Chapter 5: The Darkest Hour is Just Before Dawn
Hermione woke up suddenly, shivering. The ground beneath her was stony and hard and her weight was crushing her right arm. She had to move but she was scared that he might still be there. Her mind flashed back to those merciless, red eyes boring into her own and she felt a trickle of cold sweat tracing her spine. Slowly, she moved her head an inch or so and glanced around cautiously: no one in sight. She sighed quietly and tried to sit up. An immediate pain hit the side of her head and she almost cried out, but she stopped herself in time; she knew he could still be close.
She glanced around the dark tunnel again, searching for Ron, and saw him, scrunched against the far wall. We have to get out she thought to herself and, despite the throbbing pain in her head, she crawled silently towards the unconscious boy.
“Ron,” she whispered. “Ron.” Her hands shook as she nudged him gently; he didn’t wake up. “Ron!” she repeated, more urgently this time and she shook his shoulder hard.
Suddenly, she heard footsteps echoing down the long passage way. She sat bolt upright and stared around. In the darkness she couldn’t see very far, but she could hear somebody coming closer.
“Ron please!” she whispered anxiously and shook him until she heard a movement right behind her and whipped around.
Her heart was beating so fast and something was crashing around inside her skull so painfully. “No!” she tried to shout, but her voice caught in her throat.
In a moment of straight thinking she reached inside her robe pocket for her wand, however all she found was two helpless broken pieces.
Now she could make out the tall, thin figure approaching and she had nothing to do but huddle closer to Ron, shivering and terrified.
“Hermione,” said a gentle voice and she looked up, still shaking in fear.
“Professor?”
Albus Dumbledore nodded and muttered “Lumos”, instantly lighting the tunnel. As soon as Hermione saw the headmaster’s kind old face she burst into tears. She held her head in her hands and wept uncontrollably.
“I…I thought you were…” she cried.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly then straightened up. “Is that Mr Weasley?” he asked and Hermione nodded.
"I have been trying to wake him sir. I don’t know what has happened to him.”
“Don’t worry Ms Granger, I am sure Madame Pomfrey will be able to sort him out, if the worst comes to the worst. But,” he glanced at Ron’s unconscious form, “I think I may be able to wake him myself."
The professor removed his wand from his robes in one quick, smooth action and hovered it over Ron’s body. Hermione watched silently; she was torn between worry and interest.
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the floor and a small bottle appeared. It was a clear glass bottle with a cork stopper, filled with a translucent amber liquid. He gestured to the potion and Hermione reached forwards and handed it to him. Carefully, Dumbledore lifted Ron’s head and poured the bottle’s contents down his throat.
Immediately Ron began to stir. He opened his eyes and swept the red hair off his face.
“What… What’s going on?” he whispered in a hoarse voice. “Hermione?”
“Can you stand?” Dumbledore asked surveying the pair through his spectacles. Ron and Hermione struggled to their feet and nodded.
“Get back to Hogwarts and go straight to the hospital wing. I’ll be there when you arrive.” Dumbledore said and with a swift nod he disapparated.
“Ron, will you light your wand?” Hermione asked after a few moments. Ron nodded and whispered “Lumos”
“What’s wrong?” she asked gently touching his arm.
Ron flinched. “Nothing,” he muttered.
“What is it?”
“Where are Harry and Ginny?” he asked quietly.
“Well, they went to the Shrieking Shack…” she began shakily.
“What happened?” Ron frowned.
“Ginny…” she sighed and then continued quickly. “Ginny was taken by Voldemort”
“Ginny? What? Why?”
“Voldemort used her to do an ancient spell called Pereda Venenum. I’ve read about it before. Voldemort had Ginny under the Imperius curse and he used her to try and kill Harry.”
“What?" Ron barked as he stopped abruptly and turned to Hermione. He grabbed her by the shoulders and asked, "What happened? Is she ok?"
Without waiting for an answer he started to run back and make his way back down the dark passageway to the Shrieking Shack.
"No!" Hermione yelled. "Ron come back! There’s nothing we can do!” she panted running after him. “You know I am just as worried about Harry and Ginny as you are, but we are both weak and we would be of no use. Besides, Dumbledore is there!" she finished as if that changed everything.
"Oh Dumbledore! Oh well that makes everything ok then! Dumbledore didn’t stop Voldemort from taking her did he? This is my sister’s life we are talking about here and I am not about to take any chances!"
"Please Ron!" Hermione pleaded blocking his way. "We have to go back to the castle. There's nothing more we can do!" She looked up at him with frightened, exhausted eyes. "Please Ron."
He closed his eyes took a deep breath and nodded. He knew she was right. Of course she was, but he didn’t want to leave just like that when anything could have happened to Ginny.
Hermione’s eyes were beginning to water, she was so worried about her friends but she knew that they should do what the Headmaster said. “Lets go,” she whispered.
“Ok,” Ron replied. He put a reassuring arm around her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her and then quickly pulled away but Hermione moved closer into him and leant momentarily on his chest before grabbing his hand and pulling him down the tunnel silently.
***
“Please, Mr Potter!” a woman muttered angrily.
Hermione opened her eyes and saw Madame Pomfrey’s round face poking out from behind a curtain, glaring at Harry who was pacing loudly up and down the Hospital Wing. Beside her, Ron was snoring contentedly.
When Ron and Hermione had stumbled exhaustedly up to the castle, hand in hand, a few hours earlier, they had been ushered inside by a frantic, tearful Professor McGonagall, forced to swallow a purplish sleeping potion and pushed into bed.
Hermione had caught a glimpse of the Headmaster talking in a low voice to Harry, but her eyes had refused to stay open a moment longer and she had fallen asleep.
Now, Hermione shifted uncomfortably in the hospital bed and watched Harry who carried on walking the length of the Hospital Wing, fiddling with something small and shiny in his left hand. She was undoubtedly worried about Ginny but she didn’t know how serious it was.
Harry had watched helplessly as Ginny’s limp body was levitated, by the headmaster, into the Hospital Wing. He had rushed to her bedside but the curtains were closed around her bed and only Madame Pomfrey was allowed inside. His heart, which had been beating wildly with fear in the Shrieking Shack, now felt as though it had slowed to a stop. He had no idea how long he had been pacing worriedly, twiddling the silver ring in his fingers and staring at the white tiles on the ground.
Dumbledore was sat at the far side of the ward, by the large oak doors, with his chin rested on the tips of his fingers; Professor McGonagall sat beside him, scratching out a letter to Mr and Mrs Weasley with an old quill and a piece of tearstained parchment; Hermione and Ron lay in two beds beside each other and Madame Pomfrey busied herself with potions and books behind the curtains of Ginny’s bed.
“Professor Dumbledore,” said Snape hurrying into the ward. “I have just returned from the Ministry, they are deciding now how to tackle the Dementors. Fudge requests to talk to you.”
The old man shook his head tiredly. “I will speak with him later Severus.”
“How is the girl?” Snape asked quietly, leaning down to the Headmaster.
Harry glared at Snape. How dare he call her “girl”? He knew perfectly well who she was! Nevertheless, Harry moved closer to overhear Dumbledore’s reply.
“I am hoping she will recover fully, but she is not yet stable.” Professor Dumbledore looked up at the Potions master hovering above him. The headmaster looked exhausted and worried, almost desperate and when he spoke again it was in a whisper to nobody in particular. “This never should have happened.”
By now Harry had, without realising, stopped his pacing up and down the ward so he could hear the conversation easily. Dumbledore seemed to have noticed this and he cleared his throat and beckoned to Harry.
“I feel there is much for me to explain,” he said wearily resting his chin on his fingertips once more.
“Is it wise to tell the boy, Professor?” Snape asked coldly.
Dumbledore nodded and gestured to a chair in front of him and Harry sat down. He surveyed the boy he’d gotten to know and love over the past few years. The Boy Who Lived, the boy who’d overcome so many trials, where he would have been expected to fall; he had grown so much. As Dumbledore observed his pupil he sighed, it was time again to add another burden to Harry’s already overloaded shoulders.
“Pereda Envenom-” he began slowly, “the spell Voldemort used to try and kill you last night. This spell is ancient magic and rarely ever attempted as the feelings and emotions involved for the spell to work are not often trusted to be strong enough.”
Dumbledore looked up waiting for a reply, but Harry, who was staring at the ground, scuffing the floor with one dirty trainer, wasn’t taking much in. As the headmaster watched, he realised that although the scruffy-haired boy had grown, he was still just that: a boy. He should be eagerly opening his Christmas presents under the enchanted tree in the Gryffindor common room and laughing with his friends, instead of choking on tears in the hospital wing as he waited to find out whether his friend, the girl he loved, would survive the night.
“Potter!” Snape said angrily. “Learn some manners and answer the Professor!”
“He is in shock, Severus, he is scared!” McGonagall hissed advancing on him.
“There is no excuse for his arrogance Minerva. You may forgive Potter’s attitude,” Snape sneered, “but I will not overlook his cheek.”
For a moment Professor McGonagall seemed shocked but she quickly rose to her full height and, fixing Snape with a glare almost sharp enough to shatter the spectacles balancing on her nose, asked “Do you have any idea what spell was used on Miss Weasley tonight?”
“Pereda Envenom,” Snape muttered instantly, glaring back, “but I don’t understand what -”
“The fact that this spell worked proves something!” McGonagall interrupted coolly, however Harry could see her hands quivering with rage. “It proves love between Mr Potter and Miss Weasley strong enough to kill Harry, strong enough to overcome the protection left by his mother’s sacrifice! And you… you stand there reprimanding him for his cheek when this girl, his truelove according to the spell, is on the edge of life!” Her voice had been growing steadily louder and higher and she stopped and paused for breath before continuing in a poisonous whisper. “It seems that what you don’t understand is love, Severus. It is an empty heart that beats inside you… in that way you are just like Voldemort.”
Just a few hours before Harry would have laughed out loud if he had seen Snape looking like he did now. From a furious red, Snape’s face had drained to a ghostly white, his mouth was moving silently as he tried to find words to retaliate and his eyes were filled with humiliation and hatred.
“This boy has cost lives!” he shouted pointing at Harry. “He should have been expelled twenty times, but still you keep him here, endangering us all, putting his life above all others!” he turned to Dumbledore visibly shaking. “You’re right, this never should have happened, but even this time you will be foolish enough to let the incident pass!” Now he turned to Professor McGonagall, “Love? It’s because of him the girl is almost dead!”
Suddenly Harry was on his feet, wand out, his vision blurred by cascades of anger and fear. He had intended on hexing Snape every way he knew how, except now he could see no point in it.
Instead he ran, shoving the heavy oak doors open, out into the entrance hall and then down the steps into the Hogwarts grounds. Without deciding where he was going he started to run down the path he had taken the morning before to Hogsmeade, all the while trying to shut out The words Snape had just shouted when in his heart he knew every word was true. He was right, he couldn’t stay at Hogwarts, he couldn’t put everyone in danger again.
He stopped on the steps beneath the big clock on the outskirts of Hogsmeade, barely registering how deserted the area was, as the wind blew across his face drying the tears he couldn't control, rolling slowly down his cheeks. He didn't think, even in some of his hardest hours of despair and misery; he had ever felt quite this alone. It chilled him to his very bone that Ginny nearly died last night because of him. He knew his friends- his family really as they had become- would object and say it wasn't his fault but he knew, deep down, Snape was right. Slowly one by one a list of names of the people Harry loved most was building up and one by one they were being killed. The list was getting too long for him to pretend it wasn't his fault.
He glanced over to his right, further down the steps, and memories of Ginny and their visit to Hogsmeade earlier that month came flooding back...
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
" Harry seriously, I have thought about every possibility I can't think of anything he wants," Ginny’s smiling face said looking up at his.
"I think Ron would be quite proud that he was managing to be so difficult to find Christmas presents for," Harry grinned.
"Merlin, you should have been there when we were younger. Mum used to dread his birthday, she would have such a hard time finding something she knew he would want, well, that we could afford anyway," she added blushing slightly and looking down at the ground.
Harry reached up impulsively and lifted her chin. "There's nothing to be ashamed of," he said quietly, "your family may not be over burdened with money-" (Ginny snorted at this, but carried on listening nevertheless) "but I would have killed to grow up with parents like yours. They've been so brilliant to me over the years, though I 'm not entirely sure why," he said smiling slightly.
"I'm sorry, Harry," Ginny muttered realising how selfish she sounded. She really was quite lucky she may not have been rich but her parents loved her very much. Harry hadn't been so lucky. She shuddered to think about his childhood and instead pushed it out of mind. She took Harry’s hand gently from her chin and held it in her own for a moment before letting it go.
They stood there for a second looking at each other when a soft guitar strumming started. They spun around and saw a busker sat on the steps underneath the clock, playing his guitar and singing softly. They walked slowly closer to hear the words:
“It's amazing
How you can speak
Right to my heart
Without saying a word,
You can light up the dark
Try as I may
I could never explain
What I hear when
You don't say a thing”
Harry looked over at Ginny and saw she was smiling softly watching with rapt attention as more people gathered to hear the busker’s song.
”The smile on your face
Lets me know
That you need me
There's a truth
In your eyes
Saying you'll never leave me
The touch of your hand says
You'll catch me
Whenever I fall
You say it best
When you say
Nothing at all”
"It's lovely," whispered Ginny’s voice breaking Harry's reverie. She cuddled closer to Harry’s arm against the whipping wind and through the chattering group of spectators he could hear her gentle humming.
"Yeah," he agreed softly.
”All day long
I can hear people
Talking out loud
But when you hold me near
You drown out the crowd
Try as they may
They can never define
What's been said
Between your
Heart and mine”
"Come on," Harry said squeezing Ginny's hand gently, "We’d better go."
"Yeah, ok." she sighed tearing her eyes away from the busker. "Come on, I have just thought of a great present for Ron. I think I know just where to look."
They walked together back towards the centre of Hogsmeade each lost in their own thoughts.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The morning sun had crept up over Hogsmeade village unnoticed and the cheerful birdsong went unheard, as the only person outside was Harry who was lost in his world of memories. Soon heavy raindrops started to fall Harry was jerked back into the present. He heaved himself up off the ground, took one look back at the steps where the busker had sat and then walked steadily towards the shops.
"Harry!" A voice from somewhere behind Harry yelled. He spun around quickly and saw Madame Rosmerta stood outside the three broomsticks holding the door open and motioning for him to come in. He didn't really want to speak to her and wasn't sure what she wanted anyway, but he definitely didn’t want to go back to Hogwarts yet, so he followed.
She led him past the bar and into the back where she sat him down in a big armchair in front of the fire and walked through to the kitchen. Harry could hear her filling a kettle and then she came back in drying her hands on a tea towel.
She cast her eyes over the sad, haunted look in the young boy’s eyes, the soaking clothes and the slump in his shoulders, as if he carried the weight of the world on them.
"I'm not gonna ask why you were out of school at this hour cos I probably won't get a truthful answer, but you really shouldn't be out in this weather, you'll catch your death," she said matter-of-factly.
"I know," he sighed, "I... just had to get out."
"Ah," she spoke softly, "One of those days eh? Sadness is a funny thing. Many a time I have wandered around having no idea where I am heading, then you suddenly come to your senses and find you’re right where you need to be. I never understood it, just accepted it, like it was fate saying something needed to be resolved. Whatever it is that's bothering you, it will get better, I promise." She laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, and then chuckled. "My this is a deep talk, for such an early hour."
The kettle started to whistle and she walked out to get it.
Just her words echoed back in Harry’s mind: "You suddenly come to your senses and find you’re right where you need to be."
He knew where he needed to be. He just didn't really know why.
With that he grabbed some Floo powder from the mantle, stepped into the fire and said:
"Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London!"