Chapter Forty Seven: Aftermath
Hermione was on her feet as soon as she saw the two dots disappear from the projection. Owen sensed her mood and immediately jumped before her, shouting, "Make way. Make Way For The Lady." Somehow it worked and the two were soon free of the crowd, running to find Dumbledore.
They arrived in the clearing to find the headmaster in a deep discussion with Professor Flitwick and Master Sean O'Lochlainn. Armsmen and wizards were searching the surrounding area. Lord Darcy and Captain Sheffield could be heard shouting orders. Hermione hesitated to interrupt, but Owen had no such qualms.
"Professors, Master Sorcerer, I must demand information."
Dumbledore turned his head without a smile. "Then I will inform you. You and Miss Granger need to stay out of the way."
Owen bowed politely and backed away. He took Hermione's hand and led her to one side. "They are working on something. They seem surprised."
"Surprised?" Hermione said with disbelief. "Owen, do you have any sense of proportion. My future husband and my best friend both disappeared."
Suddenly, there was a loud popping noise, and Hermione looked up. By chance of fate she had a clear view. Harry had come back and he was obviously injured. Robert was with him and he looked unhurt, except that he wasn't moving.
Her voice was barely a whisper as she said his name. She began to run but someone grabbed her. It was Owen.
"Hermione. You will get in the way. They will take care of him."
Hermione saw blurs as the tears began to fill her eyes but she could still make out the figure standing over Robert. The dire pronouncement made by the shaking of his head. She began screaming and could not stop, until Madam Pomfrey cast a sleeping spell on her. The entire time Owen cradled her in his arms. Thus he was a witness to everything that happened.
Everyone paused until Hermione's screams stopped. Then the world went back to normal speed. Professor Moody entered the clearing and began walking purposely toward the twin boys. Almost everyone was so intent on the scene that he was only ten feet away when he was stopped.
"Professor Moody," Lord Darcy said politely. "Could I talk to you privately for a minute?"
"That's no problem. Let me just tell Dumbledore what I've found out."
Lord Darcy grabbed Moody's arm to keep him from moving.
"I am sure he is already aware."
Lord Darcy said nothing else but Moody saw the Armsmen approaching. He knew at once that he had been discovered.
"I'll trust you then, Darcy." Moody turned as though to follow where Darcy would lead but his wand was out and it was pointing directly at Harry. He had time enough to shout, "Avada Kedavra," before Darcy could stop him.
Harry looked up at the shout and saw the green light flaring from the tip of the wand. As the curse burst force it engulfed the Armsman who had deliberately jumped in front of Harry. The Armsman fell dead.
Owen could not see Harry anymore as Armsmen rushed at Moody to subdue him. He surprised Lord Darcy with his strength by physically forcing him away. He attempted to use his wand once more but a sword came down and severed the hand. The man with the sword then struck Moody in the side of the head. He collapsed from the blow and fell to the ground. The conflict was over.
Hermione came to find Harry. She still felt hollow inside, but life kept insisting that it be lived. She was looking for the one person who could understand how she felt. She dared to visit the room where they had placed the bodies, and he was there.
Owen told her he would wait outside. Hermione smiled gratefully. The Irish lord had insisted on staying with her until she was completely recovered. It was his debt to Robert. Hermione closed the door behind her and walked toward Harry, looking only at him.
"How are you?"
Harry looked up and smiled. "You know that answer. I should ask how you are."
"I'll survive. I don't know how, but I will. Owen is helping."
She walked over to him, afraid to look at either body. "Is that Robert?"
"He is on the bier behind me. This is the Armsman who saved my life, but you had passed out by then."
Hermione looked down at the worn face of a young man, perhaps eighteen. "Did you know him?"
Harry nodded. "Remember that Christmas? I woke that boy sleeping in the alleyway. This is his brother. He died with honour."
"What was his name?" For some reason this seemed an important question.
"William Potter. He chose that name to remind himself that he had been given a place."
"He chose your name? How did he know what it was?"
"He did not know. It was only cruel coincidence. Yesterday he was dreaming of a future. Today he is someone from the past. And someone will have to tell his brother. Someone will have to tell my brother."
Hermione took a breath. Harry was talking about Lord London. Her pain lessened and increased at the same time. Someone had been more hurt than either she or Harry, but he did not know it yet. She turned her back on Harry and looked at the other bier. Robert lay there, unmoving. He would never move again.
"Harry? Hermione?" Professor Dumbledore was standing in the doorway. "I wish I could give you more time, but we need to talk. Under the circumstances, this can't wait."
Harry looked up. "That will not be a problem. They will not be going anywhere."
Hermione started at the harsh remark, but held her tongue. She had wanted to say something like that, herself. Both of them followed the headmaster without saying another word. Owen quietly walked behind them as they left the room
They entered Dumbledore's office to find several people waiting there. That the Minister of Magic was one of them was a surprise. Lord Darcy was also there, with Master Sean. Professor Flitwick and Sirius Black rounded out the group.
Hermione and Owen sat in the background. It was obvious that she was here only because of her relationship to Robert. It was clear that they felt she had the right to know everything. It was Harry they talked to. And the first thing he did was describe in detail the events that occurred between the time of his disappearance and the time of his return. Hermione kept her head down while he described what happened, beginning with the casualness of Robert's murder. She looked up at one point, when Harry was relating how the ghosts came out of Voldemort's wand. He related Robert's last words.
"It is all up to you, brother. Give Hermione my love."
It was simple and brief. But it did not make her feel any better. She grabbed Owen's hand for support, once again thankful he was there.
Once Harry had finished, Professor Flitwick and Master Sean excused themselves. They went into the room where, two years before, Harry and Robert had gone with their Godmother. Cornelius Fudge also excused himself, saying he would be back shortly. He left with the notes he had taken during Harry's discourse.
"Harry," Dumbledore said softly, "I know you are angry with yourself, but it was not your fault that Robert died. To be honest, that blame should fall on me. I knew what was going to happen and I deliberately did nothing to stop it."
"You KNEW?" Harry's anger showed. "You knew the trophy was a portkey?"
"Yes. And to make matters worse, I knew it would take you to Voldemort."
"But . . . Why? I trusted you."
"Then trust him a little longer, Harry." It was Sirius Black. "He had a good reason, or so we thought. All of us thought it was an excellent plan."
Harry bit back his next words, and nodded his head.
"It did have one terrible flaw," Dumbledore admitted. "We failed to account for how much you and your brother loved each other. We should have realized the possibility of what did happen. Let me explain what we were going to do.
"Professor Flitwick and Master O'Lochlainn had developed an interesting theory. I will not go into detail but the result was this. If we had two identical objects which were linked, and we apparated with one of them to another place, a special portkey would link one place to the other. We tested this and it did work, and we decided the risk was worth it. A portkey was charmed to link you, Harry, with your brother. Once you touched the portkey that was the trophy, the charmed portkey that we had made would automatically take anyone who was touching it to wherever you were, once your brother touched it. Do you understand?"
Harry was shocked. "If Robert had not come with me, you could have followed me?"
"Yes, Harry. We even made the portkey from a roll of ribbon. Once your brother touched it, it would have taken at least three dozen people to you. Our intent was to subdue Voldemort before he could restore himself. It would have made fulfilling the prophecy a lot easier."
"Then it is my fault," Harry cried. "I talked him into joining me."
Lord Darcy waved a hand brusquely. "If we are to play the blaming game, nephew, then blame me. I was the one to propose the idea once Master Sean gave me his assurance. And I also counseled that neither you nor your brother should be told about this. There was a real risk that Voldemort's spy might use a truth serum or spell on either of you. Then again, perhaps we should rightfully blame the murderer."
"Harry, you could blame me," Sirius Black offered. "I was the one who suggested Pettigrew become your parent's secret keeper. That's what started all of this. Robert's death is only the most recent tragedy. But no one here wants to tell you the good things that happened. It might make the really bad things seem less than they are. And Fudge is one of them."
"The Minister?"
"Yes, Harry. The Minister. He was so fixated on those stones that he ignored all those warnings about Voldemort's return. But something changed his mind. Those names you gave us. He left to send word that every one of those people should be arrested. Voldemort will lose most of his hard core of followers. And we already had a few other names. We captured Voldemort's spy. He was using Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself as Alastor Moody. Dumbledore gave him Veritaserum and he sang like a bird."
Sirius Black leaned forward to continue his lecture. He had his Godson's full attention. "Think about how many people will not have to die because of what happened today. I'm sorry about Robert. But I'm also sorry about James and Lily. But if that's the price I have to pay to make sure that no one else has to die, I'd pay it with my own blood."
Harry gave a wry smile. "Captain Grissom said something like that to me once. Sometimes we have to choose how we will be damned by God. Robert's death was the fault of not knowing the future." He paused, and a tear fell down his cheek. "How will I tell Roger?"
"Do not worry," Lord Darcy said. "That fell task belongs to me."
Minister Fudge returned with a half smile. "I should tell you. Every auror we could spare is helping to round up those criminals. Hopefully, few if any will escape our clutches. Thank you, Harry, I'm sorry, Lord Henry, for telling us everything."
"It is Harry, Minister. I will be staying."
Lord Darcy gave a thin smile. "That was something else we had to withhold from you, My Lord. His Majesty's instruction were explicit. No one from our world is to be left behind. And by royal writ, that includes you. It was another necessary distraction."
"Then what happens now?" Harry was not sure where this discussion was going.
"That, nephew, is for Master Sean to decide."
It was late the next afternoon that Master Sean and Professor Flitwick called everyone together. Almost every teacher was there, as well as most of the people from the Empire. Only Lord Darcy was missing. He had left that morning to escort the bodies back to His Majesty's London.
"First of all," Professor Flitwick said to the crowded room as he stood on top of the desk. "I have to explain that this is possible because of the blood ritual that Voldemort used to restore himself. Because he now has some of Harry's blood inside of him, it is possible to alter the portkey to adjust for the new circumstances. We also have the advantage of Harry's curse scar, which in turn has given Harry some of Voldemort's power."
Dumbledore was smiling. "Then we can still use the portkey as we originally planned?"
"Yes, Yes," Flitwick said gleefully. "And it is now tuned to Voldemort himself."
A tired Master Sean produced the long ribbon from his pocket. "We spent most of yesterday determining how to alter the spell, and the rest of the time to actually do it. Lord Henry, all you need do is touch this ribbon and it will transport you directly to the Dark Lord. Would you care to face the demon again, on your terms?"
Harry pulled out his wand. "I would be happy to."
Father Maurice Pannier stood up from his seat off to one side. "Under the circumstances, I must forbid this. I do so in the name of the Church."
Master Sean nodded and picked up the charmed ribbon, putting it into his sorcerers bag. Harry stared in amazement as Dumbledore clapped his hands together and said, "I thank you, anyway, Master Sean. It was a nice idea."
"NO," Harry yelled as he stood up and turned on Father Maurice. "You have no right to do this!"
"I HAVE EVERY RIGHT," Father Maurice shouted. He took a deep breath and said calmly but forcefully, "I must forbid the use of magic in an assault on anyone, even for the best possible reason. To do so is to deliberately use Black Magic. And I do believe that is what Professor Dumbledore intended. Armed Wizards and Witches shouting spells to subdue the miscreants. The Church forbids anyone from the Empire to participate in such an action. And under the circumstances, this school is part of the Empire."
Harry's anger could not let him think properly. "My brother is dead and you tell me that I can do nothing. How dare you?" Still angry, he began to raise his arm.
"There is another way," Master Sean said almost too softly. "It will be dangerous, but it will not violate Church doctrine."
Harry froze, his wand half raised in the direction of the priest.
"And what way is that?" Father Maurice asked calmly.
"Thirteen Master Sorcerers confront him in the Ritual of Dissolution."
"You would do this?" Dumbledore asked. "You would risk your own people?"
Master Sean nodded. "It will fulfill our agreement."
Dumbledore turned to Father Maurice. He first stepped up to Harry and put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Put it away," he said softly, then stepped in front of him, as though protecting him. "Father Maurice, will you agree to Master Sean's suggestion?"
"I am inclined to agree, Professor. I know that Master Sean is correct in what he has said. But before any such task is carried out, I insist that I hear the confessions of all who are involved." He looked past Dumbledore, directly at Harry.
Master Sean looked to Professor Quirrell, who nodded and stood up. A few seconds later, they both had disappeared. Father Maurice walked up to Harry and said, quite distinctly, "We need to talk. Will you come with me or will I have to grab you by the ear and drag you?"
Not long afterward, Harry and Father Maurice sat in his office glowering at each other, but Father Maurice was not willing to tolerate such an attitude.
"You stood there with your wand in hand jumping at the chance to use it against someone."
"That someone killed my brother."
"That someone also killed your parents. And who did I kill."
"What are you talking about?"
"Before Master Sean spoke, you were raising your wand against me. Or did you merely want to wave hello and you forgot it was there."
"I - I was angry."
"As you are now. But anger is not the reason you should act. I thought by now you would have learned to think things though."
Harry felt a tinge of embarrassment. "I hate him. I hate him for everything he has done, and I want to kill him. Nothing will change that."
Father Maurice sighed. "You are young. I will not expect you to feel pity instead of hate. But I will not permit any action unless you let go of your anger. Anger must not be your driving force. Can you do that?"
"How do I do that?" Harry asked sarcastically.
"How did you do it the last time?"
It was one of those moments when everything seems to stop. For Harry the world around froze in place as the memory opened up. He was in the Chamber of Secrets. Robert was dying and he had understood what Tom Riddle was. What he did then was not done in anger but in determination. He destroyed Tom Riddle because it was necessary. And, because of the prophecy, he would destroy Lord Voldemort. That, too, was necessary.
"I did it because I had to," Harry said softly. He added in understanding, "And this is something else that I have to do. My feelings do not matter."
"My Lord Henry, I do believe you, and I absolve you in the name of God of all your sins made in anger. But it is my task now to set you a penance that is appropriate. Under the circumstances, I would suggest that you permanently foreswear the performance of magic?"
Harry started to object, then had to laugh. If Master Sean's plan was successful, he would be going home, and he could not perform magic there anyway. He smiled at the priest, then frowned as he realized what he had done.
"Lord Henry, you are permitted to smile. Tragedy does not forbid you from all happiness. Rather happiness is our way of surviving tragedy. Life will insist on being lived."
The ribbon was stretched out to its full length. Fourteen Sorcerers held onto it from one side. Captain Sheffield and fourteen Armsmen held onto it from the other side. All of them waited for Harry to put his hand on it.
Harry put his hand out, then paused. "Excuse me." He pulled his wand out of his jacket pocket. "Professor Dumbledore, I will not be needing this. If you will be my witness." Harry took the wand in both hands and snapped it across his knee. He then handed both pieces to Dumbledore and turned back to the waiting men. Master Sean was beaming at him. Harry grabbed the end of the ribbon and gasped as the portkey forced his stomach into the small of his back.
The world came back into focus and they were all standing in a large room in a rundown mansion. Peter Pettigrew's voice could instantly be heard shouting, "I Surrender. I Surrender."
"Fool," Voldemort shouted and immediately raised his wand. His snake, Nagani, had already struck one of the Armsmen, but the man's sword and those of at least three comrades at arms were tearing the life from the large reptile. Voldemort immediately apparated to a familiar cemetery and laughed at the effort to trap him.
The wounded Armsman and his three companions had let go of the ribbon to defend themselves. They would stay behind to retain the frightened man known as Wormtail. The portkey activated itself again and everyone appeared at the cemetery moments behind Voldemort. Two Armsmen rushed him and struck a blow before he could apparate again. Voldemort raised his wand to attack his assaulters but one of the sorcerers was there to make himself a target. As Voldemort cast his spell the sorcerer made a quick but complicated gesture with his hand.
Voldemort awoke in a strange room. It was completely round with only one door and no windows. He found himself on a dias in the middle of the room with his hands and feet bound in chains. Looking up, he saw the thirteen Sorcerers standing evenly spaced in a circle around him. Then the one directly in front of him raised an iron wand and began to chant in Latin.
"I know those words," Voldemort laughed. "They are meaningless without power behind them." Two more Sorcerers took up the chant as they lit rune-covered braziers of incense. "I still have the power to defeat you all, even without my wand."
As the other Sorcerers joined in the chant, Voldemort concentrated on a spell, but there was an ensorcelment on the chains that bound him. He turned his concentration to the manacle on his right arm. In only five minutes, it opened and fell to the floor. He turned to the left arm as the smell of incense and ritual powders filled the air. It took a little longer, but it too fell away. It took a full fifteen minutes for the right leg to be freed, and the same for the left leg.
Voldemort laughed as he stood on the dias, the now impotent chains lying on the floor around him. He raised his hand to cast a spell and . . . he faltered. He could feel it. Despite his disbelief, his ability to perform magic was leaving him. He could feel the emptiness that was left behind as he collapsed onto the dias. He still lay there as the Sorcerers suddenly fell into silence after they shouted "Finis", watching helplessly as they walked out of the room in a single file.
As Voldemort dragged himself into a sitting position, too tired to do anything else, he heard someone enter. A fourteen-year-old boy, almost fifteen, dressed in a naval uniform, complete with sword.
"We meet again, Harry Potter," Voldemort said with a snickering laugh. "Your sorcerer friends did their little trick and made me helpless before you. Now you can pull out your little wand and kill me."
"I foreswore the use of magic." Harry's hand rested meaningfully on his sword.
Voldemort managed to laugh. "Oh, how droll. You will actually use a muggle weapon to kill me. Then have at me, boy. Garner all of your hate for everyone I killed. Your brother, your parents, their friends. I haven't had time to kill any of your friends yet. Go ahead, Harry. Let out your anger in the death blow. Or will you hack me to pieces for the sheer joy of it. You could even poke me and prod me. Yes, that's it. Make me suffer for all the times I made you suffer."
Harry looked down at Voldemort's smirking face, and he felt it. Pity. This was an old man who had lost everything and did not even understand what he had lost.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, by order of His Serene Majesty, John Plantagenet, Fourth of that Name, you have been condemned to death for the wanton murder of one of His Majesty's subjects, Lord Robert de Somerset, Heir to the House of Cambridge. By order of His Majesty, this sentence is to be carried out with all expediency. It is my duty to execute this order."
Harry drew his sword, a sword that Voldemort recognized. It had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor.
The old man smiled. "Harry, do I get the chance to appeal this decision." He never received an answer
With expert skill from long practice, Lieutenant Lord Henry Somerset thrust the blade directly into the heart of the condemned man, killing him instantly. He pulled out the blade and wiped it with a cloth he had brought for that purpose. He threw the cloth on the floor next to the corpse and sheathed his sword. Having fulfilled his commission, he left the room.
