Disclaimer: I don't own these characters. I'm not even British;)
Author's Notes: I'm sorry this chapter is so short. I'm going into my exams and won't be able to write much for the next few days, so I wanted to get this much out. Also, I wanted to state, for the record, that I'm not following either the books or the movie, specifically. I'm just kind of squashing everything together and hoping everyone likes it.
And once again, thank you so much for the feedback. It is *greatly* appreciated!
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An Organ of Fire
by Kristen Elizabeth
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"Canary Creams."
The gargoyle thought the password over before revealing the secret door that led to Dumbledore's tower. Harry stepped through it and onto the wooden staircase. It wound up the tower slowly; he tapped his foot with great impatience. Bill Jr's newspaper was tucked safely into his robes. He was more than anxious to get some answers from the great wizard.
But, he was to be disappointed. When the stairs stopped in Dumbledore's office, he was nowhere to be found. Harry sighed. His frown soon slipped into a smile. The office was exactly the same as it had been ten years earlier. This was the last place he had visited before leaving that night.
"I knew you'd find your way back here someday."
Harry spun around and came face to bearded face with Albus Dumbledore. The old man had appeared virtually out of nowhere, yet it didn't surprise Harry in the least. He smiled again. "You've always known more about me than I do."
Dumbledore shook his head. "I just have more faith in you than you have in yourself." He walked around to his desk; his dark purple robes brushed the floor. "It is good to have you back, Harry. You've returned just in time."
"I don't know about that." He scratched his cheek. "I have to say...all of this confuses me." Harry sat in one of the old, wooden chairs. "I've been trying to put the pieces together, but...no success so far."
"Even if you managed, Harry, it still wouldn't make sense. It doesn't make a bit of sense to me and I'm right in the middle of it all." Dumbledore clapped his hands and a plate of ham and chicken sandwiches appeared. "Are you hungry?"
Harry helped himself to a sandwich, but didn't eat. "Can Malfoy do it? Can he keep mixed blood wizards out of Hogwarts?"
Dumbledore chewed thoughtfully. "He could. Yes."
"And...this doesn't concern you?"
"Just as I had faith you would return to us, I have faith that people will not allow such a horrible thing come to pass," Dumbledore replied.
Harry was confused. "But, you just said that he could do it. I'm afraid I don't understand." He looked down at his sandwich. "There's a lot I don't understand."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "We all miss him, Harry. His death was a shock to everyone."
It didn't surprise Harry that the older man could telling what he was thinking. "You don't really believe it was an accident, do you?" Dumbledore didn't reply, but his eyes gave Harry the answer he was hoping to hear. "Hermione does," Harry continued. "She won't even consider the possibility that it was anything else besides an accident."
"Don't write her off so quickly," Dumbledore advised. "In her heart, she knows the truth."
"Then why won't she do anything about it?!" He took an angry bite of his sandwich.
Dumbledore reached for a second sandwich. "She watched one man she loved die." His eyes were full of empathy. "I'd imagine she's protecting the other man she loves from the same fate."
Harry nearly choked. "Is that me?" he managed to ask after a moment.
"Well, I suppose she could be protecting your son as well, but yes, I was referring to you."
This time, Harry did choke. Dumbledore clapped his hands again and a goblet of pumpkin juice appeared. Harry took a long drink and cleared his throat. "You know?"
"Of course I know. All one has to do is look at the boy's face." Dumbledore brushed crumbs off his beard. "I'm sure it came as quite a shock to you, though."
"Just a bit." Harry coughed. "She didn't even want me to talk to him at first, but now..." He grinned. "She's invited me to spend Halloween with them."
Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "Keep working at it, Harry. Family is the most important thing we have right now."
The mood darkened again. Harry reached into his robes for the paper. "One of my students pointed something out to me today." He indicated the picture of Malfoy. "Was it the Dark Mark on his robe?"
"Ah yes...I suppose we shouldn't have passed young Draco in Defense Against the Dark Arts, should we?" Dumbledore mused.
"It is then." Harry's fist tightened. "That bastard....and right out in public, too. Like he's challenging us." His lip curled up. "He looks so pleased with himself. I wonder if he looked this way when he killed..." Harry stopped.
"To accuse a wizard of another wizard's death is a serious thing, Harry." Dumbledore finished his dinner and waved his hand to clear away the plate and goblet. "There are things you need first. Evidence...proof...witnesses. All those wonderful Muggle ideas that just happen to be our way, too." He shook his head. "If only the boy could see how much alike we all are."
Harry narrowed his eyes at Draco's picture. "He's always been twisted like this. I've known it since day one. I just never thought he would carry it this far." He looked up at Dumbledore. "I'll get evidence. I'll get proof. I won't let him get away with it, Professor. And I won't let him turn this place into some sort of exclusive club to which only the people *he* deems worthy can belong." *And,* he added silently. *I won't let him hurt Hermione anymore.*
"Like I said..." Dumbledore pressed the tips of his fingers together. "You've come back just in time."
****
Halloween dawned cold and clear. Harry went through the motions of the day without much thought to them. He was fairly certain he assigned homework in all of his classes, but he couldn't remember for sure. He supposed he'd find out on Monday. All day long, he kept thinking about that night. Getting to spend time with little Harry and Hermione....it was far better than a dozen feasts put together.
When his last class was over, Harry ran all the way back to the apartment corridor. He stopped in front of the empty picture frame. "Miss Belle?" The woman in the painting was nowhere to be found. "Bloody hell," he muttered. "Miss Belle...where are you?"
The woman's head poked out from the side frame. "Can't you wait just a damn..." She stopped and the frown on her face was replaced with a bright smile. "I'm sorry, Professor Potter." Miss Belle stepped back into the frame, holding up her dress with one hand. She displayed no signs of modesty at her barely covered figure. "I was just freshening up a bit for the holiday."
Harry shook his head. "You do realize there are children about, don't you?"
Miss Belle grinned, laviciously. "Password, Professor Potter?"
"Deadly nightshade."
The portrait door swung open. Harry jogged down the hall and quickly let himself into his apartment. Once inside, he stripped off his robe and sweater and went searching in his closet for fresh clothing. He was about to pull the new sweater over his head when he was hit by a long-forgotten sensation.
His scar started to throb.
Harry slapped a hand over his forehead. The sweater fell out of his other hand and hit the rug beneath his feet. A stab of fear pierced him. Voldemort. His scar only ever hurt when Voldemort was up to something.
"No," Harry told himself firmly. "You defeated him. He can't ever come back."
But a little voice in the back of his head spoke up, *But he could...he could always find a way, you know...*
He held his head between his hands. "No! He can't!" Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door. Harry looked up. There was a second knock followed by Hermione's voice.
"Harry?"
Taking a breath, Harry walked over and opened the door. Hermione's lovely face greeted him, but it wasn't until she was standing in front of him that he realized he was only wearing pants.
A blush colored her cheeks. "Well...hello, there."
If Hermione's blush simply colored, Harry's positively painted his cheeks red. "Um...hello. I wasn't expecting...company."
"Evidently." It was a struggle to keep her eyes level with his; every so often as she continued to speak, her glance would dart down to take in the sight of his bare chest. "Don't worry, Harry. I have seen it before, remember?"
"Of course I..." He stopped when his scar throbbed again.
Hermione frowned. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. It's just..." He shook his head. "It's nothing."
To his surprise, she reached a hand up to brush his hair away from his forehead. Her fingertips glanced over his scar, instantly soothing away any hurt. Harry closed his eyes at the sensation.
But as soon as it happened, it was gone. Hermione pulled her hand back and cleared her throat. "I just wanted to make sure you'll be there tonight. Harry is looking forward to it very much."
"I'll be there," he assured her. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."
And he didn't. Two hours later, he was at her door, far more dressed than he had been earlier. He carried with him a great package of special candies from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes for little Harry. Nervously, he knocked on her door.
His son answered. "Professor Potter's here, Mum!" he shouted excitedly. Harry felt himself being ushered in. "Happy Halloween!"
"Happy Halloween, Harry." He handed him the box of treats. "Mind the toffee, unless you'd like to have a foot-long tongue." The boy looked delighted at the prospect.
Just then, Hermione appeared from the tiny kitchen. Harry swallowed heavily. Her hair, which was normally pulled back in the tightest of twists, was down around her shoulders. Although still thick, it seemed to have lost the bushiness it had possessed in their youth. She had removed her school robe was clad in a simple skirt and sweater with an apron tied around her slender waist.
"Mum's making mince pie," little Harry declared. "It's my favorite."
Harry smiled. "Mine, too."
A thought occurred to their son. "You've never been here, have you? Come on, then! I'll show you!"
"Harry...I'm sure Ha...Professor Potter doesn't want to..."
But the two men in her life were already off.
"This is the staircase," little Harry announced as they walked up it. When they reached the landing, he pulled Harry towards one of the two rooms. "This is my room."
Models of various magical creatures, most of whom were napping on the shelf above his bed. Posters of the current Quidditch champions...Harry fought back a wave of jealousy upon seeing his old captain, Oliver Wood, playing Keeper for the English team. A hand-sewn quilt. A tank full of fish. A rather large framed photograph of Ron, Hermione and little Harry...the same picture that had appeared in the article about Ron's death.
Harry found his son's room to be both comforting and painful. As little Harry talked on, describing each and every detail, Harry's eyes wandered over to the other door...the door that presumably led to Hermione's bedroom. It was half-open; if he leaned back and turned his head, he could just see into it. The edge of a four poster bed with a peach slip hanging over it....
"Professor Potter." He was snapped back to attention by his son's voice. "My dad said you were a terrific Quidditch player. Is that true?"
"I was all right," Harry admitted.
Little Harry's eyes shone. "Would you teach me?? I want to be on my House team, too, just like you were!"
The idea appealed to Harry, getting to spend time with his son while rediscovering his favorite past time. But he said, in what he hoped was a paternal way, "We should probably ask your mother, you know."
"Ask me what?" Hermione came up the stairs, this time without her apron.
"Ask you...um..." Harry thought quickly. "If those pies are ready yet." He looked at the boy and winked, conspiratorially. Little Harry caught on and said nothing.
"They're in the kitchen." Hermione raised an eyebrow at Harry as their son raced past her, headed for the pies. "If it's Quidditch, my answer is..."
Harry sighed. "'No'. I know."
"...yes," she finished. Harry blinked. Hermione continued, "It's all he ever thinks about. And I'd rather him learn from you than from some sixteen year old boy next year."
He smiled. "I learned from a sixteen year old boy."
"You also nearly choked on the Snitch during your first game." She poked his chest. "Come on. He'll eat all the pies if we don't get down there soon."
****
Hours later, stuffed full of mince pies and trick candies, little Harry stood up after the last game of Exploding Snap, yawned and asked, "May I go to bed now, Mum?"
Hermione laughed. "Wait...let me savor this moment." She closed her eyes. "Of course you may. Just come here and give me a kiss."
Their son obliged and immediately wiped his lips. He grinned when Hermione slapped his backside playfully. "Goodnight, Mum. Goodnight, Professor."
"Goodnight," Harry replied, gathering up the Snap cards.
"Don't forget to brush your teeth!" Hermione called after him. "And feed your fish; they're looking a bit peaked!" Once the boy was gone, she settled back into the couch cushions. "I'm not sure those fish are going to make it. I don't know what sort of animal to get him next year."
Harry chose his words carefully. "Might I make a suggestion?" Hermione turned her head and waited for him to continue. "Hedwig is getting rather bored with just my letters to carry. How would you feel about letting Harry have her next year?"
"You...wouldn't mind?"
"I'd like my son to have something of mine. Even if he's not aware of it."
Hermione's reply was soft. "He has more of you than you realize, Harry. Your eyes, your nose....more importantly, your courage and your compassion. Your sense of right and wrong." She stared at the fire. "He is your son."
"Those things could have just as well come from living with you and Ron." Harry leaned his head back and folded his hands over his forehead. There was a heavy pause. "Why did you marry him, Hermione?"
Words failed her for a minute, until she recovered from the shock of the question. "I...was an unwed...he loved me....he loved Harry." She rubbed her temple. "It just...made sense. Once we got married, the rumors...they stopped."
"What rumors?"
Hermione snorted softly. "Do you know how many people were suspected to be Harry's father? Everyone had a theory...my personal favorite was that it was Draco Malfoy." Harry looked utterly horrified. "The very idea of being with him is so repulsive to me that it's almost comical." She paused. "You're the only one no one ever suspected. I guess they figured that Harry Potter had better taste."
"Hermione..."
She cut him off. "When Ron and I got married, it all made sense to everyone. Harry's hair just helped things. And Ron was a wonderful father....he adored Harry as if he were his own."
"You never had another child though?"
"Not for lack of trying."
Harry cleared his throat. He wasn't keen on hearing such things and regretted bringing it up. "I was just wondering. I'm glad you had each other." The fire crackled during the silence that followed. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he finally whispered.
"Harry, you don't have to..."
He held up a hand. "Yes, I do." Sitting up straight, he reached for her hand. "I'm sorry for leaving. I'm sorry for making you suffer." Unconsciously, he laced his fingers with hers. "I'm sorry for not being there when he was born and for not holding your hand. But most of all...I'm sorry for ruining what was between us." He squeezed her hand lightly. "I'm more sorry for that then you'll ever know."
"You didn't ruin things." Hermione squeezed back.
"I didn't?"
She stared into those eyes, drawn into them once again as though ten minutes, not ten years had passed. "No. We can be..." He stopped her sentence with a long, lingering kiss. Hermione whimpered ever so slightly; it felt too good to be real. When Harry pulled away, she immediately longed for the feeling again. "...mended."
"We can?" Hermione nodded in response and closed her eyes. Grinning, Harry leaned in for another kiss. But before his lips could touch hers, a burning pain shot through his scar. He drew back, clutching his forehead in agony.
"Harry?!" She frantically cupped his face in her hands. His eyes were closed; his body taut. "What's wrong? Are you all right??"
His back bent. "My scar..." he managed to get out.
Hermione paled. "Harry...your scar only hurts when..."
A blood-curdling scream cut her off. It was followed immediately by another. Both seemed to be coming from a great distance away. Somewhere in the vicinity of the Great Hall.
They both jumped to their feet; Hermione put an arm around Harry's waist to steady him. Fear clutched at both of them. They were about to make a simultaneous advance for the door when little Harry appeared on the stairs, pajama clad and sleepy-eyed.
"Mum? What was that?"
"Go back to bed, Harry." Hermione's voice was firm, but frightened. "Don't leave your room for anything, do you understand?" He nodded; his eyes were now wide. Turning on his heel, he ran back up the stairs.
Together, Hermione and Harry stumbled out the door and down the hallway. When they stepped out into the main corridor, they were surprised to find themselves in total darkness. Not a candle nor a lantern was lit. The bits of sky they could see through the windows were completely black.
"They've come for them." They whipped around upon hearing Miss Belle's voice. She was sitting at the bottom of her frame, with her knees tucked up to her chin. Her frail shoulders shook. "They've come..."
Hermione failed to keep her voice from wobbling. "Who's come?"
Miss Belle refused to answer. She simply buried her face in her skirts. Harry grabbed Hermione's hand, valiantly ignoring the shooting pain in his scar. From the main corridor, they could hear more screams and a huge wave of raised voices. "Come on. I think we need to get to the Hall."
"Harry," Hermione whispered after a few minutes. "I can't see anything."
He held her hand tighter. "I know." Fumbling in his pocket for a moment, he produced his wand. "Lumos!"
A shimmering light appeared at the end of his wand, but it only managed to illuminate a small area around them. Harry pushed on until they reached the staircase that would take them down to the Great Hall. The shouts and cries were getting louder; there was fear in the air, so thick that they could almost taste it.
Harry ran to the double wide doors that led into the Hall and pulled. They would not budge. He thought quickly. "Alohomora!" Still, they remained closed.
"It's not merely locked," Hermione surmised. "It's some sort of spell keeping them closed. Try 'diffindo'."
He raised his wand. "Diffindo!" The heavy wood split; they jumped back as a huge piece fell to the ground. Harry took a breath and lifted his voice to be heard over all the shouting. "Let's..." He was cut off by a small body, running out of the newly opened door. Harry managed to catch the child's collar before he ran by. It was a Ravenclaw second year, Alan Fitch. "Alan....tell us what's happened."
The boy was nearly crying. "All the...all the lights went out. And then...people just started screaming!"
Harry let the boy go. "Get to your dormitory and stay there." Alan ran off. Several more children streamed past them, running for safety. Harry felt for Hermione's hand again; it was cold and clammy, just like his. With as much bravado as they could muster, they entered the Hall.
The light from Harry's wand was still needed; when they looked up at the enchanted ceiling, all they saw were dark clouds covering every star and the entire moon. The Hall was pitch black, but certainly not silent. Cries and screams echoed all around them, along with the voices of the other Professors and the prefects shouting instructions to the Houses.
"Hufflepuffs....over here..."
"Band together, Gryffindors..."
Hermione clutched Harry's arm. "What's going on?"
"I don't know." His brow was furred as he tried to sort out the chaos around them. "If I didn't know better...I'd say the entire school was under some sort of attack."
She never got a chance to reply. Right then, something or someone ran straight for Hermione. All she could sense was a massive figure coming towards her, muttering a phrase she couldn't understand, and then she was knocked into Harry. It was the last thing she would remember for a long time.
Harry caught her before she could slump to the ground. "Hermione?!" When she didn't reply, he directed his wand's light over her face. Her eyes were closed; her face deathly pale. She was unconscious, but breathing. "Hermione...wake up!"
"It's no good." Harry nearly jumped upon hearing Snape's voice. The older man came into the circle of light; a bloody gash marred his cheek. "No one who's been touched by one of them is waking up."
"One of them? Who are they? What's going on?" Harry pulled Hermione's body closer to his. "What's happened to her??"
Snape wiped at his cheek, succeeding only in smearing the blood. "I don't know who they are or how they got onto the grounds. Broomstick, perhaps. But they knocked out all the lights and just started..." He made a gesture with his hands. "...attacking people."
As soon as the words left his mouth, all of the candles came to life, flooding the Hall with light. Harry winced. "Nox," he said, undoing the light spell on his wand.
Whoever they were, they were gone. In their wake, they left the Great Hall of Hogwarts resembling a battlefield. The long tables were broken in several different places. Food and dishes were scattered everywhere. But far more disturbing were the children, the huge groups of them, huddled together for safety...and the thirty or so laying on the floor, unconscious.
Harry searched for Dumbledore. He was at the head table; Professor McGonagall was helping him to his feet. He looked, perhaps, the most affected Harry had ever seen him look. He raised his voice as much as he could to be heard over the lingering cries and sobs. "Professors....please see to the children. Prefects....take your Houses back to the dormitories."
His orders were followed immediately. Shock was beginning to set in; the children Harry watched leave the Great Hall were not the same as they had been only that afternoon. He looked down at Hermione. She showed no signs of stirring. With the greatest of care, he picked her up, cradling her in his arms.
"Lay her on the table," Snape instructed, harkening back to the days when Harry had been merely his student. Harry didn't seem to care; he gently set Hermione down on a table that wasn't broken. The other professors were doing the same with the fallen children.
Hagrid ran over, crushing a turned-over bench in his haste. "Not 'ermione..." He hit the table, causing her still body to jerk. "Whoev'r the bastards are...we'll git 'em, 'arry."
Harry only nodded and tucked a lock of hair behind Hermione's ear. Snape begin to speak as he looked around the room at the victims. "Hamilton Berry....Clarissa Houseman....Thomas Mead...." He looked down. "Hermione.... They're all..."
"Muggle-born." Dumbledore approached them. Snape opened his mouth again, but he continued, "Let's not dwell on the details just yet. The important thing is reviving those who have fallen and securing the safety of the rest of the school. Let's move as many as possible to the Hospital Wing. And then, I'd like you, Hagrid, to make a full sweep of the school." His eyes darkened. "I want to know exactly how Hogwarts was violated."
Harry heard none of this. All he could do was hold onto Hermione, as though he could send his strength into her. He rested his forehead against hers; a tear slipped out of his eye and landed on her cheek.
*Please be all right....please wake up....please don't leave us.*
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To Be Continued