Chapter five: Villains Arise
“NO!” Harry yelled, stretching his arm towards the vial and grabbing it. Ron was temporarily overcome by surprise, but struggled, pulling the vial towards him forcefully. They both resisted letting go, though neither really knew why they even wanted the vial. Ron had realized only a split second after he saw Harry that he didn’t want to die after all. Who said he had to give up so quickly, anyway? And Harry didn’t want his best friend to seize existing simply because of his and Hermione’s love affair. He and Ron had known each other for so long, and Harry wouldn’t bear it if Ron’s death were his fault.
Suddenly, though, interrupting their train of thoughts, a shrill voice screamed, “Expelliarmus!”
Curiously, even though the force of the spell barely made them stumble, it was just enough to throw the vial up in the air, making it splatter its contents around the room, and land on the floor, where it shattered.
Neville stood, wand in hand, looking at them wide-eyed, along with Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas. At the door stood pretty much the rest of Gryffindor House, among them Hermione. She was looking at them both nervously, her heart pounding in her chest. The vial had fallen on the carpet and splattered most of it with the potion, which had created an acid-like hole in the carpet. This, of course, hinted that the potion wasn’t friendly or harmless at all, and if anyone realized that, Harry and Ron would be in serious trouble indeed.
Ron and Harry stared at everyone quietly. Slowly, Harry drew out his wand and cleaned up the potion, while Ron vanished the shards of glass from the vial. Hermione, as Head Girl, dismissed everyone off to bed and asked both Harry and Ron to come speak with her in the Common Room. Reluctantly, they both followed. Ron was quite pale and looked apprehensive at the idea of all three of them talking. Harry felt the same, though he was still rather shaken from what had happened. Why had Ron tried to kill himself? For Hermione? It sounded odd to think that thanks to his relationship with Hermione, all these problems had arisen.
He could only hope that happiness was closer than it truly seemed to be.
Hermione sat down and looked at them both pointedly, gesturing at the seats beside her. She looked quite grim and rather eerie in the firelight; her pensive and angry expression, combined with the circumstances they were in was quite scary.
“What in the world were you doing?” She hissed. Despite her appearance, her tone was worried and hushed, which made the boys uneasy. Neither of them wanted her to know about the potion. She would never forgive them. Yet, as Ron thought about it more and more, it was mostly Hermione’s fault. Why should she be upset with them over something she caused?
“Nothing. Never you mind.” Ron spat angrily at her. White-hot rage bubbled inside him. Everything that had happened that night came to his mind, all the hate and hurt he had felt at them just rushed into his head, making him feel quite offended at the pair of them.
“Oh, really? How can you say that after you two almost strangled each other?” Hermione asked, glaring daggers at him. When he didn’t answer, or even move, she decided to go with a more direct approach at things, “How did you get that potion? I shudder to think that you are now turning to the Dark Arts to solve your problems.” She scoffed, only to realize that she was being unnecessarily cruel.
Ron seemed to notice, too, “My problems, however your fault they may be, are still none of your business, Hermione.” He hissed softly, getting up and looking fiercely at her.
“Listen, Hermione, maybe you’d do well to stay out of this?” Harry asked tentatively, “Really, why don’t you just let us go to bed already? Just give us detention and get it over with.” He finished impatiently.
“I most certainly will not until I get to the bottom of this.” Hermione said, shaking her head and looking at him with an outraged expression.
She turned to Ron and continued, “Honestly, d’you expect me to just ignore this like nothing has happened? I’m not blind, Ron, and I happen to have a shrewd idea of what…why …” Hermione’s voice trailed off slowly, as she lost the words for what she wanted to say. She turned her head and looked at Ron bravely, who surveyed her with a triumphant expression. So she knew, did she?
“Proud, are you? To have so many men out after you…” He scoffed nastily at her words. Harry stood up slowly, as if expecting Hermione to explode at this, and took an involuntary step backwards, colliding with his chair noisily.
Hermione glanced at him softly and turned to Ron. She stood, looking rather scrawny beside him, and slapped him hard in the face, “How dare you! You nasty little…” She hissed. Her eyes shone with hate and yet…there seemed to be nothing but pain inside, “And you actually wonder why I decided to marry Harry and not you?” She said, outraged, “Ron Weasley, you are unbearable!”
Ron stared at her, towering over her small figure. He looked quite menacing, really. He took a deep breath, his eyes still on Hermione, who was staring him down as well, fiercely, not even blinking. When he spoke, he sounded as though he was trying very hard to maintain calm.
“I was trying to kill Harry.”
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The Dark Lord paced impatiently around the room, waiting for the report from his Death Eaters. Their current assignment was to bring him information on what happened at Hogwarts at regular time intervals. He wanted information on Harry Potter, of course, but he had recently been very interested in that Divinations witch. Supposedly, she was the one who had made the prophecy of Potter’s birth.
This could be very useful to him. He needed to know the exact wording of the prophecy to finally defeat that scrawny little boy. And besides, the boy had involuntarily handed him another weapon in the last few days. Apparently, he had a bit of a love interest with the bushy-haired Mudblood that always hung around him. He had used loved ones to lure Potter to him in the past, and he had no doubt that this would be an excellent occasion to do so once more. It was possible Potter realized what he was doing, but he would not let the girl die. He would not let another important part of his life die at the hands of the Dark Lord.
“M-master!” Said a shaky and fearful voice, pulling Voldemort away from his thoughts. It was Peter Pettigrew. He was poking his head into the room, as if afraid of angering his master with his presence.
“What is it?” Voldemort asked with a hint of annoyance.
Peter flinched at the sight of Voldemort’s irritation, but managed to choke out a few words “T-They are here, m-master…”
“Well, then, do not keep them waiting.” Voldemort said softly, “Tell them to come inside, for Lord Voldemort awaits them.”
Not a minute after, four individuals entered the room. Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape, and Sibyll Trewlaney, who was unconscious and floating in midair. The three Death Eaters fell to their knees at the sight of Voldemort, eyes staring at the floor.
“Welcome, my faithful Death Eaters.” Voldemort said, taking little or no notice of Professor Trewlaney “Delighted as I may be to finally have the last report, I am curious as to why you are so undoubtedly late?” He hissed, looking at each of them expectantly in turn.
“Master, forgive our delay.” Said Bellatrix, bowing slightly and meeting his eyes. There was no fear in her eyes, and her voice had a hint of scorn, “But as we proceeded to finish our report, we encountered a most rewarding surprise.” She couldn’t help smiling maliciously as she pointed at Trewlaney, who was hovering near them.
“Rewarding indeed….” Voldemort smirked, raising his eyebrows. He surveyed the old, skinny witch, So this is the famous Sibyll Trewlaney…interesting, “How did you manage to lure her out of the Castle? She never leaves that wretched place.” He asked with mild interest. Surely his Death Eaters hadn’t gone bursting into the castle?
Malfoy cleared his throat, “Severus found her pacing the Grounds during the…ball the school was celebrating this evening. He stunned her from behind to ensure she never got a glimpse of him, and them he owled us over. The woman was even carrying an owl, and she had bags beside her. She seemed to be planning an escape.”
“Ah…of course, you merely found her. I was beginning to fear that you had exposed yourselves to discovery. Particularly you, Severus. It would be catastrophic if that Mudblood lover Dumbledore found out…” He added, his eyes rising to meet Severus’, “How did you get her off the Grounds?”
“We enchanted ourselves with a Disillusionment charm and once we were in the outer reaches of Hogsmade, we Apparated here.” Bellatrix supplied instantly.
Voldemort nodded, scratching his chin slightly. He did not take his scarlet eyes off Snape, ”I trust Dumbledore is under the impression that you are merely a spy for him?” He asked.
Snape took a step forward. His eyes were cold and rid of any emotion, as his voice, “Of course, master.” He bowed slightly, “We also searched the grounds for anyone who might have heard, and casted Memory Charms on two fourth-years who overheard a bit. Also, she had a small note clutched in her hand.” Snape said, handing Voldemort a torn thick piece of parchment.
“We thought you might enjoy speaking to her personally and…ah…hearing the prophecy first-hand?” Malfoy drawled with a slight smirk on his face.
“Indeed….I am surprised that you even managed to get her here. You haven’t been very useful recently...” Voldemort hissed, “You shall be rewarded if my plan succeeds. Now, I would advise you to go back to your posts, especially you, Snape. If I need you…you shall know.” He added with a cruel smirk, and one or two of them shifted uncomfortably, clutching their left forearms involuntarily. Giving their master a small bow, they all exited through the door.
Peter, however, lingered. He walked slowly towards Professor Trewlaney and peered at her interestedly. He then turned to Voldemort and asked, “Master? Is there anything you need me to do?”
Voldemort eyed him with mixed curiosity and suspicion, “Need you to do? Of course not, Wormtail. If I needed something done, I would most certainly get someone more trustworthy to do it.” He looked at Peter’s quivering figure, and then looked at him in the eye, “Or is there something you are particularly interested in? Perhaps you want to talk to the woman? Is there something you feel inclined to tell her, Wormtail? Something I ought to know about?” He added in a low hiss. He took a step closer to him and entered his mind wandlessly. It didn’t take him long to find what he wanted, though it shocked him. How could he not see it?
Voldemort released him, leaving his mind, and Peter stumbled backwards. His eyes were wide and fearful as he looked up at Voldemort’s merciless ones. There was a cruel smile playing on Voldemort’s lips as he spoke, “How long did you know?” He asked in a low, menacing voice.
Peter fell to his knees, sobbing and clutching his master’s robes, “M-Master! Please! Do not punish me! I was going to tell you”“
“Do not lie to me. You are nothing more than a coward. You were never going to tell me, were you? You thought you would tell that woman, and that she would go tell Dumbledore everything. You thought you might become a spy for dear old Dumbledore….” He said, his voice full of scorn. He laughed a cruel, mirthless laugh, and his eyes remained as cold as ever, “You are an idiot, Wormtail. Dumbledore isn’t so stupid that he’d fall for your little scheme. After all, he knows you betrayed them once….”
“M-m-m-master! I was n-n-never going to become a sp-spy!” Peter sobbed, “I would b-be a spy f-f-for you, master! I would have gotten information f-from Dumbledore!” He spoke in a shrill, terrified voice, clutching Voldemort’s robes as if it would make everything better.
Voldemort tore himself away, taking a step backwards and surveying Wormtail with a look of utter amusement. He took out his wand, smirking, “You should have known I would have found out sooner than you thought. Treachery is heavily punished, Wormtail, you ought to know that.”
“Master! Please! H-have mercy!” Wormtail cried, covering his head with his arms.
“Mercy?” Voldemort laughed cruelly, “The Dark Lord shows no mercy.” And with those words, he raised his wand, pointing it at Wormtail, “Crucio!” He yelled. Instantly, the night was filled with Wormtail’s petrified shrieks of pain. He twisted and writhed on the floor, sputtering a few words from time to time. Voldemort watched, delighted, as he staggered upwards, only to collapse again to the floor. He lifted the curse only when he saw that Wormtail had seized to shriek and yell, and had taken to twitching and writhing from the pain.
“Your punishment has not even begun. I am afraid that I still need you for my next phase of the plan, and so I will not kill you”yet. But rest assured, Wormtail, your punishment will come.” Voldemort paused to examine the look of mixed fear and relief in Wormtail’s face, “Now, get out of here. Nagini needs feeding, and I have other more important things to worry about.”
Wormtail didn’t hesitate to follow his orders. Still weak from the curse, he could barely walk and took to staggering towards the door. Voldemort laughed as Wormtail’s shaking hand grasped the doorknob, and spoke, “I would advise you to desist of the idea of running away. My Death Eaters will find you, and when they bring you to me, your punishment will only be worse. I suggest, Wormtail, that you go and do as I say if you do not want to make things worse for yourself.” He said silkily as he pulled out the piece of parchment Snape had found. With his other hand, he waved Wormtail away, who left the room in a flash.
Voldemort greedily opened the piece of parchment, smoothing it out. As he sat in his huge armchair by the fire, he began to read. With every word his eyes seemed to narrow with rage and his frown quickly became a scowl.
The truth was uncovered.
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Hermione’s mouth opened in shock. She couldn’t help it. She took an involuntary step backwards, gaping at Ron. He was trying to kill Harry? What the…? But why? Because of our relationship? But that’s stupid. Ron wouldn’t kill Harry…they’re best friends.
Aren’t they?
Not really. Not anymore. They barely speak to each other, and after what happened tonight I can’t really see Ron befriending Harry as if everything is okay.
But to try to kill him? He’s gone too far. I should do something about this, shouldn’t I? But what? I can hardly go to Professor McGonagall and inform her that Ron has attempted to murder Harry. He would be expelled, and his life would be ruined. He would go to Azkaban for sure! I could never live with that.
But something has to be done. He’s a threat to Harry.
Ron raised an eyebrow at Hermione’s reaction. He couldn’t believe it was such a shock. After all that had happened that night, it was ridiculous that she found this bit of information appalling. Everything was her fault. Why should she find this so surprising? And yet, there seemed to be another look in her face. She seemed…afraid. She was afraid of him? Well, that’s hardly a shock. She probably sees me as an deranged murderer.
“But you were trying to kill yourself!” Harry said slowly, frowning at Ron. Trying to kill me? Because of Hermione, no doubt. But is he so unhinged that he thought killing me would be a solution? Harry stared at Ron as well, as if he had only just seen him there. His best friend had tried to kill him. The thought of it felt like a kick in the chest. The person he had trusted so much; the person he thought of as a brother; the person he would have given his life for…had just tried to kill him over love for a woman.
The graveness of the situation became heavier and heavier as each of them thought about Ron’s words further. Harry’s question took a long time to be answered, or even considered. All of them seemed lost in thought.
Finally, Hermione looked up at Harry, “Kill himself?” She asked, eyes wide. Instantly, her expression hardened, and her lips tightened, “I demand you explain yourself right now! This whole situation has to be sorted out tonight. We need to find a solution!” She commanded, crossing her arms at her chest and raising her eyebrows expectantly.
“Who d’you think you are, Hermione? You have no right to tell us what to do!” Ron snapped, glaring at her, “This whole ‘situation’”as you insist on calling it”is all your fault!”
Hermione snorted, “I can hardly be blamed for your mistakes, Ron.” She spat, narrowing her eyes.
“You started this! You went off and agreed to Harry’s proposal to have an affair behind my back! You decided to marry him instead of me!” Ron bellowed, kicking the table ferociously, “Face it Hermione, this is all your fault. You made our lives hell!”
For what seemed like the millionth time that night, Hermione remained stunned. Ron had just said what had been going through her mind endlessly that evening. She had ruined everything. She could have had a happy life with Ron, eventually forgetting about her love for Harry. I could have….
But I didn’t.
No matter what I do, one of them will get hurt. I tried keeping things a secret from Ron, that way I wouldn’t hurt his feelings by breaking up with him. But he just had to find out, didn’t he? Now we’re stuck in this never-ending misery and worry.
And it’s all my fault.
Hermione sank down into her chair and buried her face in her hands, sobbing quietly. She couldn’t just leave”she wanted to know what had happened exactly”so she did the only thing she could do: she cried, trying to find a way to fix her mistakes.
Ron sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. Harry glared furiously at him when he yelled at Hermione, and had sat down beside her, trying to comfort her. Ron simply didn’t know what to feel when he saw Hermione crying. A part of him urged him to stop being such a prat and apologize for yelling, but another part of him told him that she deserved to feel guilty. He clenched his fists, sitting back down in his chair and willing his anger away. They needed to have this conversation now, for none of them would bear it if they didn’t know what had caused tonight’s outburst.
“I’m sorry.” He whispered finally, reaching towards the table to pat Hermione’s head clumsily, “I shouldn’t have yelled.”
Hermione’s head shot up so fast he jumped in surprise. Her eyes were red from crying and her face was still wet with tears, but her expression was extremely hostile, “So you don’t regret what you said?” She demanded, “You agree that it’s my fault”all this trouble? That I made your lives hell?”
Harry saved Ron the trouble of answering, “Hermione…try to steer away from things that might cause another dispute, will you? Or else the whole Tower will find out about everything.” He said in a low voice, caressing her hair and giving her a soft, apologetic look.
Hermione sighed, nodding. Ron observed her relaxed expression as Harry played with her hair and felt the anger boiling up inside him again. He forced himself to concentrate on describing what had happened with the potion.
“Right…” He said, clearing his throat, “Well, after I left the ball, I was really angry. I tried taking a walk around the Castle to see if my mood improved, and I ended up in the Dungeons. There, I started thinking for a while, and decided….” He paused, dropping his gaze to the carpet. He couldn’t possibly say what happened next while looking at Hermione’s beautiful eyes. He didn’t want to see the anger flare up inside them, and he couldn’t stand to see the hatred that she would surely feel towards him, “I…decided that maybe if I…killed Harry….you wouldn’t love him anymore and I would have a chance at marrying you….”
There was a sharp intake of breath and he was sure it came from Hermione. He prepared himself mentally for her outrage at his actions, and looked at her.
She had covered her mouth with her hand, and was staring at him with a fearful expression for the second time that night. Her other arm was clutching her shoulder, as if she were cold. Somehow, this side of her troubled Ron more than angry yells and hatred. She looked so terribly fragile that he couldn’t summon the courage to continue until she asked him to. Her voice was very small, and she asked it hesitantly, as if she were afraid he would start yelling at her again. Ron nodded at her words, and resumed his story.
“So I stole the Contabesco Mortifer potion from Snape’s cupboard. I waited for Harry to get back and fall asleep for a long time, and during that time I just sat there, thinking about what I was going to do. When I finally thought it safe to do it, I realized that I couldn’t kill Harry.” He paused, shooting Harry an apologetic look, “I couldn’t kill him because, he had to get rid of Voldemort….and well, you needed him. That’s when I figured out, nobody really needed me, and I decided that instead of giving the potion to Harry, I’d take it myself.”
Ron stopped talking abruptly at that, and risked a glance in Hermione’s direction. She was staring at him with a pitiful expression now, frowning slightly. She seemed deep in thought, and when Ron stopped talking, she nodded, “And that’s when Harry got up and stopped you.” She said. It was more of a statement than a question, really. Ron nodded mutely, waiting for her to do something.
“I’m sorry.” She said in a low, hollow voice. She stood up now, and when Ron looked at her again, she gave him a sad shrug, “I have to admit I never thought that this could cause so many problems. I didn’t feel completely at ease with everything that was happening, that’s for sure, but I never stopped to consider what damage this could really do.”
Ron nodded, deciding to accept her apology, and spoke, “I’m not asking you to leave Harry. You’re engaged now. I couldn’t possibly ask that of you now…now that I know how that would feel.” He whispered, shaking his head.
“In all honesty, Ron, I wouldn’t leave Harry even if you asked.” Hermione said, her voice suddenly hard, “I love him. Just like”“
“Just like I love you.” Ron muttered dully, “Yeah, yeah…so can I go to sleep now? I’d rather leave you alone so you can talk.” He got up, and without waiting for a response, stormed off to the boy’s dormitories. He didn’t dare look back until he was halfway up the stairs, concealed by the shadows. Immediately, he regretted doing so. Harry was holding Hermione in a tight hug, wrapping his arms around her. She was hiding her face in his chest, her arms around his neck. She appeared to be crying again, and he was patting her hair softly. She looked up and kissed his lips delicately before pulling away and sitting by the fire. She waved him over and they sat together, talking in low voices as they stared at the fire.
“Well…we’ll see who’s happier after that Final Battle.” Ron muttered to himself as he opened the door quietly and made his way to his bed. He pulled his covers over him and wrapped himself with them.
But I need Hermione…
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Dear Albus:
By the time you receive this letter, I am afraid that I will be very far away from Hogwarts. I am very sorry I did not say good-bye properly, or even ask for your opinion on my departure. I just couldn’t bear to sit quietly in my tower and watch as the world fell apart. I simply could not stay there any longer, for danger roams the walls of my beloved home. I endangered both the students and you by staying there, and so, I fled.
If you were any other person, you would be confused as you read this letter. You would also be worried, because you had to find another fine Divinations teacher (though I’m sure Frienze would guide the students perfectly). But as you are no ordinary wizard, you must have a shrewd idea of why I left the castle. You’re probably right, Albus. You are hardly ever wrong, after all. More than once I found myself wondering if you too possessed the second Sight; you surprised me so very often, telling me things I myself hadn’t seen yet.
But, for you to understand completely why I left, I must tell you the most important bit of information, the one I’m sure you will be surprised to hear. I am very sorry for what you are about to read, Albus, I truly am. But one of man’s greatest weaknesses is its tendency for avoiding things that may hurt them. One has to learn to accept things how they are, and to concentrate on what to do about them.
So here is the truth:
The day before yesterday” Thursday, I believe”I gazed into my crystal ball. I saw terrible things, Albus, terrible, terrible things. I saw the war of the Wizarding world; I saw He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named as he gained countless followers. Many were young, probably not a day after eighteen. There were giants, house-elves that had turned on their masters or were following orders, dragons, Dementors, and more creatures that I cannot even remember. There were many older wizards among those young ones, and one face in particular stood out clearly. It was Severus Snape, Albus, I would bet my life on it. I understand that he served as a spy on Voldemort for you, did he not? Apparently, he’s a bit indecisive in which role he will choose to play, as in my vision he was feeding He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named important information we discussed on our last Order meeting. I am sure of it Albus; if I wasn’t I would not have left the safety of my home, Hogwarts.
As you probably understand now, I left because I feared Severus would find a way to get me, and that prophecy you insist on saying that I told you sixteen years ago. I still do not remember ever telling you such things, but I suppose I must believe you after seeing the memory in your Pensieve. Even if I did not remember the exact wording, it would be easy for him to use Legilimency and hear the prophecy for himself.
The thought terrified me, and so I started to consider the idea of leaving during what was left of that evening and on Friday. Obviously, I decided to leave, and so I did. Today (Saturday) I packed my bags and wrote this note after leaving the Castle, hidden in the Grounds behind the many bushes that Hagrid planted for the Ball (they’re absolutely lovely, by the way. Tell him that, would you?). And after writing this, I suppose I’ll leave.
Albus, before signing this off and saving it to send it tomorrow, I must tell you something else I saw in the crystal ball. It is very important, and it concerns the Potter boy.
I saw the final battle between him and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. I grant you, it was a very prolonged battle, but I’m afraid…the boy doesn’t make it. A Killing curse hit him, square in the chest. I couldn’t manage to see any more of it, however. The vision ended right there.
I’m so sorry, Albus. I hate to be the bearer of bad news. I know, ridiculous, considering I keep predicting student’s deaths, but I’m sure you know by know that I choose them at random. I have no real knowledge that they will die. I just made it up, and they all lived, as far as I know.
All until Potter.
Well, I’m afraid writing this has gotten me in a very melancholic mood. This is most unlike me. I suppose I’ll do some crystal ball gazing later. That always cheers me up.
Take care, Albus, and I hope you take my warnings to heart.
~ Sibyll Trewlaney
A/N: Not a very shippy chapter, I'm afraid. But I think it's quite nice either way. It certainly adds to the plot line, don't you think?
Remember to review! I'm anxious to know what you think of this particular chapter! =)