The Night Descending

By penpunk

Chapter 2: Sentimental Reasons

Harry Potter had dreamed of this day since he could remember. He had dreamed of this day when he was still a bespeckled little boy living the small and spidery cupboard under the stairs. He would sit on his tiny bed and think of all the things he would be able to do once he was old enough to move out. He could eat all the sweets he wanted and watch television on his own set and have his own house to put it in. One where he could have a big bed, away from the dust and the cobwebs and the spiders.

It had been a long time since he had had those dreams. Then again, Harry was not that little boy anymore. It had seemed like decades ago when he had learned forma hairy half-giant that he, Harry James Potter, was a wizard. Dreams of sweets and his own house were replaced by a world that was so magnificent that Harry often found himself wondering if it was all a dream.

But it wasn't. And finally, after almost sixteen years of neglect at the hands of his relatives, he would be leaving Number Four Privet Drive forever.

The only people happier than Harry were the Dursleys. Since notifying his relatives that he would be leaving, and soon, Harry had to endure the many conversations about what the Dursleys could do with Harry's little bedroom and all the things that could be bought with the money that would be saved now that there would be one less mouth to feed. Harry's snarky remark about tailoring a circus tent for Dudley did not go over well, but he didn't care.

Harry took one more look around his now empty room. All the pictures and posters he had collected over his time at the Dursleys were taken down and packed away in his trunk. He made doubly sure that all the things he kept stowed away under the loose floorboard had been taken out and accounted for. Hedwig slept soundly in her cage, which rested on top of Harry's now empty desk. It was strange to think that all the almost 17 years of his life was packed away in a trunk, one that was being sat on by Ronald Weasley.

"Is that everything, then?" asked Ron as Harry plopped down on his unmade bed.

"Yeah, I think so," said Harry as he looked around the room.

"Well, I don't see any reason why we can't leave now," said Ron.

"We'll be safer in the morning," said Hermione Granger from across the room. "It isn't safe to travel at night."

"But we're taking the Knight Bus," said Ron. "Bang and we're back at the Burrow. Just like that. I doubt very much that You-Know-Who will be there, taking an overnight to Birmingham or something."

"Still, Ron, we'll be safe by day light," said Hermione. "I'm sure you mother would say the same."

"But I'm of age," he said, his voice whiney and contradictory to his claim of maturity. "What do I care what she says? I can do what I want."

"Doesn't matter, Ron."

Harry thought it strange that such a normal occurrence, something he had gotten so used to, was happening in such an odd place. Ron and Hermione arguing at Number Four was such a preposterous idea. But here they were.

Harry had only been back at Privet Drive for a couple of days when a knock on the door during dinner time had broken the Dursleys out of their usual surliness at Harry being back for the holiday. Harry had promised Ron and Hermione he would stay at the Dursleys for a week before leaving for the Burrow, to ensure that the charms placed on the place for his protection worked properly.

Harry didn't bother to look up from his plate of weird, watery pasta to see who it was who would be at the end of Uncle Vernon's anger at the interruption of their evening meal. Vernon, red-faced, waddled back into the kitchen and pointed a sausage-like finger at Harry.

"You, come here," he said, his mustache quivering slightly.

Harry got up from the table and followed his uncle into the hallway. Standing in the doorway, much to Harry's surprise and pleasure, were Ron and Hermione, beaming.

"What are you doing here?" said Harry as he rushed ahead of his uncle and met his friends at the door.

"We said we'd be here to get you," said Ron. "Bring you right back to the Burrow."

"What happened to waiting for a week?" said Harry with a smile.

"Do you honestly think you could have waited a week?" asked Hermione. "We know we couldn't."

Harry smiled widely at his two best friends. Vernon, on the other hand, was not amused.

"Do you mean to tell me that you expect me to let these friends of yours to stay here, in this house?"

"Yeah, I do," said Harry. He motioned for Ron and Hermione to follow him. He walked past his uncle and up the stairs. Ron and Hermione skirted past Vernon, who looked as though he were about to explode.

"Uh, lovely home you have," said Hermione sheepishly as she followed Harry and Ron. As Harry shut his bedroom door, he could hear the kitchen explode with his uncle's protest.

Harry watched Ron and Hermione argue for a while before leaving the room. It was getting more and more awkward to witness their fights, especially at the point where they decided to make up.

Harry sat on the top step of the stairs. He could hear his uncle's snores coming from the living room where the blue light from the television flashed. The light in the kitchen was on; no doubt his aunt was doing her nightly scrub down of every surface she could reach.

Harry yawned widely but knew that sleep would be impossible tonight. The growing anticipation that made his insides flutter was too much to ignore, and for a fleeting moment, he felt more cheerful that he had in days.

That cheerfulness was squashed, however, as his thoughts on what the coming months would bring him. He knew what he had to do. The night Dumbledore's death, his path had been its clearest, but with each passing day, his direction was being clouded with worry and the feeling of helplessness. How was he going to do any of this without Dumbledore's help? The trials they had faced to get a hold of the fake horcrux had been almost too much for two people. How was he going to do any of it alone? He expected Ron and Hermione would be by his side through everything, but he knew, deep down, that there were things he was going to have to face alone.

And how would he feel if he had somehow gotten Ron or Hermione killed? It seemed that that was the fate of anyone close to him. Even the most powerful wizard in the entire world fell victim to death at Harry's side. His parents, Cedric, Sirius and Dumbledore. Could he possibly stand to see Hermione or Ron added to that list?

Harry, who was lost in his thoughts, was caught off guard when he saw his aunt walking up the stairs. He made to get up, but she stopped in front of him. Harry looked her in her boney, horse-like face as she nervously listened downstairs. She looked back to him and said in a barely audible, but still short whisper, "come with me."

Aunt Petunia walked down the hallway, past Harry. Harry stood up slowly as he watched his aunt stop in front of her bedroom door.

"Hurry," said and Harry walked after her, a look of confusion on his face.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's bedroom was like the rest of the house: impeccably clean and full of portraits of Dudley. The white four poster bed sat in the middle of the far wall. It was covered in a gaudy pink and blue floral bed spread, the blankets tucked in tight enough that it resembled a flowery trampoline. A matching white dresser stood against the wall opposite the bed. The entire surface was covered in framed pictures of his cousin, except for a small space that was occupied by an old television. The brownish gray screen was covered in dust and the bunny ear antenna was a little bent and crooked.

Harry looked to the left, where his aunt was standing on her toes, shuffling boxes around on a high shelf. Finding the right one, Aunt Petunia carried it over to Harry. She shoved it into his hands.

"What is it?" asked Harry as he examined the box. It was black and very heavy.

"Something of my sister's," she said as she eyed Harry. "I was told to give it to you before you left by that man."

"What man?" asked Harry.

"The one who took you last summer."

"Dumbled-"

"Yes," Aunt Petunia hissed at the sound of the late headmaster's name. "It didn't seem like an important thing to me, but I didn't want another of those red letter things."

"A howl-"

"Yes, you know what I'm talking about," she said.

Harry unlatched the silver clasp of the box and opened the lid. Inside, was a large piece of round glass. At first, Harry thought it was a crystal ball. He took it out of the satin-lined form it was nestled in. It was not a crystal ball, as he first thought, but a snow globe resting on an ornately carved silver base. Inside, Harry could see, through the moving snow, a miniature replica of Hogwarts castle.

"My sister got that for Christmas one year," said Petunia as she crossed her arms and stood a couple of feet from Harry's side. "I remember it sitting on our mantle for years, until Lily married and moved out."

"Who gave it to her?" asked Harry as he looked over at his aunt.

"That awful boy who told her about the dementors," said Aunt Petunia, a look of disgust on her face.

"If you're talking about my dad," said Harry indignantly, "he's got a na-"

"No, not him," she said, shaking her head. "No, it was another boy. He came to our house once or twice while she was home for the summer holidays."

"Who was it?" asked Harry with peaked interest.

"I told you," she said, her normal Aunt Petunia-ish demeanor coming back. "And besides, I avoided your lot at all costs. I had nothing to do with your mother's friends when they came over."

"What did he look like?" prodded Harry.

Aunt Petunia huffed.

"I gave you the box," she said. "That's all I came up here to do. Now, I expect you should get back to your friends.

Harry tried to protest. He wanted to get more information from his Aunt. She was, as much as she loathed it, one of the few living links he had to his mother. But Petunia was finished with this little stroll down memory lane. She ushered Harry out of the door and shut it behind him.

Harry looked down at the box before turning and walking back to his room. Ron and Hermione were no longer arguing. They had gotten past the awkward point of making up and now were talking quietly together. They both looked up quickly as Harry entered the room.

"Harry, where'd you go?" asked Hermione.

"My aunt gave me this," said Harry as he handed the black box to Hermione and sat down next to her. Hermione opened the box and took out the snow globe and gasped.

"Wow," said as she topped it to the side and shook the slow up inside. "It's beautiful."

"It was my mum's," said Harry. "My aunt said that Dumbledore told her to give it to me before I left."

"Why, do you suppose?" asked Ron as he pulled Harry's desk chair out and sat in front of them.

"Dunno," said Harry, "but I doubt it's for sentimental reasons. Why would Dumbledore have waited so long to let me have it?"

Ron and Hermione shrugged as they all watched the snow inside the globe float over the miniature Hogwarts.

Despite being convinced that that jittery felling of anticipation in his stomach would keep him awake all night, Harry woke up early the next morning feeling as if he had been asleep for days. He looked over to see Ron and Hermione still asleep on top of the cushions Hermione had conjured out of thin air. It was an impressive bit of magic and Harry wasn't surprised at all that Hermione could do it. She always did do well in Transfiguration.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Harry got out of bed. Grabbing a pile of clean clothes off his trunk, he changed in the bathroom across the hall. He tried to flatten his hair in the mirror, grateful that muggle mirrors did not commentate on the hopeless situation of his continually messy hair.

Ron and Hermione were awake by the time Harry re-entered his room. The thick cushions were gone and Hermione was busy casting cleansing charms on Ron and herself. Harry opened his already bursting trunk and packed away his previously worn clothes.

"Don't forget the box," said Hermione as she pointed to Harry's bedside table. The black box his aunt had give to him was sitting open. He strode across the room and latched the box's silver clasp and packed it away carefully in his trunk, moving clothes around it to cushion it in case of a bumpy ride. If he knew the Knight Bus right, and he did, bumpiness would be inevitable.

With Hermione carrying Hedwig's cage, Ron shouldering Harry's Firebolt and Harry dragging his trunk, the three of them made their way down the stairs, where the Dursleys were already awake and eating breakfast. All three relatives looked up as they heard the commotion on the stairs. Harry, without a glance, reached for the door knob, but was stopped by Hermione's hand.

"Are you going to say goodbye to them?" she asked, motioning toward the kitchen.

"Why does it matter?" said Harry. "Honestly, they won't care."

"Yeah Hermione," said Ron. "Let's just leave the prats be."

"Ron," said Hermione, throwing an incredulous glare at him before looking back at Harry. "They're your family, Harry."

Harry and Ron gave a derisive snort.

"Harry."

He sighed. "Fine, let's do this then."

He let go of his trunk and walked toward the kitchen. The Dursleys were just starting breakfast. Dudley, who was still in his pajamas, had his eyes glued to the television screen, his cereal barely making its way to his mouth. Aunt Petunia, still in her dressing gown and putting more bacon on Uncle Vernon's plate, looked up as the three teenagers walked into the kitchen. Even Dudley looked up at them as they entered.

Harry stared at them for a moment before Hermione nudged him forward. Vernon set his fork down, a tiny bit of egg hanging from his mustache.

"Right, well," said Harry, looking at all his relatives in turn. "I'm leaving."

The Dursleys all looked at him for a few, drawn out moments before Vernon spoke.

"For good, then?"

Harry nodded.

"We won't have to see you in our home again?"

"I suppose."

Rarely did Harry ever see his uncle smile, but there he was, smiling widely, his teeth peeking out behind his bushy mustache.

"Excellent. Well, good riddance to you all. No more freak friends blasting through our fireplace, no more intruders with funny clothes. No. More. Owls!"

This last perked seemed to excite Uncle Vernon the most.

"Does that mean I can have my bedroom back?" asked Dudley.

"Right you are Dudders," said Vernon. "You can use it for whatever you want. But you should wait until we give it a good scrubbing out first. We need to get rid of every little bit of freak left in it."

Harry could hear Hermione gasp beside him.

"Let's go," he said as he turned from the kitchen and walked out.

"I can't believe them!" said Hermione. "I knew they weren't exactly the nicest people-"

"We told you," said Ron.

"-but I never expected that," she said, ignoring Ron. "You're their family. Their blood!"

Harry picked his trunk up again and made for the door.

"You should know, more than anyone, that blood doesn't mean anything," said Harry darkly. "I only wish I was of age and could give them a nice magical parting gift."

Hermione looked debatingly to the left of Harry before setting Hedwig's cage down and running past Harry and Ron to a room to the side of the stairs.

"What's she doing?" asked Ron as the head of bushy brown hair disappeared behind them. Harry shrugged. Then there was a sudden rattle sound and a bang. Hermione came running back out.

"Let's go," she said as she picked up Hedwig's cage and opened the door. She had a slight tinge of pink on her cheeks.

"What did you do, Hermione?" asked Ron as he followed her out. Harry looked back at where Hermione ran from. It was the laundry room and Harry could see, as he dragged his trunk out of the door, thick white foam creeping out the door and into the hallway.

"Those people are awful," Harry heard Hermione say as he ran to catch up with them.

"I've been saying that for the last seven years," said Harry as he sat his trunk on the ground and pulled out his wand. "What did you do to the washing machine, by the way?"

"Bewitched it to spew out bubbles," said Hermione. "They'll just think the washer's broken. Until they disconnect the water line, that is, then it's going to trample through the house."

"Remind me never to make her angry," said Ron.

"It's a little late for that," said Harry with a grin, his mood lightening a little. "You remember that little bird attack, don't you?"

Hermione's face flushed, as did Ron's. Harry held his wand out in his right hand.

BANG

A purple, triple-decker bus appeared out of then air in front of them. A few trash cans rocked nosily as they jumped out of the way to make room for the bus. A squat man with curly red hair and a purple uniform jumped out in front of them. It was not Stan Shunpike, as Harry had hoped.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," he said in a high-pitched but quite raspy voice. "Just stick out your wand hand, climb on board and we can take you anywhere you want to go. My name Steward Croyde and I'll be your conductor."

"Why couldn't we just apparate," grumbled Ron as he handed the Steward eleven sickles and followed Hermione on the bus. Harry followed after, trying to avoid the conductors gaze as it swept over his face and up to his forehead.

"Where to?" asked Steward as he resumed his seat by Ernie, the driver.

"The Burrow," said Ron. "Just outside of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"Right," said Steward as he handed over their tickets. Ron, Hermione and Harry took seats in three open armchairs toward the back of the bus. The bus sped down Privet drive until

BANG

All three, expecting this, braced themselves from falling over. After picking up a hag in Southampton, dropping off three ancient wizards in Cardiff and depositing a witch and her six cats in Exter, the Knight Bus, with one final BANG pulled up in front of the Burrow.

After unloading Harry's belongings, Steward and the Knight Bus were off with another loud bang. Harry, Hermione and Ron walked to the back of the Burrow. The usual pile of Wellington boots and rusty cauldrons lay outside the door. Harry saw the kitchen window curtains fall back into place, and before reaching the door, Mrs. Weasley came out to meet them, her usually round and plump face was thin and drawn. She looked tired but put on a bright smile as she saw Harry walking towards her.

"Harry, dear," she said as she gave him a long, strong hug. "Glad to see you made it okay. The Knight Bus wasn't too troublesome, I hope."

"It was fine, thanks," said Harry as he picked up his trunk again.

"Oh, let me get that for you," she said as she drew her wand out of her fluffy pink dressing gown and levitated Harry's trunk toward the house.

"Thanks," said Harry as he followed her into the kitchen.

The Burrow had not changed since the last time Harry had been there, save for a few improvements that had been made, no doubt thanks to Mr. Weasley's promotion and raise and the twin's booming joke shop.

"Ron, take Harry's things to Fred and George's room," she said as she directed the trunk toward him. Ron levitated it past him and up the stairs.

"Sit down, Harry, sit down," said Mrs. Weasley as she waved him toward the kitchen table. "Are you hungry, dear? You Hermione?"

Harry and Hermione both nodded as she started to pull out bowls, plates and food.

"The muggles weren't too horrible, I hope," she said as she set a plate of steaming sausages in front of them both.

"No, they were the same as usual," said Harry, giving Hermione a meaningful look as she opened her mouth, no doubt to rant about the morning's events. Ron bounded down the stairs and plopped into a chair next to Harry, spearing a sausage with a fork and, not bothering to get a plate, biting off half of it in one go.

"What are all those boxes in Fred and George's room?" asked Ron thickly through a mouthful of sausage. "I barely got Harry's trunk in."

"Oh, I forgot about those," said Mrs. Weasley as she set a plate of scrambled eggs on the table. "It's all the merchandise being sent off to various ministry offices. Your father is going to take them in later in the week when Fred and George can get off."

"I don't think I've ever seen those two work harder in my life," said Ron as he heaped a pile of eggs onto Harry and Hermione's plates before taking the rest for himself. "They are always at the shop, even when it's closed. They've gotten loads of orders for their defense stuff, especially after Dumbledore died."

Harry's stomach gave a lurch, though it wasn't as strong as it had been right after the Headmaster's death. It saddened him even more that think that he was becoming accustomed to hearing the words and accepting the truth, despite the fact that he did not want to. Harry could hear Mrs. Weasley sniff loudly. She didn't turn for a while, but finally did when Ron asked for more sausages.

"I can't imagine Hogwarts without him," she said as she sat down at the end of the table, sipping a cup of tea. "But I suppose they'll try and carry on. Minerva is a good a person as any to continue Dumbledore's work."

"So they're re-opening the school?" asked Harry as he looked over at Mrs. Weasley. She nodded.

"Security is going to be tight as ever, of course," she said. "No Hogsmeade trips and no quidditch. They are going to keep the students in the castle as much as possible."

"No quidditch? Why would anyone want to go back?" said Ron, looking scandalized.

"School is more than quidditch," said Hermione, glaring at Ron.

"Harry's going to grin and bare it and get through the year," said Mrs. Weasley. "I'm sure you can do the same, Ron."

All three teens looked guiltily at each other.

"You didn't tell her?" hissed Harry in Ron's ear.

"Tell me what?" asked Mrs. Weasley as she looked at them all in turn.

"Mrs. Weasley," began Harry, not looking at her. "I'm not going back to school."

"We're not going back to school," said Ron as he pointed to Harry, Hermione and himself.

"What? Of course you are," she said. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I can't tell you," said Harry.

Mrs. Weasley looked at him, her face pale and mouth open, but her eyes trying to find some hint of joking on Harry's face.

"Does this have something to do with Dumbledore's death?" she asked finally when she only saw seriousness in Harry's expression. Harry nodded.

"And we're going with him," said Ron defiantly.

"Hermione?" Mrs. Weasley looked Hermione dead on.

"We have to do it," she said.

"But you're children," she said weakly.

"We're of age, Mum," said Ron. "Fred and George didn't finish school and look at them!"

"You aren't opening a joke shop, Ron," she said. "Harry, can't you reconsider? Can't you at least convince Ron and -"

"I already tried," he said. "He won't budge. Hermione neither."

Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything, but Harry had the distinct feeling that she was reliving the boggart incident during the summer before fifth year, watching their dead bodies appear in turn.

"Mrs. Weasley, we have information that can get of Voldemort for good," said Harry, ignoring the flinch at Voldemort's name. He reached over and took her shaking hand. "Things Dumbledore told me before he died. We're not going into this blindly. We can't tell you what we're going to do, and I'm not going to lie; it's going to be dangerous, but we've faced dangers before."

"Yeah, Mum. We've done loads of dangerous stuff," said Ron, "and we came out of it okay."

Mrs. Weasley didn't say anything. She looked at them all again before nodding and going back to sipping her tea. She set the cup down and stood up.

"It's not like I didn't half expect this to happen," she said. "Just promise me you'll let the Order help as much as they can. Fully trained wizards-"

"Can die just as easily as us," said Harry, not letting her finish. "Mrs. Weasley, of course the Order will be helpful, but there are things that we are going to have to do alone."

"The nobleness is as thick as stinksap in here."

Everyone turned to see Ginny walking into the kitchen, a blue dressing gown wrapped around her slender frame. Harry's heart gave a leap at the sight of her.

"Ginny, go back upstairs," said Mrs. Weasley. "This is a serious conversation-"

"That I've already listened to," she said, taking a seat across from Harry and helping herself to the food on the table. "Mum, I'm not ten years old any more. I have just as much right to hear this conversation as you do. When the guy I've snogged the last month is talking about hunting down Death Eaters-"

"Ginny!'' Mrs. Weasley's face turned bright red, as did Harry's and Ron's.

"Well, it's true," she continued. "So that gives me just the automatic right to participate in this discussion. Are there anymore eggs?"

Harry smiled at Ginny and offered her some off his plate, which she took and began to eat. Over the last week, when Harry hadn't been thinking about Dumbledore, he had been thinking about Ginny. When he broke up with her, he'd expected her to take him more seriously than she did. He had expected there to be more emotion. Then he wondered what would possess him to think anything like that with Ginny.

After breakfast, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny escaped up to Ron's room to talk. Fleur had stopped by to go over wedding plans with Mrs. Weasley, something they were all keen to avoid.

"How have things been with Fleur?" asked Harry as he shut the door behind him.

"Better," said Ginny, "between her and Mum, at least. I still think she's a cow, but don't let Mum hear. She's been in a right state since Bill got hurt."

"How's he?"

"Loads better," said Ron. "He's still pretty ripped up, but everything's healing well enough."

"Bill doesn't mind though," said Ginny, "about his face, you know. He's never been obsessed with his looks or anything. And he says the goblins are much friendlier with him at work. They think the scars give him distinction. So what's this I hear about you lot not going back to school?"

Harry explained to Ginny their reasons, without giving her too much information. There were things that Dumbledore had instructed him not to tell anyone besides Ron and Hermione. He had a hard time keeping things from her, but he figured it was probably for the best. He didn't want to make her any more of a target than she might have already become.

"And I suppose nothing I'll say will change you mind," said Ginny, crossing her arms and looking a little surly.

Harry fought with himself over whether she could or not. But, the part of him that wanted revenge won out over the part of him that wanted to hide in the Burrow with her forever. They all shook their heads. Ginny huffed.

"First Fred and George. Now you," she said, combing her hands through her long, red hair. "What are we going to do for fun? Gryffindor is going to be boring and no quidditch. Wish Mum'd let me stay herewith you guys."

"You'd be better off at school," said Harry. "Besides, we aren't going to be at the Burrow for much longer."

"What are you planning on doing?" asked Hermione. "I mean, after Fleur and Bill's wedding."

"I'm going to Godric's Hollow to visit my parents' graves," said Harry, "and then continuing from where Dumbledore left off."

"After we take our Apparition tests, of course," said Ron. "I don't think I could handle taking the Knight Bus all over the country. I feel like puking just thinking about it."

They all stopped talking when they heard a high pitched squeal come from downstairs.

"Ah, eet's beautiful!"

Ginny made retching sounds and flung herself over the side of Ron's bed. She came up after the noise stopped, and joined in laughing with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

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