A/N: Chapter 11 Review Responses are available in my forums. Thank you for reading.
Chapter Twelve: Worst Case Scenario
Hermione stood on a platform, her hands covering her mouth, as she stared down at the two dead men and the one dead woman nearby. Rain fell all around but did not touch her, since of course she was not really there.
"I hate him," a familiar voice said.
Hermione turned, and felt her heart melt. "Oh, Harry!"
Harry Potter stood next to her wearing the same old shirt and baggy jeans he wore when he fell through the Veil. Even his hair looked the same, unkempt and shaggy, unlike the slicked-down locks of Shaddix.
"It this really what happened?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded. "We killed so many people; we hurt so many people. I couldn't stop him; all I could do is watch from a corner of my mind while the rest of me became a monster. Marek broke free—he was strong and he broke free even if it cost him his life. But I was weak—we couldn't escape."
Lightning flashed, and suddenly Shaddix stood across the platform from them. He stood taller than Harry, older with broader shoulders, but his face looked as if it had been molded and warped into a permanent sneer of hatefulness. In that regard, he reminded her of a competent, more lethal Malfoy.
On the edge of the platform, the Marek clone was once more draped over the body of his lost love, like they were before Shaddix and Vader fought. "Harry, what's happening?" Hermione asked.
Lightening flashed and suddenly the wreckage of the Rebel ship was simply gone. The damage remained, but the ship was gone, as if someone had simply erased it. Shaddix also stood closer, having halved the distance between them. Now that he was closer, Hermione saw that the Sith stood somehow whole and untouched, his orange-rimmed eyes swollen with rage and hatred.
"You!" he snarled, lifting a saber not at Harry, but at Hermione. "It was you. You're the one Kota sensed. It was because of you that I was weak!"
"You can't touch her," Harry said, stepping protectively in front of her.
"Touch her?" Shaddix said, sneering. "Our master said I was weak because I showed Shili mercy. I will show him I am strong by ripping her apart. I'm going to rape her with my lightsaber hilt and make her scream for hours before I even begin to let her feel what true pain is."
Hermione felt her stomach twist in knots in the face of such overwhelming malice. Unconsciously she moved closer to Harry, while behind Shaddix an entire cloning Spire disappeared. There was no sound, no indication of why or how, it simply disappeared.
She looked back at the two figures with Harry Potter's face who stood like opposite reflections in a twisted and wicked looking glass. Shaddix lit his lethal twin lightsabers, while Harry lifted his holly and phoenix-feather wand. From what she had seen Shaddix do, she should have been terrified, and yet she could literally feel the magic pouring off Harry as he grimly faced his darker self.
Lightning flashed, but then it too was gone—not just the lightning, but the rain and the clouds and the sky itself. Overhead she saw just white, with a hint of golden lines. Her attention was pulled back to the platform, though, as Shaddix raised his sabers and screamed his rage, while Harry raised his own wand and stood resolutely between the Sith and Hermione.
Shaddix charged, bursting into motion with terrifying speed, while Harry screamed "Protego!"
Behind them, another spire disappeared, as did the ocean itself. In fact, the city itself seemed to be disappearing until nothing remained but the platform. Even Marek and his dead love disappeared.
Neither Harry nor Shaddix appeared to notice or care—Shaddix flew toward Harry through the empty air and hit the magical shield, slicing through it with his swords. "Harry!" Hermione screamed as the twin sabers slid easily through Harry's chest, even as Harry used his wand as a blade and stabbed it through an orange-ringed eye of Shaddix.
She suddenly heard a voice in the distance, barely discernible. Leah, pull out now! Wanda, for Merlin's sake get the girl out! We have a catastrophic collapse!
She felt a pull, like a giant invisible hand grabbing her waist, but she resisted. "Harry!" she called. "Come with me! Harry!"
The lightsabers had deactivated as Shaddix fell, his head impaled on Harry's wand. The boy she loved turned slowly toward her, his face warped by pain and regret. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he whispered. "You have to go now. You have to live. I love you."
He fell to his knees and suddenly blood started flowing from his eyes, nose and ears. "Harry!" Hermione screamed. "No, Harry! Stay with me. You have to stay with me! I can't lose you again!"
"I'm sorry I was weak, Hermione," he said in a voice that gurgled with frothing blood. "I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough for you. I love you."
The invisible hand became a vice, and suddenly she found herself jerked violently up into the gold-lined white overhead, while the platform with Harry and Shaddix grew smaller and smaller. Suddenly, the white turned black as before her eyes the now distant platform exploded in a ball of such brilliance it made the white of the nothingness around her seem dark in comparison. "Harry!" she screamed.
His screamed name suddenly rang in her ears as she jerked awake in the dome of the healing room. She sat up and looked at Harry, and the two healers beside him. Wanda was passed out entirely, and Leah was wiping a rivulet of blood from her nose and shaking violently. Aschels was already on his feet and running for the ward-sealed entrance, heedless of his nudity, and slammed it open. "Code blue! We need help!" he screamed from the entrance.
Immediately more healers poured into the room, but they didn't go to Harry—they started treating the other healers. Hermione crawled toward Harry and laid over his bare form, pressing against him. He felt warm to her—his heart beat and she could feel his breath from his nostrils. "Harry?" she asked. "Harry, wake up."
From a distance, she heard desperate voices pronouncing a shocking spell and looked up to see a healer stabbing his wand at Wanda's chest in a desperate bid to start her heart. Leah had collapsed, pale and shaking, and two other healers were fighting to stabilize her condition.
Hermione looked back down at Harry. He looked so young and pale; unmoving. A slight frown marred his face, but otherwise he could just have been sleeping. "Harry?" she said. "Why won't you wake up?"
She felt a touch and looked up in surprise to see her mother kneeling down beside her, weeping openly, while her father slid the robe over her shoulders. "Mum, he won't wake up!" Hermione said.
The healers had stabilized Leah and levitated her out of the room at a run. Two more joined the two already working on Wanda. They had her heart started again, Hermione heard as if from a great distance, but she was still not stable enough to move.
Suddenly Aeschels knelt down opposite of Hermione, clad in his robe, and ran his wand over Harry's head. A white mist formed, pure and gentle. "Why won't he wake up?" Hermione asked.
Aeschels looked at her with reddened eyes. "I'm so sorry, child," he said. "We thought… the Shaddix matrix was itself the last trap. We thought once you lived through the memories until Shaddix died, it would free the Potter matrix. But instead it freed the Shaddix matrix from any control Harry might have had. In that world, once Shaddix realized you were there, he targeted you. I'm so sorry, we didn't realize."
"You could have died," Calliope said, sniffing.
"But Harry protected me," Hermione said.
"He did," Aeschels confirmed sadly. "He gave more than his life to save you, child. He gave his psyche, and even his soul. That spark of light you saw…that was the worst case scenario I told you about. All that Harry Potter or Shaddix were is gone. His body remains alive, but he has suffered a catastrophic death of personality. I'm sorry."
"But he's right here," Hermione said, unable to accept or process what she was being told. She placed her hands on his chest. "I can feel his heart beating." She couldn't even recognize her own voice any more, for the tears choking it.
"I'm sorry, child," Aeschels said. "I truly am. Harry Potter is dead, it is only a matter of time before his body follows his mind."
"No," she whispered. "No, I can't lose him again. Harry!" She screamed suddenly, and slapped him hard. "Harry, don't you do this to me again! Don't you dare! I love you! Wake up, damn you! Wake up! Wake up! Wake…"
Muscles failed her, and she collapsed onto his chest as terrible, bowel-shaking sobs consumed her. "Please wake up."
Harry remained still, beyond the reach of her love or touch.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
Hermione sat on a chair next to a bed in the long-term damage ward of St. Mungos, in a room guarded by three aurors. On the bed lay the empty shell that used to be Harry Potter. His hand felt warm in hers, but he did not respond at all.
She looked up to see her parents walk in, accompanied by Albus Dumbledore. The old wizard came and stood next to the bed across from her, while her parents came to stand behind her, her mother's arm on her shoulder. "He seems peaceful," she said in a dead-sounding voice.
"That much we can say is true," Dumbledore said softly. "He will be well-cared for."
"Why?" she said.
"What?" Dumbledore asked.
"Why care for him? Why is he here at all? If he's dead, then let him die. This…this parody of Harry is wrong. Let him finally have some…" She stopped, and wiped her eyes.
There were no answers for her, and Dumbledore at least seemed to recognize this. "I know this has been a terrible time for you," he said gently after a moment. "But I wish to know if you will be on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow."
"Why?" she asked again without looking away from Harry.
"Because you are special, Hermione," Dumbledore said. "As much as Harry, you are a leader. The school looks up to you."
She snorted. "They looked up to Harry, when they weren't cursing him or calling him a liar. To hell with the school. I'm where I need to be."
The old wizard reached slowly across the room until his good hand covered hers, and below hers Harry's. "Though you may not remember it, during your second year in the hospital wing, he came to you every night. He held your hand and just talked to you, even though you could not hear anything. Without fail, every night until curfew, he sat beside you, held your hand, and told you secrets no one else has ever heard. He did this because, even then, he loved you. He clung to the knowledge and the hope that you would wake, and you did.
"But Hermione, as much as it hurts you, you cannot cling to that hope. Harry is not here; this is not the boy you knew. In many ways this is worse than his falling through the Veil, because this looks as if he is still with us, and makes it that much harder to acknowledge the fact that he has moved on to his next great adventure. I know for a fact he would not want you to waste away here, Hermione. He would want you at school, where you belong and where you can make the most difference. Let him go, my dear, and live your life the way he would want you to."
He patted her hand before straightening, and with a nod to her parents, left the room.
In the silence that followed, Hermione pulled Harry's hand to her head as if in prayer. "It's just not fair," she said. "It's just not fair. He never had anything, never asked for anything. He deserved so much. We deserved so much."
"I know, sweetheart," Calliope Granger whispered, squeezing her daughter's shoulder gently. "I know."
Hermione stood abruptly, leaned over and kissed Harry on the lips. His lips were soft and pliable, but did not respond at all. She straightened and looked down at him, knowing deep inside that he was not there anymore. "Good bye, Harry," she whispered, while wiping the tears away. "I love you."
Not waiting for her parents, she ran from the room.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
Hermione hated the cheerful smiles and happy reunions that filled platform 9 ¾ the next day. The sky overhead was a bright, crisp blue, the air was the perfect temperature, and the students of Hogwarts were once again going to school. The whole day seemed an insult to the pain she felt because every student was returning except the most important.
"Hermione?"
She turned around to see Ron walking toward her with Ginny in tow. Mrs. Weasley was there as well, looking sadly at her. "Hello, Ron, Ginny, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said. "How are you?"
"We're doing well, how are you, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.
"I'm fine," Hermione said, selling the lie with a forced smile.
Mrs. Weasley did not look convinced at all. To Hermione's surprise, the older woman pulled Hermione into a startled hug. After a moment, though, she relaxed against the larger woman's shoulder and fought against another storm of tears. When they parted, Ginny was wiping her eyes surreptitiously.
"As much as Harry, you are family," Mrs. Weasley said. "I want you to know that if you ever need anything, that you are to ask. Ask me directly, or Ron and Ginny. You're always welcome to visit."
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, her voice cracking.
"Molly, dear. Why, you'll hit your majority next month. You're a woman now, so call me Molly."
"I will, Molly. Thank you."
The matriarch gave a firm nod, before hugging Ron and Ginny one last time before leaving the platform. Somehow, the platform got a lot more noisy with her leaving. "Come on," Ron said, "let's find a cabin."
The three friends went aboard and found their normal cabin in the last car. They had just barely settled when Neville arrived. "Can I sit here?" Neville asked.
"Come in," Ginny said with forced cheer. "Wow, Neville, you're as tall as Ron!"
Neville smiled sadly and took his seat. "How are you, Hermione?"
"I'm fine," Hermione said automatically.
"She's a terrible liar, isn't she?" Ginny said to Neville.
Neville peered intently at his fellow Gryffindor before nodding. "Yeah, she is."
"What am I supposed to say?" Hermione said. "We tried to save him, and failed, and now he's a vegetable in St. Mungos?" She was not so upset as to not notice Neville's wince. "Oh, Neville," she whispered. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he said. "I know how you feel."
Though his words said otherwise, there was a well-earned rebuke in his voice which she accepted with a nod. She bowed her head and took a deep, shaky breath. "He's gone," she whispered. "It would have been better if he never came back through the Veil. All he did after he returned was suffer, and make others suffer with him. Better no hope at all than false hope, I suppose."
The emotions she had been holding in that morning broke through her fragile controls as she bent over and softly wept. She did not even realize until her arms were around her that Ginny had moved to her bench. Though she appreciated their compassion, it did not really help. Harry was gone, and for the first time since she met him, she was going to Hogwarts alone. Her cabin could have had a hundred friends in it, and still it wouldn't have mattered. Without Harry, Hermione was alone.
In the next car, with her head leaning against the wall and able to hear everything, Luna Lovegood wept softly herself.
~~Broken~~
~~Broken~~
"Where am I?"
"You are everywhere, and nowhere. You are one with the Force."
He becomes aware of existence, in so far as existence is an expanse of never-ending white. He spins around, searching for the other voice. On his second rotation, a figure stands before him where the first time around stood no one. The figure stands tall and straight, middle-aged with white hair pulled into a knot at the back of his head and a goatee on his long, scarred face. Brown eyes regard him with a cold, hard-won wisdom.
"Kota." He says the name without hatred or respect, but rather states it as a matter of observable fact. He feels nothing at all for or against the Jedi Master—he feels nothing at all. "Am I dead, then?"
"Does that bother you?" the Jedi general asked.
"No," he says. "I remember…things. I see them in my mind, but they do not feel like memories. They feel like something that happened to someone else."
Kota nods, and without obvious movement he now stands closer. "The wizards of your birth world are skilled in the mind arts—even the Jedi would have had difficulty healing you, especially as quickly as they did. They're approach was unorthodox, but ultimately necessary."
"I do not understand."
"They killed you," Kota said simply.
He stares at the Jedi; he realizes he should have felt a welling of emotion inside, but instead feels nothing. "If I am dead, then are you as well?"
"I've been dead for millions of your years," Kota says. "I only survived Kamino by a matter of weeks. The main Rebel fleet broke in that assault; we thought we had them, but their commander formed into a defensive position we couldn't break, and we had to retreat. I resigned my commission in disgrace in favor of a Mon Cal named Ackbar. Vader found me on Nar Shadda a month later."
He wondered if he should have said words of sympathy, but felt none, so did not. "The Rebels?"
"Oh, they won eventually. It turned out Leia was Vader's biological daughter. Can you believe that? Anakin Skywalker fell to the darkside. Arrogant bastard. But that's the Force for you. Our galaxy ultimately died, torn asunder by war and raped of natural resources until our ancestors had to mine the stars themselves just for matter to live on. The Jedi were a failure, as were the Sith and all other Force users. It was an experiment of nature—imbuing sentients with a touch of divinity—and we killed ourselves for a million years with it until there was nothing left but ashes. The memories you hold are the last vestiges of our civilization."
He considers Kota's words. "So it is all gone?"
"The light you felt in that galaxy will not even reach this world for another million years. And by the time it does, all you know there will be gone, even the stars themselves."
He looks out at the endless expanse of white around him. "Who am I?"
"That is something only you can decide," Kota says with a wry, wistful smile. "In order to save you, they destroyed everything you were. Harry Potter and Darth Shaddix were destroyed, leaving all of their experiences and memories, but none of the personalities that were shaped by those experiences. You are unique, my friend, in that you can be whatever you decide to be."
"If I wish to be strong?"
"Then you will be strong."
"If I wish to be dark?"
"Then you will be dark," the old Jedi says.
"If I wish to be both?" Harry said.
Kota places a hand on his shoulder. "You must do what you think is right, of course. But know this—the fate you make for yourself will affect not just your own destiny, but the destiny of your world. Choose wisely."
