Broken Pawns
Chapter Two
Warnings: none in this chapter
by sick-atxxheart
--
Grimmauld Place was dark and dreary as usual when Harry, Hermione, and Ron arrived. No one was there, which in itself was unusual; with the war effort, normally someone was at the headquarters. They were all grateful, however, for the small blessing of the place to themselves. Figuring out where they would go next was imperative, and all of them guessed it wouldn't be easy.
Harry's mind in itself was reeling after his confrontation with Dumbledore. He had long ago figured out that Dumbledore was a master manipulator, and since then he had worked hard to undermine those plans slowly, secretly, and surely.
When Ron and Hermione had come to him after Sirius' death, they had been the most understanding Harry had ever seen them. They still didn't quite grasp the depth of gratitude that Harry extended to them due to their one simple act of kindness that had meant the world to him.
"We'll always be here, Harry," They had said. "We know that so many people in your life have left you, or hated you, or hurt you, and we're sorry. But you're our friend, Harry, and we promise that we'll come through for you even until the end."
Of course it had been Hermione who said most of that, with Ron standing next to her nodding his head and looking awkward. Harry appreciated it all the same, however, and from that moment on their bond had begun forming. Harry could feel it, and he knew that Ron and Hermione did also- the tug at their hearts when someone was hurting, the pull at their minds when something was wrong... all these things told Harry very clearly that what they had went beyond friendship. It was brotherhood (or sisterhood, in Hermione's case). Harry knew they were closer than he had ever imagined, and from that point on Ron and Hermione trusted Harry when he told them his suspicions and his ideas.
When he had first told them that Dumbledore was a manipulator who really was just forming warriors for the Greater Good, they had been shocked it was true but not really all that surprised. It really was just too convenient that Harry had been presented with just the right opportunities to face Voldemort so many times; it really was strange the way that as soon as Harry begun to get close to someone, they were just ripped away again. Harry- or Ron and Hermione, for that matter- didn't put it past the old man to kill people off for the simple reason of his plan staying on the path he wanted it to take. Harry had had original doubts about the reasoning behind Sirius' death, because they had been there and seen it happen- Bellatrix Lestrange had battled Sirius, after all; but Hermione, with her logical brain, had pointed out that Dumbledore could have easily sent a spell throughout the mess that finished Sirius off.
Harry swore he hated that man.
The first time he had heard the words 'for the Greater Good', he had thought that something good would come of Dumbledore's ingenious plan, something big, something that would change the Wizarding World for the better. As the years went on he came to hate that saying with all his heart, to the point that the tattoo on his arm read just that- "I am not for the greater good".
Harry had gotten it one particularly horrible summer at the Dursleys, during one of the few times they sent him to stay with Mrs. Figg. The old lady had become more and more decrepit, to the point where she didn't recognize when he was there and when he was gone; he simply took advantage of that fact and slipped out one evening and found a nearby tattoo parlor. He had converted some magical money into Muggle before he had come back to Privet Drive, for cases where he just needed something the Dursleys wouldn't provide, and he was glad of it.
Gritting his teeth and bearing the pain of the sharp needle really wasn't all that hard, when Harry looked back and thought about it. It was almost relaxing- the buzz of the needle as it flew over his skin, the deep color flowing almost into his veins and leaving what was now a part of him. The words were in almost cursive letters, separated just slightly by the boldness of the words. Harry loved his tattoo- it had taken a year for him to show Hermione and Ron, though, mostly because he wasn't sure what they would say.
--
Harry had taken to using a glamour charm, back then, to cover his tattoo. He took the charm off only at night so he could run his fingers over the slightly raised letters that spelled out what he now believed to be his motto. It reminded him nightly of what he was fighting for- and more importantly, what he was fighting against.
It had been a late night in the Common Room when Harry finally decided to show his friends his tattoo. It was one of those nights where everyone else had already gone to bed, even the ones who normally stayed up frantically studying; Harry thought it was the perfect opportunity. They were all wrapped up in blankets in separate armchairs, just talking. Hermione was, of course, reading some book; Ron was slowly nodding off, and he kept jerking himself awake. Harry found it insanely amusing.
"Ron, Hermione?" Harry said slowly, looking up from his arm, which he quickly covered with a blanket. He had already taken the charm off.
Both of them looked up at him, Ron's eyes slightly bleary and Hermione's kind. Both were, as always, attentive; whenever Harry sounded so serious out of the blue, something was obviously up. "What's going on, Harry?" Hermione asked.
"I have something to show you." He motioned for them to come closer, and Harry couldn't help but laughing as Hermione waved her wand and their two armchairs sped closer to Harry's. Ron's reaction- he nearly fell out of the chair- was simply priceless.
"What is it, mate?" Ron had interrupted his thoughts, and Harry looked up again and grinned.
"You'll be surprised." He held out his arm both reluctantly and proudly, the wrist turned up so his tattoo was clearly visible.
There was no reaction as Ron and Hermione stared at the words, and Harry just kept smiling. He had been afraid of their reaction, but in all reality, it was his tattoo and he could have it if he wanted it. He was proud of it, even.
He was startled when he felt Hermione's fingers running over the words, just as he did every night. "It's beautiful, Harry," she whispered, raw emotion coming through her voice. Harry could see the gentle tears welling up in her eyes, and he smiled when he saw that she liked it, and she didn't think him stupid for getting it. He wasn't quite sure that beautiful was the right word to describe it, because it wasn't- it really wasn't, because the meaning behind it was defiant and even hateful. But it really did mean something to Harry, and he was proud of it.
"When?" Ron had asked. He didn't seem to hate the words either.
"Almost a year ago," Harry replied quietly- this was the part he was almost ashamed of, because he hadn't told his friends sooner. "I was afraid of what you guys would think."
"Harry!" Hermione admonished, wiping away her tears with one hand. "I thought we told you that you can come to us with anything?"
Harry just smiled and leaned back, running his fingers over the words absentmindedly.
--
When Ron and Hermione had showed up two weeks later with matching tattoos, Harry had been shocked. Even more than shocked- he had been stunned, and what was more he was proud. He was proud of them for being strong enough and believing enough not only in him but also in themselves that they would so fully commit to the fact that they simply were not the Greater Good. Harry had been especially surprised that Hermione had gotten one too, especially in a place so prominent- under her left wrist. It meant a lot to Harry, though, and after that their bond had grown even more steadily and surely.
Harry smiled absentmindedly as he rubbed his tattoo. He could hear Hermione fumbling around in the kitchen, no doubt for some tea, and in the distance he could hear Ron swear as he tripped over something. Harry headed towards the direction of Ron's noise to find the redhead sitting three armchairs together in a makeshift circle, near the fireplace. It was their usual spots- they almost always sat in that same circle, and Harry had grown to love it.
A few minutes later Hermione came in with three steaming cups of tea, and Harry and Ron each took one gratefully. There was no mistaking the anxiety that was present on Hermione's face, and Harry could see a small sense of fear on Ron's face too. He tried to ignore it, however, and instead spoke after taking a sip of his piping-hot tea.
"We need to make a plan."
Ron nodded, but Hermione added her two cents. "We need a plan, yes- but better yet, we need to make a decision."
Ron looked confused, which really wasn't that unusual, but Harry asked the question first anyway. "A decision?"
Hermione nodded an affirmative, and then cleared up her statement. "We have to decide not only where we want to go, but what part in the war we now want to play. It's been made quite obvious that you will no longer play the role of the Savior, and Ron and I won't be heroes for the Light either; so we have to decide if we want to quietly make a difference for the Light, or..."
The words went unspoken, but both Harry and Ron caught the meaning anyway. There were two obvious sides in this war, if they wanted to choose one- the Light and the Dark, and right now they weren't quite sure.
"I... I honestly don't know," Harry admitted softly, his green eyes sparkling with the flickering light of the fire. "I hate Dumbledore with all my heart, and I don't really know what the other members of the Order are doing right either."
"They aren't doing anything," Ron put in. "Even my mum and dad. They talk and talk, but nothing gets done except they try and protect everyone that needs protection. They say they're trying to find Death Eaters, but we certainly haven't been very successful. I'm really not sure what they expect us to do, when they don't really do much themselves."
Both Harry and Hermione nodded at the logic in this statement, and Harry couldn't help but laugh internally at what sense Ron had just made. It wasn't that often that Ron had such a complete thought like that- he was plenty smart, he just chose to listen and take action rather than make brash decisions. It wasn't always a bad thing, really.
"Is it that easy," Harry wondered aloud, his mind racing at the thought that they were even considering changing sides, "Is it that easy to just pick up and suddenly start believing in something different than what we've always known?"
Everything was silent for a minute, before Hermione's soft confession startled both Harry and Ron. "I'm not sure I've always believed in this."
The truth in her simple statement shocked both the boys, and they couldn't help but think that maybe she was right. They had all grown up hearing that they needed to fight the Dark and defeat Voldemort, because he was the reason the world was being terrorized; and they had grown to believe that, as simply as telling a child that there's no monsters in the closet. But really, what did it all mean, when you broke it down and looked at everything so closely that it almost fell apart? Was there light and dark, or was it simply beliefs that seperated the people?
"Maybe you're right, Hermione," Harry said quietly, looking down at his hands. "I don't know if I've always believed it either. I was always told it was up to me and me alone, and I grew to live that like it was the law. But if we turn away... where do we go?"
Hermione's simple answer summed it all up. "The Grey or the Dark."
Harry nodded mutely and sighed, his hands slumping over the arms of the chair and his eyes closing in simple defeat. "I don't know."
"We couldn't make much of a difference in the Grey," Ron pointed out. Harry agreed with that statement- the Grey side of the war was simply those who were afraid, or didn't care who won. He found it hard to believe that someone simply could not care who was victorious, but Harry found that he didn't really care either. It was all up for grabs now- and the important thing now, Harry guessed, was keeping all three of them safe and alive.
"I'm completely ready to leave the Light," Hermione said firmly, shaking Ron and Harry out of their own thoughts. "I have no problem with it. My problem? Going directly to the Dark. If we wanted to make a difference, becoming Death Eaters is the only way to go- and I will not do that. I can't do that, Harry. You have to understand that."
Her eyes were pleading, and Harry smiled gently at her. "Of course I understand, Hermione. I'm not a killer either- only for self defense, or life or death circumstances."
"So what do we do then?" Hermione asked, while Ron watched on in interest.
A gleam suddenly sparked in Harry's eyes, and he smiled with an almost excited twinge of emotion.
"What do we do?" He repeated, looking at his two best friends. "I say we make a truce with old Tom himself."
--
A new chapter for you, and it's longer too! Yay! Thanks for all the reviews last chapter, I really appreciate all the support. Please review this chapter, and let me know what you think. I'm especially interested to hear what you think of the tattoos.
I am also trying really hard to make the transition from Light to Dark seem… more natural than it would if they suddenly decided "Oh, the Dark Side has cookies, they sound more fun." (Joke.) Anyway. Please let me know if I succeeded!
Please leave me a lovely review! Those who do get a chocolate-covered marshmallow egg!
;]
