Disclaimer: The characters are on loan, also, I have no idea how long this story will be, I'm working without an outline. :) Enjoi!
Chapter Two
"Harry?"
Her voice was small, unsure if she should be speaking. Harry didn't know if she didn't want to wake him if he was asleep, or if she didn't want him to snap if he was awake.
"Yeah?" he replied.
"Can I ask you something?"
"You just did, but yeah, you can ask me something else."
"Why did you want to die?" Her voice grew smaller and weaker with each word. Harry strained his ears to hear the word die.
"Hermione, I, well, it's like this…" but words were failing Harry at the moment.
"I'm not trying to judge you Harry, I just want to understand."
"It's hard to explain.
"Will you try?"
It was morning at Grimmauld Place. Everyone had finally left the room except for Ginny who was curled into her own bed. Hermione had come in seeking for knowledge, or at least answers. Harry frowned at her last question, how was he going to explain something he no longer felt?
The rest of the people hadn't moved far from Harry. The kitchen was very busy with activity. Molly Weasley turned to the thing that always seemed to help her, cooking. It was an emotionless task that could occupy her mind. Her escape. She set about it like she did in everything in her life, with everything she had.
Bill Weasley sat at the table. Wondering about everything that had gone on the previous day, he was emotionally exhausted. Ever so often his mother would bring him something new to eat, or refill his coffee mug. He wasn't hungry, but he ate. He too needed something to take away from his thoughts, but as to what he needed, he really didn't know.
Dumbledore too sat at the kitchen table in the basement. Unlike some of the other occupants in the room, he immersed himself into figuring out what was going on with his unofficial apprentice. He racked his brain, which is saying a lot, and came up with absolutely nothing, which is saying even more.
Ron Weasley, one of Harry's few friends, was in his own mind as well, though his was a much more dangerous road than that of his headmaster's. Ron sat, with each passing moment growing more and more angry. This anger was directed at the person he considered his best friend. Even with his emotions building inside of him, his face gave away nothing of the torment inside of him. His arm supported his head as he stared into his full plate of food. It seemed only his father had noticed something was wrong.
"Ron," Mr. Weasley said in a low voice that only Ron could hear, "I don't know what you are thinking. But let me assure you, there's nothing you could have done."
"Dad, I'm not blaming myself. I'm not blaming those muggles he lives with. Hell, I'm not even blaming V-V-Voldemort." He gave an involuntary shudder as he said the Dark Lord's name for the first time, then he continued in an eerie whisper. "This was Harry's choice. And because of that," he looked into his father's eyes, "I blame Harry."
"Look Hermione, all that shit just piled up in me. My parents are dead, Cedric is dead, Sirius is dead. How much more is going to happen? Who is next? It seems like everyone close to me dies. Then, after all the time in the world for the guilt to build up in me, I'm off to my so called family's house. I didn't want to see anymore death, so I took the only way I was guaranteed to not see it anymore. And yes I know, it was selfish, it was stupid, and no, I'm not thinking about trying it again."
Hermione, her eyes misted in unshed tears said in a calm painful whisper, "You know, it'll get worse before it gets better."
"I know…that was another reason I wanted to end it." Harry answered in his own anguished whisper.
Desolate, alone, depressing, welcome to Azkaban Island. Currently prisoner 1-59432/B was in his second floor cell. The Dementors were going easy on the emotion leeching. They naturally had rejoined his master, but even so, the cell alone was enough to drive you insane. Especially for a Malfoy. It hadn't been long, but it had been long enough. All day he just stared, out of a slit in the concrete that was his only window. The tide crashed into the bordering rocks, a white mist came rushing toward the window. Two hundred and sixty eight times a wave had crashed. Lucius Malfoy shuddered at even having that knowledge.
Then something broke his concentration and he yelled at the top of his lungs, "The Master is here!"
"Do you have his wand?" Ron asked the Headmaster of Hogwarts with an edge in his voice.
"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I still have his wand," Dumbledore answered a little startled.
"Good," Ron muttered to himself.
"Why do you ask Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore asked.
"Now he can't try it again," Ron answered like that was the most obvious reason in the world.
"Sooner than later he'll ask for it back Mr. Weasley, and I'll have to trust him to do the right thing."
"How can we trust him though?" Ron asked, trying to control his irritation.
"Because he has to trust us, therefore we have to trust him. I often find that trust is almost always a two-way street."
"It's him isn't it? He has to fight this war." Ron guessed.
"When war comes, I have no doubt that Mr. Potter will have his place within it. As will we all." Dumbledore replied, hoping his sentiment reached the youngest male of the Weasley family.
Harry just sat there. Hermione was there too, but she was happy to sit in silence for now. Ginny had awoken again. Ron and Dumbledore had shown up. Ron, Harry noticed, would not look at him. Then Molly and Arthur Weasley arrived. Harry looked around and thought grimly, well, his family was here.
Dumbledore broke the silence, "Harry, I must ask, why did you try this?"
Harry gave his mentor a piercing glare. "Why?" His voice was low and cold, "why? Why do you fucking think? You may be old professor but you are not blind. You told me not too long ago you deserved to be attacked. I deserved the same thing. But, though I know you won't believe me, I have moved on from that state of mind."
Molly gasped and started to weep again.
Ron gave Harry a stare that told him that he did not believe he had moved one.
Hermione hung her head.
Arthur glared out the window.
Dumbledore nodded.
And Ginny, Ginny got up from her bed. She calmly walked over to Harry, she held out an arm. Harry thought he was going to receive a hug. Then, she slapped him. Hard.
Then, just as calmly she walked back to her bed, and sat back down.
"Ginny Weasley, what has gotten into you?" Molly screeched.
"Its ok, I deserved that too. But if we can move on from the reason I tried to kill myself. Perhaps someone could enlighten me on why it did not work."
"I have two theories," Dumbledore began, "one deals with what we talked about two weeks ago. Fate may have stepped in."
"And the other," Harry spat not liking the idea of fate, or its presence in his life.
"The other may have something to do with the bond you and Miss Weasley share. A life-debt is ancient and powerful magic. Just how powerful no one really knows."
Ginny looked over to Harry, her eyes containing a fire that almost startled him, "Harry, the thing is, it did work. You were dead. Remember the blackness? That was your eternity. I was there Harry, I saw it all…"
The room grew still at this revelation. Harry looked down, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Ginny did the same, letting everyone know their questions would not be answered, this was between her and Harry. The minutes ticked away until Dumbledore again broke the silence.
"Harry, something else occurred when you cursed yourself." He fished around his pocket then produced a small mirror which he handed to Harry.
He took it and looked into the glass. Everything seemed normal enough, his eyes were still green, same messy black hair covering his…
"What happened to my scar?"
"I'm not entirely sure, but my guess is when you died, the link between Voldemort and yourself was broken. When I found you your scar was bleeding green Harry, I think the failed cure, and your link bled out."
Harry only managed one word before the conversation was over, "Good."
Ok, I know its short, but oh well. Coming next, the breakout of Azkaban, plus more talking.
Thanks to Bobboky, my one reviewer. Hope this explains two things, why it did not work, and why Ginny was effected by it.
