A/N: The last part! I appologize for the multiple parts; my computer is really screwed up and will not upload more than 20 pages at a time, and this story is 45 pages!
When they reached the quarters, Samantha fumbled through her key chain for the key. "It's got to be around here somewhere," she groaned.
Hermione sighed. "Hurry up." She leaned against the door, which instantly opened. "Hey, it wasn't locked!"
"Score!" Samantha cried and ran inside in front of Hermione. "Come on in, guys!"
Harry felt another rush of fear flow through his body, this time stronger than before. Something was wrong, he thought. Something was wrong. He ignored the feeling and stepped inside, followed by Hermione. The door shut behind them.
"Shit," Hermione swore. It was the first time he had ever heard her swear, but he agreed with her. The room, it was the room from his dreams. All four walls were a livid sea-green color, and the floor and ceiling were a psychedelic orange color.
"Sorry about the coloring, guys. I know it looks like puke, but my mom's a bit of a hippie," Sam explained.
Harry turned to Hermione and saw her frightened expression that mirrored his own. "Let's get out of here," she whispered.
"Let's," Harry agreed.
They had started back towards the door when Samantha screamed. "What is it!" Hermione yelled.
"My skis!" Samantha cried. "They're ruined!" she yelled, pointing to a pile of wood in the middle of the floor, which, Harry realized, had once been her water skis, all snapped and broken into several pieces.
Hermione ran towards the door. "Let's get out of here!" she yelled. "Dammit!" She screamed when the door wouldn't open.
Harry grabbed his wand. "Almohora!" he cried. The door didn't budge. "Shit!"
"Open, open, you stupid, stupid door!" Hermione screamed. "You stupid, stupid door!" She turned to Sam. "Are there any other exists other than this one?"
"Yes, but they're all locked," a voice said, coming from the corner of the room. "Are you really that anxious to leave, Miss Granger?"
Hermione grabbed Harry's hand. "I want to get out of here, now," she said, her voice shaking with fear.
"Don't you want to save your little friend?" the voice asked.
"Little friend?" Sam questioned. "Who?"
The source of the voice walked out of the shadows. "Him."
"Oh my god," Hermione whispered and tightened her grip on Harry.
The source of the voice was Voldemort. He was the ugliest, most terrible sight Harry had ever seen. Voldemort's face had aged with wrinkles and sported a olive green color, and his black hair was thinning. Those were the only physical characteristics of the dark wizard to register him as human. His eyes, his mouth, his body all resembled monsters that Harry had read about in muggle fairy tales. But the most frightening thing was that he was holding Ron, his wand to Ron's head. "One false move and he dies."
"Holy shit," Samantha whispered.
"What do you want?" Harry asked calmly.
Voldemort turned to Harry. "I want you to die, Potter. I want you out of my hair, I want my revenge, I want you to die."
"Kill me then," Harry said. "But let Ron go."
"Deal," the evil wizard said. He shoved Ron across the room towards Harry, then muttered some words and Ron froze in place. Voldemort laughed. "You didn't say I couldn't put a body bind on him."
"Asshole!" Samantha screamed.
He threw a fireball at Samantha, which she ducked at the last minute, but hit her head on the floor. "Samantha!" Hermione cried and ran from Harry's grasp to her cousin. "Oh Sam, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Sam whispered. "Owww, my head hurts."
"Sorry," Hermione whispered and patted her hair.
"Oviata trentrosious!" Voldemort screamed, and the girls flew out of the main room into one of the bedrooms. The door shut behind them.
"What are you doing?" Harry cried. "Leave them alone; you want me, not them."
Voldemort muttered some words under his breath and Harry felt himself freeze in place. Goddammit, he's put me in a body bind. How stupid am I? He tried to smile as he thought of Hermione making a smart-aleck comment to that, but his body bind did not permit it. "I want you all dead," Voldemort hissed. "You are all my problems. You three are strong wizards, and you are the one thing standing between me and ruling the world."
Harry said nothing; he couldn't say anything even if he wanted to. He just listened. "You awful kids have gotten in my way so many times, just like your parents. I think it's time for you to die." Voldemort pulled a lighter out of his pocket. "You're going to die. I'm quite brilliant, aren't I? They'll never guess that you were killed by the greatest wizard in the world when you die in a house fire, now will they?" He flicked the lever and a small flame was produced.
"It's amazing how you'll die from this little tiny flame. This little, tiny flame will grow into a big, house consuming fire. Don't you understand, Harry? I started out as this flame, and then I turned into a big, deadly fire." Voldemort paced closer to Harry. "Then you went and threw a bucket of water over my fire, and I returned to being a flame." He laughed. "Tonight, with your death, I will continue being a fire."
He leaned down and lit floor on fire. "Not very smart, making this cabin out of wood, now was it? Just remember Harry, when you die tonight, that I won. You won that battle that night, but I have won the war. Fire wins over water, doesn't it?" He smiled evilly. "I must go now, and celebrate my return to fire from flame. Enjoy your death, Potter." He snapped his fingers and was gone.
Harry looked around in panic. What could he do? He couldn't move, he couldn't see, and he definitely couldn't bend down and pick up his wand which had fallen near his feet. He met Ron's eyes and sensed that his friend's panic mirrored his own. Samantha and Hermione were stuck in the bedroom, he and Ron were frozen in place, and the house around them was burning down. The realization of their hit Harry, hard. They were going to die. All four of them were going to die.
"Is anyone here?" Harry heard a small voice coming from behind him. Oh, god, Anneliese! Go away; don't get killed too! He couldn't say anything.
She walked up to Harry. "Hey, what's wrong? Why aren't you moving?" Go away! His mind screamed. Get away from here! Don't you see the flames?
"Are you a statue?" she asked. "Or are you playing a game?" She put her hands on her hips. "Well, if you are playing a game I think it's best you continue outside, because I think this house is on fire." You think?
She bent over and picked up his wand. "Oh, cool, is this your wand? It's much cooler than Sammie's!" She fingered the wand gently. "Can I try?" she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she cried "Hocus pocus!" Harry would have laughed if he could have. "Abracadabra!" She turned to Harry. "I think it's broken."
Get out, get out, Harry thought. Get out of here! The fire was growing larger and larger by the second, and the smoke made it harder to breathe. "I'll make up a spell, like they do in Sabrina, the Teenage Witch." She pondered for a moment. "Hippies had a lot of groove, so let Harry wander and move?"
Harry laughed, then stopped in surprise that he could laugh. He could move his fingers, his legs, everything. "How in the world?" he mumbled. That wasn't a real spell, and Anneliese wasn't a real witch, at least, yet.
"I did it!" Anneliese cried. "I did it! I rule the world!" Harry gave her a quick hug and took back his wand. Harry quickly took the body bind off of Ron.
"Are you ok?" Harry asked his best friend.
"I'm fine. Just a little shaken up," Ron said.
"Did he take you from the Burrow?"
Ron nodded. "He really scared Mum. She was screaming and crying worse than I'd ever seen her."
"Did he hurt you?" Harry asked, giving Ron a quick guy hug.
"No, but he really scared me."
A fiery beam fell to the floor. "Here, Ron, take Anneliese and get out." Harry ordered.
"What about you?"
"I'm going to get Hermione and Samantha."
Ron looked around. "Hurry. This ceiling is about to fall, and if you're inside when it does, you're a goner."
"Can't you do something magic to stop the fire?" Anneliese chirped in.
"No," Harry admitted. "I don't know the charm- I wish Hermione were here instead of me."
"Harry, she wouldn't know it either! We know how to stop little fires, but this is too big of magic for rising fourth years."
"I know, I know."
"Go!" Ron yelled at Harry as he dragged Anneliese from the burning building. Harry ran to the bedroom door that Voldemort had thrown the girls into. The door was surprisingly unlocked, so he walked inside.
The smoke was so strong in the room that Harry had to drop to his knees. "Shit," he said as the smoke burned his eyes. "Hermione, Samantha, were are you," he whined, crawling along the floor. He bumped into a dresser. "Ow," he cried, rubbing his head. He turned to his left and saw two bodies, laying on the ground.
"Shit," he mumbled. It was Hermione and Samantha, both unconscious. He would have to carry them out. Harry glanced up at the ceiling; Ron was right; it WAS ready to fall. He glanced at the two bodies. Flames curled around them and licked their skin. He couldn't carry both of them, and he only had time to get one of the girls out before the house would collapse. Hopefully he would have time to get both out, but he wasn't sure about it. Please, help, he prayed to no one in particular. Whoever is out there, help me.
Harry carefully lifted Hermione's body and carried her out of the room. She seemed lighter than she had the other night, or perhaps he had been filled with a sort of emergency adrenaline. He ran through the main room and out the door as fast as his legs could carry him.
The contrast of the burning house and the cool night hit Harry in the face like a slap. The night was tranquil, peaceful, while chaos raged inside of the fire-surrounded guest house. He laid Hermione on the cool grass a good distance from the house. "Shit," he heard Ron swear.
Harry spun around to see the ceiling collapse in flames. "No," Harry whispered. "Samantha."
"Where's Sammie?" Anneliese asked. "Hermione's there, but where's Sammie?"
Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He pointed to the flame swallowed house.
"No, no!" Anneliese screamed. She lunged at Harry. "Go back in there! Go get my sister!"
Ron pulled Anneliese off of Harry. "He couldn't go back; there's no place without fire."
"Save my sister! Save my Sammie!" the little girl hollered.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.
"I hate you!" she yelled at Harry. "I hate you! It should be you back in the house, burning up, not Samantha! I hate you!"
Harry felt tears run down his cheeks. "I did all I could do."
"No you didn't!" Anneliese cried. "You didn't because you didn't save her!" She turned to Ron. "Is she dead?"
Ron soberly nodded his head. Anneliese started crying hysterically and periodically screaming for her charred sister. That's whose body I saw, Harry thought. It was Samantha's. It was trying to warn me… but I ignored it. God, I feel stupid. I'm awful; I killed someone. I could have saved her, but then Hermione would have died. He looked down at his unconscious best friend. It's not a fair choice, having to choose between the lives of two equally wonderful people. Having to choose which one died and which one lived. Harry really started crying. He dragged Hermione to the edge of the lake and put cold water on her face to cool her down. A hand to her forehead would lead a person to conclude that either she was in a house fire or she had a 300 degree fever.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "Hey," she whispered.
"Hey," he greeted her. A lone tear fell down his cheek and landed on her nose.
"Why are you crying?" she asked. Her question brought more tears. "Is it Ron?" she questioned.
"No," Harry whispered, shaking his head.
"Anneliese?" Hermione asked, reaching up to wipe one of his tears that had fallen on her face. Harry shook his head. A new understanding filled Hermione. "It's Samantha, isn't it?" she inquired.
Harry didn't respond, but they both knew the answer to her question. Hermione slowly sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. Tears fell down her cheeks. "Oh, god," she mumbled. Harry put a friendly hand on her shoulder, only to have her shake him off. "Please," she whispered. "Leave me alone."
Harry walked back towards the shrinking flames. Anneliese was sitting on a tree stump, watching the wood that was the house burn. Most of what was left of the small cabin was ashes, black as death ashes. He looked at the burnt down house, and saw something that made his stomach churn. He saw a corpse. It was the same one from his dream. He saw a tiny flash of gold around the body's wrist, and thought of Samantha's new gold charm bracelet. Harry peeled his eyes away from the scene; tears started pouring from his eyes. "God," he whispered. "Why? Why did you do that?" He blinked tears from his eyes. "Mom, dad, if you can hear me, take care of her, all right. She's a good kid." Harry choked back a sob. "Take care of her for me, for Hermione, for the Springs, for Anneliese. Take care of her."
***
The next few days went by in a blur. Not a moment was defined; they all seemed to run together: the crying, the funeral, more crying. Harry and the Dursleys were leaving the next day, as was Hermione. Harry and Ron had tried to convince the Dursleys that Harry need to go back with Ron, but they recognized Ron from when the Weasleys came and rescued Harry his second year, therefore not trusting a word Ron said. Harry had not wanted to go, but the Springs needed a time to mourn their daughter in private; they didn't need to be there. The air produced a brittle quality, easily broken or snapped. The last few days held nothing but endless rain, as if even the gods were mourning the death of Samantha Anastasia Springs.
That morning, the day before their departure, Harry found Hermione watching TV in the living room. She hadn't said very much since he had told her that her cousin was dead; she let no one touch her or talk to her. Harry plopped down on the couch next to her and tried to focus on the television show, a soap opera.
"Marisol, te amo," a man cried. Harry raised his eyebrows. Obviously, this show was not in English.
"Te amo tambien, Jose," the woman, Marisol, said.
"No puedes ir. Es muy perigroso," Jose told Marisol.
"Sí, yo sabe, pero tengo que hacerlo." Marisol said very dramatically.
Harry turned to Hermione. "This is in Spanish," he commented lamely.
"So?"
"Hermione, you can't speak Spanish!" Harry exclaimed.
"So?" Harry sighed and reached over to turn the television off. "Why'd you go and do that?" Hermione demanded.
"So we can talk."
Hermione sighed. "There's absolutely nothing to talk about. Samantha is dead, we'll all miss her, and tomorrow we will be getting on with our lives."
Harry shook his head. "This is really hurting you, isn't it?"
"No, you know what's hurting me?" Hermione asked, angered.
"What?"
"That you won't leave me alone!"
Harry looked at her. "Is that what you really want? For me to leave you alone?"
"Yes! I don't know, Harry. I'm just really confused and this has all gone by really fast."
"I know, I know," Harry told her.
"She was so good, so wonderful, I feel so guilty-,"
"Guilty?"
"That I lived and she didn't," Hermione whispered.
Harry shook his head. "That's not your fault, Herm."
"Harry," Hermione said, "What happened? What happened that night? You never told me."
Harry shut his eyes and reflected. "I came into the room were you two were."
"Yes," Hermione said, urging him forward.
"Hermione, it was full of smoke and it was hot. God, it was hot. I didn't know if you two would be alive by the time I got there."
Hermione patted one of Harry's hands. "Go on."
"I found you two. I didn't have long, because the ceiling was about to cave in, so I grabbed you and ran."
Hermione bit her lip. "Why didn't you take her and run?"
Harry's eyes grew wet with tears. "It was hard, Hermione. It was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. I had to choose which one of two equally wonderful people would live. I chose you."
"You should have chosen her," Hermione whispered.
"Don't say that!"
Hermione looked at her feet. "I don't know what to say, except, well, thanks. Thank you for saving my life."
Harry nodded. "I want to kill him."
"You-know-who?" Hermione said.
"Voldemort, Herm, Voldemort. Yes, I want to kill him. He took the life of an innocent person. I want to kill him."
"I'll help," Hermione said with a smile.
"I wish that bastard was never born," Harry grumbled.
"What would be different if he hadn't been born?" Hermione asked. "Your parents would have been alive."
"Sirius would have never been imprisoned."
"Those thirteen muggles killed after the day your parents died would still be alive."
"Samantha would be alive," Harry whispered.
"So many families would be alive."
"You wouldn't have had the experience of being petrified," Harry accounted.
"You wouldn't have that scar."
Harry nodded. "I wouldn't, would I? I wouldn't be famous. I'd be normal. I'd love that."
Hermione paused. "I just thought of something. If he was never born, we wouldn't be friends."
Harry looked at her like she was nuts. "What? How do you get that?"
"Well, Quirrell was working for him, right?"
"Uh, huh."
"If Quirrell wasn't working for you-know-who, than Quirrell probably wouldn't have been after the Sorcerer's Stone, correct?"
"Right," Harry said, still confused.
"And if he wasn't after the Sorcerer's Stone, than he would have never let that troll in on Halloween."
Harry caught on. "And Ron and I would have never come to save you-"
"And we would still be hating each other!" Hermione exclaimed. "I think that's the only good thing that you-know-who's ever done."
Harry snorted. "It certainly doesn't make up for everything else the bastard's done."
Hermione shook her head. "No, it doesn't."
"If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to kill him," Harry announced.
"For Samantha."
"For Samantha." Harry agreed. "I wish she was alive. He was such a good friend."
"A perfect addition for you, me, and Ron, don't you agree?"
Harry nodded. "She would have, but thanks to Voldemort, our dream team is still a trio."
"We still have each other," Hermione said.
"Best friends," Harry suggested, sticking his hand.
"Best friends." Hermione shook his hand. A tear rolled down her cheek.
"Hey, Herm, don't worry, my parents will watch over her. And all his other victims. They'll all take care of her." Harry told his friend.
Hermione nodded. "You know, it's a beautiful day. Sam wouldn't have wanted for us to waste it on her sake by watching Spanish soap operas."
"That was you," Harry pointed out. "Who was watching the Spanish soap opera."
"Sí, yo lo miré, pero comprende todos las palabras." Hermione grinned wickedly.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."
"You learn new things every day," Hermione joked. "Sam taught it to me. She was bilingual."
"She was?"
"Yeah. I'll miss her," Hermione said, looking at her shoes.
"We'll get him, Herm. I know we will."
"We better."
Harry nodded in agreement. "You know, I thought this summer was going to be boring."
Hermione laughed. "It certainly didn't turn out that way, did it?"
"Nope. I don't think I can have a boring time, anywhere!" Harry cried. "I'm cursed."
"This summer has been full of adventure, hasn't it?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.
A/N: Ok, that was interesting! That wasn't that bad, except for the fact that it stunk! Ok, read and review, and remember that I thought of this plot a year ago. It's so bad, I know! Be kind!
Disclaimer: I'm lazy, so here goes: they're all the brilliant J.K. Rowling's (two more days, guys! Two more days!) except Samantha, Anneliese, and Mr. and Mrs. Springs. They belong to me. Well, actually Samantha belongs to Heaven because I killed her off, doesn't she? Or does she still belong to me because I could bring her back to life if I wanted? I dunno; I'm confused
When they reached the quarters, Samantha fumbled through her key chain for the key. "It's got to be around here somewhere," she groaned.
Hermione sighed. "Hurry up." She leaned against the door, which instantly opened. "Hey, it wasn't locked!"
"Score!" Samantha cried and ran inside in front of Hermione. "Come on in, guys!"
Harry felt another rush of fear flow through his body, this time stronger than before. Something was wrong, he thought. Something was wrong. He ignored the feeling and stepped inside, followed by Hermione. The door shut behind them.
"Shit," Hermione swore. It was the first time he had ever heard her swear, but he agreed with her. The room, it was the room from his dreams. All four walls were a livid sea-green color, and the floor and ceiling were a psychedelic orange color.
"Sorry about the coloring, guys. I know it looks like puke, but my mom's a bit of a hippie," Sam explained.
Harry turned to Hermione and saw her frightened expression that mirrored his own. "Let's get out of here," she whispered.
"Let's," Harry agreed.
They had started back towards the door when Samantha screamed. "What is it!" Hermione yelled.
"My skis!" Samantha cried. "They're ruined!" she yelled, pointing to a pile of wood in the middle of the floor, which, Harry realized, had once been her water skis, all snapped and broken into several pieces.
Hermione ran towards the door. "Let's get out of here!" she yelled. "Dammit!" She screamed when the door wouldn't open.
Harry grabbed his wand. "Almohora!" he cried. The door didn't budge. "Shit!"
"Open, open, you stupid, stupid door!" Hermione screamed. "You stupid, stupid door!" She turned to Sam. "Are there any other exists other than this one?"
"Yes, but they're all locked," a voice said, coming from the corner of the room. "Are you really that anxious to leave, Miss Granger?"
Hermione grabbed Harry's hand. "I want to get out of here, now," she said, her voice shaking with fear.
"Don't you want to save your little friend?" the voice asked.
"Little friend?" Sam questioned. "Who?"
The source of the voice walked out of the shadows. "Him."
"Oh my god," Hermione whispered and tightened her grip on Harry.
The source of the voice was Voldemort. He was the ugliest, most terrible sight Harry had ever seen. Voldemort's face had aged with wrinkles and sported a olive green color, and his black hair was thinning. Those were the only physical characteristics of the dark wizard to register him as human. His eyes, his mouth, his body all resembled monsters that Harry had read about in muggle fairy tales. But the most frightening thing was that he was holding Ron, his wand to Ron's head. "One false move and he dies."
"Holy shit," Samantha whispered.
"What do you want?" Harry asked calmly.
Voldemort turned to Harry. "I want you to die, Potter. I want you out of my hair, I want my revenge, I want you to die."
"Kill me then," Harry said. "But let Ron go."
"Deal," the evil wizard said. He shoved Ron across the room towards Harry, then muttered some words and Ron froze in place. Voldemort laughed. "You didn't say I couldn't put a body bind on him."
"Asshole!" Samantha screamed.
He threw a fireball at Samantha, which she ducked at the last minute, but hit her head on the floor. "Samantha!" Hermione cried and ran from Harry's grasp to her cousin. "Oh Sam, are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Sam whispered. "Owww, my head hurts."
"Sorry," Hermione whispered and patted her hair.
"Oviata trentrosious!" Voldemort screamed, and the girls flew out of the main room into one of the bedrooms. The door shut behind them.
"What are you doing?" Harry cried. "Leave them alone; you want me, not them."
Voldemort muttered some words under his breath and Harry felt himself freeze in place. Goddammit, he's put me in a body bind. How stupid am I? He tried to smile as he thought of Hermione making a smart-aleck comment to that, but his body bind did not permit it. "I want you all dead," Voldemort hissed. "You are all my problems. You three are strong wizards, and you are the one thing standing between me and ruling the world."
Harry said nothing; he couldn't say anything even if he wanted to. He just listened. "You awful kids have gotten in my way so many times, just like your parents. I think it's time for you to die." Voldemort pulled a lighter out of his pocket. "You're going to die. I'm quite brilliant, aren't I? They'll never guess that you were killed by the greatest wizard in the world when you die in a house fire, now will they?" He flicked the lever and a small flame was produced.
"It's amazing how you'll die from this little tiny flame. This little, tiny flame will grow into a big, house consuming fire. Don't you understand, Harry? I started out as this flame, and then I turned into a big, deadly fire." Voldemort paced closer to Harry. "Then you went and threw a bucket of water over my fire, and I returned to being a flame." He laughed. "Tonight, with your death, I will continue being a fire."
He leaned down and lit floor on fire. "Not very smart, making this cabin out of wood, now was it? Just remember Harry, when you die tonight, that I won. You won that battle that night, but I have won the war. Fire wins over water, doesn't it?" He smiled evilly. "I must go now, and celebrate my return to fire from flame. Enjoy your death, Potter." He snapped his fingers and was gone.
Harry looked around in panic. What could he do? He couldn't move, he couldn't see, and he definitely couldn't bend down and pick up his wand which had fallen near his feet. He met Ron's eyes and sensed that his friend's panic mirrored his own. Samantha and Hermione were stuck in the bedroom, he and Ron were frozen in place, and the house around them was burning down. The realization of their hit Harry, hard. They were going to die. All four of them were going to die.
"Is anyone here?" Harry heard a small voice coming from behind him. Oh, god, Anneliese! Go away; don't get killed too! He couldn't say anything.
She walked up to Harry. "Hey, what's wrong? Why aren't you moving?" Go away! His mind screamed. Get away from here! Don't you see the flames?
"Are you a statue?" she asked. "Or are you playing a game?" She put her hands on her hips. "Well, if you are playing a game I think it's best you continue outside, because I think this house is on fire." You think?
She bent over and picked up his wand. "Oh, cool, is this your wand? It's much cooler than Sammie's!" She fingered the wand gently. "Can I try?" she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she cried "Hocus pocus!" Harry would have laughed if he could have. "Abracadabra!" She turned to Harry. "I think it's broken."
Get out, get out, Harry thought. Get out of here! The fire was growing larger and larger by the second, and the smoke made it harder to breathe. "I'll make up a spell, like they do in Sabrina, the Teenage Witch." She pondered for a moment. "Hippies had a lot of groove, so let Harry wander and move?"
Harry laughed, then stopped in surprise that he could laugh. He could move his fingers, his legs, everything. "How in the world?" he mumbled. That wasn't a real spell, and Anneliese wasn't a real witch, at least, yet.
"I did it!" Anneliese cried. "I did it! I rule the world!" Harry gave her a quick hug and took back his wand. Harry quickly took the body bind off of Ron.
"Are you ok?" Harry asked his best friend.
"I'm fine. Just a little shaken up," Ron said.
"Did he take you from the Burrow?"
Ron nodded. "He really scared Mum. She was screaming and crying worse than I'd ever seen her."
"Did he hurt you?" Harry asked, giving Ron a quick guy hug.
"No, but he really scared me."
A fiery beam fell to the floor. "Here, Ron, take Anneliese and get out." Harry ordered.
"What about you?"
"I'm going to get Hermione and Samantha."
Ron looked around. "Hurry. This ceiling is about to fall, and if you're inside when it does, you're a goner."
"Can't you do something magic to stop the fire?" Anneliese chirped in.
"No," Harry admitted. "I don't know the charm- I wish Hermione were here instead of me."
"Harry, she wouldn't know it either! We know how to stop little fires, but this is too big of magic for rising fourth years."
"I know, I know."
"Go!" Ron yelled at Harry as he dragged Anneliese from the burning building. Harry ran to the bedroom door that Voldemort had thrown the girls into. The door was surprisingly unlocked, so he walked inside.
The smoke was so strong in the room that Harry had to drop to his knees. "Shit," he said as the smoke burned his eyes. "Hermione, Samantha, were are you," he whined, crawling along the floor. He bumped into a dresser. "Ow," he cried, rubbing his head. He turned to his left and saw two bodies, laying on the ground.
"Shit," he mumbled. It was Hermione and Samantha, both unconscious. He would have to carry them out. Harry glanced up at the ceiling; Ron was right; it WAS ready to fall. He glanced at the two bodies. Flames curled around them and licked their skin. He couldn't carry both of them, and he only had time to get one of the girls out before the house would collapse. Hopefully he would have time to get both out, but he wasn't sure about it. Please, help, he prayed to no one in particular. Whoever is out there, help me.
Harry carefully lifted Hermione's body and carried her out of the room. She seemed lighter than she had the other night, or perhaps he had been filled with a sort of emergency adrenaline. He ran through the main room and out the door as fast as his legs could carry him.
The contrast of the burning house and the cool night hit Harry in the face like a slap. The night was tranquil, peaceful, while chaos raged inside of the fire-surrounded guest house. He laid Hermione on the cool grass a good distance from the house. "Shit," he heard Ron swear.
Harry spun around to see the ceiling collapse in flames. "No," Harry whispered. "Samantha."
"Where's Sammie?" Anneliese asked. "Hermione's there, but where's Sammie?"
Harry opened his mouth, but no words came out. He pointed to the flame swallowed house.
"No, no!" Anneliese screamed. She lunged at Harry. "Go back in there! Go get my sister!"
Ron pulled Anneliese off of Harry. "He couldn't go back; there's no place without fire."
"Save my sister! Save my Sammie!" the little girl hollered.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered.
"I hate you!" she yelled at Harry. "I hate you! It should be you back in the house, burning up, not Samantha! I hate you!"
Harry felt tears run down his cheeks. "I did all I could do."
"No you didn't!" Anneliese cried. "You didn't because you didn't save her!" She turned to Ron. "Is she dead?"
Ron soberly nodded his head. Anneliese started crying hysterically and periodically screaming for her charred sister. That's whose body I saw, Harry thought. It was Samantha's. It was trying to warn me… but I ignored it. God, I feel stupid. I'm awful; I killed someone. I could have saved her, but then Hermione would have died. He looked down at his unconscious best friend. It's not a fair choice, having to choose between the lives of two equally wonderful people. Having to choose which one died and which one lived. Harry really started crying. He dragged Hermione to the edge of the lake and put cold water on her face to cool her down. A hand to her forehead would lead a person to conclude that either she was in a house fire or she had a 300 degree fever.
Hermione's eyes fluttered open. "Hey," she whispered.
"Hey," he greeted her. A lone tear fell down his cheek and landed on her nose.
"Why are you crying?" she asked. Her question brought more tears. "Is it Ron?" she questioned.
"No," Harry whispered, shaking his head.
"Anneliese?" Hermione asked, reaching up to wipe one of his tears that had fallen on her face. Harry shook his head. A new understanding filled Hermione. "It's Samantha, isn't it?" she inquired.
Harry didn't respond, but they both knew the answer to her question. Hermione slowly sat up and wrapped her arms around her legs. Tears fell down her cheeks. "Oh, god," she mumbled. Harry put a friendly hand on her shoulder, only to have her shake him off. "Please," she whispered. "Leave me alone."
Harry walked back towards the shrinking flames. Anneliese was sitting on a tree stump, watching the wood that was the house burn. Most of what was left of the small cabin was ashes, black as death ashes. He looked at the burnt down house, and saw something that made his stomach churn. He saw a corpse. It was the same one from his dream. He saw a tiny flash of gold around the body's wrist, and thought of Samantha's new gold charm bracelet. Harry peeled his eyes away from the scene; tears started pouring from his eyes. "God," he whispered. "Why? Why did you do that?" He blinked tears from his eyes. "Mom, dad, if you can hear me, take care of her, all right. She's a good kid." Harry choked back a sob. "Take care of her for me, for Hermione, for the Springs, for Anneliese. Take care of her."
***
The next few days went by in a blur. Not a moment was defined; they all seemed to run together: the crying, the funeral, more crying. Harry and the Dursleys were leaving the next day, as was Hermione. Harry and Ron had tried to convince the Dursleys that Harry need to go back with Ron, but they recognized Ron from when the Weasleys came and rescued Harry his second year, therefore not trusting a word Ron said. Harry had not wanted to go, but the Springs needed a time to mourn their daughter in private; they didn't need to be there. The air produced a brittle quality, easily broken or snapped. The last few days held nothing but endless rain, as if even the gods were mourning the death of Samantha Anastasia Springs.
That morning, the day before their departure, Harry found Hermione watching TV in the living room. She hadn't said very much since he had told her that her cousin was dead; she let no one touch her or talk to her. Harry plopped down on the couch next to her and tried to focus on the television show, a soap opera.
"Marisol, te amo," a man cried. Harry raised his eyebrows. Obviously, this show was not in English.
"Te amo tambien, Jose," the woman, Marisol, said.
"No puedes ir. Es muy perigroso," Jose told Marisol.
"Sí, yo sabe, pero tengo que hacerlo." Marisol said very dramatically.
Harry turned to Hermione. "This is in Spanish," he commented lamely.
"So?"
"Hermione, you can't speak Spanish!" Harry exclaimed.
"So?" Harry sighed and reached over to turn the television off. "Why'd you go and do that?" Hermione demanded.
"So we can talk."
Hermione sighed. "There's absolutely nothing to talk about. Samantha is dead, we'll all miss her, and tomorrow we will be getting on with our lives."
Harry shook his head. "This is really hurting you, isn't it?"
"No, you know what's hurting me?" Hermione asked, angered.
"What?"
"That you won't leave me alone!"
Harry looked at her. "Is that what you really want? For me to leave you alone?"
"Yes! I don't know, Harry. I'm just really confused and this has all gone by really fast."
"I know, I know," Harry told her.
"She was so good, so wonderful, I feel so guilty-,"
"Guilty?"
"That I lived and she didn't," Hermione whispered.
Harry shook his head. "That's not your fault, Herm."
"Harry," Hermione said, "What happened? What happened that night? You never told me."
Harry shut his eyes and reflected. "I came into the room were you two were."
"Yes," Hermione said, urging him forward.
"Hermione, it was full of smoke and it was hot. God, it was hot. I didn't know if you two would be alive by the time I got there."
Hermione patted one of Harry's hands. "Go on."
"I found you two. I didn't have long, because the ceiling was about to cave in, so I grabbed you and ran."
Hermione bit her lip. "Why didn't you take her and run?"
Harry's eyes grew wet with tears. "It was hard, Hermione. It was probably the hardest thing I've ever done. I had to choose which one of two equally wonderful people would live. I chose you."
"You should have chosen her," Hermione whispered.
"Don't say that!"
Hermione looked at her feet. "I don't know what to say, except, well, thanks. Thank you for saving my life."
Harry nodded. "I want to kill him."
"You-know-who?" Hermione said.
"Voldemort, Herm, Voldemort. Yes, I want to kill him. He took the life of an innocent person. I want to kill him."
"I'll help," Hermione said with a smile.
"I wish that bastard was never born," Harry grumbled.
"What would be different if he hadn't been born?" Hermione asked. "Your parents would have been alive."
"Sirius would have never been imprisoned."
"Those thirteen muggles killed after the day your parents died would still be alive."
"Samantha would be alive," Harry whispered.
"So many families would be alive."
"You wouldn't have had the experience of being petrified," Harry accounted.
"You wouldn't have that scar."
Harry nodded. "I wouldn't, would I? I wouldn't be famous. I'd be normal. I'd love that."
Hermione paused. "I just thought of something. If he was never born, we wouldn't be friends."
Harry looked at her like she was nuts. "What? How do you get that?"
"Well, Quirrell was working for him, right?"
"Uh, huh."
"If Quirrell wasn't working for you-know-who, than Quirrell probably wouldn't have been after the Sorcerer's Stone, correct?"
"Right," Harry said, still confused.
"And if he wasn't after the Sorcerer's Stone, than he would have never let that troll in on Halloween."
Harry caught on. "And Ron and I would have never come to save you-"
"And we would still be hating each other!" Hermione exclaimed. "I think that's the only good thing that you-know-who's ever done."
Harry snorted. "It certainly doesn't make up for everything else the bastard's done."
Hermione shook her head. "No, it doesn't."
"If it's the last thing I do, I'm going to kill him," Harry announced.
"For Samantha."
"For Samantha." Harry agreed. "I wish she was alive. He was such a good friend."
"A perfect addition for you, me, and Ron, don't you agree?"
Harry nodded. "She would have, but thanks to Voldemort, our dream team is still a trio."
"We still have each other," Hermione said.
"Best friends," Harry suggested, sticking his hand.
"Best friends." Hermione shook his hand. A tear rolled down her cheek.
"Hey, Herm, don't worry, my parents will watch over her. And all his other victims. They'll all take care of her." Harry told his friend.
Hermione nodded. "You know, it's a beautiful day. Sam wouldn't have wanted for us to waste it on her sake by watching Spanish soap operas."
"That was you," Harry pointed out. "Who was watching the Spanish soap opera."
"Sí, yo lo miré, pero comprende todos las palabras." Hermione grinned wickedly.
Harry raised his eyebrows. "I didn't know you spoke Spanish."
"You learn new things every day," Hermione joked. "Sam taught it to me. She was bilingual."
"She was?"
"Yeah. I'll miss her," Hermione said, looking at her shoes.
"We'll get him, Herm. I know we will."
"We better."
Harry nodded in agreement. "You know, I thought this summer was going to be boring."
Hermione laughed. "It certainly didn't turn out that way, did it?"
"Nope. I don't think I can have a boring time, anywhere!" Harry cried. "I'm cursed."
"This summer has been full of adventure, hasn't it?" Hermione asked. Harry nodded.
A/N: Ok, that was interesting! That wasn't that bad, except for the fact that it stunk! Ok, read and review, and remember that I thought of this plot a year ago. It's so bad, I know! Be kind!
Disclaimer: I'm lazy, so here goes: they're all the brilliant J.K. Rowling's (two more days, guys! Two more days!) except Samantha, Anneliese, and Mr. and Mrs. Springs. They belong to me. Well, actually Samantha belongs to Heaven because I killed her off, doesn't she? Or does she still belong to me because I could bring her back to life if I wanted? I dunno; I'm confused