Chapter 22: Exhaustion
The funeral for the Grangers took place a week later, once everyone was out of the hospital wing. It was a small funeral; Hermione did not want it blasted all over the school that her parents had died. The service was held in a Muggle cemetery, and those that attended came in Muggle clothes so as not to attract too much attention. Dumbledore gave the eulogy, wearing a formal Muggle suit, and Harry stared at the two coffins as they were lowered into the ground. Hermione stood at the head of them, looking almost dead; there was no movement in her eyes, no boisterous glimmer, just...nothing.
Harry looked around the circle of people that had attended; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were present; so was McGonagall, being the Head of House; Ron and Harry were both there, feeling as if the world had collapsed; Lupin was standing beside them. The last person there was Snape, dressed in a black Muggle suit and tie, and looking down at the coffins with an inscrutable look, face hidden behind his hair, hands in his pockets, and Harry silently wondered what was going through his mind. "Sometimes we lose that which is dearest to us," began Dumbledore, and everyone listened carefully, eyes still on the caskets. "No one can tell us why we lose the ones we love, except for the fact that maybe it is time for them to move on; that maybe they are needed somewhere else.
"I don't think anyone can say a word against the Grangers; they were good people, with good hearts, and good souls; their deaths were wrong and terrible. It is now, in this time of dire need and fear, that we must band together, and remember what happened that night. We must remember that even those who are not a part of the magical world can still become a part of something much worse. Something they do not deserve. We must be cautious and remember the Grangers; remember that there are those who would do us harm, who would do innocents harm, who would act without remorse. Remember the Grangers for their kindness, their warmth, and their compassion for others; but most of all, remember the Grangers because forgetting their example could be a terrible mistake."
No one said anything; everyone knew what Dumbledore meant. The deaths of the Grangers had proved to everyone that even those that were not directly involved in the Order were risking their lives. 'Anyone that's a friend of mine is marked,' thought Harry silently, 'that's what it's proof of. Everyone I know dies.'
The caskets were lowered into the graves, and Harry heard Hermione sobbing uncontrollably. Harry saw Dumbledore move over to her out of the corner of his eye, and saw that he was holding her, Hermione sobbing, "Please, Professor...change it back...make it better..." Harry's heart stung as Dumbledore said the one thing he had never thought of Dumbledore, "I can't." She sobbed harder, and Dumbledore hugged her tightly, and Harry saw a single tear drop roll down his aged cheeks. Harry choked back a sob as he looked down at the graves, then looked at the tombstones. 'I don't want to be a name carved into a stone,' he thought silently, 'someone save me.'
Harry felt as if the world were collapsing around him; the horrified looks on the faces circled around the graves of the Hermione's parents... Harry turned and ran, and he did not look back; he was running through the Muggle graveyard, and it was now dusk, and he was wishing for this to end. That he wasn't Harry Potter. That he was someone else. Someone else who didn't have to think about the hell that was about to happen...
Harry retched into a trash bin and emptied his stomach within a few minutes; he felt as if everything he'd ever eaten in his life was now in the trash bin. Tears were dripping from his face, and he thought of the expressions on the Grangers' faces after Voldemort had killed them. Mouths open, eyes wide, horrified looks... Harry vomited again, stomach heaving multiple times. Did his parents die that way? With their faces frozen in terror?
He thought of the flash of green light and the sound of a cold, high laugh that he had heard a thousand times in his waking nightmares, and Harry fell to his knees, still grasping the trash bin. My mother died that way...she died for me...to save me...to save me from looking like the Grangers... He retched again. "Why are you doing this to me?!" he sobbed out loud, looking at the sky. There was no answer. Then again, he hadn't expected one.
Sirius was dead. His parents were dead. The Grangers were dead. Cedric was dead. Harry covered his mouth, keeping himself from vomiting again, and all he could see were the horrified looks on all their faces before they died. Sirius going through that terrifying veil, that frozen look of realization and horror... His parents... The Grangers, shaking with fear as the Killing Curse had hit them... Cedric open-mouthed and frozen on the ground... He sobbed harder. Why was this him? Why couldn't it be someone else?
"Harry."
He turned to see Lupin standing there, dressed in an old-looking green Muggle suit; he sat down next to Harry, who was still hanging onto the trash bin. "Come on, let it go," said Lupin, easing Harry's hands off the rim of the bin. Harry let it go slowly; he hadn't realized he had been clenching it so hard. Harry wiped the tears from his face, and looked away from Lupin. He found that his breathing was shaky and staggered, and he was quivering in a state of mixed fear and horror. "I have to go away," he whispered, "no one can know me. I have to get away from everyone. Everyone will die if I don't. You have to go away Professor. Don't talk to me; he'll go after you too."
Harry felt two arms grab his shoulders and Harry found himself staring into Lupin's gray eyes, full of determination and firmness. "Don't say that Harry. There's nothing you can do. This isn't your fault. This is no one's fault but Voldemort's. You can't run, and neither can we. We have to fight him, because that's what's right Harry. If we run then the world won't have anything to depend on; nothing will stand between Voldemort and the world. We can't let that happen Harry. What occurred with the Grangers was horrible, but if anything it should strengthen our resolve to continue on, to fight..."
Harry saw the age in Lupin's face for the first time; the gaunt look, the darkened eyes, and somewhere he saw something there, a part of himself, and a part of Sirius. "We can't give up, we can't give him the satisfaction," said Lupin, eyes staring straight into Harry's, and he whispered, "are you going to give in Harry? Are you going to let a disgusting slime of a creature frighten you into the shadows? Into hiding? Or are you going to fight?"
Harry's eyes fell to the ground, hollow and full of self-loathing, and then he felt something inside him explode; his parents, Lupin's friends, Sirius's friends, James and Lily, had died to keep him alive. He couldn't give up this easily; he had to do this for them. He had to stay alive, he had to fight Voldemort, he had to show to the world that he was the son of James and Lily Potter...
Lupin stood and held out a hand to Harry, and Harry set his jaw and took hold of his hand and hoisted himself up. "I'll stay," he said firmly, "I'll fight." Lupin looked more tired than Harry had ever seen in his life, but his eyes were alight for a brief moment, "Come on; let's go find the others; they're looking for you right now."
"They already know," said a voice. Harry and Lupin turned to see Snape leaning against a large weeping willow; it looked as if he had been there for some time. "Oh," said Lupin, looking a little standoffish, "I see. Thank you, Severus." Snape seemed to ignore Lupin, and instead approached Harry, standing only a few feet away from him, looking down at him. Harry waited for him to say something foul and cruel as usual, but Snape seemed to be searching for something above Harry's head, looking for something to say.
"Potter," began Snape finally, looking down at him, straight into his eyes, "you are your father's son." Those words hit Harry so hard they almost knocked him over, and he watched as Snape turned and walked away, hands in his pockets, head down, walking in silence toward the general direction of where the funeral had been held. Lupin seemed just as surprised as Harry, and finally Harry ran after Professor Snape, "Sir," he said, stopping in front of him. "Yes?" said Snape simply, not making eye contact with him. Harry held out his hand; after an appraising look, Snape shook it, "Thank you," said Harry, feeling more sincere toward the man that had made his life hell for six years than he had ever felt before.
Snape shrugged and walked away, but Harry noticed that Lupin was almost beaming at him. "Old bastard has some feelings after all," muttered Lupin beneath his breath as he walked with Harry back to the funeral service.
They arrived to find Hermione sitting in one of the chairs beside the graves; she was looking almost unreal. Her face was wiped of emotion, and she did not acknowledge their arrival. Professor McGonagall was sitting in the chair beside her, and clearly she had been attempting to speak to her, but Hermione would hear none of it, and she only ignored McGonagall as if she weren't even there. Harry felt sympathetic toward her; he knew Hermione would not be in the mood for any sort of conversation for probably the next several months. McGonagall finally got up and went to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, unsure of what else she could do, and Lupin and Harry did not know either.
Everyone seemed to understand that it was best to leave Hermione alone for a while, and they spoke in quiet voices for a while, standing in a huddled group, not knowing what else to do. Dumbledore glanced over at Hermione often; he had tried to talk to her earlier, but even he could not get a response. Snape hung around outside the group darkly, forever the outsider, and threw a surly look in Hermione's direction occasionally. McGonagall merely tutted and knew not what to do. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Ron not to interfere, despite the fact that they themselves wanted to help Hermione.
Eventually the Weasleys left, taking Ron with them, after Dumbledore assured them that it was best for them to leave Hermione to be alone with her thoughts. He also shooed McGonagall away, and merely replied, "I'll stay with her Minerva. Go home. Rest. I think we all need it." Dumbledore then turned to Harry, "I'd like for you to go back to Hogwarts Harry. Professor McGonagall will take you there, I'm sure. I'll watch after Hermione. Go on now." "But sir-" sputtered Harry. "Please Harry; she needs to be by herself. You know what I mean." Harry nodded gravely, "Yes sir." McGonagall took hold of Harry's hand and she Apparated to Hogwarts, and Harry saw no more of that terrifying day in the graveyard.
Dumbledore now turned to tell Snape that it was time for him too to go home, but he found that Snape was not there. Thinking he had Apparated too, he turned to go back to Hermione only to find that Snape was sitting beside her, looking gaunter than ever. Dumbledore felt a pang of remembrance as he gazed at the two of them; Hermione was the spitting image of Snape himself twenty nine years ago. Dumbledore could remember the funeral as if it were yesterday. If anyone should have been able to empathize with Hermione Granger, it should be Severus Snape. The only difference was that Hermione had lost her parents in a much easier way. Dumbledore almost shuddered thinking about what had happened to Severus's mother and father.
Hermione took no notice of Snape's presence; she felt too distant to know or feel anything. 'They're dead,' she thought idly, eyes almost burning with hatred; she couldn't cry anymore. It wasn't worth it. 'I'll go to an orphanage,' she thought silently, 'and I'll have no one. It'll just be me and my stupid books. There's no book in the world that can replace them. Where the hell do I go from here?' She vaguely noted that someone was sitting next to her; someone in a suit leaning forward, elbows resting upon the knees, head hanging low. She knew that person from somewhere. Oh yes. Professor Snape. He had saved her parents once; saved them from dying. But he couldn't the second time. No one could. She most certainly couldn't. Harry couldn't. Dumbledore couldn't. Her parents were gone forever.
"Hermione," said a voice behind her; she turned her head slightly, not even bothering to face Dumbledore, "What?" The wizened man sat down on her left, "If there's anything I can do..." "There's nothing you can do," she interrupted, "nothing. Just leave me." "I can't leave you Hermione, not alone," said Dumbledore quietly, "you shouldn't be alone right now." "I'm not, now please go," said Hermione, already feeling like there were too many people in her head; it felt as if a thousand thoughts were vying for attention all at once. She couldn't handle that many; someone had to go, and right now it was Dumbledore. "Please sir, I'm seventeen, I can take care of myself," she said bitterly.
Dumbledore could tell there was no getting through to her, at least, not today, "Miss Granger...I'll go. But I will call upon the common room via the Floo Network at midnight; if you are not home by then..." "I'll be there," she said blandly, "I can take care of myself. Please go." Feeling a pang of guilt mixed with sadness, Dumbledore stood, "Hermione...I've always admired your strength, especially at your age. Please know that I'll always be here, if ever you need it." Hermione nodded weakly, and she vaguely noticed him leaving, hearing receding footsteps.
She was alone in the cemetery, except for...what was he still doing here? she thought absently. Hermione suddenly felt more tired than she'd been in her entire life; she stood up slowly, swaying slightly, and staggered forward. Why did she feel so horrible? Her head was throbbing; her knees buckled, and she fell forward, landing upon the soft grass with a damp thud; she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. She should have slept sometime in the past week, but she hadn't. That was probably a bad move on her part. But she didn't care anymore. Darkness was overwhelming her vision; she caught a glimpse of something familiar, and felt something warm picking her up. Where was she?
Her eyes opened vaguely for a moment, blurred with oncoming sleep.
How embarrassing.
Professor Snape was carrying her.
Hermione went back to sleep.
The funeral for the Grangers took place a week later, once everyone was out of the hospital wing. It was a small funeral; Hermione did not want it blasted all over the school that her parents had died. The service was held in a Muggle cemetery, and those that attended came in Muggle clothes so as not to attract too much attention. Dumbledore gave the eulogy, wearing a formal Muggle suit, and Harry stared at the two coffins as they were lowered into the ground. Hermione stood at the head of them, looking almost dead; there was no movement in her eyes, no boisterous glimmer, just...nothing.
Harry looked around the circle of people that had attended; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were present; so was McGonagall, being the Head of House; Ron and Harry were both there, feeling as if the world had collapsed; Lupin was standing beside them. The last person there was Snape, dressed in a black Muggle suit and tie, and looking down at the coffins with an inscrutable look, face hidden behind his hair, hands in his pockets, and Harry silently wondered what was going through his mind. "Sometimes we lose that which is dearest to us," began Dumbledore, and everyone listened carefully, eyes still on the caskets. "No one can tell us why we lose the ones we love, except for the fact that maybe it is time for them to move on; that maybe they are needed somewhere else.
"I don't think anyone can say a word against the Grangers; they were good people, with good hearts, and good souls; their deaths were wrong and terrible. It is now, in this time of dire need and fear, that we must band together, and remember what happened that night. We must remember that even those who are not a part of the magical world can still become a part of something much worse. Something they do not deserve. We must be cautious and remember the Grangers; remember that there are those who would do us harm, who would do innocents harm, who would act without remorse. Remember the Grangers for their kindness, their warmth, and their compassion for others; but most of all, remember the Grangers because forgetting their example could be a terrible mistake."
No one said anything; everyone knew what Dumbledore meant. The deaths of the Grangers had proved to everyone that even those that were not directly involved in the Order were risking their lives. 'Anyone that's a friend of mine is marked,' thought Harry silently, 'that's what it's proof of. Everyone I know dies.'
The caskets were lowered into the graves, and Harry heard Hermione sobbing uncontrollably. Harry saw Dumbledore move over to her out of the corner of his eye, and saw that he was holding her, Hermione sobbing, "Please, Professor...change it back...make it better..." Harry's heart stung as Dumbledore said the one thing he had never thought of Dumbledore, "I can't." She sobbed harder, and Dumbledore hugged her tightly, and Harry saw a single tear drop roll down his aged cheeks. Harry choked back a sob as he looked down at the graves, then looked at the tombstones. 'I don't want to be a name carved into a stone,' he thought silently, 'someone save me.'
Harry felt as if the world were collapsing around him; the horrified looks on the faces circled around the graves of the Hermione's parents... Harry turned and ran, and he did not look back; he was running through the Muggle graveyard, and it was now dusk, and he was wishing for this to end. That he wasn't Harry Potter. That he was someone else. Someone else who didn't have to think about the hell that was about to happen...
Harry retched into a trash bin and emptied his stomach within a few minutes; he felt as if everything he'd ever eaten in his life was now in the trash bin. Tears were dripping from his face, and he thought of the expressions on the Grangers' faces after Voldemort had killed them. Mouths open, eyes wide, horrified looks... Harry vomited again, stomach heaving multiple times. Did his parents die that way? With their faces frozen in terror?
He thought of the flash of green light and the sound of a cold, high laugh that he had heard a thousand times in his waking nightmares, and Harry fell to his knees, still grasping the trash bin. My mother died that way...she died for me...to save me...to save me from looking like the Grangers... He retched again. "Why are you doing this to me?!" he sobbed out loud, looking at the sky. There was no answer. Then again, he hadn't expected one.
Sirius was dead. His parents were dead. The Grangers were dead. Cedric was dead. Harry covered his mouth, keeping himself from vomiting again, and all he could see were the horrified looks on all their faces before they died. Sirius going through that terrifying veil, that frozen look of realization and horror... His parents... The Grangers, shaking with fear as the Killing Curse had hit them... Cedric open-mouthed and frozen on the ground... He sobbed harder. Why was this him? Why couldn't it be someone else?
"Harry."
He turned to see Lupin standing there, dressed in an old-looking green Muggle suit; he sat down next to Harry, who was still hanging onto the trash bin. "Come on, let it go," said Lupin, easing Harry's hands off the rim of the bin. Harry let it go slowly; he hadn't realized he had been clenching it so hard. Harry wiped the tears from his face, and looked away from Lupin. He found that his breathing was shaky and staggered, and he was quivering in a state of mixed fear and horror. "I have to go away," he whispered, "no one can know me. I have to get away from everyone. Everyone will die if I don't. You have to go away Professor. Don't talk to me; he'll go after you too."
Harry felt two arms grab his shoulders and Harry found himself staring into Lupin's gray eyes, full of determination and firmness. "Don't say that Harry. There's nothing you can do. This isn't your fault. This is no one's fault but Voldemort's. You can't run, and neither can we. We have to fight him, because that's what's right Harry. If we run then the world won't have anything to depend on; nothing will stand between Voldemort and the world. We can't let that happen Harry. What occurred with the Grangers was horrible, but if anything it should strengthen our resolve to continue on, to fight..."
Harry saw the age in Lupin's face for the first time; the gaunt look, the darkened eyes, and somewhere he saw something there, a part of himself, and a part of Sirius. "We can't give up, we can't give him the satisfaction," said Lupin, eyes staring straight into Harry's, and he whispered, "are you going to give in Harry? Are you going to let a disgusting slime of a creature frighten you into the shadows? Into hiding? Or are you going to fight?"
Harry's eyes fell to the ground, hollow and full of self-loathing, and then he felt something inside him explode; his parents, Lupin's friends, Sirius's friends, James and Lily, had died to keep him alive. He couldn't give up this easily; he had to do this for them. He had to stay alive, he had to fight Voldemort, he had to show to the world that he was the son of James and Lily Potter...
Lupin stood and held out a hand to Harry, and Harry set his jaw and took hold of his hand and hoisted himself up. "I'll stay," he said firmly, "I'll fight." Lupin looked more tired than Harry had ever seen in his life, but his eyes were alight for a brief moment, "Come on; let's go find the others; they're looking for you right now."
"They already know," said a voice. Harry and Lupin turned to see Snape leaning against a large weeping willow; it looked as if he had been there for some time. "Oh," said Lupin, looking a little standoffish, "I see. Thank you, Severus." Snape seemed to ignore Lupin, and instead approached Harry, standing only a few feet away from him, looking down at him. Harry waited for him to say something foul and cruel as usual, but Snape seemed to be searching for something above Harry's head, looking for something to say.
"Potter," began Snape finally, looking down at him, straight into his eyes, "you are your father's son." Those words hit Harry so hard they almost knocked him over, and he watched as Snape turned and walked away, hands in his pockets, head down, walking in silence toward the general direction of where the funeral had been held. Lupin seemed just as surprised as Harry, and finally Harry ran after Professor Snape, "Sir," he said, stopping in front of him. "Yes?" said Snape simply, not making eye contact with him. Harry held out his hand; after an appraising look, Snape shook it, "Thank you," said Harry, feeling more sincere toward the man that had made his life hell for six years than he had ever felt before.
Snape shrugged and walked away, but Harry noticed that Lupin was almost beaming at him. "Old bastard has some feelings after all," muttered Lupin beneath his breath as he walked with Harry back to the funeral service.
They arrived to find Hermione sitting in one of the chairs beside the graves; she was looking almost unreal. Her face was wiped of emotion, and she did not acknowledge their arrival. Professor McGonagall was sitting in the chair beside her, and clearly she had been attempting to speak to her, but Hermione would hear none of it, and she only ignored McGonagall as if she weren't even there. Harry felt sympathetic toward her; he knew Hermione would not be in the mood for any sort of conversation for probably the next several months. McGonagall finally got up and went to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, unsure of what else she could do, and Lupin and Harry did not know either.
Everyone seemed to understand that it was best to leave Hermione alone for a while, and they spoke in quiet voices for a while, standing in a huddled group, not knowing what else to do. Dumbledore glanced over at Hermione often; he had tried to talk to her earlier, but even he could not get a response. Snape hung around outside the group darkly, forever the outsider, and threw a surly look in Hermione's direction occasionally. McGonagall merely tutted and knew not what to do. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley told Harry and Ron not to interfere, despite the fact that they themselves wanted to help Hermione.
Eventually the Weasleys left, taking Ron with them, after Dumbledore assured them that it was best for them to leave Hermione to be alone with her thoughts. He also shooed McGonagall away, and merely replied, "I'll stay with her Minerva. Go home. Rest. I think we all need it." Dumbledore then turned to Harry, "I'd like for you to go back to Hogwarts Harry. Professor McGonagall will take you there, I'm sure. I'll watch after Hermione. Go on now." "But sir-" sputtered Harry. "Please Harry; she needs to be by herself. You know what I mean." Harry nodded gravely, "Yes sir." McGonagall took hold of Harry's hand and she Apparated to Hogwarts, and Harry saw no more of that terrifying day in the graveyard.
Dumbledore now turned to tell Snape that it was time for him too to go home, but he found that Snape was not there. Thinking he had Apparated too, he turned to go back to Hermione only to find that Snape was sitting beside her, looking gaunter than ever. Dumbledore felt a pang of remembrance as he gazed at the two of them; Hermione was the spitting image of Snape himself twenty nine years ago. Dumbledore could remember the funeral as if it were yesterday. If anyone should have been able to empathize with Hermione Granger, it should be Severus Snape. The only difference was that Hermione had lost her parents in a much easier way. Dumbledore almost shuddered thinking about what had happened to Severus's mother and father.
Hermione took no notice of Snape's presence; she felt too distant to know or feel anything. 'They're dead,' she thought idly, eyes almost burning with hatred; she couldn't cry anymore. It wasn't worth it. 'I'll go to an orphanage,' she thought silently, 'and I'll have no one. It'll just be me and my stupid books. There's no book in the world that can replace them. Where the hell do I go from here?' She vaguely noted that someone was sitting next to her; someone in a suit leaning forward, elbows resting upon the knees, head hanging low. She knew that person from somewhere. Oh yes. Professor Snape. He had saved her parents once; saved them from dying. But he couldn't the second time. No one could. She most certainly couldn't. Harry couldn't. Dumbledore couldn't. Her parents were gone forever.
"Hermione," said a voice behind her; she turned her head slightly, not even bothering to face Dumbledore, "What?" The wizened man sat down on her left, "If there's anything I can do..." "There's nothing you can do," she interrupted, "nothing. Just leave me." "I can't leave you Hermione, not alone," said Dumbledore quietly, "you shouldn't be alone right now." "I'm not, now please go," said Hermione, already feeling like there were too many people in her head; it felt as if a thousand thoughts were vying for attention all at once. She couldn't handle that many; someone had to go, and right now it was Dumbledore. "Please sir, I'm seventeen, I can take care of myself," she said bitterly.
Dumbledore could tell there was no getting through to her, at least, not today, "Miss Granger...I'll go. But I will call upon the common room via the Floo Network at midnight; if you are not home by then..." "I'll be there," she said blandly, "I can take care of myself. Please go." Feeling a pang of guilt mixed with sadness, Dumbledore stood, "Hermione...I've always admired your strength, especially at your age. Please know that I'll always be here, if ever you need it." Hermione nodded weakly, and she vaguely noticed him leaving, hearing receding footsteps.
She was alone in the cemetery, except for...what was he still doing here? she thought absently. Hermione suddenly felt more tired than she'd been in her entire life; she stood up slowly, swaying slightly, and staggered forward. Why did she feel so horrible? Her head was throbbing; her knees buckled, and she fell forward, landing upon the soft grass with a damp thud; she felt herself slipping into unconsciousness. She should have slept sometime in the past week, but she hadn't. That was probably a bad move on her part. But she didn't care anymore. Darkness was overwhelming her vision; she caught a glimpse of something familiar, and felt something warm picking her up. Where was she?
Her eyes opened vaguely for a moment, blurred with oncoming sleep.
How embarrassing.
Professor Snape was carrying her.
Hermione went back to sleep.