Disclaimer: Not mine; more's the pity.
Shadow Walks
My shadow's the only one that walks beside me
--Green Day, "Boulevard of Broken Dreams"
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Chapter Nine:
There's no one in the universe as magical and wondrous as you.
--Bonnie Tyler, "Total Eclipse of the Heart"
"Harry?" Surprise was evident in Remus Lupin's voice as he saw the younger man standing in the doorway, looking more than a little frazzled. He was accustomed, along with most of those to whom Harry considered himself close, to not seeing Harry on this day at all.
"Hi, Remus," Harry said quietly, ducking his head as he spoke. "Can I speak with you? It's important." Remus swung the door of the flat open wide.
"As if you even had to ask, Harry," his father's friend sniffed. Harry stepped into the flat, and Remus closed the door behind him.
"Where's Tonks?" Harry asked, eying the small room fondly. It looked like pure Remus and Tonks, shabby chic, with very odd and kitschy touches here and there. A velvet Weird Sisters poster hung in the spare room, he knew, and one of the windows had a feather boa draping it instead of a curtain. Luna loved it. A pair of black slacks with rips in both knees was hanging on the wall by Sticking charm, half-pressed.
"She's down in Knockturn Alley. Stake-out."
Harry made an "ah" sound of comprehension. "That's right," he said. "I'd forgotten that was going down this weekend." In his heart of hearts, he was glad. Tonks would cause a conflict of interest, and he really didn't want to do anything that might implicate her and cost her job. Remus cobbled together a living doing some public speaking for more open-minded rights' groups, as well as substituting occasionally at Hogwarts as the need arose, but it was Tonks to whom the title of breadwinner fell. If Remus chafed at this, he had never mentioned it aloud in Harry's hearing.
"I - I've got to ask you something - and then - and then do something, and I don't want to do it by myself," Harry stammered. Remus eyed Harry curiously, and his gaze drifted down to the small box that Harry had drawn from his pocket and was twiddling between his fingers. "I don't think you'll want to, but I - I just couldn't ask Ron, and I - I can't watch it by myself, especially not today - and it's got to be today. I don't think we have a lot of time, before I won't - " he halted abruptly, as if he'd lost his train of thought, and stared blankly at his former professor for a moment.
"Tell me what it is you need me to do," Remus said gently, laying one hand on Harry's shoulder. "You know I'll do it."
"I need your memory of Hermione's - of what happened to Hermione, and what happened to Bellatrix." Harry's bleak green eyes met Remus' gaze squarely, and the werewolf paled. "I've already got Ron's." He cleared his throat noisily. "And I need you to look at them with me."
"All right," Remus conceded calmly. "Have a seat. I'll be just a moment." Harry sat on the sagging leather sofa, as Remus retreated to the kitchen. He heard him clinking around in the other room, and his curiosity rose when the older man emerged carrying two glasses. "It's Ogden's laced with a Calming Draught," he explained. "I figured we might need it after." Harry exhaled a shuddering breath, and managed a shaky smile at the closest thing he had to a father.
"Yeah…" he said, running one unsteady hand through his dark hair. He set the portable Pensieve on the low table in front of them, next to the glasses of whiskey, and snapped open the lid. Ron's memory swirled placidly inside, with a silvery ripple. Placing his wand at his temple and drawing it slowly away, Remus withdrew his own memory, and dropped it in the magical container. They both eyed the Pensieve warily for a moment, as if it might suck them into its nightmares of its own accord.
"So… what's all this about?" Remus asked, after a moment of heavy silence. Harry propped his elbows on his knees and his chin on his folded fists, staring at nothing, as he began to tell Lupin the same story he'd told Ron, not even a half-hour ago. Remus listened intently, commented rarely, and occasionally swore violently under his breath.
"You know, when I saw what happened to Hermione - I wasn't close enough to hear the curse Bellatrix used… the wind tossed the words away - I felt sick - sick and angry -at what had been taken from Hermione, at what it would mean to you…" At Harry's questioning look, he smiled. "Yes, I knew how you felt about her - how you still feel about her - and how you would rather have died than ruined your friendship with her."
"I needed her so much," Harry said hoarsely. "I still need her… I - oh, God, Remus… when you told me she - she was - it was like half of my soul being ripped away, and it - hurt so much, and … it never goes away, Remus - it never goes away."
"Bellatrix just stood there, watching me, after it happened," Remus continued when the silence became oppressive. "Barely a moment, but it seemed to last forever. She was beautiful and terrible, standing there, the wind whipping her hair behind her. She had every opportunity to take me out, but she didn't. It was almost as if she was waiting for me to try something, daring me to attempt to fight her, as if she knew I didn't have a chance." His lips thinned into a grim line. "I used an Eradicator on her." It was Harry's turn to regard him with utter surprise.
"Remus, those are - "
"Experimental and currently illegal, I know," Remus said. "Tonks, Moody, and I had been working on them secretly, training with them, trying to get a consistent response from them, hoping they could be fine-tuned into a workable hex before the Battle came. We hadn't gotten very far: the Eradicator could utterly obliterate something from existence, but it could just as easily set something on fire, blow something up, or do nothing at all."
"She could have killed you," Harry said woodenly.
"I took a risk. I gambled that it would work, and that she wouldn't be prepared for something like that. But if what you're saying is true…"
"I think she portkeyed away, at the instant before your spell hit," Harry admitted. "It may be why she was waiting for you to make the first move. She knew you wouldn't use an Unforgivable."
"If she's - if she isn't dead, then where do you think she's been all this time?" Lupin wondered.
"I don't know," Harry said wearily, lowering his chin onto his hands again. "But if we find her, I think we'll find Hermione."
"Hermione?" Remus exclaimed.
"That's why I needed Ron's memory. He heard Bellatrix shout something in Latin - the curse that - that took her away… but he couldn't make it out. I'm hoping it's still in his memory, and that we can find out what it was."
"Maybe we should take this to the Pensieve Analysts at the Ministry," Remus suggested. "If we're going to be trying to slow events down for clarification, then a trained - " He stopped. Harry was already shaking his head.
"We can't. If I so much as mention Hermione, everyone looks at me like I'm headed round the twist, and you know Scrimgeour hates me anyway. I had a run-in with Malfoy yesterday, and he ratted me out about it. My meeting with Dolohov was sort of… against orders, and I think the Ukrainian Head Auror has owled the Minister about me as well. Long story short, I think my job's gone come Monday."
"Harry, I'm sorry." The compassion was evident in Lupin's voice.
"Don't be," Harry said succinctly. "I'm not - at least, not much. And if we can find the truth, then it will all be worth it anyway."
"And if the truth is that Hermione is dead?" Lupin prodded gently, in what Harry thought of as his "mentor" voice.
"Then I - then I suppose I'll have to come - come to terms with that, won't I?" Harry replied in a wheezing way, as if breathing in too deeply caused him pain.
"Yes, you will," Remus all but whispered. "You know she wouldn't want to see you like this, being eaten away with grief and guilt and sorrow."
"I know," Harry conceded. It didn't mean he'd be able to stop. Remus patted his back companionably, and turned his attention back to the miniature Pensieve.
"Are you ready to do this?" he asked.
"No," Harry replied, hoarsely and honestly. "But I have no choice."
Together, they leaned forward, heads nearly touching above the small black bowl, until the silver mist yawned open to claim them.
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They were standing in the Forbidden Forest, knee deep in underbrush, and the green expanse of Hogwarts' grounds could clearly be seen only meters away. The tangled tracklessness of the forest's heart was even yet some distance behind them.
They had obviously entered Ron's memory first. Harry's chest constricted in agony so acutely painful that he momentarily wondered if a heart attack could be brought on by grief.
There was a faint rustling of leaves and crackling of thin twigs and stems. Someone was coming toward them. He saw a flash of vivid ginger, almost as fleeting as a glinting sunbeam through the trees.
"I was just wondering, that's all. No need to get your knickers in a twist," Ron's voice was heard, first faintly and then more clearly, sounding sullen and defensive.
"The state of my knickers is absolutely none of your concern," came another voice, prim and clipped…and obviously angry.
Harry wavered on his feet, the tears springing to his eyes with a rapidity that amazed even him. It was her, oh dear Merlin, it was her.
"Easy, Harry," Remus said in a low voice, even though they couldn't be seen or heard. As they came through the trees into view, Harry found himself moving toward her, almost of his own volition. He abruptly realized that he was mumbling,
"Oh God, Hermione. Oh God, Hermione…" over and over again like a mantra.
"Harry, are you going to be able to do this?" Remus asked urgently, catching him by the elbow. Harry closed his eyes and inhaled a deep, sharp breath through his nose, trying to collect himself.
"I'm okay," he croaked, lying through his teeth.
Hermione was still speaking.
"… not realize that if there were anything between Harry and myself - which there's not - that we would certainly come to you first thing and talk with you about it? Don't you think that we respect your friendship at least that much? And nothing's even going on… and I can't believe you are picking a fight with me about this, in the middle of a battle. Harry would absolutely furious, if he knew."
Well, yeah, Harry thought.
"Of course, you're going to go running to Harry," Ron said, with what could nearly be called a sneer.
"Well, you're the one who started jumping all over me at the first opportunity! I mean, honestly! All I did was kiss his cheek. He - he might die, you know… and I - I - "
There was a silence, broken only by the movement of shoes through undergrowth.
"Merlin, Hermione, are you crying?" Ron asked. "Trust a girl to go and get all bloody emotional, wound up over nothing…"
"Nothing? You call this nothing?" Hermione's voice was as close to a shriek as one trying to be quiet could be. "You're all but accusing me - and Harry - of sneaking around behind your back. As if we would ever do that! Besides - " Her voice grew low and mumbly and unintelligible.
"What was that?" Ron asked loftily, as he apparently had not heard it either.
"I said, `Besides, it's not as if you have any claim on me at all, seeing as how you were the one who dumped me at the beginning of the school year!'" Hermione's face was stained a faint pink.
"You fancy him, don't you?" Ron asked abruptly. Hermione grew very still, but hesitated for only a moment before snapping out a brisk,
"Don't be ridiculous. You've no reason to concern yourself with whom I do or do not fancy. And you've got to get over this single-minded obsession with Harry - "
"I'm obsessed with Harry?" Ron said incredulously, while Hermione trampled over his words, her brow lowered stormily over her dark eyes.
"-really just like it was in fourth year, and you should be more grown up than that by now. You'd think that you just dated me to so you could have something that Harry didn't!" The forest seemed to fall silent with an unnatural hush.
Hermione appeared to be shocked that she'd said such a thing, and Ron grew red to the tips of his ears. For a long time, neither of them said anything at all.
"Is that any better than settling for me because I was handy?" Ron finally said, his face crimson and his eyes flashing with anger and hurt. Hermione flinched as if she'd been slapped. "He's dated Cho and he's dated Ginny. Why would he want you?"
Harry let out a kind of inarticulate roar, and plunged forward, completely forgetting that this was a memory, until Remus grabbed him. Hermione gasped, a high-pitched little catch in her breath that broke Harry's heart.
"I - I - it's perfectly obvious that someone who is mature and thoughtful and intelligent might be able to see past appearances and superficialities. That's the kind of person I would fancy." Hermione struggled to regain her composure, her tone clearly implying that she thought Ron was none of those things. "Unlike you, all hung up on the way things ought to be and the way people ought to look and ought to think. You - you're - you're just like Percy," she finished triumphantly, fixing on the lowest insult she could think of. Ron's face was brilliant.
"I'm nothing like him!" He protested angrily. "You want - well then - just - fine!" He stomped off ahead of her, his long legs quickly taking him through the woods, just as Harry had thought. Hermione had hesitated for a moment, but then she followed, still heading in the same general direction of Dumbledore's tomb, though she could not hope to keep up with him.
Remus and Harry lingered with Hermione, as she made her way through the outskirts of the forest, occasionally clearing her way with a spell, and muttering things like,
"Bloody stupid prat!" and "Who does he think he is? Honestly!" under her breath. As she got further behind, Harry could feel the memory pulling at him. Remus was striding along, in the attempt to keep up with Ron, but Harry let the memory do the work. He was facing backwards, watching Hermione as ravenously as a starving man would eye a steak, letting his heels leave non-existent skid marks in the non-existent ground.
Ron was moving faster now; even Harry had nearly lost sight of Hermione, when he heard it, the gunshot-snap of a single tree branch breaking in half under the weight of someone's foot.
Hermione froze, going very still, and flexing her fingers around her wand. Harry began to kick and struggle against the inexorable force of Ron's memory.
Stop, Ron! For the love of all that is decent, stop!! He felt like screaming, even knowing it would do no good. He was too far away; she was all but out of view. The last thing he saw before foliage curtained the scene before him was an odd swirling of the air. There was a short scream, bitten off before it could be completed.
Invisibility cloaks! They have invisibility cloaks! Hermione! He redoubled his struggles, as if he could hope to change the outcome of something that was being relived out of someone's mind. Suddenly, he collapsed onto his face with surprise, outstretched hands clawing deep into the loam, as the memory released him. Ron was coming back.
He could hear the rustle and thrash of greenery, as Ron began to run full-tilt back towards his friend.
"Hermione!" he heard Ron cry. Harry began to sprint alongside him, and then drew ahead of him. He could just see Hermione, surrounded by five black-cloaked Death Eaters, when he was drawn up short again, as abruptly as if he'd been clothes-lined.
Behind him there was a sound of obviously cracking bone and a cry of pain through clenched teeth. Ron had fallen.
"Remus?" Harry asked, looking over his shoulder.
"I'm here," said the werewolf, ducking under a low-hanging branch, pausing to look sorrowfully down at Ron. The youngest Weasley son was white to the lips, sweat pearling up on his forehead, as he gripped his leg with fingers-turned-talons.
"Hermione, I'm coming. Sweet Merlin!" he gasped, swearing under his breath, as he tried to stand up. He made it to his feet once, but his bad leg crumpled underneath him, and he fell again, landing in the dirt and dead leaves with a spray of vomit. Harry could hear the frustration in Ron's voice, the tears and pleading, as he tried valiantly to stand; he could feel Ron's frantic urgency in the pounding of his own pulse, even as the ending, to him, was a foregone conclusion.
Harry edged as close as the memory would let him, barely able to make out what was going on - and then only because he was standing up. Hermione had taken down two of the Death Eaters, and she was shouting something defiantly at Bellatrix even as she was disarmed. Warmth swelled in Harry's chest, even as tears built up in his eyes. She typified Gryffindor, and he hadn't told her enough how much he appreciated her, depended upon her, needed her, loved her.
Bellatrix was moving then, a lightning-fast whirl of black fabric and swirling hair, and she caught Hermione against her, pulling her wand up cross-wise under Hermione's chin, holding it at both ends so tightly that he saw Hermione convulse in a reflexive gag. She was whispering something in Hermione's ear, something that was making Hermione struggle wildly, her face red with anger and effort.
Ron was trying to move again, having cast some kind of medical charm that obviously hadn't worked very well, and was dragging himself through the undergrowth with much effort. Harry wondered if Ron himself realized what a sitting duck he would have been if the Death Eaters hadn't been too occupied to come after him.
The remaining two Death Eaters were moving also, following their leader, who had Hermione in front of her. Bellatrix's beautiful mouth curved into a triumphantly glittering smile, and she moved one hand over Hermione's head, murmuring something as she did so. For a moment, Harry thought she was pouring something on her, but then he saw the twinkle of a gold chain as it fell around Hermione's neck, catching the sunlight.
Harry moved with them, as much as he could, trying to stay between Hermione and Ron, who could probably see little to nothing in his position on the ground. He couldn't get really close, due to Ron's slow progress, but he instinctively froze when Bellatrix turned back toward the heart of the forest, and appeared to look right at him. His heart galloped at a rapid clip, even as he realized that she could not see him. A small object materialized in mid-air, and Bellatrix caught it neatly in one hand.
She said, "One minute." Harry was looking around frantically, as Remus came up beside him.
"Someone else is here, Remus. Someone else with a cloak," he hissed, whispering unnecessarily.
He heard Bellatrix mutter something about witnesses, as they broke through the final barrier of the forest, and stood on the edge of the Hogwarts green. Distantly, through the thin screen of trees, Harry could see the memory of Remus dueling Macnair. The Death Eater caught him with a cutting charm across his scalp, and Remus was fighting, half-blinded by blood. As they circled each other, Remus caught sight of Bellatrix with Hermione, and was desperately trying to maneuver himself into an angle to do something. Even as he dispatched Macnair, Bellatrix's hand - the one not holding her wand - came up to close around the stone at the end of the chain around Hermione's neck. Remus fired and missed, winging the Death Eater to her left.
"Adj… sum," Bellatrix snarled, bringing her hand down violently. The ends of the chain glittered metallically in the light, as they dangled from the Death Eater's fist, and Hermione just faded from view, like a bad movie projection, her mouth open in a soundless plea. Harry fell to his knees, and for a moment he could not breathe. He knew there was a fresh image that would haunt his nightmares.
It seemed he'd been kneeling for an hour, though it had been only an instant. Harry's legs felt leaden, as he arose with Remus' hand clenched firmly around his bicep and a dry, hot, tight feeling in his throat. He could move a little more now, as he saw Ron begin to emerge from the edge of the forest, still crawling. Further down, he saw himself, limping back from Dumbledore's tomb, taking note of how worn and pale he seemed.
He saw himself rush to Ron's side, remembering how relieved he'd been to see him, getting ready to tell Ron that it was finally over, when Ron had asked the question that derailed his dreams. The wounded redhead clutched at memory-Harry's sleeve, the dissonant music of a thousand tragedies in his voice.
"Where's Hermione?"
Harry turned back toward the memory of Remus, just in time to see Bellatrix vanish in a flash of light, but missing his actual firing of the spell. The last remaining Death Eater had been felled as well, Harry wasn't sure by whom. He struggled to regain control, and tried to look at the disappearance with a measure of objectivity. If Bellatrix had disappeared just before the spell hit, she had done so with amazing accuracy.
"Let's look at your memory, and then we can come back to both of them, slow them down if we need to, try to hear that curse," Harry said mechanically, looking toward the memory of himself and Ron.
"All right," Lupin agreed, beginning the incantation that would take them to the second memory contained within the Pensieve.
But he wasn't going to be fast enough, and Harry knew it - he knew it, and was still unable to look away; it was like watching an oncoming Bludger.
The memory-depictions of himself and Ron looked across the green at their Remus, standing weary, bleeding, holding his wand limply in one hand, and their former professor looked at them with an unmistakable expression.
Harry had already had the singular and discomfiting experience of seeing Hermione disappear, and was then able to exceed that by watching himself completely fall apart about it.
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AN: Hope you enjoyed it. You may leave a review on your way out if you like. They are always much anticipated and appreciated!
lorien
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