A/N: I am soooo sorry for the lateness of this chapter! It was quite a struggle to write, reasons for which will shortly become apparent to you. This chapter made me very emotional. I hope it's written well enough to get you emotional, as well.
Chapter Ten
It was three days before Harry got up the nerve to put his arm around Hermione while they were sitting together. He was afraid he'd scare her off again. But all it really did was make her impatient with him.
They partnered up at the DL meeting they went to, the night after Harry returned from his brief stay in the hospital wing. They wiped the floor with Ron and Parvati, then with Ginny and Cho. Neville and Ernie gave them trouble, but they held their own. The two of them began to study together again. They politely invited Jonny to join them in their rune translation exercises, but he seemed to be a poor loser. He preferred to sit across the room and do his exercises with the two other seventh-years in his class, and direct dark looks at the happy pair. They didn't really notice.
Hermione wasn't having any of Harry's hesitation. She was constantly taking hold of his hand or touching him in some small way when they talked. She was carefully and resolutely convincing him of what she wanted, namely to resume a romantic relationship as well as their friendship. Whereas Harry was still anxiously trying to prove the same thing he had last year, which was that he wasn't so horny he couldn't keep his hands to himself around a very shy girlfriend. It was an extremely exasperating position for Hermione. She was quite certain that she'd moved beyond that stage, but Harry wasn't getting the hint.
To be fair, he had other things on his mind. Every since the interview (which she'd read with so much delight that she was sure its publication was the beginning of the end of things with Jonathan) he'd been dealing with the reactions to it. He got a standing ovation in the common room, but he was absolutely bombarded with letters that contained a strong mix of good and bad.
Madam Bones, whom he told Hermione was his best ally in the Ministry, sent him a letter full of praise for Miss Garnet but also full of caution that Harry should hold himself back a little more in the future, be more circumspect. Hermione disagreed, but Harry seemed to take it seriously. Cornelius Fudge sent a letter that was basically a polite dismissal of the whole thing. He seemed to think that Harry should have used the opportunity to create more solidarity with himself and the Ministry. When Harry finished reading that one, he calmly lit it on fire and dropped it into a jug of pumpkin juice.
"He's getting sacked any day now," he confided in her. "He's been completely ineffective since Voldemort started showing up again, and he can't count on my popularity to prop him up anymore."
Mostly, the letters were positive. A lot of people who hadn't believed in Harry thus far had become sudden converts to his cause. For some reason, everything he'd said in meetings with the Ministry was dismissed as propaganda, but this interview was bringing people off the fence in droves. It was rather alarming, he told her. He hadn't imagined that simply getting published unedited would convince so many people to throw themselves into danger.
The ones that weren't positive were really, really bad, though. He laughed off the death threats and open mockery. He said he felt sorry for the people who were so insecure that they felt the need to send such things.
"Does that include Malfoy?" she prodded, knowing the incident he'd told her about in the abandoned bathroom was bothering him.
He glared down into his breakfast. "He had way too many chances already."
She just looked at him.
"Yes, I feel sorry for him," he grumped.
The worst came at breakfast on Friday. Ginny and Dean, who were (miraculously) still dating, were sitting beside Harry and Hermione. It was the moment when Harry had just decided that it would be okay to slide his arm around his girlfriend because she looked good enough to eat this morning and she'd want to see the latest letter, anyway. She leaned into him with a brilliant smile and stole a slice of banana out of his cereal.
When he opened the innocent-looking envelope, it exploded. Not with fire, but with some thick, goopy substance that splattered out and landed all over his robes and face, even getting into his hair. Hermione jerked back with a shriek, but it was too late, it got her, too.
YOU WANTED TO BE AN EXAMPLE OF SOMEONE WHO RESISTS THE DARK LORD. NOW YOU ARE.
Harry and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Harry glanced over. Dean and Ginny, who'd been sharing a mid-breakfast smooch (which he'd just been thinking was brave of Ginny what with Dean's morning breath), had also been caught by the explosion and flecks of it spattered across their shocked faces. Harry looked down the length of the table, and then across the Great Hall. Everyone was staring at them.
They were covered in blood.
The common room was quiet that night. The Quidditch team was practicing, but Harry had begged off, and a lot of students had been so eager to escape the oppressive pensiveness in their house that they'd gone out to watch. The people who were inside were quiet and introspective, for the most part. They gave Harry and Hermione a lot of space.
But still, Harry took her up into his dormitory to speak to her, for the things he wanted to talk about were not for another's ears. He hadn't had time to get her caught up on anything important yet, so he sat on Ron's bed and she sat on his and he spoke as quickly as possible. Merfolk, Horcrux identification, Dumbledore's failing health, Harry's fever-pitch in his studies, Remus and the werewolves and the Wolfsbane potions . . . He saved the Deathly Hallows for the end. He was terribly embarrassed to admit to her that he'd been meeting with a well-known crackpot to get information on something she thought was a myth.
But she just asked to see his cloak. She'd seen it before, back when he first got it. He hadn't used it much. He was a little afraid to, seeing as how it was one of the three most legendary objects in all of magical Britain.
"You're certain?" she asked, letting the silky material spill through her fingers.
He sat beside her on his bed. "Yes."
She nodded, accepting the idea. She knew Harry too well to think he was stupid or a liar, and therefore she believed him. "And you really think Dumbledore knows where the Elder Wand is?"
"I do."
"But you haven't asked him yet."
Harry shook his head mutely.
"You just told me you don't think you can defeat Voldemort without it, and that you think Dumbledore isn't going to last much longer. What are you waiting for?"
Harry shrugged. It was easy enough on the surface, when you said it like that.
"Harry. What are you afraid of?"
He looked down at his hands, clasped together between his knees as he hunched over the edge of the bed. "Myself," he whispered. "I want to hurt him, Hermione. I've imagined it. I got angry and got in some fights when we lived in Brazil, but I was twelve and it wasn't like this. I've never had this . . . desire. To really hurt someone. And I'm afraid of what I'd become if I find the wand. If I have all the power, what if I don't want to let it go?"
Tears dripped onto his arms as he leaned over the bed and struggled against the torturous pain eating him up. He was surprised to see them. He hadn't noticed the tight feeling in his throat and his chest. He hadn't even really known how afraid he was until now.
"Harry," she murmured, and pulled his head onto her shoulder.
He didn't want to do this. He was supposed to be the stronger of the two of them. He identified himself by his cool, logical approach to life and his status as protector of the weak. So he tried to take a few deep breaths and sit back up and tell her the last thing she needed to know. She didn't know about tomorrow yet . . .
He melted into her, burying himself in her arms and trying not to cry over how much he'd missed having someone in his life that could give him this. He hadn't known how sad he was over everything that was happening, but the fight against tears was so hard that he gave up. He began to feel exhausted and fell asleep mumbling his apologies while Hermione ran her fingers through his hair.
Hermione drew the curtains around the bed when she heard someone coming up the stairs and opening the door. She knew Harry wouldn't want anyone to see him this way, sleeping with salty streaks on his cheeks and his head in her lap. He had to keep up the appearance of enduring strength until this was over, much as she hated the idea. It might be nice to have a hero who was honest, but a weepy hero didn't really provoke a lot of faith.
A hand slipped in and drew back the curtains. Hermione drew her wand and had to stop her brain in the middle of casting a nonverbal Stunning spell. Her wand shot out a pathetic red fizzle.
Sirius smiled at her. "Hello, Miss Granger."
"Professor Black."
"I see the two of you are back together."
"I guess so."
"Then just call me Sirius. Don't tell your classmates I let you do that, though."
"Okay, sir."
"I came up to check on him. I've been getting reports from Ron ever since he got out of the hospital wing, but I thought after what happened this morning, he might actually admit to me that he's not in tip-top shape. He thinks he needs to protect me or something." Sirius indicated how he felt about that with a very dramatic roll of his eyes.
"Well, he cried a little and fell asleep," she said dryly. "But I'm taking care of him."
"Good," Sirius said firmly.
She gave him a puzzled look. "He said you told him to leave me alone."
Sirius shrugged. "I did. And he did leave you alone. But you still somehow ended up together again, so I think my objections are probably a lost cause. Besides, I think I've changed my mind. I always liked you, you know. You are the only person I can think of who will be able to stay with him through the end of this."
She smiled serenely. "He tells me it's because I'm stubborn. He's probably right, but I know he needs me and I think I might need him, too."
"At least he's getting some sleep. I can tell that he's worried about tomorrow."
"Tomorrow?"
Sirius frowned. "He didn't tell you yet."
"Well, he told me as much as he could before he sort of fell apart. What happens tomorrow?"
"Dumbledore thinks he's located one of the Horcruxes. He's taking Harry with him to fetch it tomorrow night. I wanted to come with them, but they think it would be too obvious. I don't Dumbledore even wanted to bring Harry, but . . ."
"But he's afraid he won't be able to do it on his own," Hermione said in a quiet voice.
"Yeah," Sirius sighed. He sat down on the bed next to the two teenagers. Harry still didn't wake, although he did mumble something and wrap his arms around Hermione's leg.
She paused a moment to tenderly brush the hair out of his face. "Professor? What are we going to do when the headmaster is gone?"
Sirius shook his head. "I have no idea."
They sat in silence for some time.
"Professor?"
"Yes? And it's Sirius, by the way."
"I want to ask you something, but I'm afraid it's inappropriate."
The man smirked at her and made a casual inspection of his fingernails (which were dirty and broken from work at the werewolf community and from tinkering with an old motorbike). "If Harry has told you anything about me, you ought to know that you and I have very different ideas about what is inappropriate."
She felt her face turning red and huffed at him.
"Well, if you two are back together, you've got to get used to me," he protested. "I'm dissolute and tactless."
"You're horrid," she said, tossing her hair. "I'd forgotten."
"What were you going to ask me, Miss Granger?"
"You could call me Hermione. I might find it easier to stop calling you Professor if you called me by name first."
"All right. What is it, Hermione?"
"Do you ever wish that you hadn't come back?"
The surprised look on his face made her blush.
"Sorry, sir, I told you it was inappropriate."
"No, it isn't. I'm just shocked that you would think to ask. There isn't anyone else in this entire country who thinks we had a choice. The answer is, every damn day."
Sirius placed his hand on Harry's back, and still the teenager didn't wake up. He did frown rather spectacularly, so Sirius took his hand away.
"I've always wondered if he might have been able to live a normal life if I kept him away from England. But that's just me thinking like a dad. I know better than to think life can be lived in reverse. We've closed the curtain on running away, and now the hiding act is over, too. This is something new. And it frightens me how much it feels like the final act."
"You don't mean that you think we'll fail?"
"No, I don't think that. But I do think that once it's over, this entire society is going to have to reinvent itself. Including us."
Hermione looked down at her boyfriend, who frowned even in his sleep. "Not him, though."
"Maybe not," Sirius said, still frowning. "He's made his whole life about not regretting who he is and about what he wants in spite of all this."
Harry muttered something, and they both looked at him, then one another. They were both thinking that he was only pretending to be asleep, because Harry never talked in his sleep. But his frown only deepened, and his fingers clenched tight into the bedding. He was starting to sweat.
"Should we wake him up?" Hermione whispered.
"I don't know."
"Do you think it's . . .?"
"It might be."
"We should wake him up."
"What if he needs time to fight it off?"
The problem was solved for them. Harry's eyes snapped open and he threw himself off of Hermione and off the bed, standing up with wild eyes, hair and clothes in disarray.
"I have to find Sirius!" he cried out.
"Harry . . . I'm right here."
The crazy look faded a little, and he focused on Sirius. "Oh. Good. Sirius, you have to get them out. The Bones family. Madam Amelia, Susan's parents, everybody. Right now!"
Sirius jumped up. "How many are coming for them?"
Harry shook his head, simultaneously combing his fingers through his hair. "I don't know. Half an hour, or less. That much, I know."
"Does he know you saw?"
"No."
"You're sure?"
"Yes. Sirius, wait! I don't know if Professor Snape is supposed to know. We can't blow his cover."
Sirius thought for only a second. "We don't have to. Remus and Tonks are at the werewolf compound, I'll go get them. And Kingsley Shacklebolt. There is absolutely no reason that the four of us wouldn't be meeting with Madam Bones to be talking politics, or drafting a petition, or something. We can hold off whoever comes."
"I'm coming with you," Harry said, rummaging in his trunk for his cloak.
"No," Sirius said firmly. "We can't risk it."
Harry stood up indignantly, cloak in hand. "You think I couldn't handle myself in the fight?"
Sirius gave him a quelling look. "I'm not an idiot. But if you'd calm down for a moment, you'd remember that you have something to do tomorrow that you won't be able to do if you're injured. I can call for other backup. There isn't anyone else Dumbledore would take with him."
Harry let out a heavy breath, and then sat down on the bed. "You're right. And that sucks." He handed Sirius the cloak. "This might come in handy."
Sirius took the cloak with a nod. "I'll let you know when I get back."
Harry nodded in reply. "Okay."
Then Sirius was gone, running all-out to get out of the castle's wards to where he could Apparate.
Hermione made a scoffing noise. "Boys. A girl would have reminded him that she loved him and that she wanted him to be safe or something."
"That's because girls talk too much," Harry said. Then he did a double-take. "Did I fall asleep while we were talking?"
"Right in my lap," she said without a hint of embarrassment.
Harry immediately placed himself back in that position, laying his head on her leg and smiling up at her. "Hope you weren't bored."
"I had a lot to think about."
"I still haven't told you about tomorrow, have I?"
"Sirius told me."
"Oh, Sirius, is it?"
"He said I didn't have to call him Professor Black anymore."
Harry smiled and said, "Good," but his eyes were far away. He lifted his hand to hers and twined their fingers together and didn't say anything for a long time. He eventually Summoned some homework to the bed, and they stayed there studying even when the other boys came in. They did draw the curtains when Seamus dropped his trousers and started doing a suggestive dance with his pyjama bottoms.
At midnight, they went down to the common room. Professor McGonagall didn't bother them at all, so they knew she'd been informed about the Bones situation. They fall asleep together on the sofa about one o'clock in the morning. At two-thirty, Sirius tiptoed in, moving cautiously in a room lit only by the embers of the fire.
"Harry, Hermione," he whispered.
Harry woke immediately, but since Hermione had her legs thrown across him, he didn't get up.
"Well?" he whispered.
"They're safe. Everyone's safe."
"Good."
"When I showed up to get Remus and Tonks, his friends Neil and Jeremy insisted on coming along. The Death Eaters were actually outnumbered."
"Voldemort?"
"He disappeared before anyone could engage him."
"Did he know it was me?"
"No. When they showed up, we were all sitting around the parlour with about twenty lawbooks arguing about whether or not there was precedent for . . . Merlin knows. Amelia, Remus and Kingsley were the only ones who had any idea what they were talking about. But it looked good, which is the point. And we arrested two of them."
"Who?"
"Macnair and Crabbe."
"Would have really made my night if you'd said Lestrange and Malfoy," Harry muttered, rubbing his eyes.
"Are you kidding? Voldemort wouldn't waste them on such a small assignment."
"Well. If he'd known you were there . . ."
"But he didn't, so we win. Thanks to you, Harry."
Harry yawned. "Yeah. I should go to bed." He looked at Hermione, still sleeping with her arm cradling her head and her legs draped over Harry's. "I don't want to wake her up, but I can't carry her to her room without setting off the alarm."
Sirius shook his head in disappointment. "Harry."
Harry grinned at him. "Really?"
"Figured out how to turn it off my fifth year. Of course, I didn't have any reason to use that knowledge until seventh year, but I do like to plan ahead."
Harry rolled his eyes, already on his feet with Hermione in his arms. "Just do it, would you? She's heavier than she looks."
In reply, Sirius threw the cloak over his godson's head and laughed to himself as he watched a pair of legs and Hermione's torso float up the stairs.
The first part was very simple. Harry kissed Hermione on the cheek and left her in the library, then hurried to Dumbledore's office and called Sirius from there to say he'd check in when they returned. Dumbledore thought it best if he was seen leaving the castle alone, but Harry wasn't about to lose his cloak by possible misadventure, so he just had Dumbledore cast a Disillusionment Charm on him. Then they left.
When Dumbledore said they would have to swim to the entrance of the cave, Harry stared at him.
"We can't Apparate?"
"I think it unlikely we will be able to do so without triggering an alarm of some kind."
"All right, then," Harry said philosophically, and began stripping off his clothes. With robes, shoes, and socks left safely on the bank, he dove in. He stayed behind Dumbledore, afraid the older man wouldn't do well, but he was a smart swimmer, using the motion of the water in his favour. Harry didn't know why Dumbledore wanted to swim with his robes on, but he bit his tongue to avoid having to see skinny white old-man legs.
Once they were again on the ground, Harry Summoned his clothes back. Dumbledore was feeling around the entrance and beginning to look disappointed. By the time Harry had gotten dressed, Dumbledore had already cut himself open and dribbled blood on the entrance to gain their admittance. Harry made a face.
"That's just cheesy."
"I quite agree," Dumbledore said.
Dumbledore was figuring this out as he went, Harry realised. He watched Dumbledore work and find the boat.
"Sir? How are you able to guess what spells are being used? Is it some kind of revealing spell?"
Dumbledore just smiled. "You really are an amazing pupil, Harry."
"I really can't help it, you know. So will you show me?"
Most of Dumbledore's ability to arrive at an intelligent conclusion was through knowing the caster of the spells, it turned out. But apparently, if you spent enough years around enough types of protective spells, they began to feel differently to you. Certain spells had a certain resonance that Dumbledore had learned to recognise. Harry closed his eyes and walked slowly from the cave's entrance to the edge of the lake where the boat waited. He did, indeed, feel something different. A sort of buzzing in his head that changed pitch as he moved.
"I suppose that's all the time we have for my first lesson," he sighed, and looked down at the boat. "I don't like the look of this."
"I think we may have a problem."
"Voldemort wouldn't just leave a boat for anyone who happened along, right? What do you think it will do?"
"It will only carry one of us. I imagine that there is something waiting on the other side that will be difficult for one person to handle alone. If you were any other teenager, I would think your magical weight was low enough to risk it, but I'm afraid that you have developed too far for that."
Harry looked to the centre of the lake, where waited (they assumed) the Horcrux. "I'll go get it. You wait here."
"No, Harry. We do not know what further dangers there may be. It will have to be me."
"We're both going," Harry concluded, and carefully set his wand down on the ground. "Um, sir? There's something I haven't told you. About me, that is. But there's really no help for it now. Neither of us is going to let the other one go alone, and if only one of us can be in the boat . . ."
Dumbledore looked concerned.
There wasn't much choice left, and Harry let go of the last secret he had from Dumbledore.
Harry transformed.
He'd gotten good enough at it that it didn't take long anymore. He'd already grasped his wand in his talons and gained some height by the time Dumbledore stopped gaping. Harry spread his wings, tilted, and began to circle the boat, impatient for the old man to get a move on. He could explain things when they were on the other side and he was human again. Dumbledore seemed to get it, and climbed into the boat. Harry kept an eye on the dead things in the lake, but they were quiet. Perfect. Obviously Voldemort hadn't thought about random owls who might have a vested interest in pieces of his soul.
Harry transformed back into himself when he arrived at island in the centre of the lake. He was waiting with a smile when Dumbledore landed the boat.
"I should explain," Harry began.
"You are an Animagus," Dumbledore said in a smooth, unperturbed voice. "I imagine you did not tell me because you are unregistered and you believe it would be wise to keep it secret."
Harry shrugged. "Okay, yeah, it's a simple explanation. So, now you know."
"Yes. It has solved one problem already this evening, so I cannot find it in me to object."
They faced the basin.
"I reckon we don't just reach in and grab the locket," Harry said slowly.
Dumbledore shrugged, and did reach in. "Ah, apparently not. It was worth trying though."
"Don't suppose we can tip the basin over."
"I don't believe so, no."
"He wants us to drink it. Poison?"
"I do not think it will be lethal. At least not immediately."
"Yeah, he'd want us to suffer first. Alone, of course, because only one person gets to come in the boat."
"I will drink it," Dumbledore said.
"Are you kidding? Being the younger and stronger of the two of us, I'm a lot more likely to be able to handle it . . .whatever it is."
"And I, being the older and weaker of the two of us, am far more dispensable."
Harry crossed his arms. "Hah."
"If you are incapacitated, I may not be able to get both of us safely back. You are far more able to do so if I am similarly incapacitated."
"Headmaster, sir, with all due respect, that's stupid. You're not in any shape to tax yourself with something like this, and I am."
"Harry, that is exactly my point."
Harry frowned very hard and looked at the ground stubbornly.
"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said gently. "I am not in any shape to get us out of here if something happens to you. I am already approaching the end of the time that has been given to me, and it is far more expedient that I experience the effects of this potion, whatever it may be."
"Expedient, my muscular buttocks," Harry muttered.
Dumbledore drank.
He got through the first few cups on his own, then he began pleading with something that wasn't there. Harry looked at the Inferi floating below the surface of the lake, looked at Dumbledore, who was beginning to cry, and sighed.
"To hell with this, anyway."
He took the goblet and began bailing the potion out as fast as he could. The moment the first cupful hit the ground, he heard splashes in the lake. The Inferi were going to start attacking, then. Great. He bailed faster. He heard Dumbledore gasp out a few spells, and glanced over his shoulder to see a couple of the cold, fish-like bodies writhing around in flames. Gross, but awesome. There was one almost on top of him, and he beaned it in the head with the goblet while he reached in and grabbed the locket.
The locket flashed in the meagre light, swinging by the chain from his hand, as he swung around to see a veritable army of dead bodies jumping from the lake and converging on every side of the island.
"Okay, so drinking the damn potion would have been better." Then he picked up his wand and got to work. He didn't think about the fact that this would likely be the worst test of his magical abilities he'd yet experienced. He just knew they were in trouble, and fell to it. The Inferi who'd wrapped his strong arms around Dumbledore's leg fell back when Harry's spell sliced the arms clean off its body.
They were surrounded. Harry cast a Blasting Curse that threw all the Inferi on the island back and onto the ground.
"Um . . ." he whimpered, thinking hard during the mere seconds he'd bought himself. There was no way to get to the boat now, not unless Dumbledore stopped crying and starting fighting. He summoned the small boat and set it down directly in front of Dumbledore. "Get in, sir."
Dumbledore did, although he was looking at Harry like the boy was crazy. Which the boy might be, but he was getting them the hell out of there.
"Reducto! Reducto! Reducto! Reducto! Reducto!" Spinning in a quick circle, Harry cast with all his strength, over and over, switching to non-verbal because his tongue started tripping over the word. The shores of the island began to crumble, and the Inferi fell back into the water. He dragged the boat to the now much-closer lake water and jumped in. He began to propel them to the exit, praying fervently that his arm wouldn't get chomped off while he held his wand in the water. But he needn't have worried. Dumbledore had recovered enough to begin casting fire curses all over the place, lighting any Inferi who got near enough to their boat into a flaming torch, showing the way out. Harry began bringing his wand up for brief moments to help.
Thus, with jerks and pauses and a series of fiery explosions, they got out of the cave more or less intact. The Horcrux never left Harry's death grip.
When Dumbledore cast the Disillusionment Charm on Harry to sneak him back into Hogwarts, Harry returned the favour. Dumbledore had yet to recover from the effects of the potion he'd been drinking, and Harry didn't want any of the students, or even the professors, to see Dumbledore right now. In fact, Harry ended up pulling the old wizard's arm over his shoulder and supporting him as they quietly crept up to his office.
Harry called Sirius immediately to tell him they'd returned, but fudged on the details of the trip. He was more concerned about making sure the headmaster was okay. He was incredibly pale and looking shaky. He said goodbye to Sirius and turned back to the headmaster, who was petting Fawkes. Fawkes hooted softly, sadly, and dribbled tears over his master's hands, but the one stayed blackened and ugly, while the other looked palsied.
"Sir? We should lock this away somewhere for the night, and deal with it when we've both had time to rest."
"Yes," Dumbledore said absently. He did not follow that with a suggestion of a place to put the locket or even turn around.
"Sir, should I have Madam Pomfrey come up?"
"I do not think she can offer much help to me, Harry, but thank you."
"Then I'll leave this here with you and come back tomorrow so you can show me how to destroy it."
"Very well, my boy."
Harry was worried. When he left, he did go to Madam Pomfrey and offer the suggestion that checking on the headmaster might be a good idea. She vowed to bring him a potion for fatigue immediately. Harry wondered why, as he went to bed, that didn't make him feel any better. He'd never seen Dumbledore cry before.
Sunday started out as a good day for Harry. He and Hermione snuck out (with Professor McGonagall's permission) and hung out at home with Sirius in the afternoon. He was still feeling overwhelmed by the previous night's excursion, and didn't want to face any of his roommates. He told Sirius and Hermione the story of the locket's retrieval, but left out how worried he was about the headmaster, and didn't tell them how badly the potion had affected him. He and Hermione ended up studying through the late afternoon, since the end of the year was quickly approaching. Sirius, after grading some essays from the third-year students, decided to go visit the werewolves, leaving the teenagers with an admonition to get back to school by seven o'clock.
They studied in a rather lazy way, spending most of their time curled up in the parlour in a pool of sunshine, he nuzzling her hair and scribbling silly love poems on her notes, and she kissing his hands and laying her head across his textbook. It was amazing they accomplished anything, or perhaps not so amazing considering that they were the top two students in all their classes.
At five-thirty, they got very serious and ended up at opposite ends of the room so that Hermione could memorize some Potions recipes and Harry could finish translating a passage from runes into English—and then translate it again into Mermish, just to keep up with his studies with Reed. They headed back to the school just before anyone would call looking for them.
At the entrance to the common room, Harry said goodnight to Hermione.
"You're going to destroy it tonight for good?" Hermione whispered.
Harry just nodded.
"I'm glad," she said, and dropped her head against his chest. "Just knowing those things are out there . . . Harry, I want to know if there's anything more I can do to help. Whatever you need, you tell me. I want to be able to sleep at night again."
He smiled at her, feeling her words like sharp knives and thinking Sirius might have been right about keeping her out of danger. "Thank you. I'll tell you about it when I see you in the morning, yeah?"
She nodded, and got on her toes to plant a very quick kiss on his surprised lips. "Goodnight, Harry," she said, ducking into the portrait hole.
He smiled all the way to his confrontation with Voldemort's soul.
The smile disappeared when he saw Dumbledore. He didn't find it again for a long time after that night.
"Sir, you . . ." The thought that it might be rude to point out Dumbledore's appearance came too late, and Harry didn't feel like editing his thoughts anyway. "You look horrible."
"I do apologise, Harry. Are you ready to begin?"
"Yes, sir," Harry said, his voice hollow as he took in Dumbledore's pale, sunken face and slow gait.
"I placed the locket in this cupboard last night, and I have not removed it yet. I thought it was far more prudent to wait until we were both present before I subjected myself to any influence it may have."
"Uh, good thinking, sir."
"I must tell you how impressed and proud I was last night, Harry. You did wonderfully."
"Thank you, sir," Harry said, humbly. He could have done better. He could have found a way to get the locket without causing this damage to Dumbledore's already fragile health.
"Let us begin, then."
Dumbledore opened the cupboard, and retrieved the locket. His face immediately took on a very worried cast. Harry stepped closer and looked down. He slowly picked it up. There was nothing that seemed to indicate its connection to Voldemort. He didn't feel weird about holding it or anything. With a glance at the headmaster for permission, he stuck a fingernail under the edge and pried it open.
A piece of paper fell out.
Dumbledore drew a sharp breath, and Harry began to read the paper aloud.
"To the Dark Lord. I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know it was I who discovered your secret . . . Well, sir, it appears we're not the first to stumble upon the truth about Voldemort."
Feeling suddenly very short of breath, Harry handed the note over to Dumbledore, who read it to himself. He set it down on his desk and walked to his chair and sat down. He was white and silent. Harry wasn't much better. This was not the real locket. All that danger they'd put themselves in, and someone else had gotten there first. The implications were staggering. If it was still there, Voldemort had never discovered the treachery, which seemed to indicate that he didn't know the diary or the ring was destroyed, either. Not only that, but the Horcrux thief might still be alive.
"I wonder if this R.A.B. is still out there," Harry murmured.
Dumbledore made a groaning noise, and Harry snapped out of it. He turned a sharp look on the headmaster.
"Sir?"
His voice was high and frightened, but he wasn't worried about his image at this point.
"I am so tired . . ." Dumbledore murmured. "So much more to do . . ."
"Professor," Harry said in alarm, and hurried to his side. "What is it?"
"Harry, Madam Pomfrey is fully prepared with records of treatment she has given me. She will be able to prove I have been suffering from a long illness. If anyone asks you about it, I know you will be cautious about what you should say, so I do not worry about coaching you in a response. You know that the truth of this curse must be kept private."
"Sir, don't," Harry whispered.
Dumbledore raised his wand and a silvery shadow of his pet phoenix drifted out of his office. "I have called Severus, and I think it would be best if you left now, Harry."
He wasn't fully certain of what was happening, or wouldn't let himself be, but he wasn't going to leave. "Sir, let me stay. Until Professor Snape gets here," he added hastily, before Dumbledore could say no. "I'll go then."
Dumbledore murmured some noise of acceptance, and Harry found that he had nothing else to say. His heart was hammering, but he didn't know why. He dropped to his knee beside Dumbledore's chair, not willing to even leave his side to get his own chair. He was afraid of what Dumbledore wanted with Snape, and afraid of everything he had just said. He was afraid of the truth behind this false Horcrux sitting on the desk . . .
He swept the locket and note off the desk and into his pocket hastily. As far as he was aware, Snape didn't know about the Horcruxes and never would. That man had his own part to play in the war. This part belonged to Harry.
Then he remembered what it was that he still needed to say.
"The Elder Wand," he blurted out. "You know where it is."
Dumbledore looked surprised by the subject being raised.
"I don't think I can face him without it," Harry confessed. "And all my research has led me to you."
"How long have you known that you would need to ask me?"
"Quite a while."
"But you waited, Harry. Why?"
"Because the power . . . seems like it's too much. But I know what I will use it for, and I will not allow myself anything but that."
"You think that you are strong enough for it?"
Harry raised his eyes. "I don't have to think that I am. I just have to be strong enough. I will be."
Dumbledore smiled with infinite sadness. "I have never let that wand out of my sight in fifty years."
Harry looked at Dumbledore's wand, stunned by the simplicity of it. "Really?"
"Harry, do you understand what it means, to take this? It means you must end your life undefeated, to break its power. That was my plan. Even now, I will not let it pass to you if you will not do the same."
Harry held his breath for a moment. "Yes, I know."
"Quickly, then," Dumbledore said, laying his hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Expelliarmus," Harry whispered with regret. He hid the wand away in his robes as soon as it made the short hop into his hand.
"I think you will need this, as well," Dumbledore said, and removed the cracked ring from his curse-blackened fingers. Harry accepted the ring without question, dropping it into his pocket beside the locket and the note, just as the door opened. He stood up when Professor Snape entered. Harry had hardly spoken to him all year, except for a couple of grudgingly-enjoyed minor discussions about Potions theory in Snape's classroom, and he didn't know if he should say anything now.
"Harry, my boy," Dumbledore said, arresting him before he could step away from his side. "Never forget the faith I have in you."
Harry closed his eyes and swallowed. "No, sir. I won't. Thank you."
He took the first step away, and it felt like he dragged himself through thick mud. The second step was harder, not easier. Professor Snape moved in to take his place.
"I am afraid that the time has come, Severus," Dumbledore murmured. "Your place at Voldemort's side will be assured now."
Of course. It made sense that Dumbledore would use even this as a weapon in this war. Harry stopped walking, and turned back.
"I'm not leaving."
Professor Snape's face was fixed in stone, and his eyes glittered with anger. But it was Dumbledore, who looked only compassionate and patient, that spoke.
"No, Harry. You have your own task to do."
Harry took a stumbling step back toward them, feeling clumsy and lost. "But sir. If this is . . . If this . . . You should have people with you. You deserve to— to have people with you." Neville should be here. But if I go get him, they'll do it while I'm gone. "Let me stay. Please."
He again dropped to his knee at Dumbledore's side, and refused to move. If this was going to happen, he would be here when it did.
"Potter, you—" Snape began with unfathomable hate.
"May stay," Dumbledore said softly. His hand found its way onto Harry's shoulder again.
Snape appeared stumped by that, and he resorted to frowning.
"There are so many things that I feel I should say to you—both of you," Dumbledore said. "But I trust you. You know by now what must be done, and I trust you to carry it out in full. The two of you are wise enough and strong enough to withstand the things that I may not have prepared you for, and it is up to you now to finish what we have begun. And if you do not know of how much I care about you, my words now will have no meaning. Simply remember that I believe in you. Severus?"
His eyes were tortured. "You are certain that it must be now?"
Dumbledore placed his hands in his lap. "I am exhausted with pain, Severus, and I wish you to spare me the humiliation of doing this any more slowly. It is time for us both to take this last step, my boy."
Snape turned away for a moment, but his eyes swept over Harry as though confused about what, exactly, was occupying that space. Harry could feel a fine trembling in himself, just beginning. He wasn't sure he wanted to see this anymore, but it was too late. He'd chosen to stay, and even if he had to close his eyes and plug his ears, at least he would always know that he was there for Dumbledore, at the end.
But Professor Snape continued to hesitate, and Harry did something very impolite and something that if Snape had been in any way prepared for, Harry wouldn't have been able to do. He listened. He stretched out with Legilimency and caught the fragments of his Potions professor's thoughts. They were not entirely coherent, but Harry heard enough. Bitterness, fear, respect, shame, grief, affection . . . they were all at war in the man's mind. But one coherent thought stuck out.
I don't want to do this.
Professor Snape's reluctance was comprised of so many swirling emotions that Harry nearly choked on the brief glimpse of them, but that was the only thing he really needed to know to make sense of it all. He did not want to kill the one man he truly admired or cared about. He understood the necessity of it, but abhorred the action. It would kill most of whatever was left of him to do it.
Harry stood up. "Professor Snape?"
He turned to Harry with a face that communicated nothing more than pride. It should have been admirable control, but this seemed like the wrong time and place to hide what he was feeling.
Harry closed the short distance between them and held out his hand. "Give me your wand. I'll give it back in a moment."
Perhaps Snape knew that Harry wouldn't ask for such a thing unless he had a really good reason. Perhaps he was so surprised by the sheer absurdity of the request that he didn't think at all. Whatever the reason, Snape let go when Harry's hand closed over his wand, and Harry backed away from him slowly.
He turned again, feeling nauseated and on the verge of passing out. His heart was pounding so hard that he was sweating, and his breath was ragged. He looked at Dumbledore and took strength from what he saw there. There was only a sense of utter and complete calm behind the exterior expression of pain. Dumbledore accepted this.
"I told you I would do it, whatever it was. Remember?" Harry whispered.
"I never could have hoped for as much as you've been willing to give, my boy. Thank you."
"No, sir, I have to thank you, for all the things you've taught me. I learned more from studying you than from the books you gave me. I'm going to miss you." His voice cracked on that. "I hope it's only like going to sleep."
He raised Professor Snape's wand.
"Headmaster," Professor Snape suddenly said in panic.
"All shall be well, Severus. Goodbye."
Harry allowed himself to be swept away by his feelings of loyalty and affection, by his desire not to see Dumbledore suffer, to spare him from dragging this out. He loved this old man, and he wanted what Dumbledore wanted, in that moment. It was the only way the words he was about to speak would do anything but destroy a little piece of Harry. He made himself want this to happen.
"Avada Kedavra," he whispered, looking right into the old man's eyes. So he knew the exact moment the light left them, and Dumbledore was gone, and there was only an ancient, broken body sitting there with the traces of a smile on its lips.
He didn't know how long they stood there, he and Snape. It might have been only seconds, or half an hour might have passed before Harry turned to Snape and held out his wand. Snape just stared at it for a moment before snatching it back. He held it in his hands in disbelief.
"Why did you do that, Potter?"
"Because you didn't believe it wasn't murder."
"What on earth are you attempting to articulate with that addled teenaged brain?"
"You didn't want to kill him. You thought it was murder. You shouldn't have had to do it if you didn't believe it was the right thing to do. So I did it. I used your wand because I know Voldemort will check. I guess Madam Pomfrey knows to destroy those records of illness if Voldemort wants it publicly known that you murdered Dumbledore?"
Snape was nearly livid. "You thought to spare me?" he asked with an incredulous sneer. "You did this because you wanted to help me?"
Harry shrugged. He was hardly able to get angry or get into Professor Snape's face at this point. He hadn't entirely absorbed the enormity of what he'd done. He wasn't sure yet that he would ever entirely get his head around this, but he felt quite certain that it was right, whether overwhelming or not.
"Is it so hard to believe?" Harry muttered.
"You have placed me in your debt," Professor Snape bit out.
Harry gave him a sharp look. "No, I haven't. That's not what this was about. This was about Dumbledore."
"I am well aware of that, Potter! If you hadn't done it on his behalf, it wouldn't have worked! Nevertheless, you have also done something for me that . . ."
It was a truly rare thing to see Professor Snape at a loss for words. And Harry couldn't take it anymore. He had nothing left to give, this night.
"I'm going home to Sirius," he muttered. "If anyone's looking for me, that's where I'll be."
He trudged down the stairs and collided with someone coming up. Stunned and feeling lost under the weight of his actions, it took him a moment to realise that the collision had taken place, and with whom.
"Draco?"
"Excuse me, Potter."
Harry felt utter panic at the thought of allowing the blond boy past him to see Professor Snape staring at the body of their headmaster. "You can't go up," he said firmly, wondering how on earth he was going to explain this.
Draco looked frightened. He always looked frightened these days, but tonight it seemed to go deeper and be causing him pain.
"You have to let me by," he said, and tried to push past Harry. But Harry was far the stronger of the two, especially with how fragilely thin Draco had become this year. He barred the way up.
"I'm sorry, Draco. You can't go up there."
"I have to see the headmaster," Draco insisted. "Now. If he's busy— but I know he'll see me. I need . . . never mind, Potter, just let me up!"
"Draco, what do you need?"
"It isn't your business, Potter. Move!" he cried desperately, and Harry was shocked to see tears forming in his eyes.
"You really need Dumbledore, not just 'the headmaster,' am I right?" Harry asked slowly.
Draco was furious. "They're the same person, Potter, don't be so ridiculous."
"No, they aren't," Harry said slowly. "Not anymore."
Draco was understandably confused by that. "I don't know what you're on about, but I want to see him immediately!"
"You can't. I'm sorry. He's not there to see."
"What is that supposed to mean? Where has he gone?"
Dry-eyed and dull, Harry answered. "He's dead, Draco."
Draco's face slowly crumpled, and he grabbed at the wall for support. "Dead? But he can't be dead. I need his help."
"I know," Harry said, and felt even more exhausted. He had nothing left to give, but it seemed that something was being required of him all the same. This fell to him, for the moment. Just now, there was no one else. "Tell me."
Draco shook his head violently. "Not you. I don't want your help."
"I'm all there is, until this is sorted out."
"No," Draco said feebly, and backed down a few steps.
"Draco, don't be stupid. I know he's not here, but you said you need help right now. What can I do?"
Draco seemed to be caving in on himself. "I found a way to get the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. I figured it out weeks ago. There's this cupboard . . . I should be doing it right now. But I can't. I don't wish to do it. I'm his slave, don't you see? I never had any desire to be a slave. I was supposed to be great, but I'm not anything to him. I won't do what he wants. I won't."
"You need protection," Harry guessed.
"Not just me. My mother. I needed Dumbledore to help my mother."
"The Order will do it."
"The what?"
"Never mind, Draco. I'm going to take care of it, I promise you. If you sent a message to your mother to tell her to meet you without telling your father, would she do it?"
"Yes," Draco muttered.
"How can we get a message to her without your father finding out?"
"House elf."
"We'll send mine, then. I'm kind of trusting that your father won't immediately notice that an elf might not be his?"
"It's possible."
"Okay. Come with me."
Harry couldn't face what waited at the top of the stairs, and he couldn't let Draco see it. He took him to Sirius' office and they Flooed to Grimmauld Place from there. Sirius had returned from the werewolf compound and was extremely surprised to have the two boys pop up in the study where he was going over tomorrow's lesson plan.
"Harry, what's happening?" he asked, standing. It was obvious that things were not normal.
"I need to use Kreacher. Kreacher!"
The house elf appeared. "Yes, young master. I see that you have brought the most noble pure-blooded son of mistress Narcissa. Kreacher thinks it is very fine to have a boy of outstanding blood in this house again . . ."
"That's really excellent, Kreacher," Harry said, the strain in his voice making the elf shut up. "I need you to do something for this very fine specimen of pureblood tradition, in fact. I need you to go to the Malfoy house and give a message to mistress Narcissa. Only mistress Narcissa, yeah? Can you do that?"
Kreacher drew himself up, looking haughty. "Kreacher can be entrusted with secret messages, of course he can, he—"
"That's wonderful," Harry said indulgently. "Draco, tell Kreacher the message."
"Tell her that her son needs her to immediately come to, er—"
"Hogwarts," Harry supplied. "She needs to meet you at the school."
"Right, because I don't know where we are. She should meet me at the school," Draco repeated.
"Thank you, Kreacher," Harry said brusquely. "Please come back here as soon as you have delivered the message, that is, as soon as you can without letting anyone besides mistress Narcissa know you are there."
"Kreacher is proud to serve," the house elf said soberly, and disappeared with a crack.
Draco gave Harry a bewildered look. "Are we going back to the school now?"
"No," Harry answered. He turned to Sirius, who stood there with patience, awaiting Harry's explanation. "Sirius, will you go there to meet her?"
Sirius scowled.
"She's your cousin, and she's about to be in danger," Harry said sharply.
"About to be? Why?"
"Draco's defecting," Harry shrugged. "He's staying here, since they'll kill him first. You'll go get his mother."
Sirius clenched his jaw. "Are they supposed to stay here?"
"I don't know yet. What about Tonks' mum? When was the last time you talked to her? Do you think she'd hide her sister and nephew?"
Sirius was getting the first inklings that something was wrong, more than Harry was saying. "What has Dumbledore said?"
Harry nearly screamed. Instead, he choked it back and grabbed Sirius by the arms. "Sirius, listen to me. Just do this. It needs to be done right now, and Dumbledore can't do it. I'll tell you later, but right now, please just go."
Sirius took in the ravaged expression on Harry's face, the stiffness of his posture, and decided to simply trust him. He grabbed Harry into a quick hug and said the only thing that seemed right under the circumstances.
"I love you."
He ducked into the fireplace and disappeared. Harry dropped into an armchair and closed his eyes, trying to remember how this whole breathing thing was supposed to work. It wasn't fair, he told the universe or whoever was listening. Not fair at all, to put this on him now, tonight. Why did Draco have to show up now?
Draco cleared his throat.
Harry opened his eyes. "What?" he hissed.
"I just . . . what happened? How did he die?"
Harry glared at Draco. "None of your concern, I'd say. You'll find out eventually. Right now, I'd be more worried that your mother and Sirius are going to kill each other before they can get back here."
Draco began to pace the room. "I didn't want it to be you," he muttered.
"Tough shit," Harry snapped. "I'm what you've got."
Draco gave him a cold look. "I'm aware of that, Potter. And I've obviously lost any pride I might have had, since I appear to be taking help from you."
Harry tried very, very hard to imagine what this was like for Draco. He didn't have any way of knowing what had taken place just before his arrival, so he didn't know that Harry was literally inches away from some kind of psychotic episode. He had swallowed enough of his pride by coming to Dumbledore, and it must be infinitely worse to have his hopes snatched away and be forced to take the poor replacement Harry held out to him.
"Draco . . . for what it's worth, I don't think there's any loss of pride in taking help when you need it. Obviously this is something you couldn't do alone. I'm sorry that it had to be me, okay? I'm sorry."
Harry knew he needed to shut his mouth before random things Draco didn't need to know started spilling out of it. Draco was looking at him like he was bonkers already.
"Whatever, Potter," Draco mumbled, and sat down where Sirius had been sitting.
"Thank you," Harry said, giving him the most earnest look he could manage. "You're doing the right thing, Draco. I can't pretend to know why you're doing it, but I am really glad you are. You could be killing a lot of people right now, and you aren't. Any shame you might be feeling over taking my help is totally cancelled out by that."
Draco began to sneer, so Harry headed off his attitude.
"Besides, I've had a rough night. I'm just glad I don't have to spend half my night kicking Death Eater arse on top of it."
"He's really dead, isn't he?" Draco said, like he hadn't quite believed it before.
Harry jumped up out of his seat. "I need something to drink. You want something?"
Draco shrugged, and stood up to follow him to the kitchen. Harry was heading that way, but then he stopped, turned around, and went to the corner of the study, instead. He opened a cabinet, withdrew a mostly-full bottle of Sirius' favourite whiskey, and poured himself a generous helping into one of the four glasses also kept in the cabinet. He threw it down, gasped, and poured another. He held up the bottle and raised his eyebrows at Draco. The boy gaped at him, then shrugged and held out another glass.
Kreacher appeared while Harry was pouring, making both boys jump in surprise.
"You saw my mother?" Draco blurted out.
Kreacher bowed low. "Kreacher has delivered the message. It took him time to leave without being noticed, but Kreacher is a good elf who obeys all orders."
"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said. "You've done good work. Would you mind preparing a room for mistress Narcissa to stay in tonight?"
"Kreacher lives to serve the noble House of Black," was the elf's answer, and to Harry's relief, he went to work and left them alone.
Draco was still nursing his first glass along when Sirius arrived with his mother, but Harry was already on his third. They had remained in strained silence since Harry got out the whiskey. It had taken longer than it should have, but only because Sirius had had to convince his cousin to follow him and assure him that her son was safe, all without having a clue what was going on.
"Draco!" Narcissa gasped out, and smothered him in hugs and kisses, tears on her cheeks. "I was so afraid!"
Harry looked at the pair with dull eyes. Draco looked more like his mother than Harry would have believed, but he had no particular thoughts about it. He didn't really care about anything.
"Listen," Sirius said, using a firm and commanding voice. "You can stay here tonight, and we'll work out a plan tomorrow. I think we ought to call Andy, personally, but we'll talk about it in the morning. I don't know what's going on, exactly, but I gather that the two of you shouldn't be seen or located by the Death Eaters. Again, something we can work out in the morning. For now, you can use the bedroom at the end of the hall on the second floor. Kreacher will get you anything you need."
"You really don't think we ought to talk about any of this tonight?" Narcissa asked in disbelief.
"I would love to, but I need to speak to Harry privately right now," Sirius said serenely. "I'm sure you understand. Good night."
Summarily dismissed, the uninvited houseguests retired with whatever aplomb they could muster. Sirius turned to Harry.
"I tried to see Dumbledore before Narcissa got there, but I couldn't get in. The entrance has been sealed off or something. What in blazes in going on, Harry?"
"He's dead," Harry told his glass of whiskey.
"What? Who's dead?"
"Dumbledore is."
"Didn't you just see him a few hours ago? How could Dumbledore possibly be dead?"
"Because I killed him," Harry replied calmly.
"Harry, this isn't funny."
"No, it isn't. The Horcrux we went to get yesterday was a fake, and Dumbledore just suddenly got overwhelmed by the curse and he was fading really fast. He wanted Professor Snape to do it, you know, to just ease his passage, because if Snape did it, he could tell Voldemort that he killed Dumbledore. But Snape didn't want do it, so I took his wand and I did it for him."
"You . . . did it."
"Yes, Sirius," Harry said in agitation. "I held a wizard's wand in my hand and spoke the words Avada Kedavra with the intent to kill. I killed Dumbledore. I did it because he wanted me to and because he was in a lot of pain. I killed him."
He took several long pulls of whiskey directly from the bottle and stood up.
"I think I'm going to bed now. There's going to be a lot to do in the morning."
"Harry," Sirius said helplessly. "I don't know what to say."
"Goodnight will do fine."
The bottle of whiskey was snatched out of his hand and Sirius set it down on the mantle over the fireplace with a loud clank.
"I cannot believe that all this is going on right now and you're sitting here getting drunk and getting an attitude with me. Talk to me, Harry. Are you being serious? This is the truth? Dumbledore is dead, you helped him die, Snape is going to claim he did it, and meanwhile two-thirds of the Malfoy family is holed up in my house?"
"That's pretty much the gist of it," Harry said wearily. "But you forgot the part about how the Horcrux is a fake."
"Oh, let's not forget that. I knew there was some inevitable shitstorm brewing, but Merlin's balls, this is the big one. Fuck me."
"Sirius, can I have the whiskey back? I'm not nearly drunk enough yet."
Sirius raked his hands through his hair. "Harry, is that really what you want to do?"
"Yes. I don't know." His voice cracked and he stopped talking. He had to get out of there, because he was going to lose it any second and he had to be alone, had to—
"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry, kiddo," Sirius said gently, reaching out his arms.
Harry fell into them with a groan of pure pain. He didn't cry. He allowed his godfather to keep him from flying into tiny pieces while he tried to take into himself what he'd done. He blacked out and didn't remember anything after being drawn into that embrace. When he awoke in the morning, he was still in Sirius' arms on the parlour floor.