Disclaimer: Characters - JK, plot - me
This chapter…an overdue explanation, and evil grows stronger as our heroes lay huddled up in Godric's Hollow…
Chapter VII: Close Calls
Hermione turned a few pages forward. She scanned the contents of the first installment of the book, and began to read in a shaky voice:
Chapter One: Soul Replication and More
Wizards share a common enmity between themselves and Muggles. Purges, cleansings and war marked many a conflict between the races, until the wizards at last managed to create a completely isolated society, entirely concealed from the prying eyes of Muggles.
Yet, records of those turbulent times remain, as it was the age of Merlin, Arthur, and other notable wizards. Magic was utilized for the purpose of inflicting damage and ensuring survival.
Of the most horrible of spells ever devised by wizard-kind, none is more terrifying than
Enimfo luost sirfeht morfesir. Rumored to be the work of Merlin himself, the spell ensures seven replications of one's soul. The copies of the soul do not dilute its strength, nor do they increase it. The result is an identical soul - in size and in strength.
Commonly used to make Horcruxes, the spell was at last outlawed in 1453, and has since been largely erased from records in an effort to guarantee the political stability of wizarding society.
She stopped for breath. The astonished faces of her companions betrayed fear and horror. James and Madelyn did not comprehend the facts of the situation, but they seemed to realize its seriousness.
"Read on," Luna said quietly.
Hermione's eyes fell back on the page:
Enoevarb Odaedeth Morfesir - the brother of the soul replication spell. Dark magic, employed for raising the dead. Originally created by Merlin's lifelong nemesis, Isowen, it has the ability to recall any soul to its previous vessel on earth, as well as repair a destroyed, or a damaged Horcrux. It cannot, however, be used to split or duplicate a soul. As well, the spell has been declared illegal since 1453, and largely erased from records too.
Only one remedy exists for the Dark Magic described above - Avada Kedavra. It is the last spell, invented by Merlin before his mysterious disappearance. Its utilization is to purely separate a soul from its vessel, and render the latter incapable of carrying a soul again. However, the last of its intended purposes is not useful, as the resurrection spell is capable of repairing the vessel…
It was too much to bear. Hermione closed the book with a snap, startling her audience. Tears were shining in her eyes.
"Is this what they are after?" she asked in a broken voice.
"Seems so," Harry replied heavily.
A loud rumbling accompanied by a bright flash of lightning made them jump. The storm was becoming fiercer.
"Then that means, we have to keep this book away from them," Ron stated resolutely. "At all cost."
Luna had embraced her children. "At all cost," she echoed her husband. "Otherwise, unspeakable chaos could ensue."
"Are we going to be okay?" Madelyn asked the room at large, her eyes wide with fear.
"Yes, honey, we are," Luna whispered and kissed her on the crown of her head.
Ron stoked the fire and added another log to it.
"Anyone want hot chocolate?" he asked, attempting to lift the gloomy atmosphere a little.
A round of approval greeted his words, and with a flick of his wand, a platter with a steaming pot and several mugs was present on the coffee table.
"I find hot chocolate always cheers me up," Harry said with a small smile.
An old headmaster had spoken those same words long ago - again, he had been right.
The conversation flowed in the direction of finding another secure hiding place for the book. A good quantity of ridiculous ideas had already been rejected.
"Grimmauld Place," Hermione offered. "The Fidelius charm is still active."
"Or Hogwarts," Ron answered.
"Hmm, maybe," Hermione pondered the idea.
"I'll agree with Ron on this," Harry said. "I think Hogwarts is a sound choice."
"When should we do it?" Luna asked. "It must be soon, because those Death Eaters will return."
Deciding to accept the last idea as well, Hermione proposed the book be moved as soon as possible. At present, by common consensus, it was to be kept at the Burrow.
Ron and Luna took the task upon themselves. With all possible haste, they left the house, and departed towards the Weasley home.
In the meanwhile, Harry and Hermione decided to enjoy the simple comforts of the repaired Potter household for another few moments.
Unfortunately, It was a decision that they were wrong to make.
"How are we going to return to London?" Hermione inquired.
"We can apparate," Harry replied calmly.
The words were barely out of his mouth, when a loud rumble and the sound of breaking glass sounded very close by. It was not a stray bolt of lightning.
Illuminated by the lightning itself, and presenting an ominous sight in the battering rain, hooded shapes slunk forward towards the house. Darkness was falling.
"Shit!" Harry spat out. "Come on!"
He grabbed Hermione by her upper arm and dragged her to the ground next to him. She made to tell him something.
"Quiet!" he hissed.
A shadow fell on the doorway, quickly followed by the thud of heavy boots on the wooden floor. Thinking that pain might be inescapable if he kicked the intruder, Harry decided on surprising the unwelcome guest with a stunning curse. Motioning to Hermione to stay down, he acted at once.
Quietly standing up, he fired off the curse deftly and silently, even before the Death Eater could comprehend that there was someone behind him. He cushioned the fall so that the other visitors, who were currently scouring the yard, would not become aware of Harry and Hermione's presence.
"What do we do with him?" Hermione whispered.
"I don't know, you figure it out; I'm going to take care of the others," he replied.
Ducking under the windows, Harry peeked occasionally, and saw the other three figures assembled in a circle, quietly talking to one another.
He was preparing to fire a volley of spells in an effort to take full advantage of the surprise he would no doubt impose on them. Sneaking quietly from the side door, he crouched in the undergrowth of the grove of trees growing near the house.
Crawling on all fours, wary to not even snap a twig, Harry managed to arrive mere feet from his quarry.
"Think, you dolt!" one was saying. "Potter is back, because of that spell. He knows about it."
"Then where do we find him?" replied the second in frustration. "We've combed the entire house and there's no trace."
"We don't have time right now," came the gruff voice of the third Death Eater. "Mistress Bella wishes us back soon, and we must go. Set fire to the damn house and be done with it!"
Immediately, three wands were pointed to the quaint home, and mutters of `Incendio' followed. Three brilliant orange streaks impacted the house seconds later, and the three visitors departed with loud cracks.
Hermione, Harry's mind screamed; white faced, and clutching his wand tightly, he ran towards the house as fast as his legs would carry him. He had run out of the ivy bushes the instant the Death Eaters were apparating away.
At last, Harry slammed through the side door. Thinking of Aguamenti, a powerful, constant, stream of water shot from the end of his wand. Rushing forward, he charged into the living room, where he last left Hermione with the unconscious intruder.
She was lying on the ground, evidently knocked out, and there was no trace of the captured Death Eater. Harry drenched the furniture, extinguishing the fire in the process, and he skidded on his knees next to his beloved.
"Hermione, wake up," he shook her shoulder gently.
Her head lolled from side to side helplessly. What had that bastard caused her!
"Ennerviate!" Harry tried, pointing his wand at Hermione, and hoping against hope she was not dead…
She stirred, and slowly opened her eyes. A rather violent cough escaped her as she drew breath.
"Hermione! Are you alright?" Harry was on the verge of panicking.
"He…he escaped…" Hermione choked out. "Stunned me," she drew a deep breath, "and escaped…then there was fire…"
She collapsed in Harry's arms, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. He embraced her tightly in return.
The smell of the charred floorboards was soon overpowering, and the couple was forced to vacate the premises. Smoke inhalation had rendered Hermione somewhat disoriented, and Harry assisted her in their way out onto the street.
Sighing heavily, casting a repairing charm on the house, Harry watched as all trace of the fire disappeared. He turned to the semi-conscious Hermione, and putting his arm around her waist, apparated silently with her to their home at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.
**
The following morning was not an enjoyable one. Harry opened his eyes, feeling exhausted, and the customary cup of coffee did not succeed in making him as alert as he ought to be. Added worry over his fiancé did result in him being particularly snappish. He looked in her room every few minutes, but Hermione had not awoken quite yet.
The sound of tapping on the kitchen window distracted him momentarily from his worries. A tawny owl was clutching a copy of the Daily Prophet in its talons, and was impatiently hitting the glass pane.
Non-pulsed, Harry opened the window, and the owl shot inside. It landed on the table and held out its pouch for the knut Harry owed. He threw the coin inside and picked up the newspaper indifferently.
Staring at the headlines, Harry did not make the remotest sense out of them. His mind was constantly occupied by the previous day's events. Ron and Luna had left mere minutes before Godric's Hollow was attacked. He did not dare think what would happen if the invaluable yellow book fell in "Bella's" hands.
Yet, he knew that name; in fact, he knew it really well. If he assumed the words of those Death Eaters to be true, then the horrible Bellatrix Lestrange was quite possibly the conductor, the puppet master, Harry thought viciously, behind the series of attacks on innocent Muggles and wizards, and lately, on him too.
Most of all, Hermione - he was worthless without her in his life. If she left the world prematurely, then his life would conclude as well…no, he had to protect her, at all cost.
The stairs creaked under someone's slow descent. Hermione was awake, and Harry at last saw her gingerly stepping down. The robe Hermione wore, was trailing behind her, and her hair, disheveled, only contributed to her tired appearance. The brown eyes, usually alive and shining, were sullen and seemed to have lost their warmth.
He made his way forward, taking her in his arms just as she reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Are you alright?" he asked her softly.
"I am," Hermione croaked feebly. "Or I will be, at least," she cracked a small smile.
"Good to hear," Harry replied enthusiastically, as he helped her sit in a chair.
Being the helpful person that he was, Harry prepared a sizeable breakfast for Hermione. She, in the meanwhile, perused indifferently through the Prophet, finally flicking it aside and looking up at Harry.
"When are we going to enroll for Auror training?" she asked him quietly.
"I've been thinking about it for a while," he answered. "Today, I'm going, but you aren't for at least a while longer."
"Why? I am strong, you know," she replied with a slight edge to her voice.
"I have no doubt, Hermione, but at present, you are not well. It would be wise if you don't exert yourself excessively for now."
"But…" she started.
"No," Harry said sternly. "Listen to me, Hermione, you need your rest. I'll be gone for a couple of hours, and you should be safe here."
"Alright then," she said calmly. "I'll see you when I see you."
"Goodbye, love," he replied, slightly rushed, and kissed her soundly. "If I don't hurry, I will be late."
Harry nearly ran out onto the street, and with one smooth motion, he disappeared in thin air.
Appearing nearly instantaneously beside an old, red phone booth, Harry looked around to ensure no stray Muggles were paying attention to him. Squeezing inside the cabin, the cool voice of a female operator greeted him in exactly the same fashion as the last time he was here.
"Who are you, visitor?" the voice sounded, rather ethereally.
"Harry Potter," replied the visitor in question.
"Your purpose, Harry Potter?" this time, the sound very nearly resembled Luna's voice.
"Auror Training."
The badge clattered in the coin shoot, and Harry picked it up, as the cabin started to descend downward with quite a bit of creaking.
Several minutes later, Harry came out of the cabin, and onto the atrium of the Ministry. He remembered a battle with Voldemort here once upon a time.
Walking up to a clerk, he presented his wand and the newly acquired badge. The pudgy man behind the desk directed him to the second floor.
Harry thanked the man and ascended the flights of stairs leading to the second floor. Opening yet another creaky door, he made his way down the corridor to the end office.
"Come on in," came a pleasant voice.
Harry walked inside. A rather pretty, red-haired woman was sitting behind a desk. "How can I help you today?"
"I'm here to sign up for Auror training," Harry said.
"Oh, good," said the woman jovially. "My name is Darcy, by the way. And you are?"
"Harry Potter," the future student replied. It felt nice, knowing he was not known everywhere, Harry reflected in his mind.
"Harry Potter…" said Darcy under her breath, as she scribbled his name down on a piece of parchment. "And do you fulfill the requirements to be admitted?"
"Certainly," he replied. "Finished Hogwarts and defeated Voldemort."
She winced slightly at the sound of the still widely feared name.
"Ah, that Harry Potter," she said, smiling. "Well then. I will have to offer my congratulations then, Mr. Potter. You have just been accepted in the Auror training program."
Slightly put off that his popularity, rather than his skill, was the criteria upon which the acceptance decision was made, Harry still returned the smile, and thanked Darcy.
"When will classes begin?" he asked, just as he was turning away to leave.
"They begin precisely on the fifth of November. Be sure to bring your wand for identification and registration," replied the secretary behind the desk.
"Ah, right. Well, see you later then," Harry said, and left the office.
Heading back out towards the atrium, he pondered the decision he had made a few seconds previously. Aurors were respected wizards - on one hand, he would be remembered as more than a name, associated with the darkest wizard of all time, and on the other, keeping Hermione safe was his other, more important, objective.
His life was certainly heating up again; so was the excitement and danger surrounding it - soon, he would be in the thick of the action yet again.
Walking out onto the deserted street, Harry stopped and smiled slightly, before disappearing with a crack that startling a small pigeon that immediately flew away.
A/N This is chapter seven…and the last update before September…I'll be working on A Strike Upon the Hour over next week, and then I'm gone to California for the rest of August…I shall be back, however, and chapter 8 will be posted within the first week of September…
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