Chapter Eight: The Loneliest Mile

12 Grimmauld Place, Islington, London

August 4th, 1997

As Harry hurried towards the kitchen after parting company with Ron, part of his mind was focused on preventing Hermione from going on a rage-fueled rampage – and the other part was focused on what the 'might have been' Ron Weasley had said to everyone in that Mirror-induced vision just now, whilst he was under the influence of veritaserum.

Namely, that Dumbledore had made too many mistakes to blindly trust in him any longer.

{ It's not really his fault, is it? } Harry tried to excuse his best mate's words in his own mind. {After all, that Ron Weasley hadn't lived through everything the real one has – the past year or so, a lot's changed! Plus, for all I know, that blasted Mirror just made all of that up for us to fight amongst ourselves, or something. I mean... surely the real Ron wouldn't think all that after Dumbledore died that way, with Snape stabbing him – and all the rest of us – in the back like that! }

Harry reflexively repressed the white-hot hatred he always felt towards the turncoat spy, whenever thoughts about Severus Snape crossed his mind nowadays. That sort of thing wouldn't help, especially now –

BANG! CRASH!

Harry winced as he rushed into the kitchen, just in time to see the enraged Hermione throwing a kettle against the wall. "Herm-"

"That rude, uncouth, insensitive git!" Hermione screamed, as the kettle crashed to the ground. With a flick of her wand, the bushy-haired witch then incanted, "Reparo!" and fixed the huge dent the kettle had suffered. Then she snarled, "How dare Ron say all that about the wisest and most venerated wizard in British history?!"

"Well, you know, the veritaserum –"

"Is unreliable, I know – while the drinker's answers are sincere, they're not necessarily true. But that's the whole point; Ron believed all that nonsense he just spouted off, that's why he said it!" Hermione ranted.

"Well... none of it was actually a lie, was it?" Harry said tentatively, and immediately moved back as Hermione turned her ire-filled gaze on him. "No, no, I mean – I'm not saying I agree with that Ron that we can't fully trust Dumbledore and what he told us, but mistakes have been made over the years. Like that vision we had of a world where Crouch junior was unmasked early, and Cedric didn't die; all it would have taken is me thinking of summoning Dobby that night, remember? My mistake there, Hermione, no point denying it..."

"That's different," Hermione said stubbornly, shaking her head and her tangled hair flying wildly. "I mean... you don't have the same faults he does! Like that whole emotional range of a teaspoon thing!"

"Um, well... I suppose Ron can be his own worst enemy, sometimes," Harry decided it was pointless arguing with his female friend when she was in this sort of mood. "Err –"

"He thinks swearing is perfectly acceptable even when speaking to the head of the country's government, and he's got all these utterly ridiculous ideas about wizarding Britain being, being hopelessly sick and diseased, and Ron would have left me-us, just because Scrimgeour ordered him to do it!" the young woman seethed, briefly stumbling over that one word.

{ Here we go again, } Harry thought to himself in annoyance, not really paying attention as Hermione continued her diatribe against their friend. { Please don't tell me that this will be another one of Hermione's speeches that Ron needs to turn into someone she totally approves of? I mean, while he's at it, maybe my best mate will give up being interested in chocolate frogs, Quidditch – and blonds! I mean there's Fleur, Madam Rosmerta, Lavender Brown, and maybe even that Slytherin girl in our year, what was her name again – Daphne Greengrass? Yeah, no wonder Hermione's gotten so jealous of the competition over the years... }

"Oh, for heaven's sake! You're not even listening to me, are you?" Hermione suddenly yelled at him, causing Harry to jolt out of his thoughts. "Boys! You're all the same!"

"No, we're not," Harry defended himself. "And if you like Ron, Hermione, why don't you just tell him that? You should simply end this ridiculous charade you two have been engaging in since our fourth year, if you fancy him already!"

"What are you talking about?" Hermione took a step back, an uncertain look appearing on her face.

"Oh, come on – you know what I'm talking about, Hermione!" Harry shook his head. "When Ron was poisoned last year, whose name did he call out in his delirium? Yours, or Lavender's? And when you invited Ron to come with you to the Slug Club Christmas party, it wasn't just as a friend, was it? Ugh, please – if you taking Cormac McLaggen to that party wasn't just a ploy to make Ron jealous, then I'm a monkey's uncle!"

"Well, yes; Cormac was a mistake, I'm not denying that, but –"

"But what?" Harry interrupted. "We've seen it thanks to that Mirror, remember? Bloody hell, even Dawlish and Scrimgeour figured it out, merely by watching you and Ron have at it that way! Have you forgotten that particular 'might have been' – or the one before that? The one where Ron ended up in the Evil Harry Potter world, and you started ogling him as soon as he and your 'Mione' counterpart showed up via that interdimensional portal?"

"I did not ogle that Ron Weasley!" Hermione insisted, even though her cheeks turned an interesting shade of puce as she said that.

"Fine, whatever you say," Harry sighed, deciding to give up. "Listen, I –"

But at that moment, everything changed.

Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had never been the warmest place in the world, granted, but out of nowhere – it suddenly became piercingly, bitingly cold. Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey, as it were. Without any warning at all, Harry felt like he'd been dunked in ice water or something, but then the cold grew even worse – like a horde of Dementors had invaded the house!

{ No, that's not it, } Harry though dizzily, as goose bumps erupted all over his arms and he quickly brought his wand out. { It doesn't feel like them – exactly. Close, but not the same. I don't – }

"HARRY, WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Hermione yelled, grabbing hold of his left arm in order to support herself – she looked almost ready to faint. "Is it Dementors? How'd they get past the wards, not to mention the Fidelius charm?!"

They then heard the sound of smashing glass, not far away – and the next moment, the cold abruptly vanished. Gone, as if it had never even been there. Harry blinked, "What-?"

"Ron! That lousy Mirror! Maybe it did something, I – come on, Harry, hurry up!" Hermione yelled, starting to drag him along as they headed out the kitchen door.

{ Bit impatient, aren't you? } Harry grumbled to himself. But as soon as they got to the hallway, his annoyance vanished – Ron was unconscious and laying on the dusty carpet, and the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities was nothing but an empty gold frame with shattered fragments of glass scattered all over the floor.

"Evanesco!" the bushy-haired witch started Vanishing all the shards of glass away, brilliant witch that she was. "Oh, of all the – Harry! Help me clean up the mess, will you?"

"Oh, right," the young man muttered, agreeing to help even though Hermione was much better at the spell than he was. A few moments later when the job was done, Harry said musingly, "I wonder what happened? I thought Ron was going to wait until I came back to switch that Mirror off, but instead – he destroys it? That's not like him..."

"Oh, please, with Ron's temper? Don't be ridiculous, Harry – that's exactly the sort of thing he'd do! That Mirror must have provoked him once too often, and finally paid the price for it," Hermione said dismissively, before she pointed her wand at the ginger and chanted, "Rennervate!"

The reviving spell worked as expected, as Ron quickly woke up. But what Harry wasn't expecting was for the bloke to start laughing, as soon as he was conscious again.

Harry quickly became alarmed, Hermione too from the look on her face, as this wasn't Ron's normal laughter – not his usual chuckles or guffaws over a boisterous prank his twin brothers had pulled, for example. No, this laughter was more – deranged, than anything else. In fact, it reminded Harry a lot of Bellatrix Lestrange from over a year ago, the way she'd laughed after Sirius had been killed –

"STOP IT!" Hermione shouted, before the bloke finally got up off of the floor. "Ron, what in the name of heaven is wrong with you?!"

The Weasley quickly stopped laughing, even though there was an odd hiccupping note to his voice as Ron muttered to himself, "So it's like that, is it? That's the best I can hope for? Better luck the next time around? Can't help thinking it won't be that simple..."

{ What's he talking about? } Harry frowned in confusion as Ron pushed their hands away and slowly got up off the carpet. "Ron, what-?"

"Best you don't ask, Potter," was the curt, unfriendly reply, causing Harry to gape at his best mate. Ron then added, "I really don't want to discuss it, understand?"

"What did you see? What did that Mirror show you, after Harry and I left?" Hermione demanded at once, gesturing at the empty golden frame. "It must have shown you something, or else you wouldn't be acting like this! Right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so," Ron muttered, causing Harry to feel even more alarmed at the way his friend wouldn't even look at the girl he'd been in love with for years.

"All right, fine. I died – again," Ron spat after finally seeing the look Hermione was giving him, before he added, "Plus, I saw Potter shag someone that I wasn't really expecting him to, until I realized I was being a complete idiot."

"What, you actually saw me and Ginny – or Lavender, maybe – doing that? Oh, Merlin, Ron, I'm so sorry," Harry immediately apologized on instinct.

"You died again?" Hermione ignored him, focusing on her not-so-secret crush. "How? Why?"

"Happened at Hogwarts, and that's all I'm going to say about it," Ron abruptly glared at her. "Don't bother asking for more details, understand? 'Cause right now, I don't give a rat's fart about satisfying your curiosity."

{ What? Oh, Merlin's beard, but what Ron saw thanks to that Mirror must have been utterly awful, } Harry cogitated to himself, as Hermione gawked at their friend in utter disbelief. { I mean, there's no other explanation for why Ron's being so insulting to her. Right? }

Hermione's temper might have made an unwelcome reappearance at that point, but destiny obviously had other plans, as a deafening crack! echoed in the hallway.

"Kreacher has returned with the thief Mundungus Fletcher, Master," the Black family house elf proclaimed in his bullfrog-like voice, his arms wrapped around Fletcher's legs as both elf and wizard ended up on the floor.

Mundungus kicked Kreacher away, before he scrambled up and pulled out his wand; Hermione, however, was too quick for him. "Expelliarmus!" Immediately, Mundungus's wand soared into the air, and Hermione caught it.

Wild-eyed, Mundungus tried to head for the front door: but Ron rugby-tackled him and Mundungus hit the floor again, with a muffled crunch.

"What?!" the sneak thief bellowed, writhing in his attempts to free himself from Ron's grip. "Wha've I done? Setting a bleedin' 'ouse elf on me, what are you lot playin' at? Wha've I done, lemme go, lemme go, or –"

"Shut up," Ron interrupted Fletcher's tirade, as he punched the wizard in the solar plexus and Mundungus abruptly wheezed in shock, all the air exhaled out as the thief fought to regain his breath. "Now where's the locket?"

"Eh? What d'you mean, what locket?" Fletcher eventually gasped out.

"Don't lie," Hermione said viciously, as Ron hauled Fletcher to his feet. "You know what locket! After Sirius died, and you stripped this house of anything even remotely valuable? You took a locket out of the kitchen cupboard, along with a lot of other things! Now where is it?!"

"Why?" Mundungus asked, no longer attempting to get loose. "Is it valuable?"

"You've still got it!" Hermione cried, leaping to conclusions.

"No, he doesn't," Ron said, staring hard at Mundungus. "Can't be that simple."

Harry frowned, something about those words didn't quite sound right – it was almost as if... Ron had known that Dung wouldn't have the locket any longer? But no, that didn't make sense – how could he possibly have already known that? Yes, on second thoughts, his best mate was just assuming that their usual luck was in play.

And unfortunately, from the expression on Fletcher's face – it didn't look as if Ron was wrong, either...

"He's right, don' have it no more... bleedin' gave it away, di'n' I? No choice," Mundungus confessed, as the ginger relaxed his grip somewhat.

"What do you mean?" Harry wanted to know.

"Eh, I was sellin' in Diagon Alley, and some bint come up ta me and asks if I've got a license for tradin' in magical artifacts. Bleedin' snoop," Fletcher cursed. "She was gonna fine me, but then she took a fancy to the locket an' told me she'd take it and lemme off that time, and ta fink meself lucky."

"Who was this woman?" Harry asked eagerly.

"I dunno, some Ministry hag..." Mundungus considered for a moment, brow wrinkled. "Little woman. Pink bow on top of 'er head." He frowned and then added, "Looked like a toad, more'n anythin' else."

"Umbitch? Well, that's just bloody marvelous," Ron cursed, before either Harry or Hermione could say anything.

"Language!" Hermione chastised him, but Ron ignored her completely.

"What do you reckon, Potter? Obliviate him and then kick him out, or simply kill him for leaving Moody to die that night?" the ginger demanded emotionlessly.

{ What? } Harry moved his mouth soundlessly, unsure how to answer that. { Is Ron actually serious about that? }

"'Ere, I panicked, okay? I never wanted ta come along! No offense, but I never volunteered ta die for Potter, an' that was bleedin' You-Know-Who come flyin' straight at me! Anyone woulda got outta there, I said all along I didn't wanna do it –" Mundungus started babbling nervously.

"Stupefy!" Hermione abruptly hit the thieving wizard with a powerful Stunner, who then collapsed into Ron's arms.

Ron shrugged slightly and asked, "Kreacher, you want him?"

The Black elf accepted custody of the prisoner, before letting go of the thief – whose head then hit the floor with a muffled thud. He tsk'ed, "Kreacher is so awkward, Master Harry, he apologizes for his clumsiness..."

"I think we ought to obliviate Fletcher rather than kill him, Harry – you never know, we might find a use for him later on," Hermione decided.

"He's obviously unreliable as curse-fodder, but you two do what you want," Ron shrugged again. "Far as I'm concerned, there are other priorities."

Harry frowned, as his friend turned around and headed upstairs. Ignoring the look of chagrin on Hermione's face, he thought to himself, { Merlin's pants, but I hope Ron gets over whatever it was he saw in that Mirror soon, and goes back to normal. Last thing we need around here is him and Hermione to start fighting like they normally do! }

Kreacher suddenly let out a cry of great distress. "What has happened to Mistress's portrait?!" Then he peered at the empty gold frame of the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities and added in a happier tone, "The hidden cursed mirror of the blood traitors is no more? Kreacher is pleased, yes, very pleased to know this..."


Black Family library

Later that night

Ron Weasley sat on the most comfortable chair in the room, which wasn't saying much, clutching a bottle of firewhiskey – one that was a leftover from the days when Sirius had been forced to live here, as a fugitive from the law. He was greatly tempted to get drunk to try to forget everything that he'd seen and learned today – better to end up completely legless than, say, try to obliviate himself – but the young man suspected that if he started drowning himself with the magical alcohol, then he'd never be able to stop...

{ I saw Death itself, } Ron thought hollowly, slowly placing the bottle on the floor. { Bloody fucking hell, that story of the three brothers from The Tales of Beedle the Bard was actually true?! Makes you wonder if all the rest of them bard tales are true as well... no, never mind. Question is, what am I going to do now? }

He honestly didn't know. Because Ron's mind was a completely chaotic mess at the moment, he was quite willing to admit that. And while normally he'd simply confess everything to Harry and Hermione in order to fix that, right now, he couldn't – it just wasn't a viable option.

Because if he even so much as thought of those two, in Ron's mind, he saw them making love to one another in that tent – which was enough to make him want to lash out and kill someone, or else curl up into a ball and wish the world would go away... as the Mirror had oh-so-charmingly put it, after one of the visions earlier today.

{ All right, let's start from the beginning. Potter is a... a Horcrux, } Ron thought to himself slowly. { He became one when he survived the Killing Curse, the same night his parents died. And like the Mirror said, Dumbledore knew – he had to have known. Maybe he knew all along, or maybe he just suspected up until he examined that Diary Horcrux Lucius Malfoy planted on Ginny? Doesn't really matter, the point is Dumbledore was too smart and too powerful not to have learned the truth at some point – and he didn't tell anyone before he died? Not even Potter himself? Blimey! If I hadn't found out the truth today, what then? We'd have lost the war, just because that – that manipulative old coot took the most important secret with him to his grave? }

The more Ron thought about it, the angrier he got. { I just – I honestly can't understand what the heck Dumbledore was thinking! I mean, if he wanted the three of us to hunt down the horcruxes, then why didn't he simply give us the Sword of Gryffindor before he got killed? He only had a year or more to do it! And even assuming there was a valid reason not to hand it over that way, then why would our mysterious ally wait so long to deliver it in the Forest of Dean? It just doesn't make any sense – well, unless the old man really did go completely mental, towards the end! I mean, what other explanation is there? Dumbledore didn't even tell me that I could use the Deluminator that way, I thought it was just a toy to switch the lights on and off... }

Shaking his head, Ron dismissed thoughts of Dumbledore from his mind. He then thought about all the visions he'd seen today, all the 'what might have been's courtesy of the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities – and slowly, he came to the conclusion that if the Mirror had been trying to teach him any kind of lesson, it was this:

All the people with true power that he'd encountered in his life so far, none of them could be trusted.

Snape.

Lockhart.

Barty Crouch junior.

Umbridge.

Scrimgeour.

Voldemort.

Dumbledore.

Even Granger and Potter...

{ Merlin's arse, how did I not see it before? } Ron asked himself in astonishment, as he went over everything he'd seen and heard from a few hours ago. { And that means – I can't confide in anyone about this, can I? Not even my family! Because no matter who it was, Ginny would soon learn that the specky git she still loves is almost certainly doomed, and I can't do that to her! So I've got to do it all myself, which... shouldn't be too hard. I mean, if the best I can hope for is that Death eventually changes it all, right from the start... from before Potter is even born... so that the Order can eventually win the war, then what else can I do but make sure I die in Fred's place, around nine months from now? }

Straightaway, that led to something that Ron did not want to think about – the concept of him and Hermione having a daughter, and that daughter eventually getting involved with Draco Malfoy's son. { Erghhhh... }

All right, maybe that part wasn't entirely bad – any child of Hermione's would almost certainly inherit her brains, and the girl should be able to tell whether or not the Ferret's kid was worthy of her love. Hopefully, anyway. And best as he could tell from Death's thoughts, the boy would take after his mother a lot more than his father, if that evil bitch who was determined to make sure Voldemort won actually had to seduce him in order to get Malfoy junior to join her. And while Ron didn't exactly relish the idea of having any Malfoy become part of the family, the more important issue was –

{ How could I ever hold my infant daughter in my arms, knowing the price for her existence was Fred's life? } Ron asked himself blackly. { And yeah, I can't be completely sure it'll happen that way – there are no certainties, after all, maybe I could figure out how to save my brother without having to die that way, but – is that worth the possible consequences? Especially after learning that Potter and Granger will most likely end up together, in a few months' time? Wait... does that mean she'd settle for me, after Potter's dead? Probably, yeah... which means... no, forget it. I already know what the best possible outcome is; so I'm sorry, little darling, but I simply can't afford to risk it. Daddy needs to die both for Uncle Fred to live, and for Death to do what it'll do... }

Grabbing the firewhiskey from its place on the floor, Ron got up off the chair and started to pace around the room. It wasn't a pleasant prospect, contemplating your own death – but by this point, Ron had long suspected he'd never had any real chance of surviving the war, anyway. And as long as his family – his parents, brothers and sister – as long as they lived, he was more or less okay with that.

But hang on – if Trelawney did make that second prophecy about him of all people, and Dumbledore did kidnap him as a baby and did that blood magic ritual on him within the Death Chamber – would the Weasley family be okay? Ron frowned, as he tried to imagine what a world without him growing up at the Burrow would be like...

{ It'll probably be better for everyone there, actually, } the young wizard thought to himself slowly. { Not like I ever did anything important before Hogwarts, and there'd be a few more galleons to go around with six kids rather than seven, if I'm not there. And so what if Ginny doesn't have a brother close to her own age, or Fred and George don't have their favorite choice of prank victim, growing up? They'll make do, somehow. Bill, Charlie and Percy, they'd help out – and they'd help their parents cope with the lie Dumbledore will engineer about my 'death' as well. Okay, I'm a bit worried that Ginny might die during my second year, and Dad might get killed by Voldemort's snake during my O.W.L.s year, if Potter doesn't have any strong connection to the Weasleys – but as long as the bloke's not evil, the odds are he'd still save them, right? I can only hope so, anyway. }

Feeling a little better, Ron put the bottle of Ogden's finest on a nearby table as he thought to himself, { So how would me ending up an Unspeakable actually help the Order win, with the least amount of life lost? Do I interfere in that battle at the Department of Mysteries, during fifth year? Prevent those recent lies about muggleborns 'stealing' magic from ever getting published? Or – maybe it's because I was never there to get in the way, Potter and everyone else are simply better prepared for the war? }

Shrugging, Ron put those thoughts aside and began to plan for the future in this timeline. { At some point, we'll most likely retrieve the locket Horcrux from Umbridge, and then be forced to abandon this house, go on the run and live in that tent for months. And practically starve to death, before I leave Potter and Granger to shack up together! Doesn't sound like fun at all – so first thing I... we... need to do, is stash enough food all over the country to last us for at least a year. Oh, and find that Exploding Fluid, I suppose... }

He winced at the thought of Hermione committing suicide, and quickly decided that all he'd do was procure the explosives – nothing else. If Granger decided she wanted to die that way after both he and Potter were gone, that would be strictly her decision. Despite everything he'd witnessed today, Ron knew he still owed the brunette witch a lot for all her help over the past six years – and there was still a tiny part of him that loved her and wanted her for himself, damn it all.

{ Forget that, } Ron told himself firmly, before wandering over to the library shelves. { Because if all goes according to plan – both her and Potter will grow up in a world where Ron Weasley will have officially died at birth, where he will have only existed for a day or so before Ronald Croaker takes over his life instead. Yeah, have to admit – can't help wondering what growing up as an Unspeakable will be like... }

The youth grabbed a book about the Department of Mysteries off a nearby shelf, and started to read. But then there was a flash of golden fire, and a familiar-looking swan-sized bird appeared –

"Fawkes?" Ron said in surprise, as the phoenix settled on the edge of his shoulder. "How'd you-? Merlin, I wasn't expecting you to show up..."

The truth was, after Dumbledore's death, everyone had thought they had seen the last of the immortal creature; it had sung its final song after the funeral, and then departed for parts unknown. But now that it was here, maybe Fawkes could –

"OUCH!" Ron yelled in pain after the phoenix's razor-sharp beak dug into his earlobe, drawing blood. "Oi, what-?"

Ron didn't have time to say anything else, as he felt Fawkes' tongue taste his blood before a teardrop healed the wound, and then the songbird took off into the air. It seemed to stare at him intensely, circling him once – before the phoenix vanished with another burst of fire.

"That thing must have gone completely mental!" Ron tried to figure out what all that had been for, but it had been a long day filled with too many shocks, and so he just gave up, grabbed the firewhiskey and left for his bedroom – his new bedroom, he could no longer share a room with Potter without something regrettable happening – and decided to get some sleep.

The future – the next nine months or so – felt like a long, dark tunnel for him to crawl through... with the most likely outcome being a very painful death, awaiting him at Hogwarts.


The Forbidden Forest, not far from the Hogwarts grounds

May 2nd, 1998

{ I'm going to die, } Harry thought to himself bleakly, as he walked slowly to his doom. { I was never meant to survive all this. Well, at least it'll be over soon, and the job that ought to have been done in Godric's Hollow will finally be finished: neither will live, neither will survive... }

Harry's mind was still reeling with the knowledge of everything he'd learned less than an hour ago, and so it went back to the beginning, trying to make sense of it all. The Horcrux hunt which had commenced at the start of the year – no, even before that... the incident with the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities, within the ancestral Black family home. The encounter that had changed everything between him and Hermione and Ron –

{ Ron. } His first friend other than Hagrid, when he was just eleven years old. The boy who had grown up alongside him and Hermione, and who Harry had hoped he'd be able to call 'brother' one day – at least, if he and Ron's sister Ginny survived the war and got married afterwards. The ginger who'd been with him right from the start, who had seen him at his best and worst and stuck by him –

– until that blasted Mirror had shown him something so horrible that Ron had completely withdrawn from him and Hermione, both.

Hermione had nagged at Ron to tell them the truth, of course, she couldn't stand not knowing the answer to any mystery. But all that her pestering and demands for an explanation had gotten her was shrugs and cold looks, before Ron had either left the room or changed the subject. Eventually Hermione had given up in tears, confiding to him that Ron simply wasn't the same person anymore, and she couldn't understand why...

But life had gone on, and eventually the day had come where they'd infiltrated the Ministry and successfully stolen the locket Horcrux from Umbridge. That was also the day they'd been forced to abandon Kreacher and the Order headquarters at Grimmauld Place, since that Death Eater – Yaxley – had managed to follow them there, and so the Black family residence had been lost to them.

It hadn't been so bad, immediately afterwards. Even though Ron had been badly splinched, both he and Hermione had looked after the bloke until he'd recovered. And the ginger had pulled his own weight even while he'd been handicapped, holding on to the Horcrux – for some reason, it had been unable to attack Ron's mind the same way it had attacked his and Hermione's, and so it hadn't taken long before they'd realized the situation and Ron had started carrying that damned locket all the time.

Well, almost – Hermione had insisted that she and Harry also take their turns with it, though those occasions grew less and less as the Horcrux started to attack them more and more. But as long as Ron was there, that hadn't been a problem – and add in the incredibly lucky fact that the bloke had come up with the idea that they should hide food and supplies all over the country just in case they were forced to abandon their temporary home, it was almost as if they'd gone on a camping holiday or something!

But the good times hadn't lasted, of course. After nearly two months of wandering around looking for Voldemort's soul anchors (and something to destroy the Horcrux they already had), and slowly getting more and more discouraged, winter had set in early and Harry's black mood had grown worse and worse. Eventually a night had come – November 28th, Harry would never forget that date – when he'd completely lost his temper after a row over the wizarding radio, and he had screamed at Ron to get out of the tent, and go back to his family.

Both he and Hermione had been surprised by Ron's response, though: "It's finally time for me to leave, is it? All right, then, here's the locket. I'll grab my things, and piss off – but just in case you change your mind, Potter? I'll be waiting for you and Granger in the Forest of Dean near the branch point of the River Wye, exactly five weeks from tonight. Good luck to you both until then, I suppose..."

Hermione had practically begged Ron not to go, of course. But he had told her, calmly and coldly, that he wasn't going to stay somewhere he wasn't wanted. And when Hermione had said that if he left she was going to leave with him, Ron had told her in the most reasonable tone imaginable that if she did that and Harry got himself killed, then all the hopes of the British wizarding world would die with him. Therefore she had to stay, and if Harry changed his mind at some point, they could reform the trio again five weeks later.

Once Ron had left Harry had felt roughly two inches tall, and the locket had seized on the opportunity to attack his mind more brutally than ever. It didn't help that Hermione's glares had lasted a full week, and that they ended up playing hot potato with the locket until that disastrous Christmas trip to Godric's Hollow, where Harry's wand had been broken and Voldemort's snake Nagini had nearly killed them both.

Harry hadn't said anything to Hermione about losing his wand, of course – she was already miserable and discouraged enough as it was, despite saving his life that night. He was pretty sure the only thing which had kept her going at that point was the thought of the upcoming rendezvous with Ron, within the Forest of Dean. Harry was honest enough with himself to admit that the thought of reuniting with his former best mate was pretty much all that was sustaining him, as well.

And what a rendezvous it had been – encountering the mysterious silver doe patronus, following it to that small, ice-covered pool in the forest, and recovering the Sword of Gryffindor! Okay, he'd almost drowned thanks to the locket trying to strangle him that night, but Ron had shown up in time to save his life and destroy the locket, and everything had worked out alright in the end.

(Although Harry still hadn't quite figured out why Ron had muttered, "Wasn't supposed to be like this...", after hauling both him and the Sword out of the freezing water.)

Anyway, Ron's return had more or less been like a long-overdue family reunion – the bloke had seemed to lose a lot of his cold, apathetic attitude once he'd rejoined them, much to his and Hermione's relief. Although – that first time the ginger had entered the tent and Hermione had thrown herself into his arms, Ron had frowned and stared at her bed with a questioning look on his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry – do you want your sweater back?" Hermione had asked uncomfortably.

"You were wearing it in your sleep?" Ron had replied, looking flabbergasted as his gaze had flicked back and forth between her bed and his former best friend's. "Wasn't expecting that..."

Nonetheless, once the trio had been reunited, life had started looking up. Granted, there had been Snatchers everywhere by that point, looking to grab muggleborns and blood traitors and turn them in for a reward from the Ministry; but Harry hadn't been too worried about them, he had full confidence in Hermione's enchantments protecting them from that sort of rabble.

Until the day he'd foolishly said Voldemort's name, despite knowing about the Taboo curse, and they'd been captured and taken to Malfoy Manor. That evil bitch Bellatrix had then tortured Ron, while he and Hermione were held captive in the dungeons – Harry still couldn't believe some of the things Ron had said to rile up that insane woman beforehand, like the Lestrange witch secretly being the product of a drunken centaur raping her mother – until Dobby had shown up to rescue the three of them, along with Dean Thomas, Luna and Garrick Ollivander.

Poor Dobby – the elf's death had been a horrible blow, even though Harry had almost gotten used to losing friends and allies in the war by that point. What he hadn't been expecting, though, was Bill almost hexing him and Hermione when they showed up at Shell Cottage, with Ron half-dead and semi-catatonic from the torture – apparently, the curse-breaker hadn't liked learning just why his little brother had left the group back in November...

It had taken his alienated (former?) friend weeks to recover, even with Hermione being Ron's devoted nurse and glaring at anyone (especially him) who even so much as suggested that they couldn't stay at the cottage forever. But eventually they had made their plans to break into Gringotts and with the goblin Griphook's help, they'd managed to retrieve the Horcrux that was Helga Hufflepuff's cup. It was unfortunate that they'd lost the Sword of Gryffindor, but Harry couldn't help noticing that Ron hadn't looked too concerned by that – and, not for the first time, he'd wondered why nothing seemed to faze the former Gryffindor Keeper any longer, how it was that Ron always seemed to act like victory was inevitable.

Not that he was complaining, of course – if it hadn't been for that sort of attitude, they might have died down in the vaults of Gringotts, instead of Hermione getting the bright idea for the three of them to ride that dragon out of the caves, and away to safety...

But then they'd arrived at the Hog's Head and later at Hogwarts, and everything had quickly accelerated towards open war. First the cup Horcrux had been destroyed, thanks to Ron going down to the Chamber of Secrets (who would have ever thought he could imitate speaking parseltongue that way?) and stabbing it with a basilisk fang, while he and Hermione had figured out where Voldemort's Diadem Horcrux had been hidden. It was too bad the Room of Requirement had been utterly wrecked by Vincent Crabbe's fiendfyre in the process of destroying that Horcrux, along with Crabbe dying as well – but those were the fortunes of war, so to speak.

And then disaster had struck – the three of them had encountered Fred and Percy, and Ron had died saving Fred's life. Hermione had almost become a complete nutter afterwards, and he'd been forced to leave her behind with Ron's family in order to go after Nagini. But not before Bill had handed him a letter that he said Ron had given to him, in case his youngest brother died at some point.

The message inside the envelope had been simple, and direct to the point: 'HARRY POTTER IS A HORCRUX.'

Naturally, that information had left Harry stunned, and he'd barely managed to shamble over the Shrieking Shack in time to witness Snape's murder at Nagini's fangs, after Voldemort had ordered his familiar to kill the dungeon bat. Luckily, Dumbledore's loyal spy in the enemy ranks had lived just long enough to pass on his memories to Harry, which had confirmed that he was indeed a Horcrux and that he needed to die along with Nagini, so that someone else – Neville, possibly, the other potential candidate for the prophecy – could finish the job, and finally slay that near-soulless, snake-faced abomination...

{ Either way, as far as I'm concerned, the Quidditch match is over, } Harry thought numbly to himself, as he walked through the forest. { The Snitch has been caught, it's time to leave the air – }

The Snitch. Just as Dumbledore had given his Deluminator to Ron and his personal copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard to Hermione, so too had Harry received his own posthumous gift from the old man. His nerveless fingers fumbled for a moment with the pouch at his neck, before he pulled it out.

'I open at the close.'

Breathing fast and hard, he stared down at it. Finally understanding what the words meant, Harry pressed the golden metal to his lips and whispered, "I am about to die."

The metal shell instantly broke open. Harry lowered his shaking hand, and then raised the wand he'd recently taken from Draco Malfoy – the real one, not that fake image within the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities – and he murmured, "Lumos."

The black stone, with a jagged crack running down the center, sat in the two halves of the Snitch. Just as he'd suspected, it was the Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows. It wasn't in the best condition; as said, it had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the Stone Deathly Hallows were still discernible, though. And again, Harry understood without having to think why Dumbledore had willed this stone to him.

He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times.

"You shouldn't have done that, Harry. Summoning the dead comes with a heavy price, you ought to know that by now," Ron's voice said, and straightaway Harry opened his eyes to look at the shade of his best friend.

Ron was neither ghost nor truly flesh, Harry understood that as soon as his hand passed through the ginger's lanky form. "Ron? You're really here?"

"In a manner of speaking. I mean, everything Ron Weasley was, I still am," the shade shook his head. "I honestly thought you'd know better than to use one of the Hallows, though, other than your cloak. Remember what happened to the second brother in Beedle the Bard's tale? Cadmus Peverell was arrogant enough to think he could handle the sight of his lost love after he summoned her from beyond the grave, but he couldn't. Oh, how he couldn't..."

"I'm not him, Ron. And whatever the price for bringing you back is, I'm about to die at Voldemort's hands – so what does that matter now?" Harry wanted to know, clutching the Resurrection Stone tighter in his hand.

"Well, there is that," Ron's shade inclined his head slightly. "So – why? Did you want me to tell you to be brave, that dying won't hurt, that it'll all be over in an instant-?"

"I didn't want you to die," Harry interrupted, suddenly finding it hard to look at the dead wizard standing in front of him. "I'm so sorry, Ron. I didn't want anyone to die –"

"You're talking about Lupin and Tonks," the ginger interrupted. "And don't summon them, Harry, I know you want to – but don't. Not them. Not Sirius. Not even your parents. It's not right to bring back the dead, Harry. You'll only make them – and yourself – suffer."

"And you?" Harry asked forlornly. "Are you suffering because I brought you back, Ron? Are you suffering now so that I don't inflict that same pain on others? Snape would call that stupid, Gryffindor nobility..."

"Severus Snape, heh – he was definitely a complicated bloke, wasn't he, Harry?" Ron's shade said musingly. "I know you saw his memories in Dumbledore's pensieve, we both know now how much your mother meant to him..."

"Snape was in love with my mother. Even though he called her a mudblood and she broke off their friendship during their fifth year at Hogwarts, he still loved Lily Evans all the days of his life," Harry said musingly. "As soon as I knew that, of course, I understood why he always acted that way towards me. I was a constant reminder of all his sins."

"It wasn't just that, Harry. Snape was the reason you became the Boy-Who-Lived, and the Chosen One," the other boy replied gravely.

"What do you mean?"

"The prophecy," Ron's shade replied. "Snape was the reason why it had to be you, not Neville. Not the only reason, granted, but the most important one. Because Snape overheard part of the prophecy and told his master, and given the child of said prophecy had to be marked as Voldemort's equal and later confront him, that boy had to have the possibility of surviving the attack. And unfortunately, Neville couldn't have lived if he'd been hit with Voldemort's Killing Curse. It would have been impossible for him to do so."

"I don't understand," Harry frowned. "Ron – you're telling me that I was always the one destined to survive that Avada Kedavra, that Neville wouldn't have survived it – but why? Neville's mum would have made the same sacrifice mine did, I'm sure of it!"

"It's not that simple, Harry. Alice Longbottom was an Auror, just like her husband Frank, and the odds are she wouldn't have just stood there and sacrificed her life to empower that sort of magical protection; instincts in the heat of battle are a hard thing to ignore. And besides, it wouldn't have worked even if she could have done that – Voldemort would have wanted both of Neville's parents dead," Ron's shade told him mournfully. "Whereas you... yes, Voldemort wanted James Potter dead – but your mum didn't have to die. You've known that ever since your battle with Quirrell and Voldemort, that night with the Mirror of Erised, remember? Truth is that Snape asked – more like begged – Voldemort to spare your mother, to give her to him as a gift for services rendered – and, somewhat amused by what he imagined Snape would do to her, that evil maniac agreed to the request. That's where everything went wrong for Tommy Riddle, you see – he decided to let Lily Potter live, no matter that he later killed her anyway, and that's what enabled your mum to work the sacrificial magic that allowed you to survive the Killing Curse. To survive and become known as the Boy-Who-Lived, something Neville couldn't ever be."

Harry felt sick. "So you're telling me that the only reason I ever lived this long, was because of Snape?"

"And Dumbledore, don't forget him," Ron's shade suddenly smiled. "Did I ever mention that the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities actually described him as a 'brilliant, manipulative poof?' Bit unflattering, I know; but the description's also rather fitting, if you ask me."

Harry blinked. "That Mirror... I always wondered, Ron. What did it really show you after I left you alone with it that day, what was so terrible that it made you turn away from me and Hermione like that? Both of us almost went spare trying to figure it out, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I always knew." Ron was silent for a few moments then said, "Well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. The truth is, Harry, my great-grandfather's creation could not only show people the 'might have been's from the past – but also the 'might be's from the future. After you went to check on Hermione that day, I asked the Mirror to show me what would most likely be happening to us in early January – so, can you guess what it showed me?"

"That Mirror showed you what might possibly be happening in the future? But Ron, you said – you said that you saw..." Harry trailed off, a look of utter horror appearing on his face.

"You shagging someone rather unexpected, yeah. It's true, Harry; I saw you in bed with Hermione, and I'm pretty sure that it wasn't the first time, either," Ron's shade nodded, ignoring the sick look on his companion's face. "That's when I found out you were a Horcrux as well, actually. Later in that vision of the future, the locket tried to bargain for its survival, and it gave me enough clues to learn the truth."

"You mean, you knew I was a Horcrux all this time – for nine bloody months – and you never said or did anything about it, other than that letter you left with Bill at Shell Cottage? You didn't even tell Hermione?!" Harry exploded angrily.

"I brought up the subject once, actually, after she cornered me in the Black family library," Ron replied calmly. "Asked our bushy-haired genius what we should do if Voldemort made another Horcrux, if he made a person into one of those cursed things. If there was any chance we could save them, if we could remove Riddle's soul fragment without killing the human container."

"And what did she say?" Harry wanted to know, calming down.

"That she wouldn't have a clue how to do something like that, or even where to start looking to find out. And that we had other priorities anyway, finding and destroying the other horcruxes we already knew about. In other words, Hermione basically told me that the human Horcrux would have to be sacrificed for the Greater Good – if you'll pardon the expression," Ron's shade said apologetically.

"And you just accepted that it wasn't possible to save me, after seeing me shag the woman you love in that vision," Harry said in a dead, defeated tone of voice. "Makes sense, I have to say."

"It wasn't like that, not really. Because at that point? Truth is, I couldn't let myself feel anything where you two were concerned, in order to maintain my sanity. And besides, that wasn't the only thing on my mind back then – because that vision wasn't the only one the Mirror showed me after you left, Harry. Remember how I told you and Hermione that I saw myself die, that day? Well, I thought about it, and I eventually came to the conclusion that Fred surviving that explosion was more important than me surviving it – after I got used to the fact that you and Hermione never shagged while I was gone, like I was expecting you to."

"You – you knew?" Harry whispered in sudden horror, and for the sake of his own sanity, completely ignoring that bit where Ron had been expecting him to take Hermione's virginity, once they were alone in that tent. "You're telling me that you knew all along that you were going to die today? Ever since last August? How did you-?"

"Live with it? It was pretty easy, actually," Ron's shade interrupted with an amused look. "Because pretty soon, if everything goes as I expect it will – none of this will matter anymore."

"None of this will matter anymore? What do you mean?" Harry demanded, feeling confused.

"I saw Death in that last vision, Harry. As in, Death from The Tale of the Three Brothers. I even felt its presence later, when it showed up to personally destroy the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities for infringing upon its privacy – so did you and Hermione, remember? That horrid chill that almost felt like a horde of Dementors? That's why the locket couldn't affect me, oddly enough, unlike what I saw and heard in the vision – the one thing Voldemort and his horcruxes truly fear is death, and the personal memory of it I had repelled that locket better than any Occlumens ability. Anyway, I saw what Death is planning in case Voldemort and his forces win..."

Ron abruptly looked down, and checked what looked like the watch his parents had given him for his seventeenth birthday. "The hour of grace that evil bastard granted our side is almost up, Harry, we've talked for long enough. Time for you to go meet your destiny, I'm afraid."

"You'll stay with me until the end, won't you?"

"I'll keep the Dementors at bay, prevent them from affecting you as best I can," Ron's shade promised. "Once you face Voldemort himself, though, I can't interfere anymore."

"I understand," Harry sighed, briefly wishing he had his invisibility cloak before squaring his shoulders and straightening up. "Let's get this over with."

He walked deeper into the forest, and followed the two Death Eaters named Antonin Dolohov and Corban Yaxley to the clearing where Voldemort's forces had made their camp. There were quite a few people that Harry recognized, actually, but he only had eyes for Nagini – who floated in her glittering, charmed cage, safe from harm.

{ Soon, } Harry promised her, looking at his fellow Horcrux. { Soon enough, Neville or someone else will kill you – and then your master will be fair game, once all his soul anchors are finally gone. My only regret is that I, personally, won't be there to see him finally get what he deserves. }

When Dolohov and Yaxley joined the circle of the faithful, Voldemort looked up. "Well?"

"No sign of him, my Lord," Dolohov replied.

"I thought Potter would come," Voldemort replied in his high, cold, clear voice, his eyes on the two minions who'd just arrived. "I was certain that he would come, to spare his friends' lives. Was I truly mistaken in thinking that?"

"No, you weren't," Harry replied, stepping into view – and immediately, a loud roar broke loose, the Death Eaters shouting, at least fifty wands pointing in his direction.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort shouted, and instantly the cacophony of noise vanished. Harry vaguely heard a familiar voice – Hagrid's, maybe? – but he only had eyes and ears for his life-long enemy now. Even Ron's shade had vanished from view.

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said very softly, before his lips curled into a mirthless smirk. "The Boy-Who-Lived."

{ I hope Ron was right when he said that Death actually has a plan to fix all this, if Voldemort wins... } was the last thought that went through Harry's brain, before the Killing Curse erupted from the Elder Wand.

There was a flash of green light, and then everything vanished into a black void.


The Forbidden Forest, not far from Hogwarts grounds

A short while earlier

Safely invisible thanks to Harry's cloak, Hermione Jean Granger was a woman on a mission.

There was very little left in her now of the idealistic teenager she'd once been, what felt like a million years ago – but was actually only a couple of days short of nine months. She had lost her parents, she had lost the Burrow which had been like her second home, she had lost all her illusions regarding how evil her fellow witches and wizards could be, and she had lost –

– him.

It was laughable, really, that Hermione had secretly dared to think that she and Ron Weasley might actually be able to have a future together, back in August (and for a long time, even before that). But the weeks and months after they'd discovered that accursed Mirror within the Order headquarters had made her doubt that such desires could ever come to pass, what with the way Ron had changed so much. The object of her affections had seemed to become a completely different person – haunted, brooding, and oftentimes surly to the point of being obscenely offensive!

It had taken until after New Year's Eve for him to recover, after splitting up with Harry and herself for those five horrid and lonely weeks. And quite frankly, it was a good thing Ron had promised to meet up with them again in the Forest of Dean – otherwise, she would have doubtless cried herself to sleep every night – and maybe even hexed his bollocks off once that boy showed up again, saving Harry's life in the process!

Still, after that, she had dared to think of a future with Ron Weasley again, especially after his demeanor had changed so much and Harry had become obsessed with the Deathly Hallows (to the point where her friend was no longer thinking about the mission Dumbledore had given all three of them – to hunt down and destroy Voldemort's horcruxes). She had thought of red-haired children, with her eyes and his mouth. At times, it had almost felt like she was practicing for the future by acting like Harry's mother, nagging and cajoling him to stick with the mission –

– until the day Harry had accidently said that name, and reality had come crashing down around her when they'd ended up in Malfoy Manor, and Ron had been tortured by that never-to-be-sufficiently-damned evil witch!

Hermione remembered constantly screaming Ron's name from within the Malfoy dungeons, yelling while his agonized howling from upstairs – thanks to Bellatrix's seemingly endless Cruciatus curses – had nearly driven her around the twist. If it hadn't been for Dobby – and the fact that Ron had previously confided in her that Shell Cottage was safe territory they could retreat to, if they had to – she might have lost her sanity completely!

The long, painful weeks Ron had spent recovering in his brother's house had been an excellent opportunity for her to rest and recover as well. She'd confided to Fleur that she had actually enjoyed nursing Ron back to health, and the French witch had simply smirked and said in her accented English, "I saw 'ow closely you two were dancing during ze wedding, 'ermione. And 'ow you started scowling at ma petite soeur, Gabrielle, when she started batting 'er eyelashes at Beel's brozzair. Eet is not too 'ard to... 'ow do you say... put two and two togezzer?"

Hermione had blushed and dropped the subject, after Fleur had advised her to "go for ze brass ring, as you British say", but she couldn't stop thinking about the quarter-Veela's advice either. Yes, there was a war on, and she, Ron and Harry were right in the middle of it, but – didn't Fleur have a point? What was the point of holding back any longer, when any of them could die at any time?

And three days later, of course, one of them had.

The memory of Ron dying less than two hours ago, throwing himself on top of Fred in order to save his brother's life, that was something which had made Hermione more or less lose her mind – for a short time, anyway. She remembered crying and screaming and clutching at Harry, wanting him to tell her that this was all just a terrible nightmare, that she would soon wake up at Shell Cottage and hear the roar of the sea waves crashing upon the shore, the tinkling of the wind chimes, the sound of Ron's voice saying that he was hungry –

Instead Harry had abandoned her to the care of the Weasleys, going off to kill the snake, Nagini. And once she'd recovered, she'd felt ashamed of losing sight of the mission, of what the three of them – two, now – were supposed to be doing. Yes, Ron had died without them sharing even one meaningful kiss, but she needed to focus – otherwise he would have died for nothing, when Voldemort finally won –

Grabbing Harry's invisibility cloak, as well as her wand and various weapons (including the Exploding Fluid she'd been gifted with – something Ron had asked Bill to procure from the twins, apparently), Hermione followed her old friend into the Forbidden Forest. She was tempted to stop him more than once – what did that silly fool think he was doing? Surely Harry didn't believe Voldemort's lie that he would spare everyone's lives, if his enemy simply gave himself up?

"Ron? You're really here?" she heard Harry say, holding – something in his right hand, and staring at nothing in particular right in front of him.

{ What? } Hermione asked herself in confusion. { Is Harry under a Confundus or something? I don't understand... }

"I'm not him, Ron. And whatever the price for bringing you back is, I'm about to die at Voldemort's hands – so what does that matter now?" Harry asked, clutching the whatever-it-was tighter in his hand.

{ NO! } Hermione immediately screamed in silent denial, having figured out her friend really was that stupid after all. She was about to sprint forward and try to shake some sense into him, but then Harry said to his imaginary companion:

"I didn't want you to die. I'm so sorry, Ron. I didn't want anyone to die –"

{ I'll just give him a few moments, then, } Hermione sighed to herself in annoyance. { It sounds like Harry needs absolution from the demons inside his psyche, and so I'd best step in once he's gotten it all out, I suppose. }

"And you?" Harry asked suddenly, sounding forlorn and miserable. "Are you suffering because I brought you back, Ron? Are you suffering now so that I don't inflict that same pain on others? Snape would call that stupid, Gryffindor nobility..."

{ Yes, Snape most certainly would, } Hermione was reluctantly forced to agree with Harry's sentiment. { Even I can't deny that; after all, the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin is the stuff of Hogwarts legend – }

"Snape was in love with my mother. Even though he called her a mudblood and she broke off their friendship during their fifth year at Hogwarts, he still loved Lily Evans all the days of his life," Harry said musingly, causing Hermione to gasp in surprise underneath the invisibility cloak. "As soon as I knew that, of course, I understood why he always acted that way towards me. I was a constant reminder of all his sins."

{ Well, that, and the fact that you two never once liked each other, } Hermione cogitated to herself, once she got over the shock of hearing that first part. { Snape was more than a little unpleasant to all of us – come to think of it, it's rather lucky that the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities didn't choose Snape's face and form to interact with us, instead of Malfoy's! We'd have been lacerated with broken glass, almost instantly! }

"I don't understand," Harry suddenly frowned. "Ron – you're telling me that I was always the one destined to survive that Avada Kedavra, that Neville wouldn't have survived it – but why? Neville's mum would have made the same sacrifice mine did, I'm sure of it!"

Suddenly, Hermione began to feel uneasy. Why would Harry ask himself that? Why would he doubt himself at this late stage? She peered closer at her friend's hand – it looked as if he was holding some sort of black stone...?

When Harry spoke up again, he sounded sick. "So you're telling me that the only reason I ever lived this long, was because of Snape?"

{ What is he hearing? } Hermione was almost starting to panic now. { What is it Harry's being told by – whoever or whatever he's listening to? }

A few seconds later Harry said slowly, "That Mirror... I always wondered, Ron. What did it really show you after I left you alone with it that day, what was so terrible that it made you turn away from me and Hermione like that? Both of us almost went spare trying to figure it out, you know."

{ Well, that's certainly true, } Hermione thought to herself, recalling those days at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place with a hidden grimace. { It nearly drove me utterly mad trying to determine who and what it was he saw and heard in that vision, exactly! }

"That Mirror showed you what might possibly be happening in the future? But Ron, you said – you said that you saw..." Harry trailed off, a look of utter horror appearing on his face.

Hermione instantly had the same look of horror on her face – she had never forgotten Ron's words that day. That he had seen himself die – again – and that he had seen Harry indulge in sexual relations with someone... unexpected.

That stone Harry was clutching – what was it? Something like the Resurrection Stone, out of The Tale of the Three Brothers? Was Ron's shade really here, then, even if she couldn't see or hear it?

But the next moment, Harry's words penetrated Hermione's thoughts all over again... and if all this wasn't a delusion – and Harry really was speaking with Ron's invisible and inaudible ghost right now – then there was only one woman who fulfilled that criterion, wasn't there? Given how isolated the three of them had been forced to remain this year, then the only girl Ron could have realistically foreseen Harry bedding during that glimpse of the future was –

– herself.

{ Oh dear God, } Hermione thought thickly, losing track of Harry's half of the conversation with his dead friend. { This all makes so much sense now – the way Ron acted after that Mirror was destroyed, the way he treated both Harry and I before he left us behind that night... every time he looked at the two of us, in his mind – Ron must have seen us doing that! No wonder he left! For heaven's sake, it's a miracle he ever came back! }

"You mean, you knew I was a Horcrux all this time – for nine bloody months – and you never said or did anything about it, other than that letter you left with Bill at Shell Cottage? You didn't even tell Hermione?!" Harry exploded angrily.

{ A Horcrux? What? } Hermione immediately froze, recalling one particular conversation during the previous August – she had found Ron in the library reading a book about the Unspeakables, of all the strangest things, and the ginger had asked her a hypothetical question about what if Voldemort ever made a human Horcrux. And she had said... she had said...

The young witch fought against the urge to vomit all over the invisibility cloak. { What have I done? Did I sign Harry's death warrant that day? Did I convince Ron that the situation was hopeless, that Harry was doomed right from the start? }

"And you just accepted that it wasn't possible to save me, after seeing me shag the woman you love in that vision," Harry said in a heavy and defeated tone of voice, which instantly made Hermione gasp again. "Makes sense, I have to say."

{ What? Ron loved me? I don't – why didn't he ever say anything?! }

"You – you knew?" Harry whispered a few moments later, looking horrified all over again. "You're telling me that you knew all along that you were going to die today? Ever since last August? How did you-?"

Hermione's sanity almost shredded itself after hearing that. It was just too much to take in; the concept that Ron had been waiting so long to die in order to save Fred's life, she literally couldn't imagine what it was like living on borrowed time like that... for heaven's sake, the fragments of this conversation were threatening to drive her completely bonkers...

Bad enough that she had already lost one of her boys, now she was going to lose the other one as well?

{ No, no, NO! }

"None of this will matter anymore? What do you mean?" Harry demanded, looking confused.

{ Yes, good question, } Hermione asked herself, trying to regain control of her emotions; but not succeeding very well. { Damn it, Ron, I wish I could hear what it is you're actually saying! Why won't you reveal yourself to me? }

"You'll stay with me until the end, won't you?"

After hearing that, Hermione straightened up, sensing that the conversation was nearing its conclusion.

"I understand," Harry sighed, before squaring his shoulders and straightening up himself. "Let's get this over with."

{ Lord help us, but Harry's going to get himself killed because he's a – a Horcrux, } Hermione thought numbly to herself, as she followed her friend under cover of the cloak. She then trailed after him, less than two paces behind as Harry followed Dolohov and Yaxley to the clearing where Voldemort's forces had made their camp. { Harry has to die because of what he is. And he's brave and noble and Gryffindor enough to walk to his own death this way. I've already lost both him and Ron, even if Harry hasn't stopped moving yet... }

And during the journey, Hermione asked herself, what was there to live for now that both her friends were dead and gone? Her parents, yes, but they had never really understood her since she was eleven years old; and they didn't remember her anymore, anyway, plus they were safely out of the way in Australia, lacking any clue about the magical world. Viktor Krum, perhaps – but he was just a friend, and merely part of her past now. And while Ron's parents may have loved her like a daughter, under the circumstances, her presence would always be just an aching reminder of the dead son they had lost...

{ Good thing I brought along that Exploding Fluid, } Hermione thought grimly to herself, making up her mind and moving away from Harry. { Now, to transfigure myself a suicide bomber vest, or some such thing... }

When Dolohov and Yaxley joined the circle of followers, Voldemort looked up. "Well?"

"No sign of him, my Lord," Dolohov replied.

"I thought Potter would come," Voldemort replied in his high, cold voice – which gave Hermione chills just hearing it. "I was certain that he would come, to spare his friends' lives. Was I truly mistaken in thinking that?"

"No, you weren't," Harry replied, stepping into view – and immediately, a loud roar broke loose, the Death Eaters shouting, at least fifty wands pointing in his direction.

"SILENCE!" Voldemort shouted, and instantly the cacophony of noise vanished.

Then a male voice yelled: "HARRY! NO!"

Hermione turned: Hagrid was bound and trussed, tied to a tree nearby. His massive body shook the branches overhead as the half-giant struggled, desperate to get loose. "NO! NO! HARRY, WHAT'RE YEH-?"

"QUIET!" Thorfinn Rowle shouted, and with a flick of the Death Eater's wand Hagrid was silenced.

{ I'm sorry, Hagrid, } Hermione briefly closed her eyes. { I hope you can forgive me for sacrificing your life as well as mine like this, but I'll never get a better opportunity to slay Nagini – and hopefully Voldemort as well. As Dumbledore would say, I need to do what's right, not what's easy... }

"Harry Potter," Voldemort said very softly, before his lips curled into a mirthless smirk. "The Boy-Who-Lived."

Hermione waited – any moment now...

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" the inhuman monster cast the Killing Curse, and then Harry was gone. She knew it to be true, even before the corpse had finished falling to the forest floor.

Hermione had expected to hear cheers of triumph and jubilation at her friend's death, but instead hurried footsteps, whispers, and solicitous murmurs filled the air as Voldemort likewise collapsed to the ground. { What happened? Why did he-? }

Bellatrix started saying worriedly, "My Lord. My Lord? My Lord –"

"That will do," Voldemort growled, as he rose to his feet and brushed away the hands of his followers. "The boy – is he dead? You," the evil demon in semi-human form snapped his fingers impatiently, and pointed at Narcissa Malfoy. "Examine him. Tell me whether he is dead or not."

It took less than ten seconds, which was more than enough time to prepare for Hermione's Last Stand.

"He is dead!" Narcissa called out to everyone.

And now the Death Eaters shouted, now they yelled in triumph and stamped their feet, and through the cloak, Hermione saw bursts of red and silver light shoot into the air in celebration. It made her want to be sick all over again.

{ Come on, you evil bastard! You think you've finally won, don't you? So go ahead and do what I want you to, Thomas, show me your arrogance and your belief that you're now invulnerable and immortal... it'll be the last mistake you ever make! } Hermione raged to herself, glaring at the bone-white figure in the dark robes.

"HARRY POTTER IS DEAD!" Voldemort yelled exultantly, and with a careless swish and flick of the Elder Wand, he undid the protective charm around Nagini as the huge snake fell to the ground, hissing madly. "You see? Harry Potter is dead by my hand, and no man alive can threaten me now! Watch while I – NO!"

Too late – Hermione had shucked the invisibility cloak and run straight for Nagini, her witch's robes transfigured into an explosive belt – she wanted her enemies to know just how badly their leader had underestimated this particular muggleborn. Casting a "Bombarda maxima!" in the direction of the minions with her wand, Hermione collided with the snake –

Just for a moment, there was a terrible ghastly silence.

Then there was a terrible, ghastly noise.

There followed another terrible, ghastly silence.

Death manifested itself in that devastated, lifeless clearing to retrieve its cloak, stone and wand, reunited for the first time since the thirteenth century.

As foreseen by the Mirror of Infinite Possibilities, Death then put forth His will – an extra prophecy appeared in the past –

And then, all that had been up until now – was no longer.

TO BE CONCLUDED...


A/N: Just wanted to say thanks to everyone for their reviews and feedback so far – and a particular thank you to Guest, for his/her anonymous review. And to answer your question, yes Hermione knows that what she witnessed in chapter 6 was just a 'might have been', but! It's like they're actually there, living the dream – and so, she reacted... emotionally. Anyway, just need to say that part of the text in this chapter comes from chapter 11 and chapter 34 of JKR's 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows', so – nothing from therein belongs to me. As always, I hope you keep telling me what you think of this fanfic – the big finale is coming up next!