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Requiem of the Phoenix | ||||||
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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: 36317; Chapter Total: 4895 |
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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 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 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. |
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