Thinking about the long night behind him, Harry was suddenly and overwhelmingly relieved to be safe at Hogwarts. Draco Malfoy had just left the headmaster’s office, and Harry had little doubt that Draco was a marked man after all that had happened that night. Harry had seen Draco lower his wand on the Tower; he knew that despite his charge from Voldemort, the Slytherin would not have killed Dumbledore. Both Dumbledore and Snape had offered to help Draco, but Dumbledore was dead, and Snape either dead or captured for his traitorous actions. Draco had rejected the Order’s offer to protect him in their stead, and was now on his own. Harry felt a mixture of anger and pity when he thought about Draco Malfoy; he wondered if he would ever see Draco again, and what he would do if he did.
When he returned to the hospital wing, Harry found it the much the same as when he had left: nothing had changed, no one had moved. The Weasley family seemed overwhelmed by anxiety, and simply sat around Bill’s bed, without talking, some of them dozing. They seemed as stunned as Harry by everything that had happened. After a while, Harry found he could not bear the heavy silence any longer. He needed to leave, to go somewhere where he could clear his head and figure out what to do next. He caught Hermione’s eye, and she nodded as if she had read his mind.
Harry squeezed Ginny on the shoulder, and she looked up at him from her place beside the bed. “I’ll see you in the common room,” he said softly. She started to rise, but he stopped her. “It’s okay. You should stay, and be with your family. I’ll be all right.” She nodded gratefully, and stood anyway to kiss him lightly on the cheek; Harry was sure he heard Mrs. Weasley sigh softly.
Hermione was talking quietly to Ron, who still looked grim. She gave him a hug before joining Harry, and told him that Ron was going to stay with his brother as well. Harry and Hermione left the hospital wing together, and did not talk until they were well away from the grieving family.
“Did you really want to go back to Gryffindor?” asked Hermione quietly as they walked through empty corridors.
Harry gave her a weary smile; he wanted nothing more than to fall into his four-poster in the boys’ dormitory, but he felt like there was still so much to say and do. “Not yet. Let’s go to the Astronomy Tower. There’s something I have to tell you.”
Soon they came to the spiral staircase leading up to the Tower. It was a mess. Part of the ceiling had caved in, and Harry and Hermione had to carefully scramble over bits of rubble to climb the stairs. There were scorch marks where curses had hit the walls, and blood had dried on the floor. Harry inanely wondered if the castle elves were in charge of cleaning up wizard battles, but decided it would not be wise to ask Hermione and risk a tirade regarding elvish rights.
Harry stopped when they came to the top of the stairs, a lump in his throat. The scene from earlier that night played vividly through his mind: Dumbledore, weakened by the potion from the cave; Draco, raising his wand but unable to kill the headmaster; Snape, finishing the task as Dumbledore pleaded with him. Despite the events at Spinner’s End, Harry felt his anger begin to stir when he thought about Snape casting the Killing Curse, and about Dumbledore’s body sailing high into the air, dead.
Hermione was pale as she stepped onto the Tower. She moved quietly off to the left, and picked up a small bundle lying on the stone: it was Harry’s Invisibility Cloak, which he had left behind in his mad dash down the staircase after Snape. Silently she held it out to him, and Harry saw a tear make its way down her face.
Walking over to the ramparts, Harry gazed down at the ground where Dumbledore had fallen; the students were gone, returned to their dormitories. He looked out across the grounds to where Hagrid’s hut was a blackened husk, another cruel reminder of the horrible events that had shaken the castle.
Hermione joined him, and together they watched the sun come up. Harry heard Hermione sniffle, and saw that she was crying steadily now. He reached out and put his arm around her shoulder, and she rested her head on his. Sobs shook her body, and Harry found himself unable to hold in his own tears any longer. Through watery eyes he watched a new day begin: the first day Hogwarts would face without its headmaster, and the first day he would face, alone.
After a while Harry’s eyes were drawn to a large red and gold bird circling in the air. He recognized the animal immediately: it was Fawkes. Wiping his eyes, Harry watched as Dumbledore’s phoenix approached the Tower where he stood with Hermione. He nudged her, and together they followed Fawkes as he came to land on the ramparts next to them. The great bird let out a single, piercing note; for all its mournful beauty, it ripped Harry’s heart in half even as it filled him with hope.
“Hello, Fawkes,” he said, his voice breaking. Hermione was sobbing even harder next to him, and reached out to touch Fawkes on the head. He dipped his beak, and let out a soft chirp.
Fawkes launched himself into the air and circled around Harry and Hermione. He dropped something into Harry’s hands, and with another mournful cry, he flew off into the sky towards Hogsmeade. As Harry watched him go, he wondered if he would ever meet the phoenix again. He stared numbly into the distance, forgetting whatever Fawkes had left him, thinking only that he would never see Dumbledore again.
“Harry, look,” breathed Hermione, pointing at the object in Harry’s hands. Glancing down, Harry realized immediately what it was: it was the locket that he and Dumbledore had retrieved from the basin in the cave, and it was wrapped around one of Fawkes’ golden tail feathers. He held one of Voldemort’s Horcruxes in his hands.
“Is “ is that one of the them, a Horcrux?” Hermione asked quietly. Harry nodded, his throat tight. This was what Dumbledore had sacrificed so much to retrieve. “Harry, what happened with Dumbledore tonight?”
Looking back out over the grounds, Harry took a deep breath and told her about the journey to the cave. He told her about the lake, and the basin, and the horrible potion Dumbledore had to drink. When he described the battle with the Inferi, she gasped and held her hands up to her mouth, her eyes wide. Harry told her how they had Apparated back to Hogsmeade, and seen the Dark Mark over the castle; and he told her the truth about what had really happened on the Tower.
Hermione’s faced paled, and her mouth moved soundlessly. Harry couldn’t blame her: he still didn’t understand everything himself. “But Harry,” she finally said. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t you tell everyone about Snape? If he killed Professor Dumbledore, why are you protecting him? What happened when you went after him?”
Harry reached into his robes and pulled out the velvet bag Snape had given him. He held it out and she took it gingerly. He told her about his capture, and the mysterious events at Spinner’s End. “That’s why Snape took me with him, to give me those,” he concluded. “They’re from Professor Dumbledore, only I don’t know how I’m going to see them without the Pensieve.”
Hermione had taken out one of the small glass vials and was turning it around curiously. “It’s a memory, then?” she asked, and Harry nodded. “What do you suppose it is? And why did Snape have it?”
“I don’t know,” replied Harry, running his free hand through his hair. “That’s what’s so frustrating! I saw Snape kill him, right here.” Harry felt his face harden at the very thought of the headmaster’s murder. “But then he risked everything to give me these memories, and to help Draco Malfoy. In fact, he saved our lives, and we left him there!” Harry sighed. “I’m hoping one of those memories will tell me why Dumbledore has trusted Snape for all these years.”
“Or maybe they will help you find the other Horcruxes,” Hermione suggested, putting the vial back in the bag and handing it to Harry. He looked at her, surprised, and she continued. “You’re the only one who can find them now, Harry. It’s your job to destroy them, so you can . . .can . . .”
“Kill Voldemort or be killed,” Harry finished bitterly. Even a year had not helped him reconcile the horrible terms of the prophecy Dumbledore had shared with him. And after being forced to almost kill Draco Malfoy under the effects of the Imperius Curse, Harry knew without a doubt that he had no desire to kill anyone, ever.
As he stood there, thinking morosely of the dark destiny he could not escape, Harry absently turned the locket over in his hands, and felt it click open. Looking down, he saw a small piece of paper flutter to the stones. He picked it up with a sudden feeling of dread. As he read the note, he felt his legs go weak, and grabbed the ramparts to stay up.
“Harry, what is it?” asked Hermione, in a worried tone of voice. “What’s wrong?”
Harry stared at her, stunned. “It’s a fake,” he whispered, unable to believe it himself. “The locket “ it’s a fake.” He handed her the note and put his head on the ramparts, unable to comprehend the horrible truth of the situation.
I know I will be dead long before you read this
but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret.
I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can.
I face death in the hope that when you meet your match,
you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
“Oh, Harry,” said Hermione softly, as she touched his arm. “I’m so sorry.” She looked as miserable as he felt. There wasn’t anything else to say. The trip to the cave, the terrible potion, and the battle with the Inferi: it had all been for nothing, the Horcrux was already gone. Dumbledore had weakened himself with the potion for no reason; he had died protecting Harry for no reason. Harry felt the anger which had been coursing through him all night suddenly rise; with the anger he felt guilt, for forcing Dumbledore to drink, to protect him, to die; and finally he felt the pain of penetrating loss, just as he had felt when Sirius had died.
Harry and Hermione stood on the Tower in silence, each wrapped up in their own bleak thoughts. The sun rose higher in the sky, and the birds began their song; but the castle slept on, desperate to recover after the long hard night. Harry began to feel the effects of fatigue sweep over him; it was becoming harder and harder to stay awake. And yet he did not want to leave the place where Dumbledore had died, not yet. Hermione suggested they go back to Gryffindor and try to get some sleep, but Harry shook her off. After a while she departed alone, leaving him with a fierce hug and a gentle reminder to come in soon.
As soon as she had left, Harry sank to the ground and let his head fall to his knees. The horrible events of the past night swirled around him like a maelstrom, filling him with grief, anger, and confusion, and he knew he could not keep his feelings bottled up any longer. He wanted to rage at the world for the cruel injustice of it all, but all he could do was sob, until he fell asleep on the cold stone floor of the Tower, as the sun shined down upon the new day.
* * *
A/N: The passage from the locket is from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, p. 609. I decided I wasn’t going to change everything J.K.Rowling had given us; the locket was a great twist after all.