"To Discover a Blackbird"
A/N: I love the Dark Prince trilogy by Kurinoone, and I especially love "Deepest Reflections". Harry's relationship with canon-Hermione was always my favorite relationship in it—so here's a one-shot about them. Just a warning—if you have never read Kurinoone's stories, then you will be very confused.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Deepest Reflections". That belongs to Kurinoone. All of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
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~"Fear has taken me
To a place I shouldn't be;
Pretending not to care
Seeing is believing now it's here
Read my face there's a past I can't escape
Yeah, I keep running
I keep running away"~
-"Superhero", Family Force 5
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"Morning, Harry."
Hermione managed a genuine smile in the direction of her friend, but it was a shaky one. After all, she was silently cursing her own stupidity, wondering how she could have missed the rather obvious signs that had been right in front of her nose. What idiot missed the fact that her best friend was in reality a counterpart of her friend from an alternate universe? She had known something was wrong from the very beginning but she had simply been too blind to see it. Anyway, the idea of alternate dimensions was a laughable impossibility—or at least traveling between them was.
He looked over at her from his breakfast, and his answering smirk led her to believe he somehow knew what she was thinking. "Hermione."
It was his usual morning greeting. This older Harry Potter, she had found, was even more quiet and secretive than her Harry.
She sat across from him and began to fill her own plate, determined to act past his blatant disinterest in her company. "So, what were you planning on doing with your weekend?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't really matter, does it? There's nothing interesting to do here."
Hermione couldn't help but bristle at the insult. "But this is Hogwarts, Harry!" she whispered, leaning closer to him so she wouldn't be overheard.
One of his eyebrows sidled upwards in response. "So?" The smirk on his face had not changed a bit. He had lowered his own voice. "I've already explored Hogwarts enough. I think I've discovered enough about it."
"But how could you have already explored—? Oh." Hermione blushed a little as she realized which Hogwarts he was referring to. Which then led into another fascinating thought about alternate dimensions. "Does it really look like this one, Harry?" she asked curiously. "Exactly the same?"
He blinked, the only sign she got to show her she had surprised him. "No, I wouldn't say exactly…" he said slowly, "considering that the Great Hall and the potions classroom had to be redone."
Hermione gaped at him in surprise for a moment before she recovered. "What-?"
But Harry quickly shushed her. "Not so loud!" he hissed, looking around to see if anyone had heard. He turned back to her after glaring at Dumbledore's empty chair. "It was when I was being held at Hogwarts after being captured by the Order," he explained, and his voice was so quiet she almost couldn't hear him. "I was pissed off at them so I set up a bunch of the Weasley twins' fireworks and set them off all at the same time."
"You didn't!"
He looked annoyed. "Would I explain all of that to you just to tell you that it was a lie?" he retorted.
She backed off. Whatever her own counterpart had said, there was still a part of her that did not want this Harry Potter mad at something she did or said. "No."
As they left breakfast, however, Hermione couldn't help but ask again what he wanted to do.
He rolled his eyes but answered anyway. "Does it matter, Hermione?"
"Yes," she answered stubbornly. "You have to keep your cover, Harry. And he always spends his weekend with me and Ron." There was no doubt what 'he' she was referring to. She sighed to herself. She had finally been able to talk to her own Harry, the one who belonged here, and she couldn't deny she missed him.
"So what is it like over there?" she had asked him over Harry's counterpart's phone.
He had been silent for a long moment, as if wondering what could possibly explain the dimension he was in. His answer was simple but heartfelt, holding a whole explanation in it: "Different."
She looked over at the older Harry beside her now. He was eighteen from what he had explained the night she and Ron had caught him out, and lived in a dimension where James and Lily Potter had not been killed by Voldemort, and Sirius Black had not been sent to Azkaban. No, in the other dimension, Harry Potter had been raised by Voldemort as his own son, referred to as the "Dark Prince" by the Death Eaters.
"You miss them, don't you?" she asked him now. She was referring to James and Lily, and his younger brother Damien.
Harry shrugged. "I just talked to Damy over the phone this morning," he answered quietly as they walked up an empty corridor. "I'm fine."
Hermione couldn't help her exasperated smile.
He noticed. "What are you smirking at?"
She laughed now, making him frown even more. "Some things never change, you know," she answered. "Do you know how many times Ron and I have heard him say 'I'm fine.' when he really isn't?"
His customary smirk appeared. "Well, if you didn't ask then I wouldn't have to reply."
They had come into view of the Fat Lady's portrait and the entrance of the Gryffindor common room, but both of them stopped when seeing that a couple had already gotten there before them—Ginny Weasley and Michael Corner, holding hands. Hermione stopped, wondering if she should simply backtrack and wait for them to leave, when she realized that Harry had stopped completely. She looked back at him to find his gaze had darkened and he was shooting a glare at Michael.
"Harry?"
He didn't seem to have heard her. Without even a glance in her direction, he turned smartly on his heel and stalked away, suddenly rather frightening looking.
"Harry!"
Against her better judgment, Hermione followed him, stealing a quick look over her shoulder to where Ginny was climbing through the portrait hole. What had he seen that set him off? Maybe… but no. Hermione shook her suppositions off and instead ran to catch up to her friend.
"Harry, wait! Please!"
He didn't say anything, but he did slow down. She reached his side and caught her breath.
"What did they do that angered you so much?" she finally ventured to ask.
His jaw clenched. "What makes you think it was them?" he bit out.
She almost rolled her eyes, but then decided it would be better if she didn't. "Ginny and Michael were the only ones there!"
"Well, then," Harry retorted sharply, "I won't be!"
Still baffled as to why he had suddenly become so upset, Hermione realized what he was planning on doing. She had no idea how he managed to get past Hogwarts' wards when he Apparated, but that was after all how she and Ron had caught him out in the first place. Therefore Hermione did something both very brave and very stupid—seeing he was preparing to Disapparate, she sprang forward, almost on instinct, and grabbed hold of his hand, just as he was turning. At that point it was too late to stop, and with a small 'pop' the two of them disappeared from the Hogwarts' corridor.
The Apparation itself was horribly uncomfortable, and Hermione wanted to cry out, or do something that would release her from the terrible grip that had hold of her. She couldn't seem to breathe, and she felt panicked, hoping it would be over soon.
When it was, she landed on her knees on the hard ground in a forest. She could feel herself trembling, her head spinning from the dizziness of traveling in such a way. Much too soon, however, she felt hands grab her roughly by the forearms and haul her to her feet, and she came face to face with a very ticked off Harry Potter.
"What the hell did you think you were doing?!" he hissed, and Hermione was very glad that she could not see his face very well in the semi-darkness, because she could feel the anger rolling off him in waves. "Do you realize what you did doing that?!"
"I'm sorry!" She tried to keep her vice from trembling, and was only partly successful. "I don't know what I was thinking—"
"That's exactly what's going to get you killed!" Harry's voice had risen, and his grip on her arms had tightened so that it was painful.
"Harry—stop! You're hurting me!"
Hermione didn't think that he would listen. If there was one thing about this different Harry, it was that he was much more prone to violence than her own Harry. And right now he seemed angry enough to ignore her. Therefore she was surprised when, quickly, he let go of her and stepped back.
His anger, however, had not lessened. "If you do that again, Hermione, I swear to God, I will make you regret it!" There was a snarl to his tone, and she flinched back as he suddenly moved, but he was merely turning around again and walking away.
"Wh- Where are you going?" she called timidly, still shaking.
"Away from you!" came his sharp reply, and with that he was gone, disappearing into the shadows of the trees.
Hermione's mouth dropped open with a mix of shock and horror. He wasn't going to leave her here by herself, was he? She wanted to race after him, but knew that do to so would be even more suicidal than accompanying him on this trip. All she did, then, was stand and wait in dread for the tell-tale of someone Disapparating. For several long minutes she strained for such a sound but after she did not hear it she allowed herself to relax, but only just. She was still stuck by herself on the edge of a forest in the early morning with the sun not even fully risen yet, and the person who had landed them here was gone. Hermione didn't think she could go back to Hogwarts by herself—after all, she didn't even know how to Apparate yet.
She supposed the only thing she could do was simply wait where she was and wait for Harry to come back from wherever he went. As she calmed down a little, she realized that no matter how angry Harry was at her he wouldn't simply leave her alone here. He would be back. Trying to comfort herself with that fact, she seated herself on a fallen log and wrapped her robes tighter around her. The morning air was clear and crisp, and she could see her breath.
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She didn't know how long she was waiting for Harry to come back, but it seemed like forever when she suddenly heard a twig snapping deeper in the woods to her left. She jumped and turned, standing, prepared to draw her wand. When she saw nothing, she steeled herself anyway and, slowly, carefully, ventured into the trees.
When she finally caught sight of the thing making the noise, she inhaled sharply in fear and recoiled behind a tree. A robed and masked figure was scouting along a worn trail, a wand drawn from a holster, moving swiftly and carefully. A Death Eater. There were four of them.
What were Death Eaters doing here? Hermione felt a terrible suspicion seize her, a thought that sent her heart racing, but with difficulty she banished it. She just had to think of a way to deal with them—or at least get out of their way. She wished wildly for Harry, or even Ron.
Even as she was thinking this, she suddenly felt a hand roughly clasp itself over her mouth and she couldn't help the small squeak of terror that escaped her. She thrashed and felt her assailant's arms wrap around her, pinning her own arms to her sides. Nevertheless one of her elbows managed to strike the stranger's side, and she heard a sharp intake of breath.
"Calm down!" a familiar voice hissed in her ear, and abruptly all of Hermione's fight left her and she felt her knees weaken in pure relief. She did not resist now as she was half-carried, half-dragged to the safety of a deeper shadow wrapped with a concealing charm.
The hand dropped from her mouth and she was released.
"Harry!" she whispered.
Her best friend's counterpart managed a tight smile in her direction, but it was made horribly fake by the raging fire in his darkened eyes. His gaze swept up and down her frame, and she recoiled thinking that he was still furious with her—
But it still stood that Hermione Granger knew Harry Potter, even if the current Harry Potter before her was older and from an alternate dimension. She realized that beneath the fury there was genuine concern for her.
"Are you all right?" he asked, as if on cue with her thoughts. "They didn't see you?"
She shook her head, heart tracing at the thought of what the Death Eaters could have done if they had discovered her. "No," she gasped out. "No they didn't—"
He nodded. "Good." His tone was ugly.
"W-Why is that?" she stammered. Something in the way he has it told her he wasn't just speaking of her welfare.
He smirked now, but it was totally devoid of mirth. "This way, the bastards only garnered themselves a quick death."
Her jaw dropped. "No—Harry, you can't just go out there and kill them—!"
"And why can't I?" he interrupted, his gaze already tracking the nearest Death Eater.
"Because they didn't find me!"
Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes deepened to a deep black. "They almost did," he hissed. "They're not going to get another chance."
And he was gone before she could call him back.
Barely able to believe what she was seeing, Hermione watched as Harry carefully and smoothly approached the first Death Eater. As the masked man was turning around, Harry shot forward and, grabbing the man's chin, twisted his neck viciously. Hermione covered her mouth to prevent a cry as the man's body dropped to the ground with a thud. The sound alerted the other Death Eaters, who of course turned as one and spotted Harry standing in the clearing above the body of their comrade. They all fired curses at once.
Harry raised a hand and his full-body shield of blue energy sprang up around him, successfully blocking all of the spells. Even before they had fully disappeared, he was moving, ducking low to miss a thrown Cruciatus curse, then leapt deftly over the bright green flash of a Killing curse. His movements were so smooth and graceful she couldn't help but find an odd beauty to them, almost as if this fight was a dance of death. Even as she watched, Harry drew his wand and, before she knew it, had transfigured it into a short knife, which he used to throw at one of the Death Eaters. It hit its target—blood spurted from the masked man's neck and he keeled over, his jugular vein ruptured. At the same time, Harry threw a spell Hermione didn't recognize at another Death Eater, who managed to duck away. The spell hit the tree behind him, which splintered and groaned.
Harry picked up the knife from where it had fallen and turned it back into his wand, still threatening, still deadly. The last two Death Eaters hesitated for a moment, as if unsure what to do.
Harry didn't hesitate. Even as she watched, he sprang forward again. He dodged another curse, falling to his knee, and recovered by simply throwing his momentum and swinging his opposite leg out and knocking one of the Death Eater's legs completely out from under him. The man landed in a heap and Harry made very quick work of him, leaving only one left to deal with
The man reached into his robes, but Harry was too quick. Quick as lightning, he had stopped the man and pulled his hand away, breaking four fingers as he was doing so. The man screamed with pain, but harry paid him no mind.
"Please—please don't kill me!" the man pleaded, and however much Hermione hated Death Eaters, she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She was sure she did not want to see Harry's face, and prepared herself to see a flash of green light.
It never came. Instead, Harry was silent for a long moment, as if considering; then, so quietly she almost didn't hear him, he said, "I have a message for your master. Tell him it takes two to play a game." He dropped the man to the ground, and raised his wand.
"Obliviate!"
Hermione felt the air flare with magic, then it calmed and Harry moved away from the man, who was staring dazedly up at the sky. Done there, Harry turned and walked over to where Hermione crouched, staring in shock at the scene before her. When he reached for her, she flinched. He pretended that her action didn't hurt.
"Come on," he said, and she was grateful to see his eyes had turned back to their normal emerald green. Swallowing hard, she grasped his outstretched hand and together they Disapparated away.
Harry Apparated them to the outskirts of Hogwarts's grounds, near to Hagrid's hut, but Hermione had been barely fazed by the trip back this time. As soon as she hit ground her knees buckled and she fell onto the ground, feeling as if she had been punched in the gut. She looked up at Harry, who was careful not to meet her gaze.
Suddenly, she could not bear to be in his company. Rising on shaking legs, she left and nearly ran towards the castle. She did not look back.
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"He did what?" Ron exclaimed, his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. He looked terrified as Hermione explained to him what Harry had done; he had been sleeping in that morning, so had missed all of what had happened.
"He killed them all," Hermione repeated. "They didn't even have a chance. I almost felt sorry for them, the way he just plowed through them. I don't even think the fight lasted five minutes and he had killed three of them."
Ron shivered. "Merlin," he breathed. "I guess this proves he really is Voldemort's son, doesn't it?"
"Ron!" Hermione gaped at him, angered that he could even say such a thing, but before she could say anything more, Ron looked over her shoulder and paled, suddenly looking rather scared. Hermione turned around in her seat to find that, while they had been speaking, Harry himself had entered the room in which they were talking, and had no doubt overheard the last bit of their conversation. His face showed nothing, however.
Hermione sprang to her feet. "Harry, I need to talk to you," she said, before she lost her nerve. "Please."
He looked at her, and she thought she caught a look of hurt in his eyes, but she must have imagined it because the next instant he was shrugging. "Alright."
With a nervous glance at Ron, the redhead awkwardly stood and left, closing the door behind him.
For a long moment, Harry and Hermione merely stood and looked at each other. Hermione felt her face burn with shame. "Harry," she finally said, "I—I have to apologize for the way I acted earlier. I know I must have seemed like I never wanted to see you again."
"You're not the only one who's done that," he replied, but it was without bite. Instead there was an odd resignation to his tone that was worse than any anger.
"But I shouldn't have run off as if you're some kind of—some kind of monster, because you're not!" she exclaimed. "I should've thanked you for saving my life right then and there!"
Now his gaze was sharp now. "Oh, you're thankful?" His voice was cutting and sarcastic.
"Harry," Hermione said quietly, hurt, "you know I am. I'm sorry for the way I left—it was just… a lot to take in. I've never actually seen a fight like that before."
He sat down across from her. "I told you before," he answered, "You need to be more prepared for the real world. You think that will have been the last fight you witness? Or even one you'll be in?" He shook his head. "Welcome to the real world, Hermione."
She shivered. "Why did you go after them?" She didn't need to explain who 'them' was. "You don't seem the type to simply go after someone—you could have easily Apparated us away without alerting them."
For a long moment, Harry merely looked down at his hands lying motionless in his lap. Then he met her gaze. His indifferent mask had slipped. "Because I know what they do to those they deem 'dirty-blooded'," he answered quietly.
Hermione paled. "You've seen it firsthand?"
Again he was still for a long moment. Then he nodded.
"And—have you—?"
He met her gaze again. "No," he admitted. "I was never one for torture." He threw her a look. "And before you ask me, those Death Eaters were scouting out those woods because we were near one of Voldemort's old hideouts."
Hermione almost didn't think she had heard him correctly. "And you know this, how-?"
Now it was Harry's turn to shift awkwardly. "Because Voldemort had a safe house there in my world as well," he answered quietly.
"And you were planning on going there today?" Hermione asked, incredulous.
"No!" he said fiercely. "But when you grabbed hold of me I just brought us to the first place I thought of. And the safe house was where I spent a lot of my time while with Voldemort. I hung out in the Manor a lot but sometimes I had to get out. I didn't even think there would be anything in those woods in this dimension."
Hermione felt her face flush at the mention of the Dark Lord. "About what Ron said—you know that we really don't think badly about you. He doesn't really mean that you're his son—"
"But I am his son," Harry said tiredly. "What you saw this morning—against those Death Eaters… that's the me you would have run into two years ago. And at that point I probably wouldn't have helped you." He paused for a long moment, as if considering what he could tell her. Then: "I've tried to leave my past behind, so many times. I don't want to remember my time as the "Dark Prince", or as Voldemort's son. But every time I do, something happens to remind me that I'll always be his heir—both to his power and to his ways."
"I don't think that," Hermione said quietly. "If you really were like the Dark Prince even now, you would have left me to them. But you didn't. Don't you think that's difference enough?"
He looked at her for a long moment, as if looking for evidence that she was simply stating that. When seeing she was genuine in what she was saying, he managed to relax a little.
And although he would never say it out loud, he thought maybe, just maybe, this journey into another dimension—a dimension in which James and Lily Potter were murdered and Harry Potter grew up ignorant and innocent, but with true friends at Hogwarts—wasn't so bad a thing after all.
No. Not so bad a thing at all.