I didn't write the Harry Potter books nor did I publish them, distribute them or adapt them into films. Life's very unfair that way.
Chapter 10: He's Already Got One, You See
Harry Potter pointed his wand in the general direction of Jean Paul Gerard's nonmaterial form, attempting to size up his new opponent. There seemed no point in attacking him, given what he had proven he could do mere moments ago (not to mention that, in all likelihood, any spell Harry cast would pass through Gerard ineffectually). "What do you want with me?" he asked curiously, his voice barely above a whisper.
"You know," Gerard began with a slight, disdainful laugh, "I really thought you would have figured it out before now. It took Tom Riddle only three 'visions' to guess the truth of this tower. Albus knew after the first one."
"Sorry to disappoint you," Harry fired back glibly. "This tower never was able to predict the future, was it? It was all just a trap; a madhouse for the best Hogwarts students. A modern day Trojan Horse."
"The so-called seers and prophets of my day were no more credible than they are in your own," the French wizard's voice declared dismissively. "They truly believed that they had built something that could see into the future. Who was I to tell them differently?" He smiled coyly. "Besides, it made the perfect place to hide a horcrux."
Two things occurred to Harry that hadn't before. The first was that if there was a horcrux of Jean Paul Gerard's here there had to be a seven-hundred-plus-year-old French dark wizard out there somewhere. The second was that he now had no earthly idea where Voldemort's seventh horcrux might be. "I'll find it, you know," Harry told Gerard with confidence. "I'll find it and destroy it. I've already done in five of Voldemort's."
Gerard's tongue clucked disapprovingly. "I suspect you will have more trouble finding mine than you've had with discovering Riddle's. This tower is a very large place and besides, your scar will no longer be able to help you."
"How do you mean?" Harry asked in confusion.
"Think on it for a moment, Monsieur Potter. Why does your scar burn when it makes contact with a horcrux?" Gerard queried smugly.
"I dunno, really," Harry replied, a little taken aback by the question and perhaps equally stunned that he had never before given the matter any thought. "My scar's always hurt around Voldemort, though. Maybe it's because his magic made both the horcruxes and the scar."
"A good guess," the wizard once known as Lord Montverde conceded. "But no. You need not trouble yourself frantically looking elsewhere for Riddle's last horcrux. It is here, in this tower, and has been ever since you set foot in it."
Harry's heartbeat accelerated as he kept his wand trained on Gerard's image. "What…what are you saying, exactly?"
"You are the seventh horcrux, Monsieur Potter," Jean Paul Gerard said with a wide, wily smile. "You have been so from the moment Riddle tried to kill you as a baby."
Harry's throat tightened and it seemed he could no longer stand, collapsing weakly into the chair next to his bed. It felt as though a great weight had suddenly fallen onto his shoulders, even as the chair announced that he was still only a hair below ten stone. "It can't be," he protested weakly. "You're wrong. How could you possibly even know…"
"I can see inside your mind," Gerard informed him. "It is an unusual place, filled with things which should be obvious to you, but which remain obscure."
Harry didn't particularly feel like acknowledging the insult. "You're trying to trick me into doing something stupid, aren't you? Like offing myself or something."
"If I wanted you dead, your body would already lie at the foot of this tower, broken and lifeless," Gerard sniffed. "I have other plans for our remaining time together."
"We don't have any 'remaining time together'," Harry said with a small laugh of surprise and anger. "If you think I'm going to stay up here now that I know what you're doing to me…"
The French wizard looked amused. "Do tell, Monsieur Potter. What is it that you think I've been doing to you?"
"You're trying to drive me insane," Harry said angrily, "just as you've done with every other Hogwarts student that's lived here."
Gerard let out a long sigh. "Have I not shown you who it is that you truly care for? Without me, would you not still hold onto the tragic notion that Ginny Weasley is the perfect girl for you?" Harry's ensuing silence was all the answer he needed. "Love has done far more to bring the witches and wizards who've lived here to the brink of madness than I could ever hope to."
"Rubbish," Harry replied in disgust. "Do you really expect me to believe that you're not responsible for all the witches and wizards who've gone spare up here?!"
"I take great pride in each and every English wizard I've driven mad," Lord Montverde said, a perverse smile of satisfaction plastered across his face. "However, all I have ever done is show them what is buried in the recesses of their minds or what desires lie just beneath the surface of their hearts. Some have simply been unprepared for what is there."
"You're insane yourself," Harry assessed, his voice low. "I can't stand looking at your damned smug face anymore. I'm leaving."
Just as Harry reached the door and prepared to descend the stairway, he was drawn back into the room, as though the hand of an invisible giant had grabbed him and pulled him in. "Our conversation is not yet over, Monsieur Potter. I ask for your indulgence; I am not used to making bargains with English wizards."
"You want to bargain with me?" Harry asked in disbelief.
"I have done more to make Tom Marvolo Riddle the wizard he is today than anyone outside of his miserable excuse for parents," Gerard explained. "I showed him spells, I taught him strategy, but most importantly I let him see who he truly was. The pieces were all there when he arrived, but it was I who put them together."
Harry's eyes narrowed. "Is this supposed to impress me?"
Jean Paul Gerard shrugged. "Do you want to defeat him or don't you? I know all of his weaknesses and strengths as well as your own." Gerard paused for a moment to give Harry a quick once over, as though he were making certain that something was still there. "There is a power inside of you that Riddle could not possibly comprehend; a magic so strong he could not stand against it. Learning to control it would take time, however, and a great deal of training."
Harry remained skeptical, but had to admit that his curiosity was piqued. "What power? What are you talking about?"
"Teaching you about this power, what it is and how you might use it, is my part of the bargain," Gerard replied with a thin, wry smile. "As for your part…let us say that I once had an arrangement with Albus Dumbledore and now that he is dead I wish to renegotiate the terms of the deal with you."
"You made a deal with Dumbledore?" Harry asked incredulously, his eyebrows rising in surprise.
"Mais oui," Montverde answered with a slight bow. "What say you, Monsieur Potter? Do we have a bargain?"
Harry shook his head in confusion. "I don't understand. If you helped Tom Riddle become Lord Voldemort, why would you want to help me defeat him?"
"Is it not obvious?" Gerard asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I want you and 'Lord Voldemort' to be evenly matched. I want your factions to battle each other until your hands are drenched with blood. In short, Monsieur Potter, I want to watch England burn."
Harry's blood felt as though it were about to boil. "You want my answer?" he asked in what was nearly a growl. "Here it is. Go to hell."
"You haven't the power to make me go anywhere, Potter," Gerard retorted casually. "I, on the other hand…"
***
Harry found himself dropped rather roughly back into the boys' dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, his body landing flat on the mattress of his four post bed. Thankfully, his glasses, wand and extremities all appeared to be unbroken and in their proper place. Hedwig hooted loudly in her cage, which now sat on the floor next to the bed, in what was no doubt a combination of surprise, outrage and complete disbelief. Harry felt pretty much the same way.
"Bloody hell, Harry," Ron exclaimed from the bed across from his own. His best mate appeared to have been reading a Quidditch magazine while pretending to study for their upcoming Transfiguration test, as the image of a Chudley Cannons beater smiled up at him over a copy of Hermione's notes from the latest lecture. "You apparated on Hogwarts grounds, didn't you?" he asked, somewhat impressed, but mostly horrified. "They'll have to add a chapter on you to Hogwarts: a History."
Harry managed to suppress a groan and a very pressing urge to simply forget about everything for now and get a decent night's sleep. "I didn't apparate here, Ron."
Ron frowned. "So…you found a portkey that takes you to the boys' dormitory?" When Harry remained silent for a moment, his eyes widened. "You didn't find a portkey to the girls' dorm, too, did you?" Harry shot him with a glare. "Right, of course not. If you had, you wouldn't be here."
"I didn't take a portkey, either," Harry told him as he sat up in bed, his voice low and weary. Ron's frown only deepened, so he added, "Believe me, Ron, I'll explain everything, but first we need to find Hermione."
Ron now looked terribly confused. "I thought she was with you. Isn't this normally when she goes up to…" Here he paused, as Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and a number of other seventh year Gryffindor boys had gathered around, attracted by the commotion. "Erm, you-know-where and gives you your you-know-what." As some of the boys snickered, Ron looked clueless. "What? What'd I say?"
Harry shook his head, choosing to ignore his classmates' pubescent giggling. "She should be back inside the castle by now." As he rose from his four post bed, he shot it a curious look. "Is it alright if I leave my things here? Nobody else has been sleeping here or anything, have they?"
"Nah," Seamus answered him. "But Neville was storing some of his plant stuff under your bed. I guess he'll have to move it someplace else, eh?"
"Wait," Ron interjected softly. "Where is Neville? He was standing here just a moment ago…"
A slow groan emanating from underneath Harry's bed gave Ron his answer. Harry's trunk had landed squarely on Neville's head, giving him several nasty bruises and a large red welt on his forehead. "Hospital…wing…" was all he managed to say before blacking out.
***
With only a small amount of effort, Harry and Ron managed to transport Neville safely to the hospital wing. They ran into Hermione in the Gryffindor common room and, once she was properly assured that Harry was none the worse for wear, she insisted on coming along, too. All three of them shared worried looks along the way, their obvious concern for their friend etched on their faces.
Madame Pomfrey appeared none too happy about Harry's sketchy explanation of what exactly had happened to Neville, but, perhaps knowing that there was something mysteriously unusual going on in Harry's life this year (as if there wasn't every year), she let it pass without comment. "I'll have to examine him to determine the extent of his injuries. That means the three of you will have to be elsewhere. I strongly recommend that you return to your dormitories, but you may wait outside if you like."
Without comment or discussion, the trio removed themselves from the hospital wing and stood just outside it, waiting for news on Neville. Once Hermione made sure that there was no one around to hear them, she and Ron looked at Harry expectantly. "So tell us already, Harry," Ron said eagerly. "What happened up there?"
Harry took a few minutes to tell both Ron and Hermione about his confrontation with Jean Paul Gerard's horcrux and to explain that the visions he'd been seeing weren't real. He did not see the need to mention how the visions made him realize he had feelings for Hermione that went beyond friendship and Harry did not yet know how to tell them what Gerard had said about Voldemort's last horcrux. Still, they got the gist of the story.
"About this power Gerard says you have," Hermione began skeptically. "You say he wouldn't tell you what it was unless you agreed to have him teach you how to use it?" Harry nodded in reply.
"He's obviously lying, Hermione," Ron said dismissively. "If Harry had some unknown power that could defeat You-Know-Who, Dumbledore would have told him. Right, Harry?"
"I would have thought so, up until today," Harry replied moodily. Even if Gerard had been lying about everything, Dumbledore must have known that the Oracular Tower was a hoax. Why hadn't he left some kind of warning for Harry? For that matter, why hadn't he destroyed Gerard's horcrux himself?
Hermione took a step toward Harry and put her hand on his shoulder. "What are you thinking?"
Harry gave her a half-hearted smile. "I guess I'm just not sure what to do now." Mere hours ago, he was quite certain that he was on the right track in his search for Voldemort's horcruxes and also held out hope that one of his visions of the future might show him how to defeat the dark wizard. Now nothing was certain; his only lead on the horcruxes was, rather depressingly, that he himself was the last one. He had no idea whether or not this was true or what to do about it if it was. What would he have to do to himself to remove the horcrux? Would he have to die in order for Voldemort to be defeated, once and for all?
"I think it's obvious what you should do," Ron told him, chasing away Harry's increasingly morbid thoughts with his confident tone. "You have to go back to the tower and destroy the horcrux."
Hermione's bushy hair bobbed slightly as she shook her head. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Ron."
"What do you mean it's not a good idea?" Ron asked incredulously. "You're not really saying he should just leave it up there, are you?"
"Not forever, of course," Hermione responded defensively. "But there's still so much we don't know for certain. If we knew exactly where the horcrux was or how to destroy it…"
"The essence of basilisk venom Harry bought at Knockturn Alley worked on the others," Ron pointed out huffily. "Well, we did sometimes throw in a few reductor curses for good measure…"
"We don't have much of it left," Hermione pointed out with a look of resignation, "and besides, those were Voldemort's horcruxes."
Ron's shoulders gave a small shrug. "So? What's the difference? They're both pieces of the soul of a dark wizard with a poncy French name."
Hermione now looked exasperated. "So, not only is it much more important that we destroy Lord Voldemort's horcruxes than Lord Montverde's, but there's every reason to believe that the one in the tower is more powerful than any we've seen before."
Ron looked at Hermione as though she had just done a back flip. "How do you reckon?"
"Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces, Ron," Hermione reminded him, her voice filled more with horror over the subject matter than anything else. "Think about that. Even though he's a powerful wizard, each horcrux is just a very small part of himself. So far as we know, Montverde only created one horcrux. It's hundreds of years older than Voldemort's and, if Harry being dumped in the Gryffindor boys' dorm is any indication, I suspect that it's tied itself into the magic of the tower somehow."
"Hermione's right, Ron," Harry chimed in helpfully. He had been content to let Hermione and Ron discuss the matter among themselves until now, as what they were saying mirrored his own sometimes conflicting thoughts as to what was going on. "If you had seen what Gerard did in the tower tonight before Hermione left…"
"Fine," Ron conceded with a sigh, "the French wizard's horcrux is more powerful than You-Know-Who's. Doesn't that make it even more dangerous to just leave it be? It's on Hogwarts' grounds, for pity's sake."
"But the only thing it's ever done is pick seventh-year students to come and live in the tower," Hermione countered, "and it's already chosen Harry for this year. Before that, it hadn't named anyone since Tom Riddle…" Her voice trailed off and her brow furrowed in thought. "Harry, how many names would you say are on the cornerstone of the tower?"
"Dozens easy," Harry estimated quickly. "Probably close to a hundred."
"Almost a hundred young wizards and witches," Hermione reasoned aloud, "in nearly six hundred years. That's one every six or seven years or so…and yet only Harry and Voldemort have been chosen since Dumbledore. Does that strike anyone else as odd?"
"Is there anything about this situation that isn't odd?" Ron asked with a roll of his eyes.
It was then that Madame Pomfrey emerged from the Hospital Wing, a grim but relieved expression on her face. "How is he?" Harry asked with genuine concern.
"Mister Longbottom has sustained no permanent physical damage," the healer informed them all briskly, "and he should be perfectly fine after a few days' rest."
"May we see him?" Hermione asked.
Poppy Pomfrey shook her head. "Not tonight. In the morning, perhaps, if you can get here before your classes start, I will allow visitors. I'm afraid he's in no condition to see anyone right now." Madame Pomfrey looked at the three of them sternly. "I must now insist that you return to your dormitories… although if you are planning on making your rounds, Miss Granger, I can of course make an exception in your case."
Once Hermione assured Madame Pomfrey that she had already performed her Head Girl duties for tonight, she, Harry and Ron made their way back to the Gryffindor Common Room. "It's weird," Ron remarked as they walked through the portrait hole, "but I really feel like I need to get revenge on this Gerard bloke for hurting Neville. I know it's completely nutters; I mean, I couldn't even see the tower to get into it…"
Harry fully expected Hermione to chide Ron for this, but instead she appeared thoughtful. "If you're crazy, Ron, then I guess I am, too. I feel more or less the same way."
"That makes three of us," Harry added. He glanced quickly around the room, making sure that it was entirely empty and that all of the other Gryffindors had already gone off to bed. Once it became obvious that they had, he added, "I'm not about to let Jean Paul Gerard get away with everything he's done." Ron looked triumphant. "Hermione's right, though. We have more important things to deal with now."
Ron's brief victorious glow was gone from his face and in its place was a disappointed pout. "What could be more important than destroying a horcrux? I thought that's what we were supposed to be doing anyhow."
"We're supposed to be destroying Voldemort's horcruxes," Hermione corrected him sharply. "Harry has to concentrate on defeating him. We've no idea what he's planning next…"
"But Gerard has to be out there somewhere, doesn't he?" Ron asked Harry, although it didn't seem as though he really wanted an answer. "If he's made a horcrux, he has to be alive and well, wherever he is. And, according to what Hermione said, he was a really dangerous wizard in his day."
"Wherever he is," Hermione repeated with emphasis, "he isn't nearly the immediate threat that Voldemort is."
"How do you know?" Ron demanded. "He could be working with You-Know-Who right now. If Gerard really did teach him all that dark magic stuff, maybe he tracked him down somehow…"
Hermione was now very close to losing her temper. "Did it ever occur to you that we now have no idea where Voldemort's seventh horcrux is? Don't you think that finding it might be a tad more important than doing in a wizard who nobody has seen or heard from in hundreds of years?"
"Well then, why not destroy the horcrux we know the location of, rather than go off hunting for one we don't?" Ron asked hotly. Both of them seemed headed for a rather loud and lengthy row.
Harry wasn't about to let that happen. "Actually," he interjected, causing Ron and Hermione to whip their heads around to face him, "I've got a pretty good idea where the seventh horcrux is."
"What?" Hermione asked with a confused frown. "How?"
"Gerard told me," he answered her numbly. "He told me what and where it is."
"What is it, then?" Ron asked curiously, every last hint of anger now gone from his voice.
"It's me," Harry answered, his voice breaking a little. "I'm the last horcrux."
Hermione gasped and began to blink back tears, while Ron laughed in disbelief. "You can't be a horcrux, Harry. I mean, think about it. You're the one who's been fighting him all these years, the one who he couldn't kill, even as a baby…"
"I got some of his powers that night, too, didn't I?" Harry snapped, his eyes betraying all of his anger and fear, even as his voice remained low and even. "And I've never really heard a good explanation as to why, have you?"
"Harry…" Hermione attempted to soothe him in a gentle, breathy voice, but he was having none of it.
"It would explain a lot of things," he continued conversationally, although his tone was razor sharp. "Like why my scar burns when he's around or how I can speak parseltongue when nobody else should be able to."
"So what does this mean?" Ron asked, deciding that to mock the concept of Harry as a horcrux any further would be a truly bad idea. "For the horcrux hunt? For us?"
"As far as I'm concerned, the horcrux hunt is over," Harry proclaimed flatly. Neither Hermione nor Ron protested. "Six of them have been destroyed and the last one…is in me. The only thing left is to figure out what to do about that."
"Harry," Hermione began again, her voice as soft and tender as he had ever heard it, "you're not thinking of…you wouldn't ever think of…?"
She didn't need to finish the thought as he shook his head 'no'. "I'm not going to kill myself, Hermione. I'm done playing everyone else's games by their rules. We're going to find a way to get rid of the horcrux inside me and then…then we're going to take the war to him."
Harry and Hermione both fell silent for a moment, letting the moment wash over them. Ron, however, couldn't stand the silence. "So what do we do now? More research?" The fact that Ron, who normally felt the same way about research as he did about losing a Quidditch match, had broached the subject proved to Harry that he was now taking it seriously.
"Probably, yeah," Harry replied with a nod of his head. "I have a feeling Dumbledore knew more about all of this than we thought. If you guys are willing, I'd like to go over the memories he left us again. Just to see if there's something we missed."
Hermione and Ron both agreed instantly. "Of course, mate," Ron added. "Whatever you need."
"Right now," Harry told him as his eyes closed involuntarily, "I think I'd just like a moment alone…and then a good night's sleep."
Neither of his best friends said anything else as he took a moment simply to clear his mind of all thoughts and listen to the rhythm of his own breathing, his eyes still tightly closed. He was sorely tempted to stay here in the common room for the night, but decided it would be a bad idea. There would be enough gossip and rumor about where he had been and why he was back as it was. 'I suppose I'll have to tell Headmistress McGonagall that I'll be attending classes again in the morning…'
When he opened his eyes again, he was startled to see Hermione standing there in front of him. Ron had apparently already headed off to bed, as they were now completely alone. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Harry, and this may be a completely terrible time to do this, but I think I have to. There's something I need to know." When Harry nodded, she inhaled sharply. "Even though the visions weren't real, they had to have come from somewhere, didn't they? Gerard could read your mind…"
"That's right," Harry acknowledged. "He said something like 'my mind is a terrible place where obvious things remain obscure.'"
Hermione gave him a very curious look. "Really? What else did he say?"
Harry was beginning to realize what Hermione was driving at. With a playful smirk, he replied, "Oh, nothing much. Just that he only showed people in the tower 'what desires lie beneath ze surface of zere hearts'," he said, duplicating Jean Paul Gerard's accent somewhat poorly, "and there was something about how he had shown me who I truly care for." He gave her a look that was at once tender and full of desire. "I couldn't argue with him on that one."
Hermione could not meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said as she shook her head sadly. Tears she had barely held back mere minutes ago once again appeared in her eyes. "I should have believed you. I…I'm such an idiot."
Harry gave her a comforting smile. "If that's true, you've got a lot of people around here fooled." Hermione managed to smile back weakly. "D'you want to know what I think? I think you were smart to doubt my feelings."
Hermione looked completely bewildered. "You do?"
"You were playing it safe," Harry told her, his tone reassuring. "You had some very good reasons to believe that I wasn't in my right mind."
Hermione shook her head rapidly, unwilling to allow Harry to let her off the hook this easily. "I still should have trusted you."
"Do you…?" Harry began uncertainly. Gathering up just a bit more of that much ballyhooed Gryffindor courage, he continued, "Did you mean it when you said that you've wanted to be more than friends with me for a while?"
"Of course I did," Hermione admitted instantly.
Harry had a hard time not looking jubilant and couldn't keep a smile from his face. "Hermione, listen to me. Any other girl who felt the way you do about me would have flung herself into my arms when I said I wanted to be with her. But you didn't. You did the right thing for both of us, just like you always do. It's what makes you such an incredible person and a great friend."
Hermione looked up at him then, tentative and teary-eyed. "Why do I still feel so awful, then?"
Harry gently wiped the beginnings of a tear from her eye. "I reckon it's because we haven't decided whether or not we should be more than friends yet."
Hermione's eyes gleamed happily the way they always did when she knew the answer to a question that everyone else thought was difficult. "I'd like to think that we've always been more than friends."
"Well, yeah," Harry agreed, "of course we have. But now there'd be kissing. And eventually other things, assuming the kissing goes well."
Hermione's hands entwined themselves around Harry's neck, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. "Are you sure that's really what you want?"
"Without a doubt," Harry answered her sincerely. "But what about you?" His eyes widened in horror as an awful thought occurred to him. What if she didn't want him any more now that she knew he was one of Voldemort's horcruxes? "I…I guess I'd understand if you changed your mind, considering…"
"Honestly, Harry," she interrupted him forcefully, "you know that I haven't. It doesn't matter to me what he put inside of you all of those years ago. What matters is what's there now; the kind, loving heart that you chose to have." Hermione pulled him down a little bit so that their lips were within easy reach of each other. "Now stop being silly and kiss me."
Never one to disregard an order from the Head Girl, Harry obliged. His heart swelled and his head swam blissfully as he lost himself in the kiss. They were both so engrossed in what they were doing that neither noticed Ginny Weasley watching everything from the stairs leading up to the girls' dormitory. By the time they came up for air, she was gone.
They said nothing to each other once the kiss ended, but words weren't important now anyway. Harry ran his thumb delicately over Hermione's cheek in a caress and they shared a knowing, joyful smile. Although Harry could no longer expect to know exactly what the future had in store for him, it now looked a whole lot brighter.
Now see? Didn't the romance come much faster than you thought it would? Good things come to those who wait, you know.
There will be more romance (and comedy and drama and action and pretty much every other genre you can think of) ahead! The next chapter will be up in two weeks. Thanks for reading!