A/N This is a modified version of a novel I've been writing for a couple of years, it is pre DH and seriously AU now. It is also posted at Harry Potter fanfiction under my penname of Ydnas Odell. Incidentally I'm a prefect at HPFF and known as DA Jones there and here. If you keep that all in mind, I think you can greatly enjoy this. In many ways it is a horror story, although it is also an adventure and has multiple romances.

The Choices of the Heart
by Ydnas Odell (aka DA Jones)

Chapter 1: A Grey Man

Quote: Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the certainty that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.

Attribution: Vaclav Havel, Czech playwright and president

He felt as if he were a grey man in a hole, bare in a blizzard, huddled in a ball, hollowed and howling at the gloom. Alone, terrified and frozen, watching the monster come. He had all the responsibilities of Atlas and harried haggard shoulders; but he wouldn't shirk, would engage it head on and would never shiver nor even shrug -- for there was nothing to do, but do it. And so Harry would.

But as for now – and there was only the tortured now – he was immersed in the calmest peace he could expect for a long while, but it was not a peace of comfort. For in that now -- Dumbledore was dead and Ginny was Harry's ex-girlfriend and under the beech tree with Ron and Hermione, Harry was mourning hard. Those who watched him - and there were many - saw that he was stonily silent and his eyes were dry, but inside he felt as miserable as he had in his whole life. Perhaps he was beyond grief.

For breaking-up with Ginny, especially the way he had - even though it was necessary - was a frigid, rancid, and inhuman thing to do and in a certain light Harry imagined it might be considered cowardly, even Pettigrew like and with great trepidation he feared what Ron and the other Weasleys would do when they found out. He needed them - for they were the steel trellis of his courage.

He knew he was risking their support by putting aside the best part of his life. Yet, it had to be done. For the enemy, especially its leader was incapable of mercy. By stepping away from Ginny now, he hoped he could lessen her pain and risk. And so he had spoken the hardest words of his life: "Ginny listen….I can't be involved with you anymore. We got to stop seeing each other…We can't be together…"*

Ginny had rescued him. She said he had rescued her from the Chamber and he had, but somehow now it was the other way around. Physically he had rescued her, but mentally and emotionally she had rescued him. Their togetherness, their rightness was of a depth that would forever remain unspoken for some emotions are beyond expression. The simple act of holding her small but firm hand in his created a surge of almost divine and glowing happiness. Something that really shouldn't have been his given his life.

So he had to protect her. Place her far from him like a torch in the window of a cabin glimpsed from afar in a vicious storm, lighting the tough slough ahead, but safeguarded from the cruel, savage wind which would snuff it.

Their break-up was a tender act, a kind of caress of care, but it was agony. He had wounded himself with a wound more grievous than Voldemort could have ever hoped to inflict and the worst part was that it was not wholly his wound. For Ginny shared it. The bond between them was almost physical and he could not slice it without hurting her too - and so this was the greatest pain of all.

He knew he loved Ginny because the breakup with Cho hadn't hurt at all. Losing Cho had been no more than a disappointment, like losing the snitch and that Quidditch match to Cedric. In fact, losing Cedric had hurt a lot more, but that wasn't a fair comparison. Cedric had died and Cho? He and Cho and had just sort of drifted apart like untwisted kites on separate strings.

He still saw Cho from time to time, in the halls and had known she was safe and was glad for that, although he still felt guilty for the pain he had caused her by letting Cedric die. The main thing was that she wasn't in any particular danger because of him, not unless she was foolhardy enough to go seeking it, and she was no Gryffindor. In fact, she was graduating now - Harry hoped it was to be a wizarding accountant or something equally safe - although Dumbledore's death meant there would be no leaving ceremony.

But Ginny was different. Their love was true and the danger she was in because of that, no matter what he did, was immense. So he had been forced to push her away. To protect her and to save her, but also for the others, for he knew that fires had a habit of consuming everything and that firefighters who stay to save their home let the village burn down.

The sacrifice he had made was for the future, perhaps their future, but as a consequence the agony of 'now' was so bad he wondered if he would have the strength to move on. The only true motivation was that it was only a triumphant future that could end the pain, for not even death if he failed to succeed would remove the guilt.

On a more earthbound level he wondered if he should have waited until after the funeral to tell Ginny. He swore that she understood, but on the other hand he could see it in her face, no matter how hard she had tried to hide it, how upset she had been. But what more could he have done?

Where should he have told her? On the train? There wouldn't have been any privacy and the others would've tried to talk him out of it.

He had only decided this morning, and if had he waited until Bill and Fleur's wedding he was sure he wouldn't have had the strength, and she would've been in danger the whole while.

And if he had sent her a Dear Ginny letter that would've gone over swell.

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Dear Ginny:

We have to break up. If we don't I'm afraid you'll die. Please forgive me!

Harry,

P.S. I can't risk saying what I want to say in case…in case of you know what.

Ron would've killed him and Hedwig would've never stopped biting his fingers plus Voldemort might've intercepted the letter. Which…..He sucked in air. No madness led that way. And it wouldn't happen. He knew he wasn't the only one who would stop it with his life.

He wasn't alone in this war. He wasn't a grey man in a hole, even though that was very difficult thing for him to remember. The truth was that even if he ran off to try to spare them, the others would still fight

All he really wanted was to be without fear and without worry just for awhile, to softly hold Ginny in his arms, and to see Ron and Hermione happy. To see smiles, instead of worrisome frowns, and to know that no one else was in danger because of him. But that wish would be a long-time coming and he knew it.

Happiness would mean a long slough through his nightmares, a twisted and unpredictable and all too real landscape peopled with Demantors and Werewolves and Death Eaters and for sure full of the blood of dying friends, if not his own. It couldn't be helped and in the end his efforts might not be enough. All could end badly.

This was his last hour at Hogwarts. Soon the Hogwarts Express would depart for King's Cross and he only wanted to use the last few minutes before they had to retrieve their trunks to find a second of levity with Ron and Hermione. A sole tick of the clock in which the three were just best mates and not their world's forlorn hope. For without Ginny his sanity and his normality depended in a large measure on them.

But he knew it wouldn't come. For one thing he just couldn't get what he had done to Ginny off his mind, or worse what might happen if his resolve about not seeing Ginny broke.

Besides happiness did not become him, it was almost alien to his existence before Ginny which was why…He was destined he knew, to be always stressed, always under-pressure, always in fear of his own life and for the lives of others until this was done… If ever he was happy -- except when he was with Ginny who somehow made him forget these things -- it almost felt like a kind of dereliction of duty. Who was he, after all if not the chosen one; with all the suffering and loss that implied?

But Ginny made him remember that he was Harry. To her, after her first brush with embarrassment, he had always been nothing but. The memories of the last three glorious weeks were golden; the feel of the cinnamon curls and silky swirls of her fiery red hair under his thumb, so appropriate for a Gryffindor and her alluring flower and spice scent; so full of the enticing honeysuckle and roses. Or, the lithe, sweet and sexily sleek way she rode her broom, hips slightly askew.

Her lips were as sweet as treacle tart; she was dainty lightness in his arms, but steel strong. She always seemed to know what was right and was smart and kind, (once in a rare while besting Hermione, defending Luna). Passionate. Damn Passionate.

She had moaned eagerly the rare times he had held her close; their bodies a barely controlled and entwined flame flaring against constraint, wit almost totally lost to want. She knew him, loved him beyond her heart, completely. It was mutual. Yet he couldn't tell her and had been forced to put her aside.

But he had too, for people who cared for him had a nasty habit of dying. He wouldn't risk that, no matter the pain it was better to lose her in his heart, than in reality. For If Voldemort somehow got hold of Ginny...

He was repeating his thoughts, a clear sign of his worry. It wouldn't happen. He wouldn't let it, because, if he was capable of it he would kill the man.

Could he kill Voldemort?

It was frightening to think that he might somehow pull all this off and then fail at the penultimate moment, letting everyone else down because unlike the evil Lord Voldemort he had a conscious. If he couldn't kill the dark lord how many more would die?

He tightly squeezed the fake horcrux in his hand again. The fake locket was only one reason among many that Voldemort should pay. Obtaining it had caused a great and noble man his life. And it wasn't even real.

Harry again repeated his mantra: the Locket, the Cup, the Snake, and something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's.

Now what? That was a tough question.

He would try, that was all. Dumbledore was dead. Since there was no one else to do it he had to take a stand, if only to give the others a chance. It was….he realized, much like pushing Ginny aside, his only choice.

Was this choice an extraordinary thing? He didn't think so. Fighting for those you love wasn't heroism; but human nature. To Harry heroes were those who did things for people they didn't even know, based just on principles, like strangers who crawled into burning Lories or Neville and Luna fighting at the ministry for Sirius a man they didn't even know.

But he wouldn't let that pair take any insane chances again. Thankfully, they would be safe at Hogwarts, with Ginny. Maybe he would even risk a word to Neville about keeping an eye out for the girls, for he wouldn't put it past Ginny to plot something and drag Luna after her and Neville was sensible most of the time.

He was taking Ron and Hermione with him. He had tried to talk them out of it, but they wouldn't listen to reason. They both believed that if there had been a time to turn back, it has long passed. They were in this for the long haul, as bond and drawn to him as if Merlin himself had cast the sticking charm. They wouldn't leave him short of death. The degree to which this touched him - like his passion for Ginny- was beyond words. They gave him hope, just as Ginny did.

That was important, because it was all they really had. That and determination. But determination wasn't always enough. It hadn't been enough for the Spartans at Thermopylae, nor Merlin in his final duel, or Godric and Byrhtnoth at Maldon. But it was a start.

The path of revenge would first pass through the Dursleys as he had promised Dumbledore he would go there. Then would come the wedding, the sole oasis of peace he could see in the coming horrors.

He imagined it and drew momentary joy from the images like a hungry Chizpurfle drew magic from a wand. He daydreamed about what sort of outfits Fleur would inflict on Hermione and Ginny. He imagined what fun they would have, the joking and the plethora of pies prepared by Ms. Weasley; plus the twins were sure to pull some sort of prank involving fireworks.

He fantasized about dancing with Ginny. He had never done that. In the three weeks they had been together he had never asked her. They hadn't even been to Hogsmeade together.

After the wedding he would take Ron and Hermione with him to visit Godric's Hollow. He needed to see his parent's graves and he hoped there might be a clue at their home. He needed clues. Aside from the cup, the locket and the snake he didn't know what the other Horcruxes were; or where, aside from the snake to find any of them. But he would. He squeezed the locket yet again.

But to find the Horcruxes, to defend themselves, they only had what they had now. They needed more time, but didn't have much of it. How could he keep his friends safe? If they were hurt, how could he face Ginny and tell her that she had lost her brother and best friend because of him?

But Ron and Hermione were here now. They were coming with him to the Dursleys, which meant that this would be the best time he ever had at the Dursleys, in addition to the last. Then there was the wedding.

So, it wouldn't all go to hell right away. He had a small amount of time to enjoy life with his friends. He found himself suddenly smiling at his mates.

Surprisingly the sole tick of happy freedom had come.

--

A/n * Quote from HBP pg 646 Scholastic edition.

--

Harry Potter & The Choices of the Heart
by Ydnas Odell (aka DA Jones)
Chapter 2: A Bucket of Blood

QUOTE: Death is a fearful thing.

ATTRIBUTION: William Shakespeare, British dramatist, poet. Claudio, in Measure for Measure, act 3, sc. 1, l. 115.

He is in prison, and sentenced to death.

It was half an hour before Dumbledore's funeral and a child was dying.

"Zack I need the bucket!" she cried.

"Coming!" said Zacharias Smith as he hurried back to his twelve year old sister with the throw-up bucket. He arrived in the nick-of-time, placing it under her chin as she began the first heave. He rubbed the back of her neck as she retched violently for a full minute.

"Done, sis?"

She nodded and he wiped some residue from her chin with the side of his hand and after scraping it off on the bucket, pulled the container trepidatiously away to examine its contents. He sighed in relief and met the worried eyes of his sister: "Vomit, it's just vomit, Mindy."

There was quite a bit of it, the disgusting sticky fluid filled more than a third of the receptacle, but it was all yellow, there wasn't a trace of blood. They both lived in dread of bloody vomit, for the healers had told them that it meant the end. There was nothing more to be done. Mindy had a week, maybe two…if a miracle three and then he would lose his annoying but precious little sister.

He gave her some water, and watched as she slowly sipped it. Her hazel eyes still held a sharp spark in them, although the rest of her was far to drawn. His little sis was tough and brave as befit a Gryffindor.

Dumbledore had allowed a private sorting for her a year ago, just after the illness had begun, when there was still hope. Mindy might now never attend Hogwarts, but at least she had spent a glorious day at the school, obtained a flavor of what it would've been like, and had been sorted.

She lay back weakly on her scarlet sheets, panting; her face sweaty and entirely too pale and gaunt. She had a fever that wouldn't break - another sign of the end.

"I want Mum, why did she leave? Couldn't Dad just go?"

"You know they both had to attend…Dumbledore's...this thing for...for Dumbledore, it's important."

"Morgana's tits! Who cares about that old mud-blood loving fool?"

"Mindy!"

"I'm….Zack, I've only days... I need her," she said weakly.

"You've got me. Mindy, I'm not going anywhere." He ran his palm through her brown hair, and struggled to hide his grimace when part of it came out in his hand. "Mum and Dad love you, and you know they'll be back as soon as they can…this is important…not the...thing...but what comes after…the dark lord gave them something to do and…."

"I hope redcap's roger the Dark Lord!"

"Mindy if Mom and Dad ever catch you using that language?"

"What? I'm sort of immune to punishment now aren't I? Banish me to me room, ground me. Punish their dying little girl. I can't leave this room, I'm too weak. I can't eat...I even throw-up water...I need mum. I love you Zack, but your….your not her...you don't understand. How…"

He wrapped her in his arms, hugging her tightly.

"Mindy, I'm here. I'm not going to leave you…no matter what. I'm home from school now…for a reason…and…"

"I know…but Zack, you just don't understand. You can't. You don't have to go through this…you don't understand the pain…I'm scared Zack, I want mum"

His voice broke: "Don't be afraid Mindy, please where you're going is a wonderful place…"

"Maybe I won't go; maybe I'll be a ghost."

"No, you're going to go to a happy and pure place, Mindy. Don't be afraid. A paradise where the flow is perpetually warm and clear and there are no mudbloods or muggles to dirty it and magic is as beautiful and natural as breathing, where everyone is a Veela and birds sing opera and deer drink at brooks, where little girls never suffer and grandma and grandpa's house-elves always bake cookies …and you'll see Dainty."

"Really, dogs go to paradise?"

"Yes, Camelot has mutts."

"But, not any of the dirt-born, right?"

"No, not the mud-bloods."

A flicker of a grin crossed her otherwise greyed and grim face. "I think I'll like that, Zach."

"They pollute the flow. I can't see...nature letting…"

"That's what Mum and Dad are doing then? They went to fight the mud-bloods?"

"I think so…"

"I forgive them then."

Zach remembered overhearing the whispered conversation between his parents. It had been an anguished decision, his mother had cried horribly, but in the end they hadn't a choice, the dark lord expected his orders to be followed to the letter -- dying child or not.

"I just hope they'll be all right."

"They will be…."

"Zack, if mudbloods are so evil, why do you date one?"

"Megan?" Megan Jones, his beautiful bubbly blond, if only she hadn't been tainted by the filth of muggles – if only her magic had been spring-source clean.

"Yeh."

"I don't anymore," he replied somewhat bitterly. "I've broken up with her…we didn't agree about Dumbledore."

"But why did you date her?"

"Because Megan's pretty and a nice person and very optimistic."

"How can a mud-blood be a nice person?"

"Their people too Mindy…despite their flaws, a flawed mirror is still a mirror after-all and a flawed or tainted person is still a person even if their a muggle-born, it's not as if…"

"Their evil Zach and a creation of the dark; that's cut and dry - their why I'm dying."

"Mindy…"

"Zach, listen to me…promise me…that you'll help mum and dad when I'm gone. I know you haven't always thought the right way, but it is….you know your history…you're obsessed with it. What's been happening to the wizard race, since the first mud-blood?"

"We've been dying off, all sorts of ways, not usually cancer...but..."

"They're stealing our magic, reducing and polluting the flow, making it toxic, making us sick and they just don't see it…Megan and the others like her killed me Zack…their never conscious of doing it, but even if they know ...no one can willingly set aside magic…their half-breeds…inferior…murderous... malicious .and the worst part is that most of the world…doesn't under --I have to throw-up Zack."

He brought the bucket up to her. She upchucked viscously, her whole body shaking. When she was done, he looked at it and blanched.

Oh, No. "Mindy I love you."

"I love you to Zack."

"I'm talking you to St. Mungo's."

"I want to die here."

"I'm taking you to Mungo's."

"They can't do anything."

"I'm going to make them try."

"Zack, I don't want to die. Not yet."

He kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand: "I'm going to make them try. I'm going to help you up and then we are going to floo to St. Mungo's. Mum already packed a bag for you in case this happened. I'll send a message to mum and dad.

Finally she started crying. "Promise me Zack, you have to help Mom and Dad, you've got to help the Dark Lord, and it's the only way….that girls like me…."

"Mindy…it's not time for that promise yet! Do you understand me? It's not time! Now give me your arm…I'm going to help you up!"

A/n What do you think? Please let me know in a review.