Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and
owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to
Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros.,
Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is
intended. All the sentences in bold were taken from FictionAlley Park's
"The Beginning Exchange", which can be found here:
http://www.fictionalley.org/fictionalleypark/forums/showthread.php?s=&threa
did=5685 The spell "Magnum Scintilla is my creation, but Katie came up
with the name. *waves at Katie, grinning widely*
A/N: The beginning takes place during the trio's 7th Year. The epilogue takes place about 20 years afterwards.
Fame
By Rita Screecher
"Hagrid hasn't really improved on his teaching skills since he started in our 3rd year, has he?" Hermione asked, walking in between Harry and Ron. The two nodded in agreement.
"At least we're not doing flobberworms anymore," Ron sighed.
"But we love him anyway," Harry put in.
The three were straggling behind the rest of their class, heading back into the castle from Care of Magical Creatures to dinner.
"Hurry up, you two," Hermione said impatiently. She had strode ahead, leaping nimbly across the little stream that ran across the Hogwarts grounds. Harry and Ron were a little ways behind, deep in an argument over which Quidditch team would win the World Cup next.
"Ron, the Chudley Cannons will not win, no matter how much you love them!" Harry said, exasperated. "Their Seeker is half blind!"
"He is not!" Ron nearly shrieked. "It's not his fault he's missed the Snitch the last 62 games!"
"Oh, really? Then whose fault is it?"
Ron gaped at Harry, reminiscent of a fish, then found his voice. "Yours! It's your fault! It's because you don't have any faith in him! Or the Chudley Cannons!" Ron's voice scaled up half an octave.
"The entire class has already left!" Hermione interrupted sharply. They finally looked up at her.
"So eager to get to dinner, Hermione?" Ron said innocently. "I thought you were on a diet. You are looking a bit plump these days…" He broke off, grinning. Hermione stood there, her hands on her hips indignantly.
"No, I'm not hurrying you two along because I want to get to dinner," she began hotly, "and for your information, I am not fat!"
"Did I say fat? Did I, Harry?" Ron said, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. Harry pushed Ron playfully.
"Shut up, Ron," Harry said, but his eyes were dancing.
"It's getting dark," Hermione said loudly, trying to drown out Ron and Harry.
"Really?" Harry said in mock surprise. "I would've never noticed! Thank God you're here, Hermione, to tell us that it's getting dark. What would we do without you?"
"Have a lot more fun," Ron muttered, smiling at Hermione.
"It's getting dark," Hermione repeated, giving Ron an evil look, "and I'm nervous. We're completely exposed and vulnerable out here."
The two boys sobered.
"All right, Hermione," Harry said. "Hurry up, Ron." They caught up with Hermione, and the three fell into step again.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you from big bad Voldemort," Harry teased Hermione, putting his arm around her. She smiled, glad for that little comfort. Ron grinned at the two of them.
"Always so ooey-gooey around each other," he said, shaking his head in mock disgust.
"I could say the same about you and Lavender," Harry exclaimed. "You two are always snuggling during class."
Ron said nothing, but his fading grin said more than enough.
"What's wrong with you and Lavender, Ron?" Hermione asked quietly, straightening up.
"We…decided to see other people," Ron replied after a pause.
"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I'm so sorry." She put her arms around him. He looked a bit uncomfortable.
"It's all right, Hermione," he said, gently easing out from her embrace. "I didn't really like her all that much, anyway." He turned away from the two of them. Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, than hurried to catch up with Ron.
"Slow down," Harry called to the lanky figure ahead a bit nervously. "Strength in numbers, remember?" Ron didn't slow down; instead, he sped up.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted. "Please wait!"
As they struggled to catch up, they spotted a tall, hooded figure silently emerging from the clump of trees Ron was passing.
"Ron!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light.
Silence.
Gaping mouths.
Terrified, stricken faces.
And a red-haired boy noiselessly falling to the ground.
***
Hermione stopped running, stunned. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. She groped blindly for her wand. Where is it? Damnit, where is my wand? Her fumbling fingers finally found them tucked away in the fold of her robes. Ron! She began sobbing, and almost didn't manage to perform the spell the teachers had taught all the students at the beginning of Voldemort's rise.
"Magnus Scintilla!" she cried, pointing her wand straight up into the air. Floods of seemingly never-ending light erupted from the end of it, streaming into the air and exploding into huge fireworks. The booms were deafening. There was no doubt that the teachers would notice it, even if they were inside the castle. She concentrated all of her strength on continuing the spell.
***
Meanwhile, Harry was running blindly towards Ron's crumpled figure and the tall, hooded murderer who was looming over Ron's body. Behind him, he heard Hermione sobbing and performing Magnus Scintilla.
The figure straightened and began walking purposefully towards Harry.
I have to protect Hermione, Harry thought wildly. He drew out his wand, and pointed it at the figure.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted. However, running while performing the spell didn't help his aim. The jet of light hit a rock a few feet away from the figure, whom Harry by now knew was Voldemort by the familiar intense throbbing on his forehead.
Slow down, he commanded himself. Aim carefully.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted again. He missed. He began panicking.
Wasting time…what, you think you have all the time in the world?
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell found its mark. Harry's wand went flying through the air, landing cleanly in Voldemort's outstretched hand. A high, cold laugh filled the air. The sky was brilliantly lit by the setting sun and Hermione's spell, which was beginning to wane from her quickly fading strength.
"Crucio!"
Pain exploded in Harry's head, nearly blocking out the throbbing agony caused by his scar.
"Crucio!"
Again. Harry couldn't believe that he could be in any more pain than he already was, but apparently he was wrong.
"Crucio!"
Hermione! I have to protect her! was Harry's last conscious thought. Then he slid into almost blissful unconsciousness.
***
Hermione cried out as she saw Harry collapse from the Cruciatus Curse, and the Magnus Scintilla spell wavered.
"Stop it!" she shouted in half hysteria. "Stop it!"
The figure looked up from his relentless torturing of Harry. Harry's body was limp and unmoving, and Hermione nearly sobbed.
Oh, God, this is too much, she thought, anguished. You're asking for too damn much of me today, God. Too damn much.
"And who might you be?" the figure leered at her. He began striding in her direction, ignoring Harry's limp body on the ground. Hermione's spell flickered once more, then died. She stood there, shaking, her legs leaden, rooted to the spot.
Move! she shouted at herself. Move or you'll die!
The figure raised his wand.
Oh God, she thought.
"Expelliarmus!" a voice rang out. The figure's wand, as well as Harry's, whipped out from his outstretched hand and into the hand of…
"Severus Snape," the figure said, spinning around. "The traitorous Death Eater."
"Leave her alone," Severus growled. "A duel. Just you and me. Or are you such a coward that you'd rather fight a defenseless little girl?"
"Don't taunt me," Voldemort spat. He gestured widely with his hands. "But duel with what? You've taken my wand."
"No magic," Severus replied. "Swords."
"A swordfight?" Voldemort said, clearly amused. "How quaint."
Severus didn't reply. He conjured up a pair of identical swords.
"Take your pick, Voldemort," Severus said, holding up the two swords.
"I'll have that one, thank you," Voldemort sneered, neatly flipping the chosen sword out of Severus's hand and into his own.
"You win, I leave quietly…for now," Voldemort said, twirling the sword around.
"And if you win?" Severus asked, mirroring Voldemort's sword tricks.
"Well, we'll just have to find out, now, won't we?" Voldemort smiled. "Hold on - let's get rid of the annoying audience first."
And before either Severus or Hermione could react, Voldemort swung his sword on Hermione. She flinched, instinctively jumping back, but not before his sword nicked her cheek and brutally cut her shoulder open. Blood began flowing freely, and Hermione collapsed onto the grass, a pool of crimson forming around her.
"I said this was just between us!" Severus shouted.
"You should know by now that I'm a cheater," Voldemort laughed.
Severus, blinded by rage, slashed his sword in Voldemort's direction. The Dark Lord, caught off guard, failed to block it.
Voldemort crumpled into a heap on the ground. The most evil wizard in the world had finally been defeated.
Time turned to slow motion as Severus dropped his sword and spun around. He cried out to Hermione and ran over to her. Hermione's hair had fallen into her face, and he brushed it out of the way - there was a cut on her cheek, which was bleeding badly.
Her shoulder was a gaping scarlet blur, and she clutched her right arm with her left, hands slipping and slithering on skin slick with both the sweat of fear and crimson colored blood. She did not look like Hermione anymore - more like a slain animal, for human flesh looks much like any other when bloody, or even dead. Severus could only pray this was not the case. He hastily put a spell on both cuts to close them up, thus preventing any more blood loss. He eased Hermione onto a conjured stretcher, and was about to turn to Harry when she caught at his sleeve. He looked down at her.
"Yes, Ms. Granger?"
"You called me a defenseless little girl," she protested weakly, but smiling. Severus smiled back, then hurried to get Harry and Ron onto stretchers as well. He then magicked all three up to the infirmary.
***
A bleary eyed Harry woke slowly from what seemed to be a long sleep. He looked up at the blindingly bright ceiling and a sharp pain shot through his neck. As the constant ringing in his ears slowly died down, he could faintly hear voices. His eyes were out of focus and all sounds were muffled so he couldn't make out who it was, but it sounded vaguely familiar. He was then shocked awake by a freezing cold towel placed on his warm forehead.
"Where am I?" he croaked, through a very sore throat.
"In the Hospital Wing dear, now try to go back to sleep."
"What?" he asked. "What happened?"
"Calm down, dear."
"No!" he shouted with all the strength he could muster.
"Harry." A new, familiar voice penetrated his cloudy thoughts.
"Dumbledore," Harry said. "Tell me what happened."
There was a pause.
"Tell me, damnit!" he screamed.
"Why don't you first tell me what you remember," Dumbledore said.
Harry began crying, his shoulders heaving painfully, his lungs burning with every jagged breath he took.
"Ron…" he finally choked out. Dumbledore handed Harry a tissue. Harry wiped his eyes and blew his nose. The old headmaster patted Harry on the shoulder gently. This gesture of kindness broke Harry down completely.
"There, there, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, soothing Harry. He let him cry it out for awhile, then gave him a final pat on the shoulder.
"Do you think you're ready to tell me now?"
Harry nodded as best he could. He opened his dry, chapped mouth and began, breaking off in some places to wipe his eyes.
"We were lagging behind the rest of the class on the way to dinner," he said. "We - Hermione and I - found out that Ron broke up with his girlfriend, Lavender. Ron didn't seem to like the pity and sympathy we were giving him, or else he was trying to hide his tears. Either way, he started running ahead of us. We yelled for him to slow down…and then Voldemort stepped out from a clump of trees…" He broke off.
"It was just like my nightmares of what it was like the night my parents died," he cried. "I was so close…and so helpless. I just…I couldn't - I didn't help him! He died, and I couldn't help him! It was like a nightmare. I kept wanting to wake up in my bed and finding that it was all only a dream. I just wanted to wake up…
"Hermione, always the sensible one, sent up Magnus Scintilla. I tried to Disarm Voldemort. But I failed. I failed miserably," Harry said in despair. "I was completely useless. Voldemort Disarmed me, and then…" His brow furrowed as he tried to remember.
"I think he put the Cruciatus Curse on me," he said finally. "All I can recall is just wanting to protect Hermione. And then I…I think I blacked out." He sat up suddenly, his head spinning and his body protesting against this sudden movement.
"Hermione," he croaked out. "Hermione! What happened to her? Tell me, Dumbledore!"
"Your friend Hermione is fine," Dumbledore said heavily. "She got her shoulder cut, but other than that, she'll be just fine."
"She got her shoulder cut?" Harry said hysterically. "She got her shoulder cut? How?"
"Calm down, Harry, or else Madam Pomfrey will throw me out. She's already upset with me making you tell me what happened." Harry quieted somewhat.
"Hermione was very clever, remembering to put up the Magnus Scintilla spell. Professor Snape was sent to investigate what was wrong the second we realized that danger was on Hogwarts grounds. He Disarmed Voldemort and managed to divert his attention away from Hermione by challenging him to a sword duel. However, Voldemort tried to kill Hermione with the sword anyway, but Hermione managed to jump away from the brunt of the blow in time. Severus, in an apparent fit of rage, killed Voldemort with his sword. He then patched up Hermione and sent all three of you to the infirmary."
Harry's eyes were dull. "So Voldemort's dead."
"Correct."
He began laughing insanely. "And everyone thought that I'd be the one to defeat Voldemort. That I'd be the one that would save the wizarding world in the end by killing Voldemort once and for all. No, I ended up nearly dying because of my stupidity and lack of skills for even performing a simple Disarming spell. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived - so idiotic, can't even aim a spell straight."
"Harry," Dumbledore began. Harry went on, seemingly not hearing Dumbledore, or the rest of the world for that matter.
"You know what Snape said to me on the very first day of school? Do you know? 'Fame clearly isn't everything.' And he was right. I wanted to prove him wrong so badly - I wanted to show him that I wasn't some stupid little boy that 'defeated' Voldemort by pure accident, by pure chance. But he was right." Harry's voice broke. "He was right. I am a stupid little boy that defeated Voldemort by pure chance. I can't even protect my own friends."
"Harry," Dumbledore said again. But Harry had already turned away, his face towards the wall. Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow, then," he finally said to Harry's hunched back. "Good day, Madam Pomfrey." And he was gone.
***
Dumbledore never had a chance to have that talk with Harry. Harry Potter died sometime during the middle of the night. Madam Pomfrey found his cold body in the morning, when she came to give him his medicine.
The wizarding world couldn't believe their ears when they heard the news. Voldemort, finally gone? The Boy Who Lived - dead? And the one who finally defeated the Dark Lord - Severus Snape, a former Death Eater?
The Dursleys couldn't believe their ears as well. They couldn't decide whether to celebrate or to look properly mournful, and finally decided on pretending that their nephew Harry Potter had never even existed. If you were to ask them if a skinny little boy with an oddly shaped scar on his forehead had ever lived in their house, they would've looked at you with blank faces and said, "We've always just lived with us and our son, Dudley. We've never had anyone else come to live with us, and certainly no boys Dudley's age."
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were buried side by side. The Weasleys requested this; they saw Harry as one of their own sons, and when the Dursleys refused to acknowledge Harry's existence and provide for his burial, the Weasleys immediately "adopted" him. The funeral was big and flowery, definitely something Harry would've hated. He never liked all that attention people gave him because of his fame. Hermione waited until after the funeral to go up to the two tombstones. When she was sure that the last stragglers had left, she walked up to the freshly dug graves.
Hermione knelt down and touched the engraved words on the tombstone: Harry Potter. So famous a name that had been uttered by almost every person in her generation. He had done so much, and now he was gone. She touched Ron's tombstone next, tracing the words with her gloved finger.
She closed her eyes and relived all her memories of Harry and Ron. Meeting them on the train to Hogwarts for the very first time, surviving through so many dangers and obstacles together, helping them on homework countless times, walking through Hogsmeade and looking through the many shops…she had thought that they would live to be 100, keeping in touch throughout the years and growing old together. Foolish, childish dreams. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
Laying a red rose upon each of their graves, Hermione straightened and finally left, leaving the memories and her two best friends in the world behind.
Epilogue
He leaned against the wall of the dark city alley as he drew in the heady flavor of his clove cigarette. Anyone--Muggle or magical--who passed by at that moment would have taken a second look, because his imposing yet insolent aura was hard to miss. Anyone would know that this was a man who had been there and done that, and this was a man who had seen and known more than what was fitting for his age. It was written in his eyes--the strange mixture of pain, pessimism, numbness, and indifference of a broken man.
He puffed out little perfect circles of smoke, and he watched them swirl in the polluted air. Then a soft female voice called out in surprise, "Harry, is that you?"
Harry turned to look at the sound of his name.
"Harry?" The woman came closer, peering at him, her voice shaky. She stared at his distinctive, unforgettable emerald eyes, and her own widened in disbelief. "Oh my God - it's really you." She reached up to touch him, to prove to herself that yes, this was a real person standing in front of her, and not a mere hallucination. He stiffened, his eyes wild with recognition and fear. But before she could touch him, he Disapparated, leaving nothing behind but the ashes from his cigarette. They swirled away in the wind, as elusive to her grasp as Harry. Hermione crumpled to the ground, sobbing.
He was alive.
A/N: The beginning takes place during the trio's 7th Year. The epilogue takes place about 20 years afterwards.
Fame
By Rita Screecher
"Hagrid hasn't really improved on his teaching skills since he started in our 3rd year, has he?" Hermione asked, walking in between Harry and Ron. The two nodded in agreement.
"At least we're not doing flobberworms anymore," Ron sighed.
"But we love him anyway," Harry put in.
The three were straggling behind the rest of their class, heading back into the castle from Care of Magical Creatures to dinner.
"Hurry up, you two," Hermione said impatiently. She had strode ahead, leaping nimbly across the little stream that ran across the Hogwarts grounds. Harry and Ron were a little ways behind, deep in an argument over which Quidditch team would win the World Cup next.
"Ron, the Chudley Cannons will not win, no matter how much you love them!" Harry said, exasperated. "Their Seeker is half blind!"
"He is not!" Ron nearly shrieked. "It's not his fault he's missed the Snitch the last 62 games!"
"Oh, really? Then whose fault is it?"
Ron gaped at Harry, reminiscent of a fish, then found his voice. "Yours! It's your fault! It's because you don't have any faith in him! Or the Chudley Cannons!" Ron's voice scaled up half an octave.
"The entire class has already left!" Hermione interrupted sharply. They finally looked up at her.
"So eager to get to dinner, Hermione?" Ron said innocently. "I thought you were on a diet. You are looking a bit plump these days…" He broke off, grinning. Hermione stood there, her hands on her hips indignantly.
"No, I'm not hurrying you two along because I want to get to dinner," she began hotly, "and for your information, I am not fat!"
"Did I say fat? Did I, Harry?" Ron said, his eyes wide with feigned innocence. Harry pushed Ron playfully.
"Shut up, Ron," Harry said, but his eyes were dancing.
"It's getting dark," Hermione said loudly, trying to drown out Ron and Harry.
"Really?" Harry said in mock surprise. "I would've never noticed! Thank God you're here, Hermione, to tell us that it's getting dark. What would we do without you?"
"Have a lot more fun," Ron muttered, smiling at Hermione.
"It's getting dark," Hermione repeated, giving Ron an evil look, "and I'm nervous. We're completely exposed and vulnerable out here."
The two boys sobered.
"All right, Hermione," Harry said. "Hurry up, Ron." They caught up with Hermione, and the three fell into step again.
"Don't worry, I'll protect you from big bad Voldemort," Harry teased Hermione, putting his arm around her. She smiled, glad for that little comfort. Ron grinned at the two of them.
"Always so ooey-gooey around each other," he said, shaking his head in mock disgust.
"I could say the same about you and Lavender," Harry exclaimed. "You two are always snuggling during class."
Ron said nothing, but his fading grin said more than enough.
"What's wrong with you and Lavender, Ron?" Hermione asked quietly, straightening up.
"We…decided to see other people," Ron replied after a pause.
"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed. "I'm so sorry." She put her arms around him. He looked a bit uncomfortable.
"It's all right, Hermione," he said, gently easing out from her embrace. "I didn't really like her all that much, anyway." He turned away from the two of them. Hermione and Harry glanced at each other, than hurried to catch up with Ron.
"Slow down," Harry called to the lanky figure ahead a bit nervously. "Strength in numbers, remember?" Ron didn't slow down; instead, he sped up.
"Ron!" Hermione shouted. "Please wait!"
As they struggled to catch up, they spotted a tall, hooded figure silently emerging from the clump of trees Ron was passing.
"Ron!"
"Avada Kedavra!"
A flash of green light.
Silence.
Gaping mouths.
Terrified, stricken faces.
And a red-haired boy noiselessly falling to the ground.
***
Hermione stopped running, stunned. This can't be happening. This can't be happening. She groped blindly for her wand. Where is it? Damnit, where is my wand? Her fumbling fingers finally found them tucked away in the fold of her robes. Ron! She began sobbing, and almost didn't manage to perform the spell the teachers had taught all the students at the beginning of Voldemort's rise.
"Magnus Scintilla!" she cried, pointing her wand straight up into the air. Floods of seemingly never-ending light erupted from the end of it, streaming into the air and exploding into huge fireworks. The booms were deafening. There was no doubt that the teachers would notice it, even if they were inside the castle. She concentrated all of her strength on continuing the spell.
***
Meanwhile, Harry was running blindly towards Ron's crumpled figure and the tall, hooded murderer who was looming over Ron's body. Behind him, he heard Hermione sobbing and performing Magnus Scintilla.
The figure straightened and began walking purposefully towards Harry.
I have to protect Hermione, Harry thought wildly. He drew out his wand, and pointed it at the figure.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted. However, running while performing the spell didn't help his aim. The jet of light hit a rock a few feet away from the figure, whom Harry by now knew was Voldemort by the familiar intense throbbing on his forehead.
Slow down, he commanded himself. Aim carefully.
"Expelliarmus!" he shouted again. He missed. He began panicking.
Wasting time…what, you think you have all the time in the world?
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell found its mark. Harry's wand went flying through the air, landing cleanly in Voldemort's outstretched hand. A high, cold laugh filled the air. The sky was brilliantly lit by the setting sun and Hermione's spell, which was beginning to wane from her quickly fading strength.
"Crucio!"
Pain exploded in Harry's head, nearly blocking out the throbbing agony caused by his scar.
"Crucio!"
Again. Harry couldn't believe that he could be in any more pain than he already was, but apparently he was wrong.
"Crucio!"
Hermione! I have to protect her! was Harry's last conscious thought. Then he slid into almost blissful unconsciousness.
***
Hermione cried out as she saw Harry collapse from the Cruciatus Curse, and the Magnus Scintilla spell wavered.
"Stop it!" she shouted in half hysteria. "Stop it!"
The figure looked up from his relentless torturing of Harry. Harry's body was limp and unmoving, and Hermione nearly sobbed.
Oh, God, this is too much, she thought, anguished. You're asking for too damn much of me today, God. Too damn much.
"And who might you be?" the figure leered at her. He began striding in her direction, ignoring Harry's limp body on the ground. Hermione's spell flickered once more, then died. She stood there, shaking, her legs leaden, rooted to the spot.
Move! she shouted at herself. Move or you'll die!
The figure raised his wand.
Oh God, she thought.
"Expelliarmus!" a voice rang out. The figure's wand, as well as Harry's, whipped out from his outstretched hand and into the hand of…
"Severus Snape," the figure said, spinning around. "The traitorous Death Eater."
"Leave her alone," Severus growled. "A duel. Just you and me. Or are you such a coward that you'd rather fight a defenseless little girl?"
"Don't taunt me," Voldemort spat. He gestured widely with his hands. "But duel with what? You've taken my wand."
"No magic," Severus replied. "Swords."
"A swordfight?" Voldemort said, clearly amused. "How quaint."
Severus didn't reply. He conjured up a pair of identical swords.
"Take your pick, Voldemort," Severus said, holding up the two swords.
"I'll have that one, thank you," Voldemort sneered, neatly flipping the chosen sword out of Severus's hand and into his own.
"You win, I leave quietly…for now," Voldemort said, twirling the sword around.
"And if you win?" Severus asked, mirroring Voldemort's sword tricks.
"Well, we'll just have to find out, now, won't we?" Voldemort smiled. "Hold on - let's get rid of the annoying audience first."
And before either Severus or Hermione could react, Voldemort swung his sword on Hermione. She flinched, instinctively jumping back, but not before his sword nicked her cheek and brutally cut her shoulder open. Blood began flowing freely, and Hermione collapsed onto the grass, a pool of crimson forming around her.
"I said this was just between us!" Severus shouted.
"You should know by now that I'm a cheater," Voldemort laughed.
Severus, blinded by rage, slashed his sword in Voldemort's direction. The Dark Lord, caught off guard, failed to block it.
Voldemort crumpled into a heap on the ground. The most evil wizard in the world had finally been defeated.
Time turned to slow motion as Severus dropped his sword and spun around. He cried out to Hermione and ran over to her. Hermione's hair had fallen into her face, and he brushed it out of the way - there was a cut on her cheek, which was bleeding badly.
Her shoulder was a gaping scarlet blur, and she clutched her right arm with her left, hands slipping and slithering on skin slick with both the sweat of fear and crimson colored blood. She did not look like Hermione anymore - more like a slain animal, for human flesh looks much like any other when bloody, or even dead. Severus could only pray this was not the case. He hastily put a spell on both cuts to close them up, thus preventing any more blood loss. He eased Hermione onto a conjured stretcher, and was about to turn to Harry when she caught at his sleeve. He looked down at her.
"Yes, Ms. Granger?"
"You called me a defenseless little girl," she protested weakly, but smiling. Severus smiled back, then hurried to get Harry and Ron onto stretchers as well. He then magicked all three up to the infirmary.
***
A bleary eyed Harry woke slowly from what seemed to be a long sleep. He looked up at the blindingly bright ceiling and a sharp pain shot through his neck. As the constant ringing in his ears slowly died down, he could faintly hear voices. His eyes were out of focus and all sounds were muffled so he couldn't make out who it was, but it sounded vaguely familiar. He was then shocked awake by a freezing cold towel placed on his warm forehead.
"Where am I?" he croaked, through a very sore throat.
"In the Hospital Wing dear, now try to go back to sleep."
"What?" he asked. "What happened?"
"Calm down, dear."
"No!" he shouted with all the strength he could muster.
"Harry." A new, familiar voice penetrated his cloudy thoughts.
"Dumbledore," Harry said. "Tell me what happened."
There was a pause.
"Tell me, damnit!" he screamed.
"Why don't you first tell me what you remember," Dumbledore said.
Harry began crying, his shoulders heaving painfully, his lungs burning with every jagged breath he took.
"Ron…" he finally choked out. Dumbledore handed Harry a tissue. Harry wiped his eyes and blew his nose. The old headmaster patted Harry on the shoulder gently. This gesture of kindness broke Harry down completely.
"There, there, Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, soothing Harry. He let him cry it out for awhile, then gave him a final pat on the shoulder.
"Do you think you're ready to tell me now?"
Harry nodded as best he could. He opened his dry, chapped mouth and began, breaking off in some places to wipe his eyes.
"We were lagging behind the rest of the class on the way to dinner," he said. "We - Hermione and I - found out that Ron broke up with his girlfriend, Lavender. Ron didn't seem to like the pity and sympathy we were giving him, or else he was trying to hide his tears. Either way, he started running ahead of us. We yelled for him to slow down…and then Voldemort stepped out from a clump of trees…" He broke off.
"It was just like my nightmares of what it was like the night my parents died," he cried. "I was so close…and so helpless. I just…I couldn't - I didn't help him! He died, and I couldn't help him! It was like a nightmare. I kept wanting to wake up in my bed and finding that it was all only a dream. I just wanted to wake up…
"Hermione, always the sensible one, sent up Magnus Scintilla. I tried to Disarm Voldemort. But I failed. I failed miserably," Harry said in despair. "I was completely useless. Voldemort Disarmed me, and then…" His brow furrowed as he tried to remember.
"I think he put the Cruciatus Curse on me," he said finally. "All I can recall is just wanting to protect Hermione. And then I…I think I blacked out." He sat up suddenly, his head spinning and his body protesting against this sudden movement.
"Hermione," he croaked out. "Hermione! What happened to her? Tell me, Dumbledore!"
"Your friend Hermione is fine," Dumbledore said heavily. "She got her shoulder cut, but other than that, she'll be just fine."
"She got her shoulder cut?" Harry said hysterically. "She got her shoulder cut? How?"
"Calm down, Harry, or else Madam Pomfrey will throw me out. She's already upset with me making you tell me what happened." Harry quieted somewhat.
"Hermione was very clever, remembering to put up the Magnus Scintilla spell. Professor Snape was sent to investigate what was wrong the second we realized that danger was on Hogwarts grounds. He Disarmed Voldemort and managed to divert his attention away from Hermione by challenging him to a sword duel. However, Voldemort tried to kill Hermione with the sword anyway, but Hermione managed to jump away from the brunt of the blow in time. Severus, in an apparent fit of rage, killed Voldemort with his sword. He then patched up Hermione and sent all three of you to the infirmary."
Harry's eyes were dull. "So Voldemort's dead."
"Correct."
He began laughing insanely. "And everyone thought that I'd be the one to defeat Voldemort. That I'd be the one that would save the wizarding world in the end by killing Voldemort once and for all. No, I ended up nearly dying because of my stupidity and lack of skills for even performing a simple Disarming spell. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived - so idiotic, can't even aim a spell straight."
"Harry," Dumbledore began. Harry went on, seemingly not hearing Dumbledore, or the rest of the world for that matter.
"You know what Snape said to me on the very first day of school? Do you know? 'Fame clearly isn't everything.' And he was right. I wanted to prove him wrong so badly - I wanted to show him that I wasn't some stupid little boy that 'defeated' Voldemort by pure accident, by pure chance. But he was right." Harry's voice broke. "He was right. I am a stupid little boy that defeated Voldemort by pure chance. I can't even protect my own friends."
"Harry," Dumbledore said again. But Harry had already turned away, his face towards the wall. Dumbledore sighed heavily.
"I'll talk to you tomorrow, then," he finally said to Harry's hunched back. "Good day, Madam Pomfrey." And he was gone.
***
Dumbledore never had a chance to have that talk with Harry. Harry Potter died sometime during the middle of the night. Madam Pomfrey found his cold body in the morning, when she came to give him his medicine.
The wizarding world couldn't believe their ears when they heard the news. Voldemort, finally gone? The Boy Who Lived - dead? And the one who finally defeated the Dark Lord - Severus Snape, a former Death Eater?
The Dursleys couldn't believe their ears as well. They couldn't decide whether to celebrate or to look properly mournful, and finally decided on pretending that their nephew Harry Potter had never even existed. If you were to ask them if a skinny little boy with an oddly shaped scar on his forehead had ever lived in their house, they would've looked at you with blank faces and said, "We've always just lived with us and our son, Dudley. We've never had anyone else come to live with us, and certainly no boys Dudley's age."
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were buried side by side. The Weasleys requested this; they saw Harry as one of their own sons, and when the Dursleys refused to acknowledge Harry's existence and provide for his burial, the Weasleys immediately "adopted" him. The funeral was big and flowery, definitely something Harry would've hated. He never liked all that attention people gave him because of his fame. Hermione waited until after the funeral to go up to the two tombstones. When she was sure that the last stragglers had left, she walked up to the freshly dug graves.
Hermione knelt down and touched the engraved words on the tombstone: Harry Potter. So famous a name that had been uttered by almost every person in her generation. He had done so much, and now he was gone. She touched Ron's tombstone next, tracing the words with her gloved finger.
She closed her eyes and relived all her memories of Harry and Ron. Meeting them on the train to Hogwarts for the very first time, surviving through so many dangers and obstacles together, helping them on homework countless times, walking through Hogsmeade and looking through the many shops…she had thought that they would live to be 100, keeping in touch throughout the years and growing old together. Foolish, childish dreams. She wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve.
Laying a red rose upon each of their graves, Hermione straightened and finally left, leaving the memories and her two best friends in the world behind.
Epilogue
He leaned against the wall of the dark city alley as he drew in the heady flavor of his clove cigarette. Anyone--Muggle or magical--who passed by at that moment would have taken a second look, because his imposing yet insolent aura was hard to miss. Anyone would know that this was a man who had been there and done that, and this was a man who had seen and known more than what was fitting for his age. It was written in his eyes--the strange mixture of pain, pessimism, numbness, and indifference of a broken man.
He puffed out little perfect circles of smoke, and he watched them swirl in the polluted air. Then a soft female voice called out in surprise, "Harry, is that you?"
Harry turned to look at the sound of his name.
"Harry?" The woman came closer, peering at him, her voice shaky. She stared at his distinctive, unforgettable emerald eyes, and her own widened in disbelief. "Oh my God - it's really you." She reached up to touch him, to prove to herself that yes, this was a real person standing in front of her, and not a mere hallucination. He stiffened, his eyes wild with recognition and fear. But before she could touch him, he Disapparated, leaving nothing behind but the ashes from his cigarette. They swirled away in the wind, as elusive to her grasp as Harry. Hermione crumpled to the ground, sobbing.
He was alive.