VII. Warnings and Vows
Lord Voldemort paced restlessly in the privacy of the master bedroom. It had been a while since Bedrager had paid him a visit, and this had caused the Dark Lord a constant migraine. He worried of the time that Bedrager would decide to appear, and he worried most about the outcome of said meeting. Last time he had tried to fight even though he was clearly outmatched, and as a result, he had suffered more pain than he thought it was possible to endure. Of course, a brilliant strategist as Lord Voldemort had not been sitting back twirling his thumbs throughout the absence of his mysterious guest. He had been training to further develop is powers. It pleased him to no end that he could now fend off his entire Inner Circle in combat. His wand work had never been better, and he had never felt so alive since he had returned from the void. He had withdrawn his numbers back to Riddle Manor immediately after Bedrager's visit, and had placed them all under the most strenuous training regime that he could muster. Many fainted daily, and even more were left in conditions that, where they in the normal world, would have landed them in St. Mungo's. Of course, this meant that his faithful Potion's Master had more than enough work, creating potions to rapidly recover the wounded and get them back on their feet. Finally, after two weeks of intense training, Voldemort felt confident that his Death Eaters could fend off any attacker. This did not imply by any means that he was not worried about the possible fight that would ensue if Bedrager chose to return, but he reveled in the thought of besting him in combat, and torturing him until he begged for death.
The silence was broken by the wailing of the wards as they quickly fell, followed by a high, cold laugh that made everyone in the manor cringe in fear. Bedrager had returned.
His hood could not conceal the malevolent glare that his eyes had, and his laughter was magnified hundreds of times so it resounded through every nook and crevice of Riddle Manor. As he had suspected, Voldemort had not bothered to replace the wards. He merely had strengthened them. Muttering incantations so fast that his lips and hands were a blur of movement, Bedrager worked furiously to bring the wards down. As soon as the last one fell, he casually blasted the front gate open with a flick of his hand. His pleasurable stroll was interrupted when he encountered a wall of ten Death Eaters, all with wands drawn and pointed straight at him. Grinning amusedly, Bedrager raised his voice to ensure that Voldemort could hear him.
"The courtesy of your home was decreased of late, Lord Voldemort. The first time I arrived here, I was met with five armed guards. Now I am met with ten. Did I not make it evident enough last time that your petty spells have no effect against me? Are you really stupid enough to force me to repeat myself?" his voice was dangerous, like an animal preparing to attack. Voldemort muttered "Sonorus" with his wand pointed at his throat.
"Last time we were unprepared. Last time you faced my regrettably undertrained Death Eaters. I am sure that you will quickly find that this is no longer the case." Bedrager simply smiled and stared at the Death Eaters in front of him.
The first wave of spells collided mid-air. After the smoke cleared, they gasped in shock to find that Bedrager was not there. He was roughly ten feet in the air, levitating. "FOOLS!" he roared. He simply stretched his hand, and in a blinding flash of light, he was holding a silver staff. It was far too dark for any Death Eaters to truly appreciate the delicate designs that were carved along its surface. Bedrager cancelled the spell that kept him in the air, and as he landed, he slammed his staff on the ground. A huge wave of magic sprouted and charged at the Death Eaters. Many tried to shield themselves, casting every manner of protective spells. Others tried to outrun the speeding wave. The few that had common sense simply Dissapparated. These few were the only ones that were spared from the fury of the spell. It slashed through the shields like they were paper, and it moved so quickly that it quickly caught the ones that attempted to escape. The spell made them feel like fire was being shoved into their bodies, and the night was filled with screams of agony, which were quickly eclipsed by the cold, triumphant laugh of Bedrager. He rose and casually strolled towards the Manor, his staff glowing dangerously in his hand.
As soon as the doors were blasted, he was encountered by twenty or so Killing Curses flying towards him. Holding his staff in both hands, he smiled predatorily as the spells simply vanished into thin air. The next moments were filled with the roars of charging Death Eaters, the sound of bodies being thrown violently through the air, and the groans of pain as they landed. Bedrager's staff was a blur of motion, casting spells in every direction that a Death Eater dared to attack him. Many were simply knocked unconscious by the blasts that emerged from the whirling staff. The not so lucky ones were caught by the other spells, which either maimed them in some form or simply filled their bodies with excruciating pain. After having dispatched the welcoming committee, Bedrager continued, slowly making his way to the dining room, where he suspected Voldemort was holed up with the remains of his Death Eaters. He drank every single moan of agony, relishing it like he was enjoying some exquisite bouquet. Halfway through, Bedrager was encountered by five lone Death Eaters. The one in the centre eyed him with eyes that belonged to a wolf.
"Ah, you must be the infamous Fenrir Greyback. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance", said Bedrager with a smile. He bowed and then met the eyes of the werewolf. "It would be wise for you and your pack to not attack me. The results could be quite… painful, I'm afraid." His eyes flared in anger as he noticed the werewolves preparing themselves to lounge. Waving his hand, he conjured manacles of silver, and quickly bound the werewolves. He watched them in pleasure as they began to fight them, only to have their wrists and ankles sliced open by the sharp edges of their restraints. "The manacles will not poison you, but they may produce a substantial amount of pain. Rest assured that they will not kill you, and that the blood that you lose will be replenished", he said, as he simply stepped over the quivering werewolves and proceeded to the hallway that leads to the dining room. Standing guard was a group of seven cloaked figures. The only distinguishable features were their bone-like hands and a single hole where their mouths would have been.
The temperature of the hallway was several degrees colder than the rest of the house, and sheets of ice covered the carpet floor and the walls. Bedrager stood there completely calm and comfortable, like he was spending a nice sunny day at the beach.
"You will find that your powers do not affect me. Now, I will give you a choice: you may go and I will give you my word that you will not be harmed, or you can attack me, in which case you will most certainly be destroyed. Choose well." Though Dementors did not usually obey commands of humans unless it suited their purposes, they quickly floated away past Bedrager. He turned around as they were leaving, and froze them in place.
"Before you leave. Make sure you do not suck any souls on your way out. I need them alive." Bedrager's voice was enhanced by his magic, and the leader of the pack was allowed enough movement to give a short bow. Smiling, Bedrager simply released them and proceeded to blast open the double doors of the dining room.
He was quickly confronted by the majority of the Inner Circle, led by Voldemort himself. Only two were absent: Severus Snape and Bellatrix Lestrange. Bedrager eyed each Death Eater carefully, before staring into Voldemort's crimson eyes.
"I have dispatched your entire force, Voldemort. I have proven to you once again that I am more powerful than any of you. Although I have enjoyed myself tremendously, I have not come here to fight. I am only here to talk. What's more: I am willing to forgive your terrible manners, since your Death Eaters did provide good sport. Now, why don't we simply sit down and have a lovely cup of warm tea?" his voice was calm and pleasant, but his eyes sparkled with fury. Voldemort's upper lip curled, and he sneered at Bedrager.
"Do you think that I will allow your insolence to go unpunished?! I am Lord Voldemort! And I will not tolerate this intrusion—" Voldemort's phrase was cut off by the sound of gargling noises. He clasped his throat as an invisible vise slowly closed around his trachea. His predicament was quickly shared by the rest of the people in the room. Bedrager stood there, leaning on his staff, his face etched with amusement as the Death Eaters struggled for breath. They tried every counter curse that they knew, but none could break the hold that Bedrager had on them. One by one, they began to collapse and faint. As the last Death Eater fell, Bedrager released his hold on them, not wanting to kill anyone. He then turned to Voldemort, who was standing because he had ensured that his grip on the Dark Lord's throat was not as tight.
"That was a terrible choice Voldemort. I must confess myself to be… disappointed. I expected more from you. I thought that after our little chat, you would have learned your lesson. It would seem I was wrong", said Bedrager coolly. He slowly levitated Voldemort as he spoke, and roughly slammed him against the nearest chair. He conjured restraints, and then sat down. Snapping his fingers, he summoned a teapot that was steaming with freshly brewed tea. He poured himself a cup and he slowly sipped its contents, never dropping his gaze from Voldemort. The Dark Lord simply sat there, his thoughts racing wildly. All his plans and training had been for naught. In less than half an hour, Bedrager had single-handed dispatched his forces. "Now, since apparently this is the only way in which we can conduct business in a civilized manner, I will have to restrain you and your Death Eaters each and every time that I visit to ensure your cooperation. This will continue until you learn proper manners, am I understood?" Voldemort sat motionless, refusing to reply. Bedrager elected to take this as a sign of acknowledgement, and continued "Good. Now then, the reason for which I am here tonight is to discuss your plans Voldemort. I was a tad surprised when I saw that you had withdrawn yourself from the Wizarding world, although now I understand why. Misguided as your plan was, it did bring some benefit. Your numbers are far better organized than they were before, and their attacks are considerably stronger. For this, I commend you Voldemort", he said in a level voice. Voldemort sat there, his eyes showing mild anger as Bedrager spoke.
"And what makes you think I will share anything with you?" he spat. Bedrager eyed him dangerously, as he slowly continued to sip his tea.
"Like I said before, I am here to help you. Your goals are beneficial to me, and as such I believe that you will benefit from my knowledge and experience. In order to assist you, however, I need to know what you are planning. I also would like to know the reasons for each plan, since these can be almost, if not more, important than the plan itself." Voldemort continued to glare at Bedrager, but remained silent. Sighing in exasperation, Bedrager placed his cup on the table, and leaned forward. "I am really starting to get irritated by your lack of cooperation Voldemort. Now, we—"
"LACK OF COOPERATION?!" roared Voldemort. "You have attacked and threatened me several times, you are a complete stranger and yet you petulantly expect me to—" His rant was interrupted as Bedrager punched his face hard. Voldemort felt like a brick had just collided with his face and had cracked his cheekbone. Dazed, Voldemort tried to open his mouth to continue talking, only to meet a similar punch across the other side. Bedrager stood up and his magic amplified his rage, darkening the room and giving him an eerie red glow.
"I. WILL. NOT. BE. SPOKEN. TO. LIKE. THAT", roared Bedrager. Voldemort snapped from his daze and shrank as much as his restraints allowed him to in fear. "No matter what your stupid, ignorant mind tells you, you will respect me Voldemort, am I understood?" To emphasize his point, Bedrager took his staff and rammed it into Voldemort's midsection. Had Voldemort been unbound, he would have doubled over and curled in pain, but unfortunately he was not able to do so.
Pacing like a caged lion, Bedrager attempted to calm himself, but was unsuccessful. He waved his hand and released Voldemort from his bounds, only to grab him by the neck and promptly slam him against the nearest wall. "Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully Voldemort. I am going to leave now, but I will return in three days' time. When I return, not only do I expect to be welcomed properly, but I also expect you to have a full description of all your plans, along with their intent. Am I clear?" he snarled. Voldemort nodded rapidly in fear. "Should you fail to do any of these tasks or should you or any of your Death Eaters displease me in any form or way; that will be the last thing that they will ever do. You may be protected by the Prophecy, but rest assured that there are worse fates than death. Your men, however, do not share your good fortune and they will be killed in the most excruciating way I can conceive. Got it?" As soon as Voldemort nodded, he slammed his head against the wall, knocking him unconscious. Grabbing his staff, Bedrager left the house, healing all Death Eaters along the way and placing them in a mild sleep. After he reconstructed the doors and gates that he had blasted, he rebuilt the wards. Without a second glance, he disappeared into the night.
Fortunately for Bellatrix Lestrange, she was otherwise engaged at the time of Bedrager's attack. Had she been there, her fate would have been considerably more unpleasant. Having agreed to meet with her sister Narcissa, she now stood in a darkened alley waiting for her to arrive. A small pop heralded the arrival of a woman who was dressed in exquisite clothes of the most expensive kind. Wrapped around her, was one of the finest travelling cloaks that money could buy. Nodding to her sister, Narcissa Malfoy led the way, her face turning in every direction to ensure they were not followed. Walking briskly, the pair soon reached a small house. Muggles appeared to simply ignore the existence of the house, courtesy of a couple of well-placed wards. Narcissa knocked on the door and waited nervously. A rat-like squeak sounded from within, and the door was partially opened by a man who could have very easily passed by a weird half-breed of a rat and a person. Having spent 12 years as a rat, Peter Pettigrew had acquired a lot of the mannerisms of his animagus form. Not that he minded much, but it did make people nervous and irritable towards him. Even more so than usual. This is why Peter was here and not back at Riddle Manor. It also kept him safe from Voldemort's pet snake Nagini, who seemed to have a special spot in her stomach dedicated for him.
"Wormtail, let us in", asked Narcissa. Wormtail shook his head in denial.
"I am under strict orders not to let—" His reply was cut short when Bellatrix glared at him. "Y-Yes, of course. Come in, come in", he said quickly as he allowed the two witches to pass.
He led them to the study, were a man dressed in a black cloak sat, comfortably reading the Daily Prophet while sipping from a goblet.
"Ah. Bellatrix, Narcissa. What a surprise. Wormtail, bring some refreshments for our guests", spoke Severus Snape. Wormtail stepped forward and glared at Snape.
"I am not your servant Snape! The only one who can command—"
"The Dark Lord placed you under my charge did he not? Would you like me to report how unhappy you are with his assignment? Perhaps then he can ensure that you and Nagini get properly acquainted", he said with a smile. Wormtail blanched and scurried towards the kitchen. Snape gestured at the empty chairs, and Narcissa sat down. Bellatrix remained standing, preferring to eye the collection of objects in the room.
Wormtail returned with a bottle of mead and two goblets. Snape took the items from him and quickly threw him out the room with a flick from his wand. He then locked the door and cast several privacy and silencing charms. After pouring Narcissa and Bellatrix a glass, he sat down and beckoned Narcissa to start talking.
"Thank you for meeting with me, Severus. I know that you have been busy of late, but this is important. The Dark Lord forbade me from discussing this with anyone else but Draco—"
"If the Dark Lord forbade you, then you should not speak of it. Do not touch, Bellatrix. We must not take things that are not ours", he admonished. Bellatrix gave him a mild glare and returned the object she was holding.
"As it happens, I am aware of Draco's situation." Bellatrix's face flushed in anger.
"You know? And how is it that you know, Snape?" spat Bellatrix.
"Your sister doubts me, Narcissa. Understandable, since I have played my part well. So well, in fact, that I have managed to fool one of the greatest wizards of all time." Bellatrix sneered at the comment.
"Dumbledore is a great man. Only a fool would deny it. Rest assured, Bellatrix that my loyalties lie with the Dark Lord", said Snape evenly.
"You are a liar. You may have managed to deceive the Dark Lord, but you do not fool me!" barked Bellatrix. Snape sneered.
"And how do you suppose I did that, Bellatrix? The Dark Lord is one of the most powerful Legilimens in the world. Had I lied, I would not be here standing here to listen to your idiocies. He is also more powerful than I am, so a spell would be less than useless. And before you suggest it, he knows how to identify potions, so administering one would not be possible either", replied Snape. He sneered even more as Bellatrix failed to reply.
"As I was saying, I am aware of Draco's current predicament." Narcissa edged closer to him.
"He trusts you Severus. Is there any way you can help him? He is only a boy, and for him to do such task…." Narcissa broke in sobs.
"You and Draco should be proud Cissy. It is a great honour that the Dark Lord has given Draco", said Bellatrix.
"I am aware of what he has to do, and I am also aware that the task was given specifically to him. However, it may be possible for me to help Draco", said Snape.
"Do you mean it, Severus? Will you really help Draco?" pleaded Narcissa.
"I can try", replied Snape.
"Severus, I would be forever in your debt if you did—"
"Swear to it. Make the unbreakable vow", said Bellatrix. Snape remained expressionless.
"It's just empty words. He will try his best, but when the time comes, he will slither back into his hole", taunted Bellatrix. Snape eyed her carefully. "Coward", she finished.
Snape rolled his eyes. "Take out your wand." Narcissa's eyes filled with tears of joy, while Bellatrix froze in surprise.
Snape and Narcissa held on to each other's forearm, and Bellatrix proceeded to place the tip of her wand in the middle.
"Do you, Severus Snape, swear to help Draco Malfoy as he attempts to fulfill the Dark Lord's wishes?"
"I do", replied Snape. Immediately a tongue of fire sprouted from her wand and enveloped their arms.
"Do you swear, to the best of your ability, to protect him from harm?"
"I do." Another flame enveloped them.
"And, should Draco fail in his quest, do you swear to perform the task that the Dark Lord has entrusted Draco to perform?"
"I do." A third flame intertwined with the other two. After a small flash they disappeared. Narcissa hugged Snape gratefully, and then left with Bellatrix, leaving a contemplative Snape behind.
"So when am I going to meet your friends Harry?" asked Hedwig. It was early in the morning. The sun rose sleepily from the horizon as Harry and Hedwig walked slowly around the outskirts of the Burrow.
"But you already know them Hedwig", replied Harry.
"You know full well what I mean", she replied with a swat to his arm. Harry smiled at her.
"I guess I have held on to this long enough. I was actually considering doing it today if you don't have any objections."
"None. I just hope it doesn't create any more problems."
"Hermione will probably be happy for me. The only one that I don't know how he is going to react is Ron. He could just as easily blow his top over this as he could be happy for us."
"Hmm. Then I guess there's no point in worrying about it is there?"
"Not really no."
"Something on your mind Harry? Ever since two weeks ago when you got your OWLs you've been really quiet. What's bothering you?" asked Hedwig.
The fact of the matter was that Harry was bothered by many things. Chief amongst them was Hermione. More specifically, his relationship with her. Having been raised in a hostile environment had left more scars than Harry was aware or cared to acknowledge. If you add on to this the fact that he did not have any siblings, and there was no love in the relationship with Dudley, this resulted in Harry being very lacking in the emotional department. True, he did have a big heart as he had been told many times. He cared for a lot of people, and to him the notion of sacrifice was something that he was intimately familiar with. He knew that, given the chance, he would gladly give his own life in exchange for his friends or Hedwig. But this did not imply under any circumstances that he knew what it felt to love someone. To be truly in love with one person was a concept that was alien to him. He also had no idea what sibling love was like. Of course, he had the reference of the Weasley's, but they were sufficiently different from him that he did not really know how to take what he saw and apply it to his own experiences.
In short, he did not know what exactly he felt for Hermione Granger. Since Harry's announcement that he was going to take the same classes as her, Hermione had been happier than she had been in years. She had volunteered to help Harry study before he even had a chance to ask her himself. Over the past weeks, he had grown closer to her, and he was elated at this. They sat closer together, and overall seemed to be in sync with each other. It seemed like they just knew what they were thinking, which confused Ron greatly. After he had gotten over his tantrum, he had decided, somewhat begrudgingly, to join them in their study sessions. Though he had refused to send McGonagall a letter requesting the change, he did join his two friends as Hermione tried to introduce Harry to the wonderful, albeit complicated world of Ancient Runes and Arithmancy. It turned out that, when he was relaxed, Harry was more than a capable student. Although he was nowhere close to having the intellectual abilities of Hermione, he was not that far behind as he had initially thought. This, coupled with the review sessions that he had in the mornings with Hedwig that essentially consisted of walking around the Burrow at the crack of dawn, had produced a massive improvement of his knowledge in the two relatively new subjects. This was done much to Ron's chagrin, who could not understand how his best friend could get so exited by school things. Moreover, he kept having the distinct feeling that he was slowly cast aside.
Nothing could be further away from the truth, as both Harry and Hermione gave Ron just about every chance that they could to involve him, but it quickly became apparent that Ron simply was not interested. His laziness usually overcame him, and more often than not, he would fall asleep during their classes. Harry could see the hurt in Hermione's eyes and this only served to increase his annoyance towards his best friend. Can't he see that it hurts her? Is he really that self-centered that he cannot see how his actions affect others? he had thought often after the lessons. Overall, Ron's attitude confused him greatly. On one hand, he claimed that he was in love with Hermione, or at least that he fancied her. He constantly regaled Harry with his master plans of wooing Hermione and winning her heart. But on the other he never went through with them, nor did he seem to make any sizeable effort in at least feigning interest in the things that Hermione liked. More often than not, Ron would attempt to start a conversation, fail miserably, and then revert to his only topic: Quidditch. Yet he never realized, or at least that's what Harry chose to believe, that Hermione was not into Quidditch. Sure, she enjoyed watching the matches, and she loved cheering Harry on, but it was not a topic that she would willingly discuss for hours on end like Ron. Even Harry couldn't do it.
And so this cycle continued every day, the only difference being that Ron began to get increasingly frustrated by his so called 'failures', if you can call lack of trying that, which resulted in him having more arguments in Hermione, which only furthered the growing rift between the two. It quickly became apparent that the only reason that the so called 'Golden Trio' remained that way was because Harry interceded and separated the two. The end result was always the same: they would argue, Ron would storm off, and Harry would be left to console Hermione. It broke his heart to see her like that, but he really could not control Ron's brain, or lack thereof. It was during these times that he felt something that he had never felt before. He felt a sense of calm and peace wash over him when he was alone with her, either sitting in amiable company, or in some form of hugging or cuddling. It was a sense that Harry relished, and more often than not found himself wishing that Ron would simply go away so he could have more of those special moments with Hermione.
This only served to confuse Harry even more. Although he had quickly come to terms with the fact that Ginny was not interested in him like that, he was unsure as to whether or not he fancied Hermione. Yes, he found her to be a beautiful and attractive young woman, but he could not envision them every marrying, or being together like that. Having never truly experienced love, Harry was at a loss for describing the way that he felt for her. He was more than aware of the fact that during his grieving stage he had thought of her getting hurt, and knew that he could never bear that happening again. He was aware of the fact that he would seriously harm anyone that so much as hurt a single hair on Hermione's head, with the notable exception of Ron, but was that love? True, he felt a nice tingle whenever she laid her head on his shoulder, or whenever their hands brushed, but was that what it was supposed to feel like? Was he really in love with her?
"I don't know Hedwig", said Harry with a sigh. "I really don't know what's going on with me and Hermione."
"You want to know if you love her." It was not a question.
"Yes. But how am I supposed to know? My so called relatives never loved me. You were the only person to ever show that they cared for me in my life. How will I know what love is? What if I miss it and end up being alone? Or what if Voldemort finds out and uses her against me?" asked Harry.
"I don't know how to answer that Harry. I guess all that I can tell you is that when your heart is ready to love, you will know", she answered.
"How did you know?"
"What?"
"That you loved me like that. That you were bonded to me?"
"It's not as easy Harry. After Hagrid gave me to you, I did feel a certain 'attraction' shall we say. Over the years it just deepened, more so when we were at Privet Drive, since that was the only time that we had when we were really alone for extended periods of time. I guess I fully realized that I loved you sometime after your first year. You remember how I started bringing you food?" she asked with a smile.
"Yes. I remember having to hide them so Petunia wouldn't go ballistic when she saw them. It was by far the nicest thing that anyone had ever done for me", replied Harry.
"Well, as an owl I was kind of limited on what I could do. But that's when I knew that I cared for you like my own hatchling. That I loved you like a son that I never had."
"So there's no easy way of knowing huh?"
"I'm afraid not. But easy things are never worth it Harry. It is does things that take effort that truly matter in the end." Harry nodded softly at this. "Now come on, there should be food ready soon and I can hear your stomach growling." They laughed softly as they returned to the house.
Hermione woke up earlier than usual that day. As it often happened, her mind was going a hundred miles an hour, trying to sort out her feelings for Harry. Almost a week in, she had finally arrived at the conclusion that she did not fancy Ron at all. He was rude and uncouth, and always hurt her feelings more than she cared to count. While Harry made her laugh, Ron made her cry. She had tried, more for the sake of the relationship that they had, to be patient; hoping that Ron would eventually come around and start being nice and actually court her. But even she had limits on how much of his idiocy and pig-headedness she could handle. And so she quickly found herself becoming cold and indifferent towards him, in an effort to prevent her feelings from being hurt again. She often ended up crying after their study sessions. She would curl up on Harry's side while Ron stormed off. True, he eventually apologized, but the truth of the matter was that he never seemed to learn from his mistakes. And that lack of learning was what had driver Hermione away from him and into Harry's arms. And therein lay the source of her conflict.
Even though she had come to terms with her lack of love towards Ron, she could not figure out her feelings towards Harry. In a lot of ways, he was as much of a rock as she was to him. Whenever he was close, she drew her strength from his. She felt safe when she was with him. She felt loved. But what kind of love this was she was not sure. Her upbringing was substantially different from Harry's in that she had actually grown up with a family that loved her, and so she knew what love felt like. She knew what it looked like. She just had never experienced that kind of love herself. She knew Harry better than perhaps he knew himself. Although she did not know all of the details of his childhood, she had gathered enough to know that it had been far from ideal. It made him seem so weak at times. So fragile. If she also factored in the huge weight that he carried from the Prophecy, then it was a wonder how he was still sane. She remembered very clearly how she had seen Harry when she had left the Infirmary. There was a haunted look in his usually vibrant green eyes. She still felt her heart break when he told them of the Prophecy. It is so unfair! Has he not suffered enough? Why is it that he is not entitled to have something that we all take for granted? Why can he not have a family? she had thought. It was true that through her experiences with Harry she had come to realize just how lucky she was to have her parents alive and to have them love her. She also was lucky to have Harry in her life. She knew that Harry was the reason that they had come to rescue her that Halloween, and she was forever grateful to him. He had given her something that she had yearned all her life: a friend. And not only did she gain one friend that night, she had also gained Ron's friendship as well. For the first time she belonged somewhere that was not the ever loving embrace of her parents.
All these thoughts circled through her head, and yet she was never able to answer the fundamental question that had made her restless over the last couple of weeks: did she love Harry? Of course, she knew that Harry was attractive, and probably the single most sought after bachelor in Hogwarts, but did she truly love him? Did she want to be with him? She loved the way that he made her feel safe when he tried to console her. She loved the tingling feeling that she now had associated with his touch, but was that enough to say that she loved him? The only thing that kept her from saying yes was a small feeling in her heart. One that she simply could not place. It was that feeling that told her that the idea of being in love with Harry felt off, somehow. She could not explain it any further than that. It felt off. Not complete. Like she was missing an important piece, but could not figure out what that piece was. Finding no solution other than talking to him, she finally decided to get out of bed and face another day.
After their morning study session, one of the few that were miraculously row-free, Harry decided to broach the subject of Hedwig with his two best friends. Motioning them to follow him, Harry led them to the relative privacy of his room. Having already worked out the details of how they were going to broach the subject, Hedwig was already perched on Harry's bed, patiently waiting for the teens to arrive. Locking the door behind them, Harry motioned them to sit down.
"What's going on Harry? You seem nervous about something", said Hermione with apprehension.
"It's something I've been meaning to tell you guys since I got back here…" said Harry uncertainly.
"Well, what is it mate?" asked Ron.
"Oh bloody hell. At the start of the summer I was… in a very bad state", started Harry. Both Hermione and Ron, the latter thanks to an unusual stroke of brilliance, noticed his discomfort and refrained from saying anything.
"The point is that I basically did not leave my bed except for when it was absolutely necessary. On the third night that I was like that something… happened", he gestured to Hedwig as he finished. Recognizing her cue, Hedwig flew from the bed and with a pop changed into her human form. Hermione and Ron were frozen in shock and awe. Ron was practically drooling on the floor, completely entranced by Hedwig's beauty. His eyes were glazed over, signifying that he had basically lost all higher brain functions, not that he had many to begin with. Hermione, being immune to the basal feelings that men are prey to, slowly snapped from her trance, and her brain began to piece things together at a speed that would frighten most people.
"Harry… is she a… true…?"
"Familiar? Yes. We really don't know how she got the power to shift, but I'm really glad that she did. She basically saved me that night", said Harry.
"You were pretty miserable", quipped Hedwig.
"I was, wasn't I?" said Harry with a smile.
"Oh Harry! I'm so happy for you! Know you have what you always wanted!" squealed Hermione in delight as she lunged to hug her friend. "So is it true? Did you inherit all of his memories", she asked Hedwig.
"Yep. It was kind of confusing at first, but we finally sorted it out. It has helped loads with understanding what Harry is going through. Now, I may only be a bird in nature, but I am also female. You don't have to worry about me replacing you, Hermione. I could never do that", said Hedwig soothingly.
Hermione instantly blushed a bright shade of crimson. There was no doubt that she was happy for Harry, since he was finally getting a semblance of the family that he had wanted. But deep down she had wondered how she could compete with someone who had access to so much more than she had access to. Hedwig's words put the irrational side of her mind to rest. Of course she could not be replaced. They weren't even in the same category. Hedwig would become a surrogate mother for Harry, but she was still what she wanted, at least until further clarification. Neither of them noticed Ron's glaze fade to be replaced with a darkening scowl. Seeing things the wrong way was something that was now expected of Ron Weasley. He had, of course, misinterpreted the events of the Triwizard Tournament. He had been forgiven on the grounds that he was insecure. Being the youngest of a series of brothers that cast a shadow that he had problems removing himself from had left him a great deal of emotional issues. To make matters worse, his best friend was the most famous man in all of Britain. Not only that, but he was also the model Gryffindor, and was favoured by the teachers, or at least that was the way that he perceived it. And now, in addition to all of this, famous Harry Potter now had a true familiar whereas he, Ron Weasley still had nothing. He was also aware of the way that Harry and Hermione reacted towards each other, and he felt it as an injustice. By his reckoning, Harry had everything, and it was about time that he started getting his fair share. The way by which Harry had gotten things did not matter; the important thing was that he had them.
"Yeah, congratulations Potter", he spat with venom in his voice. The trio turned; shocked at the way those words were said.
"Ron? Everything alright?" asked Hermione.
"Sure. By his reckoning everything must be just peachy. Famous Harry Potter always gets everything. Not only does he get fame, and is favoured by everyone. If that wasn't enough, then he also gets the girl that I wanted and his bloody bird turns into that!" he snapped.
"Ron, you can say whatever you want about me, but you will not insult Hedwig or treat Hermione like that" said Harry, his voice dangerously low.
"I will speak to her in whatever way I want! She is mine!" he said as he pulled Hermione towards him.
"RON! Stop! You are hurting me!" shrieked Hermione.
"Let her go", said Harry as he stepped forward. The room seemed to darken as his magic projected in every direction. His emerald eyes burned with such intensity that they could have melted steel.
"Harry, listen to me. Don't lose your temper", said Hedwig frantically.
"All this time I've been under your shadow! I've been your sidekick! And for what?! So you could take what I WANTED!" he yelled.
"Last chance Ron. Let her go", said Harry.
"Or what Potter? Are you going to cry to you new mommy?" The only sound that was heard was the sickening crunch of Ron's nose breaking against Harry's fist, followed by his body slammed against the nearest wall. Harry was panting heavily; barely keeping his magic reigned in, small arches of lightning leaping from his fingers. Hermione was frozen by fear and awe. Hedwig was rubbing Harry's back, trying desperately to calm him down.
"Get out", whispered Harry. With a glare that could have killed, Ron got up and left to lick his wounds. Hermione rushed to Harry and hugged him, sobbing quietly. Harry embraced her in an attempt to soothe her, while Hedwig continued to stroke his back. He felt tears sting in his eyes as he saw his first friendship crumble.
Their thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Mrs Weasley's shriek and the door opening. Eyeing each other curiously, Harry and Hermione headed out, with Hedwig in tow after she had transformed back into her owl form. What they found as soon as they descended the stairs was not what they had expected. Ron wasn't there, but that was not the shocking part. Mrs Weasley stood frozen stiff like a statue. The Twins were, for the first time, rendered speechless. All of the males present shared an equal face of disbelief and some form of deep entrancement. Seeking the source of this, the trio turned their eyes towards the entrance. There stood Bill Weasley, holding a woman of immense beauty.
"Harry, Hermione. I believe you've met Fleur Delacour, my fiancé", said Bill.