Disclaimer In chapter one

A/N I'd first like to thank those of you searching for my muse. I have a feeling I'll find it soon.

And now on with the story!

-

Healing

Harry walked a short distance from the house to a wood not far behind it. The trees were thick and icy from the blizzard, but they created a welcoming atmosphere to him; anything was welcoming after his dungeon. The wind was calm now, the sun was getting higher in the sky, the light was twinkling off of the snow. He felt almost bad to ruin the smooth, untouched surface, but plowed his way through it just the same. He found an icy log to sit on that was out of sight from the house. He sat down and looked at the snow.

He had relived Sirius' death last night. It was just as painful then as it had been last June. It never got easier to see; him falling as though in slow motion back into the veil, his face surprised with a hint of laughter, and then him gone. Harry even relived Lupin holding him back, telling him that there was nothing anybody could do. Sirius was gone for good, and each time he had the nightmare it was like losing him all over again.

And Harry thought back to yesterday. Yes, it had only been one day earlier that Harry had been nearly killed. It had been one day since he had stopped those Killing Curses. It had been one day since he had seen those people around the water in. . . what was that place, anyway? Some sort of afterlife? Or heaven? Harry had never been religious, the Dursleys had never dared to take him to church, so he didn't know much on the topic.

Nearly-Headless Nick had said that they study death in the Department of Mysteries, but how much was there to learn about death? Someone kills you and that's it. . . you're gone. Simple as that. No mystery there.

Harry was torn between believing that what he had seen had just been a dream and believing that that place existed and that when he died, he would be reunited with those people. He didn't know if he could ask someone about it. He was afraid that if he told someone, they might think he was losing his mind.

I wouldn't blame them, Harry thought. I probably lost my mind a long time ago.

He dragged his forefinger through the snow, creating a line. He thought about the killing curse that had been aimed at him; he shouldn't have survived that. But yet, was it so strange? He had survived the curse as a baby, so why not now? Dumbledore said that there was something in the Department of Mysteries that Harry had to use to defeat Voldemort. . . maybe Voldemort had to use that same thing to defeat Harry?

The curse wouldn't work then, Harry thought. He heard a distant owl hoot, and looked up.

The sky was a shocking blue without a cloud in sight, and there, moving quickly and silently towards Harry, was a familiar snowy owl.

"Hedwig!" Harry cried, standing up as the owl landed on his shoulder.

The owl nipped his ear gently and cooed.

Harry stroked her smooth feathers, sitting down again. Harry had started seeing old friends he hadn't seen for months just yesterday, yet he still couldn't feel complete. Even seeing Hedwig again couldn't fill that empty void that had resided in his chest since June.

No, only Sirius could fill that hole. Only a parent could fix that gap. But Harry didn't have anyone any longer. . . sure, he had his friends, but he needed a parent. . . a role model. Dumbledore was too busy, he never saw Hagrid, he didn't know where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley where, the Dursleys would die before treating him nicely, and he had never been able to talk to Lupin like he had been able to talk to Sirius. It just wasn't the same.

A noise suddenly startled Harry, and Hedwig took flight, soaring off into the trees. Instinctively, Harry drew his wand, listening to footsteps crunching in the snow.

"Who's there?" he shouted.

Hermione emerged from behind a tree. "It's just me."

Harry sighed and tucked his wand away. "Didn't Ron tell you I didn't want company?"

"No," Hermione said, a smile playing on her lips. "He said you were asleep in your room. He's a horrible liar, I'm surprised you haven't figured that out before."

Harry watched her. "Well, I don't want company," he said stiffly.

Hermione nodded, the smile fading from her face. "I know. I just brought you out breakfast." She held out a stack of buttered toast, some fruit, some pastries, and a glass of pumpkin juice.

"Thanks." Harry took the food and set it on his log.

Hermione smiled warmly and turned to the house.

"Wait, Hermione," Harry said.

Hermione turned back to him.

"I think I could actually use some company," Harry said quietly. Hermione smiled.

She sat down next to Harry on the icy log, and helped him eat his way through the food. She answered Harry's questions without hesitation.

"What happened to the Ministry of Magic?" Harry asked. "Is it still there?"

"Yes," Hermione responded. "But it's run by Death Eaters now. They use the Ministry's tools to track what everyone's doing; you know, monitoring the Floo Network, seeing who's setting up portkeys. It's really quite scary. Dumbledore doesn't like us to use Floo Powder anymore, and only uses portkeys for emergencies, so he taught us how to Apparate."

"Apparate?" Harry asked, surprised. "You can Apparate?"

Hermione nodded. "Dumbledore will have someone teach you too."

Harry nodded and picked up a pumpkin pasty. "So what is Dumbledore doing to stop Voldemort?"

Hermione looked at him. "Harry, there's no stopping Voldemort anymore; he's taken over. Now it's just a matter of getting everything back."

"But what is Dumbledore doing?"

"His first priority was getting you out of there, but not much could have been done. The weather's been horrible, so we had to wait."

Harry shook his head. "There's no way anyone could have rescued me from there. It was pure luck that got me out."

Hermione didn't respond.

"What about supplies? How did you guys get the robes and everything? I thought you said the Death Eaters had taken over."

"They did, but not immediately after they took Hogwarts. We went to Hogsmeade where everyone stocked up on robes and things like that. Then Dumbledore split the students up by houses, sending them to different villages. He's the only one who knows exactly where everyone is, just in case someone is caught and tortured." Hermione shivered at the thought.

Harry looked around. "Where are we?"

"We're in a small Muggle village just outside of London. The Death Eaters haven't reached here yet."

"Who's house is this though?"

Hermione shrugged. "I don't know. Dumbledore just sent us here. We don't know much."

"What about Diagon Alley?"

"It's gone. Except for Gringotts, Gringotts is still there. They tried to loot the vaults, but I guess the goblins refused to let them. They haven't joined anyone's side, the goblins, I mean."

"What do you mean Diagon Alley is 'gone'?"

"I mean that it's not there anymore. The stores were looted and burned. It's just a big ruin. . . except for Gringotts."

"And no one stopped them?"

"Oh no, they tried. Mr. Ollivander put up a great fight apparently. Brought down 12 Death Eaters and charmed his wands so that they couldn't use them. So the wands are still there. Most of them were snapped in half."

"How do you know this?" Harry asked.

"Because of Dumbledore's spy. He keeps us updated on everything."

"Snape," Harry said simply.

Hermione nodded.

Harry stood up and jammed his hands in his pockets. "So I guess he really is on our side?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded. "He shouldn't stay there. He should run. The Death Eaters know he's spying, they just can't prove it."

Hermione gasped and stood up. "How do you know?"

Harry avoided her eyes. "Because one time they came in my dungeon, and when they were hitting me. . . they asked me about Snape. They tried to force me to tell them that I knew Snape was in contact with Dumbledore, but I didn't. I told them I didn't know," Harry said. "That only made them hit me harder," he added bitterly.

"When was this?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Only a bit after I was captured. After that they didn't ask me anymore about Snape when they came into my dungeon." From Hermione's lack of response he sensed that someone had told her not to talk about what had happened. "Hermione," he said, "you can ask me about what happened. It's not as though I'll break if you do."

Hermione glanced at him. "I know. It's just so soon. . . ."

"I know," Harry nodded, "it is soon."

Hermione watched him. Without warning he stood up quickly and started pacing around in front of her.

"I just don't understand it! I should have died from that curse! It doesn't make sense!" he shouted. "There's no way to block that spell, Moody—er—Crouch told us. There was no way that I could have survived that. I mean, I know the curse probably won't work against me, but even the effort it took should have killed me."

"But you didn't die, Harry," Hermione said, standing up also. "You survived."

"I don't know how though. I didn't want to survive. I just wanted it all to end. I prayed that it would end."

"Even if it meant never seeing us again?" Hermione asked in a hushed voice.

Harry nodded. "That place. . . it drove me insane. I couldn't handle it anymore. I was prepared to die."

Hermione had a hard to read expression on her face. "We worried about you every day, Harry."

"Well you shouldn't have! I saved you so that you could move on, not so that you could think about how to save me!"

"But we did think about it! That's what friends do, Harry. We couldn't just leave you there! You're the center of it all! You have to fulfill the prophecy."

Harry stared at her. "How. . . how do you know?"

"Dumbledore told us," she said.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair. "Dumbledore told you," he said, his eyes glazed as he stared off into space.

"That's right."

"He told you—Why?"

"Because he needed us to know how important it was to rescue you!" Hermione screeched as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harry didn't know what to say. He had assumed when Dumbledore had told him the prophecy that it had to be a secret, so Harry hadn't told anyone. He hadn't even thought much about it lately, only brief moments of contemplation. "The prophecy," he muttered in an off-hand voice.

"Harry, you have to stop Voldemort. You're the only one who can!"

Harry hated hearing that, even if it was true. He couldn't handle it now. "I thought you didn't even believe in prophecies!" he shouted at Hermione, his temper rising.

"Well, if Dumbledore—" she started.

"Who gives a damn about Dumbledore! Hermione, I can't kill Voldemort. It's always been me running from him, I've never scared him off! He is going to kill me."

"You can't say that!" Hermione said.

"It's true. If I'm some sort of savior, then how come I spent the last four months in a dungeon? If I'm going to defeat the most powerful dark wizard in a century, then why did I live like an animal for all that time? I can't kill him. I'm not as powerful as him," Harry yelled at her. "That's the way it is. Maybe we'll find a prophecy saying that!"

Tears were sliding down Hermione's cheeks. "Harry, stop it! Just stop it! If only you could stop feeling so sorry for yourself, then you'll see that you're just as powerful as him!"

Harry stared at her. "Just leave me alone, Hermione," he said softly.

"Harry—"

"Just go," Harry said. He turned his back to her, and after a minute of silence, heard her fading footsteps crunching in the snow.

He sat down on the log and put his head in his hands. Hermione's words echoed in his head. . . 'If only you could stop feeling so sorry for yourself. . . .' Harry felt he had a right to feel sorry for himself. He had lost so much, had seen so much, had been through so much. . . .

"I'll do whatever I damn well please!" he shouted, lifting his face from his hands. A bird in a nearby tree took flight. Harry felt a tear running down his face, and wiped it promptly.

Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand. He twirled it in his fingers, feeling the power surging through him.

"Incendio!" he hissed. A twig near him caught fire, and smoldered for a few seconds before it sank into the snow and the flame went out. He felt the anger ebbing out of him.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" he said, moving a rock around. He practiced all of the simple spells he had known, regaining his confidence in casting them. He hadn't used magic for half a year, not since his train ride home from Hogwarts. He had missed the feeling he got when his wand was in his hand, the tingling sensation that spread from his fingertips and encased his entire body, the feeling of security, of knowing the fact that he could protect himself from anything.

Feeling slightly better, he rose from the log and pocketed his wand. He breathed in the crisp air, and slowly made his way back to the house.

-

"Harry!"

Harry was soon surrounded by a mass of people, all trying to hug him and talk to him first. He didn't say anything as he pushed his way through, making it out to the hallway.

"Excuse me," he muttered, leaving them behind. He wasn't in the mood for a celebration. He walked in silence to his room, closing the door behind him when he reached it.

Someone had put a pitcher of water next to his bed along with some cookies. He ignored them and fell on his bed.

You have to fulfill the prophecy.

Harry brought his hands to his hair and balled them into fists. "No. I don't have to. I can't."

You're just as powerful as him.

"No I'm not. I'm only sixteen. . . ."

Harry sat bolt upright. Tom Riddle had been sixteen in that diary. Tom Riddle had been sixteen when he had opened the Chamber of Secrets, when he had unleashed the basilisk.

I'm the same age he was when he started showing his powers, Harry thought. Maybe Hermione's right. . . . Maybe I'll start showing my powers.

And sitting there in the room flooded with sunlight, he extended his hand towards the plate of cookies. Before he said anything, a single cookie lifted from the porcelain and flew to his hand; he caught it in midair. He stared at it in amazement for a moment before putting it back on the plate.

You're just as powerful as him.

-

"Ron, where's Hermione?"

"In her room, I think."

"Which one's her room?"

"At the end of the hall, on the left."

"Thanks."

Harry strode out of the kitchen where Ron was playing chess with Ginny. He reached Hermione's door and knocked.

"Who is it?" her voice said from inside.

"It's me," Harry replied.

The door swung open revealing Hermione wearing an apprehensive look on her face.

"Hermione, I'm sorry for the way I acted," Harry said. "I'm just kind of. . . confused right now."

Hermione smiled, and relief washed over Harry. "I know. Forget it."

Harry forced a smile. "Thanks." He pulled her into a hug, a bridge of understanding closing the gap between them.

Harry went back to his room, somehow remembering something Hermione had said five years earlier.

"Harry—you're a great wizard, you know."

For the first time in many months, Harry felt his heart swell inside of his chest.

A great wizard indeed.

-

A/N I start high school in a couple of days, and I don't know how much time I'll have to work on this. I definitely won't update as frequently as I'd like to, but I'll probably get to one or two posts a week.

Also, you might expect a difference in my writing. I'll be writing for the school newspaper, so I might be creatively drained when I get to my Harry Potter stuff.

Thanks to all of those wonderful people who reviewed. I'm proud to say this fanfic has gotten more reviews than any of my other stories. I guess my writing might be getting better, eh?

peace

felony melanie