Chapter Sixteen: Give Unto Me Your Troubles…
8:08 p.m., Wednesday night, Godric’s Hollow “ Lily and James Potter’s old cottage
The fire roared with great intensity, and Harry and Hermione were enveloped in a whirl of green flames as they disappeared from Dumbledore’s fireplace. The smell of soot was unbearable, and the ashes tickled them as they sped around numerous fireplaces, before colliding heavily with a wooden floor. Harry fell headfirst, the impact leaving him short of breath for a moment, and Hermione fell on top of him heavily, rolling off him as she had a bit of a coughing fit. Harry grunted and rubbed his chest, trying to ease the pain of the impact, before remembering where they were and struggling to take a look around.
As he managed to roll over, he was shocked to find a large bit of the ceiling missing over the stairs, which looked worn and rickety. He felt Hermione’s hand on his shoulder as she helped him to sit up, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.
His heart was thumping in his chest, and it had nothing to do with the fall.
His eyes traveled yet again over the staircase. It had been, no doubt, quite splendid once. It was made of wood as well, and despite the large termite holes in it and the blast marks, he could vividly imagine it softly illuminated by a dim light, its dark wood elegantly polished. His gaze went, as if in a dream, to the second floor the stairs led to, and to the battered doors and walls. There were but three doors”one open and slightly hanging off one of its hinges, with a large blast mark on its center; another, which seemed to have been painted a different color, lay blatantly open; and the last one seemed completely new. It was a glistening pale white, with a silver doorknob, that looked utterly unharmed and contrasted greatly with the other two, battered doors. The sight of it brought a slight frown to Harry’s face, before he turned and surveyed the area before him, Hermione on his left, a worried look on her face.
“Harry, what’s wrong?” she whispered urgently, not daring to take a step towards him. He gave her a look that clearly stated he didn’t want to be spoken to, and returned to his contemplation of the house.
They appeared to be standing where the living room used to be. There was a large couch”tattered and dusty, not to mention covered in ashes”before him, a seat to his left”which was also in the same conditions as the couch”and a small coffee table to his right, thrown to the side.
Suddenly, he began to hear voices. They evolved from mere whispers to full-blown yells and screams, and he was both shocked and incredibly taken aback as the conversation progressed.
What..?
“No…please…don’t kill him! Please…” the words sent shivers down his spine. He had heard that voice before…back in his third year, when he’d faced the Dementors.
It was his mother.
He had no doubt that it was her voice, yet the reason for hearing it right then escaped him. His eyes darted to Hermione to see her reaction at this, but she remained looking at him in the same worried way, and he suddenly wondered whether he was hallucinating.
“Stand aside, you silly girl...stand aside, now...” This voice, he knew as well, and as soon as it reached his ears, his scar seared with pain. He fell to his knees, clutching his forehead, willing the pain away, wishing he would stop hearing those voices, but their reality only seemed to intensify. He raised his head and saw, through his fingers, a flash of red light preceding a loud bang.
“Not Harry, please no, take me”kill me instead!” Lily’s shrill voice broke through the pain that seemed to stem from his scar to the rest of his body, and he felt as if she were right beside him. He felt hands cup his shoulders, tap his cheek, and slowly, a voice began to break through the fog in his mind. Distantly, he could hear Voldemort’s mirthless laughter, and his mother’s terrified scream. Slowly, he began to tear himself away from what he was hearing, and he opened his eyes.
Hermione was kneeling in front of him, hands cupping his cheeks, tears threatening to leak out of her eyes. Her hair was covered in soot, pulled in a low knot at the back of her head, and Harry vaguely noted the wisps of hair that had fallen out it and were now hanging loosely on the side of her face. Her mouth was moving, and, just like the voices of Voldemort and his mother, her voice began to rise steadily until he could hear her normally.
“Harry! Oh, please, what’s happening? I knew something wasn’t right, I just knew it,” she bit her lip and fumbled for her wand, when she felt his hand touch hers, ever so gently, as a sign that there was no need to use her wand.
Her eyes shot upwards to meet his, anxiety evident in her eyes, “Harry, what happened? You were staring around, a very strange look in your eyes, and suddenly you were on the floor, clutching your scar! Did you see something?”
Harry looked back at Hermione, who looked more worried than he was, her breathing quick, and said, “I think…I think I saw this house”my parents’ house”on the night Voldemort came,” he said quietly.
Her eyes widened, “Harry”how…?” her voice trailed away softly as she gave him a questioning and vaguely skeptical look.
“I heard my…my mum. And Voldemort,”
Hermione remained silent, frowning. Her gaze traveled across the room and back to Harry, the same worried and questioning look in her eyes. He sighed, “C’mon…let’s go find Kingsley,” he said quietly, getting up and holding out a hand to help her up. She took it and came to her feet, biting her lip.
“Harry…” she whispered, “Why did you see that?” the tone she used made Harry feel a strong feeling of worry as well. It was as if she had come to some conclusion about what he saw, but wasn’t telling him.
“I don’t know,” he said, releasing her hand and heading towards a door that he assumed led to the kitchen. Hermione sighed behind him, and began to walk, as well. Just as he reached for the doorknob, she placed her hand on his shoulder, “Wait,” she said.
But he had already grasped the doorknob. He saw the world spinning before him in a blur of color and light. When everything was clear once more, he was standing by the fireplace, gazing at a young man”probably twenty or so”opening the door he had been holding just a few seconds ago. The man had messy jet-black hair, and was a few inches taller than Harry. With wide-eyed comprehension, Harry realized he was watching his father.
His stomach seemed to turn over as he processed this thought.
Harry walked slowly towards him. His father’s face was lit in a joyful smile, and it only seemed to widen as a red-haired woman”Lily”walked slowly towards him with a playful smirk on her face. They exchanged words in low voices, before Lily laughed out loud and wrapped her arms around him. James laughed, too, then pulled back his face to meet hers. Lily smiled as he moved towards her lips and kissed her softly, before releasing her and asking, in an excited voice, “Where’s Harry?”
“In his room”he’s sleeping. Don’t you go waking him up!” she warned, “It took me ages to get him to sleep,” Harry took a few steps closer towards them, and he noted that she had the smallest of dark circles under her eyes, and her hair was slightly messy.
“Fair enough, I’ll be quiet,” said James, raising his hands to his shoulders in mock surrender. His eyes were alive with playfulness, and in a swift motion, he reached for Lily’s ribs and tickled them. She jumped and pinned his arms at her sides with her own before leaning closer and kissing him lightly. James smiled as she pulled away and exited through the door she’d come in.
“I’ll whip up some food while you go and check on Harry, alright?”
“Okay,” As James turned and went up the stairs, Harry debated with himself whether to follow him or not. Yet, as he took a step towards him, the world began to spin before him again, and before he knew it, he was back at present time.
He blinked, turned the doorknob, and pushed the door open before turning to Hermione. Her finger was resting near her lower lip as her hand cupped her chin. She seemed to be in thought. At his movement, he looked up again, a look of vague comprehension on her face, “I don’t think we’re here for training,” she said.
“What?”
“You heard me. You’re seeing memories of you mum and dad, right? I think Dumbledore wants us to see something here,”
“That’s ridiculous. How could he send us all the way to Godric’s Hollow with no protection? What if Death Eaters were to show up here, or if we decided we didn’t want to return to Hogwarts at all?”
Hermione shook her head, “Oh, I don’t doubt there’s an Order member on guard somewhere. I’m just saying, that maybe…Dumbledore knew you would see some memories of your parents, and he wanted you to see something in specific,”
“But what could I possibly see here that”“
“I don’t know, Harry. I’m just telling you what I think Dumbledore sent us here for. If you believe we’re here for training, then where’s Kingsley? Didn’t Dumbledore say he was already here? If we were here to train, he would have waited for us in front of the fireplace,”
“Maybe he’s here, just concealed,”
“My point being: he doesn’t want to be seen because we aren’t here to train,” Hermione lowered her arms and crossed them at her chest, a frown creeping to her face. She didn’t like the thought that Dumbledore had lied to them, either, but it was odd that Kingsley wasn’t here yet if they were, indeed here for training.
Somehow, she felt as if something else wasn’t right. With a glance up at Harry, she realized he was feeling the same way, too.
Something was wrong.
Earlier that day
4:50 a.m., Wednesday morning, Sibyll Trewlaney’s house “ Killarney, Ireland
The notebook glowed in her lap with a faint golden color, and was elevated a few inches into the air, before flopping open, the worn pages stuck to one another, ripped, or stained. Sibyll rifled through the pages, before taking a very small, button sized rectangle and tapping it with her wand. It enlarged to the size of a normal envelope, and she pulled a long piece of parchment from it. With a resigned sigh, she held it out to Severus, who took it with a look of distaste that masked his curiosity.
He unfolded the parchment and skimmed it, coming to pause in sentences that caught his attention. He raised his eyebrow at times, his mouth curled in a sneer. This man had been ridiculously romantic in his farewell letter”couldn’t he have just left the important bits of information, instead of filling it with silly anecdotes and sappy comments?
Still, the letter proved useful. His eyes locked in a particular sentence, ‘…this notebook, Sibyll, must either be burned or shredded to pieces, for if it were to fall in Voldemort’s hands, he would be filled with the knowledge necessary to become immortal…’ It had to be a lie. Elivander had truly discovered a way to become flawlessly immortal? How had he been sure? Who did he test his potion on? Animals were an option, yes, but their internal structure was different and less complex that with humans. The only way for him to have been sure would have been to slip it to someone during a meal or…
No, impossible. They brought the Dark Lord his corpse. It would be impossible that he had been alive.
Unless, he had tried it on himself, and had believed it had worked as he wrote this letter, never realizing that the potion didn’t work.
But then why had he bothered with the letter, if he was certain he would live?
No, he must have tried it on someone else. Maybe there was something about that in the letter…
‘…although this may seem confusing now, it will all come to the light at the right time, Sibyll. Someday you will understand every word of this letter. But one thing I will tell you is sure: never fear death. You, my dearest Sibyll, will never have to fear death at the hands of anyone---that is my gift of farewell to you…’
Merlin’s beard.
He’d tested the potion on his own wife? What if he had poisoned her?
That’s ridiculous. A person that appeared to be so helplessly in love wouldn’t test such a potentially volatile potion on the person they loved. Logically, they would test it on someone else to verify its effectiveness, and then they would give it to them.
‘…there must be a way out of this War. I know that, someday, you will see a glimpse of the future to verify that statement, and the Order will find a way to defeat Voldemort. Dumbledore himself is our safest bet now, but I’m sure there will be someone else. Someone unexpected will come, and they will help. My only concern is whether they will accept their fate and have the skill necessary…’ Severus snorted. The man had obviously not counted on a Harry Potter being ‘the chosen one’.
Severus folded the parchment and tossed it over to Sibyll, “Not entirely useful, as it leaves several unanswered questions. I do hope you can clarify them?” he added hopefully.
“I have no idea if his concoction worked. In fact, I knew nothing of his alleged success until I read this letter,” Sibyll said instantly, her tone weary.
Severus nodded, “Have you ever entertained the notion that he might have administered the potion to you?”
Sibyll snorted derisively, “Please. I hardly feel immortal. If anything, I feel an inch closer to death every day, especially recently,”
“Pity we can’t make sure…” Severus muttered under his breath, feeling his wand in his hand. The room was then filled with an awkward silence as they both thought about the immortality potion. It was a few minutes before Severus realized he might have the true ‘recipe’ for immortality only a few feet away from him. He looked back at Sibyll, then at the notebook, calculating.
“Do you think”?”
He stopped in mid sentence. His black eyes suddenly darted to the floor, where the noise had come from. Footsteps?
Sibyll looked up at him, frowning. She too, had heard it. Severus shot her a look a sign for her to keep silent, and she nodded in agreement. They both heard it again. Yes, it was the creak of a floorboard. Someone was apparently walking as slowly as possible up the stairs in an attempt to keep quiet, but the floorboards, however elegant they might look, were very old. If you lingered on one too long, it would creak, just like it had now.
Severus moved towards Sibyll, “Wormtail’s room is in the second floor. They obviously are not aware of this, but we must get him to safety,” he paused, pointing his wand at her, “Those are Death Eaters. Rodolphus, Macnair, Dolohov and Rabastan. They are after both of you,” he said hurriedly in a low voice, before casting a Disillusionment charm on her and then on himself.
“There is a shortcut. We don’t have to take the stairs. If we do they will hear us,” Sibyll suggested quietly. Severus raised his eyebrows, and she rolled her eyes, “Come on,” she snapped, beckoning him outside to the passageway. She walked to the far end opposite the one leading to the staircase and touched the wall. She whispered a few words, ushered Severus to come towards it. He walked stiffly, a look of disbelief on his face, before Sibyll heaved a sigh of frustration and walked through the wall herself.
Severus gaped at the spot where she had been in momentary shock, before overcoming it and walking through the wall himself.
Sibyll was halfway down a worn stone staircase very unlike anything he had seen in the house so far. If anything, it looked as if it belonged to a dungeon rather than a fancy house such as hers. The steps were cracked and filthy, and the walls bore signs of humidity. There was a thin, silvery spider web high up on the right wall, and the illumination seemed to be magical rather than natural, as there were no windows.
Sibyll glanced back at him, “Hurry up,” she urged. Then, noticing his look of bewilderment, she said, “We can enter any room in the house using this passageway. This is very much like the Room of Requirement back at Hogwarts. For it to work, you must whisper the location of the place you wish to visit to the wall outside, and in a matter of seconds, the passageway will transform itself to a path to the destination you seek,”
Severus nodded silently, brushing past her. At her indignant huff, he rolled his eyes, “Would you rather come face to face with my dearest Death Eaters in crime? I take it you do not, therefore it is best if I go first,”
“But they might discover you. And could you walk faster?”
“Dumbledore had made the fact that your life is a priority now. I assume that means that my identity will have to take a risk. And I am walking as far as I can,”
“Never mind, we’re here,” Sibyll said, pointing to a dead end. The wall was a pale yellow color, meaning there was a room on the other side. Seconds later, they were in the room where Wormtail was being kept, but they were met only by the ropes they had used to bind him, just in case, and a spot of blood on the floor.
No Wormtail. The Death Eaters had taken him.
“Impossible. There is no way they knew he was here, of all places,” Sibyll muttered darkly, staring at the floor.
“I think we, or rather, I, have more problems than I thought,” Severus said darkly, staring at his left forearm, which he had seized upon instinct at the sudden twinge of pain he had felt just then. He was suddenly painfully aware of the fact that his wand was in his pocket, and that he had used it.
“What do you mean?” Sibyll asked, turning to him, her eyes following his own gaze and falling on his arm. She frowned for a second, wondering what that meant, then she remembered Wormtail’s words on the boat.
“”he…he can trace his Death Eaters when they use magic…that way he can always be sure of their location and their motives…”
Severus had casted Disillusionment charms on both of them mere minutes ago. He had used magic.
The Dark Lord knew where he was, and, more particularly, with whom.
8:20 p.m., Wednesday night, Godric’s Hollow
Hermione bit her lip, trying to think clearly, but the anxiety that had soared up inside her was more than a distraction to her thoughts.
She looked up again at Harry’s frowning face, and noted that he also seemed to be mulling things over in his head. He was gazing absentmindedly at the staircase, arms crossed at his chest. At Hermione’s movement, he broke from his reverie, blinking, and looked at her.
“I don’t think”“
“I know,” Hermione said, “Something doesn’t feel right. We should go, Harry,” she said urgently, her eyes reflecting worry and, most of all, fear.
Harry shook his head, “No, not yet. I want to go into one of the rooms first,”
“Harry, please…I don’t think we should stay here much longer. Something is wrong,” Hermione insisted, sighing.
“You were the one that suggested the Order members might be watching us from a distance. Please, Hermione, can’t you understand? I’ve never been here…this is the place where my parents were murdered, where I actually lived for a year as a baby, and I don’t remember anything. Do you know what it’s like to be here finally?” Harry said pleadingly, taking Hermione’s hands in his. Hermione heaved a tense shiver at this, making her anxiety more evident to Harry, who seized to acknowledge how worried she was.
Hermione sighed, closed her eyes for a second, and looked up at Harry again, “I understand. Which room do you want to enter?” she asked quietly.
Harry’s eyes lingered on hers for a fleeting second, and Hermione felt her fear momentarily wash away as she looked back at him. And yet, she felt grief for him. She could see the pain in his eyes, and the need he had to search his parents’ home for anything that might remind him of them, or simply anything that was once theirs.
Hermione stretched her hand out and cupped his cheek with a tender touch, eyes shining with small, gleaming tears on the brink of sliding down her own cheeks. Harry returned her touch by wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, bending his neck slightly and letting his head rest on her shoulder, her soft smell enthralling him instantly. Hermione rested her head on his chest, eyes closed. When they pulled back minutes later, they exchanged small, seemingly reassuring smiles, though their eyes gave away their true feelings. Harry took Hermione’s hand and led her up the staircase, heading straight for the white door he had seen earlier.
Hermione didn’t comment. Although his determination on which room he wanted to enter was a bit odd, she didn’t want to voice this. Somehow, speaking things aloud sometimes made them feel more real, and she didn’t want to feel more worried or confused than she already was. She looked uneasily over her shoulder as Harry fumbled with the lock, but saw nothing worth worrying over. She licked her lips and breathed deeply, watching as Harry pulled out his wand and casted an Alohomora charm on the door. The door burst open with a resounding noise, startling them both. Harry glanced at Hermione and she gave him a smile of mingled nervousness and encouragement before walking towards him and gesturing that he go in. He did, and she followed him.
Her heart seemed to plummet as she gazed at what was inside.
A small, worn wooden crib, with soot-colored sheets and a large hole on the ceiling straight above it lay in the center of the room. The walls were partly obscured by a large blast mark that seemed to originate from the right hand corner of the room. The parts farther away from the mark were covered in year-old dust, giving them a grayish appearance. Cracks ran along the walls around the room, the humidity evident from the gleaming spots along the border of the ceiling.
This had been Harry’s room. She bit her lip in realization, eyes darting towards him to see his reaction.
Harry moved closer to the crib, an unreadable look on his face, and grasped its edge. His chest was constricted from the pain he felt at knowing that his mother had died somewhere in this room, presumably near the crib. He gritted his teeth and muttered, more to himself than to Hermione, “They didn’t have to die,” his voice was broken, mingled anger and despair resting heavily on every word.
Hermione caught the sound of his voice, however, “Oh, Harry…” she whispered softly, eyes almost brimming with tears.
Harry sighed, “They didn’t have to die. They shouldn’t have. They wouldn’t have, if Wormtail hadn’t been such a bloody coward and betrayed them,” His grasp on the crib tightened, “He was supposed to be their friend. He was supposed to help them,”
Hermione remained silent, not knowing how to respond, if Harry did indeed expect her to reply. She gazed back at him silently, waiting for him to either elaborate or ignore her, feeling the cold tears falling from her eyes and sliding slowly down her cheek.
Harry shut his eyes closed and sighed again, releasing his grip on the crib. He felt hate soar up inside him at the thought of Wormtail”hate like he had never felt since he had found out the truth in the Shrieking Shack in his third year. He hated the fact that Wormtail was in debt to him. If he was in danger of dying, he preferred to die than to have him save his life, of all people.
“I just…it’s not fair. Why are so many decent, noble witches and wizards dead, and there’s so many Death Eaters on the loose? They don’t deserve that freedom. And my parents don’t deserve to be dead. They were good people, despite what Snape says and what his memory from fifth year implied,” Harry kept his eyes shut as he spoke, feeling the anger pass, replaced with a deep, empty feeling.
A feeling of loss. Of defeat. He wanted to close his eyes and suddenly wake up from this horrible reality he was living.
Hermione instinctively made to move towards him, but held back when she saw his frame tense slightly. His shoulders seemed rigid for a few long minutes, until finally, they relaxed. As he turned towards her, she could see the look of grim understanding written on his face.
“I know why we’re here,” he said simply, and waited for the impact of his words to settle. The agony he had felt over his own emotions mere minutes ago seemed to lessen as he saw the memory and understood. He felt a surge of confidence inside him, though it was tainted by his initial feeling of hopelessness. He was unable to suppress a small shiver from trailing down his spine as he looked into Hermione’s large brown eyes and saw the concern that was so obviously reflecting itself upon them.
“What did you see?” Hermione asked, her voice hollow.
“I’ll explain later. First, I have to find it,” he said, tearing his eyes away from hers. With these words, he brushed past her out of the room, leaving her both stunned and confused.
“It?” she called after him, and started walking briskly, following him out of the room. When she walked out onto the hall, she saw no sign of him. As she made to walk towards the staircase, however, she caught sight of an open door, and, without thinking twice, walked into the room it led to.
Harry was going through a drawer, moving things inside it roughly, scratching the insides of the worn wood. With a grunt of annoyance, he turned to the next one, but paused. As if in a trance, he narrowed his eyes in thought before rolling his eyes and saying, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “They wouldn’t put it in such an obvious place…it has to be somewhere else,”
Hermione bent her head to the side slightly and frowned, “Harry, should I even ask you to tell me what you are looking for?”
Harry spared her a glance before looking at the surroundings, scrutinizing every detail, “I will, Hermione, I promise. But we don’t have much time. We ought to be getting back to Hogwarts soon…I don’t think any Order members are here, and I need to find that pendant,”
“Yeah, if they were here, they would have talked to us by now…” Hermione said in a low voice, before her frown deepened as she looked up at Harry, “Pendant?” she asked blankly.
Harry merely nodded before brushing past her again, out of the room. Hermione charged after him into his room once more, where he bent beside his crib, pushed it gently to one side, and ran his hands over the floorboards, searching for a small gap between them or an opening. The dust accumulated quickly on the palm of his hand, and he felt it make contact with a nail that seemed to be slightly out of place, giving him an unpleasant stinging sensation. He shook the dust off and went back to the place where the nail was, pulling out his wand and levitating it off the wood. He threw it behind him carelessly, pocketed his wand, and stood up. With a deep breath, he began kicking the floor with all his might on the spot the nail had been.
Hermione watched, confused and scared, from the doorway. She considered casting a Calming Charm on him, even stunning him, but she didn’t seem to be able to move. Something told her to stay put and allow him to continue. The fear, mingled with her presentiment, gripped her to the spot. She was contained to watching helplessly as Harry kept banging on the wood fiercely until his foot pushed through the wood.
Harry pulled his foot out, shook the dry soil and dust from it, and knelt back on the floor. He placed his hand inside and began digging in the dirt, searching. After what seemed like an age, he stopped, staring blankly into the hole in the dirt.
Hermione chose this moment to walk slowly towards him, her right arm hesitantly stretched out towards him. She knelt beside him, placing her arm around him as a comforting gesture and resting her head on his shoulder. She felt him relax against her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head gently on top of hers. Hermione heaved a large, irrepressible sigh of comfort as she wrapped her other arm around him, and she thought he felt him smile.
The thought made her mouth curl into a smile.
Harry closed his eyes, smiling, despite his frustration. He had been sure he had done everything like he was supposed to, and yet, there had been nothing under the soil. He had felt an outburst of emotions again”fury, anxiousness, anguish”and yet, despite the raging battle inside him, he had felt it all cease at Hermione’s gentle touch. The mere reminder of her presence made him feel calm, even if, deep down, he knew he had failed.
He felt Hermione begin to pull away, but he held her close for just a second before letting go. As he opened his eyes, he smiled at her, her eyes lingering in his for a few moments before smiled back, “Come on…” she said, “I think we ought to get back,”
Harry nodded, glancing at the hole as he made to get up, but froze. There was something different now. He turned his head sharply and gazed, wide-eyed, at the soil inside the hole. It moved magically away from his line of vision, slowly revealing a hidden treasure that he was sure had not been there before.
Hermione frowned when she saw him looking at the hole with such amazement. Confused, she made to look inside as well, moving herself delicately towards it.
She stared, wide eyed and agape, at the pale while lily that had appeared, its petals slowly opening in a majestic manner, drops of moisture clinging to them. The oval, ridged leaves that had served as protection for them opened at the same time as the petals did, their startling green color enhanced by the gleam they had to them.
And at the very center of the flower, ever so slowly, a small, green stone attached to a golden chain began to materialize itself before the pair’s astonished eyes. In a matter of seconds, they were staring at a fully bloomed flower with what looked like an emerald in the center.
Harry hesitated for a second, before extending his arm out tentatively and bringing the flower and the stone into his hand. He gazed down at it, a misty, melancholic look in his eye.
This had been his mother’s. A very rare stone it was, one of the few true protective amulets that still remained on the Earth. According to the legend, this stone held unknown power that would be defined only by the person who used it.
His father had given it to her, in case, for any reason, she were to find herself in a situation where he would not be able to protect her. She had never felt the need for it, until the night of Voldemort’s attack…a memory he had seen when he first entered his room several minutes ago.
-- FLASHBACK --
“Not Harry, please no, take me”kill me instead!”
Voldemort laughed mirthlessly, gazing down on her, his scarlet eyes gleaming with malicious enjoyment at her begging.
Lily, despite her fear, was not going to give up her son. She stood resolutely, her frame shaking, before Harry’s crib, her fingers white as she held her wand tightly in her hand. Cold tears leaked out of her bright green eyes as she firmly told herself, for the millionth time, that Harry would not die.
“Stand aside. You need not die, Mudblood, if you do not attempt to stop me. I am not here to kill you, it is the boy I am after,” Voldemort hissed, taking a menacing step towards Lily.
“Please…kill me instead! He is too young,” Lily pleaded shakily, “He is my son…please, have mercy!”
Voldemort laughed again, “The Dark Lord shows mercy to no one, Mudblood,” he raised his wand and pointed it straight at Lily, watching as her eyes widened again in fear.
Then, somewhere inside her fear, she remembered the pendant. She knew well her life would not be saved, but the pendant would surely help Harry, wouldn’t it? With a swift motion, she reached for it in her pocket, barely managing to clasp her fingers around it and pull her hand out before the curse hit her, square on her chest.
She felt all the life she possessed violently being ripped away, her vision obscuring in seconds and her breathing stopping abruptly.
Lily Potter’s body crumpled in a heap in front of her son’s crib, the pendant falling out of her limp hand at her fall and rolling under the crib.
Voldemort smirked, “You were dead from the moment you stood in my path, Mudblood, and your son will be no different,” he said silkily, still watching the expression on the woman’s eyes. There was fear, blatantly written, masking yet another emotion. Intriguing…and slightly disconcerting.
Still, the determination was there. Not even in death would she give up.
Casting a look of disdain on her, Voldemort directed his attention to the crib.
He never did see the pendant.
-- END FLASHBACK --
As Harry saw it yet again, he felt a wave of anger wash over him as he noted the way Voldemort spoke and acted towards his mother. Even his thoughts showed scorn.
Harry frowned, wondering. Why was he able to know what they thought? He had been watching everything from a corner of the room, after all. He hadn’t been in their positions at any moment.
Then why had he been able to know both his mother and Voldemort’s thoughts?
Hermione still stared in growing anxiousness and confusion at the stone, “What is it, Harry? How did it appear there?” she squeaked.
“I don’t know how it got there, exactly. It was my mum’s,” he said hoarsely, and he explained what he had seen.
Hermione’s eyes were wide as orbs as she listened, but deep inside, she felt a familiar sensation of understanding. Dumbledore had sent Harry to retrieve the pendant, which would mean that only Harry would be able to find it. The pendant could possibly be used during the Final Battle against Voldemort, which would make it only logical that Harry had it.
The only question was, why didn’t Dumbledore tell Harry from the start? This must have come as a terrible shock to him, seeing all these memories and learning of all this in such a short time without expecting to.
“And the flower?”
“Maybe a charm or something? No, that doesn’t make sense. She didn’t have time to cast a charm on it then…”
“Well, I know who may be able to answer all this,”
Harry nodded, “Dumbledore,” he said, and stood up. He held his hand out to Hermione and helped her to her feet. With a look of determination very much like the one his mother’s face had held in the memory, he took Hermione’s hands, “We’ll have to Apparate to Hogsmade,” he said.
“Yes, I don’t have any Floo powder and I doubt there still is any here,”
“In front of Honeydukes?”
Hermione nodded, closing her eyes. Harry did the same, concentrating on where they wanted to go. He saw flashes of Honeydukes, and concentrated on one, waiting for Hermione to do so as well. He felt her squeeze his hand gently, before he felt himself spinning. He opened his eyes, watching Hermione’s hair swirl around her, her eyes barely open and her mouth curled in a tiny smile. As he caught sight of Honeydukes, he tightened his grip on Hermione’s hands and concentrated again on the place he wanted to appear. A second later, he found himself standing in front of the store, still holding Hermione’s hands in his.
Hermione gazed up at him, her eyes showing deep concern for him. She opened her mouth slightly as if to speak, but hesitated, looking down at their hands. She looked back up, a small, sad smile on her face, “Oh, Harry…” she breathed, releasing his hand and wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace.
Harry returned the hug, caressing her hair with his hand, mumbling something incoherent.
Hermione sobbed, unable to say anything else. She let the tears fall, tightening her grip on Harry’s robe. She knew Harry was feeling the same, if not worse. She could tell from the way he had looked at her, that he was suppressing his emotions. She could feel the tension that seemed to be boiling inside him, the battle against his emotions, and she wished she could make him feel better. She wished, but she knew she couldn’t. There was nothing that could ease the dull aching of his soul, or stop the inevitable tears of overwhelming and desolation from sliding down his cheeks and unto her soft brown hair…
And yet, this had been what he needed. As the tears slowly made their way down his cheeks, he felt his despair lessen slightly. He felt himself growing more composed, his pain relieved for the moment, even though he knew that it would later come to haunt him.
He pulled back, knowing that they ought to be getting back. His heart sunk at the sight of Hermione’s tearstained face, but he managed to smile, “Thanks, Hermione,”
She smiled back, “You know I don’t mind, Harry. I hate seeing you feeling so trapped…” her voice trailed off before she began speaking again, “I’m always here for you…I want you to know that. No matter what,”
Unable to find words to express the peculiar way he felt when she said that, Harry hugged her again very tightly, hoping she would understand. He kissed the top of her head lightly and squeezed her gently before pulling back and taking her hand, “C’mon…we should be getting to the Castle,”
Hermione smiled again, and nodded, giving his hand a squeeze, “Okay,”
Hand in hand, they began walking towards the Hogwarts gates.
A/N: Finals are coming up guys, so don’t be surprised that I took my time with this chapter. Luckily, not as long as other times. =) Next chapter will take a longer time, since this week my attention will be fully devoted to etching every single detail that’s coming up for my tests in my head. And of course, one finals are finished, celebration ensues. =D I just want you all to know, so you don’t think I’ve deserted the fic or something.
Till the next!