Ron was in the kitchen of The Burrow, attempting to make spaghetti for dinner when a smallish, fat owl smacked into the back of his head. He wiped the spilled sauce from his eyes, and made a grab for the dazed bird, tearing the letter off it's leg. He recognised it as Hermione's bird, although had never known it to be so dopey.
Ron ripped open the letter he had just received.
Dear Ron,
Sorry for the tap my owl gave your head, it was necessary. Hope your wand is in good working order, you may need to use it on something very soon. don't burn this letter, and don't show it to anyone either.
Ron looked in puzzlement at the second part of the letter.
Just say it: even my eyes rove over grace.
1/4 8 15 27 33 34 35
2/2
2/41 51 61 71 91 81
Logic is as logic does; think like me.
Love, Hermione.
Ron re-read the letter once more. This didn't sound like Hermione, despite the fact that it was.
And then he remembered something in third year, when Hermione had taken Muggle Studies. She had insisted that Harry and Ron help her to memorise codes, a muggle way of communicating with each other without being understood, and one of them had used numbers to indicate which word to decipher.
He grabbed a quill out of a drawer and a scrap of parchment and looked at the letter once more.
'One, four…first paragraph, fourth word…tap.' he muttered to himself as he scribbled the word down. A message began to appear.
Tap your wand on this letter and say
But this was where Ron lost it. There was no 41st word in the second paragraph, or 61st, or 81st. He stared at the parchment, willing another clue to emerge…
'Emergo.' he breathed. 'Fourth word, first letter, fifth word, first letter, sixth word, first letter, seventh word, first letter, ninth word, first letter, eighth word, first letter. E-M-E-R-G-O.'
Ron pulled out his wand and tapped the letter, muttering 'Emergo' as he did so. The words on the page disappeared to be replaced with a new message, once again in Hermione's flowing script.
Dear Ron,
Well done! I really hope it didn't take you too long to work out, and that there is still time to contact Harry. I have been doing lots of reading, I managed to find one or two books in a little shop off Diagon Alley about contacting people through their wands. If Harry still has his, which is doubtful, it can be done, but there is always the chance that You-Know-Who has his wand and will get our message instead. But you know a wand is connected to its owner? Well, there's a spell that can be performed by two people close to the person which is directed to the connected part within the person we are trying to reach, namely, Harry. We wouldn't be able to directly contact him, but we would be able to see that he's alright, alive.
My parents are allowing me to come to yours tomorrow if that's possible, send me a note if it's not. Keep safe till then,
Love,
Hermione
He heaved a sigh of relief. There was something they could do, and they would do it together. Ron wrinkled his nose as a smell of burning pervaded the air. He spun around to the stove where the spaghetti sauce was bubbling over the side of the pan. Dinner would have to wait.
Harry's heart sank as he heard the familiar 'pop' of apparating wizards, but continued to run for the line of trees, now only a handful of metres in front of him. He felt the cool fingers of the shadows gently touch him as a hand fell heavily onto his shoulder. He was pulled up short and spun round, kicking out as he did so, without thinking. Harry received a satisfying 'Oof!' for his efforts, before other Death Eaters surrounded him, and he realised that there was now no escape. With no wand, there was nothing he could do to defend himself against the twelve binding curses that flew at him from different directions. He didn't even have time to draw on his new found power. He slumped to the ground as hope left him. Someone muttered a spell and he felt a rush of air followed by a thud as he was banished back to the small confines of his cell. He landed on his back, and lay there, winded, his mind a complete blank. There was nothing left for him now. Voldemort knew, thanks to this thing in his head, his every thought. Even with outside help, he couldn't rid himself of this thing, Dumbledore hadn't even been able to manage it. He heaved a small sigh of resignation and let his thoughts drift away.
Some hours later, Harry was still staring at the ceiling, when a solid thought drifted into his empty mind.
Come to me.
Barely conscious of his movements, Harry pushed himself onto his feet and stopped in front of the door. He registered no surprise when it swung open of its own accord; how could he? Voldemort could do anything, was all powerful, who was he to question what the Dark Lord did.
A tiny part of Harry's subconscious was desperately fighting against the strong, lethargic mist swirling through Harry's mind, making him hesitate on the threshold.. A tiny part of himself knew that he should resist, but it was so much easier to stop resisting. So much easier to give in to the Dark Lord's wishes, and so Harry set off down the corridor, to where his master awaited him.
'Ron!' And the lanky boy was enveloped in a bone crunching hug by his best friend as he opened the front door. Hermione quickly let go and pushed past him into the house. She paused as she reached the kitchen and turned back to face him.
'Where can we go to be alone?' she asked, ignoring Ron's gulp at her words. He quickly recovered and motioned to the door behind her.
'Through there to the garden shed.' He said shortly. 'I cleared it out last night so there should be enough space for us, or we can do it in the garden if you prefer.' He wrenched his mind away from the double entendres that his mouth seemed to be creating without the apparent intervention of his brain. Hermione rolled her eyes and marched through to the garden to examine their working space.
'Of course,' she said over he shoulder as they left the house, 'It's a very complex spell that can't afford to go wrong. And it's never been attempted by only two people over such a large distance. If, as Dumbledore says, Harry is in China, it will take all of our strength and power.' Hermione stopped and looked back at Ron, as if she were fighting an internal battle. Her doubt seemed to win. 'Your wand does work properly doesn't't it?'
'Yes, Hermione.' Ron muttered exasperatedly as he held the door open for her.
Harry bowed before Voldemort could reprimand him for not paying respect.
'I see you are learning, slowly.' the Dark Lord snarled.
Voldemort held the key to Harry's life and freedom, he would do anything for him, including grovelling at his feet. Harry straightened up and cowered as he finally looked into his nemesis' glowing eyes. Never had he seen so much anger.
'I will not have my captives disobeying orders.' he hissed, every word clear and ringing. 'I will not have you treating this as a petty muggle'-he spat the word-'prison. And now you must be punished.' He raised a wand, and Harry knelt to take his deserved punishment, realising with a jolt that it was his own wand that Voldemort was pointing at him. There was a silence as Harry braced himself for the curse that he felt sure was to come his way, but none came. He looked up into the face of his master, bewildered. Why was his lord mocking him so? Why would he not give him the pain that he knew should come to him? But Voldemort lowered the wand, and stared Harry straight in the eyes, red on green. Suddenly the Dark Lord was in his head, they were one, powers combined, not painful, unlike last summer, when they had last combined, but elating. Part of Harry was repulsed, still shrunk from Voldemort's presence, but they rest of him was overjoyed. He allowed these emotions to bubble up to the surface, so that his master could see how happy he was, what he was feeling…
But that tiny, resilient part of Harry was dragged to the surface instead, by Voldemort's probing gaze. He suddenly withdrew, leaving Harry feeling weak and powerless, but aware that his master was happy.
'I am so glad that there is a morsel of you that does not give in so easily. After all, you would be blindly following if you turned completely. This way it is a choice, what is right, or what is easy. And you will find after a time of choosing easy, the lines between them will blur.' Voldemort's thin mouth curved into a smile. 'And now I can kill you.'
Ron stared at Hermione puzzled. 'What do you mean there isn't a spell?'
Hermione tutted impatiently. 'How many times do I have to tell you, Ron? There is no verbal spell. It all comes from within. Concentrate on Harry's face, and then concentrate on finding him. In China. Hold his face in your mind, and touch your wand into this circle on the floor when I give the signal, a nod of my head,' she quickly added as Ron opened his mouth to interrupt. 'Then a picture of Harry should appear to both of us, if we both do this correctly.' She finished with a stern glare at Ron, as if daring him to protest. He merely nodded and rolled up the sleeves of his jumper.
'Okay,' He said, raising his wand. Hermione flashed him a smile before her eyes lost focus. He felt his own doing the same as he concentrated hard on his friend, remembering every detail of Harry's face, the pale silver of his scar, the untidy hair, his eyes. He held the image in his mind as Hermione nodded to him, and they placed the tips of their wands in the centre of the small chalk circle drawn on the wooden floor of the shed. Ron felt the magic radiating from Hermione, and forced every ounce of his own power right into the tip of his wand. A hazy image began to form in front of his eyes, growing clearer the more energy he put in.
A tiny thought pushed at Harry's subconscious. He smiled joyfully up at Voldemort's cold face.
'Let me do it, master. Let me die for you, kill myself for you, as my mother did for me. It will complete the circle, my Lord. Let me, as my last offering for you.'
Voldemort searched Harry's face, and then his thoughts, sharply, but could find only honesty, and this absolute want. The boy was hiding nothing. Well, the Dark Lord thought to himself, it would be a fitting ending. The Boy Who Lived, killing himself for his new master. A chuckled escaped from his thin lips.
'Very well.' he said, handing Harry back his wand. 'Do it. Now.'
Ron watched as the tiny Harry was given something by a shadowy figure.
'Voldemort.' Hermione breathed in a barely audible whisper.
They watched as Harry raised the object above his head. Hisminute features were smiling.
'Goodbye, my master.' Said Harry softly. His wand was directly above his scar, and he felt a final wave of power surge through him as he uttered the words that killed his parents. 'Avada Kedavra.'
Voldemort only remembered the prophecy as the green light sped towards Harry's forehead. Only then remembered their connection. His shriek of rage and fear was cut short as the light hit Harry.
Ron and Hermione watched in horror as the two figures crumpled to the ground, before the image winked out. Their gazes remained fixed to the now empty air for a fraction of a second, before their heads slowly turned to look at each other, knowing the expression in front of them to be an exact mirror image of their own.
'Get Dumbledore.' they whispered at the same time, before scrambling up and out of the door, leaving their wands where they had fallen as the image of the body of Harry and the body of Voldemort had disappeared.
A/N: Don't hurt me, just review (And due to the hits thing now up, i can see how many people have read, and how few have reviewed...:( unless one person is just reading again and again...). And this was intended all along, rather than a knee jerk reaction to HBP(which is fantastic by the way).
Well folks, only one more chapter left, and then this fic can be wrapped up and put to bed with a nice hot toddy, have its prayers listened to, and then leave it to sleep.
Thank yous:
savannah142: Well I wouldnt say he was evil as per say...just...hopeless?
Honey Nut Loop: Supressing? Hehe well I'm glad it has it's uses!
Taurus 07: Send me any ideas/material you have and I will become your unofficial beta...if you want...
Dr Rubadinghy: Here is your mention oh gracious one. And he's no longer a weepy annoying loser is he? Ah reading it on the train...and theres quite enough of Ron in this chapter to keep you happy I hope!
Kelly: Ah so I do remember you!Thanks!
Caroline: Well here y'are.
Buried fire: Thank you! Well the Dark Mark was merely his own little...joke against Harry until he got that slug thing (I have to stop calling it that) into his mind. But anyway, enjoy!
Christina: Thanks!
Fippets: That was an impressive poem. I shall love and cherish it forever, just like you. Now you have lots of spare time. Go write.
Circe la Fay : what, you think I'm just going to stop? I'm a review addict, and to get reviews, I need to write more. oh you lucky things you!
Oh and on that note, my next project(s) will be regulus' last days as a Death Eater before he leaves them, and then the last three days of his life, and the sequel to The Darkest Riddle, which may or may not involve Merope and Tom.
Cheers m'dears! xxxx
