The Elder Wand
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter universe and all the characters in it belong to J.K. Rowling. This story is a work of imagination and is directed solely at readers of this website. No infringement of any rights is intended and no criticism of J.K. Rowling or her work should be considered to be stated or implied.
Author's note: my first attempt to load this chapter failed, so here it goes again!!
Part 2. Harry
"I'm putting the Elder Wand back where it came from," Harry told Dumbledore. "It can stay there. If I die a natural death like Ignotus, its power will be broken, won't it? The previous master will never have been defeated. That'll be the end of it."
"Are you sure?" Ron said, as Dumbledore nodded. He looked longingly at the wand, imagining the power that it would give him and what he could do with it.
"I think Harry's right," said Hermione quietly.
Harry closed his eyes and sighed quietly. He was so relieved to hear those words. If Hermione agreed with him, then he was certain that he had made the right decision. They hadn't always agreed, but over the years he had come to realise that when they did not, it was generally because he was in the wrong. His insistence on dashing off to the Ministry of Magic to try to rescue Sirius, who wasn't even there at the time, still haunted him and Hermione had also been right about the dangers of the Half-Blood Prince. Their most recent disagreement about whether to pursue the Deathly Hallows or the horcruxes was too close to call, since the two things had turned out to be related, but he knew that he could generally rely on Hermione's advice. In fact, he knew that he could generally rely on Hermione, period.
She had always stuck by him and had been by his side every step of the way in his fight against Voldermort, since their first year at Hogwarts. Even when Ron had waivered, Hermione had always been there, helping him and coming up with ideas to move things forward. Harry knew that Hermione was logical and careful by nature and those qualities sometimes annoyed and frustrated him. However, in the last few months, after their nearly disastrous visit to Godric's Hollow, he had come to realise that even when she had good reason to doubt him, Hermione had never let him down; had never refused to help him, even though she knew that she was often putting her own life at risk. That made her very special and, for some reason, until recently, he hadn't really appreciated just how exceptional she was and how lucky he was to have her as a friend.
Now, with Hermione's agreement and with Dumbledore's acquiescence, there would be no more argument. The Elder Wand would be laid to rest, well out of harm's way. Harry looked across at Hermione gratefully. She was staring down at the floor, a seemingly lonely and isolated figure, her face framed and partially hidden by the brown curls hanging down in front of her. Her shoulders were slumped, a slight frown creasing the bridge of her nose, and she was clearly deep in thought. As he often did, when he looked at Hermione, Harry felt a great warmth building inside him. He wanted to comfort and protect her; to hug her and make her serious, thoughtful expression dissolve into a smile. Strangely, he had always felt this way about Hermione, virtually from the time that he had first met her.
At the beginning, he had taken an instant dislike to her. In some ways, during those first weeks, she had been as much his nemesis as Snape. Hermione was always straining to answer the questions that the Potions Master addressed to Harry, invariably supplying the correct answer and making Harry seem stupid and awkward. He had thought that she was bossy, arrogant and annoying but, for some reason, he had been drawn to her; watching her and thinking about her, realising that, like him, she was uncomfortable and just trying to establish herself in a strange and alien environment. So, when the troll had been let into Hogwarts on that first Halloween, he had worried about her and gone to look for her. And hadn't he been rewarded a thousand times over for that act of thoughtfulness. Without Hermione's friendship, Harry knew that he could never have defeated Voldermort. Dumbledore had known it too.
Yet, he had never "desired" Hermione. Not in the way that he had desired Cho and Ginny. She had always been a special friend who happened to be a girl and not his "girlfriend". There had just been the occasional hug or peck on the cheek, always instigated by Hermione, but nothing more. He had never experienced those butterflies in his stomach when he looked at Hermione in the way that he had when seeing Cho or Ginny; although he was still slightly bewildered at the suddenness and intensity of his attraction to Ginny. He couldn't explain why he seemed to be so indifferent. Hermione was certainly attractive - he remembered how his jaw had dropped when he saw Hermione descending the stairs to meet Viktor Krum before the Yule Ball and he also remembered how pleased and surprised he had been to find out that Viktor considered him to be a rival for Hermione's affections.
It wasn't that he didn't care about Hermione. In fact, he felt closer to her than he had ever felt to anyone. He remembered the sense of despair that had pierced him when Hermione fell under the Death Eater's curse in the Ministry of Magic. That feeling had been as strong as the one that enveloped him later when Sirius toppled backwards through the veil. The only difference had been that in Hermione's case the despair was quickly followed by immense relief as Neville confirmed that she was still alive. He also recalled the comfort that he had derived from holding Hermione's hand as they stood before the grave of his parents in Godric's Hollow. He couldn't think of anyone who he would have rather shared that moment with than Hermione. The truth, however, was that Harry knew that Hermione thought of him just as a friend, almost like a brother, and, in any case, he had realised a long time ago that Ron fancied her. Since Ron had been the first to make his interest in her clear, for the sake of their friendship, it was necessary for Harry to leave the field open for him.
That was all very well, but he knew that he still needed Hermione and wanted her friendship. With Ron and Ginny already showing exaggerated signs of jealousy over his close relationship with Hermione, he couldn't envisage how that was to be achieved. However, there was another problem that concerned Harry. He had been feeling increasingly uncomfortable observing the developing closeness between Ron and Hermione over the past months and when Hermione had hugged and kissed Ron, just a few hours ago, he had been surprised by the sudden thrust of jealousy that had welled up in him. Then, just before he left to walk into the Forbidden Forest to meet his almost certain death, he had thought about the people that he loved and longed to see one last time. The image of Hermione's face had been the first to come into his mind and had lingered, forcing others into the background. These new feelings had been unexpected and worrying and Harry wasn't sure what they meant and how he could deal with them. Now, looking at Hermione, standing solemnly, still lost in thought, Harry felt more confused than ever.
Harry shook himself out of his reverie. What was the point of this? Hermione also had a say in the affair and, although she might sometimes agree with him, she had chosen Ron and that was all that really mattered. He had to accept that he had lost Hermione and that things were going to be different from now on. After all, he wanted Ginny, although now, when he thought about her, Harry didn't get the same feeling of exhilaration and excitement that he had experienced in the past.
"Right, well now that's decided, I'm going to check up on things," he said hesitantly, attempting to get back down to the business in hand. "Are you two coming?"
"You go ahead," Ron replied, tetchily. "I just want to have a word with Hermione."
Hermione, who had taken half a step forward at Harry's words, froze in place.
"You go on, we'll catch up with you later," she muttered and Harry again felt that tug of jealousy as Hermione appeared to defer to Ron, pushing him away.
"OK, see you in a little while then," Harry responded and taking up the Elder Wand, together with his own mended Holly wand, he stalked out of the headmaster's study and noisily descended the spiral staircase.
As Harry walked back through deserted corridors, the signs of battle were still all around him. Dust and debris crunched under his feet, walls were damaged and pitted, statues were toppled or in pieces and pictures were torn or hanging askew. Harry could still hear Peeves singing nonsense rhymes in a deliberately high pitched voice somewhere in the distance, occasionally stopping to cackle over some spark of his imagination that he found particularly amusing. It saddened Harry to see the building that had been home to him for so many years in such a dishevelled state, but he knew that, with powerful magic, things could be restored to their former glory within days.
Harry reached the foot of the stairs, leading towards the Great Hall, but before he could go any further he was accosted by a figure in a flowing black cape; their hair and most of their face obscured by a matching, deep hood.
"Harry, I've been looking for you."
Harry recognised the soft, husky voice of Narcissa Malfoy.
"Narcissa," Harry responded coolly, "I wouldn't advise you to go wandering about. There are too many people around who might just bare a grudge. You and Draco, and particularly Lucius, should get away as soon as you can. There will be plenty of time to build bridges when everyone has calmed down a little and the grief isn't so raw. At least, there is if that's what you want."
"Yes, yes," Narcissa replied hastily, throwing back her hood to reveal her long blond hair and the sharp beauty of her features. "We will go soon enough, but first, I wanted to thank you for saving Draco. He has told me everything that happened and how you rescued him after what that stupid boy Crabbe did in the Room of Requirement."
"Well, if I saved Draco, I hope that I won't have cause to regret it," Harry answered. "Anyway, I think that you've already repaid any debt that you might owe me. You could have betrayed me back there in the Forbidden Forest. It took a lot of courage to do what you did and I'll make sure that people realise that."
Narcissa smiled and Harry realised for the first time how similar her mouth and eyes were to those of Sirius.
"There was something else, as well," she continued. "You and Miss Granger should be on your guard against any lingering enchantments that might still be attached to you."
"Lingering enchantments?" Harry queried, looking puzzled. "What on earth does that mean?"
"The Dark Lord was very aware of how important Miss Granger was to you, Harry. Draco had made a point of emphasising that Dumbledore relied on her to balance your impetuous streak and we all knew that she is a talented and resourceful witch. It was also clear that the Dark Lord had some sort of connection with you. Over the last few years, he would complain of severe headaches and while he suffered he could often be heard muttering your name. But I got the impression that he also had other connections and the summer before last, he became very excited, almost joyful, claiming that he had found a way to reduce Miss Granger's influence and possibly put an end to it altogether."
Harry frowned, taking in what Narcissa was saying, without really understanding what it could mean.
"I don't know any more than that," Narcissa concluded, "and I have no definite proof that any enchantments were used by the Dark Lord or whether he devised some other means of separating you from Miss Granger. But I thought that you should know all the same. I would not wish for any harm to come to either of you. Not after what you did for Draco."
"Why are you telling me this now?" Harry asked, perplexed.
"I already told you. You saved Draco and, anyway, I don't think that it will be too wise to be your enemy in the future. Bellatrix was mad, you know. I may not have much regard for Muggles or Mudbloods but I'm not like her. I've only ever desired what was best for my family and now I want us to make a fresh start."
The answer was delivered smoothly, without a flicker of emotion and Harry was immediately suspicious of her motives. However, he couldn't detect any obvious hint of deceit in her manner and so he didn't challenge her further.
Narcissa smiled again and reached out a slender, pale hand to brush Harry's cheek gently.
"You are a good wizard, Harry Potter," she murmured. "Don't think too badly of Lucius and Draco. It wasn't easy to stand up to the Dark Lord."
"Severus seemed to manage it," Harry answered with a dismissive shake of his head. "It just took courage, Narcissa."
Narcissa's smile faded.
"Just remember what I've told you," she said as she turned and hurried back into the Great Hall to seek out her husband and son.
Harry stood in the hallway for a few minutes, trying to digest the implications of what Narcissa had told him but he couldn't think of any enchantments that might have been used. He also couldn't understand why Voldermort should have been so pleased when, in fact, he had clearly failed to drive Harry and Hermione apart. He contemplated going into the Great Hall, perhaps even sitting with Ginny for a while. People were still moving around between the long tables and there was a constant drone of voices as the survivors veered between despair at their losses and euphoria at their deliverance.
Harry realised that he didn't want to be with people right now. He needed time to think about Narcissa's advice and then, once he had a better idea of what might be involved, he would go and find Ron and Hermione. Harry turned and started back towards the stairs, following the familiar, shifting pathways that led to the Gryffindor Common Room. With luck, he thought, the fat lady would have fled and there would be no need for a password to gain entry.
However, he never got far enough to find out. His mind was racing as he made his way steadily upwards and, as he was ascending the final staircase, taking care to avoid the gaps and holes that opened up as he approached, an intriguing possibility suddenly occurred to him. With this realization, Harry immediately turned and hurriedly began to retrace his steps. He must find Horace Slugghorn.