CHAPTER THREE - ASHES TO ASHES
Harry paced back and forth Dumbledore’s office. Ginny, Neville and Hermione were waiting outside until the headmaster spoke with Harry. Dumbledore was sitting in his chair, more rigid than Harry could remember ever seeing him.
“Harry,” he began softly. “Please tell me what happened.” Harry wasn’t in denial, but the events of that day were still open wounds. He met Dumbledore’s eyes which held a certain fire that Harry had never seen. His eyes were ... desperate. Harry sat down wearily and began to speak. Even the tiniest detail was. Until Harry reached the end of his story when he emerged from Letum Specus. Dumbledore didn’t ask him to continue.
“Harry,” he murmured. “I’m sure you want to know how Voldemort died and why Peter did what he did.” Harry nodded savagely, his throat burning and choked up.
“In your third year, Harry,” Dumbledore said gently, “you saved Peter Pettigrew’s life. You could have done no greater thing, there are no words to describe how proud I was of you. You see, I’ve known from the moment Sibyll Trelawny made her first prophecy that the only possible way for you to defeat Voldemort was with love. I couldn’t tell you this, Hary, simply because if I did it would ruin the whole plan. If I told you to forgive Voldemort, if I told you to love him then it wouldn’t have been sincere.
“Now, three years ago at Voldemort’s rebirth ceremony, Peter added a bit of you and a bit of himself to Voldemort. By doing this, Voldemort was fully human. And, as any human, Voldemort was given the power to love. He kept this power hidden deep underneath his shell, utterly refusing to show it. He thought it was a weakness, as he so bluntly told you in the Ministry of Magic in your fifth year.
“Harry, today you forgave Voldemort. You loved him. This triggered an amazing reaction from your blood in his veins and the love hidden deep in his heart. It tried to resurface. Voldemort forced them down with the overwhelming power of evil he was still engrossed with and he tried to kill you. Peter Pettigrew saw him preparing to o this and I assume he leapt in front of you to take the full blast of Voldemort’s curse. He sacrificed himself to save your life, Harry, therefore paying off his debt to you. When Peter made this act of love and forgivness, the love inside Voldemort boiled over. With the pulsing love from your blood and Wormtail’s flesh Lord Voldemort couldn’t fight it anymore. Most of his body was so full of hate that that love destroyed him. He couldn’t bear to live in a body with so much of the very essence that he despised. I assume he tried to flee his body and find another to live off as he did seventeen years ago, but he couldn’t. He was fully human. So, he died.”
Harry stared at the old man, not knowing how to feel. He felt guilty, and triumphant, but mainly confused. It all made sense ... and that made it all the more confusing. For the first time in seventeen years, everything made sense. But he’d never been in so much pain.
“Ron,” he chocked. “How did he die, Professor?”
“It’s not my place to tell you,” Dumbledore said. “I don’t know myself. Wait here.” He stood up and swept across the room and down the spiral staircase. A moment later, he returned with Hermione, Neville and Ginny.
“Miss Granger is the only one living who saw it,” Dumbledore said solemnly. “And Miss Weasley has more right than any to know. Mr Longbottom deserves the truth as well.”
Hermione had stopped crying, but her eyes were red and swollen. However, that wasn’t the part that Harry noticed. No longer empty of feeling, Hermione’s eyes were full of regret and pain. A feeling that may have even supassed his own. He felt there was something more that Hermione had lost than a best friend. She sat down shakily in a chair across from Dumbledore and Ginny sat stiffly next to her. Neville stood in the corner solemnly.
Hermione began speaking right away, to Harry rather than Dumbledore, breathing ragged and forced. “Ron and I saw you approaching that door where I saw Voldemort go,” she choked to him. “We knew that you were going after him and we were willing to do whatever it took to get you in there to face him. Everything was going fine ... but then Malfoy came out from the door where you were going.” Hermione wiped her eyes and took a few deep breaths before continuing. “We saw you try and get past him but it was obvious that he would try to attack you. Kill you if he could. I looked over at Ron ... I could tell by his face what he was willing to do. He ...” Hermione let out a sob and grasped the arms of the chair tightly, her knuckles turning white. “He touched my face ... he said he loved me ... he told me to tell Ginny and the others that he loved them ... then he said ...” She was crying uncontrollably now but speaking through sobs. “He said he’d ... he’d wait for me ... then ... he ran out behind Malfoy and shouted for him ... Malfoy turned around and ...” It was obvious that Hermione couldn’t possibly say any more. Ginny patted her back. She still didn’t cry, but her eyes were huge and almost black against her pale, sickly face. Suddenly Harry realized something.
“I heard Malfoy shout the curse,” he murmured. “I thought he was aiming for me and missed ... Ron died just so I could get through to Voldemort. He didn’t even know whether or not I’d live through it.” Tears stung his eyes and he struggled to regulate his breathing. Hermione was still crying under her breath and Ginny looked more like a corpse than anything.
“I’ve notified all your parents,” Dumbledore breathed. “They’ll be arriving tomorrow.” Harry nodded and rose to his feet. Slipping an arm around Hermione’s waist he pulled her to her feet, not trusting her to walk. She could barely even breathe.
As the four friends trudges through the halls towardthe Gryffindor Tower a familiar drawl jerked them out of their silent misery. Spinning around with disgust and loathing, Harry glared at Theodore Nott swaggering down the hall. The Slytherin had recently supassed even Draco Malfoy in pure hatred for Harry Potter.
“I heard Weas-” He caught Ginny’s eye and shut up at once. Her tormented face seemed enough to tell him that even he couldn’t joke about that. “Sorry for your loss,” he mumbled and trudged away.
Ginny broke down then, right in the middle of the hall. She howled in pain and cried the tears that had threatened her for hours. It was useless to hold them back. Neville helped her up and hugged her silently. She cried into his shoulder as they walked.
“You know what the worst part is?” Hermione whispered suddenly. Harry looked down at the top of her head, slumped against his shoulder. “I loved him too. And I never said. I was afraid of losing him, and now look what happened!” She screame in torment and went limp in Harry’s arms, cursing and screaming and crying. Harry squeezed back tears, he had to be strong for her. He was all she had left.
“Herm,” whispered Ginny. “If he said he’d wait for you ... then he will. My brother’s never been one to break a promise.” Hermione nodded and burried her face into Harry’s chest.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Over the next few days, Harry was doing much better than everyone had expected. Although his eyes were still puffy and red from lack of sleep he seemed to have accepted Ron’s death. After all, Voldemort was gone and the students were celebrating. All but the Gryffindors.
Whether it was because Harry, Neville, Hemione and Ginny trudging around in pain or simply beacuse Ron had been a brother to all of them, Dean Thomas had draped the common room in black and it had become more a place for mourning than anything.
The night before, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George and even Percy had arrived at Hogwarts. Hermione insisted on telling them exacly what happened although Harry knew too well she would break down again.
That evening, Ginny was curled up with Bill in an armchair by the fire, Percy and Charlie were speaking in hushed voices and choking on their words quite often, Mr and Mrs Weasley were sitting with Hermione in a ring of comfort while Harry sat silently with the twins and Neville.
“Congratulations, Harry!” choked George. “You finally did it, you saved the world!”
“Yeah,” said Fred painfully. “You-Know Who’s gone at last! We all knew you could do it.” Harry nodded awkwardly. Suddenly, something seemed to have errupted inside of Harry. He saw Ginny’s face cleaarly in his minds eye and remembered the prayer she had chanted to Ron. He remembered how she made him feel and what she made him realize.
“Look,” said Harry suddenly, with much more gusto than anyone expected. Everyone in the common room was listening. “We all loved Ron, he was a big part of all of us, but there’re things worse than death. He died a man’s death and he deserves better than this. Look at us, sitting around crying because Ron made up his mind to die in order for Voldemort to be slain. Of course we all miss him, but if he were back now, Voldemort would still be out there, planning all our deaths as we speak. Come on, would Ron want us to all be crying over him like this? No! Ron would want us to be celebrating that Voldemort’s gone. To be thanking his memory for making it possible.” Ginny stood up across the room, a smile spreading across her pale face. The light was back in her eyes.
“All hail Ron Weasley,” she said with a giggle. Charlie, Bill, Fred and George all followed suit. Wiping the tears from her eyes, Hermione warily pulled herself up and clung to Harry’s arm to stop her wobbly legs abandoning her.
“To Ron Weasley,” she chimed, smiling for the first time in days. Mr and Mrs Wealsey stood up, as did Percy
“We loved you Ron!” Fred and George shouted at the ceiling.
“Me too,” Hermione said softly, but her words rang so clear and sweet she might have screamed it.
Next morning, all the Wealseys, save Ginny, had appartated from Hogsmeade back to the Burrow so they could drive to Kings Cross and meet their daughter. Harry assumed they wanted to act as normal as possible. Harry had packed his trunk the night before and it now clunked along behind him as he, Neville, Ginny and Hermione walked together through the halls of Hogwarts for their last time together as students. While Ginny stillhad another year of Hogwarts, Harry, Hermione and Neville were about to graduate and head out into the world.
Out in the hot, humid summer air Harry glanced around the familiar grounds. Visions of seven years at Hogwarts came flooding back to him: basking in the warm shallows of the lake, doing homework in the shade with Hermione and Ron, snowball fights, trudging through knee-deep snow to the greenhouses and stealing across the lawn in the dead of night to visit Hagrid. Harry’s heart fell, he had barely thought of Hagrid and couldn’t help but feel some of the aching pain in his chest grow stronger.
Dumbledore was standing between a throng of students and the coaches with a large bag of what must be diplomas for the seventh years. As the last few stragglers joined the group, he began to read out names in alphabetical order. The students would walk to the front, take their diploma from Dumbledore and board the coaches. As G, L and P passed without ny mention of Hermione, Neville of Harry, Harry decided that they were being saved for a special recognition at the end. His ears glowed red.
When the last student was called and the only remaining seventh years Harry, Neville and Hermione, Dumbledore made his speech about being so proud of all his students, but how a few really stood out that year. His talk changed to one of triumph as he spoke of Lord Voldemort and his final down fall, and then one of mourning in which everyone removed their hats in respect.
Finally, he called Hermione, Neville and, to her surprise, Ginny forward. He shook hands with the trio and gave Neville and Hermione their diplomas with a tear in his eye. Now, only Harry remained, standing alone with the teachers and Prefects.
Dumbledore called his name and Harry walked forward slowly. Each teacher he passed removed their hat and bowed their heads to him. Harry’s cheeks tinged pink but he walked on, murmuring thank-yous and good-byes. Dumbledore handed him a diploma and claped him on the shoulder. A tear dripped off the end of his crooked nose.
“My boy,” he murmured. “I don’t believe I’ve ever been so proud. Bless you.” Then he swept his hat off, held it to his chest and raised his arm to salute Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and the man that destroyed the Dark Lord.
A/N: Well, I’m done. I know three chapters isn’t much, but it’s a start, eh! I hope you liked it. I do know it was a little rushed at the end, but I’ve never been too good at conclusions. Please review, I love hearing from you!