Second Heartbeat
Chapter Five – Waiting
Brief A/N – There will be no more review responses, sorry. The site's policy has been for a while that they're not allowed, and from now on I'm not taking the chance of having my story taken down. Thankfully, the new review response system will let me respond to anyone that has a question. Anyway, thanks to all the reviewers of the last chapter:
EE's Skysong, Kuko, Harry Lvr, Missie, laura truewood, vero11, Babegurlly411, and Gylfie
Now, enjoy!
- - - -
Blackness. Everything was black. The darkness was so deep that it overcame me and pulsed within me and I became the blackness and the blackness became me and some immense feeling immersed my very soul...
"Ron."
A faint glimmer of light suddenly broke through the obscurity above. I latched on to it, grabbed it as hard as I could and prayed that someway, somehow it would take me out of this desolate place...
"Ron!"
Another ray of light shattered the darkness above. The clouds that surrounded me evanesced and broke off, dissipating into the light as I immersed myself in it, a deep ecstasy flowing through my every vein...
"RON!"
My eyes shot open, my breaths increasing in urgency, expecting something terrible. But all that my vision revealed was Harry, his hair disheveled and eyes wide. Immediately I knew there was trouble.
"Ron—you won't believe this. The bastard came to me in my dreams..."
Oh, right.
"Uh—the bastard you're referring to would be Voldemort, right?" I asked, hoping to clarify things in Harry's mind and allow him to slow down and think.
"Yeah," said Harry, waving his hand impatiently. "Anyway, he told me—" Harry stopped and shuddered, something that, even the second time I saw it, chilled me no less than it had initially. To see the Boy-Who-Lived, the bravest person that I had ever met, sitting there shaking in front of you...well, it's not encouraging.
"You'll see," said Harry, closing his eyes and trying desperately to calm himself. I patted him on the back somewhat awkwardly, hoping that somehow it would ease his troubles. But how could I calm him if I felt terrible myself? This would be it; this would be my last chance. If I didn't save Harry and Hermione now, I was pretty sure there would be no more second chances. And I had to do it all while the girl that I secretly loved was probably thinking, for the third time in her life, of never talking to me again.
Wait...had I just thought that I loved—
"I'll put it in Dumbledore's Pensieve," said Harry hurriedly. "You and Hermione could see my dream. And—I don't know what we'll do next; we'll probably have to go back to Hogsmeade—"
"I'll be right back," said Harry, rushing out of the room, presumably to wake Hermione. I remembered something about a dream and darkness vaguely before reality shattered my subconscious thoughts and forced me to think in the moment.
It was several minutes spent alone with my thoughts before Harry returned, Hermione and Dumbledore's Pensieve in tow. "Okay," he said breathlessly before placing his wand to his head. A silvery-white strand of thoughts materialized and slowly gained form before Harry shook it into the basin of the Pensieve. The thought swirled at the surface, and there was a brief glimmer of red eyes before it sunk to the depths of the device.
"Ready?" asked Harry shakily, and Hermione and I looked at each other for a brief moment. But she then turned away and spoke as bravely as I'd ever heard her speak.
"Yeah. We're ready."
All three of us surrounded the Pensieve and hesitated only a moment before plunging our fingers into the basin. The world around me swirled away in a cyclone of noise and color before another world materialized in front of me.
At first I thought that Harry was showing us the wrong thought. The dream in front of us was probably the happiest thing that I'd ever seen. Harry was sitting at the Burrow, a bright blue sky above and a Quidditch game raging in the skies overhead. Harry, I noticed, was not participating, but rather sitting and leaning against a tree, Ginny by his side.
Hermione shielded her eyes, unsure of how much she was supposed to see, but I saw no need, as I had seen it all already, and I was her brother, and had to make sure that nothing out-of-hand was going on there.
"So the Prophecy was wrong?" asked Ginny, her chocolate-brown eyes glittering in the sunlight. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Dumbledore called me to his office and told me so." I was unsure of just how Dumbledore managed to call Harry to his office when he was currently a member of the black abyss that I had now seen twice, but remembered the strangeness of some of my own dreams and refocused my thoughts.
"Good," said Ginny happily. "Now you don't have to worry about Voldemort, Harry. You can stay here with us and play Quidditch as much as you want."
I stifled a grin at the simplicity and immaturity of it all, but realized everything that Harry had been through and felt like hitting myself.
"Wait," said Harry, the real one standing next to me and looking pale white. "Just wait. This isn't the real dream—it'll come later—"
The dream-Harry stretched lazily and put an arm around Ginny, who snuggled into his chest. "We're so lucky that Dumbledore defeated Voldemort," she said. "Now we have such a great world that we can become adults together in—"
Ginny cut off abruptly, and the dream-world seemed to shimmer. I felt my heartbeats start to quicken as the deep blue sky suddenly darkened and the happy Burrow scene disappeared. Now Harry was standing alone in the graveyard behind the Riddle House in Little Hangleton, the place where the three of us had just left hours before. The world around us gave a final shudder before Lord Voldemort himself appeared in front of Harry, red eyes gleaming sadistically.
"Potter..." he hissed, his snakelike voice sending shivers down my spine.
"You..." stammered Harry, with a ferocity I had never seen in him before. "What the hell do you want?"
"Nothing," said Voldemort cockily, his face twisting into a crooked smile.
"I—I don't understand," replied Harry, an inexplicable courage replacing his nervousness. "Nothing? You've taken Dumbledore, Sirius, Remus, my parents, Cedric, Neville's parents, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie—and you want nothing?"
"Well, I suppose that's a little unfair," said Voldemort cockily, and for a moment I wanted to tear him limb from limb, tear out his pathetic heart, and stuff it down his throat. "You see, I simply wish to tell you something."
"And what is that?" spat Harry.
"If you have any plans to visit Hogsmeade Village, you may want to make them soon."
"What? What are you going to do to Hogsmeade?" shouted Harry furiously.
"You will see, Potter, in time. Now if you don't mind, I must be going; you will join those filthy parents of yours soon."
Harry kept his cool, taking deep breaths, although even in his dream his hand traveled to his pocket where his wand would be. "We'll see," said Harry finally. "And—why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"
"Nothing," said Voldemort, the epitome of tranquility.
"What? You don't want anything—you just want to tell me?" asked Harry, his fists clenching with rage.
"That's right," replied Voldemort. "Goodbye, Potter, and enjoy your last hours on this earth."
Harry, Hermione, and I watched in stunned silence as Voldemort's form disappeared and the Pensieve deposited us back into reality.
Deep within me a terrible feeling was arising. How did I stand any chance of winning, even if Hermione didn't sacrifice herself this time? How did any of us have a chance of winning against such a powerful and ruthless opponent? And when I finally died for the last time, would Hermione ever know how I had felt about her?
She never would. The war was hopeless anyway.
"We—we have to get to Hogsmeade right away," said Hermione suddenly, her voice breaking through my reverie. I nodded silently, an enormous sadness building up deep within me.
"But first we have to get to the Ministry," said Harry suddenly, his power of rational thought seeming to return. "We have to warn Scrimgeour, get him to evacuate the residents of Hogsmeade. If he can send enough Aurors—and the Order will be there—we could win, Hermione!"
Hermione nodded, although I could tell that she wasn't daring to hope. Someone like this...someone who could destroy entire villages without second thoughts, without remorse...
What chance did we have against such an enemy?
"Ron, are you okay?" came Harry's sudden voice. Hermione just glared at me.
"Y-Yeah, fine," I stammered, embarrassed. "Let's go."
And with a pop we all Apparated away.
- - - -
"No, that's impossible! Absolutely impossible!"
I sighed. We were confronting Scrimgeour, who was enraged at being woken at three o'clock in the morning and was not being particularly cooperative.
"For the last time, Minister Scrimgeour," said Harry with an unearthly calm that neither Hermione nor I possessed, "I am completely certain that Lord Voldemort was behind the vision that I received earlier today. Ron and Hermione saw the vision, and I can bring you the Pensieve myself, although that would cut significantly into our preparation time."
I marveled for the second time at Harry's ability to maintain his composure in situations in which all the rest of us would have panicked. He stared down a newly resurrected Voldemort when he was only fourteen years old and managed to outwit him in a duel. In fifth year he led a group of teenagers against several Death Eaters and still managed to emerge with the knowledge of the prophecy a secret. He had led us down the trapdoor to fight the Stone; he had gone alone into the Chamber of Secrets to rescue Ginny; he had cast a Patronus and single-handedly driven off a throng of dementors. Harry was certainly a formidable opponent for Voldemort. The question was, would he be enough?
"Very well," said Scrimgeour somewhat hesitantly. "But how do you know that Voldemort is not leading you into a trap, as, I have it on good authority, he did in your fifth year?"
"We don't know," said Harry shortly. "But we can't afford to take the risk. Voldemort hasn't sent me a vision in over a year—"
"Have you any proof that he has not simply been waiting in order to fool you? I repeat, Mr. Potter, he has fooled you once before!"
Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "That could be true, Minister," he said finally. "But it also could be wrong. And do you really have the ability to take the risk that what you're saying is false?"
"If you do this, Minister," said Hermione suddenly, "then you will be known for heeding that warning that saved hundreds of lives. But if you ignore this warning, our one and only warning, then you will be forever shamed as the Minister who ignored the Chosen One as he attempted to protect the only all-Wizarding village in the world."
This time it was Scrimgeour who took a deep breath. "Very well," he said finally, albeit very reluctantly. "But I will only issue a voluntary evacuation notice. Those who wish to remain and avoid all this—foolishness—shall be free to do so."
"No!" shouted Harry upon hearing this. "You have to evacuate everyone, Minister! We can't guarantee that no one will get hurt if you let people stay!"
"Listen to me, Potter," said Scrimgeour in a hostile tone. "This is your one and only chance to get the evacuation notice. I am being extremely kind in listening to you at all. Now kindly remove yourselves from my office."
Harry and Hermione sighed, and I followed them out into the Ministry building, barely catching Scrimgeour's angry mumblings of "Dumbledore's man indeed" as we rounded a corner.
"Well," said Harry, "this is it."
I nodded.
This was it.
