Chapter Twenty! This will have many more chapters, but it's already further than I ever got with any story. (the record so far was 16 chapters and completed). In this chapter, there finally is the start of the war. I have difficulties to imagine the war JKR has in mind. The obvious option is an allegory to the conflicts of the last few years, but will she do that? Terrorism is certainly Voldemort's style...
Also, I'd like to disclaim the idea of the watery, TV-like basin. That's from the marvelous novel 'Jonathan Strange&Mr Norell' by S. Clarke :)
Many thanks to my faithful beta-reader rambkowalczyk and the reviewers!
Chapter Twenty : Secrets
After the burial, Ron and Hermione went back to Hogwarts together with Harry. It was only for the night, but both had in mind to ask their parents if they could stay longer, possibly for most of the holidays. Harry could not leave Hogwarts; it was now the only safe place for him. The Weasleys would have loved to let him stay at the Burrow, but Dumbledore convinced them that Hogwarts would be safer.
Harry didn’t mind staying at Hogwarts. It felt more like home than living with the Dursleys. Here he could prepare himself to fight, especially with Ron and Hermione around.
They were mounting the stairs to Gryffindor Tower, when Ron asked Harry in a hushed voice, “What’s up with Hermione?”
Harry shrugged. He had noticed Hermione’s strange behaviour before and now he thought about it once more. She had been unusually quiet and awkward around them. And she fidgeted all the time someone talked to her.
“Maybe it’s a girl thing,” Ron mused a little louder. In the empty castle each word was magnified by the silence. Harry was just about to reply that Hermione was probably just upset by the burial, when she whirled around, glaring at her friends.
“You’d think I have a right to be sad right now,” she hissed. Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry was faster.
“Don’t argue, please. We’re all a bit... er... you know.” She flushed. So did Ron.
“I’m sorry,” they mumbled simultaneously.
“You’re right,” Ron went on, in an attempt at distraction. “And we still don’t know why Voldemort attacked you, or rather how, because, well, why isn’t really the question. But weren’t you safe with those Muggles? I mean, wasn’t that the only reason you had to stay there each year?” he babbled on, turning to Hermione for answers. Hermione winced.
“Um, Ron ... maybe you’d better ask Harry about that?”
Ron cast her a strange, insecure sideways glance. There was some kind of suspicion, some kind of hurt in the way he raised his brows and opened his mouth slightly. He had just realised that Hermione knew something Harry hadn’t told him. Too late Harry realised that now he was driven into a corner. Hermione spotted the rescuing portrait hole.
“I’m going to change,” she lied, trying to get away from Ron and Harry. Quickly she bolted up the stairs to the girl’s dormitory. Now Harry was left to explain to Ron about the Prophecy.
++++
Ron looked at Harry. Harry nodded ever so slightly.
“I haven’t told you yet, because “ because I couldn’t when we were still in school, I just ... I was kinda shocked myself, okay?” he tried to justify himself.
Ron shrugged.
“Hermione knows,” he said, as if that was all that counted.
“ That was... er... a mistake I shouldn’t have let happened. Let me explain to you, please..?” Harry pleaded. Ron sat down on a couch, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His change of mood was almost as swift as one of Harry’s.
“You probably thought I wouldn’t take it so well . Because I’m so immature. Isn’t that what Hermione always says?” he asked sarcastically.
“Um, yeah... no. It wasn’t like that.” Harry licked his lips nervously. He could see where this was going. Ron would be angry at him, just like he had been when Harry was chosen as a champion in the Triwizard Tournament.
“What’s it all about, anyway?” Ron asked with a slight frown.
“It’s about the prophecy that was smashed in the Department of Mysteries. There was a reason why my name was on it. After Dumbledore and Voldemort duelled and I was nearly killed, Dumbledore brought me to his office. I was still “ I asked him what it had all been about, why the prophecy was... why Sirius had to die.” Harry let go of a breath he had been holding.
“And Dumbledore revealed that he knew the contents of the Prophecy, because he had been the one to whom it had been made. And guess who made the Prophecy?” Harry asked and his lips quirked slightly upwards. Maybe he could try to make Ron laugh.
His friend shrugged disinterestedly.
“Trelawney.”
“That old fraud?” Ron couldn’t suppress a small grin. Harry felt encouraged to go on.
“And then Dumbledore told me the text of the Prophecy.”
“You knew it all the time?!” Ron gasped. “So what was it all about? What was so terrible that you couldn’t tell your best friends?” Harry lowered his head. In a flat voice, he recited the words, as he knew them by heart.
“It said : The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. It was made before my birth. But it could also apply to Neville.”
“Neville?” Ron said in disbelief. “Neville Longbottom?”
“Yeah. Well, that was all Voldemort knew of the Prophecy, and that’s why he set out to kill one or probably both of us. But there’s more, and he didn’t hear this part : And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not.”
“You’ve got super-powers?” Ron gasped. Harry couldn’t laugh at that.
“And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.” He caught his breath. That was the hardest part, the terrible truth. Dead silence fell over the room. Ron was staring at him with his bright eyes; a strange grimace of disbelief appeared on his freckled face. Finally it burst out of him.
“What the hell? I mean “ who needs a stupid prophecy like that? I mean “ even I don’t have to read my tea leaves to find out that you are You-Know-Who’s arch-enemy!” Ron laughed loudly at him. Harry contemplated telling him that sixteen years ago, this had indeed been a shock.
“What is there to be so shocked about?” Ron asked while still shaking his head. “You’re the Boy-who-lived! You defeated him first year. You defeated him second year. You defeated him fourth year. You didn’t get killed this year. That Voldemort is thick enough to need a prophecy to get it, okay “ but you, Harry?” Ron sniggered.
“You’re not ... shocked?” Harry croaked. “Not a little bit?” Was Ron completely off his rockers? How could he laugh in the face of such a fate!
“Sorry mate, it’s just ... it’s kinda obvious. That you’re the one who’s going to fight Voldemort might have been a big shock sixteen years ago... but today it’s just old news.”
Harry couldn’t suppress a smile, and he didn’t want to. They were both sitting in Gryffindor common room, in the middle of the holidays. He had just buried his godfather, and now he was either going to kill the biggest dark sorcerer alive or be killed by him; he didn’t have the slightest clue how “ and he just realised how silly he had been. Ron was right. He had pretended to be shocked by the Prophecy, but in fact he should have known it all along.
He broke down and laughed, and Ron laughed with him.
“And you know what the silliest part is?” Harry choked. Ron shook his head.
“I’m going to defeat him with the power of love!”
“Man, that’s just so... so not cool!” They burst into another fit of giggling. All of Harry’s stress was falling away from him, all the tension that had been building up inside him. He put a hand onto Ron’s shoulder and tried to be serious for a moment.
“Ron, you’re... you’re a really good friend, did you know that?” Harry asked. Ron looked strangely at him for a second, then he gave him a smug smile.
“Yeah, I know.”
++++
Hermione, who had changed into a white summer dress, stood at the top of the stairs looking down at her two best friends unnoticed. They were laughing hard, completely hysterical. The sound had lured her out of the girl’s dormitory. It made her feel strangely content to watch the two, not at all as if she were an outsider. There was something about them that told her that they would make it. Harry wasn’t going to be alone in his fight.
“Just imagine it could have been Neville,” gasped Ron.
“We still have to tell him,” red-faced Harry reminded him.
“He’ll be delighted,” Ron snorted.
She smiled. The warmth of her own smile pushed her worries aside, and she wondered why she couldn’t just go down those stairs and laugh with them. They were happy. They deserved to be. She had no right and no reason to destroy this. No, she couldn’t tell Harry her secret.
He had coped with Sirius death. He would grieve properly; he wouldn’t forget him, but he would learn to live with it. Life hadn’t been kind to Sirius Black. Now it looked like Harry might be able to cope by thinking that Sirius welcomed death. That would make it easier.
Death, Hermione thought sadly. Death, but not ... this. She feared to speak its name, even in her thoughts, but she couldn’t deny it. What Yorick Bane had described in his journal was hell.
She couldn’t look straight into Harry’s face as long as she kept that secret from him. She wouldn’t be able to laugh with them as long as they didn’t know. For if she told them, would Harry ever laugh like that again?
++++
When the three came down to the Great Hall to eat breakfast the next morning, they were surprised to see the Weasley parents, Lupin, Tonks, McGonagall and almost all of their teachers. Dumbledore wasn’t there, and two other order members, Bill and Mrs Figg, were just leaving. There was a nervous kind of excitement in the air as if something important had happened.
Several copies of the Daily Prophet were spread on the table, a huge parchment map of the British Isles and the North Sea on which glowing dots were moving, and out of another room behind the teacher’s table, they could hear more voices. A number of quills floated above parchments, writing on their own accord, much like the Quick-Quotes Quill Rita Skeeter was using. Every now and then, a wizard would come to look at the writing and frown or cluck their tongue. It seemed to be bad news, whatever it was. The three interchanged a surprised look and then Molly Weasley spotted them.
“Oh Dear,” she exclaimed. “You haven’t heard yet, have you?”
“What, Mom?” Ron asked. Mr Weasley turned around. His face was flushed almost as red as his hair.
“Death Eaters have attacked Azkaban during the night. The ministry forces have retreated this morning. We’ve lost nine Aurors in fight and the fate of the prisoners who weren’t Death Eaters is unclear. But we have to expect the worst. The Dementors have changed sides.”
Harry bit his lip. So Voldemort was demonstrating his power, and the Ministry had no way to stop him. How long would it be until Voldemort was standing at the doors of Hogwarts?
“Are the Death Eaters still in Azkaban?” Hermione asked. Mr Weasley nodded.
“Dumbledore thinks they’re going to use the fortress as their new base. It’s almost as impenetrable as Hogwarts.”
“The Order has been making contingency plans for the safety of members whose families might be in danger,” Mr Weasley added.
“We’re thinking about having you stay at Hogwarts, for the rest of the holiday,” Molly said a little more directly. “You and Ginny. Fred and George refuse to leave their business, though,” she added wistfully. Ginny had stayed at the Burrow last night because Fred and George had been visiting. Obviously the twins would stick to their joke shop.
Ron beamed at the prospect of staying at Hogwarts with Harry. “Great, Mum! When will we fetch our things?”
Molly looked dismayed. She had probably expected at least a little resistance. Hermione looked lost in her thoughts, when Professor McGonagall addressed her.
“Miss Granger, we have also decided to offer a special program for all Muggle relatives of endangered wizards and witches, and you’re one of them, considering your close friendship with Mr Potter.”
Harry felt guilty. He was endangering all the people he loved and he couldn’t do anything for them. It was a curse put upon him before his birth.
“What kind of program, Professor?” Hermione asked.
“Well, as they can’t do magic, we can only offer passive protection. Warding their house or making it Unplottable and a lot of charms which have been on Mr Potter’s relatives so far. They would still be very vulnerable once they leave their house, though. They might want to take an extended leave from their work and stay at home for most of the time... but we don’t know how long this war will last. The strongest protection of course is the Fidelius charm. It’s ““
“Involving a secret-keeper,” Hermione breathed.
If they were offering her that, her parents really were in danger, Harry thought darkly. Hermione looked very pale. Professor McGonagall nodded quietly.
“Would your parents consider that?”
“I don’t know ... I didn’t really tell them much about ... anything.”
+++++
Tonks and Remus Lupin took Hermione with them back to her parents to offer them the Secret-Keeper solution. A house-elf came and brought the boys breakfast which they ate in silence.
Nobody told Ron and Harry to leave, and so they sat down at one end of the table and watched everything in quiet anxiety. They had wanted to see the Order meetings so badly, but now they realised how serious everything was.
People were Flooing in and out all the time and brought news with them every few minutes. As each person gave their report a magic Quill recorded their observation. Other quills, the one they had noticed earlier, were writing down messages from people at the ministry or other locations. They reminded Harry of Muggle fax machines.
The number of victims increased until it almost reached twenty. Both Harry and Ron listened intently when an attack on Durmstrang, one of the other European wizard schools, was reported. One of their towers had been destroyed and a number of students had to be rescued out of it. Again, there were more injured and dead people. A reporter claimed that the attack had been staged by other students, who had then fled the school to join Voldemort’s forces. No names were mentioned. Harry and Ron wondered if they might hear Victor Krum’s name, but then they remembered that Krum had already been in his final year during the Triwizard Tournament.
By eleven ‘o clock, they got the first images. Wizards didn’t have TV, but live images could be received by other means. A huge circular silver basin with water served as a screen. It stood on a separate table and whenever an image came in, the watery surface rippled shortly and then became smooth as a mirror, showing live images and reports in perfect quality, as real and three-dimensional as if they were looking through a window.
And what images they were. Taken from a broom hovering near Azkaban, they were shaky and irregular. The sun was just as bright over the waves of the North Sea as everywhere else, but the light did not properly reach the high-walled fortress on the steep rocks that was Azkaban. It was the first time Harry saw the prison. The place seemed to be shrouded in an air of despair, even on such a bright day. And now, there was the Dark Mark, looming in dark green over the fortress.
The image switched to another site. A young Irish witch was speaking, while in the background Medi-Wizards could be seen hovering people out of an uncanny looking building.
“ “ during the Azkaban raid. Last night, the Irish Wizengamot and their department of Magical law have been cursed with the infamous Pestilencia Curse. As you can see, everyone is still very busy here. So far there have been no deaths, but some members are still in critical condition. The Pestilencia curse causes all inhabitants of a building to be infected with dangerous illnesses, such as the pest, the pox or the Transsylvanian fever.”
The Irish reporter vanished, and another image emerged. An eager looking Rita Skeeter was interviewing a grey-haired wizard with a short beard and a very slow voice. Her blonde curls as rigid as ever and her lips were painted in a flaming coral red.
“... and after what happened tonight,” the man said slowly, pausing for breath, “there are people who,” he scratched his beard. “want Minister Fudge to resign.”
“Just now are they considering his resignation?” Rita asked, her teeth flashing menacingly at the man. “They weren’t thinking of this after the fiasco of Death Eaters entering the Ministry a few weeks ago?”
The man seemed to ignore that comment as he continued.
“Oh, well, of course Fudge will keep his calm...”
“Keep his calm,” Ron snorted. “He’s probably paralysed by fear. I don’t get it why they don’t just fire him.”
Harry nodded grimly. Fudge was causing almost as much harm as the Death Eaters with his policy of ‘keeping his calm and sitting things out,’ while attacks on Muggles and Wizards were happening faster than anyone could react. Then he spotted Tonks and Hermione arriving by Port-key. Lupin wasn’t with them any longer.
Then he spotted Tonks and Hermione arriving from one of the fireplaces. Lupin wasn’t with them any longer.
Hermione’s eyes were red, as if she had been crying for a while. Tonks smiled encouragingly and said something to her, Hermione nodded and walked over to them. She sat down with an exhausted sigh.
“At least they’re safe now,” she said softly.
“Who is the Secret-Keeper?” Harry asked. He still worried, despite the safety the Fidelius charm was meant to provide. The charm might be strong, but the keeper was a weak spot.
“Me,” Hermione said. Then she grimaced. “They were so upset when they learned about the whole war thing. My mother went completely hysterical. I should have told them! I just thought... they didn’t need to know.”
Harry and Ron shared an awkward look. Hermione was almost crying again. And she never cried! They didn’t know how to handle it. Ron gave her a half-hearted pat on the shoulder. She started to sob and he quickly drew his hand away as if she might explode any second.
Harry turned towards the watery screen once more. It showed Rita Skeeter, then a few images of Fudge and then a wildly gesticulating man who had a faint resemblance with Luna Lovegood. Hermione’s parents were not alone in being completely hysterical about this. Everyone was, save Harry. Harry felt paralysed, numb and cold inside in the face of a world that turned dark, where no place was safe and nobody trustworthy, a world that rapidly slipped out of his grasp and then turned around to bare its fangs at him and bite.