Author's Notes: Sorry for the delay everyone. This was a tricky chapter, but I think you'll enjoy it. There's a nice Harry and Hermione moment at the end as a reward for your patience. Okay, not really a reward, because that's where the story naturally took things.

As per usual; I do not own Harry Potter!

Chapter Nine: Share the Burden

Dumbledore stood from behind his desk with a grave but concerned look behind his half-moon spectacles. Harry and Hermione stood to one side of the headmaster's office as the memory played before them. Hermione could tell there had been tension between them.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter any further. Now, do you wish to come with me tonight?"

"Yes," said young Harry.

"Very well: I take you with me on one condition, that you obey any command I might give you at once, and without question."

Harry nodded.

"Be sure to understand me, Harry," said Dumbledore gazing at Harry intently. "You must follow such as orders as 'run,' 'hide,' or 'go back.' Do I have your word?"

"Yes, sir."

"If I tell you to hide, you will do so?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to flee, you will obey?"

"Yes."

"If I tell you to leave me and save yourself, you will do as I tell you?"

"I—"

Hermione watched the conversation attentively; she could see the pained response Harry had given the headmaster. Harry would never leave anyone behind if he could help it. Hermione gave his hand a quick squeeze.

"Harry," said Dumbledore. "Your word, please." Silence fell between them.

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Fetch your Invisibility Cloak and meet me in the entrance hall in five minutes' time."

() () ()

Harry and Hermione stood overlooking the moon-lit sea. Dumbledore pointed towards the dark fissure of the cliff side.

"You will not object to getting a little wet?"

"No," said young Harry. Dumbledore nodded.

"Take off your Invisibility Cloak—there is no need for it now—and let us take the plunge." Harry and Hermione gave one another a quick glance and plunged in after them. It was an odd sensation; they could not feel the icy water, nor did they feel the exertion of swimming against the waves. Soon they found themselves at the entrance of the cave. Hermione watched in awe as Dumbledore worked silently as his hands groped the slippery walls while he murmured words in a language she did not recognize.

"Yes, this place has known magic," he said. "The entrance is here. It is concealed." Dumbledore pointed his wand at the rock and casted an unknown and silent spell. An arched outline appeared briefly, blazing white. After a few more minutes, he had conjured a silver knife.

"So Crude," said Dumbledore.

"What is it, Professor?"

"Payment must be made." Dumbledore held up his injured hand turning it palm-side up and exposing some of his forearm.

"You've got to give the door something?"

"Blood," said Dumbledore.

"Blood?"

"I said it was crude. The idea, as I am sure you have guessed, is that your enemy must weaken him- or herself to enter. Oh, Tom, once again you fail to grasp that there are much more terrible things than physical injury."

"But, if you can avoid it…"

"Sometimes, it is unavoidable." Dumbledore held the blade tip to his exposed forearm of his injured hand.

"Professor—I'll do it, I'm—" But Dumbledore had merely smiled and with a quick flash of silver, droplets of dark glistening blood peppered the rock face. Hermione clung to Harry.

"You are very kind, Harry, but your blood is worth more than mine." Dumbledore gave his forearm a quick prod with the tip of his wand and the cut healed instantly. "That seems to have done the trick." The doorway had revealed itself permanently, the rock wall vanishing as though it had never been there. "After me, Harry, and keep your wand out."

Harry and Hermione followed behind them. The black glassy surface of the underground lake was just discernable by the misty green light in the distance where Harry knew the fake Horcurx rested.

"Stay close to me, Harry, and be careful not to step into the water." Harry and Hermione followed behind.

"This place is unsettling," whispered Hermione.

"You've no idea," said Harry, more to himself.

"Professor, do you think the Horcrux is here," asked young Harry.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure it is. The question is, how do we get to it?"

"We couldn't try a Summoning Charm?"

"Certainly we could," said Dumbledore. "Why don't you do it?" Harry allowed himself the smallest smile, despite knowing how grim things were soon to turn. He knew now, that Dumbledore was simply allowing him to try—he'd known that Voldemort would not have allowed the Horcrux to taken so easily. Hermione screamed in his ear a moment later as the first of the Inferi broke the lake's surface.

"Harry, what was that?"

"An Inferius," said Harry.

"I can't believe someone would do such evil." Harry only nodded in reponse.

Dumbledore halted before them, gave his small proclamation of discovery and reached into the empty air. A moment and a wand tap later, a thick coppery green chain appeared from nothing. Dumbledore gave the chain another tap of his wand and it immediately began to coil itself on the narrow bank of the lake. Several minutes passed when finally, a small boat as green as its chain broke the surface. Harry could see that Hermione was just as surprised as he'd been when he first witnessed Dumbledore display his magical prowess.

"Professor, will the things in the water attack us, or are we safe because we are in Voldemort's boat?"

"I think we must resign ourselves to the fact they will, at some point, realize we are not Lord Voldemort. Thus far, however, we have done well; they have allowed us to raise the boat. Voldemort would have been reasonably confident that very few wizards would have been able to find the boat. We can feel confident, however, that Voldemort will have set other obstacles ahead that only he believes he can penetrate. We shall see."

"The boat does not appear to be built for two people."

"Voldemort will not have cared about the weight, but the amount of magical power crossing his lake. I do not think you will count, Harry: You are underage and unqualified. Voldemort would never have expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place: I think it unlikely that your powers will register comparted to mine—which is Voldemort's mistake, Harry—age is foolish and forgetful when it underestimates youth. Now, be careful not to touch the water." Hermione got into the boat, her hand outstretched to Harry.

"Harry," she asked. Harry took one step back and shook his head adamantly.

"I can't," he said. "I'm sorry, Hermione."

"I'll be with you this time." Harry shook his head a second time, turned on his heels and stared up into the darkness of the cavern ceiling above him.

"Just remember this is a memory; nothing can hurt you." Before Hermione could say another word, she watched Harry float upward and out of the memory, leaving her alone.

() () ()

The boat inched forward through the water with hardly a ripple to disturb the glassy surface of the lake. Their destination was clear; a small protruding island at the center of the lake where the eerie green glow emanated from. Hermione continued to watch Harry; she could tell he struggled to keep his fear from showing. She allowed herself to smile briefly; while she'd always prided herself and picking up on people's emotions, Harry's had become significantly easier to recognize after witnessing the graveyard memory. Harry looked down into the lake and almost jumped out of the boat in shock.

"Sir, I saw a body in the water." Hermione took a quick glance and saw not only one body, but several. She felt her heart slip into the bottom of her stomach and back again. Was this what frightened Harry so much about this memory? Had they been attacked by the horrible creatures that lay beneath the surface?

"I am sure you did, Harry," said Dumbledore calmly.

"Will it attack us, sir?"

"We have nothing to fear from them while they are resting peacefully below, Harry; however, should they rise, like all creatures that dwell in darkness, we will employ the power of warmth and light."

"Professor?"

"Fire, Harry," clarified Dumbledore. "They are corpses only, bewitched to do the bidding of Lord Voldemort; we have nothing to fear from those who are long dead any more than we have to fear the darkness. Voldemort, of course, fears both. It is the unknown we fear, nothing more."

"Sir, what you said earlier, about Voldemort not expected a sixteen-year-old to reach this place?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Well, he was right, wasn't he? I never would have found this place on my own—never would have figured out how to get here or find this boat—"

"You forget, Harry," interrupted Dumbledore, "that I have spent considerable time researching Voldemort and his activities, as well as having taught him much of what he knows: You on the other hand, have had your focus split between many events. Having observed you and your friends during your past years at Hogwarts, I can confidently say you would have found a way. Why do you suppose I brought you with me, Harry?"

"You said you'd let me help, like I asked you."

"While this is true, I would have offered—no—requested your assistance because I need you to understand that you cannot do this on your own. I discovered this myself with the incident at Gaunt house. Working alone is among Voldemort's greatest weaknesses; remember our lessons, Harry: Voldemort operates alone. It would never occur to Voldemort that more than one person could ever enter his sanctuary. As such, his defenses will not anticipate more than one witch or wizard attempting to gain entry of his wards that protect his Horcruxes."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"You'll still help me with all of these Horcruxes—until they're all destroyed?" Hermione felt her heart twist. His pleading shook her to the core and was not helped by Dumbledore's reaction. The headmaster's face flushed briefly with sorrow, but was gone in a flash. She was willing to bet Harry did not even notice.

"I will most certainly help you in any way that I can, for as long as I am able, Harry. Know this; you will never be alone." Harry nodded but Hermione could see that Dumbledore's words had not fully reassured Harry's concerns. A somber quietness fell upon them. It was several long minutes later that Dumbledore once again broke up the silence.

"Nearly there, Harry." Moments later they had arrived at the small center island as the boat bumped lightly into the smooth rock. Hermione assumed the island had been placed by Voldemort as the rock did not match the geology of the cave. At the center of the island was a pedestal and a basin that Hermione thought resembled a Pensieve. She stood to the side of the rock as Dumbledore and Harry gathered around the pedestal. Unable to resist the temptation, Hermione walked to the pedestal and stood beside Harry, looking down in to the basin. It was a liquid of some sort, emerald in color, similar to Harry's eyes.

"What is it," asked Harry quietly.

"I am unsure," said Dumbledore. "Something far more worrisome than blood or bodies, I fear." Dumbledore rolled back the sleeve of his robe over his blackened hand and stretched out the tips of his burned fingers toward the potion's surface.

"Sir, no—"

"I cannot tough," said Dumbledore quietly. "You try." Hermione watched Harry put his hand into the basin, but like Dumbledore, his hand appeared to meet some invisible barrier.

"Step aside, please, Harry," said Dumbledore. Dumbledore was now concentrated upon the contents of the basin while his wand moved in dazzling complicated formations as he chanted several indiscernible incantations. Several long minutes passed before Dumbledore withdrew his wand from the basin.

"Is it in there," asked Harry. "The Horcrux?"

"Oh it assuredly is, Harry," answered Dumbledore. "But how to get it? This potion cannot be penetrated by hand, vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away, nor can it be Transfigured, Charmed, or otherwise made to change its nature." Dumbledore then twirled his wand and conjured a crystal goblet.

"It would appear the only way to remove the potion is to consume it." Hermione inhaled deeply as a dawning comprehension fell upon her; this was how Dumbledore had been weakened. She watched helplessly as Harry started to plead with the headmaster.

"No!"

"Only by drinking it can I empty the basin and see what lies in its depths."

"What if it kills you?"

"I do not think it is Voldemort's intention to kill anyone with this potion," said Dumbledore. "Lord Voldemort would not want to kill the person who reached this island."

"Sir," said Harry, "This is Voldemort we're talking about here."

"I'm sorry, Harry; I meant to say he would not want to immediately kill the person who reached this island. Do not forget that Lord Voldemort believes that he alone knows about his Horcruxes and would want the person who discovered his secret kept alive long enough for him to interrogate." Harry made to speak again, but Dumbledore raised his hand to silence him. Dumbledore was now frowning as he stared at the emerald liquid.

"Undoubtedly," he said after a few minutes of silence, "this potion will act in a way that will prevent me taking the Horcrux. I do not know how it will achieve this: It might paralyze me, make me forget why I am here, or perhaps create so much pain I am discouraged to continue, or render me incapable in an unforeseen way. Therefore, Harry, it will be your job to make sure I keep drinking, even if you must force the potion into my protesting mouth. You understand?"

Whatever Hermione could have imagined, she never envisioned the situation playing out before her. She had suspected the potion would be drunk; it made sense in light of Harry's previous admonition that Dumbledore had been weakened before his death. She now knew the reason. While she feared what she was about to witness, Hermione could not ignore the deep pain that lingered in Harry's face; it brought her to tears.

"You remember the condition on which I brought you with me?"

"Sir, couldn't we—"

"You swore, did you not, to follow any command I gave you?"

"Yes, but—"

"I warned you, did I not, that there might be danger?"

"Sir—"

"You have my orders." Dumbledore took the goblet, dipped it into the potion, filling it near the brim.

"Why can't I drink it instead?" Hermione made to embrace Harry, only to remember he was but a memory and the real Harry was alone somewhere in Grimmauld Place. His voice was so full of desperation.

"Because I am much older, cleverer, and much less valuable. Harry, do I have your word that you will do all in your power to make me drink the contents of this basin?"

"Professor—"

"Your word, Harry."

() () ()

Harry emerged from the Pensieve and sat down on the couch. He felt guilty leaving Hermione alone in the memory but knew he could not endure having to watch himself force feed Dumbledore the horrendous potion. He was also nervous; when Hermione performed the incantation to take his memory of the cave, Harry also concentrated on the prophecy—after all, how could he not? In Harry's mind, Dumbledore was as necessary to the prophecy as he was. It was Dumbledore who heard it that fateful night, Dumbledore who shared it with him, Dumbledore who died trying to help Harry accomplish what fate had determined he should attempt. He knew if he allowed himself, he could easily argue that the prophecy had been instrumental in the headmaster's death. He could go deeper too; everyone he ever loved was dead because of the prophecy. He knew it unwise, to share it with her. It was not a matter of trust; Hermione was the most trustworthy person he knew. He could not explain the need to share it; he only knew it was right. And that scared him.

() () ()

"I don't like…don't want…no more…don't make me…"

"You…you can't stop, Professor," said Harry. "You've got to keep drinking. Here…" Hermione wept as she witnessed the terrible ordeal Harry and the headmaster endured. For Dumbledore she felt both gratitude and anger; grateful that he had taken the potion and not Harry, and angry for forcing Harry's agreement to keep him drinking. But for Harry she wept. She could never know the intimate pain Harry felt as he coaxed and pleaded with the headmaster to continue consuming the unknown potion. She knew that now. Dumbledore had been right; how could Harry have ever told anyone? Immediately she felt another surge of immeasurable gratitude for the gift he had sent to her through Fawkes.

"Make it stop, make it stop!"

"Yes, Professor, here, one more; this will stop it," lied Harry as he forced his eyes shut while Dumbledore took another goblet of potion. Dumbledore screamed.

"It's all my fault," he sobbed. "I did wrong. Please make it stop."

"One more, Professor," said Harry, his voice cracking. Hermione saw the tears in his eyes. Oh how she wanted to hold him.

"No, please don't hurt them!" Dumbledore collapsed to his knees. His face contorted as though subjected to terrible pain.

"Professor, it isn't real," said Harry filling the goblet once more.

"Hurt me instead, please, it's my fault."

"This will, sir, I promise, this one will help," said Harry

"I want to die! Make it stop, make it stop, let me die!" Dumbledore was now retreating as though he saw an assailant advance upon him, pulling himself across the stone by the failing strength of his shaking arms. His screams were filled with agony, echoing through the cavern.

"Drink this, Professor." Dumbledore drank.

"KILL ME!" Hermione turned away, her face buried in her hands. It took every ounce of strength to remain—she needed to see this for Harry.

"This is the last one, Professor," gasped Harry. "This is the last one, I swear." Dumbledore drained the goblet, uttered a rattling gasp and rolled over onto his face.

"No!" shouted Harry, dropping the cup into the basin without any thought of the Horcrux. He stopped down to Dumbledore and heaved him onto his back. His eyes were closed and his mouth agape, his glasses askew…

"No, you're not dead," pleaded Harry. "Not you too—you said it wasn't poison, wake up—Rennervate!" A flash of red light pulsed over Dumbledore's chest but nothing happened.

"Rennervate—sir—please—"

At last, Dumbledore finally woke.

"Water, Harry."

() () ()

Hermione had always been there for him, just like she was now. He thanked whoever was listening for the fateful day Hermione had stumbled into the train compartment. Even then, her first action had been to help Harry; she had fixed his glasses—glasses that had been broken many times by his cousin's fist. He'd never forgive himself for those early weeks he went along with Ron's snide remarks and attitude. They'd been no different than Malfoy. As terrible a thought as it was, he thanked whoever was listening for Halloween night, the renegade troll, and disturbingly, that Voldemort had possessed Quirrell. Had it not been for them, Hermione may never have been part of Harry's life.

() () ()

Harry fired several successive curses at the approaching Inferi. They had risen the moment Harry had dipped the crystal goblet into the lake. The mirror-smooth lake churned to life as dead men, women, and even children rose from the depths, their peace disturbed after many long years of silence. Dumbledore struggled to reach his wand while Harry was slowly pulled to the edge of the rock platform. Hermione had to remind herself she was in the midst of memory, and that Harry was alive and both he and Dumbledore managed to escape the cave. Her resolve was tested when Harry succumbed to the many Inferi as they dragged him beneath the water.

Just as Harry disappeared beneath the surface of the lake, Dumbledore had pulled himself to his feet, his wand outstretched before him, cold fury emanating from behind his blue eyes.

"Devorantis Flammis Solaris Ira!" Crimson and gold, bright and burning like the sun, a ring of fire erupted from Dumbledore's wand, surrounding the rock platform in a furious consuming heat. Fireballs plunged into the lake after Harry, driving away the Inferi that had dragged him into the lake. It was only know that Hermione understood just what it meant to earn the title of greatest wizard of the age. She like so many others had attributed it to his numerous academic accomplishments, his work furthering muggle tolerance, his highly sought after advice—oh how she misunderstood—the magic bursting from the wand of the wizard who stood before her giving undeniable witness to the absolute power he commanded at his fingertips. It was only know she understood what they had lost; a man unlike any other. A good, selfless man who had just now nearly given himself to help Harry accomplish the impossible; to make Lord Voldemort mortal once more.

Harry was soon on land again, his breathing fast and shallow. Dumbledore reached down and pulled him to his feet before scooping the fake Horcrux from the basin. Just as she made to Follow them back into the boat, the memory began to swirl out of focus.

() () ()

Hermione knew exactly where she had been transported: Dumbledore's office was littered with dozens of destroyed instruments, Dumbledore himself seated at his desk, with Harry before him, angry. Hermione felt her heart constrict; this was the night Sirius had died and the night when Harry would have the entire weight of their world dropped on his shoulders.

"It is time I told you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please, sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only for a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me—to do whatever you like—when I have finished. I will not stop you."

She listened as Dumbledore explained his reasoning for leaving Harry with his terrible relatives, why his mother's sacrifice was the best protection that could be provided to him and why it was so essential he returned every summer. Dumbledore went on to summarize the eventful years that had led to this exact moment and his failure to tell Harry what he needed to know.

"I cared about you too much. I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects us fools who love to act. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands."

Dumbledore recounted his third and fourth years at Hogwarts, admitting his error in judgement, acknowledging that Harry had already proven himself exceptional.

"My only defense is this: I have watched you struggling under more burdens than any student who has ever passed through this school, and I could not bring myself to add another—the greatest one of all."

Dumbledore began to explain the prophecy. How he had gone to interview an applicant for the open Divinations post only to be thoroughly surprised to be face to face with a genuine seer. Dumbledore retrieved his Pensieve from the cabinet next to the wall and placed it upon the desk. He raised his wand to his temple, withdrawing the silvery strand of memory and placed it into the Pensieve. Hermione let out a small gasp as the figure of Sybll Trelawney rose up from the Pensive, her voice deep and hoarse.

"THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD APPROACHES…BORN TO THOSE WHO HAVE THRICE DEFIED HIM, BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…AND THE DARK LORD WILL MARK HIM AS HIS EQUAL, BUT HE WILL HAVE POWER THE DARK LORD KNOWS NOT…AND EITHER MUST DIE AT THE HAND OF THE OTHER FOR NEIGHT CAN LIVE WHILE THE OTHER SURVIVES…THE ONE WITH THE POWER TO VANQUISH THE DARK LORD WILL BE BORN AS THE SEVENTH MONTH DIES…"

Dumbledore then went on to explain the prophecy. She was shocked to learn that Neville had narrowly escaped the terrible fate Harry had been handed. She learned of the events that had led Voldemort to attack in the first place, and why there was no question that the prophecy had indeed referred to Harry.

"He did not know that you would have 'power the Dark Lord know not'—"

"But I don't," argued Harry. "I haven't any powers he hasn't got, I couldn't fight the way he did tonight, I can't possess people or—or kill them—"

"There is a room in the Department of Mysteries," said Dumbledore, "that is kept locked at all times. It contains a force that is at once more wonderful and more terrible than death, than human intelligence, than the forces of nature. It is the power held within that room that you possess in such quantities and which Voldemort has not at all. That power took you to save Sirius tonight, just as also saved you from possession by Voldemort who could not bear it, and is the same power that has saved your friends as well as yourself many times before. In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind to Voldemort—it was your heart that saved you."

"So, in the end, one of us has got to kill the other one?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore. For a long time, neither of them spoke. It wasn't until the first sunlight of morning came through the office window that Dumbledore spoke again.

"I feel I own you another explanation, Harry. You may have wondered why I never chose you as a prefect? I must confess…that I rather thought…you had enough responsibility to be going on with." Hermione fought back her own tears as she watched Dumbledore wipe away his own, fully aware of what Harry had just entrusted to her.

() () ()

It was just after midnight when Hermione emerged from the Pensieve, her eyes bloodshot and puffy from all the tears. She dropped onto the couch beside Harry and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Thank you, Harry," she whispered into his ear. Neither of them spoke for several minutes, both quietly grateful to one another for their friendship.

"He loved you so much, Harry," said Hermione breaking apart. "They all did; your parents, Sirius, and Dumbledore. So do we, Harry—Ron and Ginny—the Weasleys and Remus—and me. You are not alone."

"I know," said Harry. "That's why I'm scared. Everyone that loved me is dead, Hermione. All that's left is you and Ron, and the Weasleys, and Remus. I know you were mad about me trying to leave and do it on my own but hopefully you understand why I tried."

"I'm scared too, Harry, and I do understand. Believe me, I do." She looked at him and Harry could see she was on the verge of tears once more.

"You alright, Hermione?"

"No." Then, without warning she buried her face into Harry's shoulder. Harry held her tightly once more.

"It's okay," said Harry, trying to comfort her.

"It's n-not," she stuttered between sobs. "My b-best friend is m-marked for d-death and has a b-burden that I c-can't b-begin to imagine, and his f-friends are always f-fighting and arguing, and the only t-thing I c-could do to p-protect you was to erase my p-parents m-memories!"

"Hermione, you, I had no idea—why didn't you tell me?"

"I wanted to, b-but I n-never g-got the chance." Gradually Hermione regained some composure.

"Why did you erase their memories?"

"Because I've told them too much about you, Harry: You're my best friend after all. It's as much for their protection as it is yours. This way their safer and if by some small chance they are captured, they can't give you away—because they don't know they have a daughter." All the air seemed to have left his lungs.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione," said Harry holding her tighter than he'd ever held her while trying to comprehend just what Hermione had done for his sake. He wanted to make everything okay for her, to fix what was broken. "I'm sorry for everything. If you'd never met me—"

"—Don't say it, Harry," warned Hermione. "Don't you dare say it. If I had never met you that troll would have killed me. If I'd never met you I may never have had a single friend in Hogwarts. If I'd never met you I wouldn't know what makes a wizard or witch truly great. None of this is your fault. It's Voldemort's, and his alone."

"Hermione: I could never do this without you—and I'm sorry for ever thinking I could." Hermione smiled and hugged him again.

"I promise, Harry," she said whispering in his ear again, "I will be with you all the way." They held one another for several more long minutes before Hermione whispered once more in his ear, "happy birthday, Harry." Harry simply squeezed her into a tighter embrace.