AN: JK's.
Chapter Eighteen PLEASE GO BACK READ CH 17 if you saw this as a duplicate. I botched it. Whoops. Shout-out to my reviewer who let me know! :-)
Flame and Intent
Harry Potter knew anger. He'd felt it, received it, been half-consumed by it.
This was not anger.
This was fear, given weapons.
Not only had Hermione accurately identified Fawkes, down to the response of her fingers to the phoenix's presence, but the little second-year (and when did second-years get so tiny?) had drawn a picture. Either Fawkes had an identical twin, or it was Fawkes almost penetrating the wards.
That bird saved my life. Why? Dumbles told him to do it. I just hope Fawkes didn't recognize Hermione. I'm pretty happy with them thinking she's gone. If they think that, they'll leave her alone.
"We don't have time," said Hermione softly before supper, as they walked along the beach, hand in hand. "We have to start making the decoy. We have to…"
He stopped her with a kiss. It was quick, yes, but a firm kiss. No peck or graze or even a buss on the cheek. No. That was a kiss, because…
She's always just Hermione, good, bad, beautiful, grumpy, all of it, and she's always true.
Her eyes smiled, then dimmed to worry.
"We have the herbs and salt and water," she said quietly, her hair flipping to and fro in the shifting breeze. "Twenty-four hours should do it. It's almost All Hallows Eve, but…"
"But Dumbles already found a way to almost make it through," Harry agreed, and stopped, turning to face her. The lowering sun gilded her hair, bronzed her skin, but her eyes remained the same lovely brown, deep as pools in a forest.
Wow, that was pure treacle. But … It's true, too.
"Neville wants to wait," he told her, "but I agree with you. No waiting. Especially for Halloween or anything near it. We make a decoy, we throw it as far from here as we can, and if Professor Bukowski is right…"
"He'll have a stone and a stick and a piece of cloth, and when he tries to use them, he fails," whispered Hermione. Her voice dropped into melancholy. "I feel a thousand years away from Britain."
Harry did his best to demonstrate that he felt his fear, and had courage nonetheless, by glaring at the blameless ocean. "Yeah. So do I. I can't even… But we have to do this fast. You know how he loves a show on Halloween. I don't even care where we throw the stupid thing. Just… Get him to leave us alone!"
Hermione rested her forehead on his shoulder.
"I'll go up and get the cloud at sunset, okay?"
She nodded, then hugged him tightly to her. "Don't you dare get hurt."
"You want me to fly high enough to get cloud," he reminded her with a teasing smirk.
"We can use spring water, I changed my mind."
"I'll find some low-lying stuff. I mean, you don't get dizzy till, what was it?"
"Around eight thousand feet."
"I'll fly fast, you know I can do that." He reached up and stroked her hair. It slid silken against his fingertips, reminding him that he had his, and she had lost hers. "I'm not too keen on dying, y'know."
She shuddered as she exhaled, then threw up her head and started walking again. "I'm not, either. My mother worries about that. Honestly, I still feel overwhelmed and numb half the time. What do you think?"
Harry thought over the book Lupin got him about human emotions. It was more studied than any Hogwarts textbook had been. "I think that being overwhelmed and numb sounds… Normal. Natural. I mean, that much bad stuff, if you're okay with it, that's pretty sick, right?"
She beamed at him. His knees turned to jelly.
He glanced at the sky to distract himself, and noticed the clouds. "Got a chance now. You start your purifying thing, and tomorrow at sunset, right?"
"Right. I wish Neville would help, though, he's much better at herbology."
Harry shrugged, and forced a smile around the loneliness. He'd really liked having an ally who wasn't an adult, or a girl he wanted to see in a bikini as often as possible. "I better not miss my chance here." He squeezed both her hands, and then wondered if he dared another kiss. Deciding against it, he hurried toward the main house, to get his broom, and capture some cloud.
HP HP HP
The next day dragged out for subjective years. It was almost as bad as class with Binns.
Dread had an amazing capacity to warp time.
The professors weren't as focused as usual, or maybe he only imagined it. He wasn't sure. Bukowski didn't crack a single smile. McLaren had shadows under her eyes. Clark appeared normal, but when he saw Moony at lunch, the werewolf's eyes held more than the typical concern and weariness.
At dinner, he saw Hermione pick at a salad. He knew that part of the salad was spinach, some of it parsley, but he didn't ask about the rest. He wished he could give her a serving of lima beans, so she'd have energy.
It was possibly the first and only time in his life he saw lima beans as anything worthwhile.
Her mother watched Hermione, too.
Oh… She's too smart. Clever. Intelligent. Hermione really is a lot like her that way. What… We need… No, I can't try to distract her, that never works…
Emily Granger reached over and placed a wrist on her daughter's forehead. "You're a little off tonight, my sweet girl."
For the first time, Harry saw how completely Emily Granger's entire life centered on Hermione. It hadn't been that way before, but then, wasn't that life? A series of befores and afters?
"I just need a good cry, Mum," sighed Hermione, which was a masterful piece of misdirecting honesty, one that Harry silently applauded. He wanted to take notes.
He downed his last lima bean. Keep up strength.
At some point, he felt Neville near him, and the other lad raised his eyebrows in question.
Harry knew his returning smile was sickly and skewed. While he and Neville had patched up their quarrel, Longbottom avoided Hermione. In fairness, Neville gave Crookshanks a wide berth, too. It was difficult to know which he feared more. Probably the cat-kneazle.
The moments slogged on.
While they never planned it, he and Hermione left the table at separate times, yet somehow arrived on the windward beach at the same moment.
She carried her expandable bag.
He carried his pouch.
They found a spot near a storm-crushed dune.
Their eyes met. She started to speak, and he hushed her with a gesture. If they talked, he'd lose his nerve.
This is post-NEWT and probably insane. Beyond flying keys or dementors, maybe.
He spread his merely-an-invisibility cloak on the ground. Carefully, she set upon it a quartz crystal, and next to that, a shallow bowl of gold.
He raised his eyebrows. Life with Sirius meant he knew twenty-four karat gold when he saw it, and that bowl was solid. His fingernails might mark it, so pure was the gold.
She smiled secretively at his amazement.
I really hope that's not a Black family heirloom. What am I thinking? Of course it is.
She set the crystal in the bowl, and drew out a vial of greenish fluid.
He pulled from his pouch the silvery flask of cloud-water, still cold thanks to his finally-mastered cooling charm. Only took over three hundred tries…
At her nod, they poured the two into the gold bowl, over the crystal, at the exact same moment.
The wind suddenly froze Harry to his bones.
Maybe we should stop.
No. A fake to weaken him. We have to try!
He whispered, "Two years ago, I thought Dumbledore was vile. Now…"
"Now we know," agreed Hermione. She reached into her bag and shook out a piece of white silk.
To catch the tears...
She cooed to Crookshanks, and the cat-kneazle plopped down on the cloak to hold down its fluttering edge.
Harry grinned at her, and whistled.
Hedwig floated down. She took up station opposite Crookshanks.
When Harry knelt opposite Hermione, he noticed that they sat at the four points of the compass. He would have bet ten galleons that Hermione planned it.
Hermione murmured, "For you, Daddy. For you, Mum."
Harry echoed her. "For you, Mum. For you, Dad."
Hermione took the silk cloth and covered the golden bowl and its contents.
She whispered something he didn't hear clearly, but the word Daddy was distinct.
She bent over and began to sob, keening banshee-like, hands knotted in her hair. The raw pain emanating from her crackled against Harry's magic, and he remembered all the times he'd seen her cry… From worry that he'd get killed at Quidditch, from fury that he'd been mistreated, from grief… From compassion…
From joy, sometimes, but mostly, it was the other stuff.
He leaned over and sheltered her, though nothing threatened, and matched his back-and-forth self-soothing rocking to hers. I know you're dead, Mum and Dad. I know all I have of you is strange almost-memories and photos and stories. I know I can't feel her pain because I never knew a dad enough to know what I was missing.
Please. If you can. Help her. Help us. You know why, right? Whatever good things are listening. Help us do this. Thank you.
Hermione's sobbing had risen to the high thin scream of a hurricane wind. Her body heaved in his arms, and he feared for her.
The light changed from golden to silver to white.
There's no full moon tonight!
He risked a peek.
The glow came from the bowl.
Hermione's tears had formed a pool of shimmering fire in the white silk. The fabric sank under their weight, into the green-hued water. Steam rose in tiny tendrils. The silk wisped away, as if evaporated in turn. The tears, pearlescent and fiery, clung to the quartz crystal.
Harry grabbed Hermione's hands a split second after she closed hers around the crystal.
She screamed at the sky. Into it went her pain, her grief, her fear, her love for the living and the dead.
A thick wave of something closed around Harry's hands, and hers.
He grit his teeth, narrowed his eyes, and ignored pain. He concentrated on using his hands as wands. Magic. C'mon. Magic of mine. Go into her enchantment. Let her use you. Let our intent be realized.
His arms began to burn.
His shoulders ached.
Hedwig screeched.
Crookshanks howled.
Hermione stopped screaming, and her head dropped limply over their joined hands. Harry saw how delicate and pale her skin seemed, where her hair was parted, and he kissed the spot quickly. He needed her to know he was there. He hoped it helped.
The pearl-white light began to hurt.
He shut his eyes.
Magic, make the stone…
I'm here…
I'm here, Hermione…
Breathe!
I'm here, Hermione. Not letting you down.
The white light coalesced around their joined hands.
Harry felt it pull itself into the bowl.
Ow ow ow. Pain. Ow. That's strong. Ow!
He couldn't help it. He had to pull away.
He took Hermione's hands with him.
Ow! Why isn't this pain stopping?
Dimly, as from a great distance, he heard Hedwig screech her battle cry, and Crookshanks meow forlornly.
Hermione gave a huge gasp, said, "That did it!" and passed out flat on his cloak.
Harry shook his hands, which felt like fifty sticks set aflame, and blinked several times. Night had arrived. Hedwig was at best a sensation, not a sight. Crookshanks was a presence known by his furry weight against Harry's leg before he slipped away.
There were two pops, soft ones, of expert apparition.
Sirius shouted, "Harry!"
Healer Gomero murmured, "Oh, foolish child!"
"Yes," agreed Harry, and decided to lie down before he fell down. That was when he realized he was already flat on the ground.
Wow, that took a lot out of me…
"Did we do it?"
Another pop announced the arrival of Lupin.
"Moony," rasped Sirius. "You have this?"
"Get them to the infirmary. I have it."
And that was when Harry saw a golden circle around a gem of fire and darkness, shimmering with a dozen colors under the stars, and he smiled.
They had made a beautiful copy of a nonexistent stone, right down to a little hint of a stick and a triangle in its circular shape, if you caught the blues and greens flickering the right way behind the reds and golds.
"Brilliant!" he said, and was popped away.
HP HP HP
Side-along apparition sucked.
Side-along apparition with an angry, worried godfather triply sucked.
Harry threw up all he had left, which was a miniscule bit of personal dignity.
I never knew my personal dignity was that color…
Gomero shook her head, muttering a cleansing spell, and pushed his hands back into a basin of green goo of some sort. It was cooling and soft, and very nice compared to everything else.
Seated at his side, Sirius huffed, "What were you thinking, pup? That's advanced magic! I wouldn't have tried it! Don't answer! Swallow!"
He pinched Harry's nose, and poured a mug of something hot and eye-wateringly nasty down his throat. Harry choked.
What the…Did they use old socks in that?
"What did you think you'd do? Go off to Hogwarts and hand that thing to Dumbles and say, hi, sir, want a fake stone? Then what? You kill him? How? With an unforgivable curse? Or did you want him to show up here? Forget the fact you scared us, forget the idiocy of not having oversight, forget the stupidity of doing this that far from any help, do you have any idea how disappointed I am?"
Harry nodded weakly. "Yeah. You're yelling really loud. I'm getting the idea. I'm sorry. We didn't think…"
"Obviously! What was the plan?"
Harry reddened. "We didn't have one," he admitted. "Just make it and throw it somewhere else… Dumbles gets it, then he doesn't have the real hallows, in case that matters, because it matters to him, and..."
Now I say that out loud... yeah, that's a bad plan. Better than no plan, but not a good plan.
"We don't need bait! He's testing the wards as it is! And I'll be…" Sirius growled, canine in tone and nature. "Harry, good intentions pave the road to what?"
"A really bad place," sighed Harry. "How's Hermione?"
"You both have a nasty case of magical exhaustion, and the magic crushed all the bones in your hands. Hers too. Congratulations."
"Oh no," whimpered Harry, dreading the words skele-gro.
"They'll be fine," snapped Sirius, eyes dark. "Keep 'em in Gomero's weird jelly, and be glad you didn't get yourselves killed!"
Harry cringed into the bedding.
Sirius leaned forward.
Harry shut his eyes. Here came the pain…
Sirius kissed his forehead. "Don't do that to me again, pup. Please. I'm not that young. Now get some sleep."
For once in his life, Harry obeyed, and fell asleep. Of course, that was probably the potion.
HP HP HP
Two days later, Harry was permitted to leave the infirmary, although he now wore a bright red bracelet keyed to Sirius. If he strayed more than one hundred meters from his godfather, the bracelet would flash neon green until he retreated into the Sirius-described safety zone.
Neville was surprisingly supportive. "Don't tell my gran those exist. I'll never get out of her sight."
Hermione, by contrast, doubled up laughing, until her mother curtly told her, "I'll have one made, and you won't get as far as fifty meters."
The bracelet, to Harry's embarrassment, did not come off. Ever. Only Sirius could remove it.
When applied to, Lupin said only, "He did less than I would."
Great. The adults all hate me…
With those glum thoughts spinning around in his head, Harry ran laps up and down the terraced gardens, lest his usual exercise violate the safety zone.
Although it was technically well into autumn, he sweated buckets. The tropics had much to recommend them, but the temperatures never seemed to drop below very balmy. McGonagall was turning a patch of the island into her own Scottish moor, and Harry planned to ask permission to visit it.
One nice refreshing breeze…
He panted past the house, and tripped over Dobby.
The elf said sadly, "You is being very rude, Harry Potter."
"I'm sorry, Dobby, I didn't mean to ignore you. Or trip over you."
"No, no, I cans pop to sees you whenevers. But you is being very rude." The elf shook a finger at him. "Peoples been saving your life and you be doing spells and breaking hands. We not saving you for you to be dead. You has been making Scary Grangy cry."
Scary Grangy was Emily Granger. Nobody contested that nickname, or used it where she could hear it. Not even elves were about to risk that.
"And your Grangy cry." The elf stared intently at him. "Why's this way, Harry Potter?"
Metaphorically winded, Harry sat flat down on the pavement and said, "I don't know. I… I don't have to save anyone, but I can't… I don't want… Nothing he's said or done has been honest." He scratched at his itching, sweaty scalp. "He's let people be killed. He's dangerous. And… And I guess we thought… We made bait, Dobby."
"He is not being fishies. He is being too clever, too twinkly."
Harry frowned. "Too twinkly? I know his robes are pretty strange but…"
Dobby shook his head until his ears flapped. "No! Twinkly like tricksing. Twinkly like…" The elf yanked on his IAM uniform. "Mirror-twinkly."
After a few moments' thought, Harry understood. "He's like that Mirror of Erised?"
"Yes! He shows what peoples wants to see." Dobby hugged Harry's arm. "I's begging you, Harry Potter, sir, listen to doggy-father."
"I'll do my best, don't worry," promised Harry, and returned the hug gently. "I need a shower. And… Thank you, Dobby. I want Dumbles to pay. I want Hermione to be okay. I want… I guess I want a lot of things, don't I?"
"Yes," agreed Dobby, perking up as only an elf could. "But what is Harry Potter wanting for Harry Potter?"
The elf immediately cracked out of sight, as he was wont to do.
Harry ambled off to take his shower.
What did Harry Potter want for Harry Potter?
He still hadn't found an answer when the shower cut off, and reminded him in a sweet voice that he really ought not waste water. The fact he still had soap over half of himself was clearly not the shower's problem.
HP HP HP
Harry stared blankly at the history of the world textbook. Somehow, Chinese dynasties didn't grab his attention.
What do I want when I grow up?
Well, for starters… Decent eyesight?
A bedroom?
Yeah, this is rubbish.
He read (for the umpteenth time) about the building of the Great Wall of China.
None of the information stuck.
I want… Honestly, as long as I have some friends and nobody tries to kill me, I think I'll be okay. I mean, it'd be fun to play Quidditch professionally except I'm out of training.
And what does a wizard do for a living? Mr. Weasley does a lot of paperwork, Moony is a teacher, Hermione might be a healer. What do other wizards do? Brew potions for an apothecary. Cast charms on things to sell in a shop. Run a shop. Chase criminals. Be criminals. It's not too different from non-magical job choices, other than the whole wand-waving thing.
"Huh," he said.
Hermione jumped. "What? Did you just read that the Q'in Dynasty…"
"Yeah, that, too," muttered Harry, and let his finger make doodling motions on the common room study table they were sharing. Lupin had designed them to allow individual study cubes or group study, as one preferred. "What do you think I'll be when I grow up?"
She blinked at him. She hid a giggle. "You're worried about careers? Oh, Harry. You'd be excellent as an auror, you're very patient when you choose to be so you might make a teacher, you could coach Quidditch even, at a school. Why are you asking now of all times?"
"When I found out I was a wizard, it was all about Boy-Who-Lived, Chosen One, that prophecy from a bottle of bad whiskey."
Hermione snickered, then colored. Harry all but heard her scold herself to try to respect someone who had a professorship at Hogwarts.
"Reality has been… Monsters, and schemes, and betrayals."
"That, too," said Hermione gently, and leaned her head briefly on his shoulder. "When you decide what to be, let me know. It seems my magic is determined to make me a healer."
"What did you plan to be before Hogwarts?" asked Harry, aware a few years too late that he never did ask.
She grimaced comically. "Fine. I wanted to be a doctor. Or a veterinarian, only my dad hated pets and…"
She caught her breath, her eyes going wide and dark.
She never talks about him.
He reached to take her hand to comfort her, but Crookshanks was leaping into her lap, and he caught a lot of furry tail instead. "Sorry, Crooks," he told the animal automatically. "It's okay, y'know. That's what you told me. When Hagrid… When I look at the album with all the pictures of my parents."
Hermione slumped, cuddling her cat. "I know, but… I never say anything about him if I can, never around Mum. She told you about her grandmother, right?"
"She told everyone in every year, about ten times, yeah." To say Emily Granger went on a tear about wizard prejudice against non-magicals was an understatement. Behind her back, a few students called her Hurricane Granger, but only in very quiet voices, far from anywhere she'd hear.
"She never wanted to have magic. She hoped I wouldn't. I worry she'll… I worry she'll ask me to choose. Her or magic."
Harry immediately bristled. "What did she say?"
"Something about making a lot of money fixing teeth for tourists in Nassau," mumbled Hermione. Her face fell. "About a normal life."
Harry pushed back his chair, shaking his head. "No. That's not okay. Magic is your normal. She can't…"
At that moment, he felt a peculiar sensation, as if someone was trying to pull him through a straw.
Hermione's mouth moved, and no sound came out. Her wand waved, and nothing happened. Her brown eyes widened, and her skin whitened under her suntan and those cute little freckles of hers...
"She really is quite annoying," rumbled a voice in Harry's ear as a hand clamped onto his shoulder. "Making it all so very difficult!"
Hermione had produced their not-really-the-stone, and was clearly offering it in exchange for Harry. Tears glistened in her eyes, but they were normal tears, and that assured Harry she was well in control of her thoughts, emotions, and magic.
The other students had frozen, or been frozen. Harry no longer asked.
A bright figure landed on Hermione's head.
With a snap of his fingers, Dumbledore removed Harry.
His last sight was of Hermione being encased in flames by Fawkes.
HP HP HP
AN: Bit short, but I have a devil of a time writing Harry.