Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all related terms and characters are the property of JK Rowling. The use of copyrighted material is for non-profit entertainment purposes only, and in no way constitutes a challenge to the existing copyright.
A/N: After four long years, this chapter is done. My life is so utterly different from the last time I wrote, I can't even begin to explain it: A promotion, newborn twin children, my wife slowly winning a battle against cancer, and a complete shift in my outlook on life itself is the unsatisfactory summary.
Contained herein is some of my opinion on religion and spirituality, along with a confrontation that has been seven chapters and several years in the making. It's something that I've edited to death, and I hope that I've pulled it off as well as I planned. If not… well, I'm just a little rusty at the moment, and I hope you'll forgive me.
If anyone points out glaring errors or inconsistencies to me, I'll happily edit and re-post the chapter.
To my one-time beta, Phae, whom I've lost touch with - my most profound apologies, but I can't find your email address to save my life.
I know better than to make any more promises about updates, but I still firmly believe that I'll finish the stories, if only for the sense of satisfaction it will bring me. With any luck, I'll be able to spring a few more surprises on you this year.
~TOW
Shock and Awe
=============
One look at Hermione and Harry knew he was not ready for this. There was no stream of memories, just fire and pain.
This was an ambush; a trap.
Agony erupted across his body as he sunk into his Occlumency and threw himself away from Hermione and into the flames. On and on he flew and danced through Hermione's mindscape as baleful crimson energies sought him out, while the more recognizable golden glow was barely visible on the horizon.
As he dodged and spun, the pain slowly receded and reason replaced panic. His Legilimency was nowhere near good enough to deal with Hermione - he doubted that even the Elder Wand would give him the edge in here. This was ultimately not his domain.
He'd been such a trusting fool - but that was the nature of an ambush, after all. The fight, apparently, was not over. He had thought Hermione asleep, or possessed, or ... something, anything.
Now, as he exited Hermione's mind and entered his own, he was no longer sure.
Harry jumped to his feet, reaching for the Elder Wand once again and casting furiously.
Protego Totalum! Impervius! Salveo Hexia!
Hermione's eyes - deep crimson eyes - snapped open. "Are you going to fight for real this time, Harry? Are you ready to die?"
"Do I have a choice? What the hell was that?"
"Fun, Harry. That was fun. Let's play some more. Please?"
Hermione's magic began to build, even greater than before, and Harry knew that his protections would not hold - that he would again be on the defensive, furiously countering all the curses that Hermione so effortlessly strung together. A side of Harry awoke reluctantly, painfully - the side that fought Death Eaters and cursed Ron.
This was not fun; this was it.
"Stop this," he whispered. "Don't."
"I've been waiting for this for years, Harry - come on."
"Don't make me fight you."
"You'll die if you don't."
"Don't make me choose."
A maniacal grin appeared on Hermione's face, her eyes glittering like rubies. "Oh, please choose, Harry. I've always wondered what it would be like to fight you - to beat you!"
Hermione's magic exploded forth, ripping and tearing at his shields. It was like standing before the Sun itself - Harry skin began to warp and burn. There was no countering this - he was too close, there were too many individual spells and effects.
"For Teddy," he breathed, bringing his wand to bear - the Elder Wand, the Death Stick, the wand of destruction and judgement. A sickly green light formed at its tip, even as Harry's skin melted and indescribable things grew from his face and chest.
He no longer had a throat to say the spell. His arm was charred and skeletal. But his will focused, and the spell was complete.
He watched with his blurring vision as Hermione looked triumphant, then determined, then disbelieving... then terrified.
"Wait!"
Hermione's aura exploded forth and time itself failed - everything ceased. Hermione and Harry stood motionless, a man already dead and a woman staring at her impending doom; a viridian beam mere inches from her face. Harry knew she was trying to move, trying to avoid it ... but for whatever reason, she could not.
The curse was still moving slowly; fractions of millimeters, micron by micron, it defied time itself to reach its intended target.
"Harry, call it back!"
Harry could not speak - he doubted that he had any meat left on his bones anywhere below his nose.
"Harry, Please!"
Hermione's aura moved in a frenzied blur, but her tendrils or magic both crimson and gold withered and died near the beam of death. So they reached beyond, to Harry.
Harry watched as his body regrew and regenerated, his clothes reverted from ashes. In moments, he was whole again. Nothing around them was touched. Only the Killing Curse remained, a creeping doom extending from his wand towards Hermione's face.
"If I release this, I'll die," she choked. "Harry, please stop it."
"Why?"
"Why?" she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut. Harry understood then that his face could move, and focused his newly restored eyes on Hermione.
Her eyes were again golden, her face no longer a mask of madness.
"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I thought it was over, that I was in control. This was just..."
"What was this? What did you do?"
"I promise I'll show you. Please, Harry. I can't talk about it, you've seen what happens. All of this happened because I wanted to tell you. All of this happened because I nearly broke an oath."
"An oath? To whom?"
"To me - it's a part of what's involved - please, Harry, I've only got control now because otherwise I'll die. I can't speak of it directly."
"This doesn't make sense. If you have to break your damned oath, do it! I need to know what's going on!"
Hermione's face sagged, and then recovered. "It's not possession," Hermione said, her voice sharper, her eyes again glowing crimson. "It's not a Horcrux. It's not anything you've ever seen before. It's the greatest and most dangerous magic to ever have been attempted, and it's why the Vatican is ever so interested."
"Well?"
"I've begun my ascension, Harry. I'm going to be an angel."
Harry stared at Hermione in silence. What?
"But the process is long and involved. It took me from third year to sixth to figure out how to do it, because they leave only the tiniest crumbs to go on. It didn't end there, though - there was also the Oath - to separate what is pure from what is not is difficult, and best left to time and the subconscious; and all my progress is gone because I was - I am - stupid and in love and wanting to tell you everything; and everything I've ever separated has come crashing back - all the hate, and fear, the pain... If I'd waited a few months, maybe a year... everything would have been fine.
"And now it's over. I've failed, and it might be easier if I let your curse hit me."
Harry blinked at Hermione's change in stance. "Why ... why would you say that?"
"Because angels are real, Harry. They're real and they'll not allow a failed attempt - can you imagine me running around with power like this and less than perfect morals? Look at what I've already done!"
Hermione's eyes were slowly shifting back towards a golden hue. "Look at what I did to Ron! Look at what I just did to you!"
An awful thought struck Harry - something that made him forget about Hermione for a moment; something that he hadn't considered since the Battle of Hogwarts. "I should have been dead."
"Yes." Hermione's eyes flashed. "You're alive because I held on to your soul. This was all just for fun, remember? I've never lied to you about loving you, Harry - I'd never hurt you in a way I couldn't control. All I wanted was the fight - a real fight. Even without your body, I could have kept you from passing over. You're healed now, though, so it's moot."
Harry chose not to think too deeply on Hermione's concept of 'fun.' "You beat me... but the wand is still mine. I can feel it. Why?"
A single, angry tear made a trail down Hermione's cheek. "Isn't it obvious?! Because you've already killed me! I can't stop that curse - not from the Elder Wand, at least. There's obviously something to the story of its creation because I can't touch that magic and I haven't stopped trying. I can't move, shift space or apparate away fast enough - all I could do was to stretch this moment. To do anything other than sit here and talk with you, I'll have to start time again - and then I'll die.
"I'm far more than just a witch now, Harry. Your defences were nothing, your body was nothing - but they were enough. You won - you won when the curse flew from your wand; even as you died, you killed me. I guess I got what I asked for, though, didn't I: A proper fight to the death with the Master of Death. I guess it's a hell of a way to go. Maybe the legends are right - that you can never lose a duel, even against me."
"Why did you want to fight me? I just - I don't understand."
"Because we've never fought before, Harry - not really, not in any way that wasn't just practice. Not even a formal duel. I knew you were confident you could beat me, and the more my darker thoughts rose to the surface, the more I wanted to rub your arrogance right into the floor!" Harry couldn't help but flinch at Hermione's vitriol. "You're just as infuriating as any Weasley when you want to be!"
Hermione took a breath and calmed herself before continuing. "So this is entirely my fault - I know that. You thought this was real - which was the point - but I never expected that I couldn't stop a spell. I suppose in hindsight that I know next to nothing about that wand, and I guess if there's one set of spells I haven't really researched and toyed with, it's the Unforgivables. Can you blame me?"
Harry shook his head - there was no making sense of Hermione at the moment. "You can't stop the spell ... what makes you think I can do it?"
"You're the wand's master, Harry. If you want the curse to fail, it will. But it doesn't really matter, does it? I'm under a death sentence - maybe I always was. I think Trelawney's injuries were punishment for her prophecy, but also a warning to me. To save me now is to fight Heaven, Harry."
This all made less and less sense. Harry was still stuck on Hermione wanting a fight to the death. "What are you talking about?"
"I don't even know anymore," she laughed. "I thought - I thought that we'd be perfect together, Harry, and it's come to this. We've killed each other, but you'll survive now."
"Killed...?" Try as he might, Harry could not rally his thoughts. "I don't get it. This doesn't make sense. I - you - this - it was all... just ...?"
"Yes, damn it. Yes. what the hell don't you understand? I was stressed and twitchy and I've been skirting my Oath to banish and never reveal my darkness. It was all just roiling under my skin, and I've needed something - anything - to relieve some pressure. I - wanted - to - fight. It's that bloody simple! You have no idea how this feels."
"Why don't you try explaining, then?" Come on, he thought - something in this mess had to make sense to him!
Hermione took a deep breath. "It's kind of like this: There's a split, you see. To ascend, you must also descend; for every angel, there is a demon." Hermione's eyes shifted towards crimson again. "The demon has access to all the angel's powers, to their soul, right up until the final split - then it's just another desiccated husk for the Pit; garbage; wasted; useless. But until then, Harry, there are two philosophies in here," Hermione pointed to her head, "two ideals of Hermione Granger, each just as original and justified as the other; and we hate each other, because one is pure and one corrupted, and because one of us will survive while another is doomed to oblivion."
Hermione stopped, and then started laughing uncontrollably. "My God, that sounds so fucked up! Maybe it's better if I let you kill me, Harry. Then this is over, and I can rest, and you'll be free of your psychotic schizoid girlfriend and her random sadistic urges."
"No!"
"No? Going to try to save me? How? I'm not talking about this curse; I know you can stop it. I don't know how I'm going to recover the process of splitting and refining myself, Harry - it's not like there are two personalities, that's just the best I could explain it. It's all me - I was in the process of banishing my darkness. There are dark urges and desires that I'm in the process of removing - even thinking about them, even talking about them brings those things screaming back to the surface. I have to treat it like it doesn't even exist and it thrashes and accuses me and tries to take over if I give it even an inch! Ever since I first showed you what I could do at the Burrow, I've slowly been losing control of the refinement."
Harry had been shaking his head throughout her explanation. At last something made sense to him in all this, and he had at least one experience that he could share. "No. This is wrong! It is taking a part of you." Hermione began to disagree, but Harry insisted. "Listen to me! You need to see something."
He felt for Hermione in his mind; when he found her, he pulled them into his memory of meeting Dumbledore after he had died.
"Look there," he told her. "Look behind me, under the bench."
Hermione - both Hermione's, as they were truly split now in his mindscape, one goodly and beautiful, one evil and bent and twisted in pain - looked on in horror at the childlike monster that was the remnants of Tom Riddle, his ruined soul moaning and writing in agony. Harry's heart clenched as he looked between Tom and Twisted Hermione, and could see a resemblance.
"What you're doing is wrong. I don't care what your stupid spells and rituals say. You can't sacrifice part of yourself like this."
"I'm not, Harry." Beautiful Hermione whispered, though with much less certainty. But Twisted Hermione had felt the echo of his comparison; she knelt and reached toward the child with a frightened look on her face.
"That's going to be... me? I'll be like this?"
"You are. This is so much like a Horcrux, no matter what the books say. I'm listening to you - to both of you, both sides of you - speak. I don't think you're right, you know - I think there really is a split. You think your 'evil' side is just leftover trash but it's not. Part of you is in there and it's pleading for its life. It's angry and desperate, and it feels betrayed."
Harry turned to look at Tom again, emotion making it hard to speak. "Even now I look at him, and I know who he is and I know what he's done, and I still want to pick him up and tell him that I can help. This isn't fair, and it isn't right - not even for Tom Riddle, and certainly not for you."
With arms that barely worked, Twisted Hermione reached out and touched Tom for a moment, then burst into a scratchy, fearful wail, clawing at her face. Harry moved towards her, but stopped as something even better happened.
Beautiful Hermione knelt and put her arms around Twisted Hermione; "I won't do that to you," Beautiful Hermione said to her sobbing twin. "Harry's right. I can't let you go, not at this cost. Even at our worst, we're better than Riddle. Come to me. Please, come home."
There was a blur as the two Hermione's melded, and then there was only one - her eyes a deep amber bordering on orange, tears leaking down her face, and a look of pure wonder, as though she'd just awoken from a long sleep.
Harry fell away from the memory, came away from his mind's eye, and back to himself. He looked at the Killing Curse. It's not necessary anymore, he thought to the Elder Wand. Everyone is safe. We did it, we won. Mercy, now; please show mercy. Please.
Slowly the Killing Curse began to unravel, its energies dissipating into the air around them. When it was completely gone, time resumed.
Hermione slowly walked to Harry, her amber eyes filled with anguish and relief. Harry allowed himself to lower his wand. Slowly, very slowly, they reached for each other pulling themselves into a tight embrace.
"Please forgive me," Hermione whispered fiercely. "Please, I'm so sorry."
"It's okay."
"It's not okay. I can't believe what I just did - I hurt you! I can't believe I hurt you! I promised I would never hurt you!"
"Shh, I'm here. Don't talk about it - we'll sort it out later. I'm here now, and I'll help however I can."
"They'll come for me, Harry. I'm fallen. The Oath was my lifeline, a promise to Heaven that I would purify myself to become worthy of the power bestowed. The rites were easy, almost trivial in comparison to the Oath. It was tailor made for someone like me to just step in and become Divine. The price seemed nonexistent - an Oath to basically be good? I laughed when I read it. There wasn't any fine print, no warnings of trouble, just the basic statement of taking the Oath or else.
"Now I can't do it, and I don't know what will happen."
Harry sighed, and closed his eyes. Fight a bunch of angels? What the hell did that even mean?
Harry tensed, and Hermione shuddered. Someone was near - someone powerful.
With a terrible roar, the roof above them was torn away. Harry shielded, and Hermione's eyes erupted with power as she Vanished the entire mess above them.
A man towered over them in the sky above, the angel that had killed Trelawney. He stood at least as tall as Hagrid, beautifully crafted golden armor covering everything but his head. His eyes shone a radiant blue, and his aura, a mixture of blue and white, filled Harry's senses almost as far as he could perceive. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand protectively and her own aura flared in response, the crimson and gold swirls fighting for dominance in the sky.
"FINALLY - YOU HAVE REVEALED YOURSELF. I AM THE ARCHANGEL RAPHAEL, AND I HAVE COME FOR YOU. ARE YOU READY TO FACE YOUR FATE, OATHBREAKER?"
Harry fingered the Elder Wand, his mind steeling himself for combat and forbidding Hermione to submit.
"No," she said, steadying herself. "No - if you want to destroy me, we will fight you."
"YOU ARE AS FOOLISH AS THE PROPHETESS BEFORE YOU - SHE WAS GIVEN A CHOICE, AND YOU HAVE SEEN THE CONSEQUENCES. SUBMIT PEACEFULLY!"
"No!" Hermione threw the first volley - and the battle was on.
Harry was instantly on the defensive, and realized immediately that he could not fight beside Hermione. He felt Hermione's magic close around him to shift him elsewhere, and allowed her to do so.
He watched from a block away as they climbed into the sky above his ruined home, great spheres of white-blue and orange-gold assaulting one another with near-incomprehensible magic on an order of magnitude that beggared the entire wizarding population of Great Britain. But Hermione was already losing - her opponent wielded his might with greater finesse, herding Hermione back, wearing her defences down. Somehow, some way, Harry knew he would have to help.
It came to him then, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew the only curse he could use - he knew that what he had almost done to Hermione tonight he would have to visit fully upon this man, this archangel, if he even could. There was at least that hope, however. Hermione could not affect the curse, so perhaps neither could Raphael.
Harry screwed up his magic and flew upwards towards them, pushing so hard that space curved around him strongly enough to produce odd shadows and rifts behind him.
A grim smile crossed his face. Hermione's "wings" were gold; Raphael's "wings" were blue. It was fitting that the Master of Death trailed darkness, however insignificant he was in comparison. They were already into the misty clouds, but he was gaining. He was soon close enough to apparate and bided his time, waiting for Hermione to falter. He would help best by bolstering her. Soon, it happened: Harry saw the Archangel pause as though struck, and Hermione put her all into an attack - and he vanished.
It was a feint, a very convincing one.
Harry allowed his sense to expand and waited for the angel's magic to build, and then disapparated the instant Raphael reappeared. He appeared between them as the archangel attacked; a triple-casting of Protego Maxima absorbed the archangel's assault, his shields exploding apart like fireworks. Harry twisted and flew back as Raphael lashed out at him, his adversary's great hand coming within an inch of his face. He leveled the Elder Wand, marshaling his will.
"Avada Kedavra!"
The archangel threw his magic against the curse to no avail. He twisted time and space to remove himself from its trajectory - but Hermione fought against him, and the spell struck against his epaulet. The golden metal parted like water for the viridian beam - only twisted strands of metal remained.
Raphael stared as him as though for the first time, shock written across his features. "YOU DARE!"
Now the archangel charged him; Harry fell back into apparition, disappearing and reappearing several times as the furious angel followed. Standing his ground was certain death - he couldn't even hope to win this chase, but he didn't have to win. Within seconds Hermione was back in the fight, and Raphael could not pursue him.
There was only one way the fight could end. Hermione did not have the skill necessary to defeat Raphael, but Harry had the proven method if she could create the opportunity. He echoed the image to Hermione, slapping it into her presence in his head. He trailed behind her how, falling into his traditional counter-cursing to dull the ferocity of Raphael's attacks, but letting Hermione do battle.
This second round went much better; Raphael seemed off-balance and unsure of how to handle Harry's interference and Hermione used the opportunity to score vicious blows. Again and again Hermione turned away his diminished assaults, and in frustration Raphael struck out against Harry, who furiously countered the barrage while Hermione bound the archangel in angry bands of gold.
"Harry! Now!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
The curse flew straight and true - the archangel freed himself almost instantly, but too late; he tried to freeze time, but Hermione fought against him - and the curse struck.
Metal warped, twisted and melted away. Harry saw the man's bare, unblemished chest - a look of profound surprise etched forever on his features, his lightless blue eyes... Slowly, the white-blue aura dimmed, the armor fell to dust - and then time resumed fully and the man - just a man - fell soundlessly towards the earth.
Harry and Hermione remained close to each other; the wind blew gently around them, as if hesitant to do so.
"I should clean up," Hermione said. "Fix the roof of your house, check the neighborhood, alter memories, you know..."
"Yeah," Harry replied, the battle still running through his mind. "Yeah, you do that. I..."
"Will I find you at home?"
"In a bit; I need - I need to walk this off, or something."
"Please be careful."
"I will."
"Harry?" Hermione asked with great worry in her eyes. "Come home to me ... please?"
Harry reached out to touch her hand gently. "I will."
-------
Four minutes and four blocks away, a small church was empty but for a single intruder. A quick muggle repelling ward just outside of a Protego Totalum would do just fine for the short time he was there.
Satisfied, Harry fell into the front pew and played with the Resurrection Stone, staring at the large statue of Jesus Christ in front of him. He thought to summon Dumbledore, or his parents, but what would they tell him? Did he even want to see his parents' reaction to all this? He stared at the statue as though it held the answers he sought, and slowly turned the Stone. After Hermione and Raphael, he felt reckless and desperate.
"Does this count as praying?" he asked aloud, holding up the Stone. "I don't think I've ever done it in my life." With a sigh, Harry closed his eyes. "Help, help, please help. I don't know what the hell to do. I just killed something ... something that maybe I shouldn't have. Please, help."
"You've come a long way in a short time, Harry."
Harry opened his eyes to look at the man sitting beside him. He was leaned over, with his hands clasped together, elbows on his knees, and his face - his face!
Harry glanced back at the statue, and then back to the man - there were differences, certainly, but - and he was real! In color! The stone couldn't do this! How-?
"Calm, Harry. You are not the only person I have visited. You just happen to have a convenient little toy to make things easier for us. Take your time - we have all the time in the world."
Harry tensed at the implications, but banished it from his mind. This is what he wanted, wasn't it? "I- I need to know ... what has Hermione done? Who was that - that man to call himself an archangel? What's going on? Is he one of yours? Did I - I mean-"
"Would an angel run around accusing others and killing people, Harry?"
"I haven't read much about them - or you," Harry said quietly, feeling rather small.
"Never mind that; what my good friends wrote about me after my death and what you have available to read are two very different things. There's truth in there, no doubt, but much of it is distorted. I came as a messenger, an example of what the perfect human might be like. Everything I had and have everyone can have.
"But that's not why you're here," he continued. "You don't have to read anything, Harry - answer with your heart: Would an angel - a beautiful, glorious servant of our Father - would they threaten others and proclaim doom? Would they try to kill them?"
"I don't think so. No."
"Then you have your answer. Trust your heart, Harry. It's already begun to give you the answers you seek, and they're all right there. What you are dealing with is a group of people who would dare to be more, and in doing so they've all become much, much less."
"But how do I deal with them? If Hermione hadn't been there-"
"Calm, Harry. This is not a problem to be solved with violence. Neither you nor the ones that oppose you want to destroy the world, nor even a single soul."
"But why did he attack, then? Why is this Oath so special, if it was doing horrible things to Hermione? Can't they see it's wrong?"
"Those of great pride see what they wish to see, Harry. They forget that there are no Oaths before the Father. The Father sees into your heart, and knows you more completely than you will ever know yourself. There is only love before Him, nothing else."
"So they're wrong? That's it?"
"You have already learned this lesson from Tom Riddle but I will give you the words you so desperately seek: How can you love a part of yourself and discard another? How is that in any way the complete, universal, unconditional and Divine Love that is our Father? How can you fracture off a piece of yourself and say to it 'You are unwanted; go, and never return?'"
Harry's eyes moistened at the memory of Twisted Hermione. "You can't. It isn't love."
"It isn't," the man agreed, "and though unlike Tom their souls might be intact, for they have not murdered others and attacked themselves as he did, still they have done damage to their souls. It is what causes them to believe themselves justified to judge others as they tried to tonight."
"What about Hermione?"
The man smiled, and somehow, though the windows were still dark and the candles still burned - though the man had no aura and used no magic Harry could see - somehow the church was brighter.
"You have helped her greatly, Harry. You showed her your memory, and she looked upon Tom Riddle and her heart knew the truth. It knew it so strongly that her mind - that wonderfully developed mind that often dominates her underdeveloped heart - her mind listened. Even now, even though she knows what the promised fate is for breaching her Oath and she fears the aftermath for what she has done tonight, she also knows that her choice was right. She carries with her a hope that you have instilled."
"And the others...?"
"The others are now confused and scared. Here is a young woman who has their power but no longer believes in their Oath, and she has defied them and still lives.
"Then there is you - to act against others not of their power in violence is criminal to them, an obvious violation of their purity; to alter the minds and actions of others for their own ends as Hermione has done is unthinkable. Yet they are blinded to the subtle power of love: When they suspected Hermione and sent their mortal allies against you, you shielded Hermione's actions from scrutiny and they discovered nothing. When they felt the battle in your home and knew Hermione's Oath was broken they sent one of their own to punish her; and you acted in her defense, and even more you enabled her victory. Though they have not yet come to this realization, you showed them that they are not true angels, because they do not possess true immortality; they are still subject to death's final judgement."
Harry nodded, but was no longer listening. A horror welled up deep from inside him. Here he sat beside the Divine and he had just killed a man. "I- I'm sorry. I know it's wrong to kill. I just - I didn't have anything else that would work."
"I know," said the man, not showing the slightest hint of anger or disappointment. "You did the very best you could with what you had. You are correct that to kill is wrong, and yet you could not stand idly by. There is darkness in this world yet, I'm afraid. It takes great effort and courage to live a life of love."
"How - how do I do that?" asked Harry. "How can I live a life of love and not ever have to hurt someone? Of all the things I know about you or any religion, I can't see how it works."
"The answer is simpler than you think: You, Harry Potter, are not responsible for the entire chain of events that brought you into that conflict. The entirely of what we might call fate is made up of countless choices and the consequences to those choices. You are not the only person making choices in the world; you are only responsible for your own actions. So ask yourself if the actions you took were the best choices, the most loving, compassionate choices you could make?"
Harry closed his eyes in shame. "...No."
"You have broad shoulders, Harry - but don't take on the weight of the world; that is not your job." Harry opened his eyes to see the man looking at him with great intensity. "Let's try again: With what you had - your skill, your experiences, your state of mind, your understanding of what was happening, your love for Hermione and your lack of love for the powerful stranger attacking Hermione - were the actions you took the very best choices you could make?"
Harry struggled with his thoughts. "...I don't know, maybe - probably."
The man nodded, "I agree. I could never see you doing other than exactly what you did. If you were possessed of the love I taught, and you loved the stranger as you loved Hermione, you would not have chosen as you did."
The man reached out and touched Harry's shoulder. "But if you had such a love, you would have been able to stop them."
Harry had no words - all his thoughts were garbled by the utter peace radiating from this man and the chaos of the last few hours. So he pleaded with his eyes for understanding.
"Albus Dumbledore told you that love is your power over Tom Riddle, that love is the greatest power known to wizards. He understood, through his own flaws, this wonderful truth."
"But I don't," Harry whispered. "I don't get it. I don't understand."
"You are not ready - there isn't a single soul on this planet that is. But listen to what I tell you: My power came from love; the Father is Love, his power comes from Love and is Love. His Holy Spirit, the vehicle for His power, is Love. As I grew into a man I understood my birthright more and more, and I brought my love in line with the Love of my Father; then I became his Son in Truth."
"I..."
"Love is an inadequate, mortal word trying to express a Divine concept so vast and incomprehensible that it is the basis for the creation of the cosmos. A single, one-syllable word will not suffice for that, but that is what we have.
"Your Hermione has power, and so do these others like her, but it is based upon the assertion of will in a most unloving manner. So they all have power, but they have injured themselves to gain it."
"Will she recover?"
"That falls to you. Our Father allows free will - He will not strip Hermione of her accomplishments by force. Hermione is prideful, and will wish to retain her power. Don't focus on the power, Harry - power is an illusion, you know that already. Focus on love - the Father is Love - I tried to be Love as best I could as a mortal."
"I think you did great."
"Why thank you," the man laughed, and Harry ducked his head and blushed like a little child. It suddenly seemed quite inappropriate to have said that.
"Support Hermione," he continued. "Help her to develop love for herself and all others. Ignore her power, it isn't important. When she sees herself once again as a person, an individual connected to other individuals by love, and no longer merely through the lens of accomplishments and power - then she shall be healed, and then it will be irrelevant if she chooses to keep her power or not. The same applies to you."
The man stood and squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Be at peace, Harry. Strive for love. I love you and Hermione both, as does our Father. Never forget that."
And then Harry was alone, but for the flickering candles.
***
Harry apparated directly to his room; he was physically exhausted and emotionally spent. The roof was once again securely in place, the magic of the home pristine and perfect. Harry left the room only briefly to check on Teddy, and then returned. He could make out Hermione's form already in bed, sleeping fitfully. She roused as he joined her under the covers.
"Are you alright?" she mumbled, slipping her arms around him.
"Yeah, I just had to talk things through. Everything makes a little more sense now - maybe. I don't know."
"…Talk? With Dumbledore…?"
"No. I - er- I went a bit over his head."
Hermione opened her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Tomorrow. I'm tired, and so are you. You can poke around tomorrow."
"Alright, try to sleep, Harry."
"You, too. Love you."
"Love you."
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Harry woke to Hermione's crying, and knew that she was watching his memories of last night. She was sitting up in bed, hunched over. Harry gave her a half-hug, kissed her trembling cheek, and got ready for the day. There was nothing he could do or say to lessen the impact of that experience.
"Good morning, Harry!" said Luna cheerfully as Harry walked into the kitchen.
"Morning, Luna," he replied with a smile. "Sleep well?"
"I did."
Fleur was next to come down as Kreacher served breakfast and the three chatted while eating. They were halfway through their meal when Hermione came down looking happy and well-rested, and not at all like her and Harry had fought each other and then fought for their lives in the span of a single night. She joined seamlessly into the conversation of their coming trip to France and what they might do. Ron was the last to join the table. Though he started late, he finished eating almost at the same time, and packed away at least twice as much food.
When next Harry and Hermione spoke they were in Paris; Ron and Luna went off with Fleur to look at magical shops while Hermione took Harry to see the Louvre Museum.
"I'm still going over your memory," she whispered to him. "I can't believe it. I just can't believe it."
Harry gave a slight nod. "I'm on the same page as you. But it makes sense - he makes sense."
"What will happen now, though?" she asked apprehensively. "I mean, can we ignore them? I have no real way to find them-"
"And unless you kick up a shitstorm like last night, they can't find you."
"That's true," Hermione agreed, "he did say that. But they do know who I am and where I'll probably be, and they control the Vatican..."
"We'll deal with that," he replied. "This isn't a short-term thing, it's a long-term thing. I really don't think they'll attack again unprovoked, though."
Hermione eventually murmured her agreement, and they perused the museum in companionable silence.
Later, when they arrived at the Delacours for dinner, they discussed the future.
"I think that McGonagall is going to be retiring at the end of the year," Hermione said as they waited for the others. "I'm thinking that I'll be a shoe-in for Transfiguration professor."
"You sure?" asked Harry. "It's a little tame, considering how much you know and what you're capable of."
"Well, yes, it is. But being a Hogwarts professor does allow me some latitude, and we've already proven that I can keep my abilities well-hidden in the school. I was thinking that maybe after a few years of normalcy, I'll have convinced the others that I've given it all up."
"Maybe… I think when this year is over I'll be taking Kingsley up on that Hit-Wizard position, and accepting the Department of Mystery's research contract."
"I knew you would" Hermione said with a smile. "Do you think that with McGonagall retiring you'll still be offered the position?"
"Without a doubt - Shack's got the paperwork pretty much done up. Besides, a dedicated, long-term Defence professor is just what Hogwarts needs."
Despite an offer to stay the night at the Delacours, Harry and Hermione checked in at a muggle hotel. Ron and Luna did likewise, and Fleur was on-hand to divert her slightly worried parents. The following evening Harry took Hermione on their "first" date at a restaurant near Centre Pompidou, which conveniently housed a library Hermione wished to visit.
The next day they switched - Harry took Ron to see the muggle military museum at Hotel des Invalides, while Hermione Took Luna to the Eiffel Tower, fulfilling one of Luna's objectives for the trip.
"Dad would love it in here," Ron said as they moved from exhibit to exhibit. "So you and Hermione…?"
"Yeah, we had a good time."
"Good on you, mate. It isn't really your first time, though - I mean, you've been out with her twice before."
Harry laughed. "That's true, but it's a bit different now."
"Yeah…" Ron went quiet as they passed by a group of muggles, and then resumed their conversation. "I don't really want to go back home after this. Dealing with Ginny and Mum is going to be awful."
"Better you than me, mate."
Ron cuffed Harry on the shoulder, muttering invectives.
Later in the day, the couples were reunited and went out in the evening on separate dates.
"So, how's Ron taking it?" asked Hermione as they waited for their meal to arrive.
"Good; he's got no complaints except about going home. He seems quite happy with Luna."
"Luna's happy, too. I hope they last."
Harry agreed, and then winced at a distasteful recollection.
"What's wrong?"
"Remember when Luna came to me for help?"
Hermione was quite horrified. "Eugh! Don't remind me and don't talk about that before we eat! Gross!"
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All too soon, it was time to head back to school. Harry marvelled at how much he missed Hogwarts. He stared in wonder at the castle all the way up the path, took in the entrance hall, and threw himself into the sofa in his common room, feeling the inviting warmth of the fire. Hermione was only a step behind him, snuggling herself into his side.
"It's good to be home," he said, placing his arm around her.
"Yes," she agreed. "It's good to be home."