Summary: Since the tragedy at the Astronomy Tower, Harry has become an even more formidable wizard, but a shocking revelation may mean the difference between life and death for The Boy Who Lived. It is the final stage of Harry's quest to destroy Lord Voldemort - can he save the Wizarding World and those he loves from the treachery of the Dark Lord... and also save himself? [Action takes place in media res towards the end of Harry's Seventh Year at Hogwarts (Post-HBP).]
Categories: General Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Character Death, Violence
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 14
Completed: Yes
Word count: 72692
Read: 88717
Published: 08/28/05
Updated: 01/07/07
1. Chapter One: Cursum Perficio by Mudblood428
2. Chapter Two: Unexpected Company by Mudblood428
3. Chapter Three: Mine Enemy by Mudblood428
4. Chapter Four: Cruciatus by Mudblood428
5. Chapter Five: All Aboard by Mudblood428
6. Chapter Six: Casualties of War by Mudblood428
7. Chapter Seven: A New Generation by Mudblood428
8. Chapter Eight: Dead and Undead by Mudblood428
9. Chapter Nine: Fire and Ice by Mudblood428
10. Chapter Ten: Debts Repaid by Mudblood428
11. Chapter Eleven: Two Serpents by Mudblood428
12. Chapter Twelve: Song of the Phoenix by Mudblood428
13. Chapter Thirteen: The Scar by Mudblood428
14. Epilogue by Mudblood428
Chapter One: Cursum Perficio by Mudblood428
A/N: This story is my attempt at a probable ending to the Harry Potter book series and begins at the end of the seventh year just before the final battle. The pseudo-prologue is meant to catch everyone up on what happened from after the events of HBP to where this story picks up - sorry if it's long-winded. I also strongly recommend reading the one-shot companion piece of Harry's visit to Godric's Hollow, "Mum, Dad, It's Me... Harry". Okay, I'm done rambling. Enjoy!
After The Die is Cast
by Mudblood428
CHAPTER ONE: Cursum Perficio
A solitary figure beside the lake, Harry sat gazing across the water, blissfully mindful of a temperate summer breeze that seemed to sweep away the gloom of war. As the wind moved over him, he turned and looked upon Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with a wistful grin, and surprised himself to realize how quickly his time at school was drawing to an end. His seventh year was almost done; commencement was approaching, bringing with it virtual banishment from the only home Harry had ever known.
Seven long years had passed since that first day he stepped foot on the school grounds; Harry could barely believe it. As he replayed in his mind the wondrous events that brought him here, he felt as though he was looking back on someone else entirely.
That Harry had not a clue how much life would transform him from the innocent, and though he hated to admit it, reckless youth he once was to the worry-ridden young man he had become. The days of exploding snap and wizard trading cards seemed a lifetime away, and he put a hand to the uncomfortable ache in his chest at the thought of it. He knew better than most - so much can happen in a year.
In the months that followed his visit to Godric’s Hollow, Harry departed from school on long hiatuses in search of Voldemort's Horcruxes, a difficult maneuver considering the ubiquitous presence of Professor McGonagall’s watchful eye. She had swallowed his refusal of her help with great difficulty, for Harry was adamant about keeping the details of “Dumbledore’s Mission,” as he described it, perfectly private. Naturally, he understood her concern, but found it unnecessary; though he never spoke about it to anyone, Harry felt sure that Dumbledore’s protection and guidance had never abandoned him despite the headmaster's untimely death. That he had survived the ordeals that destroying each Horcrux presented was nothing short of miraculous, and yet Regulus' locket was shattered, all that remained of Hufflepuff's cup were its melted remnants, and Nagini lay drowned in the watery cave, leaving one more Horcrux to find before Harry would seek out Voldemort himself.
There were only two people he couldn’t exclude from the journey.
Through it all, Ron and Hermione remained beside him. They followed him dauntless into danger and emerged with scars of their own, but friendship, loyalty and a fervent desire to see the end of Voldemort’s power bound them to the task. He always knew they were stronger together than apart, but it was especially apparent in these last few months. It didn't hurt that Ron had finally stopped being a prat and asked Hermione out, Harry thought with a grin.
His throat tightened as his thoughts turned to Ginny. Nothing chipped at his resolve more than the memory of sitting by the lake with her at Dumbledore’s entombment and speaking the words that would keep them apart for a year after. They couldn't avoid one another - Harry would never have wanted to anyway - but Ginny’s valiant efforts to preserve their friendship despite their split often left him cold. One meaningful glance from her drove him quickly back to the dormitory to hash it out with himself over the necessity of their separation. If only she hated him - perhaps then he might better withstand the temptation to cast everything he said at Dumbledore’s funeral to the wind, abandon the hunt, maybe sleep at night for a change. To feel like a normal person again, and pretend he was what he was not. Free.
Pulling his robe around him tightly, Harry felt a change in the wind, and the chill drew him to his feet. Letting out a gust of air, he fingered the locket in his pocket, wondering if today would be the last day he ever saw Hogwarts again.
“Kneazle nugget.”
Harry entered through the portrait hole to find Ron and Hermione sharing a nap on the couch. Ron slept upright, head back and mouth hanging open most unflatteringly, while Hermione dozed on her side, her head draped on Ron’s lap. Ron was snoring. Loudly.
Without a second look, Harry lobbed a bit of treacle tart at Ron’s head as he walked towards the steps to the boys’ dormitory, causing his freckled friend to snort himself awake.
“Harrrryerrrgh… that you?” he yawned, his head lolling to the side groggily. “I’ll be up…just “ mmph “ five more minutes…”
“Don’t strain yourself,” said Harry, popping the rest of the tart into his mouth as he went up the stairs. It seemed Ron shifted in the wrong direction as Harry heard Hermione let out an aggravated groan. He bit back a laugh and picked up his pace around the staircase, content to put off for a little longer the conversation with Ron and Hermione that he had been rehearsing in his head the entire walk back from the lake.
Suddenly, he heard a startled gasp, and looking up, whatever remnant of a smile he had on his face had vanished altogether as he made a motion to catch Ginny Weasley as she tripped downstairs.
“Oh, bugger it… Sorry, Harry, I didn’t see you there.”
“It’s okay."
Ginny stood at the entrance to the girls’ dormitory, pale fingertips fidgeting with the edge of her shirt. Her face was reddening sufficient to match her ginger hair and, judging by the burning sensation creeping up the sides of his neck, Harry was sure his ears were comparably flushed. Despite the voice in his head urging him to speak, his mind had gone blank.
“I, erm… couldn’t help but notice you, Ron, and Hermione have been back for a little while now,” Ginny asked, a hint of concern showing through her casual smile. “You’re well, I hope?”
Harry paused.
There is absolutely no way to answer that question honestly, he thought to himself. Smiling plaintively at her, all he could manage was, “Not too bad. You?”
“Not too bad.” Ginny shifted on her feet and sought a different place to direct her gaze than Harry’s face. “You made it in time for exams, I see. How did they go? Last I checked, Hermione and Ron were downstairs still recovering.”
He shrugged. “Dunno. Reckon I passed seeing as Hermione had Ron and me up late every night of Easter break going over Potions... till Ron finally got so mutinous he threatened to chuck her.”
Ginny giggled. “That’s Hermione for you,” she said knowingly. “Mum and Dad will be pleased, I'm sure. Ron'll come home with top marks this year for the first time in his life.”
"You’re being optimistic. That's assuming Ron hasn't spent all this time studying Hermione instead of studying for his N.E.W.T.s," Harry chided.
Ginny swiped a strand of hair off her face. "Oh, come now. Hermione's been a good influence on him," she said with a snicker. "It's really improved his-"
"Table manners?"
"No-"
"Regard for Victor Krum?"
"Focus!" she said, putting on her most scandalized face and nudging Harry's arm playfully.
“Oh, tell me about it. Quite unlike last year when I had to trick him into thinking I’d spiked his pumpkin juice with luck serum so he’d fly well when we played Slytherin. Wish Hermione had kissed him sooner “ we’d’ve had every match in the bag.”
At that, Ginny laughed in earnest, and Harry chuckled in spite of himself. Admiring how bright her eyes became when she laughed, Harry gazed warmly at her, as he did whenever some of their old dynamic returned. Catching his gaze, she looked at him with a glimmer of something like hope in her eyes and said, “Are you going down to dinner now?”
He could manage it, couldn’t he? Why not join her and put off the evening’s tasks a bit longer? Then again, thought Harry, if Ron and Hermione remained catatonic in the common room, leaving him to fend for himself, he couldn’t trust his mind to resist wandering onto another agony-inducing vision of him and Ginny alone together at their favorite tree by the lake; the warm breeze taking them far away from the school grounds and all his gloom and worrying. Suddenly noticing the change in her expression, Harry knew he was giving himself and his struggling thoughts away.
She spoke promptly, her voice softer. “Actually… I’ll probably take dinner in my room tonight. N.E.W.T.s aren’t over yet, you know.”
Harry nodded and felt a surge of appreciation for Ginny’s quick thinking. “Right.”
An awkward silence hung between them. She knew him too well. Harry argued with himself in his head over the various ways he could stop Ginny from going back into the girl’s dormitory. By herself. Alone. Without him.
Unkissed...
At last, Harry reluctantly spit out his goodbye. With a weak smile, Ginny turned the knob and disappeared into the girls’ dormitory, leaving him alone in the corridor, something twinging uncomfortably in his chest as he stood dumbly watching the door for several slow, remorse-filled breaths. Finally, he turned quietly into his own dormitory, empty save for Neville Longbottom, who also seemed to have taken quite a blow from his N.E.W.T.s. He sat asleep against the headboard of his four-poster bed,
A Squib’s Guide to Defensive Charms beneath his limp hand.
Harry dropped his robe on the bed and walked over to the mirror, weary and frustrated. Pushing back the fringe of hair over his face, he examined his scar for the third time that day “ a new habit he’d been developing over the last year. He ran a finger down the zigzag on his forehead and, staring unblinkingly at his reflection, tried to imagine his face without it.
“All right there, mate?” came Ron’s voice from behind him.
Harry straightened himself.
Here goes, he thought morosely. “Just getting ready. I don’t suppose Hermione’s up yet?”
“Yeah, she’s up. It was a right foul chore getting her off the couch, though. Funny how she never had a hard time staying awake when she was lecturing us on Ancient Runes,” Ron remarked, grinning to himself.
Funny how he used to find that more infuriating about Hermione than endearing, Harry reflected with a sidelong smile.
Ron threw on his robe and started pulling on his trainers. “It’s getting late, Harry - better get going, don’t you think?”
“Right. Been meaning to talk with you about that.” Harry grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. Glancing over at a slumbering Neville, he swallowed hard and pulled Ron into the stairwell out of earshot. “Listen,” he started hesitantly, suddenly unable to look into Ron’s perplexed face. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder, Ron cocked his head to the side in concern. “Blimey, Harry, you’re pale as the Bloody Baron. What is it?”
Harry sighed. “It’s just… I think I’m going to take this last trip on my own.”
Ron shook himself as if he had just lost his hearing in one ear. “What? Why?”
“Lupin and I spoke last night through the fireplace,” began Harry. “I know, I’m sorry. I just couldn't risk telling you and Hermione this morning at breakfast, but... he’s given me some important clues on the whereabouts of that last Horcrux. He seems to think it’s at King’s Cross… the Hogwarts Express,” he explained, avoiding Ron’s stupefied expression altogether. He bit his lip and braced himself for the retaliation. “This won’t be like the other times, Ron. I want you and Hermione to stay here.”
As expected, Ron seemed more than offended. He looked downright infuriated. “I should’ve known this was coming.”
This time, it was Harry’s turn to look incredulous. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’ve gone absolutely
mental. Seven years of getting into the sort of near-death situations you read about in the Restricted Section together and
now you want to go it alone?”
“I know what you're thinking but-” He looked anxiously at the door and lowered his voice. “Can’t you understand? This is it! This is the last one! Once I destroy it, there’ll be no more stops before I hunt Voldemort himself,” he declared in a resolute tone. “After all our searching and nearly getting killed and how crap everything’s been… it’s going to end.”
“
If you destroy it.” Ron moved around Harry, blocking his way to the common room. “What if you fail?”
“I can’t fail,” he muttered, “and that’s why you can’t come. Voldemort’s probably been wise on you and Hermione for ages. And let’s not forget what happened to the last person who tagged along.” Harry slipped past him and strode down the stairs towards the common room.
Ron gaped at him. “Oh, I see!" he snapped. "First Ginny, now us... We're not all Cedric Diggory, you know! Wait, Harry… HEY!”
Hermione headed Harry off at the bottom of the stairs. She looked expectantly from one to the other. “You two are making a racket. What’s going on?” She looked at the sack slung on Harry’s shoulder. “Harry, we’re not ready yet…”
“Harry thinks he’s leaving without us!” yelled Ron.
"Please, Ron, of course he's not," she snorted loftily and waited for validation from Harry. When none came, Hermione gasped and looked at him as if she would have him committed to the psych ward at St. Mungo's. “Harry! Are you mad?”
“I suppose I must be!” he grumbled, trying unsuccessfully to tame his impatience. “I’ve already let you do more for me than I should have, and I’m grateful, I really am. But if you come with me on this one, you'll face far worse than anything we've contended with so far. Once that last Horcrux is gone, Voldemort will know he’s mortal - if I don’t find him first, he’ll find me, and nothing but murder will be on his mind when he decides to make another Horcrux out of your deaths!”
Both Hermione and Ron had been struck dumb at Harry’s words, and his voice became strange as he contemplated the possibility he might never see them again.
“You know I’d never have made it this far without you. I can’t say how much it’s meant to have you behind me all these years. But you're
not coming with me tonight.”
Hermione stared at him fixedly. “I can’t let you do this. It’s suicide, Harry, even Dumbledore had you as his second-”
“And look what it got him! Hermione, if I live through tomorrow, I need to know that I can come back to find you lot safe and sound… but most importantly, alive. ” Pulling the locket out of his pocket and stringing it around his neck he added quietly, “No one else ought to die because of me. I beg you. Please don’t follow me.”
The three stood in stunned silence for a moment before Harry finally wrenched himself free of their gaze and headed for the portrait hole.
“Harry,” said Hermione quietly, eyes brimming. “You know what made you different from Voldemort?”
Harry stopped but did not turn to face her.
“Like Dumbledore said. Voldemort has no allies. He relies on no one. He acts alone.”
He looked over his shoulder. “Tell Ginny I said goodbye,” he said in a strangled voice and strode out of the common room.
~*~
Chapter Two: Unexpected Company by Mudblood428
A/N: Much thanks to Mugglenet's fabulous editorialists for helping me flesh out my theories enough to write this chapter. When you review, please keep in mind that I have not given everything away in this chapter, so if you've got questions, chances are I'll be addressing them later. I'm aiming for plausible here - JKR will likely disprove everything I wrote, but hey! It's for fun, right? Enjoy everyone!
CHAPTER TW0: Unexpected Company
*POP*
Harry Apparated onto Platform 9 ¾ and looked around. He had never been there at such a late hour and the rising moon cast long shadows on the landing, emptying Harry of every hope that this nighttime visit would be nothing worse than visiting an old friend. The Hogwarts Express stood like a cold iron monument, and Harry imagined for a moment that he could turn back and end the night comfortably in front of the fire with Ron and Hermione instead of on a bare platform by himself.
Stuffing his invisibility cloak in his pocket, Harry pulled himself up to the roof of the engine car as quietly as he could. Once he found himself atop the train, he pulled out his wand and touched it to a rectangular lid in the center of the roof. “Alohomora!” he whispered, and the lid popped open.
He had no chance to look inside. At that moment, Harry was acutely aware that he was not alone. He leapt to his feet and thrust his wand in the air behind him, turning in time to see Severus Snape’s wand fly out of his hand.
“Non-verbal disarming charm, well done, Potter. I daresay you’ve finally caught up to the rest of your peers on last year’s material.”
“Snape.” Harry's surprise quickly turned to anger. “You’ll find I can be an excellent student when I’m not trying to learn from you,” he snapped, his wand aimed directly at Snape’s chest.
Although the former Potions Master sneered in his usual way, Harry thought he detected a trace of anxiety in Snape’s features that he had never seen before. “You are still a shamefully poor Occlumens. It is any wonder that the Dark Lord himself could not hear your raucous thoughts,” he remarked dryly. “You should be grateful I found you before he came here himself.”
“Let him come. Neither of you frighten me,” Harry retorted, vaguely aware of an icy tingle in his fingertips as he glared wrathfully at Snape. "Just try and stop me!"
“Always an arrogant dunderhead. I did not come here to kill you!”
“Yeah? Still saving me for your master, then? It's been sixteen years since you served my parents to Voldemort and you’ve finally got me alone, so why not finish what you started?” he snarled.
Harry felt hot anger rise behind his eyes as he took another step towards Snape.
“You betrayed Dumbledore, who wouldn’t hear a bad thing said against you even after I warned him you and Malfoy were up to something,” began Harry in a cold and quiet voice. “You called my mother a ‘Mudblood’, your endless bullying practically drove Sirius to his death, and since the first day you set eyes on me, you’ve taken out every ounce of hatred you ever had for my dad on me!" Harry sucked in a ragged breath as a thirst for vengeance gripped his heart. “I'd hoped we'd meet again someday," he said darkly, rotating his wand for better aim. "And now… Dumbledore can’t protect you.”
Harry advanced on him, but to his surprise, Snape backed away, glowering.
“Fool! You don’t know anything about me!”
“I know you're a murderer!”
“Then why don’t you do it? You have the wand, so why don’t you kill me?” Snape hissed. “I know why! It's all right there in your mind! You’re curious. You want to know why I did it! Say it, Potter! ‘Why is Dumbledore dead?’”
Harry stared at him in a mixture of rage and astonishment, all the while utterly furious at his constant inability to keep Snape out of his head. But Snape was right - he had been more than curious. He had wondered about it almost obsessively for a year. Perhaps retribution could wait.
“All right, then. Go on, let’s hear it," said Harry through gritted teeth, his wand fixed on its mark. "Though you’ll need better than Legilimency to make me believe a word you say."
"Well, we certainly can't rely on your staggering intellect to deduce the truth, now can we?" Snape remarked, raising an insulting eyebrow.
In a flash of red light, Harry sent a curse careening past Snape’s face that struck the roof of one of the train cars behind him, leaving a gaping, smoking fissure in the metal. Harry looked back at Snape’s startled expression with satisfaction.
"Don't mistake me for being patient, sir."
There was a pause, and then Snape squared himself. “I made an Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa Malfoy,” he began. “She came to me some time after your misadventures in the Department of Mysteries to beg my protection for her son, Draco…” Harry felt bile rise up his throat. At every mention of Malfoy, Harry recalled with vivid detail the day he had found him crying in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, haunted by the memory of the crimson stripe of blood across Malfoy’s body issued from Harry’s own wand. Harry had considered it tremendous good fortune that Draco could not return to school. The last thing he wanted was a constant reminder of his own carelessness.
Snape took no notice of Harry’s sudden change of pallor and continued. “I knew from Dumbledore that Voldemort had given Draco a formidable assignment that would put his life in grave peril, and though he insisted that I take whatever necessary measures to ensure both Malfoy’s safety and my place among the Death Eaters, Dumbledore refused to share with me the details of Malfoy’s task,” Snape explained matter-of-factly. “I had no choice but to convince Narcissa that Voldemort, who confides in no one, had confided in me and shared the secret. Ultimately, I accepted the terms of the Unbreakable Vow, but it was not until several months later that Dumbledore finally exposed the plan to which Voldemort had appointed Draco.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re a Legilimens,” Harry argued. “You could have just broken into Narcissa’s thoughts and found out what Malfoy was ordered to do.”
“And be discovered by Bellatrix, an equally skilled Legilimens? I think not.”
"You'd already lied to Narcissa without Bellatrix finding out."
Snape frowned condescendingly at him. "If you had not been so careless with our lessons you might have eventually learned that one cannot perform Occlumency and Legilimency at the same time."
Harry eyed him with skepticism. “All right, then, why wouldn’t Dumbledore tell you Malfoy was planning to kill him? You were a member of the Order,” he said.
“No doubt Dumbledore knew I would not go through with it if I had known Voldemort’s plan before making the unbreakable vow. He had left me no other option than to obey his command.”
Harry took another step toward Snape, his knuckles white from his vice-like grip on the wand. “Do you expect me to believe Dumbledore wanted you to kill him?” he asked, at once feeling insulted as much for Dumbledore as for himself.
“No,” snapped Snape, a flash of color spreading onto his gray face. “I am saying that Dumbledore did not wish for Malfoy to become a murderer, and realizing how extremely important my position among the Death Eaters was to the success of his plan, Dumbledore seemed to understand that, given these impossible circumstances, he was expendable.”
Harry’s heart leapt into his throat, and his arms began to itch with the intense longing to throw Snape from the roof of the train. “EXPENDABLE? Did he tell you that, or is that what you told yourself after you killed him and ran off like the miserable coward you are?”
"Don't call me coward!"
Instantaneously, Snape's composure came apart, his expression tortured.
“How dare you!” he hissed. “How dare you think for a moment that I wanted Dumbledore gone! Don’t you think I tried to get out of it once I discovered what I’d been sentenced to do? That I detested and reviled myself for pledging my complete fidelity to Dumbledore’s wishes once I learned what horrors I was to commit with my own hands? I daresay Dumbledore put too much stock in your intelligence, Potter, if you cannot see the many ways in which his death was not a murder, but a sacrifice he willingly made of himself!”
Harry’s breathing came short and fast as he stood shakily in fear and recognition. He, too, had taken orders from Dumbledore that night “ had despised himself more and more with every drop of venomous potion he had poured down Dumbledore’s throat to the sound of the headmaster’s pleading for an end to his torture. Harry relived his guilt over it daily, but then, he had not had a choice either. He had sworn his obedience. Dumbledore had said he’d done well…
Harry stared mutely into Snape’s face and saw himself. He lowered his wand a fraction of an inch.
“The rest of the Order… they think you’re a traitor…”
Snape looked abjectly away. “Another provision of Dumbledore’s design.” Lowering his voice surreptitiously, he added, “You must have known there would come a time when I would have to prove myself on Voldemort’s side if he was to trust me.”
Harry brought his wand to rest at his side. “Then why are you here?”
He surveyed Harry through narrowed eyes. “I had Lupin tipped off to the existence of a Horcrux at this station. A trinket of Godric Gryffindor’s, was it? Well, I am here to tell you that there is no such Horcrux to be found.”
“What?” Harry’s anger was second only to his confusion. “I don’t understand…”
“See for yourself,” said Snape, gesturing to the open sheath behind Harry’s feet.
Raising his wand at Snape once more, Harry backed towards the casement that he had just opened, and, flipping back the lid, his stomach lurched at the realization that the receptacle was in fact empty. Startled and suspicious, he rounded on Snape. “This is a trap!”
“Regrettably, it is not in my best interest to thwart you. I think you’ll agree with me when I say I have had plenty of opportunities,” he said silkily. “No, Potter. What you seek is not here. Although,” he added, sniggering, “there is a Horcrux on this train...”
Harry paused. “Wait. Then it is here...?”
“Yes,” said Snape. For a reason Harry couldn't quite pinpoint, he suddenly felt as though he might be sick.
“Where is it?”
Snape’s mouth curled into a grimace. “In you.”
For an infinite moment, Harry’s mouth hung open in stunned disbelief. “You’re a liar…”
“To the contrary, I am being quite sincere,” replied Snape, his eyes expressionless.
Shaking his head, Harry backed away from him trying desperately to read Snape’s face. “No. I don’t believe you “ it’s impossible!"
“Surely you must have wondered why your mother’s sacrifice was so significant,” murmured Snape ominously, taking a step towards Harry. “Voldemort made the mistake of giving your mother a choice. The Dark Lord was set on killing you whether or not she stood in the way-“
“But..."
“-But he needed only one murder for his soul to be divided. Not two…”
“But it's NOT possible! Dumbledore said... If Voldemort wanted to create a Horcrux, he'd've brought some precious object with him! He couldn't do it with a human being-"
"He did it with Nagini."
Harry stuttered lamely. "B-but he couldn't do it by accident! You need to say the spell!"
"Use your head, Potter!" Snape snarled. "Your death was to be a significant moment for Voldemort! That night was supposed to make his immortality a certainty - he would make his Horcrux and do away with the one ordained by the Prophecy to kill him! But something he did not plan for occurred.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your mother! She came between you both, and though he gave her the chance to escape, she left him no choice but to murder her first. Once she'd been taken care of, he was eager to complete his task. The vessel for his soul was in hand, the words of the spell were uttered, and he took his aim..."
Harry stared breathlessly at Snape. "And then?"
"And something happened no one could have predicted. The curse deflected."
Harry's mind was a whirlwind. "I don't understand..."
“Even Lord Voldemort did not foresee his fatal error in trying to destroy you after murdering your mother," Snape remarked in a far-off voice. "Her sacrifice gave you a very rare protection indeed. From the moment he tried to kill you, everything went wrong. You failed to die, the broken shard of his soul went into the wrong vessel, and when the curse backfired, Voldemort's corporeal self was destroyed “ but NOT without leaving something behind!” Snape pointed a trembling finger at Harry’s scar.
Harry’s eyes went wide with horror. “No…”
“Yes, Potter. Lily’s death became the determining factor of both his immortality and of his annihilation. She was the means by which Voldemort created his Horcrux and mortal enemy: you.”
“STOP IT!" Harry bellowed, desperation burning at his throat. It could not be true… it must not be true… And yet, Harry could naught but taste the bitter reality of Snape’s words. How else could he have born so many similarities to Voldemort? Had he not spoken Parseltongue to enter the Chamber of Secrets? Didn’t they share the same ambitious nature that had made it so easy for Harry to cast off rules as though they were meant for everyone but him? He had even seen the Dark Lord’s evil treachery through Voldemort’s own reptilian eyes, partaken in Voldemort's hatred for Dumbledore, and was practically the very visage of young Tom Riddle save for the blackness of spirit that Harry gratefully never inherited.
Just then, he gazed down at his wand in disgust. Their wands were brothers...
"How do you know all this?" Harry demanded.
Snape looked deathly pale in the moonlight. "I know… because I was there," he whispered.
He could not bear to hear anymore. All at once, Harry, who had thrived his whole life on the reassuring thought that, if nothing else, he had been the product of his parents’ love for one another alone, felt defiled and contaminated. The ground seemed to shift out from underneath him, and he stumbled to his knees, fighting back tears.
“My mother died to save me. But it was all for nothing,” Harry murmured. “If what you say is true, it’s not a matter of which of us kills the other. We’ll both die… in the end…” His voice faded to a whisper.
Snape turned away as though Harry’s grief were indecent. “True, your survival is improbable. But it is not impossible.”
Harry looked up at him.
His back still turned, Snape spoke softly. “Do you fear death, Harry Potter?”
It was the first time he had ever heard Snape say his first name in a context that did not involve his ridicule or degradation. He thought seriously about whether dying frightened him for the first time in over a year, and suddenly, as though an dam within him burst open, Harry’s mind flooded with memories he had purposely avoided for fear of being consumed by the pain and yearning they created in him. He thought of his few happy moments with Sirius, of his parents’ joyful faces gazing up at him from Mirror of Erised and their voices encouraging him to stay strong as he dueled with Voldemort, of the safety and comfort he felt whenever he was with his beloved headmaster.
They all had fearlessly faced death for Harry’s sake. His heart swelled with love for them, and Harry reminded himself once more that they were not gone. He felt them inside him as potent and as pure as ever - ever so much more than mere whispers behind a veil.
Harry willed himself to his feet.
“No.”
Snape spun around “ a look of triumph on his sallow face. “Then you are ready.”
~*~
Chapter Three: Mine Enemy by Mudblood428
A/N: The following was inspired by the events of 7/7 in London. Sometimes I wish we had a Harry Potter in real life to do away with the Voldemorts of the world, but then again, we do have our own heroes - the special people who step up to the plate in adversity and, like Harry, do the right thing. This one's for them.
CHAPTER THREE: Mine Enemy
Nighttime had descended upon them when Snape called out to the shadows behind the brick pillars of Platform 9 ¾. “Draco, come here!”
"Draco...?"
Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Malfoy stepped into the light. Wearing a thick black band around his arm to cover what Harry knew to be the Dark Mark, Malfoy looked thinner, his features not as hard as Harry remembered. Nonetheless, Harry kept a firm grip on his wand in the event that certain other aspects of Malfoy’s disposition had not changed.
“What are you doing here?” Harry exclaimed. Malfoy did not answer, but snickered malevolently.
“Malfoy has been tracking the Death Eaters for some time now; it seems his friendship with Crabbe and Goyle has not proven a complete waste since it has enabled him to keep abreast of their activities from a safe distance," said Snape, to which Malfoy scowled indignantly. "In any case, certain Death Eaters vying for the Malfoys' disgrace have watched me closely since intervening at the astronomy tower. Thus, I needed Draco to leak the whereabouts of the last Horcrux in a way Lupin would discover. It took a great deal of planning to arrange this meeting here tonight right under the Death Eaters’ noses.” Regarding Draco with deference, Snape added, “His assistance has been of great value to us both, Potter.” Malfoy puffed his chest out pompously.
“Brilliant. Stuffed-Shirt and Protégé. You make a great team,” scoffed Harry angrily, looking suspiciously from one to the other. Snape’s eyes flickered menacingly.
“Nice to see you too, Scarhead,” said Malfoy, his trademark sneer creeping back onto his face. “Honestly, the way things are about to become, I thought you’d be thrilled to see me.”
“I'm ecstatic, can't you tell?" he retorted sarcastically, bracing himself for more bad news. "Are you going to fill me in or do I need to hex you?"
Malfoy cleared his throat and walked over to the brick passage between Platform 9 ¾ and King’s Cross Station. Eyes fixed on the pillar, Malfoy answered him. “The Death Eaters are planning a full-scale invasion of London tomorrow morning."
"What?" Harry cried. "How?"
"They're infiltrating the city by boarding the trains. The attacks are supposed to happen right out on the streets, and from what I’ve heard of their 'no-survivor' policy, no Muggle or Mudblood will be safe,” he remarked coolly, a hint of mirth in his voice. “Seeing how much the Dark Lord’s following has grown, I wouldn’t be surprised if they wipe out everything from here to Heathrow and back in time for tea.”
Harry was glad Malfoy’s gaze was momentarily directed elsewhere. As he thought of Hermione’s family, the Dursleys, every Muggle-born he ever knew and every unknowing civilian sharing their last night of blissful ignorance to the Magical World, Harry felt the last ounce of blood drain from his face.
"No-survivor policy," he whispered, horrified.
Placing a thin, knobby hand on the brick entrance, Malfoy continued. “Voldemort and his inner circle will be meeting on the other side of the gateway within the hour to iron out the particulars. After that, Dementors will take to the skies, the Inferi will infest the Underground, and then, well... let’s just say the fate of all Mudblood-kind rests on Saint Potty,” Malfoy snorted. Turning to face Harry, Malfoy’s face was a mixture of anxiety and amusement. “I can't wait 'til everyone finds out their favorite celebrity is a fake.”
“You’d know all about being a fake, wouldn’t you? Tell me, how’s your friend, Greyback, these days? You two started your own club of bloodthirsty miscreants yet?” Harry snapped indignantly. Stung, Malfoy angrily threw up his wand to hex him, before Snape quickly stepped between them.
“Enough, both of you!” Snape shouted impatiently before rounding on Harry. “You’ll do well to listen to Malfoy, Potter. Foolish pride won’t save you in the final battle!”
Harry glared back, outraged. “Listen to Malfoy? Not twelve months ago he was aiming his wand at Dumbledore to kill him!”
“What do you know about it?” Malfoy spat. “When was the last time Voldemort told you he’d kill someone that mattered to you unless you finished off a really powerful wizard?”
Harry blinked. “You cannot seriously be asking me that question,” he replied in a deadpan voice.
“If your ego hasn't kept you sufficiently distracted these last twelve months, I'm sure by now you know the Malfoys have fallen out of favor with Voldemort,” Snape declared brusquely.
"I've heard as much," Harry replied, biting back a string of insults. "The Daily Prophet had them for murdered, but I’ll believe that when I see it. Why?"
“Lord Voldemort wished to make an example of Malfoy for his failure at the Astronomy Tower, to show his Death Eaters he would not tolerate those who would dare shirk their responsibilities in the face of fear. Once Bellatrix made an attempt on Draco's life on Voldemort's orders, the Malfoys soon understood they were incompatible with the Dark Lord’s practices. To Voldemort's discontent, they resisted," he explained.
Harry caught sight of Malfoy's grim expression and instantly recalled the news article regarding the mysterious disappearance of the Malfoy family. It was generally understood now that terrible things befell those wizards who spontaneously disappeared from the Wizarding World, and Harry suddenly felt an unwelcome pang of pity for his platinum-haired arch nemesis.
"Voldemort sure has a knack for breaking up families, doesn't he?" Harry remarked morosely.
"Either way, you need only concern yourself with the fact that Malfoy is working against Lord Voldemort now.”
“Fine. So what is this brilliant plan that you conspired to bring me here for?” Harry demanded. “The way I see it, I must be barking mad for listening to either of you...”
The corners of Snape’s mouth curled into a wry grin. “Draco will bring you to Voldemort as an offering to restore his family’s reputation in the Dark Lord’s inner circle. They cannot discover your alliance, so we must contrive to make it look as convincing as possible that you were brought by force. Draco brought the rope,” he added with an unconcealed snicker. “Lucius and Narcissa will be-“
"Lucius and Narcissa? So, they are alive!” Harry interrupted.
“Suffice it to say I have kept them well hidden,” replied Snape.
“But-“
“And that is all you need to know!” he interjected before starting over. “Lucius and Narcissa will be in attendance and once Voldemort has granted clemency to the Malfoys, they will spring an attack on the Death Eaters-”
“Hang on.... Spring an attack? You can’t expect the Malfoys to stand up against all those Death Eaters alone! There has to be over a hundred of them now, at least!” For once, Malfoy, who looked about as pleased at this plan as Harry did, spluttered in agreement.
“Interrupt me one more time and I shall hex your mouth shut!” Snape barked. “The Malfoys will not be alone! You have time before Draco brings you to Voldemort, during which I will be gathering reinforcements and you shall be readying yourself! Is that clear?”
Harry just stared at him. He had never before heard a scheme so ill conceived since that time Hermione had convinced him and Ron to take the Polyjuice Potion to turn into Crabbe and Goyle over five years ago. “Next you’ll be telling me I should hand my wand over to the Death Eaters for safekeeping,” Harry muttered wearily, passing a hand over his perspiring face.
"Speaking of which..." Snape gingerly climbed down to the platform and took up his wand. “By now you know that your wand is useless against Lord Voldemort. His wand shares the same core as your own. You may fight against him with it, surely, but you cannot kill him with it.”
"Well, yes, but..." Just then, Harry's blood turned to ice in his veins. "This is it, then, isn't it? I'm to destroy Voldemort tonight...?"
"Once their plot is set in motion, you'll not have another opportunity," Snape said dismissively.
“How am I supposed to ‘ready myself’, then? A bit of his soul is in me! I can't, there's no time-”
“Practice this incantation,” Snape said hastily, stuffing an old and wrinkled bit of parchment into Harry’s hand. Upon it was written a spell: evocare cultoris, iudicare mortalis. It did not look like Snape’s handwriting. What was he supposed to do? Harry thought, staring blankly at the paper. Just say it? Wouldn’t he need his wand for this?
Harry felt a breeze as Draco rushed past him. “Hey, you’re not leaving now, are you?” Malfoy called out as Snape began to walk away.
Harry’s head sprung up from the parchment in alarm. “Wait, you haven’t told me how to use this spell! What is it even supposed to do?” Harry began to feel desperate. Every notion he had about what his last face-off with Voldemort would be like had completely disintegrated in hardly any time at all. How he was going to destroy Voldemort as well as the Horcrux within himself seemed an utterly implausible act, and for the very first time, Harry wished Snape wasn’t leaving him alone.
Snape walked to the platform’s edge and thrust his wand in the air. “Surely The Chosen One could figure it out,” Snape replied with a mocking smirk. And with that, a great burst of green light sprang from the tip of Snape’s wand, launching swirling iridescent smoke into the night sky. It took the shape of a large skull with a snake protruding from its gaping mouth. Snape had lit the Dark Mark over Kings Cross Station.
“What are you doing!?” Harry and Malfoy shouted in unison.
He shot them both a greasy smile. “Calling for reinforcements.” And with a great CRACK, Snape disappeared.
Harry could barely believe what just happened, and he stared up at the Dark Mark, dumbfounded and horrified.
Malfoy, on the other hand, looked fit to burst into tears.
“WHOSE BLOODY SIDE ARE YOU ON?” Malfoy yelled at the empty spot where Snape had vanished. “The filthy brute set us up! We have to get out of here… We’re going to die!” Malfoy’s composure was rapidly crumbling, and Harry had no patience for it.
“Get a grip,” Harry said angrily, grabbing Malfoy by the shirt and spinning him around to face him. “We’re not dead yet, are we? We have to think of a plan!”
He flung Harry’s hands off him. “We’re as good as dead, you stupid arse! Know what he conveniently left out, Potter? That he made my parents make an Unbreakable Vow to attack the Death Eaters tonight “ he told them it was the least they could do for him since he’d helped me that night at the Astronomy Tower!” Harry looked at him in a stupor as Malfoy’s eyes darted around the platform like it was a bomb about to explode. “The Dark Mark will bring every Death Eater in the country right here! We’re all done for!”
Just then, Harry ran to his knapsack, tore open the flap, and dumped the contents onto the floor. Malfoy looked at Harry as though a Flobberworm had just dropped out of the sky and landed on his head. “What are you doing?”
Harry produced several items from the pile on the floor. He stuffed something small, squirmy and horn-shaped into Malfoy’s hand and tossed a heavy robe over his shoulder. “Take these,” said Harry. “At the very least they might buy us some time if we need it.”
The small horn-shaped object tried to leap out of Malfoy’s hand. “What is this rubbish, anyway?” he asked suspiciously.
Harry continued to rummage through the pile. “That there is a Decoy Detonator. When you need a diversion, you just drop it and it’ll scurry off somewhere unseen and make a loud bang,” he explained hastily. “The other is a Shield Cloak. It protects against most minor jinxes and hexes. It’s worth a shot even though they don’t work against the Unforgivable Curses. I picked them up at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.”
With a loud snort, Malfoy turned up his nose at the items and pushed them back at Harry. “I don’t need help from any Weasles, thanks,” asserted Malfoy arrogantly, "and especially not from you."
Harry sprang to his feet and refused the cloak. “Is that so? Didn’t stop you from using their Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder the night you snuck in your Death Eater mates, did it?” Harry snapped furiously. “My mistake. Maybe you’d like to go in there and face Voldemort by yourself then! Or would you rather watch your parents die? I was only a baby when he murdered mine - I can only imagine how it would be to lose them at seventeen!”
Their eyes locked in anger, Malfoy opened his mouth to yell at Harry but found he had no cruel words to impart. Instead, he grudgingly threw on the shield cloak and stuffed the Decoy Detonator in his pocket. After several moments watching Harry throw on his own Shield cloak and arming himself with various tricks from Fred’s and George’s shop, Malfoy finally spoke. “So what are we going to do now, genius?” he muttered.
“Your parents made an Unbreakable Vow. We’ve got no choice but to stick with Snape’s plan,” Harry replied. Having Malfoy scared out of his wits seemed to help Harry focus. “Since I’m what Voldemort’s after, maybe I can distract him. It may give your family a chance to escape.”
“How are you going to do that?” asked Malfoy.
Harry slipped his wand into his cloak. “I don’t actually know,” he muttered.
“What about you, then? You won’t get out,” Malfoy remarked with a furrowed brow.
Pausing, Harry turned back to meet Malfoy’s inquisitive gaze. “I’m not meant to escape," he began slowly. “I suppose it had to end sometime and, seeing as seven million people might die tomorrow, tonight's as good a night as any.”
Without warning, Malfoy and Harry both jumped as they heard a loud noise and screams coming from the other side of the gateway to Platform 9 ¾. Death Eaters were arriving.
“Blood Hell…. Quick, Malfoy! What did Snape tell you to do? If I’m supposed to be tied up, best to get it over with!” He shoved a last packet of Instant Darkness Powder into his pocket.
Malfoy ran and grabbed a line of rope from a spot beside the pillar where he had been hiding. Harry placed his hands behind his back for Malfoy to bind them. “No funny business,” Harry muttered. Malfoy shot him a nasty glare from behind. “Just because you’re on the right side now doesn’t mean I trust you any farther than I can throw you.”
Malfoy tightened the rope around Harry’s wrists. “Then why are you helping me?”
Harry glanced over his shoulder and mumbled, “Dumbledore would have wanted me to.”
Harry thought he heard a soft shuffle behind him when another loud crash came from the entrance. His eyes flew to the large clock that hung above his head. “When are your Mum and Dad coming?” Harry asked hurriedly.
Malfoy gulped, his eyes raised to the clock. “Midnight.” Sure enough, the clock read five minutes to the hour.
They looked at each other and Malfoy’s face, awash in the green light of the Dark Mark, looked sickly. “This is it, Malfoy. We’re going through the entrance and you’re going to go along with Snape’s plan as though nothing has changed. When I give the signal, drop the decoy and undo the rope,” he explained. Malfoy jerked his head in reluctant concordance. “And don’t forget your Occlumency. We don’t want to give anything away!”
"Hey, I'm not the one with the Occlumency probl-"
"Oh, just shut it, will you!"
Harry turned on his heel and Malfoy grabbed him by the shoulder, gruffly pushing him forward through the gateway to the muggle station. He felt the point of Malfoy’s wand jab uncomfortably into his back. As Platform 9 ¾ disappeared behind him, Harry thought miserably to himself, I must be out of my bleeding mind.
~*~
Chapter Four: Cruciatus by Mudblood428
CHAPTER FOUR: Cruciatus
The scene was grim. Bodies of Metropolitan police officers and security guards lay strewn about the tracks and platforms of King's Cross Station, expressions of shock and fear etched onto their ashen faces. The sight seemed to affect Malfoy as it did Harry; the wand at Harry’s back trembled between his shoulder blades. The trains had apparently been jinxed to stop running, leaving the station virtually empty for the Death Eaters’ use save for one train that stood darkened and idle behind them, and the walls and floors glowed a sickening green. On the opposite end, a cluster of hooded figures cornered a last remaining policeman. Harry could hear him pleading for his life before a great green flash of light and then silence.
The Death Eaters roared with malicious laughter.
Behind Harry, Malfoy was as still as a statue. Shooting a glance over his shoulder to make sure he was still there, Harry tried to prompt him with his eyes, but to no avail. It wasn’t until the arrival of Lucius and Narcissa that Malfoy seemed to awaken from his petrified stupor.
They appeared with a great CRACK in front of Harry and Draco, causing the Death Eaters to spin around in alarm. In the group, Harry recognized many familiar faces. Greyback, the Lestranges, Nott, Avery, Macnair, Crabbe, and Goyle, among others Harry had seen before were all in attendance, but there were also many strangers. Voldemort certainly had garnered more support since Dumbledore’s death, it seemed. There was now a group of forty and every passing moment brought more onto the scene, making their entrance with the obligatory POP and CRACK. As the group advanced towards Harry and the Malfoys, Harry saw that Voldemort had not yet joined them. Wormtail was also nowhere to be seen.
Bellatrix Lestrange was the first to speak. “Narcissa? Lucius? I don't believe my eyes,” she whispered. “I thought you were dead!”
“Deserters!” someone hissed.
“Blood traitors!” shouted another.
Lucius put up a hand and waved them silent. He stepped forward, oozing arrogance, and said calmly, “do not mistake my absence for desertion. My secrecy has led to a most valuable acquisition.” Lucius stepped aside as Malfoy shoved Harry into the Death Eaters’ view. “A gift for the Dark Lord,” he added with a crooked smile, and for a moment Harry worried that, Unbreakable Vow or no, Lucius wouldn’t mind handing Harry over to meet his end.
There were whispers and murmurs, and Harry heard his name uttered contemptuously by various members of the hooded lot. Many looked uncertain and even afraid at Harry’s presence. Greyback, however, eyed him hungrily, running his tongue over his yellow teeth in a way that made Harry’s stomach turn.
Bellatrix eyed Lucius suspiciously. “I’d be interested to hear exactly how you managed to capture the ever-elusive Mr. Potter,” she sneered. “In the past, he’s been rather… slippery.” Harry forced his eyes to the ground as Bellatrix’s gaze drilled into him.
Narcissa put a hand on Draco’s shoulder. “My son deserves the credit,” she replied, raising her head proudly. “Would you expect any less from the one who orchestrated Dumbledore’s demise?”
Harry winced. His scar had begun to burn.
“Draco lost his nerve at the Astronomy tower! I was there! Snape had to do the deed,” Greyback snarled.
Lucius coolly stepped to Draco’s other side. “Surely you must admit - the unforgivable curses are difficult to execute if one is inexperienced, and Draco was only sixteen.”
With every word, their voices seemed to blur in Harry's ears. The pain in his forehead was fast becoming unbearable.
“We shall leave judgement of Draco’s competence to the Dark Lord when he arrives,” Macnair offered coldly. All seemed to be in agreement.
They would not have to wait long. The white-hot pain in Harry’s forehead was now blinding him and, forcing his eyes into focus, Harry made out a pair of blood red eyes glowing in the darkness behind the Death Eaters. Lord Voldemort emerged from the shadows, his face as monstrous and deformed as ever it was, and the Death Eaters slinked away to let him through. Harry steeled himself for whatever was to come.
“What do we have here?” Voldemort hissed darkly. “Surely it cannot be the Malfoys, back from the dead… and Harry Potter?” The Dark Lord’s mouth curled into a vicious smile. “This is a special occasion indeed!”
At this, Draco came forward, pushing Harry ahead of him. “M-my parents and I…have brought you Harry Potter… as an offering to…” Malfoy’s voice faded.
“Yes?” Voldemort coaxed.
“An offering to ask for your pardon and to return amongst the Death Eaters,” Malfoy spat out.
Voldemort turned his gaze on Harry, seeming to consider Malfoy’s supplication. “Harry Potter… an offering,” he murmured, “or an ally?”
Harry’s face screwed up against the throbbing in this forehead. He could not think “ he could not reason “ he hoped beyond all hope that the Malfoys would not waver in their performance. Harry’s one small relief was that Voldemort could not read his mind “ the pain had emptied his brain of virtually every coherent thought.
“Certainly not an ally! That you could think that we would ever betray you in such a way,” Lucius interjected fiercely. “Harry Potter is an arrogant and talentless fool. The boy has deluded himself into thinking he can defeat you, the greatest wizard that ever lived! We have brought him here that he might discover the power of the Dark Lord first hand, as you wished,” he stated fervently.
Voldemort vanished and reappeared with a *pop* onto their platform. He approached Lucius threateningly, his red eyes flickering brightly against the green tinge of his face. “Arrogant, yes,” Voldemort agreed. “But talentless? No.” He reached out a hand and stretched his serpentine fingers towards Harry’s face. “What talent he possesses, he has borrowed from me,” he sneered, tracing a finger down Harry’s cheek, and Harry could barely stifle the scream of agony that seemed to spring from his scar at Voldemort’s touch. Clinging feebly to consciousness, he sank to the ground.
The sight of Harry’s suffering brought a smile to the Dark Lord’s lips. He turned on Malfoy. “If he is not an ally, prove it,” he said lightly, stepping away from Harry’s crumpled figure. “Torture him.”
After a brief pause, Lucius stepped forward. “Stand aside, Draco-“
“No,” interrupted Voldemort. “Draco will do it. He has yet to express the qualities I seek in my faithful followers. If he is to become a Death Eater, he must prove himself.” A rumble of assent issued from the Death Eaters. Harry thought he saw a flash of panic cross Lucius’ face as Draco stepped forward and took out his wand.
Suddenly, Harry’s heart retreated into his stomach. Not only was Draco hesitating “ he looked like he didn’t want to do it! No, thought Harry vehemently at him, you must! We’ll be discovered if you don’t!
As though Draco could hear Harry’s thoughts, his agitated expression was replaced with one of deep loathing. Malfoy raised his wand at Harry and spoke forcefully.
“Crucio!”
This time, Harry did scream. His blood turned to acid in his veins and he shook from the waves of agony splintering his muscles and radiating into his bones. Unseen knives pierced his skin as though a great thorny beast were clawing its way out from deep inside him. He fought against the voice in his head that prayed for his death. Soon, this will all be over, thought Harry bitterly over the sound of his own howls. Soon…
Merely a minute later, though it had felt much longer, Harry felt Malfoy lift the curse. His body throbbed, and he drew in frantic breaths to quell the high-pitched buzzing in his ears and white spots flashing in his eyes. His mind feebly raced for remnants of the plan he made with Malfoy. It still wasn’t the right time; Death Eaters were crossing the tracks to get a better look. Wearily raising his eyes to Voldemort's expressionless face, Harry thought Malfoy’s curse might not be enough to satisfy the Dark Lord’s conditions, and he braced himself for a second attack.
To his great surprise, Voldemort raised a hand to stop Draco from cursing Harry a second time. “That was strong, indeed,” murmured Voldemort. “You’ve come a long way, Draco.” Malfoy expelled a gust of air and straightened himself as Voldemort turned away from them.
“Thank you, master.”
Narcissa looked expectantly at Voldemort. “Then we have earned your pardon? We want only to restore your faith in us.” She bowed elegantly, her shimmery hair dipping over her face.
Voldemort grinned bemusedly at Narcissa’s ceremony. But then, as though someone somewhere inside had flipped a switch, Harry saw his face change “ the gleam in his eye was replaced with a hollow void and his smile twisted into a snarl.
“I’m afraid not,” Voldemort said, his voice suddenly ferocious.
“But… but, Draco has proven himself!” Lucius sounded scared. “Harry Potter would not be here if not for our undaunted fealty-“
“You see, there is the small matter of a fifth party Wormtail found on the other side of the gateway to platform 9 ¾.”
Harry joined the Malfoys in their utter confusion. Fifth party? He couldn’t be talking about Snape, Harry thought anxiously to himself. Voldemort looked beyond where the Malfoys stood confounded and called out, “Wormtail! Bring the girl!”
Peter Pettigrew appeared through the gateway and kicking furiously in his arms was a small person with unmistakably ginger hair. Harry felt his heart implode in his chest. It was Ginny.
He thought he would die on the spot. Incredibly, the nightmarish scenario that Harry had sacrificed everything to avoid was unfolding before him. How Voldemort had discovered them and captured her, he could not explain, but it did not matter now. Voldemort had the upper hand at last. Ginny, the person most precious to him, had been relegated to a bargaining chip, and for the first time since crossing the threshold into Kings Cross Station, Harry found his voice. “Leave her alone!” he yelled in desperation.
Looking more haggard and worn than ever, Wormtail dragged Ginny to Harry’s side and threw her onto her knees beside him. To his surprise, Harry did not read fear in Ginny’s face; rather, he saw a defiant urgency. “Harry, don’t listen to them… I didn’t-”
“Silence her,” Voldemort commanded Wormtail, eyeing her with contempt.
Pettigrew grabbed a tuft of her long hair, snapped her head back and, to Harry’s horror, raised his silver hand. With a swift blow to her face, Wormtail knocked her to the ground, her body hitting the concrete with a hard thud.
The sight was more than he could bear. Ginny's gasp as she struck the cement resounding in his ears, Harry felt as though he had received a mortal wound. The impact rendered her unconscious, and a dark, slick substance trickled from the corner of her mouth.
Harry's eyes grew moist against a pain worse than a hundred Cruciatus curses.
“Please,” he groaned. “Spare her… I’ll do anything…”
“Harry, Harry, Harry… I thought we might have to endure some manner of half-baked heroics from you tonight. But begging? That I didn’t expect,” Voldemort jeered.
Harry struggled weakly against his bonds. “She’s not the one you want…”
“Wait…” Just then, realization seemed to sweep over Voldemort’s bestial face. “I thought I recognized her. Even in the Department of Mysteries, I thought I knew her face,” he whispered. Standing over Ginny’s crumpled form, his face was triumphant. “You’re that foolish little imp who took my diary,” he said, giving a sidelong glance to Lucius. “Well…” he added smoothly, bending down and raking his fingers through her hair, “perhaps you’re not so little anymore…”
“DON’T TOUCH HER!!” Harry roared with a force that tore at his vocal cords.
Voldemort raised his head to meet Harry’s glare. Were it not for his desperate fury, Harry would have quaked at the sight of Voldemort’s nefarious grin; his expression betrayed dangerous thoughts lurking behind his blood-red eyes. As a matter of fact, he looked positively gleeful.
It wasn’t a good sign.
“I’ve made an error, it seems, in believing Harry brought the girl here tonight,” Voldemort said loudly. He hovered over Harry victoriously. “I daresay she was quite transfixed by you five years ago, I can only imagine she never gave up. Tell me, Harry. How long have you cared for the young Miss Weasley?”
Oh, no…
“Lucius, Narcissa, you are to be congratulated. And here I thought you had brought a spy!”
No, no, please, no… I’ve just given us away…
“Harry, why, you look positively ghastly,” Voldemort chided. “You mean, you did not want your girlfriend here to share in your last moments?”
“She’s nothing to me,” Harry lied, but the damage was already done.
“Surely you did not intend to place your beloved in mortal danger,” Voldemort scoffed mockingly to Harry, retrieving his wand from the folds of his robe. “Of course, she’ll not have been the first to die for love of Harry Potter. Freckles and red hair… the resemblance to your mother is uncanny." The Death Eaters all snickered harmoniously.
As he spoke, Harry suddenly fixed his gaze on an image beyond Voldemort, and he could barely believe his eyes. On the pedestrian bridge, the silhouettes of other cloaked figures emerged, making their way across the walkway clandestinely “ one with distinctly bushy hair.
He could not have seen a more welcome sight. Harry knew he would have to act quickly.
“I’m curious to know which of you shall be the first to beg for death,” Voldemort snarled, raising his wand in the air to strike Ginny.
“Wait! Answer me one question first!” Harry shouted, forcing himself to focus despite the throbbing pain in his scar.
Voldemort looked taken off guard by Harry’s nerve, but his surprise slowly registered as amusement. “Shall we make it a game then? By all means, ask your question,” he replied sportingly.
Question, question… what’s my question??
“What about the prophecy?” Harry yelled, fearing he might have just brought up the wrong thing. “I thought you’d be curious to know what it said!”
This piqued the Dark Lord’s attention. “The prophecy was destroyed in the Department of Mysteries,” he said, focusing his penetrating gaze on Harry.
“I-I know,” Harry said, his breath hitching as he struggled to maintain his concentration. He spoke halfway over his shoulder to where Malfoy stood, petrified. “It wasn’t my intention to drop it,” he added, placing extra emphasis on the last two words.
“I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work,” Voldemort remarked dryly. “Everyone here knows it was impossible for anyone to have heard it.”
“But I know who heard it first!” Harry said quickly. “Dumbledore witnessed the prophecy as it was being made… It’s too bad you had Dumbledore killed; he was the only other person who knew what was said… besides me!” If there was any question whether he had Voldemort’s undivided attention before, he certainly had it now. Praying that Malfoy was listening, he added, “It’s rather important… I didn’t think you’d’ve found it so easy to just let--it--go!”
C’mon Malfoy…
“If I were you, I’d practically be exploding with curiosity…”
…Drop the decoy detonator!
“…But perhaps now isn’t the right time to drop the bomb!”
Voldemort looked murderous. He took Harry by his neck and roughly lifted him to his feet until his toes were barely touching the floor. Harry was in danger of losing his mind from the agony in his forehead, and glancing quickly to his right at the pedestrian bridge, he saw that the cloaked figures were no longer there. But then, just as his reserve of hope was almost empty, Harry felt the cord around his wrists fall limply into his open palms. Malfoy had gotten the message!
“You will tell me what that prophecy says or I will kill the girl!” Voldemort bellowed, his wand pressing painfully against Harry's throat.
In a moment of blessed clarity, Harry stared defiantly into Voldemort’s hideous face.
“It says you go out with a bang.”
The next instant, a deafening blast came from the far end of the track to Harry’s left, rattling the walls and shaking the ground beneath their feet. The Death Eaters all spun around in alarm leaving Voldemort’s attention sufficiently averted for Harry to twist himself out of his grasp. Before Voldemort had time to register Harry’s escape, he saw red light spray up Macnair’s back, causing him to collapse face-forward. The Death Eaters were under attack.
Harry leapt out of the way as Lucius Malfoy whipped out his wand. “Stupefy!” he shouted and Rookwood fell. There was only a moment of confusion before the Death Eaters readied themselves against the assault and threw up their wands against Lucius; Narcissa grabbed Malfoy by the collar and ran towards the platform’s edge, out of sight. Suddenly, Lupin rushed into view and single-handedly took down Rodolphus and Avery in two quick bursts of red light, as about twenty-five Aurors burst onto the scene, the Order of the Pheonix among them, wands swishing wildly. Without a moment's hesitation, Harry whipped out the invisibility cloak, leapt on top of Ginny’s body and threw it over them.
Voldemort roared Harry’s name in consternation.
Beneath the cloak, Harry held his breath as Tonks dueled furiously with Nott about a foot away, successfully disarming him in time to send her fist crashing into his face. Nott stumbled over Harry’s unseen foot and hit the platform so hard his blood sprayed onto Harry’s cloak, at which point Harry decided he better get out of the way fast. He lifted Ginny into his arms with the cloak still draped over them, and carried her behind a pillar. She stirred as he gently laid her against the brick surface, a deep red welt growing on the left side of her nose.
Peeking behind the pillar, Harry watched the entire platform explode into action as jets of light flew past his nose and the whoosh and crackle of spells filled the air. Suddenly, his heart splashed into his stomach; the Aurors were outnumbered roughly two to one. He counted several times hoping more Aurors would apparate to balance the score, but it became clear that everyone who was going to show up was already there. As skilled as the Aurors were against Dark Magic, he knew they would never stand up against fifty Death Eaters for long. Even more worrisome was the fact that he was sure he’d seen Hermione up on the pedestrian bridge as well, but she was now nowhere to be found.
To Harry’s tremendous relief, a familiar voice rose above the noise with a great “EXPELLIARMUS!” Rushing to the other side of the pillar, he watched as Ron intercepted a curse directed at Hermione, and pulled her roughly by the arm towards the spot where Harry and Ginny were hid. One of the Death Eaters Harry did not recognize caught sight of Ron and Hermione’s retreat, aiming his wand at Ron’s back. Harry poked his hand out.
“Protego!” he yelled, but to his utter dismay, the Death Eater’s deflected curse went flying into Kingsley Shacklebolt instead, whose body went rigid and promptly toppled over.
Ron’s head whipped around as he tried to find the source of the shielding charm. “Harry, that you? Where the hell are you?” he shouted.
Harry’s disembodied hand reached out, grabbed a handful of Ron’s cloak and yanked him behind the pillar. Hermione dove behind after him, a gust of violet light whizzing past her and slamming into the track.
“Quick, get down!” Harry said, lifting up the cloak like a curtain for them to hide under. The color ran from Ron’s face as Ginny was revealed.
“Ginny!” Ron and Hermione gasped in unison, throwing the cloak over their heads. Revived, Ginny squinted against the green light filtering in through the cloak’s translucent fabric, and held up a hand to Ron and Hermione’s fussing.
“All right, all right, I know,” she shouted over the noise, rubbing her temple, "following Harry wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Now, I could be wrong, but sitting under here with our feet sticking out won’t hide us for long. Suppose we could move this somewhere else?” she suggested urgently, motioning to the darkened train parked across the track.
“Ginny, Ron, you two go under the cloak. You’ve never ridden the muggle train, so I don’t want to risk you apparating onto one tonight. Hermione and I will apparate on board,” Harry yelled.
Hermione peaked behind the pillar to evaluate the situation. “Everyone seems to be fighting on the other platforms now,” she observed. “We’d better do it fast.”
“Wait… where’s You-Kn-- Voldemort?” Ron stammered, sticking his head out.
In the excitement, Harry failed to notice that his scar had momentarily stopped throbbing. That definitely did not bode well. Voldemort wouldn’t just pick up and leave during a battle where his Death Eaters had the clear advantage. “Nevermind it right now,” Harry shouted. “Get a move on!”
The cloak slipped off of Harry and Hermione, and he heard Ron and Ginny’s footsteps tramp away. Several floating dots of Nott’s blood bounced over to the train door, which slid opened for an instant and snapped shut.
“Go on ahead, Hermione. I just want to get a better look,” Harry said.
She looked strikingly like Mrs. Weasley did whenever she admonished Fred and George for doing something stupid. “You’d better be right behind me, Harry!” she ordered, and with a POP, Hermione vanished.
Alone again, Harry felt more fearful than ever before. Looking first at the train and then at the Order as they bravely fought against a battalion of Death Eaters, Harry spoke aloud the cruel truth that tore at his conscience.
"We're all in mortal danger now."
Chapter Five: All Aboard by Mudblood428
A/N: This is a short one, but that's only because it was originally attached to a big old fight sequence. Seeing as I'm still working on that at the moment, I figured I'd divide the two and upload the first installment. Enjoy!
CHAPTER FIVE: All Aboard
Harry held his breath as he looked behind the wall to behold the fray. At seeing that most of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were present and accounted for, his heart lifted, but many were not without some injury. Apparently Professor McGonagall had been hit with some sort of curse that left her unable to control her transformation into a cat, but it seemed to work to her advantage as she pounced on a Death Eater’s head only to return to human form a second later and crush him to the ground. Mad-Eye Moody fought with unexpected stealth and dexterity despite a wound in his right arm, and Harry gaped as Moody felled three Death Eaters with a swift flourish of his wand. Noticing a bright flash of pink hair, Harry found Lupin and Tonks back to back, repelling Death Eaters that had formed a circle around them. To his relief, they were as yet unharmed.
The only severe malady Harry could identify befell Mundungus Fletcher, who dragged behind him a quivering jelly-like leg, which Harry suspected had lost all its bones. Been there, done that, Harry thought, wincing at the memory of Skele-Gro’s acerbic flavor.
Once Harry felt he’d seen enough, he disappeared from behind the pillar with a loud crack.
“Where’ve you been?” Hermione scolded as Harry apparated next to the sliding door. “I thought you were right behind me!”
Harry strode quickly over to the seat across from her. “I had to see what was happening. They’re all okay so far, nothing too horrible to report, but the Order is outnumbered,” he explained. “We have to do something.”
“Well, Mum, Dad, Bill and Charlie are on their way,” Ron piped up. “No word on Fred and George yet.”
“They are? How did you guys even know where to find me?” Harry asked.
Hermione and Ron exchanged looks. “Better start from the beginning,” said Ron. “Just after you left, Hermione and I got on the Floo Network from the common room to talk to Lupin. Dobby told him he heard Malfoy telling Kreacher to stop you from coming here because there was something really important hidden on the Hogwarts Express. Dobby nearly beat himself senseless for spilling that information, you might imagine. Anyway, we figured it was bad news if Malfoy knew about it, so then we thought you should have some backup “ especially if you were going to try and find Voldemort next.”
“So we contacted Ron’s family before heading out on our own,” Hermione chimed in. “Otherwise, only Neville knows where we went. When we arrived, we saw the Dark Mark and knew you must be on the muggle side of the platform entrance. Everyone else must’ve seen it too, because we all seemed to show up at the same time.”
“You've got to be kidding..." Harry’s head was spinning. “And what’s your excuse?” he asked Ginny beside him, sounding angrier than he meant.
She looked him levelly in the eyes. “I heard your row with Ron and Hermione, and quite frankly, it sounded like you were about to walk into a trap. So, I slipped out while they were using the fireplace,” Ginny muttered.
“You could’ve gotten us before you left!” Ron scowled at her.
“Oh sure, because you lot have been so keen on including me in all your adventures this year!” Ginny spat sarcastically, shooting an angry look at Harry.
“That’s only because Voldemort would use you against me,” Harry retorted. “Much the way he did tonight!”
A fire seemed to ignite behind Ginny’s eyes, and she looked at Harry in a way he had not seen since Dumbledore’s Funeral. “I’m not the one who wanted to go off on a suicide mission by himself! As it is, I go sodding mad every time you three disappear, never knowing when or if you’re ever coming back!” she said fiercely, her eyes filling with tears. “I thought you of all people would know how infuriating it is to be left in the dark, Harry!” Looking away, she dabbed at the welt on her face as Harry felt his insides turn to lead.
For barely a moment, they sat speechless amidst the muffled sounds of fighting before Ginny snapped them out of their guilty reverie.
“Now,” said Ginny resolutely, “does anyone want to tell me what in bloody hell a Horcrux is?”
Harry froze. “That reminds me,” he muttered shakily, “there’s something I have to tell you guys.”
Harry gave Ron and Hermione the abridged version of all that happened from the moment he arrived at Platform 9 ¾ to when the Decoy Detonator went off, detouring from his story long enough to explain the definition of a Horcrux to Ginny. Ron interrupted him once to ask how 'a lousy git like Malfoy ever decided to switch loyalties' while Hermione tried not to faint at the news of an invasion on London. Harry saved the worst bit of information for last and, once he had finished, each of his friends looked appropriate to having just been visited by a Dementor. Ron’s eyes were roughly the size of dinner plates.
“Blimey,” breathed Hermione, stealing the word right out of Ron’s mouth.
“All this time, you’ve been a Horcrux,” Ron said, horrified. “This is bad… this is very, very bad…”
Ginny was in a panic at everyone’s expressions. “There’s a bit of Voldemort’s soul in you? But… but how do we get it out?” she inquired frantically. “You got rid of all the others, didn’t you?”
Harry looked morose. “We destroyed the others, Ginny.”
“Destroyed,” she whispered, clasping her hands over her mouth.
“But Snape said you could survive, didn’t he? There must be a way you can come out of this alive,” Hermione declared, squinting at the floor as though the answers were written upon it.
“Hermione, I can’t even decide whether Snape wants me to survive.”
Her eyes snapped up from the ground. “You said he gave you an incantation, Harry. Quick, give it here.”
He quickly shuffled through his pockets and produced the rumpled piece of parchment, dropping it in Hermione’s outstretched hand. She studied it for a moment before shaking her head and saying mournfully, “it’s no use. I’ve never seen it before. I can’t even tell you how to use it.”
Suddenly the train car rocked from the force of an explosion somewhere nearby on the platform, and Ron and Hermione fell forward into Harry and Ginny. Around them, the battle was escalating and time to think of a plan was rapidly running out.
“We don’t have time to worry about me,” Harry said, helping Ron to his feet. “Our friends are out there “ we have to fight!”
“There are only four of us,” Ron argued, lifting up Hermione. “We’ll never make it against that many Death Eaters!”
Ginny leapt to her feet. “What we need are reinforcements!” She turned to Hermione. “Do you still have that fake Galleon we used to use for the D.A. meetings? I know at least two people who will come to our aid!”
Hermione’s eyes lit up. “Of course!”
“Hold it-,” Harry tried to interrupt, but his tongue had turned to sandpaper. He had not intended for any of this; his friends were supposed to be safe at Hogwarts, not here fighting an army of Death Eaters, and his heart raced at the thought that he could be leading them to their deaths. He fought to push it out of his mind. “It’s so late,” he croaked. “Are you sure Neville and Luna will come?”
“Sure they’ll come,” said Ron under his breath. “The question is whether they’ll be more of a danger to the Death Eaters or to themselves- Ow!” Hermione elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“Neville knows where to go. They’ll be here,” said Hermione confidently as she touched her wand to the Galleon. Once the signal was sent, she said, “Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Harry exclaimed before they could disapparate.
Harry stood dumbly before them, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words that could aptly capture his gratitude that they had come “ anything that would say just how much their fearlessness meant to him. Did such words exist?
Finding nothing appropriate to say, he muttered, “Let me go first. The Death Eaters won’t kill me. Voldemort means to do me in himself, and seeing as he’s not here…” His voice faded.
He was turning to go to the sliding door when he felt Ginny’s hand in his. Harry looked at her, feeling a warm tingle travel up his arm from where she held him. “It’s okay, Harry,” she whispered. “We’re behind you.”
Emboldened by her gesture, he threaded his fingers in hers and squeezed her hand. “I know, Ginny,” he said with moistened eyes. “I know.”
Still to come: The stuff hits the fan. Please R&R, and if you've got a moment, check out my first one-shot: "Mum, Dad, It's Me... Harry". It's a tear-jerker.
Chapter Six: Casualties of War by Mudblood428
A/N: The following was ridiculously hard to write and took more than a few nights burning the midnight oil to put together and edit. But I plowed through because I love Harry Potter, and I love you, the reader. Yes, it's true. Feel the love. That being said, without further ado, I give you the much anticipated Chapter Six.CHAPTER SIX: Casualties of War
Parting hands with Ginny, Harry stood behind the sliding doors of the defunct train in anxious silence. He looked solemnly over his shoulder at his friends and raised his wand.
“Hold onto your knickers.”
With a swift flick of his wrist, the sliding doors opened and a deafening torrent of sound flooded Harry’s ears. The air, thick with a malodorous smoke that stunk of burning hair, caught painfully in their lungs, throwing Ron into a coughing fit. Harry’s eyes stung as he fought to see through the haze, but once they adjusted, he observed a scene that uncannily reminded him of pictures of Muggle warfare he had seen before. The sunken tracks throughout the station looked more like trenches within which both sides were sheltered as they launched curses over the concrete.
Diagonally down the platform, a single track away from where Harry stood, Aurors had taken refuge, volleying curses across the platform while McGonagall and someone he could not identify tended to the fallen; whether they were stupefied or dead, Harry could not tell, nor could he let his eyes linger long enough to see who they were.
Something else had garnered his attention. At the far end, the Death Eaters were matching the barrage of curses with striking precision, but behind their front line was a more disturbing sight. The Death Eaters were not tending to their wounded. They were huddled in conference.
Until that moment Harry had not realized how far away the track was from where they were hid. He turned to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, grateful to whatever power that had inspired them all to bring their shield cloaks.
“Okay, get your cloaks on and stay by me!” he yelled, trying not to sound scared. “When I say ‘go’, run as fast as you can toward the track and don’t look back! I’ll cover you till you reach the edge!”
Wearing blanched expressions, they all assumed the offensive stance they had learned from Tonks in Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, draping the shield cloak across the chest with one arm and holding their wands cocked upright behind the protective fabric with their free hand.
Harry closed his eyes and mentally gathered himself together. It was time.
“Okay… GO!”
His blood thumping in his ears, he leapt off the train and sprinted towards the track where the Aurors were positioned, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione respectively racing after him toward the platform’s edge, dodging curses as they went.
“Watch out!” Harry shouted as Ginny ducked a red beam of light that whizzed past her head and careened into the concrete, spraying dust and debris into the air. Harry rushed ahead into a spot where the Death Eaters could see him and the curses instantly changed direction - but Harry was ready. At lightening speed, he halted and fired a hail of non-verbal counter curses sufficient to disarm four members of the Death Eaters’ front line while his friends dashed towards the track.
He could tell by the angle at which the lights struck the pavement as they ran that the Death Eaters were purposely avoiding hitting him; but while he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all fired at will, his friends were rapidly losing ground to the shower of lights that seemed to rain down all around them. Harry's blood ran cold; through the glowing green fog, he saw the Death Eaters’ malicious intentions written clearly on their shadowed faces. Tonight, though they did not dare touch Harry, they would instead try to take him down one loyal friend at a time.
A Killing Curse spiraled past him toward Ron.
“Ron!” screamed Hermione, tackling him around the waist as a comet of whizzing green light very nearly collided with his shoulder. Together they tumbled to the ground, falling behind. Harry skidded to a stop and aimed his wand at the space from which the curse had sprung.
“STUPEFY!” Harry bellowed angrily, and he heard a Death Eater cry out.
Beside him, the sound of Ginny's footsteps stopped. “Hermione, move!” she shrieked. As Hermione struggled to get to her feet, a curse struck her hard in the stomach, throwing her skidding backwards with a force that knocked the air out of her lungs. To Harry’s utter relief the shield cloak absorbed the brunt of its effect, the red glowing light bleeding into the fabric before vanishing completely.
Ginny was turning back to help Ron and Hermione. “No, Ginny!” Harry called out. He seized Ginny’s arm and pulled her forward. “They can see you!
RUN!” No sooner had he uttered the words than a flash of light pounded into the cement beside her. Startled, she sprinted ahead, casting a frightened look over her shoulder at him. Once he saw Ginny had almost reached the platform’s edge, Harry spun around to help.
“Don’t turn around, Harry!” Ron draped Hermione’s arm over his shoulder as she gasped for air. “Cover me! I have her!” he yelled, balancing her weight on him. Harry turned back and shot blindly into the smoke to clear their way, keeping close to Ron and Hermione as they staggered to the platform’s edge.
Ginny was the first to arrive “ she threw herself onto the ground and slid nimbly into the deep track. Ron and Hermione were merely a meter away, but with Hermione’s injury their speed was greatly hindered, and they now stood in plain view of the Death Eaters.
As he saw a violet light soar towards Ron and Hermione, Harry threw himself in front of them and braced himself for impact. The curse hit him in the chest with enough momentum to knock him backwards, but the cloak had luckily blocked its magic on contact. Quickly, he found his footing and, glancing down, saw Lupin and Ginny rush to help Ron and Hermione in. Now the only one left on the platform, Harry made a running leap for the track, careful not to land on the electric beam, and Ron and Lupin caught him just as another curse whistled past, missing Harry’s ear by mere inches.
Excited and panting, Harry smiled gratefully at Lupin and Ron and quickly looked up and down the rail. Ginny sat breathless next to Hermione, who now lay propped up against the wall of the track, wheezing, and from behind Professor McGonagall, Mrs. Weasley darted out, hurrying to Hermione’s side.
Feeling he could cry for joy at the sight of Ron and Ginny’s mother, Harry yelled above the noise, “I don’t believe it! You made it!”
She tilted up Hermione’s face and touched the wand to her heart. “
Anapneo,” uttered Mrs. Weasley, and Hermione drew in a tremendous breath as though a vice had been removed from her chest. Relieved albeit shaking, Ron took his position beside Hermione and, finding reassurance in her face that she was okay, pulled her into an embrace.
Her patient now in good hands, Mrs. Weasley hurried over to Harry and hugged him tightly. “Dear, dear, Harry!” she cried, her eyes filling with tears. “Don’t you ever go off alone like that again! You’ll put me in an early grave!” Over her shoulder, she shouted, “Arthur! They’re all right!”
Now there’s a sight I thought I’d never see, thought Harry looking beyond Mrs. Weasley. Behind Bill and Charlie Weasley, who worked in tandem to revive Kingsley Shacklebolt from stupification, was Mr. Weasley. He stood crouched between Mad-Eye Moody and Lucius Malfoy at the front, donned in an ill-fitting shield cloak furiously casting spells. “You gave us… a scare there… Harry!” Mr. Weasley shouted between ducking and firing curses.
“Mrs. Weasley, I’m really sorry-” Harry hollered as Mundungus deflected a curse arching over the landing. "I had no idea it would turn out like this..."
At the sound of Harry’s voice, a bruised and dusty McGonagall looked up from tending to one of the wounded and for a moment, he thought she might cry too. “Potter, thank heavens you’re all right!” she shouted wearily. “What is the meaning of all this! Why did I leave Hogwarts in Filch’s hands to find you rendezvousing with a hoard of Death Eaters in the middle of a muggle station under the Dark Mark?”
“I'll give you the short version." Perhaps it was because until that moment Harry had kept all of his dangerous exploits a secret to every member of the Order but Lupin, but once he started talking, he couldn’t stop himself.
“I thought I was going to find a bit of Voldemort’s soul on the Hogwarts Express, but it turns out it’s in
me, because Snape saw Voldemort kill my mum, but it’s Snape’s fault all these Death Eaters are here, and somehow I have to kill Voldemort before he and the Death Eaters invade London tomorrow morning!” he blurted out in one breath.
“
What?” yelled McGonagall in disbelief, and she got to her feet. Ginny pushed past him and rushed to Lupin's side where McGonagall had been tending to the patient. “Snape…? Invade London…? What’s this about Voldemort’s soul?!”
“
I’m a Horcrux!” Harry shouted desperately. McGonagall’s hands flew to her mouth as though Harry had uttered a particularly offensive swear word.
"
You're the last Horcrux?!" Lupin’s head snapped up. “That can’t be!” he yelled in astonishment.
“A Horcrux! How do you even know what that is?” McGonagall gasped, her face glowing fuscia through the green haze.
Lupin turned to McGonagall. “Before Dumbledore died, he and Harry found out that Voldemort made them so he would be immortal-“
“
Them? You mean there’s more than one?” cried McGonagall fearfully. “Harry, is this true? How can you possibly be a Horcrux?”
“It’s because he killed my mum first “ he didn’t mean to put a bit of his soul in me “ it was an accident!” Harry shouted exasperatedly. “Snape told me-“
“Snape!” exclaimed Lupin, leaping to his feet. “I might have known! He probably planned this whole thing! You can’t trust
him, Harry, he’s a deceitful, snivelling-”
“You don't understand!”
Harry pulled Lupin down as a curse spun into the opposite wall, launching a cloud of dust into the air.
“Listen… I know I probably can’t vouch for anything else Snape told me earlier,” Harry exclaimed, sweeping grime off his glasses, “but he was telling the truth about me!”
“How can you be sure?” shouted Lupin.
“Because it explains everything!” he bellowed. A pained expression on his face, Harry looked ominously at him. “There’s an enemy inside me, Lupin “ I can feel it! I think maybe I’ve always felt it!”
Mortified, Lupin looked away. “My God, you're right... You'd already destroyed five of them, I might have guessed that, apart from the sword, there could be no sixth object belonging to Godric Gryffindor that would be of any value to Voldemort!" His tortured eyes lifted to Harry's face. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I should have known!”
Before Harry could argue otherwise, McGonagall turned sharply to Lupin, looking betrayed. “Remus, do you mean to tell me Harry’s been going out destroying these things by himself-“
Harry blinked. “Actually, Ron and Hermione-“ he tried to interrupt.
“-And you’ve known about it all this time and didn’t think to tell me? All those times I blindly agreed to let him leave school on ‘
Dumbledore’s secret mission’…” she yelled angrily as a red light buzzed past overhead. “You may think you’re the only one here who cares about Harry, but, as his headmistress, I have a right to know these things! He could have died!”
Harry felt his face turn red.
“He survived, didn’t he? He’s not a child!” Lupin got to his feet, suddenly incensed. “I am truly sorry, Minerva, but Harry told me of his mission in the strictest confidence - even against Dumbledore’s wish that he keep the task to himself!” he shouted. “Harry is James and Lily’s only son - my allegiance, first and foremost, belongs to him!”
“But now what are we to do?!” she snapped. “If you’d said something sooner, maybe we could have found a way to-“
“To what? To kill Harry and finish off Voldemort ourselves?” The remark, though spoken sarcastically, made Harry’s heart skip a beat. “It isn’t as though I knew Harry was a Horcrux
before thirty seconds ago!” Lupin hollered.
As McGonagall and Lupin argued, Harry looked past them at the injured person they had been tending to. His eyes went wide; without her shocking pink hair, he had not recognized her.
“Tonks!” he yelled, interrupting their row.
Now a disheveled brunette, Tonks looked up at him glassy-eyed as he rushed to her side. “Wotcher, Harry…,” she muttered, wincing in agony. A chill running through him, Harry made out something dark and shiny all over her robes and hands. Ginny looked at Harry mournfully, holding their professor’s head in her lap; Tonks was drenched in copious amounts of blood.
“What happened? Who did this to you?” Harry cried.
Her head lolled to one side and, closing her eyes against the pain, she tried to force her grimace into a smile. “Bellatrix… we dueled… right foul woman, that one is,” she said, so softly amidst the noise that Harry had to bring his ear to her mouth. “It’s okay, Harry… I’m okay…”
“But how could she… what did she-“
“Out of the way,” shouted Lupin sternly. Harry had not had time to notice it before, but Lupin looked especially bereaved and broken as he knelt beside Tonks, pulled back her robe and widened the rip in her shirt, revealing an enormous gash in her side. By now, Ron and Hermione had joined them, and they looked down at the damaged, swollen flesh, appalled.
“Lestrange… curse… never heard it before… Sect… Sectus…” she struggled to say.
Just then, Harry felt an intense fury well up inside him as he came to the awful realization that there was only one curse that could have made that wound.
“
Sectumsempra,” he snarled, clenching his fists.
“What?” cried Ron, turning white.
“Sectumsempra! Bellatrix knows the curse!”
“But how-?” Hermione began.
“How else do you think!” yelled Harry. “Snape told it to her!”
“Bloody hell…” Ron gulped and looked queasily at Tonks’s wound. “
Now it’s official -- Snape's out to do us in!”
“The only thing is,” said Harry fearfully, “why is it so deep? I don’t understand “ the effect wasn’t nearly as bad as this when I used it on Malfoy. It barely made a scratch on the Inferi…”
Hermione knelt down for a closer look, concentrated in thought. “Harry, don’t take this the wrong way, but you hardly knew what you were doing when you used it,” she asserted perceptively. “If this curse works like any of the Unforgivable Curses, then the damage it does is entirely dependent on how much the caster means it. Clearly, Bellatrix really wanted to… to…”
Hermione caught sight of Lupin’s despondence and refrained from finishing her thought. Not that it mattered to Harry anyway. He already knew that Bellatrix had meant to deal Tonks a fatal blow. There was precious little time to act; Tonks was slipping further away every second they wasted discussing it, and recalling what he saw from the platform above, he knew that the Death Eaters must be about to execute their counterattack.
“Can you heal her?” he asked McGonagall, half-afraid to hear her answer.
She pursed her lips and dolefully looked down at Tonks, who labored to stay awake. “The wound is very deep, Potter. I won’t deny that Nymphadora’s situation is delicate… I’ll need to get her out of here if she is going to recover at all.”
“See, Remus? My time’s not up yet…” murmured Tonks, staring vacantly out at nothing. Meanwhile, both of Lupin’s bloodstained hands were pressed hard against the fissure in her skin to slow the bleeding. Harry thought he never saw him look so ill.
“Time…” he whispered to himself. Suddenly an idea hit him. “I can buy you time…”
“Potter, what are you talking about?” shouted McGonagall as Harry ran to the wall and squeezed between Moody and Mr. Weasley.
“Get ready to get Tonks out of here, and don’t anyone follow me!” he yelled over his shoulder and, sticking one foot up onto a cable that ran the length of the wall, he hoisted himself up onto the platform.
“Harry, are you INSANE?!” Ron bellowed as Hermione and Ginny pushed through the front line, yelling in protest.
“HARRY, COME BACK!” screamed Mrs. Weasley, but it was too late. Now standing in plain view of the Death Eaters, Harry stared down into their track, his eyes instantly locking with Bellatrix Lestrange’s stunned gaze.
Please, oh, PLEASE let this work… he thought, sucking in a deep breath. Just then, Harry broke into a sprint straight towards the enemy.
The Death Eaters gaped at him as he came closer and closer; like those that Harry had just left behind, they too must have thought that Harry was experiencing a momentary lapse of mental health, because the curses stopped flying. He picked up speed. He was almost upon them.
I just need to clear the track…“Don’t just stand there! Wands at the ready, you imbeciles!” he heard Bellatrix yell as he reached the platform’s edge. A blurry cluster of wands, all pointed at him, was the last thing Harry saw before he squeezed his eyes shut, made a running leap into the air, and then…
Destination, Determination, Deliberation…Mid-leap, Harry disapparated and appeared with a loud *crack* on the side behind the Death Eaters, tearing off towards the hallway to the atrium of King’s Cross Station. As he realized what he had just done, Harry felt something in him rejoice. He had cleared the track and hadn’t even lost speed!
As expected, his excitement was quickly cut short. “Don’t let him get away!” shrieked a newly-ennervated Avery, and Harry looked over his shoulder to see Death Eaters clambering up onto the landing in hot pursuit. As he had hoped, his flight had caused them to disperse, abandon their posts and disorganize, leaving the aurors, if not an advantage, at least a fair shot at defeating those that remained on the tracks. Whoever needed to take Tonks away could now do so without being severely missed.
Unfortunately, that meant that Harry had to make up the difference by himself, and he mentally kicked himself for not having planned things better. Fifteen Death Eaters now raced after him.
Feeling his foot scuff against something, Harry faced forward - and before him was a vision that nearly made him stop in his tracks.
He had entered the concourse. Still awash in stark florescent light, it almost looked as though Kings' Cross was still operational but for the grotesque display that the Death Eaters left in their wake upon arriving at the station. Surrounded by the first example of what was to befall all of London if he failed, Harry was gripped by complete and immobilizing fear. Corpses of the innocent littered the ground.
Harry tripped over the arm of a janitor and nearly collided into the limp figure of an elderly woman, and he scrambled blindly to regain his footing. In a moment of sheer terror, Harry stared at the ashen bodies and imagined them all springing to life, clawing and grabbing at his feet as he struggled to reach an exit that did not exist.
This must be the meaning of 'Death Eater', Harry thought, horrified. In his mind, he was already guilty among the ravenous undead, fleeing the dark depths of Hell.
An enormous burst of light exploded through the window of the ticket counter at his left, showering him with shards of glass. "There's no way out, Potter!" shrieked Bellatrix, laughing maniacally as he slipped and stumbled towards the double doors that lead to the street.
Suddenly, just before reaching the doors, Harry crashed head-first into something unseen and fell hard onto his back, clutching his nose. Looking up, he saw only the air in front of him.
"My, aren't we the athlete tonight?"
The Death Eaters slowed to a stop and congregated several yards from where he lay. Crabbe Sr. stepped forward.
"Imperturbable Charm. Don't tell me they didn't teach you that one at school," he sneered.
Bellatrix joined Crabbe's side. "Oh, don't be so hard on the Ickle Pottykins!" she jeered wildly. "He had my poor pink-haired niece as his teacher, and as we all saw tonight, she's not terribly good at Defense Against the Dark Arts!" Bellatrix shrieked with evil laughter that quickly spread to the rest of the group.
Her howls subsiding, she stared at Harry, a queer madness behind her eyes.
"What's say we play with him?"
Harry got to his feet and aimed his wand at them. "You can't kill me," he said shakily. "Voldemort wants me for himself."
"Who says we're going kill you?" she said. "There are so many other fun things we could do..." In unison, the hooded lot drew out their wands.
Harry had run out of options. He might try and disarm them, but he was outnumbered, and any counterattack would only provoke their reckless hate. Soon to be the next victim of their barbarism, he backed against the invisible wall and braced himself for unimaginable pain....
How strange... I can almost hear the yelling already... He almost didn't hear George call his name.
"HARRY, GET OUT OF THE WAY!"
"Wha-?" Harry looked behind him and couldn't believe his eyes. A gigantic firecracker-shaped object shattered through the glass doors, soared over his head into the ceiling and exploded, raining beams, tiles, and hunks of cement down upon the Death Eaters' heads. The Imperturbable Charm now broken, Harry leapt out of the way and burst through the double doors where Fred and George stood with a large rocket launcher, clad in their most flagrant protective gear, smiling widely.
"Guess that means there won't be any shuttle service to Cambridge tomorrow, eh?" Fred joked, admiring their handywork amidst the sound of crinkling glass.
Harry thought he might laugh himself to tears, for no other reason than that he was so unbelievably glad to see them. "Brilliant timing!" he exclaimed, panting. "What the hell was that thing, anyway?"
"New patent," said George proudly. "I call it 'The Destructinator'!"
"Erm... yeah, we haven't decided on a name yet," interjected Fred. "But after we heard what happened at the Astronomy Tower, we presumed a need for something to counteract Imperturbable Charms in the event of an emergency."
"It bursts through forcefields-"
"Sealed doors-"
"Any magically blocked passageways."
"It's not in the catalogue."
Harry turned around and looked wonderingly at the rubble. Surely the Death Eaters were crushed under the weight of the wreckage, he thought, and, realizing he was still holding in his breath, Harry blew it out slowly. His escape had been the result of pure luck, he reasoned, and whether there was any good fortune left for him remained to be seen. The fighting had only really just begun.
Just then, he heard a voice that did not belong to the Weasley twins.
"Sorry we're late, Harry. We got sort of lost."
Slowly, Harry turned around and his breath caught in his throat. The voice belonged to Neville Longbottom, Luna was at his side, and behind them was a sight more startling and welcome than anything he anticipated.
"You... you're... you're all here!" Harry stammered.
Dean Thomas stepped forward between Seamus and Parvati. "Who were you expecting? Sir Cadagon?"
Dumbledore's Army had risen again.
Hoo boy, that was a doozy! Please R&R to help me feel better about all the work that went into this chapter! I hope you enjoyed it - there's more action ahead! Happy Halloween everyone!
Chapter Seven: A New Generation by Mudblood428
A/N: All right folks, another doozy of a chapter ahead. A whole bunch of research went into this one, so I'd like to start off by giving a warm thank-you to the Harry Potter Lexicon for being an incredible resource of all things Potter! You'll notice that I've pulled back on the action a bit - but really, it's just the calm before the storm. I hope you all enjoy it!CHAPTER SEVEN: A New Generation
There on the curb of Euston Road at two o’clock in the morning, Harry Potter found himself surrounded by his former pupils, all of whom had inexplicably arrived at the exact moment of the Order’s direst need, and was rendered speechless. Harry’s eyes swept quickly over the group; save for Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, every member of Dumbledore’s Army who had not yet graduated from Hogwarts had shown up, and for a moment Harry forgot his near-miss with the Death Eaters that now lay beneath the mound of concrete and metal behind him. Overwhelmed and finally feeling the ache in his head from slamming into the Imperturbable Charm, he swayed on the spot.
“Erm… You all right, Harry?” asked Neville tentatively.
Fred and George struggled to hold back a fit of laughter at Harry’s thunderstruck expression. “I can just see the headline,” sniggered Fred. “‘Battle to End All Battles:
The Chosen One Passes Out as Reinforcements Arrive at the Front’!”
“Back up now, lads,” laughed George as chuckles rippled through the group. “Judging by that welt on his face, the man is clearly accident prone!”
“Let him alone,” said Luna, stepping right up into Harry’s face to inspect the bruise. “Looks like you took a nasty dive in there, Harry. Your nose looks awful,” she observed, shaking her head appraisingly. “If only we had some Ironbelly venom to clear that up “ my dad smuggled some in from the Ukraine when he was escaping the Secret Coalition of Druish Nomads (murderous bunch). I wager that’ll be the size of my fist in a moment if you don’t do something-”
“Okay, okay,
enough,” shouted Harry, covering his nose and gently pushing Luna away from him. “So you all checked the galleon, then?” he asked, incredulously. “That hasn’t happened since… well, since we were conducting DA meetings two years ago! Ron and Hermione are going to die on the spot when they see you - we were sure it would only be… that it would be only… Luna… and Neville…”
Suddenly, as the severity of the situation dawned on him, Harry’s voice faded and the delighted glow in his eyes altogether extinguished. “You shouldn’t have… that is to say… I didn’t actually think you would all…” he stammered anxiously.
Neville timidly stepped forward. “I’d hoped you wouldn’t mind, Harry. Luna and I always thought that if you ever called on the DA again we’d just round everyone up who didn’t check the galleon. But as it turns out, everyone got the signal and, of course, Hermione and Ron told me where you were, so there was really nothing else to do. They all
wanted to come,” he explained half-apologetically.
Harry’s eyes shifted back to the DA as he repeated fearfully to himself, “They wanted to come…”
“What’s wrong, Harry? Didn’t you want us here?” said Colin.
“Yes, I did “ I
do…” he began carefully. “But-“
“But what?” Annoyed and disappointed, Zacharias Smith huffed at him. “What was the point of teaching us all that stuff if you didn’t think we’d be able to use it?” he demanded.
“It’s not like that,” replied Harry, thoroughly distressed. “Look behind me! There are Death Eaters under there, there are scores more are on the platform, and just beyond those doors are the first fatalities of a Death Eater invasion that will spread to the rest of Muggle London if we can’t stop them before daybreak!”
There was a collective gasp at Harry’s statement; both Padma and Parvati’s hands flew to their mouths.
“You heard me right,” Harry continued, a foreboding seriousness in his voice. “Whoever wants to fight must be ready to either put an end to all of this tonight or die trying. Voldemort was here; I’ll bet my life that he’ll be back, and what will you all do then?”
Many of the faces among the group were horror-stricken, but to Harry’s great surprise no one flinched. They did not speak, they did not flee; they stood glued to the spot and, perceiving their obstinate desire to stay beneath the panic on their faces, Harry was both confused at their behavior and consumed by a repressive anxiety. Would he be responsible for their deaths as well?
“Voldemort wants me,” concluded Harry. “You’ll all be targets for murder as soon as the Death Eaters find out you’re on my side.”
“I don’t care,” someone called out from behind Colin.
Harry recoiled at the scathing tone of the unexpected voice. “Sorry?” he said, stepping to the side to see who had spoken. It was Susan Bones.
“I said I don’t care! You’re not the only one here with a reason to fight, Harry!” Susan asserted angrily as everyone spun around to look at her. She looked fiercely at him, her fists clenched. “We all knew this was going to be a bigger fight than we bargained for, didn’t we? We’re all scared… but I wouldn’t be here if - if
Voldemort hadn’t killed members of my family too!”
Everyone fell into startled silence at Susan’s declaration; even Fred and George looked like they had received a blow to the head. She had called Voldemort by name.
After a short pause, Lavender cleared her throat. “Some friends of my family owned the locksmith shop in Hogsmeade… that one that got burned down this spring,” she announced tentatively. “They lost everything. I’m here for them.”
Just then, Dean came forward with the Patil sisters close behind. “I’m here for my dad,” said Dean quietly. “Death Eaters killed him just after I was born.”
“Padma and I are here for our uncle,” added Parvati, a tear rolling down her face that her sister quickly wiped away.
Harry’s heart sat heavily in his chest. He had forgotten that Anik Patil had been kidnapped by Death Eaters last October, and though he knew Dean’s biological father had left his family when Dean was young, Harry had never known why. Even so, whether or not it was the appropriate moment to offer up condolences was a question Harry had no chance to ask himself. Slowly, more people stepped to the front, each affirmation overlapping the one before it until their voices seemed to bleed into one, and it dawned on Harry why they could not turn away.
Every member of Dumbledore’s Army had a reason to fight.
“I’m fighting for my aunt-”
“I’m here for my cousin-”
Neville spoke last. “For my parents,” he murmured.
Holding out his fake galleon, Seamus approached Harry, a markedly determined expression on his face. “We were Dumbledore’s Army, but we failed you when you needed us. Since Dumbledore died we’ve carried these galleons in our pockets, waiting for the moment when we could make up for what happened that night. Now, more than ever, we all have a stake in this war, Harry,” he exclaimed. “
We are inheriting this world… and we don’t want Voldemort in it.”
Moved by the faint spark of hope in their fearful eyes, Harry knew he could not refuse them their part in the battle. He simply had no right to deny them the chance to defend their futures, and with a short nod, he solemnly acquiesced. “Okay. I won’t stop you. But there’s just one problem,” he argued.
“What’s that?”
“How can you fight… like that?”
He stepped back and surveyed the motley crew that stood anxiously before him. They looked remarkably unprepared; apart from the Weasley twins, Dean, Neville, and Luna were the only members that had remembered their shield cloaks, and the rest looked as though they’d been interrupted in the middle of doing something before they came. Many were still in school uniform or some variation thereof, undoubtedly because they had abandoned a feverish study session “ although Harry suspected Seamus and Lavender had been feverish doing something else before they left Hogwarts, judging by their sudden uncomfortable proximity to one another and the lipstick on his wrinkled shirt. Padma was in her bathrobe, Parvati’s hair was in rollers, and Justin Finch-Fletchley stood sheepishly in his pajamas.
“I hope you all at least had the foresight to bring your wands,” remarked Harry, crestfallen.
Fred’s hand stuck out over the crowd. “Never fear, Harry, we’ve got it covered!”
There was a collective “ooh” as George wheeled away the launcher, revealing a stack of dark blue robes the like of which Harry had never seen before. Silver embroidery adorned the cuffs and the fabric looked like iridescent crushed velvet that reflected prismatically as Harry walked towards it. Beside it was a box of shield hats.
“Fred, George... these aren't like the shield cloaks we've been using,” remarked Harry, running a hand along the cloth’s surface. It left a cool tingly trail on his palm.
“Right you are, Harry. They're even better," said George, beaming.
“We upgraded the cloak design,” Fred explained, putting on his most professional sounding voice. "So far their protective qualities have been limited to a neutralization of the curse within the mesh of the fabric itself. But these,” he said, picking one up off the top of the stack, "are meant for defensive
and offensive magical combat."
“We came up with the idea after Fred tried to jinx me and wound up flinging me into the wall instead-“
“It's a long story-“ muttered Fred.
“- and we realized that the cloaks were fine for stopping a curse's effect, but they're rubbish for stopping the thrust,” continued George matter-of-factly. “What’s the point of blocking a spell if you’re knocked on your arse either way?”
Rubbing at the bruise on his chest, Harry remarked, “Good point.”
“Well, when you get hit wearing one of
these, the curse isn't absorbed,” Fred declared. “Instead, it deflects off of the cloak back at the wizard who cast it!”
“I like to call it ‘Bi-directional Protectional Gear’!” said George.
Fred cleared his throat. “Erm, yeah... we haven’t decided on a name for this one either.”
“Wait, let me get this straight,” said Harry, “if your cloak gets hit with a curse, you won’t get thrown off your feet … and it’ll spin off and hit the person who tried to curse you?”
“Without a moment lost.”
“Talk about your karmic boomerangs," Harry whispered, staring wonderingly at the shimmery cloth.
“What goes around, comes around, I always say," said George.
Harry looked up at the twins, grinning from ear to ear. “Wicked! What about the Unforgivable Curses?”
Fred shook his head. “These are prototypes “ very experimental. Testing it on Unforgivable Curses is risky and we’ve had no time to try it.”
“I see,” said Harry, nodding. He turned to the rest of the DA. “Well, what are you waiting for? Suit up and be quick about it!”
Fred and George began distributing cloaks and hats as quickly as they could manage. Then, as DA members crowded around the stack of uniforms, Harry heard a muffled voice coming from behind the pile of rubble.
“Harry!” came the voice. “Harry, are you back there?” It was Hermione.
“I’m here!” he yelled back excitedly.
“Harry, are you hurt? Are you all right?” said another, higher voice.
“That you, Ginny? Where’s Ron?”
Just then, he heard Ron speak. “So he’s alive then? Good, ‘cause I’m gonna kill him!”
“Just hang on! I’ll be through in a minute!” Harry pushed through to the stacks and grabbed four sets of cloaks and hats. “When you’re through getting your cloaks on, come back through the entrance - and careful climbing over the pile! We’ll brief you on the other side!” he yelled over his shoulder to the DA, and ran through the double doors into the station.
As he scaled the pile of concrete and shrapnel, bits of it shifted and fell to the side revealing the tangled limbs of Death Eaters underneath. One of the smaller hunks of cement slid under Harry’s foot, exposing the thin, bloodied fingers of Bellatrix Lestrange. He swallowed hard and looked away.
“Do you suppose they’re all… dead?” asked Hermione as she and Ginny helped Harry over the last bit of debris.
“I don’t know, but I’m thinking we shouldn’t stick around here much longer to find out,” said Harry, handing the stack of cloaks to Hermione and dusting himself off. She jumped when the fabric touched her hand, to which Harry said, “don’t worry, that’s normal.”
At that moment, Harry looked over at Ron, who stood stiffly, fuming at him. “I ought to pound you for that stunt you pulled back there “ running at Death Eaters like someone set your bloody trousers on fire,” he scowled. “You’re a barking lunatic, you know that?”
“And you’re my best mate, so what does that make you?” Harry joked.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Just warn us next time or something,” he said irritably. “I don’t know if I can take anymore surprises.”
“Then I suppose I shouldn’t tell you that Neville and Luna are back there… with the rest of Dumbledore’s Army!”
Ron, Hermione and Ginny looked up and sure enough, clambering gingerly over the mountain of debris were the first of the new Hogwarts regiment “ polished, armed and ready for battle in their new apparel. “I knew it!” cried Ginny, running to help Luna off of a wobbly metal beam.
“So these are shield cloaks then?” inquired Hermione, holding one of the robes between two fingers. “Where did they come from?”
“Right,” remarked Harry, glancing amusedly back at Ron who looked more stunned than anyone, “I forgot to mention. Fred and George finally made it.”
Hermione threw on her cloak and distributed the rest to Ron, Harry, and Ginny. “What are these made out of?” she asked, visibly impressed as the rest of them disrobed to put on their shimmery new vestments. “They’re so light, you hardly know you’re wearing them!”
“Antipodean Opaleye scales, Hermione,” called Fred from the top of the pileup.
George slid down on an avalanche of rocks. “Courtesy of our dear brother Charlie!” he added, skidding onto the tiled floor.
Before long everyone was on solid ground reviewing spells and anxiously awaiting directions from Harry, who in turned looked to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny for an update. “Well, you made it here in one piece,” murmured Harry out of the corner of his mouth to them as everyone else chatted. “Please tell me I bought the Order enough time to get Tonks out, too.”
“You did, but only a little,” replied Hermione softly. “Just before we left to find you, McGonagall sent a Patronus to Madame Pomfrey, who apparated with a team of healers from St. Mungo’s. She and the trainee healer were able to apparate Tonks to safety, but the Healer-in-Charge and about half the staff of the fourth floor of St. Mungo’s stayed behind. They’ve set up a Portkey in that abandoned train we were hiding in-”
“It goes to Ministry of Magic headquarters “ Dad said it was standard procedure; it’s the only secure place nearby where they could monitor who comes and goes,” said Ron.
Harry drew in a deep breath and shook his head. “I suppose Lupin went with her, then?” he questioned.
Suddenly, Ron and Hermione fell silent, exchanging troubled glances. His heart sank at once.
“What’s wrong? What’s happened to Lupin?”
Ginny moved directly in front of him, and took hold of his arms. “He’s not hurt, Harry,” she began cautiously. “I don’t suppose you could have noticed… but tonight is a full moon.”
Harry’s throat closed up. He remembered; back on Platform 9 ¾, the entire platform had been bright with moonlight. And he thought that Lupin had looked especially ill, but then Harry assumed he was just worried about Tonks. How could he not have noticed?
“But… he was fine…” Harry contended.
“The Dark Mark obscured the moonlight,” explained Hermione. “It wasn’t until Greyback cast the spell to remove it that they transformed.”
“He blasted it right through the glass ceiling “ made a mess of everything,” Ron added gloomily. “Even the Death Eaters looked put out by it, but it seems Greyback didn’t care what they wanted. He tried to go off after you in Werewolf form. Luckily, Lupin had enough wits about him to get in Greyback’s way.”
“That’s when we got out and left to find you,” Hermione muttered, looking into Harry’s pale face. “For all we know, they’re still fighting.”
Harry said nothing and noticed that the rest of the DA had become quiet, waiting expectantly for direction. He squeezed his eyes shut, but try as he did to concentrate through his worry, his mind was a jumble of painful images that closing his eyes could not eclipse. Ginny brought her hand to his cheek and turned his face towards her, but he did not meet her gaze. “Listen to me, Harry. He has the best chance of surviving in werewolf form. It’s going to be all right,” she asserted vehemently. “Harry… Harry, look at me!”
He slowly raised his eyes. As their gazes met, it was as if he had instantaneously remembered to breathe again. For a moment they stared at one another in silence; she seemed to see through him, drawing the focus and determination out of him from where it had been hiding. Out of the deep recesses of his being, Harry felt the fiery resolution stir within him once again. This wretched mission was far from over.
“It’s time to go,” she whispered.
Harry nodded wordlessly and strode past her to where the DA was waiting. “Everyone listen up,” he exclaimed with unanticipated authority. “We’re heading back to the platform to do battle, but there are a few things you need to know before we go. First off, we’re outnumbered. Since Fred and George managed to take care of the lot behind you, our chances have improved, but the important thing to remember now is not to do anything to give them the upper hand. Do what you must to stay alive,” he declared urgently, “but I strongly advise against using any of the Unforgivable Curses to do so.”
“Why?” asked Michael Corner hesitantly.
“Because they require a degree of hateful intent that I’m not sure any of us possesses. You need to really mean it,” Harry explained darkly. “If you cast one half-heartedly, it may only make the Death Eaters angrier, and if that happens “ make no mistake - your life will be forfeit. They’ve had too much practice and your cloaks haven’t been tested against the Unforgivable Curses.
“Secondly, you have strength in numbers. Find a partner and stick with that person no matter what. No one gets left behind, do you understand?”
There was a rumble of assent.
Harry swallowed hard and licked his lips. By their expressions, his comrades looked scared and unsure, their ears bent on every word Harry said. The final crucial piece of information would not fall easily on them. “Lastly… I’ll take you as far as I can,” he said slowly, “but I can’t lead you.”
At this statement, even Ron and Hermione spun around to gape at him and confused murmuring ensued among the rest of the group. Luna timidly raised her hand as though she was still in class trying to ask a question of the teacher. “Why can’t you lead us, Harry?” she asked in a small voice.
“Because... If I... If I should...” began Harry with great difficulty. He simply had not the heart to destroy their morale by telling them he was a Horcrux, nor did he have time to explain what it might mean for them all. Ginny, staring ahead into the faces of the DA, stepped beside him and pressed his hand. He let out a gust of air and straightened himself. “If something should happen to me, you’ll need to be ready to follow another,” he finished quietly.
Stunned, the DA stood in nervous silence.
Harry's eyes traveled to the back of the group. "I nominate Neville Longbottom."
There was a communal gasp and everyone spun around to gage Neville's reaction. “Me?!” cried Neville, the color running from his face.
“Yes, you.”
“
Neville?” asked Ron under his breath, looking slighted. “Why
Neville?”
Harry looked apologetically at Ron but directed his answer at the entire group. "Unlike many of you, Neville has been in magical combat against the Death Eaters. He was the last one standing with me at the Department of Mysteries two years ago and I trust him. What’s more, the Death Eaters have Ron, Hermione, and Ginny on the top of their hit list, so I don't want any of them to carry the extra burden of leading you. Besides, there are things that the three-,” pausing, he looked down at the hand still pressed firmly in his, “...that the four of us have to do on our own.”
“Excuse me “ pardon “ sorry, I just need to “ pardon me,” said Neville as he pushed his way to the front of the group. He walked straight at Harry, grabbed his sleeve and whispered fervently, “do you mind if I have a word?”
They walked out of earshot. “What’s the matter?” he asked upon observing the concerned look on Neville’s face.
Neville replied in a barely audible voice. “I’ve never lead anybody, Harry!”
Harry sighed. “I know that. Forgive me, Neville,” he replied, his conscience heavy with guilt, “I didn’t mean to force it on you-”
“No, that’s not it,” interrupted Neville with sudden fervor. “I’ll do it, Harry, if you think I should… I mean… this is my battle too, isn’t it?” For a moment, Harry stood bewildered and couldn’t think of what to say before Neville quickly cut him off. “It’s just… I’m worried that I won’t…” he stammered, deflated, “ …my Gran always says-“
This time, Harry interrupted him. “Listen to me,” he said firmly, placing his hands squarely upon Neville’s shoulders. “No one here expects you to be your parents, Neville, so forget whatever it is your Gran said. I’ve seen you fight. You stepped up to the plate when few others would have had the courage. You’re leading them tonight because, no matter what anyone says, you
are a powerful wizard - you just need to believe it!”
Eyes wide, Neville looked as though someone had just jarred his memory.
“I’m counting on you, Neville.”
It seemed no one had ever spoken to Neville that way; by his posture alone, his confidence seemed altogether reinvented. “I’ll do my best, I promise,” he stated bravely.
“Good,” said Harry. “You know what to do.”
Neville turned around, breathing hard. “Okay, everyone,” he began shakily. “Pair off!”
The group quickly filed into two lines; Harry and Neville joined Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna at the front. For a moment, Hermione faced in the opposite direction, staring intently at the pile of wreckage behind them, before Ron jerked her hand and she turned around. “Sorry… I just thought I saw… Nothing. Nevermind.”
Ginny glanced sideways at Harry and whispered to him as everyone found their partner and secured their vestments. “Did you mean what you said when-?”
“Yes,” Harry whispered back, strapping on his shield hat.
“You’re sure you want me to-“
“I’m positive.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m braver when you’re with me,” he replied tersely.
At that moment, they heard a faint rattle at the far end of the corridor, followed by muted grunts and yelling, and with the sound of shattering glass, the florescent lights flickered and promptly died. Stifling darkness surrounded them now, and everyone became very still, holding in their breaths as they tried to discern what was coming towards them... and how quickly it would be upon them. Their time was up.
“
Lumos,” whispered Harry and the tip of his wand glowed brilliantly in the blackness to light the space ahead by several yards. Behind him he heard a soft sniffle “ someone was crying “ and the sound wounded him to the quick. Down the hallway, the noises were growing louder. “Neville,” he said in a strangled voice, “we’re waiting.”
He heard Neville gulp and take a deep breath. “Assume the offensive stance…”
A soft wind swept the back of Harry’s neck as they all swung their cloaks over their chests.
“Merlin’s beard… I can see them,” whispered Ron. Two dozen black shadows moved in the space in front of them.
“Don't be afraid! Remember, you have each other,” said Harry fiercely. “You’re powerful, each of you… but together you
will survive!”
“Wands at the ready…” continued Neville, his voice stronger.
Something in the darkness ahead crashed to the ground, and there was a sound of coins spilling onto the tile, followed by a chorus of cold unfeeling laughter. Several gasps circulated through the party.
“We’re all here for a reason,” Harry cried, desperate to keep their spirits alive, “don’t forget “ NEVER forget what brought you here!”
“CHARGE!” shouted Neville at the top of his voice.
With a great cry, Dumbledore’s Army raced into the void, their wands aimed at the darkness, clinging to the hope that their years at Hogwarts had paid off, that there was still courage to be found amidst incredible fear, that daylight would come and that, when it did, they would all still be alive. Indeed, they clung to one another.
***Behind them, from between the rocks and beams, the slender bloodstained fingers of a mangled hand twitched...
Well, there you have it! Just in time for the release of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire! Enjoy the movie, everyone, I hear it's gonna be awesome! PS: Shameless plug: before you see Movie 4, traipse on over to Slian Martreb's fic "Another Side of the Story" (it's on my favorites list) for the red-haired freckled perspective on how it all began!
Chapter Eight: Dead and Undead by Mudblood428
A/N: Character death ahead, folks. Don't flame me for it - it nearly broke my heart to write it in. Read at your own peril.
12/1/05: Today is World AIDS Day. Thus, this chapter is dedicated to my cousin, a vibrant, funny, wonderful guy whose life also ended much too soon - not by any Killing Curse, but because of AIDS. I've got on my red ribbon, Sonny.
CHAPTER EIGHT: Dead and Undead
With the silvery glow of Harry’s wand lighting their path, Dumbledore’s Army charged into the darkness towards the shadowed figures ahead. Closer and closer they came until the Death Eaters were no longer the bright sparkle of two dozen pairs of menacing eyes, but the hooded realization of a terrible dream. Harry saw that the Death Eaters exceeded their own number by only three people, but before anyone could contemplate the odds, a cold voice rose above their war cry and Fred and George’s shield cloaks received their first test.
"Stupefy!" A red light burst forth, right at Hermione. Uttering a high-pitched shriek, she threw her arm up over her face, the curse colliding with her elbow.
What happened next was a sight to behold. On contact, a throbbing sound like the hammering of a tuning fork issued from the shield cloak as a disc of blue light flashed outward from the very spot she had been struck. The next moment, the curse was on its way back towards the Death Eater who cast it, hitting him squarely in the chest, and he promptly fell to the ground, fully stunned.
Fred and George had been as good as their word.
Whether out of fear or fury at having borne the first casualty, the Death Eaters responded in a mad rush of curses. The concourse was instantly aglow in rainbow lights when, dodging and ducking, the DA came to a halt several yards from the enemy.
"Fall into position!" shouted Harry, he and the rest of the front line deflecting as much of the angry bombardment as they could manage.
Just as Tonks had taught them, the DA rapidly divided into staggered clusters of two, one person in the pair assigned the objective of deflecting enemy fire and the other falling onto one knee, firing spells and curses at will to disarm, stun, or injure. Tonks had been very thorough with their education in wartime procedure, as she herself had gone to great lengths to hone her expertise “ she had once confessed to Harry that the first war against the Death Eaters had never quite gone from her memory, young as she was. Harry held onto these thoughts of Tonks as he fell onto one knee beside Ginny, who hovered above him firing non-verbal shield charms in rapid succession as he tried to find a window amidst soaring beams of light where he might aim his wand.
Never had Harry felt so proud of the DA; splayed out in pairs across the concourse standing their ground under the rain of curses, they were a formidable presence. Their voices carried over the sound of combat loud and defiant, and despite their inexperience, they provoked an anxiety in the Death Eaters that Harry could discern through their increasingly sloppy execution. The enemy’s confidence was quickly dissolving into recklessness, and whether or not that was what he wanted, Harry could not decide. What worried him more was what would happen once they discovered how to bypass the magic of these new shield cloaks.
This time, a yelp came from Seamus, when another tone resounded in tandem with a brilliant blue flash of light, and consequently, yet another Death Eater received a strong blow to the chest. The Death Eaters exchanged outraged expressions. It won’t be long now, thought Harry nervously while his every offensive effort was relentlessly blocked.
No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a pale-faced woman, one of Voldemort’s more recent recruits, crouched down onto the ground beneath the line of fire.
"Parkinson, what are you doing?" called out one of the hooded lot to the woman.
Harry glared at her. He might have known Pansy’s mother would join the ranks of Death Eaters, he thought, disgusted.
"Their cloaks fire back!" snarled Parkinson, her head whipping around to survey her resources. The next instant, her eyes fell upon something and her face split into an evil grimace.
"Accio Mirror!"
From the cosmetics counter of one of the stores in the concourse, a silver mirror slipped through the thin slots of the chained gate and soared into her hand. She thrust her wand out in front of her, aiming it directly at Neville.
Harry felt his pulse bottom out. "Neville, look out!" he yelled.
A red jet of light sprouted from the tip of Parkinson’s wand and soared at Neville, who swung an arm over his face. Springing off of his shoulder, the curse hurtled back at Parkinson, but she had clearly anticipated it. She held the mirror to her chest, where the curse bounced off and soared into the ceiling, exploding a light fixture overhead. Dust and bits of glass descended onto Ernie Macmillan’s head. "Ah-HA!" she yelled looking back over her shoulder at her cohorts.
Oh, no…
Before the DA could intercept them, four Death Eaters rushed forward and aimed directly over their heads. Harry opened his mouth, but it was Neville’s voice he heard.
"GET OUT OF RANGE!"
With a loud crunch, four golden beams sliced through the ceiling. Everyone rushed out of the way “ everyone, but Luna. An enormous plank of steel and cement dislodged itself from above and came crashing down towards the floor just over Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had tripped trying to run for cover and twisted his leg. He threw his hands up over his head and braced himself, but to everyone’s shock, it never hit him.
"Wingardium Leviosa!" cried Luna, and the block stopped just inches above his curled up body. With gritted teeth and a mighty swing of her wand, Luna launched the great hunk of ceiling at the Death Eaters. It plowed right into the four who had produced the block to begin with, catapulting them backward into the throng.
"Great galloping Graphorns…" whispered Justin, as Luna ran to his side.
"Can’t pull that one over on me," she grunted, helping him up. "That’s how the Turk rebels assassinated the last surviving Bulgarian Cave Hag!"
Luna’s intervention had completely uprooted the Death Eaters’ front line and they stumbled over each other to regain their position. This left the DA a tremendous opportunity. "ATTACK!" Harry cried, and the DA offensive line erupted in a cacophony of spells. Although the enemy response was swift, at least two curses successfully hit their target “ Lavender hit a Death Eater with the Furnunculus Curse, his eyes instantly swelling shut betwixt the weeping boils on his face, and Padma effectively slowed the charge of another by transfiguring him into a hissing three-toed sloth.
In her excitement, Padma could not contain a victorious cry “ a gesture that caught the eye of Goyle Sr., setting his body quivering with fury. He roughly kicked his way through the jumble of toppled Death Eaters glaring dangerously at her, and he raised his wand.
It felt as though someone had dumped ice water on his head as Harry immediately recognized the look in his eyes. "HIT THE GROUND!" he roared, grabbing Ginny’s hand and yanking her to the floor.
Just then, a heavy voice echoed over the din like thunder.
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
How Harry had feared those two words. Time seemed to slow to a dead stop in his mind, branding the brilliant green glow of Goyle’s hideous face into his memory. Like Harry, those beside him at the front were petrified, but alive; however, he could not see behind him to account for the others. Harry strained to hear anything at all over the sound of his own furiously pounding heart.
Perhaps no one was hit, he thought. Maybe they were all still okay…
Just then, an agonized shriek resounded throughout the concourse and Harry felt his heart tear in half.
"PADMA!"
Jumping to his feet, Harry watched breathlessly as Parvati collapsed onto the ground beside her sister’s lifeless body, screaming. Padma was dead. Her sightless eyes were still wide with shock.
"MURDERER!" Parvati screeched, her voice slicing through the clamor like a knife before she doubled over in convulsive sobs. "No… please… my sister…. Someone h-help me…" All the while, Goyle laughed heartily as though he had just heard a particularly funny joke.
Harry felt like a man possessed. "LEVICORPUS!" he bellowed. Goyle rose into the air, and with a furious swipe of his wand, Harry sent him hurtling into the wall with a force that left a dark smattering of blood on the white paint. Goyle fell to the ground motionless and for a fleeting moment, Harry hoped the blow had killed him.
"Hold your ground!" he called out desperately to his friends, who despite their mortified expressions continued on mechanically firing counter curses, motivated now only by the desire to save themselves. He turned imploringly to Neville, Ron, and Hermione. Hermione’s hand shook furiously and hot tears rolled down her face as she and Neville persisted in casting spells at the enemy, though he too was trembling with a force he could not control.
"G-go to her, Harry," yelled Ron shakily, as he fired into the smoke. "We’ll be okay!" Looking to his other side, Ginny stood - eyes red and cheeks glistening - and she jerked her head affirmatively.
"Go," she mouthed. Harry rushed away from them.
"Padma… Padma…," Parvati howled, pathetic in her attempt to lift Padma off the floor by herself. Harry and Dean simultaneously arrived at her side.
"Parvati, let her go," coaxed Dean urgently. "You’ll be killed!"
She held on tighter. "No one gets left behind!" she cried, violently fighting Harry and Dean’s attempts to pry Padma from her arms.
"Give her to me, Parvati," Harry pleaded, meeting her gaze. "Please."
Breathing heavily, Parvati stared mutely at him and loosened her grip. As Harry lifted Padma into his arms, Parvati buried her face in her hands, howling in torment as though a part of her were being brutally ripped away. Dean quickly scooped her up and together he and Harry carried the Patil twins behind a nearby wall, Parvati kicking and shouting furiously the entire way. It seemed to take every ounce of effort from Dean to restrain her.
"NO! Let me go! I want to go back!" she screamed madly. "Let them kill me… please… I want to die…"
Harry did not feel himself in his own body. Staring down at Padma, then turning to Parvati as she fell defeated against Dean’s shoulder, moaning, Harry felt like a spectator to a scene out of his own life “ the only difference seemed to be the absence of a Triwizard cup. As Dean set Parvati against the wall, Harry gently lay Padma on the ground and smoothed her raven hair away from her face. All warmth had already gone from her skin.
Suddenly, Parvati grew eerily still and he tilted his head up to look at her. She seemed not at all like herself; her gaze fixed on him, Harry felt his stomach flutter under her stare. She leaned forward, a raw wildness behind her eyes that he had never seen before, and spoke in a strange voice at a volume only he could hear. It seemed to drown out every other sound.
"We understand each other now, don’t we, Harry?"
He looked at her transfixed as Parvati channeled indescribable grief into him through her anguished gaze.
"Finish them," she commanded, her eyes wide and glittering. "If you don’t, I will do it myself."
Harry laid his hand on top of hers and squeezed. "There won’t be a need."
Satisfied by his answer, Parvati pulled her hand away and fell numbly back against Dean, who sat shaken and confused.
"Harry?" Dean said timorously.
"There’s a portkey to the Ministry of Magic in a train on Platform 8; we’ll clear your way as best we can. I don’t know how many Death Eaters may be left fighting on the platforms, so take Lavender and Seamus with you…."
His spirit overrun with sorrow, Harry gently passed his fingers over Padma’s eyes, closing them.
"Get her out of here," he finished. "Both of them."
"But what about everyone else?"
"We’ll think of something… We’ll make it." Parvati was in no condition to fight, and Dean and Harry both knew it. "She’ll be easy prey if she stays. I won’t have her family lose the both of them," Harry asserted. Wordlessly, Dean cradled Parvati against him and nodded.
Harry emerged from behind the wall and felt nothing save for an iron determination surging through his veins. For the first time since Dumbledore’s death he felt capable of unabashed violence, but he knew the DA would lose any remnant of hope if he acted on it; a desperate need for clarity stayed his hand. Having suffered a tremendous blow to their spirits, his friends were being gradually pushed back, and many had dispersed themselves behind anything and everything that would provide them with some sort of shelter as they continued to fire. The next moment, he found himself behind a rubbish bin next to Lavender and Seamus, not quite remembering how he had gotten there, and they looked at him, horror-stricken and silent amidst the chaos surrounding them.
"Seamus," Harry called into his ear, "Dean has Parvati behind that wall and he’s expecting you and Lavender. He’ll tell you what to do."
Sensing Harry’s urgency, Seamus took Lavender by the hand and, ducking jets of light, rushed behind the corner. Harry then scurried to the nearby vending wagon where Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were now stationed.
“I need to borrow you a second,” he yelled to Hermione, pulling her by the arm away from the line of fire into the ‘Photo-Me’ picture booth at their right.
“Harry… what’re you-?"
“A plan, Hermione. We need a brilliant plan,” he asserted vehemently. “Dean, Seamus and Lavender are taking Parvati and Padma to the portkey, but the Death Eaters are between them and the way out.” Outside, he heard the crunch of breaking tiles as Hannah Abbott uttered a painful shriek, and Hermione winced at the sound. Frantically, Harry took her by the shoulders. “Moreover… we’re losing.”
Sniffing, she shook her head, looking away from him. “I don’t know… I can’t think…”
“Yes, you can!” Harry countered. “You must know something about this station that we could use to our advantage!”
“There’s nothing, Harry!” she cried miserably. “They’re too powerful to finish off and this place is too small to lose them. There’s nowhere to go but underground…” Abruptly, Hermione’s voice broke off and her eyes went wide in realization. “Underground…” she repeated. “We’ll trap them in the tunnel!”
“Okay…” replied Harry dubiously. “How?”
Her face fell. “I… I don’t know.”
Screwing up his face in thought, Harry struggled for an idea. “I could do what I did on the platform and try and lure them there - but no, they wouldn’t dare leave themselves exposed to the DA like that,” he pondered aloud. “We need something else… not a diversion… maybe we could corner them - chase them into the tunnel…”
“Harry, I hardly think we’re that intimidating,” she replied. “Not unless Fred and George have something in their pockets to turn us all into Mountain Trolls.”
Suddenly, Harry and Hermione felt the ground vibrate beneath them and a gale of screams and yells erupted outside on the concourse. In frightened panic, they rushed back out and Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth in shock at the sight before them.
“It’s no Troll,” murmured Harry, stunned, “but I think that’ll do…”
A booming voice sounded over the screams. “HERMY!”
Waddling down the concourse with Hagrid at his side was Grawp and, smiling widely at Hermione and Harry, he threw out his hand to wave at them and inadvertently knocked a Death Eater head-first into a cash machine. Together, Harry and Hermione raced back into the action.
“Don’ worry, Harry!” shouted Hagrid jubilantly as soon as he saw his young friend. “Grawpy an’ I’ve got yeh covered!”
The Death Eaters were beside themselves in frustration. Torn between fending off the DA, and trying to take down a half-giant and his gargantuan little brother, they cowered angrily and began to shift towards the only exit that wasn’t blocked “ the one that lead to York Road. Whatever else happened, Harry knew that they couldn’t let the Death Eaters escape out of the station into Muggle London.
He slid to a stop beside Neville and grabbed his shoulder. “We need to block that exit! Rally the DA!” Harry yelled to him. Neville nodded and began calling out the order while Harry ran to the spot where he had left Dean and Parvati.
“Get ready, guys,” he shouted to them. Parvati was limp in Dean’s arms and Seamus solemnly picked Padma’s body up off the ground while Lavender assumed the offensive posture. They were standing by, awaiting Harry’s cue.
There was only one more thing to do. “HAGRID!” Harry hollered as loud as he could over the commotion, frantically waving and pointing to the stairs that lead to the tunnel.
Shrugging off the red jets of light that struck him again and again, Hagrid paused to watch Harry’s pantomime. He didn’t seem to understand.
“The tun-nel,” mouthed Harry in as exaggerated a manner as he could.
Hermione joined Harry’s side. “Grawpy!” she called out, waving her arms over her head to get Grawp’s attention. The ground shook as he took a few steps towards her, but that wasn’t the direction they wanted him to go either. Just then, Hermione thrust her wand into the air and, with a loud “avis!”, she conjured a small flock of circling, warbling pigeons.
“Look, Grawp! A snack!” she cried and with a wave of her wand, the pigeons soared towards the direction of the tunnel, which was located just behind the Death Eaters, much to their chagrin. Running hungrily after the birds, Grawp charged straight at them; with the DA blocking every other path, the only place to go was down.
Ron arrived beside her, his jaw hanging open. “Have I told you lately that you’re bloody brilliant?” he murmured, astonished. She threw him a smile over her shoulder.
“Wait. They’re not going down the stairs…” Harry noted anxiously. Sure enough, the Death Eaters had backed onto the staircase, but they were far from reaching the bottom.
“I’m on it!” Ginny ran ahead and aimed her wand. “Marmobilus!”
Ron blinked. “Didn't Fred and George use that one on Percy at Aunt Tessie's funeral?”
With a bright flash, the small bits of debris from the fallen ceiling that peppered the steps leading to the Underground transformed into spinning multi-colored marbles. The Death Eaters clawed helplessly at the air before they slipped off of their footing and spilled one by one down the stairs.
“That ought to hold them for a while,” laughed Ginny.
The Weasley twins shouted ecstatically at their sister from across the concourse. “GOOD GIRL, GIN!”
The way was finally clear. Harry whistled at the crew behind the wall, and they quickly sped out toward the platforms. As they raced down the corridor, Harry caught one final glance from Parvati over Dean’s shoulder. She raised a weary hand and waved to him.
“Goodbye,” whispered Harry as they disappeared into the shadows.
“Harry!” called out Hagrid, who stood guard at the top of the stairs as Grawp tried unsuccessfully to catch Hermione’s birds. “What do yeh want I should do with ‘em?” he asked, motioning to the snarling, sliding band of Death Eaters below. Watching their fruitless efforts to get to their feet, Harry almost laughed aloud.
“We can stay here an’ guard ‘em, me an’ Grawp. They're a bit too squirmy to use the Incarcerous on 'em, if yeh know what I mean!”
“No,” replied Harry. “They only have to follow the tunnel to get out. I have a better way.” He pulled out his last remaining packet of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.
Looking back at the DA, Harry brimmed with pride at their courageous performance, but their work was far from done. “The Aurors may still need your help,” he called to them, and motioning to Goyle Sr., who still lay against the wall moaning incoherently, he added, “bind up the rest of this lot and confiscate their wands. As of right now, they’re our prisoners. After that, head back to the platform - I leave you in Neville’s charge.” With that Harry turned and raised his wand at the marbles to stop their spinning.
“Not without us!” cried Ron as he, Hermione, and Ginny rushed to his side. “Allow me,” he said. “Aguamenti Maximus!” A powerful torrent of water sprung from the tip of Ron’s wand simultaneously clearing the stairs as well as sending the Death Eaters careening backwards onto the tracks below. As the water continued to blast down the steps, Ron looked back at Harry, grinning. “Let’s make this quick, then, shall we?”
Harry smiled gratefully, and together, the four of them ran down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, they were greeted by a storm of curses that sloppily flew out in myriad directions. It was Ron’s generous hosing that had caused them to miss their targets completely and, following suit, both Hermione and Ginny drew out their wands.
“Aguamenti Maximus!” Hermione chimed in, and Ginny quickly followed. Three jets of water now pummeled into the Death Eaters before them, who growled and gnashed their teeth, falling over one another like rabid dogs.
“Remember, the stairs are behind you! Everybody grab a hold of someone,” cried Harry, taking hold of Ron’s sleeve, and with one hand, he brought the packet of Instant Darkness to his mouth, tearing it open with his teeth. “On the count of three, run back up… One… Two… Three!”
Just as Harry flung the powder into the air, a Death Eater’s wayward curse struck the ceiling over their heads, raining hunks of debris on top of them. Falling forward, Harry lost his grip on Ron at the precise moment the powder took hold, and the last he saw of the staircase was a growing heap of boulder-sized blocks of plaster and metal before he was lost in vast all-consuming darkness. Their way out was blocked.
It seemed Ron had not lifted his Water Conjuring spell yet as the sound of gushing water continued to echo amidst the Death Eaters' confounded yells. “Is everyone all right?” murmured Harry, trying to feel his way back to his friends.
“Yeah,” came Ginny's voice.
“I’m fine, I think,” muttered Hermione.
He heard Ron groan in a mixture of pain and annoyance. “I think I broke my spleen. No offense to muggles or anything, but this place is about as sturdy as a sheet of parch-”
Suddenly, a loud scream interrupted Ron’s lament. Or at least, Harry thought it was a scream...
“Ron, put out your wand,” Harry whispered. “I can’t hear…”
The rushing water stopped and he could hear scrambling and yelling ahead. At first he thought the Death Eaters were simply reacting to their loss of vision, but something simply wasn't right. They sounded terrified.
Hermione ventured a comment. “Harry, we have to get out of here-“
Harry shushed her. “Something’s happening.”
“Harry,” she said with more urgency.
“Wait a moment, Hermione, I’m trying to listen-“
“Harry, don’t you smell that?”
“Smell what?” Harry responded irately. At that moment, a rank stench filled his nostrils. It was indescribably putrid “ the very odor of decay. Of death.
Suddenly, more screams and howls erupted among the Death Eaters, and Harry heard the tearing of cloth and something like cake batter splattering on the floor.
“Oh God,” he whispered.
"Harry... Harry, what is it?" cried Ginny fearfully.
“The Inferi...”
*Whew!* Hope you guys made it out okay! For those who are curious about how exactly Hermione knows the smell of the Inferi, you'll just have to wait for the prequel I have planned for when AtDiC is finished!
Anyway, these chapters are getting significantly harder to write the closer I get to the end, so be patient as I cook up Chapter 9. The coming chapter will be tying up a mess of loose ends (Bellatrix? Snape? Lupin?) and may take a while. Either way, I hope your experience with the above chapter was like mine as I was writing it: you laughed, you cried, you cheered, you beat up your keyboard.... You know. The usual. ;) Happy December everyone!
Chapter Nine: Fire and Ice by Mudblood428
A/N: This is a biggie. I confess, I had to divide the original manuscript of chapter nine into two chapters, but seeing as this is over one thousand words longer than the longest chapter I've written, I hope no one is disappointed. This was mighty difficult to write, and potentially pushes the plot into the realm of "possibly implausible", but I hope I've written the character developments and plotlines in a manner that, if unlikely, is still believable. (And no, the chapter title is not foreshadowing some bizarre hookup between Malfoy and Ginny. LOL.) Enjoy.CHAPTER NINE: Fire and Ice
Trapped like rats.Harry struggled for a thought less harrowing, but it was the only phrase that came to mind as he stood listening to the Death Eaters fighting off the Inferi in suffocating darkness. Blind though he was himself, Harry could not close his ears to the screaming, and the sounds of ripping and tearing sent an electric current through his body. He fumbled for his wand.
“
Lumos!” he thought with all his might, but as he had feared, his wand could not light. The blackness was as oppressive as the Inferi’s stench “ utterly inescapable and so thick that Harry fought to keep from choking as he imagined it traveling down his throat and filling him with shadow. He simply had not realized how potent Instant Darkness actually was, and he found himself suddenly rattled and claustrophobic as though he were back in the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive hiding from Dudley.
“
Incendium!” he shouted desperately.
Harry felt a hand feel its way to his wrist to lower his wand. “It’s not going to work,” said Ginny in a quivering voice beside him. “Nothing can penetrate the darkness until the powder wears off!”
“Right, ‘cause things weren’t complicated enough,” muttered Harry as he stowed his wand and tried to find the tunnel wall with his foot. “Hermione, we could sure use another brilliant idea right about now…”
“Harry… I-I think we need to get Hermione out of here,” Ron interjected. He sounded frightened, and with good cause. Hermione had become unnaturally quiet, her breathing came fast and hard, and memories came hurtling back to Harry of the cave and their battle with Nagini. None of them would ever forget their last experience with the Inferi when their trio was almost reduced to two. It was the night they almost lost Hermione.
“Easy, Hermione,” Harry tried to say soothingly, “you’ll make yourself faint.”
“No,” came Hermione’s breathy voice. “I-I’m fine…”
Before Harry could respond, Hagrid’s voice boomed through the pileup behind them. “Harry! Are yeh all right down there?”
“Hagrid, we’re okay, but you need to clear away the rubble!” yelled Harry urgently. “Hurry!
“Why don’t we just apparate out?” asked Ron incredulously.
Harry paused. “Because it’s not a matter of getting out.” His thoughts returning to his earlier conference with Malfoy, Harry knew that the Inferi would travel quickly throughout the Underground network unless something was done to prevent it. Before them, the Death Eaters were fighting a losing battle, and as empty as Harry felt to think it, they were at least buying them time, albeit not much. “Unless we stop them, the Inferi will spread through the tunnels,” said Harry resolutely. “If Hagrid can break through the rubble, maybe I can clear some of the powder out.”
“Are you seriously suggesting that we stick around and fight and Inferi army?!” cried Ron. “We can’t even see them!”
“I didn’t ask you to ‘stick around’!”
There was another howl; it sounded close. Harry heard someone slump to the ground and didn’t need to guess who it was.
“Ron, get Hermione out of here and help Hagrid clear the stairs!” he ordered. “I’ll stay and try to do the same from this end, okay?”
“Oh, bloody, bloody hell,” muttered Ron to himself. There was some shuffling and a low grunt from Ron as though he were hoisting something heavy onto his back. “Up we go,” he said shakily to Hermione before his voice turned in Harry’s direction. “We’ll get through as fast as we can, Harry!”
Just then, Harry felt something slide against the toe of his shoe and realized he was standing precariously close to the edge of the landing. The Inferi were just below them now.
“Just go!” he cried, jumping back towards the wall.
There was a loud CRACK, and Harry knew that Ron and Hermione had left him. He had almost forgotten that he wasn’t quite alone yet when he heard another pair of feet shuffling nervously beside him.
“Ginny, you too!” he called out.
“No!” she yelled. “Someone has to stay!”
“Hermione’s passed out and Ron’s helping Hagrid “ you’d be more useful if you go and see if there’s anything up there we can use against the Inferi!”
“Weren’t you the one who said we should never abandon our partner?” she snapped. “We’ll all be plenty useless if you die down here because you had to play hero all by yourself!”
Despite a strong impulse to Side-Along Apparate Ginny out against her will, Harry knew better than to test her stubborn constitution. Gritting his teeth, he muttered, “Fine! Then, help me!” He found her hand and pulled her along the wall to the debris-laden stairs and together they tacked the wreckage, blindly yanking at the slabs of ceiling with all their might.
As the sounds of struggle behind them slowly faded, it occurred to Harry that the Death Eaters were already either dead or dying, and he forced from his mind the hollow fear of what would happen once there were no more Death Eaters for the Inferi to prey upon. In that moment, as they grappled with hunks of plaster and steel, their palms growing raw as they moved over sharp ruins, Harry longed to see Ginny’s face. Perhaps then he could share in that bottomless wellspring of bravery she seemed to carry with her at all times. If only he could look at her…
“What the-?” Suddenly, Harry felt something frigid and slimy travel up his ankle. His skin crawling, Harry violently kicked his foot out, wrenching it free from the voracious fingers. “Ginny, they’re climbing up onto the landing!” he shouted, and cast several curses blindly into the space behind them.
“HARRY!” she screamed, and he felt her hand seize his shoulder and jerk him roughly back towards the tracks. His arm bruising beneath Ginny’s painful grip, Harry knew one of the Inferi had gotten a hold of her.
“Don’t let go!” he hollered, grabbing her wrist and and pulling back. With his free hand, he tried to aim his wand somewhere where he prayed Ginny was not. “
Petrificus Totalis!” he thought fiercely, feeling the surge of energy spring from his fingers into the wand. There was a faint gasp and Ginny’s grip relaxed.
Oh, God, I’ve hit her. “Ginny, speak to me!” he yelled.
Hearing her groan unintelligibly, Harry felt the brace around his lungs loosen. “Thanks for that,” she gasped painfully.
“Are you okay? Did it hurt you?” he asked frantically.
“I’m fine…” Harry thought he heard her breath hitch as though something had stung her, but she quickly said, “Come on, there’s no time!” and tugged him forcibly back towards the stairs so that they could continue in their efforts to clear them. Behind them, Harry could hear the Inferi growling and groaning as they slipped over one another to climb onto the platform after them. He prayed that Hagrid and Ron were making better progress above.
Just then, something heavy knocked into him, throwing him face first against a steel girder. Fingernails like claws dug into his shield cloak, but to Harry’s relief they could not penetrate through it. Just when he thought he might faint from the Inferius’ rank odor, he felt a frigid hand grab onto the chain of his locket. His tongue coated in the metallic tang of blood, Harry might have wretched were it not for the desperation that had canceled every other sensation. The Inferius was strangling him.
“Harry, say something! I can’t see you!” cried Ginny.
But he could not respond. The chain was cutting into his neck - he could not breathe “ and he felt sudden anguish overtake him upon realizing what he had to do to survive. Cursing whatever powers that had brought him to that moment, he curled his fingers around the fake Horcrux and yanked the chain off his neck, breaking it. The Inferius quickly lost its grip and swiped at Harry’s arm, and to Harry’s utmost distress, the locket was knocked from his hand. He listened in misery as it clinked against the ground, further and further away, until the sound stopped, and the locket “ his last tie to Dumbledore “ was lost forever to the darkness.
“
Petrificuls Totalis!” cried Ginny, and the Inferius went stiff as a board.
With a loud grunt, Harry flipped onto his back and kicked the petrified body off of him, panting loudly and bringing his hand to his neck to make doubly sure the chain was gone. Indeed, its familiar weight was missing, and the vacant spot beneath his collar left him feeling more vulnerable than ever. For a split second, he considered trying to retrieve it before he heard Ginny’s soft voice squelch his desperation.
“Harry?” she said tearfully.
“I’m all right,” he answered in a raspy voice, trying not to hate himself for sacrificing the locket to the hands of the Inferi. Just then, before he could speak again, he felt yet another cold, clammy hand grab his wrist. Harry automatically flung out his wand, but to his astonishment, there was a loud noise that let him know his spell had been intercepted. Had one of the Death Eaters survived?
“Get a grip, Potter!”
It wasn’t possible…
“Malfoy?” Harry panted.
“Malfoy?!” echoed Ginny.
“In the flesh.” Harry heard the whistle of a curse soar over him and something like a sack of potatoes dropping to the floor. “Grab hold of this,” said Malfoy, and Harry felt him thrust something into his open palm.
Suddenly, as though someone had flipped on a switch, the entire tunnel was resplendent in white light, and Harry shielded his eyes against the glare. When his eyes had finally adjusted, he looked down and saw that he was now holding a twisted knobbly hand with a small, lit candle in its wrinkled palm. It was the Hand of Glory.
Malfoy still held onto one of the withered fingers but could not seem to look Harry in the face. “We’re square now,” he muttered sourly under his breath, and with eyes wide, Harry stared at his archnemesis as though he didn’t recognize him at all. Malfoy motioned to the tracks; a hoard of animate corpses was clawing at the landing, scaling up the sides of the wall on the backs of dead Death Eaters, who now lay in mangled heaps against the side of the track. Quickly surveying their surroundings, Harry noticed that the ground and tunnel walls were slick and dripping from when they had sprayed the Death Eaters with water, and the puddles were tinged red.
“Harry, what’s happening? Where are you?”
He turned to Ginny, who stared blindly past him, groping frantically in the air for his hand. Harry could now see that her leg had been scratched and bloodied.
“Ginny, you’re hurt!” he cried.
“Forget it, it’s nothing,” she asserted, throwing her shield cloak over the wound. “What the hell is Malfoy doing here?”
“Last I checked, I was saving your arses!” yelled Malfoy indignantly as he immobilized another Inferius trying to climb up onto the landing, but two more clambered up in its place. Nothing any of them did seemed to be enough to hold them off. Their decrepit hands would soon be upon them, dragging them off to be devoured or destroyed or whatever it was the Inferi did under Voldemort’s control, and in that moment of supreme terror… Harry thought of Dumbledore.
We need fire.“Ginny, listen to me,” Harry said sternly. “You need to Apparate out.”
“No, I won’t-“
“Hear me out! There must be some storage room or utility closet somewhere upstairs. Look for something flammable “ paint, turpentine, anything” he declared. “We need to incinerate the Inferi. It’s the only way to destroy them.”
Ginny looked as though she were suffering from some sort of internal struggle. “But-“
“But nothing!” he interrupted. “I won’t be alone down here, okay?” he added, casting a half-hearted glance in Malfoy’s direction.
“Forgive me if I’m not exactly relieved at the idea of leaving you down here with that two-faced rodent!” exclaimed Ginny. “You don’t actually trust him, do you?”
“You know, I’m starting to resent your ingratitude, Weasley!” Malfoy interjected angrily.
“Ingratitude!” Ginny shouted scornfully. “You’re lucky I don’t hex you into oblivion for what you did to Dumbledore and for nearly getting my brother killed last year!” Malfoy’s face blanched.
“ENOUGH!” bellowed Harry, and he swiped his hand through the air in time to send an Inferius stumbling off the ledge. “Ginny, you’ve got to do this for me!” Harry said, grabbing her arm and bringing her to her feet. Like a tide of red death, the Inferi were rising above the platform, and to Harry’s right and left, vacant glacial eyes stared him down, their shredded rags stained the same bloody crimson as their bony fingers. With unforeseen dexterity, several more leapt onto the landing.
“
Please.”
Still blind in the dark, she found his face with her hands. “All right,” she whispered resignedly, her unseeing eyes watering. “Just… don’t die down here, okay?”
Harry swallowed hard. “Okay.”
And with a POP, Ginny vanished.
“
Impedimenta! Incarcerous!” cried Malfoy as the Inferi drew nearer. Harry knew from personal experience that no spell could hold them for any extended duration of time unless it involved fire. The little candle in the mangled hand was flickering brightly; if only he knew how this Hand of Glory actually worked. Suddenly, Harry was struck with an idea.
Experimentally, he stuck his wand out in front of him and concentrated. “
Lumos,” he thought, and miraculously, his wand lit up before him.
“Oh, that’s a brilliant idea! Why didn’t I think of that?” snapped Malfoy sarcastically, tugging on the Hand as he kicked a particularly tall Inferius off the ledge. “Just shine a bit of light in their eyes - I’m sure
that’ll do the trick!”
“Shut up, will you? I know what I’m doing!” Harry retorted. “If you want to get out of here alive, do us both a favor and cover me for a second….” Nervously reaching for the locket that no longer hung from his neck, he knew exactly which spell they needed, but his mastery over it was faulty; he had only performed it successfully once, and it demanded a degree of concentration that he wasn’t sure he could recreate with an Inferi army clawing at his feet. Breathing hard, he thrust his wand out in front of him and closed his eyes. “
Orbis Incendium,” he thought as hard as he could.
The tip of his wand threw out a spurt of flame that quickly died in a puff of orange smoke. Harry cursed under his breath and tried again.
“
Orbis… Incendium…”
This time, a long tendril of fire emerged from the end of his wand like a brilliant burning rope, flickering and spluttering in the air as the cluster of Inferi just below him began to cower and back away. But Harry simply could not maintain it “ the fire began to falter and quiver before it extinguished completely “ and to his dismay, they returned to scaling the wall as if nothing had happened at all. How on earth had he made it work before?
Suddenly the sound of falling rocks brought his machinations to a halt. Feeling the first real glimmer of hope since the DA had arrived earlier, Harry’s heart leapt at the thought that Hagrid and Ron must be breaking through the rubble at last.
“Hagrid! Ron! Is that you?”
“Harry, if you can hear me, stand back!” came Ron’s voice.
Just then, Harry felt tremors rippling through the ground beneath his feet, large chunks of rock and metal began to tumble downwards into the pit below, and Harry recognized the sound of Hagrid’s strained voice above him. He was going to push through the wreckage.
“
Incarcerous!” yelled Harry at the Inferi cluster to their left, the ropes causing them to fall into each other and topple over, and grabbing Malfoy by the sleeve, he sped them away from the staircase.
With a great yell, Hagrid burst through the rubble, kicking a path down the stairs as he went and sending debris flying out into the tunnel. Ron gingerly skipped down the stairs behind him; he had stripped off his shield cloak, and immediately went about using it to fan out the Instant Darkness powder.
“Harry, I can’ see a bleedin’ thing! Are yeh all righ’?” called Hagrid, squinting and waving his hands over his face as if someone had placed a hood over his eyes.
Harry petrified another Inferius at his feet. “We’re over here!” he called back, but no sooner had the words left his mouth than Harry saw a pair of pale arms snake around Hagrid’s ankle.
“No!” he cried, and impulsively fired a curse at the Inferius and missed. To his extreme horror, it yanked Hagrid’s foot out from under him and his great hulking mass fell forward into the rapacious arms of the Inferi.
It was all he needed. Overtaken by an incredible heat that sprang from the middle of his chest, Harry tore the Hand of Glory away from Malfoy and thrust his wand into the air. An inner voice seared through the tumult in his mind like a burning ember. “
ORBIS INCENDIUM!” Harry thought with every ounce of his being.
There was an enormous gust of hot wind. From the end of his wand, a large rope of flame sprang forth and like a whip, it soared over and around the tunnel in a great ring of fire, spinning in the air like a tremendous lasso. In total confusion and disarray, the Inferi released Hagrid’s bruised form, scrambling into one another and tearing at the walls with their skeletal hands for a way out. Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry forced the ring to widen until the entire undead throng was contained within it, trapped in the blaze.
Ron’s voice sounded over the rushing wind. “Harry! I can see it!” he cried exultantly. “The powder must be clearing out!”
But Harry could not address Ron’s comment. Sweat pouring down his face, it seemed to demand every ounce of focus to maintain the spell. The sweltering heat was all over Harry’s body now “ behind his eyes and in his ears “ and as it funneled into his wand, he felt his palm begin to burn. Dumbledore had made it look so easy, even after he’d been weakened by Voldemort’s toxic potion, he thought scathingly to himself. Harry quickly shook the thought from his mind.
“Hagrid,” he gasped, his jaw clenched, but it seemed he could not force another word from his mouth. The lasso was beginning to flicker.
“Don’ worry ‘bout me! I’m all righ’….” responded Hagrid weakly. “Just keep doin’ what yer doin’!” Prying his eyes open, Harry saw him crawl beneath the blazing ring to safety, but it spun and sparked so close to the platform that Hagrid could not climb back out. Meanwhile, Malfoy stood ill-looking and useless beside Harry, pinned against the wall in fear.
“I… can’t… hold it…” Harry groaned.
“Yes, you can!” shouted another voice. It was Hermione, Ginny was beside her, and they descended the staircase levitating three barrel-sized paint buckets and a spray-can. Leaning slightly on Ginny, Hermione looked pale but revived, while Ginny stood gaping in wonderment at the scene before her.
“Remember what I told you, Harry,” yelled Hermione. “Harness it but don’t let it consume you!”
“The paint…” gasped Harry, too distracted to follow her advice, “just throw… the paint…”
In an instant, Ron had charmed the lids off of each paint can, and distributing the buckets between them, all three of them edged along the wall towards Harry and away from the stairs where the ring of fire could not burn them, levitating the paint out in front of them. It seemed to take them an eternity to finally reach him.
“On three,” said Ron. “One…”
The flame sputtered. “THREE!” howled Harry.
The next second, the fire died in midair and Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sent the paint flying out of the buckets, coating themselves, the Inferi and everything around them in a pasty beige lacquer. As though the distance between the track and the landing was no higher than a small hurdle, Hagrid took the opportunity to jump back onto the platform beside Harry, who had found himself unexpectedly weak and winded and covered in paint. Once more, he raised his wand in an effort to conjure fire, but it seemed he had lost the self-possession to do it.
"Ginny... just like I showed you," yelled Hermione. "Do it now!"
Just then, Ginny quickly cocked her wand upright and sprayed the aerosol can across its tip. “
Incendium!” she shouted and converting her wand to a flamethrower, the spray projected the fire directly onto the heads of several Inferi, instantly setting them ablaze. Like insects, they scuttled and crawled over each other to escape, but the more they fought to flee, the quicker the fire spread amongst them, until they were barely visible through the great conflagration.
A black foul-smelling smoke began to rise. Hagrid, being the tallest of them all, fell into a coughing fit, and tried unsuccessfully to duck beneath the dark cloud overhead that was growing ever thicker by the second.
“Hagrid, get up the stairs before you suffocate!” cried Hermione.
“I’m not leavin’ ‘less yer comin’ with me!” choked Hagrid. The flames were quickly growing, towering over their heads, charring the roof of the tunnel and creeping across the ceiling towards the stairs, where a faint breeze kindled the blaze. Sparks began to fly out, and in a sudden burst of heat, a ball of fire erupted on the steps where the paint had splattered.
“We can Apparate out after you,” Harry argued, somewhat revived. Turning to his friends, he added, “come on, let’s clear his path!”
They all raised their wands and cried in unison, “
Aguamenti!” and four arches of water fell gently upon the stairs, extinguishing the flames with rush of steam. A cool draft flew back at them, and Harry expelled a long breath as he felt it move over him. It was then that he became aware of the strange feeling that had been slowly infiltrating his system since the moment he freed Ginny and himself from Voldemort’s grasp earlier that night. He could not call it weariness because he was not tired, nor was it painful, but it weighed on him like an added load nonetheless. It made him feel at odds with himself, as though somewhere throughout the course of events that night he had split into two Harrys and one could not keep up with the other. The more he thought about it, the more it worried him, and he resolved to think on the subject no longer.
“Go on, Hagrid,” he said. “We’ll be right behind you.”
Hagrid looked back at Harry and cast him a bittersweet smile. “Dumbledore’d be proud,” he said gruffly. “Yeh know that, don’t yeh, Harry?” Harry sighed and nodded silently. With that, Hagrid ran up the stairs, taking it several steps at time until he disappeared from view.
They put out their wands and gazed into the track, where the Inferi crawled sluggishly about, their flesh no longer an ashen white, but a crispy black. It was an eerie and sinister sight that made Harry’s stomach lurch when he reminded himself that they had at one time been alive.
“Well, it’s been fun, but I’m leaving now,” said Malfoy skittishly from his spot against the wall. Everyone spun around to look at him.
"Blimey, how the hell did you get here?” Ron exclaimed in surprise.
"There's another way in than the stairs,
Weaslehead." Ron turned bright scarlet. "What's it to you?"
“Well, if I'd've known you might be coming I would've brought my Sneakoscope!”
Malfoy leered at him arrogantly. “I’ll have to correct my mother after this. She seems to think that the disadvantaged are more apt to be grateful!”
“Oh, I’ll show you ‘disadvantaged’,” Ron shouted hotly, tossing his shield cloak to the ground and advancing on Malfoy with both fists in the air. Hermione and Ginny both grabbed one of Ron’s arms as Harry quickly stepped between them.
“You two had better pipe down,” said Harry and turning to Malfoy he added caustically, “especially
you. Another word about the Weasleys and I’ll jinx you!”
“What’s he got to be so smug about anyway?” said Ron, wringing his arms free.
Looking startled, Hermione reached over and took the Hand of Glory from Harry. “This,” she murmured disbelieving, handing it to Ron, who seemed to recognize it instantly. Turning to Malfoy, she said, “You knew they were coming… You… you helped Harry, didn’t you?”
Malfoy screwed up his face as though she had just insulted him, and for a moment Harry was sure 'mudblood' would be the next word out of Malfoy's mouth, but he instead refrained from speaking altogether. Now that Hermione had put the situation into words, even Harry could not seem to bring himself to talk about it.
“It was only fair, wasn’t it,” commented Ginny, “for what Harry did for him.”
Harry felt himself turn beet red.
“Okay, just shut up about it,” Malfoy snapped. “Can we go now?”
Harry stared piercingly into the trench in the faint hope he might miraculously see the locket below, but there was no such luck. The one token of his mission was gone. Coming back to himself, he glanced sideways at Malfoy, retrieved the Hand from Ron and tossed it to him. “You can leave. No one’s keeping you.”
For a brief moment, no one said anything; Malfoy stood guiltily before them. He had done a good deed, but whether it was enough to absolve him of the tragedy he had helped to inflict upon Hogwarts was yet to be determined. Harry certainly wasn’t ready to let the issue drop so easily.
Finally, Malfoy let out a gust of air. “Follow me,” he said curtly. “There’s something I know you’ll want to see.” He turned away from them and began to walk further into the tunnel, away from the stairs.
"Harry, didn't we say we'd follow Hagrid?" Ron insisted.
"Well, yeah, but-"
"Are you lot coming or not?" Malfoy called back to them.
Exchanging dubious glances with his friends, Harry followed; Ron, Hermione, and Ginny trailed close behind. The smoldering flames behind them could not light their way for more than a few yards, and as they lit their wands and went further and further along the tunnel, Harry began to suspect Malfoy’s intentions. It wasn’t until they stopped in front of an elevator that Harry decided to air his concerns.
“Malfoy… why have you taken us to the lift?”
“Because I thought we’d all enjoy a nice stroll,” Malfoy spat sardonically. “Get in. We’re going to the upper platform.”
“But the battle-“ began Ginny.
“The
other platform.”
Hesitantly, they filed into the elevator, sharing a communal sense of impending doom as the sliding doors closed. No one said a word as it rose to the upper level, and as the bell chimed to signal their arrival to the platform, Harry moved toward the doors, but Malfoy quickly walked in front him, blocking his way.
“No sudden moves,” he muttered. “Your friend isn’t quite… himself.”
Just then, the doors glided open and Harry’s jaw fell at the sight before them.
There in a pool of moonlight lay a familiar wooly figure, though scars and bleeding wounds had made it barely recognizable. A low growling rumble issued from its chest, which rose and fell in quick shallow spurts, and one of its legs was twitching painfully. Steam rose from its nostrils in the chilled air.
Hermione’s hands flew to her mouth. “Lupin!” she gasped.
Slowly and quietly, they approached his body, careful not to make any moves that would throw Lupin into violent distress. Harry’s heart felt fit to burst as he gazed upon his broken figure, disfigured and animal though it was, and turning to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, he saw that they shared in his grief.
Ginny seemed to read his mind. “He won’t die, Harry,” she said softly.
Harry blinked at her.
"Ginny's right. In this form, Lupin is virtually indestructible,” Hermione explained. “The only thing that can kill a werewolf is-“
Malfoy cut her off. “Silver.”
Startled, Hermione whipped her head around to look at him. For a moment, everyone forgot to breathe in their common astonishment. Harry stepped back and stopped about a foot from where Malfoy stood. "What did you say?" he asked quietly.
Malfoy glared at him, and his voice full of loathing, he answered, "I said... silver."
"You came up with that answer awfully fast," remarked Harry in a low voice.
"What of it? Doesn't mean anything," he snapped. Harry noticed that Malfoy's eyes couldn't seem to stay on Harry's face for more than a fraction of a second at a time. The next instant Malfoy was turning back towards the elevator, and Harry quickly caught him by the shirt and spun him around.
"Then how do you know?" asked Harry, his penetrating gaze fixed on Malfoy's sallow face.
Perspiration began to form on Malfoy's forehead and he suddenly looked distinctly like a cornered animal. "Sod off, Potter."
Harry needed no other answer. He looked down at the black band around Malfoy's arm and then at Malfoy's sickly face. His eyes went wide, thunderstruck at the prospect of having his suspicions confirmed while simultaneously hoping that he was wrong. "Take off that band, Malfoy."
"I said,
sod off!"
"As far as we're all concerned, the Dark Mark is under there. If that's true, then you have nothing to hide that we don't already know about," Harry asserted.
Just then, Ginny joined Harry’s side and thrust her wand under Malfoy’s chin. "Take it off unless you want me to bat-bogey you into the next millennium," snarled Ginny.
Malfoy glared at Harry through the narrow slits of his eyes and begrudgingly undid the black bandage, angrily tearing it off of his arm. Casting it on the floor, he threw his forearm into Harry's face, his chest heaving with fury. "There! Take a nice long look, then!" Malfoy growled, seeming to loathe Harry with every fiber of his being.
"Bloody Hell," whispered Ron in horror. Malfoy’s arm was unbelievably scarred; teeth marks lined his skin all the way up to the crook of his elbow, and the wound looked as raw as if he had been attacked yesterday.
Harry stared at him, utterly astonished and appalled. "It was Greyback, then. He bit you," he murmured, filled with uncomfortable pity and guilt. "You're a werewolf too, that's why you've looked so ill!"
“But… how are you not transformed?” whispered Ginny incredulously.
“Snape must have made him Wolfsbane potion," Harry answered slowly.
"You're half-right," said Hermione. "The potion would have cured his werewolf temperament. But Snape must have used the Homorphus Spell to keep him in human form." Everyone looked at her quizzically and, clearing her throat nervously, she added, "Gilderoy Lockhart wrote about it in
Year With the Yeti." Ron rolled his eyes.
Malfoy lowered his arm and roughly covered it with the sleeve of his cloak. For a moment, he looked like he was going to cry. "I hate you," he muttered, staring fiercely into Harry's face.
Harry stiffened at the ire in Malfoy's voice. In a matter of minutes, their rivalry took on a significance deeper than what their petty differences had ever indicated before. In Malfoy's mind, Harry at once represented everything he was not while also being the cruel reminder of what he might have become if not for the choices he made in foolhardy arrogance. And now, Harry had exposed him. For a moment, he understood every ounce of cruelty Malfoy had cast his way since the day they were sorted into houses at Hogwarts. "How did it happen?" murmured Harry.
"I don't have to tell you anything!"
Harry nodded resignedly. “You're right," he agreed apologetically. “It doesn’t matter.”
Staring at Harry mutely, it seemed Malfoy had not expected him to drop the matter so quickly. As Harry turned away from him, Malfoy muttered, "It was before sixth year.”
Harry stopped and looked back.
“Greyback said... he said it would make me invicible," remarked Malfoy despondently. "It wasn't till my aunt tried to do me in with a silver dagger that I found out how wrong he was. Lucky for me that you used that 'Sectumsempra' curse on me last year, Potter," he added bitterly. "If I hadn't learned it myself, she'd have finished me off."
"Wait... THAT'S how Bellatrix knows the curse?"
A low snarling growl interrupted their discourse. They all froze. Harry backed away from Lupin as if he would spring up off the ground and tear them all to shreds, but looking down, he saw that his body had not moved. As a matter of fact, he seemed to be injured worse than they had previously anticipated.
“Hang on…” whispered Harry. Just then, his gaze lifted off the ground and fell upon a set of glowing red eyes in the distance. Out of the shadows came an enormous four-legged creature, and Harry knew instantly who it was. Its fur was mottled and patchy, but the silvery bristle along its back gave him an appearance that matched his name. As he had done when first laying eyes upon Harry earlier that night, Greyback hungrily ran his long tongue over his yellow fangs. He poised himself for attack.
“Everyone…” whispered Ron in terror, “…get back into the lift!”
They took several tenative steps backward. And Greyback charged.
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Malfoy burst into a sprint towards the elevator, but though Harry followed close behind, he quickly skidded to a stop. “What about Lupin?” he cried, turning back.
"Greyback's not after Lupin!” shouted Ron, reaching back and seizing Harry by the arm. “Come ON!”
Harry reluctantly ran behind Ron, his head turning back every several paces to watch as Greyback advanced upon them, howling and barking savagely after them.
“He's gaining!” shouted Malfoy.
No one thought to check their momentum as they all slid into the elevator, tumbling into one another and falling to the ground. Harry climbed over the heap of wriggling bodies to strike any button that would close the doors. He slammed his fist into keypad… but the doors would not close.
“Hurry up, Harry!” cried Ron.
“I
am hurrying!” Harry shouted, pounding repeatedly on the buttons.
“Harry, he’s coming!” shrieked Ginny.
"Out of the way!" Hermione lunged forward and roughly shoved Harry away from the doors. But just as she raised her wand, a dark withered figure of a man stepped into view between them and Lupin’s body. He turned and looked directly at Harry.
Harry’s heart leapt into his throat. “
Hermione, wait!”
“
COLLOPORTUS!” she shouted.
With a squelching crash, the sliding doors closed upon Wormtail’s icy gaze.
Some stuff that needs explaining - remember when I said that Nagini died in the cave, dragged underwater by the Inferi? Yeah, some bad stuff happened to Hermione that night. It's gonna make an awesome prequel - especially since it's also the story of Ron and Hermione's romantic union (whoopee!).
ALSO, the drastic plot turn where we discover that Malfoy is a werewolf was inspired by this mugglenet editorial. I couldn't help but be intrigued - it's possible, isn't it? We'll also find out a bit more about why Malfoy decided to come back to help in Chapter Ten, so hold onto that criticism as well.
FINALLY, please refrain from telling me that JKR has dispelled the rumor that Lupin will be killed by Wormtail's silver hand. Let it suffice to say that I know. *wink* Don't jump to conclusions until Chapter Ten! Cheers and HAPPY NEW YEAR!
Chapter Ten: Debts Repaid by Mudblood428
A/N: HUGE chapter ahead. This is also the last chapter before Harry and Voldemort’s showdown :-D. There are a lot of plotlines getting wrapped up here, but I hope it all goes down easy :). Enjoy!CHAPTER TEN: Debts Repaid
Greyback's grating howls grew ever nearer beyond the doors. Amidst the uproar, Harry heard a muffled voice speak softly in a tone almost inhuman and, filled with incomparable dread, knew instantly that it belonged to Wormtail as it murmured, "Remus..."
"NO!"
Harry was lunging at the elevator doors when he felt two sets of arms seize him around the chest and yank him backwards.
"Harry, what are you doing!" gasped Hermione as she and Ron threw all of their weight into restraining him.
“Let go of me!" he hollered, thrashing against their grip. "I have to go back! It’s Lupin! He’ll kill him!"
"What are you talking about?" Ron yelled.
"Pettigrew is out there! His hand-" Harry pried Hermione's arms off of him. "His hand's made of silver!"
Not a second later, something the size of a small boulder drove into the sliding doors with a force that dented them inward, thick claws scraping and tearing at the groaning metal. The doors growing ever weaker as Greyback pounded relentlessly against them, it seemed the werewolf would surely burst through and feast on their bones. Harry barely let himself notice it.
“Get off!”
"Harry, you’ll get yourself killed! Maybe Lupin won't die if you go out there, but you
will!" grunted Ron as he wrestled vehemently against Harry's attempt to liberate himself, evidently unprepared for the sheer force with which Harry fought him.
But Harry was out of even his own control. He was beyond containing the violent desperation that had possessed him as he imagined what would happen if he failed to protect the last of his father's loyal friends. At that moment, painful whimpering and the sound of nails scraping against tile interrupted the barking outside the door, and above the tumult in his head, Harry heard himself repeating the words, "not him... not him too...."
“Two sandwiches short of a picnic,” muttered Malfoy, scooting anxiouslyout of the way as Ron threw Harry back against the elevator wall. Ginny glared at Malfoy's pale face as though nothing would make her happier than to beat him to a pulp.
Suddenly, all four of them froze. Beyond the sliding doors came an anguished howl followed by the sound of something heaving violently against the sliding doors and then silence. Straining to hear any indication of what had just happened, no one dared to speak.
It was a tremendous opportunity. This time, Ron momentarily forgot to hold Harry back when he leapt toward the exit.
“
Alohamora!” Harry cried, and prying the doors apart with his hands, he stumbled out of Ron and Hermione’s reach, tripping onto the platform. Without thinking, Harry dove backward striking the ‘down’-button of the elevator with the back of his fist, and the dented doors squeezed shut behind him, the loud creak drowning his friends’ frantic protests.
Alone once again, Harry spun back around and stopped cold. There before his feet lay not Greyback the werewolf, but Greyback the man. Repulsed at the sight before him, Harry knelt down to inspect the body. Fenrir’s face was frozen in a vicious grimace, and lodged deeply into his chest was a silver blood-tainted object roughly the size of Harry’s hand. The werewolf was dead.
Suddenly, Harry heard quiet sniffling and whimpering several yards ahead of him, and looking up, he saw a broken figure kneeling close to where Lupin lay, still miraculously alive. It was Peter Pettigrew. Disbelieving his own eyes, Harry stepped over Greyback’s body and approached Wormtail slowly and noiselessly, holding his wand at the ready with both hands.
“Remus... my old friend,” whispered Pettigrew in a quivering voice. “My debt... my debt is repaid....”
Harry stopped in his tracks.
“I saved the boy.... Surely that should have been enough....”
Just then, Wormtail’s voice broke off and sensing Harry’s presence, he cast an oddly lonely glance in Harry’s direction, a dull glimmer in his tear-filled eyes. His right arm, now missing the silver hand once bestowed upon him by Voldemort himself, was tucked beneath his cloak. Harry stood frozen to the spot, his wand now aimed at Pettigrew’s heart.
Slowly, Pettigrew got to his feet. Blood seeping into his sleeve and cloak, he staggered several steps in Harry’s direction, teetering on his feet as he approached. Harry backed away in alarm, his mind racing to comprehend what had just happened.
“Harry P-Potter.” Wormtail spoke in a voice fraught with a pitiable meekness. “I must tell you.... You must know... before day breaks, he will return,” he murmured.
“What? What are you talking about?” asked Harry, taking a step back.
“The Dark Lord,” he whispered looking fretfully about him as he drew nearer as though the walls were eavesdropping on them. “Before daybreak, he will return. He means to kill you, Harry-“
Harry tightened his grip on his wand. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Harry, he brings with him a relic...” Wormtail stumbled forward.
“Don’t come any closer!” yelled Harry, his blood pounding in his ears. “What relic?”
Wormtail shook his head sorrowfully. “He means to finish what he started sixteen years ago,” he whispered, shaking from head to foot. “He will return with a relic.... It is precious to him.... You must leave this place!”
Suddenly, Harry understood what Pettigrew was struggling to say. “You mean,” he began slowly, “Voldemort means to make a Horcrux from my death… And now he’s found a vessel…”
"Escape, Harry! Save yourself as you once saved me!"
Harry shook his head, half-stunned. "I have to stay. I don't have a choice..."
For a moment, Pettigrew said nothing, but then, to Harry’s utmost astonishment, Wormtail buried his face in his hand and sank to his knees at Harry’s feet, sobbing pathetically like a child. “Oh, James… Lily…. What have I done? What have I done?” he wailed. “No mercy… there’ll be no mercy for me! Betrayed you and served your only son to the Dark Lord… all to save my own wretched skin, and what for? For you to haunt my waking dreams and torture me even in death-“
“Stop it-“ yelled Harry.
“For the boy to look hatefully on me with Lily’s eyes!”
“
I said, stop!”
“How I wish now that it had been
me who had died!” shrieked Wormtail in misery. Lunging forward, he gripped the edge of Harry’s cloak and looked up at him with supplicating eyes. “You’re the only one… the only one who can absolve me of my crimes now! Forgive me, Harry… or else, kill me!” To Harry’s horror, Pettigrew grabbed Harry’s hand and aimed the wand at his own throat.
“That will be enough, Wormtail.”
Both Harry and Pettigrew jumped at the sound of the new voice.
“Severus…”
Out from the shadows walked Snape. His jaw was firmly set and he glared at Wormtail with palpable loathing. “I think you’ve said enough,” he repeated coldly.
Switching his pleading gaze from Harry to Snape, Pettigrew began to tremble and stutter. “P-please, Severus! The Dark Lord… he-he’ll feed me to the Dementors if he knew what I’ve done!”
“Still trying to save your own skin! Old habits die hard, don’t they Peter?” Snape sneered. “You are a coward and a traitor. There’ll be no Dementors waiting for the likes of you. Whatever retribution awaits you, Voldemort will let it fall swift upon you, of that you may be sure!”
“No, he won’t,” said Harry quietly.
Falling silent, both Snape and Pettigrew turned to look quizzically at Harry.
“He won’t lay a finger on you,” he continued in a cold, embittered voice.
Harry walked between them and stood rigidly over Pettigrew’s cowering form. “You betrayed my parents and they were murdered for it. It’s because of you that Voldemort came back. Hundreds of people are dead all because
you were afraid to die,” asserted Harry. He snorted cynically. “And now you ask me for forgiveness or else I should kill you! After everything you've done, Pettigrew… I should
destroy you. I’d have liked nothing better than to see you in the ground at Godric’s Hollow instead of my parents.”
Snape strode towards him. “Potter, you do not-“
“I’ll deal with you in a moment!” Harry snapped at him before turning his gaze back on Wormtail. He felt something painful squeeze his chest as he thought of his mother and father. “The thing is… I don't care if you're really sorry,” he murmured in a voice that mirrored the hollowness of his spirit. "I'm not like you."
Wormtail began to weep in anguish.
“You’ll have my forgiveness because you saved me from Greyback and warned me about Voldemort,” said Harry, “and because it’s enough for me to know that being a traitorous
rat is worse sentence than any punishment I could ever hope to conjure. So go on. Run away. Wake up every morning for the rest of your life knowing how many innocent people have died because of you. I hope you never take another breath without being reminded of it!”
He raised his wand at Pettigrew once more.
“Now, get out of here.”
Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, Wormtail said nothing, but crawled away from them on three limbs, shrinking and diminishing as he went until he had transformed into his rodent form. Limping, he disappeared into the gutter, no doubt to join the rest of the rats in the sewers.
“I hope you’re feeling noble,” said Snape, casting Harry a scornful glance once Wormtail had vanished from sight. “You just released a black-hearted criminal.”
Harry turned on Snape, his wand raised. “Sorry, are you referring to Wormtail or yourself?” snarled Harry icily. “You’ll have to clear that up; I’d hate to make the same mistake twice and actually
trust you.”
“Don’t glower at
me, Potter. I’m the best ally you’ve got at the moment.”
“You?” Harry let out a derisive laugh, his eyes narrowing. “You set off the Dark Mark, drawing the entire Death Eater population to Kings Cross, and then you mysteriously disappear leaving us all to fight them or die. With allies like you, who needs enemies?”
“If I hadn’t set the Dark Mark, it would have been you and the Malfoys against a hoard of Death Eaters. The Aurors came because
I drew them here,” remarked Snape, the corners of his mouth tightly drawn in irritation. “Besides, your ‘army’ as you call it has more than made up for the imbalance.”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. He all but completely forgot his ire at the mention of the DA. “You’ve seen Dumbledore’s Army? What’s happened? ” he exclaimed. “What about the Aurors and everyone? Are they all right?”
Snape cast his eyes toward the ground and seemed to struggle with himself for a moment. “It was difficult to see from where I was,” he began. “Suffice it to say that the battle was nearly over and the odds were not in the Death Eaters’ favor.”
“Is anyone… dead?”
Snape said quietly, “People die in wars, Potter. Even young people.”
Feeling as though someone had dropped a hundred-pound weight into the pit of his stomach, Harry did not need Snape to explain what he meant.
With a flourish of his cloak, Snape walked towards Lupin’s body, a small green flask in his hand. Lupin’s breathing suddenly quickened and the low anxious rumble returned to his chest. Kneeling cautiously behind the werewolf’s head, Snape tipped the flask over his jowls, a blue frothy liquid spilling onto his tongue.
“What are you doing to him?” Harry asked, tightening his grip on his wand.
But Snape did not answer. Not a moment later, Lupin’s body began to convulse. He gave a great shudder and fell back, motionless.
“Lupin!” cried Harry.
Snape lifted a hand to quiet him. “Calm yourself; it’s Wolfsbane.” Recapping the flask, Snape got to his feet and aimed his wand at Lupin’s body. “
Homorphus Mutatio!”
Before Harry’s eyes, Lupin changed back into his human shape, the wounds on his body fusing shut and healing leaving behind a host of flaming red scars to memorialize his injuries. The slow rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was indeed alive, if also unconscious. Harry sought another place to direct his eyes as Snape removed his cloak from his shoulders and draped it over Lupin’s body.
“He’ll be unconscious for only an hour, after which time he will wake and be slightly less tame than a lapdog,” muttered Snape as he pushed open Lupin’s eyelids with his thumbs and inspected the pupils diagnostically. “We must get him to the Portkey before then “ it tends to be a rather rude awakening.”
“You know about the Portkey?” inquired Harry.
“Standard procedure,” he said simply, and once he had secured the cloak around Lupin he aimed his wand once more. “
Mobilicorpus.”
Lupin lifted off the ground and Snape jerked his head for Harry to follow him and began to walk back towards the shadowed concourse that led to the main platform, levitating Lupin’s unconscious form in front of him and lighting the path with his wand. Harry walked several paces behind thinking of nothing else but the DA and wondering who among them had survived… and who had not. He balled his trembling hands into fists and pushed them into his pockets.
“You still haven’t told me what to do with the incantation,” said Harry after several moments in silence had passed.
“I don’t see why I have to spoon-feed you everything, Potter. You have the answer already.”
“What? No, I don’t,” countered Harry, irritable and finally at the end of his tolerance of Snape’s cryptic talk. “For someone claiming to be on my side, you could afford to be more helpful-“
Just then, Snape stopped in his tracks and held a hand out, blocking Harry’s path. Somewhere beyond them where the light did not touch, someone one was crying out in pain. It was a sound that Harry knew well; it had sprung from his own mouth earlier that night beneath the light of the Dark Mark. Someone was under the Cruciatus Curse.
Quickly securing Lupin beneath the invisibility cloak behind a nearby wall, Snape and Harry ran in the direction of the noise, careful to tread quietly on the tile floor. It did not take them long to discover the root of the screams as they rounded a corner and found Bellatrix Lestrange torturing Neville Longbottom. Keeping discreetly hidden, they watched her, bruised and bloodied and donned in a stolen shield cloak, taunting Neville riotously as she mercilessly administered the Crutiatus Curse in the cold moonlight.
“Come now, halfwit, aren’t you interested in fighting back?” sneered Bellatrix as she lifted the curse long enough to watch Neville writhe weakly on the floor, blind and feeling around lamely for his wand which lay only inches from his right foot. His shield cloak could not block her attack. “You’re a tad too slow, Longbottom! Too weak and too scared! Not like me! Buried and left to die under metal and stone… and I can
still destroy you like I destroyed your blood traitor parents!” Screaming with wild laughter, Bellatrix aimed again. “
CRUCIO!”
Incensed, Harry instantly leapt forward and drew out his wand, but Snape caught him by the collar of his cloak and yanked him backward.
“Don’t be a righteous fool!” hissed Snape barely above a whisper. “Perhaps you fancy dying before the Dark Lord even arrives, Potter, but if I have anything to say about it, you will stay out of sight! It is out of your hands!”
Harry shook him off, staring at Snape incredulously. “I should’ve known. I should’ve stopped listening to you in my first year!” he hissed back, barely checking his words as they spilled furiously from his lips. “Neville’s my friend and I won’t stand by and let Bellatrix torture him so he can wind up mad in St. Mungo’s like his parents! Maybe if you’d ever
had any friends you’d understand, but then, no one’s ever been worth a damn enough for you to want to save them!”
To Harry’s surprise, Snape raised his wand at him. “
Expelliarmus!”
Harry’s wand went flying out of his hand and he heard Bellatrix’s cutting remarks come to halt. She had heard Snape disarm him.
“Who’s there? Show yourself!” she shouted, turning around and searching the shadows. Pushing Harry roughly out of the way, Snape stepped into the moonlight and met Bellatrix’s gaze. “Well, if it isn’t Severus Snape! Your timing is impeccable, as usual. How convenient for you to show up just when the Death Eaters are on the brink of defeat!” she spat. She swung her wand in Snape’s direction. “No matter. I’ll have your skin if the Dark Lord doesn’t get it first!”
“If you must know, the Dark Lord enlisted my services in a very important task. While you were lying under a rock, I was helping Lord Voldemort.”
Harry’s eyes went wide with shock and confusion.
Bellatrix shook her head distrustfully at Snape. “You’re a liar!” she hissed.
Snape merely laughed at her. “Envy does not become you, Bellatrix,” he sneered. “Nor does that ghastly shield cloak you’re hiding behind. Whoever you stole it from must be sorely missing it by now.”
“I assure you, he’s not,” she said with twisted smile. “He didn’t live long enough to see me take it.”
Neville lay curled in a heap behind her, his chest heaving as he fought to regain his wits. Hidden in the shadows, Harry looked on with an empathetic eye, feeling Neville’s suffering as though it were his own, and he cursed himself for not having interfered when he’d had the chance. He immediately searched the ground for his wand, and falling upon it at last, his heart sank at the realization that it lay at Snape’s feet where he could not retrieve it without being seen.
Meanwhile, Bellatrix was approaching Snape with murderous reproach.
“Tell me then. If you were helping the Dark Lord, where is he now?”
Snape didn’t flinch. “He is gathering the Dementors. They will finish what the Death Eaters couldn’t seem to handle under your faulty leadership.”
“Why, you impudent little-… Wait. What is
that?”
Harry clapped his hand over his mouth to stifle the gasp as he followed her gaze to the spot next to Snape’s foot. Her eyes never leaving Snape’s face, Bellatrix bent down, picked up Harry’s wand, and held it in front of Snape’s nose. “You have your wand… I have mine… Longbottom’s is, for
him, quite out of his reach. Whose might this be?” she murmured, her eyes fixed on Snape's non-plussed expression.
Snape glared at her but did not answer. Harry saw a muscle in his jaw twitch as though he were fighting to restrain himself.
“Whose
is it?” she repeated angrily.
“
That, Bellatrix,” began Snape in a hardened tone, “is the wand of Harry Potter.”
She gasped and snapped her head in Harry’s direction, though the darkness kept him hidden. Neville opened his mouth as if to shout in protest, but could only manage to let out a soft sob.
Snape turned his head towards the shadows and said disdainfully, “Where are your manners, Potter? Come and greet Sirius Black’s cousin.”
Seething anger burning at his eyes, Harry stepped into the light, utterly aware of his own defenselessness and hating Snape with every fiber of his being. He mechanically draped the skirt of his shield cloak over his chest and tried to reign in his thoughts enough to figure out a way to get his wand back and get Neville and himself out of there. He was sure there was a way; if only he could make himself stop thinking of how much better he’d feel if Snape and Bellatrix would do each other in.
“What is the meaning of this?” whispered Bellatrix, aiming one wand at Harry and the other at Snape. Again Snape waited to reply, an act that sent Bellatrix into a raging fury as she screamed, “Explain yourself!”
“Part of Lord Voldemort’s task,” said Snape in a distant voice, “was to find Potter and bring him to the Dark Lord when he arrives. Need I remind you that you are, at the moment,
interfering.”
Her eyes shifted from Snape to Harry and back. “Interfering, am I? How do I know you’re not still Dumbledore’s pet? How do I know Potter here hasn’t become your new charge? Like the Malfoys!” Maintaining her penetrating focus on Snape’s stony glare, she took a swift step toward Harry, at which point Snape promptly stepped between them - an act that startled Harry and Bellatrix both.
“There,” she whispered, a grin spreading on her face. “I knew it!”
“What you think you know is of no interest to me.”
“Well, it should be! You’re a double-dealing traitor!” In mere moments, Bellatrix seemed to grow a foot taller “ her bruised features grew sharper and more grisly as she began to back away from Snape, watching him with unbridled repugnance.
“Tell that to the Dark Lord when he discovers that you’ve thwarted his plans by making yourself a barking nuisance,” Snape retorted. “The boy is not to be harmed!”
“What difference does it make if Potter is harmed or not?” countered Bellatrix, her piercing gaze cold and unfeeling. “So long as he’s alive, Lord Voldemort shall have his quarry! It’s YOU who doesn’t want him harmed!”
Just then, Harry realized what Bellatrix was doing. He had once thought it impossible, but she was performing Legilimency on Snape.
Snape seemed to recognize his exposure and acted quickly. With a flick of his wand he cast Harry’s wand out of Bellatrix’s grip and before it hit the ground, Snape’s wand was at the ready, aimed at the spot between Bellatrix’s eyes. His face was ashen but fierce, as though somewhere within the last five seconds, he’d made a resolution with himself. Experiencing a sensation like a rush of blood to the head, Harry came to a staggering realization. Snape had finally chosen sides.
And Bellatrix knew it.
She flew at him with a passion, brandishing her wand like a dagger. Harry leapt out of the way as she cast a killing curse at Snape, which he narrowly dodged, instantly returning her attack in a flash of bright red light. Unexpectedly, she did not block it, but let it strike her shield cloak, and with a loud bell-tone, the spell deflected back at Snape, who barely escaped its blue trail as he dove to the ground.
She smiled coldly on his stupefied expression. “I guess I learned a thing or two while I was ‘lying under a rock’ as you put it,” she sneered. “I must say, you had us all fooled for quite some time, Severus! But I always suspected you “ there was something amiss in the way you let Potter slip through our fingers time and time again! Well, now I have you both where I want you…” She raised her wand at him. “Where no one will hear you scream!”
Snape slowly got to his feet, watching her with a shrewd expression. Harry was frozen to the spot, he knew well the look on Snape’s face. He, too, was forcing his way into her mind.
“You overestimate your abilities, Bellatrix,” said Snape in a challenging tone.
“You’ll soon learn otherwise!”
Snape’s eyes floated to Neville, who had found his wand and seemed to be regaining his strength as he heaved himself onto his knees. Harry’s wand was now mere inches from Snape’s foot. Turning back to Bellatrix with a defiant gleam in his eyes, he snarled, “Do your worst.”
Watching Snape’s expression transform to one of resignation, Harry felt his heart splash into his stomach.
“
SECTUMSEMPRA!” shrieked Bellatrix as Snape cried, “
ACCIO WAND!”
Snape made no move to deflect her curse, but snatched Harry’s wand out of the air and flung it behind him. Harry caught it just before a spray of something warm and wet struck him in the face and the next moment, he saw Snape stumbling backwards, clutching at his chest. She had sliced him down the middle, and without hesitating Harry rushed forward and slipped his hands under Snape’s arms, catching him as he fell. Together, they sank to the floor.
Struggling beneath Snape’s dead weight, Harry thought that for the rest of his life he would always remember Bellatrix’s cruel laugh. “How lucky I was that Draco taught me that curse, Severus,” she shouted scornfully, pulling down the neck of her cloak to expose a faint scar. “Since you were Draco’s bound protector, it took only one guess to figure out where he’d learned it! You must be so pleased to see how effective it is!”
Snape sucked in ragged breaths of air, his arms wrapped tightly around his body. Harry finally recouped his composure enough to aim his wand at Bellatrix with one hand and held Snape about the chest with his free arm. She towered over them. “Stay back!” shouted Harry.
“Or what? You’ll kill me? Torture me? You haven’t got it in you, Potter!” she snapped.
“Don’t I? Malfoy didn’t learn that curse from Snape!” Harry yelled back, his hand now sticky with Snape’s blood. “He learned it from me!”
He instantly regretted the words as soon as he spoke them. Bellatrix squeeled with laughter. “Surely you’re joking! How ironic! How tragically poetic!” she shrieked. “What goes around comes around, eh, Potter? Who’d have thought you would’ve done in your very last defender!”
“No…”
“Who will save you now?!” She grew jarringly still and focused on him with a deadly stare. “No one is left!”
Harry knew that he could not strike her with anything other than an Unforgivable Curse; her shield cloak would deflect any attempt he made to stun or disarm her. He faltered knowing there was truth in her biting insults. Did he really have it in him to take the life of another?
“If you kill me, you betray Voldemort,” Harry said quickly.
Bellatrix’s mouth curled into a wicked grin and she kneeled down, bringing her face close to his. “There are things worse than Death,” she whispered, “and when I’m through with you - if you’ve still a sane thought in your brain - you will be
pleading for it. That’s when I’ll give you to the Dark Lord. I’m sure he will obligingly grant your request.”
She rose to her feet and aimed her wand at Harry. Feeling Snape’s breathing grow shallow beneath his hand, Harry struggled to dig in the deep recesses of his being for the desire to kill her. At once the wand felt loose in his fingers and perspiration began to slide down his temples, and as the hateful words materialized on his tongue, he squeezed his eyes shut...
“
AVADA KEDAVRA!”
Harry’s eyes snapped open. Before him stood Bellatrix, her face frozen in shock; her eyes wide and glassy, she swayed slightly before falling dead to the ground. Behind her stood Neville, his wand erect and expression fierce, hot tears spilling down his cheeks as he glared at Bellatrix’s body.
Harry could barely believe his eyes. He'd never had the chance to cast the spell. Neville had killed her.
As his eyes met with Harry’s stunned gaze, Neville seemed to return to himself, and exhausted, he promptly fell to his knees trembling. Harry looked on agape as Neville crawled towards him and Snape, the fire in his eyes extinguished.
“Well… done… Longbottom,” gasped Snape. Harry finally ventured to look down and saw that Snape was bleeding heavily. His face had turned a ghostly white and he was eerily calm.
“I went looking for you because I saw Snape arrive and I thought he was a Death Eater… only I didn’t know,” whispered Neville, his eyes glistening brightly even in the dark. “I’ve failed you, Harry! I couldn't save them! Susan… and Colin…." He buried his face in his hands. "And now Snape!”
Harry felt nauseous and guilt-ridden to the point he thought he could no longer stand it. Mr. and Mrs. Bones had now lost everyone. Colin Creevey, the boy whose attentions had once annoyed Harry, who had once regarded Harry as his hero, was dead. And now, Snape would die in his arms because one day a year ago Harry had decided to experiment with an unknown curse on a rival classmate. It seemed impossible that daylight would ever come again after tonight.
Neville began to cry. “I tried, Harry… I really tried-”
“Stop,” Harry managed to say, swallowing down his dread like poison from a cup and trying to be calm enough for them both. “You are a fine leader. You did as much as any of us would have done. This isn’t your fault, Neville. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? It’s not your fault!”
Neville buried his face in his hands. “I… I killed her…”
“No, listen to me,” said Harry, tears rising to his own eyes. “Bellatrix was going to torture me and she was wearing a shield cloak. You had no choice but to use an Unforgivable Curse.”
“Didn’t I?” whispered Neville miserably. “Didn’t part of me want to do it?”
“You… are not… a murderer, Longbottom,” murmured Snape suddenly. “You killed to defend another…. Greater wizards than you have done the same…. There is honor in that.”
Harry looked mournfully down at Snape’s weakening form, overcome with remorse. “Snape…. Forgive me,” murmured Harry shakily, “I didn’t know.... How could I know? I just - I didn't understand... I still don’t...” Stinging tears blurred his vision as he whispered, “
Why?”
“Because... I have debts too...” he answered.
“What do you mean by-“
Snape cut him off. “There is something… something I must tell you… about the incantation.”
Harry fell silent at the urgency in Snape’s fading voice.
“A Horcrux… is made with… a spell… and an act… of murder,” whispered Snape. “The incantation… is a countercurse…” Snape fell into a fit of coughing and a gurgling sound began to emit from his chest.
Looking up at Neville’s ashen face, Harry said, “quick, find Hermione, Ron, and Ginny! Snape needs to get to the Port-“
Grabbing Neville’s sleeve, Snape stopped him. “No…. Listen.... The incantation… is crucial… but in the same way that a Horcrux is created… with a spell and a deed… so, too, must you commit an act…”
Aware of the increasing sense of dread in the space between them, Harry spoke softly, “What act?”
“You know that answer already,” he murmured. His body began to tremble beneath Harry’s fingers.
“I swear, I don’t-“
“
Yes, you do. There is only one deed… that could cancel… what was created through an act of murder…” His voice stopped and he squeezed his eyes shut against the cold that was invading his body. “You would know this... better than anyone....”
And suddenly, waking at last to his nightmarish reality, Harry did understand. Snape recognized the comprehension in Harry’s face and as if seeing him for the first time, Snape’s countenance betrayed an inexplicable combination of fear and shame. He seemed to be looking at something beyond Harry’s face. It was as if he was seeing straight through him.
Harry merely stared back, his grief unutterable. Growing more rigid by the second, Snape moved his lips as if he was struggling to speak.
"What is he trying to say?" whispered Neville.
“Snape?” said Harry.
He brought his ear to Snape's mouth.
“Li-ly…” breathed Snape. His eyes rolled back, and the gurgling in his chest disappeared.
Harry knew then that Death had come. And Snape was gone.
In darkness Harry sat alone. Resting his head against a brick pillar at the platform’s edge, he gazed out into the heavens and brought his hand to his heart, vaguely aware of its slow beat against his fingertips. Snape’s body rested several paces away from him, Bellatrix lay beside him, and as Harry stared unblinkingly into the great beyond, he found himself emotionally flanked by the contrary visions before him. Death and destruction were all around and yet, at the sight of the vast expanse of stars and planets over his head, he imagined himself among them, a bright shining speck in the great beyond, and his spirit swelled. How much of his turbulent existence had been ordained by these very stars? They seemed so benevolent tonight…
Thus strangely enraptured, he did not notice when Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and Malfoy had found him at last.
“Harry…” said Ron in a tremulous voice.
Slowly, Harry turned to look at them.
“We’ve searched everywhere for you.”
"Let me through.” Ginny sprang forward and knelt beside him, her eyes sweeping over Harry’s body in search of wounds and injuries. As her gaze fell upon his face, she paused and her expression changed from one of concern to alarm.
“Harry,” she breathed, raising timid fingers to his cheek, “you’ve been crying.”He said nothing but shifted his eyes to Snape’s lifeless frame. Hermione stood uneasily beside the body, a pained expression on her face. “What happened?” she said, her voice mingled with terror.
Harry forced moisture to his lips and in a raspy voice, quietly retold the events following their separation at the elevator: of Wormtail’s intervention, how Snape had reappeared and helped him care for Lupin, how Bellatrix had survived and was torturing Neville when they found her, how she had used the Sectumsempra curse to deal Snape a mortal wound and meant to torture Harry as well before Neville saved him. Not quite knowing what it meant, he spared them the detail that his mother's name was on Snape's lips as he died.
“I don’t believe it,” murmured Ron in amazement. “Neville using an Unforgivable Curse… The Killing Curse! Not in a million years would I have ever thought that was possible.”
Harry shook his head somberly. “He didn’t have a choice,” he said. “She was wearing a shield cloak. She’d have tortured me.”
“Where is he now?” asked Hermione.
“I’ve asked him to bring Lupin to the Portkey.”
Everyone fell silent. Harry’s gaze fell upon Malfoy, who had been quiet ever since they had arrived, and now sat beside Snape’s body facing away from them. Something in Malfoy’s posture stirred a dull pain within Harry, and his jaw tightened at the thought of what he was about to say.
“There’s something else,” he whispered. Noting the foreboding tone in his voice Ron, Hermione, and Ginny watched in trepidation as Harry sought the energy to continue. The sensation that he had come to realize was overtaking him was now unbearably heavy, and feeling as though an anchor were tethered to his limbs, he drew himself to his feet. “Before he died,” began Harry, “Snape told me something really important about the incantation. I think I know how it works now.”
Hermione’s eyes lit up and Ron let out gust of air, visibly relieved. Ginny alone remained stone-faced. “Well, that’s fantastic news, isn’t it?” said Ron, smiling hopefully.
“Come, Harry, what did he tell you?” said Hermione breathlessly.
Harry felt as though his insides were made of concrete. He could barely stand under the weight of it. Bringing a hand to his neck where the locket hung no longer, he swallowed hard and thought of where to begin.
“Snape told me the incantation is a kind of countercurse,” he stated as evenly as he could. “You use it to undo a Horcrux.”
“Well, that makes sense,” said Hermione. “Since a Horcrux is created with a spell, you need a spell to reverse it.”
Something in Harry’s chest was beginning to ache. “Yes. But that’s not all you need.”
They stared at him, puzzled. Even Malfoy’s ear was cocked in witness to Harry’s testimony.
“To create a Horcrux, you need a spell... but you also need a deed. An act of murder,” Harry explained in a far off voice. “The same thing goes for undoing one. The incantation alone is not enough. And Snape told me ‘there is only one deed that could cancel what was created through an act of murder.' At first, I didn't know what he meant....”
Ron looked markedly confused and Harry could practically hear the inner workings of Hermione’s mind as she riddled out what he was saying. Harry tried not to look at Ginny, but could not avoid her intensely bright eyes as they bored into him. Finally, he forced his eyes to the ground.
“He said I knew better than anyone what that deed was. And he’s right,” concluded Harry softly. “I know it from example.”
He heard Hermione gasp. “No. No, it can’t be…”
“A deed?” said Ron perplexedly. “I don’t get it.”
Suddenly, Hermione fell into a fit of sobs, ran to Harry, and threw her arms tightly around him. Harry returned her embrace, and filled with a sudden devastating sadness, he whispered, “You know… don’t you, Hermione?”
“Oh, Harry…” she choked through her tears, “it just can’t be! There must be another way!”
Ron looked utterly distressed. “What’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Hermione retracted from Harry and turned her tear-streaked face to Ron. “Don’t you see,” she wept. “The only deed that can undo what was made through an act of murder is an act… an act of…“
Ginny finished for her. “Sacrifice.” The monotone of Ginny’s voice sent a dark current through Harry’s body and their eyes locked.
“
Sacrifice?” gasped Ron. He looked at Harry as though someone had just pulled the ground out from under him. “You mean you’re going to give yourself up? It’s ludicrous! You- you can’t! Snape must be wrong!”
“Ron-“
“How can you possibly defeat Voldemort if you’re
dead?!”
“I don’t know,” Harry answered, “but if the Horcrux remains alive in me, he’ll never be defeated, and that’s a certainty.”
Ron’s face was bright red and betrayed a fierce desperation that stung at Harry’s heart. Once covetous of his best friend’s fame and recognition, Ron seemed to finally understand the true price of Harry’s celebrity.
“What about the prophecy?” he demanded.
Harry resisted the sudden compulsion to laugh. “You know I don’t believe in divination, Ron. Dumbledore didn’t set much store by prophecies anyway.” His voice faded as he looked to the darkened skies over the rows of train tracks that stretched out into the city and disappeared into the urban wilderness. Drawing in a slow breath, he took a step toward Ron and laid a hand on his shoulder.
“This is what I think. I think it’s easy to believe that the cosmos is against you, especially if you’ve lived a life like mine. But if there is such a thing as destiny, Ron, I think it can only take you so far. Maybe it is fate that brought me to this threshold… but it’s my choice to cross it. Prophecy or no prophecy, it’s up to me to decide how this story ends. I know what I have to do now.”
Ron shook his head and sniffed, averting his eyes from Harry’s gaze. Just then, Harry felt something sharp and painful rise in his throat as he watched Ginny out of the corner of his eye.
"Snape said my survival was improbable, but not impossible," Harry offered, not quite convinced himself. "There may still be a chance for me..."
Tears streaming from her eyes, Hermione argued, “What if it doesn’t work? What if you die and Voldemort survives?”
Harry sighed resignedly. “Then he’ll be mortal.”
“You don’t mean-“
“Yes, Hermione. If I don’t make it, you’ll need to do all you can to finish him. Take this,” he said, soberly handing her his invisibility cloak. “You and Ron will hide underneath it. Before I… before it happens… I’ll weaken him as best I can. After that, if things don’t quite work out for me, you’ll have to-“
“No,” cried Ron, “we can’t fight him without you!”
“You have to!” Harry exclaimed with sudden fervor. “You’ve got each other, don’t you? That’s something Voldemort will never have! Strength in numbers! Wasn’t that what you were really trying to tell me before I left Gryffindor Tower earlier?
Harry paused and drew a deep breath. “I’m not scared,” he continued, smiling bittersweetly to himself. “I think somehow I always knew it would turn out this way. And anyway…” He turned away from them. “Some things are worth dying for.”
Harry's eyes sought Ginny's face, but found that she had suddenly disappeared. Seeing her shadow shrink behind a corner, Harry quickly caught up with her behind the ticket counter and was startled to find her facing away from him, supporting herself with one hand against the wall and holding the other tightly against her heart as if to spare it from bursting. She was crying in a way Harry had not seen anyone do before, as though her violent sobs were being drawn out of her by some merciless outside force.
"Ginny..." he whispered, reaching out a hand to her. She shrank from his touch.
"It's not fair," she wept into her sleeve. "It was hard enough getting through a year apart.... How can I possibly... if you…." Her voice stopped and another teardrop rolled off her cheek. "I just can't..."
Seized by his emotions, Harry did what he was certain he could never bring himself to do until Voldemort was dead. He took Ginny by the shoulders and turned her around, suddenly feeling the strongest he’d felt since Snape had told him the miserable truth about his scar.
"Not twelve months ago, at Bill and Fleur's wedding, you asked me a question," Harry said in a low voice, "and though I knew the answer then, I could not give it."
Ginny's eyes lifted and she stared at him wonderingly. He gently smoothed her paint-matted hair away from her face.
"Ask me again, Ginny."
She shook her head silently, tears free-flowing down her cheeks. “You don’t need to do this-“
"Yes, I do! Ask me now. Before anything else happens and we never get the chance again," he pleaded, drawing her close to him. "I promise you a different answer..."
Ginny closed her eyes, as though bracing herself for some world-shattering impact. Lips quivering, she spoke softly, "Do you love me, Harry?"
"Look at me." He lifted her chin that she might look into his eyes.
“I should never have waited so long to say this to you. Ginny, I….”
“Yes…?”
“I….” His voice clipped in his throat.
“Harry… are you all right?”
He had suddenly lost the means to answer her. At that moment, as though a knife were being driven through his skull, a searing pain worse than any he had felt before sliced through his forehead, and Harry sank against the wall, clutching at his head. He thought his scar would burst open from the sheer pressure of it.
Ron and Hermione flew to his side. “Harry! What is it?” Hermione cried.
“Voldemort… Voldemort’s returned!” hissed Harry in agony. “We need to find the DA! They have to get out of here! Come on!” Forcing himself into focus, he pushed himself off the wall, snatched Ginny’s hand and began running towards Platform 9 ¾. Malfoy stayed behind, and Harry did not object. He knew that Malfoy meant to guard the bodies.
When they arrived on the main platform at last, the battle was over. Only the DA remained, tending the wounded “ aurors and students alike “ guarding the prisoners, and nervously awaiting Harry’s return. As Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny raced towards them, Neville stepped forward, staring at them in alarm.
“THE PORTKEY!” Harry bellowed, legs feeling like lead as he ran. “GET TO THE PORTKEY!”
The pain in his head increasing, Harry stumbled and Ron quickly caught him and hoisted him back onto his feet.
“Harry, what’s happening?” cried Fred.
“Voldemort’s coming back!” shouted Ron. “Everyone onto the train, NOW!”
To Harry’s horror, no one moved. They were watching him, petrified, having not ever witnessed Harry in this condition, utterly incapacitated and broken beneath the pain in his scar. Harry let out a loud grunt as he pushed himself onto his feet and tried to mock some semblance of composure.
“Listen to me,” he gasped through gritted teeth, “Get onto that train before I Imperius you to the Portkey myself!”
Just then, an icy cheerless cold began to circulate within the station accompanied by a biting wind that swept in from the end of the platform where the tracks extended out into London. Harry’s eyes met with Hermione’s and their eyes simultaneously went wide as their breath rose in clouds of steam from their mouths.
“Dementors,” she whispered.
Everyone’s eyes rose to the ceiling, which since Harry had last seen it had garnered a gaping hole roughly the size of a small truck from when Greyback blasted a spell through the glass. Terror swept over him as something above eclipsed the last diminishing rays of moonlight and brought wintry darkness upon the platform. The Dementors were descending.
“We’re staying, Harry,” came Neville’s voice.
Spinning around, Harry cast a supplicating gaze back to the DA. “No…” he murmured in anguish. “Voldemort.... He brought them to finish you! This is my battle now!”
At once, Ginny took Harry by the shoulders and forced him to look at her. “You said it yourself. Some things are worth dying for,” she said, staring fiercely into his eyes.
"Not if it means you dying."
She smiled sadly at him and placed a hand against his cheek. "Strength in numbers, remember?"
Looking little like the young girl he had saved from the Chamber of Secrets, Ginny proceeded to throw her arms around him, holding him to her tightly, and for one blessed moment, Harry’s pain seemed to subside as he let himself feel her against him for what he hoped wouldn’t be the last time.
“You’re not alone, Harry,” she breathed against his neck. “You’re not alone…”
The Dementors began to float into the station, bringing with them the empty despair that now defined Harry’s existence. Instantly, they descended upon them to feed and the DA threw their wands up and readied themselves to cast their Patronus Charms in one final attempt to defend their futures. But before the Dementors were even in range, cold, cruel laughter reverberated throughout the station. It seemed to spring from every brick in the firmament, echoing like thunder amidst the freezing wind that whipped at their faces.
A deadly resolve coursing through every vein in his body, Harry smothered his pain in exchange for clarity and made his way towards the center of the concourse. The Dementors hovered overhead, waiting, as a familiar set of glowing blood-red eyes flickered in the shadows.
“Patience, my pets. You shall have yours, but first… I shall have
mine.”
Voldemort had returned at last. And this time, Harry was ready for him.
*** A/N: *wipes brow* Okay, you might have picked up on one final reference to the prequel: Harry and Ginny’s conversation where Harry talks about what she asked him at Bill and Fleur’s wedding. Honestly, at this rate, all the spoilers will be out! Just kidding. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and will drop me a line to tell me if it worked or not ;). Cheers!
Chapter Eleven: Two Serpents by Mudblood428
Author's Notes:
Thank you to all who have waited patiently (and not so patiently) for this chapter. It is the final duel of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort, and it is the enormous product of much blood, sweat, and, especially, tears. My advice to you, dear reader, is to approach it slowly, as I have chosen these words very carefully. Have your kleenex handy. Discretion is advised. ETA: Special thanks to Mudblood125 and Spider1111 for your indispensible beta work. You're wonderful.
Chapter Eleven: Two Serpents
"Harry Potter..."
Voldemort spoke slowly, rolling the syllables of Harry's name around his tongue as though he could taste each letter.
Fearing he might betray himself, Harry said nothing; the pain in his scar was too great. Behind him stood the DA, their wands at the ready, but they were as useless as the wounded Aurors behind them - lame and asphyxiated in the swirl of icy wind. Harry, his feet fused to the pavement despite a lurking fear that the storm would topple him to the ground at any moment, turned his head slowly towards the space where he knew Ron and Hermione had been standing. To his relief, he did not find them, knowing they had done as he had wished and hidden beneath the invisibility cloak. What he would have given in that moment for enough invisibility cloaks to hide rest of his friends. To hide Ginny....
"So good of you to wait for my return," said Voldemort in a resounding voice as he stepped into view, flanked by his Dementor entourage. "I would apologize for my tardiness, but I see you've had company." His crimson eyes flitted beyond Harry to survey the terrified crew behind him.
With great effort, Harry raised his wand. "You're not here for them," he called over the roaring wind.
Considering him for a moment, Voldemort grinned in amusement at Harry's nerve. "I couldn't agree more."
Raising one ashen hand high into the air, Voldemort made a swift motion that sent the Dementors retreating slowly into the shadows. The freezing gusts faded away, stranding them all in a vacuous silence save for the soft din of chattering teeth and shivering. Harry did not need to look back at the DA to know that, though the Dementors had not attacked, the Dark Lord's very presence had dispirited and stripped them of one last resource: all courage was gone, replaced by indelible fear.
"We are of the same mind, then," murmured Voldemort, the pupils of his eyes invisible beneath the shade of twilight. He drew his wand from the folds of his obsidian robe. "At last, our feud comes to an end. I confess… I have eagerly anticipated this day."
“Then let them go,” growled Harry, channeling every ounce of his desperation in an effort to focus through the throbbing in his head. “It’s me you want!”
Looking exaggeratedly around the concourse, Voldemort pretended not to hear. "What a pity we couldn't find a nicer arena for our final duel, Harry. No matter. We'll just have to… make do."
Before anyone could react, a great burst of ice-cold air ripped through the concourse over Harry’s head, knocking him backwards. Several screams rent the silence only to be squelched as soon as they were uttered, as though a stopper had been put in their mouths. Gasping for air, Harry pushed himself onto his feet to see the effect of Voldemort’s spell and found a haunting scene.
There the DA stood, mid-scream, their eyes frozen wide in horror. Indeed, it was their eyes that gave the only indication that they had not been killed “ from where he stood, Harry could see that life stirred enough behind Luna’s bulbous pupils to force a tear to the surface, though her face remained cold and lifeless as a statue.
Voldemort had petrified them all… except Harry.
"There, that's better. Can everyone see?" shouted Voldemort, laughing in a way that uncannily reminded Harry of a Dementor’s rattling breath.
“What do you want with them?” yelled Harry, quivering with hatred and weariness. “If you don’t want to kill them, why don’t you release them?”
"You severely lack imagination. They’re no good to me dead,” he sneered. ”Honestly, I couldn't have planned this better myself. You see… your friends are going to watch me kill you, Harry. I have ensured that they won’t miss a single moment. Here,” he said, gesturing theatrically to the lot behind Harry, “is a fresh, young generation of wizards who, after tonight, will know exactly who I am... and who you are not!"
“No…” whispered Harry, reliving the night he watched Dumbledore die, petrified and powerless.
”Your friends have made the unfortunate error of believing themselves capable of fighting me,” murmured Voldemort as he advanced several paces towards Harry. “I should kill them for such arrogance. However, they will be far more useful after this night is done, when they disperse to spread the story of how The Chosen One perished,” he hissed, baring a mouthful of gnarled teeth. “Think how I shall be revered when you are no longer there to fill these whelps with false hope. Think how I will be feared then, Harry. No. I shall not kill them.”
Voldemort’s words sent something strange through Harry’s being “ as though his blood had been infected by an invisible toxin. Harry instantly remembered Ron and Hermione’s promise and whipped his head around for a footstep, a whisper, any indication that they might not have been petrified. As though they had read his thoughts, he caught a glimpse of several floating dots of dried blood emerge from behind a pillar. Harry was suddenly quite grateful that Theodore Nott had shed his blood onto the invisibility cloak.
“Forgive me,” Harry mouthed, and raising his wand ever so slightly, he thought, I can’t risk you two interfering until the last Horcrux is gone. Imagining their faces one last time, a voice in his mind cried out, 'Petrtificus Totalis!' The floating drops of blood dropped low to the ground and were motionless.
"Look at me when I'm speaking to you, Harry," came a slippery voice from behind, and Harry slowly turned back.
“My, how the years fly by,” said Voldemort. “Been almost a full sixteen years since first I saw you, has it not?"
He walked in a crescent towards Harry's left side, appraising him through narrowed eyes. "You're taller than I remember," he observed, amused. "I can see it now that you're standing up. That in itself is a miracle of sorts. Forgive me for saying so, Harry, but you look positively exhausted!"
Harry flinched at the comment and realized at once what had made Voldemort say it. He was exhausted; after all, Harry had exerted himself throughout the night without a moment's rest. Realization suddenly dawning on him, everything that happened since the very moment Harry arrived on Platform 9 ¾ took on an entirely new significance, and he became seized by an anger so complete that he barely felt the pain in his scar anymore.
"This was all about me, then “ to weaken me," said Harry breathlessly, sensing a potent darkness filling him up from deep inside. "The Death Eaters, the Inferi, the battle... everything! London was never in danger!"
"Don't flatter yourself. If you hadn't shown up, all that would be left of London is a vacant spot on the map," said Voldemort, a hint of bitterness in his voice despite the cool grin on his lips. "When you arrived with the Malfoys and your Auror friends attacked, I confess I thought my plans had been foiled. But that was simply because we both had forgotten one very important thing: that the Boy Who Lived cannot resist an opportunity to save the day and that I, resourceful wizard that I am, cannot resist an opportunity to let Harry Potter unravel in his own compulsive heroism!"
Each word sent Harry’s mind reeling. All night he had felt it “ the queer sensation of being at odds with himself, divided down the middle every time he forced himself forward against the protests of his body and the ill-omened voice in his head that foresaw this moment. He felt his hope begin to wane, and resolve and determination now seemed insufficient to mask the weariness that had been invading his being since the moment he passed through the gate to King's Cross Station. Harry’s heart was racing now, whether with fear or anger, he could not tell. This was Voldemort’s game and he had made pawn of him; the Lightening Round was done at last leaving one final trial before Sudden Death.
At once, the folded piece of parchment that held the incantation felt heavy in Harry's pocket.
“The sun shall be rising soon. I don’t mean to rush you but, unless you want Muggles to become the next unwilling spectators, I think we should begin,” said Voldemort in a silky tone. With mock grandeur, he conjured the very same Serpentine Shield he had carried in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic two years ago and fell gracefully into an offensive posture. “Are you ready to die, Harry Potter?”
Harry sucked in ragged breath and raised his wand. “If I die, I’m taking you with me.”
“Bold words.” Lord Voldemort’s eyes glittered ravenously. “Begin.”
Rushing forward, Harry cast the first spell “ white light bursting from the end of his wand towards Voldemort. An instantaneous explosion of sound rent the air as it made contact with the Dark Lord’s shield, firing off into a brick pillar with a force that gauged a craggy hole through it. Dust was still flying through the air when Voldemort’s parry flew towards him in a shaft of fiery red light.
Harry leapt in front of it, squarely blocking the curse with his shield cloak, and with an ominous knell, a glowing blue beam rebounded towards Voldemort, who swiftly deflected it into the concrete floor and reengaged. “That was a good trick,” spat Voldemort mockingly while Harry caught his breath. “Cloaks that fire back. I might have known you would require the assistance of some hackneyed invention!”
At that moment, Harry saw another bright flash before his eyes and threw himself on the ground, feeling the rush of hot wind on his back as the curse flew past. Harry rolled forward onto his feet and cast another nonverbal Disarming Spell that soared just beside the Dark Lord’s cloaked arm - barely missing him, but invoking a queer expression on Voldemort’s face, as though he already knew the outcome of their exchange. Indeed, he looked quite entertained and it suddenly occurred to Harry that something was terribly amiss. Voldemort’s curse had struck his shield cloak and rebounded, which meant… Voldemort was not firing Unforgivable Curses at all!
Indifferent to Harry’s near miss, Voldemort slashed at the air in a downward motion with his wand, sending his curse into the ground by Harry’s foot and producing a suffocating black smoke that blew up into Harry’s face. Gagging on the noxious vapors, Harry fired blindly into the cloud and, feeling his heart wrench in his chest, heard it ricochet off of Voldemort’s shield into the void.
“That was greatly amusing, Harry, shall we go for another round?” Voldemort scoffed as Harry staggered out of the smoke’s cover, utterly aware of his own fatigue.
He was suddenly at a loss, breathless amidst a flurry of doubtful thoughts. These were mere parlor tricks. Why had Voldemort been so eager to torture Harry before only to toy with him now? And then realization hit him. Like everything else that had happened that night, this was meant to weaken Harry in front of the DA, to drive ‘The Chosen One’ to a place where he could no longer fight back, destroying everything he had ever meant to the Wizarding World at the same moment that Voldemort would take his life. Harry brought his hand to his collar feeling more naked than ever before without the locket around his neck, as though losing the trinket meant losing the protective essence of Dumbledore himself.
Harry followed the skirt of Voldemort’s robe as the Dark Lord slinked around him like a boa constrictor about to squeeze the last drops of life out of its prey. Would it still be a sacrifice if he died at the hands of Voldemort simply because he was too weak and too tired to fight back?
No. It would mean the sacrifice of Ron and Hermione...
He quickly eyed Voldemort’s shield, knowing exactly what he had to do, praying with all his might that he still had strength left to do it.
“I had you figured wrong,” gasped Harry, his wand still raised. “I thought smoke and mirrors were the trademarks of novice Wizards!” Conjuring all of his energy and feeding it into his wand, Harry thought with an intensity that made his wand vibrate in his palm, “AUCTARE REDUCTO!”
In a comet of brilliant red sparks, Harry’s spell struck squarely with Voldemort’s shield, blasting it apart and sending them both careening backwards from the force of the explosion. Red-hot fragments spewed out in all directions, scorching the ground where they landed. To the sound of Voldemort’s furious roar, Harry felt the last bit of strength drain in the attempt to regain his footing. All around the world had begun to spin “ the pain in his scar more tremendous than ever before.
Not yet, he thought fiercely to himself, commanding his body to remain standing. Not yet...
The look of amusement on Voldemort’s face was gone. With a murderous glare, he thrust out his wand, shouting words that were unintelligible to Harry’s buzzing ears. As the glowing light approached him, Harry could barely make out which curse Voldemort had cast before he was suddenly on his back, his wand wrenched violently from his grip and flung out of reach. He had been disarmed.
“I have been merciful thus far, but it seems the time for leniency has long passed!” bellowed Voldemort angrily as he towered over Harry’s injured form. “You’ve destroyed my shield “ you must think yourself a great wizard! But let us see how the Great Harry Potter can withstand the Cruciatus Curse now! CRUCIO!”
For the second time since he had arrived at King's Cross, currents of pain seared through Harry’s flesh, forcing a scream from his throat and throwing his frame into violent convulsions. Malfoy’s curse earlier that night could not compare to the agony that Voldemort was inflicting upon him now. The very cells in Harry’s body were betraying him, pressing him steadily to the edge of despair - the only welcome sensation was of the tears forming beneath his burning eyelids.
Harry was numb and incapacitated when Voldemort lifted the curse at last.
“Just look at you.”
His face pressed against the cold concrete, Harry answered with a soft moan, a sound that brought a menacing grin to Voldemort’s face.
“Pathetic,” he murmured, his voice brimming with contempt. “I wonder, what would dear Dumbledore think of his favorite pupil if he could see you now?”
The sound of Dumbledore’s name on the Dark Lord’s lips created a surge of energy in Harry, and, balling his hands into fists, he pushed himself clumsily onto his knees, aching all over as though his body had suffered a vicious lashing. “Don’t... you dare... talk about Dumbledore!” Harry grunted, looking up into Voldemort’s face with unrestrained hatred.
“Or what? Do you intend to fight me, Harry? Without a wand?” sneered Voldemort, glaring back with challenging eyes. “How history does repeat itself! I can see now.... You are the very image of your father before I killed him!”
“You snake!” With a painful groan that seemed to spring from the center of his chest, Harry commanded himself to stand up. Watching in restrained incredulity as Harry got back on his feet, the Dark Lord’s eyes became two thin slits.
“Enough,” whispered Voldemort, raising his wand in the air. Harry felt sure he was going to curse him again, but instead, Voldemort drew with his wand a long burning stripe in the air, which he then took hold of with his left hand. At his touch, a cruciform hilt formed in his palm, extending up into a long gilded blade. Harry recognized it almost immediately.
"There. You know what I am holding, don't you? You murdered a Basilisk with it five years ago, did you not?”
Harry’s stomach twisted into a knot at the sight of what was in Voldemort’s hand. “Godric Gryffindor’s sword,” he whispered, astonished. So this was the precious relic that Wormtail had warned him about! “You’re a snake and a thief,” he spat.
The Dark Lord’s eyes snapped up from the sword. No sooner had the words left Harry’s mouth than he was thrown backwards onto his back as if by some invisible Bludger, the wind knocked out of him. “Fifty points from Gryffindor for your cheek, Harry,” hissed Voldemort coldly, his wand raised.
“You... don’t have the right... to carry that sword...” Harry coughed, willing air back into his lungs as he rolled onto his side.
“Don’t I?” Voldemort held it with both hands, inspecting the large egg-shaped rubies with greedy admiration. “It was rather fortunate that so many of your professors were here trying to protect you, Harry,” he said, watching with one eye as Harry struggled to his feet. “I practically could have waltzed into Hogwarts through the front door and plucked it out of Dumbledore's old office myself. Of course, Severus was good enough to do me the honors. Pity he and Bellatrix never got along."
Harry drew in a sharp breath. Voldemort knew Snape was dead.
Observing with amusement as the twilight glinted off of the silver blade, the Dark Lord spoke in a frigid timbre. "I make it a point to know the whereabouts of my Death Eaters."
"Snape betrayed you."
Voldemort snorted at him, grinning. “True. And yet, here we stand.”
Staring in sickened bewilderment at Voldemort, Harry felt a shudder go through him.
“Don’t look so surprised, Harry. Severus served a purpose. And now he's dead. As far as I'm concerned, everything is as it should be."
Harry shook his head in disdain. "Is that right? Your Death Eaters have been defeated. Less than a handful are left that haven’t been destroyed by the Inferi who, I might add, have been incinerated in the tunnels below. Do what you want with me, but who’ll follow you now?"
“Fool,” hissed Voldemort. “Human nature favors the possession of power. That is something I offer in abundance!"
"But you don't offer them power!” countered Harry. “You just use Death Eaters to win power for yourself!"
Voldemort shot him a frigid grin. "Insignificant detail. What matters is that they perceive themselves more powerful because of me - so long as there are those who hunger for it,” he snarled, “I will always have Death Eaters!”
“You’re wrong.”
Tightening the grip on Gryffindor’s sword, Voldemort took several paces in Harry’s direction. Harry did not back away.
“What a shame I was never your Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher,” whispered Voldemort ominously. “I feel sure you might have learned a great deal from me. But then again... perhaps it's not too late to teach you a valuable lesson.”
With unprecedented speed, Voldemort struck Harry hard across the face with the hilt of the sword sending him toppling dazedly to the ground. Harry tasted blood in the back of his throat “ the bridge of his nose had been broken “ and though his eyes were watering, Harry watched in fearful astonishment as Voldemort approached him, no longer aiming with his wand, but with the sword instead.
“Tell me, Harry…. What became of the Garden Snake that tried to match the formidable length of the Python?”
Not bothering to wait for an answer, Voldemort brought the blade of the sword under Harry’s chin, laying it threateningly beside his Adam’s Apple. His eyes glued to the steel blade, Harry dared not to breath.
Voldemort moved the sword’s tip to the collar of Harry’s cloak. “The Garden Snake stretched until he split... right... down... the middle...” With every word, the blade traveled further down Harry’s center, tracing a line through the middle of his body, but never penetrating the skin. “Now. Can you guess what the moral of the story is, Harry?”
Feeling a surge of pain in his scar, Harry bit the inside of his cheek to prevent a whimper from escaping his lips.
"You don't know. Well, that doesn't surprise me,” sneered Voldemort at Harry’s silence. “You see, that is what happens when you compete with your superiors. Like a worthless, pathetic night-crawler... you die."
Harry's lip was beaded in sweat. "You make the assumption that we’re both snakes," he croaked, glowering at him in defiance.
The Dark Lord spoke softly. “Oh, how could I forget? Harry Potter, Noble and Good, thinks himself better than a snake! Well, there is more snake in you than you dare to recognize, boy. I can see in your eyes how greatly you desire me dead. You thrill at the idea of seizing me by the throat and prying the very life from me with your bare hands,” he hissed. “Do you deny it?”
Revolted, Harry stared back, suddenly unable to locate his voice.
“The time has come to face what you truly are!” Voldemort’s eyes shone with wild glee. “In your chest beats the heart of a murderer.... Just like me!”
“I am NOT like you!” shouted Harry, and with both arms he swung at the sword, shoving the blade roughly out from under his chin. But before he could move away, he felt a cold sting on his cheek and reflexively brought his hand to his face, stunned. Quivering to the tenor of Voldemort’s savage laughter, Harry pulled his hand away and saw it stained in his own blood. Voldemort had sliced him in the face.
“Careful now, Harry.”
Rolling onto his stomach, Harry slowly propped himself onto his knees, overcome with self-disgust. There was truth in Voldemort’s words; perhaps he had not been able to kill Bellatrix before, but standing before the Dark Lord now, Harry wanted nothing more than to destroy him “ to force him to feel the sixteen years worth of pain that Harry had suffered. It was then that he heard Dumbledore’s voice in his head, seeming to come from a place far away and long ago, speaking words Harry thought he would never hear again...
There is a force, Harry, at once more wonderful and terrible than death, than human intelligence, than forces of nature.... It is this power you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all...*
Tears rising to his eyes once more, Harry spoke to the voice in his head. “Where? Where is it now?” he whispered miserably. “I c-can’t find it…”
“Who are you talking to, Harry? I hope not yourself!” jeered Voldemort coldly, but Harry barely heard him. The voice was answering...
It was your heart that saved you...
“My heart,” Harry breathed.
“ANSWER ME!” Harry felt the blade of Gryffindor’s sword against his cheek. Wordlessly, he raised his head and looked boldly into the blood-red orbs of Lord Voldemort’s eyes.
With a weak grin, Harry murmured, “You’ve already lost.”
“Is that so?” In that moment, Voldemort looked as though he might have cut Harry to pieces were it not for the curiosity visible in his cold grey features. “I am the most powerful wizard in the world. Immortal. Unstoppable. With a mere snap of my fingers I could break you,” sneered Voldemort, staring penetratingly into Harry’s face. “How does that make me the loser?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you, all right,” answered Harry, fire rising in his chest. “Bit by bit... piece by piece, for a year “ no “ longer... I’ve been undoing you! Even here where our paths cross for the last time, you are at my mercy!” Feeling inexplicably stronger, as though strength were being poured into him with every word he said, Harry pulled himself to his feet. “Now, I can say it,” he exclaimed. “I destroyed Hufflepuff’s Cup!”
Voldemort, filled with a potent fury, took a swipe at Harry and, with the blunt hilt of the sword, struck him to the ground so hard it threw him skidding backwards. “So you’ve found out about my Horcruxes then,” Voldemort said darkly. “Bravo. But I’ve been careful, Harry! The cup is but one of many!”
Clutching at the left side of his face, Harry noiselessly pushed himself up off the ground. He turned around, lurching under the ache, and brought his hand away from his face, revealing a bleeding welt to match the one that Wormtail had dealt to Ginny.
“Imagine that,” laughed Voldemort. “Like a dog, he stands and begs for more!”
Harry swayed on the spot, blinking back the throbbing behind his left eye before coming back to himself. “Better I were a dog than a snake,” he spat wearily. “I’m sure Nagini would agree, or did you think her death was an accident?”
Voldemort’s crimson eyes went wide.
“You heard me right. I lured Nagini to the cave. What an ironic twist that she, too, was destroyed by the Inferi you created!” Wincing, Harry felt Voldemort’s rising desperation in his own scar and fought to keep his wits.
“And the locket?” continued Harry. “You have yourself to thank for that one as well! Maybe you shouldn’t have burned your bridges with Regulus Black!”
Mad with rage, Voldemort swung the blade at him, slashing Harry’s right side and splitting the fabric of his shirt. Harry staggered backwards, and collapsed onto his knees, clumsily stuffing his hand under his shirt where his blood had turned the fabric to deep scarlet.
“You can’t hurt me anymore!” grunted Harry raggedly. “What a tragic waste your life will have been after tonight!”
At the statement, Voldemort’s face contorted with indescribable loathing. “Fiend! Perhaps you have destroyed my Horcruxes, but it won’t matter after I finish what I started sixteen years ago!”
Then Voldemort did not know he was a Horcrux, thought Harry with satisfaction.
“Do it, then!” he hollered back. “But not before I tell you what the true difference is between you and me!”
Voldemort, seething with evil, advanced on him one slow step at a time. Clearly, he wanted to savor this moment. The sword was drawn and its steel blade glittered brilliantly in the moonlight. “And what difference is that?” the Dark Lord hissed.
Finding the strength to withstand the burning ache in his wounds, Harry reached up and peeled off his shield cloak, letting it fall gently to the ground at his feet.
“Unlike you… I am not afraid to die.”
Nothing Harry had said before made Voldemort react as this one declaration did. The Dark Lord flung out his wand and aimed it between Harry’s eyes.
“Not afraid to die, are you,” snarled Voldemort. “Foolish to the bitter end! Well.... What if SHE dies?”
Suddenly, he whipped his wand towards Ginny. “IMPERIO!” he cried. Out of her petrified state, Ginny instantly sprang to life and staggered away from the rest of DA towards the space where Harry and Voldemort stood “ a pained expression on her face as she tried to resist the power of the curse, whimpering with every step as if she were walking on shattered glass.
“Harry...” she whispered.
Harry felt his courage come undone. “YOU LEAVE HER ALONE!” he cried lunging at Voldemort’s wand.
“Incarcerous!”
Before Harry could reach the wand, a dozen ropes flew at him, binding his arms to his sides and his legs together until he toppled helplessly onto his side. A few feet away, Ginny dropped to her knees, her face screwed up in her desperate struggle to disobey the tempting voice Harry knew she was hearing.
“Not so brave now, are you?” said Voldemort to Harry as he walked towards Ginny and lifted her chin with the edge of the sword.
“If she dies, you’ll have another blunder like the one you had when you killed my mother,” shouted Harry, choosing his words carefully. “You can’t kill her!”
“Oh, can’t I? Is that because she loves you, Harry?”
Harry paid no attention to the taunting tone of Voldemort’s question; he was watching Ginny’s face. She looked back at him with something like longing and as a tear traveled down her cheek, Harry thought his heart would burst “ whether with despair or with hope, he could not tell. Without uttering a word, she had given Harry the answer to Voldemort’s question.
“Yes,” he whispered. “She loves me. If you kill her, it’s your funeral.”
“Verily spoken,” hissed Voldemort, looking amused once more. “As it happens, I don’t have to.”
Suddenly, Ginny snapped upright, her eyes glazed over, and drawing her wand from the pocket of her cloak, she thrust it against her own throat.
“Why should I kill her when I have a perfectly willing accomplice!” the Dark Lord exclaimed. Threading a finger through her hair, he added, “In the past, we’ve been something of a team, Ginny and I, though I suspect she’d rather forget her role in petrifying those filthy Mudblood students at Hogwarts. Either way, Miss Weasley is perfectly capable of doing the job for me. Aren’t you, Ginny?”
Horrified, Harry knew of only one thing he could do. “Ginny! Listen to me!” he cried. “Fight it, Ginny! The Imperius Curse can be fought!”
Her glassy eyes drifted to Harry’s face once more.
“Fight, I said! You must-“
At that moment, Harry felt an invisible vice around neck begin to constrict, stopping his voice. Able to neither speak nor breathe, clawing at his throat, Harry felt himself begin to grow faint.
“No interruptions!” yelled Voldemort, lifting the spell before Harry could pass out completely. Ginny screamed as he brought the blade of the sword to the center of Harry’s chest.
“No! Please! Leave him alone!” she shrieked, suddenly.
“Willful little Blood Traitor, isn’t she?” snarled Voldemort, causing Ginny to gasp as he forced her away from her independent thoughts once more.
Still reeling from near-suffocation, Harry felt Voldemort take a handful of his hair and yank him upwards, commanding him to sit up. “Tut-tut, eyes open, Harry! Believe me, you don't want to miss this!”
Harry could naught but watch in breathless terror as Voldemort crouched down beside him and forced his face in Ginny’s direction. In his ear, the Dark Lord whispered words of bitterness, anger, and abject misery “ consequence of a lifetime filled with unfathomable hatred.
“This is what it looks like when love dies...”
In that moment of exquisite torment, the world seemed to freeze to a standstill around them. Harry heard nothing but the sound of his racing heart as a final tear fell from Ginny’s cheek, and meeting her afflicted gaze, he felt his spirit give way. He was supposed to die, not Ginny, and feeling hot tears running down his face, Harry cursed the last fading stars in the heavens for daring to look on as the last person ever to confess her love for him died before his eyes. Indeed, the last among so many who had perished for loving him...
Voldemort waved his wand at her; for a split second, Harry felt as though Ginny’s eyes were piercing directly into him. Even now, they stared out in hard, blazing defiance...
And then they closed.
Ginny’s lips mouthed the Curse and green sparks flew out in all directions from her wand. A harrowing knell sounded throughout the station as the spell struck her shield cloak, but the spell did not deflect. At once Harry felt the wind knock out of him and was thus startled to find that the deafening scream filling his ears was his own as Ginny crumpled to the concrete floor.
Harry’s felt his heart splinter in his chest. Still trapped in the ropes, he began to weep without reserve to the sound of Voldemort’s heartless laughter.
“I give you the famous Harry Potter!” bellowed Voldemort triumphantly to the petrified DA. “Look at your Chosen One now - nothing more than the broken husk of a human being you see before you! Remember it well, for this is the fate that awaits those that dare to challenge my strength!” Turning his cruel gaze upon Harry, Voldemort released him from the ropes, but Harry remained motionless. “Cheer up, Harry,” he taunted. “You’ll be with your dear Ginny soon enough!”
At that moment, possessed by madness, Harry sprang up from the ground and in an act of supreme desperation, lunged at Voldemort, tore the sword from his hand, and swiftly thrust it into Voldemort’s side. Voldemort looked stunned, but only for a brief moment before his astonished expression was replaced by one of wild mirth. Feeling instantly sick to his stomach, Harry watched Voldemort burst into shrieking laughter as he took hold of the sword and pulled it effortlessly out of his body. He did not so much as flinch as dark blood oozed from his flesh.
“You can’t even feel,” whispered Harry, his eyes wide with disgust.
“Didn’t I say a murderer’s heart beat in your chest?” said Voldemort. “Of course, you are a terrible excuse for a killer. In your inexperience you failed to account for the simple fact that I cannot die!”
Just then, Harry realized that his moment had arrived at last. “Maybe you cannot die, but I can.”
Breathing heavily, he knelt down on one knee before the Dark Lord, who looked on curiously as Harry began to speak in a voice that surpassed his seventeen years of age.
“You’ve taken everything from me and so I’ve got nothing left to lose,” he murmured. “As of now, I’ve only got my life to offer and I don’t give a damn if you take it. But know this. You might think that killing me will secure your power, but you’re wrong. I'm not the first to rise up against you, and I won’t be the last “ I’m one of many. Sooner than you think, they’ll come for you, and a million Horcruxes won’t spare you when they do!” Harry grabbed the blade of the sword with his blood-slicked hand and guided it to his chest. Gesturing to the DA, he added, “I’m not scared of you and neither will they be after tonight. Because one lesson you never learned from Dumbledore is that there are things in this life far worse than death!”
Voldemort’s mouth twisted into a ferocious grimace. “And are those your last words?” he spat.
Harry stared back, feeling blood travel down his arm as he maintained his grip on the blade. “No,” he murmured. “Evocare Cultoris, Iudicare Mortalis!”
Voldemort’s eyes went wide and for a moment both he and Harry waited with bated breath for something “ an explosion, anything “ to happen, but nothing did. Voldemort let out a cackle and pressed the sword firmly against Harry’s chest. “Say good night, Harry Potter...”
“ACCIO SWORD!” came a weary voice from the ground beside them. Instantaneously, Gryffindor’s sword was torn from their hands and, stunned, Harry followed it in the air until it landed securely in Ginny’s raised fist, slicing her fingers as they closed around the blade before she gasped in pain and let it drop to the floor.
She was alive.
“You... you’re supposed to be dead!” roared Voldemort incredulously.
Raising herself from the ground, Ginny glared hatefully at him and, without a word, fired bright green sparks from the tip of her wand. Harry gaped at her, not daring to believe his own eyes “ she had staged her own death! “The Imperius Curse can be fought!” she shouted, repeating Harry’s own words in a tone that matched the fierceness of her eyes.
Voldemort impulsively flung out his wand. “We’ll soon fix that!” he bellowed. “AVADA KEDAVRA!”
“NO!”
Without thinking, Harry stretched out his arm and threw himself in front of Voldemort’s wand, his vision blinded by a flash of green light so brilliant that it conjured from his brain a forgotten memory. He suddenly found himself recalling a place he had seen only once in person within the last year, but it felt far more familiar this time as it sprang to his mind’s eye. It was a nursery “ the room at his parents’ house in Godric’s Hollow that he had come to know in infancy “ the room where his mother perished under the Killing Curse in an act of sacrifice to save his life. Green light was everywhere, in his memory as well as before his eyes now, and he heard his mother scream his name... or was it Ginny? He could not tell. He only knew that his true moment of sacrifice had come.
Bracing himself for death, Harry closed his eyes...
Harry....
A familiar voice echoed in his muffled ears.
Harry.... The incantation.... It is time....
“The incantation...” he repeated softly.
"Harry..."
His eyes opened. He was not dead. Before him was Ginny, staring at him in a mixture of fear and disbelief. “Harry.... your hand...” she whispered shakily. Harry looked down, and hovering in his palm like a glowing green Snitch was a miniature orb of spinning, flickering light. Realization washing over him at last, Harry raised his eyes to return her incredulity. He had caught the Killing Curse in his bare hand.
“NOOOO!” howled Voldemort, backing away from Harry in horrified astonishment. “The curse.... It’s impossible!"
For a moment, Harry, too, was at a loss. But looking down at his hand, coated in his own blood, Harry realized exactly what had prevented the curse from killing him. A smile came to his lips, and, as his eyes locked with Voldemort’s, he drew himself to his feet.
“You wanted to know what the Prophecy said. I can tell you now,” murmured Harry, holding out the green orb for Voldemort to see, the curse beginning to spin like a top in Harry’s palm. “It said... ‘Neither can live while the other survives.’”
Without a wand, Harry made a swift motion with his hand and Voldemort’s wand went flying out of his grip. Voldemort’s eyes went wide.
“Your reign is over.”
At that moment, Harry felt something unidentifiable take command over him. He drew in a deep breath and felt a sinking sensation, as though he were being drawn deep inside of himself. The curse still contained in his palm, he began to recite the incantation in a tone almost melodic. The words spilled like water from his lips.
“Evocare Cultoris, Iudicare Mortalis...”
The glowing orb flickered brightly. As though the very air around them were responding to the sound of Harry’s voice, a cool draught began to blow in from all directions. Like a cornered animal, Voldemort’s eyes darted anxiously about him, but he remained fastened to the spot.
"What are you doing...?"
Harry repeated the incantation once more. “Evocare Cultoris, Iudicare Mortalis...” he said, his voice stronger, and the breeze instantly picked up speed. Debris began to lift from the ground, and as Harry spoke the incantation once again, the draught grew into a swirling wind.
“Stop-“ Voldemort began, but the sound of his voice was instantly swept away by the gale. Above them, the twilight sky was beginning to cloud over; a low rumble issued from the heavens as a dark veil swept over their heads.
Entranced by the green light, Harry felt compelled to speak faster. “Evocare Cultoris, Iudicare Mortalis, Evocare Cultoris, Iudicare Mortalis, Evocare Cultoris, Iudicare Mortalis,” he chanted, the Snitch-like sphere sputtering and flashing with every word. A massive tempest was brewing above them, lightening crawling through the clouds overhead, the wind growing ever stronger, causing Voldemort to shield his face against the powerful gusts before something altogether unexpected and tremendous began to occur.
Harry started to hear other voices. They began as soft whispers, and at first Harry mistook them for the blowing of the wind, but out of the torrent the whispers grew louder. They were speaking the incantation with him, the hushed tones blending with the sound of Harry’s chant until his voice was undistinguishable amid a chorus of invisible chanters. It was then that Harry began to feel his scar burn with a power unlike any he had ever experienced before. The pain was incredible, and yet he could not seem to stop speaking. Glancing at his hand, Harry saw the blood on his palm begin to sizzle on his skin.
All of a sudden, Harry felt something slice him in half. With a sensation akin to being flung from a high ledge, Harry felt something yank him roughly out of himself, and before he could realize what had happened, he was suddenly gazing out of a perspective that was not his own; from whose eyes he was looking, Harry could not tell.
But there he was. Thrown from his body, Harry looked on in disbelief... at himself! Feeling as though he was looking into a mirror, there before his eyes, a mere several meters away, stood another Harry, his lips speaking the words from the parchment, and his green eyes staring vacantly back as if lost in a hypnotic trance. Recognizing the expression on the other Harry’s face, he knew instantly where his spirit had come to rest.
He was inside Voldemort’s body.
And then Harry saw them “ the chorus of the dead. From the lifeless bodies scattered throughout the platform, ethereal shapes emerged and began to walk towards his other self, pausing beside him as they echoed the incantation. Instantaneously, Harry felt a terror surround him - so great that he knew it could only be coming from Voldemort himself. These were the Dark Lord’s victims. They had come to judge him at last.
The tempest was stronger than ever now. The metal that held the ceiling aloft began to groan, and one by one the glass panes in the arch above began to burst, raining sparkling fragments that were instantly swept up in the wind, containing them all in a spinning cloud of glistening dust. Behind the other Harry, the DA began to stir “ Voldemort’s spell was lifting. Looking out through Voldemort’s eyes, Harry watched as Neville fell onto his knees from his frozen position “ Seamus shook the life back into his limbs in time to catch Lavender as she stumbled forward “ the wind swept the invisibility cloak off of Ron and Hermione to reveal their stunned expressions as they watched the other Harry with admiration and fear. There was a terrible beauty in the way he stood unwaveringly erect, his voice fierce despite the indelible pain in his face as he held Death in one outstretched hand...
More and more phantoms were emerging from the shadows, but then, Harry saw something that made his spirit lift. Out of the other Harry emerged two more souls that he recognized immediately.
Mum.... Dad....
Just then, Harry heard screaming and looking back at his other self, he was shocked and horrified to see that the other Harry’s eyes no longer looked like his mother’s. They had turned a deep red “ indeed, the same bloody crimson as Voldemort’s eyes. A cold expression crept onto the other Harry’s face until he became the very visage of Tom Riddle himself. It was as though the Horcrux inside of him had found its way to the surface of his skin, and looking on in abject terror, Harry watched as the scar on his forehead split open, releasing a torrent of brilliant white light.
Once more Harry felt the sensation of being viciously ripped in two and found himself thrust back inside his own skin, unprepared for the anguish in his body as it warred against itself. Though his hand was still outstretched, he was no longer speaking the incantation “ the agony was too great “ and looking at the glowing green sphere in his palm, he saw that the blood had burned away. The curse was slowly seeping up his arm turning it the same charcoal color that Dumbledore’s arm had been after he had destroyed Gaunt’s ring.
However, nothing could have prepared him for what he saw only feet ahead of him. There crouched Lord Voldemort, writhing and screaming in anguish, clawing violently at his skin as though his blood had turned to poison in his veins. Where once Voldemort could not feel pain, he could plainly feel it now, and squinting through the indelible agony in his forehead, Harry understood why. Running through the Dark Lord were three drops of Harry’s blood, and by some connection forged by the incantation, the more the Killing Curse burned into the blood on Harry’s hand, the more Voldemort seemed to suffer. The blood surging through Voldemort’s veins was poisonous!
In that moment of supreme suffering, Harry felt yet another wave of pain in his forehead and nearly fainted from the intensity of it. His scar had started to bleed, and his breathing grew short and convulsive as he felt the wet warmth traveling down the side of his face and tried not to cry out. Thinking only of how welcome death would be once his task was done, he knew he could bear no more.
This is what it must feel like to die, he thought with bitter fascination.
“Harry, hold on!” shouted Ginny desperately over the tumult. “You must hold on!”
It was then that Harry began to sense a strange calm seeping into him through his suffering. With every wave of agony, he began to stray - to wander to the border of his own existence until he could almost taste the peace on the other side. Anchoring himself to this sensation, Harry staid his tortured thoughts knowing that such unbearable pain could not possibly last forever. The end was too near to him now...
Listening again for the voices he had heard before, he found that they had disappeared. Before him, Lord Voldemort cowered into a crumpled heap, his skin alive with red welts as though acid had been poured over his body. And then, as if sensing Harry’s intentions, Voldemort’s eyes raised to look hatefully at him.
Harry returned his gaze and was filled with an eerie sadness. “Bow to death, Tom Riddle,” he whispered, and he closed his fingers around the brilliant green orb.
There was a mighty explosion. From the space between Harry and Voldemort, a shockwave rippled outward, leveling every spectator to the ground and sending wreckage flying out in all directions from the blast. With a deafening roar coming from the sky above, a tremendous funnel-shaped cloud descended and touched down onto the platform through the gaping hole in the ceiling, enveloping Harry and Voldemort both within the thick spinning cone. As quickly as it had appeared, it rose back into the atmosphere, leaving Harry alone on the platform standing before Voldemort’s empty robe. Slowly, the skies cleared, revealing a sight that they all had almost forgotten throughout the course of that endless night: the rising sun.
Once more, silence fell upon the platform.
“Harry...”
Blood seeping between the fingers of her closed fist, Ginny struggled to her feet. Harry’s right hand fell limply to his side and he turned to look glassy-eyed upon her tear-streaked face.
At once, his legs gave way beneath him. The world closed in around him as he felt Ginny’s arms circle tightly around his chest and his wilted figure collapsed forward into her embrace. Helpless beneath the dead weight of his battered frame, Harry and Ginny sank to the floor.
Groaning in pain as she struggled to lay him gently on the ground, Ginny fearfully looked into Harry’s face. His skin was a ghostly gray against the bright stripes of red blood that trailed from his forehead down his cheek, and his breath came in short shallow spurts.
“Harry,” she whispered, touching a trembling hand to his cold cheek. His eyes seemed to stare at nothing, and though his chest still rose and fell with each grating breath, his expression was empty.
“Ron...” she croaked, “Hermione... please... somebody, help...”
Hermione and Ron had been thrown onto a separate platform from the force of the explosion and lay in two heaps on the ground. At the sound of Ginny’s call, Ron forced himself onto his back. He, too, found the wind knocked out of him from the impact of his fall. “Ginny... are you all right?” he managed between coughs. “Hermione...” Beside him, soft moans came from Hermione’s broken figure. Rolling over towards her, he pulled her around by the arm to face him. She looked at him breathlessly.
“I’m... okay.” She found his hand with hers and squeezed it.
This time Ginny’s voice was louder. “Someone help! It’s Harry...”
With extraordinary effort, Ron and Hermione peeled themselves off the landing and staggered across the tracks, falling over Muggles and wizards that lay dead or unconscious throughout the station. When they finally reached the opposite side, they found Ginny propped beside Harry’s body, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s alive,” Ginny cried, “but he’s not responding! I don’t know what to do..."
Ron knelt down on Harry’s opposite side and lowered his ear to Harry’s mouth. “His breathing’s sparse,” he said in a trembling voice. “Harry, can you hear me? Give me a sign you’re still with us, mate!”
To everyone’s great relief, Harry’s head slowly turned in Ron’s direction. Hermione released the breath she had been holding in, and Ginny let out a small sob. “Harry, it’s going to be okay,” Hermione said, taking her place next to Ron by Harry’s head. As Ginny pulled off her cloak and draped it over him, Hermione tore a strip of fabric from her own robe and dabbed at his forehead. “We’re here. We’re going to get you out of here...”
You have strength enough for this, Harry thought fiercely to himself as he forced air into his lungs.
“No,” Harry whispered. The word, though barely audible, made Ron, Hermione, and Ginny flinch.
His glazed eyes shifted from Hermione to Ron and back. “I’m not... going... anywhere...” he said between shallow breaths.
Ron looked positively sick. “What are you talking about?”
Harry smiled wearily in spite of the vice-like tightness in his chest. “It’s over... it’s done... I’ve done... what I set out... to do...”
Ginny’s hand was over her mouth.
“Harry, you’re too weak,” murmured Hermione, fighting back tears. “Save your strength-”
He stopped her with a meaningful look. “Strength... in numbers...” he whispered. For a moment there was only silence between them before Hermione bowed her head and covered her face with her hand, her shoulders shaking as the tears forced their way out of her eyes.
"Please... let me say this...” murmured Harry. “Every victory… tonight... was because... you were with me....”
Harry turned to Ron and nudged his arm.
“I was stupid … to think… I could go it... alone,” he continued, sounding almost pensive through his pain. “To think… this was my battle... and no one else’s...”
Ron sniffed loudly and looked away.
"You’ve been... more than... my best... friends...” Harry whispered raggedly. “You know that... don’t you...?”
Harry’s voice was fading with each passing breath as the weight on his chest grew heavier. Aware that his body had already begun to tremble, he pushed the vision of Snape’s death from his mind and focused on his friends. His breath hitched, causing Hermione and Ron to exchange anxious expressions.
“Don’t... be... afraid...” whispered Harry.
In that moment, they all understood. Harry was saying goodbye. Doubling over in anguish, Ginny buried her face in his neck and began to weep with all her breaking heart.
“Ginny...” He turned slowly toward her and managed to raise a hand to her head, letting his fingers roam in her hair as they had done in happier times. Leaden with emotion, his voice wavered. "I'm so sorry... Please... forgive me..."
“Forgive you?” she whispered against his cheek. “For what?”
"For...” he breathed into her ginger hair, but his voice trailed off. She pulled herself up to gaze at him, two tears rolling off of her nose onto his pale face. Heartened by the look in her eyes, Harry brought his hand to her cheek and weakly ran his trembling fingers along it. "For never saying... a piece of me... died... every time… you walked... away from me..."
She tightened her grip on his robes. “Oh, Harry, don’t,” she cried.
“For waiting. . . so long. . . to tell you,” continued Harry softly, “that... I love you... with so much. . . of my heart... that neither time... nor death.... can stop it....” A solitary tear running down the side of his face, he added, “I... always will...”
Rekindling her defiance, she gripped his hand and gazed fiercely at him. “No! You're not going to die! Not here! Not like this...” Ginny’s voice faded to a rough whisper. “I won't let you!”
He gazed longingly at her, took her wounded, bloodstained fingers and pressed them gently against his heart.
“You already... saved my life... Ginny...”
Golden sunlight began to seep through the broken glass above them, its soft warm glow creating an eerie dissonance against the mordant sound of approaching sirens. By this time, DA members had begun to stir, and those that had revived looked on with horror at the scene unfolding between Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Their champion - their hero - ‘the boy who lived’ - was dying.
Ron took Harry’s withered hand in his and, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his robe, struggled in vain to speak. Beside him, Hermione was also speechless, though hot tears flowed freely from her eyes as she continued to press her palm to Harry’s forehead, stroking him tenderly with her thumb. It seemed their combined grief had completely stripped them of their voices, but then, some things never needed to be articulated between them.
Ginny alone found the right words.
“I love you, Harry,” she told him, gazing unflinchingly into his face, and she touched her lips to his long enough to draw in his last breath as it left him. Pulling away, she found his eyes closed, a peaceful smile playing on the corners of his mouth.
~*~
Harry Potter heard Ginny’s anguished cry from a distance. No longer bound in a broken body, he watched as Ron and Hermione wept in each other’s arms while Ginny lay crumpled atop his lifeless frame, sobbing passionately into the folds of his robe. And therewith, brimming with love for his friends, he passed out of all thought and feeling and fell blissfully into the embrace of eternal night.
A/N: You no doubt have questions. I have answers. I hearby declare that you are not allowed to flame me... yet. Save it for Chapter 12. More than this, I cannot say.
*Quote paraphrased from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix
Chapter Twelve: Song of the Phoenix by Mudblood428
Author's Notes:
"To the well organized mind, Death is but the next great adventure." Tremendous thanks to my awesome beta, Mudblood125 and to you, dear reader, for being so patient. ;)
Dedicated to Margie, for whom death is not the end.
Chapter Twelve: Song of the Phoenix
Through thick and illimitable darkness, Harry traveled. In his ears, the rushing wind… the vague sensation of being pulled backward at the speed of light… of utter weightlessness the likes of which no other racing broom in the world could match…
And yet, he was not on his Firebolt. Nor could he recall stepping onto the Knight Bus to explain away the distinct feeling of being tossed roughly about as he went. No…. He’d only touched a Portkey. Or was it Floo Powder, perhaps? After all, he had never said where he was going; maybe he had gone a hundred grates too far…
A thousand grates….
Harry watched the darkness begin to lift. As stars appeared and slowly faded into the azure sky, it seemed as though the sun was rising. The air grew pleasantly warm around him. He was falling through the sky…
And then, the rushing wind came to an abrupt stop. Disoriented, Harry found himself inexplicably standing upright, a strange buzzing sensation vibrating in his body as though electricity were humming through him from head to foot. It did not hurt “ indeed, he felt no pain at all “ and he thought no more on the matter, for his eyes were far too occupied to let him take note of much else.
Letting his eyes wander, Harry noticed the water first; still as glass, it stretched out around him on all sides, a veritable mirror against the rainbow colored horizon. In the distance, snow-peaked mountains sliced through slow-moving clouds, casting odd shadows onto the green valleys below. It was all familiar to him, and looking off toward the North, he understood why. Towering over the water was Hogwarts Castle. Harry had arrived on the lake at school.
It was then that he realized he was literally standing on top of the water.
“Merlin’s beard!” Harry yelped, making small splashes as he nearly lost his footing, but his feet tread no deeper than if he were standing in a shallow puddle. Bending down to take a closer look he could see nothing below his feet but murky darkness. It was as though he were standing over an abyss in the center of the lake. He did not so much as see one Grindylow.
Harry rose onto the tips of his toes, fearful of stepping somewhere where his feet would not float. He eyed the nearest bank, calculating a good hundred meters between him and the shore, but he had barely gone more than three paces towards it when he heard a low bubbling sound come from behind. He leapt forward, startled, and spun around, nearly tripping over his feet as he turned to see what was happening. Some distance away, the water was stirring around a tall rectangular object that seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
He recognized it immediately. His curiosity greater than his desire for dry land, Harry began to walk towards it.
“The Mirror of Erised,” he breathed. Moving unsteadily for fear of falling through the water, Harry approached the mirror, a faint smile crossing his lips as he raised his eyes and found the same cryptic message he had first read in an abandoned classroom six years earlier. Passing careful fingers along the ancient frame, Harry felt odd - like a Time Turner had erased the past six years to bring him back to his first year as a thin, knobby-kneed fledgling at Hogwarts.
“Where’d you come from?” he whispered to it, his eyes fixed on the letters over his head as if they might suddenly try to dissuade him from looking into the glass.
Harry wanted desperately to look. His first encounter with the mysterious mirror had brought him face to face with his parents and an entire family he had never known. He had never forgotten that night, but it seemed like a lifetime had passed since then. Apprehension rising in his chest, he wondered what would happen if he looked into the Mirror of Erised now; what he would see….
Who he would find…
Biting his lip with intense curiosity, he thought, Dumbledore’s not here to send me away from it…
Harry drew in a sharp breath, stung that he could think such an awful thought.
At that moment, a slow mist crept over the water. The beautiful landscape felt lonely, and he wished more powerfully than ever that Dumbledore was with him. What did he care about what the mirror would show him? Whatever he saw in it would not be real anyway. It could not bring back the dead. Ashamed, he leaned forward, pressed his forehead against the glass and unwittingly opened his eyes.
There in the mirror, his reflection stared back at him. There was nothing strange about the image, except Harry could see more distinctly now the empty spot at the base of his neck where the locket once hung. The scar intact on his forehead, his body unwounded and clothes clean and free of blood, grime, and paint, he looked as if he had never left Gryffindor Tower. His brow furrowed in frustrated thought; there had been a battle… the fading image in his mind of red eyes with slits for pupils and a ghostly white face….
“I was there,” he said, more to convince himself than for any other reason. “It did happen. Voldemort’s gone.”
Harry suddenly noticed something lurking in the distant fog over his reflection’s shoulder. It was a tall, familiar figure “ a wizard; out of the clouds, clad in robes of gleaming silver to match a long shimmering beard, he approached. His forehead still pressed to the glass, Harry pushed his glasses higher up on his nose and squinted, not daring to believe his eyes.
“The mirror’s just playing tricks…,” he whispered, but his heart was thrumming in his chest. He blinked hard and rubbed his eyes expecting the image to disappear… but it didn’t.
“It’s not real….”
The man in the mirror stepped closer to Harry’s reflection before pausing a small distance away.
“Hello, Harry.”
The sound sent a jolt through his heart and he spun around. Before his eyes was a vision that no enchanted mirror had conjured.
“You…,” whispered Harry.
Looking out through blue eyes glittering behind a set of half-moon spectacles, clothed in the most exquisite robes Harry had ever seen, was Albus Dumbledore.
The warm, familiar smile that Harry had thought he would only ever see again in his memory spread across his former headmaster’s face, and Dumbledore strode upon the watery surface towards him until he could place both his hands on his arms. Through his astonishment, Harry noticed that Dumbledore’s right hand no longer bore the withered, blackened appearance it once had, nor did the lines in his face seem as deep. In fact, Dumbledore looked almost… youthful.
“I can’t say how good it is to see you again,” said Dumbledore.
His voice produced in Harry a sensation akin to swallowing a large mouthful of Firewhiskey. Overwhelmed, tears rushed to his eyes, and without thinking, he threw his arms about Dumbledore and embraced him.
“It’s you,” he gasped, holding tightly to the old wizard’s robes. “You’re really here…”
Dumbledore returned Harry’s hug warmly. “Thought we’d never meet again, did you?” he laughed.
Joyful tears streaming down his face, Harry pulled away to make doubly sure he wasn’t dreaming. “Did I…? Of course I thought we’d never meet again!” he choked. “You look so “ young!”
“Oh. Well…,” chuckled Dumbledore, blushing beneath his beard.
Harry stepped back to look at him, unable to contain his utter shock. “How is it even possible? You “ you were dead! I saw you… I saw Snape-”
The smile suddenly vanished from Dumbledore’s face.
“With my own eyes…” finished Harry darkly. Realization dawning upon him, he stared at Dumbledore, waiting for validation of what he somehow already knew, but it seemed Dumbledore was waiting for him to say it first.
“I’ve died, haven’t I?” Harry breathed.
Drawing in a deep breath, Dumbledore moved towards him. “It’s somewhat more complicated than-“
“You’re here…. I can see you… and it’s because I’m dead.” Harry backed away from him, more surprised that the thought of being dead didn’t scare him as much as he expected it would. “It’s true, isn’t it?”
Dumbledore’s face was unreadable. “Yes,” he replied, “…and no.”
Harry merely stared back, mystified.
“Your heart has stopped, Harry “ that is true,” said Dumbledore simply, “but something in you is still clinging to life. It is why we are here. Were you completely dead, you would be beyond the…” He cleared his throat. “Beyond my help.”
This was far too much for Harry to understand at once. “What do you mean ‘beyond your help’? Am I dead or not? And where exactly is ‘here’ if we’re not at Hogwarts?” he rambled. “And why aren’t we sinking-”
“One question at a time,” interrupted Dumbledore, “and I shall do my very best to explain.”
Sliding his feet over the water, Dumbledore stood beside Harry to gaze out over the lake, his voice as low and hypnotic as the tides surrounding them.
“One might say that you and I are in a place that has no location at a moment where time does not exist,” he began serenely. “This is the space between life and death, Harry. We stand in a product of your own creation “ a projection of your inner eye.”
“My ‘inner eye’…. Then none of this is real?” asked Harry, trying not to sound disappointed, his eyes fixed on the beautiful dancing lights on the misty horizon produced by the rising sun. He had never considered that might even have an inner eye, having always associated the phrase with crackpot diviners like Trelawney, but then a thought far more unsettling entered his mind.
“What about you?” he added plaintively. “Are you… real?”
Dumbledore laid a hand on Harry’s shoulder and pressed it lightly. “I should remind you that though you feel the weight of a hand on your shoulder, your body lies wounded on a platform at Kings Cross Station,” he said gently. “You perceive before you light and water, but not with your eyes because they are, in fact, closed. And though you inhale the scent of mountain evergreens… it is only because you have already forgotten that you took your last breath when Ginny Weasley kissed you.”
Swallowing hard, Harry turned his head and found Dumbledore looking piercingly at him.
“What you see and feel exists only insofar as your soul can sense it,” said Dumbledore. “But, strange as it seems, that is precisely why I can assure you… this place is real enough. As am I.”
Harry looked back in wonderment.
“I don’t know what to say, sir.”
“You did a moment ago. Perhaps you might ask one of your questions, hmm?” he replied with a grin. Stepping a small distance away from Harry, Dumbledore gestured to the water with his hand, causing the surface to churn and bubble until it rose up and produced two chairs, much like the one Dumbledore had conjured before the Wizengamot before Harry’s fifth year. As the liquid descended back into the lake, Dumbledore eased himself into a seat and motioned for Harry to take the other. “And please, there’s no need to call me ‘sir’,” he added. “Here there are no titles to observe among friends.”
“Yes, sir “ I mean, yes,” stammered Harry, and he carefully stepped across the water and slowly sat down.
“Now then. Ask away.”
“Anything?” asked Harry.
Dumbledore eyed him with amusement. “Anything.”
Harry did not speak at once, suddenly confronted with an unforeseen opportunity. Questions had overrun his mind since even before the night that Dumbledore died. The only problem was figuring out where to begin.
He shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.
“Is Voldemort…. Did I really…,” he began.
“Yes. Voldemort is dead.”
“Good “ I mean, okay. Thought I’d better check, you know, just in case,” said Harry awkwardly.
His examining gaze fixed on Harry’s face, Dumbledore said, “That’s not the real question you want to ask me, is it?”
“Well… no.”
“Then ask.”
Harry sighed. “Before you died.... Merlin, that sounds so strange to say,” he said, wearily raking a hand through his hair and starting over. “Before you died… did you know I was a Horcrux?”
“I suspected it, yes.”
“You did?” Harry blurted out. “And you didn’t tell me?”
“I wasn’t entirely certain, and it wasn’t the right time to alert you to the possibility,” he replied calmly.
“But you rattled off a whole list of possible Horcruxes “ you might have included ‘Harry Potter’ in the bunch!” Harry countered, nearly rising out of his chair.
Dumbledore folded his hands in his lap and shook his head. “No, I couldn’t. I realize I’ve made errors in the past about keeping things from you, but this was quite different. Do you think you would have gone as far as you did if you had known that every destroyed Horcrux was bringing you closer to your own demise?” he asked.
Suddenly, Harry could find nothing to say.
“You see now why I could not tell you,” murmured Dumbledore, taking his spectacles off of his nose. “I apologize “ I can only imagine what a shock it must have been to hear the truth so soon before your final confrontation with Voldemort…. Then again, you’ve always done well under pressure,” he offered with a sidelong grin.
“How did you even know I would succeed?” said Harry, trying to reign in his frustration. “I didn’t even know if I would succeed!”
“I’ve learned from my mistakes not to underestimate you, Harry.”
Harry opened his mouth and closed it, finding himself at a loss for words once more. Dumbledore took the opportunity to continue.
“I understand you’re frustrated with me for keeping you from the truth. That is why I told Severus my suspicions about your scar and left him with the countercurse and the order that he should not give it to you until the right time.”
“You wrote the countercurse? But I’ve seen your handwriting “ the writing on the parchment didn’t look anything like your other notes or letters.”
“I had created it shortly after destroying Gaunt’s ring,” he explained. “My hand was more than a bit damaged, so I wrote it with the other hand while under Severus Snape’s care, and rather messily at that, I’m afraid. Severus helped me create it “ he was always quite sharp with spells, you know-”
“Snape’s dead,” said Harry softly, the memory spontaneously returning to his mind.
Dumbledore paused to look at him and sighed. “Yes. I know.”
“Was that part of the plan?”
“I’m not sure what plan you're speaking of, but Severus’s death was never part of an arrangement,” he answered, his forehead wrinkled in interest.
“He said he killed you on your orders. That your death was planned.”
“Yes.”
“Why?” whispered Harry.
Dumbledore’s gleaming eyes looked on him with curiosity. “I thought Severus would have told you my reasons,” he answered. “When he made the Unbreakable Vow-“
“That’s not what I mean,” Harry interrupted. “Snape already told me you’d wanted to spare Malfoy-”
“Surely that’s not all he told you, is it?”
“Not exactly. It’s just… If it really was all planned…”
There would be no way to put the question except bluntly. Harry met Dumbledore’s gaze, and in a tone harsher than he intended, said, “Why did you leave me?”
A stony expression crept onto Dumbledore’s face. “I am very sorry, Harry, if my decision caused you to feel… abandoned. Truly sorry,” he said, the gleam gone from his eyes. “But I cannot impress upon you enough how necessary it was for me to remove myself from your path.”
“Necessary?” Harry shouted, unable to contain a year’s worth of angst and frustration a moment longer. “I didn’t have a clue what I was doing! I needed you!”
“No, Harry, you didn’t. If you did, Voldemort would still be alive right now.”
Harry shook his head at Dumbledore’s aplomb and looked despondently towards the glittering horizon. “Maybe I’d be alive right now.”
“Listen to me, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his voice suddenly severe. “Remember for a moment how I was when you last saw me. I was an old man in a broken body when we emerged from the cave together. Had I lived beyond that night, you would have spent your last year at Hogwarts toting around my useless frame when you ought to have been hunting Horcruxes, undistracted. Only in death, could I be useful to you.”
“What do you mean by ‘useful’?”
Harry looked on with uncertainty as Dumbledore rose out of his chair, reached into his robes and withdrew something in his closed fist.
“There is a reason why you felt me so near when you went seeking the Horcruxes with Ronald Weasley and Miss Granger. Perhaps you did not know it then, but you brought me with you.”
At that moment, Dumbledore opened his hand and held it out for Harry to see. Looking into his palm, Harry’s jaw dropped.
“The locket!” he gasped. The smile returned to Dumbledore’s face as Harry reached out his fingers to touch it. “I thought I lost it,” he whispered wonderingly. “But how could it bring you with me? I mean, did you “ did Snape-“
“No, Harry, do not be mistaken,” interjected Dumbledore. “This locket is not a Horcrux, but in a way, it worked the same way. After my death, you held onto it, wore it around your neck like a talisman, as reminder of what we had seen and done together and of what had yet to be done. Though it did not contain a broken shard of my soul,” he explained, “you imbued it with the power of your memories of me. I lived in you.”
Harry’s chest felt tight as Dumbledore turned Harry’s hand over and placed the locket in his palm.
“I thought I was just imagining it,” murmured Harry, closing his fingers tightly around the chain. “That voice I heard in the cave and at the station…. It was yours.”
“It was mine.”
“Then you’ve been here… waiting for me all this time?” said Harry breathlessly. “A whole year?”
Dumbledore laughed. “A year for you, perhaps. Time only exists for the living, Harry.”
“So that explains it,” said Harry, looking towards the sun that had yet to move from its fixed spot over the horizon.
Stroking his silver beard, Dumbledore walked away from Harry’s gaze to stand before the Mirror of Erised. Glancing over the old wizard’s shoulder, Harry thought he could see a smile hidden beneath his formidable beard.
“I have always said time is a peculiar thing. Consider the phenomenon of time against the human inclination to stall it. Outrun it. Cheat it,” he murmured in a far-off voice. “The irony, Harry, is that a race against time is impossible to win. After all he’d done to buy immortality, Voldemort, though he saw himself more a more powerful wizard for defying death, found at the last that his extended time on earth had been a waste. He died alone, Harry. Unfulfilled. Surrounded by the echoes of his own hatred when he might otherwise have used his exceptional talent towards a more enriching possession. One which, though we grow older and our brilliance fades and our bodies give out… lends us a different kind of immortality.”
Dumbledore turned his head back, a triumphant gleam in his eyes that Harry had not seen since his fourth year the night Voldemort had used his blood to forge a new body. Feeling as though their many conversations together finally made complete sense, Harry whispered, “Love.”
“Yes, Harry,” said Dumbledore with a joyful smile, “love. It is the glowing spark in you that is clinging to life even as we speak. When it came to a choice between staying and dying to save your friends or fleeing and sparing your life to the demise of all those you cared about, you chose to stay. Without so much as a thought, you leapt in front of the Killing Curse to save Ginny Weasley’s life! In so doing, you have expressed love in so great a degree that even now Death cannot claim you if you choose to live.”
“What?” said Harry. “What do you mean ‘if I choose to live’?”
“The success of the countercurse was wholly contingent on the magical protection your mother left you. I am speaking, of course, about your blood. When Voldemort used three drops of your blood to bring back his body, he did not know that doing so forged a bond between you both that would become power to you and poison to him. But in throwing yourself in front of the curse, in allowing yourself to bleed for another, you actually strengthened the protection your mother gave you “ so much that for that brief moment when you held the Killing Curse in your hand, you possessed that which Voldemort had committed countless crimes to purchase! You were immortal!
“Of course,” continued Dumbledore, “your blood could not keep you safe from death for longer than it took to destroy the piece of Voldemort’s soul that was inside you. After that, the Killing Curse took hold of you, infecting you slowly instead of striking you down in one fell swoop. Why do you suppose that is?”
Harry stared at him, agape. “I-I have no idea,” he stammered.
Dumbledore took hold of Harry’s shoulders. “Yours was not the only blood spilt by Voldemort at Kings Cross Station. It is through the intervention of another that you were not killed the instant the curse touched your bare skin. It is because of her that you now have the opportunity… to go back.”
“‘Her’?” Harry gasped. “You don’t mean, Ginny!” he exclaimed. “But she wasn’t even supposed to be there! Are you saying that if she hadn’t followed me-“
“You would be quite completely dead. Yes, it’s very likely. Apart from Ginny, I’m certain no one else could have done what she did. Voldemort would have targeted no other, and if he had, I don’t believe they could have resisted the Imperius Curse with any success. Ginny had the benefit of past experience under the influence of Tom Riddle, but more than that, she had the strength of an ardent love and devotion to you.”
“Her stubborn streak didn’t hurt either, I bet,” added Harry, half-dazed. “So because Ginny cut herself on Gryffindor’s sword, I get to go back? Simple as that?”
“No. Because Ginny was cut by the sword in her attempt to save your life, you get to go back,” he replied.
Harry shook his head in disbelief. He thought back to the moment on the stairs before he left Gryffindor Tower “ standing with Ginny and feeling like an imposter in his own skin for pretending friendship when he had felt so much more. He had endured an entire year filled with those moments, missing her terribly even when she was standing right in front of him. “All this time, I’ve kept her away... to save her,” he said, a bitter twinge of remorse in his chest, “and in the end she wound up saving me…”
“Now is not the time for regrets and it is not for you to judge what you ought to have done. You did what you thought was right, and for all you know your separation from Ginny is what drove her to fight for you so fervently. And you for her,” added Dumbledore with a knowing grin.
Looking sideways at him, Harry realized he had something very important he needed to know.
“Dumbledore… if I could ask you one more thing…”
He did not so much as bat an eye. “You wish to know why I trusted Severus Snape.”
Harry could not read the tone of Dumbledore’s voice and looked on curiously as the wizard’s face grew distant. “Yes, sir. I mean “ yes.”
“Severus did a terrible thing when he told Voldemort the prophecy, as yet incomplete. Why, then, would I forgive such an act? What could he have told me?” he murmured.
Forgetting to breathe, Harry waited anxiously for Dumbledore to continue.
“He has told you that he was present to witness your mother’s murder. Has he not told you why Voldemort gave her the choice to live?”
“No…”
“Let us then take a trip into the past.”
Dumbledore beckoned Harry to rise from his seat. Setting the spectacles back on his nose, he then opened his arms wide to the misty surface of the water. Suddenly, the mists began to swirl and turn about until Harry saw an image begin to appear, as though they were not standing on a lake but in the middle of a very large Pensieve.
Gesturing to the swirling mist, Dumbledore said, “After you.”
Harry gulped and stepped into the fog, which seemed to vanish as soon as both his feet were inside it, revealing a room Harry had visited many times as a student, but never as a spectator. As though he really had taken a dip into the Pensieve, Harry found himself in Dumbledore’s office, only the room was far less cluttered with trinkets and had a cold, darkness about it that sent a chill up Harry’s spine. Dumbledore appeared beside him and raised a finger to his lips for Harry to be silent.
Sitting behind the desk was another, graver-looking Dumbledore. Fawkes was perched beside him, small and fluffy as though it had recently been reborn from ashes. Its bright face was nestled drowsily against its chest.
Suddenly, Harry heard the door creak at the opposite end of the room. Veiled in shadow, someone entered, though he could not see who it was. The Dumbledore behind the desk did not so much as raise his eyes from his folded hands when he spoke.
“To what do I owe the privilege of your company?” he said in a somber deadpan. “Considering we’ve not spoken since you were a student in my transfiguration class, I admit I’m somewhat surprised to see you, Severus.”
“Snape,” said Harry under his breath, as the dark figure emerged from the shadows.
Snape said nothing, standing rigidly in the center of the room with his head bowed and face half-hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. His left hand was tucked inside the black cloth of his robes. What could be seen of his face looked even leaner and gaunter than Harry had ever seen before.
The Other Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and looked up, revealing a cold expression the likes of which Harry was not accustomed to seeing on Dumbledore’s face. Removing his half-moon glasses, he added, “Forgive me, I understand that Death Eaters do not wish to dwell on school days-“
“Say what you wish,” interrupted Snape softly, “but do not call me a Death Eater. No one knows that I am here.”
Harry’s stomach twisted at the realization that he had stepped into a moment in time that occurred sixteen years ago... and was about to witness Snape’s confession.
“Very well. Please, sit,” said the Other Dumbledore, eying Snape as he sat down, first with suspicion, and then concern.
Snape was shaking.
“Are you quite well, Severus?”
“Spare me your formalities, Professor Dumbledore. Kind words don’t exist for people like me.”
“‘People like you’,” the Other Dumbledore repeated pensively. “It’s been a long time; perhaps you’d like to tell me exactly what kind of person you think you are.”
Snape’s hand was still tucked firmly under his robe, and Harry began to wonder what he was hiding there before Snape began to speak the words that Harry had both dreaded and longed to hear.
“Had you but known me better while I was under your tutelage, you would have seen the pathetic villain in me from the beginning,” he murmured, not a trace left of his usual slippery drawl. “I am the reason the Potters are dead.”
“Voldemort is the reason why the Potters are dead, Severus. I am aware you heard Sybil Trelawney’s prediction some time ago. Be that as it may, do not be so artless as to think I did not know you better when you were a student.”
“You don’t understand!”
Snape leapt out of his seat and stalked angrily away before spinning around and flinging the hood off of his face. Harry gaped, having only ever seen Snape so furious when he had accidentally spied on Snape’s worst memory during a fated Legilimency lesson, but more shocking to Harry was how much younger Snape looked.
“It’s my fault! Like a fool, I assumed the half-blood child would be the last choice the Dark Lord would make,” he shouted. “But he was convinced Potter’s child would do him in “ the son of that arrogant louse-“
“He was Lily’s son as well, Severus.”
Harry had not thought it possible, but Snape grew even paler. “She was not supposed to die....”
“Am I to understand that James deserved his death, then, if Lily did not?” the Other Dumbledore asked.
“He didn’t deserve her,” spat Snape, his posture becoming yet more guarded.
“Now Severus, James outgrew his arrogance a long time ago-.”
“He didn’t deserve her!” Snape hollered bitterly. “No one did! Myself least of all after what I’ve done…”
Harry was utterly shocked and confused. Wasn’t this the same Snape who had called his mother a ‘Mudblood’?
“I tried to stop it from happening,” whispered Snape, staring vacantly off towards the window as rain tapped against the glass panes, “but once it was clear that the Potters’ child was the one he wanted, Lord Voldemort grew so single-minded that even the heartless Lestranges were frightened. Even so… I begged him to spare her. I greedily thought that, just maybe, he could rid my world of all its evils if only he could keep Lily safe. Instead of Potter by her side, I saw myself.”
Eyes wide as dinner plates, Harry’s jaw fell in disbelief at what he was hearing. Beside him, Dumbledore gave him a meaningful look, as though the worst of it were only yet to come.
“I knew he would need help, so I offered my assistance in the hopes that I could persuade him with my loyalty,” Snape continued in a rigid voice, “and at last he promised not to hurt her in return… for this.” Finally withdrawing his left hand out from beneath his robes, Snape pulled out Godric Gryffindor’s sword and dropped it onto Dumbledore’s desk as though it were a cursed object.
The Other Dumbledore looked at the sword and then at Snape. “I was beginning to wonder when you were planning to return it,” he said, unamused. “How did you find entrance into Hogwarts to steal it?”
“There is a cabinet on the first floor; a second resides in Hogsmeade and one can travel between the two,” said Snape, his jaw twitching.
“I suppose this will stay in my office from now on. Remind me to ‘fix’ that cabinet on the first floor when this conference is done. Continue.”
Snape drew in a deep breath and lowered his head. “I met him at Godric’s Hollow with the sword and stayed to see if my plan had worked “ I was so drunk with expectation that I didn’t even think of the possibility that Lily would choose a different destiny…” His voice broke and he seemed to struggle with himself to continue; meanwhile, Harry’s heart was pounding in his chest, the rest of him frozen cold at Snape’s words.
“He offered to spare her and she refused. All the rest of my life, I shall see her face… filled with hate… her eyes on me as she stepped between the Dark Lord and the child. A mother like that, I have never known,” Snape whispered, his face tortured. “He killed her, the only one who ever seemed to think me better than I was: a lowly rogue that called her names in Potions class. I should have died in her place, but like a coward, I froze and watched…”
At that moment, Snape fell into a broken heap on the chair and buried his face in his hands. “What have I done?” he breathed.
Dumbledore watched sorrowfully as his other self stood up from behind his desk and walked over to Snape, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Severus, you’ve done well to tell me these things.”
Snape’s expression turned to stone. “I’ll be sent to Azkaban. I am turning myself over to the Ministry tomorrow. I had to tell someone before I left.”
“Yes, turn yourself in. But let me be your counsel. How many Death Eaters are still active now that Voldemort is gone?”
“None. They have decided to refuse their affiliation, claiming they’ve been Imperiused and all manner of other cowardly lies. Although I’m sure I could not prove it with any success, none of them are true. Were Lord Voldemort to return, it would be a homecoming fit to destroy the entire Wizarding World.”
“And would you be a part of it?” asked the Other Dumbledore carefully.
Snape’s eyes filled with angry tears. “I would rather die.”
“I see. I believe there’s a way we can keep you out of Azkaban,” replied Dumbledore’s other self, walking to his bookshelf and pulling out a dusty old Potions textbook. “You have valuable connections, Severus. I hope you haven’t broken any of them…”
At that moment, Harry felt Dumbledore’s hand take his arm and begin to pull him backward. Beneath his feet, the stone gave way to water once more and the scene before Harry’s eyes dissolved back into the thick swirling mist that Dumbledore had conjured only moments before. Snapping out of his reverie, Harry was surprised to find that tears were traveling down his face.
“Are you all right, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry paused. “My mother’s name was the last thing he said before he died…. He was in love with her,” he murmured, smearing a tear off his cheek. “I thought he hated her. He even called her a ‘Mudblood’….”
“Severus has never easily betrayed himself to others, Harry,” Dumbledore explained.
“Didn't stop him from saying those things about my dad, though.”
“Indeed, Severus Snape was very jealous of your father. Well after James’s schoolboy antics had disappeared, Severus was still in love with your mother and would have believed anything to demonize the man she married.”
“But he was horrible to me,” Harry said in bewilderment. “So he hated my dad. If he was in love with my Mum, why’d he spend seven years treating me like I was no better than the scum off Malfoy’s shoe?”
The remark made Dumbledore smirk. “Harry, you were the product of your parents love for each other,” he said reassuringly, “proof undeniable that their marriage was neither trivial nor temporary. Every time Snape looked at you he saw the reason why he would never be anything to her but a partner in Potions Class. However, I would remind you that Snape has come to your aid many times,” he added, “and I have every belief that it was because you were Lily’s son.”
“Voldemort… He promised Snape… and he killed her anyway,” whispered Harry bitterly, wiping his eyes.
“Well, he was immortal, Harry.”
He looked back, confused. “What does that have to do with it?”
“I’ll explain. You held Death in your hand, Harry, and though the effect was temporary, you could not die,” he said fiercely. “Tell me. What do you remember of your immortality?”
Harry diverted his eyes and tried to remember. Everything had happened so quickly “ it was already like a long-forgotten dream. Closing his eyes, he strained to bring the moment back to the forefront of his memory.
“Pain… I only remember the pain,” he murmured in a far-off voice. “I’ve never felt anything like it. I could hardly bear it…”
Opening his eyes, Harry looked into Dumbledore’s face and found him frowning. “Yes. Pain. Unimaginable, indelible pain. Only a soul that is cold, unfeeling, and incomplete would be immune to it, which is why Voldemort had no qualms about betraying Severus and murdering your mother. As much as it chills me to say it, he simply did not care,” he said in a pained voice. “Immortality runs contrary to everything that is right and natural in this world, Harry. In the moment you possessed it, you’d have gladly traded your life to spare yourself from it. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” Harry answered slowly.
Dumbledore sighed. “Of course you would have. It is a sign of your unblemished spirit. Little did Voldemort know that in securing his immortality, in splintering his soul so many times to ensure he could not die, the price was to be stripped of feeling anything that makes one feel alive “ pain, sadness, remorse, joy, love… He did not know it, but he was already dead,” he explained.
Harry nodded silently.
“Whatever else Voldemort told you, Harry, you are very different from him.”
Sniffing, Harry looked up, grateful to hear Dumbledore say it.
The old wizard smiled triumphantly and laid his scrutinizing gaze on Harry’s scar. “I daresay he would be quite vexed to know that you have escaped death yet again,” he said encouragingly. “Or are about to, I should say. You’ve yet to decide to go back and we have precious little time for you to do so.”
As soon as the words were spoken, the water behind Dumbledore began to churn once again. The bubbles and ripples came faster and louder, as though the lake were laboring furiously to push something enormous through the surface. And then, in a great spray of water, a stone archway thrust itself out of the lake, a ragged cloth swaying from it that, to Harry’s surprise, was not so much as dripping an ounce of water. Standing directly across from Harry and the Mirror of Erised was the very same Veil that had claimed the life of Sirius Black in Harry’s fifth year.
“I thought you said that time doesn’t function for the dead!” cried Harry, backing slowly away from the Veil.
“It doesn’t. You have yet to fully die. However, though the thread of your existence has yet to break, the part of you that is holding on is only a fading spark. Soon it, too, will extinguish.”
“Before what?”
“You must choose a path, Harry “ choose life or choose the Veil “ but linger too long, and the choice will be made for you. After that, the only way to be among the living, should you desire it, is as a ghost.”
Harry stared first at the Mirror of Erised, then at his feet, and then into Dumbledore’s eyes, which were staring back with penetrating intensity. “I don’t want to be a ghost,” he murmured, recalling one uncomfortable conversation with Nearly Headless Nick after Sirius had died. Cringing at the idea of holiday parties with rotted food, keeping company with the Bloody Baron and being too cold to be touched, he did not envy Sir Nicholas’s existence in the slightest.
“You choose life, then?” Dumbledore asked, watching Harry with keen interest.
Harry hesitated. Somehow, he found it impossible to speak the words.
“What is it?”
“If I go… I’ll remember this, won’t I?” he asked hopefully. “Will I remember you?”
Dumbledore shook his head. “Not me, no,” he replied. “Your heart will retain what I have told you, and only that. But you must not try to remember that I met you here. You are meant to forget, lest you spend your days reliving your death.”
Harry lifted his gaze and squared his shoulders decisively. “Then I’m not going.”
For a moment, Dumbledore was silent, and he cast him an odd smile before asking, “Why not?”
Harry wasn’t sure whether or not to feel offended by the question. “Why not?” he repeated. “Because it’s not fair! Why can’t you come back with me? You sacrificed yourself as well, didn’t you?”
Dumbledore folded his hands and straightened himself. “Yes, but unlike you, no one shed blood on my account to leave me the option, and even if there had been someone who had, I still would not have chosen to return,” he said matter-of-factly. “I have lived my life, Harry. I am well adjusted to the idea of a nice long rest.”
“But-“
“But nothing,” he said, his voice suddenly stern. “I am moved that you feel that way, Harry, and of course, we all must pass through the Veil in our own time, but do not be in such a hurry to reach the end of your story when it has only just begun.”
Moving closer to Harry, Dumbledore lowered his voice to a whisper, as though addressing something deep inside of Harry’s being. “You’ve one thing left to learn. Though time pushes forward, and struggle we may against its tenacious current, life is what happens between the ‘tick’ and ‘tock’ of the clock,” he said softly. “Life is beginnings and endings, and plenty of them at that. Tonight, something ended; Voldemort’s reign is over. But your time on earth is not.”
Harry looked away, his conscience battling over what would be worse - losing Dumbledore for a second time or losing a chance to know a life without Voldemort. Were it not for the fact that he was standing there at last with his beloved headmaster, he thought, perhaps the choice would be easier to make…
“Can you think of no reason to go back?” said Dumbledore patiently. He took Harry by the shoulders and brought him back to the Mirror of Erised. Stepping away so that Harry could stand before it by himself, Dumbledore gestured toward the glass. “What about now?” he asked.
Harry looked properly into the mirror and blinked. There before him appeared a man, bespectacled with a mop of unruly black hair on his head just like his own.
“It’s my father,” he said, squinting confusedly.
Dumbledore shook his head. “Look closer.”
Harry stepped closer to the glass. The man in the mirror was standing anxiously, straightening his robe and fussing over a wayward strand of hair as though he were waiting for someone, when a woman with freckled cheeks and long red hair walked to his side, taking the hand from his hair and threading her fingers in his. Harry watched as the couple turned to smile at each other and wondered why he was staring at a visage of his parents when, suddenly, the man in the mirror looked directly into Harry’s eyes and winked at him.
Starting at the sight of the green eyes staring back at him, Harry realized at once that the image was not his father’s after all.
“It’s me…,” he breathed, reaching out to touch the glass. “And that’s Ginny…”
Dumbledore smiled. “The Mirror of Erised has many uses,” he said thoughtfully. “Apart from revealing the deepest desire of our hearts, I’ve found that it also reveals quite a bit about the person who looks into the glass. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you now see before you a brand new future in which you are joined with Miss Weasley… because at last you are free to love and be loved.”
“Free….” Turning his awestruck gaze towards Dumbledore, Harry whispered, “How did you know?”
“You have sacrificed everything in your pursuit of Voldemort, your happiness included. What greater desire could there be than to regain that which you have selflessly given up?” said Dumbledore with a smile. “You have a second chance, Harry. A chance to redeem everything and everyone you’ve lost.”
A joy the likes of which Harry had never felt began to burn in his chest as he turned to gaze at his former headmaster.
“Well?” asked Dumbledore quietly.
“A reason to go back…,” murmured Harry, turning back to look once more at the couple in the mirror. “Yes. I can think of one.”
Beaming at him, Dumbledore approached Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You always did make good choices,” he laughed.
Harry cast him a crooked smile. “Not always,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Dumbledore turned Harry around to face him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. Harry thought for a moment that he could see tears welling up behind his half-moon spectacles.
“Harry Potter. You have exceeded my every expectation since the very day you stepped into Hogwarts,” he said in a voice brimming with emotion. “I am very proud of you. If nothing else, I am glad that I could tell you face to face that you have become every bit the man your parents always wished you might become.”
The corners of Harry’s eyes were beginning to burn with tears. “Thank you, sir.”
Grinning warmly back at him, Dumbledore said, “You needn’t thank me for telling the truth, Harry. Nor should you call me ‘sir’.”
Harry cast him a watery smirk and forced a laugh. For a moment they stood in silence, watching one another with admiration “ no longer as teacher and student, but as friends.
“It’s time I went, “said Dumbledore. “Fare you well, Harry.” And then, with one last wink in Harry’s direction, he turned towards the Veil.
Harry’s breath caught in his throat. “Wait! Just for a moment,” he exclaimed. “Stay… or, let me go first.”
Dumbledore turned back and seemed to know exactly what Harry was thinking.
“This is not goodbye. We’ll see each other again. I promise you.”
“I know that “ I do “ just….” Harry’s voice faded to a desperate whisper. “Don’t leave…”
This time, there was no mistake. A tear spilled from Dumbledore’s eye.
“My dearest Harry. If you remember nothing else, remember this. I have been here,” he whispered, placing a hand over Harry’s heart, “with you, all this time. And there I will be. Always.”
Through trembling lips, Harry murmured, “I won’t ever forget you.”
“Nor I, you.”
Harry nodded wordlessly and watched as Dumbledore turned and walked towards the Veil, his silvery robe dipping in and out of the water as he treaded upon the rippling surface. As he walked on, Dumbledore began to do something strange and unexpected.
He began to whistle.
At first the sound was not unlike the times Harry had caught Dumbledore humming or whistling to himself through the halls of Hogwarts. But the closer the wizard drew towards the Veil, the more the sound changed “ higher and higher it raised until it was no longer a whistle at all but the haunting crescendo of a Phoenix song. A warm breeze began to blow over the water, playing in Harry’s hair and sweeping the mists away until the water was as pristine and glassy as it had been when Harry first arrived.
When Dumbledore finally reached the stone archway, he pushed the cloth carefully aside with his hand and looked back over his shoulder at Harry one last time, smiling proudly at him in a way that, though Dumbledore said not a word, seemed to speak volumes.
Harry remembered the locket in his hand and closed his fingers tightly around it. “Goodbye,” he whispered.
He felt his heart wrench in his chest as he watched Dumbledore turn back and step gingerly over the threshold, vanishing with nary a trace but for the frayed cloth swaying gently in the warm breeze. And then, as though it had never been made of stone, the Veil turned to water, which burst apart and fell in cascades back down into the sea. The last drops of glistening liquid rejoined the lake, and Dumbledore was gone.
Now the only one left, Harry wasn’t quite sure what to do. Dumbledore had failed to explain how he could return. Looking around him for a clue and finding nothing but the Mirror of Erised, he wondered if all he needed to do was say it out loud.
Harry cleared his throat. “I choose life,” he said with as fierce a tone as he could muster.
He held his breath for something to happen, but nothing did.
“Erm, I want to go back,” he said, a little louder. Again, he found that nothing had changed, and his spirit fell upon realizing that he had already exhausted his options.
He was still on the lake and feeling increasingly uncomfortable despite the lingering swell of music flooding his ears. Harry knew that the landscape around him, despite being one he knew well, was fake for reasons despite the water’s being sturdy enough to walk on and producing visions and objects from his past. Gazing towards the shore, Harry saw the tree that was his favorite haunt with Ron and Hermione “ the same tree he and Ginny had visited often together during blissfully lazy lunch hours as they learned how to be more than friends. He suddenly realized that, though he was surrounded by the familiarity of the Hogwarts grounds, he found no comfort in it. One important thing was missing…. His friends.
He had to go back.
He spun around to face his image in the Mirror of Erised. Squeezing his eyes shut, Harry cried out as loud as he could, “I WANT TO LIVE!”
The words echoed strangely into the ether and all around him the water’s surface quivered as if touched by a wind that Harry could not feel. Before his eyes, the mirror suddenly shattered into pieces that tumbled into the murky water, and then, without warning, the surface beneath Harry’s feet gave way, and the lake swallowed him up.
Underwater, the Phoenix song was gone. The water was as cold as ice and he sank deeper, as though his limbs were made of granite. A moment of shock passed before he finally remembered that he had no Gillyweed and could not breathe underwater. Frantically, he began to churn his arms to swim back up.
But he was too heavy. Sinking steadily, he tried to push himself towards the surface, towards the rippling light above him that he knew he must reach. And when he did reach it, he thought resolutely, he would have so much to tell Ron and Hermione about what he had seen. He would tell Ginny what Dumbledore had shown him in the Mirror of Erised. He would talk endlessly about how young Dumbledore looked. They wouldn’t believe it, but he’d tell them anyway. Dumbledore would not be forgotten.
As soon as the thought entered his mind, he felt something yank him back down. His chest grew tight, as though the weight of the water were squeezing in on his lungs. Panicked, he peeled off his robe and cast it away from him, and he rose higher.
As he ascended, he suddenly realized that he could not remember the color of Dumbledore’s robe. He’d seen it only a moment ago... but the memory was gone.
Dumbledore’s warning was coming true, thought Harry in horror. He was forgetting him.
Just then, a sharp pain seared through his right side and he recoiled in agony. Sinking once more, he saw a cloud of blood rise up before his eyes, and placing his hand over his shirt, he felt a tear in the fabric over his reopened wound. He struggled to push himself higher, kicking his aching legs, one hand over the gash in his side while the other clawed toward the surface. A dull pain formed beneath his scar.
He could not tell how he knew, but it became ever clearer that his time was almost running out. More and more, he felt his body weaken, and the dancing light over his head was growing farther away the harder he tried to hold onto a vision of Dumbledore’s face. He would drown in this netherworld, never to return. He would never see his friends again. Ginny would grow old without him…
At once, he felt fire return to the center of his chest. Against the screaming pain in his body, he threw off the last memory of Dumbledore’s face and focused every thought in his mind towards reaching the surface. He was climbing higher, but unable to hold his breath any longer, he gasped and felt the sharp pang as water entered his lungs. The cold was everywhere “ around and within him “ his right hand had turned withered and black once more….
The locket dropped from his fingers. Above him, the light danced….
“Ginny, come away from there.”
She felt the pressure of Neville’s hand on her arm, but she did not move from the ground beside Harry’s body.
“He’s gone, Ginny,” he whispered through his tears. “We have to get him out… before the Muggles-“
“Don’t touch him,” she hissed. “Not yet.”
Ron and Hermione let go of one another to watch Ginny’s face. She was no longer crying, but staring intently at Harry’s body, as if she were willing it to instantaneously spring back to life. Ron and Hermione looked at one another, and then at Harry, searching for whatever it was Ginny was seeing.
“Do you hear it?” Ginny whispered.
“Hear what?” asked Ron tremulously.
“Merlin’s beard…” gasped Hermione, grabbing Ron’s arm. “I hear it!”
“What are you talking ab-“ he began, but Hermione clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Ron, listen.”
Silence fell upon the DA, and they all strained to hear. Softly, as though from a great distance, music began to sound. The melody was soul-stirring “ beautiful and joyful “ not at all the mournful requiem they heard the day that Dumbledore was entombed, and their eyes lifted to the sky as it grew louder. Before long, the sound of sirens could be heard no more over the melody. The sun rose higher in the sky, filling the entire station with a warm radiant glow, and they could see something in the distance traveling speedily toward them, brilliant light filtering through the feathers of its enormous wings.
Between the broken rafters it flew down towards them, crooning gloriously as it soared low to the ground, coming to rest beside Harry’s feet. Puffing up its chest feathers, it shivered and beat its long scarlet tail. Its song was done.
“Fawkes,” breathed Ron in disbelief. He jumped to his feet and pulled Hermione up by the hand as the Phoenix stepped toward Harry’s other side. It paused across from where Ginny sat and stared appraisingly at her.
“I remember you,” she murmured, smiling, and it warbled affectionately in answer before slowly turning its sharp gaze on Harry’s face.
Slowly, Fawkes raised its head, arching it up towards the sky. Closing its eyes, the Phoenix gracefully extended its wings out to their fullest extent displaying a formidable crimson and gold wingspan that ran the length of Harry’s entire body. There was a sudden rush of hot wind that blew them all backwards, but quickly as it had begun, the warm current vanished. When they turned to look again, Fawkes’s wings were neatly folded, its red and golden face pressed gently against Harry’s cheek.
Windswept, Ginny pushed her hair out of her eyes, unsure of what had just happened. “Harry?” she whispered.
All of a sudden, Harry’s body lurched forward and Ginny screamed. Fawkes leapt back as water came sputtering out of Harry’s mouth, and he turned onto his side, coughing and shuddering violently as he struggled to breathe.
“Harry!” cried Hermione and Ron in unison as they rushed to his side.
He could not answer. His clothes were absolutely drenched, every inch of him alive with pain as if he had forgotten altogether the feeling of being inside a mortal frame. He groaned, doubling over against the aches in his open wounds, and shielded his eyes.
Hermione tried to grab his hand to move it away from his face. “Harry, are you all right?” she cried. “Let me see!”
“My eyes…” he croaked. “They’re… burning…”
He felt something touch his arm and pull away with a painful gasp. “Bloody hell, so’s the rest of you!” exclaimed Ron. “You can fry a Skrewt on your skin!”
“Yeah, if he weren’t soaked to the bone,” came Fred’s voice. “It’s like the man’s gone swimming!”
"Must be the fever," noted George. “D’you reckon we should call someone?”
“Are you mad? We have to get him out of here!” cried Hermione, gingerly taking Harry’s arm and pulling it over her shoulder. “This place will be crawling with Muggles any minute!”
One by one, frantic voices began to fill Harry’s ears.
“I don’t believe it-“
“He’s alive? What just happened?”
“Fawkes revived him!” grunted Ron as he wrapped Harry’s other arm around his neck and started to pull him off the ground. Neville and Luna rushed forward, weaving their arms under Harry’s legs in an effort to help Ron and Hermione get him to the Portkey.
“Can’t you use Mobilicorpus? It’d save time,” observed Lavender.
“I wouldn’t,” said Luna warningly. “It’d fry his brain or something. Didn’t you ever hear about Conrad the Combustible? I could tell you stories…”
For once, Harry agreed with Luna. “No magic,” he murmured as the four of them heaved him into the air, dizzy and so warm he thought he might easily burst into flame.
Before long, Harry could hear nothing but noise as a dozen voices fussed over him. But there was one voice his ears longed to hear.
“Ginny,” he gasped, reaching blindly out with his blackened hand.
“I’m here,” she said in a strained voice, grasping his hand gently over Hermione’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m going with you, Harry, we all are. We’re taking you home.”
He felt a giddy smile spread across his face. “Home,” he whispered, feeling a sudden urge to laugh and cry at the same time. “Home…”
His hand still pressed in Ginny’s, Harry had never felt so glad to be in so much pain. He was alive. As his last memory of the murky deep vanished, fever overrode his happiness, and Harry fell back unconscious against Ron’s shoulder, unaware of the locket hanging safely over his heart.
Chapter Thirteen: The Scar by Mudblood428
Author's Notes:
"Some magic just falls outside the Hogwarts curriculum."
For Marta, who believes that "Harry and Ginny are meant to be."
Chapter 13: The Scar
Harry was dreaming of bees. Swarming around him in a thick cloud of red and gold, strange bumblebees with long white beards buzzed and whirred setting his skin tingling as they lighted on his arms and legs “ never stinging, but rather wafting a flowery aroma into his nose. He detected something sweet like honey in the air and on his tongue before the buzzing was underscored by a pair of hushed, agitated voices.
"He looks a bit… grippy… don't you think?"
"‘Grippy’? Don’t you mean 'gippy'?"
"Right, what I said.”
"Oh, honestly…”
"I mean, he’s not so red anymore, but now it’s like he’s just spent another ten years at the bloody Dursley’s, don’t you think?"
"No, I don’t, actually. To me, he looks rather well."
"That’s a joke, yeah?"
"Certainly not. I’d much rather him pale than red in the face, seeing as it means his fever’s broken!"
"There’s no need to get all flustered, Hermione. I’m simply alerting you to the possibility that he is in dire need of some of Lupin’s chocolates, if you get my meaning."
"Are… are you mocking me?"
"Come on, just look at his face-"
"I am looking at his face, he looks just fine!"
"Well… I reckon it's an improvement over the death-warmed-up look, but-"
"You never fail to amaze me, Ron."
"Really?"
"Don't look so pleased, I only meant that you have the tact of a rabid River Troll."
"What'd I do now?"
"Oh, nothing! For Merlin's sake, Harry is out cold seven days after he destroys Voldemort and nearly dies in the act, and all you can think of is how ill he looks? More astonishing to me than your insensitivity and utter lack of any delicacy at all is the fact that I put up with it!"
"Brilliant. Love you too, Hermione."
"Bloody hell, they even argue in my dreams," rasped Harry, cracking open one bloodshot eye to the sight of Ron and Hermione's blurry faces at his bedside.
The two of them nearly jumped a foot out of their chairs at the sound of his voice. “Harry!” they gasped.
He blinked groggily. “Good… morning?”
It was clearly nighttime. The room was dark, nothing but what seemed like a small collection of candles in the far corner of the room to contend with the vanishing moon. Without his glasses, Harry could make out little more than the warm glowing halo behind Ron and Hermione's indistinct silhouettes. The buzzing in his ears had been the wind and the slow onslaught of rain; tapping dully against the windows, the sound seemed to enhance Harry’s fogginess as he struggled to gather his senses. It was only by the dark, dreary walls and inordinate depth of the room that Harry could tell he was at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, his home outside of Hogwarts ever since he had bid farewell to Dudley Dursley’s second bedroom. But how he had arrived there and how long he had been confined to Sirius’s old enormous four-poster bed seemed unimportant matters compared to feeling like his mind had gone on holiday while the world “ and Ron and Hermione’s arguments “ went quietly on without him.
Each bringing a candle to the night table, they stood anxiously over Harry’s bed. "Thank goodness you’re awake! We’ve all been so anxious “ I was starting to think you’d never come to!" cried Hermione in a loud whisper, touching the back of her fingers to Harry’s cheeks to check for fever. "How is your hearing? Are you seeing any spots? Sense anything unusual?"
Harry tried to smile at her fussing, and surprised himself at how difficult it was to make his lips cooperate. He imagined that he looked more pained than amused and stopped trying. “Does dreaming about bearded bumblebees count as unusual?” he mumbled, his throat uttering a gravelly sound that was meant to be a laugh if not for the soreness in his lungs that strangled it before it left his mouth. Hermione did not notice; she was otherwise preoccupied with making an assessment of his vitals.
"Hermione… what are you doing?"
"Eyes open, Harry,” she ordered, blinding him as she lit the end of her wand. Tearing up, his eyes creaked open wide enough for her to check whatever it was she was checking until, satisfied in her observations, she leaned back and smiled. "Now then, how do you feel?"
"And, er, how much did you hear?" asked Ron sheepishly.
“I feel like I just got through a Quidditch match with McClaggen,” muttered Harry, weakly bringing a hand to his aching head and finding a bandage wrapped tightly around it. His other hand already rested over a bandage wrapped uncomfortably around his torso. "Has it really been a week?” he murmured, and he began unsuccessfully to squirm away an itch in his side beneath the dressing. The strange tingling sensation he had perceived in his dreams was all over him now as though the hundreds of bees from his dream were still buzzing about on his skin.
"Seven days, seventeen hours exactly," said Ron softly.
"You’ve been keeping track?" asked Harry.
"Well there’s not been much else to do but wait around, has there?" Ron replied with a half-smile. "To be honest, I thought you’d be out for longer, all things considered."
Just then, Harry noticed that his limbs didn’t seem to want to cooperate either. Everything felt prickly and oddly numb. The exception was his right hand; though it was not charred quite as black as it had been before, it now felt as if his bones and sinews had been replaced by old rickety wood. “I feel weird,” he said, stretching his fingers wide, slowly wriggling the dexterity back into them.
"Madam Pomfrey expected as much," said Hermione, pulling her chair to the bed and sitting down, and Ron followed suit. "When you passed out, we took you to the infirmary in the Ministry of Magic where you were put under a spell to make your body hibernate until you woke up. Now that you’re conscious, it’s probably just wearing off."
Harry shifted uncomfortably, not altogether complacent at the idea that his body had been charmed frozen for seven days while his mind dozed; the aftereffects didn’t seem to be worth the trouble. His mouth was dry and his stomach was beginning to rumble. "Ron, you just mentioned Lupin’s chocolates, didn't you? Is he here?"
"Yeah, why, do you want some? He’s always got some on hand," said Ron brightly, already starting towards the door.
"No, I just got reminded. Actually… I was just wondering if “ er “ how he’s doing," stammered Harry.
"Both he and Tonks are fine,” said Hermione knowingly.
Letting out a breath of air, Harry tried again to smile and managed an awkward grimace. “She is? Well, that’s good news,” he murmured, relieved. “Seems I’m not the only lucky one, then."
Both Hermione and Ron fell silent, and Harry realized at once that he had just trespassed onto a subject that no one wanted to talk about just yet. Although being unconscious had spared Harry the immediate burden of confronting what had happened, he knew that Ron and Hermione had had an entire week to mull it over and do nothing but wait and hope that he would be all right when he woke. Unwilling to dwell on such dark thoughts, Harry rushed to recover the conversation.
“So they got her back to St. Mungo’s in time?” he said, clearing his throat.
“Thankfully, yes,” said Hermione. "Tonks has had a bit of a rough spot. She only got out a few days ago."
He gathered the worst from Hermione’s expression. "Permanent damage?"
She nodded. "She and Lupin are sharing scars now."
Harry winced.
“But she’s quite proud of us, you know,” Hermione added with a smile. “I mean, it’s not likely she’ll return to the Defense Against the Dark Arts post““
“Surprise, surprise,” muttered Ron under his breath.
"“But she couldn’t believe us when we told her about our fight with the Death Eaters in the concourse at Kings Cross. And then, when she heard about what Neville did to Bellatrix, Lupin practically had to hold her to the bed, she was so excited!"
"I’ll bet she was," chuckled Harry. "Remind me to thank her. Reckon we’d have done a lot worse if she hadn’t taught us what to do in battle “ Neville, especially." He paused, uttering a pensive sigh. "Come to that, I owe Neville a thank-you as well, don’t I?"
"You know," said Hermione, “Neville’s actually been by to see you. Luna, too."
"Have they?"
"They asked my mum for permission since you’ve been sort of under Weasley supervision, what with my dad’s Ministry connections and all," said Ron simply. "You know how Mum is. She took one look at Neville and started blubbering madly about him and how proud his parents would be and something about ‘rising to the occasion’. As for Luna… well, she didn’t know what to do with Luna, but then who does, really?" he remarked. "Looking back on it, I can’t remember whether or not she said yes to either of them!"
"Yeah, sounds like your Mum," Harry agreed, finally managing a successful grin. "I hope Neville got a swelled head for once. He earned it."
"Speaking of which… I’d just, you know, been meaning to tell you," said Ron, fiddling with a frayed thread on the edge of his Chudley Cannons shirt.
Harry turned his gaze upon his ginger-haired mate, who now wore a thoughtful expression. "Yeah?"
"It was a good idea “ putting Neville in charge, that is," murmured Ron.
So Ron had taken Neville’s induction as leader of the D.A. as a rejection after all, thought Harry. "I’m glad you think so.”
Ron snorted. "He’s a new man. You’d barely recognize him."
"How do you mean?"
"Well, for starters he talked back to his Gran when they both came by to visit you," replied Ron, leaning back in amusement. “I’d’ve given my last Knut to see that again!"
Hermione waved a hand dismissively. "He didn’t talk back to his Gran so much as he just asserted himself," she clarified. "Basically, she’d started in comparing Neville and you like the fact that you were passed out made you a lesser wizard or something. So Neville told her that she had no right comparing the two of you when you’re the one that did Voldemort in-"
"Right, I believe his choice words were ‘if you have nothing better to do than behave like a barmy old crone, you can leave,’" sniggered Ron.
Harry’s jaw fell open.
"You’re not serious," he contended.
"Serious as Moody dressed in Winky’s tea cozy."
“Ha! I’d’ve given up my own last Knut to see that," chuckled Harry despite the pain in his side that stung especially sharply when he laughed.
"I suppose it’s good that he’s more, erm, confident, but he’s different. Sadder," added Hermione. "He hasn’t been able to talk about what happened yet. With him and Bellatrix, I mean."
"Of course not," Harry murmured, half to himself as he scratched at a tingly itch beneath the bandage on his head. Recognizing the weight of sadness in his own chest, Harry suddenly felt a greater kinship with Neville Longbottom than he had felt before. Forgetful and clumsy though he was “ or had been before that fateful night at Kings Cross Station “ Neville, too, had finally gotten his opportunity to be heroic and had succeeded. And yet, it appeared to Harry now that neither he nor Neville would ever find comfort in their heroic deeds.
Hermione interrupted Harry’s thoughts. "Anyway, Luna asked me to tell you that she’s saved you a copy of the latest Quibbler to give you at Commencement," she said, rolling her eyes. "You’re on the cover, of course, with ‘Voldie Dies, Potter Survives’ in big flashy letters. Something of an insipid headline in my opinion."
"And dull, too," Ron chimed in.
"Hang on… Commencement?" Still foggy, Harry had completely forgotten about graduating from Hogwarts. Suddenly, his headache worsened as he realized that he had not put nearly enough effort into his W.O.M.B.A.T.s in anticipation of his last meeting with Voldemort. "And are we sure I’m actually meant to graduate?" he muttered miserably. "I’ve skived off enough classes to count as a dropout, haven’t I?"
"Hmph. You’d think so," said Hermione, a smirk creeping onto her lips.
Harry noticed a trace of excitement in her voice. At that moment, she tapped Ron’s arm and gestured to the armoire across the room and, nodding, Ron got up from his chair and disappeared into the darkness. When he returned, Harry saw that he had retrieved a roll of parchment and a box small enough to contain a chocolate frog.
"We were saving it for you ‘til you woke up," said Ron, placing the items on the bed covers.
Harry picked up the box first. The gold string wrapped around it came off easily into his hand as though someone had already gotten into the box before him. Opening it, he found a gold medallion about the size of a Galleon fastened to a velvet lavender ribbon, and etched into the gold was a swirl of letters and symbols that Harry did not understand. "What is this?" he asked.
"Open the parchment and see," said Hermione anxiously.
Keeping a wary eye on her, Harry broke the wax seal and opened the scroll. “Erm… I don’t actually know where my glasses are.”
Hermione leapt up and plucked them off the night table. “Here,” she said, handing them over.
Harry put them on and squinted. “It’s too dark. I can’t see the writing.”
“For goodness’ sake, here,” said Hermione exasperatedly, pulling out her wand and lighting it over the parchment. “Now read!”
“Okay, okay…” Harry cleared his throat and began to read aloud.
Dear Mr. Potter,
In wake of recent events, it is the privilege of the Wizengamot on behalf of the Ministry of Magic to award you Order of Merlin, Second Class, the highest honor bestowed solely upon those who demonstrate exemplary valor and gallantry in the face of a foe of the Wizarding World.
Please accept this medallion as a symbol of our appreciation for your services and as evidence of your place among the greatest wizards of our time. The Wizarding Community commends you.
Regards,
Hon. Rufus Scrimgeour
Minister of Magic
Harry was agape. “I’m- I’m in the Order of Merlin…”
Hermione looked fit to burst with pride. “I know, isn’t it wonderful?” she cried.
“I don’t believe it…,” he whispered.
Ron huffed. “Tell me about it. Old Scrimgeour just couldn’t bring himself to do more than commend you for your ‘services’,” he muttered. “You’d think you had just been picking up the rubbish on Diagon Alley ‘stead of saving the world. Should’ve gotten First Class, if you ask me.”
Wearing an embarrassed grin, Harry felt his face redden at Ron’s statement. “So does this mean my lousy W.O.M.B.A.T. marks are exempt then?”
“Oh, you actually did fine on your exams,” said Hermione, casting him a feigned annoyed expression. “I just figured you ought to know that because of what you’ve done you’ve made your grades completely obsolete. I ought to hang you for it.”
“I imagine it probably wouldn’t go over well if McGonagall failed out the hero of the Wizarding World,” sniggered Ron.
Harry’s cheeks warmed once more, but the next moment, a thought entered his mind that drained the blood from his face entirely.
“Ron... Hermione… about what happened at the station,” he began slowly. “How many people know?”
Ron exchanged looks with Hermione and sighed. “Everyone.”
“Everyone, everyone?”
“The whole bloody Wizarding World. They’re updating the history books as we speak. Poor Hermione’s going to have to replace half her librar- ow!” Hermione had slapped him swiftly on the arm.
“What Ron is trying to say is that you’ve gotten a bit of a… a new reputation now,” she explained, and Harry felt his stomach lurch. “It’s why we had to bring you here. This is the only place that’s protected enough to keep away the hoards of people who want a look at the Man Who Defeated You-Know-Who.”
“I might have known,” mutterered Harry. Letting out a gust of air, he passed a hand wearily over his face, his fingers bumping against the gauze around his forehead. Laying his palm flat over the bandage, he groaned. “This scar is going to be more of a curse now than when there was a bit of Voldemort’s soul in it, isn’t it?”
Looking uncomfortable, Ron shifted his eyes and absently scratched the back of his neck. “It might.”
“Listen, Harry,” said Hermione, placing her hand over Harry’s, her brows furrowed in trademark seriousness. “Maybe things are a little jumpy right now, but it’ll be fine, you’ll see. What does it matter what the Wizarding World thinks? Dumbledore’s Army fought with you that night “ we all saw what happened while the rest of the Wizarding World only read about it in the Daily Prophet. And maybe most of us will probably never understand what happened or how you did it, but at least your friends know that you’re not just some marked man,” she said wisely.
Harry said nothing. His head was clearing and the effect was something he had not expected. Suddenly, a painful lump had welled up in his throat. “Dumbledore’s Army,” he whispered, turning his face away from them. Something inside began to hurt terribly, as if a knife’s point were pressed sharply against his heart.
“Erm… Harry?” she prompted gently.
“Susan,” he whispered. “Colin… and Padma…”
Ron uttered a long sigh. “Yeah.”
A hollow darkness greater than the gloom already present in the large room descended upon him like a Dementor’s cold draught. Closing his eyes, Harry shook his head as if it would shake free his mind from the memory of Parvati’s screams. “I promised them that… if they could only stay together, they’d come out alive,” he murmured, his voice wavering.
Both Ron and Hermione hesitated, panicked that they had already landed on the topic of who had died and Harry had barely been awake more than ten minutes.
Finally, Ron cleared his throat. “Harry, don’t think about it. You’ll only torture yourse-“
“I could’ve stopped Goyle’s dad, couldn’t I?” he interrupted.
There was another pause while Ron and Hermione gaped at him, startled. “No, Harry,” exclaimed Hermione, but Harry barely heard her.
“I could’ve. And the D.A.... I just left them. How could I do that, why didn’t I just stay...?”
“But you couldn't stay!”
Suddenly, he wished desperately that he could move. If he weren’t still regaining the feeling in his toes, he’d run “ he didn’t care where so long as he wasn’t flat on his back with nothing to do but think of what he should have done differently. But no, he thought bitterly. There was nowhere to run where his scar would not give him away, only now, it would not remind him of his cursed bond with Voldemort, but forever be a mark of something far worse. Numbly, without so much as a thought about what he was saying, the words that had haunted him since the moment Dean, Seamus and Lavender disappeared down the concourse with Padma and Parvati in tow crept onto his lips at last.
“It should’ve been me.”
“What?” gasped Hermione.
“The Death Eaters only came after us because they were looking for me. They couldn’t kill me, remember? But nothing would keep them from killing anyone else, it would only be another way to get to me. I may as well have arranged it all on purpose. I led them right into a trap“ "
“No, you didn’t! Don’t go blaming yourself,” said Ron sternly placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “You couldn’t’ve saved them. How do you know that Goyle wouldn’t have killed you instead if you’d gotten in the way of that curse?”
At this, Harry paused. “I don’t…”
“Right! And how do you know that the Inferi wouldn’t have taken over the tunnels if you had stayed with the D.A.?” offered Hermione. “And Neville “ what if you had never found him and Bellatrix?”
“And then Voldemort would have wiped London clean off the map and all those Muggles and Muggle-borns would’ve died,” Ron continued, instinctively taking Hermione’s hand. “No. Trust me, there’s nothing you or Neville or any of us could have done, mate. It just… I dunno… happened.”
“Ron’s right, you know,” came a deep voice from the dark end of the room.
Harry detected a tall figure in the doorway behind the curtain of his four-poster bed. “Lupin?” he whispered.
“I heard louder voices than usual and figured you might be awake,” said Lupin, grinning warmly as he made his way towards Harry. He looked greyer, his skin etched with crosshatched scars, and his mild disposition had returned. Harry tried to smile back and could not manage it, albeit this time it was not for a lack of command over his mouth.
“For a moment, I forgot where I was; in this house, you three sound so much like James, Sirius, and me,” Lupin said with a short laugh, gazing affectionately at Ron and Hermione. Then, he turned to Harry and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I must say, seven days of beauty sleep and you’re looking much better, Harry. How do you feel?”
“I’m fine,” he lied.
Lupin sat on the edge of the bed, resting his knowing gaze on Harry’s face. He sighed. “That hang-up of yours for saving people. It’s never going to go away, is it,” he murmured. “You destroyed Voldemort… and it’s still not enough for you. When will it be enough, Harry, to be only human?”
Harry forced his eyes to look away, wishing now that he had not said anything at all.
“Well.” Lupin shifted on the mattress and folded his hands in his lap. “Listen closely, because I’m only going to say this once,” he said in a gentle voice. “Ron and Hermione have told me everything. Harry, what happened to Padma, Susan, and Colin was out of your hands before the fight even began. You’re forgetting something very important, and it’s that your friends made choices that night. The people you called Dumbledore’s Army knew what might happen to them, but they had their reasons for fighting just like you did, didn’t they? They knew the danger; the risk that they could be killed,” said Lupin. “Taking responsibility for whether or not they survived takes away from them whatever passion and loyalty drove them to fight with you to begin with. Did you ever consider that?”
“I… I hadn’t thought of it that way,” said Harry quietly.
Lupin dug a small pouch out of his pocket and held it in his lap. “Yes, well, I’ve had some time to work out my own issues over that sort of thing myself. Sirius died in a way that any of James’s true friends would have wanted to go, you know. Fighting Voldemort. Protecting you,” he said. “I used to hold myself accountable for what happened to him, but it did no good, Harry. Do you know why?”
“Why?” Harry whispered.
“Because you were the one I was meant to save.”
Startled, Harry raised his eyes to find Lupin gazing back at him with a thoughtful expression on his face. “What do you mean?”
Lupin lowered his voice. “Whichever one of us would have fallen through the Veil, you’d have run into the Veil right after him if no one was there to hold you back. Or perhaps you’ve forgotten?”
Ron and Hermione were silent and staring at the floor. Harry swallowed hard; he wasn’t sure if this was making him feel better or worse, and it seemed that Lupin could sense it as he placed a hand securely over Harry’s ashen fingers.
“I know you’re hurt. I know you feel guilty. But you need to understand that regardless of what you expect from yourself, you are only human. Your friends died, but not because of anything you did or didn’t do. Every war has its casualties. And in the end, you were exactly where you needed to be.”
Lupin flipped Harry’s hand over and emptied the contents of the small pouch onto his palm; a few fragments of chocolate, one of which Lupin plucked back out of Harry’s hand to toss into his own mouth.
“Eat,” he said, chewing. “It helps.”
Harry cast him a withered look as he slowly raised the chocolate to his lips and bit off a sliver. The effect was almost instantaneous “ the stiffness in his joints began to dissipate at the same time as the weight on his heart began to slowly lift. It seemed odd that the chocolate could work so effectively when it had been a full week since his last encounter with Dark Magic. But then, something about sharing chocolate with Lupin the way they had when he was learning to cast his first Patronus, Harry decided, seemed to be precisely the thing he needed. More than satisfying an empty stomach, it was distracting.
Not that he doubted Lupin's words. Somewhere mixed in with his troubled thoughts Harry knew that Lupin was right. He was simply tired, as though he had just completed a seven year-long race that had only just finished, and now he would have to learn again how to walk instead of run. In the end Harry suspected that he would always feel responsible for what happened, but as he lay in bed in the company of Lupin, Ron, and Hermione, who had purposely changed the subject to talk of the summer and their post-commencement plans, he began to feel as though his worries and complaints were intruding on the observance of something more important. For him, his friends, and for everyone else that would have died if Harry had failed, at least there was a future to look forward to.
He instantly realized there was someone missing from the picture.
“Where’s Ginny?” he said suddenly.
Lupin, Ron and Hermione stopped talking to look at him.
“She’s right here,” said Ron.
“She is? Downstairs, you mean?”
Ron shook his head. “No. Here.” He pulled out his wand and lit it brightly enough to illuminate the room in a soft glow. “There,” he said, pointing a finger past Harry’s right side.
There was a small settee against the wall of Harry’s room, visible only when Harry slid one hand over to push aside the curtain of his four-poster bed. Sure enough, curled up awkwardly beneath one of Mrs. Weasley’s knitted blankets was Ginny Weasley, identifiable only by the long pleat of ginger hair that draped softly over her shoulder; the rest of her face was turned away from them concealing closed eyes and freckled cheeks. As he stared, he wondered at the strange feeling that had come over him “ his heart began to thrum hard against the bandages and for a brief moment he thought fiercely about ordering Lupin, Ron and Hermione from the room just so he could continue to look at Ginny as she slept.
“I… I never knew she was such a sound sleeper,” said Harry at last, somewhat shocked that Ginny had not woken up and made her presence known in the entire time that the four of them had been talking.
“She’s not,” laughed Lupin, rising from the foot of the bed. Walking over to her, he lifted her arm by the wrist and let it plop back into her lap like a limp rope. “It seems she’s finally followed her mother’s advice and taken that Sleeping Draught.”
Harry raised an eyebrow. “Sleeping Draught?”
“Ginny hasn’t exactly had a restful week, Harry,” said Lupin matter-of-factly. “I can’t imagine that surprises you.”
“Oh,” was all Harry could say. Indeed, she looked beyond exhausted; perhaps it was the draught's effect, but her chest was rising and falling at an abnormally slow and steady pace. As his eyes looked worriedly upon her sleeping figure, Harry noticed that despite her stupor, the fingers of her hand were tightly clenched into a fist, the knuckles white.
Lupin cleared his throat. “Well. I think I’ll go down and tell Molly and Arthur that their charge has finally woken up!” he said cheerfully, rocking himself back onto his feet. Ruffling Harry’s hair, he said, “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I can’t. I don’t think my legs work yet,” chided Harry, and with that, Lupin stepped out of the room.
As Lupin left, Ron put out his wand and Hermione lit a lamp at the dark end of the room. “You know… Ginny’s barely budged from that spot since they brought you in here,” came Hermione’s low voice.
“Yeah. Said she wanted to be nearby in case you woke up. She’ll be right put out that she missed it,” remarked Ron.
At this news, Harry’s heart swelled hopefully in his chest. “Yeah? Can’t have that, now can I?” he said. For the first time since he had opened his eyes, he mustered his strength to slowly roll over onto his side, reaching out his wounded hand to grasp his wand from the night table. He aimed it at Ginny.
“Accio couch."
The settee lifted slowly off the floor, hovering for a moment before drifting gently towards them. Ginny did not so much as stir.
“Watch it, Harry, you might want to make sure she doesn’t have her wand on her,” muttered Ron. “I happen to know she’s not a morning person. Just ask Fred and George about the ‘Breakfast Bogey Incident’…”
“There are worse things than being Bat Bogey-Hexed.”
“Clearly, you’re not speaking from experience!”
“Harry, be careful “ you’ve only just come to,” said Hermione.
“I’m fine,” said Harry, though he was admittedly just a bit dizzy from the small motion of propping himself up against the pillows. His fingers found Ginny’s shoulder and gave it small squeeze. Amanesco, he thought intensely, feeling magic trickle out of his hand to wake her.
Ginny shifted in her chair and it looked as if she might resume sleeping before she opened one sleepy eye to Harry and gasped.
“Good morning,” he whispered to her.
“Harry,” she breathed, her eyes wide.
Neither smiling nor frowning, Ginny looked as though she wasn’t quite believing what she was seeing, a reaction somewhat different from the one Harry had hoped for. Perhaps she would rather not have been woken, he thought, but he had no chance to apologize before Ginny, staring intently back at him, pushed a loose strand of her hair out of her eyes revealing a bandage bound tightly around her palm where Gryffindor’s sword had cut her. The sight wiped the expectation clean from his face. His eyes now fixed upon this wound, Harry reached over to touch her hand, but was interrupted by a shrill cry from the doorway.
“Oh, Harry! Bless me, but you’re finally awake!” cried Mrs. Weasley, and she flew past Lupin into the room towards him, joyful tears already running from the crinkled corners of her eyes. Mr. Weasley, dressed in long pinstriped pajamas and a bright purple knitted nightcap, was close behind hastening towards Harry’s bed, unsuccessfully trying to intercept his wife before her arms fixed permanently around Harry in a tight embrace. “You’re all right now, aren’t you, dear? I’m so glad Remus woke us so I could see for myself!” she exclaimed. Awkwardly patting her back as she hugged him, Harry thought for a moment that he would sustain further injury if Mrs. Weasley held him any tighter.
“Hello there, Harry,” said Mr. Weasley, waving at Harry from behind his wife’s shoulder. “Doing well, now, I see! Molly, just let him breathe, for pity’s sake....”
“Oh, hush, Arthur! I’m allowed to be excited, aren’t I?” she laughed. Sniffing, Mrs. Weasley pulled away, leaving Harry to recover the sensation in his extremities. Looking to Harry’s side, she blinked in confusion. “Heavens, Ginny, I thought you said you were going to take the Sleeping Draught. What are you doing awake?”
Ginny glanced in Harry’s direction. “I “ well-“
“Er, it’s so good to see you,” interrupted Harry, smiling warmly to both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, all the while watching Ginny from the corner of his eye as she silently straightened herself in her seat and swept her braid behind her shoulder. “I, er, hope I haven’t been too much trouble,” he added, trying not to sound distracted.
“Trouble? Goodness, no,” she snorted. “With the Hibernation Charm, the only trouble we had was trying to keep from worrying too much!”
“And Mum failed spectacularly at it,” muttered Ron out of the corner of his mouth. Harry pinched together his lips to keep from giggling.
Mr. Weasley nudged Ron’s shoulder, to which Ron gave a discontented grunt as he gave up his seat. “Harry, I’m glad you’re well. I expect Ron and Hermione have already spilled the news of your big honor?”
Quickly returning his attention to Mr. Weasley, Harry picked up the medallion to show him. “Yeah. I’m not sure I believe it just yet.”
“Yes, well, it was a great thing you did,” he said, gazing at Harry with a pride that he reserved for his own children. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t right terrified that you weren’t going to make it through, but then you have a knack for surprising us, don’t you?”
Harry swallowed hard and lowered his eyes. “Surprised myself as well,” he murmured in a distant voice. The rain outside had begun to pour heavily from the sky. Perhaps it was his imagination, but the sound of water splashing hard against the windowpanes and the sight of Ginny’s bandaged hand, it all seemed to stir something in his memory “ and whatever it was had something to do with the vague sense he had that there was a significant reason for the fact that he had not died. Ginny, Harry noticed, was sitting and staring vacantly ahead, unusually quiet.
“Harry… would you mind terribly if I ask you something?” Mr. Weasley looked anxious. “Ministry related, that is-“
“For Merlin’s sake, Arthur, the boy’s only just woken up!” scolded Mrs. Weasley.
“No, it’s all right.” Better now than later, he thought; whatever he was about to hear would be something unpleasant if it had anything to do with the Ministry. “What is it?”
Mr. Weasley slipped his nightcap off to smooth the dwindling tuft of red hair that clung stubbornly to his balding head. “I do realize this may be too soon to ask you, but there’s been a matter of great importance pending for the Wizengamot since your, er, moment at Kings Cross,” he said, a weak half-smile on his lips. “And resolving it is contingent upon you.”
Harry gave a sardonic laugh. “What could the Ministry possibly have left to ask of me?”
“You see, there’s the problem of what to do with the Malfoys.”
So that was it. Harry saw Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all look the other way.
“Lucius is being held in Azkaban. Narcissa and Draco have both been left in the custody of the Ministry at a resident facility outside of London. The lot of them are charged with treason, and Draco is being held as an accomplice to attempted murder,” said Mr. Weasley, his eyes conveying a seriousness that Harry had not seen since the time they had visited the Ministry of Magic together in his fifth year to clear Harry’s name.
“Attempted murder? But we already told them ages ago that Malfoy was put up to it by Voldemort,” Harry explained. “I’ll tell them Snape confessed that Dumbledore’s death was arranged-“
“No, Harry. The matter of Dumbledore’s murder is only a small part of Draco’s problem. The attempted murder in question… is yours.”
“What?”
“As far as the Minister is concerned, that little moment we all burst in on the Death Eaters was just us interrupting Malfoy handing you over to die,” explained Hermione, looking uncomfortable.
Harry huffed in exasperation. “Rot. Scrimgeour wasn’t even there! It was the only way to get to Voldemort. Malfoy was… helping. They all were,” he muttered, hardly believing the words as they left his mouth. “Well… more or less, anyway. It’s not like wizards haven’t been granted clemency for lesser acts. Besides, there were loads of witnesses. I mean, Malfoy’s dad was fighting next to you, Mr. Weasley! Didn’t anyone say anything?”
“The Ministry doesn’t care what we say,” said Ginny suddenly.
Harry’s eyes instantly flicked in her direction. “Why not?”
“I was the only one who saw what was happening from the beginning with you and Snape and Malfoy at the Hogwarts Express, so I testified,” she murmured, a hardened look on her face as though she was reigning in her own unspeakable frustration. “They said that I was an ‘unreliable source’ because… well, because I had once been possessed by Voldemort.”
Harry clenched his fists until he could feel his fingernails digging into his palms.
“It’s like this,” said Ron, leaning against one of the posters of Harry’s bed. “You already know that the Ministry’s been after Voldemort and his cronies for a long while, and Scrimgeour was getting pretty eager to get his own hands on the lot of them. I mean, think how great the Ministry would’ve looked if they had been the ones responsible for that victory at the station. But you did it instead. You sort of… stole their thunder.”
“As if I had a choice!” exclaimed Harry, so hotly that for a moment he had forgotten his weakness, and his head began to swim.
“Either way, Scrimgeour is of the mind that someone’s got to pay for what’s happened if it can’t be Voldemort, and the Malfoys have drawn enough notoriety to make their convictions a public spectacle of the Ministry’s power,” said Lupin. “They also know about your rivalry with Draco.”
Suddenly everything fell into place in Harry’s mind. “So the Ministry wants me to help them convict the Malfoys, do they? Is that what this was for?” he snapped, angrily tossing the Order of Merlin medallion away so that it landed on the covers at his feet. “They thought that all they had to do was butter me up and I’d help them? As much as I can’t stand the sight of Malfoy, I’m not going to be Scrimgeour’s pawn so he can lock up more people for crimes they didn’t commit!” Breathing quickly, Harry paused to see everyone in the room watching him with expectant looks on their faces. Even Mrs. Weasley seemed anxious. Finally, he said, “Tell them that I’ll testify. In the Malfoys’ defense.”
They all seemed to let out a collective breath of relief. Mr. Weasley clapped Harry on the shoulder. “That’s a good man, Harry.”
“Yeah, well, I’d rather side with the Malfoys than be Scrimgeour’s puppet. What does that say?” grumbled Harry.
“I can see you’re still Dumbledore’s man,” he growled, mocking Scrimgeour’s own grating tone of voice.
The joke startled Harry out of his temper. At once, he returned Mr. Weasley’s triumphant grin. “Through and through,” he said.
“That’s what I thought. Welcome back!”
Together, they passed the next hour or so helping Harry catch up on the events of the week. Sipping on Mrs. Weasley’s homemade Dittany tea, Harry learned that Fred and George were given a special feature in the Daily Prophet for their magnificent artillery handiwork and Shield Cloak design, and that the repair of Kings Cross Station was the largest and fastest reconstruction in Wizarding history to be kept secret from Muggles since an argument between Millicent Bagnold and her Muggle Minister counterpart had resulted in the total disappearance of Parliament. They joked about how many Memory Charms it took to keep Muggles oblivious to the repairs, deciding that if it were not for his own irreparable memory loss, the Ministry should have employed Gilderoy Lockhart in the effort. As for the Muggles that perished at the station that night, the Muggle Minister had declared that "the gang members responsible have been captured and dealt with by an interior department of the Ministry." Which was not terribly far from the truth, Harry supposed.
Before long, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley excused themselves, declaring it was nearly three o’clock in the morning and breakfast would not make itself; Lupin left shortly after, departing with a yawn and the promise that he would take them to see Tonks the next morning. Eager to chat for as long as their bleary eyes would stay open, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny stayed behind. Talking made Harry feel considerably improved, although the bandages were constricting and he had begun to fiddle absentmindedly with the gauze around his head.
“So has anyone seen how Parvati is doing?” he asked, biting into his last shard of chocolate.
To Harry’s surprise, a smile formed on Ginny’s lips. “Dean has,” she said.
“Every day,” added Ron.
“For a week,” laughed Hermione.
“You don’t mean… Parvati and Dean… they’re together?” asked Harry incredulously.
“You left Dean in charge of her at the station, but I suppose you didn’t expect him to take the order to heart.” Hermione leaned back and tried to look smug. “Let’s just say that… strenuous circumstances brought them together.”
“Nothing you and I would know anything about, eh, Hermione?” smirked Ron.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Ronald Weasley,” she said, casting him a coy grin.
Ginny stuck her tongue out, pretending to wretch, and Harry sniggered in discreet agreement. He had missed joking with Ginny this way, and to sit beside her now as she resumed picking on Ron and Hermione brought Harry greater pleasure than he had would have anticipated. His eyes momentarily dropped to look at the dressing on Ginny’s hand, and an intense gratitude that he could not explain came over him at once. As Ron and Hermione berated Ginny for making fun of them, Harry’s thoughts were otherwise occupied with Ginny’s wounded fingers, straying onto the memory of her defiance against Voldemort. Surely he hadn’t imagined it; after everything he had done to keep her away, her feelings were miraculously unchanged, and it filled him with a hope he had not dared let himself feel before now.
Vaguely listening to Ron argue with Ginny over the propriety of public displays of affection, without necessarily paying attention to what he was doing, Harry reached up and peeled the bandage off of his head. “Pipe down, you two, or I’ll have to…. What are you staring at?”
Everyone in the room had grown completely still and were watching Harry now with alarm.
“What? What’s wrong?” He looked down and saw the bandage in his hand. “Oh,” he said quickly, “sorry, it was just bothering me a bit-“
“H-Harry,” stammered Ron, “what on earth has happened to your scar?”
The unmistakable fear in Ron’s voice sent Harry panicking. “What do you mean?” he murmured shakily. “What’s wrong with it?”
Ginny had her hands clasped over her mouth. Hermione leaned forward and squinted at the spot just above his eyes. “I don’t believe it,” she gasped.
“Bloody miracle…” breathed Ron.
“Would someone please tell me what’s going on?!” Harry yelled.
Rising from her chair, Ginny came towards him and sat on the bed. In a movement that made Harry’s heartbeat skip, she reached out her bandaged hand and pushed aside the fringe of hair over his forehead. “It’s... gone!”
His fingers flying to his forehead, Harry felt his face blanch. “A mirror…. Get me a mirror.”
Hermione instantly leapt out of her chair and ran towards the dresser, sifting through the objects on top of it until she came across an old tarnished mirror. They all crowded around Harry as he snatched it out of her hand and gazed at his reflection in utter disbelief. They had not been lying to him. The lightening bolt-shaped scar that had haunted him in the mirror every day for sixteen years had vanished without a trace.
“Merlin’s beard,” whispered Harry. “It’s not possible.”
“Bloody miracle,” gasped Ron again.
“Would you stop saying that?” blurted Harry. “There has to be a reason! You said Fawkes brought me back, Ron. Did you see him… you know… shed any tears?”
"He didn’t," said Ginny in a low voice. "Not a one."
“He didn’t?” repeated Harry, his wide eyes glued to his reflection as if his forehead would right itself and the scar would spontaneously reappear. “But… it’s impossible…”
“Is it?” whispered Hermione, suddenly looking pensive. Letting her gaze rest on Ginny’s despondent face, she said, “What do you think, Ginny?”
Ginny seemed momentarily unsettled, but answered calmly, “I think some magic just falls outside the Hogwarts curriculum."
Harry was now watching Ginny’s face as well. She raised her eyes slowly, as if meeting Harry’s gaze demanded more courage than she could muster after all that had happened, and as their eyes met, Harry momentarily forgot about his scar, realizing that there was a different kind of mending left to be done.
Looking from Ginny to Harry and back, Hermione suddenly cleared her throat and let out an enormous yawn. “Well! I’m exhausted, how about you, Ron?”
“'Magic outside the Hogwarts curriculum'? What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?” said Ron to himself, unaware that there was something else going on in the room than the conversation.
“Come on, let’s go,” said Hermione, taking Ron’s hand and rising out of her chair.
“Hunh? Go?” he asked, frowning as she pulled him onto his feet. “Harry’s just lost his scar! Where are we going?”
“Elsewhere.”
“Again, and this time, less vague.”
“Ron. Let’s. Go. Elsewhere.”
Ron stared at Hermione as though she had sprouted another head before he drew a sharp breath and his face split into a foolish grin. “Oh, elsewhere!” he exclaimed, gleefully waggling an eyebrow at her. His voice dropping to a whisper, he added, “You know, if you fancy a snog, you can just say so-”
“Not THAT elsewhere!” she shouted, her face turning ten shades of red before settling on a dark crimson.
“Please, I beg you, just go do whatever you’re going to do and don’t tell me about it!” Harry groaned. “And tell your mum not to worry about breakfast, Ron, ‘cause I think I just lost my appetite.”
“Okay, okay,” Ron grunted, rolling his eyes as Hermione tugged him forward. Turning back to Harry, he added, “I need not remind you who you’re with. When I get back in here you two had better not be… you know… doing things.”
“Suppose I’d better lock the door then?” Harry quipped.
“What?”
“For heaven’s sake,” said Hermione, impatiently yanking Ron towards the door, but before they made it out of the room, Ron hesitated. He looked back once more, an unrecognizable expression on his face.
“Harry?” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you’re better, mate.”
It was a simple statement, but its effect was profound. Harry felt a sudden rush of affection for Ron, his best friend and the first companion he had ever made at Hogwarts, after which his gaze then turned to Hermione, the girl who in seven years had become a part of his conscience, both the brightest witch of her age and an equally indispensable friend. The three of them exchanged meaningful glances and he knew they shared the same thought: that nothing would ever be the same again. And it was a good thing.
“Thanks. Both of you,” Harry murmured. “For everything.”
“’Night, Harry,” said Hermione. Shifting her gaze away from Harry, she laced her arm through Ron's and guided him through the door. Harry heard her whisper to Ron as the door closed behind them, “I’m sorry I called you tactless…”
Alone at last, Harry and Ginny sat silently for several moments, neither quite knowing what to say or how to begin. Finally, Ginny cleared her throat. “This, erm, belongs to you.”
Her other hand had been tightly closed the entire night, but she finally opened it and held it out to Harry. Resting in her palm was Regulus Black's locket.
“I know how much it means to you,” she said. “I didn’t take it to keep it; I just didn’t want Madam Pomfrey or some other Healer to toss it aside and lose it.”
“Thanks,” he murmured, “but maybe you should hold onto it for a while. Wear it for me. Until I’m better.”
A faint smile on her lips, Ginny nodded silently and placed the chain around her neck. “Well. I suppose I should let you get some rest,” she said, hastily getting onto her feet and turning towards the door.
“Ginny.”
She paused.
“Would you stay?” he asked, feeling color rising up into his ears. “Just for a little while.”
Harry saw Ginny draw a deep breath before she turned around to face him, blushing so deeply herself that for a moment she looked exactly as she did when she was still inadvertently placing her elbow in the butter dish at the Burrow.
“Okay,” she said. “If you like.”
At that moment, he reached his hand out towards her. Ginny approached him and seemed about to offer him her wounded hand before she retracted it and offered him the other.
"No. That one," whispered Harry, pointing to her bandaged fingers.
Hesitating, she raised her other hand and laid it gently in his, and he carefully drew her closer. She sat back down, but he did not let go. Instead, he began to undo the gauze.
“No," Ginny said with a start, pulling her hand back. "Don't-"
Harry held fast onto her fingers and raised his other blackened hand. "I don't mind it," he said simply. "Neither should you."
She fell silent and looked on anxiously as Harry carefully unwrapped the bandage, revealing two long stripes across her palm and fingers where she had caught Gryffindor's sword by the blade. The cuts looked as though they had probably been fused shut by Madam Pomfrey and no longer bled, but the marks were still painfully bright. The sight of it brought a lump to his throat.
"It... it's not fully healed yet," she murmured, tense as she watched Harry run careful fingers over the wound.
Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t seem right,” he murmured, “for me to lose a scar… while you gain one.” She looked at him quizzically, before Harry decisively threaded his fingers in hers. “This hand saved my life," he said in a far off voice.
For the first time that evening, Ginny looked at him the way she had on the Platform - a hard, blazing fierceness in her eyes. She reached over, took his own wounded hand in hers and threaded her fingers between his, holding it tightly. "This hand saved us all," she whispered.
He gulped, thrilled at the sensation of holding her hand again after a year of wishing he could. All of his questions had spontaneously resolved themselves in his mind, and he could no more keep from telling her what he knew than he could keep from being without her.
“I need to tell you,” said Harry finally, his voice hollow, “I wasn’t supposed to survive, Ginny.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying what I did should have killed me,” he said, looking past Ginny’s face as he tried to force his memory into focus. “But something happened. Something got in the way and stopped the Killing Curse before it could take me. I can’t help but think you know what it is…”
She raised her gaze and Harry could see pools of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. He pressed a hand against her cheek and felt a shiver run through him as he breathed, “'Magic outside the Hogwarts curriculum'….”
At once, Ginny began to cry in earnest.
"It was you, wasn’t it?" he whispered. "I should have died, but I didn’t because of you. Because of this,” he said, looking once more at the scars on her hand.
"I couldn’t be sure,” she cried. “It was the only way I could explain it, but…” Taking a short breath, Ginny looked searchingly into his face. "How do you know?"
He momentarily released her hand, letting his fingers travel to the chain that now hung around Ginny’s neck. He lifted the locket into his palm. "I can't explain it, Ginny.” He raised his eyes. “I just know."
She closed her hand around Harry’s and peered down at the necklace.
“I believe you,” she murmured.
Letting out a gust of air, he shook his head wearily. "That’s surprising."
"Why?"
"Because I lied to you, didn't I? Last year, when I said we couldn't be together, I told you it was because I thought Voldemort would come after you. When I said it, I thought I was only trying to protect you," he explained. "I didn't know it then, but it was a lie..."
Ginny cocked her head to the side in confusion. Harry drew in a deep breath and hoped not to say something stupid.
“We should never have parted. Everything that happened at the station proved what I already knew. You never needed my protection," he said, ashamed. "I was scared. Dumbledore’s death changed everything, and if I lost you…” His voice trailed off.
Ginny lowered her gaze and nodded. “I know,” she whispered.
Harry sighed morosely. “So, you see there was nothing noble about it," he finished with a weak smile. "Not when the one I was trying to protect was me."
"Oh, just stop," said Ginny in mock exasperation. "You're an awful liar. Maybe I didn't need your protection, but you had things to do on your own without wasting every other moment wondering which one of us would be the next to die. And if you were afraid of losing anyone, it's only because... you cared.”
Just then, as Harry had done when he was inches from death, Ginny placed her scarred hand over his heart. The motion made him catch his breath, and looking up, he could see tears sparkling in the corners of her eyes.
"What could be nobler?" she whispered, smiling.
Startling himself at how easily the words came to him now, he did not wait to speak.
"I more than care about you." He grazed his fingertips over her face and whispered, "I meant what I said to you on the platform, Ginny. Every word."
A tear slid down her cheek onto his fingers. "So did I."
Something in the way she answered made Harry’s heart begin to race, and he was sure she could feel its feverish pulse under her hand where it lay. Taken by surprise, he smoothed the tear away from her cheek and wondered at the new feeling in his chest “ the monster that had possessed him in Sixth Year to kiss her in the Gryffindor common room before fifty people was gone now, replaced by a strange warmth that seemed to spring from beneath Ginny’s fingers.
Resolutely, she reached over and gently removed Harry’s glasses so she could gaze into his eyes, her fingers tenderly trailing along the curve of his cheek up to his forehead and lingering on the spot where Harry’s scar had once been. The gesture drew a shiver from the base of his spine through the top of his head, and he found himself at once overwhelmed and bewildered at how she had managed to grow even lovelier since they had parted one year ago.
He tucked a strand of ginger hair behind her ear. The emptiness that had taken residence inside him for sixteen years was fast receding the longer he looked at her “ indeed he felt stronger “ and hazy with exhilaration, Harry raised himself off the pillow, near enough to feel her breath on his face... her palm still pressed against his wildly beating heart... his nose filled with her flowery scent...
“Ginny,” he breathed.
“Yes, Harry?” she whispered.
He took her face in both hands.
“We’re free...”
Closing his eyes, Harry brought his lips to hers and kissed her as he had never done before; reacquainting himself before succumbing completely to the longing he had fought against for a year, as though every hope of feeling right again “ with himself, with the world - resided in the warmth and familiar treacle sweetness of her lips. Without reserve, Ginny guided his arms around her, and though the sensation bordered on pain as the carefully constructed walls around his heart fell to ruins, he welcomed the ache happily. Suddenly, the recollection of that endless night at Kings Cross Station seemed far away, and as tears of restoration spilled from his eyes, Harry marveled at how incandescent his love for her had become.
Their scars, seen and unseen, began to fade.
***
The night passed, and with it, the storm. There in the darkened room, Harry and Ginny made their unspoken promise, holding each other in the quiet resolution that neither would ever be alone in the world again. As morning light filtered through the shutters of the room at the top of the stairs at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, Harry drew Ginny’s sleeping figure close to him and smiled. He could swear he heard a phoenix singing.
~*~
A/N: Thank you, everyone, for your patience! But it's not over yet! The Epilogue's ahead!
Author's Notes:
If you have yet to read my one-shot, "Mum, Dad, It's Me... Harry" (found on my author's page), now's the time to do so. It's the prologue to this fic, it's short, and the epilogue will make a lot more sense if you read it. And now, with much gratitude to you, dear reader, I give you the journey's end. And yes... the last word is "scar."
“I don’t mind staying, if you want me to,” argued Ginny.
“It’s okay, I’ll only be a moment,” he said reassuringly. “You can tell Ron and Hermione to come back in… ten minutes.”
She nodded tentatively. He pressed Ginny’s hand and looked on as she departed down the stone steps away from the old oak at the peak of Godric's Hollow cemetery. There were buds and blossoms growing on the branches now, an invisible breeze disturbing the blades of wild grass and dandelions as it passed over the shaded hill. When Ginny had rejoined Ron and Hermione at the grounds’ edge, Harry turned back and straightened his robes, squatting down before the large granite slab that he had visited for the first and only time over a year and a half ago.
He cleared his throat, and smiled.
“Hi, Mum and Dad. It’s me again… Harry,” he said to the stone. “Wish I could’ve come back sooner but it’s been a bit hard getting out these days and I suppose there hasn’t been all too much to report anyway. Oh... these are for you,” he said, placing a small cluster of flowers upon the ground at his feet.
Once more, he read the inscription carved into the headstone that bore both his parents’ names: No greater love hath man than to lay down his life for another. As Harry had suspected, Lupin admitted to choosing the inscription himself during a late night conversation with Harry at his Grimmauld Place home during Harry’s recovery. Lupin had been eerily quiet talking about Harry’s parents that night, and Harry wondered later if their talk had anything to do with his decision shortly thereafter to elope with Tonks to Southern Ireland.
Harry realized then that there was plenty of news to share.
“Maybe you’d like to know what’s happened since the last time we spoke. I’d tell you about what happened at Kings Cross Station, but… you were there, weren’t you? Reckon I’ll save us both the trouble of reliving it, I think, since there’s so much else to say,” he began, crossing his legs under him and taking his seat on the ground.
“For starters, Ron, Hermione and I graduated from Hogwarts last year, so that’s good. Commencement happened so soon after the battle, you know, so I decided to lay low for a while once the ceremony was done “ let all the excitement blow over because goodness knows they wanted me for all manner of questioning and interviews and other rubbish. The only interview I agreed to was with Luna Lovegood, a mate from school. She runs the Quibbler now since her Dad’s decided to retire to the Alps to do research for his next project; Animagus spies from Budapest or some other conspiracy theory-type thing, I suspect,” he chuckled. “Anyway, I testified and signed my name where they needed me to; I got to clear Snape’s name and get the Malfoys pardoned, and that’s all I was interested in doing for the Ministry. I haven’t actually talked to Malfoy since we were at the station together, though rumor has it he and his parents left the mansion, emptied out their Gringott’s vault and headed east. I’m not surprised “ a pardon from the Ministry of Magic isn’t going to win your friends back,” muttered Harry. “I dunno. I get the feeling that I haven’t seen the last of them…
“In the meantime, I’ve been doing some covert Auror work, weeding out the whereabouts of Voldemort’s last loyalists, which isn’t all that challenging. The job’s more advisory than out fighting or anything, and that was my own decision. Truth be told “ and I don’t know if it’s to do with my close call at King’s Cross or not “ I just think I’ve done enough fighting for now.
"So Professor McGonagall and I have been talking about reopening the Defense Against the Dark Arts position at Hogwarts. Don’t worry; now that Voldemort’s gone, I’m sure the curse went with him!” he said, laughing. “McGonagall, apart from trying to get me to call her ‘Minerva’, says Hogwarts hasn’t seen credentials like mine since Haggar Wimbly-something-something took the post after defeating some dark witch in the late 18th Century,” he said, waving a dismissive hand in a way that made him glad Hermione was down below where she couldn’t reference Hogwarts, A History from memory and correct him.
“Anyway, I’m pretty chuffed over it," he continued. "It’ll be like old times, like running Dumbledore’s Army in the Room of Requirement, only this time we won’t be hiding out from Umbridge! And Neville’s already the Herbology professor there, so it’ll be nice to have a friend in the faculty.
“Speaking of friends, there’s another wedding to look forward to. No, it’s not mine,” he said, amused to find that he was blushing. “Ron and Hermione got engaged to be married this past Christmas, and I’m the best man. Really, I’m surprised it took him so long to ask her, he’s been mental over her for near a decade! Although… I admit, now that Ginny’s out of school and I’m going to start teaching, I suppose I could say it’ll be only a matter of time before we make some future plans of our own. You’ll be the first to know when we do, of course,” he said, gesturing politely to his parents’ names.
“For now, I won’t steal Ron’s thunder. After some brilliant games playing for the Hertfordshire Quidditch League, he’s a shoe-in for the Cannons this year. And with a distinguished witch like Hermione on his arm, he’s strutting around like a bloody peacock; after all, she nicked Percy’s position in the Ministry after Scrimgeour sacked him and got herself promoted to the Muggle Relations Department two months into the job. All this time I thought they’d tear each other to pieces one day, but it seems they’re just what the other needed “ Hermione’s finally got someone to boss around and Ron’s finally getting some respect from his family,” said Harry cheerfully. Reconsidering for a moment, he scratched his chin. “That is, erm… well, let’s just say Fred and George are still the usual suspects whenever Ron’s racing broom starts sprouting mini Bubotubers of the overripe variety.”
The wind suddenly blew his hair across his eyes, and Harry swept a hand over his forehead in attempt to straighten his unruly mop, his fingers halting over the spot above his eye where once his scar resided. More than a year and a half had passed since he had lost it, and yet he still found himself surprised each time his fingertips could not locate the lightening bolt once etched onto his forehead.
“You know… it’s weird not having the scar anymore,” he mused. “I remember there was a time when I liked having it, and then I hated having it, and now that it’s gone… well, it’s just different. I mean, apart from not being able to speak Parseltongue anymore, nothing about me has really changed. Unless, of course, you count the fact that I’m a lot less recognizable on the street, and I rather like it that way,” he said matter-of-factly. “All those times I wished that I could leave that part of myself in the history books and be done with it…. Well, I finally got my wish.”
Harry got onto one knee and leaned forward, clearing away a leaf that the breeze had dropped onto the granite headstone on its way over the hill. He hesitated, and the smile on his face faded to a pensive grin. Figuring that he had already said everything worth mentioning, Harry decided that he was ready to do what he had come to do. As though anticipating his next words, the wind grew quiet.
“It’s easier now, talking to you,” he thought aloud. “I suppose it’s because I have no questions left. Or maybe it’s just that I’m not so worried anymore that… you know… that I’m going to duel a Dark Lord or something,” he said with a sarcastic laugh.
“I know you’re always listening, whether or not I make it back here,” he whispered. “Mostly, I’m here because there’s something I’ve kept for a long time, because it reminded me of what I had to do when the only choice I had was to either run away or stay and fight. You made the same decision once. I want you to have it.”
He dug into his pocket and pulled out the locket that had accompanied him in his travels for all the years that had passed since Dumbledore had died. Gazing down into his palm, he ran his thumb over the weathered metal, a wistful expression on his face.
“One last thing to put to rest,” he breathed to himself. At that moment, he pushed up the sleeves of his robe and began to dig his fingers into the grass and dirt in front of the grave. The earth felt cool and gave way easily to his hands as they carved a hole just large enough to contain the locket. Fingers caked with soil, Harry tenderly dropped the chain into the ground where his father and mother were buried, and covered it up with earth.
When he had finished burying the locket and patted the ground firmly to secure it in place, he left one hand pressed over the mound, the ashen fingers that bore the faded remnants of dark magic and a battle won. He lifted his eyes to his parents’ names, the inscription of bravery and sacrifice boldly etched beneath it, and felt his heart tighten.
The breeze came sudden and strong over the top of the hill.
“Told you I’d make you proud,” he whispered with a smile.
Satisfied, Harry got to his feet and brushed the dirt off of his hands. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Ginny, Ron, and Hermione walking back towards him up the stone path.
“All right?” whispered Ron as they joined his side.
“We’ll go back if you’re not ready,” Hermione chimed in.
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine,” said Harry with a grin, placing his arm around Ginny and giving her shoulder a squeeze. For a moment, they stood together watching the patches of light dance over the stone's surface as the breeze swirled through the branches overhead before Harry turned to them and said at last, “Let’s go home.”
~*~
Harry left Godric’s Hollow flanked by his companions with a light heart and a sense that there was much to do once he returned to his home at Grimmauld Place. ‘Tomorrow’ seemed a much bigger idea than it ever had when he was a student at Hogwarts, and he felt it his duty to make as much of it as possible “ after all, time is a curious thing, as a very wise man had once told him, and not something to be squandered. Of course, the future would not be perfect, would not be without its share of danger and hardship, and perhaps Lord Voldemort would not be the last enemy that he would fight, but there was far more to be hopeful about than ever before, and Harry had resolved long ago not to miss out on any of it. Eager for whatever adventures lay ahead, Harry Potter entered the next chapter of his story knowing that were he to look into the Mirror of Erised now, he would see himself just as he was: a grown man with love and a family, whose name had changed history and would not be forgotten, who keeps safe in his heart the friendships and fond memories of a boyhood gone by, and whose exceptional courage and power came from an extraordinary heart… not an extraordinary scar.
The End.
~*~
Credits:
Special thanks to my sister, Mudblood125, who has beta’ed this story from its inception and dealt with my stubbornness about silly things like… plot… and continuity… and content… and characterizations…
Thanks also to Mugglenet Fanfiction moderators Dory_the_fishie and everyone ever involved in the arduous task of getting my humongous chapters out of the queue, to Spider1111 for also sharing in the creative process, and to CauldronCakeBkr without whom I have a distinct feeling Chapter Twelve would not have been written.
Lastly, tremendous thanks to you, dear reader/reviewer, for sticking by “After the Die is Cast” for the year and change that it took to write it. You’ve kept me motivated, made me a better writer, and made this the most rewarding of my creative endeavors.
Thank you and I hope to see you at the Prequel!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.