Fic - It Always Rains - Chapter 2 (of ~25)
Title: It Always Rains
Author: winnett
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco, Remus
Rating: PG-R (currently all PG)
Genre: Adventure/Romance
Summary: I can't call out/Unless it's to cry your name out the open window/To a sky that looks right back/And says it's never seen rain
Warnings: Male/male sexual situations.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based in the world created by J.K.Rowling. They aren't mine and I make no money from them. I just like to let them out to play.
Author's notes: Thanks so much to my betas fomp and serenitysmiles who have stood by me down this long path. Please enjoy my shiny story.
Word count: Approximately 4,200
***********************************************************************
Chapter 2
"She couldn't scream while I held her close."
The Killers - Jenny
Dazed and numb, Harry stumbled back from his friend’s side and turned towards the cluster of men by the receiving bay. "You bastard Malfoy, what did you do to Hermione?" Harry screamed furiously as he marched over to Draco, fisting the front of the blond's stylish jacket and slamming his slighter form against the dirty stone walls of the building. Ted Riley grabbed Harry's shoulders, tugging uselessly on his body. Turbulent winds tossed Harry's shaggy hair, his green eyes glowing as a hidden surge of wrath searched for release. Draco cocked an elegant eyebrow at him, not struggling against Harry all.
"Harry, back off!" It was Kingsley's voice that finally cut its way through the flash of rage consuming Harry. The brief squall died down and he was pulled off by the Auror. Everyone looked around nervously at the odd weather; Riley eyed Harry with concern. "It was Malfoy who called it in." Kingsley said.
"Yes Potter, do keep your hands off me," Draco drawled, casually dusting off the front of his jacket. It was the trademark sneer that sent Harry over the edge again.
"Fucking Malfoy, if I find out you had anything to do with this you will wish your grandfather had been castrated at birth. I swear you will pay." He turned away from his nemesis, a mix of panic and protective anger battling within him. His eyes searched out the prone form and there she was. His best friend, lying haphazardly in the filthy alley, glassy eyed with no evidence of physical injury. Her skirt rested slightly askew and her hair was a wild bush, so unlike her new, tidy style. She looked feral.
He knelt beside her, picking up her chilled hand, feeling for a pulse. It was there, weak, but a testament to her life.
A gentle touch rested on his shoulder, causing Harry to jerk at the intrusion.
"Harry," Remus said softly, "mediwizards are on their way. The Aurors say she's been cursed but they aren't sure what it is." Remus casually sniffed the air, taking in olfactory clues that only he could decipher.
"Who?"
"They're looking into that. Right now they don't know."
"I bet I know…"
"Harry, there's no proof. You can't just attack Draco Malfoy like that. Let the Aurors do their job. Anyway, I smell more people… But it's all so jumbled now. Spicy and sweet, almost like cinnamon and chocolate…" He continued to breathe in the air.
"He's a fucking Death Eater, Remus. Like we can trust him." Harry growled, his eyes still plastered on Hermione. He tugged her skirt down over her thigh, a gesture to offer modesty, and smoothed down her hair, tucking an errant strand behind her ear.
He stood, seeking out Kingsley Shacklebolt and with unerring purpose strode over to his ex-boss.
"Kingsley…"
The older man held up his hand as Harry prepared his barrage. "Harry, I promise to keep you informed. But even if you were still an Auror, I wouldn’t have you on this case, you're too close. Go home. She's being sent to St. Mungo's, you can check on her there."
"I'm not leaving."
"Fine, stay if you want, but leave Malfoy alone." Harry glanced over at the haughty blond, who continued to talk with Ted Riley and some other Aurors, flanked by a large, black man. "Do you hear me, Harry? Don't mess with him." Kingsley's tone allowed for no argument.
"Okay, Fine. I won't touch the Death Eater. Don't worry."
"Somehow, I am not relieved. Remember, he was acquitted by the Wizengamot. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" The incredulous look on Harry's face offered no assurance. "Remus, can you keep him in line?"
Remus exhaled wearily. "I will try to keep him out of trouble…" He didn’t sound convinced of his own ability. "But I won't stop him looking into this attack Kingsley; you know any of us would jump to protect Hermione."
"I know, I know… just… Use common sense. I know you must still have some of that."
Remus stared hard at Kingsley. Harry realized even tried and true Remus had his limits. "Yeah, Kingsley, don't worry." He mirrored Harry's own hollow words.
The healers from St. Mungo's, adorned in their lime green robes, arrived and took Hermione away. Harry and Remus Apparated to the hospital and waited until the sun rose, pacing a hole in the tile floors. Finally, Mediwitch Periwinkle came out to talk to them.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin." She nodded at them, recognition in her eyes as they darted to Harry's forehead, searching out the dual scars crossed in a tilted X. How he hated that. "Miss Granger is suffering from several unknown curses and we have our best medical curse breakers working on it. She is not in poor physical health; the spells appear to have affected her mind and magic only. We know that Miss Granger works in the Spell Development sector of the Ministry. If an experimental spell is affecting her it might interfere with her recovery. Do you know if anything like that might be involved, an accident at work?"
Harry shook his head. "We weren't there when it happened. I don’t know what could be affecting her." Anyway, why would she be in an alley, Malfoy's alley, when affected by this spell? Harry didn't think this had anything to do with a mishap at the Department. The whole thing set up alarm bells.
"Well, we will contact you if there are any changes."
"Can we see her?" came Harry's plaintive plea.
"Certainly. She is in room 421, fourth floor."
It was a private room, surrounded by white walls, white curtains, white tile floor. It was institutional and the medical smell of potions and salves saturated every fabric in the place. It made Harry itch.
Hermione was lying under a light blue blanket, all clean and dressed in a white, hospital smock. Her breathing was shallow; her shut eyes cloistering the deadness hidden beneath. But she wasn't dead, even if his last memory was of her eyes, flat and dull.
The two men settled themselves in chairs around her bed. Snaking his hand out, Harry lightly stroked her fingers. "She's still in there, Remus."
Remus glanced up at Harry, curious. Ever since the destruction of the sixth Horcrux, Harry had developed odd abilities, shown signs of a hidden depth of power.
"What do you mean?"
"I can feel her power, it's still there, locked away. Tightly locked away, behind some wall... Her magic is still in her." A single tear traced down his smooth cheek.
~~~
Harry, Ron and Hermione were inseparable during their seventh year. Hogwarts remained open, though the meagre population, pared down due to the prevalent fear of an attack on the school, made for interesting classes. The three attended what lessons they could, all mixed Houses, but most of their seventh year of school encompassed searching for the Horcruxes and preparing for war. Extra curricular lessons, both magical and physical, were provided by various Order members. They learned unarmed and armed fighting techniques, and their duelling skills eventually matched those of the highest Order duellists.
Harry took up the yoke and ploughed through every trial he came to, not wanting to lose anybody else. The loss of Dumbledore, not to mention Sirius and Cedric, always waited in the dark corners of his mind. The prophecy called for him to face Voldemort, no other could perform this act. No one else need stand before that danger.
He would have gone alone, abandoned Ron and Hermione like he did Ginny, but they would not be cast off, eager to confront this onerous ordeal by his side. Ginny was invaluable help though, assisting with classwork and preparations for tests, working with the teachers to have study guides ready for them, learning the skills so she could eventually pass on those lessons. There was no surprise when she graduated top student in her final year.
However, the Golden Trio would not be separated. His friends would not let him fight this war alone. Fortunately, Harry eventually realized he needed their help, their companionship, and finally quit arguing about it.
It seemed they each developed and honed a certain knack in their endless quest. Hermione obviously became the research expert, combing through piles of books, scrolls and papers, some of them utterly ancient. She discovered location after location, all potential cradles for the fragments of Voldemort's soul. Ron kept them all in good spirits and on task. He prepared all of their equipment for their outings and cast ahead to each location for any Order members or contacts they could establish. Harry just went by gut instinct and blind luck. He figured he should stick with his strengths.
The first Horcrux they found was the Hufflepuff cup. Hidden away in Godric's Hollow, in a deep well behind the burnt out husk of Harry's parent's final stand.
The second was the locket, stolen from the cave by Regulus Black, cloistered away at 12 Grimmauld Place, pocketed by Mundungus and eventually tracked down to a seedy shop in Knockturn Alley. It took them three months to search for and eventually destroy the heavy pendent.
Nagini was the third Horcrux they destroyed, with a total of five of the six accounted for. Using Parseltongue, Harry enticed her away from Voldemort. It was their most dangerous mission yet, as Nagini rarely strayed far from her Lord and master. Feeding the giant snake a poisoned cat did not prove difficult, but while she thrashed in throes of pain they worried the poisoning might fail. They resorted to hacking at her body with the keen blades they were never without; the constant worry that Voldemort would find them nagging at their nerves. Ron suffered a broken arm from the snake's convulsions, but it was a small price to destroy the fifth Horcrux.
An entire village was destroyed in retaliation.
Voldemort unleashed his fury, invigorated by an unstable psyche, and the death tolls skyrocketed in response to the Trio's actions. More than ever they acknowledged the need to move quickly or more of their friends might end up dead, not to mention countless innocents.
The sixth had eluded them for months. Dumbledore had left them with the hint that it might be in a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor relic. They researched everything they could about the two Founders and what other legacies they might have left behind. Ron wondered if it could be the Sorting Hat, since it was once Godric Gryffindor's, but every bit of research they did on the hat revealed nothing. The true hint came when Harry finally placed the Sorting Hat on his head. It actually sang a song for him.
Godric pulled me off his head
No wicked soul will I ever hold
That precious fragment has found a bed
In the son of red and gold
Protected by a mother's love
And many allies wrought
Anointing mark an equal makes
Within this badge the soul is caught.
"Your scar, Harry. That is the sixth Horcrux!" Hermione pointed out.
They all felt helpless; how could they destroy this Horcrux?
~~~
The school year was nearing an end and the students who remained at Hogwarts were studying diligently for their upcoming NEWTs and harassing their professors for any last minute study aids. Harry, Ron and Hermione chose not to take them this year, just trying to pass their classes as best they could with their hectic search for the Horcruxes. It proved a difficult decision for Hermione to make.
After the realization that Harry's scar held a portion of Voldemort's soul, they decided to go to the Potions Master in hope that he might be able to shed more light on this grim circumstance.
"Professor Slughorn?" The three Gryffindors approached their professor after a potions class they had actually attended. "Um, can we speak to you? Privately?"
"Yes, yes, of course. I will be retiring to my office, Miss Brocklehurst and Mr. Hopkins. I shall return in due time." He bid goodbye to two of his students, who had stayed after class to perfect the Draught of Peace, a potion currently in high demand.
The three followed Professor Slughorn to his office. As he held the door open for them he said, "Come in, come in. How are the searches going?" As one of the elder professors at Hogwarts, he was informed along with McGonagall about all of their travels, research and success, offering what aid he could.
"We think we figured out the final Horcrux, sir. And well, we are not sure what to do with it." Harry sounded despondent as he rubbed at his scar.
"Well Harry, do tell. Don't keep me in suspense."
"My scar?" It came out a question.
"Your scar? Well that is... ahem… unique." Professor Slughorn blinked his large eyes. "Why would he do such a thing?" He pondered.
"Well sir, I think it was inadvertent. Perhaps the fact that the Killing Curse rebounded off Harry, destroying Voldemort's corporeal body, caused this final sliver of soul to be chiselled off and the Horcrux to be created. If you remember sir, other things were transferred to Harry because of the failed curse, such as his ability to speak Parseltongue and his connection to Voldemort's thoughts." Hermione said. "There really isn't that much information on Horcruxes that I've been able to obtain, so this is only speculation. But while we've destroyed the other five, difficult as that was," she glanced at her friends who nodded in reply, "we are at a loss as to how to destroy this Horcrux. I don't think Harry has to die, but I'm not sure what other options there are."
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed.
The older man grew grave and nodded as if to himself. He rose from his overstuffed chair and crossed the room to a very neat bookcase. Pulling on a book caused a small 'click' and a hidden compartment was revealed behind the moved volume.
"I recently came into possession of this." He removed a thin, faded book and handed it to Harry. "It might be just what you need." Professor Slughorn glanced away as if he was loath to look at the thing.
Harry gently turned the book over in his hands. The leather cover was flaking and all writing had faded, no title being legible. He turned over the cover and flipped a few pages cautiously, letting his eyes settle on one.
"This book is about Horcruxes and other Dark Magic!"
"Hey Professor, why didn't you give this to us sooner?" Ron interjected; his voice trying for congenial, but not quite hitting the mark as he glowered at the man.
"Oh, now you see, it just came into my possession. I have quite a few friends who are looking for such items for me. It is bad for my reputation you must understand, but luckily one of my more discreet fellows found me that. I just received it yesterday. It's yours. Please, just take it away." The man fidgeted with anxiety.
Hermione grabbed it and stuffed it in her bag. "Thank you, Professor." She turned and walked out of the room, quickly followed by Harry.
"Hermione! Wait." Ron yelled, turning to glare back at their Professor as if he had more to say to the man.
"Ron, we don't have time."
~~~
Hermione really was the brightest witch of her age and with the help of the book and some further information from Professor Slughorn, a long and complicated ritual was prepared that would destroy the Horcrux residing within Harry's scar without, hopefully, destroying Harry.
It all centred around the Kielen Dagger. A weapon deadly to spiritual remnants, usually wielded by ghost hunters.
There were only three known to have been created, because to be honest there were easier ways to deal with pernicious ghosts. None of the knives were readily available, so Hermione and Professor Slughorn had to create one from scratch. They even pulled in Bill, Ron's older brother, to help with some of the finer charms and curses.
It truly had to be created from its base materials, using specially prepared iron melted in a properly cursed cauldron, then mixing the melted ore with gold, Slorch Scum and Dragon Bile to attain the proper alloy. Once the mixture was molten it was poured into a mould to cool and then pounded and reheated and pounded and reheated. This was where Bill provided further aid, toned from his recent expeditions. The Kielen Dagger took two weeks to forge, and then they were finally ready for the ritual.
It wouldn't be good for Harry. As Bill, Professor Slughorn and Hermione were busy with the dagger, Harry and Ron were preparing an empty dungeon room for the ritual. After they had finished, it looked like a medieval torture chamber, complete with chains attached to the bare floor meant to secure Harry as they cut into his scar with the dagger. A large pentagram and protection circle were drawn on the floor using a mixture of salt, coltsfoot and Harry's own blood to contain the huge energy release that they expected with the destruction of the Horcrux. The blood stained circle was then burned with chameleon fire, charred into the stone floor, leaving an acrid odour hanging in the air.
As he prepared for the ritual, one which survival was not guaranteed, Harry mulled over his secrets and deepest desires, dwelled on his losses and cherished the happy moments. Truly happy moments which were far too few for someone with such a willing heart. But even as he tried to focus on the good things, his flight on Buckbeak, meeting Sirius for the first time, beating Malfoy at Quidditch, his first kiss with Ginny, his mind kept returning to those losses, of missed chances and dead friends. He wished Dumbledore was here to help them. He wished for Sirius to be standing by his side. He wished he could only remember one loving kiss from his mother, instead of her dying screams. None of his wishes seemed to ever come true; his wasn't a life of "happily ever after" after all.
Then the time was upon them. A final layer of protective charms was laced over Harry in hopes of preserving him from the majority of the upsurge he would be trapped at the centre of.
They all hoped he would survive.
Hermione felt his chances were good.
~~~
"Harry, come here." Hermione stood within the circle, one leather manacle in her hand, chains at her feet, a slight cock to one hip giving her the guise of a cruel dominatrix.
"Hermione, quit looking at me like that." Harry whimpered, lying down at her feet like a virgin sacrifice as she strapped him to the floor at the centre of the ritual space. Eyes shut tight and breath coming in quick sips, his nervous energy had everyone on edge.
"Calm down, mate. I know this will be living hell and all, but let's just get it over with." Ron offered a weak pat, for once lacking his good natured optimism. With a fit of jitters, he rose and lit the pillar candles stationed at each point of the pentacle, offering more light to the dreary cell.
"Merlin's balls, I can't do this." Harry began to struggle against his restraints, thrashing in panic.
"Harry, Harry. Calm down." Hermione laid a warm hand on his clammy forehead. "Now, who do you want to do it? Ron or me?" Ron groaned in despair.
"You better do it Hermione, I think Ron might have an aneurism." The light joking eased his anxiety at the upcoming potential lobotomy.
"Fine." She was matter-of-fact, wrapping herself in the armour of cold logic, just trying to get the job done. "Out Ron."
Casting backwards glances, Ron slunk from the room, slowly clicking the door shut and joining his brother and Professor Slughorn outside the makeshift ritual chamber.
~~~
"How's it going?" Bill asked, adding more protective spells around the door, silvery filaments pulling out of his wand, wrapping around the door and frame, just in case it didn't go quite as planned.
"Well, Harry's doing as good as can be expected, going under the knife and all that." Ron's voice was small, only hinting at the immense worry he felt about this ritual and how his friends might fair. A sense of guilt eating away at his courage as he waited outside.
~~~
Locked away within the room Hermione cast more protective charms and shields all over her. Layer after layer of advanced magic gave her a crystalline glow, coating her in an almost angelic aura. A feminine Archangel Michael brandishing her cruel blade. Glinting Kielen Dagger in one hand, wand in the other, she leaned over Harry. "Ready?"
A feeling not unlike blind terror wormed its way into Harry's veins, chilling them to ice, and he pulled the chains tight, straining and stiffening in anticipation of the first cut. He could hear Hermione's shallow breathing, betraying her own apprehension and he momentarily felt wrong forcing her to cut into his scar. She shouldn’t have to face such horrors.
Failing to swallow past the fear lodged in his throat in an attempt to wet his dry tongue, he opted for a nod instead.
"Alright." She lifted the knife; his last view before he screwed his eyes shut, the dim light reflected off its metal surface.
The Cruciatus Curse had nothing on this. As Hermione pressed the Kielen Dagger to his scar and cut through, carving into the thin layer where skin meets bone, the explosion of pain pulsed through every nerve ending in the boy. An agonizing twitch in his forehead, like a nest of maggots digging into his brain, caused his stomach to flip, his nerves to cry in protest. He strained against the chains as he ripped the lining from his throat in scream after scream as Hermione continued to saw away at his forehead, cutting through the thin aegis of the soul fragment.
The imbedded shard of Voldemort's soul attempted to fight back.
Eventually for Harry, before his incoherent prayers for death were answered, the world faded away.
When he finally came to, even with the pounding of a 10 tonne sledge hammer attacking his temples and warm liquid trickling down his face into his eyes, he felt lighter. He almost laughed he felt so free.
"Hermione?" The room was quiet. Deathly quiet.
"Hermione!" Panic laced his words as he struggled against the leather and metal restraints, arms locked tight in the unforgiving manacles.
"Nagn." Came a weak mumble from his right.
"You okay?"
"Ugn." She replied. With a slow crawl Hermione finally appeared in his red-tinted view. "You?" Finally forming a coherent word.
"Head hurts like hell… But yeah, I think I'm okay."
With a few concise flicks of her wand the manacles were released and the door opened.
~~~
"Harry! Hermione! How did it go?" Ron ran through the door and stopped short at the sight before him.
The room was splattered in red. Hermione, crouching next to Harry, was painted in burgundy, hair a halo of unfettered chaos, looking like a wild Amazon moving in for her kill. Harry's entire face was covered in the same, more blood than could have come out of just the gash across his head. A flap of skin dangled from Harry's scalp and a smile with a hint of insanity crazily perched on his lips.
"Great!" Harry called. "It went great!"
"Huh?" Ron asked, perplexed.
"I don't know, I mean I hurt like hell, but I feel so… released? Free. Light almost, like I was wearing soggy robes all day and finally got a chance to take 'em off." Harry looked over at Hermione with the same insanity in his smile and then his jaw dropped.
This caused Ron to look closer, to see beyond the blood splattered over every inch of his friend and he finally noticed her left hand, the one that had held the knife. It was black and twisted, just like Dumbledore's last year. She held it to her chest, cradling the burnt claw.
"Merlin, Hermione, your hand!" Ron ran over to her, sliding on his knees the last few feet. She flinched as he drew close, but let him gently take her misshapen hand into his own. "Wow." The Kielen Dagger lay beside her on the ground.
"The Horcrux released an impressive amount of magical energy, more so than the others… I couldn't let the knife go until I was sure it was destroyed." Pain wracked her voice. "I suppose I should be happy the rest of me didn't suffer the same fate."
Professor Slughorn and Bill stood by the entrance, watching the students, children no more. "Come on guys," Bill said. "Let's get you to the Hospital Wing."
~~~
Hermione's hand did get better, but it took time. She suffered quite a bit of pain, but stoically kept on, fulfiling her part in the preparations for the final assault on Voldemort. Harry, though, came out of the experience with a new scar and full access to all of his immense power.
Chapter 3
Chapters Posted
Author: winnett
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco, Remus
Rating: PG-R (currently all PG)
Genre: Adventure/Romance
Summary: I can't call out/Unless it's to cry your name out the open window/To a sky that looks right back/And says it's never seen rain
Warnings: Male/male sexual situations.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based in the world created by J.K.Rowling. They aren't mine and I make no money from them. I just like to let them out to play.
Author's notes: Thanks so much to my betas fomp and serenitysmiles who have stood by me down this long path. Please enjoy my shiny story.
Word count: Approximately 4,200
***********************************************************************
Chapter 2
"She couldn't scream while I held her close."
The Killers - Jenny
Dazed and numb, Harry stumbled back from his friend’s side and turned towards the cluster of men by the receiving bay. "You bastard Malfoy, what did you do to Hermione?" Harry screamed furiously as he marched over to Draco, fisting the front of the blond's stylish jacket and slamming his slighter form against the dirty stone walls of the building. Ted Riley grabbed Harry's shoulders, tugging uselessly on his body. Turbulent winds tossed Harry's shaggy hair, his green eyes glowing as a hidden surge of wrath searched for release. Draco cocked an elegant eyebrow at him, not struggling against Harry all.
"Harry, back off!" It was Kingsley's voice that finally cut its way through the flash of rage consuming Harry. The brief squall died down and he was pulled off by the Auror. Everyone looked around nervously at the odd weather; Riley eyed Harry with concern. "It was Malfoy who called it in." Kingsley said.
"Yes Potter, do keep your hands off me," Draco drawled, casually dusting off the front of his jacket. It was the trademark sneer that sent Harry over the edge again.
"Fucking Malfoy, if I find out you had anything to do with this you will wish your grandfather had been castrated at birth. I swear you will pay." He turned away from his nemesis, a mix of panic and protective anger battling within him. His eyes searched out the prone form and there she was. His best friend, lying haphazardly in the filthy alley, glassy eyed with no evidence of physical injury. Her skirt rested slightly askew and her hair was a wild bush, so unlike her new, tidy style. She looked feral.
He knelt beside her, picking up her chilled hand, feeling for a pulse. It was there, weak, but a testament to her life.
A gentle touch rested on his shoulder, causing Harry to jerk at the intrusion.
"Harry," Remus said softly, "mediwizards are on their way. The Aurors say she's been cursed but they aren't sure what it is." Remus casually sniffed the air, taking in olfactory clues that only he could decipher.
"Who?"
"They're looking into that. Right now they don't know."
"I bet I know…"
"Harry, there's no proof. You can't just attack Draco Malfoy like that. Let the Aurors do their job. Anyway, I smell more people… But it's all so jumbled now. Spicy and sweet, almost like cinnamon and chocolate…" He continued to breathe in the air.
"He's a fucking Death Eater, Remus. Like we can trust him." Harry growled, his eyes still plastered on Hermione. He tugged her skirt down over her thigh, a gesture to offer modesty, and smoothed down her hair, tucking an errant strand behind her ear.
He stood, seeking out Kingsley Shacklebolt and with unerring purpose strode over to his ex-boss.
"Kingsley…"
The older man held up his hand as Harry prepared his barrage. "Harry, I promise to keep you informed. But even if you were still an Auror, I wouldn’t have you on this case, you're too close. Go home. She's being sent to St. Mungo's, you can check on her there."
"I'm not leaving."
"Fine, stay if you want, but leave Malfoy alone." Harry glanced over at the haughty blond, who continued to talk with Ted Riley and some other Aurors, flanked by a large, black man. "Do you hear me, Harry? Don't mess with him." Kingsley's tone allowed for no argument.
"Okay, Fine. I won't touch the Death Eater. Don't worry."
"Somehow, I am not relieved. Remember, he was acquitted by the Wizengamot. Doesn't that mean anything to you?" The incredulous look on Harry's face offered no assurance. "Remus, can you keep him in line?"
Remus exhaled wearily. "I will try to keep him out of trouble…" He didn’t sound convinced of his own ability. "But I won't stop him looking into this attack Kingsley; you know any of us would jump to protect Hermione."
"I know, I know… just… Use common sense. I know you must still have some of that."
Remus stared hard at Kingsley. Harry realized even tried and true Remus had his limits. "Yeah, Kingsley, don't worry." He mirrored Harry's own hollow words.
The healers from St. Mungo's, adorned in their lime green robes, arrived and took Hermione away. Harry and Remus Apparated to the hospital and waited until the sun rose, pacing a hole in the tile floors. Finally, Mediwitch Periwinkle came out to talk to them.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Lupin." She nodded at them, recognition in her eyes as they darted to Harry's forehead, searching out the dual scars crossed in a tilted X. How he hated that. "Miss Granger is suffering from several unknown curses and we have our best medical curse breakers working on it. She is not in poor physical health; the spells appear to have affected her mind and magic only. We know that Miss Granger works in the Spell Development sector of the Ministry. If an experimental spell is affecting her it might interfere with her recovery. Do you know if anything like that might be involved, an accident at work?"
Harry shook his head. "We weren't there when it happened. I don’t know what could be affecting her." Anyway, why would she be in an alley, Malfoy's alley, when affected by this spell? Harry didn't think this had anything to do with a mishap at the Department. The whole thing set up alarm bells.
"Well, we will contact you if there are any changes."
"Can we see her?" came Harry's plaintive plea.
"Certainly. She is in room 421, fourth floor."
It was a private room, surrounded by white walls, white curtains, white tile floor. It was institutional and the medical smell of potions and salves saturated every fabric in the place. It made Harry itch.
Hermione was lying under a light blue blanket, all clean and dressed in a white, hospital smock. Her breathing was shallow; her shut eyes cloistering the deadness hidden beneath. But she wasn't dead, even if his last memory was of her eyes, flat and dull.
The two men settled themselves in chairs around her bed. Snaking his hand out, Harry lightly stroked her fingers. "She's still in there, Remus."
Remus glanced up at Harry, curious. Ever since the destruction of the sixth Horcrux, Harry had developed odd abilities, shown signs of a hidden depth of power.
"What do you mean?"
"I can feel her power, it's still there, locked away. Tightly locked away, behind some wall... Her magic is still in her." A single tear traced down his smooth cheek.
~~~
Harry, Ron and Hermione were inseparable during their seventh year. Hogwarts remained open, though the meagre population, pared down due to the prevalent fear of an attack on the school, made for interesting classes. The three attended what lessons they could, all mixed Houses, but most of their seventh year of school encompassed searching for the Horcruxes and preparing for war. Extra curricular lessons, both magical and physical, were provided by various Order members. They learned unarmed and armed fighting techniques, and their duelling skills eventually matched those of the highest Order duellists.
Harry took up the yoke and ploughed through every trial he came to, not wanting to lose anybody else. The loss of Dumbledore, not to mention Sirius and Cedric, always waited in the dark corners of his mind. The prophecy called for him to face Voldemort, no other could perform this act. No one else need stand before that danger.
He would have gone alone, abandoned Ron and Hermione like he did Ginny, but they would not be cast off, eager to confront this onerous ordeal by his side. Ginny was invaluable help though, assisting with classwork and preparations for tests, working with the teachers to have study guides ready for them, learning the skills so she could eventually pass on those lessons. There was no surprise when she graduated top student in her final year.
However, the Golden Trio would not be separated. His friends would not let him fight this war alone. Fortunately, Harry eventually realized he needed their help, their companionship, and finally quit arguing about it.
It seemed they each developed and honed a certain knack in their endless quest. Hermione obviously became the research expert, combing through piles of books, scrolls and papers, some of them utterly ancient. She discovered location after location, all potential cradles for the fragments of Voldemort's soul. Ron kept them all in good spirits and on task. He prepared all of their equipment for their outings and cast ahead to each location for any Order members or contacts they could establish. Harry just went by gut instinct and blind luck. He figured he should stick with his strengths.
The first Horcrux they found was the Hufflepuff cup. Hidden away in Godric's Hollow, in a deep well behind the burnt out husk of Harry's parent's final stand.
The second was the locket, stolen from the cave by Regulus Black, cloistered away at 12 Grimmauld Place, pocketed by Mundungus and eventually tracked down to a seedy shop in Knockturn Alley. It took them three months to search for and eventually destroy the heavy pendent.
Nagini was the third Horcrux they destroyed, with a total of five of the six accounted for. Using Parseltongue, Harry enticed her away from Voldemort. It was their most dangerous mission yet, as Nagini rarely strayed far from her Lord and master. Feeding the giant snake a poisoned cat did not prove difficult, but while she thrashed in throes of pain they worried the poisoning might fail. They resorted to hacking at her body with the keen blades they were never without; the constant worry that Voldemort would find them nagging at their nerves. Ron suffered a broken arm from the snake's convulsions, but it was a small price to destroy the fifth Horcrux.
An entire village was destroyed in retaliation.
Voldemort unleashed his fury, invigorated by an unstable psyche, and the death tolls skyrocketed in response to the Trio's actions. More than ever they acknowledged the need to move quickly or more of their friends might end up dead, not to mention countless innocents.
The sixth had eluded them for months. Dumbledore had left them with the hint that it might be in a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor relic. They researched everything they could about the two Founders and what other legacies they might have left behind. Ron wondered if it could be the Sorting Hat, since it was once Godric Gryffindor's, but every bit of research they did on the hat revealed nothing. The true hint came when Harry finally placed the Sorting Hat on his head. It actually sang a song for him.
Godric pulled me off his head
No wicked soul will I ever hold
That precious fragment has found a bed
In the son of red and gold
Protected by a mother's love
And many allies wrought
Anointing mark an equal makes
Within this badge the soul is caught.
"Your scar, Harry. That is the sixth Horcrux!" Hermione pointed out.
They all felt helpless; how could they destroy this Horcrux?
~~~
The school year was nearing an end and the students who remained at Hogwarts were studying diligently for their upcoming NEWTs and harassing their professors for any last minute study aids. Harry, Ron and Hermione chose not to take them this year, just trying to pass their classes as best they could with their hectic search for the Horcruxes. It proved a difficult decision for Hermione to make.
After the realization that Harry's scar held a portion of Voldemort's soul, they decided to go to the Potions Master in hope that he might be able to shed more light on this grim circumstance.
"Professor Slughorn?" The three Gryffindors approached their professor after a potions class they had actually attended. "Um, can we speak to you? Privately?"
"Yes, yes, of course. I will be retiring to my office, Miss Brocklehurst and Mr. Hopkins. I shall return in due time." He bid goodbye to two of his students, who had stayed after class to perfect the Draught of Peace, a potion currently in high demand.
The three followed Professor Slughorn to his office. As he held the door open for them he said, "Come in, come in. How are the searches going?" As one of the elder professors at Hogwarts, he was informed along with McGonagall about all of their travels, research and success, offering what aid he could.
"We think we figured out the final Horcrux, sir. And well, we are not sure what to do with it." Harry sounded despondent as he rubbed at his scar.
"Well Harry, do tell. Don't keep me in suspense."
"My scar?" It came out a question.
"Your scar? Well that is... ahem… unique." Professor Slughorn blinked his large eyes. "Why would he do such a thing?" He pondered.
"Well sir, I think it was inadvertent. Perhaps the fact that the Killing Curse rebounded off Harry, destroying Voldemort's corporeal body, caused this final sliver of soul to be chiselled off and the Horcrux to be created. If you remember sir, other things were transferred to Harry because of the failed curse, such as his ability to speak Parseltongue and his connection to Voldemort's thoughts." Hermione said. "There really isn't that much information on Horcruxes that I've been able to obtain, so this is only speculation. But while we've destroyed the other five, difficult as that was," she glanced at her friends who nodded in reply, "we are at a loss as to how to destroy this Horcrux. I don't think Harry has to die, but I'm not sure what other options there are."
"Hey!" Harry exclaimed.
The older man grew grave and nodded as if to himself. He rose from his overstuffed chair and crossed the room to a very neat bookcase. Pulling on a book caused a small 'click' and a hidden compartment was revealed behind the moved volume.
"I recently came into possession of this." He removed a thin, faded book and handed it to Harry. "It might be just what you need." Professor Slughorn glanced away as if he was loath to look at the thing.
Harry gently turned the book over in his hands. The leather cover was flaking and all writing had faded, no title being legible. He turned over the cover and flipped a few pages cautiously, letting his eyes settle on one.
"This book is about Horcruxes and other Dark Magic!"
"Hey Professor, why didn't you give this to us sooner?" Ron interjected; his voice trying for congenial, but not quite hitting the mark as he glowered at the man.
"Oh, now you see, it just came into my possession. I have quite a few friends who are looking for such items for me. It is bad for my reputation you must understand, but luckily one of my more discreet fellows found me that. I just received it yesterday. It's yours. Please, just take it away." The man fidgeted with anxiety.
Hermione grabbed it and stuffed it in her bag. "Thank you, Professor." She turned and walked out of the room, quickly followed by Harry.
"Hermione! Wait." Ron yelled, turning to glare back at their Professor as if he had more to say to the man.
"Ron, we don't have time."
~~~
Hermione really was the brightest witch of her age and with the help of the book and some further information from Professor Slughorn, a long and complicated ritual was prepared that would destroy the Horcrux residing within Harry's scar without, hopefully, destroying Harry.
It all centred around the Kielen Dagger. A weapon deadly to spiritual remnants, usually wielded by ghost hunters.
There were only three known to have been created, because to be honest there were easier ways to deal with pernicious ghosts. None of the knives were readily available, so Hermione and Professor Slughorn had to create one from scratch. They even pulled in Bill, Ron's older brother, to help with some of the finer charms and curses.
It truly had to be created from its base materials, using specially prepared iron melted in a properly cursed cauldron, then mixing the melted ore with gold, Slorch Scum and Dragon Bile to attain the proper alloy. Once the mixture was molten it was poured into a mould to cool and then pounded and reheated and pounded and reheated. This was where Bill provided further aid, toned from his recent expeditions. The Kielen Dagger took two weeks to forge, and then they were finally ready for the ritual.
It wouldn't be good for Harry. As Bill, Professor Slughorn and Hermione were busy with the dagger, Harry and Ron were preparing an empty dungeon room for the ritual. After they had finished, it looked like a medieval torture chamber, complete with chains attached to the bare floor meant to secure Harry as they cut into his scar with the dagger. A large pentagram and protection circle were drawn on the floor using a mixture of salt, coltsfoot and Harry's own blood to contain the huge energy release that they expected with the destruction of the Horcrux. The blood stained circle was then burned with chameleon fire, charred into the stone floor, leaving an acrid odour hanging in the air.
As he prepared for the ritual, one which survival was not guaranteed, Harry mulled over his secrets and deepest desires, dwelled on his losses and cherished the happy moments. Truly happy moments which were far too few for someone with such a willing heart. But even as he tried to focus on the good things, his flight on Buckbeak, meeting Sirius for the first time, beating Malfoy at Quidditch, his first kiss with Ginny, his mind kept returning to those losses, of missed chances and dead friends. He wished Dumbledore was here to help them. He wished for Sirius to be standing by his side. He wished he could only remember one loving kiss from his mother, instead of her dying screams. None of his wishes seemed to ever come true; his wasn't a life of "happily ever after" after all.
Then the time was upon them. A final layer of protective charms was laced over Harry in hopes of preserving him from the majority of the upsurge he would be trapped at the centre of.
They all hoped he would survive.
Hermione felt his chances were good.
~~~
"Harry, come here." Hermione stood within the circle, one leather manacle in her hand, chains at her feet, a slight cock to one hip giving her the guise of a cruel dominatrix.
"Hermione, quit looking at me like that." Harry whimpered, lying down at her feet like a virgin sacrifice as she strapped him to the floor at the centre of the ritual space. Eyes shut tight and breath coming in quick sips, his nervous energy had everyone on edge.
"Calm down, mate. I know this will be living hell and all, but let's just get it over with." Ron offered a weak pat, for once lacking his good natured optimism. With a fit of jitters, he rose and lit the pillar candles stationed at each point of the pentacle, offering more light to the dreary cell.
"Merlin's balls, I can't do this." Harry began to struggle against his restraints, thrashing in panic.
"Harry, Harry. Calm down." Hermione laid a warm hand on his clammy forehead. "Now, who do you want to do it? Ron or me?" Ron groaned in despair.
"You better do it Hermione, I think Ron might have an aneurism." The light joking eased his anxiety at the upcoming potential lobotomy.
"Fine." She was matter-of-fact, wrapping herself in the armour of cold logic, just trying to get the job done. "Out Ron."
Casting backwards glances, Ron slunk from the room, slowly clicking the door shut and joining his brother and Professor Slughorn outside the makeshift ritual chamber.
~~~
"How's it going?" Bill asked, adding more protective spells around the door, silvery filaments pulling out of his wand, wrapping around the door and frame, just in case it didn't go quite as planned.
"Well, Harry's doing as good as can be expected, going under the knife and all that." Ron's voice was small, only hinting at the immense worry he felt about this ritual and how his friends might fair. A sense of guilt eating away at his courage as he waited outside.
~~~
Locked away within the room Hermione cast more protective charms and shields all over her. Layer after layer of advanced magic gave her a crystalline glow, coating her in an almost angelic aura. A feminine Archangel Michael brandishing her cruel blade. Glinting Kielen Dagger in one hand, wand in the other, she leaned over Harry. "Ready?"
A feeling not unlike blind terror wormed its way into Harry's veins, chilling them to ice, and he pulled the chains tight, straining and stiffening in anticipation of the first cut. He could hear Hermione's shallow breathing, betraying her own apprehension and he momentarily felt wrong forcing her to cut into his scar. She shouldn’t have to face such horrors.
Failing to swallow past the fear lodged in his throat in an attempt to wet his dry tongue, he opted for a nod instead.
"Alright." She lifted the knife; his last view before he screwed his eyes shut, the dim light reflected off its metal surface.
The Cruciatus Curse had nothing on this. As Hermione pressed the Kielen Dagger to his scar and cut through, carving into the thin layer where skin meets bone, the explosion of pain pulsed through every nerve ending in the boy. An agonizing twitch in his forehead, like a nest of maggots digging into his brain, caused his stomach to flip, his nerves to cry in protest. He strained against the chains as he ripped the lining from his throat in scream after scream as Hermione continued to saw away at his forehead, cutting through the thin aegis of the soul fragment.
The imbedded shard of Voldemort's soul attempted to fight back.
Eventually for Harry, before his incoherent prayers for death were answered, the world faded away.
When he finally came to, even with the pounding of a 10 tonne sledge hammer attacking his temples and warm liquid trickling down his face into his eyes, he felt lighter. He almost laughed he felt so free.
"Hermione?" The room was quiet. Deathly quiet.
"Hermione!" Panic laced his words as he struggled against the leather and metal restraints, arms locked tight in the unforgiving manacles.
"Nagn." Came a weak mumble from his right.
"You okay?"
"Ugn." She replied. With a slow crawl Hermione finally appeared in his red-tinted view. "You?" Finally forming a coherent word.
"Head hurts like hell… But yeah, I think I'm okay."
With a few concise flicks of her wand the manacles were released and the door opened.
~~~
"Harry! Hermione! How did it go?" Ron ran through the door and stopped short at the sight before him.
The room was splattered in red. Hermione, crouching next to Harry, was painted in burgundy, hair a halo of unfettered chaos, looking like a wild Amazon moving in for her kill. Harry's entire face was covered in the same, more blood than could have come out of just the gash across his head. A flap of skin dangled from Harry's scalp and a smile with a hint of insanity crazily perched on his lips.
"Great!" Harry called. "It went great!"
"Huh?" Ron asked, perplexed.
"I don't know, I mean I hurt like hell, but I feel so… released? Free. Light almost, like I was wearing soggy robes all day and finally got a chance to take 'em off." Harry looked over at Hermione with the same insanity in his smile and then his jaw dropped.
This caused Ron to look closer, to see beyond the blood splattered over every inch of his friend and he finally noticed her left hand, the one that had held the knife. It was black and twisted, just like Dumbledore's last year. She held it to her chest, cradling the burnt claw.
"Merlin, Hermione, your hand!" Ron ran over to her, sliding on his knees the last few feet. She flinched as he drew close, but let him gently take her misshapen hand into his own. "Wow." The Kielen Dagger lay beside her on the ground.
"The Horcrux released an impressive amount of magical energy, more so than the others… I couldn't let the knife go until I was sure it was destroyed." Pain wracked her voice. "I suppose I should be happy the rest of me didn't suffer the same fate."
Professor Slughorn and Bill stood by the entrance, watching the students, children no more. "Come on guys," Bill said. "Let's get you to the Hospital Wing."
~~~
Hermione's hand did get better, but it took time. She suffered quite a bit of pain, but stoically kept on, fulfiling her part in the preparations for the final assault on Voldemort. Harry, though, came out of the experience with a new scar and full access to all of his immense power.
Chapter 3
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