I managed to get a couple hours of sleep that night, and when I woke it was dawn. I was alone in the guest room Luna and I had shared. Hermione had been put in Fleur and Bill's room until further notice. I rose, still in the sweat pants and black t-shirt that Fleur had given me last night to change into. I walked down the hall, peering into each room as I did so.
The first room I came to was Griphook's. He was curled up in a ball, tiny and childlike on the large bed, whimpering and moaning. I wondered how much pain he must be in, and it made me feel sick. The second room belonged to Mr. Ollivander. He was out cold, his body limp and lifeless as he slept. The only sign that he was still alive was the slow rise and fall of his chest.
The last room was Bill and Fleur's. I peeked into the room, where the door was slightly ajar. I could see Ron sitting in a chair off to the side, his hands folded and eyes closed, as if he were praying. Fleur was tending to Hermione, muttering to herself as she administered a potion.
“...people all over ze 'ouse, showing up in ze middle of ze night! Zey are crazy, zese boys, look at zis poor girl, she is exhausted! If it were up to me...,” and she trailed off threateningly, mumbling in rapid French that I couldn't understand.
Fleur finished giving Hermione the potion and then swept out of the room, barely even noticing that I was there. I stepped inside.
Hermione lay on the bed, awake but weak. Her color was returning. She was looking at Ron, his eyes still closed, a half-smile on her face. I coughed, and they both looked up. “How are you?” I asked Hermione, suddenly shy for some reason.
She shrugged; that is, she moved her shoulders in a gesture that would have been a shrug if she was in her normal state. “Better. Fleur's been a real help.”
Ron gave a derisive laugh. “If you call pumping her with meds and muttering in French a 'real help'. Seen Dean and Luna?”
“They're downstairs having breakfast. I heard them,” I said. “Actually, I heard Fleur say 'Bon appetite', so I'm pretty sure they're eating.”
Ron nodded, stood up, and crossed to the window. Hermione had closed her eyes and looked like she was dozing, so I followed Ron. We could see the beach, beautiful in the morning sunlight. Ron shook his head. “I can't believe all this. We could have died!” he whispered.
“But we didn't. You and Hermione and Harry are all okay. You're going to figure it out, and save the world, and few years from now we'll all look back on this and think it would make an awesome action-adventure movie.”
Ron shrugged and turned to look at Hermione again. “But it's going to cost us in the end,” he said softly. I decided this would be a good moment to back out of the room and leave Ron with his thoughts.
When I got downstairs, Luna and Dean were eating an apple Danish apiece. There was a plate of them in the middle of the table, and I helped myself to one; I was starving.
“Where's Harry?” I asked, assuming he would have been down here as well.
“Outside,” said Luna and Dean in chorus. They glanced at each other, and then Luna said, “He's... burying Dobby.”
“Oh,” I said quietly. Then remembered what happened on the beach when we got back. Images flooded into my mind: Turning around in the dark. Seeing Dobby. The knife. The elf soaked in blood. My scream to Harry, even though he couldn't help.
I picked up another Danish and went outside.
~ * ~
I stood behind a sickly little tree, watching Harry. Dobby's little body was under Harry's jacket. Harry was attacking the ground with a trowel, stabbing at the earth as though this plot of land had done him some unforgivable personal wrong. He was pretty far along, and I could tell that he hadn't even gone inside. I wanted so much to talk to him, even just to say, “Good morning.” But I knew talking to him now would be a very bad idea. I sat on the ground and watched his assault on the dirt, polishing off my Danish and saving the second for him.
When he was finally done, it was mid-morning. He tossed the trowel aside and climbed out of the hole he'd dug, wiping sweat off his face with is shirttail. When Harry turned to pick up Dobby, he saw me. I didn't know what else to do, so I stood and came over, sheepish at being caught spying. I handed him the Danish wordlessly, then looked at Dobby's wide eyes staring lifelessly up at me. It was disturbing. I knelt and closed them. Harry wrapped Dobby tightly in his jacket and placed him gently in the grave.
We didn't say a word, either of us. We just looked down at him for a moment. I suddenly understood why Harry had wanted to bury Dobby by hand; the reason wasn't something that could quite be put into words. Silently, we knelt and refilled the grave. Harry found a stone, placed it at the head of the grave, and used his wand to carve these words into it:
Here lies Dobby, who was a free elf*
Other people filed out of the house. Luna and Dean came first, somberly, each in one of Bill and Fleur's coats. Then Bill and Fleur themselves appeared, followed by Ron, who was supporting Hermione as she made her way unsteadily to the quiet funeral. Luna being Luna, she was the first to speak.
I could tell she was trying hard not to cry as she said, “I think we ought to say something. I'll go first, shall I?” There was no response. She knelt down and appeared to be speaking to the headstone. “Thank you so much, Dobby, for rescuing me from that cellar. It's so unfair that you had to die, when you were so good and brave. I'll always remember what you did for us. I hope you're happy now.”*
To say anything else after Luna would have been superfluous. We all murmured, “Thanks,” and then everyone slowly filed away just as they had come.
I was the last to leave. Harry was standing over the grave, and looked so close to tears that it seemed indecent to hang around. However, I couldn't resist the impulse to give him a quick hug before turning away and walking back to the cottage.
~ * ~
We began to establish a routine. Luna, Dean, and I helped Fleur around the house. Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent a lot of time upstairs talking to Griphook, but they never said what they were up to. We didn't bother them about it. Whatever Harry was plotting, he'd ask for help when he needed it.
One night, a few weeks after we'd been at Shell Cottage, Bill announced that he was moving Ollivander to his Auntie Muriel's. Luna and I both said our goodbyes, and I couldn't help thinking we wouldn't have lasted nearly as long if it hadn't been for him.
“Bye, Mr. Ollivander,” I said when Luna had given him a hug. “Thanks for everything.” Ollivander, who hadn't been much for words during his period at Shell Cottage, smiled and nodded at both of us. Bill carried him off into the night, and came back awhile later. I can barely remember what he said about Ollivander, though, because about ten minutes after Bill returned, I heard a knock on the the kitchen door. Everyone shrank back from it, wands raised.
“Who is it?” Bill called.*
And then I heard a wonderful voice: “It is I, Remus John Lupin! I am a werewolf, married to Nymphadora Tonks, and you, the Secret-Keeper of Shell Cottage, told me the address and bade me come in an emergency!”*
Before anyone could hold me back, I ran over and threw open the door. Lupin came inside, looking much less together than normal. He was grinning from ear to ear as he proclaimed, “It's a boy! We've named him Ted, after Dora's father!”*
Everyone exclaimed happily, and then Fleur scurried off to get drinks. Lupin asked Harry to be the godfather, and he said he would. We all sat down, and then Lupin, who wound up next to me, did a double-take. “Rosie!” he exclaimed. “You're alive!” His tone suggested that he had thought otherwise, and I had to resist a laugh.
He lowered his voice so that nobody else would overhear and realize that we knew each other better than teacher and student. “Dora and I were so worried when you didn't come back over Christmas. We heard about Luna and figured they got you too. Are you alright? What happened?”
Quickly, I summed up what happened on the Hogwarts Express, how I thought they mixed me up with Ginny Weasley, and how Harry, Ron, and Hermione had rescued us. Lupin's brow furrowed. “That explains why Ginny didn't want to go back to school when Easter break was over. Said something about a huge doe telling her not to go back. She wasn't even sure if she dreamed it, but it spooked her. Do you have any idea what that was about?” he asked hopefully.
I shook my head, because I couldn't help remembering that Snape's Patronus was a doe. After a few drinks, Lupin said he really had to leave. Before he could get out the door, I gave him a quick hug and said, “Send Dora my love- and Lupin? Could you tell Ginny that you have it on good authority that Harry's alright? If she asks who told you, say it was me.” Lupin looked confused, but nodded and headed out into the storm.
I ran to a window and watched his outline disappear into the darkness, and tried not to think of Ginny's reaction- that is, if Lupin gave her my message at all.
~ * ~
The weeks went by slowly. We received many pictures of little Teddy, and in each one his hair was a different color. My favorite one showed Teddy smiling, sporting curly purple locks. Luna and I woke a few weeks after Lupin's visit to discover that Ollivander had sent us each a new wand. Luna wandered outside after breakfast with Dean to practice with hers. I, on the other hand, went on a walk. I appreciated Ollivander's generous gift, but the wand was making me remember the awful months in the cellar of Malfoy Manor, and those are memories I tried to repress.
I took the new wand out of my pocket once again and examined it. According to Ollivander's letter, this new wand was “ten inches precisely, comprised of willow and unicorn hair, and reasonably firm; incedentally, it is very good for charmwork.” I sighed, and couldn't help but smile. I felt as if I had taken Ollivander's company for granted. I knew I'd have to write at some point and say thank you. For now, though, I needed to practice if I wanted to fight the forces of evil any time soon.
I decided to start with the basics. I began summoning and banishing objects; an hour later I was attempting the Patronus Charm (producing an encouraging, sheild-like thing), when Luna trotted over, Dean lagging behind her, glancing dolefully at Luna's wand every now and then. “Harry's just told Bill and Fleur that he and Ron and Hermione are leaving tomorrow morning,” said Luna. The dreamy quality of her voice had been restored in the weeks we had been out of Malfoy Manor. “I thought you'd want to know.”
“Where do you think they're going?” I asked, settling myself on a rock and fully prepared to begin batting around theories.
“Oh, they're off to save the world again, I expect,” said Luna, leaning against a small tree. Dean and I exchanged glances and looked away quickly, trying not to laugh; it was almost like being back in the D.A. Thinking of the others, I looked down at my shoes. I missed all my friends: Neville, the ring-leader, braver now than anyone had expected; Ginny, wild and tough, always ready with a plan; Sammy, my best friend in the world; Valentine, who was always quick to come to anyone's defence....
But most of all, I'd missed Simon these last few weeks. In Malfoy Manor, I'd been too preoccupied with surviving to think much about anyone but Luna, Ollivander, and myself. Now, though, with endless stretches of nothing to do, I'd found that of all the people at school that I cared about, his face flitted through my brain the most.
There was something about him that made me wish he was right there to talk to, because he would know exactly what to say. He had seen through my impassive charade- and I had had Snape to teach me how to lie. Others might think they knew what was bothering me most of the time, but only Simon knew about Snape and what he had done. He knew when to talk and when to let me ramble on. But I think I missed him most the first night in Shell Cottage, when I had seen Dobby fall broken into the sand, and I cried myself to sleep.
Dean's voice saying, “Fleur's calling, it's time for dinner,” jerked me out of my reverie. I glanced at the sky and saw the red sparks in the sky that indicated dinner was ready. Luna, Dean, and I made it to the house just before Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
That evening, I found myself crammed next to Harry at dinnertime. Bill and Fleur's dining room was just big enough to seat eight, and though I imagined it was nothing like eating with all of the Weasleys, it was still rather cramped. I listened to the talk around me; Harry and I hadn't really said much to each other since Dobby's funeral, though I had shared a room with Luna and Hermione since then, and we talked more.
I noticed that Harry was fiddling with his mashed potatoes, but not eating them. Taking what I thought could be my last opportunity in a long time, I said quietly, “So, you're leaving?”
“Tomorrow,” Harry replied, not looking up from his potatoes.
“Off to save the world, or just a mere whim?” I was trying to keep the conversation light.
He cracked a smile. “I think it's the former at this point.”
“Well, let's just hope you'll always be around to save the day.”
“Don't worry, I will be.”
We were quiet for a moment. Then I said, “Harry- this is going to sound awkward, but I think she'd want me to say it. Last time I talked to her, Ginny was really worried about you. So, when you're off destroying Dark wizards, just try and contact her... I know letters are being intercepted, but I'm sure Hermione could find a way around that.”
Harry was quiet again, but I could tell he was mulling over what I said. I couldn't help but add, “And by the way?”
He glanced up, expecting another deep, philosophical comment.
I grinned. “Make sure you win.”
~ * ~
Next day, he was gone.
I didn't remember until I woke up early and saw that the cot Hermione had been sleeping in was gone. It was still dawn, and I ran to the window, just in time to catch a glimpse of three figures Disapperating. It was then that I realized I might never see Harry again. He might never understand the whole truth about what happened sixteen years ago, might never know that the Dursleys were not his only living relatives. He might never know that when he did that double take on the train in second year, he really was making a connection.
And what about all the things that I was missing out one? I never got to give him a birthday card, or practice Qudditch with him, or whack over the head when he was being daft. I never learned what his favorite color was, or helped him with his Potions essays. We might never get to sit down and have a good, long talk about our parents.
Worst of all, I knew it was my fault, because I knew the biggest secret Harry had ever had, and I had never gotten the chance to tell him.
I locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the bathwater to make it sound like I was there for a reason, and then sank down on the floor and cried.
~ * ~
I can barely remember anything else that happened that day. One minute it was daytime, the next I had turned in early, and the next Luna had come upstairs to shake me awake.
“Neville's just sent me a message. He says Harry's at the castle.”
The Other Potter by georgeisholey
Chapter Notes: Nearer and nearer to the end... I know it's lame, but I really never thought I'd make it this far! I love my little story. This chapter is sort of the calm before the storm. Rose is about to enter a tidal wave of confused emotion, since she's in such close proximity to Harry and co. Fasten your seat belts! I don't own Harry Potter, or anything in Dobby's little funeral scene.
Chapter Endnotes: Que the AVPM cast: VOLDEMORT IS GOING DOWN! Oh, by the way, every Friday is Danish Day in my little world. That just means that I go to Starbucks and get coffee and a Danish... after all, there's no point to a Danish without coffee.