“So, is there an easy way to translate Kotone’s book?”

Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, “Well, I could try the standard ‘Reddum,’ but there’s a problem. The spell works perfectly for Germanic languages like German, French, Spanish and English, and even works relatively well with the Cyrillic-based languages, like Russian, Czech, Romanian and the like. The problem is with languages that are based on either characters, like Chinese, Japanese, and most of the other Far Eastern languages, or with languages based on emotions like Arabic, Yiddish, et cetera. The spell will translate the characters, but since each character can have dozens of unrelated English counterparts, depending on the context. It would come out being rather difficult, if not impossible to understand.”

“Wouldn’t the spell know what the context was supposed to be?”

“Not really, say that what was written was supposed to tell you something simple like, ‘Harry went to the corner store to buy a loaf of bread.’ What could come from the translation may be something totally unintelligible, like ‘Buying the pan of one loaf, Harry went to the angle store.’ It depends on the caster’s understanding of the source language. If I knew anything about kanji, or any Asian language for that matter, there wouldn’t be a problem with the translation.”

“Well, who do we know that can do the spell and knows Asiatic languages?”

A darkness briefly passed over Hermione’s eyes, which didn’t go unnoticed by Harry, before she answered in a snit, “Well, you know someone who does. Why don’t you just…” Hermione stopped herself and a look of shock came over her, “My God, I’m so sorry, I’m doing it again! I swear, one minute I want to snog you senseless, the next I feel like I could slap you! I… I don’t know what’s happened to me, but it feels like I’ve been fighting this for ages.”

“Hermione!” gasped Harry, “What do you mean, ‘snog me senseless?’”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, please! Don’t act as if you didn’t know. I’ve liked you since we first met, and those feelings have only grown over the years, but I know you don’t like me like that, and I’m okay with it, really. That’s why this… this irrational ‘hostility’ towards you is so disturbing to me. I mean, it’s normal for Ron and me, but we’ve never acted that way to each other. It’s just confusing to me.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Hermione laughed at the question, and then said, “I’ve explained this to you before, remember? Girls don’t just come out and say things like that. It’s not proper, and no girl wants to feel as if she’s acting desperate, but I have been dropping anvil-sized hints. I thought you would have at least picked up on the ‘You’ve never been more fanciable’ comment.”

Harry stared vacuously at her, saying, “Why are you telling me this now?”

Hermione sighed tiredly while looking deeply into his eyes. After a few moments of thought, she said, “You’re going to die...”

Harry still had the blank look on his face, “What?”

“Harry, you’re going to die. I’m going to die. Ron, your aunt, uncle and cousin, Professor Lupin… everyone. Everyone dies, but it doesn’t matter how or when you die, what matters is how you live. Over this past month, while you were missing and in the time you were at St. Mungo’s, I’ve had a lot of time to think. I thought about what has been going on in my life, about our friendships, about what I need and what I want for myself in the future, and now with the possibility that you have a bit of Voldemort in you… If you live to be one hundred and fifty, or if you die tomorrow, I just want you to know that there’s somebody in this world who loves you.” Hermione reached over and took one of Harry’s hands in hers before continuing, “No matter what happens, I want you to know that, and know that I’ll never abandon you again. I promise.”

Harry swallowed hard, “You love me?”

Hermione smiled and patted his hand before releasing it and softly saying, “Of course I do. I’ve been in love with you for years.”

Hermione saw a single tear rolled down Harry’s cheek. She had a concerned look in her eyes when she asked, “What’s the matter? What’s wrong? I didn’t tell you this to make you uncomfortable.”

He took a deep breath, trying to get his emotions under control. He picked up a fork from the table and began fiddling with it as he whispered, “Nobody has ever told me that. You’re the first person that I can remember that has told me they love me.”

“Oh, come on! I’m sure your aunt told you, at least when you were younger, and I’m sure Ginny has told you loads of times.”

Harry’s gaze dropped to his lap and he just shook his head while wiping his eyes on his sleeve.

Hermione’s eyes narrowed as she growled dangerously, “Your aunt, your mother’s own sister… the woman who has raised you since you were a baby… never told you that she loved you? What about Ginny? Not even once?”

Again, he just shook his head and said, “Never. The most endearing thing my aunt ever said to me was to call me ‘freak’ with slightly less venom than usual, and Ginny… I don’t know, she just never said it, but I assumed...”

The server arrived at that moment with their food. They quickly ate in near silence, only broken by Hermione muttering angrily under her breath. As soon as the meal was over and the check came, Hermione threw a twenty-Pound note on the table, which was more than enough to cover their meals and tip, and roughly pulled Harry from his seat and practically dragged him to the exit, seething the entire way. She unlocked the car, climbed into the driver’s seat and waited for Harry to get in. As soon as he closed the door, Hermione threw her arms around him, pulling him into a fierce hug and began crying.

“I can’t believe those awful, wretched people! Imagine treating a child that way! I knew you were never treated very kindly there, but I had no idea how bad it was for you. How could Dumbledore leave you with them? Did he even know how horribly you were being treated?”

“It wasn’t that bad, after all, I didn’t know any better at the time. The only time it really bothered me was around the holidays, and my birthday. For the longest time, I didn’t even know that I was supposed to get presents.”

“What about the cupboard! How could they lock a child in a stinking cupboard… and I didn’t fail to notice all those locks and the cat-flap in that oversized closet they called a bedroom! That’s just… unacceptable!”

Hermione relaxed her grip around his neck to pull back enough to look into his eyes and spoke to him between her sniffling, “Well, maybe I should have told you sooner. Being never told that you’re loved is no way to go through life, I should know. That is changing for you today. I love you, Harry. No matter what else I say or do, and no matter what happens, don’t ever forget that.”

Harry sat there, mesmerized by the depths of her dark eyes. Even in the dim light, he could see the tiny flecks of gold mixed in with the chocolate. He found himself wondering where the tiny freckles that used to line the bridge of her nose went. He could feel her breath on his face as she spoke… He glanced at her cherry-red lips… they were so close… just a few inches away… just a little lean forward and…

Hermione released his neck and sat back. She started the engine, shifted into drive, and before she pulled out of the parking space, she gave him a teary smile and said, “Just don’t ever forget.”

She pulled out onto the empty street and headed for the main road heading east. Harry gave her a puzzled look. “Ummm, Privet Drive is that way,” he said while pointing his thumb over his shoulder.

She gave him a smirk and said, in her trademark, bossy voice, “If you think you’re going to spend the night in an empty house that doesn’t even have a proper bed, you have another think coming. We’re going to my house in St. Osyth. It’s only a few hours away, we have plenty of spare rooms and my parents won’t mind at all… and I won’t take ‘no’ for an answer, so sit back, relax and enjoy the ride. Get some rest if you like, we have a long day coming up tomorrow.”

-----~-----

Ron appeared in a clearing in the woods behind the Burrow. He sat heavily on a fallen tree and rested his head in his hands. Necromancy... How desperate is Ginny that she has to resort to dark magic? Hell, Necromancy is black magic. Re-animation of corpses, the Crucatus and the Avada Kedavra curses, Hermione even mentioned that the creation of the horcruxes was probably Necromantic in nature. Nothing even remotely moral comes from the use of that school of magic.

He wondered if Ginny even knew that it’s dark. He pulled the copied page from his pocket and studied it, but couldn’t really interpret what made it so dark. He assumed that the ‘subject’ the page referred to was Harry. It appears to drive Harry away from someone, and towards Ginny.

At first glance, it just seemed like a bit of love potion, but then he realized that love potions should only affect two people, not three, and it has the effect of creating negative feelings in the ‘Object.’ It was obvious to him who the Object was… Cho Chang. After all, who else was Harry romantically involved with? The way Harry and she broke up was pretty messy. Then he considered that Cho had left Hogwarts, she just graduated. Why was Ginny still using this ‘perfume?’ Would it work while it’s only affecting one party?

Although he was still reluctant to accuse Ginny outright, he couldn’t help but to feel the elixir was responsible for Harry’s condition and he needed to know more about it. He couldn’t really deny it any longer. Luna was hardly any help at all… he reluctantly admitted to himself that he needed Hermione’s expertise.

He stood from the log and walked from the clearing out of the woods, across the makeshift Quidditch field and into his house. Once in his room he hastily scribbled out a short note.

Dear Hermione,

I don’t want to say much in a letter, but I’ve got something very important I need to talk with you about. I can’t discuss it here at the Burrow, so meet me at the Leaky Cauldron. Send Pig back with the time you can make it there, and PLEASE come alone.

Love,

Ron

As he was writing, his tiny owl began to madly dart about the room like a feathered snitch, excited at the prospect of making a delivery. Once he finished the letter, he tied it onto Pigwidgeon’s leg and told him, “Take this to Hermione, and wait for a reply… and be quick about it. With an underhand toss, he sent the hyperactive bird out through the window and off on his mission. Now all he had to do was wait for the reply.

As he watched the little owl disappear into the distance, he heard a muffled gasp from the doorway. He quickly turned to see Ginny standing there, looking very flushed and breathing rather hard, but she seemed to be desperately trying to hide these effects.

“Th- that letter… is it to H- Harry?” she asked in a very strained and breathy voice.

Ron felt a surge of anger towards his baby sister as he watched her panting in his doorway. With a poorly concealed scowl he answered, “No, if you must know, it’s to Hermione, asking if she’d meet me somewhere. I have things to discuss with her.”

Ron was surprised that, at the mention of Hermione’s name, Ginnys lips dropped into an angry scowl and she said, “Good! When the hell are you going to shag her already? You know you want her. The longer she’s single, the more… less chance you have of getting her, you daft git!” Saying that, she turned on her heel, stormed down the stairs to her room and loudly slammed her door, leaving a perplexed Ron standing in his room and scratching his head.

‘If it were that easy, wouldn’t she think I’d have done it already?’ he thought to himself as he walked down to the kitchen to see what his mum had prepared for lunch.

-----~-----

14. The Dream Turned Nightmare

Disclaimer: I still do not own ‘Harry Potter’ or the lyric bits. No money changes hands.

A/N: This is a bad one, people. Action, drama, death… Lots of death. Kotone makes an appearance in this chapter, and I believe you’re going to be seeing a bit more of her in the future. I still don’t have a beta, so all errors are mine, please let me know if you spot any bad ones and I’ll do my best to fix it! R & R & enjoy! ^_^

-----~-----

In my eyes, indisposed,
in disguise as no one knows,
hides the face, lies the snake.
The sun in my disgrace.
Boiling heat, summer stench
'neath the black the sky looks dead.
Call my name through the cream,
and I'll hear you scream again.

Black hole sun, won't you come
And wash away the rain?
Black hole sun, won't you come?
Won't you come?

Stuttering, cold and damp,
steal the warm wind, tired friend.
Times are gone for honest men,
and sometimes far too long for snakes.
In my shoes, a walking sleep
and my youth I pray to keep.
Heaven, send Hell away.
No one sings like you anymore.

Hang my head, drown my fear,
’till you all just disappear.

Excerpt from the song ‘Black Hole Sun’ by the band, Soundgarden.

-----~-----

Chapter 14: The Dream Turned Nightmare.

-----~-----

The first hour of the trip to St, Osyth was filled with an impromptu class on the operation, care and maintenance of a muggle automobile. Harry had often ridden in a car, but never paid attention to how his uncle actually drove it, always being stuck in the back seat and trying to remain as invisible as possible. Hermione explained the instrument panel, the gear positions, the brake and accelerator pedals, the hand brake and all of the switches and controls that operated the lights, wipers, windows and door locks, and of course, the stereo, which Harry paid particular attention to. She went on to explain the rules of the road, pointing out the shapes and meanings of the different road signs that they passed, how traffic lights worked and who had the right-of-way at circles and intersections. She even went so far as to explain how, in some foreign countries, the steering wheel would be placed where he was sitting, and how they drive on the right side of the road instead of the left, but assured him that that information wasn’t needed for the driving test.

Hermione reluctantly pulled herself out of lecture mode when she saw Harry’s eyes drooping as she was explaining the proper action to take when emergency vehicles were approaching. She quickly pointed out the controls beside the lower cushion of the seats that adjusted the back angle, tilt and position of the seat. Harry dropped the seat back into a steep recline, and within a minute was lulled to sleep by the deep thrum of the engine.

Hermione adjusted the temperature control, turning on a low heat to compensate for the chilly nighttime atmosphere. She smiled as she reached over and gently touched his cheek before turning her full attention back to the road.

It was just after midnight when Hermione pulled into the wide, circular driveway at her home. Two bright floodlights, which were activated by a motion detector, lit up the area. She activated the remote garage door opener, carefully reversed the car into the first stall and then gently nudged Harry awake while the door closed.

“Harry, we’re here. I’ll get our things from the boot.”

He groggily opened his eyes and looked over to Hermione. He saw her give him a pleasant smile before she opened the door. His eyes subconsciously followed her behind as she gracefully lifted herself from the seat before he caught himself and looked away.

She opened the boot, stuffed the book and Harry’s cloak into her overnight bag and grabbed his Firebolt while Harry stood half-asleep beside the car. After securing the garage and activating the security system, she took his hand and led him into the kitchen and through the huge living room.

He openly gawked at the opulent interior, the fine, comfortable looking sofa sitting in front of the largest television screen he had ever seen. A massive bookshelf lined one wall, all the tomes within clean and ordered. Since he was asleep when they arrived, he found himself wondering exactly how large her house actually was as she led him up the stairs up the stairs to the bedrooms on the second floor. He saw the hallway at the top of the stairs lead left and right. A long line of doors were evenly spaced along each side, reminding him of a hallway in a hotel.

Hermione pointed to the right and said, “My parents’ rooms are down there.” She led him to the left and pointed out her room before opening the door across from hers into a large, fully furnished guest room. The walls were painted a tasteful sage and the carpeting was a pleasant ash gray. The king-size bed sat near the center of the room, it covers matching the walls. She opened the door on the right-hand wall showing him his bathroom, which was nearly as large as the bedroom itself.

Harry turned to her, gave her a genuine smile and said, “Thanks, this is loads better than a cupboard.”

A brief flare of anger surged through her at the mention of that damned cupboard. She pushed the anger down and said, “Get some rest, we have loads to do tomorrow.” She opened the door and stepped out into the hall. Before closing his door, she looked back at him as he ran his hand over the bed, apparently testing the softness. She let out a sigh and entered her own room, changed into her pajamas and crawled into bed, hoping that she could get at least a few hours of sleep before that ‘white room’ dream would certainly condemn the rest of the night.

She was just about to drop off when she heard a frantic bumping and clattering coming from her window. She got out of bed in a huff and saw Pigwidgeon madly fluttering just outside. She opened the window to let in the excitable little owl. It circled the room while shrilly hooting before landing on her desk. She fed the owl a few treats, and then removed the letter from its leg. She quickly scanned the note from Ron and sighed deeply. He wanted to talk about their ‘relationship’ again. She looked at the tiny owl, which was looking back at her expectantly.

“He wants an answer right away, right?” she asked the owl. Truthfully, she didn’t know when she’d have the time for a little ‘heart to heart’ with him, and she really didn’t want to get into that particular discussion with him again. Why can’t he just take ‘no’ for an answer? Well, she was going to be busy today, so it will have to be Tuesday. She grabbed a quill and scribbled on the back of his note, ‘Tuesday, Noon.’ She tied the note back onto Pig’s leg and told him, “I’ll leave the window open for you, you can take that back whenever you…” Before she even finished, the tiny owl made an excited circle in her room before darting out of her window on its way back to Ottery St. Catchpole.

Harry was having a strange dream, even for him. He was in the garden in the back yard at Privet Drive, frantically grabbing garden gnomes and heaving them over the fence while desperately hoping that the Dursleys wouldn’t catch sight of them. It seemed that for every one he got rid of, two more would come strolling out.

One walked out from under a bush and muttered, ‘She said she loves you.’ He grabbed it and said while tossing him, “I know.” Another emerged and said, “You know that you love her,” to which he replied while throwing it, “I know.” Two more appeared, speaking in unison, “You should tell her,” to which he angrily replied as he grabbed hold of them both, “I can’t do that! You don’t understand!”

“Potter!” The flustered voice of his uncle sounded from behind him as he turned with a horrified look on his face and hid the two gnomes that were in his hands behind his back. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but I want that freak out of my house this instant!”

Harry gave him a confused frown and said to him, “Who are you talking about?”

“Don’t play daft with me, just go in there and get rid of her!”

‘Her?’ he thought as he roughly shoved the gnomes into Vernon’s hands and raced into the house. He ran through the kitchen, glanced into the empty living room and then tore up the stairs. As he reached the top, he saw Dudley and Petunia standing in the hallway staring into the bathroom. Petunia looked horror-stricken, while Dudley had an odd, blank expression, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. Harry rushed to the open door and looked into the bathroom.

Hermione was standing there, in what appeared to be a huge, open clamshell where the tub would have normally sat. She was naked, facing away from the door with her long brown hair, wet and soapy, hanging down her back almost to her waist. She was running a bar of soap along her outstretched arm when she turned her head to face him. She gave him a great, beaming smile, gracefully stepped from the shell and slowly walked up to him.

He stood there in shock, trying to think of something to say to her. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into a tight embrace. Her slick wet skin felt wonderful under his trembling hands. He closed his eyes as he ran them from the small of her back, up to her hair.

He thought he heard a strange, muffled scream from somewhere in the distance.

Her hair felt… well, not exactly what he expected. It was dry and slightly rough, and it strangely felt more like fur than hair. He opened his eyes and pulled away from her, shocked to see that he wasn’t holding Hermione, but a large, decrepit-looking stuffed bear, and that he was no longer standing in the hallway at Privet Drive. He was sitting on a tiny cot in a small, dark room that he didn’t recognize. The walls were covered with old, faded paper that was peeling in places and a few old pieces of rickety furniture were scattered around the room.

He looked down at himself and was quite disturbed to find he was wearing a worn, threadbare nightgown. His small, bare feet sticking out from under the bottom edge of the dull gray gown was frayed and some of the seams were coming apart.

Fear gripped him as he heard more shouts and screams coming closer by the moment. He jumped from the cot and nearly fell over as he found that he had somehow shrunk to about four feet tall. As he ran across the room over the rough, splintery wooden floor, he glanced into an old, cracked mirror that stood next to a dresser with obviously broken, lop-sided drawers and froze in horror. The reflection glancing back at him wasn’t a dark-haired, skinny boy with green eyes and a scar on his forehead, but a small… ‘girl’ with a mass of moving, white hair, long, pointed ears and a huge, red-lipped mouth that stretched across his face from ear to ear. Thick, black fangs protruded from between the thick lips and two sharp, golden horns stuck out from each side of his chin, giving his reflection a decidedly evil aura.

He then noticed the piercing, violet eyes. He had seen those eyes before. ‘Kotone?’

He was broken out of his shock when he heard a loud bang through the thin walls coming from the room next door. He ran to the door next to the mirror and wrenched it open, revealing a closet with only a few items hanging in it, which he recognized as new Hogwarts uniforms and robes. He shut the door behind him and huddled down in a back corner, still hugging the large, brown teddy bear.

He heard the door to the room splinter from a screeched ‘Reducto’ in a voice that he immediately recognized.

‘Bellatrix Lestrange.’

Harry began feeling dizzy, the sensation of time slowing around him caused his mind to dull. He heard the voice in his head, ‘Shishi! Help me!’

He closed his eyes, a feeling of calm came over him. The closet door was pulled roughly open. He opened his eyes to find himself looking into Bellatrix’s face and locking eyes with her. Bellatrix paused, with a horrified look on her face and seemed to freeze in place. Just before everything went dark, he heard that strange, ethereal voice, ‘Help me, I can not hold long. Help me.’

Harry awoke in a cold sweat, being roughly shaken by a very frightened looking Hermione.

“Harry? Please wake up!”

He looked into her wide, teary eyes and said, “Hermione, I am awake!”

“Harry!” she cried as she hugged him tightly, “I was so scared! You were just sitting there with your eyes open, yelling for help!”

Harry looked around as if coming out of a daze. He was sitting on the floor in the corner of the room in just his boxers. The realization that what he had just experienced wasn’t just a dream suddenly hit him.

“Kotone! She’s in trouble! Do you know where that orphanage is?”

“What?” she said in surprise, “Well, I don’t know exactly, it’s in London, I think near St. Mungo’s, or Diagon Alley.”

“We need to get there,” said Harry, sounding in near panic as he lifted himself from the floor and started to dress, “Death Eaters are there. I saw Bellatrix.”

“Oh, no!” Hermione raced into her room and quickly dressed. A minute later, she emerged from her room wearing black sweatpants, tee shirt and matching trainers. She found Harry frantically pacing the floor.

He looked up at her as she entered, “We’ll apparate to the Burrow, Ron should know where the place is, and we can use the extra wand.”

Hermione nodded and with a quick turn from each of them, they disappeared with a pair of soft cracks.

All of the windows of the Burrow were dark as they raced across the yard to the front porch. Harry banged loudly on the door, then stood back from the porch and looked up at Ron’s bedroom window.

“Ron!” he yelled. Getting no response, he went to the door and loudly knocked again. A few moments later, Arthur Weasley’s voice came from the other side of the door.

“Who’s there?”

“Mr. Weasley! It’s Harry and Hermione! There’s an attack going on at the Wizarding orphanage!”

There was silence for a few moments before he heard Arthur’s voice again, “What was the subject…” he queried, before stopping himself, “No, someone could guess that…”

Harry let out an aggravated sigh, “Mr. Weasley, we don’t have time for this! Just tell us where the place is! The Death Eaters are there now!”

“Well… It’s in Diagon Alley, next to the Hortense the Hatter’s shop near the entrance to Knockturn Alley.”

Harry looked to Hermione. She nodded, and he saw a grim determination fill her eyes.

Hermione turned to the door and said loudly, “Please, get a hold of the Order and tell them what’s happening! Tell Ron to meet us there!”

They both ran across the yard beyond the wards, being closely watched from a second floor window by a scowling, red-haired young witch.

Harry and Hermione appeared in the alley behind the Leaky Cauldron. Quickly tapping the appropriate brick, the archway into Diagon Alley appeared. They raced down the lane through the early morning darkness towards the entrance to Knockturn Alley. Harry noticed a pair of men in Ministry auror robes and ran up to them.

“Come with us, please! Death Eaters are attacking the orphanage!” said Harry quickly, his breath coming in gasping pants.

“Harry?” one of the aurors spoke.

Harry looked closer at him, “Ben?” he said, recognizing the grim-faced man that saved his life over a month ago, “Come on! Hurry!”

Harry didn’t wait for a response. He took off down the alley with Hermione running right beside him. He heard the boots of the aurors a few paces behind. He heard Ben tell the other auror that he knew something like this would happen at the orphanage.

Harry noticed the buildings that they were passing were increasingly more run-down as they made their way closer to the orphanage. They soon passed the entrance to Knockturn Alley and the Hatter’s shop and came upon an old Victorian-style house that definitely looked as if it had seen better days. Many of the rotted wooden shingles were missing from the walls and the staircase that led to the opened front door looked as though it were ready to collapse. The old sign above the entranceway that read ‘Haversham’s Home for Unwanted and Wayward Wizarding Waifs’ was hanging from one rusted chain. He suddenly thought that this house made Grimmauld Place look like a palace.

Harry could hear distant yells and screams coming from inside the house. He ran up the steps two at a time and entered into the large, dark receiving room with Hermione and the two aurors directly behind. The place smelled of age and mildew, and the gas lamps on the walls didn’t shed much light at all. Old, faded portraits adorned the walls, possibly of long-past administrators. A large staircase led to the second floor, and wide archways on either side of the room lead to what appeared to be a sitting room and a parlor.

Harry paused a moment, listening for where the voices were coming from, when a red hex from the top of the stairs went whizzing past him. He instinctively leapt to the side and returned a stunner while Hermione immediately cast a Protego in front of Harry. The two aurors spread out to opposite sides of the room, trying to get a clear shot at whoever was at the top of the stairs. Two more hexes flew down out of the darkness, one was deflected by Hermione’s shield and the other went wide, impacting the wall behind him and blowing a rather large hole in one of the portraits, causing its occupant to seek refuge in another nearby painting.

Seeing that they were too exposed, he grabbed Hermione’s hand and darted through the archway leading to the sitting room. Hermione let out a gasp as her eyes fell on the body of Miss Melanie, the stern old administrator of the orphanage, still dressed in her nightgown. She was sprawled out on the floor, her eyes were wide open and staring at the ceiling, a look of surprise permanently etched on her lifeless face.

Harry pulled on Hermione’s arm and led her through a door on the far side of the room. He wished he knew the layout of the old house, but he was hopeful that there was another staircase to the upper floors somewhere. The door opened into a large dining room, a long table stretched across the room, similar to the house tables in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, lined on each side by benches. An open doorway led into what looked to be the kitchen. Sure enough, a narrow stairway led up from the kitchen to the second floor.

As silently as they could manage on the creaky steps, they made their way up the stairs to the door at the top. Harry cracked it open, revealing a wide hallway lined with doors, most of which were hanging off their hinges. Scattered on the floor throughout the hallway, dozens of bodies lay still and silent. All were children, all in sleepwear, some with missing limbs, some lay staring blankly. A feeling of nausea washed over him as he looked on in horror. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Hermione to bear witness to the grisly scene, but before he could stop her, she peeked over his shoulder. He heard her retch behind him, and he tightly closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath.

Looking at the end of the hallway, he saw the top of the main staircase leading to the receiving room. On either side, two Death Eaters were crouched low and firing curses down at the aurors. He could see that the aurors had very little chance of hitting either of them from their vantage point. Harry was about to send a stunner down the hall when a cloaked figure emerged from a nearby room. Antonin Dolohov’s eyes were wild with excitement as he dragged the body of a small girl, no older than four, out of the room by her long, black hair. He unceremoniously dropped her in the hall and turned to enter the next room with a broad grin on his face.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and was met with Hermione’s dark and angry eyes. She wiped the traces of vomit from her mouth on her sleeve, pointed her wand over his shoulder at Dolohov, and nodded to Harry whispering, “Stun him.” She immediately cast a Silencio hitting him squarely in the back. He stiffened, then, with a look of shock on his face, turned around in time to see Harry’s well placed Stupefy strike him in the abdomen before he silently fell to the floor.

Harry’s attention returned to the two Death Eaters at the top of the main staircase some fifty feet away. He could see the spells coming from the aurors harmlessly strike the ceiling above them. He had to take the chance at a long-distance shot. He flicked his wand towards the far end of the hall, putting all the power he could gather into the spell, “Reducto!”

The spell just missed the Death Eater, but it struck the wall right in front of him, showering his face with splintered wood and pulverized plaster. He dropped his wand and covered his face with his hands while screaming some unintelligible curses. The second Death Eater spun around and wildly fired a killing curse down the hallway, which ended up harmlessly striking a wall. Seeing his wounded comrade, and noticing Dolohov lying unconscious amongst the bodies in the hallway, he panicked and apparated away.

Harry burst through the door and sprinted towards the wounded Death Eater, who was still clutching his face and rolling around the floor in agony. As soon as he was close enough for an accurate shot, he stunned and bound him, and then called down the stairs, letting the aurors know the stairway was clear. He turned around to see Hermione standing over Dolohov with her wand pointed at him.

Harry started searching room-to-room, finding nothing but the bodies of children. In the first few rooms, he saw that the children never made it out of their beds. He came to a blasted open doorway and instantly recognized the room from his dream… the broken furniture, the cracked mirror, the tiny cot. He saw that the closet was open with a dark-cloaked figure just standing in the doorway with her back to the room.

“Kotone?” Harry called out.

A voice came from the inside of the closet. A deep, menacing, growl of a voice that sounded as if it belonged to Gwarp with a sore throat, “Shishi! *Tasukete!” Now Harry knew why she never spoke aloud.

Keeping his wand trained on Bellatrix, he carefully approached the closet and peeked around her to find the girl that he saw in his reflection in his dream. She was still clutching the shabby teddy bear. Her frightened, violet eyes were locked in a stare with Bellatrix’s as she said in halting, broken English, “Prease, make stop. To wake soon.”

“Petrificus Totalus,” he incanted and watched as Bellatrix Lestrange’s arms snapped to her sides, her legs snapped together and her rigid body arced stiffly to the floor. “Incarcerous!”

As soon as she hit the floor, Kotone dropped the bear, jumped up and ran right at Harry. For only an instant, a pang of fear coursed through him as the little demon approached him with her pale arms outstretched and her fanged mouth contorted in anguish. She let out a low, guttural sob, which sounded more like a growl, when he scooped her up in his arms, letting her cry onto his shoulder as he held her. He was surprised when her hair gently wrapped around his neck, as if embracing him. Her thin, tiny body shuddered in sobs as he whispered soothing words to her.

He put his arm under her bum to hoist her up higher onto his chest when he felt something odd moving under her tattered nightdress. His eyes widened when he saw a long, thin white tail with what looked like a pointed, golden barb on the end protruding from a small hole torn in the back of her dress. He tried not to appear fazed by this discovery, but couldn’t help but to gawk at the pale appendage. The girl just got stranger each time he met her. Not wanting her to see the devastation in the hallway, he gently tapped his wand on her head and said quietly, ‘Somnus,’ and felt her body relax against him into sleep.

He looked down into Bellatrix’s face and sneered. He bent down and wrenched the wand out of her hand, snapped it against his leg and threw the pieces onto her chest. He then spit in her face and said, “Azkaban’s too good for you. If it were up to me, you’d die today, right here.” He lifted his own wand and stunned her.

He carried Kotone from the room and saw that the two aurors were searching the rest of the rooms, looking for either survivors or more Death Eaters. He then noticed that Hermione was still standing over Dolohov with her wand in her hand and an eerie, blank expression on her face, muttering something under her breath as she repeatedly flicked her wand at the prone figure. Curious as to that she was doing, he carried the sleeping Kotone closer to her.

“Ossisindum… Ossisindum… Ossisindum…” he heard her repeating as she flicked her wand. With every flick, a small ‘pop’ could be heard as one of Dolohov’s limbs shifted slightly as he lay stunned.

“Hermione, what are you doing?” he carefully asked her.

“Oh, you know…” she answered breathily, not looking up at him, “testing a new spell I developed. Ossisindum… Ossisindum…”

Harry was becoming concerned, “Um, what exactly does that spell do?”

“Ossisindum… Ossisindum… Oh, nothing serious. Ossisindum… Ossisindum…”

“Hermione?”

“Ossisindum… Ossisindum… It’s just a spell that, Ossisindum… separates bones from each other by vanishing the cartilage in between them. Ossisindum… It doesn’t cause pain, per se… Ossisindum… I wanted to make sure… Ossisindum… he wouldn’t walk away from here… Ossisindum… without a reminder of what a horrible… Ossisindum… vile… Ossisindum… wicked thing he’s done here today. Ossisindum… I hope they have plenty of Skele-Gro at Azkaban… Ossisindum… I started with his toes… Ossisindum… I’m already up to his ribs now. Ossisindum…”

When Harry grabbed her wand hand, her hollow, distant eyes rose from the Death Eater and met his. She noticed the unmoving girl in his arms and said with a deathly calm voice, “Oh, you found Kotone.” She looked at the pale, unmoving little girl, “Is she dead, too?”

A lump appeared in Harry’s throat as he wrapped his free arm around Hermione’s waist and pulled her into an awkward hug. Her body felt as limp as Kotone’s as he held the two girls to him. He heard Hermione sigh into his shoulder and say in a weak, detached voice, “I’m tired. I want to go home now.”

Harry heard his name being called. He turned towards the main stairway in time to see Ron reach the top step and stop. A look of horror washed over his face when scanned the carnage in the hall. He could hear other voices echoing up from the first floor.

Harry gently pulled Hermione towards Ron, wanting to get her away from the grisly scene as quickly as possible. As he guided her down the hallway, he heard her softly say, “He was enjoying himself. He was having the time of his life… killing little children.”

Ben stepped out of a room in front of him, carrying a small boy who was covered in blood and missing an arm, but still barely alive. Harry pointed out the room that held the stunned and bound Bellatrix Lestrange and told him he was leaving.

“Harry, I have to ask… How did you know?”

He nodded to the sleeping girl in his arms and said, “This little one sent me a message. She’s a friend. I’m taking her, too.”

He continued leading Hermione to the stairs until he heard her gasp. He turned to see her looking down at the still body of a fellow Hogwarts student, Barnabas Windon.

She couldn’t take any more. Between St. Mungo’s the day before and this place she had seen enough senseless death to last her a lifetime. She fell to her knees and began crying softly. Ron snapped out of his shock and rushed forward to help Harry lift her from the bloodstained floor and down the stairs.

When they made it back outside, Ron sat with Hermione on a bench in front of the hatter’s shop. Harry tried to set Kotone down, but even in her sleep, her hair seemed to grip him tighter when he tried, not wanting to leave his protective arms. Ron was hugging Hermione, gently rubbing her back in an attempt to calm her, but he was having a difficult time of it. Harry sat while holding Kotone, watching as aurors and medi-wizards were apparating in around the orphanage in groups of four and rushing into the run-down building. Soon Hermione cried herself to sleep leaning against Ron’s shoulder.

“Why?” Harry asked absently as he rocked the little girl in his arms and stared straight ahead, “Why attack kids? Why did they deserve to die?”

Ron looked to Harry and then at the strange child in his arms, “That’s that Kotone Oota girl? The one from St. Mungo’s?”

Harry nodded.

“I’d say they were after her for a bit of revenge,” Ron said softly, “It was in a special edition of the Daily Prophet last night on the hospital raid. The Death Eater she managed to capture there was Rodolphus Lestrange. They still don’t know how she did it,” then Ron added with a grimace, “and they didn’t mention she looked like… that.”

“The Prophet actually printed that?” Harry asked incredulously, “And they told how she’s an orphan here, too?

Ron just nodded.

Harry sat there fuming at how the Wizarding newspaper could be so irresponsible when Kingsley Shacklebolt walked up to the strange group sitting on the bench.

“Potter, Bones said that you knew the raid was taking place. How did you find that out? Did… ‘he…’ tunnel into your head again?”

“No, this girl sent me a message saying that she was in trouble,” Harry answered as he rocked the girl without looking up.

Shacklebolt glanced down at the peculiar girl and said, more to himself than to the group, “Her again? Well, we’re going to need a statement from you,” he said looking between Ron and Harry, then he looked to Hermione, “and your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” both Ron and Harry said in unison. Harry looked questioningly at Ron, who just shrugged and looked away.

Harry turned back to Shacklebolt, “How many survivors?”

The large auror wore an uncharacteristically subdued face as he answered, “Out of the fifty six in the building, five survived, including that girl there. We found a pair of girls hiding in the attic, and a boy hid himself in a dresser drawer. We don’t know if the fifth will make it. He lost his arm, and a lot of blood. The medi-wizards are with him now, but...”

“I’ll be at the ministry later today,” said Harry, “I have to make arrangements for my friends here first.”

Ron spoke up, “Why don’t you guys come to the Burr…” Thoughts of Ginny and the elixir entered his head. Maybe it wouldn’t be the best idea to have them in the same house, at least until he found out about the elixir.

“Ron, I can’t apparate legally yet,” making sure he said it loud enough for the nearby Shacklebolt to hear, who was walking away while talking with another auror, “and Hermione is in no condition to apparate anywhere, and I’m not going to subject either of these girls to that bloody Knight Bus. We’ll just sit at the Cauldron until morning, which is only a few hours away. I still have to figure out what I’m going to do with Kotone. I suppose she can stay with us at Grimmauld place, I won’t let the Ministry take her, and I can’t leave her here.”

“You’re going back there? I thought the Fidelis was broken.”

“That’s what we were going to try to do today, but I don’t think she’ll be in any condition to attempt that level of magic. We certainly didn’t expect this to happen.”

“I’ll do it,” said Hermione’s tired voice. She was still resting her head on Ron’s shoulder with her eyes closed, “We’ll wait here until Gringotts, Flourish and Blotts, and the Apocathary shop opens, then we’ll head over there.”

Harry looked puzzled, “Why Gringotts?”

Hermione felt that all-too-familiar urge to snap at him, but caught herself, only letting out a tired sigh before answering, “Because the materials we’ll need for the Fidelis are very expensive, and you told me earlier that you don’t have much money on you.”

Harry’s cast his eyes downward. He supposed this would be the time to let his friends know about his financial situation.

“Hermione, do you know why I went to Privet Drive yesterday?”

Without opening her eyes, her brows furrowed in thought as she recalled the previous day’s conversation, “No, you never said.”

“I was there to prepare it to be sold.”

She wore a confused frown when she asked, “Your uncle sent you to get his house ready for sale? You’ve been in touch with him?”

A pained look showed on Harry’s face. He remembered how livid she became the day before when she heard about how he was treated by the Dursleys. He didn’t really want an angry Hermione on his hands, but they had to know.

“It’s not his house,” he said quietly, “it’s mine. It was left to my mother when my grandparents died, and she allowed the Dursleys to live there because my mum and dad had their own house in Godric’s Hollow.”

Harry carefully watched the expression on Hermione’s face. She still had her eyes closed and her head resting on Ron’s shoulder. Again, her brows furrowed in thought. A moment later, a bewildered frown appeared. He saw the instant that it fully registered in her mind. Her eyes snapped open and her lips practically disappeared into a thin line, reminiscent of McGonagall’s fiercest expression. He could see her nostrils flaring as she breathed heavily through her nose.

When she jumped up from the bench, Ron let out a loud, “Bloody Hell!” Hermione didn’t say a word, she began furiously pacing in front of the bench.

“What are you upset about? That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” asked Ron, “So Harry owns another house… big deal, it’s not like he needs it.”

“Ron, you… you daft git!” she snarled while rounding on him, “They kept him prisoner in that house all those years! In his own house, mind you… They locked him in a cupboard! He slept in a cupboard for years! They beat him, starved him, and treated him like a slave in his own house… and then, when they had to move him, they put him in an oversized closet! With twenty locks and a cat flap in the door! That’s why he wants to get rid of it! Honestly, I would too, if I were in that position!”

“That’s not why I’m selling it,” interrupted Harry softly, “I have to sell it. I have no money.”

Hermione stopped pacing and her head quickly turned to read his expression, wanting to know if he was having them on, although she knew he wouldn’t be in the current situation. Ron fully believed that he was, because he let out a chuckle and said, “Right… ‘Harry Potter’ and ‘no money’ don’t even belong on the same parchment, never mind the same sentence. You inherited the entire Black family fortune, for Merlin’s sake, you’re the richest bloke I know!”

“Not anymore,” said Harry sadly.

Hermione kneeled in front of him, putting her hands gently on his knees and looking at his face over the sleeping girl in his arms, “You’re telling the truth, aren’t you? What happened?”

“Vernon,” he simply said while giving Hermione a meaningful look.

He could see the honest sympathy in her eyes when she asked, “How?”

“He found out that I inherited a house and money last summer. When Dumbledore came to collect me, he mentioned it in front of the Dursleys. I know my uncle caught it, because his comment about it was just about the only thing he said during Dumbledore’s short visit.”

Ron just stared at Harry, not entirely believing that his best mate was broke. Hermione just nodded in understanding, letting him continue.

“After we got back from school, I was staying at The Leaky Cauldron.” A shadow of regret briefly passed over Hermione’s eyes at the mention of that day, “I went to Gringotts the following day, and when I entered the vault it was empty, except for a box of parchment and a few coins. When I spoke with a manager, he said that they sent a statement of my account to my ‘legal guardian,’ which happens to be Vernon Dursley. He sent back a request with the same owl that delivered the statement to have all of the vault’s contents converted to muggle Pounds and sent to Number Four, Privet Drive… on my behalf, of course.”

“So that’s why they left. Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry for you. Why didn’t you tell us sooner?” He felt her hands squeezing his knees as she spoke.

“Bloody Hell, Harry… you aren’t joking, are you?” said Ron, still with his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

Harry shook his head sadly, “No, I’m not. That’s why I have to sell that house. How are we going to search for those… you know… without any money? And that’s also why we can’t get the supplies we need for the Fidelis today.”

“Nonsense!” exclaimed Hermione, “I’ll talk to my dad about accessing my trust fund. He set one up for me to go to college when I was a baby, but of course, that was before we knew I was a witch, and Hogwarts isn’t nearly as expensive as those muggle universities, and since I’m not going back this year, I have plenty. I’ll get the supplies myself!” she said with an air of finality.

“Hermione…” said Harry, with a sigh of exasperation.

“Hermione, nothing!” she answered, with more than a hint of anger in her voice, “I’d sell my last pair of knickers if it would help bring an end to the bastard that caused that!” She was pointing to the line of medi-wizards levitating a stream of small, covered corpses out of the orphanage, into the street and onto a large, floating cart that was being pulled by a team of thestrals. “I swear it, Harry, you won’t stop me from doing this!”

“No, what I mean to say is… well, I’m re-thinking the plan to skip our final year, which is another reason I wanted to work on getting that house sold. If the school re-opens and we do go back, we will have to leave the castle from time to time, so it will mean we’ll either have to get permission, or break a few school rules. If I get the chance to talk to Dumbledore’s portrait, maybe he can convince McGonagall to let us go without having to give an explanation.”

As he was speaking, he saw the anger leave her eyes, replaced by a faint glimmer of excitement at the thought of going back. She already knew she would be the first choice of being Head Girl, and he knew that was one of the things she hated giving up by not going back.

“Well,” she said with a small smile, “If we do go back, there’s still more than enough in my trust account to cover the supplies and both of our tuitions to Hogwarts.”

They both turned and noticed Ron, no longer staring disbelievingly at Harry, but at Hermione.

“Hermione!” he said in a gasp that had a bit of a whine in it, “Your family has money too?”

“Well, both of my parents are dentists, it’s a very lucrative muggle profession, and my father came from a wealthy family, as well.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

She looked blankly back at him, “I didn’t think it mattered. Did you expect me to go around flaunting it like Malfoy?”

Ron sat back on the bench and folded his arms grumpily over his chest.

Hermione gave a slight shrug and said, “Let’s go to the Cauldron for breakfast, Tom should be up by now and serving the early-risers. My treat.”

At the mention of food, Ron’s moodiness ebbed a bit as he stood from the bench along with Harry, who was still carrying the sleeping demon-witch, and the four of them walked down the lane towards The Leaky Cauldron.

-----~-----

A/N: * Tasukete! = Help!

15. More Crunchy Than Mouse

Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Harry Potter,’ or any of the lyric bits. I make no money from writing about them.

A/N: Put your thinking caps on, people, because many things are addressed here. This entire chapter takes place in The Leaky Cauldron after the attack on the orphanage. Good or bad, let me know what you think!

-----~-----

Chapter 15: More Crunchy Than Mouse

-----~-----

I took a walk around the world to ease my troubled mind.
I left my body laying somewhere in the sands of time.
I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon.
I feel there is nothing I can do, yeah.

I watched the world float to the dark side of the moon,
after all I knew it had to be something to do with you.
I really don't mind what happens now and then,
as long as you'll be my friend at the end.

You called me strong, you called me weak, but your secrets I will keep.
You took for granted all the times I never let you down.
You stumbled in and bumped your head,
if not for me then you would be dead,
I picked you up and put you back on solid ground.

If I go crazy then will you still call me ‘Superman?’
If I'm alive and well, will you be there holding my hand?
I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman might.

Excerpt from the song ‘Kryptonite’ by the band Three Doors Down.

-----~-----

Kotone was still asleep, with both her arms and hair clinging desperately to Harry, when the group entered The Leaky Cauldron. They all made their greetings to Tom and quickly made their way to a secluded booth to settle themselves in.

Tom was behind the bar, setting up for what he hoped to be a busy day. As soon as he saw Harry enter the inn, a disapproving frown appeared on his face, which didn’t go unnoticed by the trio. Harry and Hermione gave each other questioning looks, and then they both looked to Ron, who was pointedly avoiding their eyes. Harry immediately settled Kotone’s face into his chest, thinking that Tom was concerned about having an odd-looking child frightening his customers.

When they reached the table, a look of panic flashed over Ron’s face as he scooped something from the table they were about to sit at and shoved it in his pocket. Again, Harry and Hermione glanced at each other as they sat.

“What’s was that, Ron?” asked Harry.

“What? This? Just an old newspaper. I’m going to save to for the bottom of Pig’s cage.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed, “Is that the Prophet from last night?”

“Oh, I... I don’t know,” Ron lied, with guilt written plainly on his face, “I didn’t notice.”

Hermione gave him an angry glare, put one hand on her hip and held her other hand out. Ron let out a defeated sighed, then pulled the paper from his pocket and slowly handed it to her. She snatched it from his hand, smoothed it out and began reading.

Hermione took one look at the headline and screeched, “WHAT?” then immediately crumpled the paper between her hands.

Harry wore a pained expression, “Let me guess… I’m prominently mentioned,” he commented calmly as he reached over and gently tugged at the paper clenched in her fists.

Hermione looked as though she were about to scream out in anger. She reluctantly loosened her grip, letting Harry take it from her, and watched for his reaction as he scanned the headline.

‘’THE CHOSEN ONE’ - CHOOSES TO RUN!’

by Rita Skeeter

Our sources relate to us the Harry Potter, the so-called ‘Chosen One,’ was at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries this morning when a daring raid was carried out by the supporters of ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.’

The murderous attack happened at 3:00 this morning, resulting in the deaths of over 110 patients and hospital staff, including 15 victims who were being treated in St. Mungo’s Children’s Ward. Reports confirm that ‘The Boy Who Lived’ fled the hospital within moments of the attack, leaving the helpless occupants of the hospital to fend for themselves.

As reported earlier, Harry potter was in hiding at a muggle hospital before being discovered by ‘You-Know-Who’s’ followers and was forced to flee, leaving the ministry to clean up his mess.

The only ‘hero’ to come out of the early-morning attack was a young girl by the name of Kotone Oota, a refugee currently residing at Haversham’s Home for Unwanted and Wayward Waifs, who somehow managed to trap Rodolphus Lestrange, a convicted Death Eater and escapee from Azkaban Prison.

This reporter wonders if the fate of the Wizarding world should be entrusted to a child who would so easily abandon the helpless to a grisly death.

Harry sighed, and then looked at his two friends. He now understood the look that Tom the Barman sent his way.

Harry drew his wand and dispelled the sleeping charm that he placed on Kotone. She stirred in his arms and let out a deep, strangled sob before sliding her arms around his chest. He felt her hair relax from around his neck as she lifted her face to his.

“Shishi-kun…” she grunted as she came out of her magically induced slumber, “doushitano desuka?” (My lion brother… what’s happening?)

Not understanding what she said in the least, Harry lifted her from his lap and handed her over to Hermione, who immediately wrapped the little girl in a hug and tried to keep her calm. He stood and walked over to the bar. Tom eyed him with a barely disguised look of disdain as he approached.

“Listen, I’m really tired of the rubbish they report about me in the Prophet,” stated Harry confidently, “It’s true, I was at the hospital, but I left before the attack happened, I only found out about it last night. However, I was at the attack on the orphanage here in Diagon Alley, along with my two friends there, while you were obviously sleeping. Let’s see if the Prophet prints anything about the three Death Eaters I helped capture a half-hour ago.”

Tom’s expression softened considerably.

“Now, whenever you’re over being manipulated by the hags at The Daily Prophet, we’d like to have breakfast, if you don’t mind serving a so-called ‘coward-who-lived’ and his friends.”

“A’ course, Mr. Potter,” said Tom nervously before he fled to the kitchen.

Harry returned to the table, his expression reflecting his dour mood. It was Hermione’s turn to deal with Kotone’s distress. The girl’s tiny hands were clinging to Hermione’s black sweatshirt as her spirited hair draped over her shoulders. Hermione didn’t seem to be the least bit fazed by the little half-demon, she had her own arms draped around the little girl as she told her everything was going to be alright.

As Harry sat down next to the two girls, Kotone looked over at him and their eyes locked. He sensed the now-familiar feeling of time slowing down as the room disappeared from around him. Kotone’s pleasant, ethereal voice echoed in his mind, ‘Shishi-kun, what happened? Where are friends? Barney?’

As much as he hated to be the one to tell her, Harry knew he couldn’t lie to her, ‘I’m so sorry, little one. They killed most of your friends.’

Harry watched helplessly as Kotone’s eyes spilled over. He heard the deep, grating cry of grief escape her as she clung more desperately to Hermione’s shirt, but didn’t break eye contact. As much as Harry wanted to look away from the grief in her eyes, he found he couldn’t. She listened as Harry did his best to comfort her through the connection. It took a few moments for her to calm down, and when she finally did, she allowed the connection to be broken.

“Harry? Are you listening?” came Hermione’s worried voice as the room around him emerged from the darkness, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, fine. Kotone has a way of holding your attention, doesn’t she?” commented Harry, realizing that the ‘connection’ was the way she was able to hold both Bellatrix and Rodolphus at bay until help came.

Kotone looked up to Hermione with her tear-filled eyes and pointed towards the hallway that led to the rest rooms.

When Hermione nodded, Kotone’s hair slowly removed itself from around her shoulders and she slid beneath the table, out of Hermione’s grasp. Harry reached below the table and caught the little girl before she could scamper away, bringing her up into his lap.

“Hermione, do you think you can do anything to make her less… I mean transfigure her clothes so that it hides…”

Again, Hermione nodded, and remembering the girl’s clothing that she wore at King’s Cross Station, she passed her wand over Kotone’s nightdress, reforming it into a black, button-down duster, knee-length with a wide, buttoned collar that sufficiently hid the girl’s lower face.

Satisfied that Kotone wouldn’t receive too much attention, he released her from his lap and watched her as she darted back towards the hallway that led to the rest rooms and storage area. He called to her before she disappeared, “Hurry back, the food will be here soon.”

“That transfiguration won’t last forever, a few days, at best. Maybe while I’m home, you can take her to Madam Malkin’s and buy her… oh,” Hermione remembered Harry’s money problem. She reached into her pocket, but Harry held her wrist.

“I have some money on me,” he looked apologetically at Ron, “I… I borrowed some from the twins yesterday when I left St. Mungo’s. That’s how I could afford the food at Privet Drive.”

“Wait…” said Ron angrily, “The twins? My brothers lent you money, when they wouldn’t even loan me a knut?”

Harry was about to answer when Hermione cut in, “Did you even ask them for a loan?”

“Yes, loads of times,” answered Ron indignantly.

“And what did you tell them you needed the money for?” asked Hermione while placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her palms.

“Well,” he said sheepishly, his anger ebbing with every word, “I, um, wanted to buy, um… something…”

“Okay, so do you think that the ‘something’ that you wanted to buy was as important as what the twins know that Harry needs to do? He’s the one, after all, who gave them the money to start their business in the first place, and hasn’t ever asked for anything back from them.”

“Still,” Ron muttered, “I’m family…”

“And so is Harry, but right now his needs outweigh yours… or mine, for that matter, so don’t you think…”

Hermione was interrupted by the arrival of a small ball of feathers, which began hooting shrilly as it circled Ron’s head. Ron’s eyes widened as he made a frantic grab for the tiny bird.

With everything that happened, Hermione had completely forgotten about Ron’s letter. “Well, since we’re here, what did you need to talk with me about?”

Ron looked guiltily at Harry, and then dropped his gaze to his lap, “I don’t think this is the right time.”

Harry could take a hint. He stood from the booth and said while walking towards the restrooms, “I think I’ll go check on Kotone, she’s been gone for a while.”

Harry knocked on the rest room door, “Kotone? Are you all right in there?” After a few moments, and hearing no reply, he knocked again, then cracked the door open. He could tell immediately that it was empty. He then noticed that the door to the storage room had been left open. As he approached the door, he heard odd, crunching and squealing sounds coming from within the room. He quietly looked inside the storage room and saw Kotone, crouching between two large crates on the far side of the room, obviously eating something.

“Kotone?”

Surprised, the little girl stood and spun around to face him. He saw that she had a large, brown rat in one hand, writhing and squeaking in her grasp. Her other hand was at the turned-up collar of her duster where her mouth was. Above the rat’s din, he heard a slurping sound and watched as a skinny, bald tail disappeared through her fingers, followed by the unnervingly loud crunching that he had heard moments before.

Harry rushed forward, about to grab the filthy rat from her hands, but then saw the confusion and fright in her sad eyes as the sensation of time slowing overtook him and the room around him faded into nothingness as the connection was established.

‘Shishi? What is wrong?’ the ethereal voice in his head was tainted with an edge of fear.

‘What are you doing with that rat?’ He tried to sound casual, but he knew exactly what she was doing with the rat, and that caused a pang of nausea to roil in his stomach. Sure enough, the answer he really didn’t want to hear came.

‘Eating,’ she calmly replied with a questioning look in her eyes, ‘Is it wrong?’

‘Why are you eating rats? We have food coming to the table, so you don’t have to eat that.’

Harry could see the anxiety in her eyes as she ‘spoke,’ ‘But… but I like rat. More crunchy than mouse, no quill like hedgehog. This is what I eat.’

Harry gave a mental sigh, trying unsuccessfully to break the connection. He then said to her, ‘You can speak to us… using words, you know? You shouldn’t be embarrassed.’

‘My words frighten, have learn quiet is better, not seen and not heard.’

She looked down to the rat in her hand, breaking the connection between Harry and her. She glanced up to him and noticed the disconcerted look on his face. In her deep, gravelly voice, she said, “If eating is to disturb, please go to Washi… to He-my-nee, for more comfort.”

“I think I’ll stay with you for a bit,” said Harry, “I think ‘Washi’ is talking with ‘Won-Won’ about something I’d rather not hear.”

Kotone’s unusually large, pointed ears perked up and swiveled on her head to face the open doorway. A puzzled look crossed her brows and she asked in a gravelly whisper, “Shishi-kun, what is ‘horcrux?’

Harry paled, “What?”

“Your Ii-guru and the *hyou speak of spell for horcrux to make.” Her eyes narrowed and her ears twitched forward, “They speak of the Fae-folk, many have died.”

“Kotone, it’s not polite to…” started Harry, but was stalled by Kotone’s voice.

“Wait.” She said while listening intently. After a minute, she stated calmly, “They speak of love, the love of Washi for her Shishi, it is good, you to have the love of your mate. Why do you not tell her?”

“Tell her what?” Harry asked nervously, knowing exactly what she was asking.

He looked into her violet eyes as she answered, and saw that they were crinkled in a smile, although her mouth was thankfully hidden, “Why do you not tell her of your love? I see your souls, I see the resistance, but it must be dismissed. You need your Washi… I know what you feel, and I know where your heart truly belongs.”

He stood staring at her for a long moment.

She gazed back into his eyes, “You cannot delay, you must tell her. The sekizou, the statue, revealed to me, your hidden truth.”

“Statue?”

“You do not remember?” even with so little experience with her coarse, spoken voice, Harry could tell that she was truly surprised. Again, he felt the sensation of time slowing as the storage room faded around him, being replaced with a vision from Kotone’s memory.

-----~-----

He was sitting in a corner, facing away from the crowd and toward the brick wall at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, waiting for the train from Hogwarts to arrive and regretting that he left his teddy bear behind at the orphanage. He missed his friend, the only person he had in the world. Soon, Barney would arrive and his winter of loneliness would be over. Since the train wasn’t due for over an hour, and Miss Melanie was busy chatting with the other adults awaiting their own children, he decided to ‘wander’ about the platform the only way he knew how without disturbing anyone.

He felt himself relax as he stared at the blank wall, and slowly, his point of view rose into the air. He briefly looked down upon himself, the lonely little girl dressed in dirty, tattered robes, and began floating around the platform. He wandered around in this ethereal form, watching the growing crowd, all of whom were anxiously awaiting their charges.

Without warning, he felt himself being pulled high into the air, moving at an impossible speed towards the northeast. He halted abruptly in an old, forgotten graveyard. Fear welled up inside of him as he strode among the cold headstones, wondering how he ended up in such a gloomy, foreboding place.

A headstone caught his attention, for it had a strange red luminescence about it. He suddenly sensed the presence of someone nearby. His head snapped around to the wrought-iron gate of the graveyard to see a thin young man, with messy black hair and dressed in the same uniform that his ‘brother’ Barney wore to school, just standing and staring at him. Behind the odd round spectacles he wore, he saw a faint red glow emanating from his green eyes. He could see a smoky, translucent specter of a snake wrapped tightly around him, as if it were trying to strangle the life from his soul. A ghostly aura in the shape of a lion surrounded the young man.

“Why am I here?,” asked Harry, thinking that maybe this young man was responsible for him suddenly being summoned to such a dismal place, “Why did you call me? Please to leave me alone.”

He could see a flicker of confusion cross the young man’s face before he vanished. At the same moment, he felt himself being pulled back to his body, which was still safely nestled into a corner on the platform at King’s Cross Station.

He sat for a moment, collecting his thoughts. What could such a strange vision mean? He was about to rise to go to Miss Melanie and ask to go back to the orphanage when his spirit was once again summoned from his body.

The landscape blurred past him, and he found himself in the familiar surroundings of Diagon Alley, a scant few miles from King’s Cross Station, but with a totally unfamiliar feel. The streets were empty, save for the young man he had seen minutes before, still with the ghostly lion-like aura surrounding him and the smoky, translucent snake coiled around his body. The buildings were closed and boarded up, and nobody at all walked the Alley except for the two of them. He silently walked along beside the young man, who didn’t appear to notice him, and watched how he scanned his surroundings, just as bewildered as he was. The young man paused beside Ollivander’s wand shop and peered through the boarded-up window.

Harry followed along with the young as they entered a park and strolled along a dirt path lined with animated busts of wizards. When they reached the end of the path, the young man glanced at a dead eagle floating just beneath the surface of an ornate fountain. He jumped back in surprise when he saw the snake’s head rear back and plunge its smoky fangs into the young man’s shoulder. The man didn’t appear to notice the strike, but the lion-like aura seemed to convulse, as if in great pain. Horrified at the vision, he wanted nothing more than to flee the park and return to King’s Cross, but he had no idea how to do so.

“Why have you called me?” Harry asked the young man.

The young man turned to face him in surprise, apparently only just noticing him. He studied Harry’s appearance for a moment, then walked up and kneeled before him. The young man reached out his arms, looking as if he wanted to hug Harry, but at that moment, the spectre of the snake menacingly lunged out at Harry, causing him to rear back a few steps.

“I won’t hurt you,” the young man said quietly, misinterpreting his reaction, “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Harry closely studied the man’s face, noticing for the first time the strangely glowing, lightning-shaped scar through the hair covering his forehead. Harry had heard of this young man. He knew he had to help.

Using his natural talent at spirit magic, he silently cast a binding hex on the snake that was wrapped tightly around the young man. He knew that he couldn’t banish the spectre completely, but he could hold it at bay for a while. The smoky snake seemed to freeze in place, its glowing, red eyes glaring back at him in hatred.

Harry could see the spirit-phage that was embedded within the man’s scar. He could see the red, web-like strands that traced their way from the scar like tiny, hair-fine rivers, spreading to all over his body. As he raised his finger to touch the spirit-phage, it seemed to pulse, as if it knew something was about to happen to it.

“I see your pain…” said Harry, “I feel your pain… Even if you do not… Let me help you. It is almost too late.”

He saw the man smile and nod. Harry prepared himself for the pain he was sure to experience. His fingertip touched the man’s scar as he summoned the spirit-phage back to its container. The web-like strands pulsed red, then faded and retreated back into the scar, ending up in a twisted knot bunched over it. Harry felt the pain, like every joint in his hand was cramping, but it was bearable. He grabbed the knot of fibers, that ripped away from the man’s head as he fell onto his back. Harry looked at the pale red, writhing strands in his hand and dropped them onto the dirt. An instant later, he was whisked back to the train platform and his own body.

-----~-----

The train station dissolved around him, being replaced with the dirty stockroom of The Leaky Cauldron as the connection with Kotone was broken. He found that he didn’t particularly enjoy experiencing the world from behind Kotone’s eyes at all. Still, the memory she showed him made him speechless. He couldn’t recall himself what she showed him, but something tugged at the back of his mind that made the vision oddly familiar, as if it were an old, forgotten dream that he had just been reminded of.

“There are two more,” said Kotone in her low, grating voice, “do you wish to see?”

Harry nodded, and locked eyes with her. He re-lived the experience in the Chamber of Secrets, as seen through Kotone’s eyes and feeling what she was feeling. Again, she had to bind the coiled, ethereal snake and remove the tendrils that emanated from his scar.

The second memory was a long one, where Harry was walking days on end through a vast field of flowers. High in the sky, he noticed a large serpent with glowing, red eyes floating along above him, as if searching the ground for something. He witnessed the sudden storms that tore through that virtual world, always ending the same way, with the destroyed coffin at the bottom of a crater, before finding himself, once again, walking through the field of flowers. Kotone was with him every step of the way, but the Harry in the memory didn’t seem to notice her following silently behind him, except for the times when the storms appeared, where she fell into the flowers in exhaustion. As the days passed, he could tell she was becoming more and more fatigued until just before the very last storm, where Kotone fell to the ground and disappeared completely.

As the storeroom emerged from the darkness around them, Kotone sadly stated, “I tried to protect you from storm, but was very tired. I told Washi… Hee-my-nee, to help, I could not protect longer.”

Harry saw the forlorn look in Kotone’s eyes, “You mean, that you were in the hospital because you were protecting me?”

Kotone nodded, saying, “I made promise to help. It is why you need school, for protection with me. I gave book to help, also. It is all I can do, I see the snake, and I see the souls in you. You must have Washi to understand book, for more help.”

“But it’s all in Japanese. We have to find a way to translate it.”

“Do it soon, very important, for greater protection.” Kotone looked down at the rat that was still writhing in her hand. She gave Harry an apologetic look and said, “I know it disturbs, so sorry…” Before he could reply, she turned away from him and brought her hand to her collar. An instant later, the rat’s pathetic squealing abruptly stopped and the loud crunching sound filled the room.

Harry and Kotone walked from the storage room and met Tom emerging from the kitchen with their meals.

Tom smiled and bent down to address Kotone, “So, how many did yer fin’ t’day?”

Kotone didn’t reply, she just shyly held up three fingers.

“Tha’s me girl!” beamed Tom, before he stood again and gave Harry an ashamed glance, “an’ I apolergize ta you, Mister Potter, I shouln’ta b’lieved alla tha’ rubbish in tha’ Prophet.”

Harry still looked a little green, and the smell of the eggs on the plates wasn’t helping in the slightest. He whispered to Tom, “You knew what she was doing in your storeroom?”

“A’course! She comes in ‘ere abou’ twice a week, she does. It ‘elps me, and it ‘elps ta keep her fed. I havn’t had a rat problem in years,” said Tom calmly, before conspiratorially adding with a whisper, “not like before she came t’ tha’ orphanage, ya know.”

-----~-----

Ron kept an eye on Harry as he walked away from the booth. As soon as he was sure Harry was out of earshot, he drew his wand and wiped the letter that he got from Pig’s leg clean, then pulled the page with the elixir recipe from his pocket and made a quick copy of the Arithmantic formula.

“Listen,” he said quietly while handing Hermione the parchment, “I want you to take a look at this formula and tell me what you can make from it. I was told it’s a spell, but I have reason to believe it may be a potion.”

Hermione looked at him curiously. This certainly wasn’t the conversation she was expecting. “Ron, this is the important thing you wanted to talk with me about?”

Ron just nodded while glancing nervously back towards the rest room hallway.

Hermione laid the parchment on the table, studied the formula for a moment, then began her analysis, “This describes the effects of a ritualistic spell, see this value here? This value is the magical identifier, it tells you the major deliverance, and it’s clearly a spell, but it’s not cast directly, it seems to be an area spell and… wait a minute, this has a dosing value for a physical component, but it’s so low, even slight physical contact would result in an overdose…”

“What if it’s delivered by scent?” suggested Ron, knowing that it was the method of delivery from the page.

“Yes, I suppose that’s a possibility,” By this point, she was talking more to herself than Ron, “This equation is strange, it uses a frame constant rather than the standard Gideon’s constant. Then there’s a biological factor… no, three biological factors, one being a catalyst… This is a targeted spell, it can only affect specific creatures, I’m assuming it’s used against dark creatures, maybe vampires or werewolves, because of this element right here… no… not vampires, maybe dementors? Actually, that would make sense because the target would have to have a soul because this seems to… because…”

Hermione’s voice trailed off into silence. Ron could see her eyes reading and re-reading one area of the formula. She looked up from the parchment with a guarded expression.

“Ron, where did you get this? Is this from a book in Grimmauld Place?”

“What does it do?” asked Ron, avoiding the question.

Hermione kept her eyes locked with his, seemingly looking for some answer within them. “Truthfully, I don’t know specifically what it does, but I have a guess. Where did you get this.”

“Hermione, I need to know. What do you think it might be?”

She looked back to the formula, as if searching for something that she might have overlooked. Her eyes slowly rose from the paper and her voice dropped to a whisper, “This almost looks like a ritual to break a soul-bond, or maybe even to create a horcrux, now where did you find it? This is very important!” she recalled the information that Snape gave to Harry about the possibility his scar being an accidental horcrux.

When he heard her suspicion, all color drained from his face. He slowly lifted the torn page from his lap and handed it to her, saying, “Yesterday, I found this in Ginny’s room, along with an empty glass vial. I think she might have used it on Harry at the beginning of last summer, maybe even before that. I didn’t want to confront her on it until I was sure of what that stuff was, and if she actually used it.”

Hermione took the page and carefully began scanning it. She let out a gasp when she made it to the ingredient list, “Irish Emyr Horn! Three grams! That’s… reprehensible!”

“What? What’s an Irish Emyr?”

“Didn’t you ever pay any attention at all in Care of Magical Creatures? They are male fairies, and they’re very rare. They live for hundreds of years, and their souls are bonded with all of their offspring. If one Emyr dies, all of its offspring die with him. To get three grams, literally hundreds of Emyrs would have to be killed, and depending on their ages, that could affect thousands of fairies, tens of thousands, maybe more. It’s horn contains its pheromone gland and the focal point of its soul-bond with its’ offspring. Killing one to get it is as bad as killing a unicorn, probably worse!”

As Hermione continued to read, Ron swallowed hard, trying to keep the bile from rising into his throat, “What are we going to tell Harry? I’m not even sure she actually made this stuff, and where would she get three strands of Cho Chang’s hair? Maybe during a Quidditch match, but I’m not…”

Hermione’s eyes darkened, “What does Cho Chang have to do with this? Do you think that she gave this to Ginny?”

“No, look at the other side, at the effects, remember when Harry and Cho broke up? It was as if they hated each other for a while there. I think Ginny might have been getting jealous… or something… I don’t know…”

Hermione read through the effects carefully. ‘Object- will begin to feel jealousy of subject within 40 days of exposure.’ She thought about her actions towards Harry when he was out-performing her in Potions, getting all the praise that she normally would have got from Slughorn, feeling the burning animosity building within her.

‘After 100 days, object should begin to actively avoid, if not be repulsed by the subject.’ She remembered all the times that she threw glares at Harry when no one was looking, slamming her fist into her pillow at night, imagining it was Harry’s face, then becoming horrified at herself for her actions.

‘After 150 days, the object should be actively seeking to sever all relations with the subject.’ She remembered fighting with herself, she still fights with herself over her friendship with Harry. All the times during the last year that she never spoke to him, never confided in him as she used to, the episode at King’s Cross, at Privet Drive… If she wasn’t in love with him, she would have fled from him long ago. In a way, she actually did flee from him.

‘There should be no discernable reaction between the object and the wearer.’ Why was she seethingly jealous over Cho when Harry had kissed her, but felt nothing, nothing at all about his involvement with Ginny? The realization dawned on her. It all made sense.

“Ron, Ginny did use this,” said Hermione in a hauntingly quiet voice, “but it wasn’t Cho’s hair that she used. It was mine.”

“Don’t be daft, why would she use your hair? Why would she think that you were in love with Harry?”

Hermione sighed. It was time to tell Ron exactly why she refused his countless offers to date steadily, “Because I told her I did. Years ago. Back then, we were just two friends, gossiping about a boy that neither of us had a chance of being with. I guess she figured my chances changed, somehow, and wanted insurance.”

Ron felt even sicker than he did minutes before. Even though he had already come to that conclusion himself, hearing it directly from Hermione didn’t make it any easier to come to grips with.

Seeing his crestfallen expression, she said, “I’m really sorry, Ron, I know that you’ve fancied me for a while, but I’m afraid you’re in the same situation that I find myself in, both in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way.”

Ron could never tell her that ‘love’ had never been a part of the reason he wanted to be with her.

Still, the problem remained, what to tell Harry. They both looked towards the hallway as Harry returned, leading Kotone by her hand and being followed by Tom, who was carrying a large tray of food. They looked back at each other and nodded, silently communicating that they would talk later. Hermione tucked the page into her pocket of her sweatpants before the pair reached the table, immediately followed by Tom with their breakfasts.

-----~-----

A/N: hyou = leopard

16. Hidden in Plain Sight

Disclaimer: I do not own anything ‘Harry Potter,’ nor any of the bits of lyrics that I use. Just the plot, and it’s probably been already done a hundred times, so I may not even own that.

A/N: Boy, time is sure moving slowly at this point in the story, I thought I’d have Grimmauld place set up and the ministry meeting taken care of in this chapter, along with a quick driving lesson for Harry. None of that takes place, they’re still in Diagon Alley, and for good reason. There are more surprises from Kotone in this chappie, so read on, and let me know what you think!

-----~-----

Chapter 16: Hidden in Plain Sight

-----~-----

I know what I’m facing and what I’m facing don't know me
and I’ll wait, and I’ll tell you once again,
if you only gave the guidelines, I’d be better off knowing when…
I’d be better off knowing when.

burning the candle is all I can handle.
We’ll save energy if we stick together.
Taking you over a shy Casanova,
we'll save energy if we stick together, Now stick together now

I’ve seen what I’m doing, and what I’m doing is the best for me,
and it's all gotta go before we're done.
It’s the only kind of opinion that I could give to anyone.

Excerpt from the song, “Stick Together” by the band ‘The Superjesus.’

-----~-----

Kotone sat in the seat next to Ron, who seemed a bit less nervous around her since she had her fangs covered, while Harry slid in next to Hermione. Tom quickly laid the food on the table and retreated to the bar, greeting another pair of customers as they descended the stairway leading from the guest rooms.

Ron placed an overflowing plate in front of him, and was about to tuck in when Kotone scooted closer to him and quietly wiped the wetness from her eyes. He felt sorry for the little girl, and didn’t seem to mind too much when she leaned her head against him and her white hair wrapped itself around his arm. When he felt something cold and snake-like slither around his calf and gently squeezed, he dropped his fork and jumped up from his seat in alarm, yelling, “Bloody Hell, it’s a snake or something!” rattling the table and showering Harry and Hermione, as well as himself, with bits of the food that bounced from all of the plates.

Kotone’s teary eyes widened in fright at the outburst, and quickly withdrew her hair from his arm and tail from around his leg, which made him jump up onto the bench seat and frantically slap at his leg.

Seeing the look on Kotone’s face Harry understood what happened, “Ron, relax, it’s just her tail,” he said casually, seemingly finding nothing amiss about a little girl having a tail.

A brief look of horror flashed in Ron’s eyes, but he just calmly sat back down and began putting his plate back in order while carefully avoiding looking at Kotone.

Harry almost laughed at Ron’s reaction while resetting his own plate. He tried to eat, but stopped after a few bites, still feeling a little queasy about Kotone’s breakfast. He then noticed from the corner of his eye how Hermione and Ron were exchanging curious glances with each other. If he felt a pit open in his stomach, assuming that their ‘chat’ had went in Ron’s favor. After all, he gave no indication to Hermione that he had feelings for her, and he had a girl waiting for him, anyway. This is what he wanted, right?

Harry dropped his fork on the table and stood up, earning questioning looks from his two friends. “I’m just going to go back to the orphanage and collect Kotone’s things. They should have the place cleaned up by now,” he said quietly, not looking at either of them, but watched as Kotone rose from her seat, hurried beside him and took his hand in hers, indicating that she wanted to accompany him.

“Do you think it’s wise to go back there?” asked Hermione, with no small concern in her voice, “What if there are more Death Eaters?”

Harry didn’t look concerned, “The aurors are probably still there, and I’ll only be gone a few minutes.” He looked down to Kotone, “Are you sure you want to come along?”

Kotone just nodded and held her arms out to him, clearly wanting him to carry her. He didn’t mind carrying her. Being unusually light for her size, he found that she was hardly a burden at all. He hefted her up in one arm and felt her hair softly wrap itself around his neck as her tail coiled firmly around his arm.

Harry walked slowly and quietly towards the seedier end of Diagon Alley with his small cargo, wondering why he was so angry, so… so jealous. Hermione had just professed her love for him, and now she just takes up with Ron the next day?

‘What about Ginny?’ asked the little voice in his head that sounded very much like Hermione. He suddenly realized that he hadn’t thought much about Ginny at all. He was concerned over her reaction to him during her visit to St. Mungo’s. Why was she acting so… so awkward? So mendacious? Why did her visit feel so disingenuous? He knew she was hiding something from him. He found he had a knack for telling when people were being misleading, except for the time at the Department of Mysteries… with what happened to Sirius, what Dolohov did to Hermione, and what happened with all his friends that accompanied him there, he swore he’d never let that happen again. He could tell that Ginny was up to something, just as he could tell that Hermione and Ron were keeping something from him back at The Leaky Cauldron. The thought of Ron snogging with Hermione flashed unbidden in his minds eye, and another, more powerful wave of anger and jealousy crashed over him.

The anger that was building in him as he walked was driven away when he felt wetness on his shoulder where Kotone’s silently crying face was hidden. He ran his hand softly over the back of her head, and when she lifted her face from his shoulder, he looked into her spilling eyes. He stopped walking as time slowed and the alley disappeared around them, leaving only her despairing, violet eyes in focus.

‘Shishi-kun, what will happen to me? I am alone. Parent are dead. Barny-kun is dead. I have nothing. Nobody want ugly animal as me. Where will I go?”

Harry could actually feel her anguish and desperation through the link until she broke the connection by burying her face back into his shoulder. When his surroundings reappeared, he thought for a moment that he had lost his glasses, until he realized that the blurriness was caused by the tears that welled in his own eyes. He recalled his wretched life with the Dursleys, and it both astounded and appalled him at how closely their lives paralleled.

“A very clever witch once told me that I have this ‘saving people thing,’ he said to Kotone in a surprisingly even voice, “and since I’m destined to save the Wizarding world, I believe I can work one beautiful little witch into my schedule. You promised to protect me, so I now promise to protect you.”

He felt her arms and tail tighten around him as her face lifted to meet his. She still had tears running from her eyes, but they also looked considerably happier.

As he expected, there were still aurors milling around in the building when Harry entered. When he reached the second floor, he felt Kotone tense against him as she once again buried her face in his shoulder. He saw a team of wizards Scourgefying the blood from the floors and walls, while aurors were counting and mapping out where hexes had landed near the staircase. He hurried down to Kotone’s room and set her gently on her rickety cot.

At first, she didn’t seem to want to let go of him, her hair and tail tightened around him and he felt her give a nervous shudder. He just smiled at her comfortingly and eased her off him. He found a small, battered trunk in a corner of the room, and quickly packed the new school clothes, which he correctly assumed that his money bought, along with the sparse few of her possessions. He retrieved the tattered teddy bear from the floor of the closet and handed it to Kotone, who took it appreciatively and held it close.

He picked up her white, porcelain mask from the top of her broken dresser and looked at it sadly. Admittedly, his scar was far less noticeable than Kotone’s frightening appearance, but he knew all the same what it was like for a physical attribute to draw so much unwanted attention. He absently ran one hand over the hair covering his scar as he carefully placed the mask in the trunk between a pair of her robes.

“Is this all?” asked Harry.

Kotone nodded. Harry looked sadly down at the young girl’s meager possessions, the robes and uniforms, purchased with the money that he gave to the orphanage’s administrator, two very old and tattered gray robes, an equally ratty, gray hooded cloak, a dirty and faded black witch’s hat, three old books that were written in Japanese, and a photograph that rested under three wands.

He picked up the old, dog-eared photograph from the corner of the trunk. At first, he thought it was a muggle photograph, until he saw the smallest figure tuck herself shyly behind another. It showed a pleasant looking Asian woman, dressed in a traditional kimono, standing next to a thin, wiry gentleman dressed in a classic set of fine, red wizarding robes which were adorned with golden dragons around the hem and front seams. From behind the woman, a much younger Kotone, with her lower face covered, peeked out. She was wearing an elegant, richly coloured kimono, similar to the one her mother wore. The older lady had her long, black hair set into a large bun near the top of her head, held in place by a jewel-encrusted pair of crossed golden needles. Kotone and her parents stood in a serene garden behind a very large, expensive looking pagoda-style house.

“Kotone, these are your parents?” asked Harry carefully, to which Kotone nodded in response. He glanced back into her trunk, then to the picture again, “It looks as if your family was well off… How did you end up here?”

Kotone took a deep breath, and then let out a sad sigh that sounded more like an angry growl, but Harry felt he was getting quite adept at telling the difference, “Father very successful maker of wand. Oota very wealthy family of old. Family wealth taken by *hakubo,” Kotone seemed to struggle for the English words, “Father’s sister. When parent die, hakubo Motoko frighten of me, refuse me to take, could not go home and no other family.”

Harry carefully placed the photograph in her trunk and picked up the three wands, “One of these is yours?”

Kotone placed her bear beside her, reached out and took one of the wands. Harry saw strange engravings all along the shaft that looked like human faces that were twisted in agony, “*Jinmenju wood with dragon heartstring. Father make for me, very rare.” She pulled a second wand from his hand, long and smooth with a deep red finish, and said, “Cherry wood with unicorn hair, belong to mother.”

She picked the final wand from his hand. He watched her run her fingers over the shiny, black-lacquered wood. She clutched the wands to her chest as a small sob escaped her, “Camphor wood with dragon heartstring, belong to father. Very strong.”

Harry took her parents’ wands from her and carefully placed them in her trunk, saying, “I want you to keep your wand with you at all times. I don’t know how much magic you know, but it’s best that you have it handy.”

Harry secured the lid to her trunk, lifted it up in one hand and then extended his free arm to Kotone, who rose from the cot and allowed him to lift her from the floor. Harry looked compassionately into her sad, frightened eyes and said, “Believe it or not, little one, I know exactly how you feel.”

The sun was lifting over the horizon as they walked back to The Leaky Cauldron. On the way, they passed the boarded-up Ollivander’s Wand Shop. Harry suddenly recalled one of the memories that Kotone had shown him. The Harry in the memory was peering through the boards at something. Curiosity got the better of him and he walked up to the obscured front window.

Peering into the shop through the boards, he saw the window display of a single, dusty wand resting on a very old, tasseled pillow, the same wand he remembered being there when he bought his own wand years before. After looking around him, he stuck the tip of his wand between the boards and whispered, “Lumos Minimus.” He strained his eyes in the dim light, trying to make out any details on the wand resting on the pillow. Even though it was still dark inside of the shop, he could just make out the engravings of some sort of birds along the shaft. His eyes widened as he made out a single, capital letter ‘R’ faintly etched at the base.

‘Ravenclaw,’ he thought to himself, ‘Something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s… The best place to hide something is in plain sight!’

He looked around the alley again. There were very few people milling about in the early morning, and nobody seemed to be paying him any attention. He thought for a moment, and then sighed to himself. Before, he would have thought nothing of forcing his way into the shop and snatching it from the pillow, but he remembered that his rash actions had gotten him into serious trouble, and had gotten the people he cared about hurt. He knew that if it were one of Voldemort’s horcruxes, it would have some sort of protections on it. Since he was still underage, he realized that it would be best to get Hermione’s opinion before he tried to break into the shop.

He turned on his heel and quickly strode back to The Leaky Cauldron.

-----~-----

As soon as the door closed, Hermione pulled the page from her pocket and scanned it intently.

Ron, who was busy wolfing down Harry’s unfinished plate, but still wore a concerned look as he chewed, asked through a mouthful of sausage, “When are we going to tell him? What are we going to tell him?”

“Well, I can’t tell him anything about this,” said Hermione rather shortly, “Just yesterday, he accused me of being jealous of Ginny, and a few hours later I told him that I’m in love with him. What do you think he would think if I accused her of… of this?” She emphasized her point by waving the torn page in front of her, “He’d think I was trying to steal him away or something. He’s not going to take very well to anything I tell him, being under its influence.”

Ron thought about it as he shoved another fork full of eggs into his mouth. He sullenly nodded in agreement. It was up to him to tell Harry.

Hermione stood from the booth and handed the page to Ron, saying, “It’s time I met my father, he’s getting up right about now. I’ll be back as soon as I can, but it will probably be sometime after nine when the banks open. Let Harry know.” With that, she walked out of the door to the alley behind The Leaky Cauldron and apparated to St. Osyth.

Ron quickly finished his meal, and then asked Tom to use the floo so he could let his family know what happened and that they were okay. He had just made it back to the booth when Harry and Kotone entered the back door and hurried to the table.

Harry looked around and asked, “Where’s Hermione?”

Ron took a sip of his tea and simply replied, “Gone.”

A pang of panic flashed in his chest, “Gone! Where?”

Ron looked up into Harry’s face, surprised by the intensity in his voice, “Relax, she went to talk to her father, like she said she was going to. She said she’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Harry visibly relaxed as he sat opposite from Ron. He tried not to look disturbed as Kotone once again pointed towards the back room. With a nod from Harry, she climbed off from him and scurried away. Once she was gone, Harry leaned forward and whispered to Ron, “I think I’ve found one.”

“One what?”

“A horcrux.”

Ron paled, “At the orphanage? I thought… you know who… went to a muggle orphanage.”

Harry shook his head, and then glanced around at the slowly filling inn, “We’ll talk about it after Hermione gets back.”

A half hour passed before Kotone emerged from the storeroom, walking slowly with her head bowed. When she reached the table, she sat next to Harry, and immediately latched onto his arm, resting her head against him.

“How many this time?” Harry asked, hoping that he sounded calm. He knew he would have to get used to the little girl’s disturbing dietary needs. When Kotone held up two fingers, he asked her “Is that enough?” to which she simply nodded.

Ron was about to ask what they were talking about when Kotone let out a dainty little burp, which, of course, sounded similar to one of Hagrid’s best on a ‘Three Broomsticks’ night, and a small bone, that still had a bit of meat and sinew clinging to it, bounced across the table and landed in front of Ron. Ron just looked at it curiously while Harry turned green once more and quickly brushed it from the table.

Hermione stepped into the inn and walked up to the table carrying a large black briefcase. She sat down next to Ron and set the briefcase on the table.

“He agreed to let me take half of the trust out.” She said with a hint of excitement, “The other half will be available to me on my birthday in September, when I turn eighteen.”

Ron eyed the case and asked quietly, “So, how much is in there?”

“One hundred fifty,” she said smiling, “that should tide us over nicely.”

“One hundred and fifty Pounds?” asked Ron, “That doesn’t sound like much.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and whispered, “One hundred and fifty thousand Pounds, Ronald.” She then looked to Harry, “Do you think Gringotts is open yet? We have to get some of this converted into Galleons and get to the bookstore and apothecary. We can leave the balance in your vault until we need it.”

“Let’s go,” said Harry as he hefted Kotone into his arm, “We have something to tell you, too, but we need to find a more private place.”

Ron helpfully carried Kotone’s trunk as they made their way to Gringotts. After a short conversation, they decided to keep fifty thousand in muggle currency and exchange the rest into Galleons.

As soon as they walked through the doors at Gringotts, all of the goblins, who were busily preparing their stations for the newly started business day, suddenly fell silent. Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry, who now wore a very aggravated look. He stepped towards one of the tellers, who quickly closed his station, scrambled out of his booth, and rushed through a large door on the far side of the lobby while every other goblin sat silently and stared at him. Harry let out an irritated sigh and started towards the next teller station that housed a seemingly agitated goblin. Before he reached the teller, he saw the first goblin reappear through the doorway, following closely behind the manager that he had spoken to during his last ill-fated visit to the bank.

Harry stopped as the elder goblin hurriedly approached him. The manager halted a few paces away and nervously said, “Good morning, Mr. Potter, please accompany me to an office where we can discuss your business. He led them towards the door to the same office where the goblin had told him about Vernon’s little ‘withdrawal’ from his vault.

Once inside, Harry tried to place Kotone into a chair, but she refused to release him, burying her face deeper into his shoulder. A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he admitted defeat and sat with her in one of the comfortable chairs by the table. Ron set Kotone’s trunk on the floor and stood to Harry’s left while Hermione, still clutching her briefcase, stood beside him on his right.

“Mr. Potter,” the goblin began, “about what happened…”

“Look,” interrupted Harry, “It doesn’t matter what happened before, it wasn’t your bank’s fault. I’ll deal with it on my own.” He took the briefcase from Hermione’s hands, set it on the table and opened it, “We’d like to exchange one hundred thousand muggle Pounds into Galleons.”

Harry then thought that both Hermione and Ron should have access to the vault. He reached into his shirt, and then felt around his neck for a frantic moment. He looked up at Hermione, who was smiling at him while dangling the chain that held his key from her finger.

“You left it in your trunk. I thought you might need it.”

Harry caught himself staring at her smiling lips. He recognized it as the exact same, impishly amused smile that she wore in the ‘clamshell’ dream, which caused his eyes to glass-over for a few moments before he realized what he was doing.

He hastily took the chain from her finger and addressed the goblin, “I’d like two copies of this made for my two friends here, if it’s possible.”

The manager gestured to the door with his finger, and a moment later, a goblin appeared. He nervously approached the table, retrieved the key and the briefcase, and then quickly retreated from the room.

They waited quietly for the goblin to return. Harry felt Kotone let out a growl of a yawn against his shoulder, which caused the manager to uncomfortably shift in his seat.

Noticing this, Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she asked the manager, “Is there a problem with this girl being in your bank?”

The goblin seemed to tense up and he answered a little too quickly, “No, of course not! An elder is always welcome at Gringotts!”

Harry was about to ask what he meant about Kotone being an elder, but was distracted by the return of the goblin teller. He cautiously placed the briefcase on the table, along with the vault key and the two copies, all the while keeping his eyes on the little girl in Harry’s arms. The manager opened the briefcase and made a mental accounting of the contents.

He closed the case, slid it across the table and said, “Here is the remainder, exactly fifty thousand muggle Pounds, the rest has been converted and has already been transferred to your vault. Of course, the usual five percent conversion fee has been waved, compliments of Gringotts.”

“Oh, Merlin!” exclaimed Harry, realizing that his uncle still had access to that vault, “Is there any way to ensure that only the three of us can withdraw from that vault?”

If a goblin could pale, the manager sitting before him would have looked sheet white, judging from the expression on his face, “I’m afraid that your legal guardian still has rights to that vault, but only until you turn of age, when…”

“Hermione, do you have a vault here?” asked Harry, ignoring the manager who was obviously telling him what he already knew.

“Well, no, I’ve never needed one. My parents always came here to exchange muggle money for Galleons to buy my school supplies.”

“Ron?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

“Are you kidding, mate?” replied Ron with a slightly bitter laugh, “Me? A vault?”

He turned to the manager, “Are there any vaults available?”

“Yes, a few small ones,” he answered cautiously, “there’s a one hundred Galleon a year fee, and an adult would have to rent it.” He then addressed Hermione, “Would you care to rent one?”

“Yes, in the name of Hermione Granger,” Hermione answered, “with 2 duplicate keys, please.”

“And transfer the gold from my vault to hers, as soon as you can,” Harry immediately added, “and we would like to visit that vault now, if you please,” Harry stated politely, causing the old goblin to leap from his seat and rush to the door, bidding them to follow.

When they emerged into the lobby, every goblin in the room seemed to tense up and stare at Harry, or more accurately, at who was in his arms. The few wizards that were conducting business there turned to see what all of the goblins were looking at.

A few rude comments directed at Harry were heard in the silence, the words ‘coward’ and ‘gutless’ prominent among them. As Harry crossed the lobby towards the entrance to the carts, one of the heckling wizards cast a tripping jinx at him, causing both Kotone and him to fall forward.

Before Harry hit the floor, no less than ten goblin guards, all armed with vicious-looking halberds, moved so quickly that they almost seemed to apparate around the offending wizard. Two very large ogres, dressed in full red armor and carrying huge silver scimitars came bursting from a pair of concealed alcoves on either side of the front door.

Harry picked himself up from the floor along with Kotone. By the time he was standing again, the wizard who cast the jinx was nowhere to be seen, and two menacing goblin guards stood beside each visibly discomfited wizard that remained in the lobby.

The trembling manager was stammering out apologies to the group, assuring them that the one who cast the spell would be dealt with severely. The manager suddenly went still and the room became eerily silent once again, save for a set of footsteps echoing throughout the lobby. Harry looked over to see a richly dressed, ancient-looking goblin approaching, being escorted by two of the largest goblin guards he had ever seen. He felt Kotone’s hair and tail unwrap from his body and she loosened her arms from around him, indicating that she wanted to be set down.

As Harry lowered the little witch to the floor, he noticed the old goblin pause for a heartbeat before approaching the group and stopping a respectful distance away. “Mr. Potter, my name is Ragnok. On behalf of Gringotts Wizarding Bank, I would like to apologize to you and your friends for this most unfortunate incident. The offending wizard’s assets have been seized, and the Ministry’s Magical Law Enforcement Division has been notified that we will be taking punitive action against said wizard.”

Harry looked at the old goblin incredulously, “You seized his assets over a tripping jinx?”

“Any spell is illegal inside of these walls,” Ragnok stated simply, but Harry could tell that he wasn’t getting the entire story.

“Aren’t you going to turn him over to the Ministry?” asked Harry, concerned that the goblins might get into trouble for taking this very minor breach of the law into their own hands.

“The inside of this building falls under the goblin domain, the ministry has no power here. The wizard, a Mr. Farnsworth, will be tried under goblin law,” answered Ragnok as he glanced at the large clock over the main doorway, then added, “The trial should be over right about now.”

The old goblin turned to Kotone, and much to Harry’s surprise, bowed deeply to her, something that he’d never heard of before. When she politely returned the bow, Ragnok spoke to her in an uncharacteristically respectful tone, “What is your name?”

Kotone unbuttoned her collar and folded it down away from her mouth, revealing her face and causing a collective gasp from the wizards and witches who were watching the interaction with interest.

“Oota Kotone, Ragnok-san,” she replied with another polite bow. Her deep, gravelly voice echoed around the marble walls, causing another round of gasps from the stunned humans.

“Are you hurt, Mistress Kotone?”

Kotone shook her head, “No, Ragnok-san, I am fine.”

Ragnok nodded approvingly and turned back to Harry, gave him a long, appraising look before he said, “Mr. Potter, I would like to make an appointment to speak with you sometime near the end of next week, after your birthday, concerning your account with us, and a few other matters.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond, because, while he certainly had an account, it was currently quite empty. Thinking that maybe he wanted to discuss the rent that was due for his empty vault, or maybe an offer to help him retrieve the money that was removed by his uncle, he agreed to owl the bank with a date.

Ragnok apologized again, and gave Kotone another polite bow, which she respectfully returned, before walking away with his two bodyguards.

Harry, seeing Kotone raise her arms to him again, smiled and lifted her from the floor. Once she settled into her familiar, comfortable position against his side, he started walking towards the entrance to the carts. After a few steps, he noticed that Ron hadn’t moved. Looking back, he called, “Ron, are you coming?”

Ron was staring at Harry with his mouth agape. It took Hermione pulling him by the elbow to get him moving.

One harrowing cart ride later, which Kotone enjoyed immensely, they found themselves standing in front of Hermione’s new vault. After the vault door was opened, Harry kindly asked the manager who escorted them for some privacy, which he readily agreed to as he handed each of them a key, stepped into the cart and said that he would be back in fifteen minutes.

Once the cart disappeared down the tracks, Harry turned to Hermione and excitedly said, “I think I’ve found a horcrux here in Diagon Alley, but I need you to look at it to be sure.” When he saw her look to Kotone in alarm, he said, “She already knows. She heard you and Ron mention them at the inn. She has excellent hearing.”

When Harry turned to Ron, he was just standing, his eyes moving between him and Kotone, “Ron, what’s wrong?”

“Bloody Hell, Harry! Do you know who you were just talking to?” he said with a choked squeak in his voice.

“Well, yes… Hermione. She’s standing right here.”

“No, in the lobby! That was Ragnok!”

“Yes, I did catch his name,” said Harry, wondering what he was getting at, “He’s the bank’s director, or something like that… What’s the problem?”

Ron just stared at Harry incredulously while Hermione answered for him, “Ragnok is the leader of the largest goblin clan in the world. His clan controls all the Gringotts branches in Europe, and a good portion of Eurasia and North Africa. They are the single most powerful clan in the world, and Ragnok is the single most powerful goblin in that clan. Not even Ministers Fudge or Scrimgeour have been able to get an appointment to see him, and he just asked you for an appointment! I can’t imagine why, though… He’s sort of ‘on the outs’ with the wizard government right now, because he hasn’t made a stand on which side of the war his clan will take.”

Harry only heard half of what she was saying, having lost his train of thought by making the mistake of watching her lips as she spoke. Only when they stopped moving, except for a slight pull at the corners of her mouth, did he realize that he was staring at her. He quickly dropped his gaze and stammered, “Yes, well, I’ll… I’ll see him next week, but we still have to find out about this horcrux.”

As soon as Harry looked away from her face, a knowing smile briefly crossed her lips before she asked, “What is it and what makes you think it’s a horcrux?”

“Dumbledore told me that Voldemort would likely use places that represented important events in his life to hide his horcruxes. He used his mother’s family home to hide the ring, the cave where he figured out that he was ‘special’ when he tortured the other orphans that he led there hid the locket, the fake locket. So I thought about how he would have felt when he found out that he was a wizard, and finally got his hands on his wand.”

“That would certainly qualify as a major event in his life,” said Hermione as she thought about what he was saying.

Harry continued, “Earlier today, Kotone showed me her memory of a ‘vision,’ I’d guess you’d call it, that I had when she was protecting me, although I don’t remember having this ‘vision’ at all.”

Hermione was listening intently, while Ron just looked a bit confused.

“In her memory, I was looking in Ollivander’s shop through the boards, so when I was on my way back to the Cauldron from Haversham’s, I looked in and I saw that wand Ollivander always kept in the front display window. It’s been there as long as I’ve known about the place. When I looked closely at it, I noticed that it had birds engraved along the shaft, and near the handle, I thought I saw the letter ‘R’ etched there.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “You don’t think that’s Ravenclaw’s wand, do you?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk with you. If it is, and if it really is a horcrux, it probably has some pretty nasty wards on it, and we’d have to break into the shop, which I’m sure is pretty well protected in the first place.”

The sound of the returning cart put an end to the conversation for the time being. Hermione scooped several thousand Galleons into her enchanted moneybag, and then pulled out a few thousand Pounds from the case before stowing in the vault. She allowed the goblin manager to secure the vault before they made their way back to the surface in silence.

Once outside the bank, the group stopped in front of Ollivander’s, where Hermione carefully studied the wand, but was reluctant to confirm that it was, in fact, the wand owned by Rowena Ravenclaw without a closer examination. The few detection spells she cast never even penetrated the window, but it might have been due to the security that Ollivander put on his shop and not the wards that Voldemort would place to guard a horcrux. They decided to just leave it there for the time being. If it actually was one of his horcruxes, it had been there all these years and probably wasn’t being moved any time soon. At least they knew where it was.

The group spent the next hour, and over three thousand Galleons, collecting the books and supplies needed for Hermione to perform the Fidelis charm on Grimmauld Place. Of course, Harry was receiving disparaging looks from most of the people they encountered, so he decided just to browse separately while Ron and Hermione picked out and paid for the supplies.

Once everything was collected, Harry told Ron and Hermione apparate to Grimmauld Place with the supplies and Kotone’s trunk before meeting him at the Ministry, while Harry would bring Kotone with him to the Ministry building, which was within a reasonable walking distance from The Leaky Cauldron. Naturally, Hermione immediately refused to leave Harry, who was still underage and would be for another week, without either Ron or herself accompanying him. After much convincing and repeated assurances that he would be careful, she reluctantly acquiesced.

Harry had been keeping an eye on Hermione all morning. Since the incident at Haversham’s, a fire seemed to have been burning behind her eyes, a spark of something that he hadn’t seen in her in years. She actually seemed driven, focused on something other than schoolwork, and unusually excited about what they were doing. She seemed truly… happy, happier than he’d seen her since their fifth year.

Harry left The Leaky Cauldron onto in Muggle London and westward along Charing Cross Road, with Kotone planted firmly on his side. They walked along quietly, but after about ten minutes, Kotone lifted her head from his shoulder and her ears, which were concealed within her hair until that time, perked up and swiveled behind them.

“Keep your ears hidden, little one,” Harry whispered to her, “we’re around the muggles.”

“Shishi-kun, your Washi-chan follows.” She whispered into his ear.

Harry smiled as he kept walking and whispered back to her, “I know.”

-----~-----

A/N: Translations and descriptions:

Jinmenju = These are mythical trees that are said to grow in deep, remote forests in Japan. The fruit that hangs from the tree appear to be human heads. The tree lures humans to it by making a mournful cry. When a person gets close to investigate, the tree steals its soul and the face of the person grows on one of the fruit.

Hakubo = Aunt, Older sister of a parent, in this case, Kotone’s father’s older sister.

Motoko is just a name, pronounced ‘Motto-Ko.’ (Actually, it’s my sister’s name, she wanted me to use it as Kotone’s mother, but I’m just mean, so I made her the evil aunt. ^_^;)

17. The Blood of Kotone

Disclaimer: I still own nothing of the Harry Potter story. I don’t own the lyric bits. I don’t own very much at all.

A/N: Okay… I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again now. I never intended this to be a foreign language lesson. The Japanese words and phrases I use here are mainly for colour. I’m seriously considering making the foreign phrases italicized and bolded to denote them as actually being foreign. We’ll see… This chapter was a bit difficult for me, halfway through it, I discovered a mistake I made which changed the entire story in a drastic way, so I had to re-write much of it, hence the delay… No, they haven’t made it to the Ministry yet, they haven’t made it to Grimmauld, and Harry still hasn’t got his driving lesson. All that may come up in the future. All of you ‘Vernon-haters’ will see the start of the payback he’ll be getting, but not from Harry… yet. I’m still beta-less, so all errors are mine. R&R& Enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 17: The Blood of Kotone.

-----~-----

I tried, God, I tried
To tell you what you need to hear
It’s lost deep inside
These prison walls known as ‘Fear.’

I’m an ordinary girl,
with a sad, ordinary smile,
but with an ordinary touch
the fear has passed,
I’m falling fast
to a place I’ve missed for a while.

Just an ordinary girl,
with extraordinary dreams
but in my ordinary life
I bear the shame
I’m to blame

I built these walls known as ‘Fear.’

Excerpt from the song ‘Fear’ by Michiko Aoki (lyrics translated/modified from Japanese)

-----~-----

Petunia Dursley sat alone in her spacious den on a long, comfortable sofa, surrounded by pictures and mementos of her loving family. On every wall, along every shelf, pictures of Vernon and her ‘Dudders’ beamed back at her from every direction. Normally, this was the time of day where she would sit back and unwind after a whirlwind round of cleaning her fabulous new house, but recently, her worried mind hadn’t given her much of a chance to relax.

She sat, sullen faced, sifting through stacks of old letters and photographs. She remembered a time when she couldn’t bear to look at any of them, she just had them hidden away in a box in a forgotten corner in the attic at Privet Drive. These recent weeks, she found herself browsing through the shoebox more and more often.

She picked up the one photograph that seemed to hold her attention more than the others, the one with her sister, her sister’s husband, and ‘him.’ She watched as the image of her sister held the baby close and kissed his then unblemished forehead while the man stood beside her with his arm around her waist, looking fondly down on his son. Petunia had been noticing the gradual change in the image of Harry over the past week, looking less and less emaciated as the days passed.

Vernon had told her the date that Harry was supposed to return from that ‘freak’ school, and that date had passed the week before. He usually worked himself up into a lather as the date drew closer, but this year he seemed positively giddy. Knowing full well that Harry had been out of the school and in London for the past month, she was curious as to exactly what Vernon would say to her when she informed him that little fact. She decided, while angrily stuffing the letters and photos back into the old shoebox, that informing him was exactly what she was going to do.

Vernon was in his favorite place, reclining on a floating lounge bobbing heavily in the glistening, Olympic-sized pool in the back yard and sipping on a large brandy that was floating on a pad next to him. He was conversing with his rather large sister, Marge, who was sunning herself on a lounge chair beside the pool and watching the playful antics of her pack of dogs as they made a soiled shamble of the formerly pristine lawn. As Petunia stepped out onto the paver stone patio, she heard Vernon laughing over something Marge had just said.

“Vernon, when did you say we were supposed to pick up Harry?” asked Petunia in a neutral voice.

Vernon’s chuckle was abruptly halted when he wildly tipped from the floating lounge and submerged for a moment before he floundered to the surface, red-faced and spluttering out pool water. Once he reached the pool’s edge, he brushed the wet, thinning hair from his face. His beady eyes darted between his concerned sister and his stoic wife as he answered cautiously, “Well… um… I received another letter from that Headmaster Bumblebee of his… that ‘boy’ won’t be returning here, he was sent to those red-headed frea- ‘friends’ of his.”

Petunia’s eyes narrowed, “Oh? It’s nice of you to tell me about that. When, exactly, did you get this ‘letter’?”

Vernon’s face began to take on the bright purple tinge as he answered, “It arrived at my office last week.”

Marge, never able to keep her opinions to herself, bustled into the conversation, asking Petunia, “When have you become so concerned about that little criminal? I’d think you’d be glad to be rid of him.”

Not fazed at all, Petunia asked Vernon in a calm, but chilly voice, “How is it that Dumbledore was able to write a letter to you last week, when he’s been dead for almost six weeks?”

The purple tint to Vernon’s face almost instantly turned to ash, “What? How do you know that?”

Ignoring the question, she continued, “I know something else, too. I know that Ho- his school closed two weeks early this past term. Tell me, Vernon, why did you say that he was staying there longer? Was it another letter from his dead headmaster?”

Marge’s face turned a deep crimson as she stood from the lounge chair, “Petunia! You have no right to question your husband in that tone of voice! That’s the same attitude you get from that brat nephew of yours!”

Vernon, having regained a little of his composure, said to Petunia, “What does it matter? That freak boy is gone, and he’s not coming back! It’s a good riddance to bad rubbish! That’s what you wanted, too, so I really don’t feel the need to explain anything!”

Petunia gave both Vernon and Marge each an icy glare before calmly saying, “That’s true, you don’t need to explain anything. Just as I don’t need to cook your meals, clean your house or even stay in the same bedroom as you. When you’re ready to tell me what’s really going on, you can find me in the large guest room.”

As Vernon spluttered out some unintelligible nonsense, Marge gave out a complaining grunt and said, “Wait! I’m staying in the large guest room!”

Without bothering to turn around, she called back over her shoulder, “You’ll find your things in the hallway. The room Harry was supposed to stay in is available.”

-----~-----

Harry saw that he was still a few blocks away from the Ministry’s callbox entrance. Deciding that he had time to catch Hermione following him, he ducked into a thin alley between two large brownstone buildings and hid with Kotone in the shadows behind a large rubbish bin.

Kotone gave him a questioning look and said, “Shishi-sama? What to do?”

Harry, was still smiling as he said, “We’re just going to see how well that tracking spell on my trainer works, and give ‘Washi’ a little surprise.”

Kotone rested her head on his shoulder as they both kept watch on the entrance to the alley. Suddenly she felt Harry’s body become rigid as a loud hiss if pain escaped from between his clenched teeth. She released him when his hands flew to his forehead and he let out a strangled cry as he fell to the ground.

Kotone quickly drew her wand and looked around the alley, expecting someone to be there attacking Harry, not that she could really do anything if there were, she hardly knew any useful spells. Seeing no one, she kneeled beside Harry’s writhing form. As one is prone to do when panicking, she totally forgot about the language barrier, “Shishi-san! Doushitano?” (Mr. Lion! What happened?) In tears and nearly hysterical, she began calling out, “Tasukete! Tasukete!” (Help! Help!)

Not knowing what else to do, she struggled to get him to roll over from his side onto his back, “Open eyes, Shishi-sama! Prease to open eyes!”

His eyes remained clenched shut. She pried his hands from over his scar and rested her forehead against his. She relaxed her mind and reached out for his, just as her mother had taught her those many years ago.

In her minds eye, she could see a dark stone chamber, dimly lit with torches set into the walls. She was watching a man writhing in pain on the floor before her. The sickly, yellow stream of a powerful Crucio was flowing from the wand in her hand. She was angry. Very angry. Not only did the raid on St. Mungo’s fail to secure Harry Potter,but then she finds out that Bellatrix went ahead and attacked an orphanage as punishment for her husband’s capture. She didn’t authorize the strike on the orphanage, but the wench went ahead and attacked it anyway, and in the process got herself captured, and this coward fled and left her there, abandoning his fellow Death Eaters. She flicked her wand upwards, breaking the spell. She heard the panting pleas of her Death Eater, “Please, Master! We were only there for a few minutes when the aurors came! We were surrounded! I had to escape…” She could stomach no more of his cowardly groveling. She could feel her upper lip twitch into a hateful sneer. She felt the anger, the hatred build inside of her. She pointed her wand at her worthless, cowering Death Eater. Her vision was tinged with red and she could feel the orgasmic pleasure building in her core as she hissed out the words, “Avada Kedavra.”

Everything went black, as if a light switch were turned off.

-----~-----

Hermione nervously clutched the bag of books and supplies as she watched Harry walk out through the front door of The Leaky Cauldron into muggle London.

As soon as the door closed, she turned to Ron, “If he thinks I’m going to let him wander around London unprotected, he’s got another think coming!” She then roughly shoved the heavy bag into Ron’s arms.

Ron let out a tired sigh, “Hermione, he can take care of himself. If he finds out that…”

She narrowed her eyes and whispered dangerously, “That’s what I thought when I left him at King’s Cross, he really took care of himself then, didn’t he?” Realizing that she was angrier with herself than with Ron, her voice softened as she added, “If anything were to happen to him, I’d never forgive myself. Take those to Grimmauld place and hide them, we’ll meet up with you at the Ministry.”

Ron watched as she cast a disillusionment spell on herself before stepping out of the door. Ron shook his head and smiled knowingly as he hefted the bag and Kotone’s small trunk and walked to the back door where he could apparate to Grimmauld Place.

Hermione stepped out onto Charing Cross Road just in time to see Harry and Kotone disappear around the corner at the end of the street. She hurried down to the corner and peeked around, seeing them casually walking along the sidewalk. She wasn’t too concerned about keeping them in sight, she knew that Tonks’ tracking spell could lead her right to him if she lost track of him.

She followed at a discreet distance, making sure to scan the surrounding streets and buildings for anything unusual. As she made it to a corner that was a few blocks away from the ministry, she peeked around, expecting Harry to be nearing the next corner. Her heart lodged in her throat as she scanned the nearly empty street, with only a few muggles going about their business with no sign of Harry and Kotone anywhere.

She immediately pulled out her wand and whispered, “Sequor Sirius.”

The wand arced in her hand and pointed further down the block to where she had expected them to be. She cautiously made her way down the sidewalk in front of a set of large, brownstone apartments when she heard a strangled cry coming from an alley just ahead of her. Her grasp tightened around her wand as she peeked around the corner into the shadowed alley.

She felt her heart begin to race.

She saw Harry about twenty feet into the alley, silent and unmoving, lying in the dirty alley near a large rubbish bin with Kotone kneeling above him. She had her hands on his wrists, pinning his arms to the ground, and her face seemed to be resting against his. Her hair was flailing around her head and her tail was wildly twitching from under her duster. She could hear Kotone’s deep, rumbling growl as her body seemed to convulse over him. It almost appeared that she was snogging him… then with horror, she thought, ‘or biting him!’

In a panic, she pointed her wand at Kotone.

“Stupefy!”

The stunner hit the little girl squarely between her shoulder blades. Hermione watched as Kotone’s body slumped and rolled off from over Harry. Immediately, she heard a loud groan from him as his hands flew to his head. Hermione sprinted towards him, half-expecting to find him with a mangled face and lying in a pool of blood. She skidded to a halt, dropped to her knees and then lifted him up into a sitting position while hugging him tightly. She pulled back and looked at him, relieved to find only a few small drops of blood spattered on one of his cheeks.

“Are you all right? What happened?” Her voice was strained and shrill as she scanned him for any injury while wiping the drops of blood from his face, “I knew I shouldn’t have let you go off on your own! How did she manage to get you into this alley?”

Harry opened his eyes, pulled away from Hermione, leaned over and retched out what little breakfast he had managed to eat that morning. He was out of breath and still clutching his scar.

“It wasn’t her,” he managed to cough out, “Voldemort… angry…”

“But Kotone, she… and the blood… she was on top of you, I thought…” She reached a hand to the stunned Kotone and gently rolled her onto her back. When the little girl’s slightly bloodstained hair fell away from her face, Hermione let out a gasp when she saw the streams of blood running from her nostrils and the corners of her blankly staring, wide-open eyes. She looked as if she were dead.

Harry spit out the remnants of bile from his mouth and then looked over to Kotone in concern, “What happened to her?”

Hermione’s answer came out in an anxious squeak, “I… I thought she was attacking you. I stunned her.”

Harry sat on the ground with his throbbing head in his hands, “I think she was trying to help me. Wake her.”

Hermione shakily pointed her wand at Kotone, “Rennervate.”

Nothing happened.

Harry leaned over the little girl and felt for a pulse. He found one on her neck, but it was very weak. He looked at Hermione and angrily asked, “Hermione, what did you do to her?”

He saw the spark light behind Hermione’s eyes. Her expression went from anxiety to intense passion as she answered in a low growl. “I told you. I stunned her. At first it looked as though she was snogging you, the way her face was pressed against yours, but that didn’t make sense. She must have been attacking you, so I…”

“Oh? So now you’re jealous of a little girl, too?”

“What do you mean by that?” she snapped back angrily.

“Isn’t it obvious?” replied Harry as he wiped the blood that was still seeping from Kotone’s eyes and nose, “You’re angry because Ginny got me before you did.”

“Got you?” Hermione harrumphed indignantly, “More like stole you, not that I consider you a possession…”

Harry looked into Hermione’s eyes, “What do you mean, she ‘stole’ me?”

Hermione took a deep breath, preparing to spill that Ginny had used… something… against them. She could feel the anger and jealousy bubbling out from the pit she felt in her stomach. She recognized it immediately as the effect of the elixir, and could do nothing to quell the burning desire to hurt him… with words, with actions… She did the only thing she could think of and averted her eyes away from him. She stood up without replying and strode out of the alley onto the sidewalk. After taking a few deep, calming breaths, she drew her wand and held it out. A moment later, the Knight Bus appeared with an echoing bang. She turned back to Harry and said coldly, “Come on, bring her.”

An old, bald wizard with a long, grey beard and dressed in what appeared to be an eighteenth century, red Beefeater uniform stepped into the entrance of the bus and began reading from a card, “Welcome to the Knight bus, emergency transportation for the stranded witch or wizard. My name is Barry Barrows, and I’ll be your conductor this morning.”

As he was reciting his greeting, Harry stood shakily and tried to pick Kotone up from the alley. He found that carrying a little girl who was willing was a lot easier than manhandling the dead weight that he now had in his arms. He had one arm under her knees, and the other behind her back. As he approached the bus, Kotone’s head lolled back, exposing her bloodied face to the startled conductor.

“Now see here!” Barrows loudly said, “You can’t be bringing something like that onto the bus!”

Hermione spun on her heel to face him, ready to give him a lecture on the rights of half-breeds, but Harry spoke first while trying to nudge Kotone’s head so that her collar once again hid her more ‘prominent’ facial features.

“Please, sir, she’s hurt. We have to get her to St. Mungo’s… it’s not very far and I’ll keep her hidden.”

Barrows’ eyes lifted from the half-breed to the face of the boy addressing him. A look of shock and anger lit in his eyes as he recognized ‘The Coward Who Lived,’ “You… Now you certainly aren’t getting on this bus! Imagine leaving all those helpless patients to their doom! A little girl did more to help than you did!”

“That’s rubbish!” shouted Hermione, “Harry left St. Mungo’s before the Death Eaters attacked, and this,” she said while pointing to Kotone, “IS the little girl that captured Lestrange!”

Barrows looked at the three youngsters silently for a moment, the stillness only broken by the quiet hum of the idling bus and the ‘pat… pat… pat…’ of Kotone’s blood as it dripped from Harry’s arm that was supporting her head. He finally spoke, “What’s that… ‘girl’s’ name, then?”

Both Harry and Hermione answered in unison, “Kotone Oota.”

“Well, alright… but I still can’t bring you to St. Mungo’s. We were informed that they’re not taking new patients. They’re still repairing the building from the attack, and they’re seriously short-handed.”

Hermione looked nervously to Harry, and then to Kotone, who was becoming even paler than normal from the loss of blood. Guilt coursed through her, displacing the bitterness that she felt a minute before.

“Hogwarts?” asked Harry, “Can you take us there?”

“Hogsmeade is the closest we can get you, and you have to stay at the back of the bus with that thi… with ‘her.’”

Hermione quickly paid the fares and helped Harry conceal Kotone in a corner seat in the back of the bus. After they were settled in, she quietly re-transfigured the collar of the black duster Kotone wore into a large hood that succeeded in concealing her hair and shadowing her face.

As the bus careened and swerved through the streets between the lurching and shuddering stops, Harry thought to himself how Kotone, under different circumstances, would be thoroughly enjoying the ride, seeing how much fun she had in the Gringotts carts. He ran the back of his hand softly over her face.

“Hermione,” he whispered nervously, “she getting cold.”

Hermione was anxiously biting her lower lip, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea that a simple stun would affect her like this.”

“I don’t think the stun did this,” he said quietly, “When I felt the pain in my scar, I caught a glimpse of a chamber, and a man being tortured, then everything sort of faded into a fog and the pain disappeared. I think she was trying to block Voldemort, but I don’t know for sure. When I felt her fall on me, the fog cleared and the pain returned, but not nearly as bad as when it began.”

The bus suddenly shuddered to a stop and Barrows called out, “Hogsmeade.”

A few moments later, they found themselves hurrying along the main street of Hogsmeade on their way to Hogwarts. Harry was soon gasping for air, and the painful throbbing in his head wasn’t making the trip any easier. It felt like Kotone weighed twice as much as she did when she was awake.

They made it about halfway to the castle when Harry stopped and laid Kotone on the ground. He took a few moments to catch his breath, placing his hands on his knees and bowing his sweating face while Hermione rushed to them and tried to lift the girl by herself, just managing to heft her up from the ground.

Remembering how Tonks used a patronus to deliver a message to the castle the year before, Harry drew his wand and concentrated on where they were, and on summoning Hagrid from his hut while focusing his mind on the happiest memory he could think of. The memory of Hermione taking a shower briefly flitted through his mind, but he had a happier memory… a much more powerful one… ‘Well, maybe I should have told you sooner. Being never told that you’re loved is no way to go through life, I should know. That is changing for you today. I love you, Harry. No matter what else I say or do, and no matter what happens, don’t ever forget that.’

He didn’t forget. He would never forget the raw emotion that flooded him when he heard her say those words. It was exhilarating and terrifying at the same time… and it was powerful. He allowed the passion he felt at the memory to fill him as he pointed his wand up the road towards Hogwarts and cried, “Expecto Patronum!”

In a brilliant flash, a massive, golden stag materialized from the end of his wand, its nearly solid, metallic surface glistened in the late-morning sun. It was easily twice the size of the one he had conjured to save Hermione, Sirius and himself in his third year.

Hermione stared in awe at the enormous, golden stag as it raced down the road at an impossible speed and disappeared into the distance. She glanced at Harry, who looked just as surprised as she was. She hadn’t had the chance to research the change in her own patronus, and upon seeing Harry’s, she made a mental note to step that priority up a notch.

The first to arrive was Hagrid’s huge, black dog, Fang. He still had patches of nearly bare skin showing through his fur in places, reminders of the attack of the Death Eaters on the school a few months before. He came happily bounding up to Harry, but seeming to sense the urgency of the teens, he slowed and just circled them slowly, allowing Harry to give him a friendly pat.

Less than a minute later, Hagrid, brandishing his trusty crossbow, came hurrying along, calling out to them, “’Arry! ‘Ermione! What’re ya doin’ ere?” As he neared, he saw the girl that Hermione was struggling to carry, “Wha’s tha’ ya got there?”

With worry evident in his voice he answered, “She’s hurt, we have to get her to Madam Pomfrey quickly.”

As Hagrid stepped up to Hermione to relieve her of her burden, he hesitated for only a moment when he saw Kotone’s blood covered face before scooping the frail little girl carefully in his arms.

Hagrid rushed ahead to the castle while Harry and Hermione, still winded from the trek, walked slowly behind, trying to recover some of their spent energies.

They entered the castle and immediately made for the hospital wing. As soon as they opened the doors to the infirmary, they met a cacophony of sound. Healers rushed from bed to bed, administering potions, casting diagnostic charms and tended to the throng of patients that occupied nearly every bed in the infirmary.

They saw Hagrid at the far end, bowed low and speaking with the very harassed-looking Madam Pomfrey in front of a curtained-off bed. As they approached, Madam Pomfrey looked over to them and asked in a hushed tone, “What happened to her?”

“We’re not really sure,” answered Harry quickly, “She was hit with a stunner while… ‘helping’ me when my scar acted up. We tried to Rennervate her, but it didn’t seem to do any good. We weren’t allowed to take her to St. Mungo’s, so we thought to bring her here.”

“Yes, you and everyone else seems to think this is a St. Mungo’s annex or some such,” she said with a touch of annoyance in her voice, “But I must say it’s a good thing you got her here when you did, a few more minutes and she would have been dead.” She then gave Harry an appraising look as she drew her wand and passed it over Harry, “You say your scar hurt again?”

When Harry just nodded, she asked, “Are you feeling any residual effects?”

He absently ran his hand over his forehead as he answered, “A headache, and I’m a bit knackered…”

Madam Pomfrey summoned a potion from her stores and handed it to Harry before saying, “I’d normally keep you here overnight, but under the circumstances… Take that potion and get some rest.” She then looked between both Harry and Hermione, “Since you’re here, you should pay a visit to Headmistress McGonagall. She’s in her office. I’ll floo her to let her know that you’re on your way.”

“What about the girl?” asked Hermione nervously, still feeling somewhat guilty, still concerned that she may have caused Kotone’s injury.

“I managed to get the hemorrhaging under control, but she’s lost a lot of blood. I gave her a blood-replenishing potion, but she’ll need to stay here overnight, at the very least. She’s that Oota girl, isn’t she?”

They both nodded, and Harry said, “She’s due to start here at Hogwarts this year, if it re-opens, that is...”

“Yes,” Madam Pomfrey commented, “well, that’s part of the reason you should see the Headmistress. You can visit Miss Oota in the morning, she should be awake by then.”

As they stepped through the door out from the infirmary, they were surprised to see Hagrid come out of the door right behind them with a somewhat distraught expression.

“What’re you two doin’ with the likes of summut like ‘er?” Hagrid asked in a whisper.

“She’s a friend of mine,” said Harry, slightly taken aback, “I guess I’m sort of her guardian now, though not officially. What’s the problem?”

Hagrid seemed genuinely surprised by Harry’s statement, “Her guardian? You’re no’ even o’ age yet.”

“Listen,” Harry said shortly, “I can see why people wouldn’t take kindly to her. I’m not blind, I know what she looks like, but she’s alone in the world now. She has absolutely no one to take care of her. She was in that rat’s nest of what these wizards call an orphanage, which doesn’t exist any more because it was decimated by Death Eaters just this morning. I’ll be damned if the Ministry throws her back into another shit-hole because she doesn’t have any money, or because she’s a half-breed, or half-blood or any other label they want to put on her!”

Hagrid tried to interrupt, but Harry’s voice started rising in volume, not caring if anyone in the infirmary could hear, “She’s been holding on to me like a bloody life-preserver since I found her cowering in a closet in that filthy orphanage, holding Sirius’s murderer at bay until I could get there. She’s displayed nothing but genuine honesty and gentleness ever since I’ve known her. She can’t help it if she’s ugly, or gruesome, or whatever else people want to call her. I promised her that I would protect her, and by Merlin, I will, even if I have to adopt her when I come of age next week!”

Even with the shock that was apparent on her face, Hermione felt a swell of pride towards Harry. He has rarely shown that level of determination or resolve about anything, but hearing his defense of one of the Wizarding world’s ‘under-class,’ she couldn’t help but to internally beam at him.

“’Arry!” said Hagrid, finally able to get a word in, “I wan’t disparagin’ ‘er. I was jus’ surprised tha’ you’d befriended an elder race.”

Slightly mollified, Harry said, “The goblins called her an ‘elder.’ What exactly do they mean?”

“Ah, I keeps forgettin’ ‘ow little you know of the wizardin’ world. You’d think they’d teach this stuff in ‘istory of magic,” said Hagrid, pausing to consider how best to describe what ‘Elders’ were, “What do the muggles say about goblins?”

Hermione instinctively went into lecture mode, “Well, in some circles, Goblins are considered to be the cousins of gnomes, except that gnomes are stupid and no one in their right mind would confuse the two. The word ‘goblin’ comes from ‘Gob’ or ‘Ghob,’ the king of the gnomes, whose inferiors were called Ghob-lings. However, according to ‘The Concise Oxford Dictionary of Current English,’ the name is probably derived from the Anglo-French gobelin, or in medieval Latin gobelinus, which is probably a diminutive of Gobel, a name related to the word ‘kobold.’ Goblin is also related to the French lutin, and...

“Hermione!” exclaimed Harry exasperatedly.

“Oh, sorry...” she smiled sheepishly, took a deep breath and continued as if she weren’t interrupted at all, “Well, according to muggle folklore, goblins have a somewhat bestial appearance: their brow is fully covered with thick hair and their mouth is filled with yellowed, crooked teeth. They have some traits of old men, which can include shortsightedness, but they are generally described as being wiser than humans are. Some of the more outlandish claims are that they steal human women and children and hide them away underground, that goblin women steal human babies and replace them with ugly goblin babies, and they are an entirely male race. Like other fairies, goblins were more harmless early in muggle history, before the Puritans demonized them. When speaking a human tongue, goblins will stereotypically refer to themselves in third person, much like the house-elves actually do.”

When Hermione paused to take another breath, Hagrid successfully interrupted, “What if I were to tell youse that most o’ tha’ stuff abou’ ‘outlandish claims’ is true?”

“You mean about replacing human babies and stealing women?” Harry asked disbelievingly.

Hagrid nodded grimly, and said, “Aye, tha’ an a lotta things that aren’t well spoken abou’, an’ since you mentioned ‘em, ‘Ermione, what do yas know abou’ the ‘ouse-elves?”

Hermione visibly bristled, wanting to very much rail about the abuses and enslavement of an entire race of magical creatures, but deferred to Harry who said, “They’ve been enslaved by wizards for centuries, may of them are treated rather cruelly. I’ve seen first-hand how Dobby was treated in the hands of the Malfoys. Nobody ever told us about how that came to be, it was never in any of the histories we’ve taken.”

Again, Hermione felt the swelling in her heart as she looked in wonder at Harry, realizing that he actually did pay attention to her when she was spouting her facts about S.P.E.W. to Ron and him. He actually did listen to her. She was broken out of her musings when Hagrid spoke next.

Knowing that Hermione was fighting for the rights of house-elves, he looked at her apologetically as he said, “The ‘ouse-elves enslavement, as well as the goblins’ complacency, was a direct result o’ an agreement between the elders and wizards. Ya sees, the ‘ouse-elves sided wit’ the goblins durin’ the las’ rebellion. They use’ta be hired servants, but they ruthlessly murdered their wizardin’ masters in their sleep at the start o’ the rebellion. The remainin’ wizards, mos’ly half-bloods who couldn’t afford ‘ouse-elves, knew they were losin’ the war. They called upon the elders, a race o’ dark ‘unters who turned the tide o’ the war. After the rebellion, the ‘ouse elves were magically bound to serve wizards as repayment for their treachery. Tha’s why they’s not an ‘ole lot o’ pure-blood families t’day, an’ why the ‘ouse-elves can’t take payment for their service, an old debt that’s best not left unpaid. The goblins live in fear tha’ the elders will return if they cross the wizards, so they mos’ly keeps ta themselves an’ their business.”

A long silence ensued, until Hagrid said softly, “I’m sorry, ‘Ermione, tha’s why I didn’ want’a be involved with yer S.P.E.W., an’ ‘Arry, all I’s meant ta say abou’ tha’ little girl in there, was take care o’ ‘er. She’s more importan’ than ye may realize.” With that, Hagrid gently patted Harry on the shoulder, which buckled his knees slightly, and left the stunned pair standing at the doors to the infirmary.

They were about to descend the stairs when Madam Pomfrey’s voice called out from behind them, “Harry, Hermione, there’s someone in here who wishes to speak with you for a moment.”

They glanced at each other curiously, and then followed Madam Pomfrey back into the infirmary. She led them to a bed where a battered girl was resting. Her face was bruised and covered with jagged cuts and hex-marks. Her eyes were nearly swollen shut as she looked up to the pair. Harry heard Hermione’s sharp intake of breath as recognition hit her.

“Daphne Greengrass? Merlin, what happened?”

When Harry heard the name, his mouth fell open as he, too, recognized the formerly attractive, blonde Slytherin.

Daphne opened her mouth to answer, revealing many empty spaces where most of her teeth used to reside. She only managed a choked sob before she turned her face away.

“She was recovered from the ruins of her family’s home this morning,” stated Madam Pomfrey, answering for Daphne, “It appears that the Death Eaters didn’t care if they ended the line of one of the older pureblood families. She is the only survivor.”

Harry looked down at Daphne grimly, surprised that Voldemort’s henchmen would attack the family of a student in his ancestor’s house.

Daphne turned back to face them, motioning them to come closer with her bandaged hand, which had three fingers missing. When they leaned closer, she spoke through her broken teeth in a slurred, hoarse whisper, “They wanted to shilencsh me. I had Penni Pinder give page to Weashley, I’m shorry… didn’t know… The booksh in shecret ‘partment, shtone behin’ Panshy’s bed in Shlytherin dorm. Sho shorry…” Daphne turned her tearing eyes ashamedly away, while Madam Pomfrey ushered the two from the infirmary.

As they were descending the stairs from the infirmary, Harry asked, “Who is that ‘Penni Pinder’ that she mentioned?”

“She was a Hufflepuff prefect,” answered Hermione icily, “she graduated two years ago.”

Harry didn’t know what to think about whatever the Greengrass girl was trying to tell them, and what it had to do with the Weasleys, but Hermione’s eyes shone with anger as she clutched at the torn page in her pocket. She would soon be one step closer to finding out the truth about Ginny’s ‘elixir.’

They both walked in silence towards the Headmistress’s office on the second floor. As they approached the gargoyles guarding the staircase leading to her office, Hermione stopped Harry by grabbing his elbow and spinning him around to face her.

“Harry, I’m sorry… You know I didn’t mean to hurt Kotone. I didn’t stun her out of jealousy, I just wanted to protect you. From the way it appeared to me, she…”

“I know,” he cut her off, “I know you’d never do something like that if you didn’t have a good reason. I really don’t blame you.”

Hermione was looking deeply into his tired eyes, still feeling the rush of emotion that hit her during the conversation with Hagrid. At that particular moment, she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around his neck and snog him until he passed out.

Harry, who was looking right back into Hermione’s darkening eyes, saw within them the same ‘fire’ he had seen only a few times before. She was standing so close. He could just barely detect the essence of her cinnamon-scented soap as she almost imperceptibly leaned closer to him. His eyes flicked down to her lips, slightly parted and glimmering with some unknown-flavoured lip-gloss. Oh, how he wanted to discover what that flavour was…

He felt himself subconsciously lean forward. He was surprised to find that his hands had somehow found their way to her waist, and he wondered how long it would take for him to regret what he was sure they were about to do. Her eyes, now closer than he’d ever seen them, slowly fluttered closed and he instantly missed the deep pools of chocolate.

Harry’s breath hitched as he felt Hermione’s hands slide over his shoulders to his back, sending a slight shudder over his body. He could feel a light puff of breath from her lips, which were so very close to his that he couldn’t see them anymore. He was right, she was just tall enough where he didn’t have to crane his neck very far to have her lips in line with his. His eyes instinctively closed as he moved his head to eliminate that last centimeter of space between their lips.

The instant their lips met, a pulse of magic ballooned between their bodies, violently pushing them apart. The next thing Harry knew, he was sitting on the stone floor, massaging the large lump on the back of his head where it struck the wall of the second-floor corridor. He opened his eyes to see Hermione sprawled against the stone railing that overlooked the entrance hall twenty feet away.

“Hermione!” he called as he unsteadily got to his feet and made his way over to her. She was just starting to stir as he reached her.

“What happened?” she asked with a pained moan as she rubbed her hip, apparently where she hit the railing.

“I have no idea!” he answered as he carefully looked her over, searching for any injury, “Are you all right?”

“I think so,” she said as she allowed Harry to help her up from the floor. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, believing that they had just discovered one of the effects of the elixir.

“It’s not fair,” she sobbed, “Damn it, it’s not fair!” She looked into Harry’s eyes, “This is how it’s supposed to be. We’re supposed to be together, I know it… I can feel how right it is, but that dirty, cheating wench… she…” Hermione threw her arms around Harry, rested her head on his shoulder, and cried, “It’s just not fair.”

“What wench are you talking about?” asked Harry, “Is it Greengrass?”

After a minute, she calmed down enough to release Harry. She took his hands in hers and said, “You know that I love you, Harry. I’ve told you as much. Believe it or not, I know how you feel about me, what we just tried to do is evidence enough of that. I saw it in you a long time ago, I just thought I’d have to bide my time until you realized how you really felt, the last thing I’d ever do is pressure you or influence you in any way.”

Hermione paused, biting her lip worriedly while deciding if she should take the chance and tell him what Ron had discovered about Ginny. She figured it would be best to wait until she had a better understanding of the effects when she got her hands on that book.

With a sigh, she pulled Harry along towards the gargoyle, saying, “Come on, let’s see McGonagall.”

The gargoyle stepped aside as they approached, obviously expecting them. They rode the moving staircase up, and a minute later, they were standing before the large oak door. A murmur of whispering voiced could be heard through the door, which dropped into silence when they rapped the lion’s head knocker.

McGonagall’s stern voice called out, “Enter,” and they opened the door to find the room nearly filled to capacity with Order members, some of which had obviously just arrived and brushing the soot from their clothing. As they stepped into the crowded office, the fireplace erupted into green flames and yet another member stepped into the room.

The group parted, allowing an opening between the two teens and McGonagall’s desk. McGonagall looked up at them over her glasses and said in her stiff brogue, “Mr. Potter, Miss Granger… I believe we have some issues to discuss.”

-----~-----

18. Welcome Mr. Buck

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor any of the lyric bits that I use.

A/N: This was an incredibly tough chapter for me to write. There’s no Kotone in this chappie, but you’ll get a glimpse of what Ginny’s doing and what kind of trouble Harry has got himself into. All of the glaring mistakes are mine, but considering that English isn’t my first language, I’m sure you’ll forgive me. ^_^;

Please, R & R & most of all, Enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 18: Welcome Mr. Buck

-----~-----

Here I go into new days,
I'm pain, I'm hope, I'm suffer.
Yeah, hey, hey, hey, yeah
Here I go into new days.

Do you bury me when I'm gone?
Do you teach me while I'm here?
Just as soon as I belong,
then it's time I disappear.

Excerpt from the song ‘I Disappear’ by the band Metallica.

-----~-----

With a flash of green fire, Ron stepped into the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic, having used the floo from Grimmauld Place. He brushed the soot from his clothes as he looked around the unusually busy Atrium in vain for Harry, Hermione and Kotone.

He approached the Welcome Witch and got his visitor’s badge, then asked if Harry Potter had arrived yet. Receiving a response in the negative, he sat on the wall surrounding the now-repaired great golden Fountain of Magical Brethren in the center of the Atrium and quietly waited as various witches and wizards bustled to and from the floo fires. He didn’t fail to notice two wizards from the Magical Law Enforcement Division standing to either side of the visitor’s entrance, and several others standing around near the entrance to the lifts.

As soon as he sat down, a wizard walked by wearing fancy blue business robes, Neat yellow dress slacks and a pair of black boots with shiny silver stitching, giving him an odd, sideways glance as he passed. Being dressed in what wizards considered ‘normal’ attire, Ron didn’t give him a second thought.

When a half hour passed, he began to get worried. He knew it wouldn’t take this long to get from The Leaky Cauldron to the Ministry building. After another half-hour passed, he found himself pacing the length of the Atrium, all the while stealing nervous glances at the visitor’s entrance every thirty seconds or so.

He happened to notice one particular wizard dressed in plain black work robes who was strolling past. He noticed him because he happened to see the same pair of silver-stitched boots sticking out from the legs of his charcoal-gray denim pants. Now that he was paying closer attention to his surroundings, he began to notice other people who seemed to be just milling about aimlessly, or repeatedly coming and going through the guard station to the lifts, now obvious that they had changed their appearances each time. He also noticed with increasing uneasiness that most of the people were sneaking glances at both the visitors’ entrance and at him, as well.

‘Right, then,’ he thought to himself as he approached Eric Munch, the security wizard at the entrance to the lifts, and held out his wand to be registered.

Eric seemed unusually nervous as he silently took Ron’s wand and placed it on the scale-like device before he handed it back and nodded.

As he passed through the golden gates leading to the lifts, he caught a glimpse of a squat woman with a wide, toad-like face and short, rust brown hair tied with a large pink bow as she disappeared into a doorway followed by a group of four wizards. Even from the brief glimpse, he instantly recognized her as Dolores Umbridge, and recognized the dark purple roes that the four wizards wore. They were members of the Ministry’s Hit-Wizard squad.

He quickly made his way to the lifts, taking one down to the second level, which housed the auror’s offices. As soon as he entered the department, Benjamin Bones rushed up to him and practically dragged him into a nearby empty cubicle.

“Is Potter with you?” he urgently whispered to Ron.

“No, he was walking here from The Leaky Cauldron with that ‘girlfriend’ of his… he was supposed to be here by now.”

“So Granger is with him?” asked Ben.

“No, I mean yes, but that’s not the ‘girlfriend’ I meant. Hermione was following them to make sure they kept out of trouble.”

Ben gave him a questioning look, “Do you mean to tell me that Granger really isn’t Harry’s girlfriend? I thought for sure that by now…”

Ron interrupted him with an irritated sigh and said, “I can see why everyone would think that. It’s pretty obvious to everyone but Harry that they belong together,” the thought of what Ginny had done floated to the front of his mind as he added morosely, “even to my sister. The ‘girlfriend’ I mentioned is that, umm, ‘girl’ from the orphanage you saw us with. Since we took her out of there this morning, she’s been hanging onto Harry as if her life depended on him.”

“That very well may be the case,” said Ben gravely, “So, Potter’s on his way here?”

“Yeah,” replied Ron, “to give our statements. I had better give you mine now so I can go looking for them.”

“I’ve already got your statement from your father,” whispered Ben hurriedly while holding out a sheet of parchment for Ron to sign, “He woke you, you got to Haversham’s after the attack was over, and you helped Potter and Granger out with that Oota girl. You were seen in the Cauldron for a few hours after that. Now sign this.”

As he signed the statement, Ron let out an irritated growl at the thought of them being so carefully monitored, and was about to voice his objections when an aide appeared at the cubicle and whispered something to Ben. He abruptly stood and said, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

A minute later, Ben returned and took Ron firmly by the arm while saying, “Come on, Weasley. We’re taking the floo to Hogwarts.”

“Now hold on a second,” exclaimed Ron, “What the bloody hell is going on here? I floo into the Atrium, and there are a score of wizards in the Atrium looking like they’re about to hex me into oblivion, I get here and you’re about to have a baby over Harry… What’s going on?”

Ben turned and growled in a deep whisper, “Harry’s got himself into a fix this time. The Minister is tired of playing nice and wants him to publicly support the Ministry. Since Harry won’t cooperate, Scrimgeour is ‘raising the ante,’ so to speak. They have him on underage use of magic, apparating without a license, as well as kidnapping a ward of the Ministry along with some… other things. The Minister is also behind the current smear campaign in The Prophet, which will continue unless Potter actively lends his support to the minister.”

“Underage magic? Kidnapping? He was assisting you at the orphanage! He was responsible for capturing those Death Eaters! Once the public hears that, Scrimgeour couldn’t possibly charge Harry without an outcry!”

“That’s just it. The public won’t hear about it. I can guarantee that whatever is printed in The Prophet about Haversham’s, it won’t be kind to Potter.”

Ron was nearly apoplectic as he hissed, “Then we’ll go to The Quibbler, They’ll print Harry’s side of the story.”

“Don’t count on it. The Minister isn’t playing games this time. Do you have any idea what effect the St. Mungo’s attack had on public opinion? That a little girl and not his aurors captured the only prisoner from that raid? Do you think he’s going to allow himself to be publicly humiliated again if the story gets out that, once again, civilians captured the Death Eaters at the orphanage and not his aurors?”

Ron just shook his head as he followed Ben to the floo inside of the auror department, thinking that he would soon have to have another chat with his odd, but undeniably sexy Ravenclaw.

-----~-----

It was nearly noon as Molly Weasley stood in her kitchen, staring out through the window while watching the figure of her only daughter as she hovered above the makeshift Quidditch pitch behind the Burrow. Ginny had said that she was practicing for the upcoming school year when she walked out of the door with Ron’s Cleansweep 11, but Molly had been watching her for the past hour, and she’s done nothing but hover over the pitch, sometimes leaning close to the handle, as if about to race off, but never moving from the spot.

Molly glanced over at her twin boys, Fred and George, who happened to stop by for lunch, and to relate to her the tragedy of the attack on Haversham’s Home for Unwanted and Wayward Wizarding Waifs that happened early that morning. Certainly, she was appalled by what happened to those children, but she found that she really couldn’t pay attention, being too worried about her own family.

Ron and Arthur left the Burrow early that morning to respond to the attack. Of course, hearing from both of them that they were fine did little to quell her anxiety over their safety.

Then there was Ginny.

For the past few days, she’s done nothing but ride that silly broomstick from the time she awoke ‘till the time she went to bed, only coming inside for meals and a shower before locking herself in her room for the night.. Molly wouldn’t be terribly concerned if Ginny were actually flying it, rather than just hovering over the field.

Then there was the additional concern of Ginny’s health. She’d been constantly flushed and sweaty, with a glassy look to her eyes most of the time. Molly had heard strange moans and gasps coming from her room in the middle of the night. When asked, Ginny simply explained that she was still having occasional nightmares about Riddle and the chamber. She had asked Ginny repeatedly if there was anything wrong, but would always receive the same response… ‘I’m fine.’

With a sigh, Molly stepped out of the door and made her way to the Quidditch pitch to fetch her daughter for lunch.

“Ginerva! Come down here, it’s time for your lunch.”

Ginny abruptly sat up straight on the broomstick, her face, as was usual recently, was red and dripping with sweat, as if she had just run a mile. She glided down to the ground and climbed off the broomstick with as much composure as she could muster.

“Are you feeling okay?” asked Molly concernedly.

Clearly out of breath, she panted, “Yes… yes I’m fine, I just had a bit of a workout, and training hard… those Slytherins don’t stand a chance this year…”

Molly’s eyes narrowed, knowing full well that the one thing Ginny wasn’t doing was ‘training hard.’ She grabbed Ron’s broomstick out of her hands and used it to swat her bum, saying, “Move along, your lunch is on the table and it’s getting cold.” She watched Ginny as she walked hurriedly, but slightly unsteadily towards the kitchen of the Burrow. She sighed sadly, wondering what was wrong with her daughter.

Molly looked down at the broomstick in her hands. It had been years since she’s been on a broomstick, and never one of this quality. She remembered how much she loved flying when she was younger, how free and relaxed she felt while soaring through the air. Only slightly embarrassed, she glanced around to make sure nobody was looking. With a small grin, she mounted the broom and kicked off from the ground, intending to take a quick spin around the pitch before storing it in the broom shed.

A look of shock splayed across her face as she jumped from the broom, which was already almost ten feet in the air, and landed in the soft sand that covered the pitch floor. She stood and brushed the sand from her hair and clothes as the broomstick floated down towards her. She grabbed it of the air and ran her hand down the length of the stick.

With a clearly puzzled look on her face, she thought, “What in Merlin’s name happened to the Cushioning Charm?”

Puzzlement turned to anger as she spun on her heels and raced towards the Burrow as she screeched, “GINERVA WEASLEY! YOU HAD BETTER HAVE AN EXPLAINATION FOR THIS!”

Molly burst through the door and stormed into the kitchen, only to find Fred and George rising from the hearth of the fireplace and Ginny nowhere in sight. She was about to make for the staircase to her daughter’s bedroom, when George grabbed her arm as she tried to pass.

“Mum, we have to floo to Hogwarts. The connection will be open for five minutes.”

Only slightly distracted, she gave the twins a questioning glare.

The twins knew something of what was going on with Harry, but keeping their promise to him about not revealing his situation, decided to just relate only what they’d heard from their father, “They’ve found Harry. He’s at Hogwarts right now, and the whole Order’s been summoned. Something big is happening.”

Now, completely forgetting her shock at Ginny’s behavior, she joined the twins at the fireplace and they vanished, one after the other, into the green flames on their way to Hogwarts.

-----~-----

Harry stood and looked confusedly around the crowded room. The fireplace erupted again as Molly Weasley stepped into the room, followed immediately by George, then Fred.

As Molly rushed towards Harry, he braced himself for one of her rib-cracking bear hugs which she didn’t fail to administer whole-heartedly. After releasing Harry, Hermione was treated with a bear hug of her own as Ron stepped into the room from the hearth, followed by Benjamin Bones.

McGonagall surveyed the room, “That’s all of us, isn’t it, Arthur?”

Harry saw Arthur nod as he looked around at the near entirety of the Order of the Phoenix. They all wore concerned expressions, except for Lupin, who looked relieved at the sight of him. There were many faces that he only knew in passing, and quite a few new members. He wasn’t surprised seeing Benjamin Bones, the grim-faced auror that helped him when he first returned to London at the end of the previous term. He was probably recruited by Tonks, and that thought caused him to briefly glance around for her before remembering that she was probably still in St. Mungo’s. The other missing members were Charlie Weasley, who was still in Romania, and of course, Snape and Fletcher.

The thought of Snape caused his eyes to snap instantly to the portrait of the previous Headmaster of Hogwarts. Dumbledore looked as though he was sleeping, but Harry could see the blue twinkle from his nearly closed eyes. He didn’t fail to catch the barely perceptible wink that Dumbledore sent him, either.

Harry approached McGonagall’s desk with Hermione limping along beside him as Ron made his way to stand on his other side. On top of her desk were piles of envelopes, presumably holding the expected Hogwarts letters.

“What’s all this, then?” asked Harry suspiciously.

“It appears that we have a problem,” said McGonagall as she handed Harry a copy of The Daily Prophet, “This arrived by owl less than a half-hour ago.”

Harry took the paper with a strained grimace. As he unfolded it, he said with only a bit of annoyance in his voice, “What have they got to say about me today? You know that whatever it is, it’s a load of…”

He abruptly went silent as he read the headline.

‘HARRY POTTER – ‘THE BOY WHO LOVED…’ TOO MUCH?’

By Rita Skeeter

One day after the devastating attack on St. Mungo’s, Death Eaters struck again, attacking Haversham’s Home for Unwanted and Wayward Wizarding Waifs. Ministry aurors positioned in Diagon Alley were alerted to the attack as it was happening and responded immediately, but their efforts were complicated when Mr. Potter appeared at the scene and rushed in to find what many are calling his girlfriend.

The responding aurors were forced to both fight the Death Eaters and protect Mr. Potter as he recklessly stormed through the building. Once the Ministry captured the Death Eaters, Mr. Potter was seen leaving the building embracing his girlfriend, who just happens to be the child responsible for capturing Rodolphus Lestrange during the St. Mungo’s attack, the young Kotone Oota. Minutes later, Harry potter fled the scene with Miss Oota before he could be questioned by Ministry officials.

The three Death Eaters captured by the Ministry have been identified as Dender Donovan, along with two escapees from Azkaban, Antonin Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange. As reported yesterday, the Death Eater captured at St. Mungo’s was Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Lestrange’s husband.

The death toll at the orphanage stands at fifty-one, all, of course, half-bloods and muggle-borns, with only five survivors. Many at the ministry believe that the high death count is a direct result of Mr. Potter’s careless interference. The Ministry’s Department of Magical Law Enforcement has informed The Prophet that a warrant for Harry Potter’s arrest has been issued. The pending charges include Underage Use of Magic, Apparating Without a License, Obstruction of DMLE Personnel, Lewd and Lascivious Conduct Towards a Minor, and the kidnapping of Miss Oota, who remains a ward of the Ministry.

It has come to The Prophet’s attention that the young Miss Oota is not your average eight-year-old witch. She is reported to be a half-breed, although nobody has been able to explain exactly what her breeding is, given the fact that she is an orphan born outside of Britain.

After the attack, Mr. Potter was spotted in The Leaky Cauldron romantically embracing the Oota girl, and was later seen strolling Diagon Alley with his appallingly young girlfriend in his arms. This reporter must question the integrity of ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ and doubts the general opinion of him being ‘The Chosen One’ at all if he can so easily flaunt Wizarding law, obstruct the duties of our Ministry protectors, and take up romantically with half-breed children.

For the list of underage witches Harry Potter has been romantically linked to, see section 2. For the article on Harry Potter’s penchant for Asian witches, see pages three to five. For the reprint of Potter/Krum/Granger love triangle story, see section 3A. For the editorial on Harry Potter’s apparent lust for small children, see section 3B.

Harry’s eyes burned with rage as he read the front-page article. Hermione and Ron were reading along with him silently. He turned to Ben and asked coldly, “Is this true… about the warrant? They’re going to arrest me?”

When Ben nodded, Ron spoke up, “When I was waiting for you at the Ministry, there were a load of DMLE people milling about the Atrium, and I saw Dolores Umbridge with a squad of hit-wizards hiding near the lifts. It looked like they were waiting for you.”

“And what’s with then taking the angle of me being ‘romantically involved’ with a ten-year-old girl?” Harry muttered angrily, “They didn’t even get her age right, and I’m not romantically involved with anyone!”

The eyes of nearly everyone in the room flicked towards Hermione, including Ron’s. Hermione’s eyes hardened as her gaze dropped to the stacks of letters on the Headmistress’s desk, although Ron did catch the slight flush of pink that graced her cheeks.

Hermione’s breath hitched as the saw two envelopes in the center of the desk, one had her name upon it, and the other had Ron’s. A flicker of concern crossed her face when she discovered, after a quick scan with her keenly observant eyes, that Harry’s letter was either buried in the stacks, or not there at all.

Not noticing that the attention drifted to his best friend, Harry continued to rant, “And what’s this about there being only half-bloods and muggle-borns there? Surely there must have been at least one pureblood orphan in that place?”

“Of course not,” came the immediate reply from Dedalus Diggle, who was standing between Ben and Remus, “When a pureblood child’s parents die, they’re automatically placed into another pureblood family. It’s been like that for…”

Diggle was silenced by a sharp elbow jab from Remus while Hermione buried her face in her hands, knowing that was probably not the best thing to say to Harry.

Predictably, Harry’s face tinged red as his anger grew. He looked around at the witches and wizards in the room and asked savagely, “Have any of you ever been inside of that orphanage?”

The people all glanced nervously at each other as Diggle mumbled something about the children being well taken care of. Ben knew exactly what was coming next. Truthfully, that morning was the first time that he, himself, had ever been in the place.

“That ‘orphanage’ is a ruddy dump!” yelled Harry, “The kids sleep on cots that appear to be held together with spell-o-tape, most of the furniture became unserviceable a hundred years ago, about the time that that building should have been condemned, and they all wear filthy clothes that make my cousin’s hand-me-downs look like the Minister’s dress robes.”

Harry looked back to Ben, “Where are the other survivors now? I know they can’t be placed back in that outhouse they call an orphanage, seeing how the director’s dead…”

Ben looked as if he were going to be ill as he answered, “They’re at the Ministry.”

The furnace that was Harry’s anger burned hotter when he noticed Ben’s reluctance to answer, so he prodded through gritted teeth, “Exactly where in the Ministry are they?”

“Well, they’re in the holding cells, for now…” he answered quietly before hastily adding, “only until a new director can be hired.”

Hermione and Ron covered their ears, knowing exactly what was coming.

“They’re in jail?” seethed Harry incredulously, not disappointing Ron and Hermione at all, “Those bastards took those kids and put them in jail?”

“Well, where are they supposed to keep them?” defended Ben, “It’s not like they can be put up unsupervised in a muggle hotel.”

“How about ‘automatically’ placing them in someone’s home?” he turned to Molly Weasley and without losing any of the ire in his tone, yelled, “Weren’t you the one that told me that there were dozens of Wizarding families that offered to take me in? That you offered to take me in? Me, the orphaned half-blood? Was it just because I’m the oh-so-famous ‘Boy Who Lived?’ Was that the only reason the other families were willing to take me, too?”

Molly had her eyes closed while Arthur softly rubbed her back as she tearfully answered, “Of course not! We knew James and Lily and…”

Harry wasn’t listening as he continued his protest, “Is that what’s going to happen to Kotone? Would she be shoved in a cell until the Ministry decides to throw her back into squalor? I’m telling you now, that’s not going to happen. I promised her that I’d protect her, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

When Harry finished, he was breathing hard as he glared at the people in the room. When Hermione placed a comforting hand softly on his arm, he turned his angry glare on her, which only lasted a heartbeat before it diminished into a simple frown.

McGonagall took that opportunity to change the subject, although she knew it would only be temporary, “We’re here to discuss the future of Hogwarts. Due to current circumstances, the decision has been made by the Board of Directors for the school’s re-opening, only under certain conditions, which have obviously been dictated by the Ministry.”

McGonagall took the two letters that Hermione had noticed from the top of the desk, “Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger…” she said as she handed them each their respective envelopes.

Ron took his and opened it immediately, while Hermione held hers in both hands, just looking at her name spelled out in the customary emerald-green ink.

Ron let out a gasp and the room heard his muttered, “Bloody Hell,” as he held up a badge that was emblazoned, in red and gold, with the capital letter ‘H’ over the Hogwarts seal, along with a second crimson and gold badge with the capital letter ‘C’. Molly let out a sob as she whispered, “Another Head Boy in the family… and Quidditch captain!”

With trembling hands, Hermione tried to open hers’, but was having a rather difficult time, assuming what was contained within.

Barely concealing the scowl that still threatened to mask his face, Harry impatiently snatched the envelope from her quivering hands and opened it. He slid out the Head Girl badge and unceremoniously pinned it to her sweatshirt and said with only a hint of jealously, “Congratulations, you two, well done.”

Hermione only just started to breathe again as she wrapped Harry in a fierce hug, causing most of the people in the room to surreptitiously smile to themselves as they recalled the ‘not romantically involved with anyone’ statement that was made by Harry minutes before. She let out a small ‘squeak’ as she realized what she was doing and released Harry immediately, then touched the badge that he had pinned on her with the tips of her fingers, hardly believing that she was actually appointed Head Girl, especially while knowing that they actually were returning to Hogwarts for their final year. The quivering smile that was on her lips disappeared as she realized that Harry wasn’t handed a letter at all, nor did she see it on the Headmistress’s desk.

Hermione’s gaze snapped to McGonagall’s face and she asked, “Professor, what about Harry?”

McGonagall looked into Harry’s face, which was still lined in poorly concealed anger, and she sighed deeply. She glanced at Dumbledore’s portrait, which, by this time, was awake and focused on the proceedings along with all the other portraits hung around the room. Dumbledore gave her a smile and a slight nod.

“I’m afraid that one of the Governors’ ‘conditions’ for reopening Hogwarts was that ‘Harry Potter’ would not be taken back as a student this year.”

Hermione just blinked a few times as Ron’s mouth dropped wordlessly open. In one fluid motion, Hermione roughly pulled the badge from her sweatshirt, ripping the material in the process, and without a second thought, carelessly tossed it on top of McGonagall’s desk.

Ron looked sadly down at the pair of badges in his own hands, and despite the gasp of protest from his mother, he gently laid them down next to Hermione’s Head Girl badge and rested his hand on top of them, for only a moment, before he withdrew his hand and firmly said, “If Harry’s not here, neither are we.”

Harry’s heart lodged in his throat as he watched them return the badges. He knew what his friends were giving up, and that hurt him worse than anything the Ministry could dish out to him personally.

“Right, then…we’ll be off,” stated Harry coldly as the trio turned and began walking towards the door.

They hadn’t gone two steps when McGonagall’s voice rang out, “Potter… Harry… We’re not done here.”

The use of his first name surprised him enough to halt him in his tracks. He turned around to face the Headmistress, but said nothing.

“As I had said, ‘Harry Potter’ would not be taken back as a student. I didn’t say that you wouldn’t be coming back, that is, if you agree to the proposal that Albus and I have come up with.”

Harry stared back confusedly for a moment before coolly saying, “Alright, let’s hear it.”

“The only position I haven’t been able to fill this year is the professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts. If this position isn’t filled before August first, the Board of Governors will allow Dolores Umbridge back into that position. In light of the recent events, Albus and I have come up with a possible solution. Since the Ministry seems bent on taking you out of the picture, we believe that ‘Harry Potter’ will have to disappear.”

McGonagall opened a drawer, pulled out a sheet of parchment, and held it out to Harry. He stepped to the desk and took it from her hand. It was an offer of employment for a Mister Harold Buck to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Harry set the parchment down on the desk and shrugged while saying, “I’m sorry, Ma’am, but I don’t know him.”

“I believe that you do, Mr. Buck.”

Harry glanced behind him, looking for this ‘Mr. Buck’ she was referring to. All he saw there was Ron, looking confused, and Hermione, whose eyes were wide and she had her hand placed over her open mouth. It was then he realized that she was addressing him as this Mr. Buck.

He turned back to McGonagall and said, “That will never work. Everyone knows me.”

“We can change your appearance,” she simply answered.

Remembering the taste of the wretched potion from his second year, he grimaced while saying, “There’s no way I’m drinking Polyjuice every hour of every day for an entire school year.”

“Polyjuice is used for impersonating another, all we need to do is change what you look like, and not have you copy someone else’s appearance.”

McGonagall stood from her desk and drew her wand. She pointed it at Harry and muttered a long string of Latin. Everyone in the room watched as Harry transformed before their eyes. He grew from his former five-foot-ten frame to an even six feet, making his shirt and trousers comically small. His shoulders broadened and his facial features shifted. His mouth widened, his nose became more angled and his cheekbones became more defined. Even his scar had become almost invisible, only able to be detected upon a very close inspection of his forehead.

When McGonagall finished and studied her transfiguration handiwork, a surprised expression crossed her face, “That’s odd, his hair and eyes were supposed to change.”

Sure enough, his hair remained just as black and shaggy as ever, and his eyes were still the vivid, dark green, but even with that, nobody would mistake the person standing there for Harry Potter.

McGonagall handed Harry a mirror. He studied his features for a moment, seeing that he looked, not only quite a bit older, but also quite average, not extraordinarily handsome, but certainly not homely, either.

He placed the mirror down on the desk and said, “Okay, so I’m disguised… now what…”

“Oh, that will never do,” interrupted McGonagall, “We have to change your voice, too.” With another wave of her wand, Harry felt a mild tingling in his throat.

“Better?” he asked, and surprising himself as he heard himself speak with a voice much deeper than his own.

“Right, now what makes you believe I can teach an entire year of classes that I haven’t even finished taking myself?”

Everyone in the room laughed, except for McGonagall, who just wore an amused smirk. Hermione spoke up, saying, “Harry, you were the one who taught the entire D.A. the year before last.” She briefly sent Lupin an apologetic glance as she continued, “We learned more from you about Defense in the D.A. than in any class we’ve ever had. You were the reason that none of the students were killed when the Death Eaters were here inside of Hogwarts. I’ve read through the seventh year textbook, and you already know most of the NEWT-level spells, and if you let me, I’d be happy to help you prepare for your classes.”

Before he could protest further, McGonagall spoke, “Harry, Albus here has told me a little about what you plan to do. While I don’t know everything, he has suggested that you be given as much leeway as possible during the year. You’ll have the ability to adjust your class schedule to allow for any time off that you’ll need, and allow the Heads to accompany you if you so desire. In addition, I’ll ensure that the other professors make time available to give you private NEWT level tutoring in whatever subjects you feel you need. I’m afraid that this is the best we can do for you.”

Harry picked up the mirror again and looked at himself, “Is this permanent?” he asked, referring to his appearance.

“The transfiguration should last about a month, at which time I’d have to do it again. So what do you say, Mr. Buck?”

Harry placed the mirror back on McGonagall’s desk, and then picked up the three badges resting there. With a determined expression, he nodded to her, saying, “That’s Professor Buck, Ma’am. He turned and handed Ron’s badges to him. Hermione proudly beamed at him as he drew his wand, quickly repaired her torn sweatshirt and then pinned her badge back where it belonged.

When Harry turned back to face McGonagall, he was met with a brief flicker of one of her extremely rare smiles before her usual stern expression returned, “Now, about Miss Oota…”

“What about her? She’s going to be staying with us until the term starts.”

“Are you sure that’s wise?” asked McGonagall.

“I promised her that I’d take care of her,” said Harry crossly, “There’s no possible way that I would allow her to go back into the Ministry’s hands.”

McGonagall sighed and said, “Then maybe it would be best if she stays here until September.”

Harry didn’t even have to think about it, “She’s staying with us, and that’s final. I can’t tell you where we’ll be, but I know we’ll be safe until the term starts, and I’ll be sure to return here beforehand to renew this disguise.”

Many of the order members started muttering amongst themselves. Lupin looked as if he were about to say something, but just hung his head and remained silent.

“Harry, what do you know about taking care of children?” asked molly timidly, still feeling the embarrassment from Harry’s stern words.

He let out a short, bitter laugh before stating, “I’ll just think of what my uncle Vernon would do, and then do just the opposite. Besides, she’s ten years old, it’s not like she’s a baby.”

Harry then looked back to McGonagall, “Would it be alright if we spent the night here. I want to be around when Kotone wakes up, I’m sure she’ll be scared finding herself in a strange place.”

“Of course, I’ll have an elf show you to your quarters, and Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to the Heads’ common room.”

“One more thing,” said Harry, “I’d like the opportunity to discuss something with Professor Dumbledore’s portrait at some point tomorrow, if that’s alright with you, that is.”

McGonagall nodded and summoned a house-elf to escort them to their respective rooms. When the door had closed, the room burst into loud conversations as McGonagall turned and looked at Dumbledore’s portrait.

“Everything will be fine, Minerva,” said Dumbledore’s image, “We knew the Minister was going to pull something like this, and we had to find a way to ensure Harry’s return here.”

McGonagall just nodded grimly to the portrait, then collected up the letters from her desk and handed them to a house-elf to bring to the owlry for delivery. She looked sadly at the single stack of five letters that remained on the desk.

The top letter was addressed: Mr. Barnabas Windon, Room 6, Haversham’s Home for Unwanted and Wayward Wizarding Waifs.

-----~-----

19. Elixir of Love’s Disaster

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own the bits of lyrics I use. I make no money from anything I do with them.

A/N: This chapter certainly merits the ‘R’ rating, it might even border on the NC-17 rating, so please let me know if it’s time for me to officially up the story rating. All four sections of this chapter are inter-related, and relatively important to the plot of the entire story. We learn the nature of the Elixir, we discover the trigger for that elixir, and how badly it went wrong. Not much action, but a lot of info, so pay attention! R & R & Enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 19: Elixir of Love’s Disaster

-----~-----

The world was on fire,
no one could save me but you.
Strange, what desire will make foolish people do.

I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you,
and I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you.

What a wicked game you play, to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you.

No, I don't want to fall in love.
[This love is only gonna break your heart.]
No, I don't want to fall in love,
[This love is only gonna break your heart.]
With you.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Wicked Game’ by Chris Issak.

-----~-----

Ginny Weasley burst through the door into the kitchen of The Burrow and sat heavily into the chair next to her brother Fred. Her face was sweaty and heavily flushed. Her breath came in short, ragged pants, but not from the sprint from the makeshift Quidditch pitch, but from the ‘activity’ that she was involved in while riding her brother’s broom.

She still felt the burning tension in her lower abdomen. No matter how many orgasms she experienced, it was never enough. She found that if she modified the Horton-Keitch braking charm on the broom, it caused an intense, shuddering vibration along the broomstick, which in turn sent an oscillating pulse grinding against her loins, and it was especially energetic when she removed the cushioning charm, causing the shaft to nestle directly against her crotch.

She quickly stuffed the food that was on the plate into her mouth with enough zeal to make her brother Ron envious. In less than a minute, she had the plate emptied before she abruptly stood from the table and raced up the stairs to her room as her brothers responded to a summons from the floo.

She was barely able to cast the locking and silencing charms on her door. The feeling was getting worse. It had been building all morning, and not even the ‘magic broom ride,’ as she had come to call it, could sate the furious desire that burned within her. She could feel her own juices seeping down her legs from under her hopelessly soaked knickers.

She took her wand and placed a dampening charm on her abdomen, hoping that this time it would do something, anything to quell the intense, ravenous need that burned within her. She tried numbing jinxes, which did absolutely nothing. She tried a muscle relaxation spell, which did even less. She tried stinging hexes on herself, hoping the pain would drive some of the erotic longing away, but only intensified her lustful passion. Ginny let out a frustrated growl as she seriously considered stunning herself to get at least some relief from the insatiable arousal.

Ginny was getting scared. She knew she couldn’t keep fooling her family about what was happening to her, especially her mother. She was becoming reckless, forgetting to renew the silencing charms, carelessly rubbing herself against banisters and fences, anything that was about waist high to her. She hadn’t had a minute’s sleep in two days.

Suddenly, her eyes widened and she let out a choked gasp. She threw herself back on her bed, took hold of her wand and shoved the thick, smooth handle down the front of her knickers as her eyes thinned into narrow slits before they closed completely. In her mind ’s eye, she saw a vision of her Harry, standing in a corridor at Hogwarts, in front of Hermione. With both of her small hands on the shaft of her wand, she began furiously rubbing the handle along her slit as she saw them move closer together. A low, gurgling moan escaped her throat as the first wave of a powerful orgasm burned within her belly. She arched her back as the fire exploded within her. Her pulled her knees together and up to her chest with her legs kicking and flailing in the air. She saw Hermione’s eyes close as Harry’s lips moved even closer to hers. A long, guttural hiss escaped Ginny’s clenched teeth as she saw Harry press his lips against Hermione’s.

Ginny froze and her eyes flew open. She took an incredibly deep shuddering breath, and then let out a horrible, blood-curdling scream. Pain as she’d never felt before in her life wracked her entire body and she curled up into a tight ball on top of her bed. She felt her limbs twitching in agony as her screams echoed throughout the now empty house.

It wasn’t only physical pain she felt, but an emotional rending that seemed to shatter her heart. Terrible anguish and grief clawed at her mind, as if her whole family, all her friends, everyone she ever knew had been ripped from her life. An indescribable loneliness crashed down on her, causing her screaming to be punctuated by soul-rending sobs.

Ginny was not having a very good day.

-----~-----

Harry, Ron and Hermione were led along a corridor by the tiny house-elf towards what they recognized as the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Ron kept glancing at Hermione, fully expecting her to try to convert the elf to the ways of S.P.E.W., but was mildly surprised when she just walked along quietly beside the now unrecognizable Harry.

They passed the door to the classroom and a short way past that they came to an non-descript door, unmarked except for a small engraving of a pair of crossed wands on the center of the jamb above the door. The elf instructed Harry to touch his wand to the crossed wands while thinking of a password. He did as he was told, and the engraving briefly flashed blue. The lock clicked and the door swung open, revealing a rather large living room. The elf also informed him that the unlocking of his quarters also gave him control of the classroom and office next door.

The windows on the far side of the room were hidden by heavy black drapes that blocked almost all of the early afternoon sunlight. On the right hand wall were two doors, separated by a massive fireplace. There were no paintings or any other decorations at all on the walls or shelves. A comfortable-looking overstuffed sofa sat before the fireplace, with a pair of tall, padded wing-backed chairs on either side of it. Between the windows on the far side of the room sat a large writing desk, covered with numerous rolls of dusty parchment. A huge bookshelf took up the space from floor to ceiling along entire left-hand wall, the sight of which caused an involuntary squeak of excitement from Hermione. This, in turn caused a pained groan from Ron and an amused smirk from Harry.

“This looks comfortable…” said Hermione as she scanned the drab looking room, “a bit gloomy, but comfortable. It’s almost as if…”

When Hermione abruptly stopped, Harry glanced at her and saw her looking at him with a pained expression. It suddenly struck him that this was probably Snape’s room from the previous term.

Ron looked between the two and upon seeing their disturbed expressions, asked, “What’s wrong?”

“This was Snape’s quarters,” answered Harry, “He didn’t have a chance to retrieve his things before he fled... that night.”

The house-elf who accompanied them looked unusually flustered and started speaking hastily, “Taggy is sorry, Perfessor Buck. Taggy will cleans the room right away!”

Harry halted the little elf with his hand, “That’s okay, Taggy. Leave the room as it is. I’d like to look through whatever’s here. Why don’t you escort my friends here to their dorm, then if you could, send me up a sandwich or something? I’m starved!” Then, as almost an afterthought, he said to Taggy, “and maybe a new set of sheets for the bed?”

The elf cautiously nodded and waited outside the door for Ron and Hermione. The trio made a quick inspection of the remaining rooms, the bedroom and the bathroom, both of which looked just as morbid as the sitting room, but found nothing out of the ordinary. A few times during the cursory search, Harry noticed Hermione giving him odd glances when she thought he wasn’t looking and thought that perhaps she didn’t much care for his new appearance.

Harry sent Ron and Hermione to settle into their rooms, saying he was tired and desperately needed a shower and a nap. Of course, once in the bathroom, the unappealing thought occurred to him that Snape might have used the towels that were folded there. That notion vanished when he remembered the constant greasy state of Snape’s hair, telling him that the ex-professor probably had never set foot in the shower.

When he stepped out of the shower, he was slightly startled when he caught his own reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help but to be impressed with the job McGonagall did on him. Human Transfiguration, as he learned in her class, was very difficult and dangerous, which is why there are so few Metamorphmagi in the world who aren’t naturally gifted like Tonks. He briefly wondered if his relatively rare eye colouring would lead to anyone recognizing him.

By the time he was through in the bathroom, he saw that the bed linens had already been changed and there was a tray with enough sandwiches to feed the entire Gryffindor house, Ron included. He silently thanked the elf as he grabbed two sandwiches, sat on his bed and quietly ate as he pondered recent events.

The thing that weighed heaviest on his mind wasn’t the teaching position he was offered, Kotone’s injury, the horror of what happened at the orphanage, nor was it the discovery of a possible horcrux in Diagon Alley. It was the fact that he tried to kiss Hermione.

What bothered him the most about the ill-fated kiss was the fact that he didn’t feel how he assumed he would feel after kissing a girl. Up until the moment their lips touched, he felt the butterflies in his stomach, he felt the desire for her burning within his chest and the light-headed feeling that fogged his mind. He had marveled at the look of passion in her eyes, the flush that made her face positively glow with prurience. He felt her love for him radiating from her, and at that moment, he couldn’t deny his love for her.

Now, strangely enough, he felt nothing. No love, no lust… nothing but an unpleasant empty feeling, like part of his insides had been removed. What had happened in that corridor? Did Hermione do something when she realized that he was trying to kiss her? Did he do something subconsciously? He knew he still cared about her, but the dull ache in his chest told him that he’d lost her love before he’d even felt it fully.

When he finished eating, he slid beneath the covers and hoped that he could get some desperately needed sleep.

-----~-----

When Taggy escorted them into the Head’s common room, Ron excitedly rushed to his bedroom, which was the size of the entire dorm that he shared with the other sixth-year Gryffindor boys. Hermione sat quietly on the large sofa in the common room, staring into the cold fireplace and nervously sucking on her lower lip. She heard Ron talk the elf into bringing them some food.

After the elf disappeared with a pop, Hermione quietly said, “The book is hidden in the Slytherin girls’ dorms. Will you come with me to look for it?”

It took a moment of thought before Ron realized exactly which book she was talking about, “The book that potion page is from? How do you know?”

Hermione was still staring blankly into the empty fireplace, “We met Daphne Greengrass in the hospital wing. She said that she convinced a Hufflepuff, Penni Pinder, to give the page to Ginny saying it was a mild love potion. It must have been at least two years ago, because Penni graduated at the end of our fifth year”

By the time the elf returned with a huge tray of food Ron was feeling quite ill, so much so that he just thanked the elf, but left the food untouched. He knew that if the Slytherins had anything to do with what was happening, it was probably conceived by Voldemort. After the elf left, he strode to the entrance and held the door open, saying, “No time like the present.”

Hermione let out a pained groan as she rose from the sofa, still feeling the injuries from being hurled down the second-floor corridor, and followed him from their common room. Several minutes later, they found themselves in the dungeons standing before a blank stretch of wall that Ron remembered from his visit there while polyjuiced with Harry.

“The entrance is here, but how do we get in without a password?”

Hermione let out an aggravated sigh, “Ronald, we’re the Head students now. We don’t need a password.” She placed her hand on the wall and the hidden door slid open.

When Hermione entered the empty common room, she was surprised to find that it was nothing like the dank, dreary dungeon room she had imagined. The room was large, easily twice the size of the Gryffindor common room, with a relatively high ceiling, paneled in a dark mahogany wood which were lined with silver and green banners. Along the sides of the walls sat many small, sunken conversation nooks that would provide privacy for any group that huddled into one. There were many paintings along the walls, most of which featured images of rather dark looking witches and wizards, bleak castle keeps, and dismal, cheerless landscapes.

A very large fireplace embellished with carvings of serpents sat in the center of the wall opposite the entrance. There were two doors, one on each side of the fireplace, which they assumed led to the boys and girls dormitory rooms. Hermione walked up to the right hand door and swung it open, revealing a hewn-stone passage with doors evenly spaced on both sides. She walked to the first set of doors and read the bronze plated fixed above each door, the right one reading ‘Seventh Year Girls’ and the left reading ‘Sixth Year Girls.’

Hermione put her hand on the handle to the sixth year dorm and glanced beside her as she prepared to open the door, only to find that Ron wasn’t with her. She looked back towards the common room and saw him standing nervously just outside of the doorway.

“Ron? Are you coming?”

“I don’t think so,” he said meekly as his eyes scanned the walls of the corridor, “You know what happens when boys try to get into the girls’ dorms. In ours, you just slide down a ramp, who knows what the Slytherin penalty is.”

“Well,” said Hermione in an annoyed hiss, “If you would have ever bothered to read Hogwarts: A History, you’d know that the protection was broken over two hundred years ago, and none of the Heads of House since has felt it necessary to reestablish it. Now, come on!”

After only a few moments of hesitation, Ron cautiously made his way down the passage to Hermione. She rolled her eyes as she opened the door and stepped into the large, cut-stone chamber. Six beds were lined along the opposite wall, all of which had been stripped of their bed clothing, leaving only the bare mattresses and pillows on the four-poster frames.

“Daphne said it’s hidden in a secret compartment in the wall behind Pansy Parkinson’s bed,” said Hermione as she limped along, examining each bed closely.

“How do we tell which one?”

Hermione stopped at the fourth bed, and Ron saw a disgusted frown cross her face as she said, “This is the one. Help me check the wall, but be careful, knowing the Slytherins, it’s probably trapped.”

“How do you know this is her bed?”

“Look at the mattress, Ronald,” she said simply as she studied the wall, “Notice the stains? Let’s just say that Pansy isn’t very concerned with hygiene, nor is she very choosy about with whom she shares her bed, now, help me look.”

Ron looked mildly shocked as he looked over the many yellowing spots, and one rather large brown stain that he guessed was dried blood. He wore a horrified expression as he tore his eyes away from the mattress to help study the wall.

Seeing nothing obvious about the wall, Hermione drew her wand and passed it broadly over the stones and incanted, “Patesco.”

Nothing happened. She tried a different spell, “Expositus,” with the same negative result. She furrowed her brows in thought for a moment, wondering if she had guessed the wrong bed. She let out a sigh and said, “It looks like I’ll have to do it the hard way.

She started with the top stone nearest the left of the bed, tapping it with her wand while encanting, “Produxi Latebram.” She quickly went from stone to stone, repeating the spell on each one until they had to move the bed to get to the stones nearest the floor.

When she reached the middle stone in the bottom-most row, the spell caused it to glow red. Without a pause, she waved her wand across the stone and said, “Specialis Revelio.”

An arithmantic description of a stunning hex was displayed on the stone in smoky red characters. Hermione smiled to herself as she removed the simple trap with a quick “Dolus Exarmo,” before casting “Alohomora,” which caused the stone to pop out slightly from the wall.

Ron easily slid the stone out while Hermione lit the tip of her wand and looked in. Inside of the hole, she saw three bottles of firewhiskey, something that appeared to be a soiled and crusty artificial penis, and a stack of wizard photos, the topmost one showed Pansy engaged in a very lewd activity with Malfoy and Goyle. Resting in the very back of the hole she saw a very old book. After making sure there were no other traps or spells, she reached in and with a shaking hand, withdrew the aged tome.

She was about to tell Ron to replace the stone when an evil smirk crossed her face. She quickly scooped up the stack of photos and shoved them in her pocket. They replaced the stone and the bed to their original positions, leaving the room exactly as they found it before rushing back to their own common room.

Having retrieved the book with no major complication, Ron’s appetite returned in full force. He grabbed a pair of sandwiches and began greedily eating while Hermione sat heavily into the sofa, withdrew the torn page from her pocket, and looked the book over for the first time.

The book’s title was ‘Obligations and Responsibilities of the Unsoiled: A Guide for the Preservation of Line Purity,’ by Ichabod Istharmus MacDermott. Even though she was anxious to get to the section from which the page was taken, she knew through experience that in order to fully understand the context, she would have to read the entire book. She sat silently as she carefully scanned each page. The slight frown that she showed when she began reading deepened with every turn of the page.

She quickly found that the book was about wizard bloodlines and the importance of keeping pureblood pure. The author of the book didn’t spare the use of any offensive terminology, in fact, in the preface of the book was a list of derogatory terms for muggles and muggle-borns, most of which she’d never heard before. She read through chapters with titles such as ‘The Superiority of the Unsoiled: Why purebloods deserve power,’ ‘Classification of Bloodlines: How pure are you?’ and ‘Encouraging Discouragement: Do your children really understand that they’re superior?’ In each chapter were helpful spells and potions for determining how pure a suitor’s blood is, guidelines for tracing family histories, suggestions for the heads of families about familial ground rules and how to enforce them, along with a very bigoted diatribe on the way ‘dirt-veined muggles, mudblood feculence, abominable half-bloods and treasonous blood-traitors’ should be treated.

She came to a section titled, ‘Cleansing the Filth: What to do when your line is threatened.’ There she read a long treatise on the importance of quickly and overwhelmingly stopping what the book calls ‘unthinkable,’ the mating of a pureblood with an underclass. There were lists of rather dark spells, potions and rituals designed to terminate pregnancy, sterilize any suitors who aren’t pureblood, or to eliminate the hormonal lust in adolescent children.

“Ron, I’ve found it! The place where the page was torn from.”

Ron walked up behind the sofa and looked over her shoulder. The torn page matched perfectly with the torn edge that was still fastened to the binding. The page before explained what to do when your pureblood child has fallen in love with an underclass. It made it quite clear that no measure was too strong when faced with the destruction of a bloodline by the sullying of the purity. It also made note on the importance of the parents’ roles in the execution of the following ritual. For a male child, the mother must perform the ritual, for a female, the father must execute the spell.

She replaced the torn page into the book and glanced over the now familiar text.

‘Distraho Careo Diligo Venenum,’ she thought to herself, ‘distraho is Latin for ‘estrange,’ careo means ‘to be deprived of,’ but can also mean ‘to feel the want of.’ I know that diligo can mean either ‘love’ or ‘highly prized,’ and venenum means potion… but could also mean ‘poison!’

“Elixir of Love’s Distraction’ my arse!” she muttered to herself, believing that she was beginning to realize what was happening to Harry and her, and the mistake that Ginny had made.

Effects:

Subject- will begin to feel animosity towards Object within 30 days of exposure, and at the same time acquire a certain degree of awareness for the wearer. Feelings of abandonment from the object will take hold after 120 days. After 200 days, object should be totally disregarded by the subject while attention should be being paid to the wearer to the point of distraction.

Object- will begin to feel jealousy of subject within 40 days of exposure. After 100 days, object should begin to actively avoid, if not be repulsed by the subject. After 150 days, the object should be actively seeking to sever all relations with the subject. There should be no discernable reaction between the object and the wearer.

Wearer- should see an increased level of attentiveness from the subject within 40 days. Effects should remain constant from day 40 to day 300, after which the effect will slowly, but steadily increase to the point where the subject’s true feelings are converted to the wearer’s advantage.

“Attentiveness…” she said thoughtfully, “To the wearer’s advantage… the advantage would be that the child would pay more attention to the parent and start to ignore the ‘filth-vein.’ Ron, this isn’t a ‘home-wrecker’ spell! It’s not designed to steal someone away, it’s meant for a parents to keep non-purebloods from marrying into pureblood families!”

Ron gave a puzzled frown, “But Harry’s not a pureblood, he’s a half-blood.”

“Yes we know that, but Ginny thought this was a love potion, she had no idea it was a bloodline preservation ritual!”

Hermione went on the read the end of the torn page, ‘The full effects should be realized within 400 days. After the initial exposure, the re-application of the elixir should…’

She continued on to the following page, “only be necessary if the child has had sexual relations with the filth before the initial exposure, at which time the child must be physically kept from seeing the dirt-vein, and kept with the respective parent for six weeks before the re-application.”

“The parent will feel when the first kiss after the initial exposure occurs. Re-application must be introduced within the following thirty hours after the ‘first kiss’ for the spell to be finalized. The potion phase of the ritual must be disposed of after six weeks, after which the potion becomes unstable, and results unpredictable. If there has been no sexual contact, re-application must never be attempted due to the change in hormonal balance that occurs after the loss of virginity would cause unforeseeable adverse effects. If the child begins courting a new dirt-vein, a new preparation must obviously be prepared. The effects are permanent, as they break the soul-bond between the lovers and re-creates the familial bond between parent and child. This ritual can be broken by the parent, but honestly, why would any respectable pureblood family want to do that?”

Hermione turned to Ron, “Have you ever seen Harry snog Ginny?”

A brief flush of pink tinged the tips of Ron’s ears as he answered, “Yeah, I’ve seen him kiss her a few times, always turned my stomach, though…”

“No, I mean have you ever seen him make out with Ginny? You know, full tongue, kissing her neck, feeling her…”

“No!” interrupted Ron with a yell, the flush that began on his ears had now washed over his entire face, “and I don’t think I’d want to, either.”

“Neither have I. Do you think you can ask him? You know, man to man? It would be terribly awkward if I were to ask him a question like that, but I’m pretty sure I know the answer already.”

“I don’t know if I can, a bloke feeling up my sister is something I try to keep out of my mind, ya know? Why do you need to know that anyway?”

“I’d bet my last knut that he hasn’t. This spell created a familial bond between Ginny and Harry. If she really did use this on him, he more than likely felt a love as he would towards a mother, not a girlfriend. I’m sure Harry would have a hard time distinguishing between the two initially, seeing that he never knew either before, but think about it, do you think that you could work up the nerve to snog your own mother?”

The red in Ron’s face was instantly replaced with an ashen-green, “Never in a million years.”

“Exactly! That’s why I think that the most Harry could consciously do with Ginny would be somewhat chaste. Ginny probably thought Harry was being a gentleman or something noble like that. She even said that when they broke up… she said Harry was doing it for a ‘silly, noble reason.’

“Well, I’ll ask him, but don’t blame me if I hex him up a bit if he tells me he’s done anything more than kiss her.”

Hermione glanced at the tray of food longingly, but the exhaustion of the morning’s events had finally caught up with her, “Listen, we both better get some sleep,” said Hermione as she closed the book, tucked it under her arm and rose from the sofa, “If I’m not here when you wake up, I’ll be with Harry.”

As Ron grabbed yet another sandwich, he couldn’t help but to notice Hermione’s shapely arse as she walked to her bedroom. It was smaller than Luna’s wide, heart-shaped butt, but still pleasant to look at, even through her somewhat loose-fitting sweatpants.

For the briefest moment, he felt a pang of jealousy, but then the thought of what Harry was going through was enough for him to regret what he was feeling immediately. He had no claim to her. He had his chance and blew it, even though he knew it was a sham from the beginning. He grabbed another two sandwiches and walked to his bedroom with his thoughts drifting to the recent memory of Luna Lovegood’s red spandex shorts flowing through his mind

In the other bedroom, Hermione, freshly showered, was sitting naked on her bed, wand in hand and examining the bluish-purple bruise that ran along her right side from her rib-cage to her upper thigh. She knew something was wrong, not with the ‘minor’ injury that she was nursing at the moment, but with a much more painful one. At first, she thought it was the disorientation from being violently thrown down a corridor, but it soon became clear to her that after that kiss, something was ripped from her. Something that she felt, to the deepest part of her soul, was irreplaceable.

She fully realized it while in Professor McGonagall’s office. The desire, the intense, burning passion she had felt for Harry the moment before they kissed had disappeared. She remembered seeing, as that ‘force’ thrust them apart, what appeared to be an ethereal, flowing ribbon that connected Harry to her. As if in slow-motion, she saw that ribbon of light stretch and break as they were pushed apart.

She suspected that Harry also felt what she was feeling, and what she wasn’t feeling. The only thing that kept her from breaking down completely was the line in the book, ‘Re-application must be introduced within the following thirty hours after the ‘first kiss’ for the spell to be finalized.’ If Ginny really didn’t have any more of that elixir, there was hope.

She finished casting what limited healing charms she knew on her bruised hip and cracked ribs. She made a mental note to talk to Madam Pomfrey about learning a few of the more advanced healing techniques, knowing that they would be useful with what they needed to do. She didn’t bother with a glamour charm, figuring that the chances of Harry wanting to see her again in her current state of undress was pretty slim. She laid back on her bed, drew the sheets over herself before she settled back into her pillow and closed her eyes.

A single tear leaked from the corner of her eye as sleep took her.

-----~-----

Harry was walking down the hallway of an upper floor of Twelve Grimmauld Place. With every step he took, little puffs of dust rose from his feet from the dirty runner carpet. The house was deathly quiet, except for a distant dripping of water. For some reason, he had to find the source of this drip. He could see the staircase in front of him, but with each step that he took, the stairway seemed to get further away.

He heard a sultry giggle from behind him. He knew it was Hermione’s voice, but he questioned that fact because he’d never heard Hermione giggle. He spun around and saw a light coming from beneath the door of Mrs. Black’s bedroom, the same filthy room that they kept Buckbeak the Hippogriff in two years before. He slowly and quietly made his way to the door, laid his hand on the serpentine knob and cautiously opened it.

A soft, golden glow emanated from inside the room. Hermione was kneeling in the now strangely familiar giant clamshell. She had her face buried in her hands while her shoulders heaved as she sobbed. She lifted her tear-streaked face from her hands and looked directly at him. He saw her lean forward, reaching a trembling hand out to him with a pleading look on her anguished face. She was saying something to him, pleading with him, but for what, he couldn’t tell. No sound at all escaped the room, all he could hear was that faint, distant dripping.

As he closed the door, he saw her face contort and cry out to him. He vaguely wondered what Hermione was going on about, but still, the door soundlessly clicked shut, plunging the hallway into complete darkness.

He could see nothing in the darkness, even the light that came from beneath the door was gone. He did have the strange sensation that something light and soft was gently resting on his chest, like a cloak or blanket. He opened his eyes, which surprised him because he didn’t realize he had closed them. He saw that he was no longer in a familiar place, not his dirty, little room with broken furniture, not the clean, antiseptic room of St. Mungo’s Hospital.

He found that he was lying in a bed in some large chamber. He felt a surge of panic rise inside of him as he heard pained moans among the whispering voices that came from the other side of a curtain that circled the bed.

He stood from the mattress and felt his head spin. It was an unusually long drop from the bed before his feet hit the floor, and adding to his confusion, he found that all he was dressed in was a thin, white nightgown.

He peeked out through the curtains and saw, in a bed that was next to his, a girl who’s face appeared to be brutally beaten. Large cuts peppered her face, her lip was grotesquely torn and her eyes were nearly swollen shut. Her eyes weren’t completely swollen shut, because the moment she saw him, she let out a loud, horrified scream.

The panic he felt intensified. He dashed out from between the beds, and noticed the chamber that he was in was lined with a score of other beds, all occupied by people who were now looking at him with faces ranging from terror to rage. More than one of the people raised their wands and pointed them at him.

With the panic, fuelled by adrenaline, he made a dash to the double-doors on the far side of the chamber, dodging hexes and curses as he ran. It only took him a moment to make it to the doors, and he threw himself through them as he heard the hexes impact the door.

As he fled down the stairs his only thought was that he had to find his lion-brother. He would know what to do. He promised to protect him. He heard shouts coming from up the stairway, a woman’s voice calling to him. How did they know his name?

Doors and passages blurred past him as he raced along, using his hands and feet for propulsion. He found another, wider staircase leading down to a large, empty hall, lined with long tables and dimly illuminated by the early-evening sky that he could see through the apparently glass-lined roof. There was a raised dais at the back of the hall with a single, long table and a huge golden throne placed in the center. With another burst of speed, he sped across the hall, hid himself behind the large throne and then closed his eyes and listened.

He heard an unfamiliar name being repeated, ‘Professor Buck… Professor Buck! Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry Potter!”

He opened his eyes and found that he was still in his quarters. His heart was still beating wildly from the panic he felt in his dream. From out in his sitting room he heard McGonagall’s urgent voice, “Mr. Potter!”

He climbed from his and entered the sitting room, completely forgetting that he was only wearing his boxers. He kneeled into the floo and answered her, “I’m sorry, Professor, I was sleeping, what’s the matter?”

McGonagall stared out of the floo, visibly flustered, but not from his state of undress, “Harry? What happened?”

He looked questioningly at the Headmistress’s face, then realized that he was only in his underwear. He visibly reddened and stammered out an apology, “I’m so sorry, I’ll get dressed…”

“No, Potter, What happened to you? What did you do?”

“I was sleeping, you just surprised me and…”

“Harry,” interrupted McGonagall, “Look in your mirror!”

Harry stood, walked into his bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror.

‘What’s the problem?’ he thought to himself as he studied his reflection, ‘I look the same as I always… Bloody Hell!’

He realized that the face that was looking back at him was of Harry Potter, not of Professor Buck. He raced back to the floo and said, “Honestly, Professor, I didn’t do anything! I just took a shower and went to bed!”

“Well, we’ll worry about that later,” said McGonagall, “Right now we have a problem. It seems that our Miss Oota has awoke prematurely and startled a few of our… ‘guests’ in the hospital wing. She has fled the infirmary and is somewhere in the castle.”

Harry sighed, realizing what had happened in his dream was what was happening to Kotone, “Don’t worry, Professor, I think I know where she is. I’ll get dressed and get her. Would it be alright if I bring her back here instead of the infirmary, I have a feeling the other ‘guests’ wouldn’t be welcoming her back with open arms.”

He noticed a flicker of doubt in McGonagall’s eyes. With an annoyed edge to his voice, he said, “You aren’t going to tell me that you believe the rot that The Prophet printed about her being my girlfriend, are you?”

No, of course not, Potter… it’s just that any student staying in a professor’s living quarters, it gives the appearance…”

If Harry had any doubts before about adopting Kotone, they vanished that instant, “Professor, I was dead serious about adopting that girl. As soon as I come of age, I’m going to find a way to make it happen. I saw what happened in the infirmary. I can’t explain how, but if she’d going to be attacked solely on the way she looks, how do you think it will be for her once school starts? I won’t stand for it. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get dressed. I have a scared little girl to find.”

-----~-----

20. Love Lost

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the characters, not the lyric bits… I probably do own Kotone, and maybe the plot, but that’s about it.

A/N: Not much to tell at this stage of the story. Ginny’s having problems, Harry and Hermione are miserable, and Ron’s the bearer of the bad news. Kotone makes a brief appearance. R&R& above all, Enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 20: Love Lost

-----~-----

Can you break hearts, can hearts speak?
Can you torture hearts, can you steal hearts?

They want my heart on the right spot
but then I look below, it beats left there.

Can hearts sing, can a heart burst?
Can hearts be pure, can a heart be made of stone?
They want my heart on the right spot
but then I look below, it beats left there.

Can you ask hearts
(can you) carry a child under yourself?
can you give it away
(can you) think with your heart?

They want my heart on the right spot
but then I look below
it beats there in the left breast
the envious have not known it well.

Excerpt from the song ‘Links, 2, 3, 4’ by the band Rammstein

-----~-----

An odd, young witch with very long, dirty-blonde hair that was tied behind her back into a long, thick rope-braid, was walking along the main street in the small village of Ottery St. Catchpole. She wore a light yellow tee shirt and a pair of faded cut-off denim shorts with calf-high, red leather boots. A pair of black cauldron-shaped earrings dangled from her lobes, a multitude of bangles and bracelets clattered on her wrists as she walked, and her neck was adorned with the bottle-cork necklace that was made for her years ago by her mother.

She didn’t seem to notice the curious stares or the whimsical mutterings of the villagers that she passed. Her unfocused gaze and her peculiarly aimless stride was the subject of many whispered conversations each time the daughter of the eccentric, reclusive Leonard Lovegood journeyed through the normally boring village.

She turned off the main street onto a dirt road that led southward out of the village. After she crossed the wooden bridge that spanned the Otter River, the trees and bushes became thicker alongside the road that twisted between the hills. After several minutes, she felt the tingle of magic surround her as she passed through the boundary of the muggle-repelling wards that surrounded the Burrow. After another turn in the road, she saw the barn and broom shed, then in a few more steps the ramshackle house appeared.

Luna looked beyond the orchard, towards the paddock where the Weasley family had set up their makeshift Quidditch pitch, expecting to see Ginny, and maybe a few of her brothers, practicing there.

She had made arrangements the day before to help Ginny practice for the upcoming Quidditch season, in case Hogwarts actually opened for the next term. Even though her broom handling skills left much to be desired, she agreed to help in hopes of getting the chance to speak with her brother, Ron. She felt badly about how she reacted to what he had shown her earlier in the week. A spark lit in her unfocused eyes as she remembered looks that he gave at her unmerciful teasing, and just as quickly, a cloud passed over her face as she recalled the formula he had shown her.

She shook the thoughts from her head as she approached the front steps. She could hear some faint, screeching sounds coming from one of the upper floors, and assumed that someone was tuned into the Wizarding Wireless Network. She climbed the steps and knocked on the kitchen door. After several moments with no response, she creaked the door open and looked inside.

Plates of cold food were still sitting on the scrubbed-oak table and a few pots were being magically scrubbed clean in the sink. Seeing nobody in the room, she made her way up the stairs to Ginny’s door. She knocked on the door and waited, but heard nothing. She placed her hand on the door and felt a slight vibration, probably from the wireless. Assuming that there was a silencing charm placed on the door, she made her way back down the stairs, out into the yard and over to the broom shed. She picked out a broom, one of the older Shooting Stars, and daintily mounted the broomstick sidesaddle before gliding up to Ginny’s bedroom window.

Luna looked inside and saw Ginny curled up on her bed, facing away from her. She carefully knocked on the window, but Ginny didn’t seem to respond. Luna pressed her forehead against the dirty glass to get a better view inside. She noticed that Ginny was trembling and convulsing on her bed. She wedged her fingers under the window, and as soon as it slid open, a terrible, screeching scream assaulted her ears from within the room. She pressed herself flat on the broomstick, glided into the room and hopped off. Her usual, dreamy expression fell when she saw Ginny’s red, sweaty face.

Ginny’s mouth was frozen open in a long grating wail. Her eyes were clenched tightly shut, but didn’t prevent the tears from swelling out from between her lids. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her nails had wedged into her palms, causing a slight trickle of blood to drip from her hands into a rather large stain on the sheet, suggesting to Luna that she had been in that position for quite a long time.

Regaining her composure, Luna tried the door, but as she suspected, there was a locking charm on it. After a few surprisingly unsuccessful tries to break the charm, she climbed back onto the broom, glided back out of the window and returned to the kitchen. Once there, she grabbed a handful of floo powder, tossed it into the fireplace and called out into the green flames that erupted, “Ministry of Magic, Mr. Weasley.”

A few tense moments later, a face appeared in the fireplace, but not the face she expected. A haughty, drawling voice answered, “Yes, this is Mr. Weasley, how can I…”

The expression on the face in the fire fell from a arrogant sneer to a rather unpleasant scowl as he recognized, not only the strange Ravenclaw that he vaguely remembered from Hogwarts, but her unmistakable surroundings of the Burrow’s kitchen, “What do you want.”

Luna immediately recognized the face of Ginny’s estranged brother, Percy. Hoping that he could put aside whatever difficulties he had with the family if his sister was in trouble, she said to him in an uncharacteristically panicked tone, “Please, you have to help! Ginny’s in trouble and I don’t know what to do!”

“What do you mean, ‘trouble?’ If she’s been caught using underage magic, there’s nothing I can do, it’s her own…”

“No!” exclaimed Luna loudly, “There’s something wrong with her, and there’s nobody else here! You have to help!” Luna looked at Percy, and upon seeing his torn expression, she angrily yelled, “She’s your sister, for Merlin’s sake!”

Percy snapped out of whatever internal conflict he was fighting. He didn’t know much about the odd Ravenclaw, but what he did remember about her was that she was unflappable, so if she was this distressed, it had to be something dire. Percy’s face disappeared from the fire, and a moment later, he stepped out of the green flames into the kitchen.

Percy looked around, half-expecting his mother to burst through the door and tie him to a chair to try to talk sense into him yet again, but dismissed that thought when he saw the agitated look on Luna’s face, “Where is she?”

Luna started for the stairs while saying, “In her bedroom, but there’s silencing and locking charms on the door. I had to use a broom to get through her window.”

Percy ran up the stairs three at a time and stopped in front of Ginny’s door. After a few attempts to unlock the door, he ended up blasting it apart with a hasty ‘Reducto’ and rushed into the room. He only paused briefly when he heard her terrible wailing, but recovered quickly by scooping his sister into his arms and rushed through the door, saying “St. Mungo’s is still closed to new patients, I’m bringing her to Hogwarts.”

Percy raced down the stairs, out of the building past the anti-apparation wards and disappeared with a loud crack.

Luna walked down the stairs into the kitchen, grabbed a handful of floo powder and tossed it into the magical fire while saying, “The Three Broomsticks.”

Luna gracefully stepped out of the fire at The Three Broomsticks. She smiled and nodded to Madam Rosmerta before stepping out of the tavern to the main street of Hogsmeade. She let out a sigh at the sight of the castle in the distance as she started her long walk to Hogwarts.

Meanwhile, a scraggly-looking rat dashed from the now empty house, raced through the garden and hedges, making its way to the safety of the forest beyond with another report from the Burrow.

-----~-----

Ron startled himself awake after only a few hours by one of his unusually loud snorks of a snore. He was laying facedown and fully clothed on his bed in the Head Boy’s bedroom, with his cheek stuck to a cold puddle of drool on his pillowcase. He pulled himself into a sitting position and placed the half-eaten sandwich that was still in his hand on the night table next to his bed.

The first waking thought that came to him was the book that he and Hermione had found earlier that afternoon and the trouble it was causing between Harry and Hermione. He was certain now that his sister did use that potion and he was just as certain that she had no idea of its true purpose. The more his thoughts dwelled on that fact, the angrier he felt.

He stood from his bed and entered the common room. He remembered that Hermione took the book with her into her bedroom. He softly knocked on her door and waited a few moments. She had told him earlier that if she wasn’t there, she would be with Harry, so he quietly cracked her door open. In the dim light, he saw Hermione’s sleeping form under the sheets of the bed and the book he was looking for sitting on her nightstand.

He silently crossed the room and picked up the book. Before turning to leave, he looked down at her sleeping face. He could never remember seeing such a sad expression on his best female friend. He even noticed the drying tearstains on the pillow beneath her face.

Even with the forlorn expression she wore, he could see how Harry could fancy her. The other Gryffindor boys always referred to her as ‘plain’ or ‘unremarkable.’ A few even had less complimentary ways to describe her. She wasn’t homely, but she certainly wasn’t a candidate for a Playwizard centerfold model, either.

Even when she had her buckteeth, he thought she had a pleasant, ‘girl next door’ look about her. Now that he was actually paying attention, he could see exactly what Harry found so attractive about her, and why she was so perfect for him. Hermione was comfortable, not just in her looks, but in her personality as well. She complimented Harry perfectly. Actually, they complimented each other. Knowledge and power. Wisdom and strength. Friendship and bravery.

They actually understood each other in a way he could never hope to do, and he knew they always did have that connection that neither of them could really explain to anyone else.

Ron felt a prickling behind his eyes and a pained frown crossed his mouth as he noticed another tear fall from Hermione’s sleeping eyes onto the pillow. It wasn’t fair to them. He silently admonished himself for even thinking that he could use her in the way that he had intended before. He let his own feelings of inadequacy blur his judgment. She deserved someone that truly loved her, just as Harry did. Harry had so little in his life that made him truly happy and Merlin knows, if anyone deserved a little happiness, it was Harry.

Ron lifted his hand to wipe away a fresh tear that threatened to drop from her cheek, but hesitated before pulling his hand away. Instead, he whispered to her, “I’m sorry,” before turning and striding out of her room. He scribbled out a hasty note to Hermione, letting her know that he was taking the book and making a quick trip to the Burrow to have a little chat with his sister. He placed the note prominently on the desk and exited the common room into the castle.

Ron made his way through the familiar halls and passages towards the main entrance. He was just descending the stairs to the entrance hall when he spotted Harry walking through the doors to the Great Hall with the crying Kotone in his arms. He was shocked to see how the distraught little girl’s skin appeared to be much chalkier and paler than usual. He hid the grimace that threatened to emerge when Kotone turned her woeful, but still frightening face towards him, knowing that the little girl sobbing in Harry’s arms was just that… a scared little girl.

“Hey, Harry, what’s wrong with her?” asked Ron, visibly uncomfortable with Kotone’s distress.

“She’s why we came here and never made it to the Ministry, she was injured on our way there.”

“Did you get attacked?” he asked concernedly, wondering why they didn’t tell him right off if they had been attacked.

“No, well, not directly. Voldemort decided to let me know how unhappy he was by way of my scar,” then Harry continued with a rather cold expression, “We think Kotone was trying to help me, and it looked to Hermione that she was attacking me, so Hermione stunned her. We’re not sure if it was the stunner or what she was doing to me that hurt her.”

It was while he was speaking that Ron noticed that Harry was… Harry. “Why aren’t you Professor Buck? Did you change your mind?”

“It seems the transfiguration wore off somehow. I’ll be speaking with McGonagall about it later.” Harry then noticed the book in Ron’s arm and asked, “What’s that?”

Ron looked down at the book, then back to Harry with an unreadable frown. He figured now was as good a time as any to let Harry in on what they discovered, “We need to talk, mate. Let’s go up to your room for a bit of privacy.”

They made their way back to the first floor towards the DADA corridor and entered Harry’s chamber. Ron sat heavily on the sofa while Harry settled Kotone in his bedroom. After many assurances that he would just be in the next room and wouldn’t leave her alone, Kotone allowed Harry to tuck her in the bed.

Harry returned to the sitting room and sat next to Ron, “Okay, what’s up?”

Ron silently stared at the book in his hands, trying to find the right way to broach the subject. After a very long pause, he finally asked, “What to you feel about Hermione?”

Harry inwardly groaned. He was expecting Ron to bring up the relationship issue with him at some point, but honestly didn’t expect it right then. He assumed that Hermione told him about how he tried… how he did kiss her, with spectacularly disastrous results. He subconsciously rubbed the still painful knot on the back of his head as he looked absently around the room for a few moments before he answered, “I was wondering when you were going to bring this up. She’s a great girl, Ron. You’re both my best friends, probably my only two real friends. I think you two will be great together.”

Ron’s eyes widened, having not expected that answer at all. He let that hang as he continued, “Okay, so what do you feel about my sister?”

The neutral expression that Harry was trying to maintain fell for a fraction of an instant before he answered, “Again, she’s a great girl, too. I hope I’m still around when this whole Prophesy business is over. Maybe we could pick up where we left off.”

Now it came to the question that Ron really didn’t want to ask, “Where did you leave off?”

Harry’s brows furrowed in thought, “What do you mean?”

Ron’s ears began to take the same shade as his hair. He glanced down at the book, and then his gaze fixed straight on Harry’s eyes, “I need to know, Harry. How far did you get with Ginny?”

Now it was Harry’s face that was flushed with embarrassment, “Well, we kissed a few times, we basically just hung around with each other… I mean, I never… you know…”

“No, I don’t know,” Ron felt the bile churn in his stomach as he continued, “but like I said, I need to know how far you went with her. Have you even snogged her, you know, with your tongue and all?”

“No!” Harry quickly yelled while standing from the couch. He began to pace the floor between the sofa and the fireplace nervously

Ron felt the burning in his stomach diminish as he raised his eyebrows in surprise and simply asked, “Never?”

“Of course not! Why would you think that I’d ever…” Harry stopped pacing and a confused frown appeared on his face.

Ron, feeling a bit more confident and a lot less ill, asked, “Did you ever touch her breasts?”

“NO!” yelled Harry with a disgusted look on his face, “How could you even think that! I’d never do that to her!”

A long pause ensued before Harry haltingly asked, “Did you… did you ever touch Lavender’s breasts when you were with her?”

Ron didn’t know whether to be relieved that Harry had never molested his sister or angry because now he was positive that Ginny had used the elixir, “I know it’s not polite for a bloke to kiss and tell, but yeah, I did... Under her bra and everything. She even let me kiss ‘em a few times.”

Harry still had that confused expression when he stopped pacing, turned to Ron and asked, “What about Hermione? Have you touched hers as well?”

“No, mate, I haven’t,” he said with a hint of sadness in his voice, “I tried once, a long time ago, but she got kinda angry with me. She’s not the type, you know? And just to let you know, I have no intention of dating her. We tried, sort of, but we just don’t click, if you know what I mean. I think I have something cooking with Lu… someone else, anyway, if I can get her to talk to me again.”

Harry didn’t appear to be listening after Ron said the word, ‘No.’ He thought back to the time when Ginny and he were alone in the same classroom that he found Hermione and her canaries in.

Ginny was sitting on the desk, looking absolutely smashing. She had the top three buttons of her rather loose shirt undone and the tails pulled out from her skirt when he arrived there. He was standing at the desk as he hugged her. He felt oddly nervous as she slid forward on the desk and wrapped her legs around the back of his. She took his hands and moved them to her waist under her shirt when they kissed. He remembered the queasy feeling he got when she licked his lips as they kissed. He vaguely knew that she expected him to open his mouth. He didn’t. He repeatedly pulled his hands from the bare skin of her waist, only to have her place them right back on her waist under the tails of her shirt and nudge them upward. He felt the queasiness build in his stomach. He pulled away from her, gave her a quick kiss and fled the room, making a rather lame excuse of forgetting about a transfiguration essay that was due.

He had thought at the time that the queasy feeling was love. He asked the room in a pained whisper, “What’s wrong with me? She was practically begging me to do it…”

As brief as it was, he felt none of that queasiness leading up to the kiss with Hermione. He vaguely remembered the emotion that swelled within him the instant before the kiss… He had known at the time that, if Hermione had done the same with his hands as Ginny had done, he would have been perfectly willing to have his hands roam free under her sweatshirt. The raw desire he felt at the time was so intense, so overwhelming… then nothing.

Harry looked at Ron in bewilderment and asked in a choked whisper, “Why couldn’t I do it?”

“I think this is going to answer that question,” said Ron as he stood and drew his wand. With a flick, he lit the candles on the writing desk as he walked towards it. He brushed the dusty piles of rolled up parchment, obviously abandoned homework essays from the previous term, onto the floor then set the book down. He flipped the book open to the section with the torn page and motioned Harry to sit.

When Harry seated himself and began reading, Ron started speaking, “See the torn page? I found that in Ginny’s room, along with an empty glass vial. Hermione and I believe she made that potion sometime in the last two years. We think that…”

Ron was interrupted by an intense rapping on the door. He crossed the room to the door while Harry read. When he opened the door, he was met by a very agitated Hermione.

“Ron! Thank Merlin you’re here! I got your note and thought you left already!”

“I ran into Harry on my way out. I figured it was as good a time as any to show him the book.”

Never mind that right now. Ginny was just brought into the hospital wing. I don’t know much, but from what I heard she was in her room and cast silencing and locking charms on her door. When they finally got through to her, they found Ginny on her bed screaming hysterically and crying.”

Ron didn’t waste any time. He brushed past Hermione and sprinted down the hallway towards the stairway. Hermione looked into the room and saw that Harry was still seated and apparently staring at the book that lay open on his desk.

“Harry?” asked Hermione, “Are you coming?”

Harry just silently shook his head. She slowly made her way across the room and stood behind him, “Are you alright?”

“It was you,” he said in a whispered monotone, “It was you all along… I knew it.”

“What?” she gasped, “No, Harry! I would never dream of doing something like that to you! It wouldn’t work for me! You read it, didn’t you?” She felt despair coursing through her, the panic making her feel light-headed.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” His voice sounded flat, almost dead, “When you were helping me rescue Sirius. It started there... no, actually before that. It started when I saw you petrified. I was so scared for you, so worried that I felt physically ill. How could I have forgotten? I knew something was happening back then, but I had no idea what it was. I’d never felt anything like it before. Then the year of the tournament came. You were there for me, the only one who didn’t turn their back on me. You believed me, the only one who believed me, Ron didn’t. Even Dumbledore didn’t at first. It was then that I was sure of it.”

Hermione felt the prickle of tears coming from under her eyelids as he spoke. She wasn’t exactly sure what he was trying to say, but she was afraid that she had a good idea.

Harry continued in the same pained tone that was now cracking in places, “Who would have ever guessed that Skeeter got it right? I was going to talk with you after the tournament, win or lose, I was going to tell you… but… but when Cedric was killed and Voldemort returned, the last thing on my mind was telling anyone anything…”

Harry took a deep shuddering breath before continuing, “You remember that summer, right? Nobody spoke to me. I couldn’t get any information at all. Then I was told that you were spending your time there with Ron. I thought I’d lost my chance. By the time I was allowed to go to Grimmauld Place, I was more angry at myself than anyone for not seeing it sooner. It was then. Something happened there that summer. That’s when things started changing. I could see it in you, and in myself, but I couldn’t do anything about it.”

“Ever since that summer, right up until the end of this last term, things continually got worse. I wouldn’t listen to you, you wouldn’t listen to me, and I’d entirely forgotten the promise to myself that I made during the tournament. I promised myself that I would tell you that I loved you.”

Hermione wore a blank expression as she hoarsely whispered, “So what you said on the train was true, you really did love me?”

When he finally looked up from the book and turned to face her, she was startled to see the trails of tears down his cheeks. He nodded as he said, in nothing more than a whisper, “Now it’s gone. It’s too late. I’ve lost already. Dumbledore told me that the power I had that would defeat Voldemort is love, and I’ve lost it.”

“Harry, you’ve got to believe me,” pleaded Hermione, “There’s a chance... there’s hope. That potion Ginny made wasn’t designed for a half-blood, and it’s only supposed to work between a parent and child. She was only supposed to use it once, but Ron says that she has no more of the elixir, she must have practically bathed in the stuff. The book says in order for it to become permanent, she would have to use an application within thirty hours of when we first kissed, which was four hours ago. She’s messed up this spell from the start, so I can’t really promise you anything other than I’ll do everything I can to undo what this ‘elixir’ has done to us.”

Hermione leaned beside him, closed the book and lifted it from the desk. “I’m going to make a quick trip back to St. Osyth and get a change of clothes for us and a few other things. I should only be an hour or so, and when I get back, I’ll be in my room working to break down the Arithmantic formula to this ‘elixir.’ Now that I know more about what its true purpose is, many of the equations will make a lot more sense. If you feel the same way as I do, and I pretty much suspect that you do, try to overcome it and visit me if you need to talk. I’ll understand if you don’t but… well, you know where I’ll be.”

Harry watched as Hermione tucked the book under her arm and strode from the room. He heard the shuffling of small feet from the other side of the room and a quiet, but growling voice spoke to him.

“Shishi-sama, what happen to your Washi-chan? I not see gouitsu (bond), what happen to wagou (harmony)?”

Harry was still staring absently at the door, only half-listening to the little half-witch, “What? What did you say?”

As Kotone approached him, she looked up at Harry’s face and saw the worried and defeated look in his eyes as he stared blankly at the door. She relaxed her mind and let her spirit take control. She saw his lion-like aura surrounding him, but it was strangely pale and faded. She noticed the frayed end of the tattered ribbon of light dangling from his chest, the remains of the bond that gave his lion its strength. She saw the fine, silvery thread that she, herself, had placed between them, the connection she needed to ensure that she could help him when needed. She also saw the smoky, ethereal serpent writhing around him, its black fangs deeply embedded in Harry’s shoulder. Its eyes smouldered like bits of burning charcoal as it eyed her menacingly. She knew she could do nothing about the serpent, she didn’t even know what it was, exactly. She was much too young and not nearly as skilled in soul magic yet.

One thing that she failed to notice was one black, web-like filament that stretched out from Harry towards the ceiling.

“Shishi-san?” she said aloud.

Harry tore his haunted eyes away from the door that Hermione left through and turned to Kotone. As their eyes met, that strangely familiar feeling of time slowing washed over him. His surroundings faded from his view as he heard the pleasant, melodic voice drift into his mind, ‘What happened to the joining, the harmony? Why is Washi no longer bonded to Shishi?’

Harry let out a mental sigh, ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out, little one. It seems that a girl who likes me wanted me to like her as well. She tried a spell that she wasn’t familiar with. We believe that she thought it was some sort of potion to make me love her instead of Hermione. It seems that half of it worked, somewhat.’

‘Did Washi read book? Book will help Washi-chan to understand, maybe to help,’ said Kotone softly.

‘The book you gave to us? We haven’t been able to translate it yet.’

‘Very important. Must understand book to help.’ With that, Kotone broke their connection and raised her arms to Harry. He lifted her up and planted her on his lap, where she immediately wrapped all of her various appendages around him, as if to give him a full-body hug.

“I am so sorry for your sadness, Shishi-kun,” said Kotone as she yawned into his chest, “I will help you and your mate all that I can.”

A moment later, Harry felt her body relax into him as she fell asleep. Harry’s eyes drifted back to the door as he held the sleeping half-witch in his arms, wondering if he would ever get back what he now realized to be the only true weapon he had against Voldemort.

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21. Memories Can't Wait

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I own any of the lyric bits. I make absolutely no money from playing with the characters.

A/N: Sorry for the long delay, I’ve been very, very ill. Quite a few people have asked me from time to time to clarify exactly how Kotone looks. She’s about 4 ft. tall, shorter than most ten-year-olds. She has stark white, hair that falls just to her shoulder blades when relaxed. Her complexion is very, very pale… white almost to the point of appearing blue. She has four golden horns, two sticking out of her scalp just above her hairline, two protruding from her wide, square jaw, one on each side of her chin. She has hauntingly beautiful, almond-shaped violet eyes. Her thick-lipped mouth is disturbingly wide, extending across her face from ear to ear, with black teeth and huge, black fangs that extend beyond her lips. Her ears are in the usual place, except for being very long and pointed, much in the way of a Tolkienesque elf. Her frame is very thin and lithe, and she moves with almost impossible grace and speed when she has to. She has a very long, very thin white tail that is tipped with a bony, golden barb. I know there are a lot of artists out there who create fan art, I saw a spectacular image of Hermione and Harry from the fic, ‘Forever Knight,’ (one of my absolute favorite fics… read it, you won’t be sorry!) and I’m curious as to how people view the little half-demon, so if anyone is so inclined… (Personally, I can’t even draw a stick figure without it looking like a failed geometry project!) The song I chose for this chapter is very fitting. This was one of the very first songs the band I was in learned how to play. Believe me, you haven’t heard this song until you’ve heard it performed by four girls in a teenage Japanese punk band! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and as always, I’d love to hear how much you liked or disliked it, so R & R & Enjoy!

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Chapter 21: Memories Can’t Wait

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Do you remember anyone here?
No, you don't remember anything at all.
I'm sleeping, I'm flat on my back,
never woke up, had no regrets.

There's a party in my mind... and I hope it never stops.
There's a party up there all the time... they’re gonna party ‘till they drop.
Other people can go home, Everybody else must split.
I'm in here all the time, I can never quit.

Take a walk through the land of shadows.
Take a walk through the peaceful meadows.
Don’t look so disappointed.
It isn't what you hoped for, is it?

There's a party in my mind, and I hope it never stops.
I'm stuck here in this seat... I might not stand up.
Other people can go home, other people, they must split.
I'll be here all the time, I can never quit.

Everything is very quiet.
Everyone has gone to sleep.
I'm wide awake on memories,
’cause memories can't wait…

These memories can’t wait.

Lyrics from the song. ‘Memories Can’t Wait’ by the band, Talking Heads.

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After leaving Harry’s room, Hermione made her way back to the Head’s dorm and placed the book on her nightstand. She sat heavily on her bed and rested her face in her hands, recalling the despairing look on his face as she left. That look nearly broke her heart.

She may not feel the love for him, but she somehow knew that she still did. She knew she still loved him, but that love seemed to be like a nearly forgotten, quickly fading dream, the details of which were becoming murkier and less defined as time passed. Her brain told her she still loved him, still cared about him, even though her heart had seemed to have forgotten.

She tried to remember how it felt a scant few hours before, the yearning that burned in her soul when she stopped him in the corridor, the pride she felt at the time over his sensitivity about Kotone, the goblins and the house-elves. She recalled the way her breath stilled when he leaned in closer to her, the gentle firmness of his hands on her waist that caused her heart to flutter. How could it just disappear? How could those feelings just evaporate into nothing, like they never existed? It wasn’t like the feeling of breaking up with someone, not that she had much experience in the relationship department, but it was more like the sadness, or maybe regret, of being suddenly reminded of a long-forgotten grammar school crush from years past. In any case, it was frightening.

Another thing that had been plaguing Hermione throughout the afternoon were the sporadic, unbidden memories that kept flashing through her mind. The strange thing was that she recognized the circumstances of the memories, but it was as if she were experiencing them through someone else’s eyes. A blush coloured her cheeks as a vivid memory of her giving Harry a crushing hug after the first task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, but the perspective was from outside through a torn seam in the medical tent. The memory disappeared as quickly as it came.

Hermione took a deep breath, stood from the bed, and left the Head dormitory. She quietly made her way through the castle, out of the large front doors and out into the grounds. Minutes later, she stood just outside the front gates. She glanced back at the castle for a few moments, seeing the last remnants of the sun disappear behind the ramparts and parapets of Hogwarts, before she disappeared with a resounding crack. She stepped out from the utility shed in the back yard of her home in St. Osyth and quickly made her way across the wide patio to the sliding doors that led to the kitchen.

Hermione stepped into the darkening house and navigated through the quiet rooms, only pausing for a moment in the sitting room to look at the old grandfather clock nestled between a pair of overburdened bookshelves. It was already well after seven and, of course, her parents were still at the surgery. She made her way up to her bedroom and gave a quick greeting to Crookshanks and Hedwig, both of whom seemed very pleased to see her. Crookshanks wound his way around her legs and purred contentedly while Hedwig glided from her perch over to rest on her shoulder. The snowy owl let out a low, mournful hoot and nestled her head into Hermione’s mass of hair.

Hermione gently stroked the owl’s feathers and said to her, “Harry’s at Hogwarts right now, but I don’t really know how long we’ll be staying there. Do you want to go see him, or would you prefer to stay here? I know the hunting is good here, and we’ll probably come back here anyway, at least for a while.”

Hedwig let out another sad hoot, but flew from her shoulder back to the perch she had set up just for owls. Hermione could somehow tell that she missed Harry, but seemed to be willing to wait for him. She refilled the tray of owl treats, and then refreshed the auto-open charm on her window before she pulled her trunk out of her cupboard, collected several sets of clothes, shoes and undergarments, and packed them away. She shrunk her trunk and placed it in her overnight bag along with her toiletries and a fresh set of towels.

Another brief glimpse of an odd memory hit her as she fastened her bag. She watched herself holding desperately to Harry, her eyes clenched shut, her face crushed against his back and her arms firmly wrapped around his torso as they rode Buckbeak the hippogriff past a window outside of the Gryffindor tower, as if she were looking at the scene from within the tower itself. It was a very brief memory, but as vivid as if it were happening right there before her eyes. She shook her head as if to clear it, then hefted her bag from the bed.

Hermione carried the bag into the guest room where Harry had spent the previous night to collect his trunk that was delivered from his room at St. Mungo’s by the Order. After ensuring that all his things were gathered and stowed, she shrunk his trunk and placed it in the bag along with her own.

When she turned to leave the room, she noticed Harry’s box of parchment that Tonks mentioned that had upset him so. She picked up the box, carried it over to the bed, sat down, and began to browse through the documents. Hermione might have been the cleverest witch of her age, but when it came to the legal and financial world of both muggles and wizards, she was woefully ill educated. She thought that many of the documents looked as if they were some sort of financial statements, investment portfolios and maybe some kind of investment holdings balance sheets, but she really couldn’t be sure of what they all meant. She assumed that the documents told of what was in his vault before his uncle helped himself to Harry’s future.

She couldn’t stifle the growl of hatred that escaped her throat at that thought.

A few of the documents that she did understand were a set of property deeds in the Potter and Evans family names. She glanced at the deeds to Godric’s Hollow, a place called ‘Herring’s Run Manor’ in Essex, an enigmatically named place called ‘Lily’s Love Lagoon,’ and of course, Privet Drive in Surrey. She found it strange that Grimmauld Place in London wasn’t shown in the property listing. Harry had told her that he owned the house and property of number four Privet Drive, but the surreal incredulity she felt when she read the page that was attached to that deed that told of the huge monthly stipend that came from the Potter family vault. The stipend to the Dursleys that was supposed to pay for all utilities for the household, as well as a food and clothing allotment and a spending allowance for Harry came to over four thousand Pounds a month, tax-free.

She knew that Harry owned the Surrey property that the Dursleys lived in, but she had no idea that they were actually being very well paid to take care of Harry. A seething hatred for the family that had treated one of their own blood so cruelly burned within her. She could certainly understand why Harry became so enraged when he discovered their heinous duplicity. She remembered from the very few details he told of his life with the Dursleys that they habitually withheld food from him for days, would lock him in that stinking cupboard for weeks at a time, and constantly told him that he was a financial burden upon their household. She personally witnessed the deplorable state of Harry’s dress, all worn-out hand-me-downs from his corpulent cousin, Dudley. She found it nauseatingly abhorrent that anyone could treat any child in that manner, much less a blood relative.

Hermione shook her head and quickly stood from the bed. She refused to allow the pity she was feeling for Harry to continue. He didn’t need her pity, he needed her help and understanding. She gave up her bad habit of self-pity about her own lonely childhood long ago, knowing that it did nothing to help. She had everything she wanted while growing up, except for the affection from her parents that she had craved, but it was certainly better than the life Harry had lived, and she was going to make damned sure that he would never feel that despair again if she could at all help it.

She placed the documents back into the box, picked it up along with her overnight bag, and left the room. When she reached the bottom of the stairway, she could see that the lights were on in her parents’ study. She softly knocked on the door and entered upon hearing her father beckon her into the room.

Her parents were seated at their respective desks, riffling through paperwork while munching on a set of club sandwiches that sat on a platter between them. Her father looked up from his work and gave her one of his rare smiles.

“Hi, Pun’kin, we didn’t realize that you were home,” said her father, “Did everything go well at the bank this morning?”

“Hermione smiled back at him and said, “Yes, everything went fine. I want to thank you again for allowing us to use the money, you have no idea how incredibly important it is.”

Hermione glanced down into the box she was carrying and after a brief internal debate, came to a decision, “I was wondering if you could do us a favor and look through these documents and tell me what they all mean? I’m pretty sure these are the statements of Harry’s estate that his uncle stole from him this past spring. I understand the deeds for the most part, but a lot of the financial paperwork is somewhat foreign to me.”

She hefted the box of rolled parchment in front of her and set it down next to the platter of sandwiches. Alex drew one of the rolls, opened it, scanned down the sheet, then handed it over to his wife simply saying, “Jane, legal.” He unrolled another and after a glance, he set it down on his own desk, saying, “Investment.”

Alex quickly and efficiently sorted the parchments into several different piles with Jane getting all of legal and estate documents. He grabbed one pile and began to enter figures into a hastily created spreadsheet on his computer. His eyes never left the various documents and his hands nimbly navigated the keyboard, all the while explaining to Hermione exactly what the figures that he was currently working with meant and their significance to the entire portfolio.

After Jane received her stack of parchment, she began scanning each sheet carefully. Occasionally she would perform a search for some information on her computer, and other times would silently go to one of the many bookcases in the study and peruse some reference book.

A little more than an hour later, Alex was printing out numerous pages and Jane was finishing up with the last of the legal documents. Alex pulled the last page from the printer tray. He briefly looked it over before he looked up to Hermione and asked, “Okay, is there anything specific you want to know, or do you want a rundown of what I could make from it?”

“The bottom line,” stated Hermione with an ireful frown, “I know he still retains the properties, but how much actual cash was taken from him?”

“Well, these statements are from over seventeen years ago, but they cover his various incomes from investments, and they show the interest rates on each of his holdings, as well as the various automatic expenditures for the upkeep of the properties and his schooling, as well as the maintenance and management fees related to his accounts. Assuming that the percentage rate didn’t change over the years, the annual cost of living increases to the various stipends and contracts remained constant, and all of the interest income was rolled back into the accounts, I figure that the total amount that was in the Potter family vault was somewhere around two hundred seventy three million, in liquid assets, that is.”

Hermione stared blankly at her father for a few seconds before she asked with no small amount of disbelief, “Excuse me? Did you say two hundred seventy million Pounds?”

“No. I said two hundred seventy three million Galleons. Seeing that there’s roughly five Pounds to the Galleon, and taking into account the standard five percent fee that Gringotts charges for exchanging between Pounds and Galleons, which we always thought was too high, truthfully, that comes to…”

“One billion, two hundred ninety six million, seventy hundred fifty thousand Pounds,” Hermione finished in little more than an awed whisper. Her face dropped into a vicious frown as she yelled, “His uncle stole over a billion Pounds from him!”

“Impossible!” Jane chimed in, “Unless the policies of Gringotts has changed over the last twenty years, nobody could touch the contents of the Potter family vault, aside from the automatic withdrawals for property maintenance and the stipends that were agreed to when the trust was originally set up. The only money that was available to Harry or his proxies was in the trust vault for his upbringing. Do you have the statement on his trust, Alex?”

Alex shuffled a few pages of the printed report before finding the right sheet, “Ah, yes, there was a yearly contribution into the trust vault from the family vault of fifty thousand Galleons. Given that, the most that it possibly could have held would be about eight hundred thousand Galleons, assuming he didn’t withdraw any, but seeing how his tuition for Hogwarts and all of his spending money came from there, I’d assume there was a lot less at the time. Does your boyfriend have a habit of being a spendthrift?”

A dark, stormy cloud passed over Hermione’s eyes as the image of a lonely, half-starved little boy locked in a small cupboard drifted into the forefront of her mind, “Are you kidding? He wears hand-me-down rags from his morbidly obese cousin. He’s been brought up in abject poverty his whole life. I don’t know what makes me angrier, the emotional abuse he’s had to endure, the physical abuse inflicted on him from his uncle and cousin, or the fact that they had the gall to steal what they thought was his entire family fortune from him and then pack up and abandon him! They moved from their home in Surry and disappeared with all of his money!”

For the second time that day, Hermione felt the lump appear in her throat and the wetness build in her eyes over Harry’s situation, “He wasn’t going to tell us at all. When he finally told us what happened, he wasn’t angry that his money was stolen, or distressed over what he could or couldn’t buy, he was afraid that I’d… we’d look at him differently. He thinks he’s penniless… he borrowed money to get food this morning!” Hermione’s tears were falling fast and hard as she continued, “I found him at his house in Surry. He was there preparing it to be sold so that he could afford to go to school this year! I can’t even begin to describe how enraged I am at his supposed ‘blood’ relatives…” then Hermione distractedly added as almost an afterthought, “and he’s not my boyfriend.”

Hermione didn’t fail to notice the perplexed glances Alex and Jane sent each other, but she was too disconcerted over the revelation of Harry’s apparent wealth to question them. Alex went a step further by saying, “Well, the liquid assets in his family vault is only a small fraction of his holdings.”

“A fraction?” asked Hermione cautiously, “What do you mean?”

Alex shuffled some of the papers in his hands before finding the correct sheet, “Most of the Potter wealth is tied up in corporate investments. From what I can gather, his family owns the majority of shares in several different companies, many of which are muggle corporations. The Wizarding corporations in which he owns controlling interest are the ‘Fly By Knight’ broomstick company, ‘Royal Reagents Apothecary Supply Company,’ and ‘Cromwell’s Custom Cauldrons,’ just to name a few. As far as the muggle holdings go, it seems that the Potter family was heavily invested in the British motorcar industry. It seems that Harry has a rather large share of the Lotus Motorcar Company, as well as the Aston-Martin company, which is strange because I was under the impression that it was fully owned by the Ford Motor Company. Of course, this information is very old, maybe the broker for the family sold off the shares, and I’d imagine they would for the good of the entire portfolio if they were offered enough. In any case, I daresay that this boyfriend of yours is probably one of the richest men in Britain, when he reaches majority, that is.”

“This is incredible,” whispered Hermione as her still teary eyes scanned the page her father had handed her, “Harry has no idea how much he’ll be worth next week on his birthday… and he’s not my boyfriend.”

“Where are you kids staying, if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Jane as she packed the paperwork back in the box.

“Well, for tonight and maybe tomorrow, we’ll be at Hogwarts. That’s another story altogether,” answered Hermione, who then proceeded to explain to her parents how the school was reopening in September. She went on to explain how both she and Ron were awarded the Heads for the year, and how Harry, in order to be able to continue at the school, had been taken on as the Professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

“Well, we’d like to officially meet this boyfriend of yours,” Jane stated casually.

“We actually stayed here last night. When those wretched people moved out of there, they took every stick of furniture in his house, he didn’t even have a bed there, so I brought him here from Surrey. I was sure you wouldn’t have minded if he stayed in one of the guest rooms, and he’s not my boyfriend!” said Hermione with a glare, “Now you both are taking the mickey out of me!”

“If he isn’t your boyfriend, then he should be,” sighed Jane as she handed the box back to Hermione, “He’s obviously a major factor in your life, and you obviously have feelings for him, judging by what you told us about him in all of those letters you sent from your school. In fact, we’d be hard pressed to give you a name of any other of your friends from that school besides that ‘Ron’ fellow that annoys you so… considering that this Harry is the only person you’ve ever mentioned in your letters.”

Hermione frowned and felt her face burn in embarrassment, not because what her mother said was true, but because Harry and Ron were her only friends in school, and even she didn’t realize until that moment that she never really mentioned Ron very much at all in her correspondence. Of course, her parents took her fierce blush as a confirmation of the relationship between Harry and their daughter. Hermione, however, was starting to get rather annoyed at their insistence.

Hermione thanked her parents for taking the time to help and made her escape, deciding to head to Grimmauld Place to retrieve Kotone’s trunk, still feeling somewhat guilty over the thought that she might have caused the little girl’s injuries. She entered the gloomy old mansion and immediately wondered where Ron would think a good hiding place would be. With a knowing smile, she immediately made her way to the kitchen and opened the icebox where she found the shrunken trunk and the bag of supplies carelessly shoved behind a plethora of various food items. She let out a slight chuckle at Ron’s forethought of stocking the icebox in preparation of their inevitable stay there. She placed the trunk into her overnight bag and left the kitchen.

Hermione quietly crossed the entrance hall, being careful not to disturb Mrs. Black’s portrait. She paused when she reached the front door and checked her watch. She knew she had told Harry that she would return in a few hours, but also knew that he wouldn’t bother to check up on her. She turned from the door and made her way up the stairs towards the library on the second floor.

As she entered the library, another memory cascaded into the forefront of her mind. She was viewing herself from between a set of bookshelves in the Hogwarts library, apparently from their fourth year while they were researching ways for Harry to breathe underwater. Harry was seated at a table as she bent over his shoulder, pointing out something in a large book that was spread out before him. He turned his face up from the book to look at her, and from her point of view in the memory, it looked as though their faces were close enough so that a minimal effort on either of their parts would result in a kiss. It was such an innocent, obscure memory, but she could see that from another’s vantage point, it looked decidedly intimate. Again, she had to shake the recollection from her head before she proceeded into the Black library and began scanning the bookshelves for likely titles.

Hermione sat scowling at the book she was currently reading when she heard the grandfather clock in the sitting room chime three o’clock. She glanced at her watch to confirm the hour, and then snapped the book closed and laid it on the stack of books she had already perused. She had expected that the Black library would be chock full of books on blood purity and bloodline preservation, and wasn’t disappointed at all.

She never before bothered to check the books on the subject, assuming that they would be nothing but bigoted rants and prejudiced teachings only suitable for people like Dolores Umbridge or the Malfoys. She was shocked to find the incredible lengths that the so-called ‘pureblood’ families would go to in order to preserve the line. She also came to the conclusion that the reason that so many of the ‘Old Blood’ families were so deeply immersed into the Dark Arts came from the perceived need to preserve the purity of blood. In every book she read, almost all of the ways to deal with ‘line threats’ involved some form of Dark Sorcery or Necromancy, and the books made absolutely no qualms about explaining the theories behind dark magicks in excruciating detail. In fact, in the six hours that she had just spent in the library, she had learned more about the Dark Arts from the line preservation books than she had ever learned anywhere else.

With a sweep of her hand, she sent the stack of the hate-filled books scattering across the table and onto the floor. She roughly stood from the chair and began pacing the floor with her eyes cast downward, silently seething over the ridiculousness of some of the theories in the books she had read. One of the more insane claims was that there was a ‘zero sum’ of magic in the world, and that with every muggleborn or half-blood that was born, magical power was ‘stolen’ from the purebloods out of some imaginary magic pool. The same theme was present in every book, that pureblood lines were superior in every way, and anything less deserved nothing less than extinction.

Again, a memory suddenly assaulted her consciousness as she stood there in the library, this one involving a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. She was sitting beside Harry quietly reading a book. Harry had an odd, unreadable expression on his face as he stared at her as she read. This point of view was from the outside of the compartment, as if she were peeking through the glass. She remembered that scene. It was just after their second year on the ride back to King’s Cross. She never noticed at the time that he was staring at her like that! She never realized that he was staring at her at all! How could she remember something she had never seen?

Hermione rested her hands on the back of a chair, hung her head and let out a frustrated growl. She glanced at her watch, and seeing the late hour, she decided it was time to head back to Hogwarts, maybe to get a few hours of sleep and forget these strange ‘visions’ that were plaguing her.

When she reached down beside the chair to pick up her overnight bag, she was startled by the sound of the library door opening behind her. She spun around while instinctively drawing her wand. There, standing in the darkened doorway, was a thin figure dressed in dark gray pajamas.

“Hello,” came a tired, drawling voice from the doorway, “You woke me up. Are you here to feed me?”

As the figure stepped into the room, she caught the glimpse of cold, steel-grey eyes gazing at her from beneath a mop of disheveled, platinum blonde hair.

Hermione’s eyes widened as she recognized the man behind the eyes. Without a second thought, she yelled, “Stupefy!” and watched the body of Draco Malfoy drop heavily to the floor.

-----~-----

Harry wasn’t sure how long he sat staring at the door with the little half-witch nestled in his arms before he rose from the chair with a sigh. He drew his wand, transfigured the sofa into a small bed, and then settled Kotone into it. He retrieved a light blanket from the cupboard in his bedroom, covered the little witch then made his way to his own bed. He stripped down to his boxers, climbed into bed and soon fell into a fitful sleep.

The dream seemed to come to him almost immediately. Again, he was in the hallway on an upper floor of Grimmauld Place, walking along the same dusty runner towards the former bedroom of the late Mrs. Black. He heard the eerie sounds of water dripping and Hermione’s soft giggling echoing around him. He stopped in front of the door and slowly opened it, seeing Hermione, softly crying as she knelt in the huge clamshell in the centre of the room.

Hermione raised her head to look at him with her red, teary eyes. Her lips were moving as she reached out to him, but he couldn’t hear anything except for the distant, rhythmic dripping. He was curious. Why was she crying? What was she trying to say?

He tried to step forward into the room, but found that he couldn’t move his feet. It felt as if his ankles were bound together. He felt a surge of panic when the door began to close on its own. He needed to find out what was wrong with Hermione. He vainly struggled to get his feet to move, but they were held fast. He reached out his hands and pushed on the door, trying to keep it from closing. He saw Hermione let out a silent wail before the door clicked shut, plunging the hallway into darkness. His breathing came in short gasps as he began pounding frantically on the door. He slammed his fist one last time, then rested his forehead against the door.

Harry suddenly felt movement near him. He held his breath when he heard a deep growling coming from somewhere beneath him. He tried to move, but his legs still felt as if they were bound together.

With a gasp, his eyes flew open and he quickly sat up and looked around. He saw Kotone laying at the foot of his bed, curled up in a ball with her tail tucked under the covers and firmly wrapped around his ankles. Even though the night wasn’t cold at all, her thin body was shivering as she slept, while deep, guttural moans escaped her throat.

Harry gently woke Kotone. Her eyes opened and quickly scanned the darkened room until they fell on Harry’s concerned face. Her eyes softened and she gave him a warm smile, which bared the long row of her sharp, black teeth.

Harry placed his hand over the side of her head and ran a thumb over her temple, “What are you doing here, little one? Couldn’t you sleep on your bed?”

Her smile faltered and her eyes dropped sadly to the stone floor as she climbed off from his bed, “So sorry, Shishi-san. I not wish to disturb. I leave to room for more comfort.”

She gave him a small bow and turned to shuffle out of the room. Harry gently placed his hand on her shoulder and said, “I’m not angry with you, little one, but it wouldn’t look very proper if we were found in the same bed.”

He knew it was because she didn’t want to be alone, so he climbed out of bed and quickly put his pants on. He went to the other room, shrunk her transfigured bed and carried it into the bedroom where he placed it along the wall next to his and enlarged it again. She looked up to Harry’s face and gave him a beaming smile, which truthfully looked more like a menacing sneer.

Suddenly, the smile in her eyes fell. Her white brows knitted together as she looked at him and whispered, “Nandesuka?” (What is it?) Harry saw her eyes follow an invisible line from his head up to the ceiling and she let out an audible growl, and he could tell it was truly a growl.

She grabbed his hand and started pulling him to the door, “Shishi-san! You must come! Please to hurry!”

Harry grabbed his shirt and pulled it on as Kotone led him from his quarters. Once in the hall, she scanned the ceiling above his head as if looking for something. She dropped her hands down to the floor and sprinted off down the corridor towards the main staircase, moving at an incredible speed. She stopped at the base of the stairs and looked back as Harry hurried to catch up with her. He raced up the stairs and saw her anxiously waiting for him.

When he reached the landing, he saw her eyes follow an invisible line from him to the far end of the hall. She sprinted off again on all fours while calling back to him, “Hurry!”

When she reached the end of the hallway, Harry saw her freeze. It took a minute for him to catch up with her, and as he approached her saw a look of fear in her eyes as she stared at the large double doors that led to the infirmary.

He knew what she was afraid of, having personally witnessed the way the patients inside attacked her. He bent down and scooped her up into her usual position against his side while saying, “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen.”

He pulled his wand from his belt and pushed the door open with his forearm. He saw that almost none of the people in the beds were asleep, but that wasn’t surprising given the screaming that was coming from Madam Pomfrey’s office at the far end of the ward. Many of the people in the beds were openly glaring at both Kotone and him, but none made a motion as Harry had his wand prominently displayed in his hand. Kotone lifted her face from Harry’s chest and after a very brief glance around the room, she silently pointed in the direction of the screaming.

Upon entering Madam Pomfrey’s office, Harry heard Kotone gasp in surprise. They saw a congregation of red hair crowded around a makeshift bed along the far wall. Molly Weasley had her arms wrapped around her son, Percy, sobbing and muttering unintelligibly. Ron stood behind his father along with Fred and George, who were all staring solemnly as Madam Pomfrey worked feverishly over the tortured form of Ginny writhing on the bed.

All eyes turned to Harry as he entered the office, and as he expected, he was greeted with gasps and stares at the little half-witch on his arm. When Harry felt Kotone shift in his arms, he set her down on the floor and watched her walk towards the bed with her head down, trying to avoid the horrified faces of the people in the room. Madam Pomfrey made a motion to stop Kotone, but with a word from Harry, she reluctantly allowed the strange little girl to approach the bed.

Ginny was still curled into a fetal position on the bed, her eyes and mouth wide open, screaming as though she were under the Cruciatus Curse. Kotone knelt beside the bed so that her face was directly in line with Ginny’s. Kotone’s eyes seemed to go out of focus as she stared into Ginny’s, reminiscent of the way Luna Lovegood’s eyes usually appeared.

For a few moments, nothing happened. Then gradually, Ginny’s screams seemed to quiet somewhat. Kotone’s tail began twitching and her hands curled into fists, bunching up the sheets of the bed in her fingers. A low, grinding whine escaped Kotone’s throat as her body started violently convulsing.

Suddenly, Ginny took in a huge gasp of air and fell unconscious, at the same time Kotone let out a pained cry and collapsed onto the floor. Harry rushed over and lifted Kotone from the floor and saw that, once again, she had blood seeping out of her eyes, nose and even her ears.

Madam Pomfrey quickly checked Ginny, “She’s sleeping. I don’t know how the girl did that, but…”

Madam Pomfrey’s turned to Harry and she saw what had happened to Kotone.

“Merlin!” exclaimed Madam Pomfrey as she quickly took Kotone from Harry’s arms, “She’s… she’s an Algean Sympath!”

-----~-----

Ginny Weasley seemed to be trapped in her own mind, experiencing an endless stream of memories as if she were viewing them in a pensieve. With each scene that flashed around her, the anger burned ever hotter, her jealousy caused her heart to clench ever tighter and the hatred coursed through her veins, pulsing in time with her heartbeat.

Ginny watched the memories of herself reading letters from her brother, Ron. She read over her memory self’s shoulder as he described how her Harry heroically climbed on a mountain troll’s back and shoved his wand up it’s nose, trying to protect their ugly, bossy female classmate, then described how they became fast friends after that. A sneer crossed her lips at the thought of another girl becoming close to her Harry. The scene around her shifted to another letter where Ron was describing how Hermione set Professor Snape’s cloak alight with her specialty ‘Bluebell Flame,’ essentially saving her Harry’s life. Memory Ginny seethed at the notion that both Harry and Hermione shared life-debts.

Ginny watched her younger self, bouncing on the balls of her feet, nervously standing beside her mother at King’s Cross Station. Suddenly, memory Ginny started shrieking, “There he is! I see him!” She saw her brother come through the barrier, along with Harry and ‘her.’ She watched as Hermione looked at Harry’s relatives, then to Harry with concern etched in her ugly, know-it-all face. She shouldn’t concern herself with her Harry! Who does she think she is? That ugly tart doesn’t know him like she does, doesn’t love him like she does!

The scene shifted around her again, morphing into the kitchen at the Burrow when she got her first Hogwarts letter. Ginny cringed as she watched her younger self knock her porridge bowl from the breakfast table at the sight of Harry. When her letter arrived, she was screaming to the memory Ginny to hurry up and tell Harry how happy she was about them going to school together, how excited she was about being able to ride on the Hogwarts Express with him. She remembered how she was working up the courage to talk to him while they were reading their booklists, most of which were assigned by Gilderoy Lockhart. Even with the setback of sticking her elbow in the butter dish, she finally found the nerve to say something to Harry, but was interrupted when that letter to Ron from ‘her’ arrived. She watched with seething anger as he read the letter aloud that was supposed to be to only Ron, but ended up being all about Harry, how she hoped he made it there okay, how she was worried that he might have gotten in trouble by the rescue. She went on about how she was sooo worried about Harry, and wanted an answer about Harry at once, and practically demanded that Harry meet her in Diagon Alley to get their school things. She felt her fists ball up in rage. That was that bookworm’s only concern… Harry, Harry, Harry! Her Harry!

The next scene to form around her was the familiar Diagon Alley. She looked at her younger self standing next to her mother as she frantically scanned the alley for the missing Harry Potter, who hadn’t arrived where he was supposed to from the floo trip from the Burrow. She watched the dejected look on memory Ginny’s face as she spied the object of their search standing next to a giant of a man and an ugly, bucktoothed girl. The brown-haired bint was bouncing happily and looking at her Harry as if she were ready to snog him right there in front of Gringotts!

More memories came and went at an increasingly furious pace, every instance of her witnessing the burgeoning relationship between ‘her’ and the man she was destined to be with. Seeing Harry on the sofa in front of the fire in the Gryffindor common room with Hermione nestled up against him, both asleep since the night before. Harry with his face almost buried in the bint’s ratty brown hair as he whispered something in her ear in a corridor between classes. Watching her younger self hiding at the top of the stairs to the girl’s dormitory as she looked down into the common room and listened to Harry confess how he had kissed Cho Chang, not missing the devastated look that briefly flashed across Hermione’s face. The icy cold dread when reading the article in The Daily Prophet about Harry and Hermione’s torrid relationship. Staring furiously from her mother’s side at Hermione touching her lips to Harry’s cheek in the middle of Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters.

With every memory she relived, the anger, the hurt, the desperation built inside of her, along with the ever increasing agony that tore throughout her entire body. Harry was hers! She had worked too hard! She had sacrificed too much! She had endured humiliation after humiliation… all of the mortifying accidents and painfully shy silences from when she was much younger, getting repeatedly caught by Hermione spying on Harry at the Burrow, the infamous and ill-conceived St. Valentine’s Day poem delivered by the dwarf. She spent almost every Knut she had ever managed to scrimp and save, she actually stole from her classmates for the money, and from her twin brothers’ shop to get the rarer ingredients needed for the perfume that was guaranteed, so she was told, to finally convince Harry of what he truly needed and desired, namely, Ginny Weasley. She knew that she could somehow repay whatever she had taken after she was part of Harry’s life. He would never deny her anything because he loved her, and she knew it! It was destiny! She felt it to her very core, from the first time she ever heard of ‘the boy who lived!’ He was her Harry! It was destiny, after all!

She stopped being aware of her physical surroundings long ago… exactly how long ago, she had no idea. Time held no power within her prison of memories. She thought she might have heard Luna’s voice at one point, but it was like a whisper in a windstorm. She thought she might have been moved, but she could feel nothing physically except the bitterly cold numbness that surrounded her agonizing internal torture. She could hear nothing above the disembodied screaming that was ever present in her ears except for the echoing voices of the ghosts of her past.

Memory Ginny’s eyes narrowed as she watched Hermione fill a goblet with pumpkin juice and set a treacle tart upon a plate. As Hermione placed them both before Harry, who was sitting next to her at the breakfast table in the Great Hall, the scene around her began to dissolve into a thick, smoky fog. She then noticed that the shrill screaming had, at some point, stopped and the sound of clinking silverware and clanking plates faded into silence.

Ginny looked around at the gray mist that surrounded her. She started running blindly through the fog, becoming more frightened with every step. She suddenly stopped when she caught a glimpse of a pair of vivid, violet eyes staring at her from within the clouds. A strange, soft voice seemed to echo around her. At first, she couldn’t make out the words, as if they were coming from a great distance away, but became increasingly clearer.

‘Follow me. I will lead to home.’

Something about the soft, sweet voice was soothing to her, although the voice seemed to carry a disapproving edge to it. The terror and anguish that she felt just moments before seemed to dissipate, like a distant memory to her. Slowly she stepped towards the floating, almond-shaped eyes that seemed to gaze at her with compassion and understanding. The ash-gray mist began to darken, taking on the hue of charcoal gray storm clouds before solidifying into blackness where the only thing she could see were the violet eyes beckoning her forward. She felt a sense of peace wash over her before a sense of utter exhaustion gripped her consciousness and she began to fall into a deep, silent sleep. She heard the last words from the melodic, disembodied voice before the darkness enveloped her completely, ‘To rest now, Lady of Angst and Sin, you have much to answer for when daylight is found.’

-----~-----

22. The Twin Serpents

Disclaimer: Jo owns ‘Harry Potter’ and the respective artists own the lyric bits that are used to enhance the story. No money is being exchanged.

A/N: Again, sorry for the delay in posting. I realize it’s frustrating, but due to circumstances beyond my control, it honestly cannot be helped. This story will be finished, no matter what happens. It will never be abandoned. In this chapter, what happened between Kotone and Ginny is explained, and Harry finds that the secret of the Prophesy is starting to leak out. Read and find out, and if you’re so inclined, leave a review! They’re always appreciated, more than you will know.

-----~-----

Chapter 22: Twin Serpents

-----~-----

Watch out sweet thing, a change in the weather is all that you bring.
Look up, the weather's strange,
the only thing we know that's gonna come for sure is change.

Look at my life go round and round,
hands on the clock still turning now.
I want it, but I just can't see,
I want that and that's just like me.

Goodbye, bye kids, where you gonna run from the things you keep hid?
look out the weather's strange
the only thing we know that's gonna stay the same is change.

look at my life go round and round,
hands on the clock still turning now.
I want it, but I just can't see,
I want that and that's just like me.

you know it's me that picks you up,
you know it's me that puts you down.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Change in the Weather’ by the band ‘Love Spit Love.’

-----~-----

Both Ginny and Kotone were resting comfortably in a pair of conjured beds in Madam Pomfrey’s office. Concerned for Kotone’s safety, he insisted that she be kept separated from the other patients in the hospital wing, remembering what their reactions were to the tiny half-witch the previous day.

At first, Molly was in a right state. She was torn between the elation of having her estranged son back within hugging range, the terror she felt over Ginny’s condition, and being horrified that the ‘ugly little demon’ was allowed to come so close to her only daughter. Even after Madam Pomfrey explained that the term ‘demon’ wasn’t a true description of what Kotone was, it was obvious by the angry sneers she occasionally sent to the unconscious half-witch that she didn’t trust her at all. Harry frowned at the thought that Molly hadn’t seemed the least bit appreciative of what Kotone had done for Ginny.

Harry was surprised, and more than a little apprehensive when Madam Pomfrey called little Kotone a ‘half-demon.’ He always pictured demons as massive, red monsters with huge, curled horns, large bat wings and beast-like faces. When she told them that the little girl’s father was a being called an ‘Oni,’ a race of what Westerners would call a type of faery-warrior. His trepidation was quelled when she told of how Oni were historically hunters of evil wizards and dark creatures and were very rarely evil themselves, although they did have a reputation of being rather mischievous.

Before Madam Pomfrey’s revelation, Harry never really knew what Kotone was, exactly. He never bothered to ask anyone about her lineage. Her being a half-breed didn’t matter to him at all, he just felt that he had to help her, no matter what she was or how she looked. From the moment they met, he felt a sort of connection to the little girl, even before he knew what she really looked like beneath her hood and turned-up collar.

The real surprise came when Madam Pomfrey explained what she meant when she called Kotone an Algean Sympath. It turns out that in Greek mythology, the Algea were the spirits, or ‘demons,’ if you will, of pain and suffering of both body and mind. It was said that they were the cause of all grief, sorrow and distress and that they were the source of weeping and tears. The term ‘Algean Sympath’ in the Wizarding world is a description of a rare type of magical ability usually possessed by a witch rather than a wizard, which is even rarer than metamorphmagi. An Algean Sympath has the ability to absorb the pain, and in some cases actual physical injury, from another person onto themselves and are almost always empathic. She explained that since Kotone has the blood of the Oni in her, she naturally heals much quicker than a normal human would, and she even suspected that Kotone might be capable of physical regeneration, such as the ability to re-grow a lost limb or maybe to even recover from non-catastrophic death. Of course, there was no way to be sure without physically testing it, which was obviously not an option.

When Ron revealed to his family what Ginny had apparently done, Arthur tried to keep Molly calm, with only limited success. She adamantly refused to believe that her daughter would knowingly use Dark Magicks, potions, rituals or anything of the like to try to win the affections of anyone. That was not the way she had raised her children. As Ron continued to explain what he had found in Ginny’s room, how they retrieved the book that the infamous page came from and what they believed she had mistakenly believed about the elixir, Molly just stood with her face buried in her hands and continually muttered a disbelieving ‘no’. The twins were standing back, silently throwing death glares at Percy, who was wisely remaining quiet and in the background.

Harry also remained quiet as he sat on the edge of Kotone’s bed, not paying any attention to the distressed sobs and disbelieving gasps of the Weasley matriarch. He was looking worriedly at the young witch’s face as he gently stroked her head, fully aware of how her usually overactive hair was currently splayed unmoving across her blood-spattered pillow.

After Ron finished explaining what Hermione had gleaned from the Arithmantic formula for the elixir, a startled gasp sounded from the doorway. Everyone in the room turned to see the Luna Lovegood standing with a hand clasped over her mouth. A moment later, she rushed across the crowded room and threw her arms around the very embarrassed Ron, crying and apologizing for thinking that he was practicing Necromancy on his own.

Harry was getting rather annoyed at the increased number of weeping witches in the room. He purposely kept his gaze away from the crying women and on Arthur, who was having a hushed conversation nearby with Madam Pomfrey. He couldn’t catch all of what was being said, but it seemed that they were discussing treatment options for Ginny. Apparently, with the information from Ron about the nature of the elixir, she was certain that she wouldn’t be able to effectively treat his daughter, and doubted that St. Mungo’s could take her because they were still turning away patients that were in much worse condition than Ginny.

Madam Pomfrey stated that the best thing that they could do would be to take Ginny to a private healer that specializes in dark rituals. She went on to say that their best hope would be to contact one of the druidic sects, even though the services of the druids were known to be outlandishly expensive. When Arthur sheepishly asked her what they could expect the cost to be, she said that she wasn’t really sure. She had heard of a few difficult cases that were charged over ten thousand Galleons, and depending on the necessary treatments, the cost could be substantially more because of the fact that ritualistic magic usually takes quite a bit of time to both cast and to dispel, sometimes months or even years.

It seemed that the last bit of their conversation was overheard by all, because Harry saw every other Weasley in the room turn anxiously towards the twins. Fred and George ever so briefly glanced towards Harry before saying to their family, “We can’t come up with that kind of money quickly, we have all of our liquid assets… um… invested.”

Harry suddenly felt the eyes of everyone in the room drift in his direction. The annoyance he felt a moment before turned into a pained embarrassment as he averted his eyes from the family of redheads back to the little witch that was resting on the bed next to him.

Ron sent the twins a knowing glance before he turned to his father and said, “Harry can’t help us, so don’t even ask him.”

A fresh wave of tears were flowing down Molly’s reddened cheeks as she timidly looked to the young wizard sitting on Kotone’s bed, “Harry, I’m sure we could pay you back in time… surely you could do this for us… for her… even though she’s not your girlfriend anymore, you must still have some feelings for her?”

Harry didn’t look up as Ron quickly spoke on his behalf, “Mum, it’s not that he wouldn’t want to help us, he can’t help us. Harry’s broke. His muggle relatives stole all of his inheritance. He had to borrow money from Hermione just to afford to come to Hogwarts this year.”

Molly’s face contorted into an anguished frown and let out a mournful cry, burying her face into her husband’s chest, “Arthur, what are we going to do?”

Harry watched as Arthur, wearing a hopeless expression himself, just patted his wife on the back in a lame attempt at consoling her. Harry felt the rage for his relatives building inside of him again. Here was a perfect opportunity to put the money he inherited from Sirius to good use, even though it was money that he didn’t want in the first place. Now it was impossible due to his uncle’s greed.

With a sigh, Harry looked up from Kotone’s sleeping face and addressed Arthur, “Maybe there is something I can do after all, but it will take a bit of time. I own the house on Privet Drive and was planning to sell it to pay for my last year at Hogwarts, but since Hermione has both of us covered, I can’t think of a better use for the money from its sale. Merlin knows I have no emotional attachment to the place, and I certainly won’t have use for money once… once I do what I must do. I’ll contact a muggle real estate agent tomorrow, and make it a priority to get the place ready for a quick sale.”

Ron frowned in thought for only a moment before the meaning of Harry’s words hit him. A look of intense anger flashed across his face, but he remained silent. At the same time, a look of understanding crossed Fred’s face as he remembered Ron’s slip in the tearoom at St. Mungo’s and caught on to the same thing that Ron had. Even Luna’s normally lost expression hardened a fraction, giving Harry the impression that she knew exactly what he meant when he said that he wouldn’t have use for money.

Molly opened her mouth in protest but she was quickly cut off by Harry as he continued, “Don’t even think of refusing. Yes, I’m angry at Ginny for what she’s done to Hermione and I, but I understand why she thought she had to do it. You people are my only family now, so it’s only right that I help the ones I love when I can. Please let me do this.”

Without another word, Harry walked from Madam Pomfrey’s office and walked through the infirmary and out of the doors, immediately followed by Ron.

Out of earshot from the rest of his family, Ron turned to Harry, grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him up against a wall, “You listen to me, Potter, and you listen good… You have it running around in that tiny brain of yours that you aren’t going to survive when it comes time to face V-Vol… Vol-de… Bloody Hell! VOLDEMORT! There I said it! Anyway, you had better get it out of your head that you’re not going to kick that bastard’s arse back to hell and live to tell about it! Hermione needs you. I’ve seen what she’s been going through this past month while you’ve been laid up. She’ll never survive if you don’t come through this alive. It would break her, and I can’t allow that to happen.”

Ron loosened his grip on Harry’s shirt and placed his hands on his shoulders. His voice sounded choked with emotion as he continued, “and I need you, too. Having you snuff it would be like having Bill or Charlie, the twins or… It would kill me. I know I’m not the most powerful wizard out there, I know this, but I would fight just as fiercely for you as I would for mum, dad… for any of my family. I consider you my family, too. Remember that, and remember that both Hermione and I were placed into Gryffindor for a reason. We have your back, and we’ll be there when the going gets rough, and when the time comes to face the fucker that did this to Ginny, Hermione and you, we’ll be right beside you. I’ve said it before, but I don’t think it really settled in through that thick skull of yours… we’re in it for the duration.”

Harry appreciated the sympathy, and understood what Ron was saying, but Ron didn’t yet know about Snape’s revelation. Harry could have a bit of Voldemort’s soul in him. He could be a horcrux that would have to be destroyed before the world was finally rid of the maniacal Dark Lord. Maybe surviving wasn’t an option at all.

Harry was about to tell Ron just that when Luna, Fred and George emerged from the infirmary. Ron pushed away from Harry and said before walking off with Luna, “Get some rest, we’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

George was watching Ron and Luna with an amused grin, but Fred’s attention was firmly centered on Harry. He studied Harry for a moment with a serious look on his face, then shook his head before finally blurting out, “It’s true, isn’t it? You really are the ‘Chosen One’ that they keep going on about in The Daily Prophet.”

George’s head quickly snapped in his twin brother’s direction with a shocked expression. Harry was taken aback, but tried desperately not to show it, saying, “What? Now you’re believing all of the rubbish that’s being printed in that rag?”

Fred gave a knowing, but grim smile as he answered, “Not at all, little brother. I’ve just been piecing a few things together and that’s the conclusion I came up with. I know you don’t have a death wish, but what you said about not needing money when everything is over was the final piece. You’re the only one who can defeat the Dim Lord, and you think that you don’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell to come out on top.”

Even with the gravity of the conversation, Harry couldn’t help but to snort in laughter, “The ‘Dim Lord?’ Your mother was right… You guys are definitely asking for the ol’ AK, what with the ‘You-No-Poo’ and all... and now ‘The Dim Lord?’”

Fred smirked while saying, “Well, given the number of times he’s tried and failed to send you to the ‘Choir Invisible,’ he can’t be too bright… but stop trying to change the subject. I know you know the Prophesy…”

Both Harry’s and George’s eyes grew wide as they heard Fred’s declaration. Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Fred raised his hands in front of him and said, “I told you, I figured things out. I don’t need to know what the Prophesy says, unless you want to tell us, of course, and I’m not going to tell you how I found out.”

Fred’s voice became serious, “Our family owes you a lot, and not just what you did for my brother and me with the loan from your tri-wizard winnings. Ron owes you his life from you saving him from the poison last year. Our father owes you his life because you summoned help for him in time to save him the year before that. You even have a life-debt on Ginny from the Chamber. Her infatuation with you got her into trouble, and you had to pull her fat out of the fire then. Now we find out our dear little sister’s obsession with you has forced her to do something desperate, and you’re still willing to sacrifice for her. The Weasley family owes you more than we can ever repay, yet you’re still willing to give up everything you own to save one of us from our own stupidity. If I thought you’d accept, we’d sign our shop over to you and re-name it ‘Potter’s Prestidigitious Pranks’ or something like that, Merlin knows it wouldn’t exist without your magnanimous contribution in the first place.

Fred glanced at his brother who was staring back open-mouthed. George seemed to regain his composure and then quickly nodded, indicating to Fred to continue, “What I’m saying is that I know now what you have to do. I know that you’re willing to sacrifice your life for not just the Weasleys, but the entire Wizarding world. We want to help. We’re offering our services to design and create for you anything, and I mean anything, legal or not, to ensure that you get out of this alive. As of now, we’re stopping our development of new pranks. We have enough on hand to keep the Hogwarts pranksters going for a while, but we’re going to re-tool for more ‘aggressive’ projects. Whatever you need, let us know and we’ll be able to let you know what’s possible in a day or two.”

Harry stood silently while Fred gave his speech. When the twins saw Harry face contort into a frown, they thought he was about to burst out in anger until he let out a choked breath and quickly wiped a tear from his eye, saying, “This is what family is about, isn’t it? The more I learn about you people, the angrier I get at the life I was forced to live with the Dursley’s.”

Harry took another deep breath and started pacing the hall, saying, “There is something I’d like you to do. Inconspicuously find out about the protections that shopkeepers place on their businesses in Diagon Alley, and if you can discreetly find out about anything specific on Ollivander’s shop, well, that would be a bonus. I can’t tell you why I need the information, but you wanted to know what you can do to help keep me alive, and that, in itself, would be a great help.” Harry thought for another moment then added, “I’d also like you to make the work on your ‘Peeper’ a priority. In the same vein, do you think you can develop something similar to that except with using a glove instead of an eye? You know, so you can grab things remotely. I figured that would be a simple modification to those distraction devices you showed me in your shop, the ones that you drop and they scuttle away and make noise.”

George grinned and said excitedly, “Brilliant! We sell them as remote bum pinchers!”

Fred glared at his twin, wiping George’s grin from his face, “We’ll get to work on it and let you know in a few days.”

Harry smiled and said, “Thanks guys, and if you talk to Bill, let him know I’d like to speak with him. Depending on what you find out about the shop protections, I might need his curse-breaking expertise.”

“Leave it to us,” said the twins in unison, both snapping to attention and giving him a crisp salute, “Now, run along and get some rest, you look knackered.”

Harry walked in silence through the dark, empty halls back to his chambers. As he opened his door to his quarters and stepped inside, a troubled sigh escaped him. He looked around the empty room and felt a profound loneliness as his thoughts returned to Hermione. He had lived so long with that certain comfortable feeling that he never really could identify until it was gone. It was a sense of inner peace that he held by truly loving someone and being loved in return. Even when he wasn’t really aware of their shared connection, it was strangely comforting to feel that he was capable of such an emotion. Now he felt as if there were a hole in his soul, a hole that he had no idea how to fill.

Harry crawled into bed and laid his head heavily onto his pillow. He looked out through the window and saw the thin sliver of the crescent moon hanging over the Forbidden Forest. He was sure that when sleep eventually found him it would come with a knife, fork and a healthy appetite.

Sure enough, a few hours had passed and Harry found himself in the same recurring dream. He was in the same hallway at Grimmauld Place, standing before the same doorway, looking in at the now very familiar clamshell and the same very naked Hermione.

From outside of the room, he could see Hermione’s eyes locked onto his with her lips moving, but making no sound. This time, however, he didn’t experience the restrictive feeling of his legs being bound.

He stepped forward into the room and could immediately hear her voice, but it sounded faint and muffled, “Harry! Please! I need you! Oh, Merlin, please wake up! Harry!”

‘Please wake up?’ But he wasn’t asleep! Couldn’t she see him standing right there in front of her? Of course she could see him, she was staring directly into his eyes.

“Harry! Are you even there? Please wake up!”

He half-opened his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. Even his dreams seemed to have something against him getting a decent night’s sleep. He then heard Hermione’s desperate voice from his living room, “Oh, Harry! Please! Wake up!”

Harry jumped from the bed as he grabbed his glasses. He glanced at the magical clock by his bedside and noticed that it was a bit after three in the morning. He shook the cobwebs from his mind as he raced from the bedroom and knelt before the floo fire with annoyance plainly written on his face, “Hermione, what’s…”

“Harry! Thank Merlin!” interrupted Hermione, “It’s Malfoy! He’s here!”

“What? He’s here at Hogwarts?”

“No! He’s here! At Grimmauld Place! You’ve got to come here now!”

-----~-----

Long ago, Kotone made it a habit of examining the soul-spirit of people she met, which nearly always took the form of an animal. The red-haired ichiranseisouseiji had similar spirits, a pair of playful kori. The older man had the spirit likeness of a monkey, slow to anger and naturally curious, but fierce when threatened. The mother had the soul of a haiiroguma, a large, protective grizzly bear. She thought it a strange match, but not unheard of. The healer had the likeness of a large wolf, a caring spirit, but one who will not tolerate nonsense.

When her eyes rested on the faint, shadowed Shimienjakkaru, the Abyssinia Jackal that was writhing and wailing on the bed across the room, she was almost unable to suppress a gasp when she saw a large, smoky-black serpent, identical to the one that was entwined around her Shishi, biting and tearing at the soul of the young girl. She looked worriedly between her Shishi and the Jakkaru, noticing the similarities between the serpents, the vague, charcoal-gray essence, the same glowing red eyes. The serpent around her Shishi was still disoriented and sluggish, obviously still affected from the last time she had bound it, but the much larger serpent around the Jakkaru was thrashing and tearing at the soul, much like the way Shishi’s was when she first saw it.

As she studied the Jakkaru, she saw the black, corrupted connection that was somehow unnaturally formed between her and Shishi. She saw two other connections emanating from the girl… tiny, thread-thin strands stretching out in two different directions, but both heading roughly southward. She also saw the red, web-like phage, stretching like tiny rivers all over the girl’s soul, strangling and sapping the essence from it. The net of the phage was slowly killing the soul it was ensnaring. She had no idea what the phage-web was, but knew it had to be removed soon or the Jakkaru would be completely consumed, presumably leaving only the serpent. She didn’t think that would be good if that were to occur.

She looked around at all of the faces in the room, all staring at her and most wore expressions which ranged from mild shock to outright horror, but all with concern for the Jakkaru showing in their eyes. Knowing what she must do, she let out a small, resigned sigh and shifted against Shishi, who instinctively lowered her from his side to the floor. She slowly made her way to the Jakkaru, only pausing once from the protest from the kuma (bear) before making it to the bed and knelt down.

Fortunately, the Jakkaru’s eyes were open, allowing her to establish the connection between them. Instantly, she felt the searing pain in her head and soon realized that it was a fraction of what the Jakkaru was experiencing. She couldn’t make a complete connection, but there was enough of one for her to begin drawing off whatever damage she found. Judging from what she was feeling so far, she knew that this was not going to be a pleasant experience for either of them.

She could tell that the connection wasn’t complete. Not only because she couldn’t communicate with the Jakkaru through her emotions, but the uncomfortable sensation of time speeding up didn’t seem as intense as it usually was.

As soon as the connection had begun, the snake seemed to become aware of her. It withdrew its fangs from the Jakkaru and made a quick lunge at Kotone, which she anticipated and dealt with with ease. Once the serpent was bound, she concentrated on the immediate threat to the soul, the web-like phage that covered the girl’s body. The threads were old, and deeply rooted. It took a massive amount of concentration to recall them to its source. After a few moments, she realized that the phage had emanated from not one, but from five points on the girl’s body, making it five times more difficult to draw them back.

She concentrated on one source at a time. She determined that there was a central focal point and began drawing the strands to that point at the center of the girl’s throat. She was shocked to see that as soon as one series of strands coiled into a knotted ball, another series of webbing appeared to emerge from under the girl’s flesh and began pulsating anew. A frustrated growl escaped her throat as she focused on drawing those new strands back to their source. The pain Kotone was feeling was beginning to wear on her.

After drawing back the second set of webbing, a third set emerged from under the girl’s skin. She wondered how many levels of the phage were embedded inside of the Jakkaru, and realized that she had to speed up. She knew that she wasn’t fully recovered from her attempt to save her Shishi and that her strength was waning much too quickly.

After the tenth attempt to recall the phage, the ball of knotted, writhing threads were the size of a grapefruit pulsating at the girl’s throat and there still was yet another set that emerged. Kotone was having a hard time seeing. She felt her body twitching and convulsing from the steadily increasing pain. Knowing that she didn’t have the strength for another round, she banished the pulsating red ball and saw the Jakkaru’s body relax and the pain lessen.

The moment the central phage was banished, the red rivers that came from the other five points evaporated, reappeared, and then evaporated again. With the symbiosis between the different phage sources broken, they were disappearing until the only ones that were left were the ones she didn’t have time to removed, but it already seemed that her soul was beginning to recover slightly.

Now she felt the connection solidify, causing the actions of the people around her to slow to a near standstill. She knew it wasn’t good for her to use the connection as often as she did. Her mother had repeatedly warned her of the outcome of speeding herself up as she does, but her embarrassment and the discomfort to others from using her horrible voice seemed to make the effects of it worthwhile. Would Shishi and Washi have accepted her so readily if she had actually spoken to them when they first met? Would she still be alone and nearly friendless? Would she even be alive if she had scared her Shishi away? Would he have bothered to come to her rescue at the orphanage?

She shook herself out of her thoughts, realizing that she was wasting precious time. With the last of her strength, she reached into the Jakkaru’s mind and found her standing in a deep fog and staring blankly ahead. Kotone could feel that the girl was hiding a terrible secret. She could feel that the girl was desperately hiding some sort of shameful action from her family and friends. Unable to hide the disapproval in her voice, she called to the girl, leading her buried essence closer to the surface. Once she felt that the girl was out of danger, she narrowed her eyes in warning and sent the emotion to her that told her that there were people expecting answers from her when she awakes.

Kotone watched the girl drop into sleep before her own exhaustion overcame her, plunging the young half-witch into darkness.

Hours later, Kotone awoke with a start, momentarily disoriented until she recognized the room that she was in since the evening before. She awoke feeling more drained than she had been in a very long time. Not since she tried to save her own parents in much the same way that she tried to save her Shishi-sama and the Jakkaru.

Kotone knew that she needed a lot of time to recover. She had to gain back her strength quickly. She stared up at the blank, white ceiling and allowed her body to accelerate. She watched as the flickering of the flames from the candles mounted on the walls eerily slow to a sluggish dance around the wicks. More than once, she wished she could move while she was accelerated, but knew it was impossible, except to speak through her unmoving mouth in a very slow, drawn out voice to make herself understandable to those around her.

She wished she could stretch as she laid there, nearly paralyzed. She could feel her body growing ever so slightly as time passed her by. She knew it would take another twenty years or so to reach her full, matured frame, knowing that the Oni part of her caused her to mature much more slowly than true humans. She internally sighed, thinking about her dirty, little secret and wondering how long it would be before someone found out. Nobody outside of her immediate family knew, not hakubo Motoko, not anyone at the orphanage, nobody knew but her. Would Shishi understand if she told him?

She internally laughed at the thought. To him, she was a tiny, ten-year-old. She could never let him know that, by unnaturally aging herself, that she was really closer to sixteen, maybe even seventeen than she was to ten. She knew she appeared smaller than even a ten-year-old should look… Even without the horns, ears and tail, she’d still look like a deformed little freak… damn her Oni blood!

Her thoughts drifted back to earlier in the day. Not only had Shishi pledged to make her part of a family again, he also had referred to her as ‘one beautiful little witch.’ If he only knew what effect that those statements had had on her. She knew she wasn’t anywhere near ‘beautiful.’ She had been called hideous all of her life by everyone who had seen her, so she knew better. Even Shishi had, for just an instant, cringed at the first true sight of her back in the orphanage, but was pleased that he recovered so quickly.

With an internal sigh, she pushed those unproductive thoughts from her head and decided to make use of her time practicing English. Going over syntax and pronunciation in her head wasn’t very effective without someone correcting her, but she had to try. After all, she wasn’t going back to Japan any time soon, and if she was going to live and go to school in the western world, she would have to prepare herself the best she could.

To her, over two days had passed, even though barely two hours had actually gone by to everyone around her. She took herself out of her self-induced ‘trance’ and climbed out of the bed. She briefly glared at the sleeping witch in the other bed before making her way to the door. Seeing that the occupants of the infirmary were asleep, she quickly and quietly scampered across the ward to the door and slipped out into the hall. With any amount of luck, she’d find a few mice or maybe a big, juicy rat on her way to Shishi’s room. She was terribly hungry.

-----~-----

A/N: Translations…

Ichiranseisouseiji = Identical Twins

Haiiroguma = Grizzly Bear

Kori = Foxes

Shimienjakkaru = Abyssinia Jackal

23. The Sin of Kreacher

Disclaimer: I still don’t own ‘Harry Potter’ or any of his minions, nor do I own any of the lyric bits that I use to enhance the story. I don’t make any money at all from writing this drivel that hardly anyone bothers to read.

A/N: A special greeting to my friend, Jess. I will miss you, and everyone else terribly. In this chapter, Harry discovers many things, and finds one of the things he’s looking for, but not how you’d expect him to find it. I’m sorry for leaving it at a bit of a cliff-hanger, but I’m sure you’ll forgive me. ^_^;

-----~-----

Chapter 23: The Sin of Kreacher

-----~-----

I looked up at the tallest building,
Felt it falling down.
I could feel my balance shifting
Everything was moving around.
These streets so fixed and solid,
A shimmering haze,
And everything that I relied on disappeared.

Downside up, upside down,
Take my weight from the ground.
Falling deep in the sky,
Slipping in the unknown,
All the strangers look like family,
All the family looks so strange.
The only constant I am sure of
Is this accelerating rate of change.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Downside Up’ by Peter Gabriel and Elizabeth Frasier.

-----~-----

“What do you mean, ‘here’ at Grimmauld…” It took a moment for Harry to comprehend what she meant. When it finally dawned on him, he angrily asked, “Hermione, what the Hell are you doing there? It’s not safe! How do you know he’s there? Wait, Malfoy? Which one? Draco? Lucius? What happened?!”

By the time Harry had finished, his voice had risen in both tone and volume, clearly becoming more and more panicked, which caused Hermione’s nervousness to skyrocket into a full-blown frenzy. Her voice became almost comically high pitched and hurried as she answered, “I came here to pick up Kotone’s things for her, and decided to visit the library. Draco walked in on me, and I stunned, tied and put a full-body bind on him, then I stunned him again for good measure. I have him hanging from the ceiling here in the study. I have no idea if there’s anyone else here… I sealed the door and called for you!”

“Can you floo out from there?”

“No, I tried. It’s lucky that I can even communicate through this thing. It’s almost like the house is preventing the floo from working properly.

“I’ll try it from this end, just hang on a…”

A brief, tentative knock sounded from the door and he could hear Ron’s voice cautiously coming from the hallway outside, “Harry? Err… Professor Buck? You have a… erm… visitor…”

Harry briefly looked at the door, then turned back to the floo, saying to Hermione, “I’ll be right there one way or another, just keep yourself safe.”

He rose from the hearth and rushed to the door, swinging it open to see the faces of Ron, Luna and Kotone looking at him curiously, as he answered his door wearing nothing but a pair of baggy boxer shorts. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, Kotone quickly moved beside him and in her usual way, reached up to him so that she could claim her customary position against his side.

“Sorry, Harry,” said Ron rather sheepishly, “we were heading back to the Head’s dorm when we found her here sleeping outside of your door…”

“Come on, we have to get to Hermione,” said Harry tersely, “Draco Malfoy’s with her at Grimmauld Place.”

Bloody Hell, it’s after three in the morning!” exclaimed Ron as he watched Harry reflexively scoop Kotone in his arms, “What’s she doing there?”

Harry didn’t answer, he just strode back to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder. Hoping that the Professors’ quarters unidirectional floo access has been enabled, and that the floo to Grimmauld Place would work for him, he threw the powder down and called out, “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.”

Harry found himself sprawled out on the floor, thrown off balance by Kotone’s additional weight on his side. He sat up on the floor, looked at the little half-witch that was tucked firmly to his side and briefly wondered how she got there until Ron came tumbling from the hearth, immediately followed by Luna, who stepped daintily from the fireplace, but surprisingly had her wand firmly in hand as she scanned the room.

“Thank Merlin you’re here,” said Hermione nervously, “I wasn’t sure what I was going to do.”

Hermione was standing with her wand pointed at Draco, who was hanging upside-down in the air with ropes wrapped tightly around him. His face was flushed red from the rush of blood to his face.

“Did he say anything before you stunned him?” asked Harry as he set Kotone down on a chair and approached the still unconscious Draco.

“He said something about being fed,” she answered, “but I wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying.”

“Ron, keep an eye on the door,” said Harry as he raised his wand and Rennervated Draco.

Draco’s confused eyes seemed to focus as they scanned around the upside-down room, glancing at each of the people in it. He was obviously trying to say something, but the full-body bind prevented any speech.

Lifting the bind, but still keeping Hermione’s Levicorpus and Incarcerous in place, Harry asked, “What are you doing here?”

Malfoy began speaking in a scared, child-like voice, “I- I was told by Uncle Severus to wait here for him. We’re going on a holiday, but he wouldn’t tell me where.”

“Uncle Severus?” repeated Harry somewhat confusedly, “Who else is with you? How long have you been here?”

“I… I’m alone here, and it’s only been a few days… I was staying in my cousin Regulus’ bedroom,” with tearing eyes and in a frightened tone, he nervously asked, “Who are you people? Uncle Severus said that nobody lived here and that I’d be safe here.”

Hermione’s eyes widened as the realization hit her, “Oh, my… he’s been obliviated! Why would Snape… oh… to protect him.” She stepped closer to Draco and asked him, “Draco, how old are you?”

Draco’s brows knitted as he thought, “I… I don’t remember… ummm, ten?”

Hermione raised her wand, causing the ropes to fall from around him and pool on the floor. With another twist of her wrist, she lowered Draco gently to the floor.

“What… What are you doing, Hermione!” asked Ron angrily from his position at the door.

Be reasonable, Ronald. He’s no threat to us… he doesn’t even have a wand, but…” Hermione froze when Draco stood up and the hem of his pajama shirt fell from his chest, revealing a monogram on the breast pocket...

‘R.A.B.’

“Harry, look!” exclaimed Hermione, but she really didn’t have to, for his eyes were already focused on the monogram.

“He was right. It was Regulus Black.”

“Regulus Black?” asked Ron, realizing the importance of the find, “He was the R.A.B. from the locket?”

“Yeah,” said Harry, “We believe so. We still have no idea what he did with it, though.”

Ron paused in thought before saying, “Remember when we were cleaning this place up that summer, and the locket that none of us could open?”

Harry looked to Ron, “You don’t suppose…”

“I know right where it is, too. I helped Sirius haul the bags to the basement. Ruddy awful place,” he then whispered with a shudder, “so many spiders…”

Hermione rolled her eyes while removing the seal on the door, “Well, let’s get it!”

While moving to the door, Harry asked Luna to watch Draco and Kotone, but the little half-witch seemed to appear at his side with her arms stretched out to him. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he deftly scooped her up against his side.

They made their way down from the second floor, through the sitting room and down the short stairs to the kitchen. Ron hesitated at the doorway to the basement, causing Hermione to roll her eyes again as she brushed past him and swung the door open, revealing a rickety wooden stairway leading into the bowels of the mansion.

The large basement was damp and moldy, with smell of dust and mildew tainting the stagnant air. Hermione lit her wand and scanned the room. Ron, still on the bottom stair and looking rather nervous pointed to a pile of bags and boxes in a far corner and said, “The stuff’s over there. Remember, there’s a lot of wonky stuff, so be careful… remember that music box?”

Indeed, Harry did remember as he placed Kotone on the floor. As they approached the pile of refuse, Kotone wandered off towards a darkened area under the stairs. It only took a few minutes to dump the contents of the containers over the floor, where they soon found the aforementioned locket.

Hermione reached her hand out to pick it up, but seemed to think better of it and pulled her hand back.

“Don’t worry. Remember how everyone was looking at it? Even Ginny was smacking it against the fireplace,” said Harry as he reached for the locket, “If nothing happened then, nothing’s going to happen…”

The moment he picked the object up, a frown crossed his face. He moved the locket closer to the light from Hermione’s wand and flipped the locket over in his palm a few times. Without a word, he tossed the locket back on the pile of rubbish and began walking towards the stairs.

“Harry?” asked Hermione nervously, “What’s wrong? What happened when you touched it?”

“Nothing happened,” he quietly stated, “That’s not the horcrux.”

Silence permeated the dark basement until a muffled, crunching sound came from under the staircase, causing Hermione to gasp, Ron to jump in alarm, and Harry to slightly pale.

“What the bloody hell is that?” yelled Ron as he jumped from the bottom step and into a rather large web that was draped from the ceiling to the wall, causing him to frantically slap and scrape at the sticky fibres.

Harry ushered Hermione and Ron to the stairs while calling out to Kotone, “When you’re done, come on up. I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

As they ascended the stairs, Hermione whispered urgently, “You can’t leave her alone down there in the dark!”

“She’ll be fine,” assured Harry.

“What’s she doing?” asked Ron with a puzzled look.

“Trust me,” replied Harry, “You don’t want to know.”

“No, I do want to know,” said Ron tersely, while pulling strands of webbing from his hair, “Look, I know she’s not totally human, it’s pretty obvious with those horns, that tail and those fangs, but there’s something else about her… something that’s… not right. I mean what do we really know about her? What exactly did she do to Ginny to make her stop screaming? And why does she have to cling to you like she does? It’s almost as if…”

“As if what, Ron?” yelled Harry crossly, “As if she’s a ten year old girl who watched her parents get murdered and is in desperate need of affection? As if she were forced to live with people who feared and despised her? As if she lived every day of her life being called a freak by those around her and needed someone to accept her? As if she feels abandoned and betrayed because a relative stole her family’s wealth and left her a penniless when she became an orphan and needed someone who could sympathize with her? Oh, I know! It must be because she gets judged by everyone who sees her over a physical flaw and has finally found someone who understands her?” He said the last line while brushing the hair from his forehead, revealing the lightning bolt scar that marked him as ‘The Boy Who Lived.’

An excited look appeared on Hermione’s face and she opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Ron who blurted out, “No, mate! You got it wrong, that’s not…”

“So you want to know what she’s doing? Fine, I’ll tell you. She eating. She probably found a big, juicy rat and ate it whole, and is probably using its pointy tail as a toothpick!”

Hermione was holding her hand over her mouth while the grimace on Ron’s ashen face led Harry to believe that he was about to throw up.

“I’m really getting tired of the way people react to her. I wish there was some way to stop people from looking at her as if she were some sort of evil… some… creature!”

Surprising everyone in the room, Harry’s house-elf appeared with an annoyingly loud ‘pop,’ which Harry was certain that it was done intentionally. The aged house-elf bowed low, dragging his long, crooked snout along the floor as he muttered, “You called for me, Master?” then added under his breath, but loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, “Well, the half-blood brat and his filthy friends has need of Kreacher. Maybe Kreacher will have another chance to cleanse the Mistress’s fine house of the vermin.”

Harry, already aggravated about Kotone, turned to the foul house-elf and began to lay into him, “Although you done a right miserable job of keeping this ‘fine house’ clean over the years, you sure did a wonderful job of getting your master killed, didn’t you? It’s your fault, you know. By lying to me about Sirius being at the ministry, you sealed his fate. You should be bloody chuffed, I’d say.”

Kreacher glared at Harry and opened his mouth to retort when a deep, gruff voice came from the doorway to the basement, “Shishi-san, is the truth what you say?”

Harry turned to see Kotone standing in the doorway with a disturbingly ferocious look in her eyes. He sighed and dropped his eyes, “I know that people are mean to you. I can’t help that, but I can at least show you that how you look, act or even eat doesn’t matter to me. I was serious about making you part of my family.”

“No, not about that. What you say about the sennyo, (fairy, elf) the one to serve,” she said, pointing at Kreacher, who was visibly quivering and staring dumbstruck at Kotone.

“Yes. Kreacher told me that his master was being held prisoner, all the while, he was safe in this house. When I went to try to rescue him, he left this place to help me and was killed by his cousin.”

A wicked growl escaped Kotone’s throat as she walked menacingly towards Kreacher. She stood in front of the house-elf and said, “Yakusoku mamotte yo.” (You should keep your word.)

“Kreacher only did as Kreacher was told! Mistress Black told Kreacher to convince the half-blood brat to go to the ministry! Kreacher did not betray his master!”

Harry cut in angrily, “But you didn’t warn your true master about what was going on. You let him walk out of here to his death, hoping that you’d get to serve that Death Eater, Narcissa.”

The ancient house-elf turned to Harry and, forgetting that a member of an elder race was standing right beside him, said, “Kreacher wants to serve proper wizards. Kreacher can not stand the stench of the blood-traitors and dirt-veins! Kreacher is not sorry for what he did!”

Kreacher cowered back as he saw Kotone take another step towards him, “Iitai koto ha soredake?” (Is that all you have to say?)

Kreacher’s large, cloudy eyes grew even larger, “Kreacher did not betray his master! Kreacher did not betray his master! Kreacher did not betray his master…”

Kotone’s eyes hardened and she bared her teeth to the cowering house-elf, “Kore ijou ittemo shou ga nai.” (There's no point in talking about it any more.)

Kreacher abruptly stopped repeating the same phrase. His eyes narrowed and he stood as erect as his aged frame would allow, although the slight trembling in his ears told that he was still cowed, “So, the angel is holding Kreacher to the vow, is she?”

Kotone’s eyes softened as she replied in a calm voice, “Soudesune. Gomen nasai…” (You are correct. I’m sorry…)

Kreacher stopped trembling. His ears drooped only slightly as he raised a hand, snapped his crooked, bony fingers and vanished with a barely audible pop.

The trio looked at each other, then to the small half-witch, all with stunned expressions. Hermione was the first to speak, “Kotone, what did you say to him?”

“I remind the sennyo of his vow. He caused death of master. He died with honour.”

Harry bent down to face Kotone, “What do you mean, he died with honour?”

Kotone smiled and calmly said while raising her arms to him, “The sennyo has paid for treason. To take own rife to repay dishonour.”

Hermione gasped while Ron let out a muttered, “Bloody Hell.”

Hermione seemed to recover quickly. She approached Kotone who was just settling in against Harry side and said, “Kreacher seemed to understand you when you spoke in Japanese to him. How is it that he can he understand you?”

“That is nature of the sennyo, to speak is common to all. A sennyo can have master of any prace in world and understand.

“So house-elves can understand any language?” Hermione absently asked as she looked at Harry. He caught on quickly and nodded.

Hermione raced from the room to retrieve her overnight bag as Ron stated, “I’ve had enough of this drama, I’m going to check on Luna.”

Harry nodded in understanding at his departing friend before he called out, “Dobby?”

The excitable house-elf appeared before Harry, already mid-bow, “Dobby is so happy that the great Harry Potter is needing Dobby’s help! Hogwarts is being boring in the holidays and…”

The excitement in Dobby’s eyes quickly turned into panic when he rose from his bow and came face to face with Kotone. He froze on the spot, just staring at the little girl on Harry’s arm.

Kotone let out a small giggle, which to everyone else, didn’t sound jovial at all, and she said to Dobby, “Jiro jiro miru no ha ogyougi warui desuyo.” (It's not nice manners to stare.)

Dobby’s eyes rapidly shifted between Harry and Kotone. Tears welled up in the little elf’s eyes as he threw himself onto the floor, covered his head with his hands, and began bawling piteously, “Dobby is a bad house-elf! Dobby is sorry! I’s give back all the moneys I’s paid for work! Please, Harry Potter, sir! I’s sorry! Please, Master Harry Potter, Sir!”

Harry looked worriedly between the elf and the girl in his arms until Kotone looked up to him with her eyes crinkled in mirth. When she gave him an approving nod, he said, “Don’t worry, Dobby. We know you aren’t a bad house-elf. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“But… but I’s been given clothes, Master Harry Potter, sir!” said the little elf in a terrified tone, “I’s been paid for work and I’s been disgraced and Dobby must pay for his crimes!”

Harry looked at Kotone inquisitively. As he met her gaze, he felt the odd sensation of time slowing down around him and the room faded into blackness.

Kotone’s lithe, ethereal voice drifted through his mind, ‘Shishi-kun, this fae has done no wrong. His heart is light and his love and respect for Shishi-san is true. I tried to tell him that he should have no fear, but I am afraid he fears what I represent above all other peril. Please to make him understand. I do not need to invoke the vow for someone such as him.’

Kotone broke the connection so quickly that it made Harry’s head hurt. He looked down at the groveling house-elf, took him by the shoulders, and lifted him from the floor.

“Dobby? Listen to me. This is Kotone Oota, a good friend of mine, and soon to be my daughter, if I can get the paperwork through the ministry without getting my wand snapped. She knows you are a good elf, and has no intention of punishing you for anything. Do you understand?”

Dobby stopped his fidgeting and looked into Harry’s eyes with no small amount of wonder, “Master Harry Potter is willing to take her into a wizard family? Why would a wizard willingly claim a half-breed as blood?”

Harry didn’t know how to answer the question. He was distracted by the arrival of Hermione, who, while carrying her overnight bag, looked pale and was visibly shaken.

“Hermione, what happened?”

“Kreacher… his… his head… on the wall… Oh, Harry, he’s killed himself!”

Harry tried to find that news disturbing, but his revulsion of the late Kreacher over his betrayal of Sirius prevented any thought of mourning the vile elf. Instead, he walked over to Hermione, relieved her of her bag, and rummaged inside of it for a few moments before pulling out the shrunken book that Kotone had given him days before. He held it out to the still distraught Hermione expectantly, and she distractedly drew her wand and enlarged it to its’ normal massive size.

Harry carried the book over to Dobby and said, “Can you use your magic to translate this book?”

Dobby’s already anxious face fell further at Harry’s request, “I’s sorry, Master Harry Potter sir, but house-elfs does not have that kind of magic, sir.”

Harry thought for a moment, and then asked while holding the book out to the elf, “But you can read this, can’t you?”

“Yes, sir. Dobby can read it.”

“And you can write, can’t you?” continued Harry.

A broad smile crossed Dobby’s mouth, “Yes, Harry Potter sir! Dobby understands, sir!”

With the faintest of pops, Dobby disappeared with the book.

“Right, then,” said Harry as he turned to walk up the stairs to the sitting room, “Let’s see what we can get out Malfoy.”

“Wait a minute, Harry,” said Hermione cautiously as she put a hand on his arm as he passed by, “I’ve got some news for you.”

Harry stopped at her gesture and raised a questioning eyebrow.

She bent down and rummaged through her overnight bag that Harry had placed on the floor. It took her a moment to find the report that her father had printed out earlier. She withdrew the stack of what looked like postage stamps and enlarged them back to full size.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I had my parents look over those documents you kept in a box,” she noticed the dark cloud that shadowed his features, but continued speaking while handing the printouts to him, “it seems that the Dursleys took what was in your trust vault. That vault had annual payments made to it from the Potter family vault in Gringotts, a vault that nobody alive today can touch, not even you or Mr. Dursley. It seems that your inheritance from Sirius was also placed into your family’s vault, so Mr. Dursley couldn’t touch that money, either.”

Harry was listening intently as he tried to make sense of what he was reading, although he wasn’t sure he fully understood what she was saying or what was printed out for him, “So, I actually have two vaults under Gringotts… one is the Potter vault and the other was just to set aside money for me to use?”

Hermione smiled and said, “That’s right, and the money that Mr. Dursley took from you was a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to what your family’s worth, given the actual cash in the main vault and the investments that you’re holding. Daddy says you’re one of the richest people in Britain.”

“How… how can that be?” he stated incredulously as he shuffled through the papers in his hands, “Where does it say that?”

Hermione took the balance sheet from within the stack and stood beside him so that she could point out the items on the paper to which she was referring. In doing so, her right arm was resting against his left as she held the sheet, “See here? It says that you own controlling stock in the ‘Fly By Knight Broomstick Company.’”

“That’s the company that makes the Silver Arrow series of brooms!” said Harry, “I can’t imagine that it’s worth that much, considering that there hasn’t been a new model of the Silver Arrow in…”

“Almost twenty years,” finished Hermione, “It seems that the introduction of new models has to be approved by a majority of the stockholders, and since the shares have been held by an underage wizard, there was no way they could get new models approved. In fact, I’ve looked over most of your holdings where you have controlling interest. All of them have been stagnant over the years, although with most of them it doesn’t make a difference, it’s business as usual. Take, for instance, Cromwell’s Custom Cauldrons… the rival companies began making their cauldron bottoms thinner to save on production costs, but the decision to follow suit couldn’t be made because of the ownership problem, but it worked out to your advantage. Do you remember the report that Percy Weasley made on cauldron bottoms? Well, it seems that people took notice, and since Cromwell’s cauldron bottoms were still full gauge, the demand for them skyrocketed after that report went public! In fact, Cromwell’s is one of the most profitable companies you own because the demand for them is so high! Everyone at Hogwarts uses them.”

Harry’s head was spinning. He sat down heavily on one of the kitchen chairs, jostling the little witch that was still glued to his side.

“So, Vernon didn’t get all of the money. I can still help Ginny. I can pay you and the twins back.”

“Don’t worry about me. I never cared about the money. I only cared about…”

Hermione was interrupted as Ron burst into the kitchen and hastily said, “Oi, you two, come on! We got something to show you.”

As they followed Ron out of the kitchen towards the stairs to the upper floor, Ron excitedly explained, “When I got back to the study, Luna asked if we found the locket that we went searching for. When I told her that it was the wrong one, that prat Draco said something about there being a locket in his bedroom, so we followed him up to the third floor, telling him to show us where it was, and when we got there… well, you’ll see.”

He just finished as they reached the third floor landing. He led them down to the end of the hall where Luna and Draco were waiting.

“Alright, Malfoy, go into your room and come out again.”

With a shrug, Draco turned to face a blank wall and stepped forward, but instead of walking into the solid wall, he just passed right through it as if he were a ghost. A moment later, he stepped out of the wall and looked at the group expectantly.

Hermione stepped close to the wall and ran her hand over the solid surface, examining it carefully. After a few moments, she turned to Draco and asked politely, “Can you show me your left forearm?”

Again, he shrugged and slid his left pajama sleeve up, exposing his arm and the Dark Mark tattooed upon it.

Ron and Luna gasped, Hermione blanched and Harry’s eyes narrowed, but still shone in vindication. Again, he was proven correct.

“I suspect that only those who bear the Dark Mark are able to pass through, or even see the door,” commented Hermione, “Regulus must have enchanted it himself before he died.”

Harry turned to Draco and said, “You said that you saw a locket in that room?”

When Draco nodded, Harry said, “Can you please get it for me?”

Hermione gasped in protest, but Draco had disappeared through the wall before she could stop him. She rounded on Harry and hissed, “Harry! That thing might be dangerous to handle! What if something happens to him and we can’t get to him?”

Harry was about to answer when Draco stepped out of the room holding a locket by its’ chain and handing it to Harry.

The moment it was placed in his palm, Kotone let out a surprised gasp, “Shishi-san! Drop it! Hurry!”

But it was too late.

24. The Demon’s Song

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I own the lyric bits that I use to enhance my story.

A/N: I know, I know… This update is way, way late. Many apologies, but life has been very eventful for me this past month. I ended up moving, so my free time, as well as my access to the Internet has been extremely limited. My trials aren’t over yet, because it looks like I’ll be moving again soon… so I’ll apologize for next chapter now… as for the time being, I’ll leave you with this short, but strange update! Enjoy!

Chapter 24: The Demon’s Song

-----~-----

Solitude stands by the window.
She turns her head as I walk in the room.
I can see by her eyes she's been waiting,
standing in the slant of the late afternoon,
and she turns to me with her hand extended.
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame

Solitude stands in the doorway,
and I'm struck once again by her black silhouette,
by her long, cool stare and her silence.
I suddenly remember each time we've met,
and she turns to me with her hand extended.
Her palm is split with a flower with a flame…

And she says, "I've come to set a twisted thing straight."
And she says, "I've come to lighten this dark heart."
As she takes my wrist, I feel her imprint of fear,
and I said, "I've never thought of finding you here."

I turn to the crowd as they're watching.
They're sitting all together, in the dark, in the warm,
and I wanted to be in there among them.
I see how their eyes are gathered into one…

Excerpt from the song, ‘Solitude Standing’ by Suzanne Vega.

-----~-----

Hermione had almost expected something to happen when Malfoy emerged from the concealed doorway carrying the locket. She froze when she heard Kotone’s warning as Malfoy dropped the locket into Harry’s hand. She thought she saw a very brief glow from the locket as it made contact with his palm, but other than that, nothing appeared to happen, aside from the odd, blank expression that suddenly washed over Harry’s face.

When Kotone abruptly pushed herself off from Harry’s side and onto the floor, Hermione took a tentative step towards him and said, “Harry? Are you all right?”

The only response she received was a panicked gasp from Kotone. She was bouncing nervously on her feet and rapidly whispering in Japanese to herself with her gravelly voice. The little half-witch suddenly turned to Ron and said, “Hyou, I need book of mother in school box!”

Ron just looked at her confusedly for a long moment before saying, “Huh? What’s a school box?”

Hermione watched as Kotone’s eyes met Ron’s, and for a brief instant, Ron’s body stiffened, then he staggered back a moment later saying, “Wow, that was weird… She says she needs a book out of her trunk. I left it in the icebox downstairs, I’ll just…”

Before Ron could finish, Hermione was already digging through her bag for Kotone’s trunk. She pulled out the trunk, placed it on the floor and enlarged it to its normal dimensions.

Kotone frantically dug through her trunk, tossing her clothes around the hall as she searched. She finally pulled out an ancient tome, laid it open on the floor before Harry, drew her wand and then sat down on the dusty runner carpet and began riffling through the yellowed pages.

While still looking at Harry’s blankly staring eyes, Hermione took another step closer while asking, “Kotone, what happened to him? What did you see?”

The group of teens took an instinctive step backwards when Kotone turned and let out a loud, menacing growl, obviously meant as a warning not to interfere with what she was trying to do. They watched in anxious silence as the little half-witch continued to search through the book. She finally found the section that she was apparently searching for. She drew her wand and began to chant out an incantation in Japanese, pausing only occasionally to glance back to reference the book.

Minutes ticked by as Kotone chanted. Her pale face and animated hair quickly became slick with perspiration. Her voice began in her usual deep, coarse tone, but as her words echoed around the wide hallway it seemed to evolve into a melodic thrumming, as if it were a lamenting dirge echoing from deep within a large cavern.

Hermione stood enthralled by the sound. Her surroundings seemed to become surreal as the hallway appeared to expand away so that the walls disappeared into the distance. Although her surroundings seemed to have disappeared into a wispy fog, she could still almost feel the ethereal presence those around her. She turned to ask Ron if he also felt what she was experiencing, but started when, instead of her gangly, red-haired friend, she saw a sleek, brilliantly spotted leopard standing behind her. She turned to Luna and Draco and saw instead a disturbingly large, pure white dove standing beside a rather disheveled black crow. She glanced down at herself and was quite surprised to see she had the body of a huge, golden eagle.

She turned back around and saw Harry’s form, a large, golden lion being attacked by a pair of serpents that weren’t entirely corporeal, although one of the snakes looked substantially larger and more energetic than the other. She briefly wondered why she couldn’t see Kotone’s ‘presence,’ and the logical portion of her brain kicked in and told her that she must be one of the two serpents, but then her rarely-seen-but-ever-present emotional side reminded her of what happened the last time she jumped to the conclusion that Kotone was attacking Harry.

She was about to try to stop the young half-witch, but before she could move, Kotone’s coarse voice began to oddly reverberate around the hallway. Her words became louder and started echoing in Hermione’s ears, but the echoes of her words seemed to be strangely distorted and had a softer, airier sound, much like the voice she used during her strange connection. Hermione started when she realized that, through the echoes, she could understand the desperate words that Kotone was chanting.

‘…you are to be delivered, O spirit of grief. I command you, O spirit of destruction, loosen your hold on the innocent one. Spirit of Destruction, Spirit of Grief, I bind you with chains of Iron, the Holy Iron wrought in the forges of Heaven. Loosen your hold and come out of him now! You have no right to him, you hold no dominion…’

As Kotone continued her chant, she began to manipulate her wand before her, tracing glowing, ancient Kanji characters in the air. The characters looked as though they were formed of liquid fire, sputtering and dripping crimson flames as they stood suspended.

Again, Hermione was stunned to find that she could somehow understand what the floating Kanji represented. As each character was finished, a loud knock, like the sound of a large bamboo tube being struck by a wooden mallet, resounded through the hall. As each knock reverberated, the floating characters pulsed with energy, and with each pulse, the snakes that were entwined around the lion writhed and twitched, their mouths wrenched open in silent screams and fangs bared as if in great pain.

‘…Spirit most vile, you shall be denied your prize, you shall be delivered from the host… You hold my brother lion, you are a spirit of pain, grief and sin most evil… I cast you back, bound in the sacred Iron Bonds, back to the hell from whence you spawned…’

Again, a character was completed and again, the magic pulsed and the knock resounded. An influx of incredible power surged through Hermione. Somehow, she understood what Kotone was trying to do, and she was equally sure that Kotone wasn’t going to succeed at the exorcism ritual. The characters were drawn incorrectly… too rushed… too small… and she was using the wrong type of magic. She had no idea how she knew this, even how she sensed that there were actually differing types of magic, but she did know.

An instant after this realization hit her, she saw Kotone finish etching the final character in the sequence and in a spectacular flash of blue light, the runes exploded, sending the young half-witch flying back into Hermione’s arms.

As the failed spell faded, the strange fog around Hermione disappeared and her reality came crashing back around her. She staggered as she tried to stay upright with the semi-conscious half-witch hanging limply in her arms. She turned her head towards the others, who were looking back at her with concerned expressions.

Ron was the first to speak, “What just happened? What’s wrong with them?”

“Didn’t you see? The light? The snakes… they must be Vol…” Hermione stopped herself, realizing what she was about to say in front of both Luna and Malfoy. Luna could probably be trusted, but she wasn’t about to trust malfoy with anything, even given his ‘condition.’

“We didn’t see anything, Hermione,” stated Luna calmly, “That girl opened the book, started chanting in Japanese, and then she was somehow thrown back into you a few minutes later.

Kotone stirred in Hermione’s arms, and then let out what sounded like a wail of despair. She spun around to look Hermione in the eyes, establishing the connection only long enough to say, ‘Goodbye, Washi, please protect Shishi for me. You know what you have to do.’

When Kotone broke the connection and before she turned away, Hermione caught the look of sad resignation in the little half-witch’s violet eyes. Her breath hitched when she realized what Kotone was about to try, and what the half-witch was expecting her to do.

“Kotone, no! We’ll find another way! You can’t do this!”

Kotone didn’t turn back to her, she just looked up into Harry’s vacant eyes and willed the connection between them.

-----~-----

Harry found himself walking through a strangely familiar flower strewn pasture. The flowers, as well as the vast field, stretched out to the horizon. He briefly glanced up at the cloudless blue sky, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reveling in the fragrant scent of the flora around him.

The scene appeared peaceful, but Harry couldn’t seem to relax. He felt he should be doing something… something very important… but for the life of him he couldn’t remember what that something was. Whatever it was, it was gnawing at him, taunting him, flirting around the edges of his memory just out of his grasp.

Harry was shaken out of his thoughts by a strained voice coming from right beside him, “I think I know what is happening to you, Shishi-san, but I do not know everything. Please, it is important to tell me what is going on... Who was the soul in the locket?”

Harry looked down at the vaguely familiar girl walking beside him and wondered how long she had been there. She was dressed in a tattered, gray hooded robe that clung to her tiny frame as if they were soaking wet. He really didn’t care how she came to be with him, he was just glad to finally have some company.

As he continued to walk, he gave her a sideways glance and asked, “What locket are you talking about?”

She looked up at him, her surprised, violet eyes peeked out from within her hood and she let out a tired sigh. She reached up and gently grasped his wrist, indicating that she wanted him to stop.

“Shishi, what do you see when you look around you here?”

He made a quick scan of his surroundings and couldn’t help but to smile as he answered, “Look around yourself, it’s marvelous! Nothing but a field of flowers on a warm summer’s day! It’s so quiet here… peaceful… no troubles, no worries, no madman trying to kill me, no…”

He had no idea how that thought popped into his head, “Why did I mention a madman? Nobody wants to kill me! Why would anyone want me dead?”

“Do you know who you are?” asked the little girl anxiously, “Tell me your name.”

Harry thought for a moment, the notion of having a name had not occurred to him. What did the little girl just call him? “Umm… is my name ‘She She?’”

Kotone’s eyes softened in understanding and she asked, “Do you know what this place around you is?”

“It’s just a field of flowers, I don’t know what it’s called.”

“From your point of view, this place is your field of dreams. It shows your deepest desire, your wants for your future… peace… contentment. This is your sanctuary, a place of protection for you. I have been protecting you from the serpent, but now there are two, and the second, while a much newer presence, is much stronger. It has not been corrupted as the first one was, and they both desire to be as one. I do not have the strength to remove either, or even to bind them anymore.”

Harry looked down at the little girl, confusion etched on his face, “I… I don’t really know what you mean.”

“I think I understand about the serpents now. At first, I believed you were born with two souls, but I know now that the serpents are not natural. The serpent I had seen on the Jakkaru was identical to yours, both damaged, both corrupted. Now I saw the third soul from the locket, brother of the serpents of Shishi and the Jakkaru. I must try to draw that one onto myself. In order to try this, I will need to remove your protection. Prepare yourself, once the protection is gone, you will remember everything, and I fear that this place will not be as pleasant as it appears to you now. Once you remember, you must tell me everything. You must trust me.”

Again, she mentioned the locket, and what’s this about snakes? He opened his mouth to question her when, as if someone had switched a channel on the telly, the world changed around him. His head snapped up to the sky, which moments ago was a cloudless blue, but now a sinister charcoal gray. A shower of large drops were falling from the sky, drenching him in the thick, bloody rain. Red lightning flashed down from the boiling clouds, followed by thunder that crashed like artillery fire. The flowers had disappeared, leaving him standing in blood-soaked mud. He suddenly remembered… he had been here before… The blood rain, the gravestone… seeing Hermione in the coffin… and the locket. He glanced back up to the sky and saw the two intertwined serpents soaring overhead, writhing and spitting in some sort of perverted aerial dance.

Kotone could see the look of comprehension wash over Harry’s face. “Shishi, please tell me what is happening. What are the souls that possess you? Who was in the locket? You told me that you wished to become as a father to me, you must have some trust in me to do so… Please let me help you!”

Harry looked down into Kotone’s eyes and saw her fear within them. He also understood what was going on… the soul in the horcrux was invading him, trying to re-combine with the bit of Voldemort’s soul that was accidentally placed within him when the dark lord fell when he was a baby. He also realized that in his current state, he was powerless prevent it.

“Do you remember when you overheard Hermione and Ron speaking of horcruxes? They are created when a wizard rends his own soul by committing an act of murder. We don’t know exactly how, but the wizard would place the torn soul fragment into a physical vessel, anchoring his soul to the world if he should die. This ensures that he cannot be killed as long as the vessel, the horcrux, still exists. The soul in the locket, as well as the soul you see attached to me, were created by Lord Voldemort. We have been searching for the horcruxes in order to destroy them, in hopes of negating his apparent immortality.”

“Why?” asked Kotone, “Why have you taken on this task by yourself?”

Harry looked down at the soaked earth beneath his feet and answered, “Because there’s a prophecy that says that I am the only one with the power to destroy Voldemort. I told you before that I was ‘destined to save the Wizarding World,’ this is what I meant. I have to kill him, or be killed by him. If I fail, nobody who isn’t a pureblood will be safe… Voldemort has a vendetta against muggleborns like Hermione, half-bloods like me, and… and half-breeds like you. I have to do this.”

Kotone nodded in understanding, then asked, “What of the spell that the Jakkaru performed on Washi and you? I recognized the artificial bond between you, blackened and corrupted. What can you tell me of that?”

“By ‘Jakkaru,’ I’m assuming that you mean Ginny Weasley. It seems that she performed a ritual meant to prevent the bonding of a pureblood with a ‘lesser’ being. She was led to believe that the ritual was designed to force two lovers apart, and to attract one of the lovers, namely me, to her…”

Again, Kotone nodded, “So that is why we became connected. The ritual that the Jakkaru used created magic in both Washi and you that was attuned to my own. When we are done here, Washi can repair the natural bond between you, and can reverse the effect of the ritual on the Jakkaru. I had tried, but I was not strong enough. Please make sure that your mate understands the book quickly, it is most important.”

With that, Kotone sat down on the muddy ground and placed her hands together in her lap. She looked up at Harry with darkened eyes and said, “I will do what I can, and the rest will be up to you.”

Harry stood before the little girl and watched as she closed her eyes and began chanting a long, melodic incantation in Japanese. As her song echoed through the air, he felt a wave of sadness fall around him. The thunder and lightning ceased and the blood rain slowed to a soft drizzle as her singing became louder.

As he listened, he heard two other distant voices harmonizing with Kotone, voices that were singing in what he knew was Parseltongue. The voices sang of loneliness, of fear, and of home. The voices were calling to each other, beckoning, promising safety and comfort. The harmonizing voices slowly became louder and clearer, causing Harry to look up. He saw that the serpents were coming closer, hovering just a few meters overhead, lazily gliding towards the singing half-witch.

Kotone abruptly stopped singing, causing the twin serpents to start hissing angrily. The young witch looked around with a puzzled expression, then let out a startled gasp and cried out, “No! I cannot stop now! Not now!” Her eyes widened as she listed to words that only she could hear, “Washi, no! I need to do this! Please! Do not stop me!”

Harry stood dumbstruck as he watched Kotone fade out of existence. He was shaken out of his stupor when a bolt of red lightning flashed from the sky and struck the earth just yards in front of him. The rain of blood began falling again in earnest as the twin serpents, just a few meters above him, were eyeing him menacingly, moving slowly closer to him with their mouths open and their fangs extended.

-----~-----

An unpleasant pall seemed to descend on the hallway as Hermione watched Kotone stare into Harry’s eyes. She looked helplessly to Ron, who wore a confused expression as his eyes flicked back and forth between her and Harry.

“What’s happening?” asked Ron nervously as he took a step towards Harry, “What’s she doing?”

Hermione turned to Luna and asked her to take Malfoy back to the study. As soon as Luna was out of earshot, she turned to Ron and said, “She’s going to draw the bit of Voldemort’s soul into herself… I think she wants me to… to…”

As expected, Ron winced at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name, but despite his discomfort, he still paid enough attention to what Hermione was saying to prompt her to continue, “Wants you to…?”

Hermione continued in a squeaky whisper, “I think she wants me to stun her once the soul is inside of her, or… or maybe even kill her.”

Ron paled as she said this and muttered, “Blimey, you aren’t going to do it, are you? I mean kill her?”

Hermione wrenched her hands together as she answered, “I… I don’t know if I can. If the soul fragment begins controlling her, we’ll have to do something, won’t we?”

As Ron took another cautious step towards Harry, he nearly jumped out of his skin as a pair of ‘pops’ sounded from right behind him. With wild eyes, he spun on his heel and drew his wand in one surprisingly smooth movement, only to see that his wand was pointed at a pair of cowering house-elves.

Dobby was standing beside another elf, each of them holding a rather large book. They unsteadily carried the books to Hermione as Dobby excitedly proclaimed, “We’s done it, Mistress Grangey! I’s sorry it tooks so long…”

Hermione reached down and relieved the elves of their burden, saying, “So long? It’s barely been a quarter hour! How did you get it translated so quickly?”

Dobby smiled proudly, “Each of the elves at Hogwarts tooks one page and copied it in English. Much quicker that way, and nobodys knows what the book’s about…” Then he lowered his voice to a whisper and added, “House-elves is not supposed to knows wizard magic, you sees.”

Ordinarily, Hermione would have bristled at the thought of the unreasonable restrictions on magical creatures that the ministry had enacted, but she was too distracted by what was happening between Harry and Kotone.

Suddenly, the other house-elf let out a startled gasp, which caused Dobby to spin around and Hermione to re-focus her attention on Harry. It was then that Dobby noticed what was going on between Harry and the demon-witch.

Dobby’s large, green tennis ball shaped eyes seemed to become even more protuberant than normal and his voice sounded uncharacteristically serious as he asked, “What is the Elder doing with master Harry Potter?”

Hermione stole a quick glance at Ron, who was still looking at Harry in awed silence. She opened her mouth to speak but she was at a complete loss for words… until she heard the singing.

It started as a soft, barely audible growling, much like the noise a sleeping dog might make during a particularly nice dream about fireplugs and chew toys. Kotone’s song became increasingly louder and more pronounced, but the language she was singing in was definitely not Japanese, nor was it any language she could even remotely identify… but apparently the two house-elves present could. They stood motionless, as if in a trance, and then began… crying?

Hermione bent down and looked into Dobby’s leaking eyes, “Dobby? What’s she doing now? What is she singing?”

Dobby, keeping his teary eyes fixed on Kotone, answered in barely a whisper, “The ancient is calling a lost soul home, Miss Grangey. The angel sings a song of welcome and love, calling to a soul who knows neither… it is beautiful!”

Hermione’s suspicion was confirmed. Kotone was trying to draw the soul from the horcrux into herself. Her thoughts started racing through her head. Was Kotone going to be possessed by the soul fragment as Ginny almost was in the Chamber of Secrets? Did the little witch-demon really expect her to kill her? She had never killed anyone in her life! Maybe just to stun her? Then what?

Hermione absently glanced down to the large tomes that were resting in her arms. The title of the top book was written in Kanji. She slid the second book out from under the first and gasped as she read the words, ‘Soul Magic – The Arts of the Enchantress, the Priestess, and the Necromancer.’

Hermione glanced down to the book on the floor that Kotone had been reading from. She said that the book belonged to her mother, and she remembered that Kotone was the wrong type of witch to perform that kind of magic. The realization struck her that while Kotone wasn’t was the right type of witch, she was. Her features hardened as she came to the decision on what she was going to do, and killing Kotone wasn’t part of the plan.

Hermione picked up the open book on the floor and held it out to Dobby, saying, “Quickly, take this and translate it like you did with the other.”

When Dobby made no move to take the book, Hermione grabbed his shoulder and shook the little elf until his gaze was broken from Kotone. In an urgent voice, she said to him, “This must be done quickly! Something bad is going to happen to the elder if you don’t get this translated as soon as possible, do you understand?”

Dobby wiped the tears from his eyes on his horseshoe-patterned tie, nodded, then slowly took the book from Hermione. With a pair of soft ‘pops,’ the two house-elves disappeared.

With the elves gone, Hermione moved closer to Kotone and leaned down to her, “Kotone, you have to stop. You mustn’t take the soul fragment onto yourself. Leave it with Harry and I’ll take care of it.”

Ron’s jaw dropped upon hearing Hermione’s words, “What? Hermione! Do you know what you’re doing?”

Kotone suddenly stopped singing. They heard her coarse voice whisper, “No! I cannot stop now! Not now!”

Hermione stood with grim determination etched on her face. She sighed and said, “I’m sorry, Kotone.”

As Hermione raised her wand, the little demon-witch gasped and desperately whispered, “Washi, no! I need to do this! Prease! Do not stop me!”

“Stupefy.”

As Kotone limply slumped to the floor, Hermione trained her wand at Harry. For the briefest instant, she saw a faint, crimson glow flash in Harry’s blankly staring eyes before a second stunner from her wand caused him to join the half-witch on the floor.

Ron was instantly beside Harry. He leaned down and asked, “Is he going to be alright?”

Hermione levitated Kotone from the floor as she answered, “I don’t know.” She began guiding Kotone down the hall to the bedroom that Ron and Harry used to share and indicated to Ron that he should bring Harry along. As soon as the pair was comfortably settled, Hermione hefted the translated book and said to Ron, “When Dobby returns with the book, send him to the library, I’ve got some reading to do,” she glanced back at Harry and Kotone and added, “Make sure they don’t wake up.”

25. A New Nature of Magic

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I lay any claim to the lyric bits that I use. No money is being made by this literary sewage that I write.

A/N: Another update is finally here. Sorry about the cliffie on this chapter, it was end it here or write another 2500+ words, which would have substantially delayed the posting of this chapter. So, R&R& above all, enjoy!

-----~-----

We sat by ourselves, still looking for company.
There could have been peace, but that eluded me.
All I could think of was what was on my mind…
You tried to be kind, but I blocked your feelings.
Now, senses still reeling, you sit in your quiet room and cry.
You tried to make me one, but I always hide when there's a glimpse of sun.

Running along in sunlight meadows,
your eyes were never more than half-closed.
Through fluttering lashes, you watched me watching you,
I tried to be true to the way that you thought I ought to be,
but, in spite of all my efforts, I failed.
I tried to make you see, but your eyes are blind to all but the bad in me.

What do you think I mean when I say that I need you?
How am I supposed to seem when we hit another problem,
and the answers are all torn from my book?

Our lives are on paths we just can't control.
We can grow closer as we get old…
Can you imagine us as we adjust?
Can you imagine us getting near eighty,
we live more sedately, still hoping the dreams will come true?
We'll try to be secure.

But I'm of uncertain mind
And how can I be sure?
How can I be sure?

Lyrics from the song, ‘Out Of My Book’ by the band, Van Der Graaf Generator.

-----~-----

Chapter 25: A New Nature of Magic

-----~-----

The workday had just begun when Percy Weasley sat heavily into the plush chair behind the desk in his office. Placing his elbows on the cluttered surface, he buried his face in his hands and let out a long breath. He had a very long, very restless night. He winced at the memory of his the encounter with his family the day before. Of course, he was glad he was able to help his sister… he didn’t need to be reminded by that odd Lovegood girl that despite all that had happened within the family, he was still Ginny’s brother. Having to deal with the glares from his brothers, the wailing of his mother and the disappointed frowns from his father didn’t even bother him that much… they simply didn’t understand him.

What did bother him was seeing the fugitive, Harry Potter, along with that… that half-breed Japanese girl, Potter’s supposed ‘girlfriend.’ It was explained to him, in no uncertain terms, that the girl was not romantically involved with ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ but he could certainly understand why some people could think that, seeing first hand how clingy the little beast was with him, and how he reacted when she fell unconscious. He didn’t even spare a glance at his sister, the girl who he was supposedly romantically involved with.

He had to admit, he was quite anxious when the half-breed approached his sister, but couldn’t deny that, whatever she did, it had worked to calm Ginny down. He supposed that he should be thankful, but he couldn’t bring himself around to that way of thinking. She was a half-breed, an animal… nothing more.

He was more than a little surprised when his father explained what had actually happened at St. Mungo’s and at the orphanage. The story he got from his boss as well as what was printed in The Daily Prophet made Potter out to be some incompetent, reckless coward. He did wonder how he could be described as a ‘coward’ when he fled the hospital one day, and then be described as ‘reckless’ the next day at the orphanage. He left his supposed ‘girlfriend’ in the hands of Death Eaters at St. Mungo’s, then rushes into a building full of Death Eaters to save that same girlfriend the next day? The more he thought about it, the less sense it made, even though it was he, on the Minister’s orders, that authored those press releases. He neglected to mention that tidbit of information during the conversation with his father.

When he was then told of Potter’s intention to adopt the ‘girl,’ he couldn’t believe his ears. There were laws in place preventing any sort of half-breed from adopting a wizard child, but it was never even considered that a proper wizard would ever want to bring an animal into a bloodline. It was simply unheard of… it was just unnatural.

He reached across his desk and picked up a sheet of parchment that was sent up from the archives for confirmation from his office. It was a routine estate transfer form that informed the Ministry of the reinstatement of a pureblood family line in the wizarding community. As the last of the Potter line was an underage orphan, the family’s seat on the Wizengamot was suspended and the Potter name was removed from the social register as well. All that was going to change when Harry Potter reaches majority on July Thirty-first.

The document also listed the properties owned by the Potter estate, as well as the real assets that were to be transferred in full from the inherited Black estate. Percy made a cursory examination of the assets, but soon looked away in disgust, then fully aware of the extent of the wealth of the Potter bloodline.

Percy shook his head and muttered, “Someday, I’ll have wealth like that,” as he signed the parchment, made one copy for his records, one for the Minister, and with a sigh, sent the original soaring back towards the archives.

A hole appeared in his door allowing the passage of the document. It soared down the hall and hovered in front of the lifts among the other memos waiting for the next available car. When the cage door opened, it lazily drifted in and rode the car down to the next level where it soared down a seldom-used corridor and entered through an unmarked door.

An instant later, two identical documents flew back out of the door, one returning to the lifts to continue it’s intended journey to the archives, and the other disappeared into a ventilation shaft in the corridor’s ceiling. It traveled through the ductwork, ending up in a small office off of the Atrium on the first floor. A small hand with fingers that resembled sausage links snatched the parchment out of the air. A huge grin appeared on the wide thin lips of Dolores Umbridge’s toady face. She stuffed the hijacked document into her robes and hurriedly waddled out of the office, through the golden gates, and a minute later, had disappeared from a fireplace in a flash of green floo fire.

Umbridge stepped out of the fire at the Leaky Cauldron and quickly made it to the doorway leading to Diagon Alley. She made her way towards Knockturn Alley, all the while casting nervous glances at the people around her. She soon ducked into the seedier area of the wizarding marketplace and hurried towards a dark, decrepit-looking pub. She entered a dingy alleyway beside the pub and walked to the very end. She pulled out her wand and stuck the tip into a small hole near the bottom of the back wall, causing a door to appear.

She stepped through into a very small room that housed about a dozen owls. She quickly tied the copied parchment onto one of the owl’s legs. There was an evil glint in her eye as she watched the owl disappear through a hole in the roof, carrying the document to her master. With a satisfied grin, she left the room, re-sealed the doorway and apparated back to resume her post at the Ministry.

-----~-----

Small dust motes danced in a strip of late afternoon sunlight that was peeking through the faded curtains covering the dirty windows of the Black family library. The room was silent, save for the barely audible scratching of a quill on parchment when Hermione found a particularly interesting passage… which meant that the scratching was pretty much constant. She already had six rolls completely filled and was diligently working on the seventh.

The translation that the elves had performed wasn’t perfect, as she fully expected given their odd dialect, but whatever syntax errors she found were minor and easily corrected. If she was impressed with the speed and accuracy in which the texts were translated, she was absolutely floored by the information that the books contained.

The books’ writing was clear and concise, containing no superfluous information at all. Even the textbooks used at Hogwarts contained opinions and conjectures of the author, but Kotone’s books held nothing but raw knowledge. What shocked her the most was that both of the books were written thousands of years ago.

The very first chapter she read was a detailed explanation of the differing schools of magic. There was a comprehensive list of magical specialties describing the characteristics of each school, from your standard ‘Jack of All Trades’ Wizard, the mind focused Illusionist, the seeing Diviner, the Abjuror, the Conjuror, the Enchanter, all the way through the combat-focused Sorcerer and the Necromancer, master of the dead. The book explained how people could be adept at two or more schools of magic, but would almost always be most proficient at one, the school that defined what type of wizard or witch the person was. The book also listed the characteristics of each type of wizard, even providing the means to perform magical ‘tests’ to determine which school a wizard is most proficient with.

The second chapter described the different types of magical energy, the way the types differed from each other, and which type is suited to which school of magic. It went on reveal that not all wizards can manipulate more than one of the different types of magic, and some wizards, albeit very, very few, can access many, or even all of them. In fact, the book stated that most wizards could only manipulate base, or ‘raw’ magic. Almost every spell could be successfully cast using base magic if a wizard is powerful enough, but without combining it with a specialized type of magic, the casting would always result in either an inefficient expenditure of the wizard’s energy or a weak spell. It explained how ‘mind magic,’ coupled with the base magic was the forte of the Illusionist and the Abjuror. ‘Element magic’ combined with raw magic is the specialty of the Conjuror and the Evoker. The Enchanter utilizes the “emotion magic” combined with ‘element magic’ to create charms and shielding spells that surpass any that could be performed by the most powerful ‘regular’ wizard. By far, the rarest and most powerful type of specialized magical energy is known as ‘soul magic,’ used most efficiently by the Diviner, Sorcerer and the Necromancer.

The third chapter delved into exercises to determine a wizard’s access to and control of the different types of magic, and ways to measure the wizard’s aptitude for each type. She could only describe the different spheres of magic by comparing them to muggle radio waves. The different types worked on different magical ‘frequencies,’ and had characteristics that changed in each range of frequency. The lower frequencies required more power to produce and control, but resulted in stronger and more enduring magic, like what was needed for a permanent transfiguration. The higher frequency types were much more efficient, had a longer range and needed much less raw energy to control. The only exception was the ‘soul’ magic. That seemed to work on a specific combination of lower and higher frequencies that result in a sort of ‘harmonic resonance’ that, when properly evoked, would be more powerful than the two initial frequencies combined. She knew she would have problems explaining that concept to anyone, as she just barely understood it herself.

The fourth described methods and rituals to enhance one’s abilities in producing and controlling a specific type of magic. The book cautioned that the methods would only work for wizards who show aptitude for a given magical type. Someone who cannot use ‘emotion magic’ would never use it, no matter what the person tried.

The fifth section of the book held particular interest for Hermione. It described, in detail, methods and techniques of spellcasting using the higher types of magic. It described the advantages of each type, as well as very specific process to refine the way magic is cast, methods that she had never even conceived were possible. It explained that the advantage inherent in ‘mind magic’ was the ability to be cast wandlessly, that ‘emotion magic’ was well suited to enhance protective spells and wards. ‘Element magic’ enhances any spells which cause physical changes such as conjuring and transfiguration, while the wizard who masters ‘soul magic’ would be particularly adept at near-instantaneous, non-verbal, non-animated magic… silent, motionless and deadly. Any combination of the higher magics by a talented wizard would create incredibly powerful enchantments and devastatingly effective offensive spells.

Hermione had skimmed ahead to get an idea on the next set of chapters and saw that they covered each of the known ‘specialty’ types of magic and how they interact with base magic, along with expected results of each combination. The remainder of the book was divided into three large sections, one specifically for the training of an Enchantress, one for a Necromancer, and the third and last for a specialized school of magic, the only school which is attuned to mind, emotion and soul magic… The Priestess, which was a combination of an Enchantress and Diviner, and according to what she gleaned from her short perusal, only witches have the ability to become one, not wizards.

She finished scribbling out a sentence, dropped her quill and then flexed the cramps out of her ink-stained fingers without tearing her eyes from the book. She was startled by a loud clunk beside her. She looked over and was surprised to see Ron standing there arranging the silverware on the tray of food he had just placed on the table.

“Ron! What are you doing here? Harry…”

“Is just fine,” he interrupted, “ but we’re having a spot of bother keeping Kotone out. She seems to wake up every hour on the half. Luna’s watching them for me. I figured you’d want a bit of food, seeing how you’ve been holed up in here all day.”

She gave him a small appreciative smile as she picked up the bowl of stew from the tray. She was about to take a mouthful, but halted the spoon an inch from her mouth. As she sniffed the stew, she gave Ron an unsure glance.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a hint of annoyance, “I didn’t fix the stew, Luna did.”

With a sigh, Hermione smiled apologetically before stuffing the dripping spoon into her mouth and began chewing greedily. She knew that Ron was pretty useless in the food preparation department, his specialty was in the consuming. She carefully swallowed and said, “Mmm, this is really good!”

Ron wore a oddly distant smile as he said, “Yeah, I didn’t know that she was so handy in the kitchen, she could actually give my mum a run for her money! The breakfast she made was great… and the fish and chips at lunch was…”

Ron’s dreamy reminiscence was abruptly halted when he noticed Hermione’s glare, “Breakfast? Lunch? Have you had Luna cooking for you all day? And me being up here never occurred to you until now?”

“Oy!” exclaimed Ron defensively, “I called you three times for breakfast, but since you didn’t come down, we figured you weren’t hungry, and it was the same at lunch!”

Hermione’s eyes returned to the book. She quickly ate another spoonful of stew, then let out an indignant huff and snapped, “Oh, I’m sure it broke your heart, being forced to eat my meal as well as your own!” Truthfully, she was so engrossed in the books’ contents that she hadn’t even heard Ron enter the room with the tray, so it was entirely possible that she hadn’t noticed his earlier summons.

Ron wore a frown that looked somewhere between sheepish and defiant as he retorted, “Well, I couldn’t let good food go to waste, could I?”

Hermione gave a short, derisive laugh and was about to comment that there would be no chance of that happening with the ‘human trash compactor’ around, but decided that she’d nip the brewing argument in the bud and continued to eat in silence. After all, she finally had a job to do. She was useful to Harry once again, and all of the missed meals and lost sleep was worth it.

As that notion hit her, she unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn. Ron looked at her appraisingly, then cleared his throat to get her attention and said, “Maybe you should get a bit of sleep. You’ve been up practically all night, and we’re going to need some help watching Harry and Kotone, as well as Malfoy. Luna’s been right helpful and hasn’t asked too many questions, but she’s going to have to go home soon, at least for a while… she’s got her father to take care of, too.” Ron’s demeanor became subtly more serious as he added, “and don’t forget that we have to set up the Fidelis here. I’m not too keen on staying here for long being so exposed, if you know what I mean… What if Snape returns, or one of Sirius’ relatives?”

Hermione sighed and looked up from the book. Ron was right, she did need sleep, they needed help, she really did forget all about the Fidelis, and she was taking entirely too much time with the books. She really didn’t know what to expect once the books were translated. She assumed that the ‘Soul Magic’ book would have been just a book of spells and rituals where she could just read a page or two, find a spell, wave her wand and everything would be okay. She certainly couldn’t have imagined that the book would introduce a completely new understanding of magic as it was known. The theories and revelations in the book opened a sphere of opportunity unheard of in the modern wizarding world. She was also aware that she hadn’t even glanced at the second book that Dobby had translated and couldn’t guess what information that one held.

Kotone had suggested that the book was critically important and that it was intended for Hermione to ‘understand.’ While the information in the book was indeed incredibly important, earth-shattering, for that matter, she still hadn’t found anything that could directly help with the current predicament. She didn’t know if there would be anything in the latter chapters of the book, and even if there was, she had no idea how long it would take for her to use the information to ‘fix’ Harry.

She rubbed her tired eyes as she rose from the table and began pacing the length of the room, “Well, we can’t worry about the Fidelis right now… Harry has to be awake before it’s performed. We’ll just have to hope that the Death Eaters aren’t aware of this place yet.”

“It’s not only the Death eaters we have to worry about, really. You do realize that the Ministry announced yesterday that they’re looking for Harry, remember? They must know about his inheritance…”

Hermione stopped in her tracks and finished in a strained whisper, “…and this will be one of the first places they’ll look for him!”

The considerable fatigue that Hermione had been feeling vanished as a surge of adrenaline coursed through her. She sprinted past Ron towards the library door in a panic. She flew down the stairs to the ground floor and noisily ran through the receiving hall, which caused the portrait of the Black matriarch to begin wailing madly about ‘mudblood filth soiling the noble house of her ancestors.’ She descended the stairs to the kitchen and tore open the door to the icebox, withdrew the bag that contained the supplies needed to perform the Fidelis, and then rushed back towards the front door.

Hermione stood in the center of the entrance hall and hurriedly dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor as Ron stepped through the doorway behind her with his hands over his ears and yelling above the din, “Is there anything I can do?”

Hermione was already kneeling on the floor and flipping frantically through a thick book entitled, ‘Advanced Armour for your Abode: Traps, tricks and charms to secure your livelihood.’ She glanced up at him and yelled, “Just shut that bitch up, I can’t concentrate with that screeching going on.”

Ron disappeared back into the receiving hall to deal with the livid portrait as Hermione began quickly organizing all of the components for the charm. After a few minutes, it appeared that Ron was successful in subduing the painting. She let out a relieved sigh, as she didn’t need the distraction of a wailing bigot as she worked.

Hermione made a cursory scan of the page that contained the instructions for the Fidelis and began picking up various items from the assortment that was laid out on the floor. She produced a quill and picked up a bottle of what appeared to be glowing red ink. She quickly but carefully began tracing out runes onto small squares of tissue-thin parchment. When she finished, she stood and gathered an armful of seemingly benign objects and a bag full of sharp, crescent-shaped bones as Ron reentered the hallway. She gave him a determined nod then turned and walked to the front door.

“Come with me, Ron, you’re going to have to be the secret keeper.”

Ron stood staring at Hermione as she wrenched the door open, then complained with a surprised whine, “What?” Me?”

Hermione looked back over her shoulder, gave him a stern glance and said reproachfully, “Yes, you! I’m performing the charm, so I can’t be the secret keeper… Honestly, would you like to be the one to wake a Harry/Voldemort hybrid and ask him whom he’d like for a secret keeper? For all we know, it wouldn’t be ‘Harry’ we’d be waking at all…”

Ron just stood there, looking as if he were going to be sick, apparently despairing over having the responsibility of keeping such an important secret. Hermione let out an exasperated breath and continued, “Come on, Ronald! We have to do this now. Could you imagine what would happen if the ministry waltzes in here and ‘Rennervates’ Harry to ask about his ‘girlfriend?’” Looking as though he were walking through the veil in the ministry’s Death Room, Ron reluctantly followed Hermione out of the house.

Hermione rushed to the front left corner of the property and then unceremoniously dumped everything she was carrying, except for the bits of parchment she had drawn on and the bag of small bones, into Ron’s arms. She then reached into the bag and produced one of the bones and impaled one of the rune squares to the ground. She walked around the perimeter of the property affixing a rune every few yards as she explained, “These are warding runes, and have to be placed in the correct order around the area being protected. These bones are the rib bones of newly hatched sphinxes and provide the means of focusing and connecting the protective magic between each rune...”

When Ron gave her a questioning look, obviously wondering why the self-proclaimed president of the ‘Save All Magical Creatures Club’ wasn’t wailing as loudly as the portrait he had just subdued, she just kept working with a harried expression and said, “As you should know from the Care of Magical Creatures lessons we had, a mother sphinx only allows the strongest two of her hatchlings to live… the rest devour all of the other hatchlings in the nest. The bones are collected after the nest is abandoned… still, due to their relative rarity and the fact that they have to be imported, they are the most expensive component of the spell, almost as much as the gargoyle blood I used to draw the runes.”

Ron just followed in silence and scanned the area as she diligently laid out the foundation for the charm. Once the last rune was in place she drew her wand from her waistband and, after pausing in concentration for only a moment, raised her wand over her head and slowly swept it across in a wide, graceful arc as she spun around and incanted, “Iunxi Praesidium!”

Ron watched in awe as a spray of fine, silky strands flew from her wand and arced over the entire property. The end of each strand seemed to affix itself to each of the bones that held the runes in place. As Hermione completed her turn, she snapped her wand upwards, causing the ends to float lazily in the air around her until she repeated the incantation causing the loose ends to fly to the wards that were diametrically opposed to the other end until it appeared that there was a silky silver balloon encompassing the building.

As soon as the spell was completed, Hermione was breathing heavily as she fell to her knees. Ron made a move to help her up, but she just held up her hand to stay him. After a few moments, she unsteadily rose to her feet, took a deep breath through her nose and then noisily pushed it out through her mouth, saying, “Whoa, this is harder than I thought.”

Ron waited a minute for Hermione to catch her breath before asking, “Well, did it work? Is it done?”

“Oh, yes, Ronald, it’s done… Doesn’t it look lovely?” she hissed sarcastically, “and it took no time at all, don’t you think?”

Ron looked at the web-like dome overhead and said, “I don’t remember seeing…”

“Of course it’s not done!” she snapped, “I have to cast this six more times, then set up for the next phase… and don’t worry about anyone noticing the dome because muggles can’t see it.”

Ron scrutinized her for a moment before asking concernedly, “Can you even do it six more times? It looks like the first one knackered you out.”

Hermione sighed, raised her wand again and said, “I have to. What choice do I have?”

Ron shrugged and resumed watching the street as she sent another stream of filaments soaring around the property, weaving themselves within the previous set. This time the strands connected the runes from the front edge of the land to the rear, and then from the left to the right with the next. Each time the spell was cast, Hermione needed more time to recover. The following spell sent the strands from the rear to the front, and the next from right to left.

Hermione had her eyes closed and was on her back, lying on the sparse, yellowed grass and panting heavily. Five minutes passed before she rolled onto her side, and then tried to push herself up. Ron grabbed her beneath her armpits and gently lifted her into a seated position. He looked into her glassy, unfocused eyes and was instantly reminded of the blonde Ravenclaw sleeping in one of the spare bedrooms.

“Hermione, you need to take a break,” said Ron concernedly, “You’re going to pass out if you don’t.”

Hermione took a deep, wheezing breath, then coughed out, “two more… only two more…”

Ron slowly shook his head, then stood up and reached out a hand to her. She looked up, ran her sleeve over her sweaty brow, and then allowed him to hoist her to her feet. He let go of her hand, but kept his hand on her arm, almost expecting her to fall right over. He saw her nod and crack a thankful smile, but her tired eyes betrayed how exhausted she actually was. He reluctantly released her arm and stood back a pace.

Hermione wavered slightly after he released her, but remained erect. She took a deep breath, raised her wand and cried, “Iunxi Praesidium!” Once again, the web-like filaments spread diagonally across the lot, and once again, she repeated the spell to affix the strands to the opposite runes. Once the spell was completed, her eyes rolled up in their sockets and disappeared under her drooping lids as she flopped gracelessly to the ground.

“Hermione!” cried Ron in a panic. He dropped what he was holding and lunged for her unconscious form. He quickly checked her breathing, which was coming in long, rasping breaths. Her skin was damp and pale, and unusually cold to the touch.

He looked around the area helplessly, although he knew there wasn’t anyone around that could help them. As he was turning back to Hermione, some odd movement was just caught in the corner of his vision. Being careful not to be too obvious, he kept his head still but his eyes snapped to an area on the other side of the street. There was an old, abandoned car parked in front of a narrow alleyway between two buildings. Keeping his gaze on that one spot, he reached down and took one of Hermione’s hands in his, trying to look as if his attention was focused on her.

There! A shimmering movement in the fading afternoon light, obviously someone who was disillusioned was standing there, only the shifting of his outline was visible when he moved. His mind began to race… an Order member? No, someone in the Order would have come to help by then. Death Eater? Probably not… they had plenty of opportunity to attack while they were distracted.

“The Ministry!” he whispered under his breath. He realized that they must be keeping watch for Harry. Not really knowing what else to do, he drew his wand and cast a quick ‘Rennervate’ on Hermione.

Hermione stirred sluggishly. She rolled onto her side and held her head in her hands while moaning softly.

“We’ve got to finish this,” whispered Ron desperately, “I think the Ministry is watching us.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped open and she tried to sit up, only to fall back heavily to the ground, muttering, “I… I can’t… I…”

She hissed in pain as Ron grabbed her shoulders, urgently saying, “Come on! Just once more! You can do it!”

Hermione just nodded weakly and took hold of Ron’s forearms, allowing him to pull her to her feet, but her momentum caused her to fall heavily forward into his arms.

“Please, Hermione… just once more!” begged Ron as he picked up her wand and placed it in her hand.

Hermione raised her wand once again and paused. She swayed unsteadily for a moment before shaking her head and tightening her grip on her wand. She sliced downward and across while tiredly incanting, “Iunxi Praesidium.” The final strands flew from her wand and flawlessly affixed them selves to the runes. With a flick of her wrist and a final, awkward twirl, she repeated the incantation.

As the last strands fell into place, Ron heard her croak out, “Oh…” before she collapsed into a heap. He quickly scooped up her wand and the components he had dropped before, then lifted Hermione up from the ground and carried her as quickly as he could manage to the front door. With considerable difficulty, he was able to wrest open the door and carry her inside. He let the items he had in his hand drop to the floor, and then gingerly placed Hermione onto the wooden bench along the wall of the entrance hall. He was about to step back to the front door to close and lock it when he heard the sound of light footsteps walking across the receiving hall.

Looking towards the hall, he paled when he saw the angry face of Kotone appear in the doorway, still dressed in the short gown that she had been wearing in the infirmary the night before. Her eyes narrowed as she bared her black teeth dangerously and growled out some unintelligible phrase in Japanese before her eyes landed on Hermione. He saw her eyes instantly change from anger to concern when she saw her unmoving form.

“Washi-chan!” she whispered before turning back to Ron, “What has happen to He-my-nee?”

“She sort of over-exerted herself,” said Ron as he walked to the front door. He was about to swing it shut when they clearly heard the sporadic cracks of multiple apparitions coming from the street. All Ron could manage to say was, ”Aw, bloody Hell…” as he saw a score of people in black cloaks and white masks appearing all along the street. A moment later, a volley of numerous curses and hexes were striking against the door and frame as he struggled to push the heavy door closed.

26. Bloody Fidelis

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I lay any claim to the lyric bits that I use. No money is being made and a quick peek at my bank balance will attest to that fact.

A/N: Here we go again. As you have probably figured out by now, Hermione never had the chance to finish the Fidelis. Sorry again, but there’s a slight cliffie at the end of this chappie, too. Couldn’t be helped… I’m not about to post an 11,000 word chapter, this one’s over 5400 as it is! Personally, I like this chapter… action, suspense, blood… what more could you want? If there is more that you want, leave me a review and let me know! I hope you all enjoy this. ^_^

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Chapter 26: Bloody Fidelis

London calling to the imitation zone
Forget it, brother, you can go at it alone
London calling to the zombies of death
Quit holding out - and draw another breath
London calling - and I don't wanna shout
But while we were talking I saw you nodding out
London calling, see we ain't got no high
Except for that one with the yellowy eyes.

Excerpt from the song, London Calling by The Clash.

-----~-----

On a rocky peninsula that jutted out from the coast in northern Wales stood an old, abandoned lighthouse. A lone man with dirty black hair, a long, hooked nose and dressed in a rather worn and faded black cloak stood staring out through the cracked, dirty windows at the dark, windswept water crashing along the jagged cliffs below. He was shifting uncomfortably on his feet while anxiously fingering the wand in his hand.

A loud crack from the base of the lighthouse announced the arrival of the person he was waiting for. He turned away from the window just as an old, stooped woman made it to the top of the rickety spiral staircase and stepped onto the scaffolding that encircled the inside of the top of the tower.

“G’dee, Guvnah,” the old hag cackled, “Ja’got tha scroo inna crock?”

Severus Snape, as well as most English-speaking people, had a difficult time deciphering the obscure dialect that hags seemed to favor. He was pretty sure that most words they use weren’t words at all, but the message usually got across. He barely concealed the sneer as he impatiently answered, “Yes, and I trust that you kept the transaction secure, as I’m sure you realize that the goods that I gave to you were enscorcelled, and the Galleons were enchanted with a locator jinx? I assure you that any double cross will result in a very unpleasant experience for you.

The old hag bristled for only a moment before waving a dismissive hand, saying through sparse, crooked teeth, “A’course, guv, a’course… a fair cop, tha’ is. Everthin’s on tha Johnny, ta be sure. B’ere on tha witchin’ ‘morrer wit yer biter. There’ll be a cotter settin off tha crack on sea… an’ don’ be late, tha cotter’s won’ be a’loiterin’.”

He looked down his nose at the ancient hag and said in his silkiest voice, “Just so there’s no misunderstanding… You say that everything has been arranged, and we’re to be here at midnight tomorrow. Our transportation will be waiting, and we should best not be late because they won’t wait for long, is that correct?”

“Aye, guv, tha’s on yer nog.”

He watched the hag as she descended the stairs while cackling under her breath. He heard her mutter as she disappeared from sight, “Bleedin’ sot, nae unnerstan’ tha Queen’s English…”

He looked out through the dirty windows and watched the hag until she disappeared with a crack. He spent a few more minutes deep in thought while scanning the countryside.

He hadn’t worried much about Draco these past few days. He was sure none of the Order would use the old headquarters since the Fidelis was broken, and he was sure that Potter wouldn’t be fool enough to go there, and he didn’t believe that any of the Death Eaters that knew of Grimmauld Place, namely Bellatrix and Narcissa, wouldn’t dare be caught anywhere near the old manor. As long as Draco didn’t decide to go out for a stroll around London, it was a near perfect hiding place for the boy until the arrangements for them to flee the country were complete.

He didn’t like the fact that he was saddled with Draco. He had thought that the unbreakable vow would be fulfilled once Dumbledore was killed, but it appeared that Narcissa’s wording of the vow made it so that he would have to ‘keep Draco safe.’ Not ‘keep Draco safe until his mission was complete,’ or ‘until January third, two-thousand and twenty…’ just to keep him safe… forever. If at any time Draco ended up in mortal danger, his own life would be forfeit. He knew this, and Dumbledore had known it, too,

Of course, Draco was being the quintessential ‘Malfoy,’ arrogant and brash, not caring at all for hiding out in the dirty old house, even though he knew that the entire wizarding world was looking for them, the good guys, the bad guys, and everyone in between. Being caught by either side would mean Snape’s immediate demise, because having either the Ministry or the Death Eaters take Draco would certainly not fall under the category of ‘keeping Draco safe.’

He would never be safe from Voldemort, so they could only hide from him. The only way he could think of to keep him safe from the Ministry was to modify his memories until he could be safely smuggled out of Britain. That way, if he were captured he couldn’t give any testimony under veritaserum. Draco could still be sent to Azkaban for the role he played in allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but given the fact that the dementors were long gone, ‘the kiss’ would no longer be an option and he would be relatively ‘safe’ in a cell. Even so, that was an eventuality that Snape wanted to avoid.

He nearly had a heart attack the day before when the proximity ward he set up around Grimmauld Place was activated, indicating that someone had entered the house. He returned there as quickly as he could, but found nothing out of place. Of course, he never did check the icebox where Ron had hidden Kotone’s trunk and the components for the Fidelis.

He pulled a pocket watch from his cloak, flipped it open and watched the hands approach nine P.M. As he started down the stairs, he felt the crystal sphere in the pocket of his cloak vibrate energetically. He stopped in his tracks and cursed loudly when he realized that the Grimmauld Place ward had tripped again. In an instant, he was gone.

He appeared on the rooftop of a building across the way from Grimmauld Place. His eyes scanned the street for any sign of movement. Once he was sure there was nobody around, he apparated down to the green in front of Number Twelve and cast a hasty disillusionment on himself. As stealthily as he cold manage, he walked to the front door and saw that the detection seal he had placed on it was broken. He gripped his wand tightly and carefully stepped inside the dark entrance hall.

Disillusionment was a handy little trick to avoid being noticed. Although not completely invisible, you could blend in with your surroundings and remain undetected as long as you kept perfectly still and nobody came too close to you. He barely had time to step into a shadow when he heard the footsteps coming up the stairs from the kitchen. He held his breath as he watched Granger pass through the entrance hall, walking directly towards him. He knew that in a few more steps she would be able to clearly see him. He gripped his wand tightly, preparing to stun the girl when she suddenly stopped. A pensive look flashed across her face before she turned away and walked towards the staircase to the upper floors.

He silently let out his breath and followed the girl up the steps, making sure he kept to the shadows and maintained a discreet distance. He watched her enter the library and he muttered to himself, ‘Of course, where else would that insufferable wench go?’ He decided to continue up the stairs to the room where he had placed Draco. He looked in to see the boy peacefully sleeping in the large bed in the center of the room.

Snape quietly made his way out of the house and resumed his position on the roof across the street. He was relatively confident that Draco would sleep through the night, and judging by how exhausted the girl looked, she would probably leave before midnight. She would have to be a complete fool to stay in such an exposed and unprotected house for long.

An hour passed, then two, then two more with no sign of the Granger girl. He was starting to get nervous. He checked his watch and saw that it was well after three A.M. so he decided to go back inside, fully expecting to find the Granger girl asleep and drooling onto one of her precious books in the Black library.

What he didn’t expect to find was Draco being held by a gaggle of Potter’s cronies, nor did he expect that Potter himself, along with the half-breed girl that he had seen in the press, would be unconscious and apparently under guard. He had arrived too late to find out what had happened, but he wasn’t overly concerned, for his main focus was to retrieve Draco and get him to the lighthouse before midnight.

Draco seemed safe enough where he was, locked in a room next to the study, so to avoid being discovered himself, he placed a detection seal on his door to alert him when it was opened. He then stealthily made his way to the roof and, after sealing the entrance, settled himself in the dark stairwell to get some desperately needed sleep.

He wasn’t sure exactly how long he was asleep before the sounds of yelling and spell fire had abruptly awakened him. He threw open the door to the roof and cautiously looked down at the mass of black-cloaked figures in the street attacking the house.

Knowing that the wards on the house prevented people from apparating into or away from the property, but allowed apparition inside of the house, he spun on his heel and apparated directly into Draco’s room. He had to get him out immediately.

-----~-----

Benjamin Bones considered it a stroke of luck that he was assigned as one of the aurors to assist the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s investigation of ‘The Boy Who Lived,” as he, along with Hestia Jones and Dedalus Diggle, was also instructed by McGonagall to keep an eye on Harry for the Order. He soon found that it was rarely an easy feat, but regular checks of Tonks’ tracking spell, the password to which was shared when Harry returned to Hogwarts the previous day, made it somewhat less of a pain when Harry chose to abruptly change locations. Having access to the Ministry’s floo utilization records was a tremendous help as well.

The Floo record of a transfer between Hogwarts and an estate in London is what led Benjamin to be disillusioned and standing at the mouth of a dingy alley watching the former headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. He briefly checked his watch and saw that he had less than an hour to go before he would be relieved by Hestia so that he could leave to make his report to the auror office.

He shifted on his feet, working out the fatigue in his legs acquired from standing in one place for over twelve hours. He stretched each leg, and then leaned against the building, thinking despondently about how he should have packed a lunch when he saw the front door of Number Twelve fly open. It took him a few moments to realize who the thin, frazzled-looking witch and the gangly, red-headed wizard who stormed out through the door were. He looked on with mild curiosity as she began staking small bits of parchment around the perimeter of the building, and then began casting a series of spells around the area. He wasn’t quite sure what the pair of teens were doing, but it looked as though they were setting up a ward of some sort. Being trained as both an auror and a healer, he was familiar with healing charms, jinxes, counter-curses and the like, but he never invested much time in learning about creating protective wards. He left that up to the people who were paid to do it.

His concern grew with each iteration of the spell Hermione was performing, seeing how she was becoming increasingly exhausted each time it was cast. He shifted uncomfortably as he watched the Weasley boy help the girl to her feet once again. He was about to rush across the street to assist them when he caught sight of a pair of cloaked figures that had just turned the corner and were strolling cautiously along the sidewalk towards Number Twelve. When the two figures caught sight of the two teens, they ducked into the yard of Number Seventeen. A moment later Ben clearly saw a messenger spell shoot into the air.

‘Bugger,’ he thought to himself as he slipped deeper into the alley and sent a messenger spell of his own to auror Headquarters, then cast his patronus, an unusually large ram, towards the opposite end of the alley to alert the Order of probable danger.

The next time Hermione cast the spell, he started in alarm as she collapsed onto the ground, clearly unconscious. He dared not make his presence known, having a bad feeling about what he thought was about to happen. Just as he had feared, as soon as the Weasley boy carried Hermione to the house, cracks of apparition filled the street as a score of Death Eaters appeared.

The figures darted out from Number Seventeen and began running towards Number Twelve. He could see that one of them was an older, rather slight man with an awkward gait to his stride, and the other was a tall, relatively attractive middle-aged woman with blonde hair and what appeared to be a permanent sneer etched on her face. The woman pointed towards Number Twelve as she ran and began yelling to her comrades, “There! He’s in there! The house that should belong to me!” Instantly, the Death Eaters turned towards Number Twelve and began firing a barrage of spells at the doorway.

As luck would have it, Hestia Jones arrived early to relieve the watch on Harry. Moments after she apparated into the area, she saw Benjamin Bones’ patronus approach her. The ram delivered it’s message, that Grimmauld Place was under attack, and then disappeared. She quickly cast her own patronus, a rather cute looking koala, and sent it along before she quickened her pace towards the alley across the way from Number Twelve.

Being hopelessly outnumbered, Ben knew it would be suicide to act before assistance arrived. He was quite relieved when he saw the rather plump, black haired witch hurrying towards him from the back end of the alley. He backed into the shadows away from the mouth of the alley and dispelled the disillusionment.

As soon as Hestia neared, he motioned her to be quiet and said in a low but urgent whisper, “Did you get the message?”

She looked over Ben’s shoulder towards the Death Eaters in the street when she nervously answered, “Yeah, and I sent it on… Is Harry still in there?”

Ben nodded as he turned back to the street. After a moment, he whispered, “Notice anything strange?”

Hestia watched as the Death Eaters continued to shout out hexes and curses, sending volley after volley of spells while inching closer to the doorway. Then it struck her, “They aren’t using very powerful spells, are they? I mean, they’re practically screaming out the incantations.”

“Aye, and no unforgivables, either.”

Ben took a closer look at the Death Eaters and came to a startling realization, “Merlin! Look at them, they’re just kids!”

Hestia listened closely to the tone of the Death Eaters’ voices and came to the same conclusion, that most of them looked and sounded as though they were fresh out of Hogwarts. She looked up at the lone, red-headed youth desperately trading spells with the attackers and said, “You’re right, but we still have to give them time, he’s not going to last long, even with those schoolyard hexes… where’s Harry… and the others? Don’t tell me that the Weasley boy is the only one there.”

Ben shook his head absently as he watched the inexperienced wizards throwing mostly ineffective spells at the house. He raised his own wand and whispered, “Granger’s there, but she didn’t seem too fit to fight. I’m sure Potter’s in there, but I haven’t seen him. We have to buy them some time. Go behind that…” His voice trailed off when his eyes scanned the street and he noticed that the pair of cloaked figures that he first saw were nowhere in sight. Realization flashed in his eyes, “The back door! They’re trying to sneak in the back way!”

Hestia said, “I’ll go. I’m familiar with the house.” She dashed towards the far end of the alley so that sound of her Apparation wouldn’t alert the Death Eaters in the street and, with a twirl of her cloak, disappeared with a muffled crack for the other side of the block behind Number Twelve.

At exactly the same moment, a series of various cracks and pops from the west end of the block revealed a squad of aurors who immediately set upon the Death Eaters in the street. The aurors were accompanied by a team of hit-wizards, who began setting up anti-apparation wards.

Another set of sporadic cracks and pops from the east end of the street heralded the arrival of Order of the Phoenix, most of whom began sending a flurry of spells into the ranks of the death Eaters except for a pair of young red-headed wizards carrying a rather large case. The pair quickly ducked into the concealment of a nearby hedge and excitedly rummaged through the case, each pulling out colourful glass spheres that had pointy spikes protruding from it in odd directions. With eerily gleeful grins, they called out a warning to the nearby Order members, tossed the spiked spheres into the air and then watched in unbridled delight as they hovered high in the air above the Death Eaters

The Death Eaters in the street, seeing that they were surrounded and unable to apparate, redoubled their efforts to force their way into the house. None of them noticed a pair of huge, strangely coloured clouds silently appear from seemingly nowhere high above them. From within the clouds emerged a pair of immense metallic blue dragons, who began circling menacingly above the wizards, causing the advancing aurors to freeze in their tracks.

As the dragons’ shadows passed over the street, a few of them glanced up and began screaming as the flying monstrosities suddenly went into a vertical dive towards the now panic stricken and thoroughly distracted Death Eaters. They scattered as the dragons neared, screeching horribly with their fanged maws stretched wide open.

In his desperate attempt to flee, one Death Eater tripped over his own cloak and landed flat on his face. He rolled over and his eyes widened in terror as one of the dragons sent a stream of crimson fire directly at him. Unable to move, he threw his arms over his face and let out a high-pitched squeal as the flames engulfed him.

The dragon spread its’ wide, leathery wings and veered upwards back into the air and disappeared in a puff of coloured smoke. The Death Eater that lay on the sidewalk, tentatively pulled his arms from over his tear stained face, sat up and looked himself over in confusion while running his hands across his unblemished robes. He was laughing nervously as a red bolt sent by an advancing auror sent the man into unconsciousness.

All of the wizards figured out that the dragons were mere illusions, but by then it was far too late for the Death Eaters to resume the battle as most of their number were incapacitated as they desperately tried to avoid the phantasms.

The moment that the last Death Eater was taken down, Ministry obliviators appeared and began to round up what few muggles were witness to the battle, mostly vagrants and vagabonds that are wont to inhabit the rather run-down neighborhood.

The wizard who was in charge of the aurors, a man named Jack Catterall, began walking toward the group of wizards and witches that had assisted them in battling the Death Eaters. As he approached the milling group, he noted the red-headed ministry official along with the red-headed twins who were practically beside themselves in mirth, presumably the source of the illusionary dragons and were obviously Weasley’s sons. He looked at the other faces in the group, and only recognized a few others, one being none other than the interim Headmistress of Hogwarts.

Catterall stopped walking and his brow furrowed as he thought, ‘How on Earth did they happen to arrive here at the same time we did?’ He turned around to see the auror that had sent the alert about the group of Death Eaters, Benjamin Bones, hurrying across the street towards the building that was under attack. The gears started turning furiously in his head. ‘Bones is supposed to be on the team that’s searching for Potter…’ His eyes then drifted to the door of the building, covered in hex marks and left ajar. ‘Is Potter in there? Was Bones here looking for him… or was he protecting him!’

Jack Catterall began running towards Number Twelve, calling out to his men, “Into the building, boys… I believe we got one more to bring in!”

-----~-----

Kotone had no idea exactly how long she was out, but she certainly didn’t feel as if she’d recovered much of her spent energy. She did remember waking up a few times, but before she could fully grasp consciousness, she was forced back into shadow, left to battle her way to the light once again.

It was only when she awoke to find the odd dove standing by the doorway of the room, leaning against the jamb fast asleep that she was able to take in her surroundings. She saw that her Shishi was lying unconscious in a nearby bed. She saw the twin, ethereal serpents entwined around each other, longing to join together but forever separated due to how they were originally torn. She knew then that it was much too late for her to do anything about what had happened to him.

If only Washi hadn’t interfered, she would have been able to take the souls into herself. She was expendable. If she were to join her ancestors, nobody would miss her. She’s just an ugly animal. She’d been feared and hated for her entire life. The only two people in the world who truly loved her were gone, and now the one person who had ever shown her a modicum of kindness has his own life hanging in the balance. She wondered why had Washi stopped her. She got the impression that the older witch didn’t dislike her, yet she seemed to be on the receiving end of more than her fair share of her hexes. Did she stop her thinking that she was hurting her Shishi, or did she stop her because she actually cared for someone so undeserving of that concern? If that was the case, she had no right to make that decision for her. She made the choice to protect Shishi, to sacrifice herself, but that choice was taken away from her.

By the time she reached the entrance hall, she was fuming and ready to give Washi a piece of her mind, but she was totally unprepared for what she had found there. She heard the shouts of people out in the street and saw Ron pushing the front door closed against a barrage of hexes, one of which squarely hit the top hinge. Although the hex was surprisingly weak, it was just strong enough to shatter the rusted top hinge, knocking the door askew and making it impossible to fully close. As Ron drew his wand and began sending his own curses back into the street, Kotone was looking back and forth between him and the unconscious Hermione, unsure of what was going on or what to do.

Seeing the state that the older witch was in, Kotone’s anger drained away. She walked to the bench that Hermione was sprawled across and knelt down. She reached out, opened one of Hermione’s eyes, and saw that her pupil was fixed and barely visible under the upper lid. Kotone closed her own eyes and rested her forehead against Hermione’s. She relaxed her mind, reaching out to touch the other witch’s consciousness.

Kotone found herself standing in a small, brilliantly lit room with white walls and floors, but with no doors or windows. In the center of the room stood a large four-poster bed with pure white sheets and lacey, transparent hangings. She looked down on the bed to see an exhausted eagle that was peacefully sleeping there.

She reached out her hand and touched the eagle, saying softly but urgently, “Washi-chan, you must wake up.”

The eagle’s eyes blinked open against the light and seemed to gaze around absently for a few moments before wearily focusing on the young half-witch standing beside the bed. Her head dropped heavily back into the pillows as she tiredly slurred, “Go ‘way. Don’ wanna wake up yet.”

“So sorry, Washi-chan, your Hyou needs you, he is in much trouble.”

Hermione lifted her head out of the pillows just in time to see Kotone reaching out a finger towards her face. Before she could react, the young girl’s fingertip made contact with her forehead.

It was as if lightning had struck her. She bolted upright on the hard wooden bench, her head was whipping around, trying to take in her surroundings. She realized that she was in the entrance hall when she saw Ron standing in the doorway, throwing curse after curse out into the street. She looked down to the floor to find Kotone sprawled flat on her back, holding her head and softly moaning, which sounded more like the whimpering of some sort of a large, wounded animal.

“Ron! What’s going on?”

Ron glanced back in surprise, but then returned his concentration back to the battle when a blue hex soared by his head. He replied with no small amount of anxiety, “Death Eaters… Stupefy… they arrived… Reducto… just as you finished the last… Stupefy… bit of the spell… Impedimenta… Why didn’t it work?”

She suddenly remembered trying to perform the Fidelis, but she couldn’t remember how far along she had progressed with it. “How many times did I cast the Praesidium?”

“Seven,” he answered between spells, “Well, fourteen in total…”

So, she did complete the first portion of the spell! She gathered the remaining items that were scattered on the floor and went through the door to the receiving room. She kicked away a moldy old runner carpet to reveal the hardwood floor underneath. After setting the items aside, she opened the book to the page that she marked. Her eyes darted across the page as she silently mouthed the words that she was reading. After a few moments, she picked up a pouch that held what looked like baking flour and carefully poured it onto the floor creating a wide circle. She drew her wand and frantically etched out the familiar five-pointed star within the circle, then picked up a small pouch of tiny crystal beads and placed them at each of the tips of the star and onto where the lines of the star intersected. As soon as the final bead was placed, they flashed with a bright yellow light before sinking into the floor.

In order for her to complete the spell, she needed Ron in the circle. Hermione dashed from the room and back into the entrance hall to see Kotone shakily picking herself from the floor and Ron still trading spells with the advancing Death Eaters.

Hermione ran behind Ron and saw the ensuing battle between the Death Eaters, the Order and the Ministry’s aurors. Thankful for the distraction that the reinforcements provided, she took Ron’s arm and began pulling him away from the door while saying, “Come on! The spell’s ready… you just need to…” She never got the chance to finish the sentence.

Hermione felt Ron’s arm jerk out of her grasp. She spun around and saw the blank look on his face.

“What’s the matter? We have to get this done!” Hermione pleaded. She reached for his arm again, but she froze when Ron coughed, spraying the front of her shirt with blood. She looked down and saw a grisly wound in his abdomen, still smoking and with large bits of splintered wood protruding from it.

“Oh, my! Ron!” screamed Hermione as Ron let out a long, rattling breath and then collapsed into her arms. Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she gently laid him down on the floor.

“Oh, Ron, I’m so sorry! Don’t you die on us!” said Hermione as she pulled out the shards of wood and carefully moved the smouldering cloth from around the oozing wound. She didn’t know if her limited array of healing spells would do much for that severe of a wound.

Hermione was distracted for a moment when she heard terrified screaming from outside. When she turned back to Ron, Kotone was kneeling beside his head, staring down in to his half-opened eyes. Her breath caught in her throat when she realized what the little half-witch was doing. Hermione appreciated what she was attempting, but she also knew that she was in no condition to even heal a nosebleed without killing herself. She briefly wondered if Kotone had some sort of death wish before shaking herself out of her shock and grabbing her on her shoulders and pulling her away from her stricken friend.

The moment that Kotone’s connection with Ron was broken, he let out a loud moan and promptly passed out. She glanced down at Ron’s belly and was thankful to see that the wound, while still open, was no longer profusely bleeding. She turned to Kotone to see that she was sitting on the floor, massaging her temple with one hand and wiping the blood that was seeping from her nose with the other.

She looked back to Ron and remembered why she had come into the hall, “Kotone, can we wake him?”

“Not for two hour,” she replied softly while still massaging her head, “hurt is bad, but not to die.”

Hermione looked into Kotone’s eyes. She hoped that Harry knew what he was saying when he said that he could trust the tiny half-demon. She stood from the floor, took one of Kotone’s hands and helped her up, saying, “Come, we must hurry.”

Hermione led Kotone into the receiving room and wordlessly placed her in the circle. She drew her wand and said loudly, “Animadverto Ab Alienum!” She touched the tip of her wand to the circle and finished the incantation, “Ad Fides Cobo Custodia Cello Sospesium Fidelis!”

The circle flared brightly for an instant before a rippling sphere of magic burst away from the circle. For a few moments, it felt as if she were floating in a limitless black void, her senses could detect no light or sound. Suddenly, the circle burst into bright orange flames, and disappeared just as quickly, leaving no trace at all around the perplexed half-witch.

Outside of the house, Hestia Jones managed to stun the male figure as he attempted to scale the wall into the rear courtyard of Number Twelve. She bound him with a hasty Incarcerous before trying to scale the wall herself to pursue the woman who had climbed inside a moment before. As her hands grasped the top of the wall, she was thrown roughly on her behind by a wave of force that came from the house. By the time she got to her feet, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had disappeared.

Meanwhile, in the street in front of the building, Jack Catterall was just about to step over the property line when a visible, rippling wave of energy burst from the house. When it reached the property’s boundaries a series of loud snaps resounded through the air as each of the runes around the manor combusted in puffs of orange smoke. All of the wizards in the street gaped in awe as Number Twelve seemed to implode, instantly compressing into nothingness, with the buildings on either side closing in to fill the space that was vacated.

Catterall turned to Ben and said, “Mr. Bones, I believe you have some explaining to do.”

27. The Madness Within

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, and only claim Kotone and a few other characters as my own. None of the lyric bits belong to me, either.

A/N: Again, I send apologies to you for the delay in getting this posted. We finally moved into our new, more permanent residence and finally got the Internet hooked up. Don’t expect another update very soon, as we’ll be busy setting up our stuff when it arrives in the next few days. I hope you like this chapter… I re-wrote the second portion THREE times, with three different outcomes. I chose the one that would expedite the conclusion of the story. I got some more treats for all of you ‘Ginny Haters’ out there, (I count myself among that group! ^_^;) and you find out what’s going on inside of Grimmauld Place. R & R & Enjoy!

Chapter 27: The Madness Within

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I’m trying to tell you something about my life,
maybe give me insight between black and white,
and the best thing you’ve ever done for me
is to help me take my life less seriously…
Its only life, after all…

Yeah…

Well darkness has a hunger that’s insatiable,
and lightness has a call that’s hard to hear.
I wrap my fear around me like a blanket.
I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it.
I’m crawling on your shores.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Closer to Fine’ by The Indigo Girls.

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The sun had just set behind the mountains that overlooked Hogwarts castle and grounds when Ginny Weasley finally began to stir on her bed in Madam Pomfrey’s office. She opened her eyes to find Madam Pomfrey hovering over her in the midst of performing some sort of diagnostic spell on her. She noticed her father near the doorway, leaning against the jamb, standing with his arms crossed over his chest and staring at her while wearing an uncharacteristically stern expression. She also saw her mother, lightly dozing in a chair behind the healer’s desk.

Ginny looked curiously around the room, wondering how she came to be there. She tried to remember where she was last, but her mind was strangely foggy, making it difficult to put her thoughts in order. She glanced down at her hands that were resting on her stomach over the covers and was shocked to discover that they both were heavily bandaged from where her fingernails ripped open her palms. She tentatively tried to wiggle her fingers and felt a burning pain in the palms of her hands. When she tried to sit up, a strangled groan escaped her as a very pronounced aching in her ribcage forced her back into her pillow. She opened her mouth to ask what had happened to her, but all that came out was a hoarse, garbled croak as a searing pain tore through her throat.

Without pausing from what she was doing, Madam Pomfrey said in a chilly tone, “Don’t try to speak. It will be at least another day before your throat is healed enough to speak comfortably.”

The healer stopped working when she saw Ginny raise her bandaged hands with a pleading question in her eyes. Madam Pomfrey sighed, then spoke, “Do you know why you’re here?”

When Ginny shook her head, Madam Pomfrey looked over to Arthur, who pushed himself away from the doorway and slowly walked up to his daughter’s bed. As Arthur approached, the healer pulled the covers from over Ginny’s naked body, causing the young girl to desperately grab at them, forgetting that her hands were currently unable to grasp anything.

Arthur just stood by the bed and watched as the healer spread his daughter’s legs and began peeling a cloth soaked in some kind of green, foul-smelling ointment away from her pubic mound, causing Ginny to hiss in pain and embarrassment. Once it was removed, he saw that the cloth had streaks of yellow and red, and was told by the healer that the discoloration was from the blood and pus coming from Ginny’s abused vagina.

When the healer finished placing a fresh ointment-covered cloth on the girl’s crotch and pulled the covers back over her body, Arthur shook his head and asked, “What is the last thing you can remember?”

She closed her eyes in thought… what was the last thing she remembered? While her whole life seemed shrouded in a thick fog, certain memories came to the surface quicker than others, although in her mind, she could put them in no discernable order. Slowly she began to sort things in chronological order…

Hogwarts… Dumbledore’s funeral… Her Harry had broken off their relationship ‘to protect her’ while he ran off to fight ‘You Know Who…’

Harry missing for weeks…

Harry being found in a muggle hospital…

Harry speaking with her in St. Mungo’s…

She had just used the last bit of the elixir…

The lust…

The desire…

Finding out about the attack at St. Mungo’s and that Harry was missing again… That was the last thing she could recall.

“Harry!” she croaked out while struggling to sit up again, “The attack at St. Mungo’s! Where’s Harry? Did they find him? Is he alive?”

Arthur directed a brief, sideways glance at the healer as he laid a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and eased her back into the pillow, saying, “Harry’s just fine. He’s with Ron and Hermione, and we have some people watching over them, so never mind about him. Our main concern right now is you.”

Arthur paused as he gauged Ginny’s reaction to his mentioning of Hermione’s name, and predictably, a look of anger flashed in the young girl’s eyes for the briefest moment. If he hadn’t been specifically looking for that very reaction, he would have missed it. He didn’t want to believe that his daughter was capable of doing what Ron had suggested, but her reaction drove the last bit of doubt he had left out of his mind.

He bowed his head and sighed before lifting his gaze again to Ginny’s eyes. He motioned to her pubic area and asked rather coolly, “Do you remember how you came to be injured there?”

Ginny looked away, still flushed in embarrassment and just shook her head ‘no.’

Arthur waited for her to look back to him again before he continued, “So, you don’t remember modifying the Horton-Keitch braking charm on your brother’s broom, or removing the cushioning spell from the handle?”

She wore a genuinely confused expression while she shook her head once again.

Arthur turned to Madam Pomfrey and gave her a solemn nod. The matron stepped beside the bed and addressed Ginny, “Mr. Potter’s recent illness is a direct result of a ritualistic spell that was cast upon him approximately a year and a half ago. It seems that he was dosed repeatedly with a catalyst that was only supposed to be administered once, not to mention that the spell was designed for only a pureblood wizard. In addition, the same ritual involved Miss Granger… the effect on her hasn’t been fully determined, but we will have to give her a complete examination at her earliest convenience.”

As Madam Pomfrey spoke, the furious blush that coloured Ginny’s face and neck drained away, leaving her skin with an ashen quality just as the healer finished speaking.

Arthur steeled himself for his next question. He was hoping that she would own up to what she did, but given her recent state of mind, and the fact that she would try something like a love potion or the like in the first place, he was fully expecting her to deny any involvement in the use of that dark elixir.

“Do you know anything about what happened to Harry and Hermione?”

She raised her chin, looked her father straight in the eye and hoarsely replied, “No”

Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out a small crystal bottle and a copy of the page that Ron showed to him. With a disappointed frown, he held up the items so that Ginny could clearly see them and asked, “Do these look familiar to you?”

“Of course not!” She angrily replied, “Why would I use a love potion on him? He loves me already!”

“It’s not a love potion!” yelled Arthur, whose own face was becoming flushed with anger, “It’s the physical component to a bloodline preservation ritual! It’s intended to be used by pureblood parents to keep their child from courting a non-pureblooded suitor!”

Arthur’s outburst awakened his wife, who abruptly rose from the chair and walked around the healer’s desk, making her way to her husband’s side. Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Arthur didn’t give her the opportunity, “It’s funny that you called this a ‘love potion,’ when nobody here even mentioned those words!”

Ginny didn’t appear to be listening, as she was loudly repeating in a grating rasp, “He’s mine! He loves me, not that mudblooded whore! He’s always loved me! Harry’s mine! Mine!”

Arthur was backing away from his daughter’s bed as she ranted. Madam Pomfrey rushed to the bedside and tried to pour a sleeping draught down Ginny’s throat, but ended up being covered with the potion as it sprayed from the girls mouth. With an apologetic glance to Arthur, Poppy drew her wand and stunned the raving witch.

With a heavy sigh, Arthur hung his head and began walking with Molly hand in hand towards the door as he quietly lamented, “Merlin, where did we go wrong?”

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Hermione had her eyes closed as she bent over with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Finishing the Fidelis had taken so much out of her that she seriously doubted that she could produce a simple Lumos. She had known before she even began that it was a very difficult and draining bit of ritualistic magic that usually required a full day of casting to prevent the wizard who was performing the spell from becoming exhausted. She also knew that if it weren’t for Kotone’s timely assistance, she would have never been able to complete the spell in time.

After a few moments, she lifted her head to see Kotone sitting in the middle of the room where the circle had been. Her bloodshot eyes were barely open, and she was swaying slightly, looking as though she were about to pass out. Hermione also noticed the smeared blood under her nose and around her mouth, making her appearance seem much more gruesome than usual.

“Kotone? Are you going to be alright?” asked Hermione as she stepped closer to the girl.

The young witch gazed in Hermione’s general direction wearing a dazed expression, seemingly unaware of Hermione’s presence. After a moment, she absently nodded and then unsuccessfully tried to stand, sitting back heavily on the floor. She tried to smile at Hermione and said, ”I will be fine… I…”

Kotone’s white brows knitted together as her ears swiveled towards the door to the entrance hall. A low growl escaped her throat before she whispered to Hermione, “There is strangers in house, I am not to recognize feet…”

Hermione crept to the door and looked out into the hall just in time to see the hem of a black cloak disappear around the upper landing of the main staircase. Her heart lodged in her throat as her thoughts screamed, ‘Harry!’ Whoever it was, they must have been within the boundaries of the property before the Fidelis was finished.

With her wand in hand, she dashed across the hall towards the stairs, all thought of Kotone, Ron, and her fatigue forgotten. She took the stairs two and three at a time until she neared the landing. She peeked over the top of the stairs, but saw nobody in the second floor hallway. The doors to the study, conservatory, library and the main bedrooms were all solidly closed. She heard the creak of a stair higher up in the house, up where the spare bedrooms in which Harry, Draco and presumably Luna were. She tightened her grip on her wand as she hurried along the banister towards the ascending staircase.

She was halfway up the staircase when she heard a woman’s haughty voice say, “You! You lied to me! You told me he was captured! You told me that the Order took him! I believed you… I trusted you!”

Hermione carefully climbed a few more stairs until she could just see into the third floor hallway. The tall woman in a dark cloak had her back turned to Hermione. She saw the woman pointing her wand at someone further down the hall. She then heard a very familiar, oily voice answer angrily, “And you should have left it at that, you foolish woman! If you didn’t know where he was, then the Dark Lord would have no reason to ‘question’ you more… intensely. You know he can always tell if you’re keeping something from him,” then he cracked a silky smirk and added, “and you know how badly he wants to see your son.”

Hermione looked beyond the woman, who she now knew was Narcissa Malfoy, and saw Snape standing next to Draco, one hand had his wand trained on the woman, and the other was restraining the squirming Draco from rushing towards his mother. She heard Draco pleading as he struggled, “Mummy! That’s my mummy! Let me go!”

“He will come with me!” Narcissa said icily, “I can keep him safe!”

“Don’t be stupid,” said Snape, clearly getting angry, “You must realize what will happen to him if the Dark Lord finds him, and if that happens my own fate is sealed, thanks to your oh-so-eloquent wording of the Unbreakable Vow.”

“Well, what do you propose to do?” she hotly asked, “Where will you take him?”

“You mean to say, ‘where will we take him,’” he replied smoothly, “You cannot return, now that you know that Draco is still free. A memory charm powerful enough to fool the Dark Lord would, unfortunately, leave you quite incapable of even feeding yourself.”

“We?” she asked incredulously while shaking her head, “I can’t leave… What of Lucius?”

“He mustn’t know. If he has any idea what is happening, we would all end up dead.”

Narcissa was still standing stiffly, but she slightly relaxed the grip on her wand. After a tense minute, she lowered her wand and said, “Alright, what are we to do?”

“First, we have to get Potter to open the Floo for us. He’s the only person who can do it, and it’s the only way out of here, seeing that this place is surrounded by aurors.”

“That’s going to be a problem,” Hermione carefully said from her concealed position on the staircase, causing both Snape and Narcissa to train their wands in her direction.

Narcissa narrowed her eyes at Hermione, and then slowly said as she sniffed and looked severely down her nose at the girl, “Ah, I remember you from the World Cup. You’re Potter’s girlfriend.”

“What are you on about, Granger?” asked Snape shortly, “What has happened to Potter?”

Hermione didn’t bother to correct the woman, nor did she immediately answer Snape. She just kept her wand trained at the two adults, trying desperately to keep it from shaking. She knew that in her present condition she couldn’t even magically out-duel a squib, but she counted on them not knowing exactly how drained she was at the moment.

She opened her mouth to speak, intending to warn them to lower their wands when she saw Luna step out of a room, unnoticed by the two adults and the distressed Draco. A smile crept across her lips, but faltered when she noticed that Luna’s expression was more distant and unfocused than was usual for her. Hermione’s smile disappeared completely when she noticed that the Ravenclaw wasn’t holding her wand, nor was it wedged in its usual place behind her ear.

Snape immediately picked up on Hermione’s concerned glance directed further down the hall and spun around, pointing his wand at the blonde teen. He kept his wand trained as Luna walked through the hall towards the stairs where Hermione was, totally ignoring both him and the skittish Narcissa.

Hermione felt her blood run cold as Luna drew nearer. She saw the girl’s blank expression and vacant eyes and said, “Luna? What are you doing?”

With a quiet, monotone voice she answered, “I’m distracting everyone, although I don’t know why I should be doing something like this…”

Hermione tore her gaze away from Luna’s face and looked towards Snape, who was, along with both Malfoys, staring warily at the odd, blonde witch. Before she could utter a warning, a cruel, high-pitched voice screamed out from the shadows at the far end of the hall. An impossibly quick stream of curses lit the walls as they raced towards the group.

“Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus! Accio! Accio! Stupefy!” Both Narcissa’s and Snape’s wands were wrenched from their hands and knocking the two adults to the floor. Before the wands even hit the floor, they flew down to the far end of the hallway. Narcissa fell heavily backwards onto the dirty runner carpet as Draco broke free from Snape’s hold and ran to her while bawling piteously. Snape spun on his heel to face the new threat, but before his turn was complete, the voice screamed out again, “Crucio!”

The sickly yellow beam lit the face of the caster even before he stepped out from the shadows. Hermione’s breath hitched as she saw Harry, with Luna’s wand in hand and holding the foul curse on his former Potions Professor. She had only seen the curse cast once before, and that was on a spider in the fake Moody’s classroom, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Snape writhing on the dirty floor, screaming unholy Hell, appearing as though his body was being ripped apart.

Hermione closed her tearing eyes and covered her ears with her hands. She had no idea that a human could produce sounds like that. The thought that Harry had been placed under that dark curse himself horrified her enough, but seeing him torture someone with that same curse made her physically ill. The idea that he even had the ability to cast it was shocking to her.

Suddenly, Snape’s screaming ceased, being replaced by a strangled moan. A moment later, Draco’s cries to his mother were silenced with a screeched stunning spell. Hermione uncovered her face and looked up to see Harry standing at the top of the staircase just a few feet away, looking menacingly down at her with Luna’s wand pointed at her chest. She gasped when she looked into his glaring, hate-filled eyes that seemed to be boring holes through her... studying her.

What terrified her the most about his eyes was the faint crimson glow behind his pupils, much like the ‘red eye’ effect in some muggle photographs. They held her transfixed, emerald wrestling with ruby in a desperate struggle within the boy standing before her.

“Oh, Harry…” she whispered sadly.

Harry just smirked as he stared into her eyes. What happened next was something she was totally unprepared for, but knew what was happening the moment it began. Random memories began flashing through her mind, and she was powerless to stop it.

She was sitting in a fourth grade class with the students around her glaring in annoyance as she answered yet another question correctly…

She was sitting in her schoolyard during lunch, ignored by all of the other children around her as she silently read while she ate alone…

She was nine years old, kneeling beside a Christmas tree in the sitting room of her house amongst the wrapping paper and boxes of all her fabulous, expensive presents while looking longingly at the closed door of her parents’ study…

She was standing in the conservatory in Grimmauld Place, pressed against the wall with leaking eyes that were furiously glaring at Ron, whom she had just roughly pushed away from her after he clumsily groped her breast as he tried to sloppily snog her…

Standing in the corridor with Harry, his hands gently resting on her waist, his soft lips moving ever closer to hers…

She was snapped out of her daze when he spoke, seemingly to himself, “Ah, so the ugly little dung-vein is ‘involved’ with this ‘Harry’… How interesting…”

Hermione did the only thing she could think of. She pointed her wand at Harry intending to stun him, but immediately remembered that she probably couldn’t stun a housefly in her state. He seemed to know what she was going to do before she even moved.

“Expelliarmus!” he icily cried, knocking her several steps down the staircase and sending her wand skittering down the hallway, “Is that any way to treat your boyfriend?” then added with an amused smile, “This may come as a shock to you, mudblood, but he doesn’t love you!”

Without lifting her head, Hermione wiped the trickle of blood from her split lip as she softly said, “I already knew that.”

She paused, waiting for him to come back with some sort of snide remark, racial slur, or even a curse. When she didn’t hear anything from him, she looked up and saw that he was staring past her towards the bottom of the stairs. She turned her head and saw Kotone standing on the lower landing with what Hermione guessed was a terrified expression, looking up at Harry with her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Suddenly, Kotone’s eyes opened wide and she let out a horrible wail before collapsing to the floor. Hermione whipped her head around to see Harry blinking dazedly.

He shook his head slightly then smiled evilly, saying, “Very well done, but your tricks won’t work on me. It seems a shame to have to kill one so skilled, but alas…”

In one quick, fluid motion, he pointed his wand at Kotone. Hermione saw Harry’s eyes open wide in unbridled glee as he grinned and hissed, “Avada…”

Harry paused.

Hermione saw the red in Harry’s eyes fade slightly as he let out a hissing groan while dropping to his knees. She heard Harry’s voice speaking in a choked whisper, “Run! Take her and run! Now!”

Again, Harry shook his head as if to clear it, and then began laughing in that cruel, high-pitched voice. He raised his wand towards Kotone again, but never got the chance to utter the curse as a red bolt struck him squarely in the back. As he fell to the floor, Hermione saw Snape, looking as though he was just run over by a herd of hippogriffs, standing behind him holding her wand.

Snape looked down at Harry with an unreadable expression, then glanced at Hermione and mockingly asked, “It appears that your boyfriend has found the real locket, then?”

Snape stepped over Harry’s still form and approached Luna, who was just standing motionless against the wall. He uttered a counter-curse and Luna’s eyes fluttered, then gazed around the hallway in surprise, wondering how she came to be there. When he turned back to Hermione and saw her questioning stare, he simply said, “One cannot be placed under the Cruciatus as many times as the average Death Eater does and not build up a certain… shall we say, resilience... to its aftereffects.” He then retrieved his own wand from Harry’s hand, and then held out Hermione’s, saying, “I believe this belongs to you.”

Hermione stood and took her wand, all the while keeping her eyes on Harry. It was now obvious what she feared might happen, in fact did. The fragments of Voldemort’s soul were controlling Harry. Although it appeared that he was trying to fight them, she couldn’t take the chance of letting him awaken until something could be done to prevent a repeat performance of what had just occurred.

Snape bound Harry tightly and levitated him into a bedroom. After ensuring that Harry was secure, he made his way to tend to Narcissa and Draco Malfoy leaving Hermione in the room as she stared worriedly at the boy on the bed.

Kotone seemed as drained as Hermione was, but was otherwise unhurt. Ron, while out of immediate danger, was still grievously injured. After levitating him to the sofa in the sitting room, Snape retrieved a bowl of water and a clean cloth and began cleansing the wound in his abdomen. He spent a few hours tending to Ron, and had just finished pulling the last few fragments of the shattered door from the wound when began tracing his wand around the wound while softly speaking the same song-like incantation that he had used on Draco earlier in the year to repair the damage from the Sectumsempra curse Harry had used.

At that point, Hermione entered the room and watched as if mesmerized as the wound slowly closed, leaving a roughly circular patch of angry red and raw skin.

After he finished, Snape stood and said, “That will leave a scar, but there is nothing more I can do for him here. It’s half-eleven, and we must leave this place very soon, and since Potter is in no condition to open the floo…”

“You’re leaving now?” asked Hermione in alarm, “Isn’t there anything you can do for Harry?”

He glanced at the large grandfather clock and said, “I’m afraid not, and even if I could help him, I haven’t the time, we have somewhere to be before midnight. We will have to take our chances getting far enough away from the house to be able to apparate. Our best chance is to go behind the house and over the wall.”

“You’re just going to leave him like this? You know that he’s our only chance!”

“Miss Granger, read my lips. There is nothing that I can do for him. The only possible solution I can think of is for him to create his own horcrux, seeing how the soul fragment inside of him is already torn, but I do not possess the knowledge to make that happen. Even if I did know the spell to create a horcrux, Potter would have to cast it himself, and I would like to see you convince him to do that while he is in his current condition.”

At that point, Narcissa and Draco Malfoy appeared in the doorway and Snape led them out into the back yard. After disillusioning themselves, they scaled the wall at the northeast corner of the yard and a few moments later, the telltale cracks heralded their departure.

Hermione stood at the back door for a few moments, just staring into the cloudy night sky. She was finally feeling the exhaustion from getting only seven hours of sleep over the past seventy-two hours. After looking in on Kotone, Ron and Luna, and making sure Harry’s bindings were still secure, she climbed into the other bed in his room and immediately fell asleep.

28. Death of a Portrait

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, and I make absolutely no money writing this stuff about it.

A/N: Here we go… In this chapter, we discover a bit about Ron and Hermione’s magical ‘specialties,’ though it may not be exactly what you’d expect… ^_^ I know, I know… but I can’t make it like every other fic out there, now can I? This chappie is a bit shorter than I usually post, (about 4600 words,) but it’s a surprising one, nonetheless! R & R & Enjoy!

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Chapter 28: Death of a Portrait

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There's so many people dying,
you complain about your situation.
What about me?
Half the world wouldn't know what its like to lose your seed.
Maybe you can understand,
I cannot reach that soul.
You're probably watching over us,
know that i think of you.

It’s killing me.

The guilt has lasted years still cry,
it was all planned out.
Why was I last to know?
Don't you trust in me?
The tables cold, its too late
to make up for these mistakes.
I cannot reach that soul.
You're probably watching over us,
know that I think of you.

It’s killing me.

Excerpt from the song ‘Speculum’ by the band Adema.

-----~-----

It was mid-afternoon when Hermione finally awoke, stirred from her sleep by the sound of coarse whining echoing around her. Her eyes immediately landed on Harry, who was still securely bound to the bed by a plethora of conjured ropes. He was wide-awake and glaring at her, soundlessly mouthing what appeared to be obscenities at her. Only then did she vaguely recall having been woken by a steady stream of hateful obscenities when he recovered from Snape’s stunning spell during the night. Without fully waking, she had cast a silencing spell on him and immediately dropped back to sleep.

Only after she assured herself that he was still tightly bound did Hermione notice what she first thought to be a pile of dirty, gray rags on the floor next to his bed. She didn’t know why she was surprised to discover that the pile of rags was actually Kotone, who was sleeping on the floor near Harry’s bed. The half-witch was laying on her side and facing away from Hermione, curled up in a ball, with her legs and tail occasionally twitching as she whimpered in her sleep, obviously distressed by whatever dream she was having. Hermione saw that her transfiguration of the girl’s clothes had finally wore off, as Kotone was once again wearing the dirty, threadbare nightgown that she had on when Harry carried her from the orphanage two days before.

Hermione swung her legs off the side of her bed tiredly and slowly sat up. She swayed slightly as she righted herself, still feeling the fatigue from the day before. She picked up her wand and pointed it at Kotone, but then lowered it. A silencing spell was simple enough, but she wasn’t sure she had regained enough strength for a decent transfiguration. She didn’t think she wanted to see a naked half-demon so soon after waking up.

Hermione rose from the bed and approached Harry, sadly looking down at him. Even though she knew she wasn’t in love with him anymore, she still cared deeply about him, so it was painful to see the hateful glare he was giving her. She nervously worried her lower lip, and then winced in pain as her teeth met the split in her lip caused by the disarming hex that Harry had hit her with earlier. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and carefully felt along her swollen lip to see how badly it was split, then noticed the smile that crept across Harry’s face.

Her breath hitched as she spun away from him, not wanting to see the pleasure that her pain was giving him. She reached down and carefully lifted the fitfully sleeping Kotone from the floor and laid her gently on the bed that she had just risen from. The half-witch let out a soulful whine, kicked her leg a few times, and then settled deeply into the blankets. Giving one last, sideways glance at Harry, she turned and left the room, seeking out the nearest bathroom for a desperately needed bath.

After a long, hot bath, she stepped back into the hallway and saw Kotone’s trunk on the floor, which was still open with her robes and things still strewn about. She began gathering the various items, and when she picked up one of the girl’s folded robes, she felt something firm wrapped within it. She carefully unfolded the cloth and found the white porcelain mask that she saw Kotone wearing when she was at St. Mungo’s. Hermione wrapped it back in the robe and placed it in the trunk.

She then retrieved a tattered brown teddy bear from the floor. She glanced at the bear’s smiling face as she began brushing off the dirt and lint that clung to its ratty fur. As her hand was sweeping the toy, she recalled Harry’s statement about him dreaming that he was hugging a large, brown teddy bear while he was napping in the cupboard back at Privet Drive. Her mouth curled into a knowing smile, as she guessed that she was probably the reason for that dream.

The smile that came to her so easily vanished as quickly as it appeared when her eyes wandered to the closed door behind which Harry was now confined. With a sigh, she turned to place the stuffed bear into Kotone’s trunk, but suddenly threw it down in fright and stepped back when she saw that the bear wore a sad frown instead of the cheery smile it had a moment before.

She stared at the unmoving toy for several long moments before she quickly scooped it from the floor and hastily dropped it in the trunk. She looked again at its face and saw the same sad frown. A nervous laugh escaped her as she assumed that she was imagining the smile that she had seen before and continued picking up Kotone’s things.

When she had finished gathering the rest of the items, a thought occurred to her. She reached back in the trunk, withdrew the mask from within the folded robe and carried it down to the second floor, leaving it on the reading table in the library.

After returning to the third floor and stowing Kotone’s trunk in a bedroom, Hermione decided to go to the kitchen for some breakfast. On her way, she discovered Luna hovering over Ron, who was still resting on the sofa in the sitting room.

Luna realized that she couldn’t leave the house due to the aurors that they could see milling about the street. She flooed her father, which was apparently only open for communication and not for travel, and explained as much of the situation as she could without revealing too much to him. He understood, and told her not to worry about him, after all, he took care of himself all the while she was at school. He did mention, however, the report in that morning’s Daily Prophet about the Ministry’s capture of over a dozen Dark Wizards in a run-down section of muggle London. Apparently, only one of the captured wizards bore the Dark Mark, suggesting that they were either new recruits or they were purposely left unmarked.

After squaring things with her father, Luna spent the day cooking for and looking after Ron, all the while repeatedly and profusely apologizing to both him and Hermione for falling asleep while she was supposed to be watching Harry and Kotone.

Hermione spent the rest of the day in the library pouring over Kotone’s books, stopping occasionally to try one of the methods listed in the book to determine one’s magical school. She paid particular attention to the second book that belonged to Kotone’s mother. She tried to find the spell that the little girl had attempted, but it didn’t seem to be listed amongst the typical spells that Priestesses use. Kotone seemed to be convinced that the spell would have helped Harry if it had worked.

As she delved deeper into the various exercises prescribed in the book, she had assumed that, if anything, she would likely be an Enchantress, thinking that she seemed to excel at casting charms, but many of the ‘tests’ showed that she could be in the Conjuror class of witches, indicating that her strengths in Transfiguration were equally as powerful. There were a few schools that she didn’t bother testing herself on at all, among them were the Abjuror, Necromancer, and Diviner, fully convinced that those fields were totally unsuited to her, or to anyone, for that matter.

Every few hours Hermione would leave the library to check on Harry to make sure he was secure, and to check on Ron to make sure he was comfortable. Kotone spent her time either sitting on the floor beside Harry’s bed staring blankly at him, or exploring the unfamiliar house, presumably looking for something to eat because she appeared to have no interest whatsoever in any of the food that Luna had prepared. Hermione was concerned for the little half-witch, who hadn’t uttered a word since she awoke earlier in the afternoon.

On one of her breaks, she passed the sitting room, where Ron and Luna were enjoying a few bottles of butterbeer while engaged in a heated game of wizard’s chess. She watched the game for a few minutes, amazed at how Ron systematically demolished Luna’s pieces. After a series of moves in which Ron looked as though he were barely paying attention, he directed one of his knights to move, where it rather brutally lanced one of Luna’s cowering pawns. He brushed his hands together and triumphantly cried, “Checkmate!”

Luna stared at the board with her jaw hanging open. After a few moments, she sighed and said, “I really don’t know how you do it, Ronald. Nobody’s beaten me in many, many years, and here you beat me five times in a row.”

The grin on Ron’s face fell at her words and he worriedly asked, “You aren’t sore at me, are you?”

“No, of course not. It’s just that my father taught me to play when I was little, and he’s a grandmaster at this game,” she shook her head and added, “I could see you beating me once or twice, but five times? In a row?”

“Well, I guess I’m just lucky, I suppose,” he said in a subdued voice as he reset the chess pieces, “I mean, I’ve never lost a game, you know…”

Hermione rolled her eyes and said, “Oh, come on, Ron, stop exaggerating! You must have lost at least one game. I mean, you had to have learned the game from someone, so you must have lost against whoever was teaching you.”

“Well, of course I learned from someone!” he retorted defensively, “My brother Charlie taught me when I was five, and I’m serious! I’ve never lost a game in my life, even when I was learning!”

“Wait, wait, wait…” said Hermione while rubbing her temple, “You started playing wizard’s chess at five?”

Ron nodded.

“And you’re seventeen now…”

Again, Ron nodded, but with a slightly amused expression.

“So you’re telling me that in about twelve years of playing wizard’s chess, you have never lost even one game?”

Ron thought carefully for a few moments before he slowly nodded again and said with a grin, “That’s exactly what I’m telling you, I’ve never lost a game.”

Hermione looked at Ron skeptically and asked, “What strategy do you usually use? How many moves ahead do you plan out?”

Ron’s grin faded as he shook his head and simply said, “I don’t… I just, um, know where to move, I guess.”

She furrowed her brow in thought, and then turned to Luna, “Before tonight, when was the last game you’ve lost?”

Luna concentrated for a moment then said, “I think I was nine… that was the last time my father managed to beat me, but I must have been distracted by a humming horkfly at the time, you know how they…”

“Right…” interrupted Hermione before she bossily commanded, “Play again,” pointing to the chessboard while planting herself on the sofa next to Ron.

Ron shrugged and watched as Luna, who had the white pieces, made her first move. Hermione sat beside Ron, doing her best to distract him as he played by asking him a rapid series of mundane questions, trying to keep his eyes and mind from the board as much as possible. In less than thirteen minutes she saw Luna’s king dejectedly throw his crown at the base of Ron’s rook that had mated him.

Hermione jumped up from the sofa and, without a word, disappeared out of the room and up the stairs. She returned a minute later with Kotone’s book in her arms and laid it on the small table next to the chessboard. She then drew her wand and extinguished the lamps around the room except for a single ever-lit candle in a holder on the mantle. She placed the candle on the table in front of Ron, opened the book and began to quickly leaf through the pages.

Ron and Luna shared curious glances, but remained quiet as Hermione found the page she was looking for. She read a few lines, and then looked up at Ron.

“This is going to sound crazy, but I want to try a test on you.”

When Ron nodded, she continued, “I want you to face the candle, Touch the tip of your wand to your forehead, close your eyes, relax as much as you can and tell me what you see.”

Immediately, Ron said, “Blackness.”

With an exasperated sigh, she said, “Come on, Ron! I’m serious. You must see a bit of the candlelight through your lids, don’t you?”

With a shrug, Ron said, “Well, yes… a bit I guess… Maybe if you give me a hint to what I should be looking for?”

“Just give it a little time, relax and focus,” said Hermione in a calm voice, “Just keep your eyes lightly closed and tell me if you see anything, like a mist, or smoke or maybe lights or patterns… anything that you can describe.”

“I’m trying, but nothing’s happening!”

“No, don’t try…” whispered Hermione, “just let it happen. Don’t concentrate on anything yet… just relax and let it happen.”

Ron was silent for a few minutes before he spoke, “I see spots. Small and round… swirling around… no pattern, really.”

“Good,” whispered Hermione, “Are they moving quickly or slowly?”

“Slowly… all the same size…”

“Ok, now choose one of the spots and concentrate on it… try to see if it’s moving in any sort of a pattern.”

Twenty more minutes passed before he spoke again, “It’s growing, bigger than all the others, like it’s pushing them out of the… wow…”

Hermione frowned slightly as she leaned in closer to him while whispering, “What happened? What do you see?”

Ron’s voice took on an odd quality as he spoke, “I see Kotone inside the spot… It’s vague… she’s crying… blood…”

Hermione’s frown deepened for a moment, and then her face became neutral as she abruptly stood and noisily slammed the book closed, causing both Ron and Luna to start.

“Rubbish… It’s all rubbish… all she does is cry and bleed!” said Hermione waspishly as she waved her wand around the room relighting the lamps. She then picked up Kotone’s book and started for the door while muttering darkly under her breath.

Before Hermione made it to the door, a streak of black fur scuttled over her right foot, causing her to let out a startled squeal as she jumped back away from the rodent. Hot on the rat’s tail was Kotone, down on all fours, with her wild, white hair bouncing around her shoulders and her violet eyes narrowed and fixed on her terrified prey. As the rat scampered under the table and disappeared beneath the sofa, both Ron and Luna stood quickly, bumping against the table, causing one of the butterbeer bottles to fall and shatter on the hard wooden floor.

Unable to stop, Kotone skidded on the slick, varnished wood and crashed into the sofa, falling heavily onto the floor just where the bottle had broken. The little girl let out a pained cry as she lifted her bloodied hand and cradled it to her chest.

As Luna and Hermione rushed to the little girl’s aid, Ron just stood and stared down at Kotone with a shocked expression. He pointed down at the injured girl and choked out, “There! That’s what I saw! It’s like déjà vu or something!”

Hermione froze in place. She slowly laid the book down on the table and shook her head as her frown returned, “Ron, what was your OWL grade in Divination?”

“I failed it, of course… Got a P, both practical and theory,” Ron replied, looking a little put out, but then added defensively, “but so did Harry, you know.”

“Well, maybe if you actually tried to do the work that you were assigned instead of ignoring the exercises and making up all of your answers, you would have got a better grade!”

“What’s this about, Hermione?” prodded Ron, who had the idea that Hermione was trying to hide something from him, “We’re not even taking that class anymore, and besides, since when did you care about Divination? You walked out of that class… You never believed a word of it… you always called it ‘wooly.’”

Hermione was silent as she tended to the cut on Kotone’s hand, but by the look on her face they could tell that something was greatly disturbing her. Fortunately, Kotone’s cut wasn’t very deep, so it was easily healed. As soon as Hermione was finished, she let out a noisy breath, and then took the seat next to Ron. Kotone, abandoning her hunt for the rat, quietly left the room.

After Kotone disappeared up the stairs, Hermione lifted the book again as she spoke, “That test I had you do is supposed to help to determine what kind of wizard you are, depending on what you see. The most that the majority of wizards would see would be a swirling smoke with no discernable pattern. Different specialized classes of wizards would see different things. When I tried it myself, I saw the smoke at first, but I could also see patterns forming within it. Although it’s not conclusive, the test seems to indicate that I’m a Conjuror-class witch, but I’m going to have to research the magic classes and do a few more of the exercises to be sure.”

“So then, this test says I’m some kind of Seer?” asked Ron with a touch of mirth in his voice. He couldn’t imagine himself dressed as Trelawney, with layers of chains, bangles and beads, sitting in an incense-choked room and spouting on about ‘The Inner Eye’ while predicting everyone’s death.

“Swirling spots with no discernable pattern… a Diviner, actually, and it’s not quite what you think. It doesn’t mean that you’re some sort of side-show fortune teller, it just means that you’re more ‘in tune’ with certain types of magic that deal with certain aspects of the mind. That’s probably why you play chess so well, you may subconsciously foresee the result of the game before you even start!”

Despite Ron’s disbelieving looks, Hermione went on to explain about the book’s contents and what she was learning. She read from the book the list of different ‘schools’ of wizardry and the various types of magic. Luna seemed unusually focused as Hermione spoke, but Ron found his attention drifting more often than not.

Just as she had predicted, as soon as she got to the various ‘frequencies’ of magic, something she barely understood herself, Luna’s attention seemed to be slipping so she decided to call it a night, offering to test Luna the following day.

Hermione exited the room, leaving Luna to tend to Ron in the sitting room, seeing that he was still recovering from his would and couldn’t move around much. She made it back to the room Harry was in, and wasn’t surprised at all to find Kotone once again curled in a ball on the floor beside his bed. After ensuring that his bindings were secure, she transfigured her clothes into pajamas and climbed into the other bed without looking at Harry’s eyes even once. She was afraid of what she knew she would still see there.

She lay in the bed for several long minutes with the revelations of the past few days still spinning in her head. Knowing that she wasn’t going to sleep any time soon, she decided to try the test on herself once again. She got into a comfortable position on her back, cleared her mind and closed her eyes with the tip of her wand on her forehead.

After several long minutes, she saw the dark swirling cloud spinning in her mind’s eye. It resembled an oddly curved teardrop spinning around an invisible axis, chasing a very defined, dark spot that was orbiting that same axis with neither phenomenon gaining ground on the other. The only reference in the book to a revolving dot was for the Abjuror Class, but then it should have been accompanied by a whirlpool-like coloured cloud. What she was seeing could not in any way be described as a whirlpool, and there was no color whatsoever, just a dark teardrop persuing a dark spot.

She was about to halt the process to try to get some sleep when she heard Kotone shuffling across the floor. A moment later, she heard Kotone softly say in her deep, grating voice, “Open you eyes, Washi-chan. You will see…”

Focusing her concentration on the central axis point and keeping her wand tip pressed against her forehead, Hermione opened her eyes. A startled gasp escaped her throat as she saw the entirety of the image that was dancing behind her eyes. She was facing the blank, featureless ceiling, and could now see the second portion of the image, and found that there wasn’t only one dot, but two… one black and one white, each centered in a reverse-shaded pair of curved teardrop patterns that seemed interlocked with each other as they spun.

She recognized the symbol…

Yin and Yang…

Darkness and light…

Evil and good…

Despair and hope…

Death and life.

The balance… the ultimate neutrality… the perfect judge, jury and executioner. Watching both sides, dwelling in both, but assisting neither, existing in a world neither white nor black, but gray. Balance…

Hermione’s face paled as she remembered seeing that symbol in the listed results in the book. She jumped from the bed and raced from the room. After blindly bounding down the stairs, she skidded into the sitting room, not seeming to notice the topless Luna and the mortified Ron as they broke from their embrace.

Tears were falling from Hermione’s cheeks as she roughly opened the book that she had left next to the chessboard. After frantically riffling through the pages, she found the section that listed the expected results of that particular, supposedly conclusive test.

“No... It can’t be!”

Her mind seized and her breath stopped. She felt as if she were drowning. Her surroundings faded around her until only the book remained, as if she were trapped in some kind of surreal dream world. Was she in some kind of nightmare? She could vaguely hear the worried queries from her two friends, but she couldn’t make out the words… they sounded like words, but they made no sense to her.

“No…”

It felt like someone was playing a horrible prank on her. How much stock could she take in what the book told? How much could she believe the information in the book? How accurate was it? The book was old, older than any book she had ever read… Did the house elves copy that page properly? Did she miss something about the test? Did she make a mistake while performing it?

“No…”

Why did she open her eyes? How did Kotone know that she needed to open her eyes to see the complete symbol? Kotone! She was the one who had said Hermione needed to read the book… to understand the book. Did she already know? How did she know? Was she one also? No, Kotone’s magic was different from hers, that much she could tell when Kotone tried to help Harry. Is this why she could understand what the half-demon was trying to do? Was this why she knew that it wouldn’t work? Was this how she knew that she could make it work?

Hermione flipped through the pages to the next section that listed exercises for the different classes. After reading through a portion of the page, she slammed the book shut and rested her forehead on the closed cover.

After a few deep breaths, she lifted her head and roughly wiped the wetness from her face with her sleeve. She stood unsteadily, walked into the receiving hall and up to the drapery that covered the portrait of Mrs. Black. Ron was leaning heavily on Luna as they slowly and cautiously followed Hermione into the hall. The instant that Hermione threw open the curtains, the Black matriarch began her usual tirade of screeched swears and bigoted insults. Hermione lifted her wand, pointed it at the ranting portrait, and in no more than a whisper, incanted, “Phasmatis Voco!”

The effect was startling and immediate. The woman in the painting froze mid-sentence, her face contorted in a hateful scowl, plunging the hallway into a harsh silence. A translucent image of Mrs. Black drifted out of the portrait and hung suspended in front of the now motionless work of art. It was the ‘essence’ of the portrait, a photocopy of the soul of the painting’s occupant. The mouth of the ghostly image was moving, twisted into what appeared to be a long, drawn-out, but silent scream of agony. A fleeting moment later, the floating image dissipated and vanished in a puff of gray vapor. Hermione had ‘killed’ the painting.

The silence in the hall was broken by Ron’s voice, “Hermione! That was brilliant! How did you…”

Ron abruptly stopped speaking when Hermione let out a loud, pained sob and fled down the hall and up the stairs.

Hermione ran into the shared bedroom, collapsed face-first on her bed and buried her face in the pillow as her chest heaved in anguish. She got her answer. The ability to draw the essence out of the portrait was proof, for not even Dumbledore was able to silence that painting. As much as she wanted to deny it, the horrible truth remained.

It appeared that Hermione was destined to be something that she never dreamed she could possibly be…

A Necromancer.

She calmed herself the best that she could, willing her sobs to subside. She needed more information, she needed more time, and she needed confirmation most of all. There wasn’t much taught at Hogwarts about the Necromantic arts, being considered by most Westerners to be the darkest of the dark magicks. She certainly didn’t want the idea of her being a Necromancer made public, even if it just turned out to be a label. Maybe the book’s definition and the Western Wizarding world’s definition of what being a Necromancer entailed were very different. She hadn’t even looked in the Necromancer section of the book, assuming that nobody she would ever be likely to meet would be one.

She would have to look in the morning. It was well after midnight and she felt that she had seen quite enough of that accursed book for one day.

Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her face into the pillow, but she could still see the faint, ghostly image behind her eyelids… the slowly spinning Yin-Yang. Sleep would come to her, but it would be a long time before arriving.

29. Pride Swallowed

Disclaimer: I don’t own Harry Potter. I think I own Kotone and a few other characters, and probably most of the plot… I don’t own the lyric bits, either!

A/N: Not much to say here, this chapter sets the stage for future events with Voldemort and for what our heroes have planned for the immediate future. Harry’s still out of it, but the path is cleared for Hermione to realize her full potential. Not much action, but this is a turning point for the entire story. I am still without a competent beta reader, so any grammatical mistakes you find are merely typos… I think… anyway, R & R & Enjoy!

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Chapter 29: Pride Swallowed

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I've never seen you look like this without a reason…
another promise fallen through, another season passes by you.

I never took the smile away from anybody's face…
and that's a desperate way to look for someone who is still a child.

I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered,
but you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered.

I'm not expecting to grow flowers in a desert,
but I can live and breathe and see the sun in wintertime.

So take that look out of here, it doesn't fit you.
Because it's happened, doesn't mean you've been discarded.
Pull up your head off the floor, come up screaming.
Cry out for everything you ever might have wanted.
I thought that pain and truth were things that really mattered,
but you can't stay here with every single hope you had shattered.

Excerpt from the song, ‘In a Big Country,’ by the band, Big Country.

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In a makeshift flat underneath satellite power transfer station of the Yorkshire Electricity Group PLC, a group of figures were waiting impatiently for the return of their raiding party. The sub-basement, made secure by a muggle-repelling ward and a series of keyed anti-intrusion wards, was the current hideout for the majority of the recent Azkaban escapees and the remainder of Voldemort’s inner circle of Death Eaters. Most were not accustomed to such Spartan accommodations, but it was leagues better than a cell in Azkaban. None of the ‘rank and file’ Death Eaters knew of this particular hideout, so it was the most secure place they had at their disposal.

A group of Death Eaters was speaking in low murmurs while passing the time gambling with a set of animated werewolf figures that were battling on the tabletop. Every so often, an excited cheer would come from one of them while the Galleons changed hands after one of the figures was dispatched by the other.

A tall man with long, platinum blonde hair was pacing the floor silently, paying no attention to his brethren who were gathered around the table on the far side of the room. He would occasionally glance at a clock that was set up on a makeshift hutch near the cooker and coldbox, and with each glance, he seemed to become more agitated.

A large wizard pounded his fist loudly on the table when the werewolf figure he had bet on went down within seconds of the start. A short, plump witch with dirty blonde hair and rather crooked teeth snatched the last of his gold from his hand. He ruefully stepped away from the table and walked across the room to the pacing man.

After a minute of watching the elder Malfoy pace the length of the floor, Herman Goyle spoke, “Lucius, stop pacing, you’re makin’ the rest of us nervous.”

“They should have been back by now,” muttered Malfoy absently as he continued the circuit, as if he hadn’t heard the other man at all, “It’s already morning and we haven’t heard a word.”

“It’s no good starin’ at the clock. They’ll be back. I have as much ridin’ on this as you do, ya know? That kid o’ mine wants to get yer kid back, sure an’ I couldn’t a kept ‘im from goin’ in the first place, but ‘e’s been itchin’ to prove ‘imself ta the Dark Lord, ya know?”

Lucius did indeed know about the state of his son’s two lackeys, even though he’d never actually use that term in front of their fathers. Lucius stopped his pacing and faced the other man, “I know, and the Dark Lord has been… hinting… that we should give them more responsibilities. I’m just not sure that sending the boys off with Narcissa for this particular mission was… let us say, ‘in his best interest.’”

“Come now, Lucius,” said Terrance Crabbe, who had just left the gambling table with a considerably lighter purse, “The intelligence was good. When the old crackpot kicked it, most of the protections on that place dropped. It was weird the way the Black girls all remembered where that place was at the same time. Our scouts said that the place was mostly empty, and that it was likely that Draco was being held there. Seeing as how our spies in the Ministry haven’t heard a thing about him and that place is being used by the Order, it seemed likely...”

An odd, almost frightened expression fell across Malfoy’s face as a realization struck him. He turned and interrupted Crabbe, “What place is being used by the Order?”

Crabbe stared open-mouthed for a few moments, wondering if it was some kind of trick question, and then said hesitantly, “You know… the place that we think they’re holding your son.”

Malfoy’s eyes hardened as he asked again, “The place! What is the name of the place! We’ve been talking about it for weeks!”

Both Crabbe and Goyle were standing dumbstruck, looking at each other with brows furrowed and jaws’ slacked. After he was answered with nothing but silence, Malfoy turned to the rest of the Death Eaters still around the table.

“Where did the raiding party go?” He asked loudly, getting the attention of everyone immediately. A few muttered something about ‘to rescue your boy, of course’ or some other obtuse or obvious observation, while the expressions on the sharper Death Eaters turned to concerned frowns when they also couldn’t come up with the name of ‘the place.’

As if it was specifically summoned, a delivery owl carrying the morning edition of The Daily Prophet flew in from the upper level of the power transfer station and lit on the back of one of the wooden chairs around the table. Without even pausing, Malfoy drew his wand and sent a whooshing, green beam at the unsuspecting owl, who in turn relaxed its’ talons from the back of the chair and fell to the floor dead. He bent down and retrieved the paper from the dead bird’s leg and began reading. Slowly, his face became increasingly taut and the temperature in the already dank sub-basement seemed to drop several degrees as his eyes traveled down the front page.

Noticing this, Byron Mulciber tried to read the headline over his shoulder, “What is it, Lucius? What has happened?”

“They’ve been caught by the Ministry… the lot of them,” Lucius crumpled the paper in his hand and threw it on the floor as he let out a low, angry growl and then hissed to the room, “Do you know what this means?”

Both the elder Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other with ashen faces, each knowing very well that their own sons had gone on this, what they were assured to be, an easy rescue mission. Goyle looked as though he wanted to say something, but kept quiet. Crabbe, on the other hand, spoke in a strained whisper to Lucius, “I know you are concerned about Narcissa, but surely, she’s…”

“It is not my wife that the Dark Lord wants. It is Draco who is important here.”

Crabbe looked shocked at this statement, “How can you say that? Your wife is one of us… the inner circle…”

“When I was sent to Azkaban, the Ministry instructed the goblins to have the family vault sealed off from me. Naturally, the Bloodline Preservation Act prevented the vault from going to Narcissa, as it was enacted to prevent some underhanded woman from marrying into a pureblood family to get the title and then arrange for the husband to have a little ‘accident.’ Draco, being the only male heir, has solitary access to the Malfoy family vault, and our Lord has need of it. Do you know what he will do when he finds out about this fiasco?” then he rhetorically asked, “Why did he insist on us sending the children to rescue him?”

None of the others in the room dared to speak, but an answer to Malfoy’s question came, and not the answer he had expected or welcomed. The faces of everyone in the room fell into concerned frowns as each of the people there simultaneously began to absently grasp at their left forearms.

Alecto Carrow turned to her brother, Amycus, and, while donning his Death’s Head mask, stated needlessly, “It would appear that our Lord has seen the paper as well.”

-----~-----

Hermione awoke after only a few hours. It wasn’t because she wasn’t tired, but because of the barrage of vicious, hateful, verbal diarrhea that would have made the portrait of Mrs. Black pale, before Hermione had banished the painting’s essence, of course. A hasty silencing spell and an added set of extra-tight magical ropes put an end to Harry’s early morning tirade. She made it a point not to show him that any of his words affected her, even though they tore her up inside each time she was subjected to them.

Only after she silenced Harry did she notice something odd about the room… something unusual, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it immediately. Realizing that she wasn’t about to get any more sleep, she decided to head to the kitchen for a quick breakfast and then head to the library. She had every intention to disprove what the book had told her the night before.

As she passed the sitting room on her way to the kitchen, Hermione looked in on Ron and Luna. She could tell the sofa had been recently magically enlarged so that two could fit comfortably as Luna, who appeared to be practically naked under the thin blanket covering the pair, must not have been asleep because she looked up at Hermione’s nearly silent entrance. Luna gave her a beaming grin before snuggling her back even more firmly against Ron, who instinctively pulled the girl even closer in his sleep. Hermione gave Luna a polite smile and turned away to continue to the kitchen. The small smile she wore was quickly replaced with a forlorn frown.

As she cooked breakfast, she berated herself for not being happy for Ron and Luna. It wasn’t like her to be jealous, but jealous she was. Not jealous of Ron, but of the relationship he was sharing with Luna… the kind of relationship that she almost had with Harry.

Apparently, the smell of food had roused Ron from his sleep, because as the last platter was filled with scrambled eggs, he made his appearance closely trailed by Luna.

They exchanged mumbled ‘g’mornings’ as they sat at the table and began serving themselves. Ron seemed much better this particular morning, but Hermione figured that it was as much Luna’s ministrations as it was his natural healing process that he seemed so much more chipper this morning. Again, the pang of loss hit her as she watched Luna carefully fill Ron’s plate before tending to her own.

Trying not to appear bitter, she joined them at the table with a forced smile and began to set her plate. As soon as her plate was filled and she began to eat, it dawned on Hermione what seemed off in Harry’s room. Kotone wasn’t in her usual spot on the floor beside Harry’s bed. She glanced around the room, not really expecting to see the girl, and asked, “Have either of you seen Kotone this morning?”

Ron and Luna glanced at each other for a long moment and said “No” in unison.

Ordinarily, Hermione would have thought it cute, but her attitude since learning that she could be a Necromancer and her own feelings of loneliness was putting a definite crimp in her congeniality. She ate as quickly as she could, ignoring the disbelieving stares from Ron at the lack of her usual table manners. She had to find Kotone and ask her about what she knew of the different magic classes. The young half-demon must have read the book in her native language at some point, so maybe she had different theory on the tests that she had performed on herself.

Hermione finished in record time, and after vanishing the leftover scraps and putting her plate away, she went off to find the little half-witch. Thirty minutes later, she returned to the first floor to find Ron and Luna back in the sitting room, absorbed in a game of wizard’s chess.

“Have you seen Kotone yet?” asked Hermione.

Ron looked up from the board towards a small wooden chair that sat nearby and said, “Huh? She was sitting here a minute ago. Funny, I didn’t notice her leave.”

“Well, if you see her, make sure that you tell her that I need to speak with her.”

Ron watched Hermione walk back into the hallway, and not thirty seconds later, Kotone quietly walked in, crossed the room and sat in the wooden chair. He gave her a smile and said, “Hermione was just here looking for you… she says she needs to talk to you about something.”

Kotone lowered her head and simply nodded.

Ron looked at Luna, and then shrugged as he directed his queen to, quite ruthlessly, behead one of Luna’s bishops. Ron was keeping a surreptitious eye on Kotone as he played, and several minutes later he noticed Kotone’s ears twitch and swivel on her head towards the door. Without lifting her head, Kotone rose from the chair, silently walked to the door and disappeared into the hall.

Not a minute later, Hermione returned and said with a hint of worry in her voice, “I still can’t find her, and I’ve checked every room, including the basement! Do you think she’s left the house?”

“She was here a minute ago, she left right before you arrived,” stated Luna calmly before Ron had a chance to reply, “I think she might be avoiding you.”

“I’d have to agree with Luna,” added Ron, “I saw her ears twitching just before she left the room, I think she heard you coming.”

Hermione paused in thought. She did remember Harry mentioning that Kotone had very good hearing, which was how the girl had overheard the discussion about horcruxes with Ron at the Leaky Cauldron. So why was Kotone avoiding her? Sure, she had stunned the girl a few times, but that spell doesn’t do any physical harm at all. She then thought about the previous night, trying to remember anything she might have said… ‘It’s all rubbish… all she does is cry and bleed!’

Hermione grimaced at the memory. Was Kotone’s hearing so keen that she could have overheard her callous statement from rooms away? Was Kotone really that far away at the time, anyway? Now that she thought on it, those words did seem a bit harsh. All right… very harsh, but her emotions were running a bit high at the time. She knew what she had to do, and the first step in making up with Kotone was waiting in the library.

-----~-----

Kotone didn’t like being in this large, dismal house. Not only did it remind her of the orphanage that she, until very recently, had lived in, but also there was barely anything for her to eat. Rodents usually frequented places where there was lots of stored food or binned refuse to keep them fed, but apparently, this house had been long abandoned before their arrival, so it contained precious little food for the scavengers, so very few of them ventured inside of the walls. She was getting very, very hungry and the prospects of a decent meal any time soon seemed slim, at best.

The few times she had set out in an attempt to catch a meal was usually met with frustration. The one time she almost caught her dinner was when she had heard Washi speaking about her. She was so distracted by Washi’s words that she lost her concentration during the chase, resulting in not only failing to catch the rat, but proving that Washi’s words about her were correct… again, the familiar feelings of being a burden and an inconvenience to everyone around her rose to the surface. For a while, she could think of nothing other than what life would be like being cared for by Shishi and Washi, but now she knew that could never be. She wasn’t worth it. She would always be an ojyamamushi… a pest… a nuisance. Never had she missed her parents more at that moment, and she missed her Shishi.

Kotone was sitting amongst the cobwebs clinging to the chandelier in the large formal dining room that was off the kitchen, a place she found that was perfect for not wanting to be found. She had seen Washi come and go a few times during the day, knowing that the older witch was looking for her, but never thought to look up in her search. She didn’t want to cause any more trouble than she already had. It seemed that all she was able to do was to cause trouble when she was only trying to help.

She would never forget the look on Washi’s face when her advice was followed and the older witch opened her eyes. Kotone knew what Washi was trying to do… she had performed that same test on herself numerous times, only to discover that she was among the weakest types of witches… a simple illusionist, and not a very powerful one at that. If it weren’t for her Oni blood, she wouldn’t be anything special at all… it was funny that all she wanted was normalcy. At the time, all she was trying to do was to help Washi by telling her what she needed to do. She certainly didn’t expect Washi to become so distraught over what she had discovered. She was only trying to help, but ended up hurting Washi again.

Kotone was surprised to find tears running down her cheeks and falling on the table far below her, leaving dark, random spatters on its’ dusty surface. She would have fled the house if she had anywhere else to go, but as things were, she had to stay with her Shishi and hope that Washi was able to develop her powers enough to help him. She had never thought she’d ever miss being in that decrepit orphanage. Never had she missed her parents more than at that moment, and she missed her Shishi.

She still hadn’t forgotten what she went through after her parents were killed. She knew no English at the time, so she couldn’t even try to explain who or what she was. The wizards treated her as if she were an animal, kept in a cage and not even allowed to attend her parents’ funeral. She couldn’t help being what she was.

It was only after months of imprisonment in the bowels of the Ministry’s Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures did someone find out who she was, and that was only because of a legal demand from Japan’s Ministry of Magic to find the missing heir. They later sent word relating the disposition of the Oota family’s wealth to a Motoko Hino, and were again inquiring on the whereabouts of a Miss Kotone Oota. The family’s assets were stripped due to the fact that the legal heir, Kotone, never attended, or was even informed of the hearing, which was, of course, the British Ministry’s fault entirely.

She couldn’t help herself… the tears kept falling… and her stomach was growling.

Never had she felt so alone, and never had she missed her parents more… and she missed her Shishi.

-----~-----

When Hermione entered the dining room for the fourth time that day, she happened to notice the numerous wet spatters on the dusty tabletop. Her eyes drifted up to the chandelier where Kotone was hiding. The young half-witch had her back to the door and was hanging onto the thick brass chain that was supporting the massive chandelier. As Hermione stood there watching, another drop fell to the table, creating another dark spatter in the lightly coloured dust.

“Kotone?” called Hermione softly, “Can you come down here for a few minutes? I’d like to speak with you.”

Kotone started in surprise at hearing Hermione’s voice. She looked down from her perch and simply nodded. She wrapped her tail around one of the candelabra’s supporting shafts and gradually lowered herself by slowly uncoiling her tail. Once Kotone’s tail was fully extended, she let herself drop the remaining distance and landed on the tabletop on just her fingernails and toenails.

Hermione couldn’t help but compare her actions to that of a spider lowering itself on a thread of silk. She had wondered how the girl got up to the chandelier without disturbing the dust on the table, until she looked closer at the surface and saw the tiny marks left by Kotone’s nails. She had to admit, the girl was smart… and sneaky.

Kotone deftly leapt from the table and landed on her feet. She quickly ran her sleeve over her face, and then stood quite still with her eyes fixed on the floor and her hands resting in front of her, tucked within the sleeves of her threadbare nightgown.

Hermione looked the girl over for a moment, feeling truly awful for accidentally insulting the little girl before her. She knelt down in front of Kotone, lifted her chin with one of her fingers, and looked into the girl’s red, swollen eyes.

“Kotone, I know you heard what I said about you last night. I just want you to know that I was wrong, and that I’m sorry. I know how much you and Harry mean to each other, and I know that you’ve been doing your best to help everyone, even me. I haven’t been very grateful towards you for what you’ve been doing. I know how much you sacrifice of yourself to help others, it’s just that I’ve been feeling rather helpless myself. I know that it’s not a very good excuse, but I do want you to know that I’m sorry and I never meant to hurt you.”

Hermione watched as Kotone dropped her head again and continued to stare sadly at the floor. Hermione worriedly watched the girl for a few moments, concerned over her silence and wondering how she would react to the gift that she had made for her. She reached under her shirt, withdrew Kotone’s white porcelain half-mask and held it out to the girl. When Kotone looked up, Hermione saw the puzzlement in her violet eyes.

“I’ve enchanted this mask for you. When it’s worn, it will change the pitch of your voice by a few octaves, and should make some words a bit clearer… it will do a limited translation of some of the more common words and correct some of your syntax, but it won’t be able to translate complete sentences. There’s a slight delay, also, and you’ll have to speak slowly, but it should make things a bit easier for you around other people.” When Kotone remained silent and made no move to take the mask, Hermione’s voice became even more anxious and she continued to explain very quickly, “There’s a controlled sticking charm on it, too, so that it won’t accidentally fall off, and you can remove it whenever you like. I thought about making the painted lips move with your words, but I thought that would be weird, so I enchanted them to mimic your moods instead. The lips will smile or frown, depending on how you feel.”

Hermione didn’t know how to react when Kotone’s eyes teared up again and her face fell into what looked like a ferocious scowl. It was only when the little girl let out a deep sob and coarsely whispered, ‘Washi!’ that she understood that the girl actually liked what she had done with the mask. Kotone threw her arms around Hermione’s neck and began crying anew.

“I a’so sorry, Washi,” said Kotone between sobs, “I know you not to rike when cry, but you make very happy…” After getting her tears under control again, she loosened her hold on the older witch, looked into her eyes and said, “You must help Shishi… that is a’why I told to open eyes, to help… I a’so scared for Shishi-san.”

“I know you’re scared, but do you want to know a secret? I’m scared, too,” said Hermione with a faltering smile, “I think I’ll need your help in a while with those books of yours, if you’re willing… for now, why don’t you try on the mask?”

Kotone wiped her tears away with her sleeve, took the mask from Hermione, and with trembling hands, she placed the mask over the lower part of her face. She looked unsure for a few moments, just looking nervously at the floor.

“Well, go on, say something,” said Hermione with a patient smile.

“I… I don’t know what to say!” came the crystal clear reply. Kotone’s eyes widened in surprise, and then crinkled at the corners, showing how happy she was with the sound of her new voice. The tiny red lips that adorned the mask curled into a beaming smile while new tears glistened on her eyelids.

Even Hermione was surprised at the sound of Kotone’s voice through the mask. No longer was it deep, grating and coarse, but now rang with a pleasant, mellifluous lilt that only held a trace of an accent. It wasn’t high-pitched or squeaky, but a serene alto that seemed to fit the young half-witch perfectly. Hermione grinned broadly at her, obviously pleased with the results.

“So, am I forgiven?” asked Hermione as she stood up. The reply came in the form of Kotone raising her arms to Hermione in the same way she does with Harry. With a smile, Hermione hoisted the young girl onto her hip and allowed her hair and tail to wrap around the various parts of her body.

Kotone sighed against her shoulder, then said in her new voice, “Thank you, Hermione, this means so much to me.”

Hermione’s smile faded as her thoughts turned to the book that Kotone had insisted she ‘understand,’ the possibility that she may be a Necromancer, and to Harry, laying two floors above, bound and silenced with a portion of Voldemort’s soul possessing him. She took a deep breath and asked the question that she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer to.

“Kotone, when you were trying to help Harry, I felt that I could understand what you were trying to do for him, but I knew at the same time that you wouldn’t be able to… that magic you were trying to do wasn’t suited to you, and I could somehow tell that it was suited to me. Can you tell me why I could tell? What exactly were you trying to do?”

The smiling lips on Kotone’s mask instantly fell into a sad frown upon hearing her question. With a small sigh, she sat herself down on one of the dusty chairs and motioned for Hermione to sit next to her. After a long pause, Kotone looked up at the older witch.

“How much of the book do you now understand?”

“Well, I’ve spent a few days reading it and… and I performed that test that supposedly tells what school of magic a person has an aptitude for…”

“And the test told you…?” prodded Kotone.

“Well…” Hermione balked, “I… at first, it seemed to indicate that I could be a Conjuror, or at the least an Enchantress, but after you said to… well, I opened my eyes last night, and realized what the image that I was seeing actually was. It said that… it…”

Kotone smiled knowingly and said, “I was sure when I first saw you… It said you are destined to be a Priestess, just like my mother.”

Hermione’s eyes dropped to her hands that were by that time worrying together in her lap as she quietly said, “No, it didn’t. According to that test, I’m not a Priestess.”

The smug smile on Kotone’s mask instantly fell, “Of course you are a Priestess… I can see it in you, you are in tune with your soul, you can touch others’ souls in a way that I could never hope to. Did you not sense what was happening with my brother lion?”

For an instant, Hermione didn’t understand what a lion had to do with the discussion, but then she smiled as she remembered Kotone’s name for Harry… the translation spell on the mask seemed to be working perfectly. She had mentioned before that ‘Shishi’ stood for ‘Lion,’ but never really made the connection until then. She had seen that Harry’s soul had the form of a lion… and she had seen for herself the snakes that were besieging him. The thought of Harry brought her back to what Kotone had asked.

Yes, I did see his soul, and I heard what you were trying to do. Your inflections were wrong, and your wand movements were too slow. I don’t know how I could tell, but I did. I read through the chapter on Priestesses, but I couldn’t even perform the simplest of exercises. That’s when I decided to do perform the test on myself, but it was inconclusive… When you told me to open my eyes, I saw the complete image for the first time, and there is no doubt…” Hermione’s eyes began tearing up as she hesitantly said, “I… well… It appears that I’m best suited to be a Necromancer.”

Kotone’s brows knitted together concernedly as she listened to Hermione’s confession. Several moments passed before the lips on Kotone’s mask turned into a wide smile and she said, “A Necromancer? Are you sure?”

Hermione became ruffled at Kotone’s apparent amusement of her being supposedly ‘attuned’ to such a dark field of magic. She was about to let the girl know, in no uncertain terms, that she was not about to begin immersing herself in such an evil endeavor when Kotone jumped to her feet and excitedly, “Wonderful! Where is the book?”

‘Wonderful?’ thought Hermione incredulously, ‘What’s so wonderful about being adept at death magic?’

I left it up in the bedroom,” she cautiously answered.

Kotone, not noticing the older witch’s distress, grabbed her hand and began leading her out of the dining room, “This will not take very long at all! My Brother Lion awaits us!”

30. The Banishment

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters. I make no money writing this nonsense… it’s strictly for my own and others pleasure. Same goes for the lyric bits.

A/N: Again, another bittersweet chapter… In this one, Hermione learns more about the book’s version of Necromancy, and then takes a stab at fixing Harry. I sorta like how this chapter turned out. It’s a bit short, I know… but you’ll find plenty of meat on this bone, to be sure! ^_^ We’ll also look in on what the Weasley Twins are up to.

-----~-----

Chapter 30: The Banishment

Spend your lazy, endless crazy, days inside my head.
You're so selfish, you're not the only one who thinks he's dead.
I'm paid to smile, now I'm on trial for what you think I said…
But I never said that everything would be okay,
and I never said that we would live to see another day.

I'm realistic and narcissistic,
you say I'm selfish and absurd.
You try to change me, you try to save me,
you say I've gotta learn.
I'm so blind, I'm out of time, you're so unkind sometimes.
I never lied, I never lied, I never lied…
’Cause I never said that everything would be okay,
and I never said that we would live to see another day…

Motivate me, I wanna get myself out of this bed,
Captivate me, I want good thoughts inside of my head,
If I fall down would you come around and pick me right up off the ground?

Excerpt from the song, ‘The Motivation Proclamation’ by the very fine band, Good Charlotte.

-----~-----

When Hermione first discovered that the field of magic that she would be most proficient at was Necromancy, the notion of it made her physically ill. All she had ever been told of the Necromantic arts by the wizards that she knew was second-hand warnings and vague, derogatory assumptions of its ability to corrupt anyone who dared practice them. It was common belief in the European Wizarding world that Necromancy was the darkest of the Dark Arts… all of the most dangerous spells, including the three Unforgivables, fell within its’ realm. The subject wasn’t mentioned, much less taught, within the walls of Hogwarts. Not that Hermione ever actively searched for books on Necromancy in the library, but finding any mention of it seemed just as difficult as finding information on horcruxes, which were undoubtedly Necromantic in nature themselves.

Even in the muggle world, all of the books and movies she had ever seen described Necromancy in less than socially acceptable terms. Frankenstein was a classic example of Necromancy… using parts of bodies to create what turned out to be a mockery of life. She had read fictional books about evil magicians raising armies of zombies and skeletons to perform villainous deeds, calling spirits back from the dead for nefarious purposes, and summoning imps and demons from the depths of Hell to wreak havoc upon the mortal world. Even back in her church-going years, she remembered a sermon that a priest, after hearing of a ‘psychic medium’ that had set up a business in St. Osyth, felt he needed to condemn the notion of contacting the spirits of the dead for divining one’s future. The priest even went so far as to mention the fact that it was illegal, citing the all but forgotten Witchcraft Act of 1604, which proclaimed Necromancy as unlawful.

All of these experiences helped to form her preconceived idea of what Necromancy entailed, something loathsome and diabolical, and nothing that she would want to be a part of… until she actually read the Necromancer section of the Soul Magic book.

Hermione and Kotone spent the remainder of the weekend immersed in the book, studying what it meant to be a Necromancer and becoming familiar with the rituals and exercises. What Hermione discovered about this book’s take on Necromancy was that it fell into a category between ‘White Magic’ and ‘Black Magic.’ The book explained the three basic spheres of magic, White Magic being characterized by healing and protective spellcasting, as well as transfiguration and charms. Black Magic spells are used to cause harm, pain, or for inflicting one’s will upon another by using curses, hexes or jinxes. The third sphere of magic was the forte’ of the Necromancer… Gray Magic, which utilizes a combination of White and Black Magicks to focus the witch or wizard’s power into a state that makes ‘Soul Magic’ possible to control.

Another thing she discovered was that there wasn’t much of a difference between a Necromancer and a Priestess, except that one dealt with spirits and the other with demons. Kotone had explained that her mother had been a Priestess of Kyuushuu, a guardian of the temple devoted to her natural Oni father. Her mother had known from a very young age that she was destined to bear the child of an Oni warrior, and spent her life tending to the temple, developing her Priestess abilities and learning the history of her family, and the ‘curse’ incurred by one of her foolish ancestors.

As Hermione read through the remainer of the book, the theory of the frequencies of magic, especially the idea of ‘harmonic resonance’ in magic became much clearer. She began to understand how two different types could be combined to amplify their effect beyond the sum of the two. She began wondering how the Western magical community remained ignorant that these theories existed, considering their obvious importance. Then she considered that even in the Eastern lands, this knowledge could have been lost centuries before, given the fact that the book was so ancient.

Perhaps the book was handed down through Kotone’s family from antiquity. Maybe it was a guarded secret, left in the hands of Kotone’s Priestess mother to keep the potentially dangerous knowledge out of sinister hands. As that thought occurred to her, Hermione realized that Voldemort, to be able to create a horcrux, must have acquired knowledge similar to what was in the book. Of course, he would have had to go abroad to find that information, for virtually nothing was known of Tom Riddle’s whereabouts from the time he left Borgin & Burke’s until he returned to England as the Dark Lord Voldemort. Perhaps he had traveled to the Far East and discovered the secrets of Soul Magic? Is Soul Magic the reason that he became the most powerful dark wizard in living memory?

That particular train of thought led Hermione to the fear of her becoming evil herself… the Wizarding world’s new Dark Lady… but then remembered Harry telling her of how Riddle was a multiple murderer well before he had ever left Britain. Perhaps it was true… that evil isn’t defined what magic you use, but by what you do with the magic… your choices dictate who you are far more than your abilities. As long as she had the option of choice, she knew that she would always choose the Light.

By mid-afternoon on Sunday, Hermione had finished with the final chapter in the Soul Magic book, and it was time to delve into the book that had belonged to Kotone’s mother. All of the spells and rituals listed there had to be performed while in a frame of mind that the book only described as ‘the state.’ Kotone had explained that the state was necessary to access both mind magic and soul magic, and ‘the state’ was how she could make the empathic connection with other people, and how Hermione could finally ‘see’ the complete image of the Yin-Yang.

The exercise seemed simple enough to Hermione. She had to touch her wand to her forehead, close her eyes and allow her mind’s eye to see the image. The dark, tear-shaped blob and the spot came quickly into sight. She opened her eyes, but the shapes seemed to vanish. Kotone suggested that she face a blank surface, someplace without features that could distract her. She tried again, this time laying on her back so that she faced the ceiling.

Hermione opened her eyes, and this time the Yin-Yang appeared, clearer than ever before. She vaguely heard Kotone’s voice in the back of her mind, urging her to follow the image. Hermione felt a floating sensation, as if she were immersed in water, and the entire room seemed to become shrouded in a white, foggy mist. An strange sensation washed over her, as if time was slowing down around her… or that she was moving more quickly through time.

She was surprised to find that she was looking down at herself lying on the floor. She could see Kotone sitting next to her body, but looking up to where she was ‘seeing’ from. It was an odd sensation, being separated from her body, but not frightening to her at all. With barely a thought, she felt herself descend back into her body. A moment later, her eyes blinked as the Yin-Yang image faded from her sight and time seemed to turn back to normal.

The lips on Kotone’s mask displayed a bright smile as she said, “You learned that quickly! Very well done!”

Hermione asked Kotone about the ritual that she used to try to drive the fragment from Harry. while showing Hermione where that rite was in the book, Kotone explained that the ritual she used was a basic exorcism rite that was supposed to drive out demons or evil spirits from people or buildings. After studying the ritual, Hermione decided to try it out on Harry herself.

A short while later, Hermione, Ron, Luna and Kotone entered the bedroom where Harry was being held. Ron and Luna quietly sat on the spare bed to watch the ritual, while Kotone sat down next to Hermione, who had already opened the book and was preparing to perform the ritual. The silencing spell had long worn off from Harry, but he remained silent as he curiously watched Hermione prepare the rite.

Hermione had assumed that the soul fragment from the locket held the memories of the Tom Riddle from just after Hogwarts and before he became Voldemort. Unless it was reading Harry’s thoughts, it probably didn’t know who any of the people in the room were, or even the person it was now possessing. The only thing she was worried about was the original fragment, which was assumed to be created at the moment Voldemort’s killing curse rebounded on himself.

As soon as she was done with the preparations, she addressed Harry, “Good afternoon, I suppose you’re wondering what I’m about to do?”

Harry just smiled and said in the hissing, high-pitched voice, “It doesn’t matter what you do. You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of doing. I know you won’t hurt me. You care too deeply for this boy who is currently my host, albeit grudgingly. I must say, he was putting up quite the struggle… for a while, that is…”

“I know exactly who you are, what you have done, and how you came to be here. I also know how to get rid of you for good.”

Harry wore an amused expression, which faded into a hateful scowl as Hermione continued speaking.

“Your name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, a half-blood wizard who grew up in a London orphanage, and the last descendant of Salazar Slytherin. You murdered your muggle father and framed your uncle for the crime. You used the murder of your father and his family to create a horcrux in the form of a diary from your years at Hogwarts. You also forced a house elf to murder her mistress so that you could gain possession of two artifacts, the cup of Helga Hufflepuff and this,” said Hermione as she dangled the locket from her fingers, “the locket of Salazar Slytherin. Did you know that this locket once belonged to your mother, Merope Gaunt?”

Upon seeing Harry’s stunned expression, she asked, “Do you still think that I have no idea of who you are and what you are capable of doing?”

Without another word, Hermione tilted her head up to the ceiling, touched the tip of her wand to her forehead and then closed her eyes. The image came more quickly this time. She opened her eyes to see the complete Yin-Yang slowly spinning before her. She didn’t follow the image, but remained firmly rooted to her body, but still feeling the sensation of time slightly accelerating. She could see the auras around the people in the room, Ron’s in the form of a leopard, Luna’s resembled a disturbingly large, white dove, and the soul before her that belonged to Harry… the proud lion that was bound within the coils of a pair of ethereal, smoky-black serpents. Hermione saw that the lion’s image was faint and unmoving. She prayed that she was in time.

Hermione began chanting very slowly, but to the others in the room she appeared to be speaking normally, except with a higher pitch to her voice that sounded quite eerie, especially coming from her.

“Hear me, Brother… you have a Spirit of Judas within you, the spirit of a deceiver… one who wishes to cheat death… one who attempts dominion over your being, and this will not be allowed.”

Hermione lifted the tip of her wand from her forehead, and as she did, a red, threadlike filament connected the tip back to the place above her brows. She began manipulating her wand in the air, the tip tracing a floating character that seemed to be dripping, as if it were made of blood.

A gasp was heard from both Luna and Ron when they realized that it was, indeed, Hermione’s blood that was hovering in the air.

The floating character wasn’t kanji, as Kotone had drawn when she attempted the same spell. Luna recognized it as one of the more powerful of the ancient runes. She wasn’t completely sure, but it appeared to be a Rune of Protection.

The moment that Hermione completed the first rune, it burst into a red, dripping flame and was consumed. A sound, similar to the peal of a distant church bell, echoed through the room, startling the two people watching from the other bed. A faint pink glow, which was witnessed only by Hermione and Kotone, surrounded Harry’s soul, effectively separating the larger of the two smoky serpents from the lion. The snake remained coiled around him, but didn’t seem to be touching the lion.

Hermione continued the chant, while beginning to trace a second rune into the air, this time addressing the serpent, “You are a spirit of grief, and you are a spirit of discord, unnaturally born from murderous sin. Born from the consuming fear… fear of Death, but the death you desired to avoid is approaching, nearing his quest to claim thee. You have invaded the domain of the pure, but the pure will be delivered from thy evil.”

The second rune, the Rune of Binding, was completed, consumed in fire as the first one was, and again accompanied by a single, reverberating peal of a bell. A blue glow surrounded the writhing serpent, which instantly stilled, as if it were encased in ice.

“Hear me, O spirit of grief. I command you, O spirit of discord, loosen your hold on the innocent one. Spirit of Destruction, Spirit of Discord, I bind thee with chains of Iron, the Holy Iron wrought in the forges of Heaven. Loosen thy hold and come out of him now! You have no right to him, you shall no longer hold dominion…”

Again, Hermione completed the third rune, the Rune of Freedom. The floating character pulsed with energy before it was consumed and the bell tolled. As the dripping flames vanished, the smoky serpent rose away from the lion and hung suspended above the bed, still frozen in place.

“…Spirit most vile, you have been denied thy prize, you are delivered from the host… You no longer hold my brother, you are a spirit of pain, grief and sin most evil… I cast you back, bound in the sacred Iron Bonds, back to the hell from whence you spawned…”

Again, a rune was completed and again, the magic pulsed and the bell tolled. The Rune of Judgement performed its’ task flawlessly. The remnants of the bloody flame hung in the air between Hermione and the serpent. The blue glow suddenly disappeared from around the serpent, which began writing and spitting violently. The red, dripping flame elongated horizontally, then split in the middle, creating a sort of ‘rip’ in the air. Yellow, noxious smoke began pouring from the tear as rippling waves of heat distorted the air around the hole. Suddenly the snake flew towards the hole, as if someone had reached out of the rip and pulled it in.

With a final, resounding peal of the bell, the rip disappeared, and along with it, the fragment of Voldemort’s soul.

Hermione fully reclaimed her body, and was immediately assaulted by the acrid smell of burning sulphur and brimstone.

“What the bloody hell is that?” exclaimed Ron. Hermione looked over to see him holding his nose and trying to keep from gagging.

“I… I banished the soul fragment,” aid Hermione softly. A moment later, she turned away from her friends and vomited, not from the smell that was permeating the room, but from the realization of what exactly she had just done.

Kotone put her arms around Hermione, hugging her from behind while whispering, “Do not be ashamed. You did what you needed to do.”

“Did it work?” asked Ron nervously as he looked at the unconscious Harry, “What did you do?”

Not turning to face him, she answered, “I… I banished Voldemort’s soul… I… I sent it away…”

Ron’s eyes widened as he asked, “Away? Where did you send it? Back to ‘You Know Who?’”

“No,” she said, and then mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear.”

“Hermione, where did you send it?”

She finally turned around and lifted her head. Ron’s jaw fell when he saw the vacant, haunted look in her eyes as she repeated more clearly, “To Hell… I… sent his soul to Hell.”

Ron just stood there with his mouth hanging open while Luna gasped, her features turning oddly agitated.

“The test you performed on Ron, the one that told us he was a Diviner…,” asked Luna tenuously, “did you take that test yourself?”

Hermione just nodded, afraid to open her mouth for fear of being sick again.

“And…?” prodded Luna.

Hermione didn’t answer. She turned away, spit out the remnants of sick from her mouth, and then vanished the vomit from the floor. After vanishing the bindings from around Harry, she gathered up the book, hugging it with both of her arms, and walked towards the door while saying, “Harry will be asleep for a while, he’s been through a lot. If you can please watch him, I’d appreciate it. He’ll be hungry when he wakes up.”

Just as Hermione was stepping across the door’s threshold, she heard Luna’s voice, with absolutely none of her customary sereneness, “You’re a Necromancer, aren’t you? That’s what you were upset about.”

Hermione paused and her shoulders tensed. She didn’t turn around, she just quickly nodded, and then disappeared into the hallway. Halfway down the hall, she heard Ron whispering harshly to Luna, but she couldn’t hear what was said. She made directly for the library, where she quietly eased the door closed, curled herself into an overstuffed reading chair, and then, resting her eyes against her folded arms, she silently began crying.

Hermione wondered if what she had just done was worse than actually killing someone. Who was she to pass judgment on a soul, sending it into an eternity of suffering? What gave her the right to be the ‘judge, jury, and executioner’ of a disembodied soul, even if that soul was an evil, corrupted fragment from an evil and corrupted man?

She knew that if soul fragment from the locket remained much longer, the chance to save Harry’s soul would have been lost, and she knew of no other way to save him. If she allowed Voldemort’s soul to consume Harry, he would probably have to be killed anyway, but at least the fate of the soul wouldn’t have been on her own head.

It was a moot point that Hermione was pondering… she knew that she could never willingly let the horcrux destroy Harry when she had the means to stop it, no matter what those means were. She would do it again, if necessary… and it probably would be necessary, for he still had that smaller, older fragment inside of him. She would give him enough time to recover, and then attempt to remove that one, also.

Just then, Hermione realized that she was the only way to safely deal with all of Voldemort’s horcruxes. She would send each twisted abomination to hell, and leave the last bit… the one still inside of Voldemort… for Harry to deal with. If she had to be the judge of Voldemort’s mortal soul, then so be it.

-----~-----

Something very unusual was happening in the middle of Diagon Alley. There was a large crowd of people, which was unusual in itself in recent years, milling about in the street in front of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, listening raptly to one of the shop’s proprietors, George Weasley, who was perched upon a large box and barking out to the gathered throng.

“Step right up, witches and wizards, don’t be shy!” he called above the heads of the crowd, “You’ll not want to miss this display of our newest fireworks! Before I begin, I’d like to remind everyone, that no matter what you may see, you are all perfectly safe!”

He bent down to a bag settled on the box beside his feet, and withdrew a small orb. When he stood erect, his eyes glanced at an alley further down the street and gave an almost imperceptible nod. With true showman’s flair, he held the orb aloft, announced to the gathering, “Alright, keep your eyes on the ball!”, and then smiled broadly as he tossed the orb high into the air. Similar to what happened in front of Grimmauld Place, a large, gray cloud appeared from nowhere above the alley. After a few moments, it coalesced into a swarm of screaming mongbats, small, flying gargoyle-like creatures, which began swooping and diving at the heads of the people in the crowd.

Sounds of mass panic swept through the crowd before they all realized that the mongbats were nothing but an illusion. Soon, the mass of people were laughing and cheering. A second sphere produced a twenty-five-foot clown, who was riding a massive unicycle while juggling balls roughly the size of horses.

Meanwhile, a disillusioned figure was slowly moving through the alley beside the defunct Ollivander’s wand shop. He was inching along the wall with a small device in his hand that was similar in size and shape to a portable sneakoscope. As he made it to the back wall of the alley, all he had discovered on ground level was a barrel of wood scraps, various types of improperly cured wand cores, and a variety of melted, burned and broken wands. However, he did find a concealed escape ladder leading up to the small flat above the shop where Ollivander used to live.

Fred knew that his brother couldn’t keep the denizens of the Diagon Ally distracted for too much longer. He shrugged, deciding that his mission was to gather information on the wards and protections of the place, so that’s what he was going to do. Keeping the device firmly in hand, he scaled the old, worm-eaten ladder.

When he reached the small balcony on the second floor, the device began to emit a faint, low-pitched hum. Fred froze, his eyes scanning the balcony for anything obvious. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he crooked his legs around the rungs to free his right hand and carefully drew his wand. He thought for a moment before a smile crossed his lips. He began tapping along the outside of the balcony railing, each time whispering various detection charms. On one of the taps, a shimmering yellow curtain, resembling a large sheet of coloured cellophane, briefly flashed into existence around the balcony.

“Got’cha!” he quietly said with a grin. He was about to cast a counter-ward, but something niggled at the back of his mind that made him pause. A that moment, he saw, high above the alley, a huge, sparkling banner unfurling from the floating gray cloud that read, ‘Custom made Illuso-works - available at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes – Pre-order yours today!’

That was the signal. He hastily pocketed his wand and slid down the ladder, reaching the floor of the ally in less than a moment. Making sure he was still disillusioned, he made his way out of the alley, skirted around the cheering and applauding crowd and slipped undetected back into his own shop.

Once the public demonstration was over, George entered the shop, followed by about three-quarters of the people who had witnessed the Illuso-works in action.

“Form a line, everyone, and Verity here will be happy to take your orders! I’ll be back in a few moments to answer any questions you may have!”

Once said, he went into the back room to meet up with Fred.

“Well, what did you find?”

“The shop has all of the standard protections, anti-burglary, anti-intent, fire suppression and the like… What I did find that was unusual was a displacement curse around the balcony to the flat above the shop. It’s a right nasty surprise to any would-be burglar, to say the least.”

George grinned at the brilliance of that particular curse being used in a security ward, “Too right! I never would have thought to use displacement… Imagine the surprise when he tries to Apparate away, only to discover he’s left half of him behind! Did you find out what spell he used to force the Apparition?”

“I dunno… I didn’t have time to check, but I wasn’t about to rush in to test it out myself. I know why Harry wants to talk to Bill, now. If that level of protection is on the upper flat, just imaging what’s guarding the bottom.”

George nodded in agreement, saying, “Right, then… you send the letter off to Harry telling him of what we found, I’ll be the one to ruin Bill’s honeymoon… he’s had two weeks to play with his new toy… time for him to get back on the job!”

31. The Ties That Bind

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I make any claim to the lyric bits that I use to enhance the story.

A/N: I know, it’s been a while, but I have some very good excuses. I’ve been recovering from LASIK eye surgery (Yay! Goodbye to glasses!) so my time in front of the computer has been extremely limited while my eyes heal. That, and I’ve had a bit of a block going on, as I’ve only been writing this chapter a bit at a time, trying to decide exactly how I want the characters to react to what’s going on with Hermione. I’d also like to address what I wrote in the last chapter. Many people seemed to be quite distressed that I used some ‘religious’ verbiage in describing the exorcism ritual I had Hermione perform. I’m truly sorry if I offended anyone, it certainly wasn’t intended. ‘Lesson Learned…’ In the future, I’ll be sure to refrain from mentioning God, Holy, Heaven and Hell… oops, I guess I’ll have to mention Hell, unless I have Ron spouting off, “Bloody ‘You-Know-Where!’”

-----~-----

Chapter 31: The Ties That Bind

I was with you, you were alone,
now I’m standing here.
Wisdom came only after you’d gone,
now I’m starting all over, with a tear in my eye.
I just never thought you’d disappear.

In the night your spirit arises,
with it comes the pain.
I hope I’m dreaming ‘cause it hurts so bad.
When I reach out for you, I’m alone in some room.
I just never thought youd disappear.

I still love you like a child,
wasn’t that good enough?
I still want you, it drives me wild,
the pain is just too much…
maybe I’ve lost enough.

Time heals all, so they say, I don’t know.
Sometimes nothing’s clear.
Maybe someday Ill understand,
but I know for a start,
theres a place in my heart that is yours,
and it wont disappear.

Excerpt from the song, ‘I Still Love You,’ by the band, R.E.O. Speedwagon.

-----~-----

Harry was stirred from his sleep by the rumble of distant thunder echoing over the sound of the sheeting rain that was hammering against a nearby window. He silently thanked the thunder for waking him from what he thought must have been a very bad dream, the details of which were buried deeply in his clouded mind and becoming more obscure with each passing moment. The first thing he noticed was that his scar was throbbing painfully, giving him a near blinding headache that further clouded his thoughts. The second thing that struck him was that he was very, very hungry.

He tried to remember what he was doing before he fell asleep, but he just felt so tired and drained that he didn’t ponder on it for long. The bed he was laying on was comfortable, and while the room was warm, it wasn’t uncomfortably so. He rolled on his side, hoping to go back to sleep, but another hunger pang hit, convincing him to leave the bed and seek out some food.

He finally opened his eyes and blinked, trying to rid them of the itchiness that he felt there. He scanned the dark room he was in, and soon realized that he was laying in the bedroom that Ron and he shared when they were staying at Grimmauld Place a few years before. He blindly reached to his left, searching for the nightstand and his glasses that he hoped were resting there. After fitting his spectacles on the bridge of his nose, he looked at the other bed and was surprised to find Ron lying there, and very surprised to find that Ron wasn’t alone in the bed.

He saw that his view of Ron was partially obscured by a slight figure with very long, golden-blonde hair that seemed to shroud both of their upper bodies. He felt somewhat embarrassed for them, as the sheets had slipped from over their torsos, leaving absolutely no doubt that both Ron and the girl that was draped over him were quite naked, at least from the waist up. He immediately recognized that the girl was Luna. He briefly wondered when they had become so intimate.

Harry’s stomach began rumbling loudly. He decided to leave them alone to grab a midnight snack, and made his way silently to the door. Before he shut the door behind him, he looked back in and smiled, realizing that Ron wasn’t emitting his usual obnoxious snores. Maybe Luna was a positive influence on him after all.

He walked down the hall towards the stairs and noticed that the joints of his limbs were rather sore, as if he hadn’t used them in a while. As he reached the second floor, he saw in the dim light, Kotone sleeping on the floor against the closed library door.

Harry heard Kotone sigh as he lifted her up from the floor, not failing to notice the dim light coming from under the library door. As soon as he had her cradled against his chest, her white hair flowed around his neck with a gentle, but firm pressure, and her tail snaked gracefully around his arm. As he carried her to the master bedroom, he noticed that she was wearing her porcelain mask over her lower face. After laying the girl on his bed, he tried to remove the mask from her, but it wouldn’t budge. It didn’t seem to disturb her breathing, so he decided to leave it on her.

After covering Kotone with a light sheet, he left the room while debating with himself on whether to head to his original destination to get something to eat, or to see what Hermione was doing, as it was obvious to him that she was in the library. Given the late hour, he figured that she either was researching something, or fell asleep while researching something. Either way, she needed to get to bed, just as he intended to do once his early morning raid of the coldbox was accomplished.

Harry eased the library door open and looked around. The few ever-lit candles that were set into a holder on the nearby reading desk dimly illuminated the room. Sure enough, he spotted Hermione sitting in an overstuffed chair next to the cold fireplace. She was leaning forward and had her head bowed, with her feet pulled up onto the cushion and a large tome resting open on her legs.

As he approached her, he thought she was asleep until he looked more closely. Her eyes were unmoving, fixed at some random point on the page, clearly not really reading. She didn’t appear to notice him enter the room, as she was just sitting there wearing this lost expression. Her lips were slightly moving, as if whispering words that only she could hear. He looked at her worriedly for a few moments, and then cleared his throat.

Her eyes snapped up from the book in her lap. As she looked at him, he noticed a brief flash of panic in her eyes that was instantly replaced with fearful apprehension.

“Harry?” she asked in a somewhat nervous tone.

Harry just stared at her for a few seconds, wondering why she was so upset. He smiled and took a step towards her, but then froze when she cowered back into the chair and pulling her knees even closer to herself, squeezing the book protectively against her chest. His smile disappeared when he noticed the wand in Hermione’s hand that was pointed directly at him.

“Harry?” she asked again in a strained, breaking voice.

Confused, Harry turned around to look behind him, thinking that she saw someone sneaking up on him or something. He turned back and looked at her, saying, “Hermione, what’s wrong?”

Hearing him say her name, which was something the ‘possessed’ Harry hadn’t done, was enough for her to know that he was back. “Harry!” she cried out in relief as she let the book slide from her arms to land noisily on the floor. She then practically launched herself from the chair and nearly tackled him to the floor, almost knocking the wind out of him. As she hugged him tightly, she said against his shoulder, “I was so worried! I almost lost you!”

Harry just smiled amusedly against the mass of hair that was covering his face and said, “Lost me? What are you on about?”

Hermione lifted her head from his shoulder to look at his face, “Don’t you remember anything that’s happened over the last few days?”

His amused smile faded into a thoughtful frown. Now that she mentioned it, he didn’t even know what he was doing in Grimmauld Place, or even how he got there.

Seeing the confused look on his face, she continued, “Don’t you remember? When Malfoy handed you the locket…”

‘The locket! The locket from the room we couldn’t see!’ The fog in his mind cleared immediately. He remembered coming here from Hogwarts with Ron, Luna and Kotone when Hermione discovered Malfoy in the house. He remembered the room that only Malfoy could even see, and him coming from the room dangling the locket from it’s chain. He had immediately recognized it as the real horcrux.

After a brief struggle to free himself from Hermione, he jumped back and said anxiously, “The locket! Where is it? Did anyone else touch it?”

Hermione looked solicitous as she dug her hand into her pocket and withdrew the now soulless locket. She let the locket dangle from the chain as she held it out to him. He reached for it, but then hesitated. Something happened when he touched the locket before… in fact, touching the locket was the last thing he could remember doing.

“It’s alright now,” said Hermione, noticing his hesitation, “The soul fragment is gone. I… it was destroyed. It’s just an ordinary locket now, see?”

She took the locket and opened it easily, revealing a very old picture of a decidedly less-than-plain looking young woman with very thin, scraggly hair whose eyes seemed to look in different directions. Harry thought he recognized the face from his trip into the pensieve with Dumbledore. If it wasn’t Merope Gaunt, then it was unmistakably a picture of someone in that family’s line.

Harry looked excitedly at Hermione, “How did the…”

“How are you feeling now, Harry?” asked Hermione, expertly avoiding the question she knew he was asking. She knew that she would have to tell him eventually, but she wasn’t up to relating to him her newly discovered aptitude for questionable magic, the extent of which even she didn’t fully understand.

“Well, I feel okay now, I guess. When I woke up, I was in a bit of a daze, but when you mentioned Malfoy and the locket… hey, where is he anyway? If Ron and Luna are… um… sleeping, you’re here, and I put Kotone into bed myself, where is the ferret?”

Hermione spent the rest of the early morning explaining to Harry what had happened from the time he touched the locket until she got to the point in the story where she used an exorcism ritual to banish the locket’s soul fragment from him, leaving out many of the specific details about exactly how she could perform that ritual, and she left out the part about her actually banishing the fragment to the Netherworld. She didn’t mention the foul, hateful things he said to her while under the influence of the horcrux, nor did she say what the type of magic she used to destroy the soul fragment. She just stated that it was in one of the books that Kotone had and left it at that. She didn’t feel that she was lying, she was just omitting some of the specifics, unsure of how Harry would look at her if he knew the entire truth, for she was finding it difficult enough facing herself in the mirror.

Hours passed while Harry listened intently to the entire tale, and when Hermione finished, he let out a breath and said, “It’s gone? Another horcrux is really gone?”

Hermione gave what she hoped looked like a genuine smile and nodded.

“That’s the diary, the ring, and the locket down… we know where the wand is, if it even is a horcrux. We’re pretty sure that Nagini is with Voldemort, and we have no idea where Hufflepuff’s cup could be, only that it would likely be in a place that held significance in Voldemort’s past… places where he discovered something about himself, or… wait a minute…”

Harry’s brow furrowed in thought, seemingly trying to remember something. “Important places… somewhere that would represent an important milestone in his life, specifically his life in the magical world…”

Harry looked at Hermione and asked, “What about you? What are your most important memories about the Wizarding world?”

Hermione thought for a moment, following what Harry was getting at. Voldemort used the cave where he terrorized his fellow orphans, that was where first realized that he was ‘special.’ The ring was stored at the house of his ancestors, a veritable shack, but important to him because he was the last heir of the Slytherin line. If the wand in Ollivander’s really belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw, and it was one of his horcruxes, then that would certainly qualify as being an important point in his life… getting his first wand, proving to himself and the world that he was truly a wizard… someone ‘special.’ They had no idea about the origins of the diary, save that it was given to Ginny by Lucius Malfoy, and they certainly couldn’t ask the elder ferret where he got it.

As Hermione considered her own experiences, she suggested, “Well, getting my Hogwarts letter certainly caused a lot of excitement in my family…”

“I know what you mean,” said Harry. His expression hardened at the memory of the flock of owls delivering hundreds of letters to Privet Drive and his uncle’s manic response to them, “It caused quite the stir with my family, too, but Dumbledore personally handed Tom his letter at the orphanage, and that doesn’t exist anymore. It was demolished decades ago, I looked it up in the London architectural registry. I figure the cave and locket would have been the symbol for his youth, anyway… a muggle orphanage wouldn’t be a place he’d want to house something that is supposed to extol his ‘specialness.’ It has to be somewhere else.”

“Well, the thing that impresses me every year is the trip from Hogsmeade in the carriages to Hogwarts, the first view of the distant lights in the majestic towers, framed by the nighttime autumn sky...”

“The boats,” Harry whispered to himself, as if coming to some realization, “going across the lake in the first year… in the boats on the lake… the very first view of Hogwarts. Not from the carriages, but from the boats on the lake… that’s the most impressive view I’ve ever seen. It was awe-inspiring… I was scared out of my mind, true… but I was excited, too. Seeing the lights from the towers reflected off the shimmering water…”

Hermione sighed, “You’re right. The view of the castle from the boats is amazing, the most brilliant sight I’ve ever seen, but do you honestly think Voldemort would hide a horcrux in one of the Hogwarts boats?”

“Not in a boat… in the lake! At the bottom of the lake! He wanted Hogwarts to be a hiding place for one of his horcruxes, and if he couldn’t get into the castle to place it because of Dumbledore, the lake would be the perfect place!”

Harry brushed past Hermione, hurried out of the room and headed down the hall towards the master bedroom where he had placed Kotone. Hermione curiously followed after him, listening as he explained.

“When we were at the Leaky Cauldron after the attack on the orphanage, Kotone showed me memories of different places. Supposedly, they were my memories, but I couldn’t recall ever being in those places in those particular situations. In one memory, I saw myself looking at the wand in Ollivander’s shop. I saw another place that looked like a park of some sort, and there was a huge fountain there.” Harry had to suppress a grimace as he remembered seeing Hermione lying dead in that fountain. “When I saw it, I had the feeling that I’d seen it before somewhere… I want to see it again, to be sure. If I saw what could be a horcrux in the wand shop, maybe what I saw in that park is a clue to another.”

Harry entered the bedroom and knelt down by the bed. Kotone was curled up under the sheet, moving around fitfully, as if she were having some sort of unpleasant dream. Harry gently brushed away a patch of her white hair that was partially covering her face. The hair seemed to gently wrap around his fingers as he moved it aside, and she seemed to quiet at his touch. Her pale face, what he could see of it above the mask, seemed unusually taut and drawn, and even through the sheet, he could see that her slight frame was even thinner than was usual for her. He didn’t notice when he carried her in, but now that he thought about it, she seemed much lighter than when he tried to carry her to Hogwarts when she was hurt.

He hated to wake the girl, but he was hoping that she had the key that he needed to find the missing last horcrux. In his zeal to discover its’ hiding place, he forgot that she was still just a little girl, and looking at her sleeping, he discovered that he didn’t have the heart to wake her. As he looked down at Kotone, he sighed and then whispered to Hermione, “I guess it’ll keep until she wakes.”

As Harry led Hermione out of the bedroom, neither one of them saw the small smile that appeared on the painted lips of Kotone’s mask.

Once they were away from the door, Harry’s stomach let out a loud, complaining growl, reminding him of exactly how hungry he was. Even with the pouring rain outside, they could see the sky beginning to lighten. He started towards the stairs, saying, “I think Ron and Luna will be up soon. Let’s head to the kitchen, I’ll make us all some breakfast and you can tell me all about what’s in those books.”

Harry didn’t fail to notice the fleeting look of panic that crossed Hermione’s face when he mentioned the books. She didn’t lift her gaze from the carpet runner, she just nodded and followed him, looking as though she were about to be ill. He wondered why she was so skittish, but figured that she was still out of sorts from casting the Fidelis, dealing with the Death Eater attack and the run-in with Snape and Narcissa Malfoy, not to mention having to cope with him and his encounter with the horcrux. He knew she had a lot on her plate recently, Merlin knows they all did, but even given that, he felt that something wasn’t quite right… something had changed.

Harry frowned as he descended the stairs to the first floor, although he was careful not to let Hermione see it. He could hear her hesitant footsteps behind him as he crossed the now portrait-less entrance hall on the way to the kitchen. He made a mental note to ask about that later. He knew that she was keeping something from him, but he had no idea what it could be.

The idea that she felt it was something to protect him from, or keep him ignorant of, was starting to grate on his nerves. He had assumed that the notion of them keeping things from each other was a thing of the past. Given the disastrous outcome of the previous school year, it was more important than ever to trust each other implicitly. After all, if he couldn’t rely on her and Ron, then who could he rely on? They needed each other, now more than ever. They were another step closer to their goal, and he thought it a shame for things to fall apart at this point in the game.

By the time he finished filling the last plate, he was thoroughly annoyed with Hermione’s dour mood. He placed a plate in front of her and then sat down with his own. As he ate, he kept an eye on her as she morosely guided a sausage around the pile of scrambled eggs on her plate.

He had just about had enough of her ‘moodiness,’ “Hermione, what in Merlin’s name are you so upset about? You’re acting as if you didn’t want me to wake up or something. Is it because I interrupted your studying?”

Hermione didn’t look up from her plate as she replied, “No, of course not… it’s… it’s…”

“It’s because she’s embarrassed about being a Necromancer,” came a chilly voice from the doorway to the hall.

Even before Harry turned around, he knew the voice belonged to Luna, but it shocked him to hear none of the usual etherealness… her words were laced with unbridled venom that came across clearly as she spoke. When he did look at the doorway, he saw Luna, wearing Ron’s undershirt that, not surprisingly, reached all the way down to her knees. He saw the small blonde girl being roughly pulled back away from the doorway by Ron, who had a mortified look on his face, presumably dismayed at what Luna had just said.

Harry heard Ron scolding Luna in a whispered hiss. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he seemed very upset with her. Harry turned back to Hermione, who was still silently examining the food on her plate, and asked, “What does she mean about you being a Necromancer?”

This was what Hermione wanted to avoid, even though she knew it was an impossibility to keep what she was and what she had done from Harry. In a small, shaky voice she answered, “Luna meant what she said. I’m… I’m a Necromancer… or more accurately, Necromancy is the circle of magic in which I’m most proficient. That’s how I was able to expel the soul fragment from you.”

Again, she avoided saying exactly what happened to the soul fragment.

Hermione waited for Harry to say something as she stared at her plate, being afraid to look up to meet the glare that was probably on his face. As the seconds passed, she became increasingly sure that his silence meant that he was ashamed of her… probably mortified at what she was. When she finally couldn’t stand the silence anymore, she chanced a quick glance at his face, and found that the expression he was wearing wasn’t at all what she expected. He didn’t look angry or afraid, or even disappointed. He looked as if he had no idea what she was talking about.

Without lifting her gaze from her plate, she said with an uncharacteristic whine in her voice, “Harry… I’m a Necromancer! At least, that’s what Kotone’s book describes me as. Proficient in the darkest sphere of magic! I supposedly can control souls and speak with the dead… I can curse someone, and I don’t just mean throwing a damaging spell… I mean that I can actually, permanently… literally… put a curse on someone’s life! It’s Death magic, Harry! Even the unforgivables are Necromantic in nature, so chances are I’d be particularly adept at casting those! What on Earth are you laughing about!”

Sure enough, Harry was trying unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle. Is that what she was so upset about? He wasn’t entirely sure why having an aptitude for Necromancy was such a bad thing. He was certain that by the way she was acting that it was something much direr than that.

“Hermione, there isn’t a class that we’ve had that you haven’t been adept at… not counting Divination and flying, but even Dumbledore didn’t hold much stock in Divination, and I truly believe that your problem with flying is a slight lack of confidence. Why wouldn’t you excel at Necromancy? I would’ve thought you’d be excited about learning a new branch of magic!”

Harry saw the appalled look on Hermione’s face as she glanced up from her plate for the first time, looking at him as if he had just called her a Death Eater. He had always thought that they might have to learn more about ‘dark’ magic to make it through the final battle with Voldemort, fighting fire with fire, so to speak, or at least to know what they were up against. Although it was frightening at the time, the fake Moody had a valid point by showing them the Unforgivables back in fourth year. So if she had a natural propensity for the dark arts, then that could only help them in the long run. After all, Hermione would be the last person he would ever expect to go ‘dark,’ given her devout concern about the treatment of house-elves and other magical creatures. He knew that being ‘dark’ just wasn’t in her nature, especially seeing how this particular revelation was causing her so much distress. Knowing about Dark magic and being ‘Dark’ are two entirely different things. Why couldn’t she see that fact for herself?

Harry, however, did notice the way that Luna proclaimed what Hermione was. With a brief glance back at the doorway, he asked her, “Why is Luna so upset with you? Don’t tell me she’s angry about your being a Necromancer.”

“Harry!” scolded Hermione in a whisper as she worriedly glanced at the doorway, “Luna’s mother died because she was experimenting with Necromancy! I can’t blame her for being upset with what I am!”

“And what exactly are you, Hermione?” asked Harry with a definite edge to his voice, “A big, scary, evil Necromancer? Does this mean you’re going to run off and join up with Voldemort?”

Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise as she squeaked out, “Of course not! How could you even suggest…” she suddenly stopped and narrowed her eyes at him, “Oh, stop it, Harry. I know what you’re trying to do. I just can’t help but dwell on my preconceived notions on Necromancy. All I’ve ever heard about it concerned dark wizards. I know I’m not going to wake up tomorrow and start plotting to take over the world with my hordes of undead soldiers, but I can’t help but to worry that this will… change me somehow.”

Harry wore an unreadable expression as he said, “Believe it or not, I know how you feel. Do you remember back in second year when everyone thought I was some dark wizard because I’m a parselmouth?” Harry’s expression remained neutral as he continued, “Listen, you’re incredibly bright, focused, and you have a tendency to be a bit straight-laced at times, but also know that sometimes rules need to be bent for the greater good. You’re level-headed, have a healthy respect for authority, and can be a bit… um… intense… now and again… whether or not the situation calls for it.”

At this, Hermione opened her mouth to defend herself, but paused when Harry raised his hand in a placating manner and continued, “You’re also the most caring, compassionate and kind-hearted soul I’ve ever had the fortune to meet. The day you seriously entertain thoughts of becoming the next ‘Dark Lady’ will be the day I’ll eat my Firebolt! You just don’t have that ability.”

Again, Hermione opened her mouth, but after a moment, all that came out was a resigned sigh as a small smile of relief briefly appeared on her lips. She was obviously afraid of what Harry’s reaction would be to her magical proclivity, but seeing his understanding attitude did wonders for her outlook. She figured that Harry might not know exactly what was so wrong about Necromancy, but hearing him downplay that fact gave her hope that she wouldn’t involuntarily change.

As the fleeting smile that appeared on Hermione’s face faded, she returned her gaze to her plate and said, “I saw it. The bit of Voldemort’s soul that was transferred to you when you were a baby. I was able to expel the fragment from the horcrux, but the other one… it’s been with you for so long, it… it seemed rooted to you, somehow… it’s still there, inside of you.”

Harry’s face fell as he replied, “You can see it?”

“It’s a certain state of mind I can put myself into while using Soul Magic, sort of like how Kotone grabs your focus while she’s using legillimency.”

“Is there anything that you can do about it?”

“I can try… I mean I think I can, but…” Hermione hesitated before she continued, “but I don’t know if you’d want me to try just yet.”

Harry looked incredulously at her as he said, “Why would you think I’d want to keep a bit of Voldemort inside of me?”

“Well, I think you may have need of it, at least until you’re ready to face him. Think about it… I know that the soul bit is enabling the ‘connection’ between you and Voldemort, and I believe that it’s the reason he could ‘possess’ you back at the Ministry, but he doesn’t seem to want to use that lately. To him, it’s a double edged sword… true, he can force thoughts on you, but you can also read his thoughts when his guard is down, but that’s not really the reason you might want to keep it for a while longer.”

Again, Hermione paused, apparently debating whether or not to share what she was thinking, but soon realized that she couldn’t back away at that point. She gave him an apologetic look as she continued, “I believe that the fragment is what makes you a Parselmouth. We still have Nagini to deal with, but if you’re really sure you don’t want the connection, and want to risk losing the Parseltongue, then you know that I’ll certainly try. I just wanted to make sure you knew what it may take from you.”

Harry remained silent as he thought about what she had just told him. He looked back up to Hermione and saw her pushing the food around her plate once again.

“There’s something else, isn’t there.”

Hermione briefly glanced at him and gave a quick nod. Several moments passed in silence before she lifted her head and spoke, “You know how that elixir Ginny used broke that connection we had? The time limit is up, so it can’t do any more damage to us than it’s already done. I’ve had the chance to study the elixir’s formula, and I think I’ve found out exactly what it’s done to each of us. It explains why Ginny ended up in the infirmary, and how it’s been affecting you and me.”

Hermione looked extremely uncomfortable as she tried to explain, “I need to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest.” She waited for Harry to nod before she asked, “When was the last time you’ve had any sexual thoughts?”

Whatever question Harry had expected to hear, that definitely wasn’t it. He saw the serious, if somewhat embarrassed, look she was giving him and knew that she wasn’t joking in the least. After a few moments of thought, the only instance he could think of happened just in the past week.

With a slight flush growing on his cheeks, he admitted, “Back at Privet Drive… when I saw you in… you know…”

Hermione briefly averted her eyes as her own cheeks took on a pinkish hue, but she continued without hesitation, “Alright, do you agree that anyone would have had sexual thoughts in that situation?”

“Of course, unless they were poofters,” he answered honestly.

“When was the last time before that?”

At this question, Harry took pause. He spent a long minute thinking, but couldn’t come up with one instance in recent memory that he had felt randy.

Hermione took his silence as an answer, and then asked him a question he’d never have expected from his best female friend, “When was the last time that you’ve masturbated?”

Harry’s eyes widened and his jaw slackened, so much so that he resembled a garden gnome who had just been ‘spun an’ chucked’ over a garden hedge. His blush deepened, as did hers, but the realization had hit him nonetheless.

With a hint of incredulity, he answered, “Ages… over a year, at least… maybe two.”

“Harry, you’ll be seventeen in a few days. Would you say that the lack of masturbatory habits is ‘normal’ behavior for a pubescent teenager?”

Speechless with embarrassment, he just shook his head.

“That brings us back to the elixir. It’s original function is two-fold. First, to repress the ‘good’ memories while amplifying ‘bad’ memories between lovers, and second, to suppress sexual urges in a pair of suitors, making it impossible to have a physical attraction, much less a relationship, with the other person in the formula. In essence, it isolates and compresses the normal hormonal urges in a pair of lovers and stores them until the ritual is activated. Now, partly because you’re not a pureblood, and partly because there’s no familial connection between Ginny and yourself, the sexual urges were indeed concentrated and suppressed, just as they were supposed to be, but when the trigger for the elixir occurred, namely, the kiss we shared, all of the suppressed sexual energy that had built up inside of us were transferred to Ginny.”

Harry said nothing as he listened. Seeing that he seemed to understand what she was saying, Hermione continued the explanation, “Now, if she were your biological mother, the eroticism of the emotions that were transferred would have been converted into familial affection and shared between the both of you, strengthening the parent-child bond. With that strong of a bond, the child would do anything that the parent wished, including breaking off the relationship with the ‘unclean’ girlfriend. I suspect that those erotic emotions have been ‘leaking’ into Ginny since the second time she exposed us to the elixir, and when we kissed, the flood of hormonal sexual energy must have overwhelmed her.”

Having gotten over his initial embarrassment, Harry asked, “So, what can be done about all of this? I mean, is there any way to get back what we had?”

Both Harry and Hermione seemed to momentarily lose focus as they each thought back upon how they felt towards each other… before the insidious elixir interfered with their lives.

Hermione was the first to break out of her thoughts as she answered, “I was getting to that. There is a way for us to repair the soul bond we shared, but that can only be done once the forced bond with Ginny is broken.”

“Alright, so how are we going to break that bond?”

“We can’t,” said Hermione sadly, “Ginny is the only one who can break that bond. If she refuses, we’ll never get back what we… almost had.”

At that point, Ron reappeared in the doorway, sans Luna, looking rather sheepish as he approached the table and said, “Hey, how are you feeling today? You gave us a right scare there for a while.”

“I’m doing alright… just getting a little tired of spending so much time on my back and oblivious to the world, you know?” Harry said with a sigh, “How about you? Hermione told me about what happened to you.”

Ron’s hand absently went for his stomach as he answered, “One of the blighters hit the door in front of me with a Reducto, sent a mess of wood into my gut, but I’m doing much better now, but I think I’m going to have a bit of a scar on my belly.”

Ron briefly glanced over his shoulder towards the receiving hall, and then asked Harry, “Say, could you open the Floo for us? Luna needs to get home to check in with her father, and I might as well head out with… er… to pick up some more groceries… we’re running a bit low.”

Hermione briefly explained to Harry how the Floo at Grimmauld was keyed to only him, since it was reset when the ownership transferred, and told him how to set the Floo to allow who he wanted to be able to travel. After she finished, Harry stood and gave a slight smile as he noticed her pick up her fork and began shoveling food into her mouth.

He followed Ron to the study on the second floor where Luna was waiting with an oddly subdued look about her. Once Harry had adjusted the permissions on the Floo connection, he watched as Ron followed Luna into the crackling green Floo fire and disappeared.

He turned towards the door, intending to return to the kitchen to finish his now-cold breakfast when he saw Kotone standing in the doorway, leaning sleepily against the jamb. He then noticed that the painted red lips on her ceramic half-mask displayed a distressed frown. He was about to ask her what was wrong when he was surprised by the sound of her soft, delicate voice through the mask.”

“Brother Lion, I do not feel very well…”

Before Harry could move, Kotone slid down the jamb, her tiny frame collapsing onto the floor in a heap.

32. The Koi Pond

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I make any claim to the lyric bits that I use.

A/N: I told a few reviewers that we’d be getting to the confrontation with Ginny this chapter. Unfortunately, my mind wandered into a totally different direction as I was writing. We do find out a bit about what’s going on with poor ol’ Tommy Riddle, and we have some nice interaction between Harry and Kotone. I know a lot of you love the little half-witch, so this should give you a nice demon fix! There’s a bit of a cliffie here… sorry about that, but the chapter was getting a but lengthy, and the resolution to the situation would take many more pages to resolve. Again, I’d like to remind the readers that I do not answer the reviews on FFdotNET… there are simply not enough of them… there was a stretch of three chapters where I didn’t even get one! I’ll continue posting chapters there, but that’s it. For those who don’t know the proper pronunciation of Kotone’s name, it sounds like ‘Cotton-Ay’ but most English speakers feel more comfortable pronouncing it “Ko-Toe-Nee.’ Just don’t pronounce it ‘Ko-tone’

-----~-----

Chapter 32: The Koi Pond

Home… is where I want to be, pick me up and turn me round.
I feel numb… burn with a weak heart, I guess I must be having fun.
The less we say about it the better. Make it up as we go along…
Feet on the ground, head in the sky…
It's ok, I know nothing's wrong. Nothing.

Home… is where I want to be, but I guess I'm already there.
I come home, she lifted up her wings, I guess that this must be the place.
I can't tell one from another. Did I find you, or you find me?
There was a time, before we were born,
If someone asks, this where I'll be… where I'll be.

We drift in and out…
sing into my mouth…
Out of all those kinds of people, you got a face with a view.
I'm just an animal, looking for a home… share the same space for a minute or two,
and you love me ‘till my heart stops.
Love me ‘till I'm dead.
Eyes that light up, eyes look through you
Cover up the blank spots, hit me on the head.

Excerpt from the song ‘Naïve Melody’ by The Talking Heads.

-----~-----

Peter Pettigrew, known to most of his colleagues as ‘Wormtail,’ was sitting in an antechamber just off from the entrance to his master’s quarters. His eyes were trained on a spider in a corner near the ceiling, who was busy spinning a web in order to hopefully catch a large enough meal to maybe produce some eggs for a new clutch of spider hatchlings. Wormtail thought that it’s whole endeavour was futile… he hadn’t seen another insect, flying or not, any of the times he had visited this place. That spider would remain hungry.

He had been sitting on the cold, hewn-stone bench for so long that his haunches felt painfully numb, but he dared not move. The sounds he was hearing from the main chamber caused him to remain seated, frozen in fear.

-~-

Earlier in the day, the Inner Circle of Voldemort’s Death Eaters had been summoned to this dreary place. Much to Wormtail’s surprise, he was counted amongst them. This was the very first time since his master’s return that the entire Inner Circle had been gathered in one place. The many gaps in the ranks of the veteran Death Eaters left by those who had been captured during the recent raids, and most conspicuously, the fugitive Severus Snape, were left unfilled, a reminder to those present the price of failure, carelessness, or in Snape’s case, foolishness. All of the Death Eaters present remembered the fate of Igor Karkaroff. Many who were present in the room were the ones that eventually tracked him down.

It was at this meeting where Voldemort finally realized that Snape must have absconded with the younger Malfoy, as evidenced in the ill-fated raid upon the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. As it turned out, the information that indicated the whereabouts of the minor Malfoy was supplied by Snape, but relayed anonymously through a lower ranked Death Eater. The attempted raid on the Headquarters was viewed as a trap, because according to that morning’s Daily Prophet, the Ministry’s aurors captured the entire group just outside of… ‘the place.’ None of those present, not even Voldemort himself, could remember the name of the place, or even where it was located, save for that it was somewhere in London.

Many of Wormtail’s gathered comrades were visibly subdued, namely, the ones that had their children accompany the raid, which was supposed to be a simple initiation mission. None of those present dared inquire about that was to be done to retrieve their children. He noticed that Lucius Malfoy was particularly distressed, although he tried very hard not to show it. When it was his turn to give his report on the search for Snape, his voice carried none of its’ usual fluid silkiness, but seemed rather tense and distracted. Wormtail couldn’t really blame the man, having his son missing, and then finding out about the presumed capture of his wife.

After each Death Eater gave their respective reports and received their new commands, they hurriedly left the chamber, anxious to leave their master’s presence. Wormtail tried not to pay attention to what those particular orders were… the less he knew, the less trouble he could get into. The less he knew, the happier he usually turned out to be.

He was the final Death Eater to give his report, such as it was. When he was called forward, he approached Voldemort in his usual stooped gait. He tried to keep his eyes averted, but he had to lift his gaze momentarily as he approached and was shocked to see that the skin on his master’s face was looking rather scabrous, as if it were about to start peeling away from his bones. He dared not let his gaze linger and quickly returned his eyes to the hem of his master’s robes.

Little did either of them know that at that exact moment in time, a hundred miles away in a hidden house in the middle of London, a young Necromancer was just completing a complex exorcism ritual.

Without lifting from his bow, he began to speak, “Master, I have been at the blood traitor’s home this entire time, as you ordered… I’m afraid there is little to add since my last report when the Weasley girl was taken away by her brother and her friend. The parents have spent very little time at the house since then and when they are… M-master?”

Wormtail happened to glance up again to try to gauge his master’s reaction to his pitiful report when he saw Voldemort’s crimson eyes wide open and staring up towards the ceiling. His pale, bony hands tightly gripping the armrests of his chair and his back was arched into an unnatural position. The slits that were his nostrils were flared and his mouth was gaped into silent scream. He looked as though he were being placed under the Cruciatus curse.

Wormtail’s head spun around, looking for the offending wand, but he quickly saw that nobody, save for Voldemort himself, was in the room. With a shaking voice, he asked, “Master! What is happening? Tell me what to do!”

A strangled groan escaped Voldemort’s thin lips, then a moment later, he let out a gasping breath as his body seemed to ease slightly back into the chair. He rasped out in a voice that was higher than usual in tone, “Wormtail… send Severus in, quickly!”

Wormtail blinked stupidly for a few heartbeats, then let out a surprised gasp, followed immediately by a despairing groan as he realization struck him. With a barely audible squeak of a voice, he said, “But… but, Master… we haven’t been able to find Snape yet!”

Voldemort’s eyes seemed unfocused, blankly looking around the room, not even once focusing on the cowering rat-man before him.

“Yes, yes… of course, he’s still at Hogwarts… then fetch Bella, quickly! Have her come to my chamber… tell her it has happened again…”

Wormtail watched in horror as the taut skin on Voldemort’s face began to crack and peel, taking on the appearance of an arid, drying riverbed. Dark brown blood began seeping from the splits in the emaciating skin, but he saw that Voldemort didn’t appear to notice.

Wormtail’s stomach dropped and he began trembling uncontrollably as he replied in even a more subdued tone, “But… but Master, the… the Ministry has Bellatrix… she was captured at that orphanage… She… she’s not here…”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he processed Wormtail’s words. A moment later, a look of realization appeared on his face as he jumped unsteadily from the seat and stared at some point beyond where the rat-man was standing. He didn’t seem to be aware of Wormtail, who was now looking up fearfully at him while still bent into an uncomfortable bow. Voldemort absently brought his taut, bony hands to his face, feeling along the lines of the cracks that had appeared there.

“I’m running out of time…” he whispered, apparently to himself, “He has my source… He has it… he must have it… and I must get it back. How could I have known back then? How could I have known that he would get the source and leave me clinging to the shard?”

Wormtail had no idea what his master was talking about, but whatever it was, he was sure that he wasn’t supposed to hear it. Ignorance is always bliss, but it was too late now. All he could do was to feign deafness and hope his master didn’t have the wherewithal to peer into his mind, “What was that, Master? Is there something you need me to do? Whatever it is, I’ll do it! Command me, master!”

A scowl shadowed Voldemort’s face as he glared down at the sniveling Death Eater, looking as though he just noticed him there. He narrowed his eyes slightly and said in a harsh rasp, “Wormtail, wait outside, there is something I need to attend to.”

-~-

Wormtail shifted uncomfortably upon the hard, stone bench and looked back up to the spider that had been building the web. It seems that as his thoughts drifted back into Voldemort’s chamber, a wayward wasp stumbled his way into the antechamber and got himself trapped within the newly constructed web. Apparently, the hungry spider was desperate enough to try to take on the trapped wasp. The now motionless spider was hanging from one of the strands by one of her stiff, crooked legs. The wasp, while able to sting the spider before it was bitten and paralyzed, was still trapped within the sticky filaments, becoming even more entangled as it struggled to avoid its inevitable doom.

Wormtail sympathized with the wasp’s plight… and he certainly understood the meaning of the word ‘Irony.’

-----~-----

Harry sat at the desk in the living room of his quarters at Hogwarts, absently leafing through the various rolls of parchment, old DADA essays that had been abandoned by Snape during his retreat from the castle after killing the Headmaster. He wasn’t really reading them, as his concentration was on the little half-witch lying in his bedroom being attended to by the school’s resident medi-witch, Madam Pomfrey.

When Kotone had collapsed in the study of Grimmauld Place, he forgot all about Hermione’s Necromancy and his cooling breakfast as he scooped the little girl up into his arms and Flooed directly to his quarters at Hogwarts. He set Kotone on his bed, and then ran through the castle to summon the kindly, but certainly much harried medi-witch from the infirmary. He would have carried Kotone to the hospital wing directly, but he still felt weakened by his ordeal with the horcrux, and even in her emaciated state, he wasn’t sure he could have made it all the way there with her in tow. There was also his concern about the other occupants of the hospital wing, knowing first-hand of their prejudice and intolerance of beings that are ‘different’ from them. When he had entered Madam Pomfrey’s office, he had to restrain himself from saying or doing anything he would later regret to the youngest Weasley who was still there under medi-witch’s care. He would deal with her after Kotone’s illness was addressed.

Harry was startled out of his thoughts when his door burst open and Headmistress McGonagall stepped briskly into the room. Harry could see the relief in her eyes the moment her gaze met his, but it was quickly replaced with her standard stern demeanor when she realized that her composure had slipped.

“Mister Potter, I daresay that you and your companions had us all quite concerned. Would you care to tell me what you have been doing these last few days? Has it never occurred to you that there might be a few people who would have liked to know your situation after risking their lives to protect you?”

Harry knew that was true, of course. Hermione had explained to him how, if it weren’t for the timely arrival of the Order, and, though he was loathe to admit it, the Ministry’s aurors, she wouldn’t have had the time to finish the Fidelis at Grimmauld place before the Death Eaters-in-training had overrun the place.

His thoughts turned to Hermione. Maybe he should have left her a note telling her where he’d gone, but that was the last thing on his mind at the time. His only concern was Kotone. Why didn’t he notice her condition earlier when he had lifted her from the floor in front of the library? He should have known then! What was he thinking? He had no business being her guardian if he couldn’t even tell if she was sick. What on earth ever led him to believe that he could be a good father figure for the little girl? She deserved better than him. Maybe Mrs. Weasley was right… what did he know about raising a child? With every passing thought, his heart sank deeper and deeper.

“Mr. Potter! Have you heard even one word of what I’ve been saying? You must leave here as soon as possible!”

Broken out of his bitter thoughts by McGonagall’s voice, his focus returned to her, “What? I’m sorry, but…”

With an exasperated glare, she urgently said, “You waltzed through the hospital wing not an hour ago! Did you not notice all of those people in the beds there? One of those patients works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement… and he was seen sending off a messenger spell shortly after you left there with Madam Pomfrey. I’m quite confident that he wasn’t sending off a birthday greeting to the Minister!”

Grasping the seriousness of the situation, he said, “Can’t you make me Professor Buck again? It wouldn’t be strange to have him walking around the castle.”

“That transfiguration only lasted a few hours last time, and we haven’t had the time to investigate why it wore off so quickly. Do you really want to take the chance and have it wear off in the middle of a conversation with an auror?”

McGonagall gave Harry a pointed look and she saw him just morosely nod in agreement. She watched as his distressed gaze drifted back towards his bedroom door where the little half-witch was being tended to. She felt an ache in her heart as she saw the despairing look on the young man’s face.

The door to his bedroom opened and Madam Pomfrey stepped into the room, followed by Kotone, who had her mask tucked under her arm and looked extremely weak.

“Did you find out what’s wrong with her?” Harry asked anxiously.

Madam Pomfrey looked ill-at-ease as she spoke, “I believe I have. Her physiology is quite different from what I’m used to, but according to my examination, she hasn’t eaten anything in well over a week, although she assured me that she had… ‘something…’ a few days ago, but even still, going days without eating is something that should be avoided for someone her age.”

Harry looked surprised at the matron’s words, “You mean that she’s been starving?”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” stated Madam Pomfrey. She paused for a moment, and then continued with a strangely disturbed look on her face, “I gave her a strengthening solution, but that is hardly a cure. I now know that she has ‘special’ dietary needs, so we can’t pop down to the kitchens to get her a bacon sandwich. It seems that she feeds off the life forces of living animals, but I’m afraid that our house elves do not stock hedgehogs and the like in their larders. Since it would be ill-advised to bring her hunting in the woods near to the castle, I’d suggest that you take her somewhere where she can hunt easily. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other patients to attend to.”

McGonagall noticed that Harry had only heard half of what Poppy was saying. She saw the surprise and anger in his eyes when he discovered what exactly was wrong with the girl. She was about to offer a word of encouragement for him when he suddenly spoke.

“Professor, is there any way the Order can watch over Kotone for me. I don’t want the ministry getting her again, but I’m not… I… I don’t think I’m such a good parent…” He said this with an odd, monotone voice with a look on his face that suggested that his heart was being ripped from his chest. Kotone’s eyes widened in surprise as she let out a distressed growl.

McGonagall certainly didn’t expect that request from Harry. She understood why he asked, but also knew that it would be one of the biggest mistakes of his life. At one time not long ago, she would have agreed with him, but she had seen first hand how much he cared for Kotone, and more importantly, how much Kotone cared for him. It was clear to her that they needed each other. She also knew what he was going through with Misses Granger and Weasley, and the last thing Harry needed was yet another loss in his life.

Pushing down her emotions and hoping they didn’t sound through her voice, she said, “I’m sorry, Mister Potter, but the Order has far too much on their hands already, and I’m afraid that ‘playing babysitter’ is an activity we can hardly spare resources on.”

Harry had to suppress a bitter retort about how they didn’t seem to have a problem finding ‘resources’ to ‘baby-sit’ him for years, except when he desperately needed babysitting when he was being tortured by the Dursleys. Instead, he just pretended to understand and simply nodded in reply.

Noticing the wetness building in Kotone’s eyes, Harry bent down to her and said, “The only reason I asked is because I don’t seem to be taking very good care of you. I care for you very much, but I believe you deserve better than what I can give you. I spent years being starved at Dursley’s, so I know… nobody deserves that, especially someone as sweet as you.”

“What are you talking about, Potter?” said McGonagall, clearly shocked by his statement, “Are you saying that your family didn’t feed you properly?”

Harry turned to McGonagall and let out a derisive laugh, then said, “Well, they fed me table scraps, mostly… whatever by uncle and cousin left on their plates, which usually wasn’t much. My uncle didn’t like the charred fat on his meats, and Dudley used to trim the crust from his bread, so that’s what I’d be given to eat while I washed the dishes and cookware before they’d shove me back in my cupboard for the night.”

“Cupboard?” asked McGonagall, looking as though she were about to be ill, “They… they made you sleep in a cupboard?”

“Yeah, the small one under the stairs to the second floor. They’d only let me out to do chores or to go to school. I thought you people would have known all about that… you’ve had someone watching me all those years, haven’t you? Surely Dumbledore knew, he even scolded my relatives about it when he picked me up from my house last year.”

“I… honestly, Harry, I had no idea!” McGonagall continued in a whisper to herself, “I told him. I told him they were the worst kind of muggles! He never should have left him there!”

It wasn’t often that McGonagall wore anything other than her usual stern expression, so seeing the appalled look on her face made Harry turn away in embarrassment. He hated the idea of people pitying him, but he honestly thought she knew how he had lived at the Dursleys. He thought that all of the Order members knew.

Wanting to get off the topic of his former life, Harry spoke, “Please… do the transfiguration for me. I need to be here for a short while longer, and I need to speak to… Professor Dumbledore… after I take care of Kotone, that is.”

McGonagall gave Harry a wary look, but relented and drew her wand to change him into Professor Buck. Again, the transformation was flawed, just as it was the time before, but it was certainly enough to conceal his identity. McGonagall just shook her head and said as she headed out through the door, “I’ll be in my office, come along after you’ve sorted out your charge. In the meantime, I’ll be having a few choice words with Albus, myself!”

After McGonagall left, Harry knelt before Kotone. He was feeling quite perturbed at Ron and Luna, and even at himself, but especially towards Hermione, partly from of the elixir’s lingering effects, and partly because she should have known to keep watch over the little girl while he was incapacitated. He tried not to show his anger as he asked Kotone, “Why haven’t you been eating?”

Kotone looked down at her feet as she answered in her deep, gravelly voice, “I’sa so sorry, Shishi-san, but not to find any to eat in house. Rat and mouse not to find food in house, so they do not enter… and they have fear of me, so to keep away.”

Harry thought for a moment about where to take Kotone to eat. She didn’t really look like she was up to chasing rats around the castle’s dungeons. A thought occurred to him, and he wondered if the ‘come and go’ room would be able to produce what she needed.

Several minutes later, Harry and Kotone were standing in front of the blank stretch of wall opposite from the moving tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. Harry explained to her, “Just think of a place where you can eat while passing this spot three times. A room will appear giving you what you want.”

Kotone paused in thought for a few moments before she did as she was told, and on her third pass, the familiar door appeared. Harry smiled at her and said, “Go ahead… open it.”

When Kotone opened the door, she let out a loud gasp and exclaimed, “Yokatta koto!” (My goodness!)

Kotone immediately shoved the mask that she was carrying into Harry’s hands, dropped down on all fours and darted in through the doorway. Harry stepped in front of the open door and looked inside to see a rather large room, with thick, amber-coloured rice paper walls that had decorations of tapestry-like hangings and tastefully made drawings of birds and flowers. The floor was covered with an assortment of beige tatami mats, with elongated, pillowy cushions resting along one of the walls. There was an open sliding door on the opposite wall that appeared to lead out to a scenic water garden. He could just see the large stone water basin with a nearby ‘deer chaser,’ a water-driven device that makes a rhythmic knocking sound as the water flows into a small reservoir, then empties causing a lever to strike a bamboo tube.

The most noticeable thing about the room was the throng of scampering, squealing rodents that were scurrying all over the place, trying to escape the small half-demon who was happily darting after them. There was an assortment of rats and mice, but also hamsters, guinea pigs, squirrels, and a bunch of other rodents that he couldn’t readily identify, all chaotically dashing around on the floor.

Harry entered the room and closed the main door behind him. Not really wanting to watch Kotone while she ate, he crossed the small room and went into the garden, sitting on a large rock that was set next to the koi pond. He marveled at the detail that the Room of Requirement provided. There were large water lilies floating in the pond, and just below the surface, he could see several large goldfish swimming lazily by. Even the trees surrounding the pond made a pleasant rustling sound as a soft, warm breeze glided through the leaves. He could even hear the chirping of the birds that were nestled in the branches, giving a serene atmosphere to the area.

Harry could also hear the terrified squeals and the loud crunching of Kotone’s breakfast. He tried to ignore those sounds as he stared at the unfamiliar reflection of himself in the pond for a few moments before he slid down from the rock and laid back on the soft grass. He laid Kotone’s mask in the grass by his side and closed his eyes, listening to the breeze rustling the leaves, the trickling of the many bamboo water spouts, and the rhythmic knocking of the deer chaser. Soon, his body and facial features relaxed as he fell into a peaceful sleep.

-----~-----

Kotone was sitting on the floor inside of the room with a large brown squirrel in one hand, a pair of hamsters in the other, and a particularly delicious looking rat wrapped securely in her tail. She popped both of the squirming hamsters into her wide mouth as if they were marshmallows and began happily chewing, feeling the energy given by the animals’ life forces coursing through her.

When her Shishi said that the room would become whatever she wanted, she naturally thought of a place loaded with food, but she couldn’t help adding that she needed to see her home in Japan one last time. She was happily surprised that the room gave her exactly what she asked for.

She sat relishing the taste of the squirming morsels as she looked out through the door at her Shishi, sleeping peacefully in the grass outside. She was mildly surprised when she saw his physical appearance slowly reverting back to how he normally looked, although the bison’s transfiguration did nothing to change his soul’s lion form. Apparently, the changes the bison had made to his appearance become undone whenever he fell asleep.

She looked around the very familiar room she was sitting in. As she stuffed the wriggling squirrel into her mouth, her eyes fell on a small table in the corner, upon which sat a set of pictures that she hadn’t seen in years. She was amazed that the room could so closely duplicate every detail of her former home. She stood and walked towards the table, snatching a panicked gerbil from the floor on her way.

She lifted the first picture and looked at it longingly. It was a larger, cleaner copy of the same picture that she kept in her trunk. She watched her mother standing motionlessly beside her husband, and could just see the younger image of herself peeking out from behind her mother’s kimono. She placed the photo back on the table, and after munching down the gerbil, she lifted the second picture from the table.

This picture was of her mother, looking down lovingly at the infant Kotone in her arms. She couldn’t help but smile at her mother’s caring expression, similar to the way her Shishi looked at her at times. Her heart fell just a little bit as she thought of his words to the bison about having someone else take care of her. She knew that he felt guilty about her not being able to eat, but it wasn’t his fault, or anybody’s fault, really. Things were just how things were. She understood the danger that they were in. She wasn’t stupid, even though she tried very hard not to allow others to discover exactly how much she really knows about what’s going on around her. She knew what she was, and knew of her inherited Oni responsibilities, no matter how much she wished that she wasn’t saddled with those responsibilities. She hoped that her Shishi would understand when the time comes… a time that was rapidly approaching.

Her eyes finally fell on the third picture. She set down the one in her hand and picked up the last photo, which appeared to be an image of a rural road lined with blossoming cherry trees. She reached down the front of her ragged gray nightdress and grabbed her wand that was nestled between her breasts.

She tapped the tip of her wand to the picture, which in turn shimmered for a moment before revealing a figure standing in the middle of the road. The man was impossibly tall, wearing long, pure white robes made of some unknown type of fur. His flowing white hair swayed in the breeze, partially covering the roguishly handsome features of his face. She could also see portions of his white, feathery wings that were folded behind him, the tops of which loomed over his shoulders while the tips just barely touched the ground beneath him. This was the only photo of her father in existence… her Oni father… the father she had never met in person, only in her frequent dreams.

Only in her dreams… where she gets her advice and instructions. She was foretold of the sacrifices that she was expected to make, and wasn’t looking forward to them at all. She was told to stay near her lion, to guide and protect him, but she felt that she was doing a miserable job of it, much in the same way she knew her Shishi felt about his caring for her.

The apoplectic wriggling and squealing of the terrified rat that was bound by her tail finally distracted her from staring at her true father’s picture. She didn’t bother masking the figure in the photo as she placed it back on the table… her adopted father was no longer alive to see it. That realization reminded her that this wasn’t her real house, just an illusion created by this wonderful and terrible room. She finally lifted her tail to her mouth, putting an abrupt end to the rat’s pathetic wailing.

Kotone replaced her wand under her nightdress between her breasts and then absently rubbed her distended belly as she walked to the sliding door that led to the water garden. She sat next to her Shishi and watched him sleep. She studied his relaxed features and smiled to herself. He wasn’t handsome, but he certainly wasn’t homely. He had a small, wiry frame, and eyes that always seemed tired, as though they had already seen far too much of life’s trials. He was very thin, his hair was always a mess and he rarely smiled.

However, nobody knew better than she that physical appearances had nothing to do with a person’s soul, and the soul of the person sleeping in front of her was simply beautiful. Even with the presence of the dokuja, (poisonous serpent) the essence of his true soul was pure, without a trace of evil.

Kotone was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice that Harry had awoke and was looking back at her. She was actually startled when he spoke to her.

“Have you finished eating already?”

Kotone picked up her mask and affixed it to her lower face before answering with a bow and a smile, “Yes, I cannot eat another bite! Thank you for bringing me here, the hamsters were especially delicious… and thank you for letting me see my home again.”

Harry looked back at the building for the first time and instantly recognized the pagoda-style house from Kotone’s photograph of her and her parents.

Harry stood up and said, “Well, we can come back here later if you get hungry again, but we’re going to have to find another way of feeding you when we’re not here at Hogwarts.”

Kotone smiled and nodded, then reached up to Harry, who instinctively lifted her up against his side and walked into the house. Seeing that there were still a small army of scurrying rodents darting all over the room, he drew his wand and transfigured one of the cushions on the floor to a metal cage, then began stunning some of the rodents. Once the cage was filled with a variety of unconscious animals, he pocketed his wand, lifted the cage and carried it, along with Kotone, to the exit.

“We’ll make a quick stop at the headmistress’s office so I can talk to… the former headmaster, then we’ll head home.”

Kotone snuggled even closer to Harry, slightly tightening the grip of her various appendages. She sighed, and then quietly breathed against his shoulder, “Home…”

A smile appeared on Harry’s face as he opened the door to return to the castle proper, but it instantly fell when he saw the people who were waiting just outside the Room of Requirement. He silently thanked Professor McGonagall for performing the transfiguration on him before he left his quarters.

Standing in the hall were two Hit Wizards, who had their wands pointed menacingly at him. They were standing next to a short, plump woman with hair the color of rusty iron and a wide, toad-like face.

“Ah! Just the person we came to see!” Dolores Umbridge simpered before she turned to the wizards beside her, “See? I told you that Potter would be in that room!”

‘She called me ‘Potter!’’ he thought in a panic, ‘The transfiguration must have failed!’

He let the cage in his hand drop to the floor and made for his wand, but the Hit Wizards already had their wands at the ready and petrified him before he could even reach the handle. Harry fell heavily to the floor, bringing the frightened Kotone down with him.

Kotone jumped to her feet and ripped off her mask. Standing in front of Harry, she put on the most vicious scowl she could muster and began growling loudly at the Ministry personnel. Umbridge cowered back, obviously terrified of the little half-witch, but the two wizards with her similarly petrified the little girl as they had done with Harry.

The hate shone clearly in Harry’s eyes as he glared at Umbridge, who was emboldened by the takedown of both the ‘Chosen One’ and the dirty half-breed with him. He watched as she reached into his pocket and retrieved his wand.

With a look of extreme satisfaction, Umbridge held Harry’s wand in her hands and, with a wheezing grunt, snapped it in half against her meaty leg, saying with a laugh, “No more magic for you, ‘O Chosen One!’”

None of those present in the corridor noticed the pair of brown eyes watching the scene from the around the shadowed corner at the end of the hallway.

33. The Two Prisoners

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, nor do I claim to own the lyric bits that I use to enhance the story.

A/N: Yay! I fixed my computer! My power supply went tits-up, and I ordered a new one online, but didn’t expect it until next week! This chapter still doesn’t have the confrontation with Ginny, but you’ll see at the very end that they’re on their way to see her. This is an important chapter to the rest of the story, so pay attention! You learn exactly what Harry’s school of magic is, and you get to see a bit more of Hermione doing her ‘Evil Necromantic Magic’ thing! I know many of you were screaming for Umbridge’s blood… do you think I should keep her where I leave her in this chapter? (insert evil laugh here.) Anyway, please Read, Review, but mostly… Enjoy!

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Chapter 33: The Two Prisoners

I know it
It's a shame,
A shame I can't show it,
And I see it.
I can see it now,
but I'm so far below it…

I feel you.
Yes I can.
What about that don't you understand?
I sense you,
it's something sensual,
but it's less than I planned…

You're trying to find a reason for the way you feel tonight
Your mind is lined with layers of lead
Have you heard one thing that I've said?

Excerpt from the song ‘Little Black Backpack’ by the band Stroke 9.

-----~-----

“Take that animal directly to the interrogation room in our department and inform Yvonne Yaxley of her arrival… and make sure it isn’t spotted by anyone in the auror division… disillusion it or something.” said Umbridge with a gleeful expression, “You can leave Potter to me.”

“But Ma’am,” said the taller of the two Hit Wizards, “The Minister’s orders said that Potter should…”

“I am well aware of the Minister’s orders,” interrupted Umbridge sharply, “The Minister will get him once I am through with him, now, do as I say and get that dirty beast out of my sight… and remember, it’s more dangerous than it looks, that thing was responsible for the capture of LeStrange.”

The two Hit Wizards looked at each other, shrugged, and then levitated Kotone from the floor and began guiding her down the corridor towards the moving staircases that led to the lower levels of the castle. As soon as the Hit Wizards were out of earshot, Umbridge bent down, bringing her face to within inches of Harry’s. She smiled sweetly at him when she saw the hate radiating from his eyes.

“I hope your rendezvous with that gargoyle you call a girlfriend was a memorable one, of course, I would expect as much from you, seeing how your ‘whores of choice’ seem to be animals such as mudbloods and half-breeds.”

Harry was trying with all his might to break the body-bind, but he could move nothing but his eyes.

Umbridge glowered over Harry with a sickening leer, “Yes, well don’t expect any offspring from that beast, because by nightfall we’ll have a very good picture of its’ internal anatomy. Yvonne has been very anxious to get his hands on that thing. She seems bent on finding out what makes it… ‘tick.’ You see, she was Macnair’s understudy, and now has his job of doing away with unwanted vermin. They both worked for the same… ‘master,’ don’t you know. I’m happy to say that you’re never going to see that little beast again… not in one piece, anyway.”

Of course, Harry knew that she was goading him… trying her best to make him angry, but that knowledge did nothing to quell the rage that he was feeling.

Umbridge brought her face even closer to Harry’s. He could see the absolute delight in her beady eyes.

“Ah, but what are we going to do with you, you might ask?” She lowered her voice into a whisper as she said practically into his mouth, “There seems to be someone else who is very anxious to get his hands on you…”

Harry’s bowels clenched as Umbridge moved her face so that her pudgy cheek brushed against his. He could feel her breath as she whispered into his ear with sickening, unbridled glee, “Yes, the Dark Lord has been waiting a long, long time to see you.”

Harry felt the air leave his lungs, ‘She’s a Death Eater! I knew it’

Suddenly, the door to the cage that was holding all of the previously stunned rodents opened, causing a wave of small, furry woodland creatures to scurry out of the cage. As if compelled to do so, the assortment of hamsters, gerbils and mice began jumping and scurrying all over Umbridge… they found their way under her robes, in her hair and other places that are best left unmentioned.

Umbridge squealed in fright as she straightened and begun slapping and brushing at the rodents. A moment later, she found herself surrounded by an unkindness of ravens, cawing loudly while pecking the foul woman all over her head and face.

At the same time, Harry felt the effects of the full body bind loosen, then vanish entirely. In one, swift movement, Harry sprang to his feet and punched Dolores Umbridge squarely in the nose. Instantly, a spray of blood washed over her wide, thin-lipped mouth while dark red circles immediately began rimming her watering eyes.

Harry reared back again and sent a second blow sharply across her chin. He felt her jaw shift under his knuckles, then jerk as the bone broke during his follow-through. Unfortunately, a sharp pain cascaded up his arm, indicating that he also broke a few bones in his hand from the impact. This did nothing to deter his rage, however. He reared back his left fist, ready to have it assaulted by Umbridge’s cheek when he felt a hand stay his arm.

Harry’s head jerked around to see who had grabbed him, fully expecting to find a Death Eater holding his arm. Instead, he was greeted by a pair of frenzied, brown eyes that were framed by a mass of bushy brown hair.”

Harry saw Hermione give him a nervous smile as she just nodded her eyes towards the older witch. He quickly looked back to Umbridge, just in time to see her gracelessly arc to the floor. The dull, thudding sound of the back of her head hitting the solid stone floor echoed around the hallway, causing both Harry and Hermione to wince. Umbridge was out cold, and looked as if she would remain that way for quite some time.

“They’ve got Kotone,” said Harry desperately as he cradled his broken hand to his chest, “they’re bringing her to a Death Eater in the Ministry! Umbridge said that she’s going to dissect her or something!”

“You, get back in that room and take her with you,” commanded Hermione while casting an Incarcerous at Umbridge. She saw that Harry was about to argue, but quickly cut him off, saying, “Look, I know the secret passages as well as you do, but I have a wand! Don’t worry, they won’t be expecting anything on their way out, and I have an idea.”

Harry watched as Hermione rushed down to the other end of the hallway, closely followed by her squadron of ravens. He briefly wondered why they weren’t her usual canaries, but didn’t give it another thought as she ducked behind a suit of armor where he knew a passage lay that led to a second floor hallway near to his office.

Harry paced in front of the wall three times, thinking to himself, ‘I need a place to securely hold this woman… I need a place to securely hold this woman…’

After the third pass, the familiar door reappeared. With considerable effort, given that he only had the use of one hand, he managed to drag the unconscious Umbridge, still covered with the scratching, gnawing rodents, into the Room of Requirement.

Harry was quite surprised as he looked at his surroundings in the room. Instead of the rice-paper walls and the comfortable cushions that were in the room he had just left, he saw a row of cells, each with heavy, iron-barred doors, almost all of them left ajar and waiting for an occupant. It took him a few minutes to drag the self-admitted Death Eater roughly into the nearest cell. When he slammed the door shut, a loud grinding of rusty metal on metal came from the jamb and a key appeared in the keyhole on the door. He pulled on the handle to ensure that the door was securely locked before he pulled the key out and quickly pocketed it.

Harry began to nervously pace along the line of cell doors, waiting for Hermione’s return. As he neared the end of the row of cells, he noticed that the last two doors were closed. As he passed by the second to last door, he was surprised to find a figure sitting in the dark corner of the cell. In the dim light, he could just barely tell that the figure was wearing tattered, filthy student robes, trimmed in the colors of the house of Ravenclaw. Its’ pale, emaciated face looked nearly skeletal. Obviously, the student had been dead for a very, very long time.

He moved on to the last cell and found another figure sprawled out on the stone outcropping that almost passed for a bed. This figure was similarly dressed in decayed student robes, except that these robes had faded yellow trim that denoted the house of Hufflepuff. He could tell that this body was that of a girl, and just as badly decomposed as the other one. He briefly wondered what these students had done to deserve being locked up and forgotten in a place such as this, but he had other things to worry about. He would later tell McGonagall about the bodies, hoping that she could find out from the school’s records who they were.

Harry turned around to walk back to the entrance, but froze in place at the sight that met his eyes. A startled gasp escaped his throat when he saw the first skeletal figure standing just inside of the barred door, looking at him with dark, empty sockets where its’ eyes had once been. He was even more shocked when the figure spoke to him.

“If you’ve come here to feed us, I’m afraid that you’re about a century too late,” said the figure in a low, rasping wheeze.

“You… you’re alive?” asked Harry incredulously.

The figure let out a hacking laugh, then answered, “Well, yes and no. I’m afraid it’s a long story. I’ll tell you, if you have the time… I’m pretty sure I could free up a bit of my own time from my busy schedule.”

Again, Harry started as a hoarse, cackling voice came from behind him, “Please, spare the boy your humor, Geoffrey, it’s as dry as your bones.”

Harry turned around to find the former Hufflepuff girl standing at the door to her own cell. Her ratty blonde hair hung limply down from her head, and he could see patches of skull where clumps of her dried scalp had fallen away. Her eye sockets were empty, just like the male figure’s were, but he had the strange sensation that she still was looking directly at him.

“Kindly tell us your name, good sir,” asked the ‘girl’ from behind the bars. He dumbly stared at the cadaverous girl and said, “Potter… Harry Potter.”

“Well met,” wheezed the male, “You look to be a Gryffindor, you didn’t soil yourself when you saw us… or perhaps a Ravenclaw, maybe?”

Shaking himself out of his shock, “Yes, I’m in Gryffindor,” He looked back and forth between the two talking corpses and asked, “What happened to you? Why were you two locked up in here?”

The male figure spoke, “My name is Geoffrey Sasseville, and that lovely creature in the cell next to mine is my girlfriend, Chloe Meriwether, and why are we here, you ask? Simply put, it is because Chloe is my girlfriend.”

‘Seeing’ the puzzled look on Harry’s face, he continued the explanation, “We were in our sixth year here at Hogwarts, and very much in love with each other. Unfortunately, there was another at the school who wanted my Chloe here for his own. A seventh year Slytherin by the name of Tatwine Gaunt thought that if he could arrange for me to disappear, the way would be clear for him to comfort Chloe, who was sure to be broken-hearted over my abandonment of her. He kept me here for months, all the while trying to court Chloe, but she would have none of it.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed at the mention of the name ‘Gaunt.’ He assumed it was some ancestor of Tom Riddle.

Chloe took over at this point, “Tatwine became increasingly incensed as I rebuffed each of his advances. Truthfully, even if I were not in love with Geoffrey, I could never fancy a churl such as he. When it finally became clear to him that he would never have my heart, he stole me away during one of my evening patrols and locked me in here with Geoffrey. He said that if we wanted to be together so badly, we could remain here, forever together, but forever separate… Able to hear, but never to see… never to touch…”

Although her voice was harsh and grating, he could hear the emotion in her words as she spoke. ‘Seeing’ how Chloe couldn’t continue, Geoffrey resumed the story.

“He could have just left us here to starve to death, but that wasn’t good enough to sate his wounded pride. It was long suspected by the students of the time that Gaunt dabbled in the Necromantic arts, but what he did to us proved it. He cursed us. He bound our souls to our bodies, kept alive by magic alone. Bewitched us to never die, but to remain here, not truly dead, nor truly alive… tortured by the knowledge that only a few yards separate us, yet never to be together. He left us here and took the keys with him. You are the first person we have seen since he left us here. We have no idea how long we have been imprisoned here, nor do we care, but if you are curious, the date he left here, never to return, was the Twenty-Seventh of January, in the year 1799.”

“That’s almost two hundred years!” stated Harry in shock. He heard a muffled sob come from Chloe.

“Two hundred years?” she whispered to herself, “Two hundred years of Hell!”

Just then, Harry heard a quiet, but insistent knocking coming from the exit door. He hurried along the line of cells and cautiously cracked the door open. Standing in the corridor was Hermione, looking anxiously up and down the hallway. Standing next to her was a terrified little half-demon. He let out a breath of relief as he swung the door open and swiftly ushered the two girls into the room.

As soon as the door was closed, Harry scooped up the little half-demon into his arms, being careful not to jostle his broken hand, and hugged her tightly, saying, “Are you all right? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

Kotone just shook her head against Harry’s shoulder as she held onto him a bit tighter. Harry looked to Hermione, only to find her facing away from him and looking down at her shoes.

“Are you all right, Hermione?”

Hermione nervously glanced back at him and nodded, then began to worry her fingers together while speaking very quickly, “I made it to the second floor just after they came off the stairs. One of them made the mistake of looking into Kotone’s eyes, and the other one was so distracted by his partner’s sudden stillness that I had the chance to send a stunner at him, but he must have been wearing one of the twins’ shield cloaks. The spell I sent did nothing, but luckily, I sent my ravens beforehand to the far end of the corridor to create a distraction. He didn’t see where the spell had come from, so I had the chance to throw an Incarcerous at him. The shield cloak did nothing to stop the ropes from binding him, but he did get a good look at me as I stunned the other one and took Kotone. Before I left them, I tried to modify their memories so that they believed that Kotone needed to use the loo, so they let her and waited outside. They’re going to get a surprise when all they find is Myrtle in there… They’ll realize something was up, eventually… I don’t have much experience with memory charms.”

Hermione was out of breath by the time she finished.

“Great,” said Harry, “Now they’ll be looking for all three of us.”

“Who is there?” interrupted Kotone, while lifting her face from Harry’s chest. Her ears were perked and pointed towards the end of the line of cells.

Harry glanced down the row, saying, “There’s a couple of students that were locked in here two hundred years ago. I don’t know if there’s anything I can do for them.”

“You mean there are bodies in here?” asked Hermione worriedly.

Harry briefly thought about trying to explain, but then figured that showing her would be quicker. He motioned her to follow him as he carried Kotone past the cell that was currently housing the unconscious Umbridge towards the closed cells at the end. Both Geoffrey and Chloe were still standing at the doors, ‘watching’ motionlessly from inside of their cells. This was the first activity they had the pleasure to witness since their imprisonment.

As the three reached the end of the row of cells, both Geoffrey and Chloe gasped when they ‘saw’ the half-demon in Harry’s arms.

“Merlin’s beard, that’s ugly!” exclaimed Geoffrey tactlessly before he could stop himself, which earned him a reproving ‘Shhh!” from Chloe.

In turn, the sight of two talking corpses caused Hermione to gasp and instinctively step back in fear. From her perch on Harry’s side, Kotone’s eyes went unfocused for a brief moment as she looked at the pair in the cells, and she joined in the current fad and let out her own gasp.

“Geoffrey, I can’t imagine that we’re a very pleasing sight to behold, so please stop embarrassing us!” scolded Chloe.

Hermione’s eyes were locked onto Geoffrey’s empty sockets as she whispered to Harry, “Are they inferi?”

Chloe answered for him, saying, “No, we’re not reanimated corpses… we just never died.”

“Just never…” repeated Hermione in a trailing whisper, “How can you just ‘not die?’

Geoffrey again related the tale of the two ill-fated lovers and the conniving, covetous Slytherin, obviously delighted that there was someone new to speak to. Hermione shot Harry a questioning glance when Geoffrey got to the part about Tatwine Gaunt, to which Harry simply nodded in acknowledgement.

By the time Geoffrey finished retelling the tale, Hermione was wearing a thousand-mile-stare. Her brows were furrowed in thought and her lips were pursed. After a few long moments, she turned to Chloe with a hesitant look, clearly fighting with herself over her thoughts. With a resigned sigh, Hermione came to a decision.

“Do you want to die?”

Chloe let out a dry, cackling laugh, which was echoed by Geoffrey’s own coarse chuckle.

“If only it were so simple,” said Chloe once her laughter subsided, “We’ve tried more times than we’d care to count.” She indicated the bare spots on her scalp where the cracked skull showed through, “I tried beating my head against the wall, but didn’t even get a headache. Geoffrey tried to hang himself with his robes… he hung there for weeks, telling me all the while how he’d be dead in ‘just a few more minutes.’ We eventually gave up trying. Our hearts stopped beating long ago, but our souls are still bound to these bodies… we can’t die.”

“I… I can remove the bind. I can free your souls, if you like.”

“Did you hear that, Clo?” said Geoffrey with clearly defined mirth, “She says that she can free us. Thinks she’s the heir of Slytherin, she does… say, you’re not a Slytherin, are you? You don’t look like one.”

Hermione had a strange, neutral expression as she said emotionlessly, “No, I’m not a Slytherin, but I… I am a Necromancer.”

The silence that ensued could be cut with a knife. Geoffrey ‘stared’ unmoving at Hermione, while the taut, leathery skin on Chloe’s cadaverous face looked oddly pensive. After a long, tense pause, Chloe broke the silence.

“You… you could really do that for us?” Chloe asked hopefully.

Hermione nodded, “I can do it now if you like. I’ve already read about how to do it.”

“Geoff, did you hear that?” asked Chloe, her harsh voice brimming with emotion, “She can free us from this torture! We can finally be together!”

“If you could really do it, we would be eternally grateful,” said Geoffrey with a small smile that revealed his sparse, rotted teeth.

Hermione resignedly nodded and walked in front of Chloe’s cell door, where she sat herself down on the stone floor and drew her wand. At the same time, Kotone unwrapped her hair and tail from around Harry’s neck and arm, indicating to him that she wanted to be set down. Kotone walked next to the older witch and watched her prepare for the ritual.

The ritual that she had to perform was similar to the one she used to banish the soul fragment from the horcrux, but instead of banishing the soul, she would only be freeing it. Hermione lifted the tip of her wand towards her forehead, and closed her eyes. Almost instantly, she saw the rotating dark portions of the yin-yang. She realized that it was getting much easier for her to enter her ‘state.’ She opened her eyes and the ghostly image of the complete symbol drifted before her eyes. She could feel the sensation of time slowing around her as a mass of white, transparent fog permeated the room.

Hermione briefly looked around, seeing the majestic image of the lion around Harry, already looking much stronger than when she had last seen it. The smoky snake was still present, but seemed sluggish and subdued. She could also just see the image of a large, shaggy sheepdog standing within Geoffrey’s cell. She could see what appeared to be black and red tendrils wrapped around the large dog’s form, presumably the binding that was used to anchor the soul to the body. Her eyes rested on Kotone standing next to where she was seated. It was then that she realized that she couldn’t see the little half-witch’s soul, and briefly wondered why she hadn’t noticed that fact before.

Her vision then focused on the being in the cell before her. She saw the blackened, decayed body being surrounded by an ethereal yellow soul in the form of a proud Afghan Hound, which had similar black and red tendrils wrapped securely around it.

Hermione drew the tip away from her forehead, drawing out the filament of her own blood, which drifted around her wand like a thread of fine cotton. She deftly manipulated the wand, tracing out a rune that hung suspended in the air before her.

Hermione began chanting, “Spirit of Misery, you are bound to the flesh by unholy means… means born of jealousy and covetous desire. Bound to the flesh, but yearning release.”

Just as before, the rune burst into flame that dripped as if it were liquid fire. Instead of a deep peal of a bell, a clear, low-pitched note that sounded like a horn of some kind echoed through the chamber. Seen by only herself and Kotone, the tendrils that were wrapped around Chloe seemed to loosen and sag. Hermione drew another strand of blood and began etching another rune.

“Hear me, Spirit of Anguish, cast off your bonds… cast away the earthly coils that bind you to your eternal suffering. Shed the shackles that tie you to your torment.”

Again, the rune burst into dripping flames and the note once again sounded as Chloe’s soul suddenly expanded, stretching the tendrils into thin, strained threads. Hermione withdrew a third strand of blood and began etching the final rune into the air.

“Be free, O Spirit of Woe… break the chains and claim the reward that was promised upon your birth. Find the comfort of death and life anew! Spirit of Torment no longer, leave behind this, the plane of mortals, and claim your rightful place among your ancestors!”

The final rune ignited, causing a wave of golden light to pulse out towards Chloe. Her soul seemed to swell once again, causing the strained tendrils to shatter into a fine, glowing dust that drifted to the floor. Before the dust disappeared entirely, Chloe’s soul instantly expanded out, as if it had exploded, until the ghostly remnants dissipated into nothingness.

Hermione felt her consciousness return to her body just in time to see Chloe’s lifeless corpse fall to the floor. She noticed that the corpse was wearing a thankful smile.

“Is… is it over for her?” came a shaky voice from Geoffrey’s cell.

“Yes, she’s free,” said Hermione tiredly as she stood from the floor and walked to Geoffrey’s cell, “and she’s waiting for you… are you ready?”

“Geoffrey gave her a sad smile and said, “I’ve been ready for a very, very long time.”

Hermione sat down on the stone floor and placed the tip of her wand upon her forehead.

-----~-----

Minerva McGonagall wore an angry expression as she watched the two Ministry’s Hit Wizards depart her office. Once the door had closed, she leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and rubbed them tiredly under her glasses. She had spent the last hour listening to the two men prattle on about losing their fugitive on their way out of the school. They seemed especially fearful of what their immediate supervisor’s, namely Dolores Umbridge, reaction would be. They bemoaned the fact that a missing ward of the Ministry was so easily misplaced, possibly to result in a demotion for both of them, if not an outright sacking. McGonagall was also informed of the apparent disappearance of the same Dolores Umbridge and her captive, the fugitive Harry Potter.

Of course, McGonagall assured them that a thorough search of the castle and grounds would be conducted, but they insisted on calling for a team of aurors to perform the search themselves. Minerva was confident that she could safely conceal Kotone within the many secret chambers of the castle, once she discovered where she was herself. She wondered how the little girl freed herself, figuring that it was just another latent talent that the odd young witch possessed.

Her main concern was the apparent disappearance of Harry Potter and the fact that the human transfiguration that she had performed on him had obviously failed yet again. The Hit Wizards said that he was found on the seventh floor of the castle, but all that was there were the Arithmancy and Muggle Studies classrooms, and the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. What the boy was doing up there with Kotone, she had no idea. If Umbridge still had Harry as a captive, they were probably on their way to the Ministry.

McGonagall stood from her desk and began walking towards the fireplace to check the castle’s Floo log when a small ‘pop’ announced the arrival of one of her house-elves. She turned in time to see Dobby, who was already mid-bow and nervously fidgeting a small knit hat in his hands.

“Headmistress, Dobby has been asked to bring the Headmistress to the ‘Come and Go’ room by Master Harry Potter, Sir, Ma’am.”

McGonagall sighed in relief, which was something that she’d been doing a lot of that day. She had no idea what room the house-elf was speaking of, but she did understand whom it was that tasked the elf to summon her. Without pausing a moment, she motioned for the elf to lead the way and followed the excitable creature from her office. She didn’t bother asking about the room as they trekked through the castle, she would find out soon enough.

Several minutes later, McGonagall found herself walking along one of the seventh floor corridors towards the hanging tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. She was surprised to see a squirrel scampering away along one of the walls, as those creatures didn’t normally like to inhabit the inside of the castle. As she walked, she noticed other small animals darting underfoot, adding to her curiousity.

She paused for a moment when she noticed a door in the left-hand wall halfway down the hallway. She looked out through the window that was directly to the left of her and saw the towering expanse of the mountains that circled behind the castle. Again, she looked at the door, realizing that it would have to lead to the outside of the building, and a perilous drop if it were opened by the unaware.

She stepped up to the door where Dobby was waiting and looking at her expectantly. She was about to reach for the handle, but something on the floor caught her eye. There rested a large metal cage whose door was lying open. She guessed that the cage is where the animals had come from. She reached down and picked up two halves of a snapped holly wood wand that was lying beside the cage, which she instantly recognized as Harry’s.

Her eyes hardened and her complexion had taken on an ashen quality as she realized what must have taken place in this corridor. The Hit Wizards never mentioned the snapping of Potter’s wand, something that could only be officially done after someone was convicted of a capital crime, not just accused.

McGonagall turned and briskly knocked on the door. A few moments passed before the door tentatively cracked ajar, and then swung fully open, revealing a distressed looking Hermione Granger who was looking back at her carefully with her wand in hand.

McGonagall only barely noticed that fact, as she was too busy scanning the dungeon-like room that shouldn’t have been there at all. She also saw Kotone and Harry, sitting on the floor inside of the room facing each other. Kotone had a strange, blank look in her eyes, which was all McGonagall could see of her face as the rest was covered by a small, porcelain half-mask. Harry was sitting with his eyes closed while pointing a strange looking wand at his own forehead.

“Miss Granger, what are you doing here?” asked McGonagall as Hermione hurriedly ushered her into the room before she closed and bolted the door.

Hermione looked down at Harry and said in a calming voice, “That’s good, Harry. Just concentrate on what you see… don’t ‘try’ to see something, just let it happen.”

Without waiting for a response from Harry, Hermione led McGonagall towards the first cell while quietly explaining, “We were able to capture Umbridge before she was able to take Harry to Voldemort, and… Oh, come on! It’s just a name! We had to silence her, she just wouldn’t stop threatening…”

McGonagall gasped and shivered when Hermione mentioned the dreaded name, but quickly recovered when she saw the red-faced witch in the first cell, silently screaming and frothing at the mouth. She tried and spectacularly failed to stifle a smile upon seeing the foul witch behind bars. She turned back to Hermione and asked, “What do you mean? Umbridge was going to take Potter to ‘You-Know-Who?”

Hermione sent a glare at the imprisoned witch as she said, “She admitted to Harry that she’s a Death Eater, but I didn’t want to get close enough to the wench to check for the mark… but I think I have proof enough right here.”

Hermione pulled a short, fat maple wand from her pocket and handed it to McGonagall, saying, “This is Umbridge’s wand. If you would, please inspect the last twenty spells that were cast by that wand.”

McGonagall looked warily at the young witch as she took the wand. She drew her own and incanted, “Priorus Incantato Viginti.”

Immediately a stream of ghostly, iridescent figures rose from Umbridge’s wand. As the figures scrolled upwards and dissipated, McGonagall’s eyes became ever wider until she gasped and reflexively tossed the wand away from her to send it clattering to the floor.

Hermione wore a grim expression as she asked, “Did you find the same thing I did?”

McGonagall said nothing, she just wore a horrified expression as she slowly turned her head towards the silenced Death Eater in the cell.

“Well?” asked Hermione knowingly.

In a hollow tone, McGonagall finally replied, “If you’re saying that you found that, out of the last twenty spells, fourteen of them were the Imperius curse and two of them were the Avada Kedavra, then yes, I discovered the same thing that you had…” McGonagall looked ill as she continued in a hoarse whisper, “Merlin, she works in the Ministry building! For the Department of Magical Law Enforcement! She’s the director of the Hit Wizard Squad!”

McGonagall bent down and carefully picked Umbridge’s wand back up, saying, “This is a disaster! Who knows how many people in the ministry have been cursed by her, and by the people she’s already cursed! You three stay here, I have to inform the Order! Oh, dear!”

Hermione stopped the Headmistress as she tried to rush from the room, “Before you go, there’s something here you should see.”

Hermione led McGonagall to the last two cells where the former students’ bodies lay on the floor. McGonagall gasped when she noticed the corpses and turned questioningly to Hermione.

“The Hufflepuff’s name was Chloe Meriwether, a sixth year Prefect,” explained Hermione, “and the Ravenclaw was Geoffrey Sasseville, a sixth year student. They were left here to die by a seventh year Slytherin named Tatwine Gaunt back in the year 1799.”

McGonagall’s head snapped towards Hermione when she heard the Gaunt name.

“Yes, we suspect the same thing, that Tom Riddle is one of his descendents. We thought you ought to know about them… and…”

Hermione couldn’t help but recall the sad tale of these two students, how they were kept from each other by someone who coveted one of the lovers… and how their story and her own were so closely paralleled.

“We need to speak with Ginny, as soon as the situation permits.” Said Hermione uneasily, “We know the castle will probably be swarming with Ministry officials soon because of what I had to do to save Kotone… but if it’s possible…”

It suddenly dawned on McGonagall that Kotone didn’t escape the Hit Wizards on her own. She also knew of what was going on between Harry, Hermione and Ginny. In a rare display of emotion, she patted Hermione kindly on the shoulder and gave her an encouraging smile, saying, “I’ll make arrangements as soon as I can. You do know that Madam Pomfrey will need to examine you to determine what effects, if any, the elixir that Miss Weasley used had on you, but for now, I need to go warn the Order and what people we deem trustworthy at the ministry.”

As McGonagall walked towards the exit, Hermione heard her mumble to herself, ‘Oh, my… this is a disaster!’

After securing the door, Hermione walked over to where Harry and Kotone were seated. Harry still had his eyes closed with Kotone’s wand tip resting on his forehead. She knelt down beside Harry and softly asked, “Anything yet?”

“Yeah, it’s faint, but… it looks something like a pinwheel… it’s spinning and revolving, I think. It’s hard to say.”

“A pinwheel? That’s odd…” said Hermione, “Can you tell how many points on the pinwheel?”

Harry’s forehead wrinkled in concentration, “It’s spinning too fast… I can’t really say. It sort of looks like a galaxy more than a pinwheel… it seems to keep changing slightly.”

“Are there any colors?”

“No… it’s all gray on gray… I can barely see it”

Hermione thought for a moment, and then said, “Try to concentrate on the center, ignore the points.”

Harry sat in silence for another few minutes, just concentrating on what he was seeing. Kotone was also silent, staring unblinkingly at Harry’s face.

Hermione looked at Kotone and asked, “Can you tell if he’s doing it correctly?”

Not taking her eyes from Harry’s face, Kotone gave a slight nod and whispered, “He is almost there. Just relax, Brother Lion, you will see soon.”

Another minute passed in silence before Harry spoke, “Wait… it’s not really spinning, it just looks like it is… the center, there’s a hole in the center… it’s… I see it!”

“What?” asked Hermione excitedly, “What do you see!”

It’s shaped like a star… the points are all interconnected, that’s why it looked like it was spinning, and it’s…”

“Now, Brother Lion,” said Kotone urgently, “Open your eyes now!”

Harry opened his eyes and drew a sharp intake of breath, “It’s a septagram!”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she breathily asked, “Harry! Are you sure?”

“Yes… and the colors! The areas under each point are different colors! This is amazing!”

“The Oni Star…” breathed Kotone, “I see it, too.”

Harry removed Kotone’s wand from his forehead and tiredly rubbed his eyes for a moment, then turned to Hermione, “So what does it mean?”

Hermione was staring at Harry open-mouthed until she realized he asked her a question, “Harry! The Faery Star! You actually saw a Faery Star?”

“If you mean a multi-coloured, seven-pointed star, then yes… that’s what I saw. What does it mean?”

“It means that you’re a very powerful wizard, Harry. There hasn’t been a true Warlock in hundreds of years!”

“I’m a Warlock?” asked Harry, “So what’s a Warlock?”

“Since I learned about these different schools of magic, I’ve studied up on the various specialties of famous wizards, trying to figure out what each of them was. Dumbledore was obviously a Mage, while Voldemort, even though we know he dabbled in Necromancy, is actually a Sorcerer. As far as Warlocks go, I believe that Amun-Ra might have been the first, and I believe that Merlin, and probably Gryffindor were Warlocks, too… the last really powerful wizard that could have been one was Gifford Ollerton… he was a Giant-Slayer, who lived back in the 1400’s. He used to hunt Giants single-handed, taking them down with nothing but magic! Oh, Harry! Do you know what this means?”

Harry had to stifle a laugh at her excitement, “I believe I just asked you that!”

Although Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, he could tell she was embarrassed about her rambling.

“Harry, a Warlock is a Warrior Mage, which means that you can theoretically practice all of the schools of magic! Your potential is unlimited!”

Harry was looking skeptically at Hermione, not quite sure if he believed what she was saying or not… he wasn’t even entirely sure what she exactly meant be being able to ‘theoretically’ practice all of the schools. He turned to Kotone, but the young half-witch was staring at him wide-eyed.

“What’s wrong, Kotone?”

“The Oni Star…” she whispered… “You can use Oni magic!”

“Yes!” exclaimed Hermione, “That would make sense! The Oni are actually Dark Hunters… it wouldn’t be hard to believe that they have the abilities of Warlocks! If they can actively hunt dark wizards and creatures, then…”

Hermione’s rambling was cut short by the appearance of Dobby. The little house elf bowed politely, more so to Kotone than to Harry, Hermione thought.

“Master Harry Potter, Sir! The Headmistress tells Dobby to tells Master Harry Potter Sir and his Miss’es to goes to the infirmary now, but only one hour. The Headmistress tells Dobby that Master Harry Potter Sir must be gone before the hour to avoid the Ministry.”

Harry and Hermione stood from the floor and looked at each other apprehensively. They knew that what they had to do would probably be unpleasant. Kotone stood from the floor, still with the look of wonder in her eyes as she lifted her arms for Harry to pick her up. Once Kotone was nestled against his side, the three of them followed Dobby out of the Room of Requirement, leaving the infuriated Death Eater silently wailing in the cell.

A/N: Fun Fact!: The actual collective noun for a group of ravens really is ‘an unkindness of ravens,’ just as ‘a murder of crows,’ ‘a gaggle of geese’ and ‘a parliament of owls’ are all correct!

34. End of a Fantasy

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I claim any rights to the lyric bits that I use.

A/N: Here’s the chapter you’ve all been waiting for! I’m not sure if I’m entirely pleased with the way this came out. I’m sure some of you have guessed how this chapter was going to go, just as I’m sure this will be a surprise to others. I was going to include the aftermath of the confrontation, but the chapter was getting a bit lengthy, so I decided to end it where I did. See? No cliffhanger this time! ^_^ On with the show!

-----~-----

Chapter 34: End of a Fantasy

Your face appears again,
I see the beauty there,
but I see danger,
stranger beware.
A circumstance in your naked dreams,
your affection is not what it seems.

You are an obsession.
You're my obsession.
Who do you want me to be
to make you sleep with me?
You are an obsession.
You're my obsession.
Who do you want me to be
To make you sleep with me?

My fantasy has turned to madness.
All my goodness has turned to badness.
My need to possess you has consumed my soul.
My life is trembling I have no control.

Excerpt from the song ‘Obsession’ by, Animotion.

-----~-----

Hermione was walking next to Harry as they made their way from the Room of Requirement towards the moving staircases leading to the lower floors. Kotone was nestled upon Harry’s left side with her cheek resting on his shoulder. When Hermione looked over, she saw that the little girl’s eyes were closed. She looked up to Harry’s face and saw that he wore an expression of grim determination. When they reached the landing, they stood waiting for the staircase to swing into position.

“Why did you come here?” Hermione asked quietly, “I went to see what was taking you so long to come back to breakfast, but found that I was alone in the house.”

Harry’s expression didn’t change as he briefly glanced at Hermione, then turned his attention back to the stairs as he coolly answered, “Just after Ron and Luna left, Kotone came out of her room and collapsed. I picked her up and brought her here to see Madam Pomfrey.”

The stairs had just swung into place and they stepped off from the landing. Hermione wore a concerned frown as she asked, “Collapsed? What happened? What was wrong with her?”

Hermione noticed the brief flash of anger that crossed his face, but she didn’t know who that anger was directed against. Harry took a deep breath before he replied, “She was starving to death, Hermione. Madam Pomfrey said she hadn’t eaten anything in over a week, even though I knew she had ‘something’ in the basement at Grimmauld. Given that, and the amount of energy she has had to expend helping everyone…”

Harry paused when he noticed that Hermione had stopped several steps back. He looked over his shoulder to see her standing with a horrified and somewhat guilty expression.

“But… but… I saw her chasing… well, rats around the house. Every time I’d see her, she was lurking around the hallways of the house looking for food! She wouldn’t take any of the food we made, so I thought she was able to feed herself! I had no idea… she never said anything!”

Harry looked into the face of the sleeping half-witch on his shoulder and said, “I’m not blaming you. I did at first, along with Luna and Ron, but you had no way of knowing that she was too weak to hunt for herself. I don’t know why she didn’t say anything… maybe she was embarrassed.”

Hermione hurried down the stairs to catch up with him, “I’m so sorry, Harry! I should have known! She’s been acting strange lately, and I thought she was looking thinner, but I was so distracted trying to find a way to help you…”

“Forget it. It’s partially my fault, too. You’d think I’d have learned by now that I should listen to you. If I hadn’t told Malfoy to get the locket… if we made some kind of plan beforehand, none of this would have happened.”

They just stepped onto the stairs leading down to the fourth floor when Harry said, “How did you know we came here? I didn’t have time to leave a note or anything.”

“I looked at the Floo log. Luna went to her house in Ottery St. Catchpole, and Ron followed her there a minute later. I guess he planned to go shopping after that little detour. A few minutes later, you Flooed to your quarters here. I wondered why you left, but after I saw that Kotone was gone, too… well, I didn’t know what to think.”

Harry wore a slight smirk as he said, “So, you decided to follow me?”

“Well, I waited a while before I tried to call you through the Floo, but you weren’t in your room, or your office. I figured that since you were somewhere in the castle, I could pop over too, to check out the library. There’s a few things I’ve been meaning to research and the Library at Grimmauld isn’t very comprehensive.”

Harry smiled and shook his head, ‘Of course, she would go to the library…’

“Well, after I came through, I was just leaving your office when I saw Umbridge and her two goons heading up the stairs. I figured that if she was in the castle, she was probably up to no good. I disillusioned myself and followed them, at a discrete distance, of course. When I saw them standing in front of the Room of Requirement, it was obvious that they were waiting for you… You already know the rest.”

Harry just nodded as they stepped off the stairs on the third floor and made their way down the hallway that led to the hospital wing. They could see both McGonagall and Pomfrey standing in front of the doors to the infirmary.

As they approached, McGonagall beckoned them towards a small room just to the side of the double doors that led to the infirmary. McGonagall looked at Kotone sleeping on Harry’s side and couldn’t suppress a small, uncharacteristic smile before her stern demeanor returned, “I take it that your daughter has been properly fed?” When Harry abashedly nodded, she said, “Good, I hope that you have enough sense in you to keep it that way.”

Madam Pomfrey reached out and carefully took Harry’s injured right hand into her own, saying, “And when, Mister Potter, were you going to have this looked at?”

Without another word, Madam Pomfrey drew her wand and passed it along the back of his hand. A few moments later, a light aqua glow encompassed his hand as the cracked bones aligned themselves and knitted together. He flexed his fingers appreciatively, and said, “Thanks, that was getting a bit uncomfortable.”

Madam Pomfrey wore a serious expression as she said, “We’ve moved Miss Weasley out of my office for your meeting with her. We didn’t think it wise to have you three marching through the ward, even though we’ve already removed the person responsible for summoning Madam Umbridge.”

Harry remembered that McGonagall told him about how a Ministry worker saw him earlier and sent off a messenger spell. He looked at the Headmistress and said, “You’ve removed him? Why?”

A frown crossed McGonagall’s face as she said, “When I saw that Umbridge had cast so many Imperius curses, I had Poppy here discretely check the individual in question. It does appear that he was placed under the curse, so we isolated him until the proper trustworthy authorities can be contacted. Without proper suspicion or express permission, we are unable to check anyone else for the curse… invasion of privacy, and all that rot, so we can’t be sure if anyone else in there would try to warn the Ministry of your presence.”

“Headmistress,” said Hermione cautiously, “Do you think that she might have had something to do with the Board of Governors’ decision to forbid Harry from returning to school this year?”

McGonagall wore a pensive look for a brief moment, then refocused on the task at hand, “Excuse me, but we’re wasting time. I hope you’ll understand if both Madam Pomfrey and I are present. We think it the best for all concerned.”

Harry and Hermione agreed, and were led into the small room where Ginerva Weasley was resting on a hospital bed along the far wall.

The first thing Harry noticed were the bandages on Ginny’s hands. He also noticed the bulge under the sheets that made it appear as if she was wearing a diaper, but quickly dismissed that silly thought.

When Ginny first saw Harry enter the room, she put on a beaming smile at him as she struggled to sit upright. She opened her mouth to greet him but froze and the smile fell from her lips as Hermione entered just a step behind him. She recovered quickly and said in a cheerful tone, “Harry! It’s so nice of you to visit me! For a while there, I was afraid that you wouldn’t come to see me at all. Oh, and hello, Hermione, it’s wonderful to see you, too.”

Harry noticed that her voice, while trying to sound pleasant, was slightly hoarse and that she had to clear her throat several times as she spoke.

“Hello, Ginny,” said Harry in a quiet, even voice, “How are you feeling?”

“Loads better than when I first woke up here,” Ginny said nervously, “They say I can go home soon.”

“Listen, Ginny,” began Harry, “We know about the elixir. We found out that Pansy Parkinson talked Penni Pinder into giving you that page that was torn from a book. You must realize by now that it wasn’t a love potion, but a bloodline preservation ritual.”

“No!” stated Ginny loudly and emphatically, “I didn’t use a love potion on you! How could you even suggest that! I don’t know who you’ve been talking to, but they’re lying! What you feel for me is natural! It’s how you really feel about me! I know that you love me, why would I need a love potion?”

“Ginny, it wasn’t a love potion!” said Harry forcefully, “Don’t you get it? Yes, that spell you put on us made me love you, but it’s a love like I’d have for a family member… for a mother!”

“You can’t mean that!” cried Ginny, clearly becoming more agitated, “Look at all those times we snogged! You can’t tell me you didn’t feel anything! I saw it in your eyes! You couldn’t keep your hands off of me!”

“Oh, I felt something, all right!” answered Harry angrily, “and if I remember correctly, it was ‘you’ who couldn’t keep my hands off of you…” He looked over to where McGonagall and Pomfrey were standing, both of whom were quietly watching the situation unfold. He then glanced quickly at Hermione, who was looking a mix between angry and ill.

Harry felt Kotone shift in his arms as she awoke. The young half-witch looked around for a moment, then upon seeing who else was in the room, loosened her grip on Harry and slid down from his side to stand next to Hermione. He returned his attention to Ginny.

“Yes, we did kiss, but that could hardly be considered ‘snogging.’ Do you remember that time in the empty classroom near the tower? When I met you in there a few days before Dumbledore… before he died?”

Ginny, seemingly oblivious to Harry’s discomfort, and to what he was getting at, wore a dreamy smile. She met Hermione’s eyes as she said breathily, “Oh, yes… I remember that day! You were so sweet and shy! I knew for sure then that we’d be together forever!”

“Do you remember how you kept putting my hands under your shirt? How you kept nudging them upwards?”

Harry watched Ginny’s eyes start to close, and noticed a slight shudder pass through her body. Her bandaged hands that rested on top of the sheet began inching lower as she said in a throaty purr, “Oh, yes… I remember that… you were so noble and shy! I knew why you left. Oh, your face had three kinds of flush to it… I’m sure you ran to your dorm room and…”

“And vomited,” Harry finished for her, and watched her face as it fell into a shocked pallor. He gave her a moment to process that and then continued, “It felt as though I were about to feel up my mum! The whole thing made me sick! I thought it was nerves at the time, but now I know exactly what caused it… that damned elixir of yours!”

“No,” whispered Ginny fervently, “You love me! You’re in love with me, Harry… Just like I’m in love with you! I’ve known it my whole life… from the minute I saw you, from the moment I was aware of your existence, I knew we were meant for each other! Think about it… it’s so obvious… Your father! He fell in love with a beautiful witch just like me! He married a witch with red hair, just like mine! Everyone says that you’re just like James, and Moody told me I look so much like Lily… so much like…” Ginny’s face fell into a confused frown.

“…so much like his mother?” spat Hermione angrily as she looked upon the pathetic little girl lying on the bed.

“No!” Ginny screamed viciously at Hermione, “I’m not his mother! I’m nothing like her!” She let out a gasp, realizing what she was saying. Tears were falling from her eyes as she desperately turned to Harry and with a crazed look in her eyes, said, “I mean, I am, just like her but not like that… Can’t you see? ‘James and Lily…’ Harry and Ginny!’ We’re just perfect together, just perfect!”

Harry began to feel extremely uncomfortable. Ginny continued to speak in a breathy, detached voice as her watery eyes drifted away from him and seemed to stare off at nothing in the distance, “We’re just like them! We’re going to be happy! We’re going to have kids… lots of them! We’ll show them how to fly, and teach them all about Quidditch, we’ll live in a big house, and each of the kids will have their own rooms… all to themselves! Bill and Phlegm, and Ron and Hermione will bring all of their kids over to play with ours… we’ll have picnics, and go to the beach… we’ll throw huge dinner parties, and everyone who’s anyone will be begging to get invited…”

Hermione was looking at Ginny in horror, not believing all the nonsense that Ginny was spouting. She was distracted when she felt a tug on her sleeve. She looked down and saw Kotone motioning for her to bend down. When she did, the young half-witch whispered to her urgently, “Look at her soul, Miss Eagle, and tell me what you see.”

Curious, Hermione discretely drew her wand and turned away from the others in the room. She placed the tip on her forehead and closed her eyes, immediately seeing the ghostly symbol of the Yin-Yang. She felt the odd sensation of time slowing around her, but made sure not to shift herself from her body so that she could still move. The room became clouded with that strange white mist that only seemed to appear at random times when she entered her ‘state.’ She slowly turned to face the others in the room. She saw the familiar lion form of Harry’s soul, and saw that McGonagall’s form was a quite sizable bison, very different from her animagus form of a cat. The gray wolf that was Madam Pomfrey’s soul was surprising to her, and she wondered if a person’s soul would always have an animal form.

Hermione then looked at Ginny. If she hadn’t been in her ‘state,’ everyone in the room would have heard her utter a very rude expletive. It took her a few moments to figure out that Ginny’s form was that of an Abyssinian jackal, but that wasn’t what caused her silent swear. Entwined around the jackal was a smoky, ethereal serpent, black as jet with eyes that resembled burning embers. It was identical to the soul fragment from the locket horcrux that had invaded Harry just days before, but this one seemed to be almost as deeply rooted to the jackal as Harry’s original fragment was to the lion.

The realization struck Hermione. Obviously, when Harry had destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets, Voldemort’s soul shard had already attached itself to Ginny. Voldemort was unable to fully return then because the transfer was incomplete, but the soul shard abandoned the diary to reside in its’ new home… Ginny.

To add to Hermione’s shock, she also noticed the crimson, web-like filaments that covered Ginny’s body. She turned to Kotone and asked, ‘Those red threads that are covering her… do you know what they are?’

Hermione suddenly realized that she hadn’t actually spoken the words aloud.

Even though the ‘connection’ wasn’t established, Kotone nonetheless answered, and in the same way as Hermione had asked, ‘The Phage surrounds the Jakkaru. Excess energy from ritual. I removed over ten layer, but had not the strength to do more. I believe each layer for each time Jakkaru to perform ritual.’

‘I… I don’t remember anything in the books on anything like that. Is that something that I can fix?’

‘No,’ answered Kotone sadly, ‘and I do not believe that I can either… the Jakkaru must release the Phage, it cannot be forced from her.’

Hermione was nearly beside herself as her attention returned to what was going on. She came out of her ‘state’ just in time to hear Harry say to Ginny, “You must realize by now that it didn’t work… it would never have worked! It wasn’t intended to create romantic love, but to destroy it! You have to end this! Remove the spell… you’re the only one who can do it!”

“NO!” screamed Ginny, who was by that time sobbing piteously and slamming her injured hands down on the mattress of the bed, “I don’t care! You are meant to be with me, and if you can’t see that, then so be it! If you can’t love me, then you can’t love her! If I can’t have the ‘win-win’ by having you with me, and Ron with… her… then it will be a ‘lose-lose.’”

Harry’s eyes burned with anger as he yelled, “So if you can’t have me, no one will? Is that it?”

“YES!” screamed Ginny, once again emphasizing her point by punching the mattress with her bandaged hands, which were already showing spots of blood from where the wounds on her palms were opening.

Harry was about to retort when he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He turned his head to see Hermione looking back into his eyes with a compassionate smile.

“Harry, don’t be too hard on her. She’s not quite herself… she hasn’t been for some time.”

Harry gave her an incredulous stare, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Hermione didn’t answer him, she just walked up to McGonagall and Pomfrey and began speaking to them in low tones so not to be overheard. Harry saw both of the older witches flinch as Hermione spoke, telling him that she must have mentioned ‘Voldemort’ at some point. He was surprised when McGonagall took Madam Pomfrey’s arm and ushered the unwilling medi-witch towards the door.

Once the two older witches left the room, Hermione approached him with an extremely disquieted look on her face. She glanced over to Ginny, who was looking back at her with hatred in her tear-soaked eyes, and then whispered to Harry, “It seems that when you destroyed Tom Riddle’s diary back in our second year, you didn’t quite destroy the soul fragment that it contained. It had already anchored itself to her, much in the same way your fragment from when you were a baby has to you. That’s why the diary horcrux didn’t try to possess you when you touched it, it was already attached to another. I’m sure that the fragment isn’t fully controlling her, but I believe it’s still influencing her personality… making her do things she wouldn’t ordinarily do.”

“Can you do anything about it?” asked Harry anxiously, “I mean, you were able to help me, can you do the same for her?”

Hermione visibly shuddered when she thought about what she had done with the soul fragment from the locket. She knew that if she simply released the fragment from Ginny, as she had done for Chloe and Geoffrey, the soul shard would not be able to ‘pass on’ due to the presence of other horcruxes still on the mortal plane. It would simply try to recombine with another one, possibly making a direct go for the one that still resided in Harry, and she just couldn’t allow that to happen. She would have to banish the fragment, force it from this world just as she had done before.

With that thought, she resigned herself to do what needed to be done. She looked into Harry’s eyes and began whispering very quickly, “Yes… I can do for her what I did for you, but…” She paused, looking as though she had just swallowed something very bitter, “…but I’d rather you not see what I’m going to do. I mean, I won’t force you to leave… you can stay if you really want to, after all… you, above all others, have the right to know what happens to it, but it may be a bit unsettling… well, quite unsettling and…”

Harry interrupted her babbling by putting a hand on her shoulder, simply saying, “Hermione, relax. Whatever happens, I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it.”

‘Yes, but will I be able to handle you knowing what I am capable of doing?’ she morosely thought to herself.

Hermione nodded sadly at Harry. In one quick, fluid motion, she drew her wand, pointed it at Ginny, and cried, “Petrificus Totalus!”

They all heard the hiss of pain escape Ginny’s lips as the young witch’s legs snapped together while her arms went rigidly to her sides.

Hermione briefly wondered what caused the pain, but found that she really didn’t care. She walked purposefully to Ginny’s bed and sat down on the floor beside it. She touched her wand to her forehead and entered her ‘state.’

As Hermione began the exorcism, Kotone tapped Harry’s arm to get his attention. He looked at her and began reaching down, thinking that she wanted to be carried again, but she just shook her head, reached down the front of her nightshirt, and withdrew her wand from between her breasts. She held the wand out to him and simply said through her mask, “Find your symbol. It should be easier each time you try.”

Harry took the wand and looked at it a moment before turning back to Kotone with a questioning glance. She just nodded as a small smile appeared on the painted lips of her mask. With a shrug, Harry touched the tip to his forehead, and to his great surprise, almost immediately saw the multi-coloured septagram. He felt that odd sensation of time slowing around him that he always associated with Kotone’s ‘connection.’

He heard Kotone’s quiet voice say to him, “Open your eyes, Brother Lion…”

He opened his eyes, and was startled to find the room bathed in a white, wispy fog. He could see Hermione and Ginny, and he could see the ghostly forms of their souls, the large gold and white eagle sitting beside an animal that looked something like a deformed, long-limbed, wolf-like creature. He also saw the dark, ethereal serpent writhing and lashing out towards Hermione from the bed.

Harry stood transfixed, watching the scene as it played out before him. He heard Hermione’s melodic chanting and the peal of the church bell as each blood rune was consumed in the dripping flames. He saw the smoky snake separate from Ginny’s soul, hovering over her form like a ghostly serpentine statue.

What happened next both surprised and shocked him. As the last rune was consumed in the dripping fire, a glowing red rift opened in the air. Harry could see the sickly yellow smoke billow out from the tear. He could see the rippling of the air as intense heat poured from the rift. Suddenly, the floating snake seemed to throw itself into the rip, which closed immediately after the snake disappeared within it.

The reverberation from the last stroke of the bell was still echoing around the room when he saw Hermione drop her wand as she began to dry heave.

Harry willed himself out of his state, watching the septagram, the fog, and all of the ghostly souls, fade from his vision. An instant later, he was kneeling beside Hermione, rubbing her back and trying his best to comfort her. The noxious odor of brimstone and sulphur hung heavily in the air, hindering Hermione’s attempt to get her nausea under control.

After a minute, Harry helped Hermione to her feet and watched her wipe the tears from her eyes. As soon as he was sure she wasn’t going to keel over on him, he asked, “Hermione, what just happened? Where did that soul fragment go?”

Hermione kept her gaze rooted to the floor as she answered, “I banished it, just like I did with the soul from the locket…” she paused to take a deep breath, then shakily continued, “I banished it to Hell… or to Abaddon, or the Abyss, Tartarus, Naraka or whatever else you want to call it… it’s just gone.”

Hermione let out a mournful sob and buried her face into Harry’s shoulder while hugging him tightly.

“What am I becoming?” she desperately whispered into his neck, “It feels so awful! Each time I’ve done it now, I feel like a piece of my own soul went with it!”

Harry had one hand on the small of her back, and the other buried in her hair and softly rubbing the back of her neck. He didn’t know what to tell her. He didn’t really know how he felt about what happened, himself. It was a simple matter to console her when she told him that she was a Necromancer. Now that he’d seen first hand what destroying a horcrux entailed… what she had to do to it to permanently prevent its’ return… Still, it was what had to be done.

Harry was silent as he thought, which caused Hermione to fear the worst. She pulled away from him just far enough to look into his eyes and said in a distraught whisper, “Please, Harry. Don’t hate me… Doing this is hard enough… I don’t think I could stand it if you thought less of me for what I am.”

Harry pulled her back into the comforting hug as he softly said, “I could never think less of you, no matter what you do. To me, you are who you’ve always been, and nothing that happens could possibly change that.”

Harry felt her slightly relax into his embrace. After a few moments, she composed herself enough to loosen her hold on him. She stood back from him, but made sure to take one of his hands in hers. She gave him a watery smile, and then turned to look at Ginny lying on the bed. She reached down and retrieved her wand from the floor before she released the body bind from the youngest Weasley. The instant the spell was lifted, their ears were assaulted by long, screeching wail, which caused Pomfrey and McGonagall to come rushing into the room.

“MUM! MUMMY!” Ginny screamed repeatedly as she cowered away from anyone that tried to get near. She had her eyes squeezed shut as she kept wailing for her mother.

“Poppy, try to calm her,” said McGonagall as she hurried to the door, “I’ll go summon Arthur and Molly.”

Madam Pomfrey gave Harry, Hermione and Kotone each their own stern glare, telling them in no uncertain terms that she expected a full account of what happened as soon as the situation was under control. The matron waved her wand over Ginny, who fell into a near catatonic state almost immediately. After a few diagnostic spells were cast, she turned to Hermione and rigidly asked, “What happened to her this time?”

“I’m… I’m not sure,” said Hermione shakily, “What I did shouldn’t have hurt her at all! I just… I…”

“Ginny was being affected by some ‘magic’ that she was exposed to in the Chamber of Secrets,” said Harry, coming to Hermione’s defense, “She was able to find a way to remove it from her.”

Madam Pomfrey looked skeptically between Harry and Hermione, saying, “And what was the nature of this ‘magic?’ I couldn’t detect anything other than the latent magic of that ritual she performed.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other briefly, each knowing that they couldn’t tell her exactly what was done. They were saved from having to immediately answer when Molly Weasley hurriedly burst into the room, followed closely by Arthur and McGonagall. Harry scooped up Kotone, and along with Hermione, they backed away from the bed to give the adults more room.

Madam Pomfrey removed the spell that she had placed on Ginny as Molly and Arthur approached their daughter. As Ginny’s eyes refocused, she saw her mother and immediately began crying loudly while holding her arms out to her. Of course, Molly quickly bustled over to her daughter while Arthur slowly made his way to her bedside with an unsure look on his face.

“Mum! Dad!” she cried as he held on to her mother the best she could with her bandaged hands, “I’m so sorry!”

Upon hearing her daughter’s apology, Molly wore a confused frown, while Arthur glanced embarrassedly towards Harry and Hermione, having known exactly what his daughter had done to them.

Ginny was just getting her sobbing under control when she pulled her face away from her mother’s chest and looked over at Harry and Hermione as if she had just noticed them in the room.

“Harry!” yelled Ginny as a fresh batch of her tears made an appearance, “Oh, God, Harry! I’m so sorry!”

Again, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, but this time both were wearing apprehensive expressions. Hermione gave him a small nod, and then bowed her head in Ginny’s direction.

Harry slowly walked to the bed and stood next to where Molly was sitting on the mattress. He could tell that Ginny was trying to suppress her crying, but was doing a very poor job of it. Ginny held out a bandaged hand to Harry and haltingly said, “Harry, you have to believe me! I… I don’t know why I used it! It just seemed like… it was just something that needed to be done! I’m sorry!”

Harry sighed and absently scratched the back of his head. He gently took her covered hand in his and knelt down beside her.

“Ginny, I’m not going to say that everything’s all right now, but believe it or not, we understand why you did the things that you did. If you really are sorry, will you remove the spell that you put on us?”

“I would, but…” said Ginny as she looked hopefully towards Hermione, “but I don’t know how.”

Harry also turned to look at Hermione, but she looked as lost as Ginny did as she said, “I didn’t see anywhere in that book on how to remove the spell… I just assumed Ginny would know.”

“You must accept them,” said a calm voice from beside Hermione. Everyone in the room looked at Kotone as she stood staring at Ginny, “You must bless their union… accept their relationship.”

Ginny only paused a second before she said with conviction, “Yes, of course I will!” Ginny cleared her throat and took a breath. She gave one last, longing glance at Harry before she turned away and said, “I, Ginerva Weasley, condone the relationship between Harry Potter and Hermione Granger.”

Ginny buried her face back in her mother’s chest, letting out sporadic sniffs every few seconds.

For a third time Harry and Hermione looked at each other, this time each wore a concerned frown.

“Did it work?” they both asked at the same time. Neither one had ‘felt’ anything happen.

“No, it didn’t,” said Kotone, who was still staring blankly at Ginny, “The blessing must be given with a kiss.”

Harry shuffled his feet nervously as he asked, “I… I have to kiss Hermione?”

“No,” answered Kotone, “She does.” Kotone pointed at Ginny and said, “The Jackal must give blessing to invite Miss Eagle into the family.”

“It makes sense,” said McGonagall, “The Bloodline Preservation ritual could only be undone if the union of the lovers was accepted by the family. That’s why the book said that only the parent could break the spell, and that a ‘proper’ pureblood parent would never willingly do it.”

Without being asked, Ginny, looking more ashamed than anyone could ever remember seeing her, slowly rose from the bed and unsteadily made her way across the small room to stand in front of Hermione. It was now obvious to everyone that didn’t know that Ginny was, in fact, wearing a rather bulky diaper.

Ginny gave a last apologetic glance at Harry, then looked Hermione in the eyes and said, “I, Ginerva Weasly, hereby welcome Hermione Granger into my family.”

Ginny stood on her toes and pressed her lips briefly on Hermione’s. As she pulled away, everyone in the room gasped when they saw a cloudy black mass that resembled liquid smoke being drawn out of Hermione’s mouth and into Ginny’s

Hermione’s eyes were wide with fright as she stood unmoving, as if paralyzed. As the end of the mass trailed out of Hermione’s mouth, she immediately collapsed onto the floor. She was joined on the floor a heartbeat later as Harry collapsed in the same way.

At the same time, Ginny turned to the side, bent over, and vomited the entire mass onto the floor, where it seemed to swirl and bubble for a few moments before it evaporated without a trace.

Ginny looked down at her two friends as they were slowly picking themselves from the floor and quietly said, “I’m so sorry for doing that to you… I hope that you can forgive me someday.

With her head hung, Ginny returned to her bed, ignoring all of the stunned looks the adults were giving her.

-----~-----

A/N: Another Fun Fact! - Just because the Bloodline Preservation spell is broken, that doesn’t mean that the Soul Bond between Harry and Hermione has been repaired… That is going to take a bit more work! (OK, so that fact wasn’t very fun…)

(Insert evil laugh here.)

35. The Tainted Tomb

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I own any of the bits of the lyrics. I don’t make any money at all from writing this stuff.

A/N: Here’s another chapter featuring good ol’ Tommy Boy. He hasn’t been having much fun recently, has he? Well, he’s a bit more peaky here… you’ll see. This chapter also addresses Harry’s wand problem. I think it’s quite original… I’ve never read another story that addresses wands this way. I hope you like it! As always, read and enjoy!

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Chapter 35: The Tainted Tomb

So, hand in glove I stake my claim.
I'll fight to the last breath.
If they dare touch a hair on your head,
I'll fight to the last breath.

For the good life is out there somewhere,
so stay on my arm, you little charmer,

But I know my luck too well.
Yes, I know my luck too well,
And I'll probably never see you again…
I'll probably never see you again…
I'll probably never see you again…
Oh...

Excerpt from the song, ‘Hand In Glove’ by the band, The Smiths.

-----~-----

Three figures were moving purposefully along a small ledge that encircled a large underground lake. The figure in the lead stopped and looked out over the unnaturally still water towards a greenish glow in the distance. The figure drew back his hood to get a better look, but he still couldn’t tell if anything was amiss from that distance. His cold eyes seemed to have a crimson glow that was even more pronounced in the surrounding darkness.

Lord Voldemort briefly glanced to the tall, shrouded creature beside him, apparently unaffected by its draining nature. He then looked at the muggle teenager that had accompanied them into the vast subterranean chamber. The teen was staring blankly into the distance, waiting for a command from the wizard.

Voldemort gestured towards the lake ahead of them with his cracked, withering hand. The dementor silently drifted out over the water, causing a wide path of ice to solidify beneath him as the unnatural cold emanated from its ethereal body.

As soon as the ice was thick enough to support him and his muggle ‘friend,’ Voldemort stepped onto the ice and began to slowly follow the dementor as he continued creating the frozen path to the small island that he knew was in the center.

As time passed, Voldemort seemed to become increasingly agitated. More than once did he venture too close to the leading dementor, causing the partially thickened ice to crack and shift beneath his feet, which forced him to slow his pace.

When the island finally came into view, Voldemort stopped short. He could just make out the charred bodies of a few of his inferi lying motionless near the shore. As soon as the ice bridge was completed, he stepped onto the rocky shore and hurried to the large bowl on the pedestal, but even before he arrived, he knew that his greatest fear had been realized… his greatest secret had been discovered… he knew his horcrux was gone.

He stood silently above the empty bowl. The green glow from the pedestal now illuminated his cracked, scaly face. He ran his sleeve along the two flaring slits that served as his nose to sweep the blood that had been seeping from it since earlier that day. He reached a shaking, disbelieving hand into the bowl and ran his cracked, flaking nails along the bottom, but it was still quite empty.

A blood-curdling wail echoed throughout the vast chamber. In his rage, Voldemort turned to the imperioused muggle that he had intended to use to drink the Venenis Despero potion. A flash of green and the sound of rushing wind added another victim to the ranks of his inferi in the lake. With an extravagant wave of his wand, the multitude of animated corpses began gliding beneath the surface of the lake towards the exit. They had nothing left to guard here, so he would put them to use in other ways.

After leaving the cave, Voldemort apparated to the outskirts of Little Hangleton. He strode purposefully through a small copse of trees to find the ruined house of his grandfather standing in much the way he had last seen it, but he knew something was amiss even before he crossed the threshold. He walked into what was left of the house and his eyes immediately landed on the previously sealed trap door in the center of the floor. His blood ran cold as he saw that it wasn’t concealed any longer, as it was left wide open.

The daylight from the missing roof illuminated the interior of the former root cellar. He could see the decomposing corpse of the Custifanis, a grotesque, baboon like creature with dagger-like claws and razor-sharp teeth, lying at the bottom in a pool of yellowish ichor. He found it hard to believe that the creature, which was totally immune to most kinds of magic, had been killed. It took him a few moments to realize that the creature had been shot with a muggle gun. He didn’t have to climb down into the cellar… he knew that another of his horcruxes was taken.

A few hours later, he was sitting back in his chamber, staring down at the once proud patriarch of the infamous Malfoy line. The broken and bleeding man before him looked anything but proud as he laid panting and twitching on the floor.

‘Crucio!’

Lucius Malfoy’s screams once more echoed throughout the chamber. The man had no idea why he was being tortured. He was summoned to the chamber, and was mid-bow and halfway through his subservient greeting to his lord when the first curse struck him.

When the curse was finally lifted, Voldemort rose unsteadily to his feet and stood over the wretched Death Eater. The dementor that had accompanied him to the cave was lurking nearby, bleeding the hope out of the distressed Death Eater.

“Lucius, my dear old… friend…” began Voldemort, “I’ll only ask you this once. I had once given you a book for safekeeping… an old diary of mine, to be exact. You do remember this book, don’t you? The book that was very, very dear to me? I told you that the book held one of the secrets of my immortality. Now tell me, Lucius, what has become of the book? Still very safe, I assume?”

From his position, Voldemort couldn’t see the look on Malfoy Sr.’s face, but if he could, he would have seen the sickly pallor that overtook his countenance, making him look even paler than usual.

The answer came in a hoarse, pleading voice, “Master, you had told me… told me to give it to a student five years ago… you said that it would bring you back, but Potter…”

“Crucio!” interrupted Voldemort. He held the curse for a full twenty seconds before he released it.

“I told you to give it away five years ago? Tell me, Lucius, how I could have done that if I hadn’t returned until two years ago?”

Through his sobs, Malfoy was able to choke out, “The book! It was you in the book! I knew it was you, the book knew things that only you would know! The book told me to pass it to a pureblood child so that you could return! I… I gave it to the youngest of the blood-traitor Weasley family… the girl…”

Malfoy’s words surprised Voldemort. Could his horcrux have gained a consciousness… some sort of self-awareness? In all the information on horcruxes that he had perused while in the Far East, nothing was ever mentioned about one gaining a mind of its own, but then again, making more than one had never been attempted before. Still, the thought was disconcerting to him, as it lent credibility to his theory on what actually took place that Halloween night almost sixteen years earlier… that his consciousness that drifted through the Albanian forests for all those years, the consciousness that he was experiencing now, was actually the soul fragment that was intended for the horcrux, and his true soul… the source… was somehow implanted into the Potter brat when his own body was destroyed.

Voldemort looked down at Malfoy and asked in a wintry tone, “Where is the book now?”

“Potter destroyed it… in the Chamber of Secrets…”

Voldemort reached down and lifted the cowering man by the collar of his robes, “How? How did he destroy it?”

With the dementor pressing ever nearer, Malfoy was having great difficulty staying conscious and coherent, “A basilisk… Potter killed a basilisk and used… used its’ venom to burn a hole through the book.”

If Malfoy had been looking up, he would have seen a triumphant grin spread across his master’s cracked and festering face. ‘So… the same girl that was enticed into using the bloodline ritual against Potter is now the container! It couldn’t have turned out better if I had planned it this way!’

Voldemort stood erect, and then walked back to his chair. He looked over his shoulder to the dementor and said simply, “Have him.”

Minutes later, he watched dispassionately as the empty, soulless husk that was once Lucius Malfoy was dragged from the chamber. He would never fail his master again.

Still, one of his horcruxes had been destroyed, maybe even two of them. He knew it… he could feel it. With the physical changes that he was undergoing, it was obvious. What he didn’t know was how. Everything that he had learned about horcruxes indicated that they couldn’t be destroyed by normal means. It would take a very old, very specialized type of dark magic that hadn’t been seen in the world for many hundreds of years. It was somewhat similar to, but opposite of, the type of magic that caused his first downfall so many years ago.

If there was a wizard out there who knew about this old magic, he would find him… he would have to find him, and quickly.

It was time to raise the ante. He drew his wand and placed it against the mark on his arm, summoning what was left of his inner circle to him. They would have a new priority… find this wizard… this Necromancer…

-----~-----

Harry and Hermione were standing outside of the wide double-doors of the infirmary, having just left the Weasleys alone in the small room to the side. They were speaking with McGonagall while Kotone stood off to the side, silently listening to the exchange.

“I’ve spoken with Alastor about our ‘guest’ in that odd room of yours,” began McGonagall, “We think it’s best if the Ministry wasn’t yet informed of her situation, seeing as we have no idea who can be trusted there. We have a secure place to keep her… as you can imagine, we have quite a few questions about her recent activities that need to be answered.”

Harry was fiddling with the old iron key in his pocket as she spoke. He had half a mind to tell McGonagall that he had ‘misplaced’ the key, but in the end decided to hand it over.

McGonagall took the key, saying with an uncharacteristic gleam in her eyes, “If she truly is a Death Eater, and of that I hold little doubt, the Order will get as much information as we can from her, and anything that pertains to you will be shared as quickly as possible. As for the present, you had best leave for wherever it is that you’re staying. The Ministry’s aurors will be here…”

“…about five minutes ago,” came a voice from the now open doorway to the infirmary, startling the corridor’s occupants, “Wotcher, Harry… Hermione… I’m glad to see you’ve caught up with him!”

“Tonks!” exclaimed Harry with a relieved smile. Tonks was standing in the doorway, along with Benjamin Bones and the auror they had fought with during the Death Eater attack at Haversham’s orphanage.

Hermione was also smiling as she said to Tonks, “I see you’re up and about. How’re your legs feeling?”

“They patched me up in no time, but I still have a bit of a limp… but enough chit-chat…” an impish smile appeared as Tonks said, “We’re here to search for this ‘Chosen One’ that everyone’s been going on about. Have ya seen him around?”

Harry bristled at the title, but managed a smile all the same as he replied, “Nope, no ‘Chosen Ones’ around here… Have you checked the Quidditch pitch?”

“We’re on our way there now, but just stopped by to tell the Headmistress that another Hit-Wizard squad is going to be here soon. Well, we’ll be on our way then!”

With that, the three aurors began walking to the staircase. As Ben passed, he gave Harry a pat on the shoulder and looked pointedly at his hand that was still being held in a death grip by Hermione since before they left the small room. He heard the old auror mumble something resembling ‘…about bleedin’ time…’ as he walked away chuckling.

Just as the aurors reached the stairs, Tonks turned and called out, “Oh! By the way, Harry, if I don’t see you by then, happy birthday!”

Harry turned to Hermione with a surprised look on his face, “What? What’s today’s date?”

Hermione looked just as surprised. So many things had gone on in the previous weeks that she totally lost track of the days.

“It’s July Twenty-Ninth,” offered McGonagall, “I had almost forgotten that your birthday was so close. Well, happy birthday, Mister Potter,” and then added, “Now leave. We were lucky that it was those three that came here first. It wouldn’t do for you to be seen by the wrong people.”

“Go on ahead, Harry, said Hermione as she released his hand, “I’ll meet up with you in a little while. There’s… something I have to look up real quick in the library. I won’t be long.”

Harry just nodded and shrugged, then turned to Kotone and said, “Come along, little one, I have a few questions about those visions you had shown me before.”

Kotone just shook her head and turned to Hermione, lifting her arms to the older witch in the same way that she always did with Harry.

Harry gave them both a suspicious look, but then flashed a poorly concealed smile as he realized what they were up to, “Listen, you don’t have to…”

“Go home, Harry!” interrupted Hermione sternly as she scooped Kotone up against her side, “We’ll be along in a little while!”

McGonagall cleared her throat as she turned towards the stairs and then said, “I trust that you won’t tarry long.” Nobody saw the amused grin that made a brief appearance on the Headmistress’s face as she walked away.

With a defeated sigh, Harry just said, “Alright, just be careful,” and then quickly set off for his room to use the floo, leaving Hermione and Kotone standing in the hallway.

“I assume that you know what I intend to do?” asked Hermione.

“Yes, we need present for my brother Lion.”

Knowing that the little girl didn’t have any money, neither muggle nor otherwise, Hermione asked, “Do you know what you are going to get for him?”

The painted lips on Kotone’s mask curved into a smile and she nodded, saying, “My brother Lion has need of a wand. My father was very famous maker of wand in Japan, and I learned his craft to make custom wand. I would like to make something special for him, but I am in need of help to make. Do you know what you are going to give?”

“I haven’t a clue,” said Hermione sadly as she carried Kotone down the stairs towards the entrance hall, “He needs so much, that I could give him practically anything and he’d be happy with it. I want to get him something useful, but not utilitarian.”

Upon seeing Kotone’s lost expression, she clarified, “I don’t want to give him something mundane… I need something he can use, but something that’s also special. He doesn’t wear jewelry, and he not that much into games and such anymore… besides Quidditch, of course. I just don’t know…” a brief darkness passed over Hermione’s eyes as she added, “He’s probably expecting me to give him a book or something like it. I was going to take a walk to Hogsmeade to see what I could find there.”

Kotone thought for a few moments, and then said, “I will help you with gift, if you help me with gift?”

Hermione wasn’t entirely sure what the little girl had in mind, but realizing her own dilemma, readily agreed.

As they left through the main castle doors, Kotone looked across the grounds to see Hagrid and his unusually large hound, Fang, walking down the path from his hut towards the Forbidden Forest. Kotone shifted her weight to get Hermione’s attention, and then pointed at Hagrid and said, “I need to speak with Mister Rabbit.”

Hermione stifled a laugh. This she had to see for herself. She set Kotone down, who began briskly walking towards the lumbering half-giant. Hermione drew her wand and closed her eyes as she placed the tip against her forehead. When the familiar Yin-Yang image appeared, she opened her eyes and let out a startled gasp. Sure enough, an ethereal, comically large hare was superimposed over Hagrid’s massive frame, but that wasn’t what caused Hermione to gasp in surprise.

Actually, there were two things that stunned her into disbelieving silence. The first was when she looked at Kotone as the little half-witch made her way towards the rabbit. She now knew why she couldn’t see the form of Kotone’s soul, or to be more accurate, why she couldn’t tell what her soul looked like before.

In enclosed places, all she saw was a white mist that surrounded the area. Now that they were out in the open, Hermione saw the complete image of the little girl’s soul. Hovering around Kotone was a huge white figure, easily reaching thirty feet tall. She couldn’t describe it in any other way… it was a towering angel, complete with long, flowing silvery hair, breezily flowing robes and long, graceful, feathery wings. The only thing that was missing, she thought, was a golden halo around her head.

Even in the intimidating presence of Kotone’s soul, that wasn’t the only thing that had made Hermione gasp. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark, writhing ‘presence’ around a large marble structure that was constructed along the lakeside just over a month before. A dark, smoky aura was surrounding Dumbledore’s tomb, a type of aura that she had seen before.

‘The ring!’ thought Hermione in alarm, ‘He destroyed the ring, but not the soul fragment that it contained!’

Dumbledore was wrong. If she hadn’t discovered that fact, they could have found the rest of the horcruxes and gone on to face Voldemort, never realizing that there was one that hadn’t been destroyed. Even if Harry won against the Dark Lord, they would have to spend the rest of their lives fighting him over and over again.

Now she understood why Voldemort was so confident that his horcruxes were secure. Even if they were found, they couldn’t be destroyed by anyone but a Necromancer… anyone but her. After all, there hasn’t been a ‘true’ Necromancer in Europe for many, many years, perhaps even centuries.

Her immediate impulse was to march right up to the tomb, open it, and after confirming to herself that it was indeed one of Voldemort’s horcruxes, to perform the banishing ritual that was disturbingly becoming as second nature to her. After taking a cursory glance around her, she saw Madam Hooch performing the annual maintenance on the Quidditch stands, Madam Sprout inspecting the area around her greenhouses, as well as Hagrid, who was engrossed in a heated conversation with Kotone. She decided that, rather than explaining to everyone in the area why she was desecrating Dumbledore’s tomb, it could certainly wait until the area wasn’t as densely populated.

As she approached Kotone and Hagrid, she caught the trailing edge of their conversation.

“I don’ thin’ it’s such a good idear to have you wanderin’ aroun’ the fores’. It’s more dangerous now than ever since the Centaurs ‘ave up an’ nearly d’clared war on us wizards… I’ve ‘ad to dodge more’n a few arrows recently jus’ gettin’ to me brother.”

“Do not concern yourself with the family in the forest. They will do nothing,” said Kotone confidently, “We have to find… tamagushi yousei… (kind of like a spirit tree) I… I do not know how to say…”

Kotone noticed Hermione approaching, realizing that the limited translation ability of the mask was just that… limited. She turned to Hermione for help and engaged her connection.

The grounds of Hogwarts dissolved into blackness, leaving Hermione focused upon Kotone’s violet eyes, ‘Washi-chan, you know what we look for… for wood that is special for enchantment… Wood that belongs to the tree spirits. I can feel them there.”

As the connection was broken, Hermione understood Kotone’s frustration and explained to Hagrid, “We need to find a wand wood tree. We know there are Bowtruckles in the forest, which means there are trees there that are of wand-wood quality…”

“Aye, that there are,” said Hagrid in understanding, “but why’s you looking for wand trees, ‘specially in ‘ere? Even ol’ Ollivander ne’er took wood from the Dark Forest… Aye, there are unicorns in there, but most o’ the trees ‘ave been aroun’ the nymphs fer far too long… not to mention Aragog’s kin… they’ve been eatin’ the Bowtruckles… You won’ be finding much useful, there, I’d wager.”

The painted lips on Kotone’s mask curved into a smile as she said, “Not to worry about… nymphs… they will understand.”

Hagrid reluctantly agreed to lead them into the Dark Forest. He went back into his newly repaired hut and came back hefting a large, double-edged woodsman’s axe. As they traveled deep into the wood, Hermione could have sworn that she had seen a glimpse of a centaur or two, but whenever she looked to where she felt a ‘presence,’ there would be nothing there.

About ten minutes into the trek, Kotone began to slow. She was sweating profusely and would occasionally stagger to the side as she walked. She stopped and hung her head as she embarrassedly lifted her arms towards Hermione, the same way she would naturally do with Harry.

Hermione heard the young girl’s laboured breathing as she lifted her from the ground. It never occurred to Hermione that Kotone didn’t just want to be carried, but needed to be carried, especially over long distances. She noticed that when the little half-demon was aware that she was being carried, she could adjust her weight so that she wasn’t such a burden, probably due to the physics involved with wrapping her hair and tail in such a way to distribute her weight.

Kotone gave Hermione a grateful smile as they continued through the woods.

“That way,” said Kotone. A few minutes later, her ears would twitch and she’d call out, “That way!”

After over an hour, during which time they hadn’t encountered a living being, they ended up in a small clearing deep in the heart of the Dark Forest. In the center of the clearing stood, surprisingly enough, a tall, solitary olive tree. It was surprising because the olive tree wasn’t native to Scotland at all.

Kotone loosened her hold on Hermione, who in turn gently set her on the ground. Kotone surveyed the area for a few minutes, and then walked directly towards the trunk of the tree.

Even Hagrid was surprised when an unusually large Bowtruckle seemed to emerge from the bark lining the trunk of the tree. Its sharp claws were extended as it poised itself to defend its’ tree.

Kotone stopped a few yards away from the Bowtruckle, who seemed much more aggressive than any either Hermione or Hagrid had ever seen. Hermione saw the Bowtruckle rear back, obviously intending to assault Kotone’s eyes. She was about to call out a warning when she heard the young half-witch begin to sing.

It wasn’t like the first time she had heard Kotone sing. Back then, the young girl’s voice was coarse and grating. With the enchantment that she had placed on the mask, the true tone, as well as the words, came through clearly…

‘Happy crickets sing their song
bringing blessing on the home
they give their soul, they share their bliss,
and bring a calmness all their own.

Will you share their peaceful gift,
with nature’s relations, brethren all?
Or will you shun what’s given free
or will jealous pride force a fall?’

Kotone continued singing, her lithe voice flowing through the clearing like a soft spring breeze. Hermione noticed the glazed-over look in Hagrid’s eyes as he stood silently listening to the little girl’s song. She also noticed the Bowtruckle’s talons slowly retracting. She watched in amazement as the creature laid itself upon the ground and in less than a minute, it was asleep.

Hermione turned to Hagrid to comment upon what just occurred, but found that the half-giant was also asleep, sprawled out on the ground beside her and holding the double-bladed axe to his chest as if it were a teddy bear.

After waking Hagrid, they harvested one of the sturdier branches from the tree, but Kotone directed them to cut off three more, including a very thick log from the very bottom. Satisfied with what they had gathered, she held her arms up to Hermione who scooped her up into her usual position and they began the long walk from the forest.

Once back in Hagrid’s cabin, Kotone asked him for a knife, an awl, a hammer and chisel, and a finishing plane, all of which Hagrid happened to have, being something of a woodcrafter himself. He had even given Harry one of his creations for a present one year, a hand-carved flute.

Kotone immediately set to work while Hagrid began making a large pot of tea. Hermione sat alongside the little half-witch, watching her with fascinated awe as the girl quickly removed the bark from all of the branches and then began carving small, curved plates of differing sizes from the large log. She quickly shifted between the chisel and the plane, and then switched to the awl to create tiny holes along the edges. She worked very fast, creating each piece with practiced ease.

After Kotone finished the twentieth little wooden plate, which looked suspiciously like tiny scales from a suit of armour, Hermione couldn’t hold her curiosity in any longer.

“Kotone, What are all of these things? I thought you were making a wand for Harry?”

The painted lips on Kotone’s mask curved into a smile. Without stopping her work, she said, “Not a wand… something better. Used by wizard Samurai long ago. Stealth and speed for spellcraft, and offer protection, you will see.”

Several hours passed before Kotone put the finishing touches on the last plate. She sat back and shook the cramps out of her tired hands. After a few moments of rest, she did something that caused both Hermione and Hagrid to gasp.

A single, long hair from the top of Kotone’s head snaked its way to the front of Kotone’s face. She reached up, grasped it firmly, and pulled it out with a quick jerk of her hand while letting out a pained squeak. She laid the hair on the table, where it continued to lazily squirm on the flat surface. Again, another hair separated itself from the others and drifted before her face. With another cry of pain, pulled that one out and placed it upon the table with the first.

“Kotone! Why are you doing that?”

Kotone didn’t answer, she just kept pulling strands of hair from her head until there was a small, writhing pile of snowy white hair on the table. Hermione noticed that each hair came from a different location on her scalp, probably to avoid leaving a bald spot.

Kotone held out her hand over the table, and one strand lifted itself up like a snake and wrapped around her index finger. She picked up two of the curved plates, the largest one that was shaped roughly like a shield, and one of the medium sized ones. The strand of hair began working itself through the tiny holes in the plates, securing one to the other. Kotone continued fastening the plates together with the strands of hair while the two others in the room watched in fascinated silence.

After a while, Hermione could identify what Kotone was making. It was a like an armoured glove, with the plates held firmly together by the hairs, but left loose enough to allow a full range of movement for the fingers. With the hair doing most of the work binding the plates together, it didn’t take very long at all before the glove was complete. As the last hair tied itself off, Kotone lifted the glove and inspected it closely before giving a satisfied nod while handing it to Hermione.

“Olive wood and Oni hair,” said Kotone proudly, “A fine combination for a Warrior Mage. Please try it out.”

Hermione looked over the glove with awe as she slipped it loosely onto her right hand. She was startled for an instant as the living hair contracted the joints together, causing the glove to instantly size itself to fit perfectly on her hand. She flexed her fingers, noting that it felt like it was made out of a fine, soft leather.

Hermione reached out her arm and said, “Lumos.” The glove immediately lit, casting a bright white glow around the room. “Nox.”

“Well done!” Hagrid excitedly said to Kotone as he clapped his hands, “Tha’s a righ’ fine bit o’ craffsmanship, tha’ is!”

Hermione smiled brightly at Kotone, “Oh, Harry is going to love this, especially when he finds out that you made it for him yourself!”

An odd expression shone through Kotone’s eyes. The painted smile on her porcelain mask faded into a slight frown as she said, “Yes, now he will always hold a piece of me.”

The smile then returned as she said, “I’m happy that you think he will like it. Let’s go home so I can show you the present that you will give him.”

Kotone thanked Hagrid for the use of his tools, and they both thanked him for the tea before heading along the forest’s edge towards the road to Hogsmeade. They didn’t think it would be wise to reenter the castle, what with all the aurors and Hit-Wizards looking for Harry there, so they would use the floo at The Three Broomsticks.

They entered the tavern and politely asked Madam Rosmerta if they could use her floo, who graciously offered a bit of floo powder to each of them free of charge. They walked to the hearth and Hermione was just about to toss the pinch of powder into the flames when she paused, seemingly lost in thought.

“I… I don’t know where I’m going! I can’t remember where…”

A look of alarm spread across Hermione’s face as the realization struck her, ‘The Fidelis! I don’t know where… ‘it’ is anymore!’

She turned to Kotone and said in a whispered rush, “Kotone, where is home? You’re the secret keeper for us… only you can tell anyone where ‘home’ is!”

Kotone’s brows crinkled in thought, “I do not know the name of the place. Nobody ever told me, I was carried there.”

“Oh! Oh, no! Harry!” said Hermione with panicked whisper, “Harry can’t get back to the house! He doesn’t know either… nobody does!”

In one quick motion, Hermione scooped Kotone against her side, hastily returned the unused floo powder to Madam Rosmerta, and after a hurried apology, she rushed from the tavern and began the long trip back to Hogwarts, silently praying that Harry was still somehow safe.

36. Lily's Love Lagoon

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I own any of the lyric bits I use to enhance the story. I make no money whatsoever from writing this stuff.

A/N: I swear, you people are going to kill me. You’re going to come and hunt me down and stab me repeatedly in my sleep, then probably do some unspeakable things to me corpse. Now before you reach for your torches and pitchforks, understand that this chapter sets up the end of the story. Remember that the fragment in Harry isn’t ‘just’ a Horcrux. Oh, and let’s see how many of you can guess the story of this house! As always, R & R & Enjoy!

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Chapter 36: Lily’s Love Lagoon

Memories are just where you laid them,
dragging the waters ‘til the depths give up their dead.
What did you expect to find?
Was it something you left behind?
Don't you remember anything I said when I said,

Oh hold me now, I feel contagious.
Am I the only place that you've left to go?
She cries her life is like
some movie in black and white.
Dead actors faking lines, over and over and over again she cries,

And I watched as you turned away
You don't remember, but I do.
You never even tried.

Don't fall away and leave me to myself.
Don't fall away and leave love bleeding in my hands, in my hands again.

Excerpt from the song ‘Hemorrhage (In My Hands) by the band Fuel.

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Harry walked towards his quarters at a brisk pace, anxious to leave the castle that soon would be overrun with Ministry officials searching for both Kotone and him. He smiled at the thought of his two girls that were off in search of birthday presents for him, but the smile was short lived. Thinking about his birthday reminded him that he would be of age in the wizarding world and would be able to use magic freely, but that thought made him painfully aware of the of the empty space in his pocket… the space that had always held his beloved holly wand. Already, he was missing the comforting feel of the shaft of wood against his hip.

As he walked, he briefly wondered if he had enough time to visit the Room of Requirement to fill another cage of ‘food’ for Kotone, but dismissed the idea, again, because he had no wand. Anyway, he had already taken enough chances for one day, and without a wand, it would be comically simple for any wizard to capture him. He would find another way to get food for her… maybe a muggle pet shop.

Harry entered his quarters and looked around for a few moments, making sure that he wasn’t leaving anything behind, but soon realized that he hadn’t brought any of his own possessions to the room at all. He stepped towards his fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder from the pot on the mantle and threw it into the grate. He stepped into the magical fire, feeling the warm, tickling sensation of the green flames around him. He opened his mouth, ready to speak his destination.

Realization struck him… Hermione told him that she was able to cast the Fidelis, but never told him where the place was. This caused a sharp intake of breath, which only served to fill his mouth with bits of hot ash and cinders, much like what had happened the very first time he traveled by floo. He stepped out from the grate coughing and spitting, and wondering how he was going to get home.

He assumed that Ron, Luna and Kotone had already been told the location, so that they could come and go as they pleased. He knew that he couldn’t stay in the castle, but where could he go that Hermione would know to look for him, but the Ministry wouldn’t? The Twins’ shop came to mind, but wandering around Diagon Alley without his father’s cloak wouldn’t be a very keen idea. He considered The Burrow, but that would be one of the places that the Ministry would expect him to go and were probably watching the area. He briefly entertained the idea of flooing to Mrs. Figg’s house and making his way to Privet Drive, thinking that Hermione had found him there before. That didn’t sound very appealing, either… but maybe that would give him a chance to get that driving lesson that Hermione had promised.

He glanced down to his shoes, remembering the tracking spell that Tonks had placed and wondered if it was still in effect. If so, Hermione could find him no matter where he went, leaving him with his original question… where to go?

He remembered the box of documents that he had taken from his nearly empty vault. He recalled seeing a list of properties that he supposedly owned. There was Privet Drive, of course. There was also Godric’s Hollow, but he was told there was nothing there. He tried to remember the other places… a place that had a name like a fish… and a few others. There was only one place on the list that he remembered the name of, and only because it struck him as so amusing… ‘Lily’s Love Lagoon.’ The name was certainly intriguing…

Figuring that he had nothing to lose, he hastily scribbled out a note. A note that he knew Hermione would understand, but anyone else who saw it wouldn’t have a clue to its’ meaning.

‘I’ve left by floo for a short holiday to the beach. If you need to get in touch with me, just look in the -paper box- and -don’t ever forget,- because I certainly haven’t.

Prof. Harold Buck.’

Harry left the note conspicuously on the end table next to the large sofa near the fireplace. He grabbed another handful of floo powder, tossed it down and said clearly, “Lily’s Love Lagoon.”

He felt the grate he was standing on fall out from under his feet. He held his arms tightly around him as the floo grates flashed by in rapid succession. After a few minutes of dizzily spinning around amidst the green flames with no sign of slowing down, he began to get very worried.

Every time he had floo traveled in the past, the trip only lasted a few moments, sometimes up to thirty seconds, but never this long. He also noticed that the number of floo grates that were zipping by became less and less frequent with longer spans of blackness in between until there were no floo grates at all, just a disorienting nothingness beyond the green flames surrounding him.

The incessant spinning was causing the nausea he was feeling to magnify. Just as he thought he was going to sick up all over himself, a stationary floo grid appeared before him. Desperate to be free from the confines of the floo network, he lunged forward and ended up sprawled out on a huge, white, polar bearskin rug in front of a huge fireplace.

He closed his eyes, panting and gasping, trying desperately to swallow down the bile that made a brief appearance in the back of his throat. After a few moments he felt the nausea subside enough for him to open his tearing eyes to survey his surroundings.

The first thing he noticed as he lifted his head from the rug was that the floor seemed to be made of pure white earthenware tiles. He looked at the large, white marble fireplace, with the white marble mantle. The bare walls were a stark white, as well as all the furnishings, which, if he were forced to describe them, would be considered ‘ultra-post-modern,’ at least they would be back in the late nineteen seventies.

There was a pair of white, egg-shaped chairs near the fireplace that were suspended from the white ceiling by sturdy-looking white chains. There was a large, fur-covered, zebra-stripe-patterned sofa between the two chairs facing the hearth, with a clear glass coffee table with white, tubular plastic legs sitting before the sofa.

The other furnishings in the room carried the same motif… he had never seen so much white in one place at one time. He did notice that everything was coated in a thick layer of fine dust, which was only disturbed on the area before the fireplace when he made his graceless entrance.

There were three white doors in the room, one set of glass doors that led outside, and one white staircase that appeared to lead to an open loft on the side of the room opposite the fireplace. He could just make out the shape of a large bed with zebra-patterned sheets through the railing that lined the upper loft.

The room was illuminated by a very large, but very dirty skylight that took up nearly the entire ceiling above the bed in the loft. He could imagine himself lying on the bed at night and looking up at the starry heavens above. With the amount of light coming in, it was either very late in the day or very early in the morning… he couldn’t tell which.

He carefully walked up the stairs to inspect the sleeping area, assuming that he might be spending a very long time in this place. He certainly wasn’t looking forward to the return trip through the floo.

As he reached the top of the stairs, he saw a large white dresser with a wide mirror above it along the wall opposite the foot of the bed. The walls all around the loft area were covered in lightly frosted mirror squares, making the area appear much larger than it actually was, and giving any occupant of the bed an unrestricted view of himself from nearly every angle.

Next to the dresser was a door that led to a small loo, which contained only a toilet and a sink set into a marble-topped vanity, all white, of course.

In the wall opposite the stairs was a set of French-style doors that appeared to lead to a balcony. The moment he opened the doors, the calming sound of the ocean met his ears. He could smell the scent of tropical blossoms that was carried on the warm breeze. Stepping out onto the wide balcony, he suddenly paused, taking in the sheer beauty of his surroundings.

He was looking out over a wide, white sand beach, perfectly smooth with just a smattering of the stray seashell or a strand of dried seaweed with a few bits of dark driftwood marring the pale sand. Gentle emerald waves capped with white foam were lazily caressing the shoreline while the soaring sea birds occasionally dove into the surf to pick up a quick meal of fresh shellfish. Palm trees littered the surrounding area, with all types of flowering flora covering the landscape in-between them. Looking off to his right, he could just make out through the trees a high outcropping of rock where water flowed over the edge and landed in a cozy, fresh water lagoon.

‘Lily’s Love Lagoon,’ he thought to himself, ‘It’s beautiful!’

Harry wasn’t sure how long he stood there, taking in the sights and smells of his parents’ getaway. It was more than long enough for him to discover that it was actually morning there, as the clear, cloudless sky had been steadily lightening. Before long, the bright rays of the sun cleared the top of the distant waterfall, bathing him in its warmth. If there hadn’t been a constant, cooling breeze coming in from off the ocean, the temperature probably would have been uncomfortably hot while standing in the direct sunlight.

He was roused from his musings by a sudden noise from within the house. He cautiously entered back through the French doors and looked down over the loft’s railing to see Hermione sprawled on the polar bear rug, panting heavily between her dry heaves. Lying on her back beside her was Kotone, who was frantically clutching at her mask. As soon as her mask was removed, he discovered that the little girl was also heaving, although not the dry type as Hermione’s was.

Harry rushed down the stairs and helped Hermione to her feet, then did the same for the distressed Kotone after she had finished puking up the bits of bone and partly-digested rodents.

As he lifted the crying girl into his arms, she spoke through her tears in her natural, grating voice, “I a’so sorry, Shishi-san! I not mean to make mess! I will clean!”

Harry looked pointedly at Hermione, who understood immediately and drew her wand and cleared away the little girl’s vomit from the floor.

Harry gave Kotone a soft hug and said to her while rubbing her back, “You should never have to apologize for being sick, Kotone, something like that can’t be helped. Merlin knows that I’ve made enough messes like that myself. I almost did the same thing when I came through to here!”

Harry wiped away the tears from Kotone’s cheeks and gave her an understanding smile. He held her for a minute before he realized that she had fallen asleep against his chest. He walked up the stairs, pulled back the dusty top sheet on the bed, and gently laid her down. He gave her a little kiss on her forehead before returning down the stairs to properly greet Hermione.

When he reached the bottom, he was surprised to see a wide, approving smile on Hermione’s face, something that he had never seen her give before when he was dealing with Kotone.

At his questioning look, Hermione said while looking down at her hands, “Harry, when you first took it upon yourself to care for that little girl, I thought you were biting off more than you could chew. I thought you took to her much too quickly… I had assumed it was out of pity for her, or maybe just sympathy, but pity and sympathy can only take one so far. We also knew that we had so much to do… so many dangerous things to do… I was sure that you wouldn’t be able to handle the pressure… or the responsibility. Don’t take this the wrong way, but that girl is quite needy… she needs a lot of attention, and quite honestly, I thought for sure that you would soon tire of her.”

Harry was about to defend himself, but Hermione raised her hand to halt him and continued before he had the chance, “I’m very happy to say that I was wrong. That girl up there loves you. You have no idea how much she does… I don’t think that I even know how much, but I do know that you’re the most important person in her life, and that’s not by happenstance, but by choice,” Hermione paused and looked intensely into his eyes, “and now I see that you love her, too. I see how much you truly care for each other, and I think you’ll be a wonderful father for her.”

Harry reached down and picked up Kotone’s mask from the bearskin rug. He stared at it for a few moments, and then absently looked around at the place that his own parents shared during happier times. He then looked at Hermione, who was still smiling at him, albeit somewhat nervously, apparently afraid that she had offended him with what she had said.

Actually, he was pausing long enough to ensure his voice wouldn’t crack from emotion when he next spoke, “Hermione, thank you,” he said, and then cleared his throat, “That means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief, and then asked for the grand tour of the house as she looked around the very white room. Harry quickly explained that he hadn’t really seen the entire house himself, just the room that they were in, the loft and the balcony, so they decided to explore together.

Through the door next to the bottom of the stairs was a very large bathroom, complete with a massive hot tub, sauna and a bidet, along with the standard toilet and a glass-encased, walk-in shower. Surprisingly, the room was all done in fawn coloured tile instead of the glaring white that he had expected.

The door beside the fireplace led to an expansive kitchen containing an extensive array of cookware and utensils hanging above a center island that could be used both as a food preparation area or a dining counter, as there were a set of stools along one side. He briefly inspected the bare pantry and the equally empty coldbox. All of the appliances appeared to be magically operated, as there didn’t seem to be electricity connected to the house.

They entered the third door from the main room to find, much to their surprise, a fully furnished nursery, although it looked as if it were never used. Apparently, James and Lily had built this place while she was still pregnant with him, but hadn’t returned after he was born.

For a moment, Hermione thought that the sight of the nursery that was intended for him would somehow adversely affect Harry, but he just gave a cursory glance around the room before wordlessly walking back out into the main room and towards the glass door that led to the outside.

Harry kicked off his trainers at the door and stepped out onto the sandy beach. He could hear Hermione doing the same thing behind him. As they walked, all that was heard was the rustling of the soft breeze through the palm trees and the occasional cry of a gull.

Harry looked out over the ocean and asked, “Do you have any idea where we are?”

“It seems we’re only about four or five hours behind GMT, and given the climate, I’d say the Caribbean, perhaps somewhere near Bermuda… or maybe around Jamaica. I wonder if we’re the only ones on this island… I mean the house looks as though it hadn’t been disturbed in years, so we could quite possibly be alone here. It would be interesting to find out if there are wards of some kind hiding this place.”

Harry glanced towards Hermione and noticed that the smile she had worn back in the house was no longer there. Her eyes were focused somewhere on the horizon, lost in thought. They walked quietly for a few more minutes until the stillness was broken by her timid voice.

“So, I assume that you discovered my little mistake with the Fidelis?”

“Yeah, I never realized that once I left the property, I’d forget where it was… I remember the house, I just have no idea where it is… and I was surprised that you found out I was here so quickly, but now that you’re here, you can tell me and we can go back there, right?”

“Well,” began Hermione anxiously, “I can’t tell you. I was the one who cast the spell, so I couldn’t be the secret keeper. As you know, it was supposed to be Ron, but he was injured, and I couldn’t use Luna, so it had to be Kotone. I was so exhausted from casting a spell in a half hour that was supposed to take more than a day… I never made sure that Kotone knew the address of… ‘home.’ I… I don’t know if we’ll ever get back into that place, and it’s all my fault!”

Seeing that Hermione was on the verge of tears, he reached over and took her hand. He gave it a reassuring squeeze and said, “Don’t worry about it… I never liked that grim, old place anyway,”

“But… all your things are there! All of Kotone’s things… your Firebolt, and your father’s cloak! Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry!”

He squeezed her hand again and said, “Forget it. Most of that stuff can be replaced… in two days, I’m going to have more money than Merlin, so I can afford to replace most of it. The only thing that might be a problem is the picture of Kotone’s family… oh, and her parents’ wands, but I’m sure she’ll understand.”

Hermione gave him a small, watery smile as she continued walking, not releasing his hand from her grip. After a minute, she spoke again, “Thank you for leaving that note. I never would have guessed that you’d come here, of all places. It’s lucky that I still had the print-outs that listed your properties.”

Harry smiled and said, “I figured that you’d remember all the places, even without the list.”

They walked a few more steps before Hermione said, “It seems that Dumbledore was wrong about destroying the horcrux in the ring. It was only by chance that I discovered that the soul fragment from the ring is still in the tomb with his body,” she gave that fact a moment to settle in with Harry before she continued with her theory, “Apparently, if a horcrux is created in a living thing, the implanted fragment doesn’t die when the host does, so if Nagini truly is a horcrux, as Dumbledore had thought, then just killing the snake won’t be enough to destroy the horcrux.”

“Can you banish that one… the one from the tomb?”

“I haven’t tried that ritual on inanimate objects before… it’ll have to be a bit different, but I think I can do it. I couldn’t do it when I discovered the soul fragment. There were too many people around, and the Ministry was about to show up. We’ll have to plan it out for when there’ll be no one around, maybe at night.”

They continued walking in companionable silence. Harry couldn’t help to think that this place, this ‘love lagoon,’ was probably the most romantic place he had ever seen. He could tell by the way Hermione was looking around in wonder that she was thinking the same thing. He let out a small sigh, thinking that under different circumstances, maybe he could have had the same thing with her as his parents’ once had together.

As his thoughts dwelled on his parents, he suddenly remembered something that Hermione mentioned in passing, although he was unsure at the time whether she was being serious or just pointing out some myth about Necromancers.

“When you said that you could ‘speak with the dead,’ what exactly did you mean by that?” asked Harry curiously.

Hermione’s eyes drifted to the sand in front of her as she somewhat reluctantly answered, “Well, according to the book, I could summon a guide who can help me commune with some spirits… the book was quite vague on a lot of points, and it supposedly takes years to be able to build a rapport with the guide to be able to reach beyond life at all. The guide would have to be willing, for one thing, and it would have to hover between this world and the afterlife for quite some time to get its’ bearings… In any case, it’s not something that’s done lightly.”

Excitement shone in Harry’s eyes as he said, “So you could possibly speak with my parents? Sirius? Or even Dumbledore?”

“I don’t really know,” said Hermione in a subdued tone, “As I said, it usually takes years to find a guide, and then it takes time to build a ‘connection’ to the guide… if I were able to contact your parents at all, I’m afraid it would take a very long time to get to that point.”

Harry just nodded in understanding, his excitement ebbing away as quickly as it came. After another minute of silence, He heard Hermione softly sigh, then gave him an odd, sideways glance before she absently looked away towards the tall waterfall on the far side of the lagoon.

“Harry?” said Hermione in a low, unsure tone. He was barely able to hear it above the rush of the waves on the shore.

Harry could instantly tell what she was going to say next. He had been expecting it. He looked out over the vast expanse of the ocean as he walked and simply said, “Hmm?”

Hermione gave him another hesitant glance before saying, “Now that the spell that Ginny cast on us has been broken… well… have you given any thought about… about if we should try to repair the soul-bond that we had? I read up on the ritual involved… it’s quite simple, really… well, simple for someone like us, that is. One can’t be formed when there wasn’t a bond in place naturally, meaning that you can’t create a fake bond… only to restore one that… that…”

Hermione’s voice trailed off into silence and her eyes returned to her feet when she saw that he wasn’t responding at all.

Actually, Harry had been giving a lot of thought to the bond that they had shared, and found the same problems as before staring him in the face. The same things he told Ben Bones about as they shared the pea soup in the Leaky Cauldron were still just as valid, although they were now somewhat compromised.

As a ‘friend,’ she would naturally be in danger, and he knew that there would be nothing he could say or do to keep her from following him… but as a ‘girlfriend…’ Was that so much of another story? Would she be in an even more perilous position? Could he even justify that argument, given the fact that Kotone was now an important factor in his life, one that could be used against him just as effectively as Hermione?

Harry looked around, taking in the peace and beauty that seemed an integral part of the landscape. His parents had been here… together… had loved one another, even though a war was raging. They probably had plans for this place for when the war was over. They didn’t stop living their lives, despite the danger around them. He realized at that moment that they wouldn’t want him to give up on something so special. They wouldn’t want him to deny himself love or happiness, especially due to some misguided attempt to supposedly ‘protect’ someone. It wasn’t fair to him, or to Hermione. If he were to die, Hermione would mourn for him just as much, whether as a friend or as a lover. If she were to die, he knew that he would also feel the same way.

He was denied love by Voldemort’s actions, albeit indirectly through the effect of his horcrux on Ginny, and from his successful attempt of tricking her in her weakened state into breaking their bond. How would the last few years have played out without his interference? How would the next few years play out if the bond wasn’t repaired? He would never know the answer to the first question, but he was damned well sure he didn’t want to find out the answer to the second. He abruptly turned around and began walking back to the house.

Hermione also turned and was still walking beside Harry with her downcast eyes watching the little arcs of fine sand being kicked up by her toes with each step she took. She stopped mid-stride when she heard him say, “If you still want to, let’s do it.”

Hermione looked up from her feet to meet Harry’s eyes. She studied him for a moment before saying, “Are… are you sure?”

Harry turned to face her as he reached out and took her other hand, “I’ve lived my entire life not knowing what ‘love’ is. I know what I have with Kotone. Even though she’s been with me for only a short while, I can’t imagine not having her around. We’re going to give each other something we both need… to be part of a family. I do love her, but I know it’s not the same as what we could have had. I don’t know what we could have had together. I was stupid for denying it for as long as I did, and I only realized what I was missing after it was too late. I want to feel it again, Hermione… I want to feel it with you.”

Although Hermione was crying, she still wore a beaming smile. She launched herself at Harry, wrapping him tightly in a fierce hug. She rested the side of her head against his and said between sniffles, “When I read that note… you said you haven’t forgotten that I loved you… I know that I don’t feel it now, but I haven’t forgotten, either… I want to feel it again, too… I need to feel it again! I’ve been so miserable, and with everything that’s been happening to me… with me being a Necromancer and doing what I’ve been doing, I was afraid you’d never want to repair the bond… that you’d never want to be with someone like me!”

She held him even tighter as she cried on his shoulder. He was very aware of the two heaving, fleshy mounds that were pressed against his chest, the same two mounds that seemed to be a recurring theme in his recent dreams. He was very surprised at the reaction that the two fleshy mounds were now having on his nether-regions. He hadn’t felt that stirring in a very long time.

Of course, when Harry started reacting to their embrace, Hermione could feel his stirring against her lower abdomen, and her body began reacting to it in much the same way as his. She let out a small gasp as she felt the wetness build between her legs… the faint, tingly feeling in her lower abdomen and the warm rush that traveled all the way up into her chest… that hadn’t happened to her in a very long time! She involuntarily thrust her pelvis against him, causing him to also gasp in surprise.

Without their natural hormonal feelings being siphoned off to Ginny, they were now experiencing them once again. The newfound rush of sexual desire took them both by complete surprise. It had been missing for so long, neither one was sure how to handle it.

Hermione swallowed down her tears and asked in a breathy voice that made the butterflies in Harry’s stomach churn, “When did you want to try?”

“As soon as we can,” he said into her hair, “Don’t you think we’ve waited long enough?”

Hermione pulled back from him to look into his eyes, and he immediately missed the warm contact of her body against his. Her voice still held the husky tone as she smiled and said, “Alright then, let’s head back to the house.”

Their pace seemed to quicken as they walked along the shore, both of them anxious to find what had been taken from them so long ago. It wasn’t long before they were both sitting by the ocean on a wide blanket that Hermione had conjured. They were facing each other, looking both nervous and excited.

Hermione gave Harry a reassuring smile as she explained, “Okay, what has to happen is that our souls have to merge for a short time… just a few seconds should suffice. There’s no other ritual or spell or anything. Two people who have never had the bond could try this every day for the rest of their lives and nothing will come of it. Since we have matched souls, the act of merging should reattach our bond to each other. The first thing we have to do is enter our ‘states.’ Then we can separate ourselves from our bodies, and move together. Once it’s done, just ‘will’ yourself back into your body and dispel your state.”

Harry just nodded, hoping that once it was going to be as easy as she made it sound. He watched as Hermione closed her eyes and lifted her wandtip to her forehead. He sighed, and then loudly cleared his throat. She opened her eyes again and looked questioningly at his frowning face.

He lifted his hands to show Hermione that his hands were quite empty, saying, “How am I supposed to enter my ‘state’ without a wand?”

“Oh!” she said with a hint of embarrassment, “Well, I suppose I should have told you before. According to the book, Warlocks should be able to enter the state without needing a wand, just like Kotone can do with her Oni magic. It works the same way, just close your eyes and concentrate on your symbol… it should be much easier now that you know what to look for.”

Harry looked at her skeptically for a moment, but then just shrugged as he closed his eyes and began concentrating while Hermione placed her wandtip back on her forehead.

-----~-----

Kotone was standing on a jagged outcropping of rock overlooking the bleak and dreary landscape of her father’s homeland, her sad, violet eyes affixed on some point out in the darkness. The crescent moon peeked out from behind a mass of high, thin clouds, and a rather brisk wind buffeted against her face, making her animated hair seem that much wilder. Clouds of thin fog that were carried by the wind rushed past her, causing her white kimono to billow and flow eerily behind her.

‘Hello, Father,’ she softly said in her native language.

A towering figure emerged from the darkness behind her. His mane of long white hair flailed in the wind, much like Kotone’s own hair was doing. He wore a thick fur cloak that was as white as his kimono, but neither seemed to be affected by the gale around him. The feathers on his massive wings, however, were disheveled and windswept.

Kotone turned to her Oni father and sank into a polite bow before once again erecting herself to face him.

‘Greetings, my child,’ he said in a light, almost feminine voice that seemed to reverberate around the desolate area, ‘I am very proud of you. You have done well with your charge thus far, even considering the problems you have encountered.’

Kotone gave him another respectful bow while saying, ‘Thank you, Father.’

The tall figure paused as he looked at Kotone, carefully scrutinizing her features. She was trying to keep her expression as neutral as possible, but she couldn’t hide anything from him.

‘You are afraid,’ he spoke with no hint of a question, ‘You are unsure of your task. I know what you have to do is difficult. I know how much you have suffered, and how much you are destined to suffer before your peace.’

Kotone stood there, silent and nearly motionless, the only movement caused by the gusts of wind against her tiny frame.

Her father didn’t fail to notice the tears that appeared on her lashes before being carried off into the night by the wind. He gave a soft sigh and rested a light hand on top of her head.

‘You are the last child. You are the only one left in the Kobayashi bloodline, the final daughter of the debt that was owed for two thousand years. You are the final payment, and you have been given the chance to start anew. Do not be sad. Do not be afraid. The interest on the debt shall be freely bequeathed unto you, and your sacrifice will…’

The figure suddenly went still. His yellow eyes stared blankly towards the horizon and his thin, white brows creased in concentration.

His eyes flashed towards Kotone as he urgently said, ‘You must return to your charge! Quickly!’

Kotone started to bow, but was startled by her fathers voice, no longer soft and feminine, but deep and commanding, ‘NOW!’

-----~-----

Kotone’s eyes flew open. She found herself lying on a strange bed with zebra-striped sheets, looking up at the daylight through a dirty skylight. She shot out of the bed and rushed to the railing overlooking the empty living room of the house that Washi-chan carried her to.

She turned around and darted through the open French-style doors that led to a balcony. Looking out over the brilliant shoreline, she saw Shishi and Washi, sitting unmoving on a blanket that was spread out over the sand. She briefly closed her eyes and felt the familiar sensation of time speeding up for her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw the ghostly forms of the lion and the eagle rising up from the sitting bodies on the blanket. Her heart lodged in her throat when she realized what they were trying to do, and what would happen if he allowed his soul to leave his body entirely.

‘Oh, no!’ she thought desperately, ‘Not again!’

“Shishi! No!” screamed Kotone as loudly as she could in her coarse, grating voice, “Prease to stop!”

In a panic, she dropped her hands to the floor and as fast as a greyhound, she raced through the French doors, down the stairs and out onto the beach. She couldn’t move as quickly through the soft sand as she could on a solid surface. With tears in her eyes, she continued to yell out to him, pleading with him to stop what he was trying to do, but she wasn’t sure he could hear her over the surf.

As she reached the sitting couple, she grunted with exertion as she kicked off with her legs and crashed hard into Harry, knocking him off the blanket and tackling him to the sand.

While she was in mid-air, she willed herself into her state, making it appear to her that she was slowly drifting towards Harry. She was already preparing her mind to force a connection with him, but at the last moment she saw him open his eyes. They were as green and bright as she had ever seen them, even if they had the look of shocked surprise as she careened towards him.

-----~-----

Harry could feel his soul slowly sliding out of his body. It was a very strange sensation to see Hermione’s eagle-like image drifting above her own body. He felt himself reaching out to her ethereal form. He could see something slightly protruding from her soul, and looking down at himself, he could see the same fluttering filament, like the end of a torn ribbon, protruding from his own form.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his vision, he saw something that both frightened and awed him. The figure of a huge angel, dressed in flowing robes with its’ wings spread wide, rushing across the beach towards him. Distracted from his task of repairing the bond, he watched the angel moving closer at a near impossible speed.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he did it, probably out of some instinct, but he willed his soul back to his body an instant before the angel reached him.

He opened his eyes just in time to see Kotone flying through the air. A moment later, he found himself on his back with the little half-witch lying on top of his chest. She was sweating profusely, breathing very hard and crying like he had never seen from her before. He was finding it hard to breathe due to the way she was crushing him in a hug.

“Kotone! What’s wrong?” asked Hermione, who was by then standing over them wearing a concerned expression.

After a minute, Kotone calmed herself enough to explain.

“Shishi-san, you cannot reave behind…” Kotone tried to explain, but was having a very hard time without her mask, “you forget. If you…”

Giving up on speaking, she forced the connection with Harry, ‘You cannot allow your soul to leave your body. You forget there is still the snake with you. It knew what you try to do. It hide within, waiting to take you. Do you understand?’

Indeed, Harry did understand. He had forgotten all about the bit of Voldemort’s soul within him. He shuddered to think what would have happened if he had completely left his body behind. Would he be doomed to drift through the world as a disembodied soul? Exist as less than a ghost? What would have happened to Hermione and Kotone, with Voldemort in full possession of his body?

When he relayed to Hermione what Kotone had said to him, she visibly paled. Obviously, she had forgotten, too. Hermione put herself into her ‘state’ again, and sure enough, the smoky black snake was sitting perfectly still, coiled up tightly within the confines of Harry’s body. If she wasn’t specifically looking for it, which she wasn’t when she first entered her state, she wouldn’t have noticed it.

Harry lifted Kotone from his chest and sat her down beside him. He sat there with his eyes closed, silently fuming over the fact that, once again, Voldemort was denying him any happiness… any love from entering his life. ‘Parseltongue be damned!’ he thought bitterly. He would live without it. When he finally meets Nagini, he’ll just deal with it. He’s killed a bigger snake than her before.

“Get rid of it,” said Harry coldly, ‘Get this fucking piece of crap out of me!”

Hermione showed no sign of hesitation. With a look of grim determination, she sat on the sand in front of him, closed her eyes, placed the tip of her wand against her forehead, and began slowly drawing out a thin thread of blood.

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact: I forgot to include a ‘fun fact’ in the last chapter!

-----~-----

37. A Different Kind of Fire

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, and I don’t own any of the lyric bits that I use to enhance the story. I don’t make any money at all by writing this.

A/N: Here we go. As you can probably tell after reading the first half of this chapter, things are starting to heat up. After reading the second half, you can definitely tell that things are starting to heat up! This chapter certainly justifies the NC-17 rating, so if you are too young, stop reading now! There are plenty of milder rated stories out there, so don’t make me sad by having your mind corrupted by my musings. I figured that all of you reviewers, (and by default, you readers also) have been very, very, very patient in waiting for the HHr fluff to begin. Here’s a bit of a taste for you, my way of saying ‘thanks for hanging in there with me!’ Many of you might think that it’s a bit sudden, but be honest with yourself… you’ve been anxiously awaiting for something like this to happen! I don’t want to hear any complaints! Just think, if they’re acting like this without the bond, just imagine what’s going to happen once it’s repaired! As always, R & R & Enjoy! (I know, the lyrics are a bit long, but VERY fitting, don’t you think?)

-----~-----

Chapter 37: A Different Kind of Fire

-----~-----

I can't fight this feeling any longer,
and yet I'm still afraid to let it flow.
What started out as friendship has grown stronger,
I only wish I had the strength to let it show.

I tell myself that I can't hold out forever.
I said there is no reason for my fear,
’cause I feel so secure when we're together.
You give my life direction.
You make everything so clear.

My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you.
I've been running round in circles in my mind,
and it always seems that I'm following you, girl,
’cause you take me to the places that alone I'd never find…

And even as I wander,
I'm keeping you in sight.
You're a candle in the window
on a cold, dark winter's night,
and I'm getting closer than I ever thought I might…

and I can't fight this feeling anymore.
I've forgotten what I started fighting for.
It's time to bring this ship into the shore,
and throw away the oars forever.

’Cause I can't fight this feeling anymore.
I've forgotten what I started fighting for,
and if I have to crawl upon the floor…
come crushing through your door…
Baby, I can't fight this feeling anymore.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Can’t Fight This Feeling’ by the band, REO Speedwagon.

-----~-----

Ron was walking hurriedly from his brothers’ shop towards the archway that led back to the Leaky Cauldron. He had left the house many hours before, and spent more time at Luna’s house than he felt he really should have. His arms were now loaded with bags of food, supplies, and other items that, while not absolutely necessary, he picked up for himself anyway. Even though the items were magically reduced in size, the sheer quantity of items that he had purchased filled quite a few bags.

He had made a quick stop at Gringotts after he left Luna at her house to pick up some money to replenish the house’s stores, figuring that the place would be their base of operations while searching for the remaining horcruxes. He took a little more gold than he was planning to, but thought that it wouldn’t hurt for them to have a bit more pocket money, seeing how difficult it was for Harry to get around without being harassed by Death Eaters or the Ministry.

Of course, he quickly found that having that extra money in his pocket supplied a temptation that he couldn’t quite resist. After buying what seemed like nearly half of the stock at ‘Stella’s Staples,’ the provisioner in Diagon alley, he left with two large bags of shrunken foodstuffs. He then stopped by ‘Quality Quidditch Supplies,’ where he spent an inordinate amount of time browsing through their wares. He spent more time than money there, his only purchase being a maintenance guide for his model of broom to repair the braking and cushioning charm that Ginny had so thoughtlessly tampered with.

After leaving the sports store, he planned on making a trip to his brothers’ shop to buy all the tricks and pranks that he had so coveted every time he went there. On the way, he stopped to get owl treats, as well as a new cage for Pig. He also ran in to the apothecary to grab some potion ingredients that he thought they might need, as well as several other shops that had things that caught his eye. It was weird for him at first, as he never had much of his own money to spend, but the strangeness quickly passed as he purchased item after item from the various vendors.

He was brought roughly back to reality as he passed Ollivander’s shop, where he was reminded of their task at hand. He did eventually end up at ‘Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes,’ but only to check in with his brothers to see what progress they were making on discovering the protections on the Alley’s shops and on the items they were developing for Harry. They told him how they checked out the protections on Ollivander’s shop and sent what they found out to Harry by owl. Ron never saw the letter, but he knew he was usually ‘busy’ with Luna and could quite easily have missed seeing it. Harry would tell him about it eventually, anyway.

He left their shop a few minutes later carrying all his bags from the provisioner… and a few newly developed pranks that he surely couldn’t live without.

He knew he had been gone from the house for quite the while, but he didn’t think his absence would be noticed that much. He also thought it was a good idea to give Harry and Hermione a little ‘alone time,’ knowing that Hermione had worked herself up into a frightful state over the previous few days. He made a few other stops along the way back to pick up a few odds and ends that he felt might be useful to them, but there was something he couldn’t quite lay a finger on that was eating at the back of his mind. As he hurried along toward the Leaky Cauldron, he was suddenly aware that his pace had quickened, so much so that he was almost into a jog. He had to consciously slow himself down to a brisk walk.

By the time he entered the Leaky Cauldron his heart was pounding. He could feel moisture running down between his shoulder blades and down the sides of his face. He thought he might have picked up a touch of fever, but when he wiped the sweat away from his face awkwardly with an overfull hand, he felt that his skin was cold and clammy. It was almost as if he were having a panic attack.

He set his bags down with Tom behind the bar and practically stumbled his way to the bathroom. He closed and locked the door behind him, then went to a basin and splashed water onto his face.

Something wasn’t right. He knew it… he could feel it.

He looked up from the basin and into the mirror. His thoughts drifted to the previous weekend where he was told that he was a Diviner… blessed with the ‘Inner Eye,’ as Trelawney liked to call it. Despite his uneasy feeling, he had to stifle a chuckle as he mused about being able to foretell the future. Honestly, if he could really see into the future, he and his family wouldn’t be as poor as they were.

But still, he did ‘see’ Kotone on the floor crying as her hand bled before it even happened. It’s true that he had never lost a chess game, even against far more experienced players, without even having to think much about strategy… he just knew where to move the pieces.

The more he thought about it, the more perplexed he became. He’s tall, and somewhat clumsy, and has trouble focusing on whatever task was at hand. Still, when it came to goalkeeping in Quidditch, he was a natural, whenever he wasn’t excessively nervous, of course. When he was able to concentrate, he could almost tell where the quaffle was going to go even before it left the chaser’s hand.

He couldn’t help but to think that this ‘feeling’ that was suddenly coming over him had something to do with this supposed ‘sight’ of his. More to prove to himself that it was a load of rubbish rather than anything else, he sat himself on the loo and closed his eyes while resting the tip of his wand against his forehead.

He felt just as foolish as when he did it back at the house, still, he had to get rid of this uneasiness that was creeping up his spine. After only about thirty seconds, he was ready to give up. The last time he did this, which was also the first time, it had taken over thirty minutes to begin ‘seeing’ anything, and he wasn’t very keen on hanging around a dirty bathroom for anywhere near as long.

He gave it another minute before he let out a frustrated grunt and opened his eyes. He expected to see the bare, wooden wall on the inside of the Leaky Cauldron’s loo, but that wasn’t what met his eyes. In a way, he could still see the wall, but it appeared as if it were made of a dark, transparent glass. The scene beyond this ‘glass’ was of Diagon Alley, specifically, the part of the Alley that was directly in front of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. He watched the scene as a few wizarding families hurried by, seemingly anxious to spend as little time in the open as possible, as was normal behavior since the return of Voldemort. He also saw his brother briefly step out through the door and lay something on the ground before returning inside the shop.

A pair of hooded figures walked into his view and stopped in front of his brothers’ shop. They were facing away from the building as they exchanged words, but were looking in the direction he was ‘seeing’ from. Cold dread seeped into his chest as he recognized the two figures as being the Carrow siblings, Amycus and his sister, Alecto… two of the Death Eaters he had seen in Hogwarts the night Dumbledore died.

Ron watched in stunned silence as the two siblings donned their skull masks and then turned to face the store. Alecto sent a powerful Reducto at the shop, which turned the front door into splinters. At the same time Amycus sent an Incendio through the newly created opening and into the shop. Without pausing, they continued to send a combination of both spells into the shop.

Inside of his brothers’ shop, Ron could see dozens of people running and flailing about before the smoke obscured his view. Within moments, the entire building was spewing flames out of every window, sending clouds of billowing black smoke into the afternoon sky. Amycus grinned at his sister, then sent the Dark Mark into the sky before they both vanished in the fall of colour produced by a pair of portkeys.

Ron blinked and found himself staring at the dirty wooden wall of the Leaky Cauldron’s loo. He immediately threw himself from the seat and burst out of the bathroom, across the tavern and out through the back door towards Diagon Alley. The tears in his eyes made it difficult to find the right brick to tap, but managed to get through with little wasted time.

As he ran, he passed by a family that was hurriedly walking in the same direction that he was going. He immediately recognized them as one the families that passed by while he was watching the ‘vision.’ This caused him to run even faster.

When his brothers’ shop came into view, he was greatly relieved to see that there weren’t any flames or smoke pouring from the building… ‘Yet…’ he thought to himself.

Ron burst noisily through the shop’s front door, causing Verity to squeak out and jump in surprise as she dropped the pile of boxes she held that were intended for the shelves. Ignoring the startled young witch, he ran through the busy center aisle, pushing patrons out of the way. He leapt over the counter and burst into the back room, finding both Fred and George levitating and stacking large boxes of stock with their wands.

Ron began speaking in a panicked voice, “You’ve got to get everyone out of here! Death Eaters are coming!”

The boxes the twins were levitating fell heavily to the floor, one breaking open and sending a few dozen golf ball-sized glass balls rolling across the floor while the other landed with the distinct sound of bottles breaking, causing a runny, foul-smelling liquid to seep from the seams.

“What are you on about, Ron?” said George angrily.

“Death Eaters, they’ll be here any minute!” exclaimed Ron as he looked back through the doorway towards the front of the store. He noticed more than a few patrons standing there frozen and looking at him fearfully.

“See here now! You’re upsetting out clientele!” said Fred as he dragged Ron the rest of the way into the room and shut the door, “Now, what makes you think that there are Death Eaters coming here?”

“Because I saw them attacking! The Carrows’ will be here any second! They’re going to blow the door in and send in Incendios. This whole building is going to be burned down… with everyone here in it if we don’t get out of here now!”

Fred and George exchanged skeptical glances. Fred began laughing while George wore an amused grin as he said, “Right, now why would they come for us?”

“The owl with your report on Ollivander’s… Harry never got it!” said Ron desperately, begging his brothers to believe him, “They’ve probably been watching you all this time and have been intercepting your mail!”

Ron realized that if that truly was the reason for the attack, then Voldemort probably knows that Harry is after the horcrux in the closed wand shop. He would have to let Harry know, but getting his brothers to safety was his immediate concern. The twins’ grins both faltered a bit, but it was clear to Ron that they still didn’t believe him… or didn’t believe him enough to clear out of their shop right away. He had to convince them.

“Listen, I saw what they are about to do to the building. I put myself in a trance or something, and I saw them set this place on fire! They’re going to be here in a minute!”

Both the twins laughed, and Fred said, “Who the bloody hell told you that you were a seer?”

“Hermione,” was all Ron said.

The twins’ laughter instantly died away. They looked hard at Ron for a few moments, and then looked at each other.

“What do you think?” said George.

“Hermione’s not a kidder, is she?” asked Fred rhetorically.

“Well, I can’t say we haven’t thought about something like this happening,” said George.

“True, and if Ronniekins here is right, this may be the perfect way to test it out.”

George grinned, pulled out his wand and turned to Ron, “Bring the memory of what you saw to the front of your mind… picture what happened as clearly as you can.”

Ron wondered what the hell they were up to, but did as he was told. George placed his wand against Ron’s temple and slowly drew the memory from his head.

“Hmm, it’s a short one, but I think it’ll do,” said Fred as he watched his twin carry the wispy memory over to their workbench and insert the memory into a small glass box that had tiny runes etched around each corner. They held it up to a candle and stared into it for a few moments.

“Alright, I’ll loop it after forty-two seconds,” said George as he tapped the box with his wand, “that’ll keep the flames and smoke visible until we dispel it.”

Alright, then, let’s go!” said Fred excitedly.

Ron followed the twins out of the back room. George carried the box to the front of the shop and laid it on the sidewalk just outside of the door. He tapped the box once more to activate it, and then returned inside. Meanwhile, Fred was busy gathering up his customers and herding them towards the back of the store away from the front door, all the while telling them that they were about to get a free sample of one of their newest products.

Almost as soon as the front door was closed, Ron saw a pair of black-cloaked figures stop across the Alley.

“They’re here!” whispered Ron to the twins.

“Alright, then, wands out, and keep the shields up,” said George quietly.

“You know what will happen if even one gets through,” finished Fred.

Ron and Fred held out their wands and said, “Protego!” while George waited for the first spell from the Death Eaters to be cast.

As if on cue, the two Death Eaters quickly turned and began firing spells at the front of the shop as George sent an activation spell at the box, then began casting his own shielding spell. All of the Death Eaters’ hastily cast spells impacted harmlessly on the hastily produced shields. After a minute, the two Death Eaters grinned maliciously at each other before Amycus held his wand aloft and yelled, “Morsmordre!” casting the Dark mark in the sky above the Alley. A moment later, the pair had vanished in a fall of colour.

Fred and George began laughing hysterically, very pleased with their own brilliance. Ron wore a confused expression as he stepped through the doorway to inspect the front of the building. As soon as he walked out into the street, he heard the loud crackling of a fire burning. He turned around to see the building just as he had seen it in his vision… Flames and smoke were pouring out of the doorway and every window on both floors. He could tell after a few seconds that the licks of flame were repeating themselves, as if he were watching a wizard photograph of the conflagration resetting itself. He didn’t even bother to wonder about the paradox of seeing flames from a memory of a future that had never taken place.

The walls of the building suddenly flashed blue and all of the flame and smoke disappeared. He saw George standing in the doorway to his shop and holding the glass box while Fred was inside speaking loudly to the cheering crowd, who were obviously thrilled with the show they had just seen.

Honestly, Ron wasn’t sure why the patrons were cheering when all they could have seen were a pair of Death Eaters attacking the shop’s proprietors until George explained that Fred had handed each of the patrons a five minute demonstration sample of their ‘Patented Daydream Charm’ and all they had seen during the attack was the first five minutes of that year’s Quidditch World Cup, also mentioning that the entire match was available on a sixteen hour Daydream Charm for those who were unable to attend the game themselves.

“Listen, I need get to the Leaky Cauldron, I have to get to Harry’s right away,” said Ron to his brother, “He needs to know about the owl and the attack here.”

“Well, use the floo up in our flat,” offered George, “it’ll be quicker than heading to the other end of the Alley.”

“I left some stuff with Tom at the Cauldron that I’ll need to bring with me,” replied Ron as turned to leave, “you just take care of yourselves, I’ll be alright.”

Ron hurried back through Diagon Alley, ignoring all the frightened looks from the denizens who witnessed the ‘attack,’ and was soon at the back door to the tavern. After collecting his supplies from Tom and paying for some floo powder, he stepped to the large fireplace and jostled his many bags as he prepared to toss it into the low flames. It was then that he discovered what Harry and Hermione had found out earlier… he couldn’t remember where he was supposed to return to… he was never told the address.

After a moment’s thought, he an idea came to him. He had to get Pig to deliver a warning to Harry. He tossed the floo powder into the hearth, stepped into the emerald green flames and called out, “The Burrow.”

-----~-----

The glowing rift that hung suspended in the air closed abruptly and disappeared, leaving the stench of brimstone and sulphurous smoke drifting in the light breeze. She watched in despair and the smoky, ethereal serpent coiled back around the translucent figure of the lion sitting before her. Time seemed to speed up around her as she dispelled her ‘state.’

“This is impossible!” yelled Hermione in frustration as she stood up and began pacing through the sand.

Hermione had just finished the fourth iteration of the banishment ritual, with the same result every time… the fragment refused to separate from the host.

Harry leaned forward and rested his aching forehead in his hands. He looked up into the mid-afternoon sky, shading his eyes from the glaring sun and said, “Let’s go inside, I think I’m getting a sunburn.”

Harry had removed his shirt hours earlier, just after Hermione transfigured her totally unsuitable black sweatshirt and pants in to a modest, white one-piece swimming costume with a matching see-through sarong as a wrap. She also re-transfigured Kotone’s worn, gray nightshirt into an old fashioned, light-blue frilly one-piece so that she could play in the surf.

Harry had noticed during the pauses between each failed attempt to rid him of Voldemort’s soul fragment that Kotone was having a wonderful time trying to catch some of the larger fish that ventured too close to her. Whenever she had caught one, she’d take off her mask and happily pop it into her mouth. He thought it odd that he found it so amusing, but just attributed it to him finally being used to her strange eating habits. He had also noticed after Kotone came in from the water that the little girl’s pale skin was turning just as red as his.

When they entered the house and were finally out of the glaring afternoon sun, Harry saw that Hermione had a burn worse than both his and Kotone’s combined. Her skin was an angry shade of red, especially around her shoulders and upper back where the sun had been beating down on her. He briefly wondered how she could have obtained such a worse burn than he did, but then realized that while she was in her ‘state,’ time passed more slowly for her than for those around her. To Harry, they had been in the sun for almost three hours, but to Hermione, she was sitting in the sun for probably double that… maybe even more.

Hermione winced in pain as she carefully settled into the zebra-patterned couch and closed her eyes. Within a minute, she was asleep.

Harry looked at her sympathetically for a moment, and then looked at his own reddening skin. He sighed and said to himself, “I think it’s bath time.”

Kotone, who was standing just outside of the open doorway shaking the sand and seawater from her hair, looked up in surprise when he said that it was bath time. A happy smile formed on her mask’s painted lips.

He walked into the bathroom and turned on the tap to the massive tub and adjusted the temperature so that the water was barely tepid. The tub was easily the size of the one in the prefect’s bath at Hogwarts.

As soon as the tap was turned on, the light in the room dimmed dramatically and a set of a dozen floating candles surrounded the tub from a concealed recess in the wall. The candles lit themselves while suspended around the bath, illuminating the room in a soft, pleasantly flickering light.

Although he didn’t have any soap with him, the water coming from the tap obviously contained some sort of scented oil or soap because as the tub filled, the surface was covered in thick foam. He shed his sweatpants and underwear, and as soon as the tub was half-way filled he slipped into the water, rested the back of his head against the rim and closed his eyes, listening to the rush of the water from the tap as it echoed throughout the large room.

-----~-----

Hermione was awakened by a sharp, stinging pain on her shoulder, which turned out Kotone’s hand that was lightly touching her tender skin. When she looked up, she was met with the young half-witch’s smiling eyes and grinning mask.

“Come, Miss Eagle,” said Kotone, “It is time for bath. Cool water will help the burn.”

Hermione watched Kotone’s retreating back as she practically skipped into the bathroom, leaving the door open behind her. Hermione carefully lifted herself from the sofa and slowly walked to the open doorway while tiredly rubbing her eyes.

‘Yes, maybe a cool, relaxing bath is just what I need,’ Hermione thought to herself. She was still upset with herself for failing to rid Harry of that soul piece. She didn’t know exactly why it didn’t work, but she had some theories. Maybe it was rooted to Harry too deeply, or maybe it was because it wasn’t a true horcrux because it was unintentionally placed within his scar. The one theory that kept running through her head more often than all the others was that she simply wasn’t powerful enough to banish a fragment that old.

She had read about a ritual to enhance one’s power in Kotone’s book. It stated that the ritual would irrevocably transform the subject into a ‘purer’ form of their specialty. For a Sorcerer, a Mage, or any of the other types of wizards, it seemed that whatever changes the ritual produced, it would be a positive thing. Sometimes the changes were not only in power and personality, but also in one’s physical appearance. She wasn’t so sure that being a ‘purer’ Necromancer could be considered positive, but if it would help Harry… if it would help to get their soul bond back… anything would be worth it. She just hoped that Harry would accept whatever changes were made to her.

Even before she entered the bathroom, Hermione heard the water running into the tub as Kotone quickly stripped out of her still-damp bathing costume. She did notice the lit candles and thought it was a very pleasant touch. She closed the door behind her while politely averting her eyes from Kotone, not really wanting to see the little half-demon in the buff. Instead, she turned to look at her reflection in the wide mirror above the tan marble sink. She watched herself gingerly peel off the shoulder straps of her suit and pull the top half down to her waist. She turned slightly to see that her back was frightfully reddened, even where the suit had covered her skin. When she transfigured her clothes, she made the material a tan-through mesh, which she now was fully regretting.

Just as Hermione bent down to guide the material over her burned legs, she heard Kotone giggle as she splashed heavily into the water. She had just lifted one foot out of the bathing costume that was now pooled around one ankle when heard an odd, gasping sound from behind her.

Hermione quickly turned her head to see what had made the strange noise. At the same time, a very male voice yelled out, “Kotone?”

Hermione’s heart stopped.

-----~-----

Harry was lurking in that neverland somewhere between consciousness and sleep. The cooling water around him and the sound of the flowing tap was lulling him into such a relaxed state that he never noticed the entrance of his two girls.

The same, recurring dream was making it’s appearance once again. He was in the darkened hallway of his house, the one that he couldn’t recall the location to. The same door was before him, but this time it was left ajar. He easily opened it, revealing a scene that was both foreign and familiar.

There was Hermione, standing once again in the absurdly large, open clamshell, but the room that was usually there was now a lush, tropical setting. Rain was pouring down on Hermione as she ran a bar of soap down her naked frame. She turned when she noticed him standing in the doorway and gave him a beaming smile. It was quite the refreshing change from her kneeling in the shell while crying her eyes out.

Hermione let out a soft, high-pitched giggle in a voice that, while somewhat familiar, wasn’t her own. She bent down and scooped some water out of the shell and tossed it at his face.

Harry’s eyes flew open when he felt the water around him abruptly shift as Kotone practically jumped into the other end of the tub, which caused the wave that splashed him in the face, waking him from the very pleasant dream. His stalled, foggy mind was searching for a reason why he was seeing Kotone naked in a bathtub. He couldn’t keep the loud gasp of surprise from escaping his lungs as he looked confusedly at the little half-demon happily smiling at him.

“Kotone?” he asked stupidly as the fog of his semi-sleep left him.

Movement from the other side of the darkened room caught his eye, and he looked over just in time to see Hermione, facing away from him, bent fully over… and completely naked. From his vantage point inside of the in-floor tub, he had an unrestricted view of her most intimate womanly bits. Even in the dim lighting, he could see each fold and bulge of her vaginal area through the sparse, neatly trimmed pubic hair that ended just before the little, puckered knot of her anus. Although he tried, he couldn’t tear his eyes from that image.

Upon hearing his gasp, he saw her head snap around to face him. She stood there frozen for a few heartbeats before emitting a comically loud squeak as she abruptly stood and spun around. Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on whose position you were in, this gave Harry an unrestricted frontal view of Hermione’s assets.

The effect on Harry was immediate. With every beat of his racing heart, he felt the blood being pushed into his penis and within seconds it was standing at full attention and throbbing in time with his rapid pulse. Even before the elixir stole away those feelings from him, he had never experienced that kind of intense reaction. Now that he was getting the full measure of his hormonal urges, it didn’t immediately occur to him to look away from his apparently mortified best friend.

Hermione suddenly dropped down to the floor, doubled over with her arms over her breasts. True, she was embarrassed about Harry seeing her, once again, completely exposed, but there was also another reaction that gripped her when she saw the burning desire in his eyes. He was looking at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen… the sexiest woman on the planet. Nobody had ever looked at her like that before. That, in turn, ignited a fire within her belly, burning it’s way up into her chest and down into her loins. Her breath started coming out in short pants, not from anxiety, but from extreme lust, and she felt the moisture virtually running along her arse cheeks and down the inside of her thighs. With her embarrassment, desire, and sunburn, her skin was practically glowing crimson.

The strange mixture of embarrassment and desire was so completely foreign to her that she didn’t know how to immediately react. Why was his gaze having such a drastic effect on her libido? Was she some sort of closet exhibitionist?

Kotone was looking back and forth between Harry and Hermione with a curious expression in her eyes. She stood from the tub and climbed out, giving Harry much the same view as Hermione had given him moments before, although the effect on him was entirely different. He gawked at the strangeness of seeing a prehensile tail protruding from the base of her spine near the top of her buttocks before he tore his eyes from that area and got his first good look at the rest of the half-demon’s body.

From the nape of her neck to the base of her tail were red kanji characters tattooed down her back along her spine. He saw two long, pink scars running vertically along each of her shoulder blades. He also noticed that she had numerous other scars in various places across her back. He made a mental note to ask her about those scars when the circumstances weren’t so awkward.

As she walked towards Hermione, Harry noticed something that he wasn’t aware of before. Kotone had breasts. Not the tiny little saucer shaped breasts that you’d expect to find on a ten-year-old, but a fully developed pair that protruded noticeably from her chest. With what she wore, how she carried herself, and having such a small, thin frame, they were virtually unnoticeable when she was clothed, even when he was carrying her, but were quite apparent while naked.

“Miss Eagle,” said Kotone in a curious voice, “Why are you not getting into bath? Is it not bathing time?”

“Kotone,” said Hermione in a strained voice, “Harry’s already taking a bath! Why did you bring be in here with him already in the tub!”

Kotone looked back at Harry, obviously confused for a moment, but then turned back to Hermione and smiled, “In Japan, my family bathe together all the time. We are family now, so we can have family bath!”

Hermione let out a nervous laugh and said, “We… we’re not a family just yet! We’ve never… I’ve never seen him naked before! That’s just not done in this part of the world!”

“What is wrong with naked?” asked Kotone, “You have very nice body, not scary like mine. You should not have shame when you are so beautiful! It is only bath to get clean and relax, to become closer as family should.”

Then Kotone looked critically between Hermione and Harry, who was still in the tub, averting his eyes and wisely remaining silent. The smile on Kotone’s mask fell slightly as she asked Harry, “You are to be family, are you not? This is your Washi, you are her Shishi. Once bond is completed, you will be together forever, nothing can change that.”

Now that he had finally wrestled his hormones into submission, which was no small feat, Harry looked towards his two girls, this time without the surprised leer that he wore when he first noticed Hermione in the room, but with a sincere conviction that shone clearly in his words.

“When I agreed to repair the bond, I knew what I was saying. I knew what it meant, for both of us. I remember what it felt like to be in love. I told you that I want to feel it again, and I know once the bond is back in place, I won’t ever want to lose it again. To answer your question, yes… if after the bond is repaired we feel the same way as before, then I can assure you that we will be a family… that is, if that’s what Hermione wants, as well…”

Harry’s higher brain functions took a momentary vacation as he saw a thin, lithe body carry two jiggling mounds of flesh towards him at an alarming speed. A moment later, a large wave of foamy bathwater struck him fully in the face. The next thing he knew, a pair of soft hands were resting on the back of his shoulders with an equally soft pair of lips were firmly pressed against his. He blinked the soapy water out of his eyes to find Hermione kissing him passionately. It only took a moment for his brain to engage before he began to fervently kiss her back. He threw his arms around her, but that caused her to freeze as she sharply inhaled through her nose, but her lips didn’t break their contact with his.

After a minute, they broke the kiss and she leaned into his embrace, but this time he was fully aware of her sunburned skin. He could once again feel her breasts pressing into his chest, but this time, there wasn’t any clothing to get in the way.

Before his higher cognitive functions left him again, he heard her breathe into his ear, “Why, Mister Potter, I do believe that you’ve just proposed to me.”

Either totally oblivious to what was happening, or just not wanting to miss a thing, Kotone walked up to the tub, stepped into the water, and began bathing herself while the painted lips on her mask seemed etched in a wide, satisfied grin.

-----~-----

Fun Fact: When I first envisioned the house, I *almost* made the bathtub a big clamshell, but thought that it would have been a bit much. They needed the maneuvering room, anyway!

38. The Necromancer's Ritual

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I make any claim to the lyric bits that I use.

A/N: Yay! Out of the fluff and back into the darkness! This chapter is chock full of angsty goodness, so keep your seat belts buckled! There’s really nothing else for me to say here, so… on with the show! (Word Count: 6013)

-----~-----

Chapter 38: The Necromancer’s Ritual

-----~-----

Maybe in another life, I could find you there.
Pulled away before your time… I can't deal, it's so unfair.

And it feels…
Yeah it feels like
Heaven's so far away,
and it feels…
yeah, it feels like
the world has grown cold,
now that you've gone away.

Leaving flowers on your grave, show that I still care,
but black roses and ‘Hail Mary’s’ can't bring back what's taken from me

I reach to the sky, and call out your name,
and if I could trade,
I would.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Gone Away,’ by the band, The Offspring.

-----~-----

Once the initial awkwardness wore off, Harry found that he was quite enjoying the time he was spending in the large bathtub with his two girls. Kotone was happily swimming around while Hermione just rested the back of her head against the adjacent side of the tub and let the cooling water soothe her sunburned skin.

There were a few times where he had to concentrate on not gawking every time that Hermione shifted her head against the tub’s edge, not that there would be anything to see, as she was very careful to keep her body concealed beneath the thick foam that was covering the water’s surface.

Kotone, however, held no such obligation to keep her body submerged. She would happily swim from one end of the tub to the other, which in itself was a curious sight to behold, because she would use her hair and tail to help propel her through the water. Harry had ample opportunity to inspect the scars that covered, not only the little girl’s back, but also her front, and arms and legs, as well. Everything that she had worn before had covered most of her body, so he was never aware of her condition.

Harry remembered the comment that Ron had made back at ‘the house.’ He had asked Harry what exactly they knew about Kotone. Ron was right, but he had deftly avoided answering the direct question at the time. He had to admit to himself that he knew almost nothing of her past, only the things that he had specifically asked her. He knew that she arrived in Britain during the Quidditch World Cup match with her parents, and that they had died during the chaos that ensued when the Death Eaters made their appearance there. He knew that she was held by the Ministry after her parents’ deaths and was not allowed to contact her homeland, which caused her family’s wealth to be stolen by her aunt, leaving her penniless in a foreign land. He knew that her mother was a Priestess and her father, stepfather, really, was a wandsmith back in Japan. Other than that, he didn’t really know that much about her at all.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that the only things he knew about her were the tragedies that she had suffered, and it would appear that there was more on that subject that he needed to learn. If he was going to be her parent, guardian, or whatever he was going to be, he needed to know more about her… the good and the bad… what had happened in her past.

When Kotone swam close to him, Harry took hold of one of her hands and brought her in front of him. He turned her around and closely examined the many scars on her back. He couldn’t help but to focus on the long, jagged scars that lined her shoulder blades. With as much compassion as he could muster, he concernedly asked her, “Where did you get these scars?”

Kotone looked back at him over her shoulder. She obviously knew exactly what he was asking, because the happiness that had shone in her eyes a moment before was gone, replaced by the sadness that he had seen in them when he had first met her on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Even the painted lower lip on her porcelain mask seemed to quiver as the little girl drew a breath. At that moment, he thought that maybe Hermione had done too good of a job enchanting the mask.

Kotone ashamedly looked away and lowered her head. “Fear can make good people do bad things, and bad people to do worse,” was all she said.

“Did… did your parents do this to you?” asked Harry softly.

Kotone spun around. Her eyes were wide as she fervently shook her head while saying, “No! Mother and father loved me. They were very angry when bad things happened to me.”

“Then what happened to you?” he asked sincerely.

Kotone’s sad eyes met his, and became slightly afraid as she asked, “Are you sure that you want to know?”

Harry’s eyes dropped down to the part of her chest that was bobbing above the foam. There was a long, thin scar that ran from the top of her right shoulder, down across her left breast where it disappeared beneath the foam. Another ran horizontally across her breastbone and ended somewhere under her left armpit. There were many others, some small and round, others thick and jagged… and a large, wrinkled pinkish patch that appeared to be a healed-over burn. She seemed to have had quite a few of those burned patches.

His eyes returned to hers and he stiffly nodded.

Kotone closed her eyes for only a moment, and when they opened, Harry saw the bathroom around him disappear as the sensation of time slowing down washed over him. Suddenly, a vast number of memories flashed through his mind, and her entire life was laid out before him, compacted into a few, fleeting minutes.

…a group of jeering young children throwing fist-sized rocks at him. He could actually feel where each stone struck his body. He could feel the bones break and the trickle of blood seeping into his clothes as he lay crying in the dirt, wondering why none of the adults who were watching nearby were trying to help him. One particularly sharp rock had impacted on the base of his left wing, shattering the hollow bone and nearly severing it from his body…

…His aunt as she beat him across his now wingless back with her staff for not feeding her cat while she was out, the same cat that he wasn’t allowed anywhere near for fear that he might eat it…

More and more memories flashed by, memories of pain and torment, hatred and fear.

…being trampled by a crowd of people as they fled from the strange men in skull masks. One masked man in particular looked directly at him and, after freezing in shock for a moment, cast some strange curse at him that opened a large gash across his chest…

…finding the burning shell of the magical tent they were staying in for the night and finding his dying parents. He could feel the flaming remnants of the tent falling on him as he tried to create the connection with his mother, only to be buried in the burning remains of the tent before he could help either of them…

…locked in a small cage, staring into eyes that he had seen before… eyes that burned with fear and loathing… the eyes of the man that had cast the curse that tore his chest open at the Quidditch match… the eyes of his jail keeper, Walden MacNair. The man was angry because he was crying so much, but he couldn’t help it… he was covered with the painful scabs and blisters from where his skin was charred…

Harry was beginning to feel sick as the dozens of horrific scenes passed unrelentingly through his mind. Endless memories of beatings and neglect, of cruelty and betrayal. A profound sense of despair and hopelessness gripped his heart. Once again, he was reminded that experiencing things through Kotone’s eyes wasn’t something that he felt he would ever get used to. Still, the assault of memories continued…

…those same eyes laughing at him as he lay starved and naked on the floor of the cage, covered in sweat, blood and his own excrement. The man was speaking to his assistant, an ugly old witch named Yvonne Yaxley, bemoaning the fact that he wasn’t allowed to ‘cut the beast open’ to find out how it could heal so quickly… “I guess I’ll just have to keep amusing myself!” the cruel man said as he drew his wand again. An instant later, he screamed in pain as a bone-breaking hex was cast at his leg…

…waking up screaming in his small, dirty room, and peeling back the thin blanket to find that he had been covered with acid worms at some point during the night as a prank. He could feel the slime burning creases into his skin…

The sad, violet eyes that were the entirety of Harry’s vision suddenly softened, and a final memory drifted calmly through his mind…

…He was being carried through Diagon Alley by the man who took him from the nightmare that was his orphanage. He looked up at the kind man and said, “Shishi-kun, what will happen to me? I am alone. Parent are dead. Barney-kun is dead. I have nothing. Nobody want ugly animal as me. Where will I go?”

The kind man then said to him in a calm, even voice, “A very clever witch once told me that I have this ‘saving people thing,’ and since I’m destined to save the Wizarding world, I believe I can work one beautiful little witch into my schedule. You promised to protect me, so I now promise to protect you…”

The feeling of love and happiness that Harry was feeling at that point was nearly overwhelming.

Kotone gently ended the connection and the bathroom emerged into focus as the darkness retreated. He was surprised by the fact that tears were running down his cheeks, but wasn’t quite sure if they were caused by the ordeals that he had witnessed or from the feeling he got from the last memory that she had shown him.

“See?” said Kotone with a pleasant smile on her mask, “Things are better now.”

Totally forgetting that they were in a bathtub, Harry abruptly pulled Kotone to him and wrapped her in a hug that she returned whole-heartedly. Upon feeling the lines and ridges of the scars on Kotone’s bare back, he realized that he was hugging a naked young girl and recoiled from her, holding her at arm’s length by her shoulders, which only made her laugh.

“Brother Lion, there is no shame while in family bath! You should get used to this!”

Kotone looked over to Hermione who was sitting nearby, just watching the exchange with an amused expression, knowing exactly how flustered Harry had just become through his own act-before-you-think ‘Harryness.’

A grin appeared on Kotone’s mask as she said to Hermione, “You are family, too! Get used to it!”

Before Hermione could react, Kotone lunged at her and hugged the older witch just as she had done to Harry, which, in turn, caused Hermione to let out a squeak as she stiffened, although a slight smile curled at the edges of her mouth as she did so.

Kotone released Hermione, still wearing a wide smile. She made her way to the edge of the tub and lifted herself out while cheerfully saying, “Bath time over, I am now all wrinkly!”

Kotone bent down and picked up her discarded swimming costume. She went to the sink and rinsed the sand and salty water out of it before she held it up and looked to Hermione.

Understanding what the girl wanted, Hermione picked up her wand from the edge of the tub and after a moment’s thought, transformed the frilly blue swimsuit into what looked like a long, white and gold Kimono.

Hermione wasn’t really sure exactly what a real kimono consisted of, so she had turned it into a fluffy robe that merely looked like one. Even so, Kotone seemed thrilled with it as she slipped it around her body and walked out of the bathroom with her still-wet feet slapping on the tiled floor leaving damp footprints in her wake.

As Harry watched Kotone’s retreating, and now thankfully clothed back, he had a chance to analyze the memories that she had shared with him. All he had known of her before told of a sweet, polite, and caring young girl, despite her physical appearance. He found it hard to believe that anyone could treat someone like her with such unbridled cruelty, such malice.

He thought that fear alone couldn’t account for how she was perceived and treated by nearly everyone that she encountered. Sure, children could be cruel, as he was well aware, but even taking into account that her childhood had taken place in a foreign country with a completely different culture than what he was used to, the idea that a public stoning by other children her own age was just inconceivable.

“I saw what she showed you,” said Hermione softly, breaking him out of his thoughts, “I saw the visions, but I couldn’t feel what she was going through like you obviously did. I don’t know if she actually intended for me to see, or if it’s just a side-effect of my own magic. The same kind of thing happened when she tried to help you just after you first touched the locket. I could understand what she was saying and what she was trying to do for you…”

“Well, I’m going to make sure she’s alright,” said Harry as he stood up and moved to get out of the tub, but froze when he realized what Hermione would see the moment he lifted himself out from the waist-deep water. He reached out, intending to grab his pants that were still on the floor nearby, but found that they were just a few inches out of his reach.

“Here, let me help,” said Hermione as she picked up her wand. With a swish and a flick, she incanted, “Wingardium Leviosa.”

Harry watched in dismay as his trousers, which still contained his underwear, lifted up from the floor, and then hovered over to the counter next to the sink where they neatly folded themselves.

When Harry turned to face her with a panic-stricken expression, Hermione sweetly said, “It’s only fair, Harry… after all, you’ve seen me at a disadvantage twice, now.” She was blinking innocently, and wearing the most angelic expression he had ever seen on her… except for the devilish glint in her eyes that clearly betrayed her innocent act.

Without his wand, Harry felt as naked as he actually was. He gave her one last, pleading look, but it was clear that she had no intention whatsoever of levitating his clothes back over to him. With a steeling sigh, he climbed out of the water and hurried over to the counter, grabbed his clothes and began to quickly dress himself.

Harry was just fastening his buckle when he turned back embarrassedly to Hermione, only to find her looking at him with a dazed, glassy-eyed stare. He opened his mouth to apologize, but when nothing came out, he just sighed and walked out of the bathroom while pulling on his shirt.

When Harry left the bathroom, he was mildly surprised to find Kotone curled up on the polar bearskin rug, fast asleep. As he carefully lifted her from the floor, he wished he still had his wand. He would have transfigured the crib in the nursery into a small bed for her. He carried her up the stairs and laid her on the bed, then sat beside her a watched her as she slept until he heard movement from downstairs.

He watched Hermione walk from the bathroom, fully clothed once again in her black sweatsuit. She looked around for a moment, and then drew her wand as she began magically cleaning away all of the dust that had built up over the last decade.

Harry couldn’t help but to stare at her as she worked, gracefully manipulating her wand as she artfully danced around the room. Her dark eyes were set in concentration as she moved from area to area. She would give her wrist a twist and a cloud of dust rose into the air, and then compacted into a floating pebble before it vanished completely. Her slow, elegant movements and the methodical manner in which she was circuiting the room were mesmerizing to him.

A crazy thought crossed his mind when he pictured her doing those spells without clothes on. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see the way her breasts were swinging as she waved her wand around. He could imagine the lines of her back and the curve of her buttocks as she lightly stepped towards a new area to clean. He didn’t even realize he was studying her every move until he saw her abruptly stop when she reached the fireplace.

He suddenly noticed that she was looking up at him watching her. She still had a cloud of dust suspended in the air. Harry rose from the bed and descended the stairs. Hermione was looking at him with an odd, almost frightened expression as he approached her.

“Is everything alright?” asked Harry in a concerned voice, thinking that maybe she was afraid that he was angry with her about the little joke she had played on him in the bathroom.

Hermione vanished the dust cloud, then looked to Harry and quickly said, “I… I think I’ll go for a short walk. I… I need some air.”

Without another word, she walked to the front door and stepped out into the gathering night.

Harry thought briefly about following her to ask her why she seemed so upset, but she obviously needed some time alone. He glanced around the half-cleaned room and quickly discovered that there really wasn’t anything to do there. There weren’t even any books around.

He wandered into the kitchen and gave a cursory inspection of the coldbox, larder and inside of the various cabinets. He knew there wasn’t any food in the house, and even if there was, it would have been long spoiled by this time.

Harry made his way into the nursery and began looking around at all of the obviously unused furniture. He noted that the crib and changing table were both upholstered in a light yellow. Maybe they didn’t know if they were going to have a boy or a girl and chose a neutral colour. After all, they could always use magic to change the colour afterwards.

He gave one last look around before he returned to the main room. He quietly walked up the stairs and looked at Kotone as she fitfully slept. He could see that her legs and tail were twitching underneath her long kimono, and her eyes were pressed tightly shut. Every once in a while she would let out a soft moan or a pained gasp. He could only guess which of her tortured memories she was currently reliving.

He wondered if he should wake her, but decided just to let her sleep. He knew from experience that if you don’t wake up during a dream, you most likely wouldn’t remember even having it. He fondly rested the backs of his fingers against her temple and brushed his thumb lightly across her white brow. He smiled to himself as he saw that her eyes seemed to relax slightly under his touch.

As the night was comfortably warm, he left her resting above the covers. He walked to the doors to the balcony and stepped outside. As he looked over the beach, he saw what could only be Hermione, sitting very close to the shoreline inside of a circle of pulsating, dark violet light. The light reminded him of the blacklights that were placed in the bug-zappers that the neighbors turned on at night during parties and evening cook-outs. A spiraling vortex of magic from the circle that surrounded her shot up into the sky. small bits of energy that resembled fluttering flower petals danced along the vortex as they ascended into the air.

He couldn’t tell what she was doing from that distance, but he suddenly became very anxious. He was just staring at the odd scene until the circle gave one last flash of bright violet light then extinguished altogether. A distant, piercing scream cut through the night as he watched Hermione slump onto her side.

Cold fear gripped Harry’s chest as he climbed over the railing and let himself hang from balcony’s deck before letting go and dropping the final few feet to the ground. He then ran off in a full sprint across the sand towards the shoreline.

Although it was only a half moon hanging low in the clear night sky, it shed just enough light for him to see the horrifying scene that met him when he arrived at Hermione’s side.

She was lying curled up on her side inside of the wide circle of blackened sand. When he knelt down and lifted her back into a seated position, he felt the cloth of her sweatshirt was wet and sticky. He looked at Hermione’s face and thought that her complexion looked deathly white, and he couldn’t tell if she was even breathing. He pulled one of his hands back and in the dim light, saw that it was covered in blood. He looked down in horror and saw that she sand beneath her was also drenched in blood.

“What did you do?” he asked in a desperate whisper as he lifted her from the sand and began to walk as quickly as he could towards the house. Although the air was warm, she felt deathly cold in his arms… colder than any living thing should feel.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Hermione!” he whispered to her while choking back his tears, “Not now! Not ever! You can’t leave me now! I love you!”

-----~-----

Hermione stepped from the bathroom and nervously looked around. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Harry sitting next to Kotone on the bed up in the loft. She was thankful that he wasn’t there waiting for her… she didn’t think that she could handle it at the moment.

Desperate for some ‘busy work’ to help keep her mind from wandering off, she began to clean. While she was growing up, whenever she was upset or anxious, she would spend the day cleaning her room, which always seemed to please that lazy nanny that used to take care of her. It meant that the obnoxious wench had less to do herself that she was still going to be paid for.

After a minute, she started getting into the cleaning routine. She hadn’t often had the opportunity to practice her housekeeping spells since she’d come of age the previous September. She became so focused that she forgot that Harry was watching her, which is just what she hoped would happen. Her sunburn was even forgotten, thanks to the chilling charm that she had cast on her clothes. She would barely be able to move without it.

How she loved being a witch! She could scarcely remember what life was like before she learned of the magical world. Using magic just came so naturally to her, she wondered how she survived without it for so long. A slash here and her bed was made! A jab there and her tea that she neglected due to a particularly interesting chapter was hot and fresh again! A glide and a flick and the dust cloud she was levitating condensed, and with another jab, vanished entirely!

She had just made it to the fireplace area when she glanced around to compare the difference between the area she had cleaned and what was left to be done. It was then that she made her mistake.

She accidentally glanced up and her concentration was instantly broken. She saw those green eyes of his staring down at her from between the posts of the banister that lined the loft. She saw the expression on his face, a peculiar combination of appreciation, wonder, admiration, and… and…

‘Oh… my… God…’ was the only thought that crossed her mind. The effect on her was immediate. She felt the queasy churning in her stomach, the pressure in her chest that made it difficult for her to breathe, and the heat that spread through her from between her legs and seemed to ignite her very soul.

Hermione had no idea that what she had done would affect her so profoundly. She shouldn’t have done it! Why did she do it? What on earth possessed her to make Harry get out of the tub naked? Now that image of him was forever etched in her mind… the water and suds running down his back and over his firm buns… the way his thigh muscles stretched as he lifted one leg over the rim to climb out… the very revealing view of his manhood hanging between his legs as he made his way to his clothes. She saw it from behind as he was walking away from her… from behind!

She had seen the other girls in Gryffindor Tower naked plenty of times, especially Lavender Brown, who seemed to have no modesty at all… but she had never before seen a guy naked. She had nothing to compare Harry to, but the weapon he was wielding seemed gargantuan to her. It could have just been her perspective, or maybe shock, but she had to wonder how something that large could be used for pleasure. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying at the same time.

She blinked and found Harry standing right in front of her. How did he get down from the loft so quickly? Her mind was buzzing, and she was having a hard time stringing two coherent thoughts together. If she didn’t get out of the room right away, she was going to be in trouble. She thought Harry had asked her something, but all she could really hear was her blood pounding in her ears, seemingly blocking out all other sound. She finally managed to draw a breath and said the first thing that came to her, “I… I think I’ll go for a short walk. I… I need some air.”

Once out of Harry’s presence, she found that her train of thought was slowly starting to move again. Of course, she knew it was the effect of that damned elixir of Ginny’s… or rather, the absence of its effects. For almost two years her normal hormonal desires were repressed, so now that she was feeling them again, she had no idea how to handle them. If she had felt them all along, her… horniness… could be dealt with easily. Now, the feelings were so new, and so strong, that she was having a difficult time believing that they were at all ‘normal’ for a girl of her age.

Now Hermione could fully understand the late-night conversations between the girls in the tower, conversations that she never joined in with because she couldn’t really relate to their ‘boy-crazy’ attitudes. The uncomfortable dampness in her knickers was testament to the fact that she could now relate very well to those conversations, thank you very much.

As she walked towards the shore, she began to analyze her feelings. She had been so angry and annoyed at Harry for so long due to the elixir’s effects, it’s amazing to her that even remained friends. The change in their relationship over the previous few years was so gradual that she couldn’t even tell exactly when those feelings surfaced. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was in love with him at the time and that they shared the soul bond, she was sure that they would have ended up much less than strangers because of that damned elixir.

Now that the effects were gone, she felt none of the bitterness or spite towards him, and now she felt like she was falling in love with him all over again. She knew that without the soul bond they could still love each other. Since the beginning of man, people have been in love, have gotten married and raised families, and have grown old together without ever having a ‘soul bond’ with each other.

Yes, she could once again feel the love and affection for Harry, but it paled in comparison to how it felt when they were connected by the bond. She missed being able to tell exactly what he was thinking with just a glance. She missed the way they could hold an entire conversation without uttering a word. She missed the way she could ‘feel’ when he was close by without even having to see him.

She wanted that again more than anything and the only way to get it back was to eliminate the leech that was attached to Harry’s soul… and the only way to do that was to perform the enhancement ritual.

Hermione stopped a few yards away from where the waves met the beach and looked out over the water. She knew that the ritual was dangerous. It worked differently for each person to attempt it, so there was no way for her to tell exactly if or how it would affect her. For a Necromancer, she needed to experience death in order to understand it. It was a risk she was more than willing to take.

She took her wand and traced a wide circle in the sand, then sat herself in the center. She took a deep, calming breath and let it out slowly through her nose, then said the incantation, ‘Vitae Adficio,’ which caused the ring in the sand to ignite in a bright, violet light. She then closed her eyes while touching her wand to her forehead to enter her state. Almost immediately, the slowly spinning Yin-Yang appeared and she felt the sensation of time slowing around her.

She opened her eyes and took in the surreal view around her. She couldn’t move her body, but her soul form seemed to have a sort of omnivision. The waves were barely moving, rolling very slowly onto the shore. Even the sounds of the insects and night birds were eerily low pitched as they made their usual nocturnal noises.

Getting right to the task at hand, she shifted her soul so that it was detached from her physical body, but didn’t leave its confines. Although she couldn’t directly feel it, she could sense life being sapped from her body. She looked at herself and could see the blood seeping out of her chest, soaking through her clothes and pooling in the sand beneath her, even though there was no physical wound.

She had to time it just right. She had to reconnect to her body the instant before death. If done correctly, the bleeding would stop and she would be able to ‘see’ death, and in the process create a union between her soul and the realm of the afterlife. If she reconnected to her body too early, the union wouldn’t properly form. If she reconnected to her body too late, she would simply die.

Hermione looked up from the blood-soaked sand, only to discover that the surrounding beach, the ocean, and the surrounding foliage had faded into darkness. For a terrifying instant, she thought she had let her concentration slip and missed the moment that she had to reconnect, but she could somehow feel that her body was still clinging to life.

Suddenly, she was surrounded by an extremely bright, white light, although it did nothing to illuminate her physical surroundings. Instead, all that she saw was a rolling landscape that appeared to be made out of a dense fog. Gradually, she could make out shapes, shadowy figures moving amidst the fog. As she watched, more and more figures seemed to appear out of nowhere, a vast multitude that seemed to stretch to the horizon and beyond.

Hermione sat and watched the scene around her. At first glance, the figures near to her seemed to be milling around aimlessly, apparently performing some common, mundane task that only they could see. The figures moved, sometimes through each other, none of them aware of either her or the host of other souls around them.

She recalled that the book stated that the plane of the afterlife worked in the same way as magic, with various frequencies and harmonics that divided the different dimensions of the great beyond. Concentrating on the Necromantic nature of her magic, she tried to ‘shift’ her existence in that realm. The effect was immediate and startling.

She found that she couldn’t change her presence in the afterlife, but she could ‘filter out’ the different dimensions so that only one appeared in her consciousness. The vast throng of figures disappeared from her sight, leaving a relative few moving and interacting with each other.

The fog around her disappeared, leaving a busy cityscape in its place. The figures were no longer vague outlines of humanoids, but took on the physical appearance of people. She also found that they could also see and interact with her, as she immediately drew the attention of several of the figures near her.

As much as she wanted to, she didn’t have the time to hold a lengthy conversation with dead strangers. She wanted to learn as much as she could about the afterlife in the time allotted to her. She could still feel the painfully slow rhythm of her heartbeat in her physical body, but she knew that time was quickly running out.

She shifted her consciousness and the urban scene around her faded into wide rural farmland. People were tending the fields, too busy with their own tasks to even notice her. She shifted a few more times, each time a different type of landscape surrounded her.

She could feel her heartbeat slowing. Realizing that it was nearly time, she shifted herself one last time and a different dimension appeared around her, but this one shocked her to her very core. The atmosphere around her was stifling hot, and the air was thick with a sickening, yellow smoke. If she could breathe in that realm, she was sure that all she would do was cough and gasp. There were many, many people in this realm, and none of them appeared to be having a very good time. Unlike herself, the people in this world did breathe, and the effect of the poisonous air on them was obvious.

She had to get out of there. She couldn’t stand to see the tormented souls a moment longer. She allowed the dimensions to overlap once again, and once again, the fog surrounded her and the multitude of souls became a mass of faceless, ghostly outlines.

With no small effort, she willed herself out of her state, and was immediately aware of the terrible pain that seemed to permeate her entire body. All she could do was let out an anguished cry as she realized that something was definitely wrong. Her body seemed unwilling to accept her soul back. It was as if she were existing in both realms, but welcome in neither. There was still just blackness around her, no dense, foggy landscape or lush, tropical island… just nothingness. She felt herself starting to panic as she became increasingly disoriented.

Suddenly, a feminine voice seemed to echo around her. It was a soft, vaguely familiar voice, but she just couldn’t quite place where she had heard it before. In a calming tone, the voice said, ‘Do not fear… your man is coming to lead you home.’

Hermione didn’t answer, or rather, couldn’t answer. The pain was so intense that she couldn’t seem to form a response at all. Then she heard another voice. This one she definitely knew. He sounded panicked as his words echoed from above her, ‘Don’t you dare leave me, Hermione! Not now! Not ever!’

As she followed his voice, she felt the pain in her body subside. She could feel her soul bonding with her body once again. She could tell that she was alive, but just barely. She couldn’t help but to smile inside as she heard him say, ‘You can’t leave me now! I love you!’

Just before unconsciousness fully claimed her, she thought to herself, ‘Don’t worry, I could never leave you… I love you, too.’

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact!: When I originally wrote the scene in the bathroom, I had Hermione stick his clothes to the ceiling rather than folding them up and putting them on the counter. Would Hermione have actually made Harry jump up to retrieve his modesty?

39. Ministry in Turmoil

Disclaimer: I still don’t own any of the ‘Harry Potter’ characters and, believe it or not, I don’t make any money from writing about them. (Honestly, who on earth would actually pay to see the crap that I write?) I don’t own the lyric bits that I use here, either.

A/N: In case you haven’t been perusing the reviews for this story on Portkey.org, I want to give an extra-special huggle to PerfesserN for creating a sketch of what Kotone would look like. I hope he doesn’t mind me linking it here, but I think it’s rather good! (It’s certainly better than anything I could have ever done!) This chapter has a bunch of important info, and it sets up what’s going to happen in the next few chapters. Harry shows a bit more of what he’s capable of being a Warlock. I’m sorry for the delay in posting this, but that’s explained in the ‘Fun Fact’ at the end of the chapter. This one was a lot of work, I hope you like how it turned out! Word Count: 6916

-----~-----

Chapter 39: Ministry in Turmoil

Don’t you understand what I’m tryin’ to say?
Can’t you feel the fears I’m feelin’ today?
If the button is pushed, there’s no runnin’ away.
There’ll be no one to save, with the world in a grave.
Take a look around ya, boy… it's bound to scare ya, boy…

And you tell me
Over and over and over again, my friend…
Ah, you don’t believe we’re on the eve of destruction.

Excerpt from the song ‘Eve of Destruction, by Barry McGuire.

-----~-----

As soon as Harry entered the house, he set Hermione down in the floor of the foyer that was situated directly beneath the loft. He knelt beside her on the white tiled floor and quickly looked her over. His mind couldn’t help but to drift back to their ill-fated trip to the Department of Mysteries the year before where Hermione laid deathly still after being cursed by Dolohov. The same panic and fear gripped him.

With the brighter indoor light, he could see that both her shirt and pants were drenched in blood that appeared to have come from her chest. He carefully pulled down the neck of her sweatshirt to inspect the wound. The limited amount of her chest area that he could reveal showed pale and blood-stained, but definitely uninjured skin. Without giving it a second thought, he grabbed the hem of her gore-soaked sweatshirt and pulled it up to reveal her entire torso. His eyes scanned her skin from her throat to the waistband of her equally-soaked sweatpants, but found no gashes, cuts or holes whatsoever. He did note that the sunburned areas on her were still pinkish, but had an eerie, ashen quality.

His mind suddenly registered what he had just done, but in his panicked state, he couldn’t be bothered with thoughts of embarrassment. If Hermione wanted to get angry with him for seeing her breasts yet again, she would have to be alive to do it.

He leaned down and held his harried breath as he placed his ear against her blue, slightly parted lips. He let out a sigh of relief when he felt the shallow movement of air from between them. She was alive… for the moment.

Harry jumped to his feet and sprinted to the stairs, reaching the bed up in the loft in no time flat. His eyes were wild and his breath was coming in desperate pants as he tried to wake Kotone from her restless sleep.

Kotone’s eyes drifted open and she looked distractedly around the room. She rolled over, and her eyes widened fearfully as she saw all of the blood smeared on Harry’s hands, face, and clothes.

“What…?” was all Kotone could gasp out.

Kotone, please! See what you can do for Hermione!” begged Harry as he took one of Kotone’s hands in his, pleading with her to follow him.

She climbed down from the bed and allowed Harry to lead her down to the main room. As soon as she saw the stricken witch, she let out a loud gasp and hurried to her side. She bent down and placed her forehead against Hermione’s, but sat back on her haunches a moment later.

“Can you help her?” asked Harry anxiously.

“No,” answered Kotone quietly, “She has no injury, no illness… there is nothing to heal.”

Harry forced himself to calm down. He tried to think of whom to call for help, but remembered that they were four or five hours behind the time in Britain, which would make it somewhere around two or three in the morning there.

His initial thought was to floo to Hogwarts to rouse Madam Pomfrey to bring her back. His eyes flicked towards the fireplace, and he grimaced at the thought of another harrowing trip through an intercontinental floo connection, much less a round trip through it. Ron briefly crossed his mind, but what could he and the Weasleys do?

‘The twins!’ he thought desperately. He remembered that they had a complete potions lab set up in their shop. Maybe they had some potions on hand for when one of their experiments went awry.

He looked at Kotone and said, “I need to get help. Can you stay here with her, maybe clean her up a bit… I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

When Kotone nodded, Harry jumped from the floor and raced out of the house back to where he had found Hermione. Sure enough, he found her wand lying in the blood-soaked sand. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on the entrance to Diagon Alley, not really noticing the faint image of the septagram that appeared under his closed eyelids. Then with a sudden twirl, he silently disappeared from the beach in a brief flash of white light.

-----~-----

Over the Atlantic Ocean just to the west of Portugal, a tiny Scops owl was flying due southwest. Suddenly, the owl ceased its frantic flapping and glided in a tight circle for a few moments before setting his course towards the northeast, back towards England.

-----~-----

Harry appeared with the same kind of flash in the dirty alley behind The Leaky Cauldron. Using Hermione’s wand, he tapped the appropriate brick and the familiar archway appeared. He entered Diagon Alley at a full run, but a moment later, he slowed and then stopped altogether as he looked around in disbelief.

From what he could tell in the early morning darkness, it seemed that nearly every shop in the Alley was closed down. Nearly every window was boarded up, every doorway was chained, bolted and barred, and hardly a light was to be seen from the flats above the shops. The Apothecary was closed up tightly, as were Eeylop’s, Flourish and Blott’s, the cauldron shop, Gambol and Jape’s… all boarded up and sealed off.

The eerie sight of all the closed shops gave him a strange, uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. He moved out from the middle of the alley and began trotting along the storefronts, hardly believing what had become of the premier commercial center of wizarding Britain since he had last been there.

Soon, Gringotts Wizarding Bank came into view. He stopped once again to gape at what he saw. In front of the bank stood a battalion of Cave Ogres, each holding huge spiked clubs as they stood practically shoulder to shoulder around the bank building. On the white marble steps in front of the bank’s massive, steel-bound doors stood four hobgoblins, dressed in full, red armour and carrying long, menacing halberds. Harry had only seen hobgoblins once before. They had been escorting Ragnok through the bank’s lobby when he was there with Ron, Hermione and Kotone. He briefly thought about approaching the hobgoblins to ask what was happening, but he knew he had a more pressing matter to tend to.

Giving the ogres and hobgoblins a wide berth, he passed by the bank and continued on towards the twins’ shop. He had just passed the boarded up doorway to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder and roughly pull him into a darkened space between two buildings. Harry’s wandtip was already glowing red with the stunner he had non-verbally prepared when he recognized the face of the man who grabbed him.

“Merlin’s beard, Harry,” came the gruff voice of Benjamin Bones, “Have you gone daft? What do you think you’re doing here? Don’t you know about the evacuation order?”

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he took in Harry’s appearance. He noticed the blood smeared on Harry’s face and clothes, and concern suddenly etched in his expression, “Harry! What happened to you? Are you alright?”

Harry’s racing heart was just starting to slow as he answered, “I need to get to Weasley’s shop right away! Hermione’s been hurt and I need to get some potions from them!”

“What happened…”

“I don’t have time to explain!” interrupted Harry as he shook himself from Ben’s grip, “I need to go!”

“Steady on, Potter!” hissed Ben quietly, “They’re not there. In case you haven’t heard, it’s not safe for anyone to be out in public right now, and nearly all the shops here have been closed down.” When he saw the panicked look in Harry’s eyes, his tone softened as he said while opening his robe to show his utility vestment underneath, “Now listen, I was trained as a healer before I became an auror, and I have a full set of auror-issue potions here. Bring me to her, and I’ll see what I can do.”

The relief was immediately apparent in Harry’s eyes as he held out his arm to Ben and said, “Alright, grab hold.”

An unspoken question appeared on Ben’s face as he grasped Harry’s wrist. He was about to put voice to that question when he saw Harry close his eyes in concentration. An instant later, the suffocating pressure of Apparation surrounded him. An instant after that, he found himself standing on a darkened seashore facing a modest beach house.

-----~-----

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, a tiny Scops owl halted it’s flight once again. It let out a shrill, annoyed ‘Hoot!’ before reversing its’ course and began flying once more towards the southwest.

-----~-----

“Come on!” shouted Harry as he began running towards the house. When he got to the doorway, Harry glanced back to see Ben hurrying up to him with a confused look on his face.

“What just happened?” Ben asked, “Was that a portkey?”

“No, I Apparated us,” said Harry as he opened the door, “now come on!”

“But you can’t do that!” Ben said forcefully.

“I know, but I can’t just walk into the Ministry to get my license to Apparate now, can I?”

When Ben just stared back at him, Harry said in a clearly annoyed voice, “What’re you going to do, arrest me?”

“Harry, nobody can Apparate from Diagon Alley! The wards won’t allow it! It’s either floo or portkey, and since portkeys are controlled by…”

“We’re wasting time!” shouted Harry as he turned away and stepped into the house.

Ben just shook his head and followed him in. The first thing that Ben noticed was the trail of blood spatters that traced a path from the doorway. His eyes followed the spatters until they came to Hermione’s bloodied body lying naked on the floor. The odd young girl that had taken to Harry was leaning over her next to a pile of blood-soaked clothing. The young girl’s torn white robe was streaked with blood as she carefully wiped the blood from the older girl’s body with a wet rag. Kotone had obviously ripped a swatch of cloth from her own robe to make the rag.

Ben had his wand out in an instant and began casting diagnostic spells over Hermione. After a few moments, he reached inside of his robes and pulled out two small potion vials. He deftly flicked a stopper off with his thumb and poured the bright orange liquid down Hermione’s throat. He waited a few moments, then uncapped the second vial containing a bluish potion and emptied that one into Hermione’s mouth.

With a final nod, he stood up and motioned for Kotone to back away. With a flick of his wand, every trace of blood was vanished from her body. With a few more waves, the blood on the floor disappeared, as well as the stains on Kotone’s robe and the pile of clothes on the floor. With a final manipulation, a plain white nightgown appeared around Hermione’s body.

He then turned to face Harry and asked, “She’ll be out until later this afternoon, perhaps even into the evening, but she should be fine. Now, would you mind telling me what happened to her? I know that she’s lost quite a lot of blood, but I couldn’t find a mark on her. Did she vomit up all of that blood?”

“I… I really don’t know. I found her out on the beach soaked in blood”

It was the truth, but not quite all of it. Ben had a skeptical look on his face, but didn’t ask any more about it. He looked around the room and asked, “Where is this place? I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyplace in Britain with palm trees.”

“We don’t know exactly where, but Hermione thinks it’s someplace in the Caribbean. It seems that my parents built this place before…”

Ben’s face fell. Ignoring the rest of what Harry was saying, he rushed out through the front door and looked up into the starry, cloudless sky. Harry could hear him mumbling to himself as he studied the stars for a minute before he turned around with a shocked look on his face.

“Alright, what’s all this, then?” said Ben angrily, “You’re telling me that you side-along Apparated… which isn’t the easiest thing to do, mind you… out of a heavily warded area to a place that’s over four thousand miles away from London! An hour ago I would have laughed at anyone if they even suggested that it was possible! Now what’s going on?”

Harry was at a loss for words. He honestly didn’t know that there was a problem with what he did. He had no idea that there were anti-Apparation wards in place over Diagon Alley, and he certainly didn’t expect that there were any distance limitations on Apparation. He remembered being told that some of the people who attended the Quidditch World Cup had Apparated in from all over the world. He didn’t stop to think that maybe they had Apparated in short steps. Even after Mundungus Fletcher Apparated away from Hogsmeade, he was told that he probably went straight to London, and considering the distance between Scotland and London, he assumed that you could Apparate anywhere as long as you knew exactly where you were going or that you had been there before.

“I did it before from Fortesque’s patio a few weeks ago, I really didn’t know that I couldn’t do it… I mean,” explained Harry nervously, “I was so worried about Hermione, that I just did it! I had side-along Apparated before… with Dumbledore back to Hogsmeade the night… the night he died.” He knew that it sounded lame, but it was the truth.

“That was you who set the Alley’s alarms off?” asked Ben with a dawning expression, “I wondered why they charged you with Apparating without a license!”

Harry watched silently as a series of different emotions crossed Ben’s face. Finally, Ben let out a resigned sigh. He turned away from Harry and levitated Hermione to the sofa. Once the girl was comfortable, he looked back at Harry.

“Do you have any idea what’s been happening back in London since yesterday when Dolores Umbridge has been found to be a Death Eater?” asked Ben.

When Harry just shook his head, Ben sighed again and continued, “Well, certain inquiries were made to select people in the Ministry about Umbridge’s recent activities. One of the witches that were questioned, a Miss Fiona Crump, works as an assistant to the Junior Undersecretary to the Director of International Magical Cooperation. At first, she was giving the same answers as everyone else who was being questioned, until she was asked about the goings-on in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, specifically, what she knew about the warrant for the detainment of you and your little friend here.”

Harry looked over to Kotone, and found that she was once again fast asleep on the polar bearskin rug right in front of Hermione. He looked back to Ben and asked, “What does Kotone have to do with anything? She’s just another victim from the orphanage that was attacked. It’s not because of me, is it?”

Ben ran his hand through his hair, saying, “We don’t know yet. Miss Crump started acting strange when we asked about Kotone’s citizenship status. When we asked her if she knew why the Hit-Wizard squad was so intent on arresting her, she came up with some story about how the Japanese Ministry wanted her back in their country… something to do with her being a fugitive.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!” said Harry hotly, “I know for a fact that they had her locked up in a cage in the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for over a year and they had contact with the Japanese Ministry at the time! They could have taken her at any point!”

“We know that, Harry,” said Ben quietly while putting his hand on Harry’s shoulder, “When we demanded to see the official correspondence from Japan about her status, she became unreasonably angry. She started saying a whole lot of things that made little to no sense, and then stared arguing with someone beside her that wasn’t there.”

Harry immediately remembered the way Barty Crouch Sr. was talking to no one back during the Tri-Wizard tournament and whispered to himself, “The Imperious Curse!”

Ben nodded and said, “Well, Arthur Weasley was the one making the inquiry, and he recognized the symptoms right away, but before he could react, Miss Crump stunned him and went on a rampage inside of the Ministry building. It appears that all of the people that Umbridge put under the curse had orders that if any one of them were discovered, they would all take out as many Ministry officials as they could. It wasn’t pretty.”

“Mr. Weasley?” Harry exclaimed, “Is he alright? I saw him at Hogwarts just this past afternoon.”

“He will be. He’s at St. Mungo’s, but they’re still trying to recover from the Death Eater attack last week. Over seventy five Ministry personnel were involved from every department except the aurors, because we’re automatically screened for polyjuice and the Imperious. It seems that nearly every member of the Hit-Wizard squad was under the curse, because it was Umbridge herself that was supposed to do the screening for that unit. Even the Wizengamot had six members under the curse. By the time the aurors had the situation under control, there were over one hundred confirmed deaths. It was chaos… nobody knew who was doing the attacking and who was defending themselves.”

“Needless to say, the attack made it to the Prophet’s evening edition. There’s mass panic in Britain. The Ministry’s shut down entirely and the building’s been sealed off. On top of that, all of the businesses in Hogsmeade, Snowdon, and Diagon Alley closed their shops, preferring to do their business by owl post from now on, and even Gringotts shut their doors until the crisis is over. The attack on the Weasleys’ shop certainly didn’t help things along. The wizarding population is in turmoil and…”

“The joke shop!” gasped Harry. His head was spinning as he listened to Ben relate the events of the previous twelve hours.

“Don’t worry, Harry. The twins are fine, and so is your friend, Ron. They’re all at the Weasley house… all except for Molly, she’s still at Hogwarts with her daughter. They’ll be safe enough when the inferi reach London.”

Every new thing that Ben was saying shocked Harry more and more, “What inferi?”

Ben looked at Harry incredulously and said, “You’ve heard nothing at all? Well, being in the middle of the Atlantic, I would suppose not… A large group of inferi has been laying waste to just about everything they’ve encountered. Last I’ve heard they were marching through Essex just south of Chelmsford, presumably heading towards London. We’ve tried to discover where they came from, and best we can tell from the trail of destruction, they marched in from a cliffy area north of Clacton-on-Sea. I’ll tell you, the muggles are in a right state!”

Harry’s hand instinctively went to his trouser pocket where the fake horcrux was nestled. Visions of the lake inside of the cavern where the fake horcrux was found entered Harry’s head. He didn’t really know where the cave that Dumbledore took him to was located, but it seemed like a very suspicious coincidence. If Voldemort released the inferi from that cave, then he more than likely knew that his horcrux was gone. Harry also remembered Snape telling him about how Voldemort had Death Eaters patrolling the Clacton area. He then pictured the route between Clacton-on-Sea and London in his mind. His eyes drifted to the girl sleeping on the sofa when he realized that her home town of St. Osyth would have been directly in the path of the marauding zombies. He had to find out.

“I’ll be right back,” said Harry just before he closed his eyes and silently disappeared in a flash of light.

-----~-----

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, still just to the west of Portugal, a very frustrated Scops owl gave out an aggravated ‘Hoot!’ as he changed direction once again and started flying to the northeast.

-----~-----

Harry opened his eyes and found himself standing in a dark garage next to the black Mercedes-Benz SL600 Roadster Convertible that Hermione had driven to Little Whinging. He quietly made his way into the house and up towards the second floor bedrooms. He remembered the room that Hermione had pointed out as her parents’ room. He edged the door open and let out a breath of relief as he saw two people who could only be Mr. and Mrs. Granger, sleeping peacefully in a bed.

He silently closed the door, and then made his way to Hermione’s bedroom with the intention of getting some spare clothes for her. When he opened the door, he was startled by a flash of white that flew from a darkened corner of the room.

“Hedwig!” whispered Harry as the snowy owl perched on his shoulder and began running her beak along the side of his head affectionately. At the same time, Crookshanks was worming his way around and between Harry’s legs and purring like a furry orange motorboat.

As quickly and quietly as he could, he gathered a small assortment of comfortable looking clothes and put them in a bag he had found in her cupboard. Hermione was probably growing very tired of the black sweatsuit she had been wearing. He opened one of the drawers in a dresser, hoping to find where she kept her tee shirts, but couldn’t suppress the startled gasp at what met his eyes.

All lined up across the drawer were stacks of neatly folded knickers and brassieres. They weren’t the plain white sets he would have expected, but matching sets of sheer, frilly laces and thin, smooth silks, all in assorted colours… but mostly red. He carefully lifted out a pair of black silk knickers, which unfolded as he withdrew it from the drawer.

Harry stared at them wide-eyed and open-mouthed for a few moments, then a wily grin crossed his lips… he had no idea that Hermione was partial to thongs.

After stopping by an all-night convenience store, Harry Apparated back to the beach house laden with bags of clothes, food, drinks and condiments, paper plates and napkins, and plastic cups and utensils, as well as an assortment of items that he knew they could use in their temporary hideaway. It took almost all of the muggle money that he had left from the twins’ loan, but since he hadn’t eaten in so long, the expenditure couldn’t be postponed another moment. Along for the ride were two very disgruntled creatures… a loudly squawking Snowy owl and a furiously hissing orange cat, and neither one were very pleased with the unpleasant mode of transportation.

-----~-----

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, a tiny Scops owl let out an angry screech. Far below, he saw a Russian fishing trawler slowly chugging its way southward around the Iberian Peninsula. Pigwidgeon glided down to the ship and perched himself upon the flagmast. He’d stay there until the person he was trying to deliver the message to decided to quit changing his location every few minutes.

-----~-----

When Harry opened the door to the beach house, he saw that Hermione was still asleep on the couch and that Kotone was still curled up on the polar bearskin rug in front of the unlit fireplace. Before Ben had a chance to ask, Harry told him about his checking on Hermione’s parents, as well as gathering some clothes for her and picking up some much needed food for them all.

Ben initially balked at staying for a midnight snack, but when Harry mentioned a strange muggle food called ‘chili dogs,’ his interest was piqued. After assurances that the food contained absolutely no real ‘dog’ meat, and that he would be delivered back to London after the meal, he finally acquiesced.

Harry went straight to the kitchen and started storing the perishables in the magical coldbox, then set to work on making the meal. Fifteen minutes later, Harry set down upon the counter two cups of muggle cola, an open bag of crisps, and two paper plates containing four chili dogs each. He immediately sat down on one of the stools and stuffed half of a dog into his mouth while Ben stood there giving the cups of black, fizzy liquid and the plates of odd, sloppy-looking food a very wary look. Upon seeing the way Harry was relishing every bite of his own hot dog, he decided that trying one couldn’t hurt.

Ten minutes later both plates were empty, as well as three-quarters of the bag of crisps. When Harry stuffed the last bite of his last hot dog in his mouth, he had to stifle a laugh to keep himself from choking at the sight of Ben’s chili-stained hands, face and goatee. Surely, Ron had some stiff competition if there was ever a ‘World’s Worst Table Manners’ award. Using Hermione’s wand, Harry vanished the trash, then led Ben from the kitchen into the living room.

“I must say, I’ve got to get the recipe for those ‘chilly dogs,’” said Ben as he wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his auror robes, “You have to wonder, though, as to why the muggles would call them ‘chilly,’ because my mouth is still burning.”

Harry just smiled and asked, “Are you ready to go back to London? I suppose I could bring you right back to the place I found you.”

“Well, why not?” said Ben with a sigh, “It’s not as if there’s anyone in the Ministry monitoring the Apparation Detectors, is there?”

Harry glanced back at Hermione lying on the couch, but was surprised to find Kotone standing beside him with her arms held up to him expectantly.

Harry gave her a smile and said, “I’ll be right back, sweetie. There’s no need to worry.”

An unsure smile appeared on Kotone’s mask as she said, “I need to go back to house. I made promise to Miss Eagle for something to get.”

Harry’s smile faltered as he said, “I’m sorry, little one, but we can’t go back there. We don’t know where it is.”

“What place are you talking about?” asked Ben.

“My own house,” said Harry flatly, “We can’t get back there because of a Fidelis charm. It seems the secret keeper was never told the address, so she can’t tell what she doesn’t know.”

“Do you mean the place where the Death Eater wannabe’s attacked?” asked Ben with a furrowed brow, “I remember your girlfriend there casting some sort of ward… Hmmm… I can’t seem to remember where it was, though…”

“You were there?” asked Harry, “and you have no idea where it is?”

“Well, I was assigned to look out for you. I was watching from an alley… somewhere in Soho…”

Harry looked down at Kotone as his brows furrowed in thought. He looked back to Ben and asked, “That alley, do you think that you could find it again?”

“Well, I suppose so,” answered Ben, “but it wouldn’t so any good. We wouldn’t be able to see the place while it’s under a Fidelis.”

“But would the secret-keeper be able to see it?” asked Harry anxiously.

“I would imagine so, but…”

In one quick motion, Harry scooped Kotone up into her usual position on his side and reached out, took Ben’s arm and closed his eyes in concentration.

Ben quickly spoke, “Harry, you do realize that you can’t…”

In a silent flash of white light, the three disappeared from the living room of the beach house and appeared in the same alleyway in Diagon Alley where Harry found Ben.

-----~-----

Somewhere over the Atlantic, perched upon a tall mast on a Russian trawler, a very angry Scops owl turned his head almost completely around to face northeastward and glared at the horizon. He didn’t even twitch a feather as he remained firmly perched on the mast.

-----~-----

“…side-along Apparate with more than one person, don’t you?” finished Ben with a sigh, “but of course, the elementary laws of magic don’t seem to apply to you today, do they?”

Ignoring Ben’s obviously rhetorical question, Harry said, “Alright, now bring us to that alley.”

Ben let out an aggravated sigh. He said while glaring at Harry, “First off… unlike you, I can’t side-along more than one person at a time. Secondly… unlike you, I cannot Apparate through the wards here around Diagon Alley. Thirdly… unlike you, I’m on duty right now, and I’ve already taken enough of a chance being away for this long.”

Harry just smiled, took hold of Ben’s arm again and closed his eyes. An instant later, they were standing in the small, dirty alley between the Leaky Cauldron and the walled entrance into Diagon Alley.

Harry put Kotone down and grabbed Ben’s wrist while saying, “Alright, then just take me to the alley. I’ll bring you back to your post, and it’ll be like you never left.”

Ben gave Harry a stern look, although Harry could have sworn he saw a slight smile briefly appear on the auror’s normally grim face. With a nod, Ben Apparated Harry along to where he was positioned right before the Death Eaters attacked. Harry briefly looked around, not at all noticing that the progression of house numbers across the street seemed to have skipped a number. Still holding onto Ben, he closed his eyes and Apparated into the Diagon Alley alleyway where they had started.

After a quick thanks and a good bye, Harry disappeared and reappeared next to Kotone. She quickly assumed her position against Harry’s side and an instant later, they were standing in the rubbish-strewn Soho alley that Ben had shown him. The street looked vaguely familiar to Harry, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d seen it before. He looked at Kotone and asked, “Well, can you see the house?”

Kotone looked up and down the street at the row of houses facing them. She closed her eyes for a moment, and then opened them again. Her eyes seemed strangely unfocused as she studied the opposite buildings once more. With a smile, she pointed to an area between two buildings diagonally to the left of where they were standing.

“That is the place. I can see the… I can see the house.”

Harry ignored the hesitation and quietly asked, “Is there a number on the house?”

Kotone looked just to the right of the door, “Yes, it is the number twelve.”

Harry looked along the row. It looked perfectly normal to him that the house numbers here seemed to skip that number. He glanced up and down the deserted street, not really expecting anyone to be up and about at four in the morning. After ensuring that the street was empty, he carried Kotone to the end of the block, and sure enough, there was a street sign hung on a lamppost at the corner that read Cavendish Street and Grimmauld Place.

Harry asked, “Can you read that sign?”

Kotone squinted up to the signs, but then just shook her head. Harry briefly wondered how she was supposed to survive at Hogwarts if she couldn’t even read English.

He had no reason to believe that he couldn’t name the street, so he told her, “This street is called Grimmauld Place. Did you understand me?”

Kotone smiled, nodded and whispered into his ear, “Your house is at number twelve, Grimmauld Place.”

The walls that were built in Harry’s mind collapsed as she finished the sentence. He looked down the row of houses and saw Number Twelve, as plain as day, even though it was the dead of night.

Harry quickly made his way back down the street and entered the grimy old mansion. As soon as they were in the door, he carried Kotone up the stairs and set her down on the floor. Kotone disappeared into the bedroom where he had been held while under the influence of the horcrux while he went into his own master bedroom. He collected some of his own clothes along with his broom and his father’s cloak before returning to the other room to retrieve Hermione’s overnight bag.

When he entered the bedroom, Kotone was just closing the lid to her small trunk while holding her teddy bear under her arm.

“Is that all that you’re bringing with you?” asked Harry.

Kotone nodded and lifted her arm up to him. He hefted her against his side while struggling to hold onto the items under his other arm. He awkwardly reached down and picked up Hermione’s bag. A moment later, they were once again standing in the sand in front of the island beach house.

-----~-----

A very cross Scops owl that was perched atop a flagmast on a ship off the coast of Portugal turned his attention to the southwest horizon. He angrily ruffled his feathers, and then closed his eyes. After a quick kip, maybe he’d find out which direction he was supposed to go, but he certainly wasn’t about to spend another moment flying in circles.

-----~-----

As Harry was setting down all of the things he was carrying, he saw Kotone make a beeline towards the bearskin rug lying between the fireplace and the sofa on which Hermione was sleeping.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Harry said quietly, “What is it with you always sleeping on the floor? Come with me.”

Kotone obediently followed Harry into the nursery where he took out Hermione’s wand and transfigured the crib into a comfortable looking twin bed, complete with a pillow, sheets and a thin blanket. Kotone looked longingly out of the room towards the rug and just sighed before she climbed onto the bed.

“Before you go to sleep, I was wondering if you’d do something for me.”

The lips on Kotone’s mask smiled as she nodded, “Yes?”

“Do you remember the vision that you showed me of Diagon Alley and that park? Could you show that to me again?”

Kotone nodded again as she closed her eyes. When she opened them, her gaze met Harry’s and the room around faded from existence as the sense of time slowing down washed over him.

He found himself standing in Diagon alley, watching the vision of himself walking casually along. Instead of staying with his other self, he immediately left towards the park that he had seen in the vision previously with the maskless Kotone following closely behind him. He quickly walked along the line of marble busts until he came to the large fountain. He watched the bloody water cascade down through the tiers, ending up in the wide catch basin on the bottom. He was shocked to see Hermione’s broken body floating just beneath the surface in the lower basin… he had forgotten about that. As he studied the fountain, he was sure that he’d seen it before outside of that vision, but he couldn’t quite place where.

“Where did this vision come from?” he asked Kotone.

Kotone’s ethereal voice seemed to echo around him, “It is hard to describe. This are dreams and memories, the dreams of Shishi and the memories of the Ja. (serpent) They are combined to make vision.

Harry was still staring at the fountain as he thought about that. So this was some bizarre combination of Voldemort’s memories and his own dreams? He looked back across the park to see his other self looking into Ollivander’s window at the horcrux wand resting within. He remembered how it held a faint glow when he looked at it. His eyes drifted back to the top of the fountain, specifically, to the geyser where the water was flowing from.

Through the dark, bloody water that was falling around the center he could just make out a glint of gold. He stood up on the rim of the bottom basin and could see the glowing, golden goblet that was the source of the dirty water. It was unmistakably Hufflepuff’s cup.

He jumped off the basin and stepped back, looking at the entirety of the fountain. He recalled the conversation he had with Hermione about the places that Voldemort would find important enough to hide his horcrux.

“Well, the thing that impresses me every year is the trip from Hogsmeade in the carriages to Hogwarts, the first view of the distant lights in the majestic towers, framed by the nighttime autumn sky...”

“The boats,” Harry whispered to himself, as if coming to some realization, “going across the lake in the first year… in the boats on the lake… the very first view of Hogwarts. Not from the carriages, but from the boats on the lake… that’s the most impressive view I’ve ever seen. It was awe-inspiring… I was scared out of my mind, true… but I was excited, too. Seeing the lights from the towers reflected off the shimmering water…”

Hermione sighed, “You’re right. The view of the castle from the boats is amazing, the most brilliant sight I’ve ever seen, but do you honestly think Voldemort would hide a horcrux in one of the Hogwarts boats?”

“Not in a boat… in the lake! At the bottom of the lake! He wanted Hogwarts to be a hiding place for one of his horcruxes, and if he couldn’t get into the castle to place it because of Dumbledore, the lake would be the perfect place!”

Harry suddenly knew where he had seen the fountain before. It was during the Tri-Wizard Tournament in the second task. He was swimming through the Mer-village when he noticed what looked like a town square. It was what the ropes that Ron, Hermione, Cho and Gabrielle were anchored to. It was covered in green slime and scum, but it was definitely a fountain! If the vision was correct about the wand in Ollivander’s being a horcrux, then it could also be correct about the cup in the fountain!

The room around him emerged from the darkness and time seemed to resume its normal speed. He saw Kotone looking at him expectantly.

“Thank you, little one,” said Harry, “I think I found exactly what I was looking for.” Harry gently ran his hand along the side of her face while saying, “Get some sleep now. We have to take care of Hermione tomorrow until she’s better.”

Kotone smiled as she shrugged off her robe and curled up on her side facing away from him, obviously preferring to stay above the covers. Harry briefly averted his eyes away from her nakedness, but couldn’t stop his gaze from returning to the multitude of grotesque scars that covered her small body.

The line of red Japanese characters once again caught his eye, as well as the two large jagged scars that ran along her shoulder blades. He recalled the feeling of a wing being broken during the memories that she shared with him earlier, and couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to them. He then looked closer at the kanji, wondering what they stood for and why they were there. In the dim light from the living room, he could tell that the characters had an odd texture to them. When he looked even closer at them, his breath caught in his throat as he realized that the characters weren’t tattoos… they were actually branded deeply into her skin.

Harry was going to question her about them, but then he heard Kotone’s soft, even breathing, telling him she was already fast asleep. He was certainly going to bring up the subject when she awakens.

Harry walked to the door, and after giving one last, sad look back at the sleeping half-demon, he quietly closed the door. He then made his way to one of the suspended egg-shaped chairs and silently stared at the sleeping Hermione as his thoughts dwelled on the remaining horcruxes… a wand, a tomb, a fountain at the bottom of a lake… and himself.

-----~-----

Fun Fact: I wrote THREE different versions of this chapter that had very different outcomes. (In one, Harry Apparated into a heated battle between Death Eaters and Ministry aurors in Diagon Alley.) Again, I chose the version that would expedite the story towards its conclusion. (Well, that fact wasn’t very fun for me! It was a lot of work!)

40. The Flight of the Demon

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I make any claim to the lyric bits that I use.

A/N: This chapter holds a bit of a treat for all of you ‘Dursley Haters’ out there. Also, many have asked me to elaborate on Kotone’s past, specifically, the Kanji on her back and her having wings, so I added a bit more bonding between Harry and the little half-demon. We also get to see a little of how the ritual affected Hermione. A little action, a little emotion, and a healthy dose of angst thrown in for good measure. ^_^ Don’t worry, there’s plenty of fluff coming up in future chapters, so all of you romantics out there can get a few cavities then! As always, R & R & Enjoy! (Word Count: 6326)

-----~-----

Chapter 40: The Flight of the Demon

I know a place where I can go when I’m alone.
Into your arms,
into your arms, I can go.

I know a place that's safe and warm from the crowd.
Into your arms,
into your arms, I can go.

And If I should fall…
I know I won't be alone,
be alone anymore.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Into Your Arms,’ by the band, The Lemonheads. (Actually, these are ALL the lyrics to the song!)

-----~-----

Dudley Dursley sat alone on a park bench where he had been since just after his father left for work that morning. He found himself on that bench a lot in the last few weeks, pondering the recent changes in his life.

When he was picked up from Smeltings by his father the month before, he was absolutely shocked to see the old sedan that he usually drove had been replaced with a sleek, white Bentley. He could hardly believe his eyes as his father stepped out of the brand new auto wearing a custom tailored Armani business suit, complete with a diamond stick pin, silk hanky, and fine Italian leather shoes. All of his friends’ parents who were there picking up their own children seemed duly impressed, which seemed to make his father very pleased.

On the ride home, his father had explained how he had received a promotion at the drill company with a substantial rise in pay, as well as winning a rather large sum of money in a sweepstakes. He discovered that they now lived on an estate in the affluent area just outside of Brentwood in the northeast of London. For the entire ride home, Dudley made a mental list of all the things he was going to demand for his birthday on the twenty-third of June.

His birthday had come and gone, and he did indeed get quite the plethora of gifts. He received a motorized mini-bike that he used to make a complete, rutted mess out of the spacious back yard of his new home. The bike lasted most of two weeks before he lost control one afternoon and landed it in the pool. He also received a brand new, state-of-the-art computer system and every game he could possibly think of for it, a full, hi powered component stereo system and one of the largest tellys available, a full thirty-six inches! He got a full sized jukebox for his second room, a new portable personal telephone, a black Australian lambskin riding jacket, one of the newest video cameras on the market, and since his father refused to buy him a car before he got his license, he instead got a horse, complete with all of the riding tackle needed. He had climbed on the horse once, but then promptly fell from the saddle… he never even looked at the horse again, afraid to come within twenty feet of it. He was supposed to be feeding the beast, but he hadn’t stepped foot into the makeshift stable at the rear of the property since the day he got it.

Dudley sullenly looked at his surroundings. There were happy children playing on the gym set, others were sliding on the slides and swinging on the swings. He could no longer bully the younger kids around… that activity was quelled the first week after school had ended. He had brutally beaten a much younger kid for complaining to him about the smoke from his cigarette. As it turned out, the kid was the son of a local politician, who contacted his parents about the incident. Of course, Vernon adamantly denied that his little Dudders would never act like a common ruffian, but was thoroughly chastised when he was shown a recording from one of the security cameras in the park that clearly showed Dudley puffing away on a fag before jumping off the bench and attacking the nearby youngster.

Dudley glared at the offending camera sitting up on a nearby lamppost as he sat there morosely thinking, ‘I’m not in Little Whinging anymore…’

The decidedly upper-class neighbourhood in which they now lived was a far cry from the middle-class suburb that he grew up in. The worst part was that he no longer had his gang around. Dennis, Piers, and the rest of his crew were many miles away on the far side of London. He couldn’t even get his cigarettes anymore, because it was always Piers’ older brother Niles who had always bought their fags for them. He had sent a letter to Piers asking if he could put a few packs in the post for him. They had yet to arrive.

The last few weeks for him had been torturous. His parents had some kind of a row and weren’t even speaking to each other, much less occupy the same room for more than a few seconds. His mother was constantly bitchy to everyone around her, and his father was nearly as grouchy, although there were times that he looked rather distressed, but those were the times where he tried to enter his mother’s bedroom… he shuddered as he recalled the words that came from his mother on those particular occasions. He wasn’t sure what their row was about, specifically… something about his mother being lied to or some such thing. He thought that it might have had something to do with his cousin, but he couldn’t be sure.

That was another thing that Dudley couldn’t help but to notice, the absence of his freak cousin. He was supposed to be back from that ‘school’ of his the month before. His father said that the ‘boy’ had gone to stay with his other friends and wouldn’t ever be back. That struck him as odd, because he distinctly remembered the scary old freak telling them that he needed to come back one last time. Maybe that was the cause of his parents’ row. Actually, he was quite relieved when he found out that his cousin wasn’t coming back… if what the old goat said was true, his cousin would be able to perform that ‘unnaturalness’ at home, and he shuddered to think what would be done to him as payback for all the years he had tortured the little runt.

Dudley was distracted from his thoughts as he heard a police siren wailing in the distance and continuously getting nearer. He knew they weren’t coming for him, which was a distinct change from the way things were the previous summer. He watched the patrol car zoom along the main road, where it stopped at the northwest corner of the park.

Now that he was paying attention, he heard the sound of loud voices yelling from that direction. There were now other sirens approaching, more police and, from the sound of it, the fire brigade as well. He looked above the treeline to the north and saw a billowing cloud of smoke. The voices in the distance were getting louder, punctuated by sporadic screams of terror.

He jumped as he heard the sounds of firearms being discharged. Just then he saw a large group of people emerging from the treeline, moving rather quickly in his direction. As the wind was coming from their direction, he caught a whiff of could only be rancid meat. He stood up to get a better look, and when the massive crowd got to within a few hundred feet from him, he felt his blood run cold.

The crowd consisted of a mass of people in various states of decomposition. Those that had any clothes at all were wearing tattered remnants and rags that hung from their nearly skeletal forms. Some were missing one or both arms, and even a few had no heads.

Dudley began running towards his house just off the south end of the park. He wasn’t quite sure if he would make it to his house before being overtaken by the throng of zombies. As he neared the road that marked the park’s southern boundary, two police cruisers and a wagon screeched to a halt at the curb. Policemen armed with pistols and shotguns poured from the vehicles and took up positions behind them. As Dudley ran past, the officers began shooting into the mass of undead.

Dudley didn’t bother to stop to watch the action, he continued across the street towards the lane that led to his house. If he had bothered to look back, he would have seen the policemen being overrun by the mass of inferi, however, he did hear their screams as he turned the corner to the adjacent lane. A few minutes later, Dudley burst through his front door screaming for his mother between heaving gasps for breath.

Petunia Dursley came rushing from the kitchen, looking every bit as bitchy as was recently the usual for her, “What did you do this time? I heard the sirens out there…”

“Mum!” he managed to heave out between pants, “Zombies! Hundreds of ‘em… coming this way!”

Petunia’s eyes narrowed at her son as she hissed out, “Don’t give me any of that! I told you that if you got into any more trouble with the police that we wouldn’t bail you out of it! You’re old enough to…”

“I’m not lying, Mum!” yelled Dudley petulantly as he pointed to the front window, “Look for yourself!”

Petunia scowled at her son as she strode to the window and threw it open. She stuck her head out and looked over the large circular driveway and across the wide front lawn. She could hear yells and screams coming from over the tall hedge that separated their property from the neighbour’s. Her eyes widened as one section of the hedge collapsed and a group of walking corpses shambled through into the yard.

“Come with me!” commanded Petunia as she grabbed her son’s meaty hand and tried to pull his massive bulk towards the stairs. Once at the top, she entered the den where she had been spending an inordinate amount of time perusing the contents of an old shoebox.

She ran to the desk and quickly pulled the lid from the box just as she heard the breaking glass and cracking wood that was the front door. She pulled a very old and yellowed parchment envelope from inside of the box, quickly opened it and withdrew the letter from within.

She unfolded the letter and scanned down the page. After reading it, she held it out towards Dudley and said, “Touch the edge of this, quickly!”

Dudley, who was bent over with his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, looked up to the paper that his mother held. He reached out a trembling hand and took the corner of the letter. Outside of the house, they could hear the high-pitched whine of the civil defense sirens, sirens that haven’t been used in many, many decades.

“Danger!” yelled Petunia as the door to the den splintered inward under the force of the approaching inferius.

Both Dudley and Petunia felt the sensation of being pulled forward by their stomachs as they disappeared in a fall of color from the now burning Brentwood Estate house.

They both landed roughly on a thinly carpeted stone floor in a small room that looked something of an old curio shop. The walls were lined with a very odd assortment of portraits and bookcases which contained, aside from the vast selection of books, many strange looking bottles, gadgets, and other items she couldn’t immediately recognize. In the middle of the room was a large, oak desk with a very stern looking woman seated behind it.

The woman quickly stood up from behind the desk with a look of surprise that seemed to pass as quickly as it had appeared. The old lady’s eyes hardened as she seemed to recognize the two muggles that were sprawled on the floor of her office.

“Good morning,” greeted the stern looking woman as she stepped around the desk towards them. This gave them a good look at the robes she was wearing, robes which happened to be adorned with magically glistening stars, planets and moons, all hovering along the hems and seams, as was customary for the head of the school.

Dudley’s eyes widened in terror as he scrambled backwards across the floor while pointing at the elder witch and screaming, “Mum! It’s one of those freaks!”

The old witch’s lips disappeared into a thin line and her eyes shone with anger until she heard the clearing of a throat come from a portrait behind her desk. She turned her head and glared at the portrait of the previous Headmaster of the school before turning back to face the two muggles that were cowering on the floor. Mustering all of the tact she could manage, she held out her hand to Petunia and austerely said, “You must be Petunia and Dudley Dursley. My name is Headmistress Minerva McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

-----~-----

When he heard the nursery door creak open just a few minutes after he laid Kotone down, Harry feigned being asleep as the little half-witch silently crept into the living room. His eye was barely cracked open as he watched her peek around the side of his chair and, after ensuring that he was asleep, quietly walked over to the polar bearskin rug and settled herself into the warm, soft fur. He felt a bit uneasy at first when he noticed that she conveniently neglected to don her robe, but then he couldn’t suppress the smile that formed on his lips as he watched her fall asleep almost immediately. What was it with her and sleeping on the floor, anyway? And was she going to make a habit of prancing around nude?

The smile that appeared faded as his eyes drifted over to Hermione. The dim lighting was provided magically by a long glass tube that lined the walls near the ceiling. It resembled a thick muggle neon light that cast an off-white glow about the room. Even in the low illumination, he could tell that her complexion was still just as ghostly white as it was when she was first placed on the sofa.

That was at midnight. The sun had long been over the horizon, and Hermione’s skin still looked extremely pale. He had recognized the potions that Ben had administered to her the night before as being a blood replenishing potion and a sleeping draught. Apparently, the sleeping potion worked just fine, but he was beginning to wonder about the effectiveness of the blood replenisher.

Harry glanced up, looking at the clear, blue, mid-morning sky through the large, dirty skylight above the loft. He hadn’t moved from his position in the suspended, egg-shaped chair where he had been watching his two sleeping girls all night, but the chair was comfortable enough for him. When he looked back down, he saw Kotone’s sad violet eyes looking up at him from the floor. She was wearing an uneasy expression, apparently wondering if he was angry with her for sneaking out of her bed.

Harry gave her a smile, which seemed to put the little half-witch at ease. His smile slowly faded, though, when he remembered what he had noticed about the characters seared deeply along her spine, and he was also incredibly curious about the idea of her having wings. He even considered asking her how a ten-year-old could have fully developed breasts, but couldn’t think of a way to casually bring the subject up.

“Kotone,” said Harry quietly, so as not to disturb Hermione, “in one of your memories that you shared with me yesterday… I couldn’t really see, but more like ‘felt’ that you had wings. What happened to them?”

Kotone’s eyes dropped to the rug beneath her and she let out a sad little sigh. Without looking up, she softly asked, “Would you like to see?”

“Not if you don’t want me to… I was just curious. I felt one of them break when those other kids were throwing rocks at me… err… at you…”

Kotone looked up from the rug and locked eyes with Harry. The all too familiar feeling of time shifting came over him as the room disappeared into darkness. The next thing Harry knew, he was flying just above the treetops over a wide, unfamiliar forest. The feeling of joy and freedom coursed through his soul as he canted his right wing and swooped sideways down into the woods, weaving through the trees with exhilarating agility and swiftness. With one powerful stroke of his wings, he climbed up above the canopy and into the sky. He wished he didn’t have all of these stupid clothes on… they were slowing him down far too much.

He knew that he wasn’t supposed to be flying, but it had been so long since he was able to stretch his wings and the springtime weather was so pleasant that he couldn’t resist. He planned to take only a quick flight over the forest and then go right back into his room, but that was forgotten as soon as he felt the wind in his hair and beneath his wings.

In the corners of his vision, he could just see the bony, leading edge of his white, fleshy wings as they forcefully pushed down against the air, keeping him aloft. With natural ease, he dropped one wing and banked left into a steep dive. Only then did he notice that he had strayed much too close to the nearby wizarding village where his father had his wand shop. He was repeatedly warned to stay far away from there because the people there would be scared of him… he had to remain hidden… he had to remain friendless.

Panic gripped him as he went into a swift, vertical dive towards the cover of the trees. He thought he had made it out of sight in time, but the red flash of light that filled his vision told him that he was wrong.

The next thing he knew, he was on his back being dragged roughly by his ankles through the main street of the village. A crowd of curious children were walking along with him as he was pulled along the dirt lane. He could hear the gasps of shock and the disbelieving murmurs from the onlookers as he was dragged by.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s so ugly!’

‘Where did it come from?’

‘It’s a demon!’

‘I’ll bet that it’s the thing that has been eating the black foxes!’

That was when the first rock struck him. He didn’t know what happened at first… he just felt a sharp pain on the back of his head as his face was pushed forward into the dirt. He was disoriented for a moment, but as soon as he realized what was happening, he wrapped his wide, bat-like around himself like a cocoon as the barrage of rocks continued to batter his body.

Harry was forced to once again endure the portion of the vision that he had already experienced until he fell unconscious.

It was well into the night the next time he opened his eyes. He found himself hanging upside-down from a tree at the end of the village. His wrists were bound together and he could feel the rough rope biting into the skin around his ankles. Every portion of his body seemed to be screaming in pain, but especially down the middle of his back from his neck to his tail. Something was lazily bumping against the side of his face, and it took him a few moments to realize that it was his left wing, hanging uselessly by a thin strip of bloody sinew that was still attached to his shoulder. He looked at the ground below him and saw the wide, darkened patch of earth that was soaked with his blood.

He tried to cry out, but found that he just didn’t have the energy. His vision blurred and he felt the tears travel from his eyes and down along his forehead before blackness came again.

He then had a vague, fleeting vision of the very concerned face of his father as he was being carried through the woods.

After another gap, he saw nothing due to the bandages around his head, but heard the teary voice of his mother, ‘…is too much damage, she cannot fly with only one wing, and that one is badly torn and broken. We will have to cut that one off, also. How could they do this to her… to any five-year-old child?’

His father then spoke, ‘They do not see her as a child… only as a monster. That is why they tried to banish her. They thought that branding that spell on her would cast her back to san'akushu (a type of Hell). Too many are wrapped up in the old ways… and they fear what they do not understand…’

The living room of the beach house emerged from the darkness, and Harry found himself looking into Kotone’s leaking eyes. When the young half-witch stood up, Harry’s eyes widened. He knew what she was about to do.

He quickly took Hermione’s wand from his belt and said, “Accio Kotone’s robe!”

The transfigured kimono-robe flew out from the nursery and into Harry’s hand, just in time for him to be able to wrap it around her naked body before enveloping her in a comforting embrace and letting her cry into his shirt.

“It’s going to be okay,” said Harry softly as he hugged her, “I’m not going to let anything like that ever happen again.”

It took a few minutes for Kotone to calm down. As soon as her sobs had turned into the occasional sniffle, an idea came to him. He lifted her head from his chest and said with a smile, “Would you like to fly again?”

Kotone had a confused look in her eyes as Harry stood up from the chair and walked to the pile of stuff that he brought from Grimmauld Place. Harry heard her let out a surprised gasp as he lifted his Firebolt from the pile.

A minute later, Harry was zooming low over the ocean with Kotone’s back resting firmly against his torso. He leaned forward to gauge how the girl was doing, and the look he saw in her eyes was priceless. Even the mask was displaying the largest grin he had yet seen on it.

Harry was taking it easy as he glided over the whitecaps. He kept the speed to a moderate pace, not wanting to scare Kotone. He made some lazy turns and a few mild maneuvers, always keeping just a few feet from the water.

“Faster! Faster!” Kotone’s laughing voice sounded above the rushing wind, “Don’t you know how to fly?”

Harry blinked in surprise at the question. His mind returned to the memory of Kotone when she had her wings. Even at such a young age, the maneuvers that she performed were nothing less than breathtaking. A grin equally as large as Kotone’s then crossed his lips as he angled the front of the broom upwards and shot into the sky. ‘So, she wants me to fly, huh?’

Harry stall-rolled out of the near-vertical climb to hover high above the ocean. They were so far up in the air that they could see over the tall waterfall to the far side of the small island. In every other direction, there was nothing but clear, blue water stretching out to the horizon. They truly were alone there.

Kotone squealed in glee as Harry suddenly coaxed the broom forward, and then performed a tight inside loop. He came out of the loop in a vertical power dive. He leaned forward on the handle with a light twist to the side, guiding the broom into a series of wide, corkscrewing barrel rolls before leveling out from the modified ‘Wronski Feint’ just a few feet above the swells of the rolling waves.

The shoreline was rapidly approaching as Harry leaned the broom to the right, steering so that they would cruise at full speed over the length of the beach around the island. He glanced behind him and smiled when he saw the large amount of sand that was being kicked up in his wake. Making a complete circuit around the island took slightly less than a minute at the speed they were traveling. Harry slowed the broom down as they approached the area in front of the beach house and then gently landed just in front of the front door.

Harry easily lifted Kotone from the handle and placed her on the sand before dismounting the broom himself. He grasped the hovering broom and turned around to find Kotone staring up at him with tear filled eyes. She held her arms up to him and he scooped her into her usual position. Her arms, hair and tail tightly embraced him as she whispered against his shoulder, “Thank you. That was wonderful.”

Harry smiled to himself as he carried the girl and his broom into the house. He leaned the broom beside the door and then set Kotone in the same suspended chair in which he had spent the night. After checking to see if Hermione was still asleep, he made his way into the bathroom for a long shower. Even before the bathroom door was closed, he noted that Kotone had moved from the chair back to the rug. What was it with her and the floor?

After his shower, Harry and Kotone spent the rest of the morning talking about their lives. He now knew much of what Kotone had been through in her relatively short lifetime, and thought it only fair that she should know about his own upbringing. They both talked of things that they had never dared breathe to another soul, but felt in each other that they were such kindred spirits that they could hear what the other had to say without feeling pity or being judgmental. He talked about the years that he spent hidden away in the cupboard, the unjust punishments, the beatings, and the withheld meals. He spoke of emotional abuse and material neglect, she spoke of long years of loneliness and abject despair, and they both spoke of forgetting how to laugh or cry… or even feel.

About halfway through their talk, Kotone had moved from the rug and into Harry’s lap, offering each other encouraging smiles when appropriate and sympathetic hugs when needed. The talk had become emotional at times, especially when the topic of their parents’ arose.

Harry listened to the stories of life with her parents. They were very strict, as were most Japanese parents, but they also loved her very much. He learned that her father was the last male in the Oota line, marking the end of a very long and proud pureblood family. She also explained that, because of the end of the family line, the ‘curse’ of the family would finally end. When Harry asked what would happen if she had any kids, her demeanor instantly changed. She said that it would be impossible for her to find anyone who would accept her in a romantic way, so her chances at having a family of her own were nil. Harry was about to disagree, but Kotone just smiled and said that it was a fate that she accepts, and there was a plan in place to ensure her happiness. She wouldn’t comment any more on the subject, and wouldn’t let Harry dwell on it, either.

They were both so fully engrossed in their emotionally charged conversation that neither of them was aware of the pair of tired brown eyes intently watching them from the sofa.

There came a lull in their conversation where Harry was leaning back in the chair with Kotone curled up in his lap, both just staring at nothing, caught up in their own thoughts and memories.

After a few minutes of companionable silence, Harry nudged Kotone and asked, “Are you alright with just eating fish?”

Kotone smiled as she continued to stare at the fireplace, “Fish is okay, the taste is good, but I must eat many of them.”

“If you’re hungry, why don’t you go catch some?”

Kotone smiled as she climbed down from his lap, “Yes… do you want me to catch some for Miss Eagle and yourself?”

“That sounds great, I’m sure Hermione will be starved by the time she wakes up.”

Harry stood from the chair and drew Hermione’s wand, intending to try to transfigure Kotone’s robe into the swimming costume that she wore the day before, but before he was even fully on his feet, Kotone had shrugged off the kimono-robe, leaving it pooled on the floor as she scampered out through the front door and across the beach.

Harry chuckled to himself at the little half-witch’s retreating backside. He didn’t know which was stranger, Kotone’s recent proclivity for running around in the buff, or his not being very disturbed about it.

Harry was still looking pensively at the open door when he heard Hermione’s voice behind him say, “Well, it’s good to see you finally open up to someone.”

Harry spun around and saw Hermione smiling at him from over the back of the sofa. He stood looking at her for a few heartbeats before rushing up beside the sofa. He was surprised to see that most of her color had returned and she seemed perfectly fine.

“Hermione!” exclaimed Harry as he wrapped her in a crushing hug, “Are you alright? What happened? How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. I’m sorry for worrying you so. I know it was a reckless thing to do, but it had to be done.”

The elation of seeing her awake and coherent was quickly ebbing into anger, “What did you do? What happened to you? I was sure you were dead!”

Hermione was so lost in Harry’s embrace that she barely heard what he had asked. Reluctantly, she pulled back slightly to look him in the eye, “I performed the enhancement ritual. I’m sorry that I worried you, but I knew what I was doing, and it’s the only way to get rid of that damned snake inside you… I had to do it!”

Harry looked at her critically for a few moments, and then let out a tired sigh and asked, “Well, did it work?”

Hermione smiled and nodded, “I think so. Care to test it out with me?”

“Are you sure you’re up to it? I mean, just a few hours ago, you looked to be on death’s doorstep…”

“That’s because I was,” said Hermione matter-of-factly, “I had to ‘see’ death. It was part of the ritual. I knew that I performed the ritual correctly, and I would have been fine in a day or so on my own, but your assistance certainly helped. I feel perfectly fine now.”

Harry was still looking at her suspiciously, but couldn’t really see anything wrong with her. After another moment, he nodded and said, “Alright, how are we going to test it out?”

Hermione smiled and led Harry into the bathroom to stand before the large built-in tub.

“I realize that using someone else’s wand somewhat degrades the effectiveness of most spells, but for our purposes right now, it shouldn’t make much difference. Now, fill the tub with water.”

Harry shrugged, pointed the wand towards the tub and incanted, ‘Aguamenti,’ causing a steady stream of water to shoot from the wand. Hermione grabbed his arm, stopping the flow of water and said, “No, not that way, conjure the water.”

Harry looked a little less sure of himself as he directed the wand at the tub once again and said, ‘Aguapario!’

At the bottom of the tub appeared almost a foot of clear water, filling it to nearly one-fifth capacity. With the second iteration, he did a bit better as the tub was almost halfway filled. After two more tries, the water reached the rim of the tub

“Good enough,” said Hermione, “Now vanish as much of the water as you can in one go.”

Harry nodded and incanted, ‘Evanesco!’

A hemispherical void appeared in the surface of the water, causing a ‘splooshing’ sound as the surrounding water filled the gap that was left. Once the water had settled, it appeared that about one-third of the water had been vanished. It took Harry two more tries to completely drain the tub.

Hermione took her wand back and did the same conjuring spell, resulting in the tub being half-filled. Seeing that Harry was paying attention, she then vanished the water from the tub completely.

“Okay,” said Harry, who appeared somewhat less than impressed, “you can conjure more water in one go than I can.”

Hermione smiled and shook her head, “Wait… That was an example of what we can do with no enhancement at all. The ritual that I performed will affect how I do magic when I’m in my ‘state.’ Just watch.”

Hermione pointed her wand at the tub and closed her eyes. Almost before her eyes were closed, the spinning Yin-Yang appeared. The sensation of time slowing around her seemed a bit more pronounced, and also seemed to come upon her much more quickly than usual. She felt an odd sensation wash over her, but just assumed that it was the effect of the enhancement ritual. She didn’t notice the loud gasp of shock that escaped Harry. Concentrating on nothing but the tub, she non-verbally incanted, ‘Aguapario!’

The result was both startling and immediate. Hermione emerged from her state to find that they were standing knee-deep in water. They almost fell over from the force of the water rushing out through the open doorway and into the living room. Obviously, Hermione didn’t expect that result, as evidenced by the surprised squeak that escaped her before she quickly cast a series of ‘Evanesco’ and ‘Scourgify’ spells to rid the house of the inadvertent flood.

“That will take a fair bit to get used to,” Hermione said embarrassedly as she finished drying out the last of the items in the living room that had been soaked, “At least the floors are all washed, now.”

Not hearing a comment from Harry, she curiously looked around to see him standing in the doorway to the bathroom, just staring at her with an unreadable expression.

“Harry, what… what’s wrong? I mean, I know it was a lot of water, actually, a quite a bit more than I had expected, but still… I… I did clean it up…”

“Do it again,” said Harry almost inaudibly.

“What? Flood the place?”

“No, enter your state again.”

Hermione wasn’t sure what had Harry so unnerved, so she wasn’t too keen on doing anything until she knew what was going on. She opened her mouth to ask, but Harry just shook his head and said, “Do it again.”

She lifted the tip of her wand to her forehead, but Harry caught her arm, saying, “You didn’t need to do that a minute ago. Do it without your wand.”

She gave Harry another wary look before she closed her eyes. Just as before, the Yin-Yang instantly appeared, accompanied by the odd feeling of time around her slowing down. She opened her eyes to see Harry staring back at her. His eyes were wide as he spoke to her, but the tone was so low because of the perceived time differential that she had a difficult time understanding what he was trying to say.

Harry, on the other hand, watched the nearly instantaneous transformation of his best friend. It was as if her normal appearance just melted away from head to toe, leaving a very daunting figure in its place. It came and went so quickly when she had conjured the water before that he only caught a glimpse of the transformation. Now he had the chance to fully take in her altered appearance.

Hermione’s hair had darkened to a near coal-black, with blood red highlights running down where the light struck it. Her unfocused eyes became shadowed, causing her normally brown irises to nearly match her large, black pupils. The color drained away from her face, leaving her complexion looking much like it did while she was unconscious on the sofa, and making the stark contrast of her eyes stand out just that much more. Even the white dressing gown that Ben had conjured for her turned into a flowing black gown with material so fine and sheer that it could have been made out of spider’s silk. Her skin was so pale beneath the gauzy material the he could just barely detect the dark areolas on her breasts and the dark patch of pubic hair.

When the transformation reached her feet, a dark mist seemed to flow out from beneath her gown, drifting outward along the floor around her like a smoky fog that seemed to suck most of the light from the room. The full effect made her look dark and powerful, and even a little scary. If he didn’t know that it was still his Hermione standing before him, he would have thought she were a vampire or lich. She truly looked the part of a Necromancer… she looked wicked. Even with the dark, gothic appearance, she seemed to exude a strange sort of beauty, a dangerous sensuality that took his breath away.

When Hermione dispelled her ‘state,’ the transformation almost instantly reversed itself, leaving her just as she had appeared beforehand. She looked at Harry curiously, as if she were totally unaware of what had just taken place.

“Are you alright, Harry?” asked Hermione when she saw the astonished expression on his face, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!”

-----~-----

Fun Fact: The name for a female Necromancer is actually a ‘Necromantrix.’

41. The Bond Repaired

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, such as it is… *sigh* I don’t own the lyric bits, either.

A/N: I’m sorry that I haven’t been responding to all of the fine reviews. Just know that I appreciate all of them, and I hope you continue to leave comments. I’ll try to be better in the future. In this chapter, we get a glimpse of Vernon Dursley’s position, and we have Harry and Hermione repairing their soul bond, but I’m afraid there’s a bit of a cliffie at the end… I’ll let your imaginations wander as to the effect of the repaired bond! So sorry, but finding time to write is very difficult at the moment, and to continue with this chapter would delay its posting well into next week… so I figured a cliffie is better than no post at all! As always, sit back and enjoy! (Word count: 6003)

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Chapter 41: The Bond Repaired

Love is but the song we sing,
and fear's the way we die.
You can make the mountains ring,
or make the angels cry.
Know the dove is on the wing,
and you need not know why

Some will come and some will go…
We shall surely pass.
When the one that left us here
returns for us at last.
We are but a moment’s sunlight
Fading in the grass…

C'mon people now,
smile on your brother.
Everybody get together,
try and love one another right now.

Excerpt from the song ‘Get Together’ by The Youngbloods.

Vernon Dursley sat at his desk in his spacious new office. He leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grin on his face, which only widened as his eyes fell on the reversed lettering that was painted onto the frosted glass of his office door that read, ‘Vernon Dursley – Asst. Vice President – Production Division.’

He knew that he never would have got the promotion if he hadn’t had that windfall of money from his worthless nephew. Greasing a few palms with his ill-gotten gain and inviting a few key directors to lavish dinners in expensive restaurants secured the promotion for him with little fuss and bother. He felt absolutely no remorse over taking the freak’s money. After all, he felt he was owed it by keeping that oddball under his roof for all those years. He also thought that the boy could do that ‘magic stuff’… so he could create all the money he wanted, or at least anything that he needed!

The grin on his face faltered slightly as his eyes drifted across the picture of Petunia on his desk, but even the temporary discomfort in his home life couldn’t put a damper on his high spirits this day. He had heard through the grape vine that the owner of the company might be in London later in the week, and he may come to visit the corporate office during his stay. Vernon had every intention of inviting the owner to a lavish party in his new home.

He had never met the owner in his nineteen years working for Grunnings Drill Company, but he knew of the firm’s history. Hermann Grunning, an immigrant from Poland during the Great War, started the company in the early fifties, but it had been sold to a mysterious entrepreneur back in the late seventies during the great industrial decline. Since then, the company had been under the control of the board of directors. He had always wondered why the company had never gone public with the stock market… Lord knows that the company could have used an influx of investment money over the years, but still, the firm remained one of the major producers of heavy industrial drills in all of Great Britain, despite the apparent lack of decisive leadership.

Vernon glanced at the memo on his desk that announced an important meeting for all of the division heads at ten o’clock, probably to ‘officially’ announce the impending visit of the owner. He glanced up to the clock on his wall and saw that the meeting was about to begin. He rose from his chair with a grunt, then smoothed his hands over his tailored suit, patted the sparse hair on his head to ensure that it was still in place, and then strode confidently out from his office towards the conference room down the hall.

The room was buzzing with various conversations as he took his seat between Jeremy Glass, the president of production in the company, and Carol Taylor, the round-faced, attractive secretary from the sales department, who seemed somewhat less than thrilled to be positioned next to him. Of course, Vernon didn’t pick up on the resigned sigh that Miss Taylor let out as he assumed his seat, nor did he obtain a clue when his jovial greeting to her passed with barely a distracted nod from the young woman as she pointedly looked away.

The room fell silent as the director of operations entered and sat at the head of the table. He wasted no time in starting the meeting, launching into the sales figures, both past and projected, and complemented the sales department on their recent successes of drumming up new clients.

He had less than stellar comments about the production department, noting that the number of ‘seconds,’ sub-standard drills that needed to be sold off in bulk to generic ‘no name’ brands of drills, have increased alarmingly in the past few months, and if something wasn’t done soon, the company wouldn’t be able to keep up with obligation to the new clients to ship their first quality product.

Vernon tried to look inconspicuous as the production figures were displayed on the projection screen. Maybe he shouldn’t have hired so many of the kids of his new country club friends that needed jobs. He knew the new hires were somewhat green, and seemed to be more interested in the girls in the offices or the planned parties on their fathers’ yachts, but he figured since they came from such fine, upper class families they would have some sense of responsibility to the job. What Vernon didn’t realize was that the reason his friends needed to find their kids jobs for them was because of their incompetence at finding and holding their own employment.

At the end of the meeting came the announcement that he had been waiting for.

“As I understand it, there have been rumors going around about the company’s owner coming for an inspection of this facility, as well as the production plant in Birmingham and the warehouse in Stoke-on-Trent. I cannot confirm this rumor at this time. All I can say is that the owner’s representative, a Mr. Griphook, has contacted my office, saying that, from tomorrow, the owner will be in the area for an undisclosed length of time, and he may wish to tour our facilities, as well as his other holdings in and around Great Britain, and from what I could get from his representative, those holdings appear to be quite extensive. If you want my advice, you’d best keep all of your respective departments in tip-top shape. If we hear anything, we’ll be sure to give each department as much notice as possible.”

Vernon’s moustache was involuntarily twitching in excitement. In his mind, he was already planning out how to best impress the owner when he came to his fine new house for an evening of good food, fine wine, and pleasant, and hopefully beneficial, conversation.

As he made his way back to his office, he thought he might need to stop at a florist on the way home… it wouldn’t do if his currently aggrieved spouse wasn’t up to her usual standards in the way of dinner parties.

He was blissfully unaware of the current happenings in the community of Brentwood, where his lovely new home had been in the path of the marauding inferi on their trek to London, and the institutions of both the muggle and magical governments.

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Harry set two plates down on the counter, both loaded with freshly caught, deep-fried fish and chips. While Kotone graciously provided the fish, Harry had to make a few trips back to a muggle market in London to get the potatoes, oil, and spices needed to prepare the meal.

He had plenty of experience in scaling and filleting fish from all the times his uncle and cousin took their fishing excursions out into the country for some father-son bonding. Harry was never allowed to go, but always had the job of cleaning and cooking whatever they had managed to bring home. More often than not, he wasn’t even invited to join the meal. He was usually handed a spoon and a can of creamed corn or green beans while the ‘family’ enjoyed the catch.

He poured two cups of cola and placed them beside the plates, along with the plastic dinnerware and paper napkins. Harry then turned to the door that led to the living room and let out a tired sigh before walking out of the kitchen. The last time he looked, which was just after he finished cleaning the fish, Hermione was still in the bathroom silently staring at her reflection in the mirror with Kotone standing beside her.

When Harry had told her about the changes that took place whenever she entered her state, Hermione practically ran into the bathroom and transformed while looking at herself with a dismayed expression.

Harry was surprised to find Hermione sitting deep in thought on the sofa, looking as her normal self, just watching Kotone as she slept on the white bearskin rug. When he entered the room, she slowly looked up from the sleeping girl. He could read every emotion that she was feeling in her expression, and saw the unasked question in her eyes.

“Hermione, it doesn’t matter,” he quickly assured her, “To tell you the truth, I think you look just as good in your state as you normally do.”

Harry immediately found that, while he had the best of intentions, it was the wrong thing to say. Hermione’s eyes hardened as her expression dropped into a severe frown.

“What do mean by that?” she asked through gritted teeth, “I look like a bloody corpse when I’m in that state! Are you saying that I normally look as if I’ve just been embalmed?”

Harry was about to blurt out that he thought she looked dead sexy, but stopped himself as he realized that saying she looked ‘dead’ anything would be a very, very bad mistake.

“All I’m saying is that the way you look, whether in your state or not, doesn’t change who you are,” said Harry, trying to sound as sincere as possible, “You’re a beautiful person, and nothing can change that. You could have ended up disfigured like Bill Weasley, and I’d still feel the same way about you, just like Fleur still loves Bill. Why can’t you accept that? Why don’t you believe me?”

Hermione’s face softened slightly, but her eyes still told of her reluctance to accept what Harry was saying at face value. Her voice held a petulant edge as she said, “I really can’t see how. I mean, how do you know that I haven’t changed somehow? This is all so new… so sudden… I didn’t expect I’d react this badly to anything! Every time I perform that ritual… every time I banish a portion of Voldemort’s soul, I feel so wretched afterwards!”

“Hermione… I know it’s not easy on you, but…”

Hermione’s eyes flared as she yelled, “That’s just it! While I’m in my state… particularly while I’m performing the banishing ritual… It is easy! I feel powerful! It almost feels like I’m enjoying it! It’s only afterwards that what I’ve done, and how I felt while doing it, actually hits me!” Hermione’s voice began cracking as she continued, “I’m scared, Harry! Every time I do it, it gets easier… I don’t know what’s happening to me! I feel like I’m losing my humanity, and after seeing what I become when I…”

Hermione’s outburst roused Kotone from her sleep. Apparently, Kotone heard most, if not all of what Hermione was saying. She got to her feet, stood before Hermione and said in an icy tone that didn’t at all sound like her own, “You should not complain. You have taken on responsibility that was always yours, just as Brother Lion has assumed his… and I have assumed my own. My time to assist is coming to an end, and I will not be able to do more to help. Brother Lion must stop the evil that threatens more than you realize, and you must ensure that he has the ability to do what must be done. If you do not accept your role, if you do not do what is necessary, then who will?”

Both Harry and Hermione were shocked. They had never heard the normally ‘too’ polite little girl speak with such force and conviction. Before either had a chance to respond, Kotone continued in a much gentler voice, “Have no fear for your humanity. From someone who knows of inhumanity, trust me when I say that your soul is not in danger. You will soon see the balance that is inherent in your power. Speak to the ancestors… they will help you to see. Then you must free your Lion and train him as you have trained yourself.”

The lips on the little girl’s mask then curved into a wry smile as she said, “Now, go eat. The fish I caught for you is getting cold.”

Throughout the meal, Harry kept a surreptitious eye on Hermione as they ate. She no longer wore the frown, but she still had that dismayed look in her eyes as she finished eating in silence.

The moment that the meal was over, Hermione vanished the disposable dinnerware and said with determination, “It’s time. Let’s get rid of that snake inside of you.”

Harry and Hermione found themselves sitting on the sofa facing each other as Kotone slept on the rug. Without warning, she pointed her wand at Harry and stunned him. She caught him before he slumped over and settled him comfortably in a seated position. It took another split-moment for her to enter her state while holding her wand to her forehead, drawing out the fine thread of her blood.

After four consecutive unsuccessful attempts to banish the soul fragment, Hermione was practically beside herself. Sweaty strands of her blackened hair clung to her face and her breathing was short and halting from the continued exertion. The mixture of frustration, anger and fear had her nearly in tears. She had to wedge open the front door after the second attempt due to the rank odor of sulphur and brimstone that permeated the room. She wondered how Kotone could sleep while the stench was in the air.

She knew that she was performing the ritual correctly, but the fragment refused to be completely separated from the host. She had assumed that with her enhanced state, getting rid of the soul fragment would have been simple. She took a few moments to think about what she was doing, and what Kotone had said to them earlier in the day. The little girl had said to ‘speak to the ancestors,’ and then to ‘free your Lion.’

‘Speak to the ancestors?’ she thought to herself, ‘I suppose it’s worth a try…’

Hermione moved from the sofa and sat in one of the suspended egg-shaped chairs. She took a moment to resume her state, freeing her soul from her body completely. Her ethereal form drifted out to the sun-drenched beach and hovered over the moist sand where the ocean met the shore. The book had said that in order to summon her guide, she must call out to the afterlife in song. She thought it strange that most of the necromantic spells and rituals had to be performed in song. Although the book didn’t specifically show the notes or words to the melodies, she just instinctively knew how they should sound after reading the rituals.

Hermione opened her soul to her surroundings. She began singing in a voice that was both soft and strong, the tone of which even surprised herself. She didn’t know the words until after she had sung them, but she could feel the power behind them. Her words seemed to carry across time and space, mellifluously echoing in her ears like a distant siren’s call,

“The darkness now separates us,
but our hearts call out to each other.
See through my eyes, as I will see through yours.
Some things can only be seen
after the darkness blinds and surrounds.

Death, I will stand and face you!
You will stand aside for me,
the bonds shall be loosened,
and the darkness lifted.

Death, I will stand and face you!
I will lead the fallen to the light.
I will wander lost no more,
I will see beyond the shroud.

Death, I am not afraid to face you!
The horizon shall dissolve
and no measure nor time will separate us,
our souls and minds to be as one.”

Hermione didn’t know at what point during her song that the sunny beach disappeared from around her. She was so lost in her own song that she was startled by a somewhat familiar voice from right beside her… the voice she had heard that led her back to Harry after the performance enhancement ritual.

“It’s about time. I’ve been waiting for you to return. I thought you might never make it back here.

She looked at the beautiful young girl standing beside her. She had long, strawberry blonde hair, a clear, rosy complexion, and a pair of soft green-hazel eyes. The girl looked and sounded vaguely familiar to Hermione, but she still couldn’t place where she had seen her before. Nervously, Hermione introduced herself.

“Well… hello. My name is Hermione…”

“Granger, yes I know,” interrupted the girl, “I remember when we were introduced the first time.”

A confused frown crossed Hermione’s face as she studied the girl. Finally, she said, “I’m very sorry, but you have me at a disadvantage… who are…”

Hermione’s voice trailed off as she suddenly noticed what the girl was wearing. A neat, but rather outdated set of Hogwarts robes with the golden yellow trim that denoted the loyal house of Hufflepuff. She could swear the girl was wearing something completely different a moment before, but she somehow couldn’t recall what. Still, the connection was made.

“Chloe?” asked Hermione uncertainly.

Chloe nodded and gave her a beaming smile, “I don’t blame you for not recognizing me, I’m afraid that I was in a frightful state when last we met ‘in the flesh.’”

“You’re my guide?” asked Hermione disbelievingly, “But, you’ve only been dead for a day! A spirit guide should be one who has spent…” Hermione paused as the realization struck her.

Chloe picked it right up, “many years between the mortal world and the afterlife. I think two hundred years in a half-life qualifies me quite nicely.”

“And Geoffrey? Have you seen him? How is he?”

Chloe gave another grin as she said, “We’re doing wonderfully! We have eternity to make up for all the lost time. He sends his thanks… he didn’t have time after you released him, and… neither did I. Thank you… you have no idea how grateful we are! Hopefully, my services here will be a start to repay your kindness.”

Although Hermione didn’t know it at that moment, Chloe’s words had a deep and profound impact on her subconscious, a seed of acceptance and hope laying some of the fears about herself to rest.

In order for Chloe to be of any help as a guide, they had to be familiar with each other, so the two girls spent a long time just talking… about their lives, their friends and families, likes and dislikes, and all of their hopes and dreams.

Eventually, their main topic turned to Harry, the horcruxes, and what he ultimately had to do. They discussed Hermione’s failed attempts to Rid Harry of the soul shard, but Chloe could offer no advice. Although Chloe was Hermione’s spirit guide, that didn’t mean that she was omniscient or could tell the future. She could, however, try to get in touch with those who have passed on. She promised to search for Harry’s parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore. Chloe seemed sure that she could find them, but being so new to the afterlife, it may take some time. There were many different planes to the afterlife, and there were a lot of souls in each one.

Chloe didn’t seem to understand Hermione’s joke about looking them up in the telephone directory…

As far as finding anyone who might know about horcruxes or their properties, Chloe mentioned that it might be difficult, for she assumed that anyone who would know of them would reside in the ‘lower plane,’ and she refused to search there.

They were about to say their goodbyes when an odd expression washed over Chloe’s face, as if she were listening to something that Hermione couldn’t hear. After a moment, Chloe turned to Hermione and said, “You spoke of a Dumbledore… his name is Albus?”

“Yes!” said Hermione excitedly, “Have you found him?”

“It is he that has found you… I wondered why he was so curious. You’re still too new at this to see him, but he has been listening to our discussion and may have a solution for one of your problems. He thinks that you may not be able to banish the fragment in your Harry at all, and should just release it as you did for Geoffrey and me… and make sure to protect yourself and anyone else nearby.”

“Can you ask him why it can’t be banished?”

Chloe seemed to fade for a moment, like a poor signal on a muggle television set, before she came back into focus and said, “I’m not sure if I can explain this correctly… I wish that you could speak to him yourself, but that will come in time. He says that the fragment inside of Harry could be the original soul that was torn from Riddle’s body and not merely a horcrux. If that is truly the case, then you would only be able to banish it after all of the remaining horcruxes, including the one in this ‘Lord Voldemort’ that he mentioned. Does that make sense to you?”

“Of course!” exclaimed Hermione, “That’s why it’s not working! When Voldemort’s curse rebounded and destroyed his body while he was trying to create a horcrux, both the torn soul fragment and his original soul was released. The original soul must have implanted itself into Harry, and the fragment that was intended to be stored is what resides in Voldemort’s body right now. Give him my thanks, Chloe, and thank you for helping me.”

“Of course,” said Chloe with a smile, “We will speak again later, you must get back to Harry, he’s about to wake up.”

Hermione left her state and found herself on the sunny beach once again. Gone were the feelings of despair and guilt that she was experiencing before her chat with Chloe. She understood now what she had to do, and that brought her closer than ever before to acceptance of what she was and who she had become.

As she entered the house, Harry was just rousing himself from his induced unconsciousness. He groggily looked at Hermione as she approached the sofa and said, “Well? Did it work? Is it gone?”

“No, but it will be,” said Hermione confidently as she sat on the sofa and faced him.

Minutes later, the frozen serpent that was Voldemort’s soul hung suspended above Harry as she drew another strand of blood from her forehead and traced out a protection rune towards the still sleeping Kotone, preventing the soon to be released soul from entering her. Another strand was withdrawn, and with another burst of dripping flames, her own form was protected.

The final strand was crafted into the last rune… instead of the rune of Judgment, the rune of Freedom was etched into the air. The blue haze that encased the serpent dissolved, releasing the fragment from its ethereal prison. The thin, wiry tail of the snake stretched out from Harry’s scar and broke free. At the same time, she heard a low-pitched howl, and it took her a moment to realize that it was the sound of Harry screaming. With a twirl of her wand, the binding around the writhing snake vanished. It sluggishly circled over the other souls in the room, and upon realizing that it couldn’t attach itself to any living thing nearby, it lazily drifted upwards and disappeared through the ceiling towards the northeast. She smiled as she thought that it would take quite the while for it to make it back to England to rejoin its counterpart in Voldemort’s body. She somehow knew that it wouldn’t attempt to enter anyone else until it found its’ animated counterpart, the only activated horcrux left that was Voldemort himself.

Hermione immediately emerged from her state to find Harry clutching his scar and screaming in agony. Blood was seeping through his fingers as he clawed at his forehead. Hermione worried for a moment that something had gone wrong, but then realized that the fragment had been part of him for most of his life, so it was expected for him to have some sort of a reaction to its forced removal.

When Harry’s screaming stopped a few moments later, Hermione gently pried his hands from his forehead to see how badly he was injured. She carefully wiped the blood away, and saw that there was no injury at all… and the scar that had marked him since he was a year old was gone.

She pulled Harry into a comforting hug as he shivered in her arms. His breath was short and halting, and his skin was cold and clammy. It took a few minutes for him to calm down enough to speak.

“That was fun,” he commented dryly as he pulled back slightly from Hermione’s embrace.

Harry was surprised to find that Hermione was smiling while holding him. He thought that odd because every time she had banished a soul, she was practically inconsolable for quite the while afterwards.

At his puzzled look, Hermione said, “It’s alright… I understand my role now… and I realized that being what I am is actually a blessing for us. We couldn’t do what needs to be done if it weren’t for this little knack I have of ripping souls out of things.”

“So it really worked this time? You banished it?”

“Well, no…” said Hermione. She took a moment to think about how best to explain what she had done and why, “I couldn’t banish it. I had to release the soul fragment from you.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “What? Where did it go? Why didn’t you get rid of it?”

“I believe it’s heading back to England to reconnect with the fragment in Voldemort’s current body… and I didn’t banish it simply because I couldn’t.”

Hermione explained about her conversation with Chloe and how the message from Dumbledore was relayed. Although excited that Hermione could now contact the afterlife, and eventually maybe his parents and Sirius as well, he was still confused on why she couldn’t banish the fragment that was within him.

“Think about it,” explained Hermione, “The bit within you was the original bit of Tom Riddle’s soul… it was accidentally placed in you when the killing curse rebounded. It was the base soul from which the other fragments that were made into horcruxes were torn. If the ritual that I use to get rid of the horcruxes could banish original souls, intact or not, what would stop me from using the ritual to kill someone? It would be no better than the killing curse, except for the fact that it takes quite a bit longer than the Avada Kedavra… the ritual is only to exorcise souls of those who have died. It would work on ghosts, and other spectres like Peeves, but I can’t remove a living soul from anything or anyone. That’s why it failed all of the times I tried to help you, and now that Voldemort will have that original soul piece back, I won’t be able to remove it from him… that will be up to you.”

Harry nodded in understanding, then tiredly smiled at Hermione and said, “So now we can repair the soul bond, right?”

Hermione shook her head in disbelief as she said, “What?” She couldn’t hope to believe that Harry still wanted to repair the bond with her after seeing what she becomes in her state. After a moment, a look of realization appeared on her face as she gave him a resigned smile, but the sadness in her eyes betrayed her disappointment, “Well, yes… I imagine it would be possible now. You can enter your state and leave your body without fear of it being hijacked now. I must say it’s quite the unique experience… not as scary as you’d imagine…”

Harry immediately caught the change in her demeanor and knew what caused it. Without missing a beat he stood from the couch, took her hand and said to her, “Then let’s get it repaired… right now.”

Hermione stared blankly at him for a few seconds before she whispered, “You… you still want to bond with me? Really?”

“Of course I do,” he said smiling, “I told you that I love you, and nothing is going to change that. I thought I made that clear in the bathroom when I said that I’d like us to be a family.” There was a wry twinkle in his eye as he threw caution to the wind and added snarkily, “Anyway, you look dead sexy in your state!” and then said seriously, “I’d be lucky if I look half as cool as you after I do my own ritual.”

The next thing Harry was aware of was the sudden lack of air in his lungs as Hermione crushed him in a fierce hug while kissing him into a most excellent stupor. After almost a full minute of Hermione massaging his lips with hers, she broke the kiss and beamed at him.

“Then you were serious? That really was a somewhat awkward proposal?”

When Harry smiled and nodded rather sheepishly, she brought her arms up behind his neck and let out a strangled sob, “Thank you, Harry… I swear to you, I’m never going to let you regret this,” she said softly into his ear as she managed to strengthen the hug… something that he wouldn’t have believed possible a minute before, “We’ll get through this war, and I’m going to do everything in my power to make that happen. Then I’ll spend the rest of my life making you the happiest wizard in all the United Kingdom!”

Harry almost didn’t hear her words, he was so lost in her warm embrace that his higher cognitive functions were severely impaired. Add to that the throbbing erection that he was sporting as he felt Hermione’s breasts resting on his chest. His mind drifted from the image of Hermione’s indescribably sexy altered form, through the vision of her standing naked, wet, and lathered in the stream of the shower at Privet Drive, to the glorious view he received the previous day in the bathroom with her bent over and her womanly assets splayed open for his greedy eyes. Of course, the thought of her making him ‘the happiest wizard in Britain’ sent all sorts of wild, erotic pictures careening through his teenaged mind. He briefly wondered if these thoughts were natural for someone his age, or if it was just the after-effect of the elixir that had suppressed the majority of his hormonal urges for so long.

Finally regaining some of his sensibility, he asked, “Well, where are we going to do it? Right here in the house or out on the beach?”

This simple, rational question sent Hermione’s mind spinning into the same vortex that Harry’s mind was in. It took her a moment to decipher the context of the phrase, ‘do it,’ but the damage had already been done as pictures of Harry’s naked form drifted unbidden through her brain. She never got the full frontal view, but the image of his tight, dripping, naked buns remained burned into her memory. It had been so long since she actually had to control her libido that it took a supreme effort for her not to moan into his ear, but she could do nothing about the building wetness between her legs.

Hermione took a deep, calming breath before saying, “Well, it won’t take but a moment, and it’s not very complicated. We can repair the bond right now.”

Kotone cracked one eye open and looked up at the couple on the sofa. She had been asleep, but could still hear the conversation between the two as it played out. She woke herself up just in time to see each of them enter their respective ‘states.’ She had been waiting for this moment for so long, she could hardly believe it was finally coming to pass.

Harry’s soul was the first to emerge from his body, the proud lion, now free from the taint that was the dark serpent, looked vibrant and healthy as it drifted steadily above his physical form sitting motionless on the sofa.

A moment later, Hermione’s soul, the stately eagle rose elegantly to hover before the lion. The eagle spread her massive wings and embraced the ethereal lion. The ghostly forms coalesced into a single mass, vague and nebulous, until a definite shape began to form from the combined souls.

The wings spread outwards once again, and the head of the majestic eagle emerged from the shapeless cloud. Kotone’s eyes shone in delight as the rest of the figure compacted to form the remainder of the body. The final form of a large, magnificent griffin drifted gracefully around the room above her.

Forgetting that she was pretending to be asleep, Kotone bounced happily as she energetically clapped her hands, but the griffin didn’t seem to pay her any mind. The loving emotions that were being broadcast by the combined souls were palpable to her. She had never before felt such a strong bond between two souls before, and wondered how long it would take for them to return to their respective bodies.

Kotone didn’t have to wait long before the griffin settled just above the sofa between the two motionless bodies. Slowly, the griffin became a shapeless mass of ethereal energy before splitting back into two defined shapes, the lion and the eagle, but with the bright golden ribbon of energy connecting the two.

As Kotone watched the two distinct souls assume their bodies, she got to her feet and looked expectantly between the two, wondering how their newly repaired bond would affect them. Her eyes narrowed in concern when they both emerged from their states at the same time, Harry with a terrified look on his face, and Hermione looking as if she had just been handed her NEWT results with straight ‘Trolls.’

Harry leapt from the sofa and backed away from Hermione. He was breathing heavily, and looked as though he were ready to run out of the house. Hermione’s face instantly became flushed and her eyes were opened wide in surprise. She, too, seemed to be desperately gasping for breath.

As Harry scrambled backwards away from the sofa, he tripped over the pile of stuff that was brought back from Grimmauld Place. He quickly clambered to his feet and practically shouted to Hermione, “Keep away from me! Please!”

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A/N: Fun Fact: I had originally written Vernon finding out about the happenings at his house… The inferi didn’t target his house specifically, it just happened to be in their path on their way to London! ^_^

42. Lust in the Loft

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe, and I make no claim to the lyric bits, either.

A/N: Alright, alright… I know it was very, very naughty of me to leave the last chapter where I did, so I redoubled my efforts to get this very, very short (only 4100 words) update out to you to make up for my blatant evilness! There’s a MAJOR porn alert here, and this undoubtedly places this story well within the ‘NC-17’ rating, so if you aren’t old enough, mature enough, or are offended by incredibly lewd and lascivious behavior, then read no further! You have been warned! To the rest of you, sit back, relax, read, review, but most of all, enjoy!

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Chapter 42: Lust in the Loft

I met a devil woman.
She took my heart away.
She said I had it comin' to me,
but I wanted it that way.
I say that any love is good love,
so I took what I could get,
but she looked at me with those big, brown eyes…

And said,

’You ain't seen nothin' yet.’
Baby, you just ain't seen nothin' yet.
Here's something that you're never gonna forget.
Baby, you just ain't seen nothin' yet…

and you're thinkin' you ain't been around.

Excerpt from the song, ‘You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet,’ by the band, Bachman-Turner Overdrive.

-----~-----

Hermione shakily stood from the sofa and unsteadily stepped towards Harry, who in turn, took another step backwards away from her. Both of them were very flushed and sweating profusely.

“Hermione!” growled Harry dangerously, “Keep away! I… I can’t control it!”

Hermione glared at Harry and, completely ignoring his warning, took another step closer. She had to place a hand on the backrest of the sofa as her trembling legs didn’t seem quite up to the task of supporting her. A feral grin appeared on her lips just before she breathily purred, “What’s the matter, Harry? I thought you loved me?”

Harry had his eyes tightly shut as he yelled in near panic, “Damn it! I’m about to rape you! I can’t control it!”

Hermione released the back of the sofa as she took yet another step closer while pulling the white nightdress up over her head, exposing her flushed, naked body. The nightdress hung from one of her fingers as she silkily said, “It’s not rape if I’m willing, you idiot!” Hermione let the nightdress slip from her finger to pool on the floor as she added with another step closer, “Now get those pants off before I vanish them myself!”

Kotone’s eyes widened as she realized what had happened to them, and what was obviously going to happen in rather short order. Her cheeks pinkened as she raced to the open front door saying, “Hungry… fish time.” A moment later she had disappeared across the beach towards the water. Neither of the other two occupants of the room appeared to notice that she was ever in the room at all.

When Harry opened his eyes, he was met with the vision of Hermione, totally naked and strutting sexily towards him. He involuntarily shivered and felt his mouth immediately go dry. Her face and body were wet with perspiration, and with a flush that colored her skin from her forehead all the way to her shoulders and down past her breasts, which were swaying hypnotically with every step she took. The tightness in his pants became increasingly uncomfortable as even more blood forced its way into his already engorged penis.

As soon as Hermione came within his reach, a low, deep growl escaped his throat as he roughly grabbed her around the waist and pulled her body flush against his. Hermione let out a throaty moan as he felt the bulge of her pubic mound firmly rubbing against his own bulge. He could actually feel the heat from her loins through the material of his trousers as she moved against him.

Harry heard a strange ripping sound, and soon discovered that the source was Hermione’s hands that were practically tearing at his shirt as she tried to remove it from him. A moment later, all that was left of his shirt was the neckband and a few dangling scraps of frayed cloth. He was vaguely aware of the lines of pain across his back caused by Hermione’s fingernails in her zeal to get his shirt removed, but that awareness was short lived.

His head was swimming as the girl pressed against him hissed into his ear, “I said get those trousers off, mister!”

Harry felt her hands snaking in between them as she reached for his waistband. The loss of contact with the source of heat caused his hips to involuntarily thrust forward. This in turn trapped Hermione’s hands between them, which made her grunt in frustration at her lack of success in getting his trousers unbuttoned.

When Harry backed away slightly, Hermione took that opportunity to give a mighty tug at his waistband. A second later, she was rewarded by the satisfying sound of a button bouncing onto the floor. A heartbeat after that, the button was joined by Harry’s trousers and underwear, freeing his previously trapped appendage.

Free of his clothing, Harry crashed back into Hermione. Their lips met hungrily as their hands began exploring every inch of the other’s flesh that they could reach. Hermione had her left leg hiked up onto his hip as she ground her pelvis eagerly against his swollen member, and he was reflexively thrusting his hips forward against her. The heat coming from each of them was almost painful.

Suddenly, Harry broke the kiss and threw his head back. Hermione could see the glazed, unfocused look in his eyes as his face took on a pained expression. His whole body was shaking, and she wondered what was happening to him until she felt the hot spray of sperm from his dick twitching against her belly. She had to hold him up to keep his legs from falling out from under him, but she still didn’t stop thrusting her own burning crotch against him. They could feel the slimy semen seeping down between their joined bellies and running down to their thighs. A minute passed before Harry’s head lolled forward and he looked into her darkened, smoldering eyes that held a hint of surprise as she realized that he was still hard.

An animalistic grin appeared on Hermione’s face as she said between heaving breaths, “Bed… now… my turn…”

Still locked in their embrace and kissing madly, they awkwardly made their way to the stairs that led to the loft and the large bed within. They stumbled over each other’s legs a few times, but made it up to the loft faster than either of them had expected.

Hermione felt the edge of the bed against the back of her knees and fell heavily back onto the mattress, bringing Harry right along with her. They barely registered the cloud of dust that was ejected from the top bedcover upon their landing.

Not pausing for a moment, Hermione reached down and grabbed Harry’s slick member that throbbed appreciatively in her hand. She silently marveled at its firm softness as she gave it a few gentle strokes. She barely had the breath to whisper to him as she positioned her legs, “Gently, Harry… first time…”

She guided the tip to her entrance and rubbed it a few times along her slit, although she didn’t need to as they were both very well lubricated, him from his own semen and her from the copious amounts of juices that had been flowing from her since she emerged from her state after the bond was repaired. She could feel her own heat radiating from her entrance as she mentally prepared to sacrifice her virginity. She closed her eyes tightly and braced herself, then placed her hands on Harry’s arse cheeks and put a light, encouraging pressure downwards.

As he felt the head of his penis push aside her folds and breach the entrance of her vagina, Harry wasn’t entirely sure he could hold back, but once he heard Hermione draw a hissing breath and saw her eyes fly open in apparent alarm, he froze, only fighting the urge to pull back by the pressure that she was still putting on his arse, holding him in place.

A few moments later, he felt her hands pulling him towards her again, and he applied more pressure into her, sliding in a bit more. He then saw a determined look come over her face as she closed her eyes once again. He waited for the pressure of her hands to tell him when to continue, but was surprised when Hermione bucked her hips up forcefully, burying nearly his entire length into her in one quick thrust.

Hermione felt as though she had been punched in the gut and had the air knocked out of her lungs. It was like a sudden, severe cramp exploded in her abdomen. It took her quite a few moments to be able to once again draw a breath. She clung urgently to Harry’s arse, holding him firmly inside of her and not allowing him to move. She could tell by the quaking of his muscles and the occasional, involuntary twitch of his hips that he desperately wanted to draw out of her, and probably right back into her again, but she needed time to adjust to the pain, and to the presence of the foreign mass that seemed to be stretching her to her limits. She concentrated hard, trying to get the muscles of her opening to relax around him but it was difficult due to the cramping sensation deep in her loins. She was torn between ridding herself of the physical pain and reveling in the incredible, aching lust that burned like fire through her veins. Gradually, she felt the pain subside a bit, and felt her muscles begin to relax round him.

Harry felt crushing pressure that was gripping his dick slowly abate, and then felt her hands ease up on his arse, letting him know that it was alright to move again. Every fibre of his being was urging him to begin pounding into her, and it took a Herculean effort on his part for him to keep from doing just that. He slowly arced his hips back, feeling the wondrous sensation of her slick, silky walls massaging his girth as he slid from within her. He was almost all the way out when she firmly grabbed his cheeks again and pulled him back into her with a slow constant pressure, causing a deep moan to escape each of them in some sort of erotic, two-part harmony.

Up until that point, Harry had been supporting his upper body by his outstretched arms on either side of her shoulders, but as he fully inserted himself inside of her again, she slid her hands from his hips, up his back to rest on his shoulders. The path of her hands across his skin left a burning trail of energized nerves in their wake. Hermione’s dark brown eyes were smoldering with desire as she gripped his shoulders tightly and pulled the remainder of his body flush with hers. She brought her legs up behind his lower back and began hungrily kissing him for all she was worth.

This was all the encouragement that Harry needed, not that he could have suppressed his own lust for much longer. He adjusted his position slightly due to the new angle of her vagina, then began moving slowly and steadily, drawing out of her almost completely before easily sliding back in, all the while kissing her hungrily, devouring her lips and trailing kisses along her cheeks, jawline and down across her throat and neck. He smiled into her damp, sweaty hair, which he had to fight his way through to get to the moist, flushed skin on her neck, as he remembered wondering how they would ‘line up’ with each other while engaged in the activity they were now performing. He had his answer as he once again reclaimed her lips without having to crane his neck at all… they fit together comfortably… perfectly.

The pain that Hermione was experiencing was still undeniably there, but it was almost forgotten, lost amidst the other, much more pronounced sensations that were cascading all along every nerve of her body. The heat that was being generated between them was incredible, and she absently wondered if their skin was being burned… it certainly felt like it. The unfamiliar sensation of being filled to capacity and then emptied again repeatedly was playing havoc with the nerve endings all along her pelvic area as his sweat slicked body slid over hers. She could tell that there was a puddle of his previous ejaculate and their combined perspiration pooled in her navel, adding to the lubrication of their skin as his abdomen glided over hers with each thrust.

“Come on, Harry,” she whispered to him between panting breaths, “It’s okay… harder…”

Harry heard her words and tried to ‘pick up the pace,’ but more than a few conflicting feeling prevented him from fully abandoning himself in her, the foremost of which was his firm desire not to hurt her. The look on her face told him that she was still in pain, but she really did seem to be enjoying what they were doing. He would have liked nothing more than to just start quickly and deeply thrusting into her, but he felt that he was too close to another release. He wanted this to last… he wanted it to last forever… the feel of her slick skin against his, the raking of her fingernails on his back and shoulders, the heat and tightness of where their bodies were joined. It was both agonizing and wondrous at the same time… he couldn’t let it end… not yet.

Harry stopped moving, and between gasps, he hissed out, “I’m close… so close…”

Hermione obviously had other plans because she said right back to him in a voice dripping with need, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet!”

With a frustrated grunt, she surprised him by sliding her legs from behind his back and roughly pushing up his right shoulder. She forcefully jockeyed her body to the side, flipping him over onto his back while effortlessly righting herself on top of him, amazingly accomplishing the acrobatic feat without disengaging their joined sexes. Her left hand began caressing her right breast as her right hand slid down to where their bodies were connected. Her fingers snaked their way into the damp, matted mass of her pubic hair and began energetically rubbing the engorged nub hidden within.

Hermione threw her head back, flipping her dark, sweat-soaked tresses out of her face as she began grinding down on his penis. A long, guttural moan escaped her as she squirmed down, crushing her own pelvic bone against his. Harry watched in awe as she began arching her back while vigorously bouncing up and down, repeatedly impaling herself on his manhood, all the while panting and moaning.

The heady smell of their combined sweat and the musky scent of her womanhood met his nostrils, and the sight of the deep flush that coloured Hermione’s heaving, bouncing breasts sent his already lust-addled brain into overdrive. His hands automatically reached out to the focus of his attention, feeling the weight of the firm, soft orbs as they heaved heavily in his grasp. Her darkened, extended nipples dragged between his fingers and along his rough palms with every bounce.

Harry felt the muscles beneath his balls throbbing and contracting, and the almost painful ache along the sensitive underside of his penis as her convulsing vaginal walls ravenously milked him. He could do nothing to stem the impending orgasm that was threatening to occur at any moment. All he could do was gaze into her angelic face, studying her expression that seemed to be a cross between agony and ecstasy. Others may not see the physical beauty inherent in the woman on top of him, but at that point in time, he couldn’t imagine anyone being nearly as beautiful as his Hermione.

Hermione was floating… unaware of her surroundings… all of the pain forgotten… nothing existed but the euphoric sensation that had centered on her vagina and spread out to every part of her body… every nerve, every cell was on fire. She was vaguely aware of the sounds her throat was making, and the squishing, slapping sound that came every time her wet buttocks made forceful contact with Harry’s thighs. When she felt Harry’s hands rest upon her breasts, the resulting electric tingle shot from her nipples to the depths of her crotch as they dragged through his fingers and across his palms. The pressure that had been steadily building in and around her vagina seemed to explode, sending tingly bolts of lightning to every inch of her body.

Her eyes snapped open and locked with Harry’s, causing her breath to hitch. She has seen that look in his eyes before… when they were in the bathroom, and she was bending over right in front of him. He looked as though he adored her… as if she were the most beautiful creature on the planet. That was all it took to send her careening over the edge.

Hermione’s eyes rolled up under her heavy lids as she threw her head back. She raised herself once more before grinding down forcefully, impaling herself on his thick cock and arching her back so that her fingers pressed against her engorged clitoris and heightened the contact between their pubic bones. A deep, gurgling moan escaped her throat as her body seemed to become paralyzed. She could feel her vaginal walls vibrate as they clenched around the thick, throbbing hunk of meat buried deep within her, and she could feel the burning hot seed pulsing and spraying her insides as Harry frantically bucked and squirmed beneath her.

Several blissful moments later, she fell heavily forward, collapsing on top of Harry. They both were breathing hard as they clung desperately to each other. She could still feel the occasional spasm of her vagina around his slowly softening penis that was still buried within her. She purred contentedly as she closed her eyes and rested the side of her head against his chest, listening to his ragged breathing and pounding heartbeat as they gradually slowed to a near normal rate.

Through her euphoric state, Hermione heard Harry softly say, “I love you.”

Maybe for the very first time, she believed it. She couldn’t suppress the dreamy smile that appeared on her face as she replied, “I love you, too.”

A minute later, she felt Harry’s arms relax around her. She lifted her head and looked on his peacefully sleeping face. She remembered that Harry hadn’t slept at all the night before, having kept the vigil over her as she recovered from her enhancement ritual. She carefully raised her body from him, wincing only slightly at the twinge of pain as his flaccid penis slid out of her with a muffled squelching sound.

Once she stood up, still wearing the stupid smile from Harry’s last declaration, she took notice of their respective conditions. The both were covered in drying sweat, sperm, her own vaginal juices, and a surprising amount of blood. They both looked as if they had some white, doughy looking patches on different areas of their bodies, apparently from where their various fluids mixed with the copious amounts of dust that they had stirred up from the bedcover.

She felt unusually energized as she climbed down the stairs to retrieve her wand from her nightdress that was left abandoned on the floor. After securing her wand, she went back up to the loft and cast a series of cleaning charms over Harry, then settled him into a more comfortable position on the bed.

Rather than cleaning herself up magically, she opted for a nice relaxing bath. After retrieving her overnight bag and picking out some of the clothes that Harry had thoughtfully retrieved for her, she stepped into the bathroom and started the water in the large built-in tub.

An hour later, she stepped out from the tub and grabbed a pair of towels. She patted her body down, taking care to be extra-gentle around her recently deflowered bits. As she finished drying her body, she took the second dry towel and wrapped up her wet hair.

When she bent down and picked up the first towel from the floor, she was surprised to find a blood stain near the edge of it. She looked down to find a thin trickle of blood seeping down the inside of her thigh. She knew that she had just had her period the week before, so it had to be from the sexual activity she had just shared with Harry. She had read that bleeding commonly occurs the first several times a girl has intercourse, so she wasn’t too concerned.

She opened a zippered side compartment in her bag and instinctively pulled out a tampon. She looked at it for a moment, but then reminded herself of the stinging sensation that was still evident in her crotch. She replaced the tampon in the bag and pulled out a small pad, affixed it to her knickers, and after a quick cleaning charm on herself, she pulled on the knickers and shifted the pad into place. She knew that the bleeding would soon stop, and made a mental note to check the pad from time to time.

She finished dressing and left the bathroom wearing a bright yellow sundress over a pair of faded denim cut-off shorts. She looked around the living room, and noticed for the first time that Kotone wasn’t there. She quietly walked to the front door which was left open and saw the young half-witch happily playing in the surf. Hermione leaned against the doorjamb and watched Kotone’s antics with a smile.

A pensive expression crossed her face as her thoughts focused on the recent happenings in all three of their lives. She thought about Ron and Luna, and how she had been jealous of the relationship that they shared with each other back in Grimmauld Place. It suddenly occurred to her that Ron was in the same predicament that they were in before Kotone re-discovered the old house.

Hermione strode purposefully to the fireplace while drawing her wand. After hastily conjuring a fire in the hearth, she looked up at the old pewter urn sitting on the mantle. She picked it up, removed the lid, and eyed the powder within, wondering if it was still good after all the years it had been sitting there. She grabbed a fistful, more than what was normally required just in case, and tossed it into the fire.

She got to her knees and spoke clearly into the roaring green flames, “Ronald Weasley, The Burrow.”

After nearly five minutes, the green flames subsided and resumed its normal, yellow-red appearance. Either the powder was defective or there was nobody at the Burrow to answer the call.

Hermione looked back to the open doorway and could just hear the occasional laugh or squeal from Kotone as she played in the ocean. Her eyes wandered up to the loft where her Harry was sleeping peacefully. The smile that she couldn’t quite shake up to that point fell from her face as the thought suddenly occurred to her that she still needed to get a present for Harry’s birthday which was less than a day away.

As she sat kneeling before the fire, her mind was working. He probably wasn’t expecting much from her, if anything at all, but she knew that she just had to get something for him… something special… and quickly.

She was worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she stared distractedly around the sparsely furnished room when the notion suddenly struck her. It was perfect! …but could she get it in time?

She reached back into the pewter urn and withdrew another handful of powder. Tossing it into the fire, she leaned forward and said clearly, but softly, into the bright green flames, “Nymphadora Tonks.”

After a few moments, Tonks’ weary face appeared through the veil of flames and she tiredly said, “Wotcher, Hermione, you’d better make it quick, things are a bit chaotic around here, ya know…”

Of course, Hermione didn’t know what was going on in both wizarding and muggle Britain, but Tonks said to make it quick, so she didn’t waste time with small talk. She quickly explained what she needed, and asked if could get done in time for Harry’s birthday the following day.

Tonks seemed to perk up when she heard about Hermione’s idea for Harry’s present. She seemed to think that there wouldn’t be any resistance to the idea, and made some comment about how ‘nobody would even notice with everything that’s goin’ on,’ and promised to make sure she got the present in Hermioe’s hands by noon the following day.

Hermione told Tonks the floo address to where they were, ‘Lily’s Love Lagoon,’ which caused the perky auror to start braying in laughter. After a final goodbye, she closed the floo connection.

Feeling especially happy and very proud of herself for thinking of such a thoughtful gift, Hermione began humming merrily as she brandished her wand and began quietly cleaning the rest of the house. She paused for a moment as she thought with a bright smile, ‘No, their house.’

-----~-----

A/N: Fun fact #1: Kotone still has the present that she was going to give to Hermione as a gift to Harry, but Hermione either forgot or didn’t think that the young girl had the chance to get it for her, so chances are that she’ll have two presents for him! (I’m sure that you can guess what at least one of them is!)

Fun Fact #2: I had wrote another 1500 words at the end of this chapter, but soon realized that if it didn’t end here, there would certainly be yet another cliffhanger, and I’m sure you all would collectively hunt me down and kill me if I did it twice in a row!

43. Kotone's Wildest Dream

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I own any of the lyric bits that I use to enhance the story.

A/N: Here’s another appallingly short update, (only about 5700 words.) We learn quite a few things in this chapter, and we get to see what Hermione had in mind for a birthday gift for Harry. As you’ll be able to tell by the end of this chapter, things are quickly coming to a head. Enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 43: Kotone’s Wildest Dream

I know I felt like this before,
but now I’m feeling it even more
because it came from you.

Then I open up and see,
the person fumbling here is me…
A different way to be.

Now I tell you openly,
You have my heart so don’t hurt me
for what I couldn’t find.

Talk to me, amazing mind…
so understanding and so kind…
You’re everything to me.

Oh my life is changing everyday,
in every possible way.
Though my dreams, it’s never quite as it seems,
’cause you’re a dream to me,
Dream to me.

Excerpt from the song, “Dreams” by the band, The Cranberries.

-----~-----

Hermione spent the rest of the morning quietly cleaning the dust out of the beach house. She was amazed that there wasn’t anything else wrong with the house, considering the climate and the total lack of upkeep for well over a decade and a half. There was no mold or mildew on any of the interior floors or walls. Even the metal hinges of the doors and cabinets showed no signs of rust or tarnish, something which she would have expected would exist due to the humidity of the locale.

After stopping at noontime for a quick sandwich, Hermione tackled the outside of the house, which actually did show the house’s age. She could only imagine how many storms and hurricanes the house withstood over the years. Still, it took no more than several cleaning charms to restore the house to its original pristine condition. She even borrowed Harry’s broom to reach the roof, where she cleared the debris from the gutters and scourgefied the wide, glass skylight over the loft. She quickly found that it probably wasn’t the wisest thing for her to do.

As the years of grime and debris was magically wiped away from the skylight, she had a magnificent overhead view of Harry sleeping on the bed, stretched out in all of his naked glory. Hermione’s breath hitched as her eyes focused on his obviously engorged manhood. She sat on the broom mesmerized as she watched it rhythmically twitch and pulse with life. She already knew that boys sometimes became ‘excited’ as they slept, so she wasn’t at all surprised to see him in that state.

What did surprise her was her own body’s involuntary reaction to the sight of Harry sprawled out on his back. She fidgeted uncomfortably on the broomstick, both thankful for, and cursing at, the cotton pad that cushioned her womanhood from the hard wooden shaft between her legs. Her eyes lost focus slightly and an involuntary moan escaped her as she squirmed forward against the shaft of the Firebolt.

Hermione’s breath quickened and her eyes began to slowly close, only to snap wide open a moment later as she realized what she was doing. She quickly guided the broom down to the front door and hastily dismounted, still with a brilliant flush to her face and neck.

She carried the broom inside and was about to set it back where she found it when she noticed a dark, crimson stain on the handle where she was sitting. She looked down at herself and saw the blood staining the area of her crotch. She scourgefied both the broom handle and her denim shorts before rushing into the bathroom.

Sure enough, she found that the pad she had placed there hours earlier was completely soaked, and that she was still bleeding rather heavily. She conjured a small hand mirror and hiked one leg up onto the sink. Holding the mirror in one hand as she opened herself up with the other, she closely inspected herself. She wasn’t surprised when she found that her hymen had certainly torn. She had been very careful while using tampons over the years, but knew that the thin membrane couldn’t withstand the intrusion by Harry’s sizable manhood. However, she was surprised to find that the blood wasn’t from her torn hymen.

As Hermione sat on the toilet, she briefly considered that there might be some sort of internal damage, which she seriously doubted was the case. Yes, there was pain when they made love, but she had actually expected it to be much worse that it was, judging from the stories that were passed around by the other more experienced girls in Gryffindor tower. There was all this blood… and the cramping… but… but she already had her period over a week before! How could she be having it again so soon?

Her brow furrowed in thought for only a few heartbeats before the realization struck her. The same thing happened back in their third year at Hogwarts while she was using her time turner. Her periods had come along much quicker, usually almost a week before she had expected it, and that was only from repeating a few hours a day… well, somewhat more than just a few…

Hermione stepped into the relatively cold spray in shower stall and started doing some quick calculations in her head. She counted the hours that she had spent in her ‘state’ since her last period. She added all the time she spent on the beach trying unsuccessfully to rid Harry of Voldemort’s soul shard, all of the hours during the ritual that she lay near death, but still in her state, while Harry watched over her, and all of the time she spent staring at herself in the bathroom mirror, as well as the other, shorter times when she only entered her state for a few moments.

She came to the startling conclusion that, while in her accelerated state for less than a day in total, she had spent almost three weeks in ‘real’ time. Now she knew how she recovered from the sunburn so quickly… her body actually was speeding up through time!

Then another shocking realization struck her. If she had aged almost three weeks in less than a day’s time, and Kotone had been in and out of her state for, she assumed, most of her life… if she was almost eleven years old chronologically, then exactly how old was Kotone in real time? As she thought about it, that must have been how Kotone was able to heal herself so quickly and how she could recover so much of her spent energy in such a short amount of time… and how she could starve herself in only a few days of ‘real’ time. Hermione also realized that, for the longest time, Kotone never spoke aloud to anyone. Every time she communicated, it was with that connection that she makes when entering her accelerated state! That alone could have added years to her life, depending on how often she used it and for how long.

Hermione didn’t fail to notice the thick, white patch of pubic hair the little half-witch was sporting, nor did she miss the pair of breasts that she had. Kotone’s breasts weren’t especially large, especially for someone of her slight physique, but they were obviously fully developed. When Hermione first saw them, she initially thought that it was some odd, inherent trait of Kotone being a half-breed… now she wasn’t so sure. Hermione stepped from the shower, quickly dried herself.

Hermione walked to the counter and picked up her wand. She slowly ran the tip from the top of her breastbone, down between her breasts and over her stomach to rest just above her pubic bone while incanting, “Aetasaevum.”

She felt a slight shiver pass across her body, accompanied by a mild tingling sensation where her wand traced the line over her torso. She then held her wand upright and passed it in front of her in a slow arc. Glowing figures hung suspended in the air that read, ‘Eighteen Years, One Month, Twenty-two Days, Three Minutes, Sixteen Seconds.’ A few seconds later, the writing faded and then disappeared from view altogether.

Hermione blew a breath out through her nose as she muddled over the implications. By using the time-turner, and by entering her state, she had unnaturally aged almost five months beyond her chronological time. ‘How much older was Kotone?’ was the thought permeating her mind.

Another notion suddenly came to mind… Harry had been in his state a few times, and even Ron was in his for almost an hour, maybe more if he had tried his ability since leaving Grimmauld Place.

Hermione charmed her clothes clean once again, and then secured a fresh pad to her knickers before she finished dressing herself. She then made her way up the stairs to the loft where Harry was still sleeping. She froze once again at the sight of his naked form still stretched out on the covers.

“Oh my!” she whispered to herself as thoughts of their earlier coupling came unbidden into her mind, and the effect of those thoughts sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through her. Hermione wanted nothing more than to strip off the clothes that she had just put on, climb onto the bed with him, and start doing things that would certainly awaken him in very short order.

After a few slow, deep breaths she was able to push down those urges and concentrate on the task at hand. She drew her wand and ran it down the length of his torso while using the age revealing charm. Harry only stirred slightly as she softly incanted the spell. Her wand arced through the air again to reveal the glowing figures, ‘Seventeen Years, Five Hours, Seven Minutes, Twelve Seconds.’

A broad grin appeared on Hermione’s face as she counted back the hours to find that Harry had actually turned seventeen while they were having sex for the first time. She suddenly thought that that particular gift was possibly the best birthday present she could ever give him.

It took Hermione a minute to tear herself away from staring at Harry. She knew full well what had come over both of them when the bond was repaired. She suspected that what had happened might occur… the sudden rush of the full intensity of the love that had been repressed for so long. The physical yearning had been making itself known gradually since Ginny dispelled the bloodline preservation ritual, but with the bond repaired, both their emotional love and the physical yearning hit them both full-force. The smile she was wearing grew as she thought about the threat she made to Harry… she was serious… she would have vanished his trousers without a second thought.

Her smile slowly fell from her face as she reached the bottom of the stairs and headed for the front door. She didn’t feel anger… maybe disappointment that Kotone didn’t trust them enough to inform them of her true age, if she even aged faster in her state at all. Jealousy never entered her mind as she thought of all the times that Harry had carried her on his side. Even she had carried the little witch around, and she knew there was nothing physical or sexual about it… the girl just needed to be carried. Still, Hermione had a few questions that needed some answers.

When she was outside on the Firebolt earlier, she didn’t notice if Kotone was still playing down on the beach. She stepped out onto the sand and scanned the shoreline, seeing no sign of the little girl, save for her mask sitting on the kimono-robe that was pooled near the waterline. She walked to the items and picked them up as her eyes scanned across the surf.

It only took her a moment to figure out how to find Kotone. Hermione looked up into the expansive, cloudless sky and assumed her state. The change in her perception was dramatically different outdoors and in full daylight than it was in the weak illumination of the bathroom. In her eyes, the bright sun seemed to dim to an intensity just slightly brighter than the full moon. The baby-blue sky seemed to darken to a medium violet, which contrasted with the high cirrus clouds that she could now see as they had been washed out by the daylight. Her eyes dropped to look out over the ocean that was now coloured a deep forest green with sage-tinted whitecaps topping the undulating waves. The dark fog that was rolling out from around the silky black dress that she was now wearing spread out to about twenty feet around her, all but obscuring the now brown-tinted sand that, until then, appeared white.

Although everything around her appeared darker, her senses seemed heightened to a state she had never experienced before. The sound of the surf was crashing loudly in her ears, but she could still hear the cries of the distant sea birds as they glided on the thermals over the water. She turned to look at the foliage surrounding the house, and could sense the presence of every snake and lizard… she could almost swear that she heard the multitude of insects as they scurried or flew across and through the flora. She also thought that she heard singing in the distance, but the other sounds around her made it impossible for her to tell for sure.

Her eyes shifted towards the lagoon, and it was there that she saw the towering, angelic figure of Kotone’s soul, standing motionless on the far side of the sheltered pool near the waterfall. She stared at it for a short time, unable to get over how much her form actually did resemble an angel.

Hermione dispelled her state, and her perception of her surroundings shifted immediately back to the bright sun, blue sky and white sand. She walked through the ferns and fronds towards the lagoon, intent on finding the little girl. She found a narrow path that seemed to lead around the lagoon. Following the path, crossed a small wooden bridge that spanned the outlet from the lagoon to the ocean, and a minute later she arrived at the base of the waterfall. After another minute of fruitless searching, she was ready to enter her state again to find Kotone, but then she noticed through the falling cascade of water, the little half-witch sitting in the lotus position on a large rock directly under the falls.

It was difficult for Hermione to tell, but Kotone seemed to have her eyes closed as she sat motionless amidst the water that was falling directly onto her from about twenty feet up. As Hermione neared, she could just make out above the hissing of the falling water, the low grunts and growls of Kotone’s deep voice as she sang some dirge-like song in a language that certainly didn’t sound like Japanese.

“Kotone?” called out Hermione, she hoped loud enough to be heard over the crashing water.

Apparently, Kotone did hear, because her eyes flew open and locked onto Hermione’s through the water and the cloud of mist. Kotone’s song continued.

Hermione felt herself freeze as she was forced into her state along with Kotone, but instead of her senses heightening, her surroundings disappeared into darkness, leaving Kotone’s violet eyes as the only thing in her perception. She then heard the little girl’s ethereal, echoing voice drift through her mind while the song continued in the background. Hermione could then understand the words that the little half-Oni was singing in the pleasant, accented voice that was heard through her connection. Although her singing now held a mellifluous lilt, it was still in the language she couldn’t identify, but the message of the song was painfully clear… loneliness and loss, pain and hopelessness. The power and emotion behind her singing gave Hermione pause, almost making her forget the reason she was there.

Even as the distant-sounding song continued, she heard Kotone clearly through the connection, ‘Hello, Washi-chan. I am very pleased that your bond with Shishi-sama has been restored.’

‘Kotone, why are you sitting underwater?’ asked Hermione through the connection.

‘I am almost finished,’ Kotone said somewhat evasively, ‘I will come back to house very soon. Please not to worry.’

‘Finished with what?’

It took a few moments for Kotone to answer. Hermione could almost hear the sigh in her ethereal voice, ‘I am purifying… to release the negative so that only the positive remain. It must be done now.’

Hermione couldn’t tell how, but she knew that there was much more going on than what Kotone was letting on. Realizing that she would get no more information on that particular subject, she asked what she had come to find out.

‘Kotone, how old are you?’

The ethereal background singing abruptly stopped. Without a pause, Kotone answered a little too quickly, ‘I am ten, and will be eleven next month. I was born on August Sixteenth, in the year Nineteen Hundred and Eighty-Five.’

‘Yes, I know that chronologically, you are ten, and will be eleven next month… how old are you physically?’

Kotone didn’t answer for what seemed a very long time. Hermione was just about to ‘speak’ again, but Kotone must have sensed it because the connection between them was abruptly and forcefully ended. Hermione was still reeling from having her state released so quickly when she saw Kotone step out from under the rush of water.

Even though the little half-demon was soaking wet, Hermione still saw the tears from her downcast eyes as she haltingly said in her normal, grating voice, “I… I do not know… how old.”

Hermione tried not to sound angry as she handed Kotone her mask and robe and said, “But you do know that you are older than ten… much older…”

After shrugging on the kimono-robe and affixing the mask on her face, Kotone bowed her head and simply nodded while saying, “Maybe older in body, but in my state, I cannot move… I cannot experience life beyond my own thoughts. I may be physically older, but I am still just a child… How can one mature when one spends months paralyzed and alone?”

Hermione looked shocked at the revelation. She knew that others were unable to move when Kotone connected with them, but never really realized that she couldn’t move, either. Not that she ever tried dancing while in her state, Hermione was aware that she could move… nothing ever gave her the impression that she wasn’t supposed to be able to, really. She looked at the younger, albeit not by much, witch and said, “But I can move in my state, just not when my form leaves my body, of course, but I can move my head and look around.”

“Yes, both you and Brother Lion can move and act… I cannot… only think, and sometimes talk if I speak very, very slowly.”

Hermione knelt in front of the young half-witch and opened the front of her kimono-robe. After awkwardly indicating that Kotone should remove the wand that was nestled between her breasts, she took her own wand and traced it down the girl’s body while incanting, “Aetasaevum.”

As Hermione passed her wand through the air, the glowing words appeared, ‘Sixteen Years, Nine Months, Twenty-Seven Days, Two Minutes, Fifty-One Seconds.’

“You’re only two months away from being seventeen,” said Hermione in a disbelieving whisper.

Kotone was hugging the robe around her self as the tears kept falling. She looked up at Hermione with her teary, violet eyes and said in a voice that sounded very small, “You are going to tell Brother Lion…” she paused a moment as a sob involuntarily escaped her, “Will he understand? Will he send me to Ministry again? Will he still want me? Will he still love me?”

Hermione could see the despair in her leaking eyes. Kotone’s body was shivering, even in the warm tropical air, obviously in the throes of a panic attack. She could understand the half-demon’s dilemma, being so young and so old at the same time, if even you could consider sixteen as old. She was physically almost Harry’s age, but she was still the lost, frightened little girl they had met at King’s Cross Station a month and a half before.

Hermione couldn’t stand to see the anguish that was so plainly showing in Kotone’s eyes. She reached out and wrapped her arms around the little half-witch, who responded by throwing her own arms around Hermione and began crying into her chest in earnest.

“I’m not going to tell Harry,” said Hermione softly, “but you should. You should give him a bit more credit. He loves you like a daughter, Kotone… and I doubt that your ‘situation’ would change that in the slightest. I’ll leave it up to you… still, I’m trusting you to do the right thing.”

Kotone was silent for a long time as she stayed in Hermione’s embrace, her stillness only punctuated by the occasional sniffle. Hermione didn’t mind, it was the least she could do for the distressed little girl.

After a while, Kotone pulled out of the hug, then looked to the ground as she softly said, “You saved my life, you know… twice now, in fact.”

Hermione stared at the girl in stunned silence, trying to remember a time that she had saved her from mortal peril, but was at a loss. Did she mean at the orphanage? Harry was the one to save her there.

“In the healer’s place was first time, when you came for visit. I was going to die to protect my Brother Lion… If you did not come just then… I… I was so weak…”

Hermione was shocked, not just at the idea of her saving the girl’s life by reviving Harry when she did, but that Kotone would have given her life for someone that she had only met once. She was shaken out of her thoughts when Kotone continued.

“The second time in the learning house… the castle… They were taking me back to Ministry, back to be tortured like before. When you found me, I was telling man to kill me. I could not go back to torture place. Death was preferable. Again, you saved my life.”

Hermione did remember seeing the images that Kotone had shown to Harry in the bathtub. She couldn’t feel the pain or the hopelessness, but she did witness the torture. She couldn’t really blame the little half-witch for not wanting to return there, but to kill herself, albeit indirectly? She then realized that Kotone’s ordeal there must have been worse, or had gone on much longer than she let on. No wonder she was afraid that Harry might not want her and send her back into the Ministry’s hands.

“Kotone, you have to tell him about yourself soon, and I promise you that whatever happens, he won’t send you back to the ministry. He would never do that to you. Just remember what I said, have a little faith in him, and trust me when I say that he will still love you, no matter what.”

Kotone nodded dejectedly as she took Hermione’s hand and allowed herself to be led back to the house, not lifting her eyes from the path they were following. Soon they were walking through the doorway into the now spotless living room. When Kotone looked around curiously, Hermione put a finger to her lips, then pointed up above them to the loft and whispered, “Sleeping.”

Kotone silently nodded, and then made a bee line for the polar bearskin rug in front of the fireplace. A few moments later, she was curled up on the soft fur, fast asleep.

Hermione, who was feeling strangely drained after hearing Kotone’s lamenting song and then discovering her little secret, looked longingly up to the loft. She wanted to go up and maybe catch a short kip, but knew that the chances of her being able to sleep after she got there, especially with Harry in his currently unclothed state, were practically nil.

With a sigh, she walked over to the sofa and stretched out upon the cushions. With one last look at the sadly frowning lips on Kotone’s mask, she closed her eyes and tried to relax her mind in hopes of catching a nap until Harry awoke on his own.

Hermione had no idea how long she was asleep when a loud, thundering crash, followed by a terrified, high-pitched squeal snapped her out of her slumber. In a heartbeat, she was on her feet with her wand in her hand. She didn’t realize it, but she had instinctively entered her state before her feet touched the floor.

Hermione had her wand trained on a pair of tangled bodies, one belonging to the frightened Kotone, who was staring wide-eyed at the other lanky, azure-haired woman who was sprawled haphazardly on top of her and retching onto the floor.

Tonks wiped a string of bile from her mouth on the sleeve of her auror robes, and then said, “Cor! Right poor job, that…Where the bloody Hell am… BLOODY HELL!”

Tonks had just lifted her watery gaze from the mess on the floor to see the transformed Hermione standing in front of her in what appeared to be a very intimidating pose.

Hermione wore an amused expression as she vanished the sick from the floor and then lowered her hand to help Tonks up. The auror stared up at her for more than a few moments before she realized exactly who she was looking at. Tonks shook her head and reached out for the proffered hand.

“Hermione!” exclaimed the shocked auror as she rose from the floor, “You look wicked! That’s quite some Halloween costume ya got there… I barely recognized ya…”

Hermione, still half-asleep, blinked a few times before glancing down at herself to see her nearly transparent, gauzy black gown and the roiling mass of dark fog that was surrounding her. Only then did she realize that she had transformed into her state, and what had shaken Tonks so profoundly. She then noticed the now distinct Yin-Yang, faint but recognizable not that she was looking for it, spinning slowly in her mind’s eye. It was truly and quickly becoming a second nature to her.

As Hermione hastily dispelled her state, she glanced up to the magical, wire-framed clock above the fireplace. The suspended wrought hands pointed to the roman numerals encircling the face, the short, fat at the four, the long, thin at the eleven. She had been asleep for less than two hours. She then took in the condition of Tonks’ appearance. Her disheveled auror robes were filthy and appeared to be singed in places, and her hair, while coloured a brilliant azure blue, was clearly very dirty. Bits of twigs and some other unidentifiable debris were sticking out, and it was obvious that it wasn’t caused by what was assuredly a long, harrowing floo trip.

“Tonks! What are you doing here? You said that you’d get the papers tomorrow!”

With a wry grin, Tonks said, “Well, I was in the building anyway, under orders to finish sealing it before five o’clock… we were just securing the fourth level when you flooed. It just so happened that… and you didn’t hear this from me… Arthur Weasley was just clearing his office… and him being the last acting Department Head left in the building, he was more than willing to scoot with me down to the records office. At first, he was saying it was impossible just then, but when we checked, the paperwork just flew through the patriarchal processor…”

At that point, Tonks looked meaningfully at Hermione and asked, “Are you sure that his birthday is tomorrow?”

Knowing exactly what was going on, and not wanting to reveal too much about the status of their respective powers, Hermione simply said, “Well, there may be a bit of an age differential… Harry had permission to use a time turner a few years back… that might skew his chronological age a bit…”

Tonks smiled, having every reason to accept the explanation, simply nodded thoughtfully before continuing, “It accepted him as the current head of the Potter and Black clans…” Tonks then withdrew a sheet of parchment from the pocket of her auror robes and said, “Once he signs this, its official… and tell him ‘happy birthday’ for me again. I’ve got to get back before things fall apart even more.”

Hermione was only half paying attention to what Tonks was saying as she scanned down the magically produced, and magically binding, statement of adoption. Once it was signed, Harry would officially and permanently be Kotone’s father, and Kotone Oota would be officially and permanently renamed Mistress Kotone Oota-Black-Potter… heir to the…

“Tonks, is this right?” asked Hermione hesitantly as she scanned down the document a second time, “This parchment states that Harry will assume all rights as the Oota Patriarch, including the Oota family assets… From what I understand, Kotone’s assets were confiscated by one of her relatives many years ago.”

Tonks turned from her giving the ‘evil eye’ to the fireplace, apparently none too keen on the return floo trip, and said, “Arthur did have a comment on that… It seems that a sister of Kotone’s father, a Mrs. Motoko Izumi, knew full well that Kotone was alive, and even knew where she was. She purposely withheld the information at the estate hearings, leading the Japanese officials to believe that Kotone was dead along with her parents. According to Japanese Ministry regulations, Mrs. Izumi would have had no rights at all to the Oota family assets if it were known that Kotone was alive. Once that parchment is signed, all of the Oota money and properties become Harry’s to do with as he pleases, no matter where they currently are or in whose possession they happen to be.”

Both ladies were startled when a deep, choked sob came from the side of the fireplace. Hermione turned in time to see a white blur heading right for her, and an instant later, she was crushed in a surprisingly powerful hug.

“Washi-chan!” cried the now mask-less Kotone as she desperately embraced Hermione around her waist, then started mumbling unintelligible phrases in rapid Japanese as fat tears fell from her eyes.

Hermione didn’t need to understand her words… the emotions behind them were crystal clear. She wore a huge grin as she hugged the little half-Oni in return while whispering to the top of her head, “I told you he loves you, and I’m sure he’ll sign this, even after you tell him your little secret.”

“And what little secret is that?”

All three girls turned in surprise to see Harry standing at the foot of the stairs to the loft wearing nothing but a curious smile and a bed sheet wrapped around him like a toga. He was looking between Hermione and Kotone expectantly.

Tonks eyed the sheet around Harry, then her gaze drifted to the slacks and underwear pooled on the floor beside the scraps of torn cloth that was once his shirt, A leering grin appeared on her face.

“Wotcher, Harry!” exclaimed Tonks brightly, “Happy birthday! I’d love to stay and chat about your ‘activities,’ but I really do have to get back. The inferi are already on the outskirts of London, and between the giants up north and the werewolves coming up from Devon, they’ll need all of us…”

Tonks voice trailed off as she saw the shocked look on their collective faces, “You mean, you haven’t heard what’s going on?” Tonks looked around, as if for the first time since arriving, and said, “Where the Hell is this place, anyway?”

“We’re not really sure,” answered Hermione, “We figure somewhere near Bermuda… now what’s this about inferi?”

Harry then spoke up, “I found out about the inferi this morning from Ben, but I thought that situation was under control… I didn’t know anything about the giants or werewolves, though.”

Tonks sighed as an uncharacteristically worried look overtook her face, “A few days ago, a large group of inferi started causing havoc near Clacton-on-Sea marching across the country towards London…”

Harry saw the horrified look on Hermione and quickly said, “I checked on your house while you were asleep… your parents are fine. The inferi passed north of St. Osyth.”

Hermione looked visibly relieved as Tonks continued, “It seems the Death Eaters hijacked a muggle freighter from the port of Kohtla-Jarve in Estonia and loaded it up with the giants he recruited. They came ashore up by the highlands in Wick, and appear to be heading south towards Hogwarts, but we’re getting conflicting reports from the aurors up there. The biggest problem we’re going to have over the next few nights will be the full moon. It seems the werewolves have amassed in Exmouth and started moving throughout Devon.”

Tonks gave Harry an apologetic look as she said, “We were just able to clear out the Burrow before it was destroyed… I’m sorry Harry, I know it was like home to ya.”

“And the Lovegoods and Diggorys?” asked Harry concernedly, “I know that they live near Ottery St. Catchpole… are they safe, too?”

“They’re fine,” assured Tonks, “but I can’t say the same for the muggles. Their police and military are going crazy, and there’s nothin’ we can do about it. It’s just too big… we can’t obliviate the entire country! The ministry operations and the Wizengamot have been moved to a secret location, even most of us aurors don’t know where. It’s a right disaster…”

Harry and Hermione looked meaningfully at each other, silently agreeing that the time had come to retrieve the horcruxes that they knew about. Time seemed to be quickly running out.

-----~-----

Somewhere over the mid-Atlantic ocean, many miles away from any land, a small ball of brown feathers was frantically flapping his wings against the buffeting winds and the sheeting rain of the storm he was currently passing through. He was having a difficult time keeping homed in on his target. He thought that his target had changed once or twice during the morning, but with the inclement weather, he really couldn’t be sure.

Suddenly, a massive winged beast… well, massive in comparison to him… flew past him with such velocity that it caused the poor Scops owl to tumble ass-over-teakettle before he was able to right himself to continue his trek. The owl recognized the beast as one of Gringotts’ intercontinental delivery Mongbats, carring a sealed document container bearing the official Gringotts seal.

Pig let out a hoot of indignation… he could tell that the container was destined for the same wizard that he was looking for… and it never even offered to assist him with his own delivery.

He let out another resigned hoot as he grudgingly continued to fight against the rain and gale, in what was undoubtedly the worst delivery mission he ever had in his life.

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact: I toyed with the idea of making Kotone *considerably* older, but stuck with my original idea and kept her underage and still a minor… but just barely.

44. Tormented Tormentors

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the HP universe, nor do I own any part of the lyric bits that I use… not that anyone bothers to read them…

A/N: Here’s another abysmally short update. (about 4600 words.) Sorry, but something arrived today that forced me to post this before it was really done. You’ll see what I mean when you read the “not-so-fun-fact” at the end. Expect a lot of grammatical and spelling errors… I haven’t had the chance to read through it to correct them. I *may* be taking a break after this chapter… it all depends on how much of a demand there is for HP fanfiction after the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan. In any case, reviews are always welcome, although I’ve been seriously negligent in replying to them of late… please forgive me. Just know that I do read them, and each of them is very much appreciated! There’s a bit of stuff in this chapter that I planned on introducing before, but the opportunity arose here and I couldn’t resist… (notice that I throw a bone to all of you ‘Pig’ lovers out there? (insert evil laugh here.)) Enjoy!

Chapter 44: Tormented Tormentors

Something takes a part of me.
Something lost, and never seen.
Every time I start to believe,
something's raped and taken from me... from me.

Life's got to always be messing with me.
(You wanna see the light?)
Can't they chill and let me be free?
(So do I.)
Can't I take away all this pain.
(You wanna see the light?)
I try to every night, all in vain... in vain.

Sometimes I cannot take this place.
Sometimes it's my life I can't taste.
Sometimes I cannot feel my face.
You'll never see me fall from grace

Excerpt from the song, “Freak on a Leash,” by the band, Korn.

-----~-----

When Harry offered a quicker and more comfortable way for Tonks to return to England, she quickly and gratefully accepted. She was fully prepared to turn a blind eye to the illegally created portkey that she was sure he would employ for the return trip. Needless to say, she was quite shocked when Harry returned from the bathroom after dressing himself, firmly grabbed hold of her arm, and then Apparated them both, landing them on the darkening street where the visitor’s entrance to the Ministry of Magic was located.

-----~-----

The tiny brown owl had just cleared the outskirts of the storm as he made his way southward. He could tell that he was getting close to where he was supposed to deliver the message. His wings were aching terribly from flying against the raging winds of the storm he was quickly leaving behind. His feathers were almost completely dry when he suddenly lost track of his destination. He circled a few times, trying to get his bearings. He took a huge breath through the holes in his beak and let out a furious ‘HOOOT!” as he readjusted his course and turned to head northeast.

-----~-----

Neither was prepared for what they found upon their arrival in London. The first thing that was apparent was the biting cold of the air around them. Bodies of countless muggles littered the street, lying motionless, seemingly frozen in place with looks of abject despair etched on their petrified faces.

Harry’s hand instinctively went to his pocket, only to find that his wand, which had been so ruthlessly snapped by Umbridge days before, wasn’t there. He felt himself get roughly pushed back against a wall as Tonks stepped in front of him protectively, brandishing her wand and yelling out, “Expecto Patronum!”

The large, silvery wolf emerged from her wand and charged ferociously forward against the horde of dementors that seemed to be everywhere. A menagerie of silvery, ethereal animals were emerging from within the opening below the destroyed callbox across the street, holding back the tide of the dozen or so dementors that were attempting to battle their way inside.

Tonks’ patronus was able to drive off three of the approaching dementors before dissipating, which only seemed to enrage the score of others that were still advancing towards them. Tonks drew a breath, ready to recast the spell when Harry grabbed her around the waist from behind and Apparated them back to the island just as a pair of dementors that were descending from above their heads reached out for them. The two hovering dementors let out a screeching wail, annoyed at just having missed the two souls that would have added nicely to the feast they were having that evening.

-----~-----

The tiny owl didn’t even bother to hoot. He was having a hard enough time keeping the wind that he had in his tiny, heaving lungs. He just resignedly changed his course again towards the southeast.

-----~-----

Upon arrival back at the island, they both collapsed onto the sand just outside the front door of the beach house with Harry’s arms still wrapped tightly around Tonks’ waist.

Hermione and Kotone emerged from the doorway to see Tonks wiping the tears from her eyes as she tried to shake off the dementors’ emotionally draining effects. Harry had his eyes tightly closed and was visibly trembling, either from the biting cold or from whatever nightmares were conjured in his head from the dementors’ close proximity.

“What on earth happened?” asked Hermione concernedly, “You were only gone for a few seconds!”

Tonks quickly composed herself, and freeing herself from Harry’s arms, she shakily stood and said, “Dementors… hundreds of ‘em. They didn’t waste time making for the Ministry building.”

“And I didn’t have a wand…” said Harry angrily as he allowed Hermione and Tonks to help him up, “but there were so many… and they were so close… I don’t know if I could have done much, even if I did have one.”

Hermione looked pointedly at Kotone, who immediately understood what the older girl was getting at. Kotone wordlessly entered the house and returned a few moments later carrying a small, simply wrapped package. With a polite bow, she held it out to Harry and said in her coarse, gravelly voice, “Happy-a birsdai, Shishi-sama… I make special for you.”

Harry took the package and inspected it curiously as he said, “You know, you really didn’t have to give me anything… but thank you very much.”

With a small smile, Harry carefully tore open the brown paper wrapping, exposing the strange, wooden-scaled gauntlet. He held it up and turned it over a few times in his hands. After a brief inspection of the wrapping paper, he realized that there was only one. He prepared to slip it onto his right hand, but saw that it was certainly too small to fit, as Hermione was the last person to wear it. Not daring to let his smile falter, he glanced inquiringly towards Hermione, who just nodded at the glove encouragingly.

Harry felt the scales of the gauntlet relax as his fingers entered the opening, conforming perfectly as his hand was fully inserted. He was slightly concerned when the opening, closed firmly around his wrist, making it feel as though he wouldn’t be able to remove it again, but with the slightest pressure, the opening relaxed again as he slid it partway off. Now knowing that it wouldn’t become a permanent fixture on his hand, he slid it back on fully. He flexed his fingers once again, and then briefly rubbed his hands together. He was amazed that he could feel his other hand through the glove. While he thought it was a very nice gauntlet, he wondered why there was only one, and what the significance of it was.

Seeing his perplexed expression, Hermione leaned towards him and softly said, “It’s a replacement for your wand. Kotone, Hagrid and I retrieved some wandwood, and Kotone crafted it herself, hand-carving each scale and used her own hair to bind it together.” She then gave him an encouraging smile and said, “Try it out.”

Harry looked down at Kotone with no small wonder in his eyes. She was looking back at him expectantly. It was evident that she very much wanted him to like what she had made. He extended his gloved hand towards the beach and said, “Aguamenti.”

A rush of water, similar to what you’d expect from a fire hose, erupted from the palm of his outstretched hand, arced over the sand, and splashed in a rather tight pattern just at the waterline about twenty meters away. Although he was surprised at the sheer volume of water leaving the gauntlet, he was even more surprised that there was absolutely no reactive force pushing back on his hand from the obviously powerful stream. He cut off the spell by abruptly closing his hand into a fist and watched the remainder of the water glide to the shore into the crater that had formed from the impacting water.

Harry turned back around to find Tonks staring open-mouthed at him with Hermione standing next to her giving him a beaming smile. He looked down to see Kotone looking up at him anxiously.

“You made this yourself?” asked Harry.

Kotone dropped her gaze to the sand at her feet as she nodded and said, “Father teach to me craft of wand to make.” She then looked up to him with hopeful eyes and said, “Do… do you rike present?”

Harry just held out his gloved hand and said, “Orchideous,” which produced a bouquet of bright yellow flowers in his palm. He knelt down in front of Kotone and placed the flowers into her hands, saying, “I love your present, thank you very much.”

Kotone lunged forward and wrapped Harry into a brief but strong hug. She released him and stepped back, holding the flowers close to her chest and smiling happily.

“Well, since we’re giving out presents…” said Hermione as she stepped up to Harry while holding out the parchment that Tonks had delivered earlier, “I was intending to give this to you tomo…”

“Wait!”

Hermione was silenced as Kotone snatched the parchment from her hand before Harry had the chance to reach for it. The little girl looked as though she were about to be ill as she looked up to Hermione and said in a clearly tortured voice, “Prease… exprain to Shishi-san. I… I cannot do it. You must show for him.”

Kotone bowed her head as she opened the front of her kimono-robe, exposing her scarred, naked torso, causing Tonks to gasp when she saw the numerous, ugly scars that disfigured the young half-witch’s body.

Hermione gave Kotone a small, understanding smile before she turned to Harry and said, “I asked Tonks to get that for you. It’s a statement of adoption for Kotone. It will officially remove her from being a ward of the Ministry to being under your direct care… for all intents and purposes, she will legally be your daughter and sole heir to the Potter Clan. Normally, this document couldn’t be produced until tomorrow when you ‘officially’ turn seventeen, but there’s a slight unforeseen problem…”

Harry looked up to her after he hastily closed the front of Kotone’s robe in an attempt to quell the awkwardness of her exposed body.

Hermione glanced uncomfortably at Tonks, then just let out a breath of a sigh before continuing, “It seems that the bloodline registry at the Ministry thinks that you’re already seventeen… already an adult and the head of the Potter Clan… and as you know, also of the Black Clan.”

“But, how…” began Harry, but Hermione spoke over him.

“Actually, you turned seventeen at ten forty-five this morning. It seems that the time that we spend while in our respective states actually ages our bodies faster… it’s as though time is added to each day, making us older than our actual chronological age. Here, let me show you.”

Hermione drew her wand as she reached down and lifted the front of Harry’s shirt by the hem and exposed his torso. She involuntarily paused as her eyes passed over his naked chest. She blinked a few times, then drew a deep breath before running the tip of her wand down his chest while incanting, “Aetasaevum.” She saw his body shiver slightly as her wand completed the movement. She then drew the wand across in front of them, revealing the glittery, golden words, ‘Seventeen Years, Nine Hours, Three Minutes, Two Seconds.’

“I’ve been seventeen for nine hours already?” asked Harry quietly, seemingly lost in thought. Actually, he was trying to figure out what he was doing when he became of age. He had finished with the fish at quarter past ten… then they talked a while before they performed the ritual to repair the soul bond… then…

“That isn’t all. Chronologically, I’m seventeen, and won’t ‘officially’ be eighteen until September,” said Hermione, interrupting his thoughts. She reached under her sundress with her wand and ran it down her own body while incanting the age revealing spell. The words hung suspended in the air, ‘Eighteen Years, One Month, Twenty-two Days, Eight Hours, Twenty-Three Minutes, Two Seconds.’

“I’ve aged a bit less than five months past my true age. My age differential is more acute from my use of the time turner back in our third year.”

Tonks was listening closely, although she wasn’t understanding most of what they were talking about. She could comprehend the age difference from the time turner, but she had no clue what she meant by their ‘state.’ It appeared that Harry, however, did seem to comprehend, as she saw him look down to Kotone with a questioning look on his face.

“So what you’re telling me is that Kotone is older than she seems.”

Kotone didn’t raise her gaze from the sand as she turned to Hermione and opened her robe once again. Hermione repeated the spell on her, and then displayed the words in the air before them, ‘Sixteen Years, Nine Months, Twenty-Seven Days, Eight Hours, Eleven Minutes, Fifty-Five Seconds.’

Silence hung in the air for a few seconds before it was broken by Tonks’ exclamation, “Cor, awfully small for sixteen.”

“Harry, you must understand that she’s had to be in her state to be able to communicate. She didn’t know English, so she couldn’t speak to anyone, not to mention the times she’s helped us… I mean she really isn’t…”

Hermione fell silent when she saw Harry reach down and take the parchment from Kotone’s trembling hands. The little girl was shaking so badly that there were petals falling from the bouquet of flowers that Harry had conjured for her minutes before. She then watched as Harry raised his gloved hand and snapped his fingers. A high-pitched whistling sound pierced the silence as a quill from Hermione’s overnight bag came flying from within the house. He caught it with practiced ease, and, without even reading the document, penned his full name with a flourish. The parchment gave off a blue glow, legally confirming the adoption. Kotone hadn’t raised her eyes since the parchment was taken from her, so she had no idea what was transpiring. She was startled when Harry held the parchment out to her, and she slowly took it from his hand without looking up.

Without even looking at it, she held the parchment and the flowers tightly to her chest as a small sob escaped her, “I am-a so sorry, Shishi-san. I never meant to deceive… I did not know…”

“Kotone Potter!” said Hermione sternly, “Aren’t you even going to give your father a hug?”

Kotone’s tearing eyes slowly drifted up from the sand to lock onto Hermione’s. The instant the connection was established, Hermione took the full brunt of the little girl’s terrible despair. The waves of fear and sadness were so strong that Hermione felt as though she were about to pass out. Through the connection, she heard Kotone’s voice, no longer light and airy, but had an urgent, desperate nature that took her by complete surprise, ‘Please, do not let him send me away! I cannot go back! I cannot let him die! Please!’

Hermione wasn’t sure what Kotone was trying to say about letting Harry die, but she did know that the girl had the wrong idea of what had happened with the parchment. She practically had to yell through the connection, ‘He’s not sending you away! He signed the parchment! You are his daughter now!’

Kotone abruptly went silent. Her wild eyes, which were the entirety of Hermione’s perception, suddenly widened even more as what she was just told struck home.

‘Yes,’ assured Hermione, ‘your name is now Mistress Kotone Oota-Black-Potter… Harry is now your adoptive father. You have a family again!’

To Harry and Tonks, the change in Hermione’s appearance lasted only a fraction of a second. It came and went so quickly that they certainly would have missed it if they weren’t looking directly at her. Of course, Tonks had no idea what happened, but Harry knew that his two girls had just engaged in some sort of conversation.

Just after he saw Hermione’s dark image flash into and out of existence, Harry felt himself tottering backwards from the force of the little girl who had just launched herself from the ground and onto his chest. Her wild hair was instantly and firmly draped over his shoulders, her tail snaked around his left arm with incredible dexterity and speed, and her arms and legs were wrapped as far as they could reach around his torso. Kotone’s face was buried in his chest as he heard her say in a choked whisper, “Father!”

“Well, congratulations on your new family, Harry,” said Tonks brusquely as she began walking towards the house, “but I’ve really got to get back. You saw what was happening there, and I have no idea how long Arthur and the rest will be able to hold out. I’ll have to floo back to my office to get into the Atrium.”

Harry could see by the grim look on her face that she knew she was heading into a nearly hopeless situation. He suddenly wondered if he would be able to Apparate into the Atrium himself, considering that the wards on Diagon Alley didn’t seem to affect him.

“Hold on, Tonks…” said Harry as he set Kotone down and walked up to her, “let me try something.”

“I’m coming, too,” said Hermione quickly as she grabbed onto Harry’s arm, “Kotone, please wait here for us.”

Harry looked pleadingly at Hermione, silently begging her to stay, but could tell that nothing he could say would convince her to remain behind. With a resigned sigh, he reached out and took Tonks’ hand and Apparated the four of them away in a brief flash of blue light… they didn’t realize that Kotone had surreptitiously wrapped her tail around Harry’s ankle the instant before he Disapparated.

-----~-----

Needless to say, Pigwidgeon was having a very, very bad day.

-----~-----

A heartbeat after the four landed in the frigid Atrium, nearly all movement ceased. Harry saw Arthur Weasley and Kingsley Shacklebolt lying on the floor trembling uncontrollably, each with a dementor hovering menacingly above them. Three other aurors were lying near to the entrance where two other dementors were currently making an entrance. One of the aurors was on his knees with his wand held weakly in his hand as a few dying silvery wisps were sputtering out of the tip.

Upon their entrance, all of the dementor’s shrouded faces turned towards them. They remained eerily unmoving, as if they were closely scrutinizing the new arrivals. When Harry focused on the dementors, he saw that they weren’t looking directly at them, but seemed to be looking up to the ceiling above them. The oddness of their actions, or lack of them, caused the group to pause until Harry felt something brush past his leg. He looked down to see Kotone calmly walking up to the dementors.

The closest dementor, the one that was holding Arthur’s head, abruptly released him and began backing away from the approaching half-demon, who began speaking loudly in what sounded like rushed, high-pitched Japanese.

“Harry,” whispered Hermione, “Enter your state!”

Harry closed his eyes and concentrated on the septagram that always seemed to appear when he was looking for it. Even before his eyes reopened, he heard the pitch and tone of Kotone’s words morph into a deep resounding voice as it echoed throughout the large room. He opened his eyes to see the towering, angelic form of Kotone staring down at the cowering wraiths that appeared to be nothing but vacuous black space. He suddenly realized that he could understand what the young half-witch was saying. Not only that, but he could also hear the dementor’s wheezy, rattling reply.

“…have abandoned the agreement? Do the old laws no longer apply to you?”

“We tire of feeding from the broken, corrupted souls that barely sustain us! Their taste foul… their nourishment pale and lacking… It is you elders that have broken the promise!”

“Nothing was promised… this was your punishment!” yelled Kotone, “Just as the punishment remains for the unfaithful servants who survived, the punishment of the treacherous slain must also remain!”

“We were slowly dying… starving… we were promised by the black viper…”

“You know you cannot die until your destiny is upon you! Your hunger is your punishment for your evil unspeakable! The promise of a mortal does not excuse you from the law to which you swore to abide!”

“Yes… we are not bound by the promises of mortals…” rattled the dementor with much more aggressiveness than he’d shown to that point, “but are you not also a mortal yourself?”

“Mortal, I may be, but I am still the agent of the forever ones! Kotone, daughter of Kyuushuu the Avenger, Guardian of the Emancipator! Leave now, back to your exile, or suffer the fury of the Oni!”

Harry could tell from Tonks’ absurdly slow movements that the exchange between Kotone and the Dementor was happening in a very small fraction of ‘normal’ time. He glanced to his other side to see Hermione, now fully in her state, transformed into her dark, and strangely provocative alter-ego, intently watching the confrontation. When he heard the dementor next speak, his eyes snapped to Kotone.

“We will face the fury of the Oni, but you are not a true Oni, are you? You do look delicious, though…”

If he was not in his accelerated state, the movement of the dementor would have been frighteningly quick, but as he was, the dementor sluggishly lunged forward towards Kotone. He whipped his gloved hand towards the Dementor and cried, “Expecto Patronum!”

He wasn’t sure if his Patronus would move just as lethargically as everything else around him, but was greatly relieved when he saw the massive golden stag race towards the unsuspecting dementor. In the past, it always seemed that the dementors had retreated well before any Patronus got near enough to touch them, as if they were like-poled magnets pushing against each other. He watched in amazement as his Patronus neared the dementor, it did indeed look as if it were being repelled at it’s approach, but the speed in which the Patronus was traveling seemed to be greater than the repelling force. The result was that the stag’s sharp antlers tore through the rotted, ethereal shroud that encompassed the dementor’s being. An instant later, a shrill, horrible screech resounded throughout the Atrium before the foul creature burst into black, otherworldly flames. Within moments, the dementor was reduced to a smouldering pile of crusty ash. He saw the same thing happen to a second dementor, who was rammed by a metallic golden otter that he had just noticed was there.

The other two dementors, seeing that their brethren were cut down so effortlessly, darted towards the exit where a throng of other dementors were attempting to gain entry. Their movements were comically slow compared to the two Patroni, who savagely tore through their ranks and disappeared up through the destroyed elevator shaft, leaving piles of black smoking ash in their wake. The air was rife with the dying screeches and terrified wails of the doomed dementors.

Once Harry and Hermione dispelled their states, they could already feel the warmth of the room returning, driving out the unnatural cold that was produced by the fleeing dementors.

“Expecto…. Huh?”

Harry looked over to see Tonks, wand in hand, staring blankly at the group of men shakily pulling themselves to their feet.

“Cor! Where’d they go?” exclaimed Tonks dumbly as she looked around, searching in vain for the destroyed dementors.

Harry was checking on the other aurors while Hermione was helping Arthur to his feet. Kotone stood alone, staring at the debris-strewn floor and looking very discouraged. After Harry was sure none of the men had been kissed, he walked to Kotone and knelt before her.

“Are you alright, little one? Why did you come along with us? I knew it would be dangerous, and I wanted you to stay safe.”

Kotone couldn’t help but smile when he called her ‘little one.’ She let out a resigned breath and looked into Harry’s eyes. The connection that was established washed over Harry so delicately that he barely noticed that his surroundings faded into darkness, ‘Their time was not long…the tormented and the tormentors didn’t realize how close they were to repaying their old debt. It is a sad path that they have chosen, being so close to their final redemption.’

‘Kotone, you don’t need to do this… I don’t mind how you sound.’

Harry could feel the affection that Kotone was radiating towards him as she answered, ‘I’m sorry, but I do not know the words, I will put on my mask.’

Kotone gently eased out of her state, then affixed her mask over her mouth. She looked at Harry worriedly for a moment, and then tentatively held her arms out to him. He couldn’t help but to smile as he lifted her from the floor and she assumed her place against his side. He felt her hair gently wrap around him as she nestled her head against his shoulder.

There were many questions running through Harry’s mind. He wondered whether she was referring to him when Kotone called herself ‘the guardian of the emancipator,’ but it could have just been another title that her true father bore. That led to his original unanswered question, “So why did you come along when Hermione asked you to stay on the island?”

Kotone didn’t answer immediately, she just held him a little more tightly for a few moments and then said, “I was afraid for you. You must learn your power, and I must protect you until you do. Only then my responsibility will be over… only then can I be truly happy, and we can truly be a family.”

“But we are a family… you and me…”

Kotone sighed as she leaned comfortably into his shoulder and said, “Yes, Father… we are a family. Let us go home.”

The group spent a few minutes sealing and warding the entrance, effectively blocking all access to the Ministry building. One fireplace was set to deliver the team from the building, after which it would only open for the Minister himself after the crisis has been eradicated.

The aurors flooed out one by one until only Kingsley, Tonks and Arthur remained. Kingsley gave Harry a thankful smile before he disappeared in the flare of green fire.

Arthur shook Harry’s hand vigorously as he said, “Harry, my boy, I owe you my life once again.” He glanced at Kotone, then to Hermione and said, “I’m proud of you, but I think I’ll refrain from letting Molly know the happy news. I don’t know when we’ll be able to speak again… just be sure to take care of yourself, and these two lovely witches.”

With that, Arthur stepped into the fireplace and disappeared into the flames.

Harry turned to Tonks as he held Hermione’s hand with Kotone still pressed against his side, “We’re heading back to the island… please tell Remus we said hello, and tell him not to worry about us.”

Comprehension lit up in Tonks’ eyes as she suddenly realized everything that had happened that evening, “Oy! How were you able to Apparate inside…”

She never got to finish her sentence as Harry, Hermione and Kotone disappeared from the Atrium in a silent flash of blue light. She silently shook her head as she turned and stepped into the hearth and disappeared.

-----~-----

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, a brown ball of feathers was weeping piteously.

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact: Well, this fact probably isn’t going to be much fun for me… I just received my copy of ‘Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.’ I kinda know what to expect, but we’ll see how motivated I am after reading it. If I’m as depressed as I expect I’ll be, it may be a while before I update this fic… on a brighter note, I’m already planning to revise my ‘Message in a Bottle’ story to adapt to how I believe DH is going to turn out. It’s going to take me at least a few days to read it… well… we’ll see… :(

45. The Warlock's Ritual

Disclaimer: I do not own ‘Harry Potter,’ I’m not that blind to not recognize when pairings are forced… I don’t own the lyric bits, either.

A/N: Wow! I didn’t think I gave the impression that if I didn’t like DH I’d stop writing this! I don’t care what happens, I will never abandon this fic. I’m terribly sorry if I led any of you to believe I’d just toss this story… it’s an AU fic, anyway! I took a little time off to re-think how the rest of this story is going to go… believe it or not, a lot of what came to pass in DH is what I had planned here… I certainly don’t want to be perceived as ripping off canon, so I’m going to have to change a few bits that I had planned… you’ll see a little of what I mean in this chapter with the scene with Ron. This is a nice, beefy chapter, (almost 7000 words,) so this should keep you sated for a little while. ^_^ Just sit back, relax, and enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 45: The Warlock’s Ritual

Our friends ask all about you
I say you’re doing fine,
and I expect to hear from you almost anytime,
but they all know I’m crying…
I can’t sleep at night.
They all know I’m dying down deep inside

I’m sorry for all the lies I told you.
I’m sorry for the things I didn’t say…
but more than anything else,
I’m sorry for myself…
I cant believe you went away

I’m sorry if I took some things for granted,
I’m sorry for the chains I put on you…
but more than anything else,
I’m sorry for myself…
for living without you.

Excerpt from the song, I’m Sorry, by John Denver.

-----~-----

The Great Hall of Hogwarts was filled to capacity with people, and unlike during the school year, most of the people were not students, but refugees. Throughout the hall, subdued conversations echoed around the large room, occasionally being punctuated by the cry of a baby or a random loud cough. As the Death Eater attacks on muggle-born families increased, those families sought refuge within the ancient walls of the old school. Even with the rumored threat of the advancing giants, it was still a much safer place than their homes. There weren’t only muggle-born families, but also many half-bloods and purebloods who were known sympathizers with the wizarding world’s underclass.

Ron was sitting in the Great Hall in front of a plethora of dishes filled with the various staples that the industrious house elves were famous for. The elves obviously knew who was sitting at that particular spot at the Gryffindor table, for the stacks of food on the golden platters were spilling over onto the table even as they appeared from the kitchen below. Ron, however, had yet to place any food onto his plate. He was much too busy staring at the two frightened-looking muggles who were seated at the head table that was normally reserved for the professors.

Luna, who was sitting next to him, nudged him with her elbow, ever so briefly distracting him from his self-appointed mission to send as many hateful glares towards the two muggles as humanly possible.

“They should be rotting in Azkaban, not sitting up there enjoying a feast…” muttered Ron as he continued to send menacing glares towards Petunia and Dudley.

“You shouldn’t be so hard on them, Ronald,” said Luna as she tried to distract him again, “They’ve been through a very bad time, and they are Harry’s relatives, after all…”

“Hmmph, some relatives they are!” grumbled Ron, “They should have gone through a worse time, if you ask me. Serves ‘em right after what they did to Harry, and I’m not just talkin’ about them stealing all of Harry’s money… they…”

“What?” exclaimed Luna in surprise as Ron fruitlessly tried to get her to lower her voice. Immediately, silence reigned throughout the hall. Her outburst drew the attention of nearly everyone, but she didn’t seem to notice as she continued to speak in a raised voice, “What do you mean, they stole Harry’s money?”

Since he wasn’t present when Hermione informed Harry of his parent’s vault and the riches it contained, Ron looked nervously around at all of the curious faces, trying to think of a way to cover for Luna’s outburst. The last thing he wanted was for the general populace to know about Harry’s financial situation. He noticed that the two particular muggles that he had been glaring at were also paying close attention, but was rather surprised by the shocked expression on Harry’s aunt’s face.

“Oh, she’s talking about her… umm… uncle, Harry Lovegood…” said Ron, addressing his general surroundings, “he was mugged in Knockturn Alley last month…”

“No, there is no Harry Lovegood, I’m talking about Harry Potter, and you said that they stole all of his money!” said Luna as she pointed towards Petunia and Dudley, who were staring back at the odd girl with dumbfounded expressions.

Ron placed his elbows on the table and covered his face with his hands. As he expected, he was assaulted with a barrage of questions from every direction. Not wanting to face the fact that he let Harry’s financial problem slip, he kept his hands over his reddening face until he heard a strangely anxious voice that he hadn’t heard in years speak from directly behind him.

“What happened to my nephew’s money?”

Ron dropped his hands and turned around. Petunia Dursley was standing there amidst a crowd of others who were asking much the same question. Since the kneazle was already out of the hat, he figured he couldn’t do much more damage by telling the muggle exactly how he felt.

Ron couldn’t hide the malevolence in his voice when he answered Petunia, “You know bloody well what happened to his money! You people wiped his Gringotts vault clean, leaving him practically knutless! What kind of people are you to steal from your own nephew, leaving him to have to beg for food? I knew you were a bunch of arrogant gits, but I’d never guess you’d up and bugger off on Harry after robbing him blind! Now you had best get away from me, ‘cause I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from hexing your bristols into bleedin’ nifflers!”

The hall went deathly silent. Petunia had a hand over her mouth, with tears leaking from her eyes that were wide with shock. She looked around at the threatening faces surrounding her, and then took a few steps backward, saying, “No… Vernon said he won a sweepstakes! He said he got a promotion and a bonus at his work! He would never … he couldn’t…”

Deep down, Petunia had suspected that Vernon wasn’t being quite honest about how he got that huge windfall of money, but the new house, car, furniture, and all the other things that were bought put that thought firmly in a dark corner of her mind. She knew that something was up when she caught Vernon’s lie about Harry having to stay at the school, and about him staying with the family of the boy sitting before her, but she assumed that Harry’s change of living arrangements was the extent of his duplicity. She was just as surprised as everyone else around her by the revelation about Harry’s finances.

“How do you know?” she asked of Ron, “How could someone get money out of a vault?”

Ron’s menacing glare returned in full force, “Alright… I’ll humor you. When Gringotts sent an owl with Harry’s financial statement to his ‘legal guardians,’ namely you wankers, to inform them of his impending coming of age, the owl was sent back with a demand to have all his wizard gold converted into muggle pounds and delivered to you. When Harry opened his vault after he got out of the hospital, it was empty.”

Ron raised his voice even louder as his face became even redder, “I hope you bloody berks are right proud of yourselves… tell me, how did it feel starving him all those years when you were actually getting paid out of his parents’ vault to feed him? What was it like throwing old, ratty clothes at him to wear when you were getting paid to clothe him? I’d imagine you were bloody well chuffed with yourselves keeping him locked in a small cupboard, knowing that he was the one who owned the bloody house and allowed you live there rent free! Hell, he was even paying for the utilities! I find it hard to believe that you’d force a little kid… your own nephew, nonetheless… to sleep in a stinkin’ storage cupboard in his own bleedin’ house! Well, I’m just happy that the house you bought with all the money you stole from him was destroyed… it couldn’t have happened to a nicer lot than you bunch of snakes!”

“I… I didn’t know!” exclaimed Petunia through the hand that was still covering her mouth, “I had no idea! Vernon said he sold the house on Privet Drive! He told me that all the bills went directly to our bank and they were automatically paid from our account!”

The wheels started turning in Petunia’s head. If all of this was true, then what happened to all of the money that she thought was being spent on the mortgage, on the food, clothes and utilities? Where did all of that money go? Was he squirreling away money for retirement without her knowing? A light suddenly turned on in her head. Marge Dursley had never been married, nor had she ever held a job, besides breeding her pack of mangy dogs… how could she afford to live in such a large, fine house and take all of those expensive vacations by just raising bulldogs? Insane thoughts then started running through her frazzled mind… Has Vernon been supporting two households all along? Why would he feel obligated to support his sister and not tell his own wife? Is Marge really his sister?

“VERNON!” screeched Petunia furiously, startling those around her into drawing their wands.

McGonagall quickly stepped down from the head table and ushered the terrified Dudley and the nearly hysterical Petunia from the Great Hall before the crowd had a chance to hex them, not that she could blame anyone who tried.

“You have to believe me!” screamed Petunia desperately as McGonagall dragged her from the hall, “I never knew! Please, tell him! I never knew!”

Ron sent one final glare at the back of the retreating muggles and muttered to Luna, “Sure, I’ll tell ‘im… just as soon as I can find him. I sent Pig off a few days ago, but haven’t got a reply yet… I just hope they’re okay.”

-----~-----

When the three returned to the beach house, Harry set Kotone down and watched as Hermione immediately rushed off towards the bathroom. Harry couldn’t help but to stare at her retreating backside, only tearing his eyes away when she hastily closed the bathroom door. So lost in his recollection of that morning’s activity, he didn’t even notice that Kotone had made a bee line to the bearskin rug in front of the fireplace and was already fast asleep. He thought about moving her to the transfigured bed in the nursery again, but knew that she wouldn’t remain there for long.

Harry silently made his way to the sofa and watched his new daughter as she slept. He watched the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, the untroubled look of her closed eyes above the porcelain mask. He noticed that her kimono-robe was slightly opened, revealing the top part of her chest just below the edge of her mask. His eyes hardened as he could just make out the jagged pinkish scars that crisscrossed her pale skin as well as the blotchy patches of healed-over burns. Anger at all of the faceless people who had tormented her throughout her life simmered in that familiar pit in his stomach. The girl was so sweet, so kind… and yet still somewhat mysterious. She kept speaking of her mission… her responsibility… and the ‘instructions’ that she was receiving in her dreams. He had dismissed the idea that she was the one protecting him, as she had stated when showing him the visions that were supposedly his own, or as she described them, the memories of the bit of Voldemort’s soul jumbled with his own.

He couldn’t deny that what she had shown him wasn’t factual… the revelation of finding Ravenclaw’s wand in Ollivander’s shop was evidence enough. He still needed a way to find out for sure if there was truly a horcrux… Hufflepuff’s cup… sitting in the Mervillage at the bottom of the Black Lake.

As he recalled the visions that she had shown him, he remembered the very first vision where she had left her body and ‘flown’ to him in the graveyard. He suddenly wondered if he could do the same thing. He had left his body once before, but that was just to combine with Hermione’s soul to repair the bond. It then occurred to him as to exactly what he was doing when he turned seventeen. After a brief moment where his mind wandered through the memory of what he and Hermione had done that morning, he roughly shook those straying thoughts from his mind.

His first instinct was to Apparate to the shore of the lake on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, but then figured that if he could do it from there, then he could just as easily do it from here. What safer place was there than to leave his body than there with Kotone and Hermione? He glanced to the bathroom door and heard the spray of the shower start.

Again, his mind wandered to the image of Hermione standing under the streaming water… the soapy lather cascading down her naked…

Again, he shook those thoughts from his head. He could already feel the stirring in his pants, and he was intent on not letting his hormones get out of control again. He was still rather unsure of how Hermione felt about the sex they had that morning… neither had brought it up at all, but then again, they haven’t had much opportunity to be alone where they could discuss it.

Harry leaned back into the cushions, getting himself into a position that was both comfortable and stable. He closed his eyes and saw the septagram appear. The odd sensation of time slowing around him washed over his being, and he suddenly became aware of everything around him, even though his eyes were still shut. He felt his spirit rise from his body. He looked down at himself sitting motionless on the sofa with Kotone still sleeping at his feet.

‘Alright, then…’ he thought to himself as he willed himself into motion, concentrating on the Black Lake. Instantly, his surroundings disappeared into a blur. All that he was aware of was an indistinct, greenish-blue carpet beneath him and the oddly moving stars above. He passed through a brief flash of fogginess, which, unknown to him, was a rather large Atlantic storm. Suddenly, the oddly blurred carpet of ocean turned into a maelstrom of tracing lights and indistinct colors.

Gradually, his surroundings began morphing into eerie shapes and textures as they rushed past. He felt himself slowing down to the point where he could begin to resolve the landscape around him. Forest… farmland… a brief glimpse of a river… more trees… mountains…

He suddenly found himself hovering over the Black Lake. He could see the sparse lights coming from a few of the windows in the nearly empty Hogwarts Castle. At the same time, he could also see the lights from the various windows in the shops and homes of the village of Hogsmeade on the opposite shore. It was an odd sensation, being able to see in all directions at once.

Harry focused on the distant, white tomb that was settled by the lakeshore near the castle. Even from that distance and in the dark of the night, he could just make out the writhing form of Voldemort’s soul fragment that was attached to Dumbledore’s body encased within the tomb. Again, Hermione was right.

He looked down into the water and instinctively attempted to draw a breath in preparation for the dive, but then immediately felt foolish as he realized that, as a disembodied soul, no breath was needed, nor was it even possible.

It felt strange, effortlessly gliding through the water and feeling no resistance at all. He could clearly see all around him… the small groups of fish that seemed to be flying through air… the eerily moving reeds, amongst which the Grindylows lurked… and the tribe of Merpeople gliding amongst the odd buildings that surrounded the village’s center where the strange monument sat. Even from a distance, he could make out its features amongst the wigeon grass and slime that partially obscured its mass.

None of the meandering denizens of the village was aware of his presence as his soul approached the main square. As his spirit neared, he was sure that the structure was indeed an ancient fountain. How a fountain came to be at the bottom of a lake, he had no idea… perhaps a remnant of an ancient Roman outpost, or a druidic temple site once resided in this location before the lake appeared from some natural geologic shift… he had no way of knowing.

Upon the brief inspection of the uppermost tier, he caught a glimpse of shiny, golden metal embossed with the distinctive symbol of the badger. He recognized it from the pensieve memory that Dumbledore had shown him. There in the center of the uppermost tier sat Hufflepuff’s cup, just as he had seen it in the vision that Kotone had shown him. He also saw the two serpentine eyes, glowing like hot embers, peeking out from above the rim of the cup and seemingly watching his every move.

‘Gotcha,’ he thought to himself.

He figured that since he was in the area, generally speaking, he should also look in on Ollivander’s shop for a cursory inspection of the wand. Again, his surroundings blurred as he traveled southward and found himself hovering above Diagon Alley a moment later. What he then saw gave him good reason to pause.

All of the shops that had previously been boarded up were now wide open and in shambles. A pall of smoke hung in the air like a thick, dark fog. Most of the storefronts looked to have been blasted in, and the shops’ contents strewn about in the street. Broken shelving, smashed display cases, and destroyed merchandise littered the alley all along its length. It seemed that anything that wasn’t worth stealing ended up tossed in the street. A few of the shops looked as though they were burned out. He glanced into Eeylop’s and saw the smoking remains of all the owls that were trapped in their cages during the conflagration.

Hundreds of ruined books littered the street in front of Flourish and Blotts. He was inwardly thankful that Hermione wasn’t there to see that particular scene. He also saw several lifeless bodies here and there, although thankfully there was no one he recognized. Several bodies were in Death Eater garb, and a few wore auror robes, and he immediately worried if Ben had been around during the attack.

Very few of the shops remained intact, among those that were spared the devastation was the Gringotts building and the shops immediately around it. It seemed that the Death Eaters wisely gave the menacing Cave Ogres and the vicious looking Hobgoblins a wide berth.

As he reached the end of the alley, he saw that the buildings this far down had remained untouched, among them were the Twins’ shop and Ollivander’s. He passed easily through the boarded-up window and carefully inspected the wand that still rested on the faded blue pillow. He could plainly see the engraved birds along the shaft and the letters ‘R R’ etched around the handle… and he saw the smoky black serpent with the smouldering red eyes coiled around it.

He had seen enough. In a flash, he rose above Diagon Alley, anxious to put some distance between him and the decimated marketplace, and streaked across the continent, over the vast Atlantic, and ended up gently lowering himself back into his body just in time to see Hermione step out from the bathroom covered only in a damp towel and carrying her clothes draped over her arm.

His gaze rested on the clothing on her arm. He saw the yellow of her sundress partially covered by the faded blue of her denim shorts. On top of those rested the lacy, cream-coloured brassiere that he remembered picking out of her drawer back at her house in St. Osyth. He also remembered the matching knickers that he packed along with the bra that he deduced she was wearing beneath the towel. That didn’t matter to him, because his mind was already submerged in the tidal wave of hormones that instantly surged through his system. That wave of emotion didn’t last long as the memory of what he had seen in Diagon Alley came to the forefront of his mind.

When Hermione first stepped from the bathroom and saw the look he was giving her, that look that made her feel as if she were the most beautiful girl in the world. Seeing that, she had a hard time stringing two words together and she could feel a burning flush instantly cover her face and chest as she distractedly said, “I… I left the soap and shampoo in the shower for you, and there’s a… um… clean towel on the rack… in case you wanted…” She then saw his face fall into a morose sort of frown and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I just got back from Diagon alley… the shops there…”

“You Apparated back there alone?” hissed Hermione through clenched teeth, the lustful feelings she had a moment before instantly forgotten, “Don’t you know how dangerous that was?”

“I didn’t Apparate…” explained Harry quietly so that he wouldn’t wake Kotone, “I used my state and left my body, like we did when we repaired the bond. I traveled to the lake at Hogwarts to see if the cup was really there… which it was, snake and all… and then I decided to go to Ollivander’s to get a closer look at the wand. It appears that it really is Ravenclaw’s wand, and it definitely is a horcrux.”

“Okay, so what’s bothering you?”

“The Alley’s in ruins. It looked like the Death Eaters raided the place, but most of the shops had closed down a few days before, so I can’t imagine that they got much in the way of supplies. What they didn’t take, they destroyed.”

Hermione’s face became unreadable. He could almost see the cogs spinning in her head. A minute later, he saw her face morph into a look if determination as she picked up the pile of her clothes from the floor, causing her towel to briefly open which gave him a fleeting glimpse of the glory that was concealed underneath.

Harry didn’t notice that she was watching him from the corner of her eye as she bent down, and he completely missed the brief smile that then appeared on her lips.

Hermione climbed the stairs up to the loft, being very aware that Harry was watching her every move from behind her. She thought it odd that she had to consciously try to keep her hips from swaying exaggeratedly as she climbed the steps, something that seemed impossibly difficult to do when one knows that one is being watched. Just knowing that his eyes were fixed on her stirred the desire in her that was bubbling just below the surface.

Hermione inwardly cursed that she was having her period as she stored her things in the dresser. She went into the loft’s bathroom and quickly dressed, well out of view of Harry’s roving eyes. She then returned to the living room, rummaged through her bag, and then pulled out the Soul Magic book.

Harry, in fact, had been watching her ever since she emerged from the bathroom. He was so engrossed in watching her movements that he was actually startled when she stood up with the book and said, “Well, come on… let’s get this over with.”

Harry stood from the sofa and followed Hermione out to the beach. Although night had already fallen when he traveled to Britain a few minutes before, the sun was just setting on the island they were on. He looked over towards the west to see the brilliant reds and oranges of the sky on the horizon beyond where Hermione was standing waiting for him. The beauty of the island and of the girl before him reaffirmed his belief that this place was truly a paradise.

-----~-----

As the front door closed, a faint flash of blue light announced the arrival of a visitor.

An impossibly tall man with an equally impossibly fair face was standing beside the sofa looking down at the sleeping Kotone. His long, flowing white hair cascaded down over his shoulders, parted only where his huge, white feathery wings protruded from his back.

As if she sensed his arrival, Kotone’s eyes fluttered open and she looked up at her natural father. She immediately got up from the floor and stood in front of the imposing figure. She gave a respectful bow and silently waited for him to speak.

“I’m very proud of you, child. Your work here is done. It is time for you to fulfill your obligation,” said Kyuushuu in his soft, almost feminine voice in the language of the Oni, “You have one last duty to perform, and then you will have your reward.”

“So soon, Father?” asked Kotone in a voice choked with sadness, “I have had so little time with Shishi and Washi…”

Kyuushuu smiled sympathetically down at his daughter and said, “I know, but this is the better way, for them and for you. You will be free from the Oni curse, and they will not have the stigma of a daughter such as you are. They would be outcasts, scorned for taking someone like you into their family. Even their families and friends would suffer the injustice of bigotry. You knew all along what has to come to pass, you will be…”

Kyuushuu paused when he saw a tear fall from Kotone’s lowered face. He blinked back a tear of his own as he said much more softly, “I know how you feel, child, just as I know how he will feel. Your Shishi isn’t the only one who will be losing a daughter, but unlike him, I am immortal, and I will never see you again. Where you are going and who you will be is much, much better than where and what you are now. Please do not be saddened, you already know what will happen.”

Kotone just nodded as she solemnly said, “I must say goodbye, and I must tell my Washi about the gift.”

Kotone found a sheet of parchment and a quill the carefully scribbled out a short letter. She sealed it in an envelope, attached it to the fireplace above the bearskin rug and then turned to her father.

Kyuushuu smiled at his daughter kindly and reached out his hand to her as he said, “It is time… you know what to do.”

An instant later, the room was empty.

-----~-----

As he approached Hermione, his eyes scanned to the right along the horizon, marveling at the different colours of the sky that darkened in degrees the further away from the sunset. That was when he spied the small speck of black against a band of light indigo. He paused as he watched the black dot seemed to grow in size as it came nearer at an impossibly rapid rate. He barely had time to duck as a rather large Mongbat swooped down from the sky and dropped a sealed cylinder onto the sand at his feet. He watched the winged beast circle once above their heads before it took off in the direction that he had come and disappeared into the distance less than a minute later. He looked down at the cylinder and immediately recognized the golden emblem of Gringotts Wizarding Bank emblazoned on its side.

They briefly looked at each other in surprise before Harry reached down and carefully lifted the cylinder from the sand. He flipped the latch and opened the hinged lid at the end of the tube. He tilted the cylinder and out slid a pair of keys and a tightly rolled scroll of parchment that let out a short blue glow the instant it touched his hand. Again, they gave each other a questioning glance as Harry unrolled the parchment and read…

‘Dear Mister Black-Potter,

Congratulations on achieving your majority. I am pleased to report that access to your ancestral vault, Vault Number 24, is now available to you. We have taken the liberty of canceling the contract on the trust vault, Vault Number 1073, and the disposition of Vault Number 1122 must be addressed as well, as that is reaching full capacity. Furthermore, we are in the process of evaluating your estate’s financial holdings and investments, but this may take some time as we gather the data from the various businesses and funds. As was previously mentioned, we should arrange to meet at your earliest convenience to discuss the status of your holdings, and if you would indulge me, another matter that could prove to benefit us both.

Due to recent events, meeting inside of Gringotts would be ill advised. The cylinder that this message was delivered in is a two-way portkey that will transport you to a secure location where we can meet in complete safety. Place your wand on the cylinder and say ‘Gringotts’ and you will be delivered to the designated meeting place.

Once again, I congratulate you on achieving your majority, and look forward to our continued collaborations.

Best regards,

Ragnok

Director- Gringotts Wizarding Bank.’

As Hermione read along with Harry, she commented in stunned disbelief, “That has got to be the most courteous correspondence coming from any goblin that I have ever heard of! Goblins are never that polite!”

“I wonder what’s in vault 1122? It can’t be the Black vault, because Dumbledore said that the contents from there were transferred to my own vault.”

“Well, it’s getting too late today, so let’s worry about that tomorrow. We’ve got something to do right now… we’ve delayed it long enough.”

Harry looked at Hermione curiously as he slid the keys and parchment back into the cylinder and said, “And what might that be?”

“It’s high time we find out what you’re really capable of,” said Hermione as she conjured a wide blanket and sat herself down, “You’re going to perform the Warlock’s Enhancement Ritual, but before we get to that, I need to explain to you about the different types of magic and how they work.”

And explain she did. By the time Hermione had finished relating how Soul magic worked on a harmonic combination of the other types, Harry’s head was spinning. She could see that he was losing focus, so decided to think of a simpler way to describe the process.

Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Harry’s slightly unfocused eyes and said, “Pay attention, this part’s important. I want you to explain to me the steps involved in casting a spell.”

After a few moments’ thought, Harry answered, “Well, which spell? They’re all different.”

Hermione smiled brightly and said, “Excellent! You were paying attention. So what makes them different?”

“Well, it’s not just what you’re trying to do, it’s also the circumstances that effect how spells are cast.”

“Good, so you are in a duel against only one opponent and you are on the attack. What are the steps involved in attacking him?”

“I suppose I’d try a stunner… I give an underhand stroke-and-jab of the wand and say…”

Hermione cut him off, “What do you do before that?”

Several moments passed as a confused expression crossed Harry’s face before he said, “I’m not sure what you mean…”

“Alright, how did you decide on a stunner?”

“Hermione, in a heated duel, I usually work by instinct. I just cast the first spell that comes to mind… one that I think might work.”

“Exactly… there’s no planning involved. A spell just pops into your mind, and then you perform the wand movement and say the incantation. So why would a spell just pop into your mind? Think about how that choice of spells enters your consciousness.”

Again, Harry was completely lost on what Hermione was getting at. Seeing the expectant look on her face, he figured he had better at least try. She seemed to stress the point of consciousness, so what of the subconscious?

“Sights and sounds around me enter my perception,” began Harry as he spoke through his thoughts, “If I see or sense an opening in a opponent’s defenses, I suppose my mind decides which would be the most effective spell and…”

“Good, interrupted Hermione again, “You’re on the right track. What if I were to tell you that something happens between what you perceive and what your mind decides to try? In other words, why would your mind come up with a stunner and not a bludgeoning hex, a jelly-legs jinx, or the killing curse? What suggests to your mind what an appropriate course of action would be?”

Harry’s eyes drifted down to the book sitting in Hermione’s lap as he considered what she was asking. It dawned on him as he read the words on the book’s cover.

“My soul,” said Harry in a whisper as the realization struck him, “My soul… who I am inside… drives what actions I take.”

Hermione beamed at him as she reached out and took his hand, “I know it’s a difficult concept, but you needed to understand that aspect before we continue on. Now you know exactly where the choices come from when performing magic… it all centers on intent, which is what your soul dictates. Now think about this… As you said, a person can manipulate a wand while saying an incantation to produce a spell. That’s the way we’ve all been taught. We were just starting to delve into non-verbal spells last year, where a person concentrates on the spell while performing the wand movements, replacing the spoken words with his concentration. Now why can’t someone tap into his subconscious mind to replace the act of concentration?”

“I suppose it would be possible, but can magic actually work that way?”

Tapping the book in her lap, Hermione answered, “According to this, we can take that theory to another level. This book suggests that a person who masters Soul Magic can cast a spell, any spell, solely through intent… with no conscious thought involved… you allow your soul to do the casting for you. Once that power is unlocked, wand movements become unnecessary… and in some spells, even the wand itself is unnecessary, although the book is unclear on exactly what spells can be done wandlessly. Unlocking that power is what the Warlock’s Ritual is supposed to accomplish. Are you ready?”

Without hesitation, Harry nodded and shifted into a more comfortable position on the blanket, “Right, what do I need to do?”

“First, try to forget everything that you’ve learned about spellcasting. Actually, this would be much easier for you if you had never learned magic. I want you to go into your state and just get acquainted with everything around you. Don’t leave your body, just try to get to the point where you can sense what’s around you. Familiarize yourself with your surroundings as quickly as you can, and describe to me what you’re experiencing.”

Harry did as he was told. He closed his eyes as he slowly entered his state and gradually felt the odd sensation of time slowing down around him. He recognized the point where he could ‘see’ the surrounding environment and concentrated on staying at that point, not allowing his soul to detach from his body. There was the darkened ocean to his right, the house to his left, the lagoon behind him, and the stretch of beach beyond where Hermione, who was now looking like a ghostly human-avian hybrid, was sitting in front of him.

“Okay, I’m at the point where I can see in all directions…”

Harry paused a moment as he saw Hermione enter her state. The sight of her hair darkening and lengthening always enthralled him. The way her skin took on a china-doll quality, how her eyes became darker and more alluring… not to mention the change that her clothing underwent when she transformed… all cloaked behind the white, ethereal eagle form of her soul.

Harry was snapped out of the distraction by Hermione’s voice, “Sorry, you were speaking too fast. I couldn’t understand what you said, so I had to enter my state to ‘catch up.’ You should keep that in mind when dealing with others while in your state.”

Harry concentrated on ‘feeling’ his surroundings once again. He knew his was sitting on a blanket, which in turn was sitting on the sand. He knew the support was there, he just couldn’t feel it beneath him. Slowly he was becoming aware of certain odd sensations, the most prominent one being a gentle force rhythmically pushing against his right side. It took him a minute to figure out that it was the force of the oceans waves washing on the shore. He could feel the oscillating pressure of the waves against the air, but was surprised to find that he could also feel the waves’ forces through the sand beneath him as well.

He wasn’t sure when Hermione got to her feet, as he suddenly noticed her walking around him etching runes into the sand in a wide circle around him. He listened to her voice as she worked, and it sounded to him like a soft, melodic humming. He began to pay more attention to the sounds around him. He saw a crab scuttling across the wet sand near the shoreline, and could actually ‘feel’ its steps through the sand before he heard the muffled movements of its pointed legs. He suddenly became aware of the sounds of the various insects in the foliage surrounding the lagoon and the house, and he could swear he could make out each individual sound that each insect made.

Awareness. Total awareness. It was as if he could sense where everything around him was without looking. Harry could feel the movements of the leaves of the plants and trees around him, he could detect the graceful swishes and darting turns of the schools of fish beneath the ocean’s surface, he could hear the air currents passing under the wings of the sea birds as they rode the fading thermals… he could almost see the swirling vortices and the chaotic shifting of the wind itself… he was aware… and underneath it all was the constant low, mellifluous chant that was Hermione’s incantation.

Hermione’s incantation ended just as she had finished etching the last rune into the sand. Instantly, all of the runes flashed out in a nearly blinding blue-white light as a column of energy that stretched up into the sky snapped into existence.

Harry let out a hoarse yell of pain as his body was lifted up from the blanket and hung suspended in the column of white energy. His eyelids flew open and two piercing beams of white light cut through the darkness surrounding the column.

Harry felt as though he were being burned alive. Every nerve ending over every inch of his body was screaming in agony, and even his soul appeared to feel the excruciating pain. However, even through the agonizing pain, he was still in touch with the ‘awareness’ that he had been experiencing before.

As his consciousness adjusted to the pain, he realized that the ‘awareness’ wasn’t just there, but seemed to be magnified tenfold. He could see the wind in the air… he could see the fish beneath the waves, and could tell the type and color of each… he could hear the slow murmur of the bivalves and mollusks buried beneath the sands, he knew where all of the insects were, what they were doing, he could feel the faint, steady pressure of the quickly approaching storm from the west beyond the horizon… he could hear…

He could hear… an unfamiliar, effeminate voice… whispering softly in a strange language he couldn’t identify… from inside the house…

The column of energy surrounding Harry swelled abruptly before exploding outwards in an expanding wall of force, knocking the stunned Hermione onto her arse while creating a wave of sand rippling across the beach. Harry fell heavily onto the blanket, but then immediately sprang to his feet and sprinted towards the front door of the house.

“Kotone!” yelled Harry into the room, but received no response.

Harry looked frantically around the empty room. Kotone was no longer asleep in her usual spot upon the polar bearskin rug. Harry quickly swung the door to the nursery open, but it, too, was empty save for the furniture. In a panic, he checked the kitchen, bathroom and the loft, but didn’t find her anywhere.

“Harry…” came Hermione’s nervous voice from the living room. He looked down over the loft’s railing to see Hermione shakily lifting an envelope that was attached to the mantle of the fireplace.

On the envelope, one word was written in poorly scrawled letters, ‘Father.’

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact: Kyuushuu is the name of an island in Japan, (the southernmost main island,) the actual name of a mythical demon (Oni), and it translates to, amongst other things, ‘a bitter enemy,’ ‘revenge,’ or ‘old customs.’ (Take your pick at which applies to Kotone’s father… (insert evil laugh here.)

(and, by the way, I don’t consider this a cliffhanger… you all know what happened to Kotone! Well… kinda…)

46. The Black Lake

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I make any claim to the lyric bits that I use.

A/N: Nope. Not another cliffhanger here. If you think that this ends in a cliffie, then you obviously missed something. Trust me, there isn’t a cliffhanger here. Would I lie to you? In this installment, we look in on how Vernon is doing, we get a glimpse of Wormtail’s motivations, and an explanation of Dumbledore’s comment that maybe Peter has more of a part to play in the grand scheme of things. (unlike how in DH all Pettigrew did was off himself… he was no help whatsoever!) We also have Harry’s reaction to Kotone’s disappearance, and the attempt to rid the world of more of Voldemort’s horcruxes. Remember, there is no cliffhanger at the end of this chapter! So please… sit back, relax, and enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 46: The Black Lake

Walking through the woods I have faced it,
looking for something to learn.
30,000 thoughts have replaced it,
never in my time to return.

I would give my life to find it,
I would give it all…
catch me if I fall.
All alone…
Waiting to fall…

40,000 stars in the evening.
Look at them fall from the sky.
40,000 reasons for living,
40,000 tears in your eye,

I would give my life to find it,
I would give it all…
Catch me if I fall.

Excerpt from the song ‘Texarkana,’ by the band R.E.M.

Vernon Dursley was awakened by the sirens of a multitude of emergency vehicles on the street below the windows to his office. He thought it a pity, because he was having such a nice dream about a dinner party with a faceless, kindly old man who was shaking his hand while telling him that he was just the kind of leader the company needed to bring the business to the next level.

Vernon raised his head from his desktop with a dreamy smile plastered upon his face, along with a thin string of drool that connected his damp moustache with the small puddle of saliva on the blotter. However, the smile fell away as he caught sight of the time. He must have fallen asleep at some point in the afternoon and found that he slept well past closing time. Even worse, he was late for his customary ‘meeting’ with a certain someone.

He started upright and grabbed the handset of his telephone. He was dialing the number even before the phone reached his ear, but stopped when he didn’t hear the tone of the numbers he was dialing.

“Bloody phones… always copping out around here,” he muttered to himself as he slammed the receiver back onto the cradle and then began to hastily collect some things into his briefcase, all the while thinking how fortunate he was that nobody had found him asleep in his office. He didn’t need any negative reports reaching the ear of the owner before he had the chance to butter him up with a fine, home-cooked meal and ply him a bit with an ample supply of brandy.

A few minutes later, he stepped out of his office into the dark hallway and turned towards the elevators. As he made his way to the lifts, he noticed that a few of the doors to other offices on the floor were left open. He glanced into them as he passed, and was surprised to find that the rooms looked to be somewhat in disarray. Papers were scattered on the floor, drawers to file cabinets were left open, and even a coffee mug was spilled across the top of the desk in the Sales President’s office, giving the impression that the occupants of those rooms seemed to have left rather hastily.

As he waited for the lift, he could hear the sound of the telly in the break area further down the hall, and one of those high-pitched whines that announced a drill for the emergency civil defense warning system echoed eerily along the empty corridor. He always hated those annoying tests that constantly seemed to interrupt his favorite programs at the most inopportune moments.

He stepped into the lift and pressed the button to the second floor, which led to the pedestrian bridge that crossed above the avenue to the parking garage across the street. As he stepped from the elevator and reached for the swinging door to the walkway, he heard loud banging noises coming from the stairwell at the far end of the hallway. As he strode across the enclosed walkway, he muttered to himself about the ‘incompetent nighttime cleaning crew’ who always seemed to neglect emptying the rubbish bin beneath his desk, not paying attention to the throng of shambling corpses that were wreaking havoc along the street below.

He walked to his car, climbed inside and started the engine. He glanced at his watch and realized that it was much too late to both pay a visit to his ‘friend’ and also make it home in time to avoid any ‘uncomfortable’ questions. The excuse that he used with Petunia was that with his promotion came certain responsibilities, including having to put in extra hours supervising the later shift, and it seemed to be working fine… especially since his wife didn’t even bother to meet him at the door since they had their little row. He was almost getting used to the take-out food he was forced to eat since Petunia refused to make him anything. He hoped the spat blew over before the planned dinner party, although he was sure she would put up a good show in front of guests even if she was still in a tiff.

Vernon switched on his lights, put the car in gear and motored down the ramp and out through the gate that led to the street. He was about to take his usual left turn, but saw a cluster of emergency vehicles stopped around the intersection at the end of the street. Wanting to avoid the delay of what he assumed was an accident site, he turned right instead and motored away from the scene. As he turned the next corner onto the thoroughfare, he could have sworn that he saw in his rear-view mirror one of the police cars being flipped onto its roof by a mob of people. Again, he found himself grumbling about rowdy footballers being sore losers. He couldn’t wait to reach the peaceful sanctity of his Brentwood home.

He turned left on the main road that would lead him to the A12 to Brentwood. As he drove, he noted with incredulity the many heavily damaged and abandoned autos that lined the sides of the street. Some of the cars were even in the street itself, and a few of those he could tell were still running! It then struck him that his was the only moving vehicle on this normally busy road, especially so early in the evening.

A sick feeling started to build in the pit of his stomach. Something wasn’t right… it smacked of that ‘oddness.’ His grip tightened on the wheel and he locked his eyes straight forward. At the next traffic signal he stopped at the red, not daring to look around. The light turned green and he was about to step on the accelerator when a loud ‘thump’ immediately to his right startled him. He turned his head and his gaze fell on what appeared to be a woman, with sparse grey hair and greenish, emaciated flesh clinging loosely to her skull. Her withered, pupil-less eyes seemed to look right through him. He just stared open-mouthed at the animated corpse until her bony fist connected with the window again, shattering it and sending jagged little cubes of glass all over him.

Her hand grabbed his suit jacket at the shoulder as Vernon stomped on the accelerator in panic. The wheels of the Bentley spun on the pavement, creating a thick cloud of smoke behind the car as he sped across the intersection and down the street. He could feel the sharp nails of the woman’s bony hand digging into his fleshy shoulder. He heard the material of his jacket ripping under the force of her grasp. He began to swat at the hand frantically, trying to get the woman to release his jacket.

Vernon reared back his meaty fist and prepared to punch the woman square in the face, but when he glanced over, he saw that the woman was no longer beside the car… just the disembodied arm was there clutching at his shoulder. In blind fright, he grabbed the arm, wrenched it from his shoulder, and threw it out through the broken window.

His focus returned to the windscreen just in time to see a streetpole about ten meters directly ahead of his now speeding car. He stomped on the brake pedal and twisted the wheel to the right, avoiding a direct collision with the pole, but ended up sideswiping it all along the Bentley’s left side. He heard the sound of grinding, twisting metal as three huge cracks instantly spread horizontally across the windscreen, and both the front and rear passenger windows shattered from the impact. In his rear view, he could see his tail bumper spinning along in the street behind him, sending sparks scattering haphazardly in its wake.

He could also see out of the corners of his eyes several lumbering figures shuffling from between the surrounding buildings. Not wanting to linger about, he wisely and hastily left the area, speeding along the street for a few blocks before turning onto the A12 heading East.

He was speeding along the nearly empty highway for about fifteen minutes before meeting up with what appeared to be the rest of the fleeing population of London. Cars were at a dead standstill, lined up in front of him as far as he could see. Some of the terrified people were frantically pulling their belongings from their cars, abandoning them and continuing on foot away from London.

Vernon placed the Bentley in park, turned off the engine and climbed out. He walked around and inspected the damage to the left side of his vehicle. He winced painfully and let out an aggravated grunt as he surveyed the ripped and dented metal that ran the entire length of the car. The left front corner of the car was mangled, with steam and smoke wafting from under the bonnet. The broken headlight was hanging from its wires, and he could hear the drip of oil patting on the pavement from somewhere under the car. He could also detect the smell of burning electrical wiring. He groaned sadly as he placed his hand gently on the crushed fender and gave it a loving pat.

He spun on his heel and approached the car directly in front of him. A young couple stood at the car’s boot, the man was pulling a trunk from within while the woman, who was cradling an infant protectively in her arms, stood anxiously by. The woman gave a start as Vernon neared, but relaxed somewhat when she realized that, due to the sheer bulk of the man approaching them, he was probably not one of the creatures that was raiding the city.

With all of his usual tact, Vernon marched right up and bellowed importantly, “What the bloody hell is going on around here?”

The man who was struggling in the boot abruptly dropped the trunk onto his own foot. He let out a yelp and spun around with his fists raised. He immediately came to the same conclusion that his wife had, that Vernon was much too obese to be a zombie. He sat back against the boot and rubbed his foot as he said, “Where’ve you been, in a ruddy cave or sumthin’? It’s been all over the news an’ everythin’!”

Seeing Vernon’s puzzled expression, the man let out a tired sigh and said, “London’s been ordered to evacuate. They’re sayin’ that a bunch of terrorists, thousands of ‘em, are dressed up like zombies and are assaultin’ the city. Well, I’ll tell you somethin’… I seen ‘em… with me own eyes! Them’s not costumes they’re wearin’… I’m sure they’re dead people… I don’t know how the dead are walkin’, but there ya have it… The skin fallin’ off, the smell… cor, the smell of ‘em… an’ bleedin’ fast they are, too!”

The woman started crying loudly, standing there visibly trembling as she held her baby close to her chest, saying through her sobs, “They got me mum! I was visiting her flat when they came through Hackney… burst through the yard an’ grabbed her, they did! It was all I could do to get out with me own skin!”

The man took his wife in his arms and tried to calm her while he spoke, “The news says they came down from Essex, from Colchester through Chelmsford, destroyin’ everythin’ in their way. The Royal Army’s movin’ in, tanks an’ all… Dunno what good it’ll do against undead…”

“Essex?” said Vernon in a bluster, “That’s in this direction! Why is everyone heading this way?”

“Well, now they’re behind us back in London, Aren’ they? They says that the ‘terrorists’ are keepin’ in a mob, so this is the best way to go, innit?”

Suddenly, what the man said about the path the zombies took finally registered in his brain, “You said Colchester through Chelmsford? Have you heard if they went through Brentwood?”

“Aye, Brentwood’s a right mess, or so I heard, although we were too busy packin’ to pay it much mind, you unnerstan’…”

Vernon wasn’t listening anymore. He had turned his back on the couple and walked numbly back to his car. He slowly climbed in the driver’s seat, shut the door, laid his arms across the steering wheel and let his forehead drop on top of them.

“It’s them ruddy freaks!” Vernon muttered angrily to himself, “I hope that Voldievore nutter wipes the lot of ‘em out!”

-----~-----

Peter Pettigrew was told to stay put… to keep hidden… to remain in the secret antechamber beneath the muggle power station until he got the orders to do otherwise from the Dark Lord himself.

Peter Pettigrew had a bad habit of eavesdropping on his fellow Death Eaters. Although he wanted nothing to do with the Dark Lord’s secrets, he had no qualms about obtaining juicy tidbits of gossip about his cohorts.

Peter Pettigrew overheard a conversation about the Dark Lord’s release of the inferi, and he heard about the swath of destruction across Essex and into London.

Peter Pettigrew was no longer in the secret antechamber beneath the muggle power station.

He was in his animagus form, scurrying down a back street in Soho. With every smoking ruin he passed, with every mangled body he came across, his heart raced ever faster. He turned down a small alley off of Wardour Street and raced along the side of the building, but he could already tell, he could see the smashed door from the moment he turned the corner, but still, he raced on, hoping against hope.

As soon as he entered the doorway to the small basement flat, he shed his rat form and stumbled over the pile of broken furniture trying to make his way to the small bedroom whose door was leaning askew from one of its hinges. When he reached the bedroom doorway, he had to grasp the jamb to keep from falling to his knees in despair.

There, lying on the floor in a broken, twisted heap was his squib twin sister, Petra.

There, lying on the dirty floor was the true reason he became a Death Eater. The shame of having a squib in the pureblood family forced the Pettigrews to keep her a secret.

Unfortunately, Voldemort discovered that dirty little secret, and discovered where she lived in the muggle world. He threatened to have her killed if Peter did not turn spy for him. True, she was a squib, but she was also his twin, and the only family he had left.

It was probably just an unfortunate coincidence that she lived in the path of the inferi horde, but that didn’t matter to him now… James and Lily… Sirius… and now Petra… dead. He betrayed his friends, lied, murdered… just to keep his sister safe.

Now, his reason for serving the Dark Lord was gone. He truly had nothing or no one left. He suddenly remembered the wasp caught in the spider’s web, remembering how he saw himself as the trapped insect fated to die a long, slow, and agonizing death. He could almost feel the sticky strands choking him as he stared at his twin’s lifeless body.

He knew what he had to do.

A minute later, Wormtail was sitting at a desk in a small dirty flat at Spinner’s End. He knew, as well as all of the other Death Eaters, that Snape would never be foolish enough to return to this place. He took the two small sheets of parchment that he had been writing on, charmed them individually, and then stuck them together, one on top of the other. He hastily stuffed them in a parchment envelope, then stood from the desk and made his way up to the attic loft. As he hoped, he found Judas, Snape’s horned owl, and attached the envelope to the owl’s leg.

“As quickly as you can, bring this to Harry Potter. Make sure he reads it, and after that… you’re free to go wherever you like, just as I’m about to do.”

Wormtail launched the bird from his arm out through the attic window, and then after a moment’s thought, made his way down to Snape’s wine cellar and helped himself to as much of the expensive elf-made wine that he could charm down in size and stuff into his pockets before apparating away to only he knew where… hopefully to a place where he wouldn’t be found before he had the chance to drain at least a few of the bottles… he didn’t think he could face the end sober.

But still, with that bit of information he sent off, maybe… just maybe… Harry could undo at least some of his mistakes. Maybe… just maybe… that small act would lend him enough karmic redemption to not end up in the same Hell as Voldemort…

Maybe…

But he doubted it.

-----~-----

Harry was sitting on the sofa, staring down at the empty spot on the polar bearskin rug where Kotone usually settled herself. He could see the outline of her body embedded in the matted-down fur as he slowly rolled Kotone’s wand between his hands.

He had Hermione open the envelope, where she found Kotone’s wand and two halves of a sheet of parchment, one intended for Harry and the other for her. It was difficult reading what Kotone had written, she had a hard enough time speaking English, so it was understandable that her written English was something less than atrocious. Still, Hermione was able to decipher what was written and read the short note to Harry as he sat there on the sofa.

The note for Harry simply said that Kotone had a job to do for the Oni, and that he would see her again ‘soon.’ She also said that Harry should keep her wand… she couldn’t use it, and it would be better for him to be seen with one while performing magic with the glove… and she told him that she loved him.

When Harry asked what was in the note for her, Hermione paused for only a moment before saying, “When we were deciding what to get you for your birthday, she agreed to give me something to give to you if I would help her make that gauntlet for you. That was before I arranged for the adoption papers…”

Hermione’s voice trailed off when she saw Harry’s expression fall into an angry scowl, obviously quite put out that a race of supposed powerful ‘dark hunters’ was somehow relying on a little girl to perform some sort of service for them.

Harry couldn’t help but to feel that Kotone was in danger. Something was niggling at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. He had no idea what she was doing or when she would be back… ‘soon’ really didn’t say much.

In a hopeful attempt to calm Harry down, Hermione walked towards the nursery where they had stored Kotone’s trunk while saying, “Well, since it is technically your birthday, I think you should have the present that I was supposed to give you.”

Hermione opened the trunk and pulled out Kotone’s ratty old teddy bear. She suddenly remembered that she had seen that bear before while at Grimmauld Place… the bear that seemed to change its expression when she held it. Her first instinct was to drop it back into the trunk, but instead carried it face-down out into the main room.

When Harry saw her walk out of the nursery with the toy bear in her hands, he couldn’t stop the slight, teary chuckle from escaping him, “She wanted you to give me her teddy bear?”

Hermione was wearing an odd expression as she sat down on the sofa beside Harry and set the bear face-down on the rug. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the bear’s face.

“Not the bear itself,” explained Hermione, “but what’s inside of it.”

She reached down and found the tab of thin, rusty zipper at the back of its neck. After a brief struggle, she managed to slide the zipper open enough to reach inside.

“Do you know what’s in there?” asked Harry curiously.

Hermione gave him a nervous smile and said, “No, not really.”

Hermione took a deep breath, spread the opening apart, and then reached into the bear. She was very surprised that she couldn’t feel any of the stuffing, it was like she was reaching into an empty cloth sack. She reached in a bit deeper and felt something soft and fuzzy brush against her fingertips and felt a slight sting similar to an electric spark. She gently closed her hand around it and pulled the object out of the bear. Instantly, the bear seemed to deflate as if the stuffing had suddenly vanished. She lifted her hand between them and slowly opened her fingers.

There in the palm of Hermione’s hand rested a small ball of what appeared to be silky fine fur that stuck straight out in all directions. It almost resembled one of the twins’ miniature puffskeins, except for the fact that it was glowing and floating an inch above her palm.

“What is it?” asked Harry as he stared at the odd little ball.

“I… I think it’s… no, it can’t be…” Hermione whispered as she leaned her face closer to the glowing fuzzball, “Do you remember from Professor Lupin’s class what hinkypunks are?”

Harry thought for a moment and said, “Yeah, I remember… they’re the little monsters who carry lanterns around boggy areas. They use the lantern light to lure lost people into the bogs to die…” Harry recalled something else about them from the class and said, “and they’re especially dangerous to wizards because they can reflect whatever spell you use on them back to you… pleasant little critters, they are… is this one of them?”

“Hinkypunks aren’t entirely corporeal,” said Hermione as she studied the creature in her hand, “their bodies are made up of mostly mist and bog gas, and they don’t really carry lanterns… they carry one of these.”

“A glowing Pygmy Puff?” guessed Harry as he also moved closer.

“It’s a Wisp, or as it more commonly referred to, a Will o’ Wisp. Hinkypunks don’t really reflect spells, they carry one of these to absorb the spell, and then command the Wisp to release it back from where it came… watch.”

Hermione drew her wand and released the wisp, which remained suspended in the air before them. She pointed her wand at the wisp while her brows furrowed in concentration. A small spark of pink light jumped out of her wand and hit the Wisp. Harry was surprised to see that whatever spell Hermione had used didn’t seem to affect the creature at all, except for the fact that it seemed to glow a bit brighter. A small, mischievous smile appeared on Hermione’s lips as her brows furrowed again. Suddenly, the pink spark shot out of the wisp and hit Harry in the chest, taking him by complete surprise. Immediately, Harry found himself on the floor, rolling around in a fit of laughter. After almost a minute of loud, side-splitting laughter, he managed to cast a ‘Finite’ with his glove to end the tickling jinx.

Hermione watched in amusement as Harry rose unsteadily to his feet, panting heavily from his laughter. Her smile faded, however, when she reached out and grasped the floating Wisp. She extended her hand to Harry and opened her fingers, offering the creature to him.

“Kotone said in her note to me that since I had managed to find a gift for you after all, that this should be a birthday present to you from the both of us.”

Hermione watched as Harry reached out for the Wisp. She noticed his hand jerk slightly as he touched it and assumed that the ‘spark’ occurred whenever ownership changed. She saw a look cross Harry’s eyes, the same look that he had when she first saw him on the Hogwarts Express those many years ago. He was worried, scared, and somewhat lost. He turned his worried eyes up to hers and asked, “She is coming back to us, right?”

Hermione felt a small lump appear in her throat and had to swallow it down painfully before she could answer, “She said that we’ll see her again… soon.”

Harry’s eyes dropped to the wisp in his hand and he simply nodded. He tucked the creature along with Kotone’s wand into his pocket.

Hermione felt a pang in her heart as she looked at his troubled expression. Wordlessly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him what she hoped was a comforting hug. She felt his arms wrap tightly around her shoulders and he held her in a firm embrace. She thought she knew what he was thinking as he held her tightly… is she going to be the next thing he loves to be taken from him?

She tightened her own embrace and rested her cheek against his shoulder as she placed a feather-light kiss onto his neck and softly said, “I’m not going anywhere, Harry. The hordes of Hell itself couldn’t drag me away from you.”

Hermione felt his head nod against her hair in acknowledgement. She heard him heavily sigh before he loosened his embrace and moved slightly back from her. His eyes had lost the worried glaze, in its stead was a hard, determined glint.

“We’ve got some work to do. If they bring her back here while we’re gone, then she’ll be safe enough until we get back. Do you feel up to banishing a few bits of the Dim Lord?”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “Wha… what did you call him?”

Harry smiled as he walked to the pile of stuff behind the sofa and began collecting some things that they might need as he innocently answered, “What? The Dim Lord? That’s the name that the twins had come up with… I dunno, it kinda stuck in my head… so, are you up for it?”

She nodded with a half amused, half horrified expression as she watched him stuff his father’s folded invisibility cloak into a small bag and then lifted his Firebolt, shrunk it and placed it in with the cloak. He handed the bag to her and then took her hand in his. An instant later, they both silently disappeared in a dim flash of blue light.

-----~-----

Pigwidgeon was tired, but he was also excited. Night had been steadily settling, but he could still make out the spot of land on the horizon. He doubled his efforts, seeing that his destination was so near. All he wanted to do was to stuff himself with as many treats as he could beg, fill himself to near bursting with some clean, salt-free water, and get some desperately needed sleep.

He was so close… he could see light coming through a skylight on top of the small house. He noticed that the front door was open, and he could tell his destination was just on the other side of that door. He swooped down from treetop level and glided through the open doorway… just in time to see a flash of blue light.

He instantly became disoriented. He tried to fight the natural instinct to circle around to get a bearing on his new destination, but in the process of fighting the instinct, he managed to fly directly into the fireplace in the wall on the far side of the room.

He came rolling out of the hearth onto a white fur rug, leaving a trail of soot leading from the grate to where he finally stopped.

Pig remained on his side… silent and motionless, except for the very rapid rise and fall of his little chest… his eyes staring blankly at some invisible something that was a mile away. After a minute, he began to emit strange, high-pitched squeaking, and if anyone was around that could speak owl, they would have heard continuous, hysterical, eerily insane laughter.

-----~-----

They appeared on the marshy bank of the black lake just a few meters away from Dumbledore’s white marble tomb. Harry immediately began striding purposefully towards the tomb while Hermione’s head quickly looked around as she tried to get her bearings.

Harry was just approaching the tomb when he heard Hermione gasp and say, “Harry! We’re on Hogwarts grounds!”

Harry turned his head back to her and said, “Yeah, I know. I figured that the horcrux in the tomb would be the easiest to get rid of… we know there are none of Voldemort’s protections here, and…”

“Harry!” hissed Hermione, “You can’t Apparate anywhere inside of Hogwarts… including the grounds! The wards just don’t allow it! It clearly states in…”

“Hogwarts: A History. Yes, I do remember you telling us that… repeatedly…”

“But you just did it!” said Hermione in a strained voice that held an almost comical squeak.

Harry briefly looked around, as if he had just noticed where they were and calmly said, “Yeah… I suppose I did… come on, let’s get this done before we’re found. We still have the lake to contend with after this.”

Harry patiently watched as Hermione absently shook her head and seemed to collect herself. She walked up to the tomb and sat down on the soft grass in front of it. He watched in fascination as Hermione entered her state and assumed her transformed appearance. The whole area around the tomb seemed to darken as the charcoal-grey mist appeared and skirted the ground around them.

Not wanting to miss anything, Harry closed his eyes and entered his own state. He expected to get the same sensation that he had during the ritual that he performed earlier, but he didn’t feel any different than he usually did in his state. The sensation of total awareness didn’t come at all, just the feeling of time slowing around him.

The banishing ritual went quickly and flawlessly. With each blood-rune that Hermione deftly drew, the writhing, smoky serpent responded exactly as expected. After the glowing rift closed and the last of the resounding echoes of the bell faded across the lake, both Harry and Hermione emerged from their respective states.

Hermione turned her head and cautiously looked at Harry, and she visibly relaxed when she saw his proudly smiling face. Oddly enough, she felt none of the fear or the guilt that usually came to the surface after performing that ritual… and she knew it was because of Harry’s acceptance of what she was. At that moment, she could have easily pounced on him and snogged him to within an inch of his life. Instead, she rose to her feet, wrapped him in a grateful hug and sighed into his shoulder. Performing the ritual was not only getting easier… it was getting better.

They were forced to break their embrace when the sound of whispered voices came drifting down from the direction of the castle. Harry quickly withdrew his cloak from the bag and covered both Hermione and himself just before a group of witches and wizards came into view. They all were moving cautiously with their wands drawn and lit as they scanned the area.

They heard the hurried whisper of a woman, “I’m telling you, I heard a bell… a big one, like in a cathedral, or Big Ben or something!”

“What in Merlin’s name is that awful smell?” came a male voice from within the group as they headed towards the tomb.

“I’m not sure… i’ smells like rotten eggs and firewhiskey farts!” came another gruff male voice that could only have belonged to Benjamin Bones. Harry let out a small sigh of relief, as he had been afraid that Ben might have been a casualty of the Death Eater raid in Diagon Alley.

“Brimstone,” said the voice of Minerva McGonagall, “and sulphur… I wonder what it means?”

“Do you think it has something to do with the ward breach?” asked Ben.

“I don’t know… this is the area where the breach occurred. I can’t see how the anti-apparition ward could have been subverted. It’s never happened before.”

The group spread out and searched for several minutes. A few times, they came so close to where they were hidden beneath the cloak that they could see the beads of perspiration on the person’s face in the dim wandlight.

Ben approached McGonagall and said, “We can’t see anything out of place here, and you have a castle full of guests to attend to. Have Simmons set an extra patrol inside the castle, I’ll hang out here for a while with Coddington, just to make sure. If we see anything we’ll send a patronus.”

McGonagall nodded and gathered the rest of the group before heading back to the castle. Harry watched as Ben and the other auror position themselves on either side of the tomb before they cast disillusionment spells on themselves as they faded from view, leaving only two shimmering outlines where they were standing.

Slowly and quietly, Harry and Hermione made their way along the shoreline until they were sure they were out of view of the two aurors.

“One down, one to go,” whispered Harry as he pulled the cloak from over them.

Hermione’s eyes glazed over as she watched Harry shrug out of his clothes until he was standing before her in nothing but his boxers. He reached into the bag and pulled out his Firebolt. He dispelled the shrinking charm, climbed onto the broom, and then held his hand out to Hermione, obviously wanting her to get on the broom with him.

Oh, how she wanted to be on that broom with his arms cradled protectively around her. The randiness that she was feeling when he was disrobing was nothing compared to the desire that was churning within her at the thought of his barely covered manhood pressed against her bum. She had no qualms about riding a broom, but she thought she could be of more use if she was with him, and not just on the broom waiting for him.

Hermione took a deep calming breath, then shook her head and said, “I’ll be with you, but I’m not getting on that broom.”

Hermione sat down on the grass and pulled Harry’s cloak over her. Harry wondered for a moment what she meant, but then saw the telltale mist covering the ground around them. She would be with him, but not in her body.

Harry kicked off from the ground and glided low over the water towards the center of the lake. He stopped just over the spot where he knew the fountain was positioned. He cast the bubblehead charm on himself, then leaned off the side of the broomstick and gently lowered himself into the water. He watched the Firebolt hover unmoving in the air just a foot above the calm surface. Once he was sure the broom wouldn’t drift away, he ducked beneath the surface and began swimming straight downward through the deep, dark water towards the Mervillage.

He was thankful that it was the middle of summer. The water was chilly, but nothing compared to the biting cold that he experienced during the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. If it wasn’t for the gillyweed he used, he was sure his limbs would have seized up from the bone-chilling cold before he even got close to his ‘treasure.’

He was broken out of his thoughts as he neared the Mervillage. He saw a few of the Merfolk eyeing him cautiously as he swam towards the center of their village, but none of them made a move towards him. He did notice a pair of armed Mermen carrying vicious-looking war forks while each of them rode a hippocampus. He recognized the beasts from one of his Care of Magical Creatures books, but had never seen any of the strange fish-horses in person before. He didn’t even know that there were any in the Mervillage.

As he neared the growth-covered fountain in the center square of the village, he was oddly comforted by the fact that Hermione’s spirit was there with him, even though he couldn’t see her. He could somehow feel her presence, though, and he imagined that she was gliding beside him, watching his every move.

Harry swam right up to the top of the fountain, and immediately recognized Hufflepuff’s Cup resting in the center of the top tier, exactly where he had seen it in his spirit form. The concern about touching the cup briefly crossed his mind, but he knew that the reason the locket horcrux invaded him was because of the piece of Voldemort’s soul that he had at the time… the soul shard that was no longer with him. Confident that the horcrux in the cup wouldn’t possess him, he slowly extended his hand, grabbed the handle, and waited.

Nothing happened.

He sighed in relief into the bubble surrounding his face, and then lifted the cup from its resting place.

Suddenly, streams of magic resembling great bolts of red, forked lightning arced out from the fountain. The bolts of magic seemed to seek out and connect with each of the denizens of the Mervillage. He glanced around quickly at the Merpeople nearest him, and saw their blank, emotionless expressions, and their brightly glowing eyes that seemed to radiate a red light. He saw the other Merpeople emerging from the dwellings surrounding the square, all armed with spears and war forks. He saw the hippocampi-riding Mermen racing towards him with their weapons raised ominously. It was all happening dizzyingly fast, the way the entire population of Merpeople was advancing on him menacingly.

Harry tucked the cup under his arm and held out Kotone’s wand threateningly, remembering how scared the Merpeople were when he used magic during the tournament. The sight of the wand didn’t seem to faze his attackers at all, telling him that whatever it was possessing them overrode their natural instincts and fears. Things weren’t looking very good for him.

He briefly closed his eyes, willing himself into his state. He instantly reached the point where he could ‘see’ all around him, but what he saw didn’t bode well. The two Mermen on the hippocampi were just a few meters away from him. He didn’t have time to fully achieve his state, so the actions around him were somewhat slowed, but not to the point that he could move independently. The fact that he had the water resistance to contend with wasn’t helping him, either.

He barely had time to roll away from the sharp tines of the first war fork, and ended up right in the path of the second. He felt one of the twin tines pierce the bicep of his left arm, the force of which spun him to the side awkwardly and caused the cup to fall free. The Merman wrenched the war fork upwards, tearing open a large gaping wound in his arm. Shock dulled his comprehension as he absently watched bits of flesh, muscle and sinew billow out from his injured arm.

“Reducto!” he thought frantically and saw the force of the bludgeoning spell billow out from his hand, connecting with the chest of the second Merman. A cloud of greenish blood trailed after the Merman as he slowly drifted towards the lake bottom. The first Merman had already turned his hippocampus back towards him and was charging again.

Harry had the briefest moment to enter into his state more fully, and finally felt the sensation of speeding himself up through time. He didn’t know how the spell popped into his head… he wasn’t even sure he could do it as he had only seen Hermione perform it on one occasion before. He raised his hand towards the charging Merman and without even thinking the incantation, a small white spark of magic left his hand and hit him in the arm that was carrying the war fork. As if in slow motion, he saw the tines of the weapon drop down as the Merman’s arm bent unnaturally until the war fork was flailing uselessly behind him.

A second spell left his hand, knocking the Merman from his mount. Unfortunately for Harry, the hippocampus continued to bear down on him. He avoided a direct collision by frantically spinning to the side of the beast, but the razor sharp fins that lined the side of the hippocampus tore a wide gash in the right side of his torso. By that time, what appeared to be the entire population of the Mervillage had surrounded him and were closing in on him quickly.

Spells left his glove and channeled through Kotone’s wand. He saw dozens of Merpeople fall lazily towards the bottom of the lake, some appeared burned, others had clouds of blood trailing down in their wake from the deep gashes or missing limbs. He felt horrified that he was causing such destruction on a village of people who were clearly not acting of their own accord. Still, he had to keep fighting… he had to survive, but he was losing a lot of blood, and his movements were becoming increasingly sluggish… and he was coming dangerously close to being overwhelmed by their sheer numbers. When he felt a spear penetrate the back of his left thigh, he knew he was in serious trouble.

Clouds of red and green were obscuring his vision, and along with the searing pain in his arm, leg, and along his side, he felt his consciousness slipping away. He thought he saw a large shadow pass above him, but it was getting much too dark and cloudy to really see anything. He felt a jerking pull from around his abdomen, but it was nothing like the feeling one gets when using a portkey… it was probably the thrust of another spear.

His last thoughts before the darkness enveloped him were that he had failed, and that he would never see Hermione or Kotone again.

Well, maybe not ‘never,’ but not in this lifetime.

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact: I thought about ending Pig’s torture, and originally wrote him arriving just before they left, but I’m having way too much fun driving him crazy!

PS: See? No cliffhanger! Really! This is not a cliffhanger! (I know it really is a cliffhanger, but if I say that it’s not often enough, then it won’t be! Come on, give me a break! This is well over 7000 words as it is, and would you have preferred me to end it just as Harry got to the fountain? Let’s face it… no matter where I end it, it will be a cliffhanger whether I want it to be or not! (Which I don’t, truthfully!))

47. Vault Number One

Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing of the Harry Potter universe, and I make absolutely no money writing this junk. I certainly don’t own the lyric bits, either.

A/N: Well, you’ve convinced me to end Pig’s suffering. Too bad, I was having so much fun. Things are turning a bit darker here, but it’s always darkest before the dawn, right? I hope you enjoy this chapter. It’s only an average length chapter, about 5600 words, but it’s got a lot of nice, heart-wrenching, angsty-fun goodness. As always, enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 47: Vault Number One

Lay beside me, under wicked sky.
Through black of day, dark of night, we share this pair of lives.
The door cracks open, but there's no sun shining through.
Black heart scarring darker still, but there's no sun shining through…
no, there's no sun shining through…
no, there's no sun shining.

Come lay beside me, this won't hurt I swear.
She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again.
She lay beside me, but she'll be there when I'm gone.
Black heart scarring darker still, yes she'll be there when I'm gone…
yes, she'll be there when I'm gone…
dead sure she'll be there…

What I've felt, what I've known,
turn the pages, turn the stone.
Behind the door, should I open it for you?

What I've felt, what I've known,
sick and tired, I stand alone.
Could you be there, 'cause I'm the one who waits for you…
or are you unforgiven, too?

Never free…
never me…
'cause you're unforgiven, too.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Unforgiven II’ by the band, Metallica.

-----~-----

Far below Diagon Alley, within the deepest bowels of a labyrinth of passages, laid Gringotts Vault Number One. Inside of that vault, a terrible, pitiful scream echoed throughout the cavernous chamber. The vault was empty, except for two hobgoblin guards stationed at each side of the entrance and the young, inconsolable half-demon who was pounding and scratching at the vault’s massive door.

The hobgoblins stood nearly perfectly still, except for the nervous glances they sent to each other as they bore witness to the young elder’s sudden, frantic attempt to escape. They were under strict orders… nobody in, nobody out… until word came either from the Director himself or from the arch-elder who had placed the young half-Oni in the vault in the first place. Hobgoblins weren’t the type of beings to be fazed by very much, but the distress of the young elder was eating away at their composure. Every once in a while they would glance at the distressed young girl with uncharacteristic compassion in their eyes… however, they remained unmoving.

Streams of her blood ran down the iron door as she vainly tried to claw her way out. Her knuckles were raw and torn from beating on the unyielding surface, and her claw-like fingernails were cracked, broken and oozing blood from the torn skin beneath them. Tears were coursing down her cheeks as she took a deep breath and screamed at the top of her lungs, “SHISHIII!”

The hobgoblin guards shifted uncomfortably on their feet.

She had been there, floating high above the black lake while her body was safely ensconced within the highest security vault below Diagon Alley. She had been watching them… following them… just as she was supposed to be doing. Waiting for the time when she would finally be released to realize her destiny. She had witnessed Washi banishing the soul fragment from within the white marble tomb, and followed their actions into the Black Lake. She remained watching until she saw her lion’s battered form drop into unconsciousness just after her eagle’s soul had fled from the area beneath the lake.

She returned to her body, but found no way to get to him… no way to save her Shishi.

Her mournful cry was still echoing throughout the chamber when a slight flash of blue light announced a new arrival inside of the vault. Just behind Kotone stood Kyuushuu, dressed in his usual flowing white robes with a long white fur cloak draped between his large, feathery wings.

Kotone spun around quickly, fell to her knees, and began pleading in her native language, “Please, Father, he needs me! I saw him… he is dying! I must go to him!”

Kyuushuu looked sympathetically down at Kotone and said in his soft, effeminate voice, “I will admit, this situation was unforeseen, and the delay could complicate our plans, but he will survive this, given time. You have only been here for a few hours, and you want to leave already? It is now your job to watch, not to act… you know that you must not leave this place… you know that you must not be seen until it is time. Your time will come, are you so anxious to end your life?”

In any other situation, Kotone would have bowed down and remained silent. She knew all about Oni traditions and customs, just as she knew the hierarchy of the elders, but at that moment, she really didn’t care. She lunged forward and clutched at Kyuushuu’s robes, leaving bloody smears and handprints down the front of his garments. She fell flat on the floor and cried onto the hem of his robes, “Please! I am begging you, Father… let me go to him! No one will see… no one will know! I promise! I swear it!”

Annoyance briefly flared in Kyuushuu’s amber eyes. This was not the behavior he expected from an Oni. Knowing that he had already said what he wanted to say, he was just about to leave when his eyes landed on the bloody trails seeping down the vault door. His gaze scanned down to his feet, where he saw Kotone’s trembling body. He watched curiously as the girl’s tiny form heaved with each sob that escaped her. He then looked at the smear of her blood that stained his robes from his stomach down to where her tiny hands were still clutching at the hem.

He wondered… he puzzled… why was she so consumed with the state of her charge? He wasn’t dying, and she knew it, so what was causing his Oni daughter to abandon the old ways? Kotone didn’t even react quite like this upon the death of her own natural mother, although she was somewhat under duress at the time. He thought to himself that maybe… perhaps the old customs were becoming outdated. Emotions… attachment… the prime sources of mistakes for those with such grave responsibilities… but also the forces that drove mortals to perform above and beyond their means and the catalyst for soul bonds to take place. He looked more closely at his daughter and was surprised to discover that a bond did exist. Her mortal half had somehow bonded with her charge.

He had not forgotten love. It was his forbidden love of a mortal, the wife of the wizard who had originally contracted him to defend his keep, which caused him to break the old customs. It was selfish of him, and that selfishness was the catalyst for a thousand years of strife, of heartache for the family that he had annexed and to all that knew them. The cycle was nearly complete… why did this one, the last of the legacy of his weakness, have to abandon the old customs, just as he had so long ago?

He already knew the answer… love… a mutual love between two lost souls, born of despair and understanding… forged in pain and hope.

He now understood… she couldn’t create that kind of bond willingly… it couldn’t be forced into existence, but naturally formed… but still…

Kyuushuu sighed resignedly and closed his tired eyes. The plans would have to be changed.

“Remember, child… you must not be seen,” said Kyuushuu softly as he stooped down, took one of Kotone’s trembling, bloodied hands and pried it from the stained hem of his robes. In a flash of blue light, they were gone, leaving behind a deafening silence in the massive, empty vault.

The two hobgoblins glanced at each other. If one didn’t know any better, they would have sworn that smiles appeared on their normally impassive faces.

-----~-----

Benjamin Bones and Christiana Coddington stood unmoving on either side of Dumbledore’s tomb, both keeping careful watch on the area where the Hogwarts Anti-Apparition wards were breached, although they had seen nothing out of the ordinary during the time they had spent there. The acrid stench of sulphur and brimstone, the only indicator that something unusual had happened there, had long since dissipated.

Ben was quite accustomed to spending long hours standing watch over a place, but the relatively inexperienced Coddington was shifting restlessly on her feet.

“How much longer are we gonna stand here?” she whispered to Ben over the tomb as her shimmering outline plopped heavily onto the grass.

The outline of Ben’s disillusioned form shimmered slightly as he looked around and answered in a similar whisper, “Let’s give it another half hour… I have a strange feeling something’s going to happen.”

Although he mentioned it to no one, Ben thought that he knew exactly what, or more accurately who, had caused the breach in the school’s wards. There was only one person he knew of that seemed to be able to ignore the basic rules on the physics of Apparition. If Harry Potter felt it necessary to Apparate directly onto the grounds, then something important was going on… something significant was happening… he was sure of it.

As if on cue, Ben was startled out of his thoughts by the loud sounds of chaotic splashing from the lake directly behind them. Ben spun around with his wand raised just in time to see a huge tentacle rise from the water. The tentacle appeared to be holding something as its length extended from the water, reached directly over the tomb, and gently laid its burden on the grass right in front of the two aurors.

As the large tentacle retreated back into the water, Ben immediately lit his wand and trained the light on the bleeding, nearly naked form of Harry Potter.

“Merlin’s beard!” exclaimed Ben as he dispelled the disillusionment on himself and rushed to Harry side.

Christiana also dispelled her disillusionment as she slowly stood while staring down at the unmoving young man, “Is… is he dead? Who is he?”

Ben was already in the process of casting a series of healing charms on the worse of the gaping wounds as he answered between spells, “It’s Harry Potter, and he’s not quite dead yet… I’m not saying that won’t change, though.”

Christiana moved closer, trained her wandlight on the young man’s face and then said in a terrified voice, “That’s not Harry Potter… he… he hasn’t got a scar.”

Ben’s eyes glanced up to the boy’s forehead and he paused for a brief moment when he saw that she was right. He resumed working on him as he said, “Well, maybe he is an impostor, but he’ll be a dead impostor if I don’t get him stabilized right now. Send a patronus up to Poppy, and then to Minerva.”

Ben finished closing the large, jagged tear along the boy’s side before he noticed that Coddington hadn’t moved. He looked up at the young auror and saw her staring blankly down at Harry wearing an expression that suggested she was trying very hard not to be sick.

“What’s wrong with you? I said send a Patronus up to the castle!”

Ben saw her eyes darting between the blood spurting weakly from the boy’s ripped open arm and the vicious-looking spear that had pierced cleanly through his thigh. He sighed when Christiana suddenly spun around and fell to her knees, violently throwing up onto the grass. Ben let out an annoyed grunt and flicked his wand behind him, sending his own ram patronus speeding up to the castle.

He gruffly mumbled something about ‘bloody green recruits’ as he resumed casting the necessary healing spells. He opened the front of his robes, but found that he had already used his vial of blood replenishing potion on the Granger girl the night before and hadn’t had the chance to replenish his supply.

Ben looked at his green partner, who apparently was green in more than one way, and asked, “Do you have your potion belt on you?”

She fumbled beneath her robes for a moment, slid the belt from around her waist, and without turning around handed it back to him as another wave of nausea hit her.

Ben pulled the vial of orange liquid from the belt, popped the cap with his thumb, and poured the potion into Harry’s mouth as he massaged the boy’s throat to help the swallow reflex. He tucked the empty vial into his pocket as he closely examined Harry’s ripped-open arm. He knew that there was nothing he could immediately do about the gaping wound, so he hastily conjured a thick gauze bandage and carefully wrapped the arm. He had just severed the barbed head from the shaft of the spear in Harry’s leg when he sighed in relief as he heard the harried voice of Madam Pomfrey coming from the direction of the castle.

“What’s all this about?” Madam Pomfrey sternly said as she approached the aurors, “Who’s hurt this time…” Madam Pomfrey looked down at the bloodied and unconscious young man and said in a very tired voice, “Potter? Oh, Merlin, not again! Quickly, get him to the room just outside of the infirmary… we don’t need more problems by him being seen!”

-----~-----

Hermione’s body was sitting motionlessly under Harry’s invisibility cloak when a set of tentacles silently emerged from the lake. One tentacle set down Harry’s Firebolt onto the grass next to her, the second placed a golden goblet right next to the broom, while a third tentacle gently added a wand to the other objects. The tentacles slipped back beneath the surface of the lake, and then a few moments later, Hermione’s eyes flew wide open.

Hermione took a deep, shuddering breath, and then fell face first onto the grass. Her entire body trembled and twitched uncontrollably as she heaved and coughed, trying desperately to pull air into her protesting lungs.

It took her almost ten minutes to get to the point where she could draw a breath without feeling as though her lungs were about to be expelled through her mouth. She attempted to sit upright, but only managed to roll awkwardly onto her back. She tried to get her arms and legs to move where she wanted them to, but they didn’t seem to respond properly, resulting in jerky, spasmodic movements. They felt oddly numb and curiously out of place. Hermione let her head loll to the side, and she could just see the pile of items she had placed there minutes before.

Hermione had guessed, as well as Harry, that his touching of the cup horcrux wouldn’t affect him the same way that the locket horcrux had. They had spoken beforehand about the protections that Voldemort might have placed around the cup, and she had to agree with Harry… just grab it and watch what happens. Revealing spells were notoriously ineffective underwater, as was with most charms. The complex and precise wand movements involved in most charmwork couldn’t easily be accomplished given the subtle shifts and wavers that occur while immersed in water. That’s what made the second task in the tournament all those years ago so difficult, and Hermione inwardly thought it was quite brilliant of Voldemort to use that inherent disadvantage by hiding the horcrux so deeply underwater. It severely limited the range of spells of anyone trying to retrieve it.

When she saw the red bolts of magic streaming out from the fountain, she knew exactly what was happening… and she also knew that there was nothing she could do while in her soul form. Her first instinct was to return to her body, but then what? She would stand less of a chance than Harry did against the spear-wielding Merfolk.

She knew that it was ‘possible’ for her soul to possess another’s body, the Soul Magic book said as much. That was one Necromantic ability that she never thought she’d use, but when she saw the Merfolk attacking Harry, and the trouble that he was having casting and maneuvering underwater, even while in his state, she knew she had to try something desperate… and possessing the Giant Squid was the first thing that came to her mind.

Possession in any circumstance was a dangerous endeavor, and even the book stated that the action should never be taken lightly. There was always the chance that the invading soul could be overpowered by the subject, trapping the possessor in the other person’s body. Of course, the book only mentioned the possession of other humans and mentioned nothing about possessing any other type of creature.

It was certainly a strange experience for her, suddenly having more appendages than she knew what to do with and seeing in two different directions at once. It took her a few minutes just to figure out how the squid breathed, and another few minutes of experimenting on how to manipulate the tentacles in order to move. She almost envied Kotone on how the little girl could control her tail and hair, and even her wings when she had them, and how it was just second nature to her. By the time she managed to get back to Harry, he was already unconscious, drifting lazily downwards as the Merpeople closed in around him. She managed to wrap a tentacle around Harry as gently as she could, and at the same time grabbed Kotone’s wand that had fallen from his hand and the cup that rested on the bottom of the lakebed. The Merfolk had no chance to keep up with her as she used her remaining tentacles to propel her out from the Mervillage towards the shore.

Slowly, Hermione could tell that she was gaining more control over her own body. It was almost as if her short stay in the squid caused her soul to forget how to control her natural body. Several more minutes passed before she could manage to sit up, and a few more after that before she felt that she could safely stand without falling over. She still felt somewhat out of balance as she managed to collect the broom, wand and cup, shrink them, and store them in the bag.

After carefully concealing herself beneath the cloak once more, Hermione made her way to where she had placed Harry. She had hoped the two aurors that they had seen guarding the area earlier were still there. She remembered that Benjamin Bones had some training as a healer, and knew that he was trustworthy enough to take care of Harry. She just hoped that she got Harry to him in time.

As she neared the tomb, she saw the procession of people heading back to the castle with Harry’s body being carefully levitated along as Madam Pomfrey kept at his side casting a series of spells. Hermione followed silently behind at a discreet distance, but realized when the procession reached the castle door that she wouldn’t be able to catch up in time to make it inside.

As luck would have it, Ben was the one who opened the door and held it as the group of people moved through. Hermione hurried as quickly as she dared, but saw the last person enter through the doorway while she was still about twenty feet away. Ben was just standing there, looking absently out over the grounds while he held the door open. As quietly as she could, she crept up to the opening and carefully squeezed through.

Hermione let out a silent sigh of relief, but couldn’t stop the gasp of surprise when she heard Ben whisper, “You should be more careful, Miss Granger, I could see your matted footprints in the grass. They’re taking your friend up to the room outside of the infirmary.”

“Thanks,” whispered Hermione in reply, “and he’s not my friend, he’s my boyfriend.”

“As I said,” chuckled Ben quietly as he closed the castle door, “It’s about bleedin’ time… now stay behind me.”

Hermione had only gone a few steps when she heard Ben quietly ask, “What happened to Harry’s scar?”

Hermione didn’t quite know how to answer, “I… he… well, in an impossible to explain way, we managed to get rid of it.”

“So, it is the real Harry, then?” asked Ben before he carefully said, “Then you wouldn’t mind telling me where you kids have been staying these past few days?”

Hermione suddenly noticed that Ben still had his wand in his hand and that it was pointed discreetly at her… and she instantly knew exactly why he was asking, as he already knew the answer.

“On a small island in the Caribbean,” answered Hermione quickly, “we think near Bermuda.”

Ben nodded and immediately pocketed his wand. They both remained silent until they got to the double doors to the infirmary where Coddington and McGonagall were having a heated discussion about whether or not it was the ‘real’ Harry Potter.

“But what if it is a Death Eater?” asked Christiana urgently, “We’ve got a castle full of muggleborns and their muggle families who can’t defend themselves! We could have a real mess on our hands if he…”

As Ben reached the door to the room where Harry was, he opened it wide enough for Hermione to enter, turned back to the two women and said pointedly, “I’ll be in here for a while. If it is a polyjuiced impostor, it’ll be wearing off soon. I’ll let you know as soon as I’m sure. If it is a Death Eater, I’ll handle him… in his condition, I don’t think he’ll be too much of a bother to anyone.”

Hermione silently sat herself on the floor in the corner of the room and watched as Madam Pomfrey hovered over Harry, expertly tending to the gaping wound on his left arm.

Ben walked up to the bed and asked, “So what do you think, Poppy?”

Madam Pomfrey harrumphed and said tiredly, “I think that Mister Potter here should find another way to pay for his room and board rather than engaging in activities that lands him…”

“Poppy!” said Ben in a gasp, wearing an expression of genuine shock, “What in Merlin’s name does money have to do with him being injured?

Madam Pomfrey paused and hung her head for a moment. She took a deep breath before resuming her work on Harry, saying, “I’m sorry, that did sound a bit heartless… I know he’s destitute now, the poor thing… I still can’t believe that his family would steal James and Lily’s bequeathment… you know I really didn’t mean anything by it, it’s just that he’s here so often… and now…”

Ben patted her shoulder kindly and said, “I know… Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, you’ve done enough already, and I’m nearly finished here. His leg should heal up nicely… the other injuries are a little touchy, though. The gash on his side was pretty deep, and damaged a few of his internal organs, and he may not be able to use his left arm for a while… if at all. He’ll sleep through until the morning, at least. I’ll be able to tell you more then, once we see how he reacts to the potions.”

Hermione could tell that Madam Pomfrey was trying to sound positive, but her eyes told a different story. Harry was in worse shape than she was letting on, and the fact that Ben allowed her into the room told her that he was worried, too.

Madam Pomfrey picked up her tray of potions and supplies and walked to the door with Ben right behind her. Before Ben walked out into the hallway, he gave a small, encouraging smile to the room and then quietly closed the door behind him, leaving Hermione alone with Harry in the dimly lit room.

Hermione settled back against the corner and silently watched Harry on the bed. She felt like crying, but her eyes remained curiously dry. She couldn’t remember a time where he had been so grievously injured, not even when he returned from the graveyard after Voldemort’s return.

Hermione closed her eyes and tiredly rubbed the itchiness away with the heel of her palms. It probably wasn’t the best idea for her to fall asleep where she was, but she wanted to hear Madam Pomfrey’s assessment when she returned in the morning. With her eyes still closed, she absently reached down into the bag beside her, running her fingers along the embossed badger of the cup.

Hermione was startled when she noticed a flash of light through her closed eyelids. Opening her eyes, she saw that she was no longer alone in the room with Harry. Walking towards Harry’s bed was the small form of Kotone, although Hermione’s eyes were firmly fixed on the other being standing silently in the center of the room.

The man was very slender and very tall, possibly as much as seven feet. His long, white hair fell into a perfectly straight plait down the center of his back… right between the two white, feathery wings that protruded from behind his shoulders. Just peeking out from under his white fur cloak she saw an intricately embellished hilt of some sort of sword that was strapped to his back.

Hermione could only see a small portion of the man’s profile from where she was sitting, but she could tell from what she could see that the features of the man’s face held a fair, exotic kind of beauty that would be impossible for her to describe to anyone else. His face seemed to radiate beauty, just as Kotone’s face seemed the polar opposite. Almost none of their features matched except for their ears the shape of their eyes. Kotone’s were a striking shade of violet, while Kyuushuu’s were a violent shade of golden yellow, but they both looked sad and tired. She had just caught a glimpse of his piercing, amber eyes when he shifted his head slightly to the side, and just for a moment, she thought he looked directly at her.

The man suddenly spoke, saying something to Kotone in a language that certainly wasn’t Japanese. For a moment, Hermione thought that she was mistaken about the man’s gender as his voice had a decidedly feminine quality about it, but his mannerisms and the way he seemed to carry himself left no other doubt in her mind that he was a male.

‘Kyuushuu… Kotone’s Oni father,’ Hermione thought to herself as she sat with her eyes transfixed on the exceptionally impressive Oni warrior.

Upon hearing her Oni father’s words, Kotone quickly glanced around with an unmistakable look of panic in her eyes. The young girl opened her mouth to speak, but Kyuushuu said something to her in his strange language, causing Kotone to visibly relax as she turned back to face Harry.

Hermione watched as Kotone leaned over Harry and placed her forehead against his, just as she had done before in the alleyway in London and at Grimmauld Place with both Ron and Harry. A moment later, Kotone’s tail began twitching under the dirty, gray nightdress that Hermione just noticed had reverted back from the white and gold kimono that she had transfigured days earlier. The young girl suddenly let out a coarse, strangled cry and began convulsing violently while Kyuushuu just stood impassively nearby.

Hermione couldn’t stifle her quiet gasp as she saw the growing bloodstains appear on Kotone’s nightdress on her left sleeve and around the right side of her waist. She also noticed the stream of blood running down her left leg where it emerged from under her clothing. The little half-witch let out a final, pained cry and summarily collapsed onto the floor.

Kyuushuu stooped down and scooped Kotone’s unmoving form into his arms. Then, much to Hermione’s surprise, he turned and looked directly into her astonished brown eyes. For several heartbeats, their gazes locked. As she looked into his surprisingly fierce, amber eyes, she expected to feel something similar to the ‘connection’ that Kotone used to communicate with others, but Hermione felt nothing out of the ordinary until she clearly heard Kyuushuu’s voice in her mind.

‘Your mate is safe now. The –dobunezumi- the secret betrayer, sends a messenger to your mate. Once it has arrived, you must take him away from this place quickly and finish what you have started.’

“Why are you taking Kotone away from us?” whispered Hermione aloud, “What are you doing with her?”

Kyuushuu’s eyes seemed to soften slightly, but also seemed to be looking deeper into her soul. Hermione couldn’t suppress a sharp intake of breath as a wide, radiant smile appeared on his lips. She had never before seen anyone radiate that kind of comfort and warmth with a simple smile. It made her feel safe… and strangely loved, not in a romantic or familial sense, just a pure kind of love that made her breath still and her heart swell within her chest.

‘I see… you love her, also…’ said Kyuushuu in a soft, knowing voice, ‘it is clear that the Lion has made a very wise choice. You also have my blessing.’

Suddenly, his smile disappeared and the ferocity returned to his eyes as he spoke in her mind again, ‘No one must know of what has occurred here. No one must know of my own or my child’s involvement here. I see the question in your soul… why can’t I relieve your mate’s burden? Why can’t I help if my purpose is to ‘hunt’ the dark ones? Suffice it to say that it’s against the rules, so to speak,’ then a shadow of his smile returned, giving Hermione a slight bit of comfort, ‘I’m sure you can relate to that.’

When Kyuushuu’s eyes drifted down to the bag sitting on the floor by Hermione’s side, she wondered if it was only her soul that he could see beneath the cloak, or if he could actually see through it. Either way, he could probably see the bit of Voldemort’s soul attached to the cup in the bag.

‘I would suggest that you perform your duty while your lion rests, and I will tend to my own. Farewell, I-Iguru.’

With that, both Kyuushuu and the unconscious Kotone disappeared in a silent flash of blue light.

Hermione carefully rose from the floor and cautiously approached Harry’s bed with the bag clutched in her arms. She slowly raised the white sheet, but couldn’t tell if there was any change to Harry due to the thick, bloodstained bandages that covered his wounds. Rather than disturb them or him, she replaced the sheet, stepped to the closed door and pressed her ear against it. Once she was sure that nobody was loitering in the hallway beyond, she cracked open the door and quickly slipped out of the room.

Several minutes later, Hermione opened the door to the Room of Requirement and walked into a bare twenty-by-twenty room. After securing the door, she shrugged off the cloak and set it down along with the bag against a wall. She withdrew Hufflepuff’s cup, strode to the center of the room and sat down on the stone floor. She placed the cup on the floor before her, drew her wand, and placed the tip against her forehead. A few minutes later, a final peal of the bell resounded against the walls of the room as another shard of Voldemort’s soul was sent to the underworld, never to see the plane of mortals again.

Hermione quietly placed the cup back into the bag and draped Harry’s cloak over herself. She briefly entertained the thought of staying in the Room of Requirement until the morning, but she wanted to make sure she was with Harry when he awakened. She left the Room of Requirement and returned to the chamber just outside of the hospital wing, back to sit in the dark corner.

She didn’t get any sleep… her eyes were much too busy shifting between Harry’s motionless form and the spatters of Kotone’s blood that had fallen to the floor as Kyuushuu held her.

She hoped Kotone was alright.

-----~-----

Pigwidgeon didn’t know how long he was lying on the fur rug. It might have been minutes, it might have been days… he didn’t know, nor did he care. He didn’t stir until he heard the flapping of large wings from somewhere in the room.

A flutter of white suddenly landed in his field of vision just a few feet in front of him, which didn’t differ very much from the abundant whiteness of the rest of his surroundings, except for an odd streak of green in the center of his vision. As his eyes focused, he saw a pair of amber eyes looking at him curiously before he came to the realization that it was Hedwig standing in front of him with a large, green lizard firmly clutched in her beak.

Hedwig didn’t seem very pleased to see him, but after a few moments her glaring eyes seemed to soften in pity. With a resigned ‘hoot,’ Hedwig dropped her midnight snack on the rug right in front of Pig, obviously offering her meal to him. Hedwig then clipped the string holding the message onto Pigs leg with her sharp beak and relieved him of the little roll of parchment. Hedwig then spread her magnificent wings and rose into the air, dropping the parchment onto the glass coffee table before she shot back out through the door, probably to find a meal to replace the one that she had just surrendered to Pig.

As soon as Hedwig cleared the doorway, Crookshanks nosed the kitchen door open and looked quite surprised to find the annoying little owl sitting in front of the fireplace and looking around dumbly. He studied the little bird for a moment, and then let out a disgruntled ‘meow.’ He disappeared back into the kitchen and returned a minute later pushing along the small paper cup of water that Harry had kindly left on the floor for him. Crookshanks nudged the cup along the floor with his pug nose until it bumped into the edge of the bearskin rug about a foot from the exhausted little owl.

Pigwidgeon let out a soft, grateful ‘hoot’ as he quickly devoured the lizard. He then hopped over to the cup of clean water and, within moments, drained the cup dry. He let out an oddly high-pitched burp, then tiredly fluttered up onto the soft cushion in one of the suspended egg-shaped chairs and promptly fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact: I had originally had Kotone watching the entire scene impassively, but then thought… could Kotone really sit idly by and watch Harry almost get killed without acting irrationally?

48. The Two Secrets

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, and I don’t make any money from playing with the characters. I don’t own the lyric bits, either.

A/N: This is an informational chapter… not much action, but certain things are revealed to the trio. (Yes, Ron’s back!) I don’t think this is left at a cliffie… but then again, maybe it is… Anyway, the final leg of this story is set up here, so things should move very quickly after this chapter. Enjoy! (Word count: 6341)

-----~-----

Chapter 48: The Two Secrets

They want you to decide,
eventually, it happens.
Some gather on one side,
with all their pearly snapping.
They close the basement door,
it sets our teeth to chatter.
You never saw it before,
but now that hardly matters.

You're old enough, boy.
Too many summers you've enjoyed.
So spin the wheel,
we'll set you up with some odd convictions,
because you're finally golden, boy.

Excerpt from the song ‘Split Needles,’ by the band, The Shins.

Harry felt consciousness gradually returning to him, although the horrid memories of his ordeal in the lake seemed to come back to him instantly. The faces of the wounded and dying Merfolk wandered through his mind’s eye as he laid there unmoving. There was no trace of light coming through his closed eyelids, and not a sound reached his ears. He was afraid to open his eyes, because he certainly recalled the injuries he sustained while trying to retrieve Hufflepuff’s cup, but he curiously felt no pain. He wondered if he had died there in the center of the Mervillage until he heard the muffled sound of shuffling feet.

The door to the small antechamber just outside of the Hogwarts infirmary slowly creaked open. Three figures silently slipped into the room and made their way to the prone figure on the bed. An anxious, whispered voice cut the deafening silence within the room.

“See? I told you that I saw him here! It took me a bit to remember where I saw the room, though, but I knew it was in the castle,” came the familiar voice of Ron, filling Harry with an immediate sense of relief. The relief was short lived, however, because then Harry started wondering exactly where he was and what had happened to Hermione and Hufflepuff’s cup.

“Little brother, you are seriously starting to creep us out with these visions you’ve been coming up with,” whispered Fred cautiously.

“Aye, but he was right about this being Harry, wasn’t he?” whispered George right next to Harry’s bed, “It seems he’s asleep, though…”

“I was asleep,” said Harry tiredly, but with a small smile creeping across his face. He cracked open his eyes and saw the three Weasley brothers leaning over him. He shifted his limbs a little and could tell that there were bandages around his left arm and leg, and by the way he had to struggle to draw a breath, he assumed that he also had bandages wrapped tightly around his torso… still, he felt absolutely no pain. He turned his head and looked past the brothers and, although the room was quite dark, he instantly recognized the room he was in. It was the same room where he and Hermione had confronted Ginny about the elixir. That thought brought him back to one of his original concerns.

“Where’s Hermione?” both Ron and Harry asked at the same time.

“She was with me when I went into the lake,” said Harry, “I figured she was the one that pulled me out.”

“What the bloody hell were you doing in the lake?” asked Fred with a bit of a laugh in his voice.”

“We had to look for something that was hidden in there,” answered Harry as he gave a pointed look to Ron.

“You mean a… a… well, you know… Did’ja get it?” asked Ron, just catching himself before he mentioned the ‘H’ word. He had gotten himself into enough trouble spilling the beans about the Dursleys taking Harry’s money, and he didn’t need the additional embarrassment of letting the object of their mission slip in front of his brothers.

“I don’t know, I…” began Harry, but stopped when he saw a white trainer attached to a shapely, disembodied calf that was resting on the floor near a darkened corner of the room. He continued in a whisper, “I think I’ve found Hermione,” as he nodded towards the corner.

Ron walked to the corner and carefully lifted the cloak from over Hermione, who was sitting there sleeping with a bag clutched tightly to her chest. He softly tapped her on the shoulder, causing her to wake with a start.

Hermione blinked the sleep from her eyes until they rested on Harry, who was looking back at her with what looked like relief shining in his eyes. At that moment, Harry was the only other person in the room to her.

“Harry!” exclaimed Hermione as she practically jumped from the floor, dropped the bag that she was clinging to, pushed Ron aside, and then rushed to Harry’s bedside, touching his face and running her hands lightly over his bandaged arm, “How are you feeling? Are you alright? I’ve been so worried! Does it hurt anywhere?”

Harry couldn’t help but to chuckle, but at the same time, he winced in preparation of the pain he would surely feel with his laughter. Strangely enough, the pain never came. He tentatively brushed his right hand, which was still encased in the glove that Kotone had given him, over the bandages on his left bicep. He gave his own arm a slight squeeze just where he knew a large portion of his arm had been torn open, but found that it felt whole beneath its wrappings without even a twinge of pain. His brows knit together in confusion as he quickly undid the bandages and saw that his arm was now completely healed. There wasn’t even a mark where he knew a huge chunk of his arm was ripped open.

As he started to unwrap the bandages from around his torso with the help of Hermione, Harry looked at the assembled group and asked, “What time is it… for that matter, what day is it?”

George glanced at his watch and said, “It’s a bit after two A.M… oh, and happy birthday.”

Harry’s eyes fixed on Hermione and his mouth opened. It had only been about five hours since he entered the lake. A dozen questions threatened to spill forth, but he quickly glanced at Fred and George and his mouth snapped shut. When Harry had finished removing the last of his bandages, his side looked much the same as his arm… completely healed. After only a moment, he said in a hopefully convincing tone, “Looks like Madam Pomfrey worked her usual magic once again.”

Fred and George looked down at Harry’s blood-soaked bandages before giving each other dubious glances. From the looks of the bandages, there had to have been some serious wounds that they were concealing, wounds that they knew would take a considerable amount of time to heal over. They were about to mention something along those lines, but Hermione spoke first.

“How did you know that Harry was here? Don’t tell me that news around here travels this quickly in the middle of the night.”

“Well,” said Ron rather reluctantly, “I’ve been doing a bit of practicing with that ‘wand to the head’ thing that you showed me. I sort of inadvertently had a vision about the twins’ shop being attacked just before it happened…”

“Saved more than a few lives, he did,” interjected George as he ruffled Ron’s already disheveled hair.

Ron slapped George’s hand away from his head in annoyance before he continued, “So I’ve been trying it out every chance I get. I mostly get useless stuff, like seeing what the elves were going to make for lunch or the outcome of a prank that my brothers here played on your cousin…”

“What?” yelled Harry, “Dudley’s here?”

Ron’s face fell as he realized what he just said, knowing that Harry had no idea that his aunt and cousin were currently being housed in the castle. The twins, however, had no reservations about informing Harry about his family’s recent misfortunes.

“Ah, such a tragic tale of woe and hardship,” began George.

“It seems that the inferi… you’ve heard about them, right?” asked Fred.

When Harry nodded, George went on to explain, “It seems that their new mansion…”

“The one they had purchased with your money, mind you,” continued Fred.

“Was directly in their path,” said George.

“And it seems that the letter that Dumbledore left with you when he placed you with them as a baby,” added Fred.

“Was actually a portkey that was supposed to be used to save you in case the Death Eaters discovered where you were living,” explained George

“But that sorry excuse for a family used it to save their own necks when the inferi overran their fabulous new mansion in Brentwood,” spat Fred.

“So now, McGonagall has your aunt and your cousin,” said George.

“As well as the rest of the muggle population, it seems,” exaggerated Fred.

“Staying here at the castle,” finished George.

Harry listened to their oscillating speech with a detached, distant expression. Harry’s stony glare was fixed somewhere on the floor as he asked, “My uncle Vernon… is he here too?”

“No, it seems he was at his work when the inferi went through Brentwood,” answered Ron.

“Brentwood…” commented Harry distantly. He had never been there, but he knew that it was a relatively affluent area to the northeast of London.

The room was silent for a few moments before Hermione asked worriedly, “Harry, are you alright?”

Harry’s eyes drifted distractedly to Hermione’s concerned face. After a few moments, he sighed and said in a resigned tone, “No, not really… but there’s nothing to be done for it, is there?”

“Do you want to confront them?” asked Hermione gently, “I mean, I wouldn’t blame you if you did… nobody would…” Hermione’s eyes darkened as she fingered the handle of her wand and added, “Actually, I’d like to have a go at them myself…”

Harry slowly shook his head, saying, “I’m of age now, and well shut of them. What happens in their lives is no concern of mine.” Desperate to change the subject, he let out a sigh then asked with some concern in his voice, “Well, what about all of the giants that are supposedly near here… any word about them?”

“The aurors said that they’re still in the mountains to the north, but they’re not sure exactly where,” answered Ron, “You’d figure blokes that big would be pretty easy to track…”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room for a few seconds before Ron broke the tension, “Harry, did you ever get an owl from the twins telling you what they found out about the protections around Ollivander’s shop?”

“No, I haven’t seen any owls at all,” answered Harry.

The three brothers shared anxious, knowing glances between themselves before Fred said, “We sent off an owl to you last week. We think that the Dim Lord’s cronies must have intercepted it… we figured that the message was the reason our shop was attacked. We don’t know what’s so important in there, but the information must have sent the Dim One into a right lather if he sent his wankers to try to take us out.”

Harry looked between Ron and Hermione and quietly said, “So he knows…”

“Well, we assumed so, didn’t we?” said Hermione solemnly, “We’re going to have to work fast.”

Harry immediately focused on the twins and he asked, “What did you find out about Ollivander’s place?”

“Well,” began Fred, “his shop has all of the standard business protections. There’s one for fire suppression, one for anti-shoplifting, another for detecting malicious intent, you know, the usual… but oddly enough, there isn’t an Anti-Apparition ward around the shop. Everyone knows there’s an Anti-App ward on the whole Alley to keep anyone from grabbing an expensive knick-knack from a shelf and popping away… so the ward being disabled inside the shop ordinarily wouldn’t make a lot of sense. I really don’t think Ollivander would have disabled it himself.”

“But there are a few additional wards that, while mostly harmless, are still a bit out of the ordinary, along with two that are much more peculiar,” continued George, “The two odd ones are a horizontal area displacement jinx, and a ward that informs anyone entering the premises during non-business hours that there isn’t an Anti-Apparition jinx in effect… of course, any hour of the day is ‘outside of business hours,’ now that the shop’s closed down.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up when she heard what they had said and asked, “That’s absolutely brilliant! I had no idea the displacement could be placed on an area that large! So what forces the Apparition?”

Harry interrupted and asked, “Wait a minute… what’s that bit about displacement, and why do you think someone would be forced to Apparate?”

Harry could tell that the twins were about to launch into what would assuredly be a whimsical, dueling dialogue on exactly what was so curious about the combination of wards, but Hermione was already in her element and continued before the twins had a chance to wind up.

“Horizontal area displacement is an induced effect that shifts the background magic in an environment along a fixed, horizontal plane, causing a minute disjunction between the upper and lower halves of a pre-determined area. Normally, it’s used to keep portions of a potion in a cauldron separated until a certain phase of the potion-brewing process is complete. Once it’s dispelled, the upper and lower halves combine. If that effect is placed in a ward around a room, it would create a waist-level distortion… the effect would go completely unnoticed by anyone entering the area, and it wouldn’t normally affect anyone unless they were to attempt Apparition. Given the fact that there’s a ward that actually tells you that you can Apparate, that leads to the conclusion that, if the effect were to be invoked to defend an area, something would have to force a person who doesn’t belong there to attempt to Apparate out…. well, the result would be disastrous for the person Apparating!”

Harry didn’t fail to notice that Hermione said all of that in only one breath, still, that didn’t mean that he understood half of what she had said. He perplexedly looked to the twins, who wasted no time in clarifying what Hermione had related.

“That means that anyone trying to Apparate from an area so protected would be forced to splinch themselves in two, leaving their lower halves behind,” explained Fred.

“No matter how skilled they were at Apparition,” continued George.

“So, something would have to force the person to Apparate against their will,” added Fred.

“But we have no idea what that could be,” said George.

“Because I didn’t have the chance to actually enter the shop,” finished Fred.

“What if a person uses a portkey?” asked Harry, “Would that cause the same splinching effect?”

“No, portkey travel is entirely different,” said Hermione confidently, “it wouldn’t affect floo travel, either. That’s why we think that there must be something to force an Apparition… maybe the area fills with poison gas, or a swarm of wasps is released… something that would make a person desperate to leave in a hurry.”

Harry would have to keep that in mind. He was becoming way too comfortable with Apparition, so he had to be absolutely sure that no matter what happens, he can’t allow himself to Apparate out.

Then a thought occurred to Harry, “What would happen to a person who Apparates into that distortion… displacement… thing?”

Hermione thought for a moment before saying, “I don’t think it would have any effect on the person, it would just activate the ward. It’s only when the person leaves through Apparition does the displacement come into play.”

Harry nodded and turned back to the twins, “Alright, so what else can I expect?”

“Well, as I said, I didn’t actually enter the shop,” said Fred, “but what I could gather from the outside was that there’s a right annoying anti-burglary ward around the entire building. You can take whatever you like while you’re inside, but if you try to leave with anything you didn’t enter with or didn’t pay for, you’d be confunded on the spot, and a built-in compulsion hex would force you to drop everything you were carrying… even your clothes… inside of the door before being physically ejected into the street.”

“You’d be found wandering absently around the Alley completely starkers,” added George with a chortle, “We have the same ward on our shop, except that after the thief gets naked, they’ll start dancing a jig.”

Harry nodded, thinking that it was another thing he had to be aware of, “Anything else?”

“Well, there’s a minor ‘uneasy-queasy’ spell, and a ‘magic buzz’ cantrip that affects anyone entering. They don’t really do anything, except to make you a bit uncomfortable, but we think that’s something that old man Ollivander put up just to give the place an eerie feel about it and to impress the kids who go in to get their first wands.”

Harry did remember that effect when he bought his wand before the first year. He recalled the feeling of latent magic permeating the room, and he was certainly feeling quite uneasy as that magical tape measure was darting around him all on its own.

“There may be more protections inside that we couldn’t detect,” cautioned Fred, “but it was the best we could do.”

“Alright, then,” sighed Harry as he reached below the sheets and started unraveling the bandages from around his leg, “We’ll go there tonight.” Then Harry glanced at Hermione and said, “Same plan as in the lake, but with a slight change.”

“Then I think you’ll need these,” said Hermione as she retrieved the bag that she had dropped. She approached his bed and, as she withdrew Harry’s clothes from within the bag, Hufflepuff’s golden chalice accidentally fell to the floor with a loud clatter. She hastily handed Harry his clothes and then quickly scooped the cup from the floor.

“Is that it?” asked Ron as his eyes worriedly followed the cup, “Has it been, you know, ‘taken care of?’”

Hermione glanced at Harry and saw the same question in his eyes as he dressed. She simply nodded, and both Ron and Harry let out audible sighs, causing the twins to look strangely between the three of them before they focused on the cup in Hermione’s hand.

George leaned in closer to get a better look at the embossed emblem on the side of the cup, “Isn’t that Hufflepuff’s badger on the side there?”

Fred’s eyes widened as he noticed the same thing, “That’s a founder’s relic, that is! Cor, it must be worth a small fortune! No wonder you braved the lake to get it. If we knew this was down there, we would have gone after it ourselves!”

“Too right you are,” agreed George excitedly, “Is that why you wanted to know about Ollivander’s shop? Is there another little goodie like this in there?”

“Listen, mates,” said Harry seriously, “Just forget that you ever saw this thing. Forget what it is and forget where we found it. That information is more dangerous than you’ll ever realize, and if certain people hear of it… well, it could cause a lot of problems for you, and for us.”

As Hermione hastily placed the cup back into the bag, Ron turned to Harry and said, “You know, I wasn’t able to return to… you know… ‘the house.’ Are you going to let me in on the secret so I can go back with you guys? I mean, you are still staying there, right?” Ron’s voice became quieter as he added, “You… you still need me along, don’t you?”

Hermione looked at Ron and gave him an apologetic grimace before she said, “We’re sorry, Ron, but we can’t tell you…”

Ron’s hopeful face fell and he said, “Oh… well, I understand… I’d be just getting in the way and…”

“No,” interrupted Harry quickly, “She means that we can’t tell you. Only the secret-keeper can do that… and… and she’s gone.”

Hermione could hear the deep hurt in Harry’s voice, and it nearly broke her heart. She wanted nothing more than to tell him that she’d seen Kotone not a few hours before, alive and well… well, at least she was alive. She wanted to tell him that it was Kotone who healed his wounds by taking them onto herself, but she vividly recalled the look that Kyuushuu gave her, and that was enough for her to keep her silence. Instead, she sat down on the bed next to Harry and wrapped him in a comforting hug. Harry, in turn, rested his head on her shoulder and buried his face in her hair while wrapping his own arms around her.

This, of course, caused the twins to grin broadly at each other, and Ron to look down to inspect the lacing on his trainers, although he still wore a small smile.

Harry sighed into Hermione’s hair, and then stood from the bed, saying to Ron, “Of course you can come with us. We’ve found another place to stay, but we have one other thing to do before we go back there, and we’ll need you there to help.

While Ron visibly brightened, Hermione stood and, while her eyes were fixed on the pile of bloody bandages on the bedside table, she asked Harry, “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to leave? You know that there’ll be hell to pay once Madam Pomfrey returns and sees you’re not here… and McGonagall will be none too pleased, either.”

“Don’t worry about them,” said Fred.

“We’ll cover for you,” added George.

“We’ll just tell ‘em that we saw Fawkes passing by and told him of our troubles with our shop and the Burrow,” continued Fred.

“The bloody bird broke down in tears, he did!” said George.

“Blubbering all over our Harry, here,” grinned Fred.

“The next thing you know, Harry’s walking and talking, just as if he were alive!” snickered George.

“Harry said something about wanting to go snog his girlfriend, and off he went, without even a fine ‘how do you do!’” finished Fred.

Harry and Ron laughed, while Hermione’s cheeks turned an interesting shade of pink.

Harry clapped his hands on the twins’ shoulders and said, “Thanks, mates. We appreciate it, although I very much doubt they’d buy a story like that. We’ve really got to get going… time’s running out.”

The three expertly navigated the castles many twisting, shifting hallways, heading for the main entrance. Ron had no problem being seen by the occasional auror stationed around the staircases as he was supposed to be inside of the castle. Whenever he was questioned, he’s simply say that he was heading to the kitchens to beg a snack from the house elves. There was something to be said about being known for one’s appetite.

Harry and Hermione followed along sharing the space beneath the invisibility cloak. It was a good thing that neither one was very tall and that they were both quite thin, as they would have had a difficult time fitting under the cloak together if either one of those factors were different.

They had just made it into the main hallway on the second floor when a swift streak of black and grey came soaring towards them from the stairway ahead. A large great horned owl lit on the floor in front of Harry and Hermione and stuck its leg out. Harry bent down, forcing Hermione to stoop along with him, and carefully removed the note from the bird’s leg. The owl just sat there, looking at the empty space ahead of him as if waiting for something.

Harry could tell right away that the message was actually two bits of parchment stuck one on top of the other, but couldn’t seem to separate them as he unrolled them. Ron moved to where the bits of parchment were seemingly hovering in the air so that he could also look. Harry drew back the hood of the cloak, revealing both his and Hermione’s wide, disbelieving eyes. Written on the top parchment was a short, simple statement.

‘The Potters are living at Number Seven Aerie Green, Godric’s Hollow, Devon.’

“Why would someone send you an address in Godric’s Hollow?” asked Ron as he stared at the trembling parchment.

Before anyone could answer, the top sheet of parchment burst into flames. Harry instinctively released the parchment, sending it fluttering to the floor. It took a moment for Harry to compose himself before he reached down and picked it up again. There was another statement written on the second scrap of parchment.

‘Nagini is hidden at Number Seven Aerie Green, Godric’s Hollow, Devon.’

A short note was written below which simply read, ‘Forgive me,’ and was signed, ‘Peter Pettigrew.’

“Bloody Hell, Harry!” whispered Ron as he read the name. A few seconds later, that bit of parchment burst into flames, leaving nothing but ashes drifting to the floor.

“He… he’s hidden his snake in my parents’ house…” whispered Harry hoarsely.

“The Fidelis from when you lived there with your parents must still be in effect,” whispered Hermione absently, “Wormtail is still the secret-keeper, even after all these years… and a second Fidelis must have been placed there to hide Nagini… ingenious… two overlapping Fidelis Charms! He had to use the same secret keeper… I didn’t even think it was possible to perform that spell while…”

“Will you please stop complimenting Voldemort?” hissed Harry sharply, but sighed a moment later when he saw Hermione’s crestfallen expression and said, “I’m sorry, but really… it’s a bit unnerving, to say the least.”

None of them noticed that the owl that had delivered the message had flown off down the corridor, just as none of the three had noticed the three sets of eyes watching them carefully. Two pairs of ethereal eyes, one pair of amethyst, the other of amber, watched silently from above them. The third pair of pearly, translucent eyes belonging to the Gryffindor Ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, was staring at the group from within a shadowed niche in the hallway.

“Before we leave, we have to visit Hagrid,” said Harry as he drew the hood of the cloak up once again and the trio continued down the hall, oblivious to the presence of the observers.

Eventually, they reached the stairs leading to the front door and discovered that Benjamin Bones, along with another auror, were quietly standing guard. Hermione recognized the petit, strawberry blonde auror as the one that was insisting that Harry was an impostor. The three stood at the top of the stairs just out of sight.

“I’m sure Ben would let us out,” whispered Hermione, “but that other auror is a bit high-strung… she may be a problem.”

“Leave it to me,” said Ron confidently as he started down the stairs.

When Ron reached the two aurors, Harry and Hermione heard him say, “Excuse me, Mr. Bones, can I speak with you a minute? I… I need some advice.” The other auror, Christiana Coddington, moved a bit closer to Ben. Ron turned to her, but was still speaking to Ben, “It’s about my girlfriend, and I need a male point of view…”

When Christiana made no motion to give them any privacy, he turned back to Ben, flashed a brief smile, and said, a bit more loudly than necessary, “You see, whenever we get together, she always wants me to perform oral sex on her before we actually make love…”

Ben just stood there, wondering why the Weasley boy was even confiding in him, of all people, while Coddington moved in even closer with a curious smile on her face, apparently anxious to play ‘relationship doctor,’ and the young woman didn’t mind listening to a randy tale in the least.

“Well, this afternoon, she started her period,” continued Ron with a serious expression, “She told me she doesn’t want to have regular sex while she’s on her period, so she told me to stick it up her bum!”

At the mention of that, Coddington’s face paled and she took an instinctive step back.

“I don’t mind it so much, it’s kinda fun actually… quite a bit tighter than the other way, you know, but that’s not what my problem is… you see, she still wants me to perform oral sex on her… but it tastes bloody awful, and the little clots get stuck in my teeth… although they do make a funny little ‘pop’ when I bite them… but that’s not the worst of it! I don’t know what got in her head, but as she was sitting on my face, she dropped a crapper on me! It scraped along my chin and landed with a ‘plop’ right on my chest!”

In the course of a few heartbeats, Coddington’s face went from white to green. She took another stumbling step backwards and said through her hand that was covering her mouth, “Got to… loo… Oh, God!”

With a loud, gurgling belch, Coddington disappeared down the hallway towards the nearest loo.

“Alright,” said Ben, who was having a hard time keeping his laughter in check, “Now that you got rid of her, what’s this really about?”

“We need to get out of the castle,” said Harry as he removed the hood from over his and Hermione’s face, “and we didn’t think she’d be too keen on letting us waltz out of here.”

The shock was evident on Ben’s face as he looked at Harry while drawing his wand, “What? How? Dammit, Potter, the moment I think I have you figured out, you go and surprise me again. Take that damned cloak off!” He saw Harry eyeing the wand in his hand and gruffly sighed, “I’m only going to examine you… you were on death’s doormat just a few hours ago, and McGonagall would have my yarbles in a wringer if I let you stroll out of here without at least finding out if you’re going to make it more than twenty yards from the door.

When Harry emerged from under the cloak, Ben immediately noticed that his formerly injured, now un-bandaged arm was fully exposed from the sleeve of his brown tee shirt. He grabbed Harry’s wrist and examined his left bicep. There was no trace of any injury, not even a scar, not counting the one on his forearm from Pettigrew’s dagger in the graveyard years before. Harry lifted the hem of the tee shirt up to his chest, revealing the area that had been sliced open by the side fin of the charging hippocampus, but just like his arm, there was no sign of any injury at all. Ben deftly cast a diagnostic charm on him, but could fine nothing wrong with him whatsoever.

Ben sighed again, then turned and opened the door, “Out with you, then, before Coddington gets back… and Harry?”

Harry had just covered Hermione and himself with the cloak, but pulled the hood open to reveal his face.

“Make sure you’re outside of the wards before you Disapparate… and be careful. I know you can’t say what you’re up to, but if you ever need my help… well, don’t hesitate to call on me if the need arises.”

Harry smiled appreciatively and pulled the hood back over his face. A moment later, Ben closed the door just in time to see Coddington returning from the ladies’ loo, looking sickly pale and sweaty. She glanced around nervously, apparently looking for the crude redhead with exceedingly disgusting romantic problems.

“Christiana, you don’t look so good. Why don’t you go and have a lie-down? Billings should be up by now, so you can send him down to cover for you.”

Coddington nodded absently as she unsteadily made her way to the staircase. Ben just grumbled about ‘green recruits’ again, and then turned worriedly towards the door that the trio had just left through.

Harry and Hermione were following behind Ron as they made their way across the grounds towards Hagrid’s cabin.

“Ron!” whispered Hermione, “How could you think up such an unbelievable story like that? I mean, it did work, but don’t you think you took it a bit far?”

“Unbelievable story?” asked Ron perplexedly, “but I didn’t make it… oh, yes, a story… well… quick thinking on my part, and all that… I had to make her leave, you know?” In the darkness, neither Harry nor Hermione could see the burning blush colour Ron’s face, but the way he stammered out his reply caused the colour to slightly drain away from theirs. The rest of the journey to Hagrid’s hut was made in uncomfortable silence.

As they were approaching, they heard Fang growling and barking at the cabin door. A moment after Ron rapped loudly on the door, it opened to show Hagrid standing there with his crossbow pointed out through the opening. It only took him a second to realize who was knocking on his door at four in the morning.

“Ron! What’re ya doin’ ‘ere at this time o’ the mornin’? Is anything wrong up at… what the... Harry?” Hagrid paused as he watched the faces of Harry and Hermione emerge from beneath the cloak’s hood. He craned his head through the doorway to see if anyone else was around, and then held the door open and stood aside, saying, “Get in ‘ere before yer seen!”

After Hagrid closed the door, he turned to see Harry and Hermione appear from under the cloak.

A curious look came over Hagrid’s face as he asked, “Where’s our Miss Oota?”

“It’s ‘Miss Potter’ now,” said Hermione quickly, “Harry adopted her yesterday, but she’s… not with us at the moment.”

Hagrid’s eyes widened as he said disbelievingly, “Adopted ‘er? You actually took an ‘alf-breed into yer family’s line?”

Harry felt a twinge of annoyance at Hagrid’s incredulous tone, and was about to go off on him but paused when he saw the half-giant wipe his eyes on the sleeve of his nightshirt.

“I can’t believe you’d do summut like that for ‘er!” said Hagrid with a bit of a waver in his voice, “I knew you was a thumpin’ good wizard, Harry… never doubted it for an instant!”

Hagrid wiped his leaking eyes again, and them pulled a huge hanky out of the pocket of his nightshirt and blew his nose loudly before saying, “Well, since it’s your birthday, I have somethin’ for you.”

Hagrid walked towards the fireplace and took a box down from the mantle. He walked back over to Harry and placed the box in his hands. Harry opened the lid on the box and almost laughed when he saw the cake inside that looked just like the one he was given to him when they had first met.

“I made it myself,” said Hagrid proudly, although that fact was obvious to Harry by the way ‘Happy Birthday, Harry’ was scrawled across the icing.

“How did you know I was going to be here?” asked Harry as he stared down at the cake.

“Well, I didn’ know… I make a cake for you every year, but I usually end up eatin’ it meself…” said Hagrid solemnly, “It’s the least I can do for James an’ Lily, to remember their son’s birthday…”

Harry was touched. He felt a small lump rise in his throat, and had to swallow it painfully down so that he could say, “Thanks a lot, Hagrid… that means a lot to me. Actually, we’re here to ask you about Godric’s Hollow. We need to know how to get there.”

Hagrid’s face fell as he said, “You know I’d like to, Harry, but I can’t tell yeh…”

“We know about the Fidelis on the house,” said Harry, “Pettigrew sent a note telling us the secret, so it won’t be invisible to us. We just need the general area so we’ll know where to look for it.”

Hagrid spent some time explaining how Godric’s Hollow was a short way to the north from the town of Cheriton in the Exmoor Forest. They talked for a short while longer and once they were confident that they could locate the house, they excused themselves and prepared to leave.

Hagrid showed them to the door as he said, “its great seein’ ya again, Harry… you too, Hermione. Make sure you stop in for a visit the next time you’re… What’re you lot doin’ here?”

Hagrid was looking out through the door that he had just opened for the trio. Harry turned and looked out through the open doorway, and was instantly shocked into silence as he saw the vast congregation gathered in front of Hagrid’s hut.

“What are they doing here?” whispered Hermione.

A figure emerged from the vast multitude and glided slowly up to the hut, stopping just before the trio, but looking directly into Hermione’s eyes.

“Miss Granger,” greeted Sir Nicholas, “we were wondering if you could spare a few moments. We have something we’d like to discuss with you.”

Hermione’s eyes drifted across the throng of specters spread across the Hogwarts grounds. She saw the members of the Headless Hunt, all mounted on their ghostly steeds, standing silently behind Nearly Headless Nick. She saw the Grey Lady, The Fat Friar and even the Bloody Baron milling around in a large group with the other Hogwarts ghosts. Groups of ghosts that she didn’t recognize whispered anxiously to themselves, all fidgeting nervously, and all had their pearly eyes trained on Hermione, making the uneasiness within her grow each passing second. It was almost as if every ghost in England was gathered on the Hogwarts green.

Suddenly, Hermione’s eyes widened and fear gripped her heart as the realization struck her. She looked into Nick’s anxious eyes, and she immediately knew what they all wanted…

Hermione quickly turned away from the gathered multitude and buried her face in her hands. Tears came to her eyes as she thought, ‘They want to pass on… and they want me to do it for them!’

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49. The Return of the Lost Soul

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe. I only claim my original characters, and I suppose the plot, too… None of the lyric bits are mine, either.

A/N: Well, well, well! I suppose I’ve found the secret to getting reviews! Just add in a few explicit and criminally disgusting lines, and voila! ^_^ In this chapter, we have the conversation with the ghosts, Harry goes after Ravenclaw’s wand, and we get a peek at what’s happening with good ol’ Tommy Boy. We also have a bit more of Luna’s ‘oddity’ here… just a taste for you fans of perversion! (I do have an odd sense of humor, don’t I?) I’m sorry this took so long to post… it’s taking quite a bit for me to find the time to write, and I’ve had a slight bit of a block as well. I think it’s going to be worse in the next chapter, as I’m sure you can guess… Harry’s meeting with the goblins is going to take a LOT of thought, so I’ll apologize beforehand about next chapter. ^_^; I hope you enjoy this one, though! Cheers! (Word Count: 6523)

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Chapter 49: The Return of the Lost Soul

You're taking the fun out of everything.
You're making it clear when I don't want to think.
You're taking me up when I don't want to go up anymore…
I'm just watching it all.

There's no other way,
there's no other way.
All that you can do is watch them play.

Excerpt from the song, ‘There’s No Other Way,’ by the band, Blur.

-----~-----

Harry stared incredulously at Nearly-Headless Nick as Ron stood beside him mimicking a goldfish out of water. They had both clearly heard the ghost’s request, but neither seemed to immediately grasp the implication of the appeal. After a few anxious moments, Harry turned to see Hermione facing away from the host of spirits with her face in her hands. He turned back to the group of ghosts to see them staring back at the trio expectantly.

“What do you mean, ‘you want to pass on?’” Harry looked at Nick specifically and said, “I remember you saying that you might have made a mistake staying here after you died, but you said it yourself, it was too late… you can’t move on!”

“That was before we knew about her,” said Nearly Headless Nick as he pointed at Hermione, “Since I died, there have been three Necromancers who lived in Britain at different times, and none of those three would have been sympathetic to our plight… but Miss Granger… well, most of us Hogwarts ghosts know of her abundant, but sometimes misplaced, compassion, and…”

“How did you know?” came a weak, cracking voice from inside Hagrid’s hut, causing the focus of attention to shift from Harry to Hermione’s back, as she was still facing into the room and away from the multitude of spirits.

“I’m afraid that would be because of me,” said an eerily jolly voice from within the crowd. A few moments later, the Fat Friar, the house ghost of Hufflepuff, stepped out from the throng, “Pomona Sprout asked if I could check to see if the Sabregrass in Greenhouse Three was ready to be harvested… it has to be picked in early morning, and apparently Madam Pomfrey was in need of some for a potion. On my way to the greenhouse, I heard a bell toll, and I saw you by the Headmaster’s tomb…”

“But… how could you know what I was doing?” asked Hermione in a choked whisper.

“Before I died, I was a ‘man of the cloth’ during the Middle Ages, you see… I know an exorcism ritual when I see one, Miss Granger… it was quite obvious to me what you were doing.”

“Then you must know why I can’t do it for you,” said Hermione forcefully as she spun around to face the crowd for the first time, “How can you ask me to do… that! Do you even realize what you’re asking me to do… what the consequences are? I know Sir Nicholas’s story… beheaded because of a mishap with a spell, but you… you are another story.”

“I’ve been wandering these halls since the year 1232,” said the Fat Friar solemnly, “I will admit it, I was afraid of death at the time… but I believe I’ve wandered this world long enough! I miss my family and friends… I made a mistake staying here, and many of us here feel the same way as I do, as you can tell.”

“You don’t get it, do you?” said Hermione angrily, “I’ve seen what awaits all of you on the other side, and not all of it is sunshine and daisies!” Hermione stepped forward and pointed at the Fat Friar, “You had good reason to be afraid of death! I know of you, Abbot of Fountain Abbey, or should I call you Friar Tuck? Yes, I do know of your life. How many murders had you been a party to? I believe you have never directly murdered, you let the band of thieves handle that, but only you can answer that. Don’t just assume you’ll be reunited with your loved ones… you just might be in for a very rude surprise.”

Hermione then turned to the gathered members of the Headless Hunt and said, “You there, how virtuous were your lives? By the dress of you, I’d say most of you were Norman raiders or Saxon brigands, beheaded for crimes against the Lords and the Crown. A few of you even look to be Norse invaders, but believe me, it doesn’t matter if you had your weapon in your hand when you died… there’s no huge banquet hall in Valhalla for you! You have no idea what awaits you on the other side!”

Hermione suddenly spun on her heel and pointed at the Bloody Baron of Slytherin and continued her rant, clearly becoming even angrier. Her eyes traveled over the large, dripping bloodstains on his pearly, ethereal garments as she practically yelled, “And you, Baron Henry Crittenden… Do you honestly believe that I want to be responsible for sending you to your ‘just rewards’ after what you did during your life? You were responsible for the Massacre of Ravenshall Glen! You single handedly wiped out an entire wizarding village because you were attacked by the father of a young witch that you had brutally raped and tortured! I can tell you right now that your half-life here as a ghost is a far cry better than what awaits you in the afterlife, that is, if karma has anything to do with it at all!”

“How do you know all that stuff about them?” asked Ron in disbelief.

Hermione spun around and snarled at Ron, “Are you ever going to read Hogwarts: A History, or are you resplendent in your continued ignorance?”

Not waiting for an answer to her rhetorical question, she turned back to the ghosts and firmly said, “Are you so sure of what is actually waiting for you on the other side? You’re all asking me to be the judge of your souls, but I refuse to do it! I can’t do it! Don’t you understand?” Tears came to her eyes as she looked down to her feet, “I’m terribly sorry, but I can’t give you what you’re asking for. I know that there are some among you who would end up at peace, but I just don’t have a way to tell, we don’t have the time, and truthfully, I don’t have the desire to ‘play God’ today. Harry, Ron… let’s go.”

With that, trio gave a solemn wave to Hagrid and began walking towards the main gates, gliding through the ghosts and ignoring the terrible, chilling sensations caused by passing through their ghostly bodies. Most of the ghosts just stared somberly as Hermione passed, and others had their heads hung low as they considered the lives that they had once led. It was obvious that none of the ghosts had considered beforehand what the afterlife might be like for them.

As they approached the gates that led to the road beyond the Hogwarts grounds, a lone, shadowed figure stood ominously in the early morning gloom. The trio paused only a moment before approaching the figure, only to discover that it was none other than Luna Lovegood barring their way. Harry and Hermione walked confidently towards the gate, but surprisingly, Ron fell back a few steps behind them.

“Hello, Luna,” said Harry as he approached, “It’s a bit early in the morning for you to be up and about, isn’t it?”

Luna, wearing her customary detached demeanor, looked past Harry and Hermione and said to Ron, “Good Morning, Harry… hello Ronald… I see you’re about to go off on another adventure with Harry, here.”

Both Harry and Hermione noticed that Luna had purposefully ignored the presence of Hermione entirely, not even sparing her a glance. Ron, however, looked as though he had swallowed a flobberworm as he nervously replied, “H-hi Luna… yeah… well… Harry needs me to… well… we’re going somewhere important, and…”

“and you didn’t even think to let me know that you were leaving the castle?”

“Sorry, Luna… I thought you were sleeping, and I really didn’t have time to leave a note for you… I was going to owl you as soon as Pig got back, ‘though I have no idea where the bloody bird is at the moment…” Ron hung his head and said, “Sorry, hon… forgive me?”

Luna’s eyes drifted distractedly towards the Black Lake as she answered in a matter-of-fact tone, “Of course I don’t forgive you, Ronald…” Ron’s face fell from the hopeful, optimistic smile to a pained grimace until she continued in a voice that held absolutely no mirth, but only promise, “it will be much more fun punishing you once you come back.”

Harry wore a puzzled expression as he watched Ron’s face fall into a worried frown for just an instant, before it morphed into an obviously dreamy and distant smile, followed with a terrified, wide-eyed look of realization that she had actually said that aloud in front of Harry and Hermione.

Luna handed Ron a small sack and said, “Your brothers told me you were going off with Harry. They wanted me to make sure you got that before leaving.” She turned and began walking back towards the castle, but stopped after a few steps and dreamily said over her shoulder, “Just make sure you bring back enough of yourself for me to punish.”

Ron was snapped out of his glassy-eyed stare when Hermione abruptly grabbed his arm and roughly pulled him towards the gate. An instant later, her eyes widened in realization and she let go of his arm as if it were on fire, then looked abashedly at Harry, who was looking at the scene with abject confusion clearly etched in his eyes.

“Let’s just get out of here…” said Hermione as she stepped through the gates and grabbed hold of Harry’s arm, “to The Cauldron, then?”

“Diagon Alley?” asked Ron, “We’re going after the wand right now?”

“Voldemort already knows that I’m after his horcruxes,” answered Harry as he held his other arm out to Ron, “We have to do this now before he decides to move them… If he were to move the wand and bury it under a rock in the middle of some forest somewhere, we’d have no hope of finding it… and don’t worry, all you’ll be doing is taking care of Hermione’s body while I get the wand.”

Ron, being already ‘stimulated’ by Luna’s overtly suggestive behavior just a few scant moments before, just stared disbelievingly at Harry, wondering why he was even suggesting such a thing, while Hermione turned an interesting shade of crimson and began stammering incoherently, trying and failing to explain to Ron what Harry actually meant.

“No! You see I’m going with Harry, but I’m leaving my body with you… No! I… I mean, you’re going to watch me while I’m with him… oh dear…”

As Hermione rambled, Ron was just looking between Harry and Hermione with a shocked, yet somewhat intrigued expression.

“Just come on!” said Harry exasperatedly, clearly missing what was so wrong about what was being said. He grabbed hold of Ron’s wrist and an instant later, they were standing in the alley between The Leaky Cauldron and the entrance to Diagon Alley, which, much to their surprise, had been mysteriously left open. They glanced through the arched portal and looked down along the darkened Alley, finding it completely deserted.

Harry carefully opened the door to the tavern, lit Kotone’s wand and looked inside. Broken chairs and tables were scattered around the room, half of the bar was torn away from the wall and lay on its front while the other half was pushed across the room and was wedged in front of the hall that led to the back rooms and also blocked the stairway leading up to the inn rooms. Fragments of glass from shattered bottles littered the floor, along with dark brown stains that could have been either spilled firewhiskey or blood… in the dim wandlight, they really couldn’t tell.

It was obvious, however, that there was nobody there. As silently as they could, the trio made their way across the room. They scurried over the bar and climbed the stairs to the inn rooms. After a quick search to ensure they were truly alone, they picked an empty room that seemed most defensible in case any Death Eaters decided to investigate the building. They slung a heavy blanket over the window and then lit the lamps that lined the walls.

“Alright, once I’m out, barricade the door and seal it up the best you can. I’ll go down to the entrance to the Alley and wait for Hermione.” Harry looked directly at Ron and said seriously, “All you have to do is protect this room. When Hermione’s with me, her body is completely defenseless, so we’re counting on you to keep her safe… I’m counting on you…”

“Wait a sec…” said Ron while shaking his head, “If she’s going with you, how is she staying here?”

“My soul is going to leave my body and will follow Harry,” explained Hermione, “If something goes wrong, I’ll come back here and we can go help him. That’s why we’re hiding in here and not miles away… we have to stay close to Ollivander’s, and yet remain hidden and protected. We almost considered the Twins’ shop, but didn’t want to deal with whatever protections they have there. We couldn’t very well ask them to let us in without telling them why, and you heard them yourself… imagine me dancing a jig down Diagon Alley while completely starkers!”

Hermione said it before she realized exactly what she was saying. She only realized her mistake when she saw the look of mild disgust cross Ron’s face.

Hermione roughly slapped his arm and said angrily, “Honestly, it wouldn’t be that disturbing… at least I don’t have to worry about being molested while I leave my body with you.”

Harry, too, noticed the look that Ron gave, but only smiled inwardly as the vision of a naked, dancing Hermione jiggled her way through his mind’s eye. He was broken out of his stupor when Hermione roughly shoved the bag she was carrying into his arms and then forcefully pushed him out through the doorway. An instant later, the door briefly lit up with a sealing charm, and then the sounds of furniture being piled against the closed door met his ears.

Harry slung the bag over his shoulder and silently made his way down the stairs, over the broken bar, across the tavern and out into the alleyway behind The Leaky Cauldron. He leaned back into a shadowed corner and entered his state, feeling the sensation of time slowing around him. Even though it was less than half of a minute in ‘real’ time, it felt to him like hours had passed before he saw the ethereal image of a glorious, golden eagle float through the closed doorway to the inn.

Harry still couldn’t help but to stare at the magnificent visage before him. The simple elegance of her movements, her graceful stance, and the energy that seemed to surround her soul’s form enthralled him. He stood there staring at her until he clearly heard her voice echoing through his mind, ‘We don’t have all night, Harry. Let’s go.’

Once again, Harry had to bring his mind back into focus. He stepped towards the entrance to Diagon Alley, but stopped when he heard Hermione say, ‘What are you doing? You need to go there yourself, not just your soul!’

Harry looked to Hermione perplexedly, then noticed from the corner of his eye that his body was still standing there, slumped in the corner of the alleyway and staring blankly at where Hermione’s soul was standing. He moved back, and with only a thought, re-entered his body. He had to adjust how deeply he was into his state to be able to control and move his body without actually leaving it. He found that in order to move properly, he had to be rooted to the point where he couldn’t see the souls around him, but could also tell that time was still somewhat shifted. Even though he was moving in a slightly accelerated state, it still felt like he was moving underwater, with resistance greeting each of his limbs as he tried to move.

After a few more adjustments, he was able to move normally, but felt that he wasn’t using his state to its full capacity. He still didn’t have the sensation of being able to ‘feel’ everything around him as he did during the failed enhancement ritual. Although he wasn’t able to truly ‘see’ his surroundings, he could still tell that Hermione was there with him.

As he walked down the alley towards Ollivander’s shop, he was constantly adjusting how deep he was in his state. He soon discovered that there was a fine line to what he could and couldn’t actually do with his body while in his state. He somehow knew that he ‘should’ be able to move freely while fully in his state, but whenever he got to the point where he could sense his surroundings and the souls around him, it felt like his body was moving through custard. He would have to talk to Hermione about that at a later time.

Harry found himself standing in front of the boarded-up door of Ollivander’s shop. As he carefully ran his hand along the edges of the door, he discovered that the boards were placed with a sticking charm only on the door itself, not on the surrounding threshold. He grasped the handle to the door, and sure enough, it opened easily, emitting an ominous creak from the long unused hinges. He glanced around the abandoned alley, and when he was sure nobody was there watching, he slipped through the doorway into the shop.

The instant he entered the building, one thought came clearly to his mind… there wasn’t an anti-apparition jinx on the building. Although he already knew that fact, he was reassured that the twins had given him good information. He couldn’t physically tell if there was a Displacement ward in effect, but Hermione had mentioned that it would be virtually undetectable to anyone entering. He forced the thought to the front of his mind… ‘Do not Apparate!’

Harry looked to his right and saw the access door to the front window display case just a few feet beside him. He took one step from the doorway and jumped when the door slammed loudly shut, and then disappeared altogether, leaving a solid blank wall in its place.

Harry quickly glanced around, but saw nothing else out of place. The bare shelves that had once held a multitude of boxes leant a dreary, abandoned atmosphere to the room. He instantly began feeling restless, as if he were being watched by scrutinizing, unfriendly eyes. The walls seemed to radiate a powerful magic, making him feel quite small and inadequate. He tried to keep in mind the warnings that the twins had given him about the wards and protections that were in place, but it seemed that the more he tried to assure himself that what he was feeling was the effects of multiple security wards, the more anxious he became as his subconscious tried to convince him that what he was feeling was real. Still, he was able to concentrate on the one thought, his one purpose… to get the wand in the window.

Harry took another step towards the access door and reached his hand out to the latch. He froze when he heard a pleading voice, gravelly, familiar and terrifying at the same time, “What are you do? Prease! Do not hurt!”

‘Kotone!’ thought Harry as his eyes snapped to the doorway to the back room beside the main counter.

Another, different voice rang out… an all too familiar voice began pleading, “No! Don’t hurt her!”

‘Hermione?’

At that point, Harry heard a high, cruel laugh that sent a shiver along his already heightened nerves. A third voice spoke… a voice that he was totally unprepared to hear, “Imperio!”

Harry leapt into action. He ran towards the open doorway to the back room. Between the high walls holding up the rows of empty shelves, he saw Lord Voldemort, looking as menacing and snake-like as ever, holding his wand on a blankly staring Hermione, who was in turn holding her wand on the cowering figure of Kotone, crouched in a fetal position on the floor in a corner of the room.

Hermione briefly glanced at Harry before she displayed a wicked grin and turned to Kotone.

“It’s me he loves, not you… You have him fooled, but not me! It’s time to eliminate the competition!” Hermione thrust her wand at cowering young half-witch and before Harry could react, she yelled, “Avada Kedavra!”

Kotone’s violet eyes locked pleadingly to his and she called out to him, “SHII-“

The rush of wind and the flash of green was the entirety of Harry’s consciousness. He watched numbly as Kotone’s lifeless body relaxed onto the floor, but the now empty, violet eyes remained locked with his, staring back at him… still pleading with him… but absent of the life and love he had been so used to seeing in them.

Harry felt dizzy. He felt angry. He felt as though his world was collapsing around him. He could almost hear his heart breaking inside of his chest. He could feel a pressure all over his body, as if he were deep underwater. He just kept staring at those empty eyes that were staring unseeingly back at him, almost expecting her to create that odd connection of hers… even though he knew it wasn’t going to happen.

Harry didn’t even realize that he had stopped breathing. Only when he heard Hermione’s voice did he gasp in a painful breath as he looked away from his dead daughter, “Oh, but look at what I’ve done… I don’t suppose you’ll ever forgive me for that…” Hermione placed her wand against her own throat and continued, “I’m sorry, Harry, but you must realize by now that I could never share you with anyone else… but now I suppose it’s much too late… I’d rather die than to live without…”

Hermione suddenly froze. She was standing motionlessly in the center of the room with Voldemort standing along the opposite wall directly behind her.

“What will you do now, Harry?” said Voldemort in a calm, questioning voice, “Your abomination of a ‘daughter’ is gone, the mudblood Necromancer is under my thumb… unable to erase any more of my essence from this world… what will you do now? What will you choose? You had better decide quickly…”

Hermione suddenly began speaking again, “Ah, but what good would it do to kill myself without taking you with me… I’ve seen the other side… I control the other side… Yes, I think I’ll take you with me! Avada Kedavra!”

Throughout the shock, turmoil and outrage that was torturing Harry’s soul, he had enough presence of mind to dive out through the doorway back into the main lobby and out of the path of the rushing green beam that only missed him by a hair’s breadth. He only barely got to his feet as he turned back to the doorway just in time to see Hermione skid into view with her wand pointed threateningly at him. She began laughing at him, and in that time Harry took the chance to discreetly raise a finger of his gloved hand in her direction.

Harry didn’t know if he could do it. He didn’t know if he’d be able to stop the woman he loved from trying to kill him. He knew that she was under the Imperious Curse, but he was never told how to break the curse. Would a simple stunner stop her? His tortured mind snapped into focus as he saw her appearance begin to shift. Her hair was darkening and growing longer… her complexion whitened… her lips turned cherry red and her eyes deepened into blackened pools. He watched in awe as her clothes began morphing into the sheer, flowing black dress and as the dark gray fog began rolling along the floor surrounding her.

He immediately willed himself into his state and cast the most powerful stunner he could muster. He knew he couldn’t move his body, but the glove was already lined up with her, and he was sure she would be taken by surprise by the spell. The flash of red left the fingertip of his glove and struck Hermione squarely in the chest. He almost breathed a sigh of relief, but then he saw that the stunner he had sent her way had absolutely no effect.

Her chilling laugh became louder, and the first instinct that came into his head was to Apparate away, but that thought lead him to another… ‘there was something about the shop that would force a person to Apparate… the Displacement effect would cause certain death…’

It was then that Harry noticed that, while he was fully in his state and unable to move, he was still looking directly at Hermione and only saw Hermione… not the eagle form of her soul. Despite all of the confusing wards on the premises that were adversely affecting his judgment, the realization still came to him… that was not Hermione… it could only be…

‘A Boggart… and more than one of them…each working together… each picking apart my deepest, darkest fears!’

Harry immediately remembered the spell to be used against the Boggart, the ‘Riddikukus’ spell, but in his state of mind, he honestly couldn’t think of a damn thing that would make the situation funny… laughter was the last thing on his mind.

Harry knew that Boggarts were dangerous… while in snake form, they were still venomous… while in dementor form, they had the ability to drain both happiness and souls… and in the form of a person, they could use any spell or ability that the victim associates with the source of the image… in other words, all the abilities that he knew Hermione possessed in her altered form. Still, he knew that this wasn’t Hermione, and it wasn’t Kotone lying dead in the other room, or Voldemort lording over them, either… or so he had hoped.

Being in his accelerated state gave him time to think, but not as much time as he would have liked as the Boggart Hermione had also fully assumed her state. Clarity of purpose came to the forefront of his mind… he had to get Ravenclaw’s wand and leave that place as quickly as he could. Harry reverted out of his state just enough to move and dodged just in time as a powerful bludgeoning hex flared by in the exact spot he was standing in a moment before. He cast a hasty shielding charm behind himself as he lunged towards the access panel to the front display window.

A quick succession of spells rang off his shield. After the shield had failed, a series of coloured flashes crackled and hissed through the air around him. An evil looking orange spark just grazed his right cheek, and he felt the right side of his face relax into a numb, nerveless droop.

With only a thought, he sent a Reducto at the wooden panel and watched it splinter. His ungloved hand followed the explosion through and he grasped the wand lying on the dusty, faded pillow. The moment he touched the wand, he felt the familiar tug of portkey travel wrench at his belly. He knew that the wand might have been turned into a portkey, but he was prepared for that possibility. At the same time he had reached for the wand on the pillow, his gloved hand was already inside of the bag that he had strung over his shoulder.

He felt himself land roughly on a hard stone floor. For just an instant, he saw the glowing red, serpentine eyes boring through him and an evil, triumphant grin. At the exact moment he felt himself hit the floor, Harry held tightly to the cylinder in his bag and whispered, ‘Gringotts.’ A heartbeat after that, he felt another pull behind his navel and he disappeared from the room in another fall of colour, leaving behind an enraged Dark Lord.

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Less than an hour after the Dark Lord had caught the glimpse of the ‘Boy Who Lived’ before him, he had his inner circle of Death Eaters gathered around him.

“What did you say?” hissed Voldemort’s voice icily.

Amycus Carrow, while on his knees and stooped in a low bow, cocked his head slightly to the side and saw his sister, Alecto, similarly stooped and looking back at him with fear in her eyes. His eyes dropped nervously to the floor in sad resignation as he replied to his master with his own voice clearly betraying his reluctance to speak at all.

“He is gone, Master. Nobody seems to know where he is. He apparently left the chamber sometime early yesterday evening and hasn’t been seen since. Nobody there saw him leave… we suspect he used his rat form to leave undetected.”

Amycus braced himself for the curse that he was sure would soon follow, but after several tense moments of silence, he turned his head and chanced another look at his sister kneeling beside him. She was looking up towards the Dark Lord with a shocked expression. He hadn’t dared lifted his gaze since entering the room, just as none of the others in the room, but his curiosity overrode his fear and he, too, looked up. He then knew what his sister’s shaken expression was about.

To say that Voldemort’s face looked skeletal would have been a grave understatement. His scaly flesh, what there was left of it, was just barely hanging from his skull, making it appear as if it were melting. His thin, emaciated lips were so shriveled that they didn’t even slightly cover his blackened, crooked teeth. The slits of his pupils, which could barely be seen under his loosely drooping brows, were staring at some distant point above their heads. He was so appalled, so mortified by his master’s appearance that he actually jumped when Voldemort suddenly spoke.

“Come here.”

It was only when Amycus felt his jaw snap shut that he realized that his mouth had been hanging open. He rose from his knees and walked the few paces towards his master.

“Your arm,” hissed Voldemort tiredly.

Amycus drew up the sleeve of his robe and presented his arm. He didn’t even have time to react when Voldemort’s wand moved with lightning speed and was jabbed painfully into his Dark Mark. He then discovered exactly how furious Voldemort actually was at that moment. The smell of his own burning flesh reached his nostrils at about the same time he was able to draw a deep breath through the extreme pain before letting out a howl of agony. He couldn’t hear his sister’s similar screech above his own yell.

Within five minutes, the entire chamber was filled with over four score black-robed and skull-masked Death Eaters, all of whom were fervently clutching at their left forearms, obviously in intense pain. The Death Eaters who were assigned with the giants, the ones overseeing the werewolves, the ones searching for Potter’s Necromancer, every one was summoned to the chamber. Only when the large doors slammed shut did Voldemort remove his wand from Amycus’ arm, leaving a smoking, bleeding hole in the center of the Mark.

Voldemort rose unsteadily from his seat and pointed his wand at the long meeting table that was along the side wall. With a wave, the table slid along the floor and stopped right in front of him. He then tapped the tip of his wand on the tabletop, causing the entire table to flash with a blue glow.

“Donohoe, Beasley… go back to your werewolves and get them to the pre-arranged grove in the north of Devon.”

The two Death Eaters bowed and strode to the door. Apparently, they weren’t moving fast enough for Voldemort’s liking, because they had only gone a few steps when a powerful exploding hex struck the floor directly behind the pair, sending shards of stone from the floor tearing into the backs of their legs. The two Death Eaters seemed to get the message, as they sprinted the rest of the way from the room.

“Simms, Cromwell… how long would it take to get the giants from Scotland to Devon?”

Two Death Eaters stepped forward. They looked at each other nervously, then the shorter of the pair, a rotund woman who appeared to have a permanent scowl of displeasure etched on her face, addressed her Lord, “The big oafs don’ like t’ bein’ ordered aroun’. We’s been ‘avin’ nuthin’ but problems getting’ them t’ move at all. We’s behin’ schedule getting’ the lot o’ them t’ ‘Ogwarts, so getting’ them alla way down t’ Devon any time soon don’ seem likely, m’lord.”

Voldemort let out a tired sigh, and said, “Simms, go back there and keep them moving to Hogwarts. It doen’t matter now when they get there… it’s not really a priority now. Cromwell, you stay here.”

The male Death Eater stepped back in line with the rest of the group while the pudgy woman bowed the best she could and then hurried at a comically quickened pace for the door, obviously taking to heart the incentive that was given to the first two Death Eaters, and didn’t want the same motivational tactic applied to her.

“Yaxley, go with the Carrows and collect your ‘pets.’ Get them to the forest northwest of Cheriton, and keep them concealed… we don’t want to spoil the surprise, now do we?”

Yaxley and the Carrow siblings hurriedly left the room. As the door closed, Voldemort addressed the remainder of his forces.

“I have something hidden in Devon… something that the Potter whelp wants to take from me very badly. None of you will be able to see what you’re guarding, but believe me when I say that you will give your lives to protect it. Once we get to the destination, set up a perimeter and assign teams to collect supplies. We may be there for an hour…”

-----~-----

Unseen by anyone in the room, a dark, ethereal serpent drifted through the southern wall of the room. It’s journey began at a painfully slow pace, hindered by the repeated bindings placed upon it when it resided in its previous host. As it traveled over the vast ocean and closer to its destination, it felt its agility and power slowly returning. The last leg of its long journey was made quite swiftly. Now, at long last, it was about to be reunited with its only active counterpart. In the blink of an eye, the shattered remnant of Tom Riddle’s original soul swooped across the room and entered the body of Lord Voldemort.

-----~-----

“…or we may be there for months, so be prepared to…”

Voldemort’s monologue was abruptly interrupted by the sound of a wand clattering onto the floor. A moment later, a shrieking, blood-curdling scream echoed around the walls of the vast chamber. The startled Death Eaters lifted their collective gazes from the floor and began looking around at each other, wondering who had angered their lord enough to be cursed by him in the middle of his instructions.

Eventually, every eye in the room was focused on Voldemort as he stood between his chair and the portkey table, screaming as though he were on fire. A few of his followers actually thought he was on fire, because he was surrounded by a red glow that almost looked like flames. None of the Death Eaters moved, they just stood there watching as Voldemort’s visible features seemed to fill out and fill in. The loose, emaciated skin on his scaly face tightened, smoothed, and shifted back into place. His gaunt, cracked hands, while still unusually long and thin, seemed to lose their skeletal appearance.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped and Voldemort sucked in a huge, shuddering breath. His red, snake-like eyes rolled up into his head as he fell face first onto the tabletop and then rolled limply to the floor.

Most of the Death Eaters either stared dumbly at the body of their master or anxiously glanced around at each other, wondering what the bloody hell just happened. Goyle Sr. seemed to pluck up the courage to approach Voldemort. As he neared, he softly said, “My Lord? What happened?”

A deafening silence reigned in the chamber until a short, high-pitched, “Heh,” drifted to Goyle’s ears. That was followed by another, “Heh, heh,” and then a true laugh.

The laughter became louder and more crazed as Voldemort’s body shook in sync with the sounds. Goyle took a step back as Voldemort reached up and placed his hand on the table. With a surprising display of dexterity, the Dark Lord quickly lifted himself from the floor, still laughing maniacally.

‘It’s back!’ Voldemort thought giddily to himself, ‘My source has returned to me!’

At first, he thought that Potter had somehow died, but he had the strange feeling that he wasn’t. He had personally seen the brat just an hour before. He suddenly realized that he had access to certain memories, knowledge of certain truths that didn’t originate from him. Visions entered his consciousness about some of the circumstances of the Potter brat. They were vague and detached, but one image that entered his mind was that of a small white-haired witch who wore a mask. The image shifted, revealing the demonic countenance that was hidden beneath the mask…

‘I do believe I’ve found Potter’s Necromancer… it has to be!’ he thought to himself triumphantly as his laughter increased in volume and intensity, ‘Eliminate the witch, and there’s nothing Potter can do to thwart my immortality!’

Nott walked forward and stood beside Goyle to get a better look at their master. He had seen the way the Dark Lord looked just minutes before, but now he appeared just as he did when he summoned his Faithful to the graveyard all those years before.

Voldemort suddenly stopped laughing. His red eyes seemed to glow even brighter than before as he yelled out to his followers, “This changes nothing! Gather ‘round and touch the table! What I have hidden must still be protected! I do not know when he will come, or who will be with him, but come he will… and when he does…”

Voldemort looked around at all of his followers as they crowded around the table. When he was sure that all of them were touching it, he placed his wand tip onto the table. An instant later, the chamber was empty.

-----~-----

50. A Jagged Alliance

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I make any money from playing with the characters. I do not own or profit from the lyric bits I use, either.

A/N: Here it is! Believe it or not, this entire chapter is Harry’s meeting with the goblins… all 8,808 words of it! I’m guessing that there will be two more chapters after this one, maybe three, but I doubt it. Please excuse any typos you find… I’m sure there are some in here that I missed… and I usually catch them AFTER the chapter’s posted! Oh, well, enjoy!

-----~-----

Chapter 50: A Jagged Alliance

The window burns to light the way back home,
a light that warms, no matter where they've gone.
They're off to find the hero of the day…
but what if they should fall by someone's wicked way?
Still, the window burns, time so slowly turns…
Someone there is sighing.
Keepers of the flames,
do you feel your names?
Do you hear your babies crying?

But now the dreams and waking screams that ever last through the night,
so build the wall behind it crawl and hide until it's light.

Can’t you hear your babies crying now?

Excerpt from the song, ‘Hero of the Day,’ by the band, Metallica.

-----~-----

Harry landed hard on what he assumed to be a rough-hewn stone floor. He couldn’t really tell because of his tightly clenched eyes, but even if he did open them, he still wouldn’t have been able to see a thing in the pitch darkness surrounding him.

Harry didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or scream. Unable to decide, he just laid there on the warm stone and tried to take control of his ragged breathing. He knew they were just boggarts, but that knowledge didn’t seem to be helping him at all. It didn’t stop the image of Hermione’s hateful, leering scowl from dominating his thoughts. It couldn’t erase the image of Kotone’s blank, lifeless eyes staring at him and the sight of her normally hyperactive hair just falling limply around her shoulders.

It reminded him much too closely of when he saw Sirius falling through the veil in the Department of Mysteries and when Dumbledore arced over the wall near the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts. He felt the same disbelief… the same terror… the same helplessness… but this was somehow different. This shook him to his very core. He could still feel the painful, cramping sensation in his heaving chest. He could still feel his adrenaline-fueled nerves twitching spasmodically. He could still hear the buzzing in his ears that seemed to vibrate through his head.

He could still hear Voldemort’s calm, taunting voice when he had asked Harry to choose. He just knew that if it came down to it, he could never choose between Hermione and Kotone. At this point in his life, he would be nothing without either one of them… and he knew it.

He wasn’t sure how long he was laying there before he calmed himself down enough to open his eyes. He unsteadily rose to a seated position on the floor and cast a Lumos with his gloved hand, but the light that the spell provided only lit up a circular area of the bare, stone floor around him didn’t seem to reach the ceiling or even the surrounding walls.

Harry pushed himself up, attempting and failing to rise from the floor. He looked down and saw through his torn trousers that there was a deep, thin gash running along his left calf just above his ankle. He also noticed a slowly widening bloodstain around his left shoulder. He could tell by the small hole in his shirt that he had been hit with a piercing hex. He realized with a grimace that not all of the boggart Hermione’s spells had missed him as he dove for the wand horcrux in the shop’s window. He quickly checked the rest of himself over and thankfully found that there were no other pressing injuries, but now that his adrenaline rush was fading, he began to more acutely notice the pain that he was in his leg and shoulder.

He was about to make another attempt at standing, but froze in place as he heard the ominous sound of metal scraping on metal. Harry then saw a sliver of light coming from a slowly opening door. The light streaming in was tinged orange, but a brief flash of yellow-red accompanied by a booming roar from beyond the door instantly reminded Harry of his encounter in the first Tri-wizard task. He tensed up and slipped Ravenclaw’s wand into his bag before he carefully directed his glove towards the figures that stepped into the light of the doorway.

He had almost forgotten that he got to where he was by using the portkey that Gringotts had sent him until a host of torches that were set into the walls sparked to life the moment the figures stepped into the room.

In the new light, Harry could tell that he was in a massive stone chamber roughly twice the size of the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The chamber was completely empty, with nothing at all on the floor or walls, except for the numerous rows of torches. Harry could now clearly tell who it was that stepped through the door. He recognized the stooped gait and the walking stick, and he recognized the two hobgoblins that appeared in the doorway an instant after the first goblin entered. Harry managed to make it to his feet just as the elder goblin approached him.

“Good morning, Ragnok,” greeted Harry evenly, trying not to let on exactly how injured he was. Unfortunately, the expanding stain of blood on his shirt was a dead giveaway to his true condition.

As Ragnok neared, he looked Harry over for only a moment, then turned to one of his bodyguards and said something in a rushed Gobbledygook. He turned back to Harry as the hobgoblin turned and quickly exited the room, “Greetings, Lord Potter. I have been expecting you, although not quite at this hour. I welcome you, nonetheless.”

Harry was slightly taken aback at the goblin’s placating demeanor. Everything he had ever learned about goblins, and his own experiences with them, told of arrogance and intolerance towards wizards. Although he detected a slight edge to Ragnok’s nearly humble greeting, it was still a far cry from what he truly expected from the most influential goblin in the world, especially when he didn’t have Kotone with him. For some reason he didn’t quite understand, the goblins seemed to respect her. He honestly wasn’t banking on their obvious esteem for her to work in his favor. He was somewhat glad she wasn’t with him at the moment. While he did miss her terribly, he had no intention on using her presence as some source of bargaining chip in whatever they were to discuss. He was feeling bad enough about using their portkey to escape danger, and not for its intended purpose.

Truthfully, he was more concerned with where Kotone was, and about what was happening with Ron and Hermione. He assumed that Hermione had seen the encounter in Ollivanders, and he only hoped that she saw that he had left and wouldn’t try to enter the shop to search for him… boggarts were nothing to mess around with, especially with the presence of those particular wards around the shop.

Harry realized that he was zoning out a bit and forced his mind back into his current situation, “I do apologize for showing up at this hour. I… umm…” He really couldn’t think of a believable excuse for showing up at four in the morning, or for showing up in his current state of disrepair. He was saved from immediately giving a proper excuse when the large iron door opened and two goblins entered the chamber. Both of the goblins hurried across the room towards them, one was dressed in a suit of gleaming red armour with a shiny black insignia emblazoned on the breastplate and carried a vicious looking silver scimitar by his side. The other wore an odd yellow outfit that somewhat resembled a toga, but only draped an inch or so below the small goblin’s torso. He was mildly surprised when the yellow-clad goblin spoke to Ragnok in a humorously high-pitched squeak. He then realized that that particular goblin was female… something he had never seen before.

The female goblin abruptly turned to him and flicked out her hand, causing Harry’s legs to fall out from beneath him. He started for a moment before he realized he was sitting on a rather comfortable stool that she had conjured for him. She said not a word as she quickly and dutifully attended to his wounds as the armour-clad goblin spoke to Ragnok in what appeared to be an urgent tone, although Harry had no idea what was being said.

The armoured goblin was speaking quickly, all the while casting concerned glances towards Harry. Ragnok shook his head, but the other goblin spoke again, this time sounding slightly more urgent. Ragnok turned to look at Harry, and then back to the large iron door. The armoured goblin said one final, rushed phrase and Ragnok’s eyes widened. He quickly nodded his head and dismissed the goblin with a wave of his hand. The goblin bowed and quickly rushed from the room, closing the massive iron door behind him.

As the goblin left, Harry caught another glimpse of what lay beyond the door. A shadow passed along the far wall outside of the door that was unmistakably in the shape of a dragon’s head. He realized that he was probably inside one of the vaults far below Gringotts Bank.

When the massive door clanged shut, Ragnok turned back to Harry and said, “First off, on behalf of Gringott’s Bank, I’d like to congratulate you once again on reaching your majority, and on the recent addition to your family. We were automatically notified of the adoption of Lady Oota, and we already have our brother branches in Asia in the process of ‘collecting’ the Oota family assets that were illegally seized. As of yesterday, Mistress Potter has been added to your family’s account, and the automatic trust fund has already been placed in the same vault which, until recently, had been your own trust vault, Number 1073.”

Ragnok saw Harry’s face fall as he opened his mouth to protest, but quickly spoke to placate him, “Your former guardian no longer has access to the vault, so the funds placed within are quite secure. Also, as stated in the correspondence that was sent to you, you now have full access to the Potter Ancestral Vault Number 24.”

As Ragnok was speaking, Harry reached into his bag and pulled out the messenger cylinder, the portkey that had just pulled his bacon out of the fire. He withdrew the parchment inside and scanned down the letter, “You mentioned a Vault Number 1122 in your letter, saying that it was nearing full capacity, but I’m afraid I didn’t know about that vault at all…”

Ragnok looked at Harry curiously, “You didn’t even know of this vault’s existence?”

An annoyed sigh escaped Harry as he said, “Nobody ever told me! What’s in that vault anyway, and why is it ‘nearing capacity’ if I’m not putting anything into it?”

“You must forgive me, Lord Potter. Your guardians commissioned that vault on your behalf, so we assumed that you knew of it. The vault was commissioned due to the number and nature of the gifts you were receiving. The monetary gifts have been kept in that vault to separate them from the main accounts, as since they are considered gifts and not taxable by the wizarding government.”

“Wait, wait, wait…” said Harry as she shook his head in confusion, “What ‘gifts’ are you talking about?”

Ragnok’s stare pierced through Harry as he answered, “Lord Potter, you have been the wizarding world’s most loved, most celebrated figure for the past fifteen years. Even during the time where you were being slandered by the wizarding press, the vast majority of the wizarding populace was firmly behind you, although the recent untruths being spread about you and Mistress Potter are putting a strain on your loyal supporters.”

Ragnok remained silent for a moment, looking as though he wanted to say more about that particular situation with Kotone, but he just continued, “Since nothing was allowed to be delivered to your residence in the muggle world, or, in the case of unknown origins, during your time at Hogwarts, Vault Number 1122 is where you have stored all of your owl correspondence that wasn’t either official or from a known acquaintance, as well as all of the birthday, Halloween, Christmas, and Easter gifts that people have sent you. Of course, all of the items going into the vault have been screened, not that there was much that was sent to you that was dangerous…”

“We’re in a vault right now, aren’t we?” interrupted Harry as ge looked around at his surroundings.

“Yes,” answered Ragnok, “This is Gringotts Highest Security Vault Number 2.”

“Can you take me to that vault?” asked Harry anxiously, “Number 1122?”

“If you so desire. Once we have concluded our business, and Snapfinger here has finished tending to your wounds, you can visit each of your vaults.”

Harry nodded while wincing through the female goblin’s ministrations. She had already quickly and efficiently repaired the gash in his leg and was currently working on the puncture wound in his shoulder, the healing of which felt considerably more painful than had his leg.

“So, the letter mentioned that you wanted to discuss the state of my holdings?”

Ragnok gave him a toothy grin as he said, “Considering how little you actually know about your vaults, assets and investments, I will assume that you will require a detailed accounting of your holdings, as well as an explanation of your duties and responsibilities as Head of a pureblood wizarding family.”

With barely a gesture, a large table appeared between Harry and Ragnok. A similar gesture created a large, comfortable chair, which the old goblin slowly sank in to. As if on cue, the massive iron door opened again and a pair of goblins entered, each carrying dozens of scrolls as they hurried up to the table where they carefully laid their burdens before scurrying back out through the door. At the same time, the female goblin had just put the final touches on his shoulder, finishing her task by carefully tying off the bandage that wrapped around his neck, around his shoulder and under his armpit.

Harry gave the female goblin a genuine smile and said to her, “Thank you very much, Snapfinger, it feels much…”

A look of shock came over the small goblin’s face as she fell backwards onto the floor and emitted a terrified, high-pitched squeal. At the same moment, the rather large hobgoblin instantly drew his silver scimitar and was stepping towards Harry aggressively, only to be stopped with a quick gesture from Ragnok, who was looking rather angered at Harry, himself.

“What happened?” asked Harry as he looked between the menacing hobgoblin and Ragnok, “What did I do?”

Ragnok sighed and answered, “It is considered very rude for anyone other than another goblin to address one of our females, and we only speak to them to give them instructions or to initiate couplings. She was ordered to attend to your wounds, so no thanks are due to her,” then Ragnok leaned forward and gave Harry what appeared to be a condescending smirk, “unless you were intending to mate with her?”

Harry turned to the cowering goblin on the floor and instinctively opened his mouth to apologize to her, but thankfully, Ragnok’s words seemed to become clear to him… do not speak to goblin women. At the last moment he avoided another faux pas by turning to Ragnok and saying, “I’m terribly sorry, I had no way of knowing! I’ve never met a female goblin before… why doesn’t anyone ever tell me these things?”

Ragnok looked hard at Harry for a few tense moments, but apparently believed that the young wizard meant no disrespect as he leaned back into his chair and said something to Snapfinger. The flustered goblin immediately scrambled from the floor and hastily exited the vault.

Ragnok continued to stare at Harry appraisingly, making Harry feel more than a little nervous. Had he just ruined whatever building trust he was forging with the goblins? He suddenly found himself wishing he had paid more attention during the History of Magic lessons, although he doubted that the classes covered anything about goblin customs.

The pregnant silence was broken when Ragnok softly said, “What else don’t you know, Lord Potter? How little do you realize what the reactions are to your actions? Do you know anything of the series of events you have set into motion? Do you even know exactly what you have done by adopting an elderspawn into a wizard family… a pureblood wizard family, at that?”

Harry’s abashed demeanor instantly fell, being replaced with a look of tired frustration, “Excuse me, sir… but as long as she can lift a wand, I’ll consider her a witch, and being a witch entitles her to belong to a wizarding family, preferably one who will love her and take care of her. I don’t see Kotone as an ‘elderspawn,’ or a ‘half-breed,’ or a ‘demon,’ ‘monster,’ ‘animal’ or anything… I see her as nothing other than a little girl who could use a bit of love in her miserable life, and trust me, I know a lot about what constitutes a miserable life! I love her, but more importantly, I know that she loves me, and that’s bloody well good enough for me!”

Ragnok was once again staring thoughtfully back at Harry. After a few moments, he smiled and simply said, “That is good enough for me as well, Lord Potter. Let us get back to the task at hand.”

Only when Harry sat back down on the stool did he realize that he had stood up as he was speaking. He then noticed that the female goblin took the time to also clean the blood from and repair the hole in his shirt. He began to carefully tug his shirt back on as Ragnok continued where he had left off. The elder goblin explained the state of each of Harry’s investment holdings, paying particular attention to the businesses that had become stagnant due to his being underage and unable to attend to the responsibilities associated with the running of a company. Now that Harry was of age, he could delegate certain responsibilities to a manager or a proxy, but other duties and decisions had to be made by Harry, himself.

Ragnok produced a list of businesses that needed his personal attention and slid it across the table. Harry picked up the parchment and read along as Ragnok explained what needed to be done for each of the listed businesses. Harry’s mind began to wander and his eyes seemed to glaze over at the amount of information that was being explained to him. His eyes suddenly widened as he noticed the name of one particular company on the list.

“I own the Grunning Drill Company?” exclaimed Harry with an angry yell as he once again stood from the stool, sending it clattering across the floor behind him, “I’m the one who has been paying that fat bastard’s salary all of these years? He works for me?”

Although Harry was completely unaware that it was happening, his eyes began to shine with an electric blue glow, and a wave of raw, uncontrolled magic, similar to what had happened in his room at St. Mungos, was causing the piles of rolled up parchment to shift haphazardly around the tabletop. However, Ragnok and the hobgoblin certainly did notice. The hobgoblin bodyguard had his hand on the hilt of his scimitar while Ragnok covered the scrolls with his arms.

“Calm down, Lord Potter… now, by ‘fat bastard’ you mean…?” asked Ragnok with a slightly amused grin as Harry paced along the end of the table.

Harry took a shuddering breath, which did precious little for the tantrum his magic was throwing, “My uncle! The same fat, thieving git who took all of the money from my trust vault and then ran off and abandoned me! The same fat, thieving git who’s been being paid from my parents’ vault for all of these years to ‘take care’ of me… in the house that I actually owned! He was forever complaining that I was such a financial burden on his family while every single Pence he’s ever laid his grubby hands on has come out of my pocket!”

Ragnok briefly shuffled through the pile of scrolls before pulling one out and unrolled it, “Ah, yes… Grunning’s is one of the companies that you own in entirety. It’s not the most profitable business that you own. It’s been a steady investment, but recently there have been production problems, and we think there may be some ‘skimming’ by upper management, so it’s one of the companies that need your personal attention. We should set up a meeting with their board relatively soon.

The vortex of magic that had been flowing around Harry abruptly stopped as he halted his pacing and turned to Ragnok, “Meet with their board? But I don’t know anything about how to properly operate a business! What am I supposed to say to them?”

“That is why you have us, Lord Potter. We will have one of our representatives with you for each of your meetings, and we’ll be sure to go over anything you need to know beforehand. When would you like us to begin making the necessary appointments?”

“Next week, I suppose, if that’s all right?”

“Certainly,” answered Ragnok as he jotted down a few notes, “We will deliver the schedule to you as soon as everything is arranged. Now, to continue… is there anything that you would like to do with your liquid assets?”

Harry wore a puzzled frown, “What do you mean?”

Ragnok was once again giving Harry the calculating, unblinking stare as he answered, “Lord Potter, you happen to be the single largest depositor in this or any other branch of Gringotts. You have a very large store of Galleons that is sitting in a vault collecting little more than dust. You have free access now that you are of age, and I daresay that you could buy virtually anything that you desire. As you are probably aware, gold that’s stored in a vault cannot accrue interest from Gringotts unless we actually use the gold in the form of loans and investments, where you would get a percentage of the interest returns. Sadly, very, very few wizard families allow us to use their gold in this fashion… they are content to let the gold sit in their vaults rather than to trust a goblin to invest it for them. They rely solely on the returns of their own investments, if they invest at all.”

“But why not?” asked Harry, “That’s the way things work in muggle banks. The banks take the deposited money and use it for loans to others. Why would they refuse to let you use the gold, especially if it means a profit for them?”

“Because wizards do not trust goblins,” came the simple answer, “We make our money more from the leases on the vaults, and the treasure expeditions that we commission, than we do from actual investments. It has been like this for centuries.”

“So, this is the ‘mutually beneficial’ proposal you mentioned in the letter? I’m sorry, but you really didn’t have to tell me all this to convince me to allow you access to my gold. Truthfully, I thought you were already using it, so be my guest.”

It unnerved Harry every time Ragnok paused to stare at him, as if the elder goblin were trying to decide if he was actually telling him the truth. After more than a few moments under Ragnok’s unblinking stare, the goblin finally said, “Perhaps you should wait until you’ve seen exactly how much gold is actually in your vault before you make that particular decision, but your display of confidence is truly a refreshing surprise. That, however, wasn’t why I had asked if you wanted to do anything with your liquid assets. Is there any particular investment you wished to engage in? Is there anything you would like to buy? Is there anyone or any organization that you would like to give money to? Most wizards who inherit a large sum of gold tend to get a little carefree with their funds, so we would like to know if you are planning on making any substantial withdrawals in the near future.”

Harry hadn’t really thought about it. He knew he had quite a bit of money according to what Hermione had told him, but he really didn’t consider using any of the money any time soon. He didn’t need a house, or a new broom… he had enough money to feed himself, and enough to pay back what he had borrowed from Hermione and the Twins.

“Honestly? I can’t think of anything I’d need that would be very expensive. All I’d need for now is enough to cover my living expenses and to repay a few debts. I never really wanted the money in the first place, and I’m sure you could invest it more effectively than I ever could… maybe at some point in the future, but as for now, I think its best if I…”

A memory came unbidden into Harry’s mind. He was sitting on the broken cot inside of Kotone’s room at Haversham’s orphanage. He recalled the image he saw in the mirror, not so much Kotone’s unmasked face, but the condition of her clothes and the room that she had lived in. He suddenly realized that she was still wearing that same ratty, gray nightgown that he found her in weeks before. Sure, it had been transfigured into more presentable clothing many times, but it was still the same worn-out nightgown that the orphanage had provided for her. He had fully intended on getting her new clothes… he had the money when they were in Diagon Alley, but he became distracted by the hunt for Voldemort’s horcruxes and completely forgot about getting her more presentable clothing.

A wave of remorse hit him in his gut, but he had to admit to himself that clothing and possessions didn’t matter at all while Voldemort was still a threat. He suddenly chuckled to himself as he realized the reason Kotone loved to run around naked… she hated the idea of being in those same, dirty clothes that had adorned her since the orphanage.

“There is something I’d like to spend some money on,” Harry suddenly blurted out seriously, “I’d like to fund an orphanage for half-blood and muggleborn children. With the war the way it’s been going, I’m sure there are lots of kids who have lost their families to Death Eaters, and I want to make damned sure that those kids don’t end up in a muggle orphanage, or even worse, a place like Haversham’s was!”

Ragnok looked truly surprised as he asked, “What do you know of Haversham’s Home for the Unwanted?”

“I know enough to say that it wasn’t a place suitable for children, if that’s what you’re asking!” answered Harry, not bothering to hide the spite he was feeling on the subject.

“But you must know that many wizarding businesses, including a few of the ones that you own, utilize the labor to make their products more competitive… for instance, the ‘Fly By Knight’ broomstick company, the makers of the Silver Arrow series of broomsticks, would have been completely out of business years ago if it weren’t for the Workhouse Production Facility… I daresay that the company has been in turmoil since the Death Eater attack on the orphanage.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about?”

Ragnok let out a cackling laugh and asked, “Tell me, Lord Potter, how far behind the muggles would you say wizarding culture is?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” answered Harry, not knowing how the cultural difference mattered to their conversation, “I’d think it’s something like 150 years or so… probably similar to just before the muggle industrial revolution.”

“So, do you know what orphanages in London were like 150 years ago?” asked Ragnok pointedly.

Harry’s face fell into a hateful frown as he said, “Workhouses? Are you trying to tell me that the orphans at Haversham’s were forced to work for wizarding businesses? Kotone and the rest of those kids were being used as slave labor?”

“That’s exactly what I’m telling you, Lord Potter.”

Harry was pacing once again, and once again an invisible wave of power rolled off of him as he said, “This is just… unbelievable… unacceptable! Is that why the building was in such a sorry state? Did the Ministry give anything at all for the upkeep? I’ll bet they think that child slave labor is just fine and dandy, as long as it’s not their precious pureblood ankle-biters that are being forced to work… ‘automatically placed in another pureblood home,’ my arse! …and will you please knock off that ‘Lord’ stuff? I’d prefer Harry, but I suppose Mr. Potter would do, if you must… that title means nothing to me.”

‘There’s that stare again,’ thought Harry as he met Ragnok’s eyes once more. He wasn’t sure, but he had thought for a moment that Ragnok was actually smiling at him during his tirade, but really couldn’t tell. It took a few minutes for Harry to calm himself down to the point where things weren’t flying around him. After a long, uncomfortable silence, Harry was quite surprised when the elder goblin suddenly asked, “What do you think of me, Lord Potter?”

Harry shifted on his feet for a few seconds as he considered what he was being asked. After a few moments, he realized that he was giving Ragnok the same, calculating stare that he had been receiving. He shrugged slightly and said, “This is only the second time that I’ve met you, but so far you’ve treated me better than a lot of wizards I’ve known… either they’re falling over themselves trying to talk to ‘The Boy Who Lived,’ or they’re staring at me like I’m some sort of barmy, self-centered snot. Of course, that’s not including the Death Eaters… they believe its ‘Potter Hunting Season’ year ‘round. You’ve shown me nothing but respect, and you seem to like Kotone, which is always a plus in my book…”

Ragnok seemed to nod to himself, and then asked, “What do you think of my goblins?”

Harry didn’t pause as he said, “Well, I haven’t had the opportunity to get to know many of you. You seem to be a hard working people with a ‘no-nonsense’ attitude. In my experience, most goblins come across a bit cold to most wizards, but I really can’t blame you, considering the restrictions that have been placed on you… and the blatant mistrust wizards have for your people. Still, I haven’t been treated with anything less than polite tolerance, which is more than most wizards deserve, if you ask me.”

‘There’s the stare again…it feels like I’m on trial…’

A full minute passed before Ragnok spoke again, “The goblin nation is facing a very tough decision. It may not appear difficult, but there are factors afoot that muddy the big picture. You see, the Ministry has been very concerned that the goblin nation might side with the forces of Lord Voldemort, since we have already made it clear that we will not support the Ministry, and they seem convinced that we have no intention of staying neutral.”

Harry was listening intently as Ragnok leaned forward and said, “Now, do you think the goblin nation would side with an organization who has shown nothing but mistrust, oppression and barely concealed intolerance, or do you think that we’d side with a group of bigoted, pureblooded wizards who would enjoy nothing more than to see the muggles and every non-human sentient race either subjugated worse than they already have been, or even worse, just slaughtered outright? To tell you the truth… Harry… neither choice is acceptable to us.”

Harry narrowed his eyes as he said, “So, you’re just going to sit back and see who wins, then step in and take on the weakened victors, no matter which side wins?”

Ragnok laughed as he said, “Heavens no! We have no delusions of grandeur, and we don’t presume that we’d enjoy doing to the wizards what they’ve done to us for centuries. Our livelihood comes from wizards, and other than the ‘restrictions’ placed upon us, it has been an adequate arrangement.”

“So, if you don’t want to take over, and you don’t want to help either side, what exactly are you going to do? Sit back, do nothing, and hope for the best?”

Ragnok grinned and leaned back in his chair, “What if I were to tell you that there was a third faction at work, and that the goblin Elder Council might decide to back that faction?”

Harry’s brows knitted together as he tried to think of what group he could be talking about. His train of thought came to a screeching halt as the sound of the vault door being unlocked echoed throughout the chamber. He then saw the goblin who had unlocked the vault being pushed aside by a figure that was squeezing through the barely open door.

“Harry!” Hermione practically screamed as she ran across the vault and threw herself desperately into his arms.

“You have to believe me!” Hermione tearfully exclaimed, “I didn’t kill her! It wasn’t me! I was still with you outside of my body! Please!”

Although his vision was mostly obscured by Hermione’s hair, Harry could just barely see Ron approaching the table, saying, “Hermione explained to me what she saw. She’s right, mate. Her body was with me the entire time.”

Harry was lightly rubbing Hermione’s back as she sobbed onto his shoulder, “I know it wasn’t you, Hermione… they were boggarts. I know you’d never do anything like that.” Harry lifted Hermione’s head from his shoulder and asked, “How did you even know that I was here?”

Once Hermione could speak again, she said through her sniffles, “Your trainer… Tonks’ tracking spell is still on it. My wand pointed to the ground below Gringotts.”

Ron, having not noticed exactly who it was that Harry was meeting with, excitedly said, “She was right mental after she ‘woke up,’ you know. I could barely keep up with her through the Alley, and when we got to Gringotts and the hobgoblins wouldn’t let us in, she starts threatening to hex the ogres and telling them she would take the building apart stone by stone if they didn’t let us in… I’ll tell you, ‘Mione here was bleedin’ scary!”

Hermione’s body visibly stiffened and her sniffling abruptly stopped. As she turned away from Harry, a serene smile appeared on her lips, but her reddened, steely eyes betrayed exactly how angry she had just become, “Excuse me, but what did you call me?”

The sickly sweet tone of Hermione’s voice obviously didn’t give Ron a clue as he replied with a smile, “‘Mione…’ I dunno, it just came out, and it does sound kinda cute…”

“Oh, yes… it’s quite adorable, ‘On… and fits me so well, don’t you think? Oh, but I see that you haven’t been properly introduced to the goblin chieftain!” Hermione turned to the elder goblin and said with a formal air, “Tribe Chief Ragnok, I’d like you to meet a good friend of Harry’s, ‘Onald Weas. ‘On, this is Tribe Chieftain Ragnok, or would you just prefer to call him ‘‘Gnok?’” Hermione’s voice lowered dangerously as she said to Ron in a hiss, “but I would seriously advise against it.”

“Oh, come on…” said Ron with a pained grimace, “alright, I get it! I’m sorry… I’ll never call you that again!”

“You most certainly won’t, ‘Onald!”

“I said I was sorry!”

Ragnok seemed genuinely amused as he witnessed the banter between Ron and Hermione. Harry, however, seemed quite annoyed with their all-too-frequent bickering.

Speaking a bit louder than necessary, Harry turned to Ragnok and said, “So, what’s this ‘third faction’ that you mentioned?”

Ragnok sat back in his chair and steepled his gnarly fingers under his chin, “The Elder Council has recently been keeping a close watch on this previously underestimated group. We believe that after the war, the leader of this faction will be in a position to greatly influence the wizarding world’s leaders and policies… perhaps even enough to seize power from the Ministry for himself. The Council believes that if this comes to pass, it would most likely benefit the goblin nation, as well as most of the other sentient non-human factions.”

At first, Harry thought he might have been talking about the muggles, or maybe the Order of the Phoenix, but as Ragnok spoke, he got the sneaking suspicion that he just might know exactly to whom the elder goblin was referring.

“You mean me, don’t you?” asked Harry with no small amount of incredulity in his voice.

Ron didn’t understand what was going on at all, but Hermione, even though she missed the beginning of the conversation, quickly deduced what Ragnok was talking about, and what he was offering to Harry.

Harry shook his head firmly as he said, “You can’t be serious! What makes you think that I can influence anyone. I’ve been before the Wizengamot, and I see how they are… a bunch of self-centered, self-serving politicians who only listen when it benefits them personally… usually when there’s money involved. I know for a fact that a known Death Eater was lining the Ministry’s pockets for years…”

“Yes, that is true,” said Ragnok knowingly as he rose from his chair and bid the group to follow him, “I am assuming that you speak of the Malfoy family patriarch. Much of the gold that was ‘donated’ went into influencing the decisions of the Wizengamot into enacting many of the recent laws that were created solely to restrict and oppress ‘non-human’ beings, as well as limiting the rights of their non-pureblood brethren.” Ragnok said this while pointedly glancing at Hermione.

As Ragnok led the group through the vault door, he wore a strange smile as he continued speaking, “I can also tell you with certainty that, even after he was exposed as a Death Eater, his gold was still finding its way into certain wizards’ pockets.”

Ragnok then produced a roll of parchment and handed it to Harry. As they walked along the wide ledge past a series of large, widely spaced vault doors, Harry unrolled the parchment and read down a long list of names with a number next to each of them. His eyes visibly widened when he dropped the bottom spool of the scroll and watched it unfurl to bounce noisily on the floor at his feet, causing him to abruptly halt in his tracks. He quickly gathered up the long stream of parchment into his arms and continued walking.

“There aren’t this many people in the Wizengamot!” exclaimed Harry as his eyes wandered across the vast list of names, hardly any of them he recognized.

“It’s not just the Wizengamot who have been influenced. Among those names are Ministry officials, organizational leaders, owners and managers of wizarding businesses, members of the wizarding press… even to members of the International Confederation of Wizards. In the past twenty years, nearly one third of the Malfoy Family gold has been paid out in gifts and donations, and we have similar lists of other less wealthy Death Eaters and their sympathizers. An obscene amount of gold has been paid to a great many powerful witches and wizards for the sole purpose of undermining the rights of magical beings and anyone who doesn’t belong to a pureblood wizard family. How do you think the general wizarding populace would react if this sort of information became public knowledge?”

“That’s all fine and good… but really, what do you expect me to do with this information? With all the bad press about me in recent years, I don’t think many people would believe me…”

“Harry,” said Hermione to get his attention, “You do realize that almost ninety percent of the wizarding populace are either half-bloods or muggleborns… there are very few true pureblood families left. I think people would listen to you, regardless of what was said about you in the past, especially with information as important as this.”

The group came to a stop at the end of the path that was running along the cart tracks, which disappeared into a steeply inclined tunnel. Harry looked at Ragnok curiously, wondering why they were led to an apparent dead end. The elder goblin just turned to the end of the wall and ran his finger along the rough surface. An opening in the wall immediately appeared, but it didn’t look like a tunnel. It almost appeared that an arched opening was painted upon the wall.

Ragnok simply smiled and stepped into the opening he had just created. With a shrug, Harry walked up to the wall and followed the goblin. The feeling was similar to stepping through the barrier at King’s Cross Station, but gave his stomach a slightly unpleasant lurch. He reappeared in another passage with a line of widely spaced vault doors. A moment later, Hermione stepped out of the opening and bumped into his back. Ron quickly followed, as well as the two hobgoblin bodyguards. The instant the last bodyguard came through, the opening silently disappeared.

Ragnok continued to walk down this new corridor as he spoke, “Your mate is correct. The actions taken by the followers of Tom Riddle have had a profound impact on the general wizarding population, although the changes have been so gradual and so subtle that most people do not know the extent to which their rights have been compromised.”

“How can they ‘not know?’” asked Harry.

Ragnok gave a tired shrug, “Ignorance… apathy… there are many reasons. As you know, all wizarding businesses are taxed, but did you know that those owned by half-bloods pay twice as much in taxes as pureblood owned businesses, and that the muggleborns pay twice that? And have you noticed that there are no businesses in Diagon Alley that are owned by muggleborns?”

Harry chanced a glance at Hermione and saw that she was fuming, although she was trying very hard to hide that fact. He also noticed that Ron had fallen a few paces behind and was looking quite embarrassed. He assumed that Ron was aware of these facts about wizarding businesses.

The group came to a stop in front of what appeared to be a very large vault. Harry looked up at the tarnished brass plate above the door that read ‘1122.’

“I don’t have the key to this vault… it was never given to me,” said Harry abashedly.

“The key was placed in your guardian’s custody,” informed Ragnok casually, “but I’d wager that he threw it into the Thames the first chance he got. In any case, I do not need a key.” With barely a touch of Ragnok’s finger, the large door creaked open.

Harry was told that the vault contained ‘gifts’ to him from an adoring wizarding public, and he assumed that the vault was the same size as the one that held his trust money. Nothing could have prepared him for what had met his eyes when the vault door swung fully open and the interior was illuminated.

Vault 1122 appeared to be roughly the same size as the one they had just left, but with one very profound difference. The vault he arrived in was completely empty while this vault was almost completely filled. Rows and rows of stacks of sealed boxes created a path leading from the vault door to the distant back wall. Every twenty feet or so, an opening between the stacks on either side of the path created walkways to the side walls.

As Ragnok led Harry into the vault, he pointed to each group of boxes and said, “These are the letters that have been sent to you over the years… on the left are the cards sent to you on your birthdays, Christmases, Halloweens… ah, this section holds the gifts that were sent to you, and behind those is the area where the gold that has been donated to you is stored… these boxes here hold the marriage proposals, and behind them are the adoption offers… over here are the condolence letters for…”

“Marriage proposals?” said Harry in surprise, “there are witches that I don’t even know offering to marry me? Why are there so many of them?”

“Lord Potter, you have been receiving those since before you were even born,” said Ragnok casually, “Of course, we have removed the proposals from those that have already married or are now deceased… oh, here’s another one. You see, they turn red when a suitor has married someone else, and black if they have died.”

Ragnok plucked a black envelope from the pile of proposals and read the name, “Oh, how sad… so young, too.”

Unable to curb his curiosity, Ron leaned forward as if to read the envelope, “Oh? Who was that one from?”

Even in the short time they were there, several owls came swooping in through a series of holes high in the walls, each of them dropping letters, cards, and wrapped packages into their respective piles.

Ragnok glanced back to the envelope and said, “This was from the Greengrass family patriarch, offering the hand of his daughter, Daphne. Apparently, the witch died within the past few days.”

“Daphne Greengrass?” said Ron and Hermione at the same time. They gave each other a nervous glance, having just seen the battered girl the previous week in the hospital wing at Hogwarts. Obviously, she didn’t survive her injuries from the Death Eater attack on her family.

Harry didn’t notice his friends’ reactions, as he was watching the steady stream of owls fluttering overhead and asked, “Does this happen all the time?”

Hermione had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes as she said, “Of course not, Harry. Today’s your birthday, so I gather that’s the reason for so much activity.” As Hermione said this an owl swooped by and dropped a parchment letter on the pile of marriage proposals. A slight scowl marred her features as she offhandedly commented, “…and as of today, you’re a legal adult… I suspect that you’ll be receiving quite a few more of those from now on.”

Harry smiled knowingly as he casually slipped his hand into hers, which seemed to wipe the poorly concealed frown from her pretty face.

They spent a long time inspecting the various piles of boxes. Reading the labels affixed to each box, they had a fair idea of what the vault contained, although there was no way for them to discover everything that was in the multitude of containers. There were loads of various sized robes, cloaks and clothes, hundreds of wizard toys and games for a variety of ages,

Ragnok suddenly turned to face Harry and quietly said, “So, Lord Potter, do you still think that no one will listen to you? Do you still think that your words will fail to convince anyone of the truth? Do you still believe that no one would willingly follow you or support you if you were to decide to make the world a better place for all?”

Harry stared into Ragnok’s black eyes for a long moment. Finally he said, “Okay, let’s suppose you’re right. Let’s say that I can convince everyone of what’s been happening in their government. Let’s just suppose that, by some bizarre quirk of fate, I will have some influence on what the Ministry does in the future… what would you have me do? What do you expect from me?”

“I expect you to stop another war from starting,” bellowed Ragnok loudly, causing the trio to start. Gone was the calm, placating demeanor that the elder goblin had displayed through their meeting up to this point, “We are weary, Lord Potter… the goblins are tired of being treated as animals! We have had enough of the unreasonable restrictions placed upon us! All we get are half-hearted assurances and platitudes, empty promises to improve out lot in the world, but each year we have more and more of our rights, our freedoms, stripped from us!”

Ragnok lowered his voice slightly as he said, “I know that in that school of yours they teach the history of magic. I also know that the syllabus is dictated by the Ministry, so I’m relatively confident that you have no idea what had really caused the last ‘goblin wars,’ as I believe you call them. We call them the wars for freedom, and I’m afraid that history is repeating itself. Many of the restrictions and limitations placed upon the goblin nation today were the very same reasons for the past wars. Many in the Elder Council have already called for war. Some have expressed the desire to do just as you earlier suggested… to wait for the end of your war and then strike out against the weakened victor and secure our freedom.”

“How do you know that I won’t be just as bad... just as corrupt as every other wizard politician you’ve dealt with?”

Ragnok gave his eerily toothy grin as he said, “That was the reason for our little chat this morning, Lord Po… Harry… I pride myself on being a fair judge of character, and you have been highly recommended to us as someone who is worthy of our trust.”

Harry looked truly surprised as he asked, “Who recommended me, Dumbledore?”

Ragnok laughed, and then said with his toothy smile, “No, it was Lady Oota, of course… Oh, yes, she is Mistress Potter now, isn’t she?”

Harry and Hermione shared a look before turning back to Ragnok to question him, but the elder goblin chose that moment to dismiss himself. As he headed for the door, the old goblin said, “Rest assured, Lord Potter, you have the support of the goblin nation in your current endeavor. When you need us most, we will be with you.”

With that, Ragnok left the vault, leaving behind one of his bodyguards to escort the trio through the vaults. A few hours, and many ‘Bloody Hell’s’ from Ron later, the trio found themselves being escorted out through the main door and into Diagon Alley, where they were met by the cold stares of the ogres aimed at Hermione.

As soon as they were out of sight from the bank’s guards, Harry took each of their hands and the three disappeared from Diagon Alley in a blue flash of light, only to reappear a moment later on a dark, sandy beach. Although the sun had already risen in Britain, it was still a few hours before dawn on the island.

As Ron looked around at the lush surroundings of the island, Hermione saw Harry staring mournfully up at the darkened beach house. She knew he was thinking of Kotone. She gave his hand a comforting squeeze as she led him across the beach towards the front door. She still had her period, but she knew of other ways that would hopefully cheer him up. She had to make a few changes to the nursery room for a place for Ron to sleep… after all, she intended to take Harry’s mind off of Kotone while up in the loft, and it wouldn’t do to have their friend directly beneath them on the sofa.

-----~-----

The door to Gringotts Highest Security Vault Number One opened, and into the vault stepped the elder goblin, Ragnok. The old goblin sighed as he looked at the elderspawn seated in the middle of the vault and staring blankly ahead.

A few seconds later, her violet eyes blinked, and then focused on the aged being standing before her.

“You heard?” asked Ragnok.

“Yes.”

“Then you know what is to come?”

“Yes.”

“I assume you will want the Tenth Grenadiers?”

“No, I’m afraid I know what is to face… I need First Region.”

Ragnok looked genuinely surprised, “The First Legion? Are you sure, Mistress Potter?”

“Yes,” replied Kotone, “and it happens today. Prease to go prepare them… and ensure they armed with silver.”

Ragnok presented Kotone with a polite bow before turning towards the door. Before it closed, he turned back to the sad child and sighed again.

As soon as the door had closed, the regal figure of Kyuushuu appeared before Kotone.

‘Then you already know of the werewolves?’

‘Yes.’

Kyuushuu’s eyes briefly went out of focus as he looked down at Kotone. He could see the image of his daughter’s soul. No longer did it appear as a towering figure, but as a small, wispy image that just barely fit into her small body. Kyuushuu smiled and said, ‘I see that you have already prepared yourself.’

‘Yes.’

Kyuushuu looked down into the young girl’s sad, despairing eyes. He gave her a kind smile and said, ‘You know it will be for the best, don’t you?’

Kotone just nodded and said in a clipped tone, ‘I must go to him now. I will come back as soon as it starts.’

Kyuushuu watched as Kotone’s soul drifted lazily from her body, and then disappeared in a blink towards the southwest. Kyuushuu’s smile faded as he said to the empty shell of his daughter, ‘Do not worry, child. You will be happier this way.’

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact!: I planned on putting a scene with Vernon in this chapter, but it turned out MUCH longer than I planned, so *maybe* it will be in the next chapter… or maybe not… ^_^

51. A Mistress and a Mission

Disclaimer: No, I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe, nor do I make any money from playing with the characters. I make no claim on the lyric bits, either.

A/N: I know, I know… I really thought I could fit the final battle into this chapter, but the fun I was having with Vernon lasted longer than I intended. I cut this chapter off at a point as to not leave it at a cliffie. But on the bright side, this means that there will be an additional chapter to the story! Next chapter will start the final battle, and after that, the final chapter will be some sort of bizarre epilogue… thingy… you’ll see! I apologize in advance for any typos in this chapter that I’ve missed… I really do try to put out quality writing. (Whether I actually do or not is up for debate!) For now, sit back and enjoy the Vernon torture! (Word Count: 6793)

-----~-----

Chapter 51: A Mistress and a Mission

Should have taken warning…
It's just, people mourning,
running… hiding… lost…
You can't find, find a place to go,

So, it's red skies at night…
Red skies at night…

Someone's taking over…
and it looks like they're aiming right at you.
Someone says, "We'll be dead by morning…"
Someone cries… leaving,

Red skies at night…

Someone’s taking over,
and it looks like they’re aiming right at you, (and me, and everybody!)
Someone said, “We’ll be dead by morning…”
Someone cries,

leaving red eyes alone… (red eyes alone…)
oh, no…

Excerpt from the song, ‘Red Skies,’ by the band, The Fixx. (Extended Live Version)

-----~-----

It really couldn’t be argued that Vernon Dursley had just lived through a simply dreadful night, and the morning didn’t look very promising, either. His dinner of take-out sandwiches from the local deli, which, as it appeared they knew exactly who they were catering to, left much to be desired, as it was mostly bread and condiments with the barest amount of real substance to it. He was used to meals with a bit more… ‘more…’ to them.

However, what he was being fed was the least of his worries. He knew he was in trouble. As he lay on the cold, stainless steel shelf that the constables called a bed, he reflected back upon the last twelve hours of his life.

As his car was totally inoperable, he was seeking to hitch a ride amongst the fleeing denizens of London and finally found a mini-lorry filled with young hoodlums who were more than willing to give him a ride to his home in Brentwood. As it turned out, that wasn’t the best of decisions, because just before he was forcibly ejected from the van, he was relieved of his wallet, jewelry, and most of his rather large and expensive clothes.

Adding insult to humiliation, when he had reached his home wearing nothing but his stained boxers and a sweaty wifebeater, he found it in shambles. As he stared disbelievingly at the burned-out husk that was once a very expensive manor home, he was approached by a rather oddly dressed woman.

The eerily attractive woman had fluorescent lemon-yellow hair, an impossibly beautiful, heart-shaped face, and an equally impossibly large bust that was threatening to burst free from the silken, obscenely thin halter top she was wearing. Vernon found that it was impossible for him to speak with the woman eye-to-eye, as his gaze seemed magnetized to the outline of the nipples on her more than ample, scarcely-clad bosom.

To his absolute horror, the vixen before him turned out to be one of the oddballs, just like his freak of a nephew. With a jab of that ‘stick thing’ of hers, he was covered in one of the odd cloaks their kind used. The woman had informed him that his family was ‘safe’ inside of the freak school that his freak of a nephew attended, and then had the audacity to suggest to him that he accompany her to that ‘magic school’ of theirs.

One good thing came of that little confrontation… he was able to take that freakish harlot completely by surprise and punched her square in the nose before he ran away, leaving her spitting and swearing as she lay on the street.

It took him a few more hours to return to London, begging and hitching rides. He really had nowhere else to go besides the ‘friend’ he was seeing on the side. He hated to think of her like that… having a mistress… a ‘thing on the side…’ but he wasn’t getting any at home, and he hadn’t been for a very long time… and a man ‘has his needs,’ as the saying goes. If truth be told, he was nearly ready to abandon that shrewish wife and their, as he recently discovered, thug of a son… bad blood and whatnot… ‘her’ side of the family… he just wished he had realized it sooner. If he had listened to his sister, Marge… if there’s ‘freak’ blood in the wife’s family, then there’s ‘freak’ blood in the wife, and their son, too.

What had put the final nail in the coffin of his life was when he finally reached the home of his ‘friend.’ He found the door shattered and her somewhat run-down basement apartment in total disarray, as if a herd of elephants had recently stampeded through. It was only when he discovered his mistress’s mangled body in the disheveled bedroom did he start to panic. There was his lover of nearly ten years, Petra Pettigrew, lying dead on the floor. He had barely made it a few steps after discovering her when the police arrived.

Now he was sitting in a cramped cell on a cold, stainless steel bed, awaiting whatever was to become of him.

He had been questioned throughout night. He had explained again and again why he was there, and adamantly denied having brutalized his lover under the mask of the surrounding chaos caused by the terrorists, but as he didn’t have any identification on him… due to his very recent mugging… the authorities had no choice but to lock him up as one of the marauding terrorists.

“Freaks!” he muttered to himself with wide, crazy eyes, “it’s all their fault! That ruddy queer nephew and his ruddy freakish friends are what’s causing my misery! If I ever see that vile, loathsome oddball again, I’ll…”

Vernon’s whispered ravings were interrupted by the sound of the scraping of the cell door opening. There stood a bobby along with the welcome sight of a tall, thin girl with long, straight, reddish-brown hair surrounding a slightly pudgy, yet not unattractive face. Carol Taylor, the secretary of the Sales Director of Grunning’s Drill Company was looking at him through the bars with a somewhat disgruntled face, although Vernon wasn’t looking at her expression, rather his eyes drifted southward to her quite ample bust straining her white buttoned shirt. At least his one phone call to the head of personnel didn’t go to waste.

“Is that ‘im, miss?” asked the bobby to the young secretary.

Carol, poorly hiding the look of resigned disgust at seeing the obese, scantily clad Vernon, replied, “Yes, he is who he says he is.”

“Well, that’s that, then… come along, Dursley,” said the policeman as he opened the cell door and held out the traveling cloak to him, which was initially taken away from him to prevent the possibility of the prisoner using it to attempt suicide. With a sneer, Vernon roughly snatched the cloak from the officer’s hand and quickly covered himself to hide the fact he was still only in his boxers and t-shirt.

Carol just rolled her eyes and began walking down the corridor towards the station lobby and the exit.

Upon leaving the station after being officially released on personal recognizance, Vernon stopped Carol and said, “I can’t be seen in public like this!”

Carol shrugged and looked around, “There… there’s a haberdashery. Go fix yourself up and I’ll motor around up front, and be quick about it, I’m preparing an announcement for the boss and I’m already behind.”

She hadn’t made it two steps when Vernon’s sausage-like fingers gripped her elbow. She snatched her arm away from him, turned angrily towards him and hissed, “For pity’s sake, what now?”

Vernon abashedly muttered something under his breath, causing his walrus-like moustache to flutter comically.

“Speak up, ya daft git! I canna unnerstand a word ya said!”

Vernon dropped his gaze, which happened to stop where her shapely legs emerged from under her rather short, brown skirt, and said embarrassedly, “I don’t have any money on me. When I went home last night, I found my whole neighborhood burned to the ground by the terrorists, my family was missing, and on my way back to London I got mugged by a pack of ruffians, which is how I came to be like… this.”

Carol’s eyes narrowed. She could plainly see that he was ogling her legs, but still took pity on the old lecher. She reached in her purse and after a short search, pulled out a credit card. She handed it to Vernon and said, “Now you listen to me. There’s only a few ‘unnert Quid left on that card, an’ I still hafta buy petrol an’ groceries for the next few days until I get paid on Friday… Don’ go an’ spend alla it, you ‘ear?”

Carol didn’t even bother to wait for a reply, she just spun on her heel and clattered down the stone steps of the police station and crossed the street to the parking garage. Vernon wrapped the cloak tighter around himself and shuffled as quickly as he could towards the clothing shop. As it turned out, it wasn’t a haberdashery at all, but a second-hand charity shop. Fifteen minutes and thirty Quid later, he walked from the shop wearing a garish lime-green, decidedly ill-fitting suit, complete with a pair of nearly worn out tan wingtip shoes that had gone out of style about thirty years prior. They were the only things in the entire shop that even came close to fitting his bulging form.

Still, at least he was clothed.

Upon exiting the shop, he saw Carol sitting in her auto, a nearly twenty year old MGB that had certainly seen better days. He halted in his steps and briefly considered not even getting into such a shoddy car. Its paint was faded, there was rust showing through in places, and from what he could see, there didn’t seem to be a section of the body that wasn’t marred by dents and scratches. If anyone he knew were to see him riding in that contraption, he would surely be mortified… but then he looked down at what he was forced to wear and sighed miserably.

Vernon sat heavily into the passenger seat and heard the grinding sound of the weak springs and rusted shocks that were protesting under his added weight as the car noticeably leaned to the left. Carol wore a very odd expression as she snatched her credit card from his hand and roughly shoved it in her purse.

Soon they were motoring their way towards Grunning’s on the far side of the city. Vernon was slouched down in his seat, obviously trying hard not to appear noticeable, and just stared morosely out through the passenger window. Every few seconds he would feel the car shudder slightly as they traveled. It was only when his eyes drifted over to Carol’s thick, curvy legs did he realize what was making the odd, shuddering vibration. It wasn’t the car itself, but rather the poorly contained laughter coming from the young girl driving the car. She had her eyes fixed upon the road, but every now and again she would glance over to Vernon’s clothes and start snickering anew. When she finally noticed that he was looking at her, Carol burst out into riotous laughter, so much so that she had to briefly pull over to the side to wipe the tears that were blurring her vision.

Needless to say, the remainder of the ride was quite uncomfortable for Vernon, but the real embarrassment came for him when they finally arrived at work. The halls were buzzing with conversations about the previous day’s ‘terrorist’ attacks, but when Vernon stepped off from the lift, the area became painfully silent. He was met with disbelieving stares from most of the male coworkers that he encountered, and blatant snickers and finger-pointing from most of the ladies. When he finally made it to his office, he slammed the door shut and parked himself behind his desk, pushing mounds of paperwork in front of him to hopefully block one’s vision in case anyone entered through the door.

He didn’t notice the window washer standing on the scaffolding just outside his window, holding his sides as he laughed himself into a coughing fit. The man was barely able to pulley himself away from the outside of the window. It looked as though if he laughed any harder, he surely would have fallen from his perch.

Vernon was muttering under his breath as he perused that morning’s memos. Among the papers in the stack, he noticed the memo announcing the staff meeting and saw that it would begin in just a few minutes. The memo also mentioned that one of the subjects of the meeting was the anticipated visit of the company’s owner. He had planned to miss this meeting the moment that Carol mentioned it, seeing that he was so absurdly dressed, but now knew he had to attend.

He needed all of the information on the owner that he could get if he was going to make a good impression. Obviously, he couldn’t offer a home-cooked meal, seeing that his house was currently in ruins, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t treat the owner to a lavish dinner in an expensive restaurant.

The meeting went just as Vernon had anticipated. The moment he entered the conference room, he was met with stares, glares, guffaws, and a stern, verbal reprimand from the general manager. It was only after he explained about what had happened the previous night and what Carol Taylor had kindly done for him that he was offered any modicum of sympathy at all… most of it given sparsely and grudgingly.

He didn’t really notice that a good portion of the sympathy was for Miss Taylor.

Still, the meeting told him all that he needed to know. The owner’s representatives sent word that he would be meeting with the upper management and touring the facilities early in the next week. Vernon hardly paid attention to the instructions to get the various departments in order. He was sure his charm and charisma would carry the day when it was time to meet this mysterious owner.

‘Yes, next week would be one for the scrapbooks!’ Vernon thought fondly to himself, ‘It will surely make up for these past few dreadful months!’

Obviously, Vernon was in for a most unexpected surprise when the first week of August arrives.

-----~-----

Harry let Hermione lead him through the door into the beach house. As always, the strange, soft lighting came to life, illuminating the very white interior of the house. Usually, the soft glow from the neon-like, glass tube felt comforting to him, but given the mood that he was in, it made the room appear strangely empty. Immediately, his eyes focused upon the slightly matted indentation in the soft, polar bearskin rug that was roughly in the curled-up shape of Kotone’s slight body.

When he walked through the door, he almost expected to find her there waiting for him, but something inside of him just knew she would still be on that ‘task’ for the Oni.

‘At least they allowed her to leave a note…’ thought Harry morosely.

Harry did, however, catch the odd expression on Hermione’s face as she glanced at him looking at the rug. It almost appeared that she desperately wanted to say something to him, but then her gaze dropped to the floor as she led him to the stairs leading to the loft. At first glance, he thought she looked sad, but there was something in her pained expression that hinted at something more secretive. If he didn’t know better, he could have guessed it was guilt that flashed across her face, but he immediately dismissed that notion. He had other, more serious matters to think about.

He was dealing with the situation the best he could, but there were too many things demanding his mind’s attention. The enormity of what Ragnok was trying to tell him didn’t really hit him until he saw the colossal number of letters and gifts. He had always hated his celebrity status, thinking that all those fickle witches and wizards shouldn’t feel that way towards him for simply having murdered parents. He realized that there truly were thousands upon thousands of people out there who actually loved him… who he was… without ever having actually met him. Seeing the plethora of gifts and cards made him realize that their affection towards him went beyond mere gratitude or sympathy. He was absolutely floored by the huge stack of marriage proposals and the sheer number of letters and cards that were sent to him throughout his life.

As he perused the vast number of boxes containing the thousands of toys and games he could have had during those years of loneliness and neglect at the hands of the Dursleys, he couldn’t help but to feel that, not only his happiness, but his entire childhood was kept from him… stolen from him. Well, he had plans for that particular issue once he attended the meeting with the current heads of Grunning’s Drill Company.

Then there was the issue with the orphanage and the suffering those kids went through. He distinctly remembered seeing in the memories that Kotone had shown him fleeting images of a dirty chamber filled with kids emptying and cleaning chamber pots by hand, attaching wrought-metal handles on cauldrons, sanding and polishing broomstick handles, sorting through piles of disgusting potion ingredients, and other such unpleasant tasks. He had no idea at the time that those memories were from her time in Haversham’s. What bothered him the most was that it was perfectly acceptable to the pureblood-controlled wizarding world… actually condoned by the ministry that was supposed to promote the welfare of all wizarding peoples, not just the pureblood elitists.

To top it all off, he was told, in no uncertain terms, that wizardkind was on the brink of yet another goblin war due to the prejudice and bigotry of those same pureblood elitists. What Hermione had told him struck a chord deep within him… ‘You do realize that almost ninety percent of the wizarding populace are either half-bloods or muggleborns… there are very few true pureblood families left.’

With that vast majority of the wizarding population being subverted and oppressed, how was it that nothing was ever done before?

The answer struck Harry as he reached the top of the stairs… because there was never anyone in a position to lead them. If he really did hold that much sway with the rank and file wizarding community, then he could see why Ragnok chose to confide in him, and suggested that he would be in a position to influence the magical world for the better… if he survived, that is.

When Hermione laid him back onto the bed, he hadn’t realized how tired he was. All of the other conflicting emotions that were buffeting his psyche kept him from really feeling the exhaustion until then.

Hermione helped him off with his shirt, shoes and socks as she told him, “I’m going to get the nursery room set up for Ron, I think it would be more appropriate for us if he wasn’t practically in the same room with us.”

Harry fidgeted slightly when she mentioned changing Kotone’s room, but he really didn’t have the energy to complain… it’s not like she ever spent the full night in there, anyway.

“Once Ron’s settled, I’ll make us a quick bite and bring it up here,” Hermione smiled nervously and added with a deepening blush, “after we eat, I can put you to sleep properly… it is your birthday, you know.”

Before her meaning registered in his brain, Hermione had already turned and was hurrying down the stairs. His eyes were focused on her shapely behind when what she implied finally struck him. Although a crimson blush flashed across his own face, he couldn’t help but to smile broadly at the idea of being ‘put to sleep properly.’

Harry laid back in the bed and stared up through the now spotless skylight above the bed. He briefly wondered how it had become so clean, then remembered that Hermione had cleaned it as he was sleeping the morning before… then he realized that he was sleeping on top of the bed completely naked during that time. His smile returned as he thought that she must have had a good show up there.

His smile faded, however, as his thoughts turned to the task at hand. They got the general directions from Hagrid on how to get to his house in Godric’s Hollow, but since none of them had ever been there, they couldn’t Apparate directly there. They couldn’t make a portkey for the same reason. He briefly considered broomsticks, but it was much too far to travel, and they would only be able to do it at night then they couldn’t readily be seen by the muggles. Then the thought struck him…

He listened for a moment and heard Hermione chanting off spells in the downstairs nursery, transfiguring the baby furniture into something more suitable for Ron. She said that she would make up some food after that, so he had some time.

Harry settled into the mattress, making his body as comfortable as possible, then stared straight up into the dark, early morning sky. He didn’t even have to close his eyes before the familiar septagram appeared as a ghostly, translucent image before his eyes. He felt his soul lifting up from the bed and the sensation of being able to ‘see’ all around him. He still didn’t have that sense of extreme awareness that he had during his interrupted enhancement ritual, but he’d have to worry about that later… he had a job to do.

In the blink of an eye, he was soaring over the ocean at an impossible speed. The growing lightness of the eastern horizon, the swells of the ocean below him, even the clouds and stars above him seemed to be a blur as he sped along towards the southern coast of Great Britain.

The closest place to his ultimate destination that he knew of was Ottery St. Catchpole in central Devon County, so he focused his concentration on the Burrow. Even after the southern shoreline of Britain had passed, he found that he was having a bit of trouble finding the small community. He had to stop entirely once or twice to get his bearings, and he wished he paid more attention to his surroundings when Ron and the twins rescued him from the Dursley’s house in the old Ford Anglia. He finally caught a landmark and knew which direction he had to go.

A heartbeat later he was hovering above the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole. He knew the area had been attacked and the Burrow had been destroyed, but what he saw there wasn’t anything close to what he had expected.

Harry vaguely remembered glancing at the small town in the darkness from the window of Mr. Weasley’s Anglia, the quaint little village nestled between wide, rolling hills. The small shops lined along the main street, the scattered, picturesque cottages and farmhouses seemed to be what defined a small Devon town.

What he saw was nothing less than devastation. The surrounding farmlands, that once promised to yield a full year’s staples laid in blackened ash. The charming farmhouses that dotted the landscape were now nothing but charred, caved-in timber lying in their respective foundations. The main street appeared to be no better off than the outlying homesteads. There wasn’t one building left standing. Each side of the main thoroughfare held burnt-out husks of what once was a pleasant, bustling community, a mere shadow of what once was. Scattered along the street, the decaying bodies of the fallen villagers still lay where they fell. Nothing was stirring at all in the early morning sunlight… apparently, even the muggle authorities hadn’t caught up to the devastation that had been spreading through the land.

Harry knew that the Burrow lay just to the west of the village proper. He hovered along above the wreckage of the town towards the wooded hills across the Otter River.

As soon as the familiar area of the paddock came into view, he stopped dead in the air. If he had been in his body, he knew there would have been tears in his eyes. There was no other way to put it… the Burrow was gone. Just gone. The barn where Mr Weasley kept all of his muggle artifacts, the broom shed in which Dumbledore had spoken to him, the gnome-infested garden, and the house itself… just charred, scattered timber and scorched, barren land. That was all that was left of what he nearly considered his true home amongst the Weasley family. No wandering chickens… no pesky gnomes…

Just gone.

He found it hard to believe that werewolves could have caused that much damage, especially when the full moon wasn’t due for a few more days. He made another of his mental notes, the ones he never seemed to remember, to ask Hermione if there was anything that could explain what might have happened.

Hagrid had told them that Godric’s Hollow was in northern Devon, a short way to the north from the town of Cheriton in the Exmoor Forest. With fresh determination, he climbed up into the air where he could see a good distance, laid his bearings due north, and darted away from the desolate waste that used to be Ottery St. Catchpole.

As he flew, he could see the sparse areas amongst the hills that denoted another community. He’d stop just long enough to get his bearings, and then dart along the winding routes northward, searching for the rather large town of Cheriton.

After a while, he left the hilly terrain behind and was gliding over a vast expanse of forest. Harry had just swooped down to view a roadsign along the highway just outside of what appeared to be a substantial town. As he came to a halt just before the sign, a ghostly silhouette, one that he certainly did not expect to find, instantly appeared before him, casually leaning on the signpost, but undoubtedly giving him a rather stern glare.

He did notice that the sign read, ‘Welcome to Cheriton.’

He couldn’t ‘hear’ the words, they just seemed to echo in his mind, ‘You scared the life out of me, you know,’ said the ethereal golden eagle standing before him, ‘At first I thought you were angry with me, the way you were staring at the sky! Then, when you didn’t even move, I thought you were dead!’

‘I’m sorry,’ answered Harry in a similar fashion, ‘I thought I’d be back before you returned… how did you find me so quickly?’

Harry could almost see the smirk that would be on her face as she answered, ‘I put myself into my state while making your dinner… which is getting cold, by the way… I didn’t want you waiting too long, and I was quite anxious to get the meal over with, myself…’

Harry suddenly remembered her words before she descended the stairs to the loft. The hormone fueled fog didn’t descend entirely over his consciousness as he asked, ‘How did you find me at all? We’re over 3000 miles away from the island!’

‘Look at yourself,’ was all she said.

Harry didn’t realize it until just then that he never really took stock of his own soul’s appearance before. It always seemed that his disembodied soul was the source of his entire perception, but the moment Hermione’s soul mentioned it, he suddenly became aware of his own soul’s form. Looking inwardly at himself he took in his appearance. The first thing that met his awareness was a golden silhouette of a proud, stately cat, standing confidently upon the side of the highway they were on. He noted the golden aura that seemed to encompass his form, then, just as he had noticed when it had broken during their first kiss, he saw the golden, ribbon-like thread connecting his soul with Hermione’s… the bond that they both were most desperate to restore. It suddenly occurred to him that he noticed the ribbon-like filament when he had achieved that ‘total awareness’ state during the failed ritual, but it seemed a minor point at the time, given the massive influx of information about his surroundings. The realization was lost amidst the totality of what he was then experiencing.

One thing that neither Harry nor Hermione noticed was the fine, silk-like, silvery thread that connected from the center of his soul and stretched straight upwards into the cloudy sky, right to where a pair of sad, violet eyes were looking down upon the pair standing along the road.

Seeing that they were already out and about, they decided to scout out Godric’s Hollow. Once they were familiar with the area, Harry could Apparate them there whenever they were ready to find Nagini, Voldemort’s final horcrux. They quickly passed through Cheriton and followed the main road north into the heart of Exmoor Forest.

Very soon after they cleared Cheriton’s populated area, they discovered some very odd things happening within the large forest. If they weren’t in their soul forms, they never would have noticed the unusual number of wizard sentries hidden and disillusioned along the roads. The pair could only tell their presence by seeing the wizards’ various soul forms, which of course, couldn’t be hidden or disillusioned from them. Harry then understood how Kotone could see him when he entered her hospital room while wearing his father’s cloak.

The continued along high above the roadway northward until they spotted a tiny village nestled in the woods some distance to the northeast. The village appeared to only have a few dozen houses sparsely lined along a long central road. They could see the tall steeple of the local church, and a few larger buildings that were probably stores or maybe a town hall. As they neared, it soon became apparent that the village was indeed Godric’s Hollow, as the place was swarming with Death Eaters. Most of them were hidden or disilluaioned, but there were still quite a few moving around the otherwise deserted community.

It quickly became apparent where the old Potter house was located, as there was one seemingly empty clearing in the woods that was entirely encircled by hidden Death Eaters. Harry and Hermione both concentrated on the words that Peter Pettigrew had written, ‘The Potters are living at Number Seven Aerie Green, Godric’s Hollow, Devon,’ and ‘Nagini is hidden at Number Seven Aerie Green, Godric’s Hollow, Devon.’

No sooner had the words come to mind, an old, ramshackle cottage seemed to inflate out of the ground in the center of the clearing. It looked as though it was once a quaint little brick home, though the elements and neglect had certainly taken their toll on the building. The area of the second floor where a good portion of the right front corner of the house appeared to have been blown apart from the inside, revealing the interior of a small, debris-littered bedroom.

The instant the house came into existence, Harry glided through the front door with Hermione following hesitantly behind him.

Harry was surprised with himself that he felt none of the anxiety that he expected he would experience, although he could feel the tension coming off of Hermione’s soul in waves. With a quick, reassuring glance, she seemed to understand that he wasn’t going to suffer any ill effects from being in the house where his parents were murdered. It was like he was merely entering an old, abandoned building.

The interior definitely looked its age. The parlor took up the entire front of the cottage, and it had a large, pane-less bay window next to the cracked and warped front door. The paint on the walls was cracked and peeling in places, the carpeting was musty and discoloured, areas of the ceiling had spots where the decaying plaster had fallen, and all the furniture held a definite air of neglect and age. There was also a large fireplace along the right wall, its mantle supporting aged framed photographs and various knickknacks that revealed that the house was once a home.

They were surprised to see Voldemort himself, standing before the fireplace in the front parlor with Nagini coiled comfortably upon the old, musty sofa along the left wall. In their accelerated state, Voldemort appeared frozen in place, like some hideous, serpentine mannequin, but they could see his head slowly turning as he perused the age-worn photographs on the mantle.

It was apparent to them that Nagini was indeed a horcrux, as they could see the smoky, ethereal serpent that was Voldemort’s soul shard wrapped around the large snake. They also noticed that Voldemort had two of the misty serpents writhing within him, telling them that the soul shard that had been released from Harry had finally returned to try to reunite with its counterpart. The two smoky snakes were entwined around each other, as if trying to meld back together, but they would never truly combine… once a soul is torn, it can never be repaired.

‘He knows,’ said Harry into Hermione’s mind, ‘he must have discovered that Pettigrew had betrayed him… this isn’t good.’

‘We’re going to need help,’ said Hermione, ‘There’s no way we can handle this all on our own… there are just too many of them, and if they’re expecting us…’

‘I know,’ said Harry tiredly, ‘but he doesn’t know that we know he’s here, so I don’t think it’s totally hopeless… We’ve lost the element of surprise, true, but we still have a few tricks up our sleeves. We’ll discuss it once we get back. Let’s look around for now, we need to have a good idea of what’s around here.’

Harry and Hermione spent, what was to them, a few hours mentally mapping the layout of the village and non-verbally discussing how best to get Nagini away from Voldemort, and then how to finish the Dark Lord off for good.

The pair of souls ended up in the old abandoned church that was just about a hundred meters from the former Potter cottage. They drifted throughout the building, looking at the broken, moldering pews and the tarnished, forgotten relics strewn around the toppled altar. They rose up into the rafters, passing by the nearly completely dismantled pipe organ, then made their way up into the steeple and the bell tower enclosure.

They found that from that vantage point, they had a very good view of the clearing in which the Potter cottage lay. They could even see directly through the broken bay window into the front parlor of the cottage. It was there, in the bell tower, where Hermione thought up her plan to both banish the horcrux fragment in Nagini, and to create a situation where Harry stood the best chance of vanquishing Voldemort and living to tell the tale.

With a final nod of agreement to each other, the graceful eagle and the proud lion moved so quickly that they seemed to vanish, appearing a few heartbeats later back on the small island in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

-----~-----

Harry blinked a few times to get his bearings. His body was, of course, right where he had left it, but now he found he wasn’t alone on the bed anymore. Lying beside him was the similarly dazed looking Hermione, and on the bed beside her was a tray with grilled ham and cheese sandwiches and two plastic cups of cola.

He didn’t realize how hungry he was until his senses met the aroma of the food. Hermione had noticed him looking longingly at the sandwiches. She lifted up the tray and placed it on her lap.

“You don’t have to ask for any… I brought this up here for the both of us.”

Harry smiled at her gratefully and grabbed a sandwich as she did likewise. Hermione quickly wolfed down half of her sandwich, then drained her drink before she placed the remainder of the tray in Harry’s lap and stood up from the bed.

“Finish this up,” said Hermione as she picked up the bag that Harry had carried into Ollivander’s, “I’ll check on Ron, and then there’s something I need to take care of.”

Harry watched her pull Ravenclaw’s wand out of the bag before she turned and descended the staircase. With everything that had happened in Godric’s Hollow and in the vaults below Gringotts, he had almost forgotten that they had retrieved the fifth horcrux.

Thoughts of the wand drew his mind back to the ordeal in Ollivander’s shop. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore. He placed the half-eaten sandwich back on the tray, laid it aside, and sank back into the bed. He closed his eyes as the vision of Kotone’s lifeless stare came unbidden to the forefront of his mind. He knew that it wasn’t really her… he might have even known while it was happening. He could somehow feel her presence in his very being. Deep down, he knew that she was still safe… for how much longer, he didn’t know. He just wished she was back with him.

Harry must have fallen asleep, because when he next opened his eyes, he could tell that it was late in the afternoon by the condition of the sky outside of the skylight. That wasn’t nearly as much of a surprise as finding Hermione fast asleep and cuddled up next to him on the bed, hugging his arm in a death grip. She was wearing a simple, white cotton nightdress, the one he vaguely remembered picking up for her, along with the rest of her clothing, from her house a few days before.

Harry didn’t fail to notice that the nightdress had ridden up Hermione’s legs as she slept, exposing the modest pair of white knickers that she happened to be wearing. Her knickers weren’t like the large ‘granny pants’ that his aunt Petunia always wore, which he had seen more times than he’d care to count while doing the Dursley’s laundry, but they were narrow and lacy and he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from them.

“See anything you like?” whispered a soft voice in his ear, which understandably startled him.

Harry turned his head and was met with a pair of smouldering, brown eyes. He was momentarily embarrassed by being caught ogling her knickers, but it quickly passed as he saw that she actually seemed to enjoy him looking at her. His mouth went dry as he found himself getting lost in her penetrating gaze, but his subconscious wouldn’t allow him to be distracted for long.

With a heavy sigh, Harry said, “We have to do it tonight. We don’t know how much longer he’ll stay there, and if he decides to find another hiding place for Nagini, we may not get another chance.”

“We still have a few hours before it gets dark in Britain,” said Hermione with a sly smile.

Harry tried to smile back, but his mind was too busy worrying about what was to soon come, “You know, chances are that neither one of us will see the morning…”

Hermione’s smile only faltered for a second before she ran her hand across his bare chest and said, “Let’s not worry about that right now. If we’re going to die tonight, then let’s make the most of what time we have right now.”

Harry noticed the rosy flush colouring Hermione’s cheeks, and at the same time felt his own face heat up as what she was suggesting became immediately apparent. He glanced through the railing supports towards the downstairs living room and whispered, “What about Ron?”

Hermione slid her hand down to his stomach, sending a curious, involuntary shudder throughout his body as she said, “While you were sleeping, I told him the plan. He flooed out to see his father to find out if we can get the Order involved, and then he’s going to Hogwarts to talk to Benjamin Bones for us to see if we could get some support from the auror corps, and yes, I warned him about the trip. Now quit stalling and make love to me.”

Harry remembered their first, heated encounter. The overwhelming desire and lust that they both were feeling at the moment their bond was reestablished drove all modesty and restraint from their minds. They hadn’t had the opportunity to discuss that first encounter, so he expected that things would be awkward if they were going to do anything again.

As his hand snaked up to cup one of her breasts, and her free hand snaked its way under the waistband of his trousers, awkwardness was the very least of what he was feeling. As he leaned in to kiss her, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to him. He felt like he was home.

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact! There’s no point in telling you ‘the plan.’ You’ll see it played out in the next chapter, and you’ll be able to tell where things start to go awry!

52. The Fallen Angel

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe. I don’t profit from writing this crap in the least. I don’t own or make any profit from the lyric bits that I use, either.

A/N: This is it. The final full chapter. The next chapter will be the epilogue. As you’ll be able to tell by the end of this chapter, this was extremely difficult for me to write. The epilogue won’t be a walk in the park, either, but I think I’ll manage. Please don’t be too angry with me by the way this chapter turned out. I left a few clues here and there that should give you all a bit of hope. This is, by far, the longest chapter in the story… I hope it doesn’t drone on too long for you, but I really couldn’t split it up. So, get yourself comfortable and enjoy! (Word Count: 11, 873)

-----~-----

Chapter 52: The Fallen Angel

New blood joins this earth, and quickly he's subdued.
Through constant pained disgrace, the young boy learns their rules.

With time, the child draws in… this whipping boy done wrong.
Deprived of all his thoughts, the young man struggles on and on, he's known
a vow unto his own
that never from this day,
his will they'll take away…

They dedicate their lives to running all of his.
He tries to please them all… this bitter man, he is.
Throughout his life the same, he's battled constantly.
This fight he cannot win. A tired man they see no longer cares.
The old man then prepares
to die regretfully…

that old man here is me.

Excerpt from the song, ‘The Unforgiven,’ by the most excellent band, Metallica.

-----~-----

July 31, 7:33 PM local time - London

Kotone was sitting on a stool in the center of Gringotts Highest Security Vault Number One, being attended to by several female goblins. Two of the goblin women were securing the shoulder straps of the ornamental breastplate that Kotone was wearing. The breastplate was made of goblin silver, enameled in red, with an ornate septagram, the Oni Star as she called it, emblazoned in flat black on the center of the front plate. Two more goblin women were wrapping her legs in goblin silver shin guards that were painted to match the red breastplate and the chainmail sleeves of her silver tunic.

‘Please, hold still, Elder,’ said one of the goblin handmaidens in Gobbledygook as she struggled to tie off the last strap of her leg armour.

Kotone hadn’t noticed until then that her whole body was trembling. She took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself, but it did little good.

The goblin who was working on the strap looked up and tried to give the young half-witch a kindly smile, but even the normally good-natured female goblin couldn’t hold the smile for more than a second before it was replaced with a sad, sympathetic frown.

Kotone continued to stare straight ahead, determined not to let the goblin women see her as anything but an Oni warrior… a true elder.

As the last strap was finally secured, the imposing figure of Kyuushuu appeared in the room, standing right before the trembling Kotone. His light, feminine voice echoed throughout the chamber as he addressed the young girl in front of him.

‘It has begun. Are you ready, child?’

Kotone looked up into his piercing amber eyes and simply nodded, afraid that if she tried to speak, her voice would fail her.

In truth, she actually was ready. She knew that her actions this evening would have far-reaching effects. She understood the importance of her place in the grand scheme of things… but she didn’t have to like it. Her father, Kyuushuu, was cheated, and it was up to her that the one responsible was held accountable. It was up to her to ensure the debt that was owed to her Oni father would be repaid this night. She knew that her night would be a very long one, and she found herself longing for the morning, but she knew that her ‘morning’ wouldn’t come for a very, very long time.

‘Come along, child,’ said Kyuushuu as he held out his hand to her, ‘Your children are already on the move. Have you chosen your beast?’

‘Yes, Kamadake,’ replied Kotone.

Kyuushuu’s white eyebrows rose briefly, ‘Kamadake? Speed over power? Unusual, but certainly acceptable… I believe that he will serve you well.’

At that point the large vault door ground open and Ragnok stepped in with his two hobgoblin bodyguards. One of his bodyguards was carrying a long, thin wooden case, which he placed upon the floor of the vault at Kotone’s feet.

Kotone bent down and wordlessly opened the wooden case, revealing a scythe. The weapon’s wooden handle was lacquered in black, and the curved blade was made of goblin silver and inlaid with golden runes. The weapon seemed to radiate some sort of ancient magic.

Kyuushuu simply smiled at Ragnok and said, ‘Very fitting. I appreciate you lending my daughter your personal ancestral weapon. I’m sure it will serve her well.’

Kotone hoisted the scythe from the box and laid it against her shoulder. At the same time, one of the goblin handmaidens placed a silver helmet upon her head. Fully armed and hardened, the young half-demon certainly looked the part of an Oni warrior. Still, she remained silent.

“The First Legion is already on the march,” said Ragnok as he addressed Kotone, “I took the liberty of also assigning the Redmoor Dragoons as your reserve. You know how to summon them if needed.”

Kotone just silently nodded in acknowledgement to Ragnok

‘It is time,’ said Kyuushuu softly as he took Kotone’s hand, ‘I will bring you to Kamadake, and then both of you to the assembly area.’

Kyuushuu saw the anguished look that appeared on Kotone’s face and said to her, ‘Do not worry, my daughter. I will be there to take care of you when the time comes. It is my job, after all.’

Kotone smiled for the first time in a long time and replied, ‘I know. I trust you.’

-----~-----

July 31, 3:33 PM local time – Somewhere northeast of Bermuda

He didn’t know how much time had passed. He barely even knew where he was. The entirety of his consciousness was the woman writhing beneath him, panting heavily and growling out incomprehensible phrases that he didn’t think he could care less about knowing what the words were. Sweat was literally pouring down his back and chest as he pumped into her. The heat radiating from both their bodies made it feel as though they were about to set the sheets on fire.

This was their third time in a little less than two hours. He thought he’d be exhausted after the first round… well, he was exhausted, but the energy, adrenaline and hormones coursing through his veins kept him very much awake… alive… Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she was doing her best to keep his mind off of their impending mission. They both knew what the prophesy implied, and deep down he was very grateful to her… of course, he wasn’t so thick as to imagine that she wasn’t enjoying the activity herself.

He had her legs resting on his shoulders, which were the only things supporting his upper body as his hands were set in a vice-like grip on her heaving breasts. Even in her decidedly submissive position, Hermione still had the energy and the agility to push upwards, meeting each of his forceful thrusts with an energetic thrust of her own.

It was only when her eyes clenched shut and her face scrunched up into what appeared to him to be excruciating pain did he pause in his frantic thrusting, nearly panicking with the thought that he was hurting her in some horrific way.

Apparently, stopping mid-thrust was the wrong thing for him to do.

The instant he froze, Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Her hands violently clenched upon his hips as she pulled his manhood deeper within her smouldering sheath. Her fiery gaze burned through his very soul as she practically screamed, “Oh, God! Don’t stop now!”

Hermione’s body seemed to go into convulsions. He knew that he had made her climax before, but this time she was obviously taken to an entirely new level. He suddenly felt a gush of liquid against his pelvic bone as an intense orgasm wracked her body.

Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t stop the wave of his own orgasm from washing over him at the sight of her own intense climax. No matter what he was feeling himself, he knew that the ultimate pleasure for him was seeing her in the throes of her own ultimate pleasure. Her scraping nails, her clenching muscles, how her calves seemed to crush down on his shoulders, even the way her ragged breath blew against his neck in short and forceful pants, they energized every nerve ending throughout his body.

He couldn’t stop her name from escaping his throat as he emptied himself into her, mixing his own semen with her still flowing orgasm.

Hermione almost seemed like a statue with her legs rigidly wrapped around his upper back, her arms locked behind his neck and the frozen, pained expression etched upon her face. It appeared as though she passed out for a moment, but he could only tell that she was actually alive and right there with him by the short breaths through her flaring nostrils and the pulsating compression on his flesh that was still buried deeply within her searing hot core.

Both being totally spent, Hermione’s unfocused eyes seemed to stare straight through him as her legs slid off of his shoulders and landed heavily on the mattress, while Harry’s arms that were supporting him gave out and he put his full weight on the still trembling woman that was panting beneath him.

“Finally! We’ve been waiting for ages… about time you two finished up. A right fine job you two did of it, too!” Those words were accompanied by the sound of clapping hands.

Harry stiffened on top of Hermione, but not in the good way. Hermione let out a gasp and a shriek. Harry craned his neck while Hermione lifted her head to look over his shoulder. They were so focused on their lovemaking that neither one of them heard the clamorous entrance of their friends through the fireplace in the living room. There at the top of the steps stood Tonks and Ron. Tonks was looking devilishly amused by the young lovers’ embarrassment, where Ron was staring nonchalantly down at the floor in the living room, but looking as though he were ready to run down the stairs and back into the harrowing floo.

As if their actions were choreographed, Harry and Hermione tumbled sideways along the bed, drawing the upper sheet over themselves in a futile effort to salvage what little modesty they had left, which caused Tonks to let out a braying laugh before she said, “It’s a bit late for that… and it’s not like I haven’t seen it before…” With a mischievous grin, she looked directly at Hermione, winked, and then added, “I told ya he ‘ad a cute bum, dinn’I?”

Tonks’ laughter followed her down the stairs as she led Ron back to the living room to allow the young couple time to present themselves properly. Hermione disappeared into the loft’s bathroom while Harry used his wand to clean up the sweat and other bodily fluids, even the slight amount of blood, from the soaked bedsheets. He had already been warned of her ebbing menstrual cycle, but neither of them seemed bothered by it in the least. After dressing, the couple slowly made their way down the stairs, both looking quite red-faced, and not entirely from their previous vigorous ‘exercise.’

Ron was sprawled out on the large sofa, while Tonks was amusing herself by spinning around in one of the egg-shaped chairs that were suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Hermione claimed the other suspended chair as Harry stepped in front of the fireplace. His eyes glanced downward to the white, polar bearskin rug, but the indentation of Kotone’s body that was molded there had been brushed away, probably from the arrival of Tonks and Ron. He didn’t know why that seemed bother him, or maybe he did. He was shaken from his thoughts when Tonks made a comment about his brain being addled from the power-shagging.

Harry tried to shake off his embarrassment by asking Tonks, “So, I see your legs are better. I heard you were injured quite badly in the St. Mungo’s attack.”

Tonks still wore that devious smile. Clearly not willing to let up on the teasing, she said airily, “Oh, it still hurts now an’ again… I know I couldn’t do what Hermione was doing up there, that’s for sure.” She then turned to the steadily reddening Hermione and stated, “I had no idea you were double-jointed… quite the surprise, I must say!”

The building tension was broken when Ron absently commented, “Oh, that’s nothing! Luna can take her legs and wrap them behind her neck, and can almost give… herself… ummm…” Ron’s voice trailed off when he noticed the incredulous, open-mouthed stares he was getting from the others in the room. A heartbeat later, his own mouth fell open as his face turned red as a beet.

That caused a round of laughter to echo around the room. Ron joined in the laughter a few moments later, but they could tell his heart really wasn’t into it.

Harry was the first to stop laughing. He set his piercing on Tonks and asked, “So what’s the word from the Order and the aurors? Are we going to get any support from them? We’ve already checked out the area, and we believe Voldemort’s still there right now, but of course we’ll check on that again right before we’re ready to move.”

The smile from Tonks’ face dropped slightly as her hair involuntarily darkened from her recent favorite colour, a fluorescent lemon-yellow, to a sort of sickly light beige as she answered, “The Order, or what’s left of it, will be there. We aren’t as many or as strong as we were before… before Dumbledore died, but we still have some real talent. Ben told me that you got to see nearly every member when you were at Hogwarts, so you have a rough idea of how many bodies we can supply.”

Harry did indeed remember that meeting in McGonagall’s office where he was told of the fate of the surviving orphans from Haversham’s, and where Ron and Hermione got their heads badges. He figured there were about thirty or so backed into the headmistress’s office then. Not nearly enough for what needed to be done.

Harry nodded grimly, and then prompted Tonks, “…and the Ministry? Are they sending aurors? After all, this is our best chance to finish this… taking the war to him instead of waiting and cleaning up the messes after he attacks, as the ministry has been known to do.”

Tonks’ eyes dropped into her lap as she said, “It seems the Minister has gone missing, and…”

“Scrimgeour is gone?” interrupted Harry.

“Yeah, he hasn’t been seen since the attack inside of the Ministry. Some people believe he was under the Imperious, along with most of the other top officials. Nobody seems to know. The de facto head of the Ministry now is a wizard named Harman Stryfe, that is, until Scrimgeour can be found.”

“Harman Stryfe? I’ve never heard of that wizard… who is he?” asked Hermione.

“He took over as the Chief Mugwump in the Wizengamot after Dumbledore’s passing. The Vice-Minister would have taken over, but he was one of the officials who was Imperioused… he was killed by aurors during the attack.”

Harry didn’t like where this was going. With a frustrated sigh, he said to Tonks, “Okay, so he’s the acting Minister for Magic right now. Will he send in the aurors?”

“No.” Tonks answered bluntly.

Harry waited a few moments for an explanation, but when Tonks didn’t add anything more, he asked, “Well? Why won’t he? This is the best opportunity we’ve had during this war! Most of Voldemort’s inner circle have been killed or captured, and the giants are all up north, the full moon isn’t for a few days, so the werewolves won’t be too big of a problem… why the fuck not?” he finished with a yell.

Tonks looked mildly ill as she continued to stare at the hands in her lap, where her fingers were nervously twining around and between each other. This struck him as odd, because he’d never seen the woman quite that upset before, at least when it didn’t have anything to do with the romance matters between her and Lupin.

After almost a half minute, Tonks quietly said, “Well, those in You-Know-Who’s inner circle that were killed are still dead…”

Hermione gasped and Ron sat up straight on the sofa. Harry’s eyes narrowed as he said in an angry hiss, “Are you trying to tell us that the Death Eaters who were captured have escaped? The Lastranges… Dolohov…?”

“They were still in the holding cells in the DMLE holding area, being interrogated by the Hit Wizards. Well, you know about Umbridge, right? It’s a good thing that she’s still with the Order, or she might be the acting Minister by now. Anyway, it seems that everyone in her Hit Wizard office was Imperioused, so when the revolt at the Ministry started, the Imperioused guards let the prisoners out of the cells and they escaped. Nothing was announced because the Ministry, or what’s left of it, didn’t want to lose face again, especially in the face of what happened at St. Mungo’s and Haversham’s… they didn’t want to start a panic…”

“Didn’t want to start a panic?” yelled Harry, “With all of the attacks going on, just how much more panicked do you think the wizarding populace can get?”

“Don’t yell at me like that, Potter! It wasn’t my doing, you know!”

Harry blew out an angry breath and began pacing along the rug before the fireplace, “So, that’s it, then? We’re on our own?”

“Well, there is some good news… We’ve found out for sure that none of the aurors were under the Imperious, and most are quite disillusioned with the way things have been managed so far. You know, most aurors aren’t purebloods… there’s a few purebloods, true, but most are muggle-borns and half-bloods like you me and Hermione here. We’ve seen the way the tides are turning, and we realize that it’s not going to be pretty. When Ron told me about how you need support going against… You Know Who… I thought the time was right to see how many of the aurors could be swayed into going against the Ministry… in other words, how many would ignore the Ministry’s order to ignore you.”

Ron, being quite proud of his pureblooded heritage, stayed curiously silent, while Harry and Hermione seemed quite interested in what Tonks was saying.

“Shack and Ben are, at this moment, feeling out the other aurors’ opinions on what’s going on, on the sly, of course. They’re trying to see how many are sympathetic to our cause, and how many are still loyal to the Ministry. I got a report from Ben just before we came here, and he says he’s getting a ‘generally favourable response’ to his inquiries, and even went so far as to recruit quite a few of the lowbloods into coming to your aid when needed. I haven’t heard from Shack yet, though, but last I knew, he even had a few purebloods convinced that this is the best way to end the war. We’ll know more in a few hours, but still, that’s good news, innit?”

“Better than I could have hoped for,” smiled Harry sincerely, “You don’t know how much I appreciate your efforts… everyone’s efforts.”

Tonks eyed the fireplace with a grimace as she said, “Well, I’ll be heading back to Stanton H.Q. and let Ben know that I’ve been in touch with you.”

“Hang on a mo’,” said Harry as he ran up to the loft to retrieve his bag. He came back down and said, “Let me give you a ride back. I don’t know where this ‘H.Q.’ is, but I’m sure I can get you within Apparating distance… I know that the floo from here is a right menace.”

Harry then turned to Ron and Hermione and asked, “Are you guys ready? Now’s the time to tell me if you want out. I know that you both said that you’d be with me to the end, but now that the time is here… well… this is your chance. I’ll tell you right now, I’m not coming back here until Voldemort is dead, and I can’t guarantee that either of you will see tomorrow if you come along.”

He addressed both of them, but Hermione could tell by the briefest flicker of a glance in her direction that he meant it more for her than anyone else. She appreciated that he would make it appear that he wasn’t deathly afraid of her being hurt, but he must have known that nothing in this life would ever keep her away from him in his hour of need… especially where she was the only way that could carry out the plan that they made. She was the only one who could remove the horcrux soul from Nagini’s body, so she had to be there, not that she’d want to be anywhere else.

Harry gave them a few moments to answer, then smiled and said to Tonks, “Can you get word to the Order and to Ben that it’s happening now? As soon as you hear from Shacklebolt, let us know. We’ll need to tell everyone where to rally up. Ron and Hermione will be at the Barnstable Crossing Inn in Cheriton, Devon. Let them know how many are going to show, and they’ll tell them where they’re needed.”

When Tonks nodded in understanding, she, Ron and Hermione took hold of Harry’s arms and in a flash of blue light, Lilly’s Love Lagoon was once again totally uninhabited.

-----~-----

July 31, 8:17 PM local time – Exmoor Forest, Devon

Harry was in the lead as they made their way down the dirt road that led towards the outskirts of Godric’s Hollow.

Well, it wasn’t actually Harry himself, but his disembodied soul form leading the spearhead. In his form, he could easily find the locations of the disillusioned Death Eaters that were stationed along the road. He would see their souls, and then move back to Hermione who was shifted into her state so that she could see him. After telling her the exact location of the Death Eater guards, she would relay the message to Ron, who would in turn approach the guard under Harry’s invisibility cloak and then quickly and quietly dispatch him without using magic, just in case there were any magic detection wards in effect. It turned out that Ron was quite handy with a beater’s bat, and one swift knock on the backs of the guards’ heads was usually enough to get the job done. Members of the Order were following closely behind Hermione, collecting the prisoners from Ron as he retrieved them and transporting them to the waiting aurors.

They only managed to recruit about forty aurors, and along with the Order members, Harry determined that the sides were about evenly matched. He wished he could have gotten a few more… a few dozen more, actually… but with every guard that was ambushed and captured, the odds were continually shifting in their favor.

Most of the members of the Order weren’t very comfortable with the initial plan, thinking that mere teenagers couldn’t possibly be able to clear the path to the main concentration of Death Eaters. Of course, they couldn’t argue with the results once the continuous stream of prisoners were delivered into their hands. Even Moody, who was nearly as adamantly opposed to the plan as Mrs. Weasley, changed his tune as they approached the outskirts of the town without a single incident.

They were very lucky that the alarm hadn’t been raised yet, but with each passing minute, they knew that could drastically change. They had no idea if the guards were supposed to check in periodically, so they had to work fast to ensure the road to the town was cleared. They assumed that with the first Apparition their presence would be known to the Death Eaters, and they wanted to delay that eventuality for as long as possible.

Once the approach was cleared of guards, Harry made a quick pass through the town, checking the locations of the Death Eaters there. Thankfully, the old church was still empty, much to Harry’s relief. That building was a key element to their plan, and it wouldn’t do to have any surprises awaiting them inside of it. Upon ensuring that Voldemort and Nagini were still inside of the Potter cottage, he then traveled back to his body that was safely resting on the bed in the beach house. A moment after that, he Apparated back from the island and appeared beside Hermione in a flash of light, hopefully out of the boundaries of any Apparition detection wards the Death Eaters had erected.

“Alright, the easy part is over,” said Harry to the gathered Order members, “The rest of the guards are in groups, so we can’t continue to take them out individually. Once the aurors have secured whatever prisoners we’ve taken so far, we’ll need them back here right away.”

Harry pulled a sheet of parchment out from his pocket and unfolded it. It was a map of Godric’s Hollow that he and Hermione had created depicting the layout of the town and where the Death Eaters were concentrated earlier that day. He took Kotone’s wand and began making notations and adjustments, updating the positions of the Death Eaters in the town. He had tick marks inside each of the buildings showing how many were currently asleep inside, small circles drawn around the alleys that showed where others were hidden, and small arrows showing the last known locations and routes of those that were patrolling the streets. Once he was done, he made copies of the parchment and began handing them out to the different team leaders to try to work out a strategy of attack. He also set aside a set of copies to give to the aurors, for they were the ones who would be making the initial assault upon the village.

No sooner had Harry handed Remus Lupin a copy of the map, the collection of aurors led by Kingsley Shacklebolt Apparated to their location.

“Situation?” asked Kingsley, forgoing the friendly banter that he usually engaged in whenever he met up with Harry. Kingsley was also uncomfortable with Harry making all the plans, but he had gained enough respect for the lad over the years, and he really couldn’t argue with the results so far.

“The way in is clear,” said Harry as he handed Shaklebolt a set of the diagrams, “Here’s the layout of the town and where the Death Eaters currently are. That information is good as of five minutes ago, so I can’t imagine much has changed. We’ll go as a group to the outskirts.”

Harry referenced the map, pointing along the road that lead eastward into the town, “Once we’re in sight of the village, I’d like your aurors to head north inside of the treeline and get as close as you can to the schoolhouse where they have their potions lab set up, and also most of their supplies are stored there… mainly the things they stole from Diagon Alley. If you can quietly take that building, you will be within striking range of the town square where most of the Death Eater patrols meet up. As near as I can figure, they’ll next be meeting up there at nine. If you time it right, you can take out the whole group in one volley. Of course, that’s going to get the ball rolling as far as resistance goes. After that, do what you came here to do, but remember, Voldemort’s mine… we have a special plan for him.”

Kingsley studied the map for a few moments. He looked as though he was studying the layout and the path of the patrols, but actually he was trying to formulate a better plan. It soon became apparent to him that what Harry was suggesting was indeed the best course of action… if the information was accurate. Kingsley was so used to going into situations either after the fact in a clean-up operation, or heading into a battle blindly. He wasn’t used to having such detailed and accurate intelligence during an operation. He glanced up from the parchment, looked Harry in the eye, and nodded.

Harry turned to Moody and continued, “When the aurors head north, I’d like you to take the Order and head southeast behind the farm. As you can see on the map, most of the Death Eaters who aren’t on patrol are sleeping in that house, and a few are in the barn.”

Harry looked down at the map in Moody’s hands. He pointed to the barn that had a thick red circle drawn around it. Inside, there were three tick marks drawn along with six small black checkmarks, “Last I saw, there were two Death Eaters guarding in there and one was taking advantage of the ‘entertainment.’ They come and go from the house, visiting whenever the fancy strikes them, so that information could change at any time. Just make sure you get those kids out of there quickly and quietly, and then take care of the sleepers in the house.”

“Kids?” asked McGonagall, who was looking at the map along side Moody, “What kids?”

Harry sighed and said, “They have a bunch of muggle girls held prisoner in there… for sex… and there’s a little boy in there, too. I suppose some of the Death Eaters have peculiar fancies. Just please, make them your first priority. Get them to safety, then take out the sleeping Death Eaters in the house, but be careful when you’re in there, they might have taken one or two of the prisoners in as bed warmers.”

McGonagall looked mortified while Moody just grimaced angrily and said, “Aye, laddie. We’ll get them out.”

Harry gave them a pointed look and nodded, saying, “After that, wait for the aurors to start the attack… You’ll certainly be able to tell when that happens, because all Hell’s going to break loose.”

Harry then turned to Ron and Hermione. They took a few steps away from the group as Harry whispered, “Ron, you know what to do. You still have that package the twins gave you, right?”

Ron glanced over at his brothers, who were standing along with their parents and looking as serious as they’d ever seen them. Ron looked back to Harry and said, “Yeah, I’ve got it right here. I don’t think my brothers ever intended this stuff to be used in quite this way, but as long as I can get them set up in time, I think it’ll work.”

“Alright, you have the map that shows the houses that have Death Eaters in them. You know what to do, so get under the cloak and head out now, and for Merlin’s sake, don’t get caught!”

Ron gave him an impish grin as he disappeared under the cloak.

Harry’s smile slid from his face as he turned to look at Hermione. He could see the worry in her eyes, but couldn’t think of a thing to say to assure her. They both knew that the odds were stacked against him, but if Voldemort was true to his past behavior, he couldn’t meet up with Harry without his usual self-absorbed diatribe, and a few seconds would be all that Harry would need for Voldemort to be mortal once again.

-----~-----

July 31, 10:23 PM local time – Godric’s Hollow Village Square, Devon

An hour and a half had passed since Harry had side-along Apparated Hermione into the bell enclosure of the church’s steeple. He had stayed there with her until he saw the telltale flashes of the curses that the aurors and Death Eaters were exchanging.

Before Harry had left the bell tower, he looked along the main street and saw the horde of Death Eaters emerging from the various houses that they had commandeered, only to stand in the doorways with blank, unfocused expressions upon their faces. Apparently, Ron had done his job well, attaching one of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes Patented Daydream Charms on the front doorknobs of each building the Death Eaters were residing in. For thirty minutes, those particular Death Eaters would be in their own little fantasy world.

Harry Apparated to the eastern end of the main street where he met up with Ron, who was waiting there still under the cloak. They both quickly made their way down the street, plucking the wands out of the daydreaming Death Eaters’ hands and casting Hermione’s bone-separating hex on each of their wrists, ensuring that they would be permanently out of the fight.

Of course, the effectiveness of that little daydream trap was only marginally successful, as many of the Death Eaters either used magic to open their doors or had Apparated directly out of the buildings to their designated rallying points, most of which were near the town square… and the attacking aurors. As they met up with the Death Eaters who weren’t affected by the daydream charm, Harry would shift into his state and conjure a static shield while Ron would maneuver himself to stun the attacker. They found that the shield that Harry was creating while in his state could withstand multiple curses and hexes without weakening in the least. Again, Harry was becoming frustrated with the fact that he still couldn’t move while in his state. Fortunately, he didn’t have to move when he was creating the shield.

The initial success of the surprise attack by the aurors didn’t last long once the fresh Death Eaters began appearing in the town square. The fact that the Death Eaters weren’t restricted in the variety of spells they used didn’t help matters, either, but since this wasn’t an officially sanctioned Ministry operation, the aurors didn’t strictly limit themselves to Ministry approved spells, only drawing the line short of using the Unforgivables.

The Order’s success was much more profound. They had taken the farm by storm, freeing the muggle prisoners and taking out every Death Eater inside of the farmhouse. Surprisingly, McGonagall was ruthless when dealing with the guards inside of the barn, apparently driven by righteous anger to secure the children held there. She moved through the farmhouse like a woman half her age, dispatching every Death Eater she found with extreme prejudice, not pausing for even a moment as she hexed and bound the sleeping Death Eaters with as much force as she could muster. She was none too gentle while levitating the prisoners out to the barn, frequently dropping the wizards roughly to the ground while saying the occasional, ‘Whoops… sorry.’

By ten o’clock, it appeared that the battle was nearly over. The remaining Death Eaters were gradually being maneuvered into defensive pockets, being separated from each other to prevent them from Rennervating their fallen comrades. Their spells were becoming darker and more deadly as their desperation grew.

When Harry arrived at the battle going on around the town square, he was momentarily shocked at what he saw. He had been in battles before and had seen his share of death, but even the battle that occurred inside of Hogwarts earlier that year couldn’t compare with the scene of destruction that he was now witnessing.

Along with the assortment of blankly staring, lifeless bodies, obvious victims of the killing curse, there were others who had met their ends in much more gruesome ways. Some lay with their abdomens ruptured open, other bodies had limbs missing or horrendous, open wounds, other bodies were charred almost beyond recognition.

The smell of death hung in the air like a shroud. Smoke from the various burning buildings drifted low in the air, making breathing difficult and severely reducing the visibility.

Above the screams and yells of the ongoing battle came an eerily high-pitched voice, calling out from, what most saw to be, a small clearing a short distance from the main square.

‘Lunilumos Maxima!’

Suddenly, multiple cracks of Apparition resounded around the square. Every Death Eater in sight that was still active had fled.

A cheer went up from some of the less experienced aurors, and even Harry and Ron let out sighs of relief.

Above the din of the cheers came Kingsly Shacklebolt’s booming voice, “Get inside of a building and barricade yourselves in!”

Ron poked his face out from under the cloak’s hood. Harry and Ron looked at each other wondering what was happening when they noticed a slowly expanding ball of yellowish light hovering over the town.

“What the bloody Hell is…” Ron’s rhetorical query was drowned out by a cacophonous howling coming from the expanse of woods to the north.

Harry’s eyes widened as he yelled out, “That was a false-moon spell! Werewolves are coming!”

Harry grabbed Ron’s invisible shoulder and began dragging him towards a nearby building that looked as though it hadn’t sustained too much damage during the fight. Just as they entered the building and Harry was pushing the doors closed, he looked across the square and saw a throng of large, gangly beasts surging into the square.

Harry almost ran back outside when he saw that there were still some aurors and Order members that hadn’t been able to make it into a building. He could just make out through the darkness one figure in particular, that of Tonks, facing off against a werewolf. Harry thought it odd that a werewolf was already far across the square and apart from the others that were arriving. He suddenly realized who that werewolf was.

‘God, no… Remus!’ Harry thought desperately.

Harry grabbed at the door handle, but was roughly pulled back by Ron, saying, “Are you mental? There are werewolves out there! What do you expect to do?”

“But Tonks… she’s trying to talk to Remus! He’s going to kill her!”

Ron let go of Harry and began dragging a sofa towards the door, “Yeah, well, he’s going to kill us, too, if we don’t get the doors and windows barricaded!”

Harry slammed his fist into a wall and let out an aggravated growl. It grated against every fibre of his being to hide himself away while his friends were in danger. He knew that Hermione was safe as long as she stayed in the church’s bell tower, as the access stairs had collapsed long ago and there was no other way up there aside from Apparition.

Reluctantly, Harry began grabbing furniture and helped Ron secure the room. They were just in the process of moving a heavily laden bookcase towards the front window when they heard strange yells and screams coming from outside. Suddenly, the window they were about to block crashed inwards as a pair of fur-covered, sinewy arms reached in towards Ron. The beast stuck his head in through the shattered window, snarling and snapping and spraying its filthy saliva as it tried to bite him.

Ron let out a yell as he fell backwards, but before he even hit the floor the werewolf let out an earsplitting howl and collapsed on the sill, where it remained silent and unmoving. A moment later, a few drops of its blood dripped from its mouth and spattered upon the dusty floor.

Harry glanced out through the window and saw that the beast had been run through from behind by a long, thin spear. He then looked out at the square that was bathed in the flickering light from the multiple fires just in time to see a mass of small, red-clad beings swarm into the area. He could hear the howls of the enraged werewolves and they turned away from the barricaded buildings to address this new threat.

Ron stood from the floor, stepped beside Harry and looked out, too.

“Harry! They’re goblins!” exclaimed Ron with more than a hint of incredulity in his voice, “The goblins actually came, just like they said they would.”

Harry didn’t hear what Ron was saying. His attention was fixed on a slight figure sitting astride a small beast that seemed to glow with a silvery light. He would never have seen it in the darkness if it weren’t for the beast’s radiant glow. It took a few moments to make out what the beast exactly was through the darkness and the drifting smoke, but he saw that it was actually a young unicorn. The small figure sitting on the unicorn wore shiny red armour and carried a vicious-looking, silver scythe as it rode freely through the horde of werewolves.

It appeared that the werewolves wouldn’t go near the figure, but that was probably because of the inherent purity of the unicorn. Even beasts as dark as werewolves knew that coming into contact with unicorn blood was a very dangerous thing to have happen to them… nearly as dangerous as the silver weapons that the goblins were armed with.

Harry stood transfixed as he stared at the figure on the unicorn. The rider swung his weapon effortlessly, carving a path through the crowd of werewolves who were locked into heated battle with the goblins. It was only when a gap in the smokescreen cleared and the rider had reared back the unicorn for another charge did he catch a glimpse of the rider’s face under the gleaming silver helmet.

At first, Harry didn’t want to believe it, but when he saw the rider charge, he couldn’t help but notice the mane of flaying, white hair that flew behind the rider as she urged the unicorn forward.

“Kotone?” whispered Harry in disbelief. The shock quickly wore off and was replaced with panic.

“KOTONE!” screamed Harry as he scrambled over the werewolf’s corpse, through the shattered window and out into the street. Ron tried to stop him, but Harry had easily shrugged off Ron’s restraining hands.

“Kotone!” yelled Harry as he ran towards the battle in the square with Kotone’s wand in his left hand and his glove on his right. He was practically wading through the torn and mangled bodies of werewolves, goblins, and humans alike. Even as he ran, he saw a particularly large, silver-backed werewolf swipe his claws into a group of goblin warriors, sending three out of the five of them flying through the air in a spray of blood and gore.

Harry held out his gloved hand towards the large werewolf and incanted, “Flamarris Totalus.”

The werewolf let out a pained shriek as a globe of blue-white flames encompassed the beast and began collapsing around it. As the flames coalesced around it, its fur began burning as if it was soaked in kerosene. When the howling beast fell to its knees, a half-dozen goblins pounced upon him with their silver scimitars hacking and slicing into him.

Harry began moving purposefully towards Kotone again, mostly ignoring the violence and bloodshed around him. He only paused a moment when out of the darkness, a goblin ran directly towards him with a wild look in its eyes. Harry flinched as the goblin raised his scimitar and launched himself up from the ground, seemingly towards Harry’s face. The goblin’s feet landed on Harry’s shoulders, and a moment later the goblin disappeared behind him. Harry glanced around just in time to see the goblin plant his blade in the neck of the werewolf that was stalking directly behind him.

Blood gurgled from the werewolf’s throat as it fell heavily backwards and landed dead on the ground. The goblin flashed Harry a toothy grin as he pulled the scimitar from the smoking and sizzling neck wound before he leapt off towards another nearby beast. At that particular moment, Harry knew that he never wanted to be on a goblin’s bad side. Ever.

While he was distracted, he had lost sight of Kotone within the dark and smoky chaos that was surrounding him. It was only then that he realized the immediate danger he was in. While doing an admirable job of battling the werewolves, the goblin numbers were obviously dwindling rapidly. All around him the quick and agile goblins seemed to move in a blur, while the slow but vastly more powerful werewolves didn’t appear to have much trouble taking out two or three of the goblins in a single strike. Harry helped out the best that he could, but most of the hexes and curses he used had little effect. Only the flame globe seemed to have any effect, and that effect was marginal, at best. Most times it threw the target werewolf into a fiercer rage, although its movements slowed to the point where the surrounding goblins could make short work of it. Still, he felt as though he was more of a hindrance than a help, because more than once he had to be rescued from a were that was barreling towards him.

However, Harry did manage to make his way to where he last saw Tonks. After a brief search, he found her lying beneath the bodies of a rather puny looking werewolf and a goblin infantryman. She was just barely alive, but it was apparent by her torn shirt and the jagged rips in the flesh of her shoulder that she had been bitten.

As suddenly as they had arrived, the werewolves began fleeing. Their hoarse howls sounded oddly subdued, and the reason for that soon became apparent. The false moon spell had faded and the weres were beginning to transform back to humans, and what little cognizance they were regaining was telling them to get the Hell out of there. They raced between the buildings towards the woods to the north, being chased by the remnants of the goblin army that had arrived to assist, leaving Harry standing alone in the middle of the square.

Well, he wasn’t quite alone…

“Father?” asked a deep, grating voice from behind him, “Are you all right?”

Sitting on an adolescent unicorn was Kotone. Although her red armour masked most of it, he could still tell that she was covered in bloody gore. Sizzling werewolf blood and bits of sinew were still dripping from the tip of her silver scythe as it rested upon her shoulder. Her normally pale, white face was streaked with grime and blood, and even the unicorn she was sitting upon was splattered with gore. It looked as though the unicorn didn’t come through the battle unscathed, because Harry could see streams of it’s shiny, silvery blood mixed in with the red.

The unicorn canted nervously when Harry made a quick movement towards him, but with a quick, whispered word from Kotone, the young unicorn stilled. Harry reached up and pulled Kotone from her mount and hugged her as if his life depended on it. Tears came to his eyes as he felt her animated hair wrap gently around his neck as she hugged him back. He couldn’t help but laugh as a relief washed over him like he had never felt before. Harry held her out slightly, looking her over for any wounds. Not finding any at all, he had to admit… the goblins certainly made some fine armour.

The grin on Harry’s face quickly disappeared and was replaced with an angry scowl, “This is what the Oni wanted you to do? This was their important mission… to send you up against a mob of werewolves?”

The look of joy on Kotone’s face fell also. She looked up at Harry and simply shook her head, saying, “No, my job is not finish. One thing left for me to do.”

Harry was startled by the pained look in Kotone’s eyes as she said those words. He didn’t have to have the connection to her to see the stark anguish in her unyielding gaze. He was about to ask her what she had left to do when a cackling, high-pitched voice sounded from nearby.

“At last, we meet again, Harry.”

Stepping out from within the surrounding smoky haze came Lord Voldemort. Harry could just barely make out the slithering form of Nagini trailing behind the dark wizard.

Harry briefly glanced up to the bell tower, and when he did, the familiar sensation of time slowing encompassed him. His surroundings faded from view as his entire focus was centered on the two brown pinpricks hidden behind the louvered slats that enclosed the church’s bell tower. He briefly wondered when Hermione had learned to do the ‘connection’ thing just like Kotone could when her voice drifted through his mind with that same reversed-echo effect, “I can see Nagini from here! Do it now!”

The connection abruptly ended, immediately giving Harry a splitting headache. He hated when that happened.

“I’ve so been looking forward to this…what’s this? Why, I do believe I have yet to meet…”

Just as they had assumed, Voldemort would be so sure of his abilities that he couldn’t help but to start mouthing off immediately. Taking advantage of Voldemort’s guard being down, Harry surreptitiously angled his glove towards the slithering Nagini. He then concentrated on the ethereal septagram that always seemed to be lurking in his mind’s eye and fully entered his state. Time seemed to stop completely as his awareness of his surroundings became vividly clear. He still couldn’t attain that sensation of ‘total awareness,’ but he was shifted enough to do what he had to do.

Harry let his soul dictate what spells to use to accomplish what he and Hermione had planned. Before even he could comprehend what he had done, he saw Nagini’s head cleanly separate from her body. A fraction of a second later, a duplicate of Nagini’s body was laying alongside the original. A blink of an eye later, he saw Nagini’s original body, the one that held the horcrux form of Voldemort’s shattered soul, fly up from the ground towards the bell tower.

Harry let out a mental sigh of relief… Hermione had summoned the snake’s body to her. The last horcrux would soon be destroyed and the arrogant fool standing before him would be mortal once again. Once Voldemort was mortal, anyone could kill the wanker. It didn’t matter to Harry what happened to him now, his job was done.

As Harry dispelled his state and felt time resuming its normal course, he suddenly remembered who he was holding in his arms. He could also hear the remainder of Voldemort’s sentence…

“…your precious Necromancer!” With a triumphant look in his eyes, Voldemort’s wand flashed out towards Harry, “Avada Kedavra!”

Harry immediately tried to tap into his state to Apparate away, but something quite unexpected happened. He found himself staring into a pair of teary, violet eyes as his surroundings faded from view. The sensation of time slowing around him returned as he heard the lithe, ethereal voice of Kotone drift through his mind.

‘Thank you for everything you have done for me, Shishi-san.’

For a moment, Harry had no idea what was going on. His soul was being battered by the waves of emotions being emanated by the young girl in his arms. The feelings of sadness and fear were palpable, as well as a vast array of other emotions, but the one emotion that seemed to make all the others pale in comparison was unmistakably love.

‘Kotone, what are you doing! I can Apparate us away from here! He’s casting the killing curse!’

‘I know,’ came Kotone’s simple reply, ‘You would not be able to Appaate in time. You would realize that at the last moment and turn to protect me… and that can not be allowed. This is my mission… to make sure my father survives.’

‘NO!’ screamed Harry through the connection, making Kotone mentally wince, ‘You can’t die for me! Too many have died for me already! I won’t allow it! Not again!’

Harry was once again engulfed in the emotion of love coming from Kotone. Although he was trapped in his state, he could feel the wetness building in his body’s eyes.

‘I can’t lose you too!’ pleaded Harry, ‘I can’t! I won’t survive this!’

At first he didn’t notice, but around the edges of his periphery, he could see a sickly green glow slowly building in intensity. He also noticed that Kotone had begun to sing. The tune of the song was totally unfamiliar to him, but it seemed as if he knew each note and word by heart already.

‘I was a child without a dream,
but like a dream, you came to me
and you brought me home…’

‘Kotone, no! Please don’t do this… there has to be a way! The Wisp! I have the wisp in my pocket! It can save you…’ Harry knew he couldn’t get the wisp out in time, but he was desperate. Kotone seemed to know this, too, and kept singing the song that was rending his heart.

‘…but after every day, there comes a night,
and if you cry alone in the night,
only the darkness will hear…

but the darkness won’t care.’

Her words were like honey and poison, sweet and bitter. Her voice lilted and pitched, making the song both the saddest thing he had ever heard, and at the same time the most hopeful. Still, he pleaded with her to release the connection, but she kept on singing.

‘…I was a child without a dream,
but you came and gave me love
and I gave you my heart…’

Her voice seemed to become louder as the green glow became more intense. In the background, Harry could hear the violent rushing of wind, and the distinct peal of a bell in the distance.

‘Kotone! Please! Before it’s too late!’

‘…so during the dark night,
think of our love, and dream of the morning
where we will be as one…

until we meet anew when our morning comes again...’

The connection abruptly ceased, making Harry’s pounding headache even worse, but he couldn’t be concerned with that at the moment, he had to get them out of there before…

Harry found himself staring into a pair of lifeless violet eyes… eyes he had seen before on the boggart in Ollivander’s shop. He didn’t even realize that Kotone’s body, unsupported by her hair and various appendages and weighed down by her silver armour, was slowly slipping from his numb arms. Harry dropped to his knees, following the lifeless body of his daughter to the ground. It was getting difficult to see, as his vision was being obscured by the tears falling freely from his eyes.

“Kotone?” asked Harry softly as his gloved hand gently touched her dirty cheek, “Little one?”

“And with that,” proclaimed Voldemort haughtily, “my immortality is sealed! Without your Necromancer, there is nothing anyone can do to stop me!”

Voldemort looked down at Harry and sneered, “Crying over your girlfriend, Potter? I’ve done you a favor! Half-breeds are for killing, not for mating, although I imagine that tail of hers was quite the turn-on for you, wasn’t it?”

“She wasn’t my girlfriend,” said Harry in a voice that wasn’t entirely his own, “she was my daughter…”

A look of true surprise flashed across Voldemort’s face for the briefest instant. He recovered quickly and said, “No matter… it had to die…” Voldemort then glanced down at the lifeless body of Nagini and said with a laugh, “Ah, you managed to kill my pet. You must know that killing the body doesn’t destroy the soul inside, and with your Necromancer dead, you could turn the snakes body into ashes and that one speck that the soul will adhere to will still survive… and make it that much harder to find.”

Harry, who still hadn’t lifted his face from Kotone’s forehead, simply said in a dull monotone, “Is that a fact?”

“Voldemort laughed again, “Indeed, it is! And I’ll tell you what… Here’s a free shot at me, Harry…” Voldemort placed his wand into the pocket of his robes and held his arms out away from his sides, “I’ve killed your precious Necromancer, here’s your chance for a little revenge! Come potter, strike me down!”

Harry didn’t move. He just continued holding Kotone’s lifeless body, rocking her back and forth in his lap. A bell tolled from the church’s steeple… Harry noticed, but Voldemort apparently didn’t.

“Come now, Harry! Do us a favor! Rid me of this wretched body… it had outlived its usefulness. A mistake was made when it was created… I used the flesh of a traitor, and your blood. This body is unstable, and it will continue to fail. But thankfully, I have another body ready and waiting… freshly relieved of his soul, thanks to our friends the dementors. I will be stepping into the shoes of none other than Rufus Scrimgour… so come along, Potter! Now’s your chance! Strike me down!”

Harry sighed, and then placed a kiss on Kotone’s forehead before gently laying her down on the ground. Harry rose to his feet, keeping his head bent downward as he began, “Well, I have some news for you. You made two fatal mistakes. This girl wasn’t the Necromancer, but I do know where the real one is, and I know that she just finished banishing your last horcrux. You are now mortal.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed, as if he didn’t believe a word of what Harry was saying. His mouth dropped open when Harry pointed Kotone’s wand towards Nagini’s fake body and said, ‘Finite.’

While Nagini’s severed head remained on the ground, the fake body vanished into thin air as the illusion was dispelled.

“Your second fatal mistake, you might ask?” came a voice, wicked and menacing, that seemed to echo out from the very air around the village square, “That was killing my daughter!”

Voldemort took an instinctive step backwards as he saw Harry lift his gaze from the dead half-witch in his lap. When he saw the blue-white glow in Harry’s eyes, he paused for only a moment before Voldemort’s hand dove into his robe pocket for his wand, but by that time, it was too late… much too late

-----~-----

July 31, 11:36 PM local time – Church of St. Gabriel’s Steeple, Godric’s Hollow, Devon

The acrid stench of sulphur and brimstone permeated the warm, stagnant air inside of the bell enclosure where Hermione had just completed the ritual to banish the final anchored fragment of Tom Riddle’s soul. All that was left was the two shards residing in the body of Lord Voldemort. Since neither of those two soul fragments were spiritually anchored to his body, they would be released to the afterlife in the event of his death. Tom Riddle was finally mortal once more.

Hermione peered through the slats of the bell enclosure and looked down upon the town square where she last saw Harry. She was hoping that he would look up towards the steeple again so that she could tell him that the ritual was completed,

When she had looked down earlier, she could clearly see the forms of those still alive in the town square. She stood mesmerized for a few moments as she noticed a few of the soul forms wink out of existence as their mortal bodies expired. She wasn’t horrified or even disturbed by the sight… it was a natural process… a conclusion of one form and the beginning of another… a transition of consciousness. In a way, it was strangely beautiful…

She focused on the center of the square and saw Harry’s lion form crouched on the ground, while the twin serpents of Tom Riddle’s soul stood several meters away from him. She had seen the angelic form of Kotone when she looked down earlier, and was surprised to see how small it was. For a moment, she had thought it wasn’t Kotone at all, but when a slight, sporadic cleared some of the looming smoke, she could easily see the small half-witch dressed in shiny red armour. A lump formed in her throat when she realized that, while her body was still there nestled in Harry’s arms, her angelic soul form was nowhere to be seen.

Hermione stood up and prepared to Apparate down to Harry’s side when she felt the pressure of a slight hand rest upon her shoulder.

She quickly spun around while drawing her wand, and instinctively entered her state. In the blink of an eye she had fully transformed, faster than she had ever managed to before. She paused as her eyes traveled up the set of the radiant white robes before her, finally resting upon the gently smiling face of Kyuushuu.

‘You must stay here,’ said Kyuushuu in her mind with his soft, feminine voice, ‘The young lion has already lost one love, do not defy fate and make it two.’

‘He needs me…’

‘He needs you alive,’ countered Kyuushuu.

‘He’s facing Voldemort!’ pleaded Hermione, ‘He’s going to…’

‘It is not his time, and you know it,’ said Kyuushuu calmly.

Hermione paused and studied the face of the being standing in front of her. Somehow, she knew he was right. She couldn’t describe it, but as she looked into Kyuushuu’s strange, amber eyes, a feeling of familiarity came over her, as if she had known this being for her entire life, even though she had only seen him once before.

‘Who are you?’ asked Hermione as she matched his steady gaze.

‘You still haven’t figured that out yet?’ answered Kyuushuu with his own question.

‘No…’ said Hermione as her eyes narrowed, ‘what are you?’

Kyuushuu sighed, but he was also smiling, ‘You have spoken to me before… supplicated me for assistance…demanded my attention. You have even sung to me. Your voice is quite becoming when you sing, you know. You should sing more often.’

Hermione just stood there shaking her head, refusing to believe what both her heart and her head were telling her.

‘You westerners are so mired in your preconceived notions… perhaps this is more like what you expect from me?’

Kyushuu’s form began to shift and change right before Hermione’s eyes. The white of Kyuushuu’s robes and cloak darkened to a flat, midnight black and the texture of the material thinned to resemble what Hermione was now dressed in… spidery and nearly transparent. His long, flowing white hair fell from his scalp as the flesh seemed to melt away from his bones. He held out his now bony hand and in it appeared an absurdly large reaper’s scythe.

Gone was the tall, impossibly handsome facade of the radiant Oni warrior. What stood before Hermione now was the classic visage of Death.

‘Is this more to your liking?’ asked Kyuushuu in a now hoarse rasp, ‘Do you know who… or what I am now? I am Kyuushuu! I am the bitter enemy to all of life! Everyone must meet me when their time is due, but there was one who cheated me, and by doing so, threw off the ultimate balance. He thought he could fool me. He thought I wouldn’t notice, but the cycle had been thrown askew… the balance disturbed. The continuation of the one you know as Tom Marvolo Riddle had to be paid for by the lives of others. Hundreds of souls have been sent on before their time since his Great Deception. Souls that were due their redemption before their end never got the opportunity to repent. Righteous souls who were doomed to corruption were sent on to rewards that should not have been due them.’

Kyuushuu shifted back to his normal form, and then continued in his usual airy, effeminate voice, ‘The balance will be restored tonight by the actions of your mate. He is the Emancipator. It is up to him, not you. You have been my emissary, my tool, as you will continue to be, but for now, you have already done your job, and you have done it most admirably. Rest now, child.’

Hermione still couldn’t move, being locked into a connection to Kyuushuu’s eyes. When Kyuushuu reached up with his thin, dainty hand and rested it upon Hermione’s forehead, she immediately collapsed onto the floor in a deep sleep.

Kyuushuu looked fondly down at her and softly said, ‘You have a long life ahead of you, and the morning will be here before you know it…’

Kyuushuu turned away from the sleeping witch, then, as almost an afterthought, he said, ‘…and take care of our daughter.’

Kyuushuu disappeared in a flash of light, on his way to witness the fall of the man who had cheated him for so many years.

-----~-----

July 31, 11:37 PM local time – Godric’s Hollow Village Square, Devon

“Your second fatal mistake, you ask?” continued Harry in an icy, menacing voice, “That was killing my daughter!”

Harry didn’t know how those words made it out of his mouth. He wasn’t even sure that those words came from his mouth. His tortured soul just seemed to radiate that thought. As he lifted his gaze from the ugly, lifeless husk that had once ensconced the pure, beautiful soul of his adopted daughter, he immediately recognized the sensation that was enveloping him.

It was the same sensation he had while performing the Warlock’s enhancement ritual, but there was one glaring difference… Restraint. While on the island, he had subconsciously held back, effectively limiting the full effect of his powers due to the fear that his loved ones were so near to his proximity.

Now, he wasn’t restrained by that little, niggling fact. Kotone was dead. Hermione was ensconced within the bell tower. Everyone that he knew that was still alive in the immediate area was either dead or corrupted, as was the case with Tonks. There were no shackles on the power he could unleash… there were no boundaries to restrain his wrath…

Thoughts and memories cascaded through Harry’s mind as the nearly frozen figure of the dark lord Voldemort loomed before his eyes…

He could now clearly see what the dementors’ effects had only hinted at… the deaths of his parents… the pleading of hid mother before the killing curse stole her life away… the clueless inquisitiveness of Cedric before his life was ripped away from his body upon Voldemort’s order… The frightened pleading that was in Dumbledore’s eyes as Snape was bound to end his life…

The sad, loving essence that was Kotone’s soul just before it was stolen from her body…

No, there was nothing left in this world to restrain his soul’s wrath.

Harry almost didn’t realize that his soul had taken over his actions. He didn’t even realize that the sensation of omniscience had already implanted itself into his psyche.

He was looking at Voldemort, and then suddenly realized that the man was going to cast a killing curse at him, but before Harry even realized it, a section of fallen fence from one of the surrounding houses seemed to summon itself into the path of the comically slow-moving curse. Harry reflexively thought to use a stunning hex on Voldemort, but Hermione’s very effective Ossisindum curse had already left his gloved hand and caused Voldemort’s wand arm to drop lackadaisically to his side as the curse separated the bones in Voldemort’s arm at the elbow.

It was only then that Harry realized that he was fully in his state, and he was able to move freely. Although he didn’t see it himself, his appearance had miraculously changed in the most radical sense…

A silvery white glow seemed to surround him as he stood there. Harry’s hair, although still as black as pitch, had lengthened dramatically and seemed to be flowing and rippling behind him, as if in a wild, chaotic wind. He was no longer wearing the gray shirt and denim slacks that he had donned earlier in the day, but was now clad in what appeared to be a white silken robe that was waving and billowing behind him in the same non-existent breeze that was tousling his hair. On the front of his robe was a large black septagram symbol that seemed to be burned into the cloth. The most pronounced change in him was his eyes, which were brightly glowing with a blue-white light that totally washed out the black and green of his pupils and irises.

Voldemort was in the middle of saying ‘something…’ Harry really couldn’t make out what it was in his accelerated state, but when he saw the particular build-up of positional magic being conjured around the dark wizard, he knew that Voldemort was about to try to Apparate away.

Harry’s consciousness wanted to kill the dark wizard before him, but in the state he was currently in, his soul was in control of his magic, and his soul seemed to refuse to allow itself to become a murderer. He grunted out in frustration. The rage and agony that was dominating his thoughts over the death of Kotone, the turning of Tonks, the deaths of all the brave goblins… Sirius… Dumbledore… Diggory… his parents… As much as he wanted to snuff out the life of Tom Riddle, his magic wasn’t about to let him stoop to the level of the shell of a man before him.

Suddenly, the idea came to him. He wasn’t sure if his soul had planted the idea in his mind or if he thought it up himself, but there was a way to defeat Voldemort by having the man defeat himself.

Voldemort was already mid-turn as he attempted to Apparate away. Harry, being in his accelerated state, walked the few meters towards the man. It was almost funny the way Voldemort’s eyes slowly widened as Harry approached… it must have looked from Voldemort’s perspective that Harry had Apparated between the few meters that separated them. With a grim smile, Harry grasped Voldemort’s arm. In a flash of light, both Harry and Voldemort disappeared from the town square of Godric’s Hollow.

-----~-----

July 31, 11:38 PM local time – Ollivander’s Wand Shop, Diagon Alley, London

Harry and Voldemort appeared in a flash of light in the front room of Ollivander’s Wand shop. The moment that they arrived, Harry casually released his grip on Voldemort’s bony wrist and then shifted his state so that the time around him sped up.

Voldemort, who was already in the process of Apparating, never had the chance to stop the attempt. The very last thing he saw before the uncomfortable squeezing sensation encompassed him was a tall figure dressed in translucent black robes and carrying an absurdly large Harvester’s scythe. The white skull that was peering out from beneath the shrouded hood seemed to smile wickedly at him as half of Voldemort’s presence left the room and landed unceremoniously onto the cold stone floor of his underground hideout.

Voldemort was vaguely aware of the fact that the lower half of his body was missing. As the last few seconds of his life spilled out from his abdomen along with his entrails, the last thing that he saw was the same visage of the grinning Grim Reaper that seemed to have followed him from Ollivander’s. A last, gurgling breath marked the end of the most feared and hated dark wizard in living memory.

Tom Riddle, also known as the Dark Lord Voldemort, was dead.

-----~-----

A/N: Fun Fact: Sorry, there was nothing fun about this chapter… I found myself crying more than once while writing it.

53. A New Morning

Disclaimer: I do not own anything of the ‘Harry Potter’ universe. I don’t make money from writing this crap, and I certainly don’t claim any rights to the lyric bits, either.

A/N: Well… this is it. I hope you all liked the ride. There were many twists and turns, numerous ups and downs, and more than a few laughs and tears. I’m going to take a small break, and then I’ll be re-releasing the first chapter of the story, ‘Message in a Bottle.’ I want to thank all of the reviewers on both Portkey and on FFdotNET, you’ve kept me in line, pointed out glaring mistakes and discrepancies, and have given me more than a few good ideas. I know the last chapter was a bummer… I’m so sorry to all of you who think I did a terrible thing, but I knew what was going to happen when I first started writing this story. Well, sit back and try to enjoy this last installment of Demon’s Soul/Lost Demon. If you haven’t reviewed up to this point, now’s the time to let me know how good/bad/disappointing/whatever this story was. Thanks again to all of you who have stuck with me. I love you all. (Word Count: 6527)

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Chapter 53: A New Morning (Kinda like an epilogue… thingie… ^_^)

I will come for you at nighttime,
I will raise you from your sleep,
I will kiss you in four places,
and I'll go running along your street.
I will squeeze the life out of you,
you will make me laugh and make me cry,
and we will never forget it…
you will make me call your name, and I'll shout it to the blue, summer sky.

I dreamed of you at night time,
and I’ve watched you in your sleep,
I met you in high places,
I touched your head and touched your feet.
So if you disappear out of view,
you know, I will never say goodbye,
and though I’ll try to forget it…
you will make me call your name, and I'll shout it to the blue, summer sky.

We may never meet again,
so shed your skin and lets get started, and you will throw your arms around me.

Excerpt from the song, ‘Throw Your Arms Around Me,’ by the band Hunters and Collectors.

-----~-----

August 3rd, 1997 – Lily’s Love Lagoon

In a flash of light, Harry and Hermione appeared in the living room of the beach house. Hermione was wearing a simple black dress, black pumps, and an elegant string of pearls around her neck. Harry was in the neat black suit he had purchased the day before.

Hermione’s eyes were red and swollen from crying, while Harry’s eyes just looked dead. Harry hadn’t cried at all during the service. Hermione seemed to do enough of that for the both of them back at the graveyard in Godric’s Hollow where they had laid Kotone Potter to rest in the space next to James and Lily.

Hermione leaned heavily on the backrest of the sofa while Harry shrugged off his suit jacket and threw it into one of the suspended egg chairs. Hermione was about to ask if he wanted any of the massive amounts of food that was given to them by family and friends, but she was stalled by the involuntary sob that escaped Harry’s throat.

She had wondered how long he could hold out before he broke down after the emotionally charged day they had. She quickly pushed herself from the sofa and embraced Harry as he let out an anguished wail. Feeling his body shuddering against her in grief caused her own tears to start flowing once again. They just stood there in the middle of the room, holding each other, giving whatever comfort they could to each other, crying over the loss of someone who grew so incredibly close to them in such an incredibly short amount of time.

-

That morning they had visited Tonks and Remus at St. Mungo’s. Tonks was in surprisingly good spirits, considering that the Ministry wasted no time in removing the new werewolf from the auror ranks. She was more concerned over Remus’s condition, as he had taken a near fatal blow from one of the goblin’s silver weapons. It was touch-and-go for a while, but she had received the news just before they arrived that he was going to eventually recover. It would take time, though, and it seemed they had as much time as they wanted now that Remus had no more excuses not to be with her.

While they were there, they received the death count from the battle. Almost half of the aurors who had come to assist in the battle had died… including Benjamin Bones. He had died valiantly, taking a rather nasty cutting curse, effectively saving Kingsley Shaklebolt’s life. That news had hit Harry and Hermione particularly hard… both had grown to like the kindly, grim-faced auror, and the Bones family had already paid more than their fair share during the war.

The Death Eaters fared much worse. Out of the one hundred and seven Death Eaters who were in and around Godric’s Hollow that day, thirty-one had been taken alive and were relatively unharmed, thirty-nine were currently in St. Mungo’s security ward in various states of consciousness, and fifty-two had perished. Among the dead Death Eaters were Dolohov, Rastaban and Rodolphus Lestrange, Herman Goyle, and, much to Harry’s satisfaction, Walden MacNair, the wizard who took so much pleasure in torturing Kotone.

The one person who wasn’t among the dead or captured at Godric’s Hollow was Bellatrix Lestrange, however she was found the following day when Voldemort’s lair was searched to recover Scrimgour’s soulless body. She was discovered sitting on the floor beside the partial corpse of Tom Riddle. She was in a near catatonic state when she was found, drooling and muttering nonsense. She was now residing in the security ward at St. Mungo’s, also.

There were deaths among the Order of the Phoenix, but many of those Harry hadn’t known very well. Along with Benjamin Bones, the only other casualty that Harry personally knew was Hestia Jones, one of the witches who had come for him to escort him from the Dursley’s to Grimmauld Place. She was one of the Order members who were caught outside when the werewolves arrived. She was probably one of the reasons that Tonks was still alive.

Minerva McGonagall had been badly injured during the battle, but her wounds weren’t life-threatening. However, they were bad enough to convince her to go into retirement, leaving the acting Head position at Hogwarts to the diminutive Charms professor, Filius Flitwick.

Flitwick’s nomination initially caused an uproar amongst the school’s Board of Governors. They were quite adamantly opposed to naming a half-breed as the Headmaster of the school, but when every remaining professor threatened to leave if he wasn’t instated as the Headmaster, the Board had very grudgingly changed their minds. Almost immediately after accepting the position, Harry had received a letter from Flitwick asking him if he was still willing to teach the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. In addition, Hermione had received a similar letter, asking if she would be willing to take her N.E.W.Ts before the start of term in order for her to take over as the Transfiguration Professor.

They both had yet to reply to the letters.

Upon leaving the wizard hospital, Harry and Hermione made the trip to the cemetery at Godric’s Hollow. There was already a small group in the graveyard when they arrived. When they first appeared there, Ron had given Luna a brief kiss before he moved to stand beside Harry to offer whatever support he could, for which Harry was very grateful. Most of the Weasleys were there, the only exception was Percy, although nobody was surprised by his absence. Even Ginny managed to swallow her pride and showed up along with the rest of her family. After all, Kotone had been instrumental in saving her sanity and her life. It was the least Ginny could do. Harry was mildly surprised to see some of the Hogwarts staff mingling in the small crowd, and even Madam Pomfrey took time away from her infirmary at Hogwarts to attend… the stern matron had apparently grown to like the little half-witch, too.

Harry wasn’t surprised to see Ragnok, along with his usual hobgoblin bodyguards, standing amidst the small crowd that had come to attend the service. Harry appreciated the fact that the goblins had made their presence known… which was more than what could be said for the Ministry. Nobody from the Ministry bothered to attend, aside from the remaining aurors who had joined in the battle… and all of those had tendered their resignations from the Corps on the morning following the battle. The aged goblin said nothing for the entire time he was there. Nothing really needed to be said. It was only when the aged goblin was leaving did he give Harry a sympathetic glance and a meaningful nod. A few minutes after Ragnok left, one of his bodyguards walked up to Harry and presented him with a gift. It was a long, mahogany box that contained the scythe that Kotone had used during the battle.

Hermione didn’t know how Harry kept from breaking down when he looked inside the box, but the pained look on his face told her that he was dangerously close.

-

They didn’t know how long they stood there in the middle of the beach house and crying on each other’s shoulders. They only broke apart after Harry let out a deep, tremulous sigh against Hermione’s hair.

Hermione leaned back and began untying the knot of Harry’s tie as he struggled to remove the cufflinks from his sleeves. After getting the tie removed, she carefully began undoing the buttons down the front of his shirt. Harry then cautiously pulled off the tear and bloodstained shirt and, after throwing it on top of his jacket in the chair, he pulled his loose-fitting, bloody tee-shirt over his head.

Hermione’s eyes were drawn to the bleeding and blistering wound in the center of his chest. Being careful not to directly touch it, Hermione ran a finger along the slightly swollen, angry red burn that was on his chest. It was an imprint of a septagram that appeared to be seared into his flesh. It was the same size as the septagram that adorned the front of Kotone’s breastplate, and it appeared on Harry’s chest the moment that Voldemort’s killing curse had hit the young half-witch as he held her in his arms. Nobody at St. Mungo’s could explain how it came to be there… or how to heal it. They just assumed that the energy of the killing curse that had hit Kotone caused some sort of accidental reaction with the symbol on the armor and said that, while it would naturally heal eventually, there would always be a scar left there.

“Why don’t you get some sleep, Harry? I’ll wake you up for dinner in a few hours if you like.”

Harry just shook his head and then turned and walked towards the front door. Although the weather was pleasant back in Britain, there on the island a storm was raging. Harry stepped out into the cool, driving rain, walked down to the shoreline, and stared out at the angry, crashing surf. In his mind’s eye, he could almost see the sunny beach with Kotone dancing and playing in the waves. A distant flash of lightning brought Harry back out of his thoughts, reminding him that the current weather matched his emotions almost perfectly. He stood there on the beach, the pouring rain mixing with his falling tears. He had hoped that the rain would help to wash away his grief.

It wasn’t working.

-----~-----

August 7th, 1997 – Conference room - Grunning’s Drill Company, London

“…I assure you, sir. The production problems we’re having right now are being addressed. The labor market around here isn’t what it used to be, and we’re having problems finding skilled machinists. In the last hiring drive we had, the assistant manager of production personally interviewed the applicants, but found that most of the self-proclaimed ‘experienced’ machinists had actually misrepresented themselves on their applications and were summarily rejected. We ended up hiring some recent college graduates, thinking that they’d be easier to train.”

“How did your assistant manager know that the applicants misrepresented themselves?”

“Why, he called the companies that were listed as former employers of theirs,” explained the company’s general manager, “Come to find out, they had never worked at the places they said they had.”

Harry thought for a moment, and then asked, “Exactly how many of those applicants were turned away?”

“Twelve!” exclaimed the manager in a huff, “Can you imagine that many people falsifying their experience history?”

“No, I can’t… what happened to those applications?” asked Harry suspiciously, “Are they still on file?”

“Of course!” said the manager emphatically, “By law, we have to hold those for a year, but we’re certainly not going to call those individuals if any openings arise.”

“Let me have a look at them, please.”

A few minutes later, a secretary from the human resources office entered the meeting room carrying a folder. She placed the folder on the table in front of Harry and left the room. Harry opened the folder and picked up the top application.

“May I use the phone?” asked Harry politely.

“Well, of course!” said the manager as he practically fell over himself as he reached for the telephone on a nearby desk and transferred it to the table where Harry was sitting.

Harry picked up the receiver and quickly dialed a number.

“Yes, I’m a representative of Grunning’s Drill Company here in London and we received an application from a former employee of yours by the name of Mark McGrath. Can you confirm that he had worked for your company? … Yes, that’s right. … Six years, huh? … and why did he leave? … Relocated? You mean your company isn’t here in London? Ah, I see, just the offices… No, that’s quite alright… thank you for your time… Yes, good-bye.”

Harry set that application aside, picked up another one from the folder and dialed another number. Twenty minutes later, it was found that none of the twelve rejected applicants had lied on their applications.

“That… that doesn’t make any sense!” exclaimed the general manager embarrassedly, “Why didn’t those companies tell us about their former employees the last time they were contacted?”

“Who was the assistant manager of production that supposedly made these calls?”

“Now see here! Are you accusing…” the general manager stopped himself. He was so used to being the ‘big boss’ in the company and not answering to anyone that he momentarily forgot to whom he was speaking, after all, he wasn’t just the owner of Grunning’s, but also the man who had just defeated that ‘You-Know-Who’ fellow just a few days earlier, or so his wizard brother, Ted, had told him, “I mean to say, he’s been with the company a very long time. Worked his way up from the floor, and all that. I’ll call him in here and you can speak to him yourself.”

-

Vernon Dursley was waddling along the hallway as fast as his legs could carry him. He had just received word from the general manager that the owner was in the building and wanted to speak with him! As he hurried along, his mind was already going through the list of exclusive restaurants in the area… maybe he was a golfer and would like to join his country club! Getting an ultra-rich entrepreneur to join the club would certainly raise his social standing amongst his new friends there!

He could hardly contain his excitement as he approached the doorway to the conference room. He paused a moment to catch his breath, to run his hands over his suit to straighten out whatever wrinkles were there, and then he brushed his fingers through his thinning hair before he stepped up to the doorway and confidently strode into the room.

“You called for me, Mr. Tonks?” asked Vernon in as clear of a voice as he could manage in his excited state. He saw the general manager facing him as he stood before a gentleman in a chair that was facing away from the door. Vernon could just see the mop of messy black hair over the tall chair back and thought that for a rich entrepreneur, he should at least be able to find a proper barber!

“Ah, yes, good job coming so quickly. We had a few questions for you concerning the recruitment drive we had at the beginning of the summer.”

Unseen by Vernon and unnoticed by the general manager, a wicked smile appeared on Harry’s face the moment his uncle entered the room.

“Oh! Where are my manners,” said the general Manager, “Step right up, Vernon. Don’t be shy! I’d like you to meet the owner of our fine company…”

Vernon nearly tripped over a chair in his haste to get closer to the man at the end of the table. He already had his meaty hand extended as he neared the far end.

The general manager addressed Harry, “This is Vernon Dursley, the assistant manager of production.”

Still facing away, Harry stood from the chair as the general manager continued, “Vernon, this is Mister Harry Potter.”

Upon his introduction, Harry turned to face his uncle, still wearing the devilish smile.

Vernon froze. His eyes widened for a few moments, then narrowed suspiciously, and then widened again. His mouth fell open as his breath left his lungs, which caused his bushy, walrus-like moustache to flutter as he involuntarily croaked out, “You!”

“Well, Vernon… fancy meeting you here,” said Harry evenly, not showing the least bit of emotion. Harry’s eyes dropped down to the beefy hand that was still stuck out in his direction and noticed that it was trembling quite badly. He didn’t take it.

After a few more moments of stunned silence, Vernon roughly pulled his hand back, drew a deep breath and bellowed at the manager, “Now see here! If this is a joke, it’s not the least bit funny! What are you playing at, bringing this freak in here and telling me he’s the owner?”

“Steady on, Dursley! That’s no way to speak to your boss!” said the manager as he stepped towards Vernon in an attempt to calm him down. The manager looked confusedly between Vernon and Harry and said, “Do you two know each other?”

Harry mentally ticked off the seconds, ‘five… four… three… two… one…’

Vernon’s face suddenly flushed to a glowing crimsonish-purple so rapidly that Harry swore that it couldn’t be healthy. At the same moment, a pair of angry blue veins pulsed out noticeably on Vernon’s temples as he yelled, “You’re ruddy well right, I know this… this perverted excuse for a human being! I had to put up with his freakish nature… his unnaturalness… for the last sixteen years! I thought I was bloody well shut of him, but now he prances in here and uses his… his oddness to fool you into thinking he owns this place!”

Vernon turned to Harry and continued, “I know that you have used your… something… on him, but I’m wise to your tricks! When your freakish friends find out that you used that stuff, you’ll be thrown from that freak school of yours and locked up for good!”

‘So predictable,’ thought Harry with a smirk before saying, “You seem to have forgotten what Dumbledore told you last year about me coming of age at seventeen. I know you never paid any attention to my birthdays all of these years, but for your information I turned seventeen last week. Even if I did use any magic here, which I didn’t, I wouldn’t be in any trouble at all, considering everyone in the room already knows about the magical world.”

Vernon’s blood engorged face darkened even further as he looked suspiciously the general manager, “How… How…?”

“I was going to ask you about why you had lied about contacting the previous employers of all of these applicants…” Harry calmly interrupted as he held up the open folder in his hands so that Vernon could see. Harry then snapped the folder closed, carelessly dropped it on the table, then leaned forward while resting his palms on the surface and said in a low, dangerous whisper, “…but I’d much rather know what happened to the three million, seven hundred seventy-nine thousand, six hundred eleven Pounds that you stole from my Gringott’s vault.”

“Vernon!” exclaimed Tim Tonks, “Is that where you got all of the money that you’ve been throwing around for months? You said that you won a sweepstakes! Now I find out that you actually stole the money from the greatest wizard in Britain?”

The unhealthy purple in Vernon’s face did the seemingly impossible… it darkened to an even deeper shade of purple. He stared open-mouthed at his boss for a few heartbeats before he bellowed, “You! You’re one of those freaks, too?”

Mr. Tonks looked at Vernon indignantly as he angrily said, “If by ‘freak’ you mean ‘wizard,’ then no, I am not one of those freaks… but my younger brother Ted is. That’s how I know about Gringott’s and the magical world. Now what’s this about you stealing money?”

“I stole nothing!” huffed Vernon loudly, “I had every right to that money! I worked and slaved to put food in his mouth and a roof over his head for all these years, I deserved to be compensated for all of the trouble he’s caused me!”

“Bollocks!” yelled Harry, “You put nothing over my head but a set of stairs, and the only food you put in my mouth was what Dudley couldn’t stuff into his! That’s another thing, Uncle… what happened to all of the money that you were being given every month to buy food and clothes for me? After all, all of the utilities on the house were being paid for from my vault, and you didn’t have a mortgage because I already owned the house… what happened to the two thousand pounds a month that you were being given to take care of me? Lord knows, you didn’t spend a single pence on me while I was there!”

‘Finally!’ thought Harry as he watched the bright purple drain away from Vernon’s face.

“I… I have no idea what you’re on about!” said Vernon defensively, “I never got anything from anyone, and you can’t prove otherwise!”

“I beg to differ, Mr. Dursley,” came a harsh, squeaky voice from a seemingly empty corner of the room. As the disillusionment was dispelled, a small goblin appeared out of thin air holding an assortment of rolled up parchments.

Vernon jumped back with a horrified look on his quickly paling face, “What the bloody Hell is that thing?”

“My name is Griphook, and I’ve been the manager of the Potter vaults in Gringott’s Wizarding Bank for over thirty years,” said the goblin as he placed the rolls on the table and picked one particular one up, “According to my records, each payment for the care of one Harry James Potter had been faithfully transferred to your muggle bank account, and you have been regularly drawing funds out of that account as long as it’s been in existence.”

Vernon was staring open-mouthed at the goblin as his complexion started changing from the ashen gray to a sickly green.

“In addition,” continued Griphook as he picked up another parchment roll, “I have here a legal agreement, signed by you and witnessed by the late Mr. Dumbledore, that you would use the money in good faith to care for your nephew… something you have failed to do most spectacularly.”

“That doesn’t prove anything! That Dummlebore freak is dead now, so you can’t prove I agreed to anything!”

“Under Goblin Law, we have all the proof right here, and along with Mr. Potter’s testimony, we certainly have enough evidence for prosecution.”

“There’s not a court in all of Britain that would convict me! I’ll get a barrister and I’ll see you in court!”

“No, you won’t have a barrister,” smiled Griphook as he advanced on the cowering muggle, “but I assure you, we will see you in court… in about thirty seconds!”

Griphook waved a finger at Vernon, freezing him in his tracks. The goblin calmly walked up to the man and placed a copper bracelet on his meaty wrist. A moment later, Vernon disappeared in a fall of colour. Griphook smiled a toothy smile at Harry, gave a slight bow, and then disappeared as well.

Vernon Dursley was never heard from again.

-----~-----

October 31st, 1997 – Transfiguration Office, Hogwarts

“He’s not doing too well, is he?” asked Ron as he sat on the corner of Hermione’s desk.

Hermione’s quill halted mid-sentence on the transfiguration essay that she was correcting. She placed the quill in its stand and folded her hands on the desktop.

“No, he isn’t… but he’s not getting any worse,” she replied, “He seemed to perk up a little once he started his classes, but that didn’t last too long. I know he’s been moody these past few days, but you know that Halloween has never been the best time of year for him.”

Ron stayed silent as he picked at the sleeve of his robe, clearly wanting to say something, but obviously didn’t know how to go about it. Hermione eyed him a moment, then let out an aggravated sigh.

“Are you ever going to tell me what’s eating you? You’ve been acting as if you’ve had a bug in your pants for a long time now. Out with it, or leave me to my work… these essays aren’t going to grade themselves, you know!”

Ron lifted his gaze to meet Hermione’s. They stared at each other for more than a few seconds before Ron had to avert his eyes. He drew a deep breath and spoke.

“You know how I was practicing that seer stuff before the battle? I was having fun with it. I’d get to the point where I could see all those faces and places and things inside of all the floating bubbles. Sure, most of the time I’d see really boring stuff… but there were a few times… well… at the time, I didn’t know what to make of the things I saw.”

“Things like what?” Hermione asked.

“Well… things about Harry’s daughter… I saw… well…”

“Oh, come on! Just spit it out!”

Ron sighed and looked up from his fidgeting hands, “I saw Kotone here at Hogwarts. Not like when she was here with Harry before… she was older. I saw her in the school uniform, attending classes. I saw her getting pulled into Myrtle’s bathroom by a bunch of older girls. They stunned her, stripped her naked, and painted all sorts of things on her body… then they left her hanging by her tail from a chandelier in the great hall. Another time, I saw her getting beaten up in the Astronomy Tower… that was pretty bad, I saw her lose one of her fangs during that… and I… I saw her getting raped by a bunch of older students down in the dungeons… they cut off her tail as a souvenir when they were done…and they weren’t Slytherins, either…”

“How could you have seen her here? She’s dead!”

“I don’t know, but I did… In fact I saw her loads of times, but that was before the battle. I never told anyone this… I really didn’t think it was going to happen, since I saw her older and in school… but just a few hours before the battle while I was waiting for Tonks… I was practicing again, and I… I saw Kotone die, just like it happened. I haven’t had any more visions about her since then… I dunno… I just had to tell someone. I really didn’t think she was going to die… I saw the killing curse, but I thought that since I saw her older, that she survived it somehow… That’s why I never told Harry about the vision, you have to believe me! If I had… if I only told him, then maybe she… would have lived but… I know he’s suffering, but I can’t help but to think that maybe it was better that she… she…”

Ron’s voice trailed off into silence. He looked as though he was going to be sick.

-----~-----

October 31st, 1998 – Lilly’s Love Lagoon

Harry’s dress slacks were pooled around his ankles as he grunted in exertion. Hermione’s flowing white wedding dress was hiked up around her waist, her knickers were dangling off of her right foot, and her legs were draped over Harry’s arms as he frantically pushed into her.

This was their first time making love as a married couple. They never even made it up to the loft. The instant they arrived in the flash of light, Harry had her pressed up against a wall and began kissing her madly.

Hermione had never felt anything like it. Sure they had made love plenty of times before, but this time… there was something primal… animalistic… She had felt it the moment that their vows were completed and they were announced as husband and wife. All the way through the reception she found herself eyeing her new husband with vicious intent. It was obvious from the way he was returning her burning glances that he was feeling it, too. The meal wasn’t even halfway through when they both quickly stood up at the same time, looked into each others wild eyes, and Apparated away without a word to anyone.

They could feel the wall against Hermione’s back shaking with each of their thrusts. They seemed to be trying to meld their bodies together, pushing and grasping, their laboured breaths coming out in ragged puffs as they each neared their rapidly building climax.

Suddenly, just as they both cried out each other’s names in their mutual, heart-stopping climax, Hermione involuntarily entered her state. Her wedding dress, while still the same flowing, strapless gown, turned a midnight black that matched her hair. Her skin paled into a flawless, porcelain-like sheen that seemed to glow in the darkened room.

At the same time, Harry was thrust into his own state. His black tuxedo morphed into a radiant white, his black hair lengthened and began to flow around his head as if he were standing facing a gale. Their eyes locked with each other’s, drawing them both into that odd ‘connection.’ Their souls shifted from their locked-together bodies and merged into each other, creating the majestic griffon form of their combined souls.

As his seed continued to spill into her, a blinding bluish-white light engulfed them both. Their souls had merged, but they also were still connected with their bodies. As well as their own experience, they were also feeling each others, giving them both an insight into what the other’s orgasm was like. That strange, new sensation seemed to overpower them, because a heartbeat later, their souls both merged back into their respective bodies and summarily collapsed onto the floor.

They remained locked together on the floor, both unconscious until late the next afternoon. Harry was the first to awaken, and finding himself sprawled awkwardly on top of his new bride, he sprung to his feet, only to find that he was too weakened to stand and he immediately fell back onto his arse. He shook his head to clear the cobwebs from his mind, and then opened his eyes. He couldn’t stop the gasp of shock that escaped his throat.

He was looking at Hermione, laying on her back with her wedding gown still hiked up over her waist. Seeing her half naked wasn’t the cause of his shock, it was the septagram that was burned into the front of her gown. He looked down at himself, and found the same septagram burned into his own tuxedo jacket and shirt. He roughly grabbed the front of his clothes and ripped the shirt open, sending buttons scattering across the floor. He quickly pulled up his similarly burned tee shirt to find that the scar he had received the night if the final battle was gone.

Harry crawled over to the still unconscious Hermione and pulled down the front of her strapless gown to expose her chest. There, starting on the lower part of her breasts and covering the upper portion of her abdomen, was the raw, bleeding septagram burned into her flesh.

-----~-----

May 24th, 1999 – Lilly’s Love Lagoon

Harry stood on the balcony overlooking the expanse of beach before him. Lying on a lounge chair near the shoreline, shaded from the midday sun by a large umbrella, was his naked wife Hermione. She sat reading the book that was propped up by her distended belly where their first child was growing. He couldn’t help but to smile at the thought of becoming a parent again.

The distant sound of laughter drew his attention away from Hermione and to the equally naked pair of lovers who were currently walking along the far side of the fresh water lagoon. Ron and Luna were happily flirting around with each other near the base of the waterfall. His grin widened when he saw Ron pick his fiancée up and threw her into the cascading water. She emerged a few moments later with a very stern expression on her face. Ron’s laughter abruptly stopped as she climbed out of the water with her wand in her hand. Harry knew that Ron did it on purpose… Harry had no idea why Ron liked being ‘punished’ so much, but to each their own. They were happy, and that was all that mattered.

He and Hermione had already spoken to each other. They would allow Ron and Luna to build their own beach house on the far side of the island… under the condition that it was built well out of earshot of their own house… they didn’t need the sound of a whip cracking or Ron’s yelling to wake up their baby when it arrived.

Harry’s gaze drifted back to Hermione, and then out over the ocean. His smile faded slightly as old memories returned, but thankfully, the pain was getting easier to bear with each passing day.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice that Hermione had risen from her chair, waddled all the way into the house and had climbed the stairs into the loft. He was startled out of his thoughts as a pair of warm, tanned arms wrapped around his sides from behind. The smile returned in full force as he felt the mound of baby pressing into his lower back.

“You have to leave soon,” said Hermione as she nuzzled the back of his neck, “You have the meeting with the Ministry today.”

Harry turned around, and was momentarily distracted by the naked, pregnant woman standing before him. His eyes briefly focused on the septagram-shaped scar before he lifted his gaze and placed a small kiss on her lips, “How do you think they’ll take it? It’s not every day that they hear they’re no longer in power…”

Hermione sighed and said, “You already know what’s going to happen when you show them the documentation from the Queen. It’s not like they would ever guess that she has the power to abolish an entire ministry… after all, the Ministry of Magic is just another branch of the British government. Who knew that the Royal Family retained the power over that particular branch?”

Harry smiled as he said, “Well, she was in a right state when we told her that all the trouble Voldemort caused the muggles was mostly due to the failure of the Ministry. It took no time at all for her to convince the Prime Minister to agree to the dissolution of that particular ministry, as he had first hand knowledge of their incompetence.”

“They’re not going to be too happy when they find out about the new Wizard’s Council being enacted, either… and that you’re going to be the Director of Wizarding Affairs.”

“Well, it was right nice of the Queen to give us control of an entire area of Devon to have a consolidated Wizarding community. We’ll still be separated from the Muggles, but there’s going to be a lot more cooperation between the governments.”

Hermione gave Harry a quick kiss and said, “Go on, now… and be careful. You never know what those Purebloods will try once they find out that the new Council is made up almost entirely of Half-bloods and muggleborns. Things might get nasty for you.”

Harry stepped back and said confidently, “I don’t think they’ll give me too much grief… if they try anything funny…”

In a fraction of a second, Harry entered his state. Hermione had to admit that while he was transformed, he did make quite the intimidating figure. She was sure he wouldn’t have a problem.

-----~-----

July 31st, 1999 – St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

“Push!” said the mediwitch who was tending to the birthing of the Potters’ first child, “Come on, you can do it… you’re almost there, just one more time!”

Harry felt Hermione’s fingernails digging into the skin of his hand like the talons of her eagle form. He watched helplessly as she struggled through each contraction. Every so often, the pain would cause her to involuntarily shift into her state, which only served to make things harder for her because of the time shifting that would accompany the change just prolonged her suffering.

It was just into the sixteenth hour of labor then the newest Potter entered the world.

“It’s a girl!” cried the mediwitch as she bundled the newborn up in a blanket and, after a few quick cleaning and diagnostic charms, laid her on top of the mother’s chest.

“She’s beautiful!” cried Hermione, grinning broadly as she gently touched the baby’s hands, silently counting the fingers.

“Just like her mother,” lied Harry as he gently kissed Hermione’s sweaty forehead. He looked down at his new daughter and thought that it was the ugliest thing he ever saw, being so wrinkled and purple. He had been told that newly born babies looked rather odd when they first arrived, but would soon look normal after a few hours of exposure to the outside world. Still, he kept his opinion to himself… he was sure she’d be the most beautiful thing on the planet, once she stopped looking like an alien… Still, she had thin, wispy black hair and what was definitely Hermione’s nose and mouth… even just a minute old, it was clear who’s daughter she was. He was sure she would be a beauty.

“You’ll have a chance to bond with her once we get her all weighed and checked out,” said the mediwitch as she picked up the newborn from Hermione and walked over to a nearby table.

“You did great, sweetie,” said Harry kindly as he ran a damp cloth over Hermione’s brow. Harry looked down into Hermione’s eyes and breathlessly said, “We’re parents now!”

Hermione smiled tiredly at her husband. Seeing him so genuinely happy and excited after such a long time was like a balm to her soul.

Suddenly, from across the room they heard the mediwitch gasp and say, “Merlin, I’ve never seen anything like this!”

Harry and Hermione glanced anxiously at each other, then Harry sprang from his wife’s side and rushed across the room saying, “What’s the matter? What’s wrong with her?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! Nothing’s wrong…” said the mediwitch as she stared at the baby, “It’s just that she just opened her eyes, and… well, I’ve been a healer for over twenty years… I know that most babies are born with blue eyes, but in all my years, I’ve never seen a baby with violet eyes… I’ve never seen anyone with violet eyes!”

Harry’s head snapped around and his eyes met Hermione’s. She was looking just as shocked as he was. Harry turned back and shifted into his state while looking at his newborn daughter.

There, shimmering around the bundled child on the table, Harry saw his daughter’s soul form… a tiny, beautiful angel. From her bed, Hermione shifted herself into her state and saw the same thing Harry did.

They both shifted out of their respective states and looked at each other. Hermione pulled the front of her smock out far enough for her to look underneath. Her eyes widened, then she looked up at Harry and shook her head. The septagram scar was gone. Slowly, a smile crept across Harry’s face… a smile that definitely reached his eyes.

“Have you settled on a name for this little one?” asked the healer as she carried the bundle back to Hermione’s bed with a clipboard and quill hovering behind her.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other again, and after a brief conference through the connection, they smiled. Harry nodded at her, and then Hermione took the baby from the healer’s arms and said, “Yes, we have the perfect name for her… Angela… Angela Kotone Potter.”

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