TWO YEARS LATER
Its been two years. Two years since I last spoke to Hermione, and I don't regret a second of it. I know its better. I ..I loved her. Or at least, I was close to it. I would have done, fallen for her. And what would have happened then? Voldemort would have used her against me. He would have killed her to destroy me. I couldn't have that happen. I know I'm destined to destroy Voldemort. I know I have to be strong. There should be no weakness, no way he can get to me. And I could have stood anything but Hermione's death, when I believed I loved her
And at least she's alive. And that's good. I can see her, see her with her friends. Every day I've seen her. I've watched her grow into a young woman. And I've watched her learn, her knowledge has outstripped mine. And bit by bit, I've see my friends drift to her. At first she was alone. Then, one by one, they started to crowd around her. There's something about Hermione I never saw before, a certain air, of strength, even of leadership.
It's good I don't love her anymore. I'd be jealous of the hurried conference she has with others in the corridor, the conversation that falls silent when I enter the common room, the hours she spends, no one knows where.
But I don't love her. Love is a weakness, that would destroy me. And Voldemort is coming. I can feel it. My scar aches every day now, all the time. I can feel him, there's darkness, a heaviness in the air. I practice curses and counter curses everyday, and with every word I mutter, I imagine him there, in front of me, dying, by my hand. And its good I'm always alone now. There's nothing that can be turned against me, no hostages to my fate, no-one I need worry about any more.
I didn't want to fight him near Hogwarts, so when the time came, when I knew Voldemort was near, I went to see Dumbledore, to ask him to let me go away, to face Voldemort anywhere other than here.
It was April, a warm spring night. I stood by the window, looking down onto the fields, waiting for him, gazing down. There were some boys down there, duelling. It was a joke to them, they laughed, and yelled and joked, and I envied them their joy, their freedom.
"Harry." Dumbledore said, surprising me.
"Sir." I said. "I've come to ask..."
"I know what you've come to ask." He said seriously. "I cannot hold you, Harry. You must do what you think is best."
"I think its best if I leave, sir."
He said nothing, but smiled, and looked out the window.
"Do you remember another time we stood here, you and I?" he asked, so faint I could barely hear him. "I warned you of the test that was to come, and you assured me you would not fail."
"And I didn't, Sir."
"You failed Voldemort's test."
"But I faced my weakness, and turned away from it."
"But there was another test you failed that night."
Suddenly I could hear the voices from the green below, although they were so far away, and I knew it was magic. I could hear Ron shouting, and Neville complaining and Seamus swearing, and through it all, like a bell, Hermione's voice, telling them where they went wrong, suggesting counter curses, and I listened so hard.
"There was no other test." I said softly, staring down at Hermione. The witches and wizards listened intently to her, and though she was so far away, I could see, the hair floating round her solemn face, her eyes, darker now, so dark, and I wondered how I had ever found her plain, when the fire of power for good shone in her face.
"There was another test. There was Voldemort's, and there was your own. You faced Voldemort's, and lost your own."
"My own?"
"You took the easy road, Harry. You had a choice to face yourself, with all your faults and weaknesses, and embrace them, or to push away any part of yourself you were afraid of."
I didn't understand. Surely I had done the right thing? I was becoming who I was destined to be. I was becoming the man who would kill Voldemort. I made hard choices, but they were right. I had no weakness now. Nothing Voldemort could use against me.
"You may need help." Dumbledore said, turning away from the window.
"No, I..."
"You will," he insisted firmly, but gently, "There is a girl's bathroom..I believe you call it Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. You will find help there."
It was an obvious dismissal. I turned to leave, sceptical. What could the children who thronged this place know of darkness and evil, of Voldemort and his followers? What help could I find here?
As I opened the door, Dumbledore said,
"You forgot what your mother taught you."
"My mother?" I asked, my back still to him.
"Surely your mother taught you what is the greatest strength, the greatest gift, the greatest power of all?"
I turned back to him, but he was feeding Fawkes, as if he'd never spoken at all. Slowly I turned away, and walked down the steps.
Its been two years. Two years since I last spoke to Hermione, and I don't regret a second of it. I know its better. I ..I loved her. Or at least, I was close to it. I would have done, fallen for her. And what would have happened then? Voldemort would have used her against me. He would have killed her to destroy me. I couldn't have that happen. I know I'm destined to destroy Voldemort. I know I have to be strong. There should be no weakness, no way he can get to me. And I could have stood anything but Hermione's death, when I believed I loved her
And at least she's alive. And that's good. I can see her, see her with her friends. Every day I've seen her. I've watched her grow into a young woman. And I've watched her learn, her knowledge has outstripped mine. And bit by bit, I've see my friends drift to her. At first she was alone. Then, one by one, they started to crowd around her. There's something about Hermione I never saw before, a certain air, of strength, even of leadership.
It's good I don't love her anymore. I'd be jealous of the hurried conference she has with others in the corridor, the conversation that falls silent when I enter the common room, the hours she spends, no one knows where.
But I don't love her. Love is a weakness, that would destroy me. And Voldemort is coming. I can feel it. My scar aches every day now, all the time. I can feel him, there's darkness, a heaviness in the air. I practice curses and counter curses everyday, and with every word I mutter, I imagine him there, in front of me, dying, by my hand. And its good I'm always alone now. There's nothing that can be turned against me, no hostages to my fate, no-one I need worry about any more.
I didn't want to fight him near Hogwarts, so when the time came, when I knew Voldemort was near, I went to see Dumbledore, to ask him to let me go away, to face Voldemort anywhere other than here.
It was April, a warm spring night. I stood by the window, looking down onto the fields, waiting for him, gazing down. There were some boys down there, duelling. It was a joke to them, they laughed, and yelled and joked, and I envied them their joy, their freedom.
"Harry." Dumbledore said, surprising me.
"Sir." I said. "I've come to ask..."
"I know what you've come to ask." He said seriously. "I cannot hold you, Harry. You must do what you think is best."
"I think its best if I leave, sir."
He said nothing, but smiled, and looked out the window.
"Do you remember another time we stood here, you and I?" he asked, so faint I could barely hear him. "I warned you of the test that was to come, and you assured me you would not fail."
"And I didn't, Sir."
"You failed Voldemort's test."
"But I faced my weakness, and turned away from it."
"But there was another test you failed that night."
Suddenly I could hear the voices from the green below, although they were so far away, and I knew it was magic. I could hear Ron shouting, and Neville complaining and Seamus swearing, and through it all, like a bell, Hermione's voice, telling them where they went wrong, suggesting counter curses, and I listened so hard.
"There was no other test." I said softly, staring down at Hermione. The witches and wizards listened intently to her, and though she was so far away, I could see, the hair floating round her solemn face, her eyes, darker now, so dark, and I wondered how I had ever found her plain, when the fire of power for good shone in her face.
"There was another test. There was Voldemort's, and there was your own. You faced Voldemort's, and lost your own."
"My own?"
"You took the easy road, Harry. You had a choice to face yourself, with all your faults and weaknesses, and embrace them, or to push away any part of yourself you were afraid of."
I didn't understand. Surely I had done the right thing? I was becoming who I was destined to be. I was becoming the man who would kill Voldemort. I made hard choices, but they were right. I had no weakness now. Nothing Voldemort could use against me.
"You may need help." Dumbledore said, turning away from the window.
"No, I..."
"You will," he insisted firmly, but gently, "There is a girl's bathroom..I believe you call it Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. You will find help there."
It was an obvious dismissal. I turned to leave, sceptical. What could the children who thronged this place know of darkness and evil, of Voldemort and his followers? What help could I find here?
As I opened the door, Dumbledore said,
"You forgot what your mother taught you."
"My mother?" I asked, my back still to him.
"Surely your mother taught you what is the greatest strength, the greatest gift, the greatest power of all?"
I turned back to him, but he was feeding Fawkes, as if he'd never spoken at all. Slowly I turned away, and walked down the steps.
