Chapter 32: The Fourth Altercation
The third day dawned and Harry met its first light with bloodshot eyes. He hadn't slept since the unidentified new Death Eater had delivered the ransom note some 48 hours previous, and Voldemort would return in force when the sun set this evening. Strategically, it was sound. Harry made a mental note to thank the Grey Knight for the tip off when this was all over. After having seen Madam and Professor Luenebraum murdered in cold blood no one could have expected another attack so soon.
Harry's thoughts turned bitter as the sun peeked its grey rays over the mountains surrounding the grounds. No more would he enjoy spiced tea native to Bertram's pacific island in front of the fire in the Defense Against the Dark Arts office. No more would Madam Luenebraum officiate their Quidditch matches. Ron would take over the Escape Team once the younger students returned from evacuation with Ginny as his second in command, and a new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor would undoubtedly be selected for the next year, just like it had been every year before.
Hermione had doubled her efforts in reinforcing defensive spells with Cho Chang, and for once it wasn't Cho's eyes that were in constant threat of brimming over with tears. Neville had spent hours in the greenhouses with the school nurse and Professor Sprout, and some of their random concoctions were proving to be largely beneficial.
Harry sat on his favorite chair in the Common Room; absently stroking Tonic as Sanguine and Hedwig trilled and hooted in what they must have thought was a comforting manner. Their attempts at consoling their master fell on deaf ears. To Harry, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered any more. Every day was another life on his conscience, just like Voldemort had said. In the early morning hours after the tower had emptied Harry had attempted to compose a list of everyone he knew of who had lost their lives by Voldemort's hand, starting with his parents and the Longbottoms. Granted, Neville's parents were still technically alive, but Harry thought that if there were any fate worse than death, it would certainly be what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom.
He had sat for hours adding names, eventually losing count as his brain became more befuddled from lack of sleep and food. When he had added every name he could think of, Muggle and Wizard alike, he took the list over to the dying embers of the fire and tossed it in the still white-hot ashes. Harry's eyes brimmed once again with tears, but he refused to let them fall. With a savage poke of the iron rod next to the fireplace Harry watched as his several sheets of parchment began to smoke and then catch aflame. Some names stood out to him as the paper burned and his face reddened with anger. Enough was enough. No more would people die at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Not while he, Harry James Potter, was alive to stop it.
As the last ashes from his list of the dead floated up the chimney to the heavens, Harry touched his right index finger to his temple. A long, heavy strand of silver thought fell into his cupped palm as he pulled his hand away. With a small sigh, he deposited the memory into his Pensieve that had sat on the corner table ever since the ransom note had arrived. Everyone in Gryffindor tower knew what the Pensieve was and so they left it alone. No one dreamed of being able to understand what went on inside the mind of Harry Potter, and ever since they had seen his memories of the incidents after the Tri-Wizard tournament and in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries, most people feared that should they attempt to view the Pensieve's contents that they would go mad with terror. Their fears were not unfounded, but they were still wrong.
The Pensieve of Harry Potter contained not only the memories of his time at Hogwarts and confrontations with Voldemort, but also his childhood with the Dursleys and his parents' deaths, all of which had been reviewed extensively. Yes, the occupants of Gryffindor Tower were quite right to expect something along the lines of madness should they attempt to dive into the dark oblivion of Harry Potter's mind, but it would not be terror that would lead them to insanity. It would instead, be grief. To learn and see at first hand what their hero had endured would have driven anyone but those with a completely sound, but open, mind mad with misery. It was thus that Harry had made one of his wisest decisions in trusting his best friend to tell his story, for in truth, no one else could have been mentally capable.
Harry turned away from the stone basin and sat himself in his favorite chair where Tonic jumped in his lap and Hedwig and Sanguine attempted to sing away some of his sorrow. It was there that Neville found him.
"All right, Harry?" he asked softly.
"Not really, Neville," Harry replied honestly. He had a harder time concealing his true thoughts from Neville than he did with Ron or Hermione, mostly, he believed, because it could have possibly been Neville that had ended up with his fate.
"Harry," Neville began hesitatingly, "you know that—"
"Don't," Harry whispered. "Please, Neville, don't. Not you, too."
"Don't what, Harry?"
"Please don't say that it's not my fault."
"Oh. I wasn't going to."
Harry turned and faced the boy with whom he had shared a room for the past six years, and, for the first time, he seemed to really see him.
"You weren't?" he breathed, hoping he had heard what he thought he had.
"No. I was going to say that 'you know it's going to take time to sort through all this'. People tell you it isn't your fault, and yes, to some degree they're right. But that doesn't change the way you FEEL. You'll get through it, sure, but it will take time. Years, even. I know it took me years to get over what happened to my Mum and Dad. But I still got through it. I know you will, too.
"If you ever feel, though, that you're not going to make it, you know you've got Ginny, and Ron, and Hermione. They'll be there for you."
Harry stared at him. "What about you, Neville?"
"Me?"
"Yeah. What about you? Will you be there?"
"Of course, Harry. Did you really need to ask?"
Harry smiled slightly. "No. I suppose I didn't."
Neville nodded and turned to head towards the portrait hole to go to breakfast.
"Hey Neville?"
"Don't mention it, Harry. That's what I'm here for. I know you still feel like rubbish right now, but knowing that you have friends, even in the back of your cluttered mind, should help."
Harry nodded, turned back to his Pensieve, and brooded once more. Only this time, it was a fraction less deep. All he needed to do was get through today. Get through today without any major incidences and the next time would be the end. The next time, he promised himself, he would face Voldemort on his own terms.
Sunset approached. Harry donned his cloak and made toward the portrait hole. Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Ginny emerged from the shadows to accompany him to the Great Hall, but they never really registered in his vision until he heard Dumbledore acknowledge their presence in front of the grand staircase. He turned and his eyes locked with his bride's. Placing a soft hand on her abdomen Harry leaned forward and kissed her tenderly on the lips.
"There's nothing I can say to make you leave with the others, is there?"
Ginny mutely shook her head, and Harry nodded in acquiescence.
"Just promise me that you'll be careful, love. The hope of the world will rest on your and the baby's safety if I fail."
"I promise, Harry. I love you. We'll get through this, I know we will."
He was thankful for her optimism, but he couldn't bring himself to get his hopes up.
"I love you, too, Ginny."
"Are you ready, Harry?" Albus asked, his wand at the ready to issue the battle command.
"Born ready, Albus."
A brief twinkle illuminated the elderly headmaster's eyes and he smiled. "That's my boy," he whispered.
Harry inclined his head politely and moved toward the front gate with the rest of the staff and the elite members of Dumbledore's Army. As one they marched onto the grounds before they flanked off toward their predetermined battle stations: Ron and Ginny to the Quidditch Pitch to mount their brooms for the air assault, Hermione and her group divided amongst the barricades to lead in defense hexes, Neville and his healing squad also divided, each with their knapsack of potion vials to minimize the potential spell damage, and lastly, Harry, Dumbledore, and the staff to the front of the battlefield, ready to take the full brunt of the charge before they fell back to the barricades.
Everyone was in his or her place. Harry turned and saw Seamus Finnigan leading his platoon on top of the astronomy observation deck, a West Ham bandanna tied firmly on his head in salute to his fallen comrade. Looking back to the gates he could see the entirety of Voldemort's supporters throwing spells dozens in succession to bring down the wards. Voldemort was nowhere in sight, presumably sitting comfortably in his hideout letting his minions do all the hard work for him. Hogwarts was ready for them. All they had to wait for now was the wards to fall.
But something wasn't right. Harry could feel it in his scar, and the hairs along the back of his neck joined in, prickling uncomfortably.
'Albus,' he said softly, reaching out with his mind. 'Something isn't right.'
'What do you mean, Harry?'
'I'm not sure. It just doesn't feel right. If Voldemort's nowhere to be found, why is my scar twitching?'
On the Quidditch Pitch, Ginny turned concernedly to her brother. "Ron, something's wrong."
"What do you mean, Gin?"
"Look at Harry- the way he's standing. See how his shoulders are all tensed up?"
"Yeah. What of it?"
"Something is not going according to plan. Harry can feel it, and I can tell by his body language."
"How can the plan be off, Gin?" Ron asked confusedly. "We don't HAVE a plan. The Death Shitters break through the wards, we attack them, and then they run away back to Voldemort with their wands between their legs. That's not a plan, it's just how things work."
But Ginny was adamant. "I think we should get closer. Please, Ron."
"All right, Gin. MOVE OUT!"
The Air Brigade began a slow flight toward the front of the grounds, Ginny apprehensively watching Harry the entire time. A sudden charge of magical energy pulsed through the area and a lone figure appeared before the front rank of staff and time seemed to stand still as Ron and Ginny registered what had just happened.
"That was a PORTKEY!" Ron gasped. "You could tell by the energy it gave off!"
"That's VOLDEMORT, Ron! He used a Portkey to get inside the grounds! The Death Eaters at the gate are just for SHOW! They're sending all sorts of sparks at the gate to make it look like they're working to bring down the wards when all they're really doing is creating a diversion!"
Ron swore- at length. Normally, Ginny would have been quite impressed at the extensiveness of her youngest brother's vocabulary, but now was neither the time nor the place. Ron and Ginny turned to one another and a single thought passed through their minds, their eyes widening as the atrocity registered: Voldemort had someone from high inside the Ministry working for him. There was no other way he could have figured out how to set up a Portkey that would take him inside the Hogwarts grounds.
At the gate, Harry was nearly knocked off his feet by the force of the Portkey's activation. His wand flew into his hand and he had positioned himself in battle stance before the Portkey's passenger had even reached the ground. Several of the staff shot stunners at the cloaked wizard before he had even landed, but they either missed or bounced off an already erected shield.
The cloaked figure turned, but Harry already knew whom it was. Voldemort had used a Portkey to bypass the Anti-Apparition wards on the grounds. A triumphant grin lit up Lord Voldemort's face as he raised his wand and aimed it directly at Harry's heart.
"AVADE KEDAVRA!" he screamed, and the telltale green light shot forth like a rocket.
Harry opened his mouth to erect a barrier, but to no avail. A firm hand flattened him to the ground and Harry looked up to see his world collapse before his very eyes. Albus Dumbledore had thrown his arm in front of Harry to push him out of the way, putting himself in front of Voldemort's curse.
A cry of outrage choked in Harry's throat as he head Professor McGonagall scream in terror as her life mate fell. A shining green nimbus enveloped Albus' body as he fell backwards, landing in Harry's lap, his empty blue eyes staring back into Harry's green ones, not a twinkle left to be found. Harry's gaze hardened as he looked to where Voldemort was standing, noticing that there was a look of shock on his nemesis' face.
And then Voldemort laughed.
The cold, cruel sound filled the grounds and echoed long after Lord Voldemort had activated his other Portkey and disappeared, his minions right behind him, leaving the entire body of Hogwarts staring blankly at Harry Potter as he held their headmaster in his arms. Minerva McGonagall threw herself onto Albus' fallen body, her usual stern demeanor completely forgotten as she sobbed for the loss of her best friend and life long companion.
The entire school had run from their positions to stand around the body of the most powerful wizard alive, as if waiting for him to jump up spryly from the ground with a twinkle in his eye declaring a belated April fool's. It was a selfish hope. The occupants of Hogwarts grieved, and not a dry pair of eyes was to be found among them… save one.
"Harry," Ginny sobbed, "oh, my Harry!"
But he pushed her, and everyone else, away. He couldn't, he WOULDN'T cry. He stared back at everyone as they watched, as if waiting for his orders on how they should react. And suddenly he couldn't take it any more. Harry turned away from his mentor's lifeless body and the tears that had threatened to come for the past year broke free and trailed down his scorched cheeks.
"I can't," he said in a choked whisper. "I just can't do this any more."
"Harry," Ginny began worriedly, "what are you talking about?"
"He died. Albus is dead. And it's all my fault. Just like everyone else that died- it's all my fault."
"Harry," Hermione gasped, "you know that's not true!"
"It IS true!" Harry screamed, harshly shoving away Hermione's attempt to embrace him. "Everyone I care about ends up dead! How many more, 'Mione? Huh? How many more have to die because I'm not strong enough to get rid of Voldemort for good?"
Hermione was cradling her hands to her chest as she sobbed. "I don't know, Harry! How am I supposed to know?"
"Who's next?" Harry demanded, his voice echoing shrilly around the silent battlefield. "You, Hermione? Ginny? Maybe you, Ron? Neville? Luna? I CAN'T DO THIS ANY MORE!"
"Harry," Ginny began gently, "we never said that—"
"I KNOW! All you've ever done was love me, and is that fair? Is it fair that you should have to be hunted just because you were my friends?"
"Harry, you gave us a choice- to be with you, or to leave. We chose YOU."
"If I could go back and do it over again," Hermione said firmly, "I'd still pick you, Harry. Every time."
"Well you SHOULDN'T HAVE!"
Every tear streaked face in the crowd was locked on Harry. Their hero was crumbling, and if he faltered, where was there hope? They had depended on his cool demeanor all these years- they had known no other option. With Dumbledore gone, who was left? The headmaster had been like a father to Harry, everyone knew that. As much as they knew the world rested on Harry's slender shoulders, they couldn't blame him for wanted to give up. Each person knew that had they been in his position, they would have run from their fate long before Harry had.
"Just GO!" he cried, the tears streaming down his face. "Leave me! You'd be better off if you all left the Wizarding World and pretended that you never heard the name Harry Potter.
"You never should have lied about the troll to McGonagall in first year, Hermione! Then you would have never been my friend.
"Ginny, you never should have married me! If you hadn't, then you would never have to worry about raising a baby without a father.
"Ron, you should have NEVER sat with me that day on the Hogwarts Express! Then none of this would have happened and you'd all be safe and—"
WHAM.
"Now you're going TOO far, mate!" Ron had finally had enough. He stooped down to help Harry back up, then stood back up, fuming, waiting for his best friend's response as the crowd watched in awe.
"You punched me," Harry said stupidly.
"You're damn right I did. And if you don't straighten up your act I'll do it again."
"Wha—what?"
"You heard me. That's enough of this noble crap, mate. I've been putting up with it for the last six years and I won't do it any more. You can say all you want that you wish we weren't involved, but mate, you know that if we weren't you would have never made it this far."
Hermione and Ginny stared at the redhead with slack jaws. He seemed to be voicing all of which they wanted to say but didn't have the courage.
"You think you're in this by yourself, but you're NOT. Who's to say that your life is the only one ruled by the stars? How do you know that the three of us weren't SPECIFICALLY put on this Earth to be by your side when the pixies hit the chandelier?
"You DO have the weight of the world on your shoulders, mate, no one in their right mind would deny you that, but no one in their right mind would DENY you the help that you deserve.
"Now. Are you going to stop being noble and taking all the blame yourself, or do I have to punch some more sense into that thick skull of yours?"
Harry sniffed thickly, blood still running from his nose. "No, Ron, you don't need to punch me again. I think I can keep my 'noble act' under control."
"Good," Ron said stoutly. "Now come over here and hug us all nicely before Ginny and Hermione knock you flat with their gorilla hugs."
Harry laughed and wiped at his nose with the back of his sleeve. He smiled as he walked over to hug and apologize to Ginny and Hermione, and then turned to his best friend.
"Thanks, Ron. I needed that, and I'm glad you were here to give it to me."
"What are brothers for?" Ron grinned, and pulled Harry in for a hug.
The crowd breathed a sigh of relief. Thanks to Ron Weasley, their hopes for their hero were safe for one more day. Albus Dumbledore may have been gone, but with a world-class strategist like the youngest Weasley brother on their side, Hogwarts felt that it couldn't lose.
Harry turned to face the fallen body of his mentor once more, and with a graceful hand he levitated Albus Dumbledore ahead of him as he walked back towards the castle, tears blinding his vision, with the rest of the student body and staff following demurely behind him. As the somber group made its way back into the school, a lone Phoenix circled the grounds, singing out its mournful song for his lost companion and echoing the grief that had wrought itself deep in Harry Potter's soul.