Author's Note: A tip of my wizard's hat to those who reviewed Chapter 1: Max LoneWolf, Michelle Birkby, Occamy and Kneazle. Now, on to Chapter 2.
***
Harry woke suddenly, fully alert. He recognized the famliar lethargy permeating his limbs, knew that he had been given a Dreamless Sleep Potion -- though how they had forced it down his throat past his screams, he could not recall.
He wanted to scream again, but found he hadn't the strength. He lifted himself up languidly on one elbow.
"Not so fast, Potter!"
Madam Pomfrey appeared suddenly, pushing him down with a firm hand.
"Dumbledore..." he said faintly, pleadingly.
"You are still very weak," Madam Pomfrey said gently.
"No," Harry gasped. "Dumbledore...need...to..."
"I am here, Harry."
Harry looked up, saw the blurred face of Dumbledore. Even without his glasses, Harry saw the sadness on the man's face. His moustaches drooped despondently. The familiar twinkle in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. Dumbledore sat down and placed a hand on Harry's arm.
"Not a dream," Harry said, his eyes filling with tears. "Not..."
Dumbledore lowered his head.
"There is no way I can say this," he said heavily, "that will make the pain of it any less. Miss Granger interposed herself between you and the Killing Curse. She is dead."
Harry could not speak. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot tears burn his cheeks. How long he lay thus, he did not now. At length he wiped his eyes, reached from force of habit for his glasses. They were on the bedside table.
He now saw clearly the face of Dumbledore, who seemed not to have moved, having apparently sat patiently waiting for Harry's spasm of grief to abate.
"Why?" It was the only thing Harry could think to say.
"Karkaroff told us everything," Dumbledore said, "under the impetus of Veritaserum.
"When Voldemort returned to full strength two years ago, Karkaroff knew that the first to feel his wrath would be those Death Eaters who betrayed him at his first falling. You will recall, from what you experienced in the pensieve in my office, that Karkaroff bought his freedom from Azkaban in exchange for other, loyal Death Eaters. This Voldemort would never forgive. Karkaroff reasoned, therefore, that what had worked for him once might serve him again. He would attempt to buy his life from Voldemort by offering another life -- one of greater value-- in exhange."
"Mine," Harry said dully. "My life in exchange for Voldemort's mercy."
"Just so," Dumbledore nodded.
"Where is he now?"
"He was stupefied by two wizards who Apparated behind him even as he hurled the Killing Curse at you," Dumbledore said. "He is now in Azkaban, awaiting the dementor's kiss."
Harry fell silent again. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Dumbledore sat quietly in his chair, waiting. Harry lay back on his pillow, his eyes staring up into nothingness.
"It's not enough," Harry said harshly, as if to the world and not merely to Dumbledore. "My parents. Sirius. Cedric. And now..." Harry's throat caught dryly. "It's not enough..."
After another pregnant silence, Harry turned to face Dumbledore, his eyes green fire.
"I've never asked for anything before, Professor. I've done all that was asked of me, and more -- and I've asked for nothing in return! But the scales have tipped too far. It's past time a balance was struck. The price is too high this time. I want...I want...compensation.
"I'm calling in my debt, Professor. I...I want...a Time-Turner."
Unable to withstand Harry's withering gaze, Dumbledore closed his eyes, his head declining slightly. His face seemed strained, as if he were bearing a terrible pain inside.
"Harry," he said at last, opening his eyes, which were brimming with pity, "what you ask is impossible."
"It's not impossible!" Harry said bitterly. "We saved Buckbeak --Hermione and I -- I can go back..."
But Dumbledore was shaking his head sadly.
"The circumstances were different -- "
"Damned right they were different!" Harry barked. "That was a sodding hippogriff -- an animal! This is a human being we're talking about! Hermione! Hermione can't...die...she..."
Harry's voice quivered, his body shaking.
"She did die," Dumbledore said with an authority mingled with sorrow. "She was seen to die by a dozen witnesses."
"What does -- " Harry began shortly, but Dumbledore stopped him.
"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, "Buckbeak did not die. But it was not necessarily your actions which brought this to pass."
Harry looked at Dumbledore as if the old wizard were mad.
"Time," Dumbledore said carefully, "is a very complex phenomenon, far too much for either science or magic to fathom. But this we know, that all actions have consequences. All that we are today is a direct result of what has gone before. To try to re-write what has already transpired is to tamper with the very balance of the universe itself.
"I repeat, Harry, Buckbeak did not die. He never did die. I know this, because I was at Hagrid's cabin at the time of the supposed execution. At that time, I made the decision to save Buckbeak by employing you and Miss Granger, in such fashion as you no doubt remember well. Your actions did not change what was -- rather, you merely completed a circle which began when first the thought entered my mind. From that moment of inception, the die was cast. Buckbeak lived. Rather than changing events, you and Miss Granger merely brought them to fulfillment.
"If you find this difficult to grasp, Harry, you are not alone. Time travel is fraught with paradoxes, of which this is but one; it is for this reason, and many others besides, that use of the Time-Turner is strictly circumscribed.
"If this were not enough in itself." Dumbledore added, "there is also the matter of time as distance. Three years ago, you and Miss Granger traveled back only three hours to save Buckbeak. But -- it is now two days since Miss Granger's tragic death."
Harry's face was a mask of shock and disbelief. Two days? He had been unconscious for --
"Though it may not always seem so," Dumbledore said sagely, "we live in an ordered universe. Two days ago, a death was ordered. That death cannot be expunged. It must stand."
Harry was now sobbing softly.
"I -- I can't go on -- without her -- I -- loved her..."
"And she loved you," Dumbledore said gently. "One far wiser than I said, 'There is no greater love than this, than a man give up his life for another.'"
"Yes!" Harry cried out. "A man! ME! I should be dead! Not Hermione!"
"Love and sacrifice are not exclusive to gender, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes moist behind his half-moon spectacles. "Your mother is everlasting proof of that."
After a solemn silence, Harry asked breathlessly, "Have -- have her parents been..."
"Alas," Dumbledore sighed, "the Grangers are presently touring the continent -- a second honeymoon, I believe -- we have not yet found them to bring them the news.
"In any case, I should prefer to wait until their return. They might be experiencing their last moments of happiness for a very long time, I fear."
Harry closed his eyes as tears came freely again. Patting Harry's arm one last time, Dumbledore rose without a word and left the infirmary, closing the door behind him.
On the other side of the room, another door stood half-open; then it, too, closed.
***
Author's Note: Who is standing behind the door? The answer will be revealed in Chapter 3. I promise to return if you do.
Harry woke suddenly, fully alert. He recognized the famliar lethargy permeating his limbs, knew that he had been given a Dreamless Sleep Potion -- though how they had forced it down his throat past his screams, he could not recall.
He wanted to scream again, but found he hadn't the strength. He lifted himself up languidly on one elbow.
"Not so fast, Potter!"
Madam Pomfrey appeared suddenly, pushing him down with a firm hand.
"Dumbledore..." he said faintly, pleadingly.
"You are still very weak," Madam Pomfrey said gently.
"No," Harry gasped. "Dumbledore...need...to..."
"I am here, Harry."
Harry looked up, saw the blurred face of Dumbledore. Even without his glasses, Harry saw the sadness on the man's face. His moustaches drooped despondently. The familiar twinkle in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. Dumbledore sat down and placed a hand on Harry's arm.
"Not a dream," Harry said, his eyes filling with tears. "Not..."
Dumbledore lowered his head.
"There is no way I can say this," he said heavily, "that will make the pain of it any less. Miss Granger interposed herself between you and the Killing Curse. She is dead."
Harry could not speak. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling hot tears burn his cheeks. How long he lay thus, he did not now. At length he wiped his eyes, reached from force of habit for his glasses. They were on the bedside table.
He now saw clearly the face of Dumbledore, who seemed not to have moved, having apparently sat patiently waiting for Harry's spasm of grief to abate.
"Why?" It was the only thing Harry could think to say.
"Karkaroff told us everything," Dumbledore said, "under the impetus of Veritaserum.
"When Voldemort returned to full strength two years ago, Karkaroff knew that the first to feel his wrath would be those Death Eaters who betrayed him at his first falling. You will recall, from what you experienced in the pensieve in my office, that Karkaroff bought his freedom from Azkaban in exchange for other, loyal Death Eaters. This Voldemort would never forgive. Karkaroff reasoned, therefore, that what had worked for him once might serve him again. He would attempt to buy his life from Voldemort by offering another life -- one of greater value-- in exhange."
"Mine," Harry said dully. "My life in exchange for Voldemort's mercy."
"Just so," Dumbledore nodded.
"Where is he now?"
"He was stupefied by two wizards who Apparated behind him even as he hurled the Killing Curse at you," Dumbledore said. "He is now in Azkaban, awaiting the dementor's kiss."
Harry fell silent again. He seemed to be thinking deeply. Dumbledore sat quietly in his chair, waiting. Harry lay back on his pillow, his eyes staring up into nothingness.
"It's not enough," Harry said harshly, as if to the world and not merely to Dumbledore. "My parents. Sirius. Cedric. And now..." Harry's throat caught dryly. "It's not enough..."
After another pregnant silence, Harry turned to face Dumbledore, his eyes green fire.
"I've never asked for anything before, Professor. I've done all that was asked of me, and more -- and I've asked for nothing in return! But the scales have tipped too far. It's past time a balance was struck. The price is too high this time. I want...I want...compensation.
"I'm calling in my debt, Professor. I...I want...a Time-Turner."
Unable to withstand Harry's withering gaze, Dumbledore closed his eyes, his head declining slightly. His face seemed strained, as if he were bearing a terrible pain inside.
"Harry," he said at last, opening his eyes, which were brimming with pity, "what you ask is impossible."
"It's not impossible!" Harry said bitterly. "We saved Buckbeak --Hermione and I -- I can go back..."
But Dumbledore was shaking his head sadly.
"The circumstances were different -- "
"Damned right they were different!" Harry barked. "That was a sodding hippogriff -- an animal! This is a human being we're talking about! Hermione! Hermione can't...die...she..."
Harry's voice quivered, his body shaking.
"She did die," Dumbledore said with an authority mingled with sorrow. "She was seen to die by a dozen witnesses."
"What does -- " Harry began shortly, but Dumbledore stopped him.
"Harry," Dumbledore said slowly, "Buckbeak did not die. But it was not necessarily your actions which brought this to pass."
Harry looked at Dumbledore as if the old wizard were mad.
"Time," Dumbledore said carefully, "is a very complex phenomenon, far too much for either science or magic to fathom. But this we know, that all actions have consequences. All that we are today is a direct result of what has gone before. To try to re-write what has already transpired is to tamper with the very balance of the universe itself.
"I repeat, Harry, Buckbeak did not die. He never did die. I know this, because I was at Hagrid's cabin at the time of the supposed execution. At that time, I made the decision to save Buckbeak by employing you and Miss Granger, in such fashion as you no doubt remember well. Your actions did not change what was -- rather, you merely completed a circle which began when first the thought entered my mind. From that moment of inception, the die was cast. Buckbeak lived. Rather than changing events, you and Miss Granger merely brought them to fulfillment.
"If you find this difficult to grasp, Harry, you are not alone. Time travel is fraught with paradoxes, of which this is but one; it is for this reason, and many others besides, that use of the Time-Turner is strictly circumscribed.
"If this were not enough in itself." Dumbledore added, "there is also the matter of time as distance. Three years ago, you and Miss Granger traveled back only three hours to save Buckbeak. But -- it is now two days since Miss Granger's tragic death."
Harry's face was a mask of shock and disbelief. Two days? He had been unconscious for --
"Though it may not always seem so," Dumbledore said sagely, "we live in an ordered universe. Two days ago, a death was ordered. That death cannot be expunged. It must stand."
Harry was now sobbing softly.
"I -- I can't go on -- without her -- I -- loved her..."
"And she loved you," Dumbledore said gently. "One far wiser than I said, 'There is no greater love than this, than a man give up his life for another.'"
"Yes!" Harry cried out. "A man! ME! I should be dead! Not Hermione!"
"Love and sacrifice are not exclusive to gender, Harry," Dumbledore said, his eyes moist behind his half-moon spectacles. "Your mother is everlasting proof of that."
After a solemn silence, Harry asked breathlessly, "Have -- have her parents been..."
"Alas," Dumbledore sighed, "the Grangers are presently touring the continent -- a second honeymoon, I believe -- we have not yet found them to bring them the news.
"In any case, I should prefer to wait until their return. They might be experiencing their last moments of happiness for a very long time, I fear."
Harry closed his eyes as tears came freely again. Patting Harry's arm one last time, Dumbledore rose without a word and left the infirmary, closing the door behind him.
On the other side of the room, another door stood half-open; then it, too, closed.
Author's Note: Who is standing behind the door? The answer will be revealed in Chapter 3. I promise to return if you do.