Author’s Note: Well, here it is! Feel free to take “Run” off your favorites, folks, as this is officially the rewritten version.
When you reach the end of this chapter, a few of you will be asking yourselves, “Why?” I can’t elaborate, as I don’t want to give anything away, but rest assured any and all questions in your mind will be answered.
Enjoy!
Trial by Fire
This agonizing lie,
This trying time,
Demands all of me
The innocence I’ve lost,
The blood it's cost,
Leaves unhealed scars within
This rendering pain,
This unmerciful stain,
Of unjust and stolen years
Has defied me time again.
The choked sobs of night,
The oppressing light,
Has made a slave of me.
But I will not abate,
I will employ the hate
That has been planted deep inside
I will not falter
Valor will not tire
And I will defeat
This trial by fire.
Harry peered out Ron’s open window at the Burrow and into the black, starry sky. The hushed wind tangled itself in his unruly black hair.
Closing his eyes, Harry sucked in a deep, refreshing breath before leaning his weary head against the ledge. He could hear voices of jovial laughter from bellow: the remnants of Bill and Fleur’s wedding.
It had been a humble but beautiful ceremony. Fleur’s relatives did not hide their shock too well upon seeing Bill’s extensive scars. They did, however, give their polite condolences, and ended up receiving Mrs. Weasley’s blessings (which, Harry thought, should be listed as the eighth wonder of the world).
He could see Ginny sitting on a bench out in the yard as she watched Fred and George entertain the Delacour’s with merchandise from their joke shop. Noticing her long mane furling in the wind, he longingly wished to feel lighthearted. Nothing would have made him happier than knowing he was still capable of laughter.
He’d hidden it well, he thought-- the pain of Dumbledore’s death... the constant tightening of his chest whenever he visualized his late mentor. It happened more than three weeks ago, but to Harry, it felt fresh and alive, as if he were reliving the scene every time his eyelids descended.
But other than a few sleepless nights, he thought he was to be commended on how well he’d worn his mask of determination and contentedness.
Desperately trying to release the spell of despondency, Harry sighed. His thoughts suffocated him, but he pushed them away and focused on the distant, swaying trees.
But before he could relax the worry and hurt from his mind, a creaking floorboard signaled someone’s arrival.
“Harry?” came Hermione’s gentle voice as she softly knocked on the wooden door. “Can I come in?”
Without turning to face the entrance, he mumbled, “Sure.”
The hinges squeaked as Hermione’s face peeked around the frame. She entered slowly before shutting the door behind her with a soft thump.
“I’m glad you’re alone,” she said quietly, barely audible over the laughter and applause issuing from below the window. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”
Harry glanced at her over his shoulder to signal he was listening.
Hermione moved closer and positioned herself on the edge of Ron’s bed. She placed her elbows on her knees and leaned in so that she could whisper and still be loud enough to hear.
“Well, it’s” it’s silly, really, but… Oh, I’ve been meaning to say this for ages, I just couldn’t pluck up the courage,” she sighed, sounding agitated with herself.
Feeling the closest thing to curiosity he’d experienced in weeks, Harry turned to face her, indicating with his eyes that it was okay to continue.
“You see, it’s just… I’ve been feeling-- Harry, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded at last, her voice exuding painful concern.
Harry’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “Come again?”
“You told me” you’ve been telling everyone, all along-- and no one, not even me, believed you. I just... I’m sorry, Harry,” she cried, her fingers pulling together.
“Hermione, what are you on about?”
“Snape,” she muttered. “You knew. You kept telling us, but… no one listened, and now look,” she whispered in agony. “Dumbledore… Dumbledore’s dead, and no one believed you. But I should have,” she said firmly. “I should have trusted you. You’ve been right about everything before, and I should have trusted you.”
Harry’s mouth bobbed open. He certainly wasn’t expecting this. He hadn’t thought about it, honestly; he blamed no one but Snape for Dumbledore’s death, and hadn’t considered that anyone else” least of all Hermione” would either.
“Hermione,” he began soothingly, “Listen, it’s””
“I know it’s not my fault, per se,” she interrupted desperately. “But I” I still feel terribly guilty, Harry. I can’t imagine how frustrating that must have been, to not have even your best friend believe you…”
“Ron did,” he muttered before he could take the words back. He knew he’d made a mistake before he’d finished. The look on Hermione’s face was tormenting, and Harry wanted nothing more than to shovel the words back inside.
Hermione’s lip pouted as glistening tears bordered her lids. Her face was suddenly drained of all color.
“I’m sorry,” Harry hastened to say. “I didn’t” that came out wrong. I just meant that””
“No, it’s all right,” she choked. “Ron was the better friend. He trusted you… and I… I--” she couldn’t finish. Tears streamed down her pale face, leaving glossy streaks across her smooth skin in their wake. She hurried to wipe them with the back of her hand, but it was useless.
Harry fought the urge to comfort her. He wanted to assure her that he wasn’t bothered, that he had expected nothing less than Hermione’s usual logic-drive outlook when he’d approached her with his theory, but the fear of an awkward embrace, combined with his preoccupied thoughts, had him rethink his instincts.
“You gave me your honest opinion,” said Harry at last. “I didn’t expect anything less.”
“My opinion,” she spat nastily at herself, avoiding Harry’s worried gaze, “should have been focused around trusting your judgment.” She finished wiping away her tears, licked her lips, then sat up straighter and faced him. “I’m sorry,” she said sturdily.
Harry managed a half smile despite himself. “You’re forgiven.”
Hermione’s eyes brightened as she seemed to visibly deflate. She offered her own shy smile before heaving a deep breath.
“Besides,” Harry continued, “I haven’t always been right. You tried telling me that the Department of Mysteries was just a trap… I should have trusted you, too. So let’s call it square,” he said.
Hermione’s smile broadened. “Okay.”
Harry went back to gazing at the tall, green trees. Their movements made them appear to be almost alive in human-like fashion.
Hermione kneeled on the floor and joined him. Harry glanced over at her and found her eyes were closed as her lips wore a comfortable grin. It amazed him how guilty she’d felt.
And then he knew, in that moment more than in any other, how good of a friend she truly was.
“Went well, didn’t it? Bill looks happy,” Ron commented an hour later as they climbed beneath their sheets.
“Yeah,” Harry mumbled solemnly.
He was still fighting his inner struggle. He felt ready to blurt out his feelings any moment, but kept them on high guard. It was difficult, though, after Hermione’s emotional confession. He knew himself well enough to realize that, had it been earlier in the evening, he would have broken in and confided in someone.
A long moment passed, during which the only sounds were whispering leaves rumbling in the surrounding forest. Several crickets chirped in a bush somewhere in the distance; Harry felt ready for a full night’s sleep. He knew the next morning would dawn far too early” the first day of their hunt for horcruxes.
“Harry, you still awake mate?” Ron asked cautiously, interrupting Harry’s trance.
“Mmm,” he mumbled in response.
Harry heard Ron’s mattress shift as he sat up in bed. “Listen,” he began, and Harry sensed he was in store for another confession. “I sort of-- I overheard you and Hermione earlier,” he blurted quickly before he lost his nerve.
Harry sat up too, finding Ron’s eyes. “Yeah?” he asked, trying to restrain his anger. Had he been eavesdropping?
“I wasn’t trying to listen in,” Ron hammered on, shaking his head lightly. “I was on my way up to find you… you sort of disappeared on me. But Hermione beat me to it, so I” I””
“Spied on us?” Harry offered irritably.
“N” no! No, mate, I wasn’t spying on you,” he affirmed decisively. “Honest, Harry, I didn’t mean to. I just overheard Hermione, and she sounded right worried, you know? So I hung out for a minute to see what was going on.”
Harry narrowed his eyes, watching his friend intently. “Yeah. Fine.”
Ron gave him a quizzical look. “Hey, you all right? You seem a bit… a bit jumpy.”
Harry considered Ron for a moment. For the first time since Dumbledore’s death, he felt ready to talk about Voldemort, about what this all meant for him. For them. But... would he tell Ron?
Ron seemed preoccupied with his own complex musings. Harry found himself wishing he’d taken his earlier opportunity to let off steam with Hermione-- not that he had any idea what it was he’d have said.
“I’m fine,” he responded eventually, calming down.
“Okay, well... anyway,” Ron continued. He seemed to be readying himself for something… mustering courage, almost. He took a deep breath before plunging onward. “I wish I could talk to Hermione like that.”
Harry’s eyebrows raised into his hairline. “What?”
Ron flushed a deep scarlet that reached the tips of his ears. “You know… the way you two were talking.”
Harry wasn’t expecting to have this conversation this night. This night of all nights. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, taking a long, steadying breath. Ron seemed genuinely anxious. Harry would answer his best friend’s call for help.
“Ron,” he started, “She was crying. It wasn’t some deep, significant discussion on the meaning of life,” he finished, failing to sound casual and interested.
“No, I know that,” he responded. “But I mean… it was still… it was still heartfelt, you know? When you’re not around, the closest we get to anything serious is Hermione’s complaints about not being able to take N.E.W.T.s this year,” Ron said, nearly rolling his eyes.
Harry shook his head, disbelieving that even Ron could be so dense with girls. This was Hermione, after all.
“It’s not that difficult,” Harry offered grudgingly. “You just need to relax a bit. Don’t be so concerned with forcing a subject. Just-- let the conversation flow naturally,” he finished awkwardly.
“Easy for you to say. It’s different with you, you know it is,” Ron retorted.
“Yeah? How so?” Harry flamed, immediately recognizing the scratchy, irritable sensation in his throat. Something about this entire conversation was putting him on edge.
“You’re” you two don’t-- you don’t have that tension.”
“The only reason you have tension is because all you do with her is bicker,” Harry snapped, though trying to keep his voice low. “You don’t listen to what she says, you’re not hearing her. Instead you’re” you’re hung up on bloody pretenses; it’s ridiculous, that’s what it is.”
Ron gaped at him in bewilderment. “Yeah, you think so?” he asked nastily.
“Don’t reckon I would’ve said it if I didn’t.”
Suddenly, Ron hoisted himself up off his bed and walked to hover right above Harry, who had flung onto his pillow in frustration.
“Do you fancy her?” he asked resolutely.
Harry turned over to look him in the eyes. “What?”
“Do you fancy Hermione?” Ron repeated steadily.
Harry’s lips thinned.
“Well? Do you?”
Harry sat up abruptly, nearly bashing heads with Ron. “No. Happy?”
“I didn’t think so,” Ron said. “You’ve been with Ginny for months now, anyway--”
Harry clenched his teeth and looked away. He hadn’t told anyone about breaking up with Ginny. And from the current state of things, he didn’t suspect this was the best time to mention it.
“--so I can’t figure why you’re being such a prat about this,” Ron finished.
Harry wanted to hit him. Had Ron not considered that the last thing on his mind was girls? Had he not enough wisdom to understand that his complications with Hermione were the last of his worries? Harry thought any dolt would understand that he didn’t care about Ron’s hormonal frustrations. It was all so immature, anyway. The whole lot of it.
But Harry wasn’t all together certain why he wasn’t able to control his temper. Despite his self-righteous feelings on the matter, he knew Ron was his best mate, and knew this topic would spring up eventually.
Harry pushed his fingers behind his glasses and kneaded them into his eyes.
Focus. Just focus, he thought. You need to get your temper under control. It’s just Ron. You knew this was coming one day. It’s just Ron.
“All right,” he murmured, setting his glasses straight. “Sorry.”
He chanced a glance up at Ron, and saw his face relax.
Sitting down on Harry’s bed and fumbling with his hands, Ron muttered, “What do I do?”
Harry had scarcely seen him look so vulnerable. Oddly, it infuriated him more than saddened him. “I dunno,” was all he was willing to advise.
Ron sighed and stared at his feet. “Sometimes I wonder… I wonder if it’s meant to ever happen. There’s these little signs, but what’s that mean if I can’t even talk to her?"
Harry propped himself on his elbows and glared hard at the side of Ron’s flushed face. A tinge of remorse crept into his interior and nestled itself right in the pit of Harry’s stomach.
“Look,” he said forcefully. “I” I don’t know what else to tell you. Hermione isn’t… she’s not as buried behind her books as you might think. Half the time I reckon she uses them as an escape, you know? She’s really caught up in everything. You might want to try bringing up something besides… whatever your usual topics are. Something that would let her sort her thoughts, or... something.”
Ron brought his hands together and nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I think you’re right.” Using his knees as support, he stood up and turned towards his bed. “Err… thanks, mate.”
Relieved that that was over, Harry merely nodded-- knowing full well that Ron couldn’t see him.
Harry flung the covers off and jumped to his feet. He’d been woken by the sound of a spell slicing through the air.
He rushed to the window and searched frantically for what made the noise. For a long moment, he saw nothing. But just as his heart was calming, he noticed a green hue emitting from above his head.
Looking up, Harry saw the large eyes of a serpent peering down at him.
The Dark Mark.
“Ron!” he screamed. “Ron, get up!”
Harry looked down and past the tables which still bore decorations from the wedding. Marching slowly forward was a line of black, billowing cloaks.
“RON!” he screamed again, rushing to his bedside. Harry shook his shoulders violently, still yelling at him to get up.
“W- what? Harry, what’s going””
“Death Eaters!” he bellowed, before running out the door.
He climbed the stairs two at a time before bursting into Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s room. “Mr. Weasley! Mr. Weasley!”
The balding old man blinked up at him from beneath his night cap. “Harry? What’s””
“The Dark Mark” Death Eaters, outside!” he yelled, starting to feel panic escaping in his words.
At that very moment, the house shook roughly, causing Harry to grasp the bedpost for support.
“Dear Merlin,” Mr. Weasley mumbled, his face paling. “Harry, go wake the others. Get everyone out. Apparate away, hear me?”
Harry charged from the room and continued to fly up the stairs. He rushed into Hermione’s room, but found Ron was already there and yelling at she and Ginny to wake up.
Dashing across the hall, he flew into the twin’s room, where they and Charlie were still sound asleep.
“Fred! George! Wake up!”
Fred immediately rose from his bed and met Harry’s eyes. “What’s going on?”
“Get up! We’ve got to Apparate!”
Charlie was already on his feet. “Death Eaters are here, aren’t they?” he asked, far more calm than what was normal, Harry thought. “That wasn’t an earthquake, was it?”
“No, it””
The house shook a second time and Harry heard the distinct sound of a door being broken in.
“George, Fred, make sure everyone gets out,” Charlie shouted frantically. “And that includes you, Harry,” he added, exchanging a knowing look.
Harry shifted his gaze and faintly registered George’s stunned stare before rushing out the door. He ran headlong into Ron, who got the wind knocked out of him, but ignored it.
“My Dad and Mum” where are they?”
“Dunno, but we’ve got to get everyone out,” Harry replied hurriedly.
Another shake, and he heard the door burst open.
“Crucio!”
A woman’s voice let out a horrifying scream from below.
“MUM!” Ron shouted, pushing past Harry.
“Ron, no!” Harry grabbed his sleeve and threw him against the wall. “You can’t, you’re outnumbered!”
“What would you do if it was your Mum, Harry?!” he responded furiously.
Harry stared him cold in the eyes, searching Ron’s face. “She might as well be,” he said in a dangerous whisper. “But it’s suicide. Not even I’m that reckless.”
“Yeah? Department of Mysteries not own up to ‘reckless’ anymore, then?”
Hermione and Ginny whipped around the corner, bumping into Ron.
“What are you two doing?!” Hermione shrieked. “Let’s Apparate, now! Ginny, hold onto my arm””
“No,” Harry said forcibly, still staring at Ron square in the eyes. “Me and Ron are going down.”
“What?!” Ginny yelled.
“No, Harry, you””
“Why the hell are you lot still here?!” George appeared around the doorway. “Ginny, take hold of my arm! Don’t let go--”
“Harry and Ron are going down!” she screeched.
“Yeah, so are we, soon as we get you two to Headquarters,” Fred said, meeting Harry’s eyes with a nod. He grasped Hermione’s arm, and before either she or Ginny could protest, the twins had Disapparated with them.
Harry heard glass shattering and spells tearing through walls. Mr. Weasley screamed, “Look out!” to Charlie from below, just before the house shook again.
Someone was already marching up the stairs, only a few paces from where Harry and Ron stood.
“You don’t have to do this,” Ron told him, his jaw set.
Harry didn’t answer. He kept his eyes focused on Ron, but unsheathed his wand and pointed it down the stairwell. “Stupefy!” he yelled, and the approaching Death Eater toppled downward.
Ron broke Harry’s gaze and eyed the crumpled figure. “Not that you couldn’t be useful, of course.”
They dashed down the stairs and were met by the sight of Mr. Weasley dragging his wife’s unconscious body across the foyer, as Charlie tried defending them against two oncoming Death Eaters.
Harry’s chest hitched. Ron’s face quickly morphed from pale shock to red outrage. They heard a loud crack issue from just behind them, and turned to face the twins.
Harry didn’t delay. He jumped across the remaining stairs and landed with a thump as he shouted “Petrificus Totalus!”
One of the Death Eaters advancing on Charlie fell sideways and hit his head on the coat rack.
“Stupefy!” Harry yelled, and the second fell on top of the first.
Harry’s breathing was ragged and uneven. He spun around to make sure Ron was still okay.
George ran to his mother’s aid and muttered, “Ennervate!” She only winced, but it was her first sign of life. She seemed to slowly come out of her state, much to George’s visible relief. Mr. Weasley was still bent beside her, brushing the hair from her white face.
“Are” are there more?” Ron questioned anxiously.
“I dunno.” Harry moved to the window and peered out cautiously. “I don’t see””
“STUPEFY!”
Ron hit the floor with a sickening thump, his eyes closed and his arms sprawled awkwardly.
Two more tall, dark figures sprang into the room, one of which felt daring enough to leave her mask down.
Bellatrix.
Fred screamed “Expelliarmus!” but she merely muttered “Protego,” as if intensely bored by the proceedings.
Before she’d even finished uttering the shield charm, the other Death Eater screamed, “Stupefy! Stupefy! and both Charlie and Mr. Weasley, preoccupied with Molly, fell to the ground.
Fred, George, and Harry clustered together. The Death Eater Harry had hit on the stairs was now waking.
“Well, well, well,” Bellatrix grinned wickedly. “Look who we’ve got here! Wee little Potter, trying to save his pathetic, blood-traitor friends.”
Harry’s blood boiled as he clenched his wand and his nails dug mercilessly into his own skin.
“Hasn’t it been made clear enough that everyone you love will die? Hmm? Risking your neck for such a lost cause really isn’t too intelligent, boy, especially considering that you’re the 'Chosen One',” she taunted, spitting out her last words. “Never were too bright. You must take after your beloved Headmaster,” she cackled. “Foolish and arrogant, just like him. Pity he died of it””
“STUPEFY!” Harry shouted furiously, but Bellatrix blocked it with a flick of her wand and quickly yelled, “Petrificus Totalus!”
Harry fell, his face smacking against the hard floor. He could hear his blood rushing in his ears, his face hot with fury. He heard Fred and George shout curses, but the Death Eater from the stairwell had risen, and far outnumbered, it wasn't long before they were knocked unconscious.
Bellatrix kicked Harry over onto his back.
“You remember these words Potter,” she spat in his face. “I could have killed you tonight. Right now, with my wand pointed at your chest, I am in control, and your filthy life could be put where it belongs.”
She leaned down and put her mouth inches from Harry’s ear.
“But what fun would that be, if I could just as easily continue to take what is most precious to you?”
She rose and took a few steps backwards, a maniac glint in her eye.
Tucking away her wand, she gave him an evil smirk before turning around and walking casually out the door.
Behind her, Harry saw another tall Death Eater trace her steps into the night, carrying an unconscious Ron with him.
This agonizing lie
This trying time
Demands all of me,
The innocence I’ve lost
The blood its cost
Leaves unhealed scars within
But I will not abate,
I will employ the hate
That has been planted deep inside
I will not falter
Valor will not tire
And I will defeat
This trial by fire.