|
Requiem of the Phoenix | ||||||
|
Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ron Weasley Genres: Drama, Tragedy Warnings: Death, Violence Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 22 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. Hitcount: Story Total: 36320; Chapter Total: 4914 |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
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. |
| Reviews 22 |
Previous Next
|
