Chapter 70 – Chiaroscuro

The following morning was given over to reflection. And well it should have been, considering what was to come. Harry had no idea whatsoever whether he would survive the day's events on that sunny Saturday morning, and thoughts of what the day would bring, mingled with a feeling of melancholy, had settled over him. Thoughts of his life, the things he had experienced, what he had learned, and the love that he had found, had all settled on him, and he felt even more thoughtful than he had been when he had been certain that he had to die to remove the horcrux.

Sleep had not come easily the night before. The moment his head hit the pillow, his mind was given over to consideration of the ritual he would undergo the next day, and though he did doze in spurts, for the most part, he lay in bed, his mind a jumble of complex emotions, thoughts and feelings, which had refused to be sorted. It had been before six when he had finally given up, taken a shower, and proceeded to the common room, where he could more conveniently think. And it was there that one of his loves found him.

"Harry?" he heard Hermione's voice pull him from his reverie.

Looking up he noted that Hermione was standing at the bottom of the stairs to the girls' dorms, watching him intently. Her countenance was suffused with a soft expression much as she had used to look at him, even before they had become romantically attached. And looking into her beloved face, Harry saw that the anger and resentment had faded, replaced with nothing more than love and acceptance. It was an expression he had not seen openly on Hermione's face since that fateful night in which he and Ginny had killed Nagini.

Holding out his hand, Harry beckoned Hermione to join him, feeling gratified when she immediately accepted. He took Hermione's hand into his own and pulled her down by his side, sighing with contentment when her head was resting on his shoulder.

"Have I ever told you two that I could get used to this?" he asked.

"I think you might have mentioned it a time or two," Hermione replied, snuggling in closer.

"Sleepless night?" Hermione asked after a brief pause.

Harry grunted. "As if you didn't already know. You?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Hermione returned. "My future husband is undergoing a dangerous ritual today. I think that pretty much says it all. Anxiety doesn't even begin to cover it."

This was how it was meant to be, Harry decided—he and Hermione, together, doing nothing more than taking comfort in each other's presence. It had not always been that way; though the relationship between Ron and Hermione had been by far the most volatile between the three of them, he and Hermione had certainly had their disagreements and spats from time to time. But looking back on their history, he could see now that no matter what had come between them, they had always gravitated back to one another. When he thought about it, Harry decided that he did not really believe in fate, but what he shared with Hermione seemed to be the closest thing to that nebulous concept that he could imagine. If Fleur had never come into his life, Harry was certain that he could have been completely happy with Hermione alone. That is, if he had ever gotten up the courage to tell her about his feelings.

But that was wrong too—to even consider the possibility that he would not have come to love Fleur was incomprehensible. Both women were so entwined in his life and affections now that he doubted he would ever be able to unwind them, even if he was inclined to try. But whereas he and Fleur had often taken the time to be together alone, he had not had that opportunity nearly as much with Hermione. Whether that was because of their familiarity, he was not certain, but for him to build a strong relationship with her, Harry realized that he would need to make sure that they had that time in the future.

"Are you worried about today?" Hermione asked into the stillness.

Harry shrugged. "Yes and no. I know that anything could happen and part of me is a little afraid of it, but the greater part of me just wants it to be over."

"That is understandable," Hermione murmured.

A moment later she lifted her head from his shoulder, and she turned to look him in the eyes. "In case I haven't said it much lately, I just want you to know that I love you."

"I know," Harry said with a grin.

Laughing lightly, Hermione swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "You're feeling a little cocky this morning, aren't you Mr. Solo?"

"More contented and assured of the love of a certain girl than cocky." He paused and gazed at her seriously, taking in the depths of her brown eyes, the well-loved face which had matured from girl to woman, and the way her hair fell over her face in straggly ringlets, reminiscent of the younger Hermione he had met almost five years earlier. "But just so there is no misunderstanding, I want you to know that I love you too."

He was not certain who started it, but after gazing into her eyes for the briefest moment, soon he was kissing her with abandon. Light and playful nips and pecks interspersed with longer, more passionate kisses which poured out every bit of emotion between them. This was their true reconciliation, Harry thought, with as much coherence as he was capable at the moment.

A clearing of a throat forced them apart, and breathlessly Harry looked up and saw Fleur watching them from the stairs, a faint smile favoring them.

"So this is what you two get up to when I'm not around?" she asked playfully.

Harry extended a hand and beckoned her to join them. "Don't be jealous, Fleur," he said lovingly.

"I'm not jealous," she said as she approached and took his hand. "I just want my share too."

Without any hesitation, Harry attended to that, greeting her as a beautiful woman must be greeted. A moment later, Harry was comfortably situated on the sofa, his shoulder occupied by the heads of both of his loves.

Silence descended upon the three, each taking comfort and strength in the others' presence. This was family, Harry thought, not that pale reflection the Dursleys had always tried to pass off as normal family relations. Harry was well aware of the fact that today's activities might be for naught—any number of things could go wrong, and though he was no Arithmancer, he had a pretty good idea that most of them would bode ill for his ability to continue to take breath.

However, one thing Harry was certain—if nothing else, at least he had known love in his life. His upbringing had not prepared him for it—the Dursleys had shown precious little love to each other, and none to him, and he knew now that in all of his dreams of having a family, he had never really known for what he had been searching. But starting with Hermione and Ron after their arrival in Hogwarts, through the times he had spent with the Weasleys, to his time spent with the Delacours, and now to the wonderful relationships he now shared with these two young women, his heart had been touched.

It had perhaps not been a conscious thought, but on some level, young and unloved Harry, living in a home where he was only barely tolerated, had feared the possibility of never being loved. Even more, he had feared dying without anyone ever loving him. The Dursleys had taken even the love of his parents from him, when they filled his head with tales of how his father and mother had killed themselves in a car accident as drunks. That hurt possibly worse than any other wound, as it would have been the one love he could have been assured of had he known the truth.

But now that was all washed away as though it had never been. The love of these two wonderful women had filled the void in his heart, and he knew that should he die today, or live another one hundred years, that cavity would never become a void again. If he should die today, Hermione and Fleur would undoubtedly find others to love—they were both such wonderful girls that it was inconceivable that they would never find anyone else. But Harry was comforted by the thought that a piece of their hearts would always belong to him. That gave him a strength that he had never thought possible.

"What are you thinking of?"

Distracted from his thoughts, Harry smiled down at his oldest friend. "The usual, I suppose. Life. Happiness. Love. And everything else in between, I suppose."

"Well at least you're staying positive," was her response.

Harry laughed. "Oh, there have been other thoughts as well. Mortality, for instance, has been much on my mind this morning. But I've realized a few things during all that has happened, and I think I've gained a certain amount of perspective."

Lifting her head from his shoulder, Fleur regarded him with a half smile. "Do tell," she gently urged.

Though he wished to speak, he found that he could not, and for a moment he was silent, sorting though his thoughts and bringing them into some semblance of order. Were life-changing events always this difficult on a person's equilibrium? Harry assumed that they must be, though every other time he had been in the midst of such an event, he had been either too surprised, or too busy to contemplate it in a philosophical sense. This was different in that he was given time to think and to prepare, at least in some small way. He was not certain that he did not prefer just to react as the situation demanded—he was not precisely a cerebral person, after all.

"I'm not sure I can put everything into words," Harry finally said, albeit hesitantly. "I've just got the feeling that I've… I don't know. Maybe I've learned a few things.

"My whole life I've been trying to find something. First it was acceptance, then it was the struggle to fit in, when I was alternately praised and reviled. Then this whole thing with the horcrux came along and I found myself drifting once again, when I had thought I had found a stable place."

Harry halted for a few moments and considered, before he spoke again. "I guess I also discovered that I've relied on myself for so long that I just got caught up in all that. I still believe that I had good reasons for going after Nagini myself, but in hindsight, I never thought of the consequences for both of you."

Another thought came into Harry's head and he chuckled ruefully at himself. "I suppose that's not exactly true," he said. "I knew that you would both take it hard, but I rationalized that you would both find someone else if I didn't come back."

"And what did that tell you about yourself?" Hermione prompted.

"That on some level I doubted your love for me," Harry replied. "Oh I knew that you wouldn't get over me so quickly. But on another level, I also thought that perhaps you were both better off without me."

Fleur drew away from his shoulders and gazed into his eyes, before leaning in and kissing him. It was a soft and sensual kiss, not passionate like some he had shared with her in the past, but playfully Fleur, with the promise of delights to come.

"Do you still believe that?" Fleur asked after she had pulled away.

"I know that I'm certainly not better off without you," was Harry's reply.

From his other side, Hermione put and hand on his cheek, and proceeded to kiss him much as Fleur had done before. But where Fleur's kisses had been a little more playful, Hermione's were passionate and full of need. Her kiss almost devoured his lips, speaking of the hardship which had come over them by their recent distance. Though he knew it was virtually impossible, Harry vowed in that moment to never allow them to pull apart to the extent that they had in the past few days. The make-up kisses were amazing, if he was any judge, but the experience was far too painful to make it worth it.

"You didn't answer Fleur's question," was Hermione's husky statement once she had ended the kiss. Harry, for his part, would have been pleased to continue kissing her until the world came to an end.

"I still maintain that you both would find someone else if you had to," Harry said. When Hermione's eyes narrowed and she appeared about to retort, he covered her mouth with a finger and glanced at Fleur, noticing that she too was showing signs of being displeased, though she had not said anything as of yet.

"Listen to me—both of you," Harry said. "We can't know the future and nothing is guaranteed." He turned and looked Fleur in the eyes earnestly. "I heard and understood what you said, Fleur, that you want me to live for you."

Harry stopped and looked between them both, feeling a little choked with emotion. He forced himself to continue through the haze of tears and the hitch in his voice. "There's nothing I want more than to live the rest of my life with you both—family, a lifetime together, 'til death do us part. For all eternity, if it comes to that. The whole nine yards.

"But we cannot know what will happen. I'm committed to all of us surviving this if there is any way at all we can, and that Voldemort ends up with what he deserves. But we cannot be certain of anything. I could survive this ritual today, totally cleared of Voldemort's taint, and be killed by him next week. We just can't know."

By now, both girls had tears streaming down their faces, but though they were both obviously upset at the suggestion, it was too obviously true for either of them to deny it. Neither did. But Fleur was not about to leave it at that.

"For that matter, either—or both—of us might not survive, Harry."

Closing his eyes, Harry swallowed heavily, before opening them and gazing into Fleur's deep blue eyes. "I will do anything to make certain that doesn't happen."

"But there may not be anything you can do," Hermione interjected.

"I know," was Harry's simple reply. "Any one of us might not make it through this. But for my part, though I want nothing more than to survive and spend my life with you, I can go to my death if I must, knowing that you will both be taken care of. And part of that is knowing that you will be loved as you deserve.

"I know that you both would be better with me. For you both, I will always be your first love, and perhaps even the one you love best. But I want you both to promise me that if the worst happens and I don't make it, that you will not shut yourselves away from love. I want you both to be as happy as you are able, and mourning me for the rest of your lives will not accomplish that."

"I will promise, Harry," said Fleur, "but only if you promise the same should Hermione and I not make it."

Harry let out an explosive breath, and tried to smile at her. "I will try. I won't like it, but I'll try."

"Now you know how we feel," Hermione murmured, as Harry drew them both close to him again.

They sat in that attitude for some time, quiet talk interspersed with more intimate activities. Though he already thought himself to be calm and willing to face whatever the day might bring, he found himself even more soothed by the love of both young women. They would be there with him, lending him strength and giving him the will to survive the ordeal in whatever way possible. Regardless of what the ultimate outcome would be, Harry was grateful for their support and positivity.

After some time, however, he began to feel a need to be alone and to prepare himself for what he was certain would be an unpleasant experience. Consequently, after a period of prolonged silence, Harry gently eased the girls off his shoulders and smiled.

"I think I'd like to go and think about this alone for a while. Come to terms with everything on my own."

Fleur looked at him with a hint of a playful grin on her face. "Do we need to keep tabs on you?"

Harry smiled and pulled out the map. "If I don't show up to the Room of Requirement by the time they're ready to begin, come looking for me."

He pressed the map into her hands, and after kissing them both, he exited the room, heading for an unused classroom to think things over. One way or another, he would know the answer to the horcrux question that day. If nothing else, he was looking forward to an end to the uncertainty.

It was an hour later when Harry walked into the Room of Requirement. He had used the time by himself to truly come to terms with what was to come and for perhaps the first time in his life, he was feeling truly calm and at ease with himself.

The Room of Requirement was in a configuration that Harry had not seen previously—obviously, works of a much greater magnitude and complexity than he had ever before seen in the magical world were planned for that morning. The room was dimly lit, with candles in sconces about the walls, casting their ghostly light and long shadows upon the room. A flat, square stone platform, almost akin to an altar, was situated in the middle of the room, and about it a circle was etched into the floor, the circle wide enough to both encircle the platform, and allow some room to move within the circle for anyone who remained within. And at the center of each of the four sides of the platform, though situated on the edge of the circle, was a large, unlit torch. Each, Harry suspected, was located at the cardinal points of the compass.

Within the confines of the room there were only a few others—Dumbledore and Samuel were present, of course, but Professor Vector and Remus also stood together with them, speaking in low voices. A row of chairs had been set up to the side, and in those chairs sat the Delacours, Sirius, and Ginny. That there were no others present—not even the Weasleys—was not exactly shocking. The uncertain nature of the day's working was such that they did not wish to have many spectators, as that would mean less potential for distraction.

All those details passed by Harry in an instant, as the noticed his two girls standing to the side of the entrance, apparently waiting for him. He smiled and moved to greet them, vaguely noting the amused looks which passed between Jean-Sebastian and Sirius, and the slightly wistful expression which passed over Ginny's face.

"Hey," Harry said, greeting both girls with kisses on the cheeks. "Fancy meeting you here."

"It would be nice if we didn't have to," Hermione replied with an obviously forced smile.

"After this, we won't have to worry about it any more," Harry replied, attempting to project a confidence he did not in truth feel. "We'll get rid of Voldemort's soul and then kick his hairless butt from here to London and back."

"I'm looking forward to it," said Fleur, and Harry fancied he could see her heart in her eyes.

"Ah, Harry," Dumbledore said in greeting, long before Harry was ready, not that he ever would be ready for what was to come.

"Headmaster," Harry returned.

"I believe we had best get to it." The Headmaster paused and looked at Hermione and Fleur. "You may sit with your parents, Miss Delacour. But I must warn you all," he turned and looked at the other group of spectators, "that as this has never before been done, we cannot predict exactly what will happen. I must caution you in the strongest terms possible that you must not interfere with this ritual no matter what happens. The consequences could be dire, not only for Harry, but also for whoever disturbs the ritual. Am I clear?"

A chorus of murmurs answered Dumbledore's question, and after exchanging quick embraces with both girls—both had tears in their eyes, though they were attempting to be brave for him—they moved off to join those already sitting along the wall. Fleur immediately moved into the arms of her father, while Sirius provided for Hermione's comfort in the absence of her own parents.

"I assume I'm the sacrifice?" Harry joked, pointing at the altar.

His attempt at humor did nothing to relieve the tension in the room, though he did manage to get a small chuckle out of Sirius.

"You've always got something to say, haven't you Harry?" said the marauder.

"Sounds like someone else I know," said Harry with a raised eyebrow.

Sirius just chuckled again and waved him off. "Let's get rid of Moldy's soul piece already. I feel a great need for some butt-kicking and we can't do it while he's still resident in your body."

"Indeed we should," Dumbledore broke in without a hint of a smile. "If you will take your place, we can begin."

Acquiescing, Harry moved to the stone block and sat down on its edge, but before he lay down he turned back to Dumbledore and asked, "What should I expect?"

"I am unsure what we should expect, Harry, but you will know nothing. The first part of the ritual will put you into a trance. Though we are obviously not certain, it is our hope that the soul shard will also be caught up in this trance, and will be unable to do anything to prevent us from severing the connection."

Harry peered back at him quizzically. "You expect the soul shard to try to interfere? I thought it was too small to do anything."

"We do not expect it," Dumbledore replied. "But it does not hurt to be prepared.

"The ritual will be completed in three basic parts, though it is a little more complicated than that, of course," Dumbledore continued, attempting to put them all at ease, Harry thought, but giving them a bit of an idea of how the process would unfold. "The first is to call the powers of the patrons of the elements to lend their aid, and provide the power to allow us to cut the connection. It is during this section that you will be put into the trance. The second will be a magical rite which will force the connection to Voldemort to appear, and the third—the shortest of all—will be to cut the connection."

"You don't seem to have a knife on you," Harry said, nervously attempting to jest again to relieve the tension.

"A knife would do us not good at all," Dumbledore replied with the barest hint of a smile. "The connection is not physical, and as such, cannot be cut with a physical object. The magic of the ritual will provide us with the necessary tool to cut the equally magical connection, and free you from Voldemort's influence."

It was all very interesting, but the delay was simply making Harry even more anxious than he had been before. Taking a deep breath, Harry attempted to smile at the Headmaster, but he suspected it came out as nothing more than a grimace. "Then let's do this."

Being as she was a student of any kind of knowledge, Hermione found the whole concept of the horcrux removal ritual to be fascinating. She had been involved peripherally in the design of the ritual, though with her limited fifth year knowledge, she had found herself quickly overwhelmed with the sheer complexity of what they were attempting. Therefore, after the first two days or so, Hermione had stayed clear of the room, as she did not wish to distract them with her questions. What was important was finding a way to neutralize the horcrux, after all, and if her presence kept them from realizing that objective, she was doing no one any service at all.

As Harry lay down on the stone block, Hermione felt a lump form in her throat, which formed despite the fact that she was attempting to concentrate on what they were doing. This was the boy she loved, after all, and seeing him in such a vulnerable position, with his fate securely in the hands of others, was difficult, not to mention disconcerting. Despite how piqued she had been when he had gone off to confront Nagini, Hermione knew that Harry was a very self-reliant person. Seeing him like he was now was difficult.

At that moment Harry happened to glance at her, and Hermione, threw him a tremulous smile and mouthed the words, "I love you." Harry responded in kind, smiling at her and telling her with his eyes that all would be well. She hoped that he was right.

As the four participants in the ritual made their way to the points around the stone block, Hermione watched Harry, noting how he had relaxed himself by the force of his own will. Trusting that Dumbledore was a great wizard who had seen and done much in his life, and that those working with him were knowledgeable and competent in their own right, Hermione forced herself to relax and focus on the magical rite. This type of magic was almost never practiced any more—this might be the only chance she ever had to see it in action.

Dumbledore and the others had taken their positions. The Headmaster was situated at the head of the stone slab, which Hermione knew to be pointed north, while Remus was opposite him at the south position. In turn, Samuel Grant had taken the eastern node to the Headmaster's left, while Professor Vector was at the west end of the slab. None of the four carried a wand, though Hermione knew that all had them close to hand, should anything happen which would require them to act quickly.

For a moment no one spoke and a silence settled over the room. It almost seemed to Hermione that creation itself paused a moment, in anticipation of the great work of magic which was about to be performed. The impression lasted for only a moment—and caused Hermione to almost laugh, despite the severity of the situation—before Dumbledore, taking the lead, began the ritual.

"By the powers of the four elements, we call forward the ancient powers. Gryffindor! Wizard of the north and patron of the element of fire, we call unto thee!"

At his last word, Dumbledore gestured forward with both hands, and the torch in front of him sprang to life. It blazed with an eerie, eldritch light, in a decidedly redder hue than a normal fire would display. Hermione watched, fascinated, as the torch roared and hissed, rising almost to the ceiling before it lessened, burning down to the level which could be expected of a torch, though it continued to burn redder than any fire she had ever seen.

"By the powers of the four elements, we call forward the ancient powers," Remus took up the ritual. "Ravenclaw! Witch of the south and patroness of the element of water, we call unto thee!"

When Remus had finished his own chant, the same thing happened with the torch in front of him, though in his case the torch burned with a decidedly blue hue. The red torch once again flared at the lighting of the blue, before both once again settled into a normal burning pattern, though they flickered in strange counterpoint to the other, almost as though they were feeding off of each other.

The next to speak was Mr. Grant. "By the powers of the four elements, we call forward the ancient powers. Le Fay! Witch of the east and patroness of the element of air, we call unto thee!"

The third torch was decidedly white in hue, prompting up swells of the other two torches in response, before the three once again settled, burning in that same eldritch light as before. And it was finally Professor Vector's turn.

"By the powers of the four elements, we call forward the ancient powers. Myrddin! Wizard of the west and patron of the element of earth, we call unto thee!"

The final torch flared, tinted green, and in response all four torches once again flared, before settling. As she watched the four torches as they burned, Hermione was struck by the sense that the torches were all burning in some sort of rhythm, though she could not quite catch the pattern in their flickerings. The room was now bathed in the light of the torches, which somehow seemed to overpower the light of the candles, though they were scattered in large numbers around the room. The whole of it had a mesmerizing effect, and one which Hermione almost had to physically shake herself to dislodge.

As one, the four participants raised their arms and gestured up to the ceiling of the room, chanting as one. "By the four points and the wizards who protect them; by the powers of the four elements, banish the gloom and bathe us in thy glow! Lend us thy power that we may defeat this magic most vile! Fiat lux!"

At the final words, the torches once again sprang up, but this time, rather than settling again, they became four pillars of fire in their disparate colors, and they completely overshadowed the lights of the candles in their glow. And unlike before when the four torches almost flickered in counterpoint to one another, now they pulsed in unison, the four working together to provide the power for the ritual.

The four participants in the ritual moved away from the pulsating pillars of light and stood closer to the slab upon which Harry lay, and for the first time since the ritual had begun, Hermione looked at Harry. He lay on the bed watching the activities of the participants, and though he held himself still, Hermione could see the rigidity of his posture and the way his eyes darted about, trying to catch as much of what was going on at once. Hermione's heart went out to him—though she and Fleur and all of his other friends and family were concerned for Harry, he was the one who actually had to deal with the horcrux, not to mention the uncertainty and fear of the ritual.

Hermione had been angry with him for the past few days because of the stunt he had pulled in going after Nagini, and she felt that she was justified to feel like that. But she realized at that moment that Harry did in fact have a point. He had acted selfishly perhaps, but there was also an element of selflessness in what he had done. He had been trying to ensure their safety and a world without Voldemort, and that was certainly something to be desired.

Filled with a resolve to support him whatever the case may be, Hermione vowed that she would tell him everything that was in her heart. She had not been perfect during the course of the trials around his disappearance either, and she resolved to do better. Harry needed support and a bit of guidance, not a shrewish and domineering woman to point out his every fault. Hermione decided then and there that she would become that woman.

"The circle, the symbol of the completeness and perfection," Dumbledore had continued during Hermione's thoughts. "Let the light from the four pillars of the elements infuse this never ending ring, suffuse it with the power of light, and protect us from all outside influence. Fiat Lux!"

At Dumbledore's words, the light from the four pillars seemed to dance down into the floor, and from each of the pillars, the light travelled down into the circle, entering it from the four points and shooting along the outline of the circle. Within moments, the lights had mingled in the circle, but rather than comingling with each other, each of the four colors kept their definition, ebbing and flowing along the outline of the circle, twinkling in random patters, far too quickly for the eye to make them out. Hermione watched that line, and watched as the lights sparkled and twinkled upon the circle etched in the floor, and she knew that to cross that line now was death. Harry's salvation was in the hands of the four participants.

Having completed the circle of protection, Dumbledore placed his hands above Harry's head and began to lead a low chant, the words indistinguishable, completely unlike the loud words which they had used before. As his hands began to glow, Hermione could just see under them to Harry, and she noted how his eyes appeared to lose focus and began to glaze over. The magic of the ritual was doing its work in suppressing his consciousness and putting him into a trance. The chant continued for some time, and the light from Dumbledore's hands traveled down about Harry's body, bathing him in its light and surrounding him, like a caterpillar in a cocoon.

Then Dumbledore changed his hand position, and he held them out, almost as though he was holding a sword out in front of him. Remus, Professor Vector and Samuel Grant moved behind the Headmaster, lending him their support and their power. And as the chant continued, Hermione noted a light which was starting to take shape in the Headmaster's hands, extending about three feet out from his closed fists. The light was a brilliant white in color, and it gleamed and grew in intensity until Hermione could almost feel the light burning into her retinas. The light encompassed them all, defining them, making them almost appear to be angels of light.

It was at that moment when Hermione began to be aware of something else in the circle. Harry, who had been reclining quietly on the rock had begun to fidget, his hands and feet jerking slightly, and almost reluctantly. His head had also begun to move, twisting slightly from side to side through his sightless eyes. A low moan rose from his throat, a sound unlike any she had ever heard her friend utter—one which sounded like it was not his own voice.

It seemed that the soul shard was attempting to save itself.

As the ritual progressed, Fleur began to feel very uneasy. The atmosphere, which had become charged with the magic energy being unleashed in the room, had become oppressive the further into the ritual they progressed. It felt closed—almost as though the air were being sucked out of the room.

As she watched, she noted the same thing which Hermione had seen, but as the chant continued and the pitch of the voiced became higher, Harry's struggles increased. His head began thrashing back and forth, and though his hands and feet did not move far from their positions, he could see the muscles straining in Harry's arms and legs, as he attempted to break from his bonds.

The most chilling of all, however, were the moans which issued from his throat and the suppressed screams which began to escape. The pressure in the room only increased from that point, as the beam of light in Dumbledore's hands began to take a more defined shape. It almost appeared as though it was a sword, bathed in light.

From Harry, another development soon made itself known. Though Fleur could not see it, as it began as an indistinct form, a line began to form, leaving from the bed on which he reclined, and off into the distance. The line shone—if it could be termed as such—with a black light, which seemed to defy all attempts to see and identify it. In fact, Fleur found that if she tried to focus on the line that her gaze slid off from it and she could only really catch any glimpse of it from the corner of her eye. It was foul, the little she could see of it, as it spoke of subjugation and an almost corrupt energy. This must be the connection back to the Dark Lord.

At once Harry's eyes, which had fallen until they were mostly closed, snapped open and his struggles ceased. He peered straight forward with wide eyes, though Fleur somehow knew that he was truly not seeing anything. And over the contours of his face, another countenance seemed to superimpose itself on his features, obscuring them, and making him appear to be two people at once. Fleur knew that face, though she had only seen it once before, and even then, it had only been a twisted mockery of the original version. It was the face of Lord Voldemort.

A wail issued forth from Harry's lips, though Dumbledore and the others continued chanting, their voices rising higher in response to the rising strain. Then at once the wailing stopped, and to the surprise of them all, a voice issued from Harry's mouth.

"The boy will die," the voice said.

The words shocked Dumbledore so much that he almost halted the chant. But though he paused for an almost imperceptible instant, he continued on, grimly compelling his mouth to form the words and force them from his mouth. The other three were in similar straits.

"The boy will die!" the voice hissed, its sound a mixture of Harry's own voice, and those of a deeper, more mature voice. "Stop or the boy dies! I will not be evicted!"

Fleur knew what the soul shard was attempting to do, but she was as shocked as anyone that it had managed to attain even this small amount of control over Harry's form.

To the side, Fleur heard a low whimpering, and she turned her head and saw Ginny, burrowed into her father's side. Her eyes were wide open and staring at the scene playing out in the room, and she shivered and jerked, though her eyes were clear. The soul shard in Ginny appeared to be reacting to the magic being unleashed in the room, though it did not seem to be able to exert any true influence over her. Fleur was grateful for small miracles.

"Release me!" Harry's voice, overlaid with the other voice, echoed out over the room, snapping Fleur's attention back to the drama playing out within the circle.

Harry's body was now writhing once again as if fighting to be released from bondage. The chanters grimly forged on, their voices rising louder and louder until the room fairly echoed with the sound of their continued words. The sword of light in Dumbledore's hands was now almost clearly defined, a long, straight blade of gleaming steel, with runes etched upon its sides, which glowed with a fiery hue. But with every passing moment the feeling in the room grew more and more oppressive, and Fleur began to find it difficult to breathe.

"Cut it!" Fleur exclaimed in a low voice, the words issuing forth from her lips almost unwillingly. "Cut it and end this evil!"

It might bring about the end of her beloved's life, but Fleur knew very well that Harry would not wish to live like this—to always be the tether to life for a madman. His courage and convictions would never allow such a thing, which, she suspected, had led in a large part to Harry's actions concerning Nagini.

All at once the chanting ceased and the three supporting members of the ritual shuffled away from Dumbledore, leaving the Headmaster alone at the head of Harry's bed. Raising his hands holding the sword up high, Dumbledore cried, "By the light we banish you. Away to the fires of hell where you belong!"

In one swift motion, he brought the sword down, bisecting the line of corrupt energy near Harry's head. In a bright flash of gleaming light, the blade clove through the darkened energy, like a fire burning through a spider's web.

The soul shard screamed once through Harry's mouth, and then Harry fell back on the bed, completely unconscious. Silence fell over the room, as the pillars of light winked out and the circle of light flickered from existence. For a moment, Fleur wondered if the soul shard had truly been vanquished.

Then all at once a darkness began to appear from around Harry. Fleur started forward, wondering what new devilry was at work, when she noted that the darkness was not around him, but coming from him, as though bleeding from his very being. The miasma flowed out through his skin and pooled around him, and for a moment it eddied as though blown by an eldritch wind. A low wail rose from the murk as it appeared to struggle to retain its coherence, but the wail trailed off and at the same time the black miasma began to dissipate. Within a moment it was gone.

Dumbledore and the others stumbled to chairs set along the sides of the walls, and sweat streaked down tired faces, but Fleur had no attention for them. Her sole focus was the figure of Harry, laid out on the stone altar as though sacrificed to satiate the hunger of some evil god.

In one motion, Fleur and Hermione rose and hurried to Harry's side, heedless of anything other than the need to be by his side. As she knelt by his side and looked down into his well-loved face, Fleur noted that he appeared to be resting peacefully, a serene air settled over him, perhaps more so than she had ever seen in the person of her beloved. She tentatively reached out and caressed his brow, noting the cold and clammy feel of his skin, through the sheen of sweat. In that moment, he almost appeared as though dead.

Groggily, as though struggling up from some great depth, Harry stirred and made his way to consciousness. It seemed like there was no part of his body which did not ache, and he felt almost unclean, as though he had bathed in flobberworm slime.

Blinking owlishly, he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a large blur of light, though dim in front of his eyes. He tried shaking his head, as though dislodging whatever sticky substance had taken up residence within, but his head immediately exploded in pain, and a gasp escaped his lips.

"Harry?" a voice intruded on his consciousness and the pounding of his head.

Instinctively, Harry turned toward the sound, and his eyes opened to slits. The image of his beautiful betrothed swam into view, and Harry latched onto the sight of her like a drowning man to the smallest twig.

"Fleur?" Harry mumbled.

"He's coming around," he heard her say, and he reveled in the love in her voice.

A round of congratulations erupted from those about the room, but Harry concentrated on staying still, willing the pain to leave. It was a very short time, even by his reckoning, before it bled away from him, leaving him feeling bone tired, but pain free nonetheless.

When he thought he could manage it, he rolled to the side and pushed his arms under his body, levering himself up on the stone slab. He opened his eyes more fully to see the forms of his two loves looking at him with concern and devotion. Behind them he could see the others who had crowded in to have a look at him.

"Did it work?" he demanded after a moment's hesitation.

"Now that is the true question, isn't it?"

Harry looked up and saw Dumbledore approaching him, with Remus and the others following close behind. Every one of them looked as though they had been trampled by a Hungarian Horntail. In other words, they appeared much as Harry himself felt.

"Although, given what we witnessed just a few moments ago, I would say it's likely that we got it right." Dumbledore glanced a little behind where Remus standing. "Remus? If you will, let us determine once and for all if our efforts have been successful."

Nodding, Remus produced his wand from his robes, and he began the complex incantation of the horcrux discovery spell. While he was doing so, Harry struggled to a sitting position while his girls moved away from him to allow the spell to work. Praying to every god he had ever heard of, Harry waited for Remus to complete the spell which would reveal his fate.

When the spell hit him and he started glowing white, Harry looked down at the aura, anxiously searching for any sign of the streaks of red which had overtaken it almost immediately the last time. But though he searched for it, the aura remained gloriously white, and was not marred by any other colors. A moment later, the light softened and faded away, leaving behind a silence in the room.

Which only lasted for a moment. Sirius let out a great whoop and stormed forward, catching Harry up and pulling him to his feet, capering around and dancing for joy. "It worked! It worked!" he cried.

His slightly silly actions led to a breaking of the silence in the room, and Harry quickly found himself surrounded by the others, with hearty congratulations all around. Once Sirius had finished with him—or was pushed aside—Apolline was there, putting her arms around him and telling him how happy she was that he was free of the dreadful curse. Jean-Sebastian stepped forward and embraced him with a manly slap on the back, as large a smile as Harry have ever seen on the man adorning his face. Remus, weary-looking, yet beaming congratulating him. And Ginny Weasley, happy and hopeful on her own account, latched on to him and told him in a low voice how happy she was that a solution had been found. Professor Vector and Samuel Grant, who were not nearly as well known to Harry, hung back and simply added their quiet congratulations.

And then his two girls—the two most wonderful girls in the world—were beside him, embracing him one from either side, holding tightly like they would never let go, whispering endearments into his ears. Harry knew he was the luckiest bloke in the whole world to be given the opportunity to be with both of them.

Of those few short moments, Harry would never have a complete memory. In years later he would mostly remember feelings and impressions, rather than any specific words spoken. But in times of trouble and trial, all he would need to do was to recall those feelings of his deliverance and salvation, which stayed with him during the course of his entire life, and know that no matter what trouble beset him, he would be able to find his way out, both by the strength of his own determination, and by the love of those around him. With those memories, he always felt like he could conjure up a patronus which could chase every Dementor in the world back to the very pits of hell.

Once the congratulations had died down, Dumbledore approached and engulfed Harry in an embrace of his own, shocking Harry in the process—he had never known the Headmaster to be an overly tactile man. When he pulled away and regarded Harry, he noticed that the elderly man had tear tracks across his cheeks, and that his beard was suspiciously damp in spots.

"Ah, Harry," the aged man said, "it is good to have you delivered from this. I am grateful that we managed it, by the strength and ingenuity of us all.

"But let us not forget that we have one left to deliver." He turned and smiled kindly at Ginny who blushed in response. "However," he continued, "I believe that I speak for all of us that once in a day is enough for a ritual of this magnitude. This has been very draining after all. Shall we repeat this process tomorrow?"

Ginny smiled shyly and nodded her head, indicating her assent.

"Very well then. I suggest that we all recover from this ordeal so that we may repeat it again tomorrow. Septima, Remus, Samuel—you have my heartfelt thanks for the roles you have played. I shall ensure that some pepper-up potions are available for your use. Let us get a good night's sleep before we attempt to try this again on the morrow."

A round of murmured agreements swept through the room and the group began to disperse, but not without further back slaps, handshakes, and wide smiles from everyone in the room. Ginny left immediately to find her parents who Harry knew were anxiously awaiting news on the success of the ritual, while most of the others drifted out of the room in ones and twos. Soon, only Harry was left behind in the company of his loves.

"Well, I feel like I was hit by a lorry," Harry quipped, earning smiles from both of the girls.

"I won't say that you don't look like it," Fleur replied in kind.

"A shower seems to be in order. I'm pretty sure I stink like I've run a marathon."

"Before we go, Harry," Hermione spoke up, "I just wanted to say something to you."

Nodding Harry waited for her to speak and he saw that Hermione—self-assured and confident Hermione—was having difficulty coming up with the words. Harry wondered what she was about, and had just determined to ask her when she suddenly blurted out:

"I'm sorry, Harry."

Shrewdly, Harry determined that this was about the "Nagini Incident" which had become somewhat of a taboo subject between them. He thought to interrupt her, but instead decided that it was better if Hermione was to say what she wanted to say before they talked about it further. Certainly, it was something which he felt they needed to lay to rest, and though he understood the girls' opinions on the subject, he did not feel like he was totally in the wrong either.

"I'm sorry about the way I reacted, and the way we treated you in Dumbledore's office the next day." Hermione paused and looked him in the eye. "I was angry and hurt and even more importantly, fearful for your safety. But that does not excuse the way that I reacted."

"The way that we reacted," Fleur interjected. "We both had some part in it."

"I know," was Hermione's simple reply.

Harry took at deep breath and looked the two girls in the eyes. "I do understand, but I was hurt by it. You know that I love you both very much. But I think that we need to do some work on our relationships. I've told you both before that I feel like sometimes you don't listen to me or value my opinion. I'd like to be equal partners in this relationship, though I certainly understand your anger when I mess up."

Coloring, Hermione looked down at the floor. "I know I do tend to be a little… assertive at times."

Smiling fondly at her, Harry quipped, "Bossy?"

This time a roll of her eyes met his statement. "You haven't called me bossy since first year. Usually it's Ron who says that."

Harry shrugged. "It does have an element of truth to it, you know."

"I know, Harry. And I promise to work on it."

"None of us are perfect," said Fleur. "

"Amen," said Harry, and he leaned forward and pressed his lips against Hermione's, telling her that all was forgiven, and promising to do better. He fancied that Hermione's response was her own promise. Then he turned and did the same with Fleur. The kisses were very chaste and short, but no less sweet for being so.

"Come on," Harry said, rising to his feet, albeit a little shakily. "I definitely want to get clean and remove Voldemort's taint once and for all."

"Now that is something we can all agree on," said Fleur with a laugh.

And the three left the room behind, making their way toward Gryffindor tower. It seemed to Harry as though the sun was shining after a long, dark night, and that the future was brighter than it had ever been before.

Updated 07/21/2014