Summary: Even after Voldemort is defeated, evil marks the footsteps of Harry and his friends. But can they recognize it? As Ginny suffers the repercussions of a rash mistake, Ron struggles to make the Chudley Cannons Team, Hermione realizes that sometimes you have to make all the wrong decisions before finding the right one, and Harry finds happiness in the most unexpected places, they finally start to understand the true values of love and friendship, and how they can save you when nothing else can...
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K., her publishers, their affiliates, and all those other big important people. Not me. (o; Yes, I know you're shocked.
A/N: This was formerly "Letting Go." If you read the prologue when I first posted it, then skip ahead to where it says "A year or so later..." since the prologue has stayed basically the same. Also, when you see this: () it means new POV. My astericks aren't working properly.
One by one, the Hogwarts graduates filed out of the school, their robes blending with the dark. Only the crescent moon seemed to have light to spare, as it shone veiled strips of light through the clouds. The students whispered quietly, although nobody could have heard them through the thick castle walls if they'd shouted. Tonight was their last night together, and the quiet made them even more painfully aware that they would be going their separate ways.
When they stopped on the steps, a few started to cry, Parvati clinging to Lavender as a tear made it's way down her high-set cheekbone. They weren't the young, girlish tears she had shed before the war; she had fought to the end with everyone else, nearly dying herself in the process. Nobody would ever accuse the two of them of being shallow again.
Luna Lovegood was sitting by herself, staring at the moon with her large, pale eyes opened wide. She too had been an asset to the war, showing up when things seemed too far gone to salvage and explaining a completely foolish-sounding idea which ended up being the only thing that worked. She had never really found true friendship at Hogwarts, and her father had been tortured and murdered in the process of the Final Battle. Life had been cruel to everyone, but Luna had never overcome her loss, and instead of facing reality she had drifted further and further into her mind, refusing to accept the facts until nobody could reach her.
Near the very edge of the steps by the Gryffindors, the trio sat together. Hermione was in between them; her head in her hands as Ron and Harry stayed protectively close with their arms around her. Ron was holding her closely, almost as if to shield her from an invisible danger as the three rocked back and forth, silent and lost in thought. Harry nearly felt like putting his head in his own arms as he thought about leaving the place that had been his home for seven years. There were so many memories built into the stone, so many that the castle was part of him now. For a brief second he almost considered staying and teaching Defence classes, just so he could live inside the walls again, but he stopped himself. He couldn't hold onto it forever. With a sigh, he exchanged a nod with Ron and slipped back up to the Common Room for the last time ().
Far away, another conversation was about to take place. A man cloaked in black and wearing a mask, paced back and forth on the cold hard floor of a cave. He stopped suddenly as another dark form entered, wearing the same eerie ensemble.
"Name your code," the man said in a deep, sharp, voice, his body tensing as he pulled out a piece of parchment and his wand. He muttered an incantation and written words scrawled across the blank page.
"Three, three, two, eight, four."
The man's spine relaxed, and as he uttered the reverse incantation he lowered his wand.
"Have you made progress?"
"Some. It won't be easy. It could take a long time. Much longer than you're prepared to wait. We can't afford to make another blunder like the last time."
The man made a disgusted grunt. "You have no idea how long I've already been waiting. If it takes me my life to do as the Master willed thoroughly, then I will wait. We may only have one chance, there's no room left for repair if we choose the wrong one. We must not be found out! Do you understand? Do you know how important this is to do our Lord this last favour?" His voice rose, and behind his mask his eyes bulged maniacally as he pushed the smaller individual against the hard cave wall. The Death Eater made a small yelp of pain as his head hit a jutting rock.
"I'll find the right one to do it," the voice said. "This time we won't fail. Our Master said to kill him, so Potter will be killed ()."
A year or so later...
Ginny, her fingers trembling, carefully slid the piece of parchment out of its heavy yellow envelope. This was the one she'd been waiting for; this was the letter that might give her the answer she'd been hoping to receive for months. Squinting at the curly writing, she read the first few lines.
Dear Miss Weasley,
We regret to inform you that the council has rejected your proposal. Although you have the amount of N.E.W.Ts needed in Potions and Transfiguration, the council does not feel that your motives for undertaking this process are worth the risk, and even then the chance of admitting a witch of your age is very slim. Contact us if you have any further reasons for doing this, and we may consider it again. Otherwise, please refrain from sending any new post to this address. As you know well, the Council has very much to do and very little time for other intrusions.
Sincerely,
Catherine Reeds, Head of T.C.C.
Her hope was dashed as she stopped halfway through. "Damn," she muttered, furiously shredding the parchment and throwing into the garbage bin. They might think she had no motives, but they hadn't been trapped with no way out. They couldn't understand what it was like to be cornered with no backup, no plan B... slamming her fist down in frustration, she stood up again. She had done her research, she had been a good girl and asked for permission, and she had waited a long, long time. It wasn't going to be for nothing.
Her decision made, she dashed to the small upstairs of the cabin, grateful that she was alone. She was staying at what had been a sort-of extra safe house during the war-- her parents had saved up until they could afford it so that her children always had a secure place to apparate or floo to, and even after Voldemort was defeated only the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione knew it existed. Hardly anyone used it during the summer, save Ginny, and it made it the perfect place for her to work uninterrupted. She lugged her cauldron of ingredients and her well-worn book down to the table. Feeling nervous, she pulled her first potion that she had already made from the refrigerator and gulped it down. There was no turning back now ().
"I can't do it, I'm not going to do it." Ron's normally tanned skin was now pale behind his freckles, and his knuckles were white and trembling as they clutched his Nimbus 2002. "You're the one who should be trying out, I can't do Quidditch worth a bloody damn..."
"Ron," Harry said warningly, as he was forcefully reminded of Ron's first game, all those years ago. "The written exam's going to be a cinch. You are going to do this. You were doing great earlier, when you get out on the pitch. Just pretend you're practising with me. For Hermione, remember?"
"Yeah," he whispered, looking green.
"Weasley, Ronald."
He stood unmoving. Harry gave him a small push towards the building, and Ron gave him a last, troubled glance as he stumbled away. Harry heard a few whispered words being murmured at Ron's name, and felt grateful that he himself was thoroughly unrecognisable behind his overlarge sunglasses and hat. Admittedly, at first it was exciting to be an idol to the wizarding world instead of the enemy, but now he was sick of being associated with the war-- everyone was. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he tried to think of a place to go to pass the time until Ron's tryouts were through.
The cemetery was near; the cemetery for the bodies of everyone who had died in the war... his stomach gave a guilty lurch. He hadn't visited Sirius or Neville in months, and he'd promised to see them whenever he could. Determinedly walking towards the graveyard, he furiously told himself that he would do it this time.
The cemetery was huge. Death Eaters had been buried alongside the members of the Order and the rest of the supporters of the light. Nobody ever knew for sure if imperio had been used on the suspects, and instead of trying to sort out the whole mess, the murderers had been buried alongside those they killed. Seeing Neville, who had given everything he had to help save wizarding kind only two graves away from Rodolphus Lestrange, was often more than he could handle. As he laid down a somewhat withered flower he had picked while walking, a faint rustling reached his ears. Turning around sharply, his wand ready, he scanned the bushes. Nothing...
He turned his head again to the grave. "Hi Neville," he said quietly. "Sorry it's been so long. I got caught up in things" Harry paused. That was a lie. "Actually, I haven't. I've had hardly anything to do, in fact. It wasn't that I didn't want to see you--" Another untruth. He took a deep breath. "But that's not right either. I didn't want to see you. I didn't want to see anybody here. If you want to know the truth, I'd rather not remember this whole bloody war. I'm done hiding though, now. I suppose I have to face your death sooner or later, and you deserve to be remembered. You were as brave as anybody, you know, saving all those people. They all survived because of you, every single one, and they won't forget either." Harry glanced at the grave, nearly obstructed by a mountain of flowers, even after a year. On top, next to Harry's, was a card with childish print writing on the front, which said "Thank yiu, for seaving my life. we love yiu Neville!" on the top. Harry smiled sadly; wishing Neville had been there when he was finally given the credit he deserved.
Suddenly, a sound broke him out of his musings. Whipping around, he caught glimpse of a mop of dirty hair over the branches before it disappeared in a wild blur, darting towards the trees on the other side.
"Wait!" Harry called out, chasing after her. The blur sped up, he'd never be able to find her in the forest if she made it in... taking a deep breath, Harry pulled out his wand and apparated in front of her. It worked. The small girl looked up to see him standing right in her path. Seeing that she wouldn't be able to get around him, she barrelled into him like a raging bull with a muffled "Oomph!" and promptly hit the ground.
"Just stop a second." Harry said, gasping for breath and grabbing the girl's arm as she tried to dash away. "I'm not trying to hurt you, I'm trying to help." The girl glared at him. She had a small, intelligent face with steely blue eyes and a fierce expression. She looked to be about six or seven, Harry calculated. She was much too skinny; his fingers overlapped around her bony arm, and she was so caked in dirt and grime that her ripped robes were barely distinguishable. Harry winced; she looked as though she hadn't had a decent meal in months.
"Where are your parents?" He asked her slowly. The girl glared up at him silently.
"What are you doing here?" Harry tried again. Without answering, she gathered a large wad of spit in her mouth and spit. It hit Harry's shoe.
"Go to hell," she hissed, her voice hoarse as she renewed her attempts to escape. Harry let go of her arm in shock. He didn't know much about children, but he felt sure that he never would have done anything of the sort when he was her age. She scampered away. Feeling disgusted with himself, he gave his last attempt.
"I have food."
As if the words were magic, the girl stopped and pivoted around slowly, her eyes scared but hungry with yearning. Harry, feeling a bit more hopeful, continued on the same track.
"I've got cookies and potato crisps and chocolate cake and treacle tart," he said, naming what had been his favourite foods when he was a child. "If you don't like it, you don't have to stay..." The girl's eyes were as wide as galleons now, and Harry knew that these last words had done the trick. Slowly and untrustingly, she sidled over.
"If you try to take me to an orphanage, I'll kill you." She said solemnly. If she hadn't been so deadly serious, the thought might have been funny; this tiny girl threatening to kill Harry, who had faced Lord Voldemort and lived to remember it. Shaking his head and wondering what he had pulled himself into this time, he grabbed her hand before she had time to react and apparated back to his house.
A/N II: Sorry about the weird paragraphing/indentations (as always). This site isn't showing signs of starting to like me anytime soon. Sorry about the () thing for the POV's. I'm VERY open to suggestions as to how to make my astericks and dashes work. As for pairings, eventually Harry/Ginny and Ron/Hermione will happen, sorry for not mentioning it sooner. Also, I have news: I now have a beta reader from the UK! So, all those lovely little touches (favorite to favourite, etc.) are all her doing. Thanks Rach! Also, any of those truly perceptive readers who have formulated ideas of what project Ginny may be taking on, write your guess in your REVIEW (hint,hint) as well as your real first name (or whichever name you would prefer me to use), and I shall give the first who gets it right a slice of chocolate cake and a guest appearance later in the story. Lucky you, lol. I luff my reviewers, even if they don't like the story. (o; Constructive criticism welcome.