Requiem of the Phoenix by Jonathan Avery
Summary: It has been four and half years since Harry, Ron and Hermione set out to uncover the horcruxes. Now the final moments draw near. They are no longer children, and they must make their own paths. Harry and Ginny have settled on a desperate plan. However, as destiny is fulfilled, their friends and family can only watch as the final days unfold.
Rating: R
Categories: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.10.31
Updated: 2007.11.16
Index
Chapter 1: Prelude: Fugue della Foresta Scura
Chapter 2: Atto Uno: Quartetto degli Amici
Chapter 3: Atto Due: Masquerade della Morte
Chapter 4: Atto Tre: Il Canon del Destino
Chapter 5: Atto Quattro: Aria di Dolore
Chapter 6: Atto Cinque: Requiem del Dimenticato
Chapter 7: Epilogue: Overture per una Nuova Vita
Chapter 1: Prelude: Fugue della Foresta Scura
By Jonathan Avery
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it.
Summary: It has been four and half years since Harry, Ron and Hermione set out to uncover the horcruxes. Now the final moments draw near. They are no longer children, and they must make their own paths. However, as destiny is fulfilled, Hermione can only watch as the final days unfold before her.
Warnings: Language, violence, Character death, post-HBP
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible.
Prelude:
Fugue della Foresta Scura
**-*-**
With a soft pop like a chirping frog, Hermione Granger appeared on the road that led south out of Hogsmeade. The night was moon-lit, and a soft breeze sighed through the forest, rustling the remaining leaves and sending the branches clicking and clacking together. Gathering her cloak about her, she disappeared into the brush beside the road and silently tapped her wand on her head. A cool liquid feeling flowed over her body as she Disillusioned herself, and then she waited.
She was crouched on a high rise in the road that overlooked Hogsmeade. The small village on the outskirts of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was silent and dark. In the distance the towers of Hogwarts were dark blotches in the star-filled night sky. A few fluttering fires glimmered from the windows of one of the towers, but otherwise, the castle could have been an ancient ruin.
This was as close as she had come to Hogwarts since leaving it at the end of her sixth year. Back then, it had been a school. Now, it held Lord Voldemort and several dozen Death Eaters, as well as the foul brood of creatures that served him.
On her hands and knees, Hermione crawled through the dew drenched weeds until she could clearly see the road leading into Hogsmeade. Pulling out a pair of binoculars, she scanned the darkened road. The magical charms Fred and George had placed on them brightened the darkness to near daylight. She could not see anyone on the road or beside it, and the burnt out skeleton of Hogsmeade was home only to Dementors, rats, and birds these days.
Even through her binoculars, the streets were shrouded in the fog left over from the Dementors’ breeding frenzies. Beyond the village, the gates of Hogwarts were locked tight, but two massive giants sat on either side of the gate, their heads lolled with sleep and massive clubs the size of juvenile dragons laid beside them.
Comfortable that the area was as safe as Voldemort’s doorstep could be, she sank back into the weeds and angled her wrist so she could see her watch in the moonlight. She adjusted a few dials and pressed a button. Her watch flashed for a moment and then went dark. A moment later, there was a soft crack, and a man in a dark cloak appeared on the road a few feet from her. Hermione remained perfectly still. Too many people had died in the past years because of spies and compromised information.
“Miss Granger,” the man said in a rough voice, “It is a fine night for mischief, don’t you think?”
“Only if you’re howling at the moon, Moony.” Hermione stood up as she finished the code phrase, and Remus Lupin, the current leader of the Order of the Phoenix, Disillusioned himself and joined her in the brush.
“Any sign of Firenze?” he asked, taking out his own pair of binoculars and scanning the surrounding area.
“No,” Hermione said. The Centaur was supposed to guide them through the ward lines the Death Eaters had set up around Hogsmeade and the outskirts of Hogwarts.
“I see,” Remus said. “How about Death Eaters?”
“There are a few fires along the south tower, but I don’t see any activity beyond two giants near the gate.”
“Tom’s too busy moving people into London for the attack on the Ministry tomorrow,” Remus said as he stowed his binoculars.
“I still don’t believe we aren’t even going to warn the Ministry,” Hermione said in a soft voice, trying hard to keep the anger and bitterness out of her words. The Order of the Phoenix had known of the plan to attack the Ministry on Halloween for nearly three months, but after weeks of deliberation, it was decided that the risk of warning the Ministry was too great.
“The Ministry made their own bed when they turned on Harry,” Remus said. “If they are willing to send some poor kid Polyjuiced as Harry to his death and then coerce Percy into taking that kid’s place, do you really think they would make any effort to help us?”
The Ministry was split on the Voldemort issue, and too many at the upper levels were sympathetic to the Death Eaters. If those people found out about the Order’s knowledge, the months of planning would be for naught and Harry would not be able to kill Voldemort tomorrow. Unfortunately, the Ministry would be completely unprepared when almost all of Voldemort’s four dozen Death Eaters attacked.
“It just seems like Harry wants the Ministry to suffer for all they’ve done to him,” Hermione said.
“I made the decision to not tell them,” Remus said. “This will be on my shoulders, not his.”
“But he’s the one who pressured for it and fought for it,” Hermione said in frustration. “Everyone was against the idea until he decided that the Ministry could handle itself.”
There was a few moment so silence before Remus sighed. “What are you trying to say, Hermione?” Remus asked. Although he spoke softly and almost regretfully, it still sounded like a harsh accusation to Hermione.
“I’m . . .” Hermione bit her lip and pressed the binoculars to her eyes. Harry was not the Harry she remembered from school. In the past years, he had become hardened and secretive and paranoid. It bothered her, especially with all the rumours and news that Harry was in league with Voldemort or trying to remove Voldemort so he could take Voldemort’s place as a new Dark Lord.
“What?” Remus asked, sinking further into the weeds so that Hermione could only see the impression his body made.
Sighing, Hermione cast the Muffliato spell so they could talk without worry before she sank into the wet weeds. She stared at the spot where Remus was, wishing he was not Disillusioned. She hated not seeing a person’s face during a conversation. It made talking awkward, like she was missing half of the information. And as Remus was Harry’s biggest supporter in the Order, she really wanted to see his reaction.
Finally she gathered her courage and said, “I’m not sure Harry is thinking clearly anymore.” She waited for a response, but none came. “After Hogwarts fell and Ginny was hurt, he became so focused and obsessed, but ever since he faced Voldemort at the Ministry two years ago, he’s just been . . . well . . . inconsistent.”
Again she paused and watched Remus’ hiding place, but after he was quiet for a minute, Hermione became worried she had offended him and tried to explain. “I support him, Remus, I swear I do. I’m not the traitor, but, bloody hell, he did nothing for a year. He just let Voldemort sit in Hogwarts and cause terror, and we’ve just been struggling to prevent attacks.” Hermione tried to keep her voice quiet, but her emotions were getting the better of her. “Damnit all, Remus. He was here! He was with Voldemort for three months and he never even tried to stop him or let the aurors in or anything. No wonder everyone thinks he’s some new Dark Lord!”
“Do you think he could be like Voldemort?” Remus asked. His voice was soft like a rustling breeze, and Hermione could barely hear him, but the implied infidelity incensed her.
“Of course not! Harry is not evil or anything else, but . . .” Hermione nervously plucked a few blades of grass and began twining them through her fingers, “He’s just become so distant and paranoid. And this feud with the Ministry is not helping matters. And he never tells Ron and me anything anymore.”
There, she had said it, the heart of her problem. “He doesn’t confide in anyone but Ginny. Like he’s scared any of us could betray him, or will, because we know too much. I don’t even know who his secret keeper is!”
Hermione had lobbied hard for herself or Ron to be Ginny and Harry’s secret keeper, but Harry had said no. He had told her that it was not that he did not trust her or Ron with his family’s safety, but that the secret keeper had to be someone whom he trusted absolutely to do the job, and someone that none of them could figure out. She understood, but it hurt. It had been four and a half years since they had set out to find the Horcruxes, and they had gone through fire and ice for each other. It was a great deal of history to push aside even for the best reason.
There was a rustle in the weeds next to her, and Remus sighed again. “He’s scared, Hermione. He’s terrified.”
“I know,” Hermione said. “I’d be terrified too if Voldemort had a price on my spouse and son. But . . .”
“No, it isn’t that, or at least, not completely that.” Remus said.
“What do you mean?”
“I think the prophecy is finally getting to him,” Remus said.
“But he’s known about that for ages,” Hermione said.
“You don’t understand. He’s terrified because the prophecy is only about him and Voldemort. It says nothing about Ginny and James, and that scares him because he looks at himself and his family, and he sees his parents and him twenty years ago.”
The blood drained from Hermione’s face as she gasped in horror. “Oh, Merlin. I . . . I never . . . he thinks that history is going to repeat itself?”
“I don’t . . .”
A dry crack in the forest to their left silenced them. Hermione pulled her wand and waited. A few moments later, a Centaur stepped out into the starlit night, his white hair glowing in the moonlight. “You can come out now, friends.” Hermione recognized Firenze’s voice and stood up. No Death Eater would ever try to impersonate a half-human creature like a Centaur, which made them the perfect go betweens and guides for the Order around Hogwarts.
“We are here, Firenze,” Hermione said. “Are the others here yet?”
“I cannot see that,” Firenze said. “But no one had arrived when I left.” The moon slid behind a cloud, and the road and hillside were plunged into a deep darkness. “Come, we should not waste this opportunity.”
Firenze trotted across the road and then down it a few hundred feet before disappearing into the woods. Hermione glanced at Remus and opened her mouth to speak, but the slight shimmer of his form moved onto the road, and she had no choice but to follow quickly behind him. The forest was even darker than the road, but Hermione could see the bobbing flash of Firenze’s hair up ahead. He moved slowly, allowing the two humans to keep pace with him even in the tangling undergrowth.
Maybe a quarter hour later, an oppressive weight settled on Hermione’s shoulders as she stepped across a fallen tree. Involuntarily shuddering, she glanced about and then looked toward the spot where she could hear Remus moving. “I think we just entered the Forbidden Forest,” Hermione said.
“Yes, now stay quiet,” Firenze said from up ahead.
For another fifteen minutes they walked deeper into the forest. There was no wind in the forest, but the air was cold, and Hermione shivered under her cloak. She hated the Forbidden Forest. It left her feeling helpless in the face of all the unknown dangers that lurked inside. But it was also the safest place to meet with the various magical creatures that Harry had gathered under his banner in the last six months. Centaurs and Goblins would be too conspicuous in the streets of London to visit any of the safe houses there, and the Burrow, even under the Fidelius Charm, was always watched. Ottery St. Catchpole had too many new residents that Kingsley knew to be aurors for any wizard or witch to slip in undetected and meet there, much less a magical creature. So they met in small groups in the Forbidden Forest, plotting Voldemort’s downfall right under his nose.
Eventually, a flickering glow appeared in the distance, and a few minutes later, the small group stepped through a briar patch and into an old creek bed with a small fire crackling merrily in the center. Two Goblins and another Centaur lounged around the fire. Hermione politely removed the Disillusionment charm as she walked toward the fire, and Remus shimmered into view beside her.
“Good evening, Elder Golburl and Elder Marfel,” Hermione said as she bowed her head and held out her hands to the goblins. “I hope our time here is profitable.”
“As do we, Miss Granger,” Elder Golburl said, inclining his head politely and placing his hands over Hermione’s.
“And, Ronan,” Hermione said with a smile, turning to face the imposing Centaur. “The stars say much tonight.”
“It is not an easy task to read them,” Ronan said. “But Mars is especially bright. Yes, very bright tonight, don’t you agree Firenze?”
“Yes, Mars is bright tonight,” Firenze said.
The customary introductions continued around for a few minutes as Hermione waited patiently. Although the idea of gathering the Centaurs, Merfolk, and the Goblins to their side had been Harry’s idea, it had taken Hermione months of research and negotiation to become comfortable enough with the cultures of the different races. In the end, it had paid off in their initial meetings. The Goblin Nation, the Centaurs of the Forbidden Forest, and the Merfolk of the Black Lake had offered their assistance to the Order of the Phoenix. However, their assistance was not free, and Harry had agreed to the terms without hesitation. After the war, he or someone of equal standing would need to take the steps to change the centuries old enslavement of the magic races.
“Well,” Hermione said as they all settled around the fire, “is everything in place for tomorrow night, my friends?”
Elder Marfel nodded. “Our tunnelers broke through into the Chamber of Secrets last night. There were no wizards in the Chamber itself. We will have no problem sneaking your people inside.”
“Excellent. Harry will be very pleased. Do you have the Portkeys that can bring us to the tunnel entrance, or will we need to travel through the forest?” After Voldemort took over Hogwarts, he had erected his own wards around the school that prevented all magical transportation in and out.
“Hexologist Weasley and his team have opened a space in the wards,” Elder Golburl said with a toothy grin. “I have the Portkeys for you.” He handed a bag to Hermione who took them with a gracious nod. Things were progressing well. Getting the thirty members of the Order of the Phoenix as well as the surviving members of the DA to the tunnel entrance had always been a weak point in the plan. With the wards gone, the operation would run much more smoothly.
“Thank you for all your efforts, Elder Golburl and Elder Marfel. It will never be forgotten,” Hermione said and then turned to Ronan and Firenze.
“And what information do you have for me, Ronan?” she asked.
“I spoke with the Black Lake Tribe of the Merfolk earlier this evening,” Firenze said, stamping his hoof in emphasis. “And other than a few guards, the Death Eaters have all left the grounds. There are two giants who still guard the main gate, and the Dementors’ offspring still haunt the ruins of Hogsmeade.”
“And the fully grown Dementors?” Hermione asked. As they had learned over the last four years, juvenile Dementors were very susceptible to light and the Patronus charm. Either could kill them quickly. However, despite years of research on captured Dementors, no one had been able to find a way to destroy them; at least not a way that did not take five or six wizards and several hours.
“They left last evening,” Ronan said. “One of our foals saw them heading south after nightfall.”
“That fits with the timing of the attack tomorrow night,” Remus said, piping into the discussion for the first time. “It will take them a little over two days to reach London.”
Tracking the movements of Dementors had become the easiest way to figure out potential Death Eater attacks. Dementors could not use Portkeys or Apparition, so affixing tracking charms to the Dementors during battles allowed the Order to see where they were located in England and anticipate attacks as they moved across the countryside. Of course tracking charms were limited in their duration, so diligence on the part of the Order was required to keep them in place.
“And inside the castle?” Hermione asked. “Have we heard any more information on who Voldemort still has with him?”
Ronan flicked his tail and stomped nervously. “I do not know why you trust those creatures,” Ronan said. “We all must face our death at one point, and to remain behind is unforgiveable.”
“I understand,” Hermione said in an attempt to placate the Centaur. “I was simply wondering if any of the House Ghosts had spoken with the Merfolk or your herd.” Centaurs considered ghosts and shades and poltergeists as affronts to life and the stars. As ghosts had passed into the realm of the dead, they no longer could have an impact on the world of the living, and so the heavens were blind to them. Unfortunately, this conflicted with the Order’s best source of information.
The Ghosts of Hogwarts, including the four ghosts that belonged to the houses, could never leave Hogwarts. Their duties tied them to the castle as if they were part of the stone itself. As such they served the master of Hogwarts, usually the Headmaster or Headmistress. When he seized Hogwarts two and half years ago, Voldemort had tried to become the master of the castle, but Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had invoked the same protections Albus Dumbledore had when Dolores Umbridge tried to usurp his position. The ritual bound her into the Headmistresses office and those areas directly accessible from it. In return for her pledge of duty to the castle and the school, the castle itself protected her and sealed her office so that she remained the master of Hogwarts.
The move had infuriated Voldemort, and he had spent the last two years trying to break through the wards and gain complete control of the castle. Although his efforts had produced little gain, Minerva McGonagall could no longer leave her office. Without her constant presence, the wards would fail. Still, the Ghosts of Hogwarts answered to her and told her all that happened within the castle. This information she passed on to the Order through the Floo connection in her office. Although no one could travel to the office through the Floo, they could speak with her and gain valuable information.
However, for the attack the next evening, the ghosts had been asked to report directly to the Goblins or the Merfolk in order to speed up communication.
“A Merfolk scout spoke with the shade of the Friar early this evening,” Ronan said. “The Malfoy patriarch and his mate and offspring are still within the castle. The woman known as Bellatrix is also there, as is the former Potions Master.”
“Thank you for your efforts, Ronan,” Hermione said and then turned and looked at each member of the small group. “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” Elder Golburl said. “We found the remains of several dozen humans within the Chamber of Secrets.”
Hermione swallowed and nodded, not trusting herself to speak. After Voldemort stormed Hogwarts, twenty-eight students and several teachers had gone missing. The same had happened to dozens of residents of Hogsmeade. Everyone had assumed they had died in the attack, but many, like Hermione, held out hope that their loved ones were just in hiding. Others simply prayed that they were prisoners or were being forced to serve Voldemort. However, Harry had spent three months as a prisoner of Voldemort within Hogwarts, and he had told Hermione that no one in the castle had been held against their will.
“Thank you, Elder,” Hermione said. “We will deal with the matter after the attack. They have waited this long, and a few more days will not make their fate any worse.” Elder Golburl nodded his acquiescence before Hermione continued. “But I would like to go over the plan one more time and make sure everything is prepared. Remus, will you please?”
Remus nodded and took control of the meeting and started going over the time tables for the attack the next evening. The plan, like all good plans, was simple. The Order of the Phoenix would be in place in the Chamber of Secrets when the Death Eaters began their attack on the Ministry. Hermione and Arthur Weasley had volunteered to watch the Ministry and send word when the attack began and then to keep them updated on the progress of that battle.
Once the Death Eaters were fully committed, she would send a Patronus, and the Order would rush into the castle while the Centaurs and Goblins took care of the two giants and the few guards who would remain outside. The Order would face token resistance within the castle while Harry sought out Voldemort himself.
Professor McGonagall and the Hogwarts’ Ghosts had discovered that Voldemort and a few of his Inner Circle would not be participating in the attack on the Ministry. It was the opportunity that Harry had been looking for. Ensconced behind the wards of Hogwarts, no one could Apparate to help Voldemort nor could he escape. The Order could handle four or five Death Eaters, even those of the Inner Circle, while Harry went after Voldemort. While Harry killed Voldemort.
“It’s really happening, isn’t it, Remus?” Hermione asked in a whisper as they returned from the meeting a few hours later. Firenze’s blonde hair shimmered and bobbed in the dim shadows ahead of them as he guided them out of the Forbidden Forest. The night air was cold and silent, and it left Hermione feeling pensive, which confused her.
She had read many fiction books as a child and after she started at Hogwarts. There were always celebrations and heartfelt confessions between the heroes the night before the final battle. But the arrangements for the attack had been boring to listen to, and now she was tired and worried and the entire night felt unreal.
“It does seem odd,” Remus said. “I would never have believed that I would be planning Voldemort’s downfall in the middle of the Forbidden Forest. But then, I never expected to be chaperoning you, Harry, and Ron all across Europe for a year hunting cursed artifacts.”
“But what if this all goes wrong, Remus?” Hermione asked. “Harry could die as easily as Voldemort.” Hermione stopped walking for a moment, fighting back a rising wave of insecurity and fear. Ron, Harry, her, and even Ginny had come close to death many times over the last few years. But always the moment was over before they had even realized the danger. And it was always followed by such a huge surge of relief that they would end up laughing or crying over it.
But tomorrow’s events had been planned for three months. For thirteen weeks she had watched the days tick by and felt the fear bloom and spread and infest her like a cancer. “He’s my best friend. Everything that is good in my life is because of him, Remus. He means so much to so many people.”
With a gentle push, Remus urged Hermione along the path and they fell in step with each other. “I know how you feel,” Remus said. “But Harry has to do this, and he is no longer a schoolboy. He can do things I don’t think Dumbledore could have done. He has grown, Hermione. And you know he has. Besides, he has something to keep him here, something to fight for.”
“I know, but I still worry,” Hermione said, and there was nothing else to say. They walked for a time and soon they were outside of the wards and back on the road they had appeared on four hours ago. The night was more than half gone, but Hermione still had errands she needed to run.
“Thank you, Firenze,” Hermione said. The Centaur dipped his head and then disappeared into the woods. After a few moments of watching the dark forest, Hermione turned to Remus.
“I should get back,” Remus said. “Tonks will be guarding Ginny and James during the attack, and I want to spend some time with her.”
He made to Apparate, and Hermione called out to him. “Wait.” She wanted to know about his earlier comment, before Firenze had interrupted them.
“Yes?” he asked.
“About what you said, about Harry and the similarities to his parents . . .”
Her old professor was quiet for a moment, as if considering his answer carefully, or perhaps considering whether to answer at all. Finally, he said, “It’s just coincidence, Hermione,” and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. Hermione could smell the sweet tang of his cologne and that musk that she associated with the werewolf. “Things like this happen. There is no prophecy about James that I have heard of, and I think Harry would have at least told you if there was. Sirius knew about the original prophecy.”
“I’m not sure,” Hermione said. “He has been distant lately, and Ron and I have to pressure him to get information. It’s like he doesn’t trust us.”
“He does trust you, Hermione,” Remus said, squeezing her shoulder. “But having a child clouds things for people. James and Lily withdrew from Sirius and I after Harry was born. It wasn’t intentional, but the war, the responsibility for a baby, and the prophecy weighed on them.” Remus gave her a rueful smile. “It wasn’t like being at school with the Marauders. But the times we did spend together were all the more precious. Isn’t it that way with you, Ron, and Harry?”
Hermione nodded. She and Ron had been over to the cottage Harry and Ginny were hiding in just a week ago. They had spent a wonderful night laughing and talking and playing with young James. The war had disappeared, and for a time she thought they were back in Gryffindor Tower. “Yes, you’re right. I’m just being silly.”
“No, you are being a good friend,” Remus said. “Go get some sleep. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“I will,” Hermione said, but Remus had already Disapparated. Hermione considered all that Remus had said and what lay ahead the next day, and she decided that she wanted to talk to Harry before she went to bed.
AN: In case many of you are wondering, this is not a long project, and has actually been completely written and posted on Phoenix Song. This is something I started a month of two after HBP came out and I’ve just been playing around with it. This story encompasses a Prelude, 5 acts, and an epilogue.
I wanted to get most of this out before DH because it has a lot of the ideas I have had for writing a fanfiction Book 7, but decided not to do so. I am still working on Curse Breakers, and it is not going away.
Also, one last thing. I don’t speak Italian. So forgive me if my titles are off or incorrect grammatically.I got them from Bablefish.
Chapter 2: Atto Uno: Quartetto degli Amici
By Jonathan Avery
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it.
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible.
Atto Uno:
Quartetto degli Amici
**-*-**
Concentrating on the garden of the Burrow, Hermione Disapparated with a soft crack and appeared on the path that wound from the fenced garden to the kitchen door. Even though it was late at night, lights burned in all of the ground floor windows. This was a common sight as the Order of the Phoenix used the Burrow as one of its three headquarters.
The Order had not used Grimmauld Place since James’ birth fifteen months ago. In truth, number 12 Grimmauld Place was not connected to the Floo network, and as far as Hermione knew, only herself and the Weasleys could Apparate into it. Those changes had been instituted after James was born and Harry and Ginny had moved into the house. They had hoped the house, and the Fidelius Charm that Dumbledore had placed on it, would be safe enough for Ginny and James. Unfortunately, too many people had access to Grimmauld Place, and after an attempt to kidnap young James, Harry and Ginny and James had gone into hiding under their own personal Fidelius Charm in a separate, unplottable location.
With the kidnapping attempt on James and the amount of information that was being leaked, the Order had moved out of number 12 Grimmauld Place to several other locations. One was the Burrow. Another was the home of the Diggorys’, and the last was the flat above Weasleys’ Wizarding Wheezes in Diagon Alley. All three places were under Fidelius Charms with a different person as Secret-Keeper for each. Hermione was the secret keeper for the Burrow.
She approached the kitchen door and knocked on it. There was the sound of scraping chairs inside, and she heard Ron’s voice. “Who's there?”
“It’s Hermione, Ron.”
“Oh, good, I’ve been . . . ouch! What dy’a hit me for, Mum?”
“Ask her a question, young man. You know the rules,” Molly said from the other side of the door. Hermione cracked a smile. Ron was a stickler with everyone else about double checking identity, but he always forgot to do it with her.
“Oh yeah,” Ron said. “Let’s see . . . ummm . . . oh, what happened the first time you changed James?”
“Ron!” Hermione said, her cheeks coloring in embarrassment. “Don’t make me tell that again.”
“Nope. That’s the question,” Ron said with a chuckle.
Grinding her teeth, Hermione stamped her foot and blew out a snort of frustration. “Fine! I couldn’t get the diaper to stay on, so I cast a sticking charm, and it took Harry and Ginny an hour to get the dirty diaper off at the next changing. Happy, Ronald?”
“Pickled,” he said, and the door cracked open. Hermione slipped inside, and Ron ambushed her, wrapping her up in his arms and pressing her against his chest. All of her worries slipped from Hermione’s mind, and she luxuriated for a moment in her fiancé’s embrace. His breath was hot across her forehead, and his heart beat with the fury of rain on a tin roof. “I was worried. You took so long, and I hate that you have to meet so close to Hogwarts.”
Pushing away from Ron, Hermione cupped his cheek and smiled. “Sorry it took longer than expected, but everything is in place for tomorrow.”
“Well, that is a relief,” Molly said from behind Hermione. “Do you want something to eat, dear? Or a nice cup of tea or hot chocolate?”
“Oh, no thanks, Mrs. Weasley,” Hermione said, and then she stood on her tip toes and gave Ron a quick kiss. “Harry wanted me to report when I got back.”
“He said you could report to him in the morning, ‘Mione,” Ron said. “He’s probably asleep, and you should be as well. This won’t work if we’re all falling asleep as we storm the castle.”
Hermione sighed and took a step back from Ron. His blue eyes were weary from a long day, but his smile still reached them. His hair hung loose about his face, curling at the ends as it pooled about his shoulders. Automatically, she slid her hand from his check and ran it through his hair. His eyes closed, and he leaned into her hand. As difficult as the war had been and with all the years they had spent traveling and on the run from both Death Eaters and the Ministry, she was amazed that they had endured as a couple. She loved him with all her heart, but he was the most infuriating man she had ever met.
“Ginny said we could stop by at any time for any reason,” Hermione said, quickly taking on the tone she used to lecture Ron and Harry. “Tomorrow afternoon is going to be all preparation, and I want to spend time with our friends.”
“But. ‘Mione, I was hoping . . .” Ron was using the wheedling voice that often cajoled her into his bed.
“Ronald!” Hermione glanced over her shoulder to where Molly was cleaning up, pretending not to be listening to her son and his fiancé. “We will talk about this there.”
“Yes, dear,” Ron said as he hung his head. “I just . . .”
“Ron,” Mrs. Weasley said, causing both Hermione and Rod to start. “Nothing is certain about tomorrow. I’m certain Ginny and Harry will be waiting for you. Just go.”
Ron stared at his mother and then nodded. “Alright, ‘Mione, I’ll get a few things, and we can go.” Ron stepped past her and headed for the stairs, but he stopped halfway, turned around, and grabbed his mother in a tight hug. Hermione smiled as Mrs. Weasley was crushed against her son’s chest, his chin a few inches above the top of her head. He dipped his face down and whispered something in his mother’s ear, and then he was up the stairs and clumping about like a rogue bludger.
There was a wistful smile on Molly’s face as Hermione went over to the Floo. Hermione smiled as well. Ron never ceased to amaze her. Hermione was glad that Ginny kept an extra room available for guests. She would just have to make sure she cast a good Silencing Charm before she and Ron went to bed.
Hermione picked up the jar of Floo Powder from the mantle and threw a pinch into the fireplace. The flames roared green, and Hermione stuck her head into them. She called out, “Headmistress’s office, Hogwarts,” and then she felt the strange stretching sensation as her head rushed through the network. After a moment, she could see into Minerva McGonagall’s office
Just as when Dolores Umbridge tried to take over the school, when Voldemort took over Hogwarts he found the headmistress’s office barred to him and his Death Eaters. Although the Death Eaters occupied the castle, it had not been easy for them. For months the House Elves of the school had terrorized the Death Eaters before Voldemort figured out how to capture and kill almost all of them. Even so, the ghosts of Hogwarts still roamed the school, and Headmistress McGonagall remained seated in her office, ensuring that the school remained in her possession. She had sealed off her office and tower from Voldemort. In a fit of rage, Voldemort had come by and placed his own wards on the entrance to ensure that no one could get out of it, even if they wanted to. However, Voldemort regularly attempted to break into Minerva’s office, and now she was little more than a prisoner in her school.
Early in the occupation of Hogwarts, Minerva would regularly leave the office either by Portkeys or by Apparating from the Headmistress’s Cottage. However, without the students in the school and because of the dramatic re-sculpting of the wards that Voldemort and his followers had done, Minerva had tied the remaining wards to herself. As such, if she ever left the Headmistress’s Office or Cottage, she would lose control of the castle. Luckily, she could still make Floo calls to people, and each of the safe houses that the Order of the Phoenix used were always connected to Minerva’s Floo.
“Minerva, are you there?” Hermione asked.
Torches cast a soft, undulating glow about the room, and other than the few personal artifacts Professor McGonagall had added, it was not much changed from Professor Dumbledore’s days. The portraits of the dozing Headmasters and Headmistresses of the past lined the walls. Strange, delicate, silver instruments whirled and puffed smoke on bookshelves and counters. There was some movement near the back of the office, and Minerva stepped around one of the bookshelves and stared at the fire, adjusting her glasses. “Ah, Miss Granger, what can I do for you at this hour?”
“I just returned from the meeting, and Ron and I wish to speak with Harry and Ginny.”
“And you thought to use my entrance into the cottage?” Minerva asked.
“Yes,” Hermione said. “It’s faster than Apparating and walking two miles through the wards.” Harry and Ginny lived with their son in the cottage that was reserved for the Headmistress of Hogwarts. A door at the rear of the office allowed direct access to the rear garden of the cottage. When Harry had told her of the cottage, Hermione had laughed at the audacity of hiding within Voldemort’s newly acquired fortress. “Of course,” Hermione said, “If you would rather not be bothered . . .”
“No, that is fine, Miss Granger,” Minerva said. “I will send a message to Harry. I’m sure he will send Fawkes right over to help you. Come over whenever you are ready.”
“Thank you. It will only be a few moments,” Hermione said and then ended the Floo call. She stood up and brushed the soot off of her jeans.
A large crack caused Hermione to jump and spin around. Ron stood behind her, a knapsack over his shoulder and a grin on his face. “Ready to go?” he asked.
Covering her racing heart with her hand, Hermione scowled. “Merlin, Ronald. Why do you insist on making so much noise when you Apparate? I know you can be quiet as a mouse.”
“Sorry,” Ron said sheepishly, and then he took a step forward, pressing his fiancé back against the fireplace. He put a hand beside her face and spoke in a low, rumbling voice. “I like it when you’re all flustered and angry.”
“Honesty, Ron. I’m worked up enough as it is.” Ron grinned as his eyes swept downward, and Hermione blushed. “No . . . I meant . . . Bugger it all. Arghh,” Hermione stalked away from Ron and then sat down on the couch. “Minerva is letting Harry know. Hopefully he’ll send Fawkes along.”
“How long do you think it will take?” Ron asked.
Hermione shrugged, but then there was a flash of flame. When the flame cleared, Fawkes, the brilliant red and gold phoenix, flew in lazy circles about the room and then landed on the couch next to Hermione. There was a note and a rattle clutched in Fawkes’ talons. Hermione retrieved them and opened the note. As she read, Fawkes let out a trill of music that brought a smile to Hermione’s face, and then the phoenix disappeared in a ball of flame.
Since you’re too lazy to walk, here’s a Portkey.
Tap it with your wand and count to three.
-Ginny
The rattle was an old one that James had used while teething. It had once played a lullaby as he played with it, but the magic had long run out. Ginny had dozens of these small Portkeys in a drawer in her kitchen. Because Minerva had tied the wards on the Headmistress’s office directly to her, the Portkeys could bypass the other wards around Hogwarts and allow quicker access to the Cottage. Of course, Voldemort’s wards still guarded the entrance to the office, so there was no direct access to Hogwarts from Minerva’s office prison.
“I don’t see why Fawkes couldn’t just take us back,” Ron said as he took the note from Hermione and read it. “I mean he takes Harry directly to the cottage.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and patted Ron’s forearm. “You know that phoenixes are loyal to only their bonded wizard. It’s very rare for them to take anyone with them when they travel by flame.”
“That ruddy bird takes Ginny all the time,” Ron said.
“Ron,” Hermione said in impatience, “I don’t feel like arguing about your issues with a phoenix. Can we just get going?” She held out the rattle to Ron, who clamped his mouth shout and grab the toy tightly. Hermione tapped the rattle with her wand and counted to three. There was a tug around her abdomen, and then with a rush of color she was pulled across the country.
Stumbling, Hermione appeared in Professor McGonagall’s office. Minerva sat behind the great desk, and she glanced up from the book in front of her as Hermione and Ron regained their balance.
“That was very quick,” the elderly witch said as Hermione righted herself. “And how are you this evening, Ron?”
“Er, fine, ah, Minerva,” Ron said in a tentative voice.
Minerva glanced at them over the rims of her glasses. “Are you planning to spend the night with Harry and Ginny?” she asked, nodding at the knapsack Ron carried.
“Well, only if they are still up,” Hermione said. “I wanted to report that everything is ready to go and to spend some time with them.”
“I’m sure they are still up,” Minerva said with a small smile. “Nymphadora has yet to return, so they are probably still discussing tomorrow’s plans with her.” Hermione frowned and sighed, and Minerva quirked an eyebrow. “I see you are still unhappy about the plan.”
“Yes,” Hermione said, “but I don’t have any better ideas. Voldemort hasn’t left Hogwarts since Wormtail betrayed him and gave Harry the cup. I know this is the only way, but something doesn’t feel right.”
Ron snorted. “C’mon, luv, you’ve always told me that Divination is a load of rubbish. Don’t go all Trelawney on me now.”
“It’s not Divination, Ron,” Hermione said. “Just a bad feeling.”
“Oh,” Ron said, rubbing his arm sheepishly, “well I guess that’s alright, then. You need to trust your guts.”
“Yes,” Minerva said, “it is good to be cautious, but I agree with Remus and Harry in this case. This is our best chance, Hermione.”
“Yes, Professor,” Hermione said, quickly slipping back into her school days. “I mean, ah, Minerva.”
Professor McGonagall smiled at bit and waved her hand at the back of the office. “Now, go along and say hello. I’m always here, so it does not matter how late you are.”
“Thank you, Minerva,” Hermione said. Hermione and Ron stepped around the desk and walked towards a bookcase on the wall behind Minerva’s desk. Rapping it lightly with her knuckle, Hermione said, “Prongs and Lily.” With a sound like a thousand bells tolling from a distant town, the bookshelf swung inward and revealed a short, dark passageway. Though the office was filled with the scent of incense and smoke, a gentle breeze wafted out of the passageway and brought the scent of the evening air to Hermione.
Ron and Hermione stepped through the portal and began walking down the dark corridor. The bookshelf closed behind them, and they were left in darkness for a moment. With their next step, they stepped out of the stone passageway and onto a stone path. The rustle of the wind in the trees surrounded them, and the air became crisp and cool. After a few more steps, the moon and star-filled sky appeared above them and a garden surrounded them. In the summer the garden had bloomed with enough flowers to entrance Neville Longbottom, but now it was nearly empty except for the evergreen bushes that lined the paths. One of the paths led to the back of a rambling cottage.
Yellow lights danced warmly in the windows, and the scent of baking bread and sweets wafted on the wind. “Ginny’s baking,” Ron said as he picked up his pace and ran towards the door. Hermione followed quickly behind him, shaking her head. Ron would always have that little boy inside of him with dirt on his nose and a bottomless stomach.
Not bothering to knock, Ron opened the door and entered. “Hey, sis, are any of those biscuits ready?”
“Ignore him, Ginny. He’s already eaten,” Hermione said as she stepped into the Potters’ home. The delicate scent of baking became a torrent of delicious scents, like the Burrow at Christmas, as Hermione walked into the kitchen. The kitchen and dining room were one large room at the center of the cottage. The combined room was bright and airy with whitewashed millwork and a worn granite floor.
To the right a hallway led to three small bedrooms and a bathroom. To the left were a family room, library, and the front door. However, those rooms were rarely used. Just as it was in the Burrow, the cottage’s kitchen was usually the center of the house, and tonight was no exception. Ginny was at the central island, wiping down the counters, with her hair tied up in a headband and her apron covered with flour and batter. Several mops were moving about the floor, and Ron was already propped up at the dining table, pulling biscuits off of the cooling racks.
“Ronald!” Hermione said.
Ginny glanced up and stepped away from the counter she was cleaning. “Ronald Weasley, those are not for you. Leave them alone, or I’ll hex you.”
Ron stared at his sister for a moment and then defiantly popped a biscuit in his mouth, but he did return the others to the cooling racks under Ginny’s daunting glare. Ginny swept in with her wand and levitated the biscuits off the table. With another flick, they sorted themselves into several dozen piles, and napkins jumped from the counter and wrapped them up. With an almost negligent air, Ginny prodded the neatly wrapped biscuits into a tin and then closed it. Hermione only looked on in amazement. It was like watching Molly cook, but with a definite attitude. “There,” Ginny said as she tucked her wand into her apron, “now you won’t be tempted.”
“Who won’t be tempted with what?”
Hermione glanced towards the left and saw Harry and Tonks walking into the kitchen. “Your brother-in-law and my biscuits,” Ginny said.
Harry laughed, his voice carefree and vibrant. “You made extra because you knew he was coming over,” Harry said. He took the few steps to Ginny and kissed his wife briefly on the lips. “I think you just like being angry at him.”
“True,” Ginny said, leaning into Harry. “He wouldn’t be my brother if he wasn’t always a prat.”
“Oi, I can get picked on at home, you know,” Ron said.
“But I’ll forgive him because who knows what tomorrow will bring.” Something passed between Harry and Ginny at that moment. Hermione felt as if she had disappeared from the room, and the horrible turning feeling from earlier in the day began to gnaw at her stomach.
The moment passed quickly, however, and Ginny pulled out her wand and pointed it at the tin. One of the biscuit packages hopped out and floated over to Ron, who grabbed it out of the air. “Those are all you get,” Ginny said.
“Thanks,” Ron said as he tore open the napkin and snapped up another biscuit.
“What is it about Weasley men and their stomachs?” Tonks asked.
“I think it is all men in general,” Hermione said as she watched Harry walk over and slap Ron on the back before nicking one of the biscuits.
“Hey, those are mine,” Ron howled in indignation. “Get your wife to make your own.” Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry and Ron fell into a good natured argument over the remaining biscuits.
“Well, I should get going,” Tonks said, walking towards the door. “Remus is expecting me, and Hermione here looks like she’s itching to tell you something. I assume everything went okay at the meeting?”
“Yes,” Hermione said. “Everything is in order. I wanted to talk to Harry about the final plans and a few other things.” Harry frowned, and Hermione bit her lip. “But it can wait for tomorrow. Ron and I really came over to spend time with Harry and Ginny, right Ron?”
“Mmhhmm,” Ron said around a mouthful of biscuits.
“Ron, where are your manners?” Hermione took a few steps to the table and smacked Ron on the shoulder.
“Well, I’ll be going, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ginny. I’ve got guard duty during the attack,” Tonks said.
“Thanks, Tonks,” Harry said. “I appreciate it.”
“Well, I only do this because of my godson,” Tonks said as she opened the door. “Otherwise, I’d be watching your back tomorrow, Ministry arrest warrants or not, Mr. Dark Lord Potter.” Tonks’ hair became a sickly green, and then she was out the front door.
Shocked, Hermione turned to Harry and found him and Ginny chuckling. “Harry, how can you joke about that? The Ministry is dragging your name through the mud.” Both Harry and Ginny stopped laughing and adopted unreadable expressions, but at least they were paying attention to her. “I don’t see how you can just let this go on without even trying to correct them.”
Harry and Ginny glanced at each other, and then Ginny shrugged and said, “It’s all spilt milk, Hermione. Why waste our time bothering with it?”
“Because your war with the Ministry isn’t helping a blasted thing,” Hermione said. She was struggling with her temper, and Harry and Ginny were standing in their kitchen as calmly as if they were all planning a holiday. In truth, for the past few months, nothing had ruffled the two of them. It was as if the war were already over. “And now a bunch of people will probably die tomorrow because they don’t have any warning.”
“I’m not going to help the Ministry, Hermione,” Harry said. He frowned, and his jaw tightened. “Not after what they did.” He turned and walked out of the kitchen and into the family room.
“Hermione, I don’t think tonight is a good . . .”
Hermione spun to face Ron. “He’s fighting Voldemort tomorrow. He might die, and I want the air cleared between all of us.” Hermione turned and silently implored Ginny with her eyes, but Ginny shook her head.
Hermione was tired of living with the worry and the fear. She was tired of Harry hiding and pushing everyone but his family away. Undaunted by Harry’s attitude, she stormed out of the kitchen with Ron and Ginny close on her heels. Harry was seated in the chair across from the fireplace, staring at the empty portrait that usually held Professor Dumbledore. Toys littered the floor in front of the fireplace, and Harry casually shuffled them about with his feet. As Hermione walked in, he picked up a toy broomstick and released it. It wobbled for a moment and then hovered over the carpet.
“Are you just planning to stay here for the rest of your life, Harry?” Crossing the room, she stopped in front of him, pushing into his personal space in the hope of getting some reaction. “Do you even know how bad it is? How many people are as scared of you as they are of Voldemort? Defeating him is not going to be enough to clear your name, and I don’t want you locked in prison because of your stubborn pride.” Harry sat there and stared at the small broom. Tears stung at her eyes, and Hermione collapsed to her knees and wrapped her arms about Harry. “Please, Harry. I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”
A hand touched her shoulder and pulled her away from Harry until she was standing in front of him. “Leave him be, Hermione,” Ron said. His arms wrapped about her in a loose embrace. For a moment, Hermione wanted to struggle and fight with him, but after a glance at Ron’s determined face, she simply gave in to him. “We’ve been with him this long. We just have to trust him and Ginny.”
“I do,” Hermione whispered into Ron’s forearm, and then she turned and looked at Harry and then Ginny. “I do. I swear I do. I just . . .”
“Want answers.” Harry said. Hermione nodded, and Harry deactivated the toy broom. It clattered to the floor. “I’m not sure what I can say, Hermione, but you deserve to know.” Harry took his wand and made a complicated gesture. All the toys in the room lifted from the carpeted floor and danced through the air to a toy box near the fireplace. They arranged themselves neatly, and then the box closed.
Ron dropped his arms from about Hermione’s shoulders, and they both sat down on the loveseat across from the sofa where Harry was perched. “I’ll get you lot some tea,” Ginny said and turned to walk away.
“Stay,” Harry said. “We all started this together, and I’d like us all to be together tonight.”
Ginny stopped for a moment and then stared at Harry as if they were having some sort of silent argument. After a few seconds of silence, Harry patted the cushion next to him, and Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him before joining him on the couch. Sinking back into the sofa, Harry draped an arm about Ginny’s shoulders and pulled her close.
“You need to understand that I trust you both,” Harry said after a few moments. “I trust you with my life, Ginny’s life, and James’ life.”
“Mate, I’ve never doubted that,” Ron said. “I’d die for you. You’re more than my best mate and brother.” He reached out and took Hermione’s hand. “I don’t know what my life would’ve been without you, but I never want to know. I have everything I want right in this room.” Hermione quickly voiced her agreement.
“But you deserve more,” Harry said. “You and Hermione, your families, our friends . . . I wanted none of you in this. If I had known you would stay away, I would’ve shipped you all off to some island in the Pacific Ocean.”
Hermione shook her head at Harry’s noble stupidity. “But you can’t. And we wouldn’t have let you. We’ve been a team since the beginning, and nothing you could’ve done will ever change that.”
“Trust me,” Ginny said, “he knows. I’ve more than drilled that into his thick head. Half this mess we’re all in is because he wanted to protect me.”
Hermione mulled over that statement. How could Ginny’s safety be responsible for anything? Well, that was not entirely true, Hermione decided. After Ginny had almost died during the Fall of Hogwarts, Harry had changed and become secretive and reluctant to discuss his plans, but they had still continued with the hunt for the Horcruxes. Glancing up at Ginny, Hermione began to ask her question, but Ginny caught her eye and shook her head slightly, the pleasant smile never leaving her face.
“But that’s over now, isn’t it, dear?” Ginny asked, closing the conversation.
A lopsided grin appeared on Harry’s face, and he nodded. “Yeah. No more leaving you behind for any reason. Not even death.” Something passed between the two of them, and Ginny’s smile became intense and sultry as she leaned up and kissed Harry’s cheek.
“Harry, you’re not . . .” Harry held up his hand, and Hermione stopped.
“I can’t guarantee what will happen tomorrow, Hermione. I’ll live or die, and Ginny and I’ve accepted that.” Harry closed his eyes. “I can only tell you that Voldemort will be dead tomorrow. I will make sure of that.” Harry opened his eyes, removed his arm from about Ginny, and leaned forward. “I refuse to have James grow up during a war. He’ll have a childhood, and he won’t have to deal with any of the crap I dealt with.”
Hermione stared at Harry, and the room fell silent. There was no response to Harry’s wish for his son, but Hermione wondered how realistic it was. “Harry, when you defeat Voldemort, your problems won’t go away,” Hermione said. “The Ministry wants you arrested, and the public thinks you’re as bad as Voldemort. How can that not affect James?”
Harry shrugged and smiled back at her with the infuriating grin he had picked up from Remus during the Horcrux hunt. He was about to tell her something she would not like.
“Harry, please . . .” Hermione said, but Ginny interrupted her and smacked Harry’s arm.
“Stop being a prat,” she told him, and a serious mask quickly replaced his impudent grin.
“Fine,” Harry said. “Look, it doesn’t matter what the Ministry says about me or how the public looks at me. I don’t care. I’ve never cared. I never wanted my fame, and I never will. I want to be forgotten and left as a footnote in Binns’ class right next to Ulric the Oddball.”
“But how?” Ron asked, but Hermione had already figured it out.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Hermione asked. After a moments thought, Harry and Ginny nodded.
“Leaving,” Ron asked. “Leaving what?”
“England,” Ginny said, “the Wizarding World, our names, everything. Remus has already set it up.”
“So you’re just ditching your family and vanishing because Harry doesn’t want to be famous?” Ron said. “Well, what about what I want?” He pushed away from Hermione and stalked across the room and out into the kitchen. The rear door slammed, and the room was silent.
“Bloody hell, Ron,” Harry said, and then he got up and followed his friend out of the room. Hermione made to stand up as well, but Ginny rose and put a hand on her arm.
“Let them be, Hermione,” Ginny said. “They need to work this out.”
Hermione sat back down and stared at the kitchen. She refereed their fights regularly, and she hoped that they could work out their differences. But to be truthful, she was hurt as well. Ten years of friendship and dependence could not be casually thrown aside. The suddenness of Harry and Ginny’s announcement left a bitter taste in Hermione’s mouth. It hurt more because she doubted they would have told her if she had not forced them to talk. And if she were upset and angry, then Ron, who wore his feelings like garish dress robes, would be incensed.
Again she made to get up, but Ginny pushed firmly on her shoulder. “You need to let them both work this out, Hermione. You cannot be their mediator forever.”
“Maybe I need to vent as well,” Hermione said. It was harsh, and she knew it. But it also felt good to lash out. “Maybe I’m tired of all the secrets you two keep. Harry, Ron, and I have always been a team. I’ve given up everything for Harry and this bloody, stupid war. Everything!” Anger and frustration welled up within her and came pouring out. “I can’t lose you both, too. I can’t.” The pressure on her shoulder eased, and Hermione buried her face in Ginny’s stomach and sobbed.
“Shh, Hermione. Shh, it’ll be alright,” Ginny said in a soft voice. Ginny’s arms wrapped about Hermione and cradled her head as she rocked back and forth. For a long time, the two friends sat wrapped in each other’s arms, and Hermione cried out her frustration and fears. Eventually, her tears dried up, and she pulled away from Ginny.
Ginny’s blouse was wet, and Hermione mumbled an apology as she fumbled with her wand.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ginny said as she sat down on the loveseat next to Hermione. Ginny pulled out her wand and cleaned her blouse with a quick spell. “Tears are the least that this blouse has seen in the last year.”
Hermione laughed as she scrubbed her face with her sleeve. “I’m sure the most interesting things have ended up on you because of James.”
“Trust me,” Ginny said. “Harry is not innocent in messing up my blouses either,” Ginny added as Hermione blushed, “but you probably don’t want to hear about that.”
Hermione shook her head. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Thank you for letting me cry on you.”
“What are friends for?” Ginny reached out and squeezed one of Hermione’s hands, but Hermione tightened her grip and kept hold of Ginny’s hand.
“I miss our talks,” Hermione said. “I mean, I like your mum, and Fleur isn’t so bad when she isn’t complaining. But you’re like a little sister to me. Although,” Hermione said, as she conjured a handkerchief and finished cleaning her face, “lately, I feel like I’m your little sister.”
“Sometimes,” Ginny said, “I feel absolutely ancient. Like I’m my grandmother, and I miss being a kid.”
Hermione frowned at the wistful tone in Ginny’s voice. “Do you regret having James?”
“No,” Ginny said, “I’ve never regretted James or Harry.” She shrugged. “It’s everything else, the war and growing up at eleven years old and just wanting a normal life without the world hanging on the decisions of a twenty year old mother and her husband.”
“Ginny, it doesn’t have to be all on Harry and you,” Hermione said. “We’re all in this together.”
“I know,” Ginny said, “but I want to live in a place where I can walk outside and my biggest worry is what kind of trouble James is getting into. Not whether he’s going to be kidnapped, or killed, or mocked because of his parents.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” Hermione said.
“Hermione, we won’t be leaving you all,” Ginny said. “We’re just leaving public view. As soon as we’re settled, we’ll send Hedwig with a Portkey.” Ginny squeezed Hermione’s hand. “My family is very important to me, especially my future sister-in-law.”
Hermione sighed in relief and leaned against her friend. “I’m being ridiculous. I came over here to spend time with you and Harry, not to get into a fight. I’ve just been so worried recently.”
“I think we’ve all been a bit frazzled recently,” Ginny said. “And I think some relaxation is in order. Accio wine and glasses.”
Hermione grinned as a bottle of chardonnay and four glasses floated into the room and landed on the coffee table. Ginny stood up and poured two glasses. She handed one to Hermione, who took it and sipped at the wine. It was dry with a hint of apples and oak, and she and Ginny talked in between sips. Mostly Ginny talked about James and all the developments of the past week.
“He seriously let James have his wand?” Hermione asked as she filled her glass for the third time.
“Oh, it was cute, for a while,” Ginny said as she chuckled. “He kept shooting these colored sparks all over the room and then trying to catch them as they fell. “
“You’re lucky he didn’t hurt himself,” Hermione said. Ginny stared at Hermione for a second and began chuckling, her eyes alight with mirth. “What?” Hermione asked.
“I really shouldn’t tell you this. But James having the wand wasn’t the problem.” Ginny leaned forward and whispered into Hermione’s ear. “When Harry went to take the wand away at bedtime, James threw a fit and accidentally banished all of Harry’s clothing.”
Hermione started to giggle as well. “That must have been a surprise,” Hermione said, “but I’m sure it wasn’t a problem for you, was it?”
Instead of responding, Ginny shook her head and then covered her mouth as she started laughing. In between breaths, she was able to gasp out, “No. But Mum and Dad got a show.”
Hermione stared at her friend and then blushed and collapsed into laughter at the image of Harry standing starkers in the living room in front of his in-laws while struggling to take a wand away from his fifteen-month old son. “Now that’s a story of accidental magic,” Hermione said.
“A story of what?” Ron asked.
“Nothing,” Hermione and Ginny said in unison before breaking out into another fit of laughter.
“Women,” Ron said under his breath. “They’re all nutters. Right, Harry?”
Hermione glanced up and saw Ron and Harry walk across the family room. Although rosy-cheeked from the cool autumn air, both wore smiles. Obviously, Harry had placated Ron’s temper in some manner which Hermione doubted she would ever hear about. It was always that way with Ron and Harry. Arguments were dismissed with a wave of the hand and a long talk about Quidditch or chess. Still, she could not help but wonder as they both watched her and Ginny with wary expressions.
“Don’t bring me into this one, mate,” Harry said as he reclaimed his seat on the couch and reached for the wine and the glasses. “I want to sleep with my wife tonight.”
Hermione gaped at Harry and then turned to Ginny. “When did you get him trained so well?”
Ginny shrugged. “Don’t know. He’s been that way since we found out I was pregnant with James. Not that I’m complaining.” She stood up, walked towards Harry, and leaned down to kiss him hard on the mouth. Ron grinned at Hermione from across the room. There was a question in his eyes, and Hermione smirked at him and glanced back toward the bedrooms.
Smiling, Ron walked over to her, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to her feet. “I think they’re going to be busy for a while,” he said. Hermione glanced over his shoulder and saw Ginny firmly ensconced in Harry’s lap, their wine glasses forgotten on the table.
“Are you and Harry okay, now?” Hermione asked.
“Yeah,” Ron said. He tugged on her arm, and Hermione only resisted playfully as she allowed him to pull her through the kitchen and towards the guest room. “He explained it all. I guess I don’t blame him. It was just a shock. And we can go on holiday to visit once they’re settled, right?”
Hermione kissed him, proud that he had worked it out, especially when she had struggled so much to come to grips with the news herself. “We can figure it all out in the morning, luv, but right now, I’m tired.”
“Tired?” Ron said as he waggled his eyebrows. “I thought that, well . . .”
“You could tire me out?”
“Yeah.”
Hermione pushed him through the doorway to the guest bedroom and then closed it behind her. After pulling out her wand, she cast a Silencing Charm and pounced on Ron, who was sitting on the edge of the bed with a silly grin on his face. It was a while before they fell asleep.
Hermione awoke with the sun the next morning. Years of early rising kept her from sleeping in even when she had been up late like the previous night. Ron, however, had no such habits and only grumbled a bit as Hermione slipped out of bed and into her dressing gown. Canceling the charms on the door, she left the room and made her way down towards the bathroom at the end of the hall.
The door to James’ nursery was cracked open, and as she passed it, she heard a voice. Curious, she opened the door and peaked in. The room was a soft sky blue with clouds painted on the ceiling and walls. Quidditch players zoomed about the paint, dipping, weaving, and scoring in a perpetual game. Toys and pictures buried the top of the bureau, and the sweet, talc scent of baby powder permeated the air.
A rocking chair occupied a corner of the room, and Harry sat in it, holding James. On the table next to Harry, a quill was writing in a small book as Harry spoke softly to his son. Even from a distance the book tugged at Hermione’s memory, but she could not place where she had seen it before. There was a small creak as the door opened further, and Harry glanced up.
“Morning, Hermione,” he said. “You’re up early.”
“I could say the same for you,” Hermione said. She took a few steps into the room and glanced around for a place to sit. She found a second chair behind the door, pulled it out, and sat down next to Harry. James was asleep, his small chest rising and falling. Most everyone said that James looked like Harry, but in truth, only the dark hair and green eyes came from his father. Hermione could see the Weasley bone structure and nose in the toddler’s face. He had his mother’s skin and a smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. As Molly had once exclaimed, except for the hair and eyes, James looked exactly like Bill had as a baby.
“So, did you come in here to talk or to look at my son?” Harry asked.
“A little of both,” Hermione said. “It’s probably the last time I’ll see him for a while if you guys are going to disappear tomorrow.”
“I’m sure it will only be a short separation,” Harry said. “A month of two at most.”
The quill scratched away, and Hermione glanced at the small book. Where the quill had been writing, there were pages of indecipherable runes which glowed silver in the low light. Hermione recognized the writing. “That’s your mother’s journal.”
“Oh,” Harry said, “I forgot about that.” Carefully, Harry began to shift James in his arms as he turned toward the table.
“Do you want me to hold him?” Hermione asked.
“Ah, no, I’m fine,” Harry said, as he awkwardly plucked the quill from the air and closed the book without disturbing James.
Hermione reached out and touched the cover of the small, black leather diary. Silvery vines traced a pattern on the leather, and a perfect flower bloomed in each corner. “I thought you gave up on this. I mean we never had much luck translating it.”
“I figured it out a long time ago,” Harry said, “but it’s mostly personal stuff.” Harry smiled a bit and ran his finger along his son’s cheek. “It was wonderful reading her words, even if they weren’t directly to me, and I wanted something like that for James. So I tore this thing apart until I figured out the spell so I could write in it,” he said. “Ginny and I’ve been talking to James for months now and recording everything in the diary.”
“Why would you . . . oh,” Hermione said in sudden understanding.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “I would give anything to have something Mum and Dad wrote, especially if it was just to me.” Harry reached out and grasped James’ hand. James’ fingers closed about Harry’s thumb.
“I wish you wouldn’t be so morbid,” Hermione said after a few moments. “I don’t like hearing about you dying.”
Harry sighed, and Hermione felt the knot reforming in her stomach. “Then you’re going to hate this,” he said. He shifted James again, reached into his robes, pulled out a roll of parchment, and placed it on Hermione’s lap.
“What is it?” Hermione asked. It looked innocent and simple, but her gut told her that she would rather have a coiled basilisk on her lap than that roll of parchment.
“It’s Ginny’s and my will.”
“Ginny’s? Why does she need a will?” Hermione asked in a loud whisper. James squirmed in Harry’s arms and began whimpering. Before she could apologize, Harry soothed James with a few soft words while he rocked in his chair. Hermione stared at Harry and waited for James to calm down before repeating her question. “Why do you have a joint will?”
“Ginny has my will in case something happens to me,” Harry said, “but we still haven’t found the traitor in our midst. Voldemort might know what we are planning today, and anything could happen. If Ginny and I both die tonight, or even in a few years, I want James taken care of.”
“You won’t die, either of you,” Hermione said.
“This is not about wishes, Hermione,” Harry said. His voice was cold and hard, and Hermione recoiled a bit from him. “I don’t have the luxury of assuming everything will be perfect. James is the most important person in my life, and I won’t take any chances with him. He won’t have my childhood, and he won’t become some ward of the Ministry.”
Hermione considered arguing with him, but Harry’s face was resolute. This was not something he had done lightly or on the spur of the moment. However, what he had said about the Ministry bothered her. “Ward of the Ministry? Wouldn’t he go to Molly or one of Ginny’s brothers?” Hermione asked.
Harry shook his head. “There is an old law that was written right after the Black Death in Europe. A lot of the pureblood families were decimated, and so they passed a law to protect the pureblood lines. The Ministry can take custody of and give any magical orphan who has a pureblood parent or grandparent to any pureblood family.”
“What?” Hermione said. “They can take any child? Even if Ron and I have one?”
“No, not just any,” Harry said. “The law was meant to protect pureblood lineages and property rights. The child has to be the last of a familial line, and the family that takes him in must have two or fewer living heirs.”
“That is just pureblood supremacy and bigotry at work,” Hermione said. “It’s pure sophistry intended to keep money and power.”
“You’re right,” Harry said, “but that law is the reason I did not end up with the Malfoys or the Notts.”
“Why would the Malfoy and Nott families have any claim on you?” Hermione asked.
“Both of those families are related to me a few generations back and could have claimed me based on familial rights,” Harry said. “My great-great aunt Elizabeth Potter married Draco’s great-great grandfather.”
“And the Nott’s?” Hermione asked, thoroughly entranced. She had never realized that Harry had traced his lineage.
“Ah, well, it turns out my mom’s great-grandmother was a squib named Beatrice Nott who married Shannon Evans, a Muggle,” Harry said.
Hermione’s eyes widened. “You mean your mother was not Muggleborn at all?”
“Er,” Harry said, furrowing his brow in thought. “I’m not sure how that works, but I’m definitely a half-blood.”
“Well, yes,” Hermione said, “but your grandfather and great-grandfather were technically squibs.”
Harry shrugged. “No one really knows that. I only found out because my mum wrote it down in her diary. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Dumbledore invoked the old law and fought long and hard to get me declared a ward of his family, since the Dumbledore line had no viable heirs after Albus and his brother.”
“But then why did you end up with the Dursleys?” Hermione asked.
“I was Dumbledore’s ward. He could do with me as he wished as long as I was cared for,” Harry said.
“So why are you so certain that the Ministry would try that with James?” Hermione asked. “I mean the Weasley family is not without their allies, and many of the other pureblood lines are suffering because of Voldemort.”
“A couple reasons, actually,” Harry said. “One, James is the heir to the Potter, Black, and Dumbledore lineages. Any family would kill for the wealth and power that represents. But, more importantly, because they have already tried to take him.”
Hermione shook her head and stared at Harry and then down at James. She could not think of what to say, but Harry went on, unaware of Hermione’s shock. “Percy came to us shortly after James was born. The Ministry really hadn’t declared me to be the next dark lord yet, but they weren’t refuting the press, either. They still wanted to use me, and well, they figured James was the perfect tool to control me.”
Shaking off her shock, Hermione asked, “Scrimgeour wouldn’t sink that low, would he?”
“I didn’t think so, either, but I was wrong. They were the ones who tried to kidnap James from Grimmauld Place. Mundungus brought two Animagi into the house, and they tried to steal James. Luckily, Ginny and Tonks were there. Otherwise, I’m not sure what would have happened.”
“I always just assumed that was Death Eaters,” Hermione said.
“One of them was,” Harry said. “But, even if the Ministry was being coerced by Voldemort, they still tried to take James, and I know they will try again if I don’t protect him.”
Hermione nodded and mulled over what Harry had said. The Ministry had made many mistakes in the past years, and Hermione no longer trusted them without reservation. Even when Harry told her plainly, though, it was hard to believe that they would stoop to that level. Still, she trusted Harry, and his words rang true. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair. There was a creaking sound in the room, and Harry’s eyes flickered upward, but Hermione ignored it and picked up the will. “So what does your will do?” she asked.
For a moment, Harry’s gaze focused behind her, but then he smiled and looked directly at her. “If Ginny and I die, that will makes you and Ron James’ legal guardians. It also has all the information you need to leave England like Ginny and I are planning to do.” Shifting James slightly, Harry reached out and placed his hand over Hermione’s. She felt a slight jolt, like static electricity, but any concerns faded as Harry’s green eyes locked with hers. They were deep and sincere and compelling beyond any Imperius curse. “Please, if something happens to Ginny and me, make sure you take care of James. I want him to be happy. I want him to have everything I didn’t. Please, promise me this.”
There was no reluctance on Hermione’s part. This was not about Harry and Ginny but about their child, and she loved James. She was his Aunt Ermy, and she would do anything within her power to protect him. “I swear, Harry. I swear that if it comes to be, I will raise and protect him the way you want.”
A hand touched her shoulder, and Ron’s voice sounded strongly in her ear. “As do I.” There was a flash of light, and it felt as if a weight had settled on her heart. But it was not a heavy load, more like a missing piece had been found. She smiled at Harry and then turned to see Ron standing by her side, his hand on her shoulder and his hair still tousled from sleep. Behind him, Ginny also stood, her hand resting lightly atop her brother’s hand on Hermione’s shoulder.
Ginny’s face was lit with a beatific smile. “Thank you, Hermione. Thank you, Ron. This means a great deal to us.”
“Anything for my friends,” Hermione said. “Anything.”
“Yeah, anything,” Ron said.
Chapter 3: Atto Due: Masquerade della Morte
By Jonathan Avery
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it.
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible.
Atto Due
Masquerade della Morte
**-*-**
The meeting of the Order of the Phoenix had dragged on through the entire afternoon of October 31st. Discussions of timetables had turned into heated discussions about responsibility which had morphed into arguments about warning the Ministry. Then Remus, standing at the front of the Diggorys’ parlor like some unfinished marble statue, would move and bring the meeting around to the topic at hand. For a few moments the squalls passed, but then they began again just as quickly.
Sitting next to Ron, Hermione remained quiet as she watched the incessant waves of arguments slowly erode Remus’ inhuman patience. Earlier in the meeting, she had been tempted to join in and voice her desire to warn the Ministry, however, before she could speak, she had noticed the weary looks passing between Harry and Ginny. Hermione knew that look. Her parents often looked at each other that way before going in to convince a patient that he needed some unpleasant treatment, but they knew the patient would refuse and walk out. That look of premonition, futility, and acceptance settled uneasily in her stomach, and Hermione let her argument die before it even reached her lips.
Now, four hours later, Harry and Ginny were impassive and silent. While Remus may have been a statue, Harry and Ginny were unflinching mountains, dormant volcanoes brewing inside their eyes and along the tightened muscles of their jaws. As Amos Diggory and Kingsley Shacklebolt argued for the fourth time over the reason for groups of four instead of two, Hermione watched as Harry’s temple throbbed in time with each word they spoke.
Leaning over until her lips were next to Ron’s ear, Hermione said, “Harry’s furious.”
“I’d have shut them all up by now,” Ron said in a low growl. Surprised, Hermione pulled back and saw that Ron’s jaw was clenched and his eyes burned with suppressed fury. “Bloody waste of time, all this horse shit.”
“What?” Hermione gasped, and then she lowered her voice as a few people glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
For a moment Ron just stared at the arguing Order before letting his shoulders slump a bit. “It’s too late to change anything. We’ve set up the board and started the end game. We can’t do anything else until we start the fight because we don’t know what’s going to happen.”
“So why are Remus and Harry allowing all of this to happen?” Hermione asked.
“I asked Harry about it after the last meeting,” Ron said as Angelina joined the argument on Amos’ side. “He said that as long as people think they are having input, then they will throw themselves into reaching the goal, even if they disagree with how it is done. If Remus puts his foot down and tells them what to do every meeting, then they will balk and try their own method, and that will lead to disaster.”
Hermione nodded and then glanced up as Fred, Katie, and Neville joined into the argument. Beyond them all, Harry took a step forward. His face was tight, and his eyes blazed. “I think Harry’s going to put his foot down.” It did not happen.
There was a loud pop in the room that silenced the argument. Dobby, the house elf who watched over James, appeared next to Ginny and said a few words to her. She nodded and then leaned over to Harry and spoke to him. He kissed her forehead, and Ginny Disapparated, leaving Dobby standing next to Harry. Dobby shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and played with the knitted caps perched on his head as the eyes of the Order appraised him.
As much as Hermione liked Dobby, she had been against Harry and Ginny hiring him after James was born. Although she never doubted his loyalty to Harry, Hermione had been concerned about Dobby. Like the rest of the house elves of Hogwarts, he had remained in the castle to fight Voldemort and his Death Eaters. However, after several weeks most of them had been killed, and the remaining few were ordered to leave by Minerva McGonagall.
Winky had been one of the casualties, and it had deeply wounded Dobby. In his grief, the small creature put away his numerous hats and socks and fell into a deep depression. He would disappear for days at a time, and then return and help Harry and the Order for a time. During Ginny’s pregnancy, he had slowly regained his previous temperament, Harry and Ginny had hired him to look after James when they could not. Somehow the job and their trust in him had revitalized Dobby, but even today, he was not the Dobby she had met in her fourth year.
In the silence following Ginny’s departure, Harry leaned over and spoke to Remus, who nodded. Raising his hand and clearing his throat, Remus brought everyone’s attention to him. “Harry would like to speak.”
Harry clapped Remus on the shoulder and stepped forward. “We have been at this for hours, my friends,” he said. “I understand that many of you have concerns and wish to put in your ideas. Each of you wants to be of assistance, and I thank you for that.” Harry paused and reached down and rolled up the map that was on the front table. He picked it up and tapped the parchment against his hand, like a baton, as he walked toward the fireplace. “But the time for plans is done. In six hours, the Death Eaters will be attacking the Ministry. In six hours, we go into Hogwarts. In six hours, we will see if our months of preparations have paid off. In six hours, this plan gets tested in fire.”
Harry shoved the end of the parchment into the fire. It quickly caught flame as everyone in the room gasped. A few stepped forward to put out the flames, but Harry’s voice rang out once more, quelling them all. “In six hours, this is how useful parchment will be. Because in six hours, we will not bring an end to this war with a piece of parchment or a plan that we have spent months on. In six hours, we will win because of the sacrifices you all have made.”
Casting the parchment into the fireplace, Harry stepped into the assembled group of the Order, moving among the chairs and gently touching people on the shoulder or arm as he spoke.
He touched Amos Diggory. “The sacrifice of a son in whose memory we now fight.” And Amos bowed his head.
He touched Molly Weasley. “The sacrifice of a mother whose children could die at any moment.” And Molly’s tear filled eyes sought out each of her children and glowed with pride.
He touched Nymphadora Tonks. “The sacrifice of dreams so that we may have new ones.” And Tonks squeezed Harry’s hand.
He touched Neville Longbottom. “The sacrifice of parents so that their children may live.” And Neville looked into Harry’s eyes, and something passed between them.
Now he was before Ron and Hermione, and Hermione could only stare into his eyes as one hand fell on her shoulder and the other on Ron’s. “The sacrifice of friends who have given everything to stand by us.” And Hermione’s eyes misted as she looked up at Harry and saw the determination and passion that surrounded him like a corona of power.
With a smile, Harry turned away and faced the Order of the Phoenix. “The sacrifice of those who have fallen before us and those who may fall tonight, so that their sacrifice may not be in vain.” He walked forward until he was in the center of the room. “Yes, it is my destiny to face Voldemort.” A murmur of voices flittered through the crowd. “It is my destiny to kill him.” The voices rose in a shout of support.
Harry spun in a slow circle, his face lit with determination and power. For a moment, Hermione wondered who this was. This Harry was not the shy boy of their school days. This Harry was not struggling under the weight of guilt and destiny. This Harry was the one who had led the DA. He was a confident man, a powerful wizard, and as he spoke, Hermione gave up her fears and insecurities and allowed herself to be carried along and to believe in Harry’s vision.
“Because,” Harry said in a ringing voice, “in six hours we will all be asked to make a sacrifice, but in seven hours . . . in seven hours, we will be free of Voldemort and his Death Eaters forever!”
The cry that erupted was like a thousand dragons roaring their approval. It filled the room, pressed down on all those gathered, and then echoed back in a glorious chord. And though she could not hear herself through the ringing voices, it was a moment of perfect clarity for Hermione. One that she would remember for the rest of her life.
Ron stood beside her, his fist raised high and his hair swirling in agitation as he shouted. The Weasleys filled the seats beyond Ron, and they were all shouting. Fred and George had their wands out, and they were showering the room with brilliant sparks. And Molly’s eyes were wet as she cheered, and there were tears on her face as she hung tightly to her husband’s arm. Bill’s scarred face was set with a burning desire for vengeance, and his wife Fleur burned like a bright torch next to him as her eyes flashed and her voice rang out.
All across the thirty-three members of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione saw the same look of fierce pride and determination as the roaring shout became a thunderous chant of “Potter! Potter! Potter!”
And in the center of the room, Harry stood with his arms raised and an almost wistful expression on his face. Behind Harry, Remus remained a statue, his voice silent and his face set in a stoic mask. But Hermione could see his eyes, and they were filled with a deep grief as he stared at Harry’s back. And in the light of the candles and fire, she swore she saw tears on the last Marauder’s face as his lips moved and he mouthed, “Seven more hours. Only seven.”
But then the crown obscured him, and for Hermione, it could have been a brief mirage as Ron grabbed her and swung her around. The exuberance swept over her. She forgot her worries as the meeting dispersed, and they all went about the preparations for that night. Six hours later, Hermione was in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic, waiting and watching with Arthur Weasley, who was acting as Hermione’s guide and excuse to be in the Ministry this late at night.
Even though it was almost nine o’clock in the evening, the Ministry atrium buzzed with activity. Hidden in an alcove on the far side of the atrium, Hermione watched as dozens of employees moved about dealing with emergency issues. Several Aurors stood guard around the atrium, and Hermione knew that there were another dozen guarding the jail cells that had been built off the lower level courtrooms after the Dementors left Azkaban.
The night’s raid was intended to free the dozen Death Eaters held prisoner in the Ministry. However, over the last few weeks, the Order had heard rumors that Minister Scrimgeour and several foreign dignitaries were meeting in secret this evening. For Hermione, it explained the extra Aurors and why there were still so many people about.
“I wish we could warn them,” Hermione said in a whisper to Arthur Weasley, who was seated on the stone bench across from her.
Ron’s father nodded his head and casually observed the atrium. “I know several of the people out there, but we can still help them defend themselves. Once the attack starts, secrecy won’t matter,” Arthur said.
Hermione nodded and sat back to watch as her foot tapped out an anxious rhythm on the stone. Although she could spend days digging through obscure tomes and dry facts, she had never dealt well with sitting still and waiting for something to happen. She felt so useless, and she did not want to be useless. She wanted to warn the people around her, fly off to Hogwarts, and then be at Harry’s side as he defeated Voldemort. But instead she waited and watched, and the anxiety coiled tightly inside her until she was quivering with suppressed energy. She needed to act. She had to shout a warning.
Standing up to move forward, she paused as a man in the center of the room raised a wand and pointed it at the ceiling. A red light leapt from his wand and struck the ceiling. Helplessly, Hermione watched as the entire ceiling began to crackle with energy, and then there was an explosion of light that blinded her.
A crack of thunder tore through the atrium, and the ground heaved beneath Hermione’s feet. Screaming, she crashed into the floor, and pain shot through her left arm and shoulder as the air was expelled from her lungs. Panic consumed Hermione as a cloud of dust and debris washed over her. For a moment, she floated in a void, blind, deafened by the explosion, and gasping like a fish plucked from the sea. And then, with a strangled sob, air filled her lungs, and screams and gurgling cries for help filled the air.
Terrified, she scrambled to her hands and knees and pressed herself back against the stone wall of the alcove. The cool stone and solid mass steadied her, and her blank, panicked thoughts began to calm. She could not see Arthur or the atrium through the thick dust, but screams of pain filled the air, accompanied by the groan of settling stone and rubble. Quickly, Hermione drew her wand and Vanished the dust and debris around her.
A ten foot sphere of clear air appeared around Hermione, but her vision swam with dark spots from the earlier explosion. Glancing around, she found Arthur a few feet away on his hands and knees, clutching the side of his head. He glanced around, and their eyes met. Blood dripped around his fingers, but his eyes were bright. He motioned toward the center of the atrium and pulled out his wand. Together they cast another Vanishing Charm. The dust near them cleared, and the edge of a massive pile of rubble appeared. Far above her, Hermione could see that the ceiling had collapsed inward, and the full moon was visible through the jagged edge of the hole.
Hermione gagged as she noticed the crushed form of a wizard, his legs and arm protruding from beneath a slab of rock. The floor around the dead man was slick and dark with blood. Next to him, a witch was screaming in pain. The stone had crushed and trapped her leg. Hermione crawled toward the woman, scraping her hands and knees on the rough stone. She was halfway there when the sound of a dozen snapping tree limbs echoed through the atrium, and a black cloaked figure appeared at the edge of the rubble pile.
With a quick glance around, the figure pulled his wand and pointed it at the woman. “Avada Kedavra,” the figure said. A green light struck the screaming witch, and she crumpled dead.
“No!” Hermione snapped her wand out as the Death Eater turned toward her voice. “Reducto!” The Bludgeoning Hex caught the Death Eater mid turn, spun him around, and slammed his head against the stone with a sickening crack. A roaring satisfaction filled Hermione and then left as quickly.
Hermione stared at the silent figure. She had never killed anyone before. Every Death Eater she had ever faced she had either captured or they had gotten away. But this wizard had deserved it, and a cold satisfaction filled her as she stared at the blood dripping from behind his white, skull-like mask. Her eyes burned, and she turned to find another target. She wanted vengeance. She wanted to make these Death Eaters pay for all the pain they had caused the world.
But as she spun around, she found Arthur Weasley before her. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Send your Patronus!” he shouted, as an oppressive chill began to fill the atrium. Glancing upward, Hermione could see the dark shapes of Dementors passing in front of the moon and descending into the atrium.
Shaking her head against the dark thoughts the Dementors were filling her subconscious with, Hermione stared at Arthur, who turned and held up his wand. A silvery bolt flashed away into the night sky, and for a moment, the chill disappeared and Hermione could think. She had to send a message to Harry. Concentrating on the thought of Ron proposing to her, Hermione formed a message in her head and whispered, “Expecto Patronum.” Her otter shot away like a bolt of lighting and disappeared into the night as it sought out Harry in the Chamber of Secrets.
Her job finished, Hermione turned and faced the atrium. The dust was still thick, but flashes of red, green, and blue filled the air. Shouted orders echoed through the hall and punctuated the dozens of voices casting spells and trying to help the wounded. The dark cloaks of the Dementors sent dust eddying in their wake, and the chill deepened until Hermione was shivering. They were too few, and the Death Eaters were too many.
Arthur grabbed her shoulder and pulled her close until she could smell his mint tinged breath. “We need to go. We can’t help them.”
Hermione nodded and reached for the necklace around her neck when two Dementors glided out of the choking dust cloud. They were only a few feet from Arthur and Hermione, and terror filled her. Without thinking, she grabbed Arthur and pulled him out of the alcove.
The chaotic nightmare of the atrium swallowed them as they stumbled over the uneven ground. Dark figures and shadows swirled around them, and the air was thick with the unnatural chill of the Dementors. There were so many that a thick mist had begun to grow around them. If the Dementors were still behind them, Hermione could not tell. They had to get away. She would not lose her soul.
She pulled at Arthur, but he felt like dead weight, and she slowed, turning in panic. He stood behind her, his feet planted, with a somber expression on his face. He held his Portkey necklace in one hand and her hand in his other. For a moment, Hermione stared at him, and then she blinked and nodded her head. She needed to be calm.
Although shouts still filled the air, the screams had become muffled or silenced. Hermione took a breath, released Arthur’s hand, and reached for her necklace. Its weight was reassuring, and she realized they would be gone in just a moment.
A sharp, booming crack filled the room, and Arthur glanced up as his eyes widened in shock. The world slowed, and Hermione followed Arthur’s gaze. A section of the ceiling was tumbling toward her. Her mind went blank, and she watched her death rushing toward her. Moments before it hit, she was struck in the side and once more slammed into the ground. There was another sharp crack, and her left wrist flared in pain before something heavy and soft landed over her. Her head slammed into the floor, and her vision swam as the ground heaved and dust and debris roiled about her.
It was hard to breathe with the weight on top of her. Warm, sticky liquid dripped into her face, but with every attempt to find a comfortable position, her vision blurred and her stomach churned. The specks in front of her eyes grew larger and larger, and then there was darkness.
When she blinked her eyes open, the room was deathly quiet. She was dizzy, and her wrist throbbed. A warm weight pressed down on top of her, and the chill of the air was that of the late autumn. She could hear movement, hard soled shoes clicking on the stone, sending rock and rubble skittering as they moved about. There were voices as well. They were muffled, and it was impossible to hear any one over them all.
Tentatively, Hermione tried to move. Although numb, she could move her feet, but her legs were pinned and her left arm was trapped beneath her at an odd angle. Her wrist felt swollen and throbbed with each beat of her heart. Her right arm was free, and she almost sobbed in relief as she moved it about.
A shower of rock stopped her movement, and she heard voices growing louder and more distinct. Helpless and terrified, Hermione decided to lie still and surprise them. As she brought her hand out, however, she realized that her wand was missing.
In a panic, she glanced around, searching the area she could see. Dirt and rock covered everything, and if her wand was nearby it was either buried or broken beneath the piles of rock. Closing her eyes, Hermione fought her tears as a few shuddering sobs shook her body.
The steps became closer, and Hermione took a breath and held it, forcing her body to remain still, her eyes closed. Hopefully they would think she was dead.
“. . . real shame the Dark Lord’s not here,” a gruff voice said.
“Just a bunch of blood traitors and fools,” a second, familiar voice said. There was a grunt and a stone skittered across the floor. “Should’ve just let the Dementors have them all. The Dark Lord is not going to be happy that Avery is dead.”
“Who cares, Rodolphus,” the first voice said. They were close now, probably almost on top of her, Hermione decided as the loose scree gave free, slid down with a grating rasp, and piled over her exposed right hand. Several rocks bit into her skin, and she forced herself to not flinch. “He’s been trying to usurp your position for months now.”
The footsteps stopped only a few feet away, and there was silence. “True, Parkinson,” Rodolphus said after a moment. “And Potter will crack when he finds the trap in the castle and his blood-traitor wife and half-blood child dead.”
Parkinson laughed, covering Hermione’s shocked breath. “Lucius had a lot of fun dragging the secret out of that blood-traitor. I got a go myself.”
Someone spat, and Rodolphus spoke again in a voice filled with disgust. “Stupid time for that traitor to go noble. He’d already given up the Potters’ location. Why even bother trying to hide how to get there? I’d hoped he’d have better sense than that, even if he is one of those worthless Weasleys.”
There was a shout from across the room, and Rodolphus and Parkinson moved off, but Hermione was unaware. She would never believe that a member of the Weasley family would betray Harry. That someone would betray his own sister. It was a lie. They knew she was trapped and wanted her to lead them to Harry. They wanted to torture her. They wanted . . .
But a memory floated through her fuzzy consciousness. That scares him because he looks at himself and his family, and he sees his parents and him twenty years ago. Remus had told her. Hermione sobbed. “No.” It was happening again. The traitor. The secrecy. The betrayal. “No!” She had to find Harry. She had to warn him. Several startled shouts echoed from far across the room.
“Hermione!” The voice whispered loudly in her ear, and Hermione froze. “You need . . . to calm down. We need to . . . get out of here.” The voice was strained and etched with a deep pain, but she knew that voice.
“Mr. Weasley?” The shouts were beginning to get closer.
“Yes,” Arthur said with a croak. Hermione sobbed in relief. She could feel him moving. His body was pressed against hers, trapping her to the ground.
“We need to get to Harry,” she said. The words tumbled from her mouth. “I overheard. Their secret keeper betrayed them.”
Arthur swore, and Hermione felt him move around a little before he stilled. The voices were getting closer, and Hermione could now hear footsteps scrambling through the debris. “I-I can’t move,” Arthur said. “My legs are . . . trapped. It’s hard . . . to . . . breathe. Can . . . Portkey?”
Hermione shook her head and then realized Arthur might not be able to see her. “No, I lost my wand.” The Death Eaters sounded only a few yards away.
“Use . . . mine,” Arthur said. “Reach up . . . with your right . . . hand . . . grab it.” Gritting her teeth against the pain, Hermione lifted her right arm and reached toward her back. She fumbled for a moment before finding Arthur’s arm and then quickly followed it to his wrist and wand. His skin was slick.
“I’ve got it,” she said. Arthur released the wand, and Hermione brought it back down. She blanched as she saw that her hand was painted with blood. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but there was no time. Struggling against the weight on her back, she tried to reach the wand and point it at the necklace, but the stone piled about her impeded her movements. Debris shifted and slid in a raining shower as she struggled in the tight, confining space.
“They’re under that rubble!” a voice shouted.
With a frustrated growl, Hermione dropped the wand and grabbed the necklace with her hand. With a firm yank, the chain snapped. She placed the small trinket on the ground and picked up the wand.
“I can’t get a clear shot at them. Lift the rocks off them!” Hermione tapped the wand to the Portkey as she heard several voices shout out a Levitation Spell. The rocks moved and debris shifted down over her, but the pressure lessened, and Hermione was free to move. However, Arthur let out a guttural cry and then went limp, and Hermione felt warm liquid spilling over her legs. Desperate, she activated the Portkey, picked it up, and grasped Arthur’s limp hand.
Above her, several dark cloaked figures loomed, approaching at a rapid pace, but as her hand met Arthur’s, she felt a hook grab her about the abdomen and yank her from the Ministry. After a dizzying trip, the Portkey deposited her in a clearing on the north side of Hogwarts.
Her head spun as she landed, and Hermione screamed in pain as her broken wrist dug into the ground. She twisted around and curled into a fetal position, cradling her wrist against her chest. Through her tear glazed eyes she could just make out Arthur Weasley. Her future father-in-law lay like a sack of potatoes next to her, his face still and his chest barely rising and falling. In the light of the full moon, she could see the dark blood on his face and staining his clothes. Staring at him, she realized what had happened. He had saved her. He had covered her and protected her from the falling rocks.
Shocked, she could only watch him as shouts of surprise erupted around her. Figures with lights rushed toward them. Then they were about her, goblins with their wicked looking grins, leering over her. She shied away as their thin fingers pressed and dug at her, checking her over. They asked questions, and she was numbly aware of answering them, but her attention was focused on Arthur.
The goblins swarmed over him like worker ants. In moments he was wrapped in bandages and they were forcing a potion down his throat. Then Molly’s red hair swam in view, and she was beside her husband, touching him with gentle fingers as the goblins melted away to a respectful distance.
A goblin’s face blocked her view, and Hermione blinked in surprise. She recognized him. “Elder Golburl?”
He gave her a toothy grin and tapped her shoulder. “Good. You’re aware.”
Shaking her head, Hermione stared at the goblin elder. There was something important she had to tell people about the attack tonight. But all she could think clearly about was the broken form of Arthur Weasley. “Arthur?” Hermione asked.
“He will live,” Elder Golburl said, “but he must go to St. Mungo’s. We are preparing a Portkey.”
Hermione nodded. “Are we ready to go into the Chamber yet?”
The goblin furrowed his brow. “The Order left forty-five minutes ago. Right after they received your Patronus.”
Hermione leaned around and looked over at Molly, who was still hovering over Arthur. “But Molly’s still here.”
“Her son Percy never showed up, so she decided to wait for you and Mr. Weasley and to join Mr. Potter and the rest later.”
Potter. The name rang in her mind and Hermione gasped. “Oh, no! I have to get to Harry. We’ve been betrayed. His secret keeper betrayed him.” With a shake of her head to clear it, Hermione climbed to her feet, ignoring the pain in her body. Her left wrist was swathed in bandages, and she idly wondered when that had happened. The concern left her as quickly as it came, and she turned and headed across the clearing toward the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.
“Miss Granger!”
Hermione waved her hand at the goblin. “I need to warn Harry.” Hermione hurried across the small clearing. Torches sprouted from the ground every few feet and led straight to a rocky rise. A dozen goblins stood guard at a gaping maw in the edge of the rocky slope.
The goblin guards stepped aside with toothy grins, and Hermione entered the tunnel. The passage was smooth as was common when goblins bored out rock with their magic. Small torches were set every dozen paces along the walls, but most blurred past Hermione as she ran.
Even at a quick jog, it took her ten minutes to travel from the Forbidden Forest, under the Quidditch pitch, and into the Chamber of Secrets, several hundred feet under the main castle.
Hermione had never been in the Chamber of Secrets, and even in her hurry, she paused. The massive statue of Salazar Slytherin towered above her next to the tunnel exit, and the skeleton of the basilisk grew from the floor several dozen feet in front of her. Her footsteps echoed eerily in the chamber, and water dripped in an odd counterpoint to each of her footfalls. As Hermione walked past the remains of the basilisk, she gasped.
Although the goblins had warned her, Hermione gagged and turned away. Dozens of human remains were stacked up like cord wood in the circle of the basilisk’s skeleton. It was the final resting place of the lost students and people of Hogsmeade, and the empty, accusatory stares of the skulls left Hermione’s mouth dry. Perhaps the spirits of these people would want to be found and reburied, but it felt like a desecration to break into this tomb and then use it for an attack without making the effort to bury the dead. As Trelawney would have said, it was a bad omen.
Averting her eyes, Hermione quickened her pace. The snake statues along the chamber walls blurred past her, and she was soon into the caverns that led to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. The rock slide that Harry and Ron had told her about was pulled aside, and Hermione quickly found herself under the pipes that led upward.
A forest of shimmering rope vines hung from the pipe. Fred and George had created the ropes at Harry’s insistence to allow quick access to the bathroom above. Hermione grabbed one of the slick ropes and tugged on it once. The slick surface became tacky, and Hermione was yanked upwards through the pipe.
The dark pipe became a rush of wind and foul air before a light quickly appeared above her, and the rope slowed. She was pulled out of the pipe and was left dangling a foot or so above the bathroom floor as the rope became slick again. Letting go, she dropped to the stone floor next to the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets and looked around.
The bathroom was empty, but muffled noise, and what sounded like howling, filtered in through the door. Hermione quickly moved over to it and cracked open the door. The rancid smell of scorched flesh and human excrement and blood washed over her. Several forms littered the floor around the bathroom. A few lamps still hung on the walls, but the hall was dark. The sound of distant shouts chased up and down the hallway as Hermione eased the door open and slipped out.
The door creaked as she opened it, and someone moved in the shadows. Hermione dropped to a crouch and fumbled for her wand. “Lumos.” Her wand tip lit up, but the light wavered and guttered. Passing it off as exhaustion, Hermione squinted into the darkness. The cool light barely reached a few dozen paces, but it illuminated Katie Bell leaning heavily against the wall. Katie Bell blinked at the light and raised her wand on Hermione. The young woman was dirty and cut, and her left hand was pressed tightly against her right abdomen. She stood just within the reach of Hermione’s lit wand. Cautiously, Hermione raised her hands and slowly stood up. In the light, Hermione made out three bodies scattered about the hallway. Thankfully, none of them looked familiar.
For a moment the two stood motionless, and then Katie lowered her wand. “Merlin, Hermione, you scared me,” she said. Her voice was barely a whisper. And the words were slurred.
“Sorry,” Hermione said. “Where are the rest? Where’s Harry? And what happened here?” She motioned at the three broken bodies in the corridor.
With a weary expression, Katie pointed toward the Great Hall. “Most of them went toward the Great Hall,” she said, “but a group went toward the dungeon, too. Harry took a few people and headed up.”
Hermione turned to go, but Katie grimaced and sank down along the wall as she pointed at the three bodies in the hall. “There was a pack of werewolves waiting for us outside of the bathroom here. Luckily, Harry had a map that showed everyone in the castle, so we were able to drive them off. Harry and Bill killed these three, and then Bill and a few others went after the werewolves. I’m waiting for them to get back.”
As if in confirmation, there were a flurry of distant shouts and explosions. Hermione shuddered as a howl filtered up from the lower floors and then cut off in a gurgling cry.
Katie smiled viciously and said, “One less of Greyback’s bunch.” She roughly scrubbed at her face with her right hand and then just stared at her wand.
“Pardon,” Hermione said. She needed to warn Harry, but there was an aura of fear and helplessness about Katie that kept Hermione rooted in place.
“I hear one of those every few minutes,” Katie said and then motioned down the hall toward the dungeons with her wand. “I hope they kill them all.” There was venom in Katie’s words, and it shocked Hermione. Katie had always been even-tempered, even during the worst of Voldemort’s excesses. Again, Hermione examined her and noted that Katie’s left hand was slick with blood. Glancing at the bodies and then back at Katie, Hermione’s eyes widened.
“You were bitten.”
Another pain filled howl reached them, and Katie’s eyes brightened as her nostrils flared. She did not answer, but Hermione suddenly felt sick. Although she loved Remus Lupin, ever since her third year, she had been terrified of being bitten by a werewolf. To lose herself to her base instincts was worse than any fear of death, and now, there was little she could do but stare sadly at Katie and fight her tears. “I’m sorry, Katie. I’m . . .” There was nothing else to say, and Katie shook her head and pointed down the hall to her right.
“They went that way. Twenty minutes ago.” Hermione nodded and then disappeared into the shadows as she hurried from the second floor bathroom to the main staircase, which led to the entry hall below and the Headmistress’s office above. The hallways were dark, and the noise of battle grew louder with each step. And then she was at the top of the main staircase, looking into the entry hall.
The battle for Hogwarts had left the entry hall pitted with broken stone and ragged, burning portraits. However, there were no bodies on the floor, and the hall was empty of people. The doors to the Great Hall were charred beyond recognition and hung askew on their great hinges. However, the damage on them was old, most likely from the night Voldemort took over Hogwarts. Lights and noise rolled out of the Great Hall like a siren’s call, and Hermione found her attention drawn to the open doors.
Ten members of the Order were spread out across the entrance of the Great Hall. The house tables blocked them off from the rest of the hall. Spellfire crackled against the wood tables, and the Order members would occasionally send a wild spell toward the front of the room. Beyond the edge of the barricade of tables, Hermione glimpsed figures hidden behind the head table. With the spells flying and people scrambling to stay low, it was hard to make an accurate count, but she thought there were a dozen Death Eaters at the other end of the hall.
Even to her inexperienced eye, the Order was in trouble. The tables were crumbling under the onslaught, and it would not be more than a few minutes before they were left unprotected. With a longing glance up the stairs, Hermione knelt down and aimed at the head table. She was well above the Death Eaters and would be able to get around their cover. “Reducto!”
There was a loud crack, and Hermione was thrown backward. She skidded on the stone floor and stared at her wand in confusion. It was smoking, and the railing she had been crouched behind was destroyed. Holding the wand up, she cursed loudly. Arthur Weasley’s wand, worn from years of use, was in her hand. Her wand still lay buried in the rubble at the Ministry of Magic.
She could not help the Order without her wand. Although she knew she could use Arthur’s wand, if she failed to concentrate, it would back fire on her. With her heart pounding in her chest and her breath ragged, she knew she was almost at her limit. With a sorrowful glance at the beleaguered Order, Hermione headed up the stairwell in search of Harry.
From the entry hall, it was only a few minutes to the Headmistress’s office. So Hermione fought against the weakness in her legs and sprinted up the stairs. However, the next stairwell had been blown apart. Cursing, she turned and darted down another hallway. If there was one good thing that had come of all her adventures at Hogwarts, it was that only Harry or the late Professor Dumbledore probably knew the castle better than she did.
Yet after four blocked passages and five detours, Hermione began to despair. It was difficult to keep moving. She had been running since she left the forest clearing, and her body was already hurt. Still she persevered. She would warn Harry. She would not let history repeat itself.
She wondered, as she stumbled down a hallway a floor below the Headmistress’s office, if Sirius had felt the same as he raced to the Potters’ home twenty years ago. Maybe Hermione had not recommended a new secret keeper, but she had not fought to be Harry’s secret keeper. She or Ron would have never betrayed Harry. But then, she could not imagine any member of the Weasley family betraying their sister. It was an abhorrent thought that left a part of her withered and dying.
She would kill him. No matter what happened, she would kill him, and that thought made her laugh. Sirius had promised to kill Peter, and she had never understood the emotion that had driven him that night. Never understood why he had never fought to explain or to be free, but in the corridors of Hogwarts, searching endlessly for Harry, she embraced the welling despair and guilt. It settled like a sliver deep in her skin, slowly festering and becoming inflamed. She had already failed Ginny and Harry. What was her life worth if she could not right that single wrong? Any suffering would be worth that moment of satisfaction.
Then she turned a corner, and there, like a mirage, was Harry. Hermione blinked and shook her head, paralyzed by what she saw. Harry stood halfway down the hall, and although the hall was brightly lit, Harry’s face was in shadow. His robes were torn and bloodied, and his wand hung loosely from his fingers. The stone around him was marred and scorched. Deep gouges covered floor, walls, and ceiling. At Harry’s feet, a man in a dark cloak lay in a pool of blood. His dark, greasy hair hung limp about his pale skin and hooked nose.
Snape’s mouth moved, but Hermione could not hear. She took several steps forward and stopped as Harry spoke.
“I already know where he is,” Harry said. “So why should I let you live? I have no debt to you, no matter what promises you gave Albus.”
Snape laughed. It was a hideous sound that gurgled wetly in his throat, and a froth of blood speckled his lips and sprayed as he spoke. “Idiot boy . . . you never learn. The Dark Lord knows all, even your little plans.” Snape’s body shook as he coughed up more blood. “You thought you’d fool us . . . thought you figured out the traitor . . . but there were two . . .” Harry’s body went rigid, and his hand tightened about his wand. “And the second has delivered your son to the Dark Lord . . .” With a last racking cough, Snape went still, and like a spell had been lifted, Hermione rushed forward.
“Harry!” she cried out, but Harry was already moving.
He held up his hand and called out. “Fawkes!” The phoenix appeared in a burst of flame a moment later.
Hermione was only a quarter of the way to him. “No! It’s a trap. You were betrayed!” Harry heard her. She knew that as he turned and their eyes met. She thought there would be fear in them, but his eyes glittered in the torch-light. They were filled with determination and sadness.
“Forgive me,” he said, and then he grabbed onto Fawkes and disappeared in a ball of flame.
“No!” Hermione screamed, but there was no one to hear her in the empty hallway.
AN: Sorry for being so slow in updating. The weekend downtime of the site threw off my schedule. I’ll probably be uploading a new chapter every other day from here on out. So this cliffhanger won’t be here for long.
Chapter 4: Atto Tre: Il Canon del Destino
By Jonathan Avery
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it.
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible.
Atto Tre Il Canon del Destino
**-*-**
Even years later, Hermione could never recall leaving after Harry vanished in a burst of phoenix fire. Days later, Ron told her that she had run past him in the entry hall, screaming that Harry was in trouble and that Voldemort knew where they were hidden. He had apparently tried to stop her and calm her, but had faltered when he saw her face streaked with tears and blood, her eyes empty and wild.
No, the first thing she remembered after Harry disappeared was the kitchen of the cottage. The smoke-filled air obscured everything beyond a few feet in front of her. China crunched underfoot as she took a few steps into the silent kitchen. Something was dreadfully wrong, and a horrible fear began to grow in the pit of her stomach. It was eerily quiet.
Coughing in the heavy smoke, Hermione cast a quick cleansing spell. She gasped at the devastation as the air cleared. Spells had ravaged the room. The cabinets and counters had been cracked open, and the dishes and glasses pooled in puddles of shattered ceramic below them. Scorch marks marred the walls and even the stone floor. The door that led to the small fenced garden was missing most of its bottom half, and the heavy metal hinge at the top was twisted and warped. A black cloaked form was lying in a pool of dark blood in the doorway.
“Harry!” Hermione screamed and ran toward the figure. But it was not Harry. As she neared, she recognized the face of Bellatrix Lestrange, her eyes wide and sightless, her throat cut wide open. Gagging slightly, she stumbled backwards and called out again. “Harry? Ginny? Tonks? Someone answer me!” She knew she was shrieking hysterically, but she could not help it.
Sprinting to the other side of the kitchen, she tried to open the door to the hallway but found it locked. She worked at the door for several moments before cursing her stupidity and casting Alohomora on the door. It sprang open, and she stepped into the hallway that led to the bedrooms. Although smoke hung heavy in the air, the hallway was in good repair. The fighting had never reached here.
“Ginny?” she called, moving to the first bedroom and opening it. It was empty. She searched through the rest of the bedrooms, even rifling through the closets, hoping that Ginny or at least James was hidden somewhere. But there was no one.
Desperate now, she rushed back into the kitchen and bolted across to the living room. Something caught her foot as she turned the corner into the room, and she went tumbling to the floor. Rolling onto her side, Hermione found herself face to face with the dead, blank stare of Headmistress McGonagall. “No,” she whimpered, shaking her head in denial. “No. This isn’t happening.”
Stumbling to her feet, she glanced in horror around the living room where they had all sat and talked only the evening before. There was no smoke in this room. A massive hole had been rent in the ceiling, allowing the light of the full moon to filter into the cottage. The antique furniture was broken and charred beyond recognition. Blood soaked the woven rugs and splattered in dark patterns on various walls. Parchment and books lay scattered everywhere, and most of the portraits and paintings were torn or burned.
The worst wreckage was in the far corner of the living room, where the ceiling was blown outwards. The floor was burnt black, as were the walls around it except for one area directly in the corner. There, an untouched expanse of the wall formed a pattern that seemed vaguely familiar to Hermione.
At the outside edge of the fire scarred corner of the room, a crumpled form lay on its back on the ground, half of a broken wand clutched in an emaciated, claw-like hand. The body made her uncomfortable, and she shied away from it. Hermione turned to the rest of the room, vainly searching for Harry, Ginny, and James.
In the far corner, she found Lucius Malfoy’s crumpled body among the broken bookcases, his throat slit open like Bellatrix's. As she turned away from Lucius' unseeing eyes, movement in the corner caught her attention. A pile of knitted clothing was moving. "James!"
Hermione rushed over and dropped to her knees. Blood covered the pile of knit caps and socks, and when they were moved aside, Hermione found the battered body of a small house elf. "Dobby," she said, gently reaching out and placing a hand on him. His body was twisted and the side of his head swollen and thick with blood. His eyes were open, but only the right one focused on Hermione.
"Miss . . . Grang . . ." Dobby wheezed.
"Where is James?" Hermione asked. Dobby would know. Dobby was James' nanny and protector. But if he was this hurt, her mind prompted . . . Hermione refused to listen.
However, at the mention of James, Dobby's eye glazed over in pain. "Dobby . . . fail . . . bad . . . bad . . ." Like a twitching puppet, Dobby began to twist and writhe, struggling to find purchase, but his broken body could not work.
"Dobby, stop," Hermione said. She pressed her hands on his shoulders and held him down as he struggled against her. Even in his weakened state, it was difficult for Hermione to hold the frail body. "You haven't failed. Just tell me, where is James?"
". . . bad . . . Dobby . . . Dark . . . Lord . . ." Dobby lifted his head and stared at Hermione, and she flinched back at the wild terror in his eyes. "Forced Dobby . . . betray . . . all Dobby . . . fault . . . bad Dob . . ." The light died in his eyes, and Dobby's body fell limp in Hermione's arms.
Numb, Hermione lowered Dobby's body to the ground and closed his eyes. She could not comprehend what had happened. Something horrible had occurred here. Something had gone so wrong that she could not even begin to put it together. The puzzle pieces just slipped through her fingers like sand, and she stood in the middle of the room and made one last effort.
“Harry! Ginny! Tonks! Anybody!” she screamed. “Please be okay.” And then she collapsed to the floor, shaking. "No." She whispered it over and over and over as if the next one would wake her from this horrible dream.
“Hermione?” The wise and familiar voice somehow reached her through all the shock and grief.
“Professor Dumbledore?” she asked, glancing around before noticing the portrait above the fireplace mantle. Hope welled up inside of her. He would have seen everything. “Professor. Harry and Ginny? What happened? Are they okay?” The words rushed out of her as she clambered over the debris to stand in front of her former headmaster’s portrait.
His sad expression stopped her cold. “They are okay, right?”
“It is possible. Ginny was grievously injured but alive, and James was healthy enough before the end, but . . .” Dumbledore sighed and shook his head.
“But what?” Hermione demanded.
“Tonks was hurt rescuing young James from Voldemort. I am not sure if she was even alive when I fled my portrait. There was a great deal of blood on her clothes. And Harry,” Dumbledore’s face seemed to deflate, “Harry was the final horcrux.”
“No!” Hermione screamed, realization slamming into her. “He would have known. He would have . . . He couldn’t . . . He deserved more than that. He deserved a life,” she whispered.
“Yes, he did, Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore agreed. “But he did not give his life to destroy Voldemort’s soul. He found another way. He was able to banish it from himself with the love he had for his wife and child. However, the act severely weakened him, and Voldemort was still alive, though in great pain.”
“What happened then?”
“I can only guess that Voldemort assumed Harry had sacrificed his life to destroy the final horcrux. He has always misunderstood the power of a pure heart. He decided to end the Potter line for good and went after James. Ginny stood up to him and then dueled with him.”
Hermione gasped. “Ginny is good, but she's nowhere near Voldemort’s ability.”
“That is true," Dumbledore said, "but you cannot underestimate what lengths love and determination will carry you to. She fought brilliantly. I have rarely seen the like. Even in the last desperate moments, when she was huddled in the corner, protecting her child, she refused to yield,” Dumbledore continued sadly. “Tom became enraged and cast the Killing Curse at them both."
“No,” Hermione whispered in horror, tears streaming down her face. Remus' words from the previous night echoed in her mind. "She died like Lily. She protected James, but where is he?"
"No, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said. "Ginny did not give her life to save James, although it may have been her intention. She goaded Voldemort into attacking her. We have discussed many things since they came to live here, and she and Harry had placed powerful protections on James. Her sacrifice would have ended Voldemort's life and saved James, but that is not what happened."
Dumbledore paused, but Hermione only shook her head. What words existed that could express how she felt? For she understood something in that moment. The will, Snape's dying words, and Dumbledore's admission about the protections on James all clicked in her mind. Harry and Ginny had known. They had known that Harry was a Horcrux. They had known that Ginny would sacrifice herself. They had never expected to live through this night. That is why they had placed James in her and Ron's care, why they had decided to send him away.
They had planned it all, and yet it had not worked out. The scarred corner mocked her from the periphery of her vision, and she wondered what went wrong. Did they escape? Was James alive?
She turned an imploring look upon the portrait of the headmaster, and he sighed. “The Killing Curse never struck Mrs. Potter. There was a burst of flame, and for a moment I thought Fawkes had appeared to take the curse, but it was not so. It was foolish of me to think so. Fawkes had taken a curse to protect James earlier in the fight. No, in that blaze of fire, Harry appeared, and the Killing Curse struck his outstretched hand."
Hermione gasped.
"The Killing Curse connected Voldemort and Harry for a moment, and then it burned white, and” Dumbledore paused and stroked his beard in thought, “Voldemort, Harry, and his family were engulfed in the explosion of light and fire. I fled my portrait at that point, but when I returned, I saw the destruction before us." Dumbledore motioned toward the corner. "That unblemished section of wall was exactly where Ginny and James were huddled together.”
Hermione looked at the clean silhouette on the wall in the corner through watery eyes, and suddenly a picture floated through her memory. It was a picture from World War II and the aftermath of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The nuclear explosions had burned silhouettes of people into concrete walls as they were vaporized by the blast.
She could not take any more. Her mind went blank, and she was dimly aware of her own voice raised in a keening wail of grief and misery at the unfairness of life. She wrapped her arms about herself and sank to the ground, and there, beneath the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, she sobbed like a lost child.
Chapter 5: Atto Quattro: Aria di Dolore
By Jonathan Avery
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it.
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible.
Atto Quattro
Aria di Dolore
**-*-**
THE DARK LORD POTTER ALLOWS MINISTRY MASSACRE
By Rita Skeeter
3 November 2001, the Ministry of Magic. At a press conference this morning, Ministry officials revealed that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named orchestrated the desperate attack on the Ministry on 31 October, which killed thirty-three Ministry employees, French Ambassador Jacques Breughel, and his two aides. Twenty-one additional wizards and witches suffered the Dementor’s Kiss.
“You-Know-Who wanted to break the power of the Ministry,” the spokes-witch said. “If the Minister and several important dignitaries from France, Bulgaria, and Germany had been assassinated, the talks of an alliance between our countries would have broken down, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would have gained breathing room to deal with Harry Potter, the newly risen Dark Lord.”
As many know, the self proclaimed Chosen One spent three months with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in late 1999 while he had a polyjuiced double misleading the Ministry of Magic. Although some less than reliable sources have indicated that the Ministry knew of the double, and some even go so far as saying that the Ministry created Potter’s double, there is no doubt that Harry Potter appeared beside He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on 1 January 2000 and attacked and killed several Ministry employees.
Since that time, this reporter, with great risk to her own life, has brought you the truth about the Dark Lord Potter, and now I can reveal what the Ministry has hidden for several months. The Dark Lord Potter did not disappear, but took over the Order of the Phoenix, a renegade group of wizards and witches founded by the late Albus Dumbledore. (see page 4, Dumbledore’s Misplaced Legacy for more information on the Order of the Phoenix). Potter used this group to further his own aims of removing You-Know-Who and becoming the leader of the Wizarding world.
An Auror, speaking anonymously to this reporter, said that the Ministry has kept tabs on the Dark Lord Potter and the Order of the Phoenix despite the group's security measures. For the past two years the renegades have been hidden under the Fidelius Charm, but several non-humans have been interrogated with shocking results. The Dark Lord Potter has made many promises to non-humans, including werewolves and centaurs, that he will bring them the rights reserved for witches and wizards.
“Potter veils his plots in magnanimous talk,” my source said, “but his goal has always been to usurp You-Know-Who’s control of the dark creatures in order to topple the Ministry.”
Although many people may find that difficult to believe, this reporter would like to remind readers that Harry Potter is known to associate with the wanted werewolf, Remus Lupin. This is in addition to his friendship with half-giants and his leading a Ministry official into a Centaur ambush in his fifth year at Hogwarts.
But the Dark Lord Potter has gone much further now. Recent evidence has been found that indicates that the Dark Lord Potter knew of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s plan to attack the Ministry on Halloween several months before the attack occurred. Instead of informing the Ministry and thereby saving dozens of innocent lives, Potter planned an assault on Hogwarts in an effort to destroy He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
It is only our good fortune that in his plans, the Dark Lord Potter did not take into account that his secret keeper, one Percy Weasley, had the strength of character to inform the Ministry of the location of the Dark Lord Potter’s family, one Ginny Potter nee Weasley and their son James Potter. Unfortunately, this information was stolen by the servants of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named set up an ambush at the Potters’ hidden home. There the two Dark Lords dueled. According to Ministry officials, the resulting duel cost the lives of the escaped convicts Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange as well as those of Minerva McGonagall and wanted fugitive, ex-Auror Nymphadora Tonks. Both the Dark Lord Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were killed in the final moments of the duel when a spell went wrong.
In a sad note, Ginny Potter and her young son were caught up in the blast that ended the lives of this century’s most dangerous wizards. Although Ministry officials are holding out hope that the misguided young witch and her son are alive, there is little hope that they survived the final moments of the battle between the Dark Lord Potter and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.
“With the amount of magic that was released at the end,” one Unspeakable stated, “and taking into consideration the location of all people at the end of the duel, it is impossible to believe that anyone could have survived; however we are not yet willing to stop our search for Ginny Potter and her son.”
Hermione pushed aside the two week old Daily Prophet. A vast gulf existed in her heart that she could not find away across. She was numb with grief and uncertainty, but there was a spark beneath it all, and a growing fire. She picked up the paper and read the article again. The fire blossomed as she read Percy's name once more.
Anger. But it did not feel like her anger. She was looking in on it as she shivered in the cold. Percy had done this. Percy had killed Harry. Percy had killed his own sister.
She picked up another paper from only a few days later. The headline mocked her.
Maybe it was a mistake, a lie from the Ministry. Why would Percy betray his own sister? After he had returned to his family, Percy had been solely devoted to healing the breach in the family, and Ginny had been the first to welcome him back. It must have been the Imperius Curse, or he accidentally let something slip. Why else would they torture him?
And the Death Eaters had tortured Percy mercilessly.
Percy had been found in the Headmistress's Office shortly after the battle had ended. Hermione had not been there, but Ron had whispered the tale of finding Percy. Whatever Voldemort and his Death Eaters had done to him, it was beyond anyone's understanding. His body had been broken and tortured for what appeared to be hours. He was now clinging to life in St. Mungo's. Although the Healers were confident Percy would survive, they did not believe that he would ever wake form his coma. "Too long under the Cruciatus," the Healers had all said with a sad shake of their heads. The horror of Percy's torture was the only evidence that he had not betrayed his sister and Harry willingly, and Hermione and the rest clung to that desperately.
But that small part of her that burned with anger brushed aside the doubts. Her best friend was dead, and she could never forgive Percy for that. How could she? With the Ministry proclaiming Percy a hero and publicizing the true depths of the atrocity he had committed against his family, another Weasley had died. No one talked about Percy, and only Molly and Arthur grieved for him behind closed doors.
Footsteps came from the stairwell, and Molly Weasley stepped into the kitchen and walked across the floor without a glance up. There were tears on her face as she picked up the Floo Powder and Flooed to St. Mungo's. Ron stormed down the stairs a moment later and frowned at the empty kitchen.
Kicking the door jamb, he swore. "She's off to see that traitor again." He stomped around the table as if he were racing his own anger and inadequacy. "Why does she do it? He killed Ginny! He killed Harry."
Hermione knew why Molly went to the hospital every day and sat by her son's side as he fought to live. Molly had to believe that Percy was innocent. If she doubted him, she would lose a son as well as a daughter, a grandson, and a son-in-law. But Hermione simply shrugged. She did not have the strength to fight or argue with Ron. If not for Fleur placing meals in front of her, she doubted she would eat. If not for Ron, maybe she would be lost and crazed with grief like Remus Lupin. If not for Ron, she would not be able to handle this morning's Daily Prophet.
"Here," she said and handed the paper to Ron as he stormed past her for the fifth time. He absently grabbed the paper, his fingers tearing the pages. He shook it violently as he continued to walk, as if his frustration would change the news and make Harry walk through the door with his family. Then he read it. And he stopped. And the paper fell to the table, where the headline and story glared up at Hermione once more.
MINISTRY DECLARES DARK LORD POTTER’S FAMILY DEAD
By Rita Skeeter
15 November 2001, the Ministry of Magic. After weeks of searching with every magical method known, a spokes-witch for the Ministry of Magic declared that Ginny Potter and her year old son James were dead.
“We have even tried the scrying pond in the Department of Ministries,” the spokes-witch said, “and young James’ name has been crossed out of the Hogwart’s register.”
Of course, it is this reporter’s opinion that, although the death of a child is never a joyous occasion, we can finally rest at ease knowing that all of the Dark Lord Potter’s plans and machinations have now died. For more . . .
Ron grabbed Hermione's arm roughly and pulled her toward the stairs. She did not resist, even though his grip was tight and would leave a bruise. The pain was at least some emotion, some feeling. Soon he was pushing her through his bedroom door and onto his bed. His eyes burned with pain and grief, and Hermione simply opened her arms to him.
Like a stranger she watched herself scream and cry out Ron's name as his nails tore at her shoulders, and his kisses became hard and insistent. It was not love, but lust and release. She welcomed it because for a moment she could lose herself in Ron and her body, and for a moment the world disappeared. The pain and grief subsided, and she felt alive for a few, short moments.
And in the end, as they lay entwined in the sheets, just like the first night after the Battle of Hogwarts, they both cried silent tears for the friends they had lost. And for a moment, Hermione felt whole and loved and complete. And it was a distant light that told her she would heal, even if it was not today or the next day or the next. But she would heal.
The bitter late November wind blew incessantly across the shore of the Black Lake. It cut deeply despite the heavy robes and cloak Hermione wore. The memorial service for all those who had died in the war had gone on so long that the warming charm she had cast on herself had worn off hours ago. She might have recast it if it had not seemed so futile. Besides, at least the cold let her feel something. The wind stung, and her teeth chattered, and that was infinitely better than the emptiness in her heart.
Ron shifted uncomfortably next to her, and then his heavy arm wrapped about her waist and pulled her into his warmth as another person she did not know approached them and the rest of the Weasley family to offer their often superficial condolences. Exhausted from everything, she tuned out the scratchy voice of the wizard and leaned against Ron, using his strength like she had been doing since Ginny and James had been declared officially deceased. Part of her was ashamed that she was taking and demanding comfort from him and then giving nothing in return. She would make it up to him eventually, but for now he comforted her in her grief. He was there when she woke up screaming from the nightmares, sobbing uncontrollably at the memories.
She hated the cancerous weakness and despair that had crept into her life. Most of it was her own unwillingness to accept that Harry, Ginny, and James were dead. That chasm of denial still existed in her. She was certain Harry had planned it all. He had wanted to face Voldemort with Ginny at his side, for whatever reason that may have been. But she could not fathom how he could allow his son to be hurt in any way.
The Ministry investigators proved that James was not supposed to be in the cottage that night. Harry's secret keeper had sold him out to Minister Scrimgeour as well as Voldemort, and the wizards of Magical Law Enforcement had been at the cottage only hours after Hermione had arrived there. At the time she had not cared, she had been in shock and half frozen because of the cold Scottish night.
Like industrious ants they had swarmed the house, touching and picking up everything while the black robed Unspeakables hovered about and snapped orders and conferred in hushed whispers. Many had tried to speak with her, but she had remained silent. In the end, her silence had been the only bit of luck for her that day. She had been there as the MLE interrogated Dumbledore's portrait. Although she had missed most of the questioning, even though it went on around her as if she were a piece of furniture, she had heard about the fate of James Albus Potter directly from the boy's namesake.
"Voldemort," the MLE had flinched at the name as Dumbledore spoke in a solemn tone, "bragged about placing a house-elf who watched over James under the Imperius Curse. In the middle of Harry's battle with Voldemort, Dobby appeared with James in his arms and handed the child to Voldemort. Voldemort still lost, but the price of that victory was the lives of the entire Potter family."
"Probably for the best," one of the MLE had said. "We don't need another Boy-Who-Turned-Dark."
Anger had replaced the grief in Hermione's heart. She had climbed to her feet, ready to curse the man regardless of the consequences, when Albus Dumbledore's portrait had spoken again. "Mr. Romano, I am ashamed to consider you a student of mine. To be so callous about the supposed death of a child is unforgivable. You have been blinded by the propaganda of shortsighted men who only worry about their own selfish goals."
Even weeks later, the words of that MLE officer filled Hermione with a righteous anger. She had wanted to hex him and force him to take back his lies, but the damage had been done long before that day. So she simply walked out of the cottage into the arms of her family so that they could all grieve in peace.
“Hermione?”
The voice snapped her out of her dark memories, and Hermione blinked and stared at the sad face of Neville Longbottom in front of her. “Are you okay?” he asked, and then his face paled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I know you're not. It was just, you looked so lost, and I called your name three times.”
Smiling in reassurance, Hermione pulled away from Ron, who was looking at her with concern. She pulled Neville into a brief hug before letting him go. “I'm sure it will get better eventually,” Hermione lied. “Are you doing okay?”
Neville blushed and looked down at his feet, shuffling in place nervously. A smile actually appeared on Hermione’s face as she recognized the sweet Neville that had gone to school with her. He had gained confidence and poise during the war, but for a moment, it was a nice reminder of the past.
“I’m . . . I’m coping,” he finally said. He stopped there and looked uncertainly between the two of them. He opened his mouth a few times, but nothing came out.
“What is it, Neville?” Ron finally asked.
Glancing around quickly, he leaned in and whispered. “I'm sorry about Ginny. She was a great friend to me in school, and she gave me a lot of confidence after you guys didn’t come back in seventh year.”
“Ginny always cared deeply for you, Neville,” Hermione smiled. “She told me once that you made it possible for her to complete her sixth year. You helped her keep her focus whenever she was tempted to find the three of us.”
“That’s the other thing,” Neville responded, his voice becoming even softer as he leaned in and hugged her and Ron. “About Harry. I’m sorry about what happened, but I want you to know that I don’t believe anything they're saying about him. A lot of us in the Order and the DA don’t. We knew him. I’ll never forget that it was his sacrifice that ended the war.”
Neville pulled away from Hermione quickly and shook Ron’s hand before moving on to give his condolences to Arthur and Molly. Ron pulled Hermione tightly into his arms and brushed away the tears that were again falling down her cheeks. “Neville’s a top shelf bloke, ‘Mione,” Ron murmured into her ear. “We’ll have to have him round once this is all over.”
“Can we go soon?” Hermione sobbed. “I can’t take any more of this. I can’t stand not mourning for him.”
Even after all of their testimonies, after speaking with Dumbledore’s portrait, and even after confirming the spells that Voldemort had cast and how the Order of the Phoenix had ended the war by freeing Hogwarts and destroying Voldemort’s inner circle, the Ministry had vilified Harry in the end.
Hermione knew that Arthur Weasley had tried to get the real story of Harry's fight against Voldemort into the official record, but Minister Scrimgeour was in no mood to be lenient towards the boy who had caused him so much trouble. In the end, Arthur had been forced to drop his efforts or face charges of being a supporter of the Dark Lord Potter. Still, he had been dismissed from the Ministry for unintentional espionage two days ago. It was only the lack of evidence about Arthur's involvement with the Order of the Phoenix that kept the Ministry from arresting him. And for once, Hermione was thankful that Harry had insisted on a vow of silence among the Order members.
Rita Skeeter and Minister Scrimgeour were a formidable team, and it had taken them little effort to finish their two year smear campaign and turn the public completely against Harry. Any connection to Harry Potter was grounds for suspicion these days. By an unspoken agreement, Hermione, the Weasley family, and the rest of the Order had simply stopped talking about Harry in public.
When they were together and alone, they would mourn for Harry and his family, but today, at least, they could honor the memory of Ginny and James and the others who had died freeing Hogwarts. It was a relief that the Weasleys could openly mourn the loss of two of their beloved members. Many had come today to pay their respects to Ginny Potter and her infant son, James.
The dichotomy was strange to Hermione. 'Simple' Ginny's misguided love for a former hero softened the hearts of the Wizarding public, and Witch Weekly suddenly had a new icon in their idea of Ginny Potter. The story of love they wove was heartbreaking. A provincial young witch caught up in the mystique of the Boy-Who-Lived became entrapped by the rising Dark Lord's charisma and tangled webs of deceit. She was won over despite the growing darkness in him, and she married him with the belief that her love could save him. For a time, Witch Weekly reported, it may have worked, but unfortunately, the desire for power consumed the Dark Lord Potter. Caught between her love and what was right, she told her brother Percy to betray her husband. Grief stricken over her betrayal, she had decided to die beside him after hiding her young son away. But the machinations of the Dark Lords had thwarted her, and she and her son had died that night.
So, while a generation of young witches slowly began to idolize and love Ginny, her husband - the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One, the former, beloved hero to so many wizards and witches - was relegated to the dark, whispered tales used to frighten children. In the end, people celebrated the death of Harry Potter with as much zeal as they did the death of Voldemort, often toasting Harry with the now famous, “To Harry Potter! May all dark lords snuff it in such a fine manner.”
Leaning into Ron and crying, Hermione asked again, “Can we just go home?”
“Sure, ‘Mione,” Ron responded, gently guiding her over towards his parents.
Arthur and Molly were standing a few feet away, both stiff and expressionless as they spoke to a former co-worker of Arthur’s. As they walked up, Ron heard the man excuse himself. “Well, I am really sorry for your loss, but it looks like your son needs to speak with you. I won’t interrupt. Oh, and I hope Percy recovers. He was a good worker.”
Arthur's face darkened at the mention of Percy, and Hermione knew Ron's face was not much different.
“Dad. Mum,” Ron said as soon as the man was out of ear shot. “I’m going to take Hermione home. She’s exhausted, and I’m sick of listening to these ungrateful gits.”
“That’s a good idea,” Arthur nodded. “Your mother should go as well.” All four turned together and began walking towards Hogsmeade, where they would be able to Apparate back to the Burrow.
“Pardon me!” a voice called out. The four of them stopped, and Hermione glanced backward. A young wizard with thinning, brown mousy hair walked quickly towards them, several rolls of parchment in his hand.
“Thank you for coming,” Arthur stated loudly. “We appreciate your concern, but we would like to return home where we can grieve in peace.”
“Oh, I’m not here on personal matters,” the man said as he caught his breath and straightened up. “Oh, that sounded all wrong. I hate this part of my job, really I do. I am very sorry for you loss, but I really must get this taken care . . .”
“Who are you?” Ron growled.
The man looked blankly at Ron and shook his head as if dislodging a fly or an annoying itch. “Sorry, my name is Winston Crane. I am a barrister and represent the late Mr. Harry Potter. I assume you are Ronald Weasley and Ms. Hermione Granger?”
“We are,” Hermione answered. “But why are you here? I got your owl yesterday, and the will is not supposed to be read until the day after tomorrow.”
“Yes, that is correct,” Mr. Crane acknowledged, “but I was specifically ordered to inform you in person after the funeral, but before the will was made public, that you and your family need to go to Snuffle’s house. Mr. Potter has left several important items for you that he did not want others to know about. Does that make sense to you?”
“Yes,” Ron stated.
"Oh good," Mr. Crane said, wiping his brow. "I was so worried that this was all some joke on Mr. Potter's part."
“Thank you," Ron said with a frown. "We really should be going.”
Mr. Crane's eyes became unfocused for a moment, and then he blinked and turned to Arthur. “Ah yes, Mr. Weasley. I am Winston Crane." Hermione blinked and began to scrutinize the wizard who was rambling on with a confused Arthur Weasley. "I am sorry about your loss. If there is anything I can do . . ."
"What's at Snuffles' house?" Ron asked.
Mr. Crane blinked owlishly at Ron and scratched his head. "Never heard of the place."
"But!" Ron said in protest.
Mr. Crane, however, was already walking away, waving at them. "I will see you on Monday at ten in the morning.” Mr. Crane turned away and shouted a greeting to a few wizards and witches as he passed them.
“That was interesting,” Arthur said.
“That guy's a bit bonkers, if you ask me,” Ron stated and then paused as he pondered the retreating barrister for a moment. “Course, he’s the kind Harry would hire. He’d think it a great prank having that guy bounding through a funeral.”
“I think we should go to Snuffles' place,” Hermione suddenly said.
“You’re joking, right?” Ron demanded.
Hermione’s mind was moving furiously, and for some reason she actually felt confident that something good was coming. “No, I’m not. And you’re right. Harry would have wanted us to be put out by that guy. There is something important at Snuffles’ place. I just know it.”
“How can you know it?” Ron asked in disbelief.
“Just think about it for a minute, Ronald Weasley,” Hermione lectured, shaking a finger under his nose. It was like the levy her grief had constructed had burst in her mind. A thousand thoughts rushed across her mind, and little facts from that Halloween were clicking together. “Why would Harry want us to go to Grimmauld Place? Really, he hated that place."
"Well yeah, but no one's been there in years."
"Exactly," Hermione said. "None of us have been there since James was born, and there is so much dark magic protecting that house that anyone inside is as good as dead to the world."
"Well, I . . ."
Hermione silenced Ron with a wave of her hand. She could hear Snape's dying words in the back of her mind. She could hear Dumbledore speaking to her in the cottage. Harry had known. She knew that, but she could not prove it. She was missing something.
"I don't know what has gotten into you," Ron said. "That bloke was not right in the head. He needs to get away, a holiday or something."
“Of course! It all makes sense," Hermione shouted. "They had it planned. They always had it planned. Don't you remember, Ron?"
"Remember what?" Arthur asked with a confused expression, which Ron was mirroring.
"Honestly," Hermione said and grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him towards the gate. "They had a will ready for us to sign. Maybe they never expected to survive, but they told us. They told us that we had to care for James."
Ron shook his head and dug in his feet until Hermione let go and took a few steps before turning around in exasperation. "Harry knew what was going on that night. I just know it. He wanted Voldemort to find him. He wanted to face him with Ginny. That is why they made us sign that will. They were certain they were going to die, so they wanted to protect James."
Ron's eyes narrowed and then widened. "If they knew, they would have protected James no matter what." But his face fell. "But it's been three weeks, Hermione. James couldn't live on his own for three weeks. He'd need someone, and no one else is missing."
Hermione's excitement had died as Ron spoke, but she suddenly froze, her eyes wide. “Remus is missing . . . Harry trusted Remus completely. Ron, we have to go now!”
Hermione ignored the babble of voices and dashed away from the memorial. She was breathing heavily by the time she reached the main gates of Hogwarts. Without glancing back, she pictured the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place in her mind and Disapparated a minute before Ron, Arthur, and Molly reached the gates.
Hermione Apparated into the kitchen at Grimmauld Place and quickly glanced around. She saw the roll of parchment on the kitchen table instantly. Her name was on it, and she hurried over and unrolled the parchment, her eyes scanning the words in a hurry. Tears were pouring down her cheeks as she finished the short letter and sank into one of the wooden chairs, clutching the letter to her chest as if it were priceless.
A few moments later, there were three cracks, and Hermione turned to face her fiancée and his parents. “He's alive.” she sobbed.
AN: Only two more chapters to go. Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing and sending death threats my way for killing off the entire Potter line. But as in most stories, things are not always as they seem.
Chapter 6: Atto Cinque: Requiem del Dimenticato
By Jonathan Avery
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it.
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible.
Atto Cinque
Requiem del Dimenticato
**-*-**
The color drained from Molly’s face as Hermione spoke, and she collapsed onto the floor as Ron and Arthur stood gaping like stunned fish. “Who’s alive?” Molly asked tentatively, obviously afraid of the answer.
“James,” Hermione responded, a genuine smile lighting up her tear-streaked face. “Harry saved him. He saved James and Ginny!”
“My baby? My grandson?” Molly asked again. “They’re alive?” Hermione only nodded, and it was like the sun rose in Molly’s face. She shrieked in joy and leapt to her feet to grab Arthur in a bone crushing hug. “They're alive, Arthur! Our Ginny! Our grandson! They’re alive!” Whatever she said next was never heard as she buried her face into Arthur’s shoulder and sobbed in relief and joy. Arthur stumbled a bit, trying to keep his balance and hold up his wife despite his recovering legs.
“We need to get the family over here,” Arthur said, using his cane to steady himself. “They all need to know. Merlin, this is wonderful news. This is . . .” He was silenced as Molly suddenly kissed him. The kiss dissolved as Molly began to hiccough from her tears, and then they both broke out in laughter. Molly spun out of Arthur's arms and started dancing around the kitchen as they both chanted, “They’re alive! They’re alive!”
“What about Harry?” Ron asked suddenly, cutting through all the noise, silencing everyone, and bringing Molly and Arthur to a halt. Three sets of eyes fixed themselves on Hermione. They were so happy that she was reluctant to ruin it for them, but they would eventually find out. She shook her head. “Ginny doesn’t . . . well . . . she doesn’t say so much that Harry is dead, but the letter . . . well, it is short and doesn’t mention him. But we need to get the family together first. She wants us to be together. I think there is something else here that we have not found yet.”
“Let me read that,” Ron demanded, snatching at the letter.
“No,” Hermione pulled the letter away from Ron. “If I let it go, or if anyone touches it, it will burn up. She enchanted it to protect herself and James. She doesn’t want anyone to know they are alive.”
“What do you mean?” Ron demanded.
“Where are they?” Molly asked at the same time. “I want to see them!”
“I've a right to know what happened to them!” Ron said.
“Shut up!” Hermione shrieked. Silence descended once more. “Just sit down, and I’ll read you the letter.”
“Wait,” Arthur said suddenly, “You said she wanted the family here?” Hermione nodded. Arthur straightened up and looked at his son. “We need to get the others. They should all be here to hear this, unless Ginny doesn’t want them to know?” Arthur glanced over at Hermione.
“She says that everyone in the family can hear this," Hermione said, "but no one else. She's terrified that the Ministry might find her.”
“I’ll go get them,” Ron said and then Disapparated before anyone could disagree.
“I hope he is discreet about this,” Hermione sighed.
“Well,” Molly stated with a cheerful smile before getting up and heading over to the pantry. “We will definitely need something to eat for this. Arthur, get out some dishes, and Hermione, don’t drop that letter.”
Thirty minutes later, a platter of sandwiches was on the table as well as some very dusty bottles of Butterbeer and a half full bottle of Ogden’s Firewhiskey. As Hermione cast a warming charm on her Butterbeer, the fireplace flared, and Fred and George stepped out.
“Oi, what’s going on?” Fred asked as both twins made their way towards the table and grabbed sandwiches.
“Ron popped into our flat in a right panic and told us to get over here” George said.
“Couldn't be bothered to explain it to us," Fred said with dramatic sigh. "First you lot run off on us at the service, and then you drag us over to this dump."
Fred and George glanced around and then frowned. "What?" George said. "What's happened? Percy’s not . . .” George waved his hand vaguely.
“No,” Molly said, handing them both Butterbeers. “It's good news for once.”
“Ron is such a . . .” Fred began.
“. . . git,” George finished and then turned to Fred. “We’ll have to thank him properly once we get this good news."
Fred grinned. “I’ve been wanting to test out our latest Spider Strudel.” He held out a pastry with golden icing.
“One bite of that," George said, "and he’ll be covered in very realistic. . .”
“. . . But completely edible. . .” Fred continued.
“. . . Chocolate spiders.” George grinned and then took a swig of his Butterbeer.
Three loud cracks later, Bill, Charlie, and Ron were back in the kitchen. Ron walked over, sat down next to Hermione, and kissed her cheek before grabbing a sandwich. “Great, I’m starved.”
“So is someone going to explain why we are all here?” Bill asked. “Fleur's waiting for me at her mother's, and I don't want to be late.”
“This is worth it,” Hermione said, and then she launched into an explanation of meeting Winston Crane at the memorial and rushing over to headquarters and finding a letter on the table.
“So what is so special about the letter,” Charlie asked.
“It’s from Ginny,” Hermione said. “She wrote it two days ago.”
The stunned silence lasted for a minute before the room erupted once more into shouted questions and jubilant exclamations. It took nearly ten minutes for Hermione to calm everyone down. “The letter will answer some of your questions. But it is short, so you’ll need to be patient and let me read it,” she said.
Clearing her throat, Hermione began to read, “To Hermione and Ron, Mum and Dad, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, and Percy."
"Why is she writing to that traitor?" Ron said.
"Hush," Hermione said. "I don't know. It's just what she wrote. Now can I continue?" Ron bit his lip and nodded. "Before I begin this, I must tell you, Hermione, that this letter is charmed so only you can open it, and it will incinerate after you put it down or if anyone else touches it. I'm sorry for that, but I cannot take any chances. No one can know that James and I survived the fight with Voldemort.
“I am writing this because the Ministry has finally declared James and me to be dead, and I expect you all to believe them and to have accepted that I have passed on. James and I escaped because of a Portkey Harry always made me carry. We are safe and alive, and that is all you need to know.
"Remus, Tonks, and Alastor Moody are with me. They have sworn to protect James and me, and you must trust them to do that. I wish I could tell you more in this letter. Truly, I do, but charms can be broken. However, I can tell you this. Hermione, I'm following through on the plan Harry and I told you about. I love you all.”
“Is that it?” Ron, Bill, and Fred shouted as Hermione stopped reading.
Hermione nodded her head and then gasped as another line appeared on the paper. Messier Moony asks you to properly ask the Marauders for help.
Quickly grabbing her wand, Hermione tapped the letter with it and stated clearly, “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”
“What’s going on?” Molly asked, moving to look over Hermione’s shoulder. Ron and the twins had wide grins on their faces.
Bold letters began writing themselves along the bottom of the page:
MESSIERS PADFOOT, MOONY, AND PRONGS WISH TO CONGRATULATE MS. GRANGER AND REWARD HER WITH THIS HINT. IN SNUFFLES’ WATER DISH WAS THIS RIDDLE’S PAST REVEALED.
Hermione read the words out loud and then squeaked in fright as the letter burst into flame.
“Brilliant!” Fred and George exclaimed.
“Why is it so brilliant?” Ron muttered.
“Because,” George explained, enunciating each word with exaggerated slowness, “Ginny would make a personal game out of something this important to make sure we knew it was really her and not some fake letter.”
“I guess,” Ron agreed, “but we still don’t know where she is, and all we have is some stupid riddle from Lupin.”
“How do you know Lupin wrote that?” Bill asked quickly.
“Remus Lupin is Moony,” Hermione answered with a dismissive wave.
“Really?” Fred exclaimed.
“Lupin was one of the Marauders?” George chimed in, staring at his brother for a moment and then sighing. “It’s not fair, Fred.”
“I know.”
“We finally figure out who the Marauders are, and one of them's up and disappeared with our sister.”
"She always said she'd prank us last," George said with a grin.
“Will you two be quiet!” Hermione snapped. “I am trying to figure this out. Ginny obviously wants us to find something.” She began pacing the kitchen, muttering as she fumbled through the riddle. “Well, Snuffles obviously refers to Sirius, but I am not sure what his water dish could be or where it would be.”
“Ginny wants us to find something,” Bill interrupted. “So, we need to know where to look for it, and maybe Snuffles’ water dish is meant to point us to a location?”
“Snuffles never had a water dish,” Hermione stated emphatically. “Snuffles was just Sirius’ Animagus form.”
“But everyone else thought Snuffles was a dog,” Ron said hesitantly.
“And where would you put a dog’s water dish?” Bill asked, smiling.
“In the kitchen,” Molly said, starting to look around the kitchen for something.
“No,” Hermione said. “Ginny would not have put whatever it is we are looking for in the same room as the letter. Besides, if I had a dog, I would put its food and water next to his bed like I do with Crookshanks.”
“To Sirius’ bedroom, then!” George announced with a smile, and then he headed for the kitchen door at a trot.
They all followed George as he scrambled up the stairs to Sirius’ old room and walked in. Hermione was one of the last ones into the room, and she found that Bill was holding a ceramic dish with the name 'Snuffles' engraved in it. He handed the dish to Hermione and shrugged his shoulders. “There's nothing in it.”
“No, there wouldn’t be anything in it,” Hermione answered as she turned the dish over in her hands. It was a lot heavier than it looked. “The riddle said that in Snuffles’ water dish was this riddle’s past revealed. Something is just wrong with that statement. It seems to indicate that we have already been shown what the riddle is and how to answer it. But what kind of riddle has a past?”
“Riddles don’t have pasts,” Arthur said. “People do.”
“That’s it,” Hermione crowed in triumph. All the pieces had clicked in her mind, and she pulled out her wand. “She didn’t mean a riddle, she meant Tom Riddle. And Harry showed us Tom’s past in Dumbledore’s pensieve. The water dish is a pensieve.” Hermione placed the water dish on the end table next to Sirius’ bed and pointed her wand at it. “Finite Incantatum.” The water dish shimmered, and suddenly, Dumbledore’s pensieve was resting on the end table. There was no mist in the pensieve, but as Hermione stepped closer she saw a small pile of tiny glass vials arranged in the basin.
Hermione took the vials out and placed them carefully on the bed. There were fourteen of them, each labeled with a piece of paper tied with a ribbon around the cork stopper. Except for two vials that were marked in Harry's messy scrawl, all of them were labeled in Ginny’s neat handwriting. Each was addressed to an individual except for the top two. One of those read, ‘view me first,’ and the other was labeled 'The Cottage.'
“She left us a message in these memories,” Hermione said. “I'm certain of it.”
Hermione picked up the 'view me first' vial, and then she pulled the pensieve out into the room so that they could all stand around it. She was a little nervous about going into the memory since she was not sure what Ginny had left them. She trusted her friend, though, and it was obviously important. Ginny would not have hidden it so well otherwise.
Uncapping the vial, Hermione poured the silvery memory into the pensieve and then looked expectantly at the others. “I know up to four people can go into the memory. So why don’t Ron, Arthur, Molly, and I go first and then you four can go second.” She indicated Bill, Charlie, and the twins.
It looked as if the twins were going to argue, but Molly stepped forward and stopped any disagreement before it started. “That's fine. Let’s see what Ginny left for us.”
Hermione nodded and prodded the silvery mist in the pensieve. It became clear, and she could see the library of Grimmauld Place. Taking a deep breath, she leaned forward and touched the smooth surface. After a moment of disorientation, she found herself standing in the image.
Ginny was sitting in Harry’s favorite chair facing the fireplace. James was asleep in her arms, his unruly black hair sticking up and a stuffed dragon clutched in one hand. She was singing a soft lullaby to her son, rocking him in her arms as she stared into the fire. Remus was sitting on the couch next to the chair. Tonks was stretched out on the couch, apparently fast asleep, her head cradled in Remus’ lap. She had thick bandages wrapped around her abdomen and a burn salve covering the left side of her face and neck. Mad-Eye Moody paced around the room, his magical eye spinning wildly in his head. Harry was nowhere to be seen.
Hermione walked around the furniture so she could see Ginny’s face. The battle with Voldemort was evident on her. There were a few bruises on her neck and cheeks. A nasty cut crossed her right cheek, but it appeared to be healing well. Despite the injuries, a small smile played across Ginny’s lips as she rocked her child, but the smile never reached her eyes. Her normally vibrant chocolate eyes were weary and held a deep pain that tugged at Hermione’s heart. Those were the eyes of someone who had seen too much pain and loss.
“Ginny,” Lupin said, breaking the silence and halting Ginny’s humming. “Do you want me to do this? They just need to see that you're here and alive. You don’t need to talk to them. You've already left other messages for them.”
Ginny remained silent for a moment, her head cocked to the side as if listening to a distant voice, and then she shook her head. “No, Moony. I need to do this. They deserve to hear it from me.”
“Okay,” Remus replied, a gentle note in his voice. “But you need to do it soon. We have to leave before the sun rises.” Ginny nodded, took a deep breath, and looked around. Apparently she decided to just stare at a spot a few feet behind Hermione. “I was going to put all of this in a letter to you all,” Ginny began, her voice soft but determined, “but the pensieve needs to be returned to Hogwarts, and I think that Mum will get more comfort from a personal message from me than from a letter that just burns up after Hermione reads it, or pensieve messages that were left before the battle.”
Hermione felt Ron’s hand settling on her shoulder, and she leaned back against him. Looking to the side, she saw that Molly was encircled in Arthur’s arms, tears glistening on her cheeks as her hands unconsciously reached out toward Ginny.
“I know there are a lot of questions that need to be answered about what happened at the cottage. I’m sorry. I can’t give those to you. It's . . . “ her voice cracked, and Ginny turned away from them to stare down at the sleeping face of James. For a few minutes she just watched him, gently caressing his cheek. Finally, she looked back up at the spot behind Hermione. “I’m sorry. I just can’t re-live it right now. I left my memory of it with the pensieve in case you want to see what happened, but Remus says that it's . . . well, incomplete.”
“It breaks down just before Voldemort dies,” Remus interrupted. Ginny threw him a grateful look as Remus continued. “Something happened to Harry and Ginny that we haven’t figured out. Ginny is okay, but Harry . . .”
“No!” Ginny suddenly exclaimed, turning to face Remus.
In the instant Ginny turned to Remus, Hermione saw a flash of green in Ginny’s eyes, and for a moment it was like Hermione was staring into Harry’s eyes. Then it passed as Ginny completely faced Remus.
“Harry sacrificed himself to save James, Tonks, and me,” Ginny stated in a hard voice. “That is all they need to know. None of the rest of it matters. I am not going to play that game, Remus. And neither are you.”
As Ginny spoke, Hermione walked over to stare at her, but Ginny’s eyes were brown like always. It must have been the light or a trick of the pensieve. She quickly forgot about it as Remus asked the question that Hermione wanted answered.
“Then why are we leaving, Ginny?” Remus demanded. “Why run away and hide and hurt your family even more? They're at home right now grieving because they've been told you are dead! They deserve to know, and Harry deserves to have the truth known. If you don’t tell them, then I . . .”
Remus suddenly went silent as Ginny pulled out her wand and cast a Silencing Charm on him. “Harry is dead to everyone but me, Remus, and they need to accept that, as do you,” Ginny hissed as she glared at Remus . “You promised Harry, and then you gave me your Unbreakable Vow.”
Hermione was utterly confused. Something extraordinary had obviously occurred during the final battle with Voldemort, but whatever it could be was beyond her. Glancing around, she saw the same befuddled expressions on the others’ faces that probably adorned hers.
Ginny was still talking to Remus, but her voice had lost its edge. “Remus, I respect you, and I love you like an uncle. I need you and Tonks and Moody beside me for this. I can’t do it alone. I can’t raise James, protect him, and figure out what happened without your help. Harry trusted you with my life and the life of his son, your godson.”
Ginny turned away from Remus and raised her wand, releasing the Silencing Charm. “This is your second chance, Moony. You didn’t get it with Harry. You can have that chance with James. With me.” Remus started to speak, but Ginny waved him off. “I know I’m not Lily. I know that this can never replace what you had at school, what you lost. But everything was put on hold when they died. This is our chance to fix everything. To make the world better, like it would have been.”
Wiping tears from her eyes, Ginny turned back to Remus. “I promise, Moony. I swear to you, and to my family that is watching. If we can’t make this work, then we will go home before James is old enough to go to Hogwarts.”
Silence fell between Remus and Ginny. Hermione took the chance to return to Ron, who had a puzzled expression on his face. “What's going on?” he demanded.
“I don’t know,” Hermione admitted. “I really don’t know, and I wish I did.” Ron wrapped her tightly in his arms as Ginny watched Remus.
“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Remus replied after a few moments. “I know why we're doing this. I know why we're following through with Harry's plans and leaving. But I'm also looking out for you. You're carrying too large of a burden for a young woman with a small child.”
“Harry had the fate of the Wizarding world on his shoulders for his entire life,” Ginny stated. “I can do this for him.”
“Ginny . . .”
“No, Remus. I've already told them too much, and I'm too tired and hurt and lost to try to start over. I just hope Hermione will forgive me for leaving her an unsolvable mystery.” The ghost of a smile crossed her face before she turned back to look over Hermione’s shoulder as Hermione cursed silently.
She was fascinated by whatever mysterious quest awaited Ginny and her companions, but it was obvious that this was all she would get. Of course, maybe there was something else in the memory that could throw more light on this enigma. She would have to review the conversation several times to be sure she understood as much as possible.
Lost in her own thoughts, Hermione barely noticed when Ginny started speaking again. Shelving her curiosity, Hermione focused on her friend.
“I'm sorry about that,” Ginny apologized. “We're still coming to terms with everything, and it's very difficult at times.” Her eyes flickered briefly to Tonks' still form, but she continued her thoughts without a pause. “I don’t have a lot of time, and I need to clear up a few things.”
Ginny swallowed and licked her lips, as if tasting the words she would use next. “There is a great deal I should tell you. I wish I had time to tell you everything because I know how angry you'll be when I tell you what I need to. Hermione, can you please explain some of the things I'm going to say?"
Hermione shook her head as she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach.
Ginny shifted James and then said, "Harry and I lied to all of you. We've been lying to you for years. Ever since Harry escaped from Voldemort, we've known how to end this war. We knew that Harry was a Horcrux, and that as long as he lived, Voldemort could come back again."
"What's a Horcrux?" Molly asked.
Shocked, Hermione waved away the question and absently said, "Later." Harry had never spoken about the three months when Voldemort had held him captive. His reluctance to talk about it, and the fact that he refused to fight Voldemort in front of the Ministry during his escape, had fueled the speculation that Harry had turned dark. However, knowing that he was a Horcrux explained his lack of desire to confront or do anything about Voldemort until after Wormtail had handed over Hufflepuff''s Cup five months ago.
"But it didn't matter at the time," Ginny continued, and Hermione filed away her thoughts, "because we still hadn't found the others. I was pregnant with James, and we were both so scared. So we just continued as if nothing had changed." Ginny sniffed and wiped at her eyes. "You don't know how hard it was to do that. Every lead that Hermione brought to us, every chance we had at finding another one, just felt like I was taking another shovelful of dirt out of his grave.
"Every time you came to us, Hermione, and told us that you'd hit a dead end, I'd thank God because I had more time with him and because he'd get to see his son born and watch him grow up." Ginny scrubbed at her eyes again, but it made little difference as new tears replaced the old ones.
"After James was born, I begged him to just disappear. I wanted to just take you all and go somewhere else, some other country where no one had ever heard of Voldemort or magic. But we'd forgotten about that damn register at Hogwarts. We'd not even thought of it. Because of it, Voldemort knew about James, and the Ministry knew about James, and they all wanted him. We didn't have a choice anymore.
"Even if we ran, the Ministry would find us and take James, or Voldemort would come and kill him." Ginny pulled James tight against her bosom and buried her face in his hair. "Mum, you understand. You'd do anything for us. We just wanted James to have a life and not be hunted or used. He deserves what Harry didn't have, what I did have. And we would have done anything for that. Even if it meant dying for him."
"I know, sweetheart," Molly said in an anguished whisper. "I don't blame you. No matter what."
Although the memory of Ginny could never have heard Molly, she smiled and cocked her head to the side. She squared her shoulders, and a bloom of color shaded Ginny's cheeks as if she had gained some strength after her mother spoke. Ginny took a deep breath and sniffed a few times before returning to look at the wall. Although now, Hermione was directly in her line of sight, and it felt as if Ginny were talking only to her.
"After the Ministry tried to steal James from Grimmauld Place . . ."
"What?" Molly shouted, but Hermione focused on Ginny, having already heard the story the night before the Battle of Hogwarts.
"We knew that James would only be safe if everyone thought he was dead and that we were dead as well. It was a crazy plan. We had no clue how we would pull it off, but we had to be hidden for it to work, and so we approached Percy to be our secret keeper.
"He agreed quickly. He so wanted to atone for what he had done. He wanted to be useful to the family, and Harry and I used him for our own purposes." Ginny paused and set her face. "I've read the papers. I know what they're saying about Percy. Don't believe them. Don't take it out on him. Yes, he was giving information to Voldemort, and he gave up our location to the Ministry and to Voldemort. But he did it because Harry and I told him to."
“Oh, dear God!” Hermione whimpered. “I didn’t know, Ron. I was so mean to him.”
Ron simply pulled her tightly against him before he spoke, his voice rough with grief, “We all turned our backs on him, ‘Mione. But he's alive. We can fix it. I promise.”
Hermione nodded as Ginny turned away from them and stared fixedly at James’ sleeping face. Her voice was thick with emotion when she continued. “Percy, I don't know if you will ever hear this. We asked too much of you. We forced you to betray your family again, and it's because of Harry and I that you were tortured and beaten and forced to tell Voldemort all of our secrets. I wish I could say that I wouldn't do it all again, but I cannot."
Ginny sobbed, her eyes glazed with tears as she looked up directly into Hermione’s face. “All I can say is thank you, Percy. You are the true hero. You're the reason James and I are alive and Voldemort is dead. I just hope that you can forgive me.” Ginny dissolved into tears and buried her head into James' hair. Surprisingly, Mad Eye Moody came across the room and placed a gruff hand on her shoulder.
"My poor baby," Molly sobbed. "I tried not to doubt him, Arthur, but I did. My poor baby."
"Shh, Molly," Arthur said, and Hermione glanced backwards to see Molly wrapped tightly in her husband's arms, sobbing softly into his robes.
"He made his choice," Mad Eye said. "He did his duty, and he did it like a true Gryffindor. He's a good man, and mark my words, child. He'll make it through."
Hermione turned back around and saw Ginny nod and clasp her delicate hand over Moody's gnarled one. "Thanks. I know." Moody grunted and then retreated to the far side of the room again, obviously uncomfortable with the affection he had displayed.
Ginny sat up straighter. "Alastor is right. Percy was very brave, and it was his choice in the end. He fought us for a long time, but we explained that we were laying a trap for Voldemort. That we had to face him alone and that would guarantee our victory. We even had to get Remus and Tonks in on it, to a point," Ginny said. "I'm sorry, Hermione and Ron. We had to exclude you because you had to think James was dead. You couldn't just disappear the day he did. It would have been too suspicious. But Tonks is a fugitive, and Remus is a werewolf. No one has seen either of them for almost four years."
Part of her understood, but it still hurt to hear why her best friends had cut her out of their lives over the past months. Still, they had intended to entrust their greatest possession to her and Ron, and that thought eased the twinge of betrayal and jealousy that reared up at Ginny's words.
"Besides, Tonks was always with us, and we couldn't hide anything from her. Remus needed to know as the leader of the Order. But neither of them knew what was going to happen. For Merlin's sake," Ginny said, "Harry and I weren't even sure."
"Ginny," Remus said suddenly, "time is running out. You need to wrap this up."
Ginny glanced at Remus and sighed. "You're right. I really wanted to explain everything. I know Hermione will kill me when she sees me again, and I'm sure my Mum will as well. But, to be blunt, everything went pear-shaped on Halloween. Harry and I were supposed to face Voldemort alone in the cottage, but Voldemort was able to drag part of the plan out of Percy. He came much earlier than we intended, and he came through the Headmistress's Office. I was caught by surprise, and Harry hadn't arrived yet. He had Lucius and Bellatrix there, and before we could even cast a spell, Dobby appeared and handed James to Voldemort.
"I couldn't do anything. Voldemort had his wand at James' throat, and Tonks, Minerva, and I just sat and waited until Harry appeared while Voldemort mocked us."
Hermione was biting her lip as Ginny talked. She had only asked Dumbledore about the end of the fight, and the Ministry had not released any information on the final duel between Voldemort and Harry other than to declare them both dead. Ron's arms tightened about her as Ginny continued to talk, telling them about Harry's arrival and the resulting battle.
"I could tell you every detail," Ginny said, "but I left my memory of the battle for you. Truthfully, I wish I could tell you how Voldemort was defeated, but I don't know. Only Harry knows that, and he . . ." Ginny swallowed and looked away. "He didn't survive. He died for all of us, and I can't let that go to waste. I can't let our son be caught up in the legacy they are creating for Harry." Ginny paused and then took a deep breath. "I sometimes wish he were a Squib. Then he wouldn't have to deal this world at all."
James began to struggle in his sleep. He whimpered in fright, and he began to cry. Startled, Ginny spent several minutes calming him back into slumber. “He’s been having nightmares,” Ginny finally said. “So I had best make this quick before he wakes up. Even though we are dead to the world, the spells hiding us will eventually wear off. Once James turns eleven, Minerva's spell will fail and his name will reappear on the Hogwart's registry. But we are all still leaving the Wizarding world for the time being. Tom is dead, but James and I would be a symbol if we were known to be alive.
“Percy informed us that the Ministry already had plans to use James as a way to control Harry or bribe Voldemort. Even with Harry gone, they would probably be more than willing to take him from me and raise him as a symbol of some new order, just as they used polyjuice potion to impersonate Harry and raise an army. I refuse to let anyone use my son. He is going to grow up normally and blissfully ignorant of the war and his father’s fame and infamy until he is old enough to understand.
“If that were the only reason we were leaving,” she continued, “I would find a way for you all to come along. The plans we had for Ron and Hermione would have allowed you all to disappear eventually, but you need to understand something. I should not be alive."
Molly gasped, and Hermione almost shouted a question at Ginny before she remembered that this was a memory. Why should Ginny be dead? She wanted to ponder the question, but Ginny was plowing on with her explanation.
". . . should have died that night with Harry. But because I'm alive, I have certain things that I must do. No one else can do this. I would love all of you to come with me and support me. I don’t want to leave, but I, as well as the rest of the Wizarding world, have a debt to repay to Harry, and this is the only way to do it. He sacrificed everything for me and his child. He endangered his eternal existence to destroy Voldemort and to end the oppression and hate that divides us.” Ginny’s eyes were suddenly full of life and vigor, and purpose seemed to suffuse her.
“Please understand that I am leaving not to hurt you or to anger you, but because Harry and I are bound so that not even death can separate us. Harry wanted you all to be free to live your lives once he defeated Voldemort. He was never concerned with how the world saw him or remembered him. He wanted you, his family, to live for him and represent everything that he embodied in his life. I am his wife, his lover, the mother of his child, and his soul mate. It is my place to carry on his burden and destiny. When I have finished, then I will come home.”
For a brief moment, Hermione saw her eyes once more flash an emerald green. But it was there and gone like a dream, and then Ginny was saying her goodbyes.
“Mum and Dad, I love you. I'm sorry that you will not be able to see me for a long time. It tears my heart that I cannot say goodbye properly, but remember that you will always be with me because you raised me as I will raise James.” Ginny blew a kiss before she continued speaking.
“My brothers. You can no longer protect me. You need to let go and live your own lives. Find wives and raise children. Enjoy life for the sake of being alive. Do not try to find me. You won't be able to, and you'll endanger me if people figure out that I am alive.” A mischievous grin crossed Ginny’s face. “Fred and George, make life hell for that idiot Rufus.”
“Hermione.” Hermione started at the sound of her name. “Be happy with Ron. You were mine and Harry’s dearest friend, and we want you to enjoy the life we have sacrificed to give you. I know you and Ron both want to be with me and to help me. Your part is done. You were there to be Harry's family and the rock he stood on while he faced his destiny. He wants you to be happy. I want you to be happy. Hopefully you will be able to receive letters from your youngest sister. I will make sure she sends them at least yearly.” Hermione frowned at this, and then she smiled as she realized that Ginny would keep them informed through letters to her.
“Ron, Harry can’t tell you this now, but he wanted you to know that your friendship was the most important thing in the world to him. Without you, he would never have found a family, never have found me, never have survived through his time at Hogwarts. You gave him a life when he had none and gave him more strength than you will ever know. And, always, you did it standing in his shadow. Harry hated that fact. He hated that you always were seen as second to him when he always saw you as the one to envy. Get out of his shadow, Ron. Live your life.”
"He’s wrong,” Ron stated in a thick voice, “I stopped envying him sixth year. But he was the best mate a bloke could ever have.” Hermione squeezed his hand in sympathy.
“Lastly,” Ginny continued, “now that we are dead, you all will be inheriting my estate. A portion has been given to Remus so that we can live in hiding. The rest will be split among all of you. It will not make you wealthy, but it will give you enough to survive until the dust settles and you can build a life without the stigma of being the family of the Dark Lord Potter.”
Ginny stood up from the chair and carried James over to Remus. He put a steadying hand on her arm as she stood in front of him. “I love you all. We love you all. Goodbye.”
Hermione was startled as she was suddenly pulled out of the memory and deposited on the floor of Sirius’ room. It was still for a moment before the questions began filling the air. Sitting on the floor, Hermione tuned the Weasley family out and played through Ginny’s message to them all.
Around her, she could hear the anxious worry in Molly’s voice. Arthur’s firm tones were trying to keep everyone calm. Bill and Charlie were demanding to know what was going on. The twins were pushing people aside so they could use the pensieve.
Not wishing to get trampled, Hermione pulled herself across the floor until she was leaning against the door frame. She did not notice Ron until he sat down beside her. “How are we going to find her?” he asked quickly.
The question startled Hermione so much that she was a few moments in answering. “We are not going to find her.”
“What?!” Ron shouted, silencing the room. “That's my baby sister, Hermione! She needs us. This isn’t like us going after the damn Horcruxes. She has a baby. She's grieving.”
“She is doing what she wants to do, Ronald Bilius Weasley!” Hermione snapped in anger. “She is not a child. She is a married woman and has a child of her own. She has just lost her husband and is doing what she thinks is necessary.” The words tumbled out her mouth before she even thought about them. But as she said them, Hermione realized that Ginny was right. Their part was done. Tom was dead, and they now needed to live their lives.
“But . . .”
“Ron,” Hermione said as she turned and knelt in front of him. There was a wild fervor about his face and a set in his jaw that meant he was readying himself for an argument. With a gentle hand, she cupped his cheek and brushed his cheek with her thumb, “Ginny doesn’t need us right now. I know you love her, but don’t assume that I love her any less. Or that Remus and Tonks don’t love her and want to keep her safe. She chose to do this. You know your sister. Has she ever been forced into anything by anyone she loves?”
“No, but . . .”
“No more buts, Ron.” Hermione kissed him, holding him in place until he wrapped his arms around her and returned the kiss with equal fervor. They broke apart after a few moments, and Hermione placed her forehead against his. “Harry died so that we can love each other and have a life together.
“Please,” she pleaded, including the rest of her fiancée's family in a glance, “we can’t honor him out there." Hermione motioned towards the window. "Out there he is the Dark Lord Potter. The Ministry hates him and most of us because we stood by him. Ginny knows that, and Harry knew that would happen. If we want to honor his memory and his sacrifice, we need to do what Ginny told us to do. We need to live. Have children, enjoy life, and never forget him. He won’t get a memorial or any respect. We are his legacy. We are the requiem for the forgotten hero who was our friend, Harry Potter.”
There was a rumble of agreement from the Weasley family. Molly wandered over and gave Hermione a hug and a kiss. “I miss her, but at least she's alive. And that means Harry is alive as well, in her and in James. I am going to go make some dinner.” Molly straightened up and opened the door. She glanced back at her sons and added, with a smile, “Why don’t you boys go listen to your sister? Then we can eat and go home.”
Bill, Charlie, and the twins approached the pensieve and entered the memory, but Hermione was still looking at Ron, watching his face to see what he would say. His eyes were distant in thought for a while before his brow set as he came to a decision.
For a moment, Hermione thought he would continue to argue with her, but instead he gave her a hug and then said, “He was - well, always will be - my best mate, ‘Mione. These last few years have been so hard. But, you’re right. He never let us down.” He paused, and Hermione leaned into his hand as his rough thumb brushed away her tears.
“Ginny’s right. We owe it to him, but I don’t have to like her being out there with those three hooligans.”
“I don’t like it either, love.”
“She always was too much like him. Besides,” Ron added with a grin, “they were going to disappear if they survived, anyway. He never wanted to be famous.”
“Yes,” Hermione agreed, burying her face in his chest, simply enjoying the warmth and contentment of being alive and in love. “He always hated that bloody scar.”
Chapter 7: Epilogue: Overture per una Nuova Vita
By Jonathan Avery
Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I am merely telling a story in her world for the fun of it.
AN: Thanks to my beta team, Velvet Mouse and Sovran who have suffered endlessly in my quest for perfection. Without them, this project would not be possible.
Epilogue
Overture per una Nuova Vita
**-*-**
The fireplace flared green, and Hermione Weasley stepped out into the warm kitchen of the Burrow. She despised not being able to Apparate, but she had to be careful. She was almost nine months pregnant with her first child, and Floo travel was the safest. Stretching her sore back, she delicately moved over to the table and sat down, allowing the sweet smell of baking bread and simmering stew to ease her tension.
An abundance of wreaths and tinsel decorated the kitchen walls. Cinnamon candles filled the air with their heady aroma as they burned on the table, and underneath it all was the sweet tang of pine. Closing her eyes, Hermione allowed the atmosphere of the Burrow at Christmas to fill her with joy and contentment. Although she had fond memories of Christmas with her parents, Christmas with the Weasley family left her with an indescribable feeling of peace and belonging despite all the hard times. Although they had never wanted over the last eight years due to Harry and Ginny's inheritance and the success of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, times had not been easy for the family.
In the year after Harry’s death, the Ministry had vehemently cracked down on former Death Eaters and members of the Order of the Phoenix. They had created a great fiction around Harry Potter and his supposed rise to and fall from power, and they had twisted Harry’s efforts to work with the non-human magical creatures into a plan to usurp the power of Wizards and Witches. Families that had supported Harry, like the Weasleys and the Longbottoms, found themselves without support and derided as traitors. Hermione, as well as many other members of the family, were brought before the Wizengamot on empty charges of "undermining the Wizarding world."
Arthur Weasley had suffered the worst. Since his adamant defense of Harry eight years ago, which had cost him his job at the Ministry, he had been brought before the Wizengamot twice. Fortunately, both indictments from the Ministry had been unsuccessful, but finding work after the two very public trials had been impossible. He had found sporadic jobs in the Muggle world for a time until the twins began turning a decent profit in their business and gave him a job developing joke Muggle items for them.
Arthur was happy these days. Hermione remembered stopping over to the Burrow three years ago to find Molly in the kitchen, staring out the window and smiling. Joining her, Hermione had been surprised to see smoke billowing out of Arthur’s work shed. In answer to her questioning glance, Molly had smiled and said, “I think things are getting back to normal.”
Sitting at the kitchen table and enjoying the warm glow of the Burrow, Hermione absently stroked her pregnant belly. While nothing would be the way it was during those blissful summers in between terms at Hogwarts, life had a way of moving on and compensating. She was happy, her family was happy, and they were getting by. That was all that mattered.
“Who’s here?” Molly’s voice drifted into the kitchen. Hermione heard the stairs creak as her mother-in-law came downstairs.
“It's just me, Mum,” Hermione called back.
Molly entered the kitchen with a smile on her face. “Oh, Hermione dear. You’re early.” The years had been kind to Molly. Silver accented her red hair, but her eyes were still youthful and full of light. She often said that her grandchildren kept her young, and Hermione had to agree after watching Molly spoil her dozen grandchildren. Well, it would soon be thirteen, Hermione smiled. Actually, she frowned, fourteen, but James was never mentioned in front of the other grandchildren. They would be told when they were older.
“I finished grading the end of term exams earlier than I thought,” Hermione explained, starting to get to her feet.
“Oh, sit down, dear,” Molly fussed, gently pushing down on Hermione’s shoulder. “If you don’t stop and relax, between being on your feet in that potions lab all day and running yourself ragged cleaning up after Ron, that baby will be here before we open presents tomorrow.”
“Oh, no,” Hermione laughed. “I still have three weeks, and the first one is always late, especially in my family. I was two weeks late myself.”
“Weasley babies are always early,” Molly smiled, and then her smile slipped a bit. “Well, James was late, but Ginny was nearly five weeks early.” She paused and looked around. “And where is Ron? You shouldn’t be traveling by yourself right now.”
“Oh,” Hermione said, her eyes bright, “I was supposed to tell you. He got an owl from the Cannons this morning. They offered him the reserve keeper spot, and he had to go in and fill out some paperwork. He's so excited.” Hermione glowed with pride for her husband.
The Dublin Dragons, a Quidditch farm team in Ireland, had recruited Ron a year after the end of the war. Although the pay was lousy and he ended up playing or practicing almost nine months out of the year, he loved it. Ginny and Harry's bequest had gotten them through the first rough years while she finished her education and gained a professorship. Now, she made more than enough as a Hogwarts Professor to support them, and Ron followed his dream in remembrance of Harry.
“What wonderful news!” Her mother-in-law beamed and then wrapped Hermione in a hug. “I just keep getting good news today.” Molly released Hermione, walked to the counters, and began putting together a tray of tea and biscuits. “Everyone is going to be here.”
“Even Percy?” Hermione asked in surprise.
Percy had been in St. Mungo’s for nearly two years, recovering from the torture inflicted by Lucius Malfoy. After he had left St. Mungo’s, Hermione had allowed him to see Ginny’s pensieve message. Hermione often cursed herself for that mistake. Percy had come out of it a completely different man. Whereas the torture and subsequent time in St. Mungo's had removed the last traces of the arrogant and ambitious Percy, the pensieve memory had lit a fire under him to find Ginny and James and to insure that nothing harmed them. For the last five years, he had traveled the world searching for them. He returned every Christmas to read Ginny’s most recent letter before leaving to follow the letter's clues.
Molly brought the tea service to the table, poured a cup of tea for Hermione, and then handed her a few chocolate biscuits. “He showed up last night, unhurt for once.” Molly glanced over at her family clock. Most of the hands were pointed to work, but Percy’s indicated home along with Hermione’s and Molly’s. Ginny’s new hand was pointed toward unknown. Someone, possibly Harry, had removed her original one before the Final Battle. “He mentioned that he might be staying for a while,” Molly added.
“Well, the letter hasn’t arrived yet,” Hermione reassured her. “So he will probably be here at least through Christmas.”
True to Ginny’s promise, Hermione had received a letter from her ‘younger sister’ every Christmas for the last eight years. In them, Ginny told stories about James and spoke about Remus, Tonks, and Alastor, including Remus and Tonks' wedding three years ago.
The first two letters touched on domestic life and had even included a few pictures of Ginny and James, which Molly kept in an album only she could open. The pictures showed Ginny and the rest leading normal Muggle lives somewhere. Hermione was certain that they had spent those first years in the States or Canada, but she had no proof. Percy had uncovered a town in the Western States whose residents had recognized Ginny’s picture, but there were a lot of petite, freckled redheads in the world.
After the first two, the letters had gradually lengthened and begun dropping subtle hints that the odd family was traveling and searching for something. With the clues Ginny interspersed within her letters, Hermione had pieced together a rough timeline of their travels. Surprisingly, they had spent most of their time moving about the Middle East and the Orient. Occasionally, the letters mentioned Europe or the States.
Then, two years ago, Hermione had received a letter from Ginny in the middle of summer. The letter, covered in tear stains and written in a very shaky hand, had left a hollow feeling in all of their hearts. Hermione had memorized it long ago.
Dear Older Sister,
I am not sure I will be able to write you again. Someone knows about us. My baby was kidnapped two weeks ago, just after we made such a huge breakthrough. We were able to get him back, but Alastor . . . Alastor was killed during the rescue. We buried him yesterday. My baby is heartbroken. He keeps asking for his Grandpa One-Eye. I tried to explain about death, but it is so difficult. He doesn’t understand because of everything else that is going on.
I loved Alastor like a father. He has saved us all so many times. He has asked for nothing in return. The only comfort I can take in my grief is knowing that he was never happier than he had been since agreeing to help me. We were the family he never got to have. He told me that once.
I miss him so much,
Your younger sister.
The autumn and winter following that letter were bleak and solemn, and they celebrated a subdued Christmas. Everyone hoped Ginny would write them again, but Hermione had been stuck at Hogwarts over the holiday and had been unable to share the annual letter until Christmas had passed. Even then, though, the letter had been brief. Ginny had assured them that she was fine and that they were on the move again. And then there was only silence from her until the previous Christmas. That had been a hopeful letter, and Ginny had told them that she should have some good news for them all by next Christmas.
And now it was the next Christmas.
“Well, I hope that her letter this year will mean that Percy doesn't have to leave again,” Molly said with a sad, wistful smile.
Hermione nodded in understanding. She had been trying to remain realistic, as had the rest of the family, but all of them secretly hoped that Ginny’s letter would announce her return. Eight years had passed. They all had moved on with their lives, just as Harry had wished. Now it was time for Ginny to do the same.
Hermione and her mother-in-law chatted about family matters for a while as they enjoyed their tea. After an hour or so, a loud crack caused Hermione to fumble her cup, spilling hot tea over her hands. Spinning around, Hermione saw Ron standing in the kitchen, his well worn equipment bag slung over his shoulder.
“Honey! I’m home,” he joked loudly, his face alight with a goofy grin.
Settling her cup on the table and drying her hands, Hermione glared at her husband. “Ronald, I know you can Apparate quietly. You were quieter than Harry when we were in Rumania. So stop being lazy!”
Unfazed by his wife’s anger, Ron stepped up behind her, gave her a brief kiss on the cheek, and then went to hug his mother. “Well, if you’re going to yell at me, ‘Mione, I won’t tell you the good news.” Ron grinned with boyish enthusiasm.
“Ron, I know the Cannons offered you a job,” Hermione said in a low growl, annoyed that Ron was changing the subject. He did that all the time just to get her mad so they could make up later on. And despite knowing it, she always got caught. “And don’t change the subject. I almost broke your mother’s tea cup because of you popping around like a deranged Weasley Whiz Bang!”
“Oy, woman,” Ron announced, unzipping his equipment bag. “This Weasley Whiz Bang was just offered the starting keeper spot for the Chudley Cannons.” He pulled out a bright orange Quidditch robe with the words WEASLEY emblazoned across the back in black letters.
Ron never saw his wife’s stunned and then elated expression as Molly shrieked in joy and grabbed him in a constrictor-like hug that left him gasping for air. “Oh, this is brilliant! You’re a professional Quidditch player! I mean it's the Cannons, but . . . Oh! I am so proud of you!” She kissed his cheeks over and over.
As Molly fussed over her son, Hermione got to her feet and fixed her face in a furious expression. She was going to enjoy this. She stalked toward Ron as Molly released him. “Starting keeper?” she hissed in a dangerous voice. Ron’s elated expression shifted to confusion and then terror as his irate wife rounded on him. “We had an agreement, Ronald.”
‘But . . .” Ron muttered, dropping his head in shame just before Hermione winked at Molly, who had a shocked expression on her face.
“No buts!” Hermione snapped. “I told you that you could take the reserve position because it meant you would get more money and be traveling less.”
“But the starting position pays more, and they need me. Chadwick is out for at least twelve months with dragon pox.”
“More money?! You’ll be traveling more and leaving me alone with the baby. Did you think of that?” Ron hung his head and shook it. “Well then, there is only one thing you can do, dear.”
“What’s that?” Ron asked in a defeated voice.
“Inform them that your wife and child will be traveling with you until next September,” Hermione said in a soft tone before grabbing and kissing him. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispered after releasing him.
“What's all the yelling about?” Arthur asked as he walked into the kitchen from the living room. He walked with a cane and a slight limp. His legs had never completely healed from the night of the final battle, but he made do.
“Go tell your father the news,” Molly said, shooing both Hermione and Ron out of the kitchen. “I need to get dinner started. The rest of the army will be here in a few hours.”
Later that evening, Hermione reclined with her sisters-in-law beside the fireplace in the kitchen. They all gossiped and drank heavily spiced wassail, although Hermione had declined the alcohol and nursed a rich hot chocolate. The children had been bundled off to bed more than an hour ago, and a blanket of peaceful contentment had settled over the Burrow.
The men were in the living room, putting the last of the presents under the tree and keeping a close eye on Fred and George. Boisterous laughter regularly rumbled in from the men as they talked about Quidditch, their wives, and the new store the twins were planning to open in the States.
The occasional jab was thrown at the Cannons, which often sent Ron into a tirade about how he was going to turn the team around. Ron and his brothers had been going at it since he made the announcement at dinner, which had prompted the twins to steal and animate his robes. While the robes danced about the kitchen, dodging everything the grandchildren threw at them, the Weasley brothers had been shoved outside to enact the Annual Weasley Snowball War.
Everyone had worn themselves out, and Hermione was enjoying the soft chatter and warm hot chocolate in her hands. Fleur was talking quietly with Fred’s fiancée, Angelina. Fred and Angelina had been dating for nearly six years, and everyone had assumed that they would never get engaged. However, Fred had finally decided that he could not risk Percy finding and marrying someone before him and so had proposed several weeks before. At least that was what he kept telling everyone. Angelina had informed the women that she had actually warned Fred that they were going to get married or else.
George’s wife, a Muggle named Cora, was listening to Charlie’s wife Tracey discuss her two sons' latest adventure on the dragon preserve. Hermione just shook her head. She did not understand how Charlie and Tracey could raise four children on a dragon preserve in Rumania. And the things they let them do! Sometimes they were worse than Hagrid, bless his dear soul.
Listening to the adventures of the siblings, Hermione thought that maybe having two children would not be so bad. The pregnancy had been relatively easy, and Hermione, after watching all of her sisters-in-law with their own children, was certain that having a baby would be more than worth it.
Molly interrupted Hermione’s musings as she joined the women and took a cup of wassail from the table. “I must say,” she said, “that Christmas is much more enjoyable now that I am not playing referee for seven over excited children on top of doing everything else.”
“Yes, that is true,” Fleur said with a tired smile. “I have always wondered how you did it. And speaking of which, I have an announcement. Bill and I . . .”
She never finished as Ron’s loud voice thundered through the kitchen. “For Merlin’s sake, Bill! Haven’t you ever heard of a Contraceptive Charm?” Ron asked loudly, his voice incredulous. “Or are you and Fleur breeding for England?”
Laughter followed this statement and then a loud thud. “Ow!” Ron snapped. “That hurt. I was just playing, ya ruddy prat.”
The women quickly drowned out the men as they congratulated Fleur on her pregnancy. Enjoying the moment, Hermione did not notice the brown barn owl until it landed on the table. The roll of parchment tied to its leg was addressed to her. The handwriting looked familiar, but Hermione could not place it. Opening the letter, she was surprised to find Ginny's neat script.
The note was succinct and caused Hermione to gasp in surprise.
The other women stopped talking at Hermione’s gasp. “What is it, dear?” Molly asked.
“It's from Ginny,” Hermione said.
“Well,” Fleur prodded, “don’t leave us in suspense. Tell us what our missing sister is doing.”
“Beloved Sister,” Hermione read out loud. “This will be my last letter to you. Things have happened, and circumstances have changed. If you want to know everything, there is a gift for you at Snuffles' house. It will be there before I send this letter. I love you all. Your younger sister.”
Hermione put down the letter and stared at her sisters-in-law for a moment before the entire Burrow exploded into motion. It took them until midnight to sort out the furor that Ginny’s letter spawned. After the men heard the contents of the letter, Percy bolted toward the fireplace, but he was prevented from leaving when he realized that he had never been informed of the location of Grimmauld Place after Harry recast the Fidelius Charm. Angry and disappointed, he sulked in the corner as the rest of the family tried to make sense of the letter.
After an hour of argument, Hermione cleared her throat. Other than Molly, she was the last wife in the room. The others had left after Fleur had mentioned that none of them could go to Snuffles' house. "I'm certain that whatever is over there can wait until morning."
"Hermione," Ron whined.
She sighed. "Ron, if she were going to be coming home, she would have shown up instead of sending a letter."
There were grumbled murmurs of agreement from the remaining Weasley men, and Molly stood up and shook out her apron. “It's late,” she said, “everyone is tired, and the children will be up early to open presents.”
“You're right, dear,” Arthur said and yawned. He stood up from the kitchen table and stretched, relieving several hours' worth of stiffness. “Bill and I will go over tomorrow after all the presents are opened and see what Ginny has left us.”
“But . . ." The twins and Ron began to complain before Arthur glared at them.
“If there is something important over there, then we will come back and get you all,” he said. “Hermione is right about this. If Ginny was there to leave us something, she would have done it and been gone well in advance. We've all tried to find her in some way or another over the years, and we're always months if not years behind her, following cold trails.”
“Father,” Percy said in determination, “please. Just go and look. I need to know.”
“No, son,” Arthur stated in a tone that brooked no argument. “It's Christmas. Maybe there is good news waiting for us. It will still be good tomorrow. But if it is bad news, we should not let it ruin our holiday. We have a lot to be thankful for this year. Let's enjoy it. Goodnight.”
He took Molly’s hand and headed up the stairs. The twins Disapparated to their respective homes. Percy left soon afterward, grumbling as he climbed the stairs to his old room. With cheerful holiday farewells, Charlie and Bill opened the kitchen door and made their way through the cold night air to the guest cottage Ron, Arthur, and Bill had built three years ago. Ron and Hermione remained in the kitchen alone.
They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Hermione knew Ron was gnawing on a bothersome thought, so she simply held her peace and sipped her tea. He always talked in the end, and Hermione was not disappointed as he sighed and turned towards her after a few minutes.
“It's going to be good news, isn’t it?” Ron asked. “I mean, I know you know more about what she says in those letters. You two were always close and wrote each other all the time. You can read between the lines. So, please, just tell me this is going to be good news.”
Hermione contemplated her answer for a few moments. “I think it is good news overall, Ron. But I am certain it won't be what we expect.”
Ron nodded. Hermione smiled and leaned forward for her good night kiss, but when he remained seated she put down her tea and gently took his hand. Something else was bothering her husband.
“What is it, Ron?” she asked. “You can tell me.”
He glanced up at her and smiled with his eyes full of tears. “Before I left to meet with the Cannons, I viewed the memory Harry left for me.” Understanding washed over Hermione. His old doubts were surfacing again. “I just needed to tell him about the job. And I needed the encouragement. And . . .” He swiped the ears from his eyes with a rough gesture. “No one can ever replace him.”
Awkwardly, Hermione struggled to her feet, walked behind her husband, and kissed his hair with a gentle passion. “I wish I could make it better, love,” Hermione whispered. “But it will get better. I promise you that.”
“Thanks, ‘Mione,” Ron mumbled, squeezing her hand.
“Now go to bed,” Hermione chided him. “We have a long day tomorrow.”
“You need help up the stairs?” Ron asked as he stood up and gently took her arm.
Hermione shook her head and removed her arm from his. “I’m going to stay down here tonight. My back is killing me, and the chair in the den gives the best massages.”
“Do you want me to stay with you?” Ron asked.
Hermione kept a pleasant expression on her face even though she was tempted to stun her husband to get him out of her way. “You're always grumpy after sleeping on a couch. Go to bed. I’ll just be down here. It's not like I'm going anywhere.” Hermione returned his goodnight kiss before waddling out to the den while he climbed the stairs.
Hermione settled herself into the large chair Molly always used for her knitting and contemplated her next move. She had not told the family the entire contents of Ginny’s letter. Actually, she had been withholding information from the family since Ginny’s first Christmas letter.
In that first letter, there had been another Marauder message for Hermione alone. It had asked her to place her hand and wand on the parchment and to give an oath to never reveal the contents of the letter. Intrigued, Hermione had done so and had suddenly become Ginny’s accomplice.
Even today, she did not regret that decision. She had to keep secrets from her family and from her husband, but Ginny confided more of the truth to her than she did in the rest of the letter. Hermione had learned more each year about what Ginny was doing. She now knew it had something to do with the spell Harry had used to save Ginny's life after Hogwarts fell and the geas that bound Ginny because of that spell. But Ginny's letters were silent on the specifics. She confided her personal fears and doubts, but Hermione fumbled about in the dark as much as the rest of the family in regards to her friend's actual goals.
Tonight’s letter had once again included a Marauder message for her. Hermione had almost let slip her secret when the words scrolled across the parchment.
Hermione. Come alone. Tell no one.
So Hermione sat in the silent and dark den, exhausted but waiting calmly for the Weasley family to fall into a deep slumber. After half an hour, Hermione stood, walked to the kitchen, and threw some Floo powder into the smoldering coals. The fire flared bright green, and she stepped into the flames firmly saying, “Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place.”
The spinning trip ended quickly, and Hermione stepped out of the fireplace into the kitchen. To her surprise, the kitchen was clean and brightly lit with candles and gas lamps. The faint aroma of a well cooked dinner hung in the air. But as surprising as all of this was, as no one had been to Grimmauld Place in nearly three years, it was nothing compared to the sight of Ginny Potter standing beside the kitchen table, a smile on her face.
“Ginny?” Hermione asked in disbelief. “Is that really you?”
“Yes, Hermione. We’re home.” Ginny flashed an impish grin at Hermione. “And it looks like I got back just in time to spoil a new nephew or niece.”
Without words, both women moved together and hugged in relief and joy. Hermione had expected a surprise, but actually seeing Ginny was beyond her wildest expectation. Controlling herself after a few minutes of just holding her friend, she appraised Ginny Potter.
After Voldemort's defeat, Ginny had been bruised and battered, emotionally and physically. Her burdens had been slowly grinding her into the ground, but the Ginny that stood before her seemed to have taken those burdens and shaped them. There was steel in this Ginny.
She stood straight, with a confident stare and a smile on her tanned face. Her hair was cropped close to her shoulders and framed her face in soft curls. The fiery tresses of her youth had lightened and were highlighted with sun bleached streaks. Her frame was wiry, and Hermione could feel well-toned muscles underneath her hands as Ginny began to guide her towards the kitchen table.
It was more than just her physical appearance, however. Ginny radiated a reserved air of power and knowledge that reminded Hermione of the late Professor Dumbledore. Whatever had happened to Ginny in the last eight years had tapped into, tempered, and refined the strength and determination that had carried her through the Chamber of Secrets and then through the final years of Voldemort’s War. However, in Ginny’s eyes and smile were a compassion and gentle love that soothed all the tension in Hermione’s mind. Part of Hermione was consumed with envy of Ginny. She knew who she was and knew what life was about.
Ginny sat down opposite Hermione and handed her a cup of tea. “It shows, doesn’t it?” Ginny asked, picking up a scone and buttering it, her expression serious.
“Yes,” Hermione said and then blushed as she realized that she had been staring intently at her sister-in-law. “You have definitely changed.”
Ginny shrugged. “Moony keeps telling me that, but I guess I rarely see it. But he is more detached from everything than most people. Seven years at Hogwarts changed me, so eight years of surviving in the world would also change me.” Ginny paused and her expression softened. “So how are you doing?”
Hermione was about to answer, launching into a long spiel on her current life as if she were just sitting down to weekly tea with her girlfriend, before she stopped. “Ginny. You said you were home?”
“Yes.”
“Does that mean you are staying here for good? That the adventuring is over?”
“Yes and no, Hermione,” Ginny answered. “We have finished what we set out to do.” Ginny paused and glanced towards the corner of the kitchen. She frowned for a moment as her eyes became unfocused as if she were staring at a distant tree. She sighed and turned back to Hermione. “But our circumstances have changed. There is a great deal that needs to be done, but we can do it here.”
Relief washed over Hermione at this answer, just as a thousand other questions jockeyed for position. “So why all the secrecy then? Why meet me in private and not have the whole family here? They all miss you.”
A sad expression crossed Ginny’s face. “It's not that easy, Hermione. Believe me. I miss all of you terribly. There have been times I've wanted nothing more than to just come home, just for a few days. But I knew that if I did, then I would be worn down and I might lose my resolve. Now, I know that the sacrifice was worth it. I would do it again a thousand times over, and I don’t think any of you could ever understand that.”
Hermione wanted to argue. It was unfair for Ginny to question her resolve when she had given up her schooling to help Harry track down the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort. But, looking in Ginny’s eyes, Hermione realized that there were no regrets there. Hermione could not say that for herself. Despite Professor Slughorn taking her as an apprentice and ensuring that she became a Potions Master, Hermione regretted the fact that she had never taken her NEWTs and that those four years on the run had netted very little beyond heartache and grief.
“Harry once told Ron and me that there are things more important than life,” Hermione said. “That there are things worth suffering and dying for, even if you get nothing in return. I'd tell myself that I believed him, but I know I could never do what he did, or sacrifice what he did.”
“He knew that,” Ginny said before she stood up and then knelt in front of Hermione. Ginny took Hermione’s hands and placed both of their hands on her unborn child. “And you will understand what he meant in a few weeks. Trust me.”
Hermione smiled as the baby moved inside her, causing a light ripple across her taut belly. “I do trust you." Hermione covered Ginny's hand with her own and then squeezed it. "So, why did you want me to come here alone?”
Ginny remained kneeling in front of her, hands on her pregnant belly, with a faraway gaze and a contented smile on her face. With a gentle kiss to Hermione's stomach, Ginny grinned and stood up, returning to her seat.
“Like I said, a lot of things have happened, and to just jump back into the middle of my old life is not going to be easy. I mean, for starters, I'm supposed to be dead.”
"Well, you're fouling that up pretty well," Hermione said with a smile.
Ginny snorted and laughed loudly as she threw her head back. Hermione stared transfixed at the sparkling mirth in Ginny's eyes. There was a musical quality about Ginny's laugh, like birds singing in the morning or the sigh of wind in a field, that washed away Hermione's weariness and brought a smile to her lips.
Ginny's laughter slowly died, but a twinkle of mirth played about her lips and eyes. "I have dearly missed you," Ginny said. "There have been so many times I needed you to put everything to rights by slamming a book in front of me and pointing out the correct passage."
"I would have," Hermione said.
"I know," Ginny said, "and maybe if I had realized what was ahead of me, I would've brought you and Ron along, but I didn't know what was going on." Ginny paused and took a moment to settle herself more comfortably in her chair. "Those first few months were really a struggle for me. Everything had gone wrong when Harry and I faced Voldemort, and Harry's death was tearing me apart, literally."
"I felt that way, too," Hermione said. "I cried myself to sleep dozens of times that year, and the stupidest things would leave me bawling for no reason. I had to postpone the wedding twice because I couldn't make any decisions without accidentally asking you or Harry for an opinion. I can't even imagine how hard it was for you."
"No," Ginny said. "You can't, because that is not what I mean. His death was physically tearing me apart, eating away at my body and destroying my magic."
Hermione blinked and stared at Ginny and replayed Ginny's words. They made little sense. "I don't understand."
Ginny nodded. "I know. It is difficult to understand even when it happens to you." She paused and her eyes became distant for a moment before she nodded once more. "Yes, it'd be better if I just started at the beginning. Do you remember the curse I was hit with when Hogwarts fell? The one that almost killed me?"
"Yes," Hermione said.
It had been a terrifying few weeks. Harry had been on the edge of suicide, locked away with his mother's diary for days in the hope of finding a miracle. Then, nearly a week after the attack, he had stormed into the Burrow and barricaded himself in Ginny's room. Three days later Ginny and Harry had walked out, both pale and weak but healthy.
"Harry said he found a spell that allowed him to fight the curse for you," Hermione said, "or help you fight the curse. I don't really remember that well. But, whatever spell he used, you got better. And your letters said that what you were doing was a consequence of that spell." Ginny nodded, and Hermione gasped as a piece clicked in her mind. "That wasn't a temporary spell, was it?"
"No, it wasn't," Ginny said. "After Lily learned of the prophecy, she quit her job and spent her time researching ways to protect her family. She found several different spells that would protect Harry, given a sufficient sacrifice, and an ancient spell that she thought would allow her and James to protect themselves as well as Harry.
“That spell,” Ginny continued, “builds on the inherent magical bonds between people, such as marriage, love, life debts, and so forth. When cast, Lily's notes said that the two people involved would open a conduit between their bodies and their magic which would allow them to support each other.”
Hermione nodded in fascination. She had never heard of magic like this, but the possible uses were staggering. Her years studying potions had taught her that spells and potions worked better or worse depending on the amount of magic a person's body contained. To be able to share magic would allow Healers to cure almost any ailment.
"You have to teach me this spell, Ginny," Hermione said. "It could save so many lives."
“No, I can't teach you the spell," Ginny said with a sad smile.
"What? Why not?"
"Because it doesn't work like that," Ginny said. "Harry was in a rush when he used it, so he didn't realize it does not allow people to share magic. That is just a result of the spell. It took months for Harry and me to figure out what the spell was doing to us."
“What do you mean?” Hermione asked. "What was the spell doing to you? And what spell are we even talking about?"
Ginny frowned and then gave a small chuckle. "You know, despite tracking it down across half the world and finding out what it does, I never found the original name. I don't think it even has a real name, Hermione, but we've been calling it the Phoenix's Gift. It's older than history itself, and time and myth have mutated it. Even Voldemort sought it out at one point, but most everyone has always mistaken other things for it: the Holy Grail, the Philosopher's Stone, the Cauldron of Annwn. All of those are byproducts of the spell."
Hermione could not believe what she was hearing. Most of those were fairy tales or ancient myths, yet Ginny was talking about them as easily as Luna talked about Snorkacks.
"There are thousands of stories about how to gain immortality through these objects," Ginny continued, "but each of those items is flawed and only gives an illusion of immortality. Lily unwittingly uncovered the Phoenix's Gift, which is a different type of immortality. Harry and I . . ."
"Wait," Hermione said, interrupting Ginny. "You're joking, right? Immortality?" Hermione struggled to find the words she wanted. The conversation felt like a crazy dream. How could they be eating scones and drinking tea and talking about an immortality spell when Harry was eight years dead?
"You cast a spell that makes you immortal?" Hermione finally asked. Ginny nodded her head. "Impossible! Harry died! You said he died. Magic can't bring back the dead!"
"Hermione, if you would just let me explain." Ginny reached out and placed a delicate hand on Hermione's arm. "I've spent eight years searching for the answer."
Hermione brushed aside Ginny's arm. "No," she said. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to help you on some insane quest to bring Harry back from the dead. I've moved on. I've got my own family to think about." Hermione was on the verge of tears, and her heart was beating wildly. Shaking her head, she pleaded with Ginny. "Give it up. Come home. Please, Ginny. We all miss you and James and want you at home. You promised to return. You can't bring back the dead."
Ginny shook her head as Hermione finished and then glanced at the corner of the room before sighing and nodding once. Confused, Hermione began to ask a question, but a voice interrupted her.
“No, Hermione," the deep voice said from the corner, "you can't bring back the dead. But I never died.”
Hermione recognized the voice instantly. She had heard it nearly every day for nine years of her life. Spinning around, Hermione saw the impossible. In the corner, his shimmering Invisibility Cloak pooled at his feet, stood Harry Potter. His emerald eyes sparkled in the flickering light of the room, his raven black hair was as untidy as ever, and that self-effacing grin beamed back at her.
With several strides, he was in front of her, and she was pulled into his embrace. He was warm. He was solid, and his distinctive scent assaulted her nose. “I’ve missed you, ‘Mione.” This was real. Harry was alive.
Then there was only darkness as her mind and her exhausted body finally gave up.
The murmur of voices brought Hermione back to the world. She had a headache and could see dim light through her closed eyes. Confused, she shifted a little and realized that she was lying down on what felt like a sofa. She must have fallen asleep in the den the previous night. Her eyes fluttered open and then closed quickly as the bright light stung her already aching head.
Lifting her hand to her eyes, she rubbed her temple and tried to remember what had happened. She recalled waiting up and planning to go over to Grimmauld Place to see what the letter had been about. She must have fallen asleep waiting for the rest of the family to settle for the night. But then she had had the weirdest dream. Ginny and she had been talking in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. And then Harry had been there, holding her. It had been so real. She could almost still hear his voice.
“We should just give her the Pepper-Up Potion, Gin,” Harry said. Why would she dream about Harry giving her a potion?
“Harry, you cannot give a pregnant woman Pepper-Up Potion whenever you want,” Ginny answered in an exasperated hiss. And why was Ginny here? “If she doesn’t wake up in another hour, I’ll Ennervate her. Even on Christmas, no one will wake up at the Burrow until almost six. We still have three hours to get her home.”
That was right. She had left the Burrow last night. She had gone to Grimmauld Place, and that meant that . . . that . . . “Harry!” she shouted, her eyes flying open. The light was still bright but not painful this time. The conversation died at her shout, but Hermione was otherwise occupied.
When her vision cleared, she found herself staring at the blank eyes of a black and green snake that was hovering a foot in front of her face. Hermione barely noticed the dark-haired, green-eyed young boy in red and gold pajamas who was holding the snake. That was definitely a snake in front of her. Hermione screamed.
“James Albus Potter!” Ginny’s voice shouted. James’ beaming smile faltered, and he hissed at Hermione. No, she realized as the snake disappeared into the boy’s pajama sleeve, he was a Parselmouth like his father. “You'd better not have that snake with you!”
“But, Mum,” James said, turning towards his mother, who stormed across the room with blazing eyes. Ginny, Hermione noted, had certainly taken after Molly’s parenting style. “Seth simply wanted to meet Aunt Hermione.”
“I don’t care what Seth wanted to do,” Ginny growled. Behind her, Remus, Tonks, and Harry stood near one of the bookshelves. All of them struggled to hide their smiles. “You know the rules. Seth doesn’t go near anyone who can’t speak to him. If he had bitten your aunt . . .”
“He wasn’t going to bite her, I swear!” James protested. “He’s never bitten anyone.”
“Enough!” Ginny stated, coming to rest in front of her son. She grabbed his shoulder and started pushing him towards the door. “Go to your room.”
“Dad!” James whined.
An amused Harry simply chuckled and shook his head. “You know the rules, son. If you don’t want to be punished, don’t get caught.”
“Yeah, I know,” James muttered as he was shoved out of the room. As the door closed, Remus gave up his efforts and started laughing. Tonks was not far behind.
Ginny turned around and glared at the three in the corner. Hermione could feel her friend's anger from across the room and was glad that she was not a target. “Don’t encourage your son, Harry!” Ginny said sharply. “And don’t give me that innocent look. He was much better behaved before I brought you back to life.”
“Sorry, dear,” Harry said, dropping his gaze from his wife’s. Hermione, however, swore that she saw a mischievous grin on Harry’s face. If Ginny saw it, however, Hermione never knew, because she was already rushing over to the couch where Hermione had propped herself up.
“Oh, ‘Mione,” Ginny said, dropping to her knees in front of Hermione. “I am so sorry. We thought we would surprise you and have Harry jump out when you came over, but we didn’t realize you were pregnant. I tried to explain it all, but I guess it really was just too much. I am so sorry.”
As Ginny apologized, Hermione watched Harry walk over towards them with Remus and Tonks a few steps behind. Harry knelt down beside Ginny, took Hermione’s hand in his, and looked directly into her eyes. “I know this is a shock, ‘Mione. But I am real. I am alive. This isn’t a prank. I swear to you. We'd never do that to you.”
Despite the surprise of the snake, Hermione found herself on a much more even keel as Harry talked to her. Even so, his gentle touch and the love and sincerity in his and Ginny’s eyes cut her deeply. Years of repressed grief and doubts and second guessing welled forth.
It hurt, but beneath it all was a swelling wave of joy that overtook the sorrow. Tears ran down her cheeks, and with a shuddering sob, she buried her face in Harry’s chest and embraced him. “I don’t care how I found out. This is the best Christmas present ever,” she said, her voice muffled by Harry's body. Ginny embraced Hermione as well, and the three friends held each other close and enjoyed the companionship that had been lost.
As Hermione cried, she was dimly aware of Remus and Tonks whispering to Ginny and Harry, and then she heard the sound of the door closing and locking as they left. Hermione was grateful for this small kindness. As much as she liked Remus and Tonks, she remained jealous that Ginny had approached them instead of her. It was an old wound and well scarred over, but having Ginny and Harry alone eased that ancient heartache.
Slowly, Hermione's emotions settled down, and the trio drew apart. An awkward silence feel between them, and dozens of questions ran through Hermione's head, climbing over one another and leaving her dazed and uncertain. Struggling to begin, Hermione finally asked, "How?"
Ginny and Harry glanced at each other. Ginny quirked her eyebrow a bit, and Harry's shoulders slumped before he nodded. Standing up, he gestured at two chairs, and to Hermione's surprise, they slid across the room.
Harry and Ginny sat down. "I guess the easiest place to start is after I saved Ginny's life. I thought we'd share our magic temporarily and then it would go back to the way it was. Of course, I was more than willing to have it be permanent as long as she lived. So it never bothered me that we were sharing magic even months later. But . . ."
"Is that why it wasn't?" Hermione asked. Harry gave her an exasperated look for interrupting, but Hermione waved it aside. "Is that why the spell, what did you call it, the Phoenix's Gift, was permanent? Because you wanted it to be?"
"We thought so at first," Ginny said, "but, when I read Lily's diary, I discovered that the ritual is permanent, like a marriage binding or a life debt. Neither of those really fit, however."
A marriage bond allowed a connection between spouses. Hermione and Ron had been bound during their wedding, but the binding required their wedding bands. When they were close together, Hermione sometimes caught shadows of Ron's emotions, but the bond would never prevent death. And it sounded like Lily had already . . . "Wait a minute," Hermione said. "How did you read Lily's diary? Only Harry can open and read it."
Lily's diary had frustrated Hermione to no end. Even when she looked over Harry's shoulder as he transcribed pages for her to translate, the pages remained blank. Only he could see the intricate runes within the book.
"That was the first clue," Harry said. "I was struggling through trying to translate the diary, and Ginny just leaned over and pointed to a passage that said the spell was permanent. Somehow, the enchantment on the diary recognized her as me and allowed her to read the page."
Hermione and Harry had attempted a plethora of ways to the fool the diary, including Polyjuice Potion, but none of them had worked. The diary was keyed to Harry's magic. "But, since you share magic, it thought she was you?" she asked after a minute's thought.
Harry blinked and then grinned sheepishly. "I guess I should've brought you into this. It took us several months to figure that out," Harry said.
"Yes, you should have," Hermione said. She struggled to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but it filtered through, and Harry flinched.
"I'm sorry I hurt you, Hermione," Harry said. "I'm sorry I pushed all of you away, but I had no choice."
"Yes, you did!"
"Are you saying that you would've let Ginny and I set up that trap for Voldemort knowing that we would die?"
"We could have figured something out," Hermione said. "If I'd helped you research maybe . . ."
"And he would've won!" Hermione flinched from the power that radiated off of Harry. It was easy to forget the power Harry controlled until he lost his temper.
"Harry." Ginny placed a hand on Harry's arm, and he calmed while Ginny spoke to Hermione. "Harry became a Horcrux when his parents died. I didn't lie to you in that message. We were certain he would die, and we kept it a secret because we were scared, because I was scared that I'd lose Harry. And . . ." Ginny glanced at Harry and he nodded.
"We were going to tell you," Harry said. "Just before James was born, we'd decided to seek help, but then Ginny went into labor. And, well, we realized that there was no hope for us."
"No hope?"
"You remember that we never called anyone when I went into labor?" Ginny asked.
"You were in a Muggle area and couldn't risk contacting us," Hermione said, remembering the uproar when Harry and Ginny had appeared early in August with the newborn James in their arms.
"We were at the cottage. We had been researching the Phoenix's Gift when Ginny went into labor. I tried to get to the portkey to take us to the Burrow, but I collapsed in pain. I suffered through the entire birth. The spell copied her pain and injury onto me and took my magic to help her. I couldn't move, so Minerva helped birth my son."
Hermione shook her head. "So, you're saying that you felt everything Ginny did?"
"A bit more than felt," Harry said. "Madame Pomfrey checked me out the next day. I had several torn muscles in my hips and a ruddy ton of ruptured capillaries."
"I've never heard of anything like that," Hermione said and then stared thoughtfully at Ginny. "So he took all the pain and injury from your labor?"
"I wish," Ginny said with a smirk. "If pregnancy was painless for me, I'd have a dozen kids," Harry snorted and rolled his eyes, "but our bond doesn't take everything from me and give it to Harry. It is more like sharing." She glanced up at Harry, and he nodded. Ginny and Harry put their left arms out, and Ginny pulled out her wand and cast a small Cutting Charm.
Both Ginny and Harry hissed as a finger-long cut appeared in Ginny's arm. Instantly, the cut shrank to half its size, and an identical cut appeared on Harry's arm. Fascinated, Hermione leaned closer. The wounds were identical, from the amount of blood pooling out of them to the length and location on their arms. Letting go of their arms, Hermione sat back and glanced between Harry and Ginny.
"This is why you had that will drawn up and why you were so certain that you were going to die, isn't it?" Hermione asked and then pushed onward without waiting for Ginny's or Harry's reaction. "But then there must be a limit to how much you share. If there wasn't, you would be dead because Harry died."
"There is no limit," Harry said. "Almost everything that happens to one body happens to the other."
"Almost everything?" Hermione asked.
"Well," Harry said with a blush, "There are a few parts that aren't shared."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Aside from the differences between males and females, anything that happens to me will happen to Harry."
"So why didn't you both die?"
"Simple," Harry said. "I didn't die that night."
"You were hit with the Killing Curse," Hermione said. "Dumbledore's portrait saw it. I saw the explosion in the memory Ginny left. How could you survive anything like that?"
"Hmm, this is going to get complicated," Harry said. He turned to Ginny with a plea for help. Ginny rolled her eyes.
“You studied Horcruxes as much as anyone,” Ginny said, and Hermione nodded. “To make a Horcrux, you need to split your soul through an absolutely baseless act of evil. Because of that evil, the parts of the soul are not really connected anymore. Voldemort could not really feel them except as an echo, and even then only distantly.
"But if you can split a soul, and Dementors can devour a soul, and you can bind a soul, why can't you merge two souls into a single soul?”
"I understand," Hermione said, her hands moving about in excitement as she puzzled out the eight year old riddle. "The Phoenix's Gift merged your soul with Harry's soul, so that when he died, his soul couldn't leave, much like the Horcruxes bound Voldemort to the world. You were a Horcrux for Harry, so you just . . ." She trailed off as a horrifying thought crossed her mind. "How did you make a new body? Harry, you and I talked about Voldemort's resurrection, and you said that he was in the body of some malformed baby!"
"Hermione," Harry said quickly, catching her wildly waving hands with his. "I told you, I never died. My body never died that night. Our soul was just flung entirely into Ginny."
Hermione stopped. "But you were hit with the Killing Curse."
Harry grinned. "Ah, but I know a secret about the Killing Curse that no one else does. The Killing Curse does not kill people. It tears the soul out of the body. That is why people are found without a mark and with fear-filled eyes. People die because the shock of losing their soul, and the pain of having their soul torn out of them, is more than the heart can handle. The heart stops beating, the brain stops working, and they die."
"No," Hermione said stubbornly. "That can't be true, because victims of Dementors can live for days if not months under the right conditions. If what you said were true, they would die instantly."
"Do you remember in third year when we were surrounded by the Dementors at the lake's edge?" Harry asked.
"The first or the second time?"
"The first."
"No," Hermione said, struggling to figure out where Harry was going with this line of questioning. "It's all hazy. Like a dream, or just before you fall asleep."
"Exactly," Harry said. "Dementors lull people into a state of sleep. The Kiss actually takes several minutes to perform, and the Dementors gradually draw out the soul so that there is no instant pain of separation. It's a bit like the difference between untying a taut rope instead of cutting it with a knife."
"And now you know everything you need to understand why Harry did not die that night," Ginny said with an impish grin as she and Harry settled back into their chairs.
"No, I don't," Hermione said in exasperation. "You've given me a great mess of torn up news rags, and now you tell me to make the bloody Times?"
"I have faith in you, Hermione," Harry said, "and you'll feel better if you figure it out yourself. If we tell you, you'll be kicking yourself for weeks."
With a growl and a withering glare, Hermione sank back into the couch and massaged her aching temples. Harry and Ginny had just imparted the conclusions of several years of research. It was difficult to assimilate it with her view of the world, much less try to finagle a workable hypothesis out of it. But, despite her exhaustion, she refused to let this opportunity pass. She would solve it just to wipe the smug grins off of Harry's and Ginny's faces.
Frowning, Hermione ticked off the facts she had. Harry and Ginny shared a soul between the two of them, but the Killing Curse would have knocked the soul out of Harry's body and killed him. She understood that because Ginny had been alive, she would have anchored the second part of her or their soul. Hermione sighed. She would have to come up with a better pronoun to describe the two of them, but that was a task for later.
Harry had gone out of his way to explain why the Dementor's Kiss was different from the Killing Curse. So if his body had not died, then when it hit him, it was more like a Dementor's Kiss than the Killing Curse. What had happened to loosen his soul so that his body didn't die of shock? And how did Harry survive destroying the Horcrux inside of him in the first . . .
"It was the Horcrux," Hermione said in excitement, and Harry's answering grin was all the confirmation she needed. "Somehow destroying the Horcrux inside of you loosened your soul, and so when the Killing Curse hit you, it just sort of knocked away the last tie you had to your body, and your soul was flung free."
"As far as we can figure out, that is what happened," Ginny said.
"But how did Voldemort die, then?" Hermione asked. "Albus' portrait described the Killing Curse turning white and then an explosion. And he also said that Harry appeared in a burst of flames."
Harry and Ginny looked at each other and then shrugged. "We don't know for certain," Ginny said. "Remus, Tonks, and I came up with a lot of theories. Most of them have to do with Harry's and my soul coming together in my body. I remember this feeling like my body was burning with fire, and then it felt like it was being drained through Harry's body. After that, the world just went white. I was screaming, and Harry's body fell into my arms, and the Portkey pulled us back to Grimmauld Place. But as to what happened, we really don't know."
It sounded like an evasive answer to Hermione, and she told them so.
"We aren't being intentionally evasive, Hermione," Harry said. "It's one of the issues we are trying to solve, but the last eight years have been about getting me back in my body and unraveling the Phoenix's Gift, not figuring out why Tom snuffed it."
"Oh, sorry," Hermione said contritely. "Well, maybe I can help, now that you are back. I'll need to know what happened these last eight years, but . . ."
Laughter cut her off, and Hermione glared at Harry and Ginny before she smiled sheepishly. "I'm being a bit persistent, aren't I?"
"Just a bit," Ginny said.
"But I wouldn't have you any other way," Harry added.
"So," Hermione asked tentatively, "do you think you could tell me how Harry got back into his body? I thought things like the Dementor's Kiss were irreversible."
For a moment Ginny and Harry were silent before Ginny shuddered as if she were remembering some distant pain. "If it's too much for you," Hermione offered, but Ginny waved away her concerns.
"No, I can tell you," Ginny said. "But it'll have to be brief." She paused and bit her lip like she always did when mulling over ideas in her head. Finally, she nodded as she came to a decision. “In those first days," she said, "everything was confusing. I was an emotional wreck, Tonks was unconscious, and Remus and Moody weren’t much better. We had Harry's body, but it was comatose, and we had no clue what had happened. Worse, I was out of control. I kept hearing Harry’s voice everywhere I was, and it was driving me crazy. My magic was lashing out whenever I got emotional, and Remus had to take James away for several days so I wouldn't accidentally hurt him.
"It got so bad that I Apparated to the Shrieking Shack and just stopped trying to control myself. It wasn’t pretty. I nearly destroyed the entire building, and my magic almost burned me to a crisp. But in my pain and grief and rage, I was not alone.
“You see, Harry and I had not figured much out about our shared soul. I thought I was going insane with grief and was slowly being killed because Harry was gone, but curled up on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, exhausted and utterly spent, Harry was there talking to me, soothing me, and we began to realize what had happened."
"Do you remember that, Harry?" Hermione asked suddenly.
Harry blinked and then shook his head. "A bit, but it's more like I remember Ginny remembering it. It took several months for me to really find much of myself within Ginny's consciousness."
"I remember it all," Ginny said, "but I think that is because I could feel and move my body." Harry snorted, and Ginny gave him an affectionate smile. "Not that I mind being stuck with him. In many ways, it has been a comfort to me. I never lost Harry. We could talk to each other, and he could even experience life through me. But it could never last. I was carrying the power and life force of two people within my body. Eventually, my body simply would have ceased to be as our combined energy destroyed it.
“Harry refused to let that happen. He was determined to find a way to give me a full life and to make sure James had his mother for his entire childhood.”
“Well, you obviously found a way, didn’t you?” Hermione asked.
Ginny nodded. “It took a long time. That first year, we mainly recovered. I read everything I could from Lily’s diary and cared for James and tried to control the power that flooded through me. Towards the end of that first year, I figured out what we had to do. It was just a theory, but it was a good one and had been done before. We just needed to find the correct spell.
“James was still too young to travel, so Remus and Moody went out and uncovered references to a potion that could help us. It was a very ancient potion, probably developed around the time of the spell Harry and I used. Remus found bits of the instructions. Not really useful except for putting a name to the potion. The Egyptians called it the Bane of Anubis.”
Hermione gasped in shock. “I know that potion!” she exclaimed as Harry chuckled at her. Hermione ignored him. “When I was apprenticing under Professor Slughorn, I read about it in Lost Potions of the Ancients. But Ginny, that potion is a myth. Supposedly, it brought the soul back to a dead body, but it had to be used within a week of the person's death." Hermione searched her memory for a moment. "The supposed directions I read said it took almost six months to make.”
“Actually, it only takes six days to make it,” Ginny explained. “The problem with the potion is that it requires some very specific ingredients that are almost impossible to gather. We knew the main ingredients from what Remus discovered, but we were missing a lot of the instructions and the quantities.”
“What are the ingredients?” Hermione asked. As a Potions Master, she could not pass up this opportunity.
Ginny sighed and just shook her head. For a moment, Hermione thought Ginny would never tell her, but then Ginny said, “I have the instructions in my diary. I will let you read it.”
Hermione thanked Ginny and then frowned. "But Harry, your body was still alive. How would that potion help you?" Hermione asked.
"It brings back the soul for a few hours at most," Harry said. "There are no spells or potions that can reverse death, but there are spells that can play with it. The potion does something with the magical residue in the body that amplifies it, and then the soul is attracted back to the body temporarily. We think it was used to ask questions of murder victims and recently deceased pharaohs."
"Well, that makes sense," Hermione said. "But how did it help you?"
"We needed to make sure Harry ended up in Harry, and not me, or us, or however we define ourselves," Ginny said.
"So how did you do that?" Hermione asked.
Harry and Ginny both stared at the ground, and then Harry looked up and took a breath. "We had to create a Horcrux and split our soul."
"What?!" Of all the shocks of the evening, Hermione found this the worst to take. Harry and Ginny had deliberately killed someone to give Harry back his body. The entire idea was anathema to what they both had once stood for.
"Wait a minute," Ginny said. "We didn't kill anyone, Hermione. We'd never do that, even to save our own lives. There are other ways to split a soul and make a Horcrux. They are just not as effective."
"That's what took the most time," Harry said. "About two years ago, we figured it out, separated our souls, and I went back to my body."
Hermione blinked. "Two years ago? Then why are you only returning now?"
Harry and Ginny blushed a bit, but the door opened and interrupted them. Tonks walked in carrying a fussing baby and made her way towards Ginny. Remus followed behind her and took up his previous seat by the fire. As Tonks came closer, Hermione craned her neck and saw a baby girl, probably not much older than a year. She had dark black hair and the bluest eyes Hermione had ever seen. "Ginny, I can't get Lilian back to sleep. Do you think you could take her?"
"Sure," Ginny said and took Lilian from Tonks. Ginny rocked the girl back and forth and whispered a nonsensical song under her breath. Soon, Lilian was yawning, and her eyelids slid closed.
Hermione stared at Harry. He ducked his head sheepishly and then grinned. "Lilian's part of the reason," Harry said. "She’s almost a year old.”
“Well, you didn’t waste much time,” Hermione grinned.
Ginny blushed and shifted Lilian. “You didn’t have him in your head for six years giving you naughty dreams. And besides, she'd be older if his body had been up and running right off the bat.”
“What do you mean up and running?” Hermione asked curiously.
“Even with magic, a six year coma takes it toll," Harry said.
"And we had to recast the Phoenix's Gift," Ginny said. "That brought Lilian into our lives."
Hermione started to ask a question and then stopped. It made sense that if they had to split their soul to get Harry back into his body then they would no longer be joined. "But why would you do that after all the trouble it caused?" Hermione asked. "And how is Lilian involved?"
"Well, you know the old adage 'be careful what you wish for'? It hit us hard," Harry said. "Ginny and I had been part of each other for years. Being separate felt wrong. Like I was missing a large part of my body. It drove us crazy."
"It drove us all crazy," Remus said from the back of the room. "For two weeks they refused to leave each other's company. They were depressed and constantly frustrated."
"We weren't sure if it would work again," Ginny said, "but we were desperate, even if it undid all we had struggled to do. We had to have that connection back, so we performed the spell, and it worked. However, we got Lilian out of the deal, just like we got James out of the first time."
"I don't understand," Hermione said.
"We don't know either," Ginny said quietly, gently caressing Lilian's cheek. "For some reason, the spell requires that a child be born after it is cast." Ginny colored a bit and looked down. "After the spell was cast, there was, well, a need to be with Harry."
"The first time I resisted it for months," Harry said. "I just thought it was hormones, and I wanted to do right by Ginny. But we gave in before I was captured by Voldemort. We used every contraceptive charm we could find, but they all failed."
"The bond strengthened after James was conceived," Ginny said, "and even more so after he was born. The same happened with Lilian."
"And we should have never mentioned it to anyone," Remus muttered from the back of the room, causing Hermione to glance about the room questioningly.
"What do you mean?" Hermione asked as her gaze landed on Ginny. For a moment Ginny stared at her, lost in thought, before a painful, haunted look glazed over her features. Harry put a comforting arm about her, and Hermione berated herself. Being careful to avoid jostling Lilian, Hermione leaned forward and hugged Ginny. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“It's okay,” Ginny assured her. Hermione pulled away and offered Ginny an apologetic smile. Ginny just smiled in return and said, “Our search for the Bane of Anubis and the different types of Hocruxes got us into trouble. Actually, I am certain we are still in trouble. There are several legends and myths in the eastern Wizarding world that make Harry, James, Lillian, and I targets. One group that believes those stories stole James about four months before Harry got back into his body. Luckily, Moody was able to get him back, and somehow in the process he got us the information we needed to move Harry’s consciousness.”
Hermione frowned as she did the math in her head. "That's when he died, isn't it?"
Ginny nodded, and Hermione's heart went out to her. She could not even imagine the guilt Ginny must have felt. A personal quest had claimed the life of a good friend, and in the process he had saved James and gotten Ginny and Harry the answer they needed.
“Of course,” Harry continued, “we didn't let it go. But it took a while for me to get back up to strength after my time in the coma. By then, Lilian had been born, and while Ginny took care of Lilian and James, Remus, Tonks and I went after the sodding bastards that were after my son.”
“And?” Hermione asked. She wanted to ask even more questions, but she knew she had to leave soon, and getting an overview was better than nothing. She would have access to Harry and Ginny for years to come. She had time.
“Well,” Remus growled with a feral glint in his eyes, “they are a little scared of us at the moment, and they're not in any position to try to get us while we’re in England.”
“I swear,” Hermione chuckled. “You four attract more trouble than anyone else I know. Well, at least you are home and we can have a normal life again.” The smiles fell from everyone’s faces, and Hermione was suddenly confronted with four very serious people. “What?”
Harry leaned forward and took her hand, squeezing it as if to reassure her. “We'll never have a normal life, Hermione,” Harry stated firmly. “Yes, we are back in England. Yes, we are going to join the rest of the family, but it doesn't end there.”
Fear settled in the pit of her stomach as Harry spoke. She remembered that look in his eyes. It was the same look she had seen when he asked her to sign the will that promised she would care for James.
“The Wizarding world believes that I'm a dark wizard, probably more evil than Voldemort himself. For the past eight years, we have trudged through almost every corner of the Wizarding world. We have seen things that made me long for the company of Dementors, and we have experienced things more pure and wonderful than phoenix song.
“We have lived among Muggles, wizards, dark creatures, and magical non-humans. I have found friends and enemies among each. A vampire saved my son when he was three. A group of pacifist Muggles tried to have my body taken off of life support because they thought they knew what was best for me.” Harry’s eyes gleamed and bored into Hermione. She could feel the magic pulsing in his veins. It was magnificent and terrifying.
“It is not who or what we are that determines our worth in this world,” Harry whispered. “It is the choices we make. Tom and I were orphans. We were unloved, and we lost our parents because of hate. When we were offered a second chance by Dumbledore, I took it and found happiness and love. He used it to gain vengeance. Tom chose to be Voldemort. ”A soft smile suffused Harry’s face, and Hermione saw pride in his eyes as he continued. “I'm the Dark Lord Potter because I questioned the Ministry and the belief that only magical humans have any say.”
“We can fix it, Harry. We can clear your name. It'll just take some work,” Hermione assured him. “You won’t be an outcast forever. There are those who believe in you.”
Shaking his head, Harry dropped her hands and pushed away from the table. He paced the room for a few moments as if gathering his thoughts. Ginny watched him with an adoring expression on her face, and Remus regarded Harry with pride and loyalty.
Eventually, Harry turned back to her. A fierce pride and determination was etched into his features. “They named me, Hermione,” he stated. “They named me a dark lord because I gave up my life and my future to end a war and to correct the injustices and prejudices that wizards have. I didn’t get to choose to be the Boy-Who-Lived. This bloody scar made me that!” He pointed viciously at his forehead. “Tom made me that. I never wanted it. But I will gladly be the Dark Lord Potter if it means that I can make this world a better place.”
“Harry!” Hermione gasped. “You’re talking about revolution. Open war against the Wizarding world.”
Sadness filled Harry’s eyes at this. “Do you have so little faith in me, ‘Mione? Do you think I would be like Tom? That I'd kill and terrorize to achieve my goals? I want peace, ‘Mione. I want my children to have a world that does not determine worth based on blood, or whether you have magic, or even if you are human.” He took a few steps towards her and placed his hands on her swollen belly. “I want your child to have that. Don’t you?”
“That’s an unfair question, Harry,” Hermione complained. “Of course I want the best for my child, but you have to be realistic. You’re talking about changing the hearts and minds of hundreds of thousands of people and creatures. It’s just not possible.”
“Anything is possible, Hermione, if you have enough nerve. The world can be changed if you are willing to make the proper sacrifices. This has been a long time in coming, and I have the chance to make that dream a reality. All the pieces are in place.”
“Harry,” Ginny interrupted, “Hermione has to go back soon. You don’t need to recruit her today.” She reached out and forced Harry to look into her eyes. “We have time to change the world, luv. Right now, we need to be a family. We have eight years to make up for.”
Hermione was still caught up in Harry's speech, but when she turned to them to ask about it, she found them both with glazed eyes, staring at each other. Harry and Ginny sat in silence for several minutes. Annoyed, Hermione glanced up at Remus. “What are they doing?”
“Arguing,” Remus chuckled.
“Arguing?” Hermione frowned, but then all of the small looks and the utter understanding between Harry and Ginny snapped into place. “They can talk in their minds?”
"It's actually very annoying," Remus said. "Tonks and I force them to always talk out loud when they are around other people. But whenever they argue, they do this so no one can hear them.”
“Do you really want to hear us yelling, Moony?” Harry asked.
Moony grinned. “I remember when you convinced Ginny to go into hiding. I definitely do not miss hearing your fights.”
“Well, unlike then, Ginny is right this time.” Harry ducked as Ginny took a swing at him.
“Prat!” Harry only grinned at her, kissed her quickly on the cheek, and retreated to the far side of his chair before Ginny could grab him.
Hermione smiled despite herself and added a conversation about Harry and Ginny’s telepathy to her mental list of questions. She sighed. She had more questions than answers, and it was frustrating. “Maybe we should just stop for now,” Hermione said, bringing everyone back to business. “Molly will be up in an hour to make breakfast, and I really don’t want them to know I was over here.”
“We still don’t know how to break this to everyone,” Ginny muttered.
Hermione smiled. Even while listening to them, she had been thinking about the problem. “I think I have an idea that will appeal to you all.” Mischievous grins spread across the group's faces as Hermione explained her idea.
Fifteen minutes later, Hermione stepped out of the fireplace and back into the Burrow’s kitchen. She was exhausted and happy as she made her way back into the den. She curled up in the chair and slipped into a restful slumber, only to be woken a few hours later by children screaming, “Presents, Gran! Presents!”
Christmas morning was a flurry of activity at the Burrow. Hermione had reluctantly left the chair in the den and joined the family for their traditional Christmas breakfast. The food gave Hermione enough energy to get through the hectic morning as the mountain of gifts for the thirty odd Weasley children, spouses, and grandchildren were passed about and opened with squeals of delight from the grandchildren and enthusiastic, heartfelt thanks from the adults.
Between the number of gifts and the cleanup afterward, the morning flew past, and it was soon late afternoon. The Weasley grandchildren were all romping through the snow-covered garden under the watchful eyes of Angelina and Cora while the rest of the adults sat comfortably in the living room watching Ron and the twins argue with Arthur and Bill about who was allowed to go to Grimmauld Place.
Comfortably situated by the door to the kitchen, Hermione had a clear view of the Weasley family clock as Ginny’s hand went from unknown to traveling and then circled back to land firmly on home. Hermione smiled. Ginny was upstairs in her old room with Remus and Tonks, waiting for Hermione to introduce them. Harry would bring James and Lilian after the family had settled down and been told the story of Harry’s rebirth.
Hermione cleared her throat, trying to get everyone’s attention. Molly and Fleur glanced over at her, but the others were riveted to the argument.
“I was closer to Ginny, Remus, and Tonks than any of you,” Ron shouted. “I should be going.”
“Excuse me,” Hermione said a bit more forcibly. This time, everyone but Ron, Arthur, George, and Fred turned towards her.
“And if Ron goes,” Fred argued.
“Two more won’t make a difference,” George finished.
“Will you three be quiet!” Hermione snapped, and then she winced as the baby kicked one of her ribs.
“What is it, dear?” Molly asked in concern.
“You’re not going into labor, are you?” Ron asked, taking a few steps towards her.
Hermione waved her husband off. “No, I am not going into labor,” she dismissed casually. “But before you all go rushing over to Snuffles’, I have one more gift.”
“Gift? What gift?” Ron asked with a perplexed expression on his face. “We gave out all of our gifts.”
“Them,” Hermione stated, pointing toward the stairs. Ginny, Remus and Tonks were standing there, staring at the gob-smacked expressions on everyone’s faces.
“Happy Christmas, Mum,” Ginny smiled. “We’re home.”
Harry Potter paced the kitchen of Grimmauld Place like a caged animal. It was nearing sunset, and he was impatient to join his wife. Through his connection to Ginny, he knew the reunion had gone well. Her happiness had been so intense that he had spent most of the afternoon with a silly grin on his face as he played with his son and daughter.
Harry had known that the Weasleys would be glad to see her. He was more worried about how they would view his return. Several times, he had tried to listen in on the conversation between Ginny and her family, but the distance was too great for them to share their senses without one of them entering into a trance. At the moment, Ginny was calm but a little worried, which meant they were probably discussing him.
“Ssssstop!” The frightened hiss snapped Harry back to the kitchen. Looking around, he saw the black and green temple viper, Seth, floating in front of his laughing daughter. James grinned as he flicked his wand, and Seth floated higher.
“Son!” Harry snapped in Parseltongue so the snake could understand. “Practice on the feather, not Seth.” Whipping out his wand, Harry canceled the charm and then summoned Seth to him. Harry caught the snake behind the head just in case Seth was angry enough to bite. However, the small serpent was not tense and simply slid into the sleeve of Harry’s robe.
“Thanksss,” Seth hissed as he tightened himself about Harry’s lower arm.
“Sorry,” James mumbled, shuffling his feet.
“Apologize so Seth can understand,” Harry said in a firm tone.
“Sorry, Seth,” James hissed. “I thought you wanted to play.”
“Play, not float,” Seth hissed in response. “Sssleep now.”
Harry chuckled and wandered over to the table to sit down. In all his years at Hogwarts he had never considered getting a snake for a pet, and he now regretted it. Although not as intelligent as owls, snakes were interesting companions once they were taught to care about more than hunting and sleeping. Luckily, Seth seemed to be one of the more intelligent species of snake, and he got smarter every year he remained with James.
They had been living in Georgia for several months when Seth joined their family. Mad-Eye would pick up James every morning after breakfast and carry the three year old with him as he checked the wards in the marshes surrounding their home. James and Seth had met during one of those excursions, when Mad-Eye set James down next to a mangrove while he reinforced the anti-apparition wards. James had heard the snake complaining about the cold and convinced him to warm himself in his jacket. Later, after much pleading on James' part and several conversations with the snake, Seth had joined their family.
Feeling Seth move his way up towards his neck, Harry decided it was time for one of those talks. It seemed he was having them almost daily. Motioning his son over to the table, Harry lifted the boy into his lap. “Magic is not a toy, James,” Harry began. “We're teaching it to you because you need to be able to protect yourself. But you're young, and if you don't do exactly what your mum and I say, you could hurt yourself or someone else, like Seth or your sister.”
“I know, Dad,” James said. “But floating feathers is boring. Seth wanted to play. I thought it’d be brilliant to float. So . . .” James waved his wand and then grinned. “But it was brilliant. I mean sorry,” James added as Harry frowned at him.
“Alright, you’re forgiven, but no more magic today. Your cousins will be very jealous if they learn you have your own wand,” Harry explained, ruffling his son’s unruly hair and then kissing him on the forehead.
James snuggled deeper into his arms much to Harry's surprise. His son was independent and often complained when his parents cuddled him. “What’s up, Cub?” Harry asked.
Harry rubbed the boy’s back as he waited for a response. Lilian giggled as she chucked her enchanted stuffed dragon, Charlie, across the room only to have it fly back to her before being thrown again. Harry smiled at his daughter but turned back to James when he mumbled something. “What was that?” Harry asked.
“I don’t want them to hate me,” James said in a small voice, his face still hidden in Harry’s robes.
“Who?” Harry asked.
“My cousins. Mum’s family,” James said.
“They loved you when you were a baby, James,” Harry said. “They still do.”
“But, I’m different. I’m a freak!”
Harry sucked in his breath in shock. “Who told you that?” he asked.
“Connor and Dakota,” James said. “They saw me talking to Seth, and they said I was a freak and evil.” Harry frowned in thought, trying to remember the names. Two mousy haired kids who had lived next to them six months before seemed to fit the bill.
“The wizarding kids you hung out with in Arizona?” Harry asked. James nodded, and Harry hugged him more tightly. “I’m sorry they said that, but it isn’t true. You’re a good kid, James. Some people just can’t see past their own prejudices.”
“What’s prejudice?” James asked.
“It means they decided you were bad before they got to know you,” Harry said.
“So that means my cousins could be prejudice, right?”
Harry sighed. He hated these kinds of talks. Concentrating on a chair, he waved his hand and summoned it towards him. He lifted James and sat him down on the chair and leaned down to look him in the eye. “Yes, some of them could dislike you because you can talk to snakes, or because you have your own wand, or because I'm your father,” Harry said. “You can't do anything about it if they do. You need to be yourself and hope that they like you. Besides, these are Weasleys we're talking about. They love Potters unconditionally.” Harry grinned, hoping in his heart that what he had said was still true. Then he leaned down and winked at his son. “And if you need to, your mum and I will help you prank them.”
A bright smile lit up James’ face, and Harry answered it with a grin of his own. A moment later, Harry’s arms were full of little boy as James hugged him. “You’re the best, Dad.”
“Alright, enough of this,” Harry stated, ruffling his son’s hair again and standing up. “I need to get your sister ready. Your mum’s going to want us over there soon.”
As if on cue, Ginny’s voice filtered through his mind. Harry, you can come over.
Harry concentrated for a moment. Give me a minute, Gin. I’ve gotta get Lilian ready.
Just hurry. Ron’s about to Floo over there to see you.
Harry chuckled and drew his wand. He summoned the nappy bag as he lifted his daughter out of her chair. She grabbed his hair and kissed him sloppily on the cheek. “Dada!” she squealed in his ear. Slipping the bag over his shoulder, he turned to find James waiting for him. Taking his hand, Harry walked to the fireplace and grabbed some Floo powder.
“Ready?” he asked James.
James nodded, his fingernails digging into Harry’s palm. Taking a deep breath, Harry threw the Floo powder into the fire. Green flames erupted. Stepping into the warm flames with his children, he shouted, “The Burrow!”
A dizzying ride later, he stumbled into the kitchen of the Burrow and into the arms of his best friend. “I’ve missed you, mate,” Ron said, his voice thick with emotion. “Death could never stop the Boy-Who-Lived.” Pulling back from Ron, Harry saw the entire Weasley family smiling and crying, and he realized that his fears had been unfounded. This would always be home for him.
Ginny slipped up beside him and stole Lilian from his arms. She took the little girl over to Molly, who began fussing over her newest granddaughter. Grinning, Harry draped his arm over Ron’s shoulders and placed another hand on his son’s shoulder. “Didn’t you know, Ron?” Harry asked with a boisterous laugh. “Dark Lords always come back from the dead.”
FIN
AN:
Well this has been a long time in finishing. I wrote the original draft of the Epilogue in September of 2005. At the time, I was working on a Book 7 fic, but I decided that I did not want to write the actual whole fic. I had written the last three chapters as well as a few middle scenes and the first 3 chapters. However, I didn't like the storyline as much as I thought I would, so I started messing around with Curse Breakers of and on until I began publishing it last fall.
VelvetMouse deserves a lot of credit for how this fic turned out. I sent the original chapters to her back in the spring and she made a lot of comments and pointed out a lot of the unexplained assumptions in the story. So I went back to it and puttered around with it while I was stuck with Curse Breakers and eventually the story began flowing together into what you have here.
When I rewrote this, I looked at it as a verbal opera. I enjoy listening to opera, but I do not speak Italian, so in general, I just listen to the music and then will occasionally Google what is going on in the story, but most of the time I prefer the story the music tells me. What I wanted to do here was the reverse. The story is easy to follow but the music is ephemeral and left up to the reader. I give clues in the titles and how I structure each chapter.
I am not going to go into depth about each of the chapters, but for those who may be interested we can have a discussion on my yahoo group.
A huge slap on the back and thank you goes to Sovran for his help with the beta process. His comments and insights have been invaluable in cleaning up the prose and asking the right questions about extraneous scenes and missing information. Also, Sherry has been a great help.
I know many people will be asking for more on this series. I have no plans to write a sequel to this story. I will be doing some one shots in the future, but they will not happen for several months at the earliest. I realize that a whole other story is waiting to be told, but it is not a story I am interested in writing. I'd be more than happy to help someone who would want to take up that task, but we shall see.
Lastly, I would like to thank everyone who has read this story and has left a review. I know I am behind on responding to reviews, and I will take the time to catch up and respond to everyone who reviewed the story. Everyone has been very supportive and energetic.
Thanks,
Jonathan Avery