Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter – which I'm actually pretty glad for.

I know that the prophecy says Harry can't die until the Final Battle or something along those lines, blah blah blah. But I'm going to completely and shamelessly twist and change this fact to suit my own purposes. Good? Great.

Chapter Forty-Two: The Cup
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Ron felt Harry stiffen beside him.

'What is it?' he whispered. 'Let me see.' He took the Omnioculars, the metal warm and slick from Harry's hands. 'Didn't we get the code?'

'Yeah, we got it,' Harry whispered. 'It's six two four four two.'

Ron knew that those numbers meant something. Well, actually, he didn't. But the way Harry was acting … surely they held some sort of significance. A date? An address?

'But this … these people are Death Eaters …' Harry murmured.

'We know that,' said Ron. What was this all about? Was Harry afraid of them? Harry wasn't afraid of anything.

'There are Death Eaters in the Ministry.'

Ron blinked. 'What?'

'The code, Ron,' he said. 'It's the Ministry code.'

The Ministry? Oh. But that would mean –

'Maybe it's just a joke,' Ron volunteered. 'These Death Eaters … I bet they've got a wicked sense of humour.'

'C'mon,' said Harry, ignoring him. He began to move forward, and Ron had no choice but to follow him, clutching the Cloak and trying not to think about what they would find behind the password-protected doors.

Harry punched in the code, six two four four two, and for a moment, nothing happened. Had it taken this long when the others did it?

The doors opened a moment later to reveal the inside of a lift.

Exchanging looks of confusion, Harry and Ron tentatively stepped inside. 'What floor d'you think?' asked Harry.

Ron shrugged, then reached out and pressed B.

The doors closed and the lift began to move, down and down until surely they were well underground. Without warning, the lift stopped moving and the doors opened to reveal a room cast almost completely in shadows. Ron could see only a few feet in front of his face, and could not make out any significant shapes. The air was musky and thick around them. There was a heavy blanket of silence and no indication that anyone else was down there. Really, there was no indication that anyone else had been down there in several years.

'Let's get started,' said Harry. He pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and held out his hand, his eyes closed in concentration. Small beams of light radiated out of his hand until the entire room was lit.

There were boxes everywhere, piled high on top of each other. A wardrobe lay on its side against the wall. Small objects, some broken and others charred, had fallen out of their boxes and now littered the floor. The rest of the building, with its plush decoration and spotless shine, did not even remotely resemble this tiny room. Everything was caked in dust and appeared to be at least twenty years old.

Ron felt certain that the contents of these boxes were from the orphanage.

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Hermione's hand shook as she reached for the door handle. 'Have a good night,' she said to the man, Ned, who had greeted her. She climbed back into the truck and fumbled with the keys for only a moment before the engine started up. Driving a car was far more complicated than she'd hoped. Luckily, she was a quick study, and so she didn't think it was horribly obvious that she'd never ever been in the driver's seat of a car before. She put the truck in reverse and held her breath as she backed up out of the gate and back onto the street.

She drove down to the end of the street and turned off the engine. She glanced down at Natalie, the real driver of this truck, hoping against hope that this was the last delivery the woman had to make for tonight. She really couldn't afford any slipups at this point.

She shifted in her seat to get comfortable, and then reached into her pocket for her wand. She didn't think she would need to use it, but she felt safer with it clutched in her hand.

Where were Ron and Harry now? Did they get inside all right? Had they been caught? Were they close to finding the Horcrux? Or were they both in serious trouble and desperately needing her help?

It occurred to her that in this moment in time, Hermione was out of touch with literally everyone. She had no way of contacting anyone she loved. She wished she could talk to Ginny. She wondered what could be going on at The Burrow right now and thought, fleetingly, that she shouldn't have let Ron be the one to write the goodbye note. At the very least, she should have read it over.

Hermione yawned and leaned back in her seat. Her head felt heavy and she was fighting to keep her eyes open. How could she be so tired at a time like this? Adrenaline should be coursing through her veins, promising her at least two or three more hours of consciousness.

Her eyes closed, and when she opened them twenty minutes later, there was still no sign of Harry and Ron. She'd thought that she should stay there and wait for them. But then again, how would they see her? It was pitch black. She wouldn't see them if they were crossing the street three feet in front of the truck.

It wasn't as if they'd know to look for her there, either. What if they went back to the hotel room, saw that she wasn't there, and assumed that something had happened and she'd been caught? What if they came back and did something stupid in a desperate attempt to save her, when really she was perfectly fine all along?

Making up her mind, Hermione nudged Natalie awake and got out of the truck. Using the Put-Outer, she turned the street lamps back on, and then Disapparated to the hotel room, hoping to find Ron and Harry waiting for her.

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Ron had shifted through so many broken Muggle toys and one-eyed teddy bears that when he finally did come across a tiny golden cup with a badger engraved on it, wrapped in a protective cushioning, he'd nearly tossed it back into the pile and continued searching. After all, he had never seen the cup. Harry had only described it. And even though Harry had been fairly detailed, the object in Ron's hands didn't look anything like what he'd imagined.

'Bloody hell,' he said, ignoring the pain in his knees and jumping to his feet. 'I think – is this it?'

Harry quickly appeared from behind a pile of random objects, a cloud of dust rising into the air with his movement. He coughed and said, 'Let me see.'

Ron moved toward him and Harry, upon seeing the cup, let out a barking laugh. 'You found it!' he said. He brought it up to his face and examined it from all angles. 'You found it.'

'We can get out of here, then?'

'Yeah. C'mon.'

Ron grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and

they threw it over themselves. There was a keypad on the wall, similar to the one they'd used before.

Hoping that nobody else would be in the lift, Ron typed in the code – which he hoped was the same as it had been upstairs – and was relieved when the doors opened to reveal an empty box.

They scrambled inside. 'What floor were we on?' asked Harry.

'I – does it matter?'

'That floor had doors to the outside. It was on the ground level. If we pick the wrong floor, we can't get out.'

'We could just go out a window,' said Ron.

'And fall to our deaths?'

'Right,' said Ron. 'Bad idea.'

Ron closed his eyes and tried to picture the outside of the building. There were five floors with windows. Plus the ground floor. The buttons went from B to 15. Did that mean they needed to get to the tenth floor?

Deciding that if they were wrong, they could simply try again, Ron pressed 10 and waited.

When the doors opened and the pair stepped out, they were in the same corridor they'd started out in. Had Ron chosen correctly, or did it only seem that way because every square inch of this place looked exactly the same?

There was a man standing just to Ron's right. He was looking around with an intense curiosity, and Ron thought that he must be wondering why the lift had moved on its own. Of course, he didn't know that Harry and Ron had just stepped out and were now standing a mere two feet away from him.

They began to walk slowly, and Ron hoped they were going the right way, though there wasn't really any way of knowing.

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Harry held the Cloak in place with his left hand and clutched the cup in his right.

They'd done it. They had the Horcrux.

Holding it in his hand was an amazing feeling. He wanted to rush home. He wanted to go to Hogwarts and tell Dumbledore that he'd done it. He wanted to rub it in the Order's face that he, Ron and Hermione didn't need to be treated like children – that they'd succeeded on their own. He wanted to tell Mrs Weasley to stop worrying, that everything had turned out all right and that they were safe and sound.

He wanted to tell Ginny that he was coming home.

He lowered his wall, but didn't get a response. He assumed she was sleeping. After all, it was rather late.

It started a moment later, a small twinge in his head that quickly grew to such intensity that he cried out.

Voldemort.

It was all-consuming, and he didn't realize that the cup had slipped out of his hand. He didn't realize that he'd fallen to his knees. He didn't realize that the Invisibility Cloak was no longer covering him.

As quickly as the pain came, it subsided. He gasped for breath and looked around to find Ron on the floor beside him, half covered by the Cloak, holding the cup just above the ground with the tips of his fingers. He was looking at Harry with wide eyes.

'Trespassers!' a voice cried, and before Harry could even realize what was happening, someone yelled out the spell he didn't recognize.

There was a blinding pain in his stomach, and then everything faded away.

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Ginny couldn't sleep.

She should be exhausted from arguing with her family every minute since Harry, Ron and Hermione had left. A part of her was exhausted, actually. But really, how could she close her eyes and sleep when Harry was facing so much danger at this very moment? How could she sleep when any one of the trio could be dying right now?

She wished Harry would open his mind to her. Even for a second. She was dying here without him. It was unbelievable how much she missed him. And he'd only been gone two days. What if searching for this Horcrux kept him away for another two days? Or a week? Or even more than that?

She closed her eyes and ordered herself not to think about what could be going on where they were. She wouldn't let herself imagine the danger. And she certainly wouldn't let herself imagine that they'd found the Horcrux and were currently on their way home.

Was it really all that difficult for Harry to lower his wall for just a minute and say, Hey, Ginny, I'm not dead?

It was common courtesy. She would do it for him. Surely he had to know that she would be a mess without any contact with him. Unless he was already dead, and that was why he wasn't communicating with her.

She was being too dramatic. She knew that he wasn't dead. If Harry had died, she would know. She would feel it, somehow. She knew that she would.

So he was alive. And yet, in these past two days, he had been completely unable to spare a moment to make her aware of that fact.

He was going to be in for it when he got back. This was ridiculous.

She should have fought harder. She should have forced him to let her go with them. She couldn't do this stupid staying behind thing. She wanted, just for once, to be included. To be treated equally. She was a bloody capable witch. Maybe not as capable as ever-brilliant Hermione, but she was just as capable as Ron. And she had a common sense that he often lacked. So, really, why couldn't she fight?

She was tired of this. Every second that Harry was gone was another second Ginny allowed herself to hate him. She would be one big ball of anger by the time he got back. And he'd give into her demands if he knew what was good for him.

Somewhere between missing Harry desperately and being absolutely furious with him, she drifted off to sleep.

She didn't dream. She barely slept, actually. She awoke shortly after to an awful headache, unlike anything she'd ever felt before. She sighed in relief when it stopped. But it was soon replaced with a stabbing pain all across her middle, one that made her fall back against the bed and writhe in pain.

And she knew, immediately, that it was Harry.

Panic gripped her, and as she jumped out of bed to wake everyone, she silently took back every bad thing she'd thought about him tonight.

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Harry collapsed backward onto the floor, and Ron didn't have time to think. He couldn't stop to wonder if there was an Anti-Disapparition Jinx on the building. He dove on top of Harry and Disapparated, not even sure if he was still holding the Horcrux, but knowing that it wasn't nearly as important as getting Harry out of there.

When Ron opened his eyes again, he was in the hotel room. He stood up and heard Hermione gasp.

'Ron! You're bleeding! What –?'

'It's Harry,' said Ron. 'They hit him with … I don't even know what. He passed out.'

Hermione dropped to her knees beside Harry. 'He's bleeding really badly.'

'He – he is?' Ron asked. He sounded like a child but he couldn't help it. Was it really that bad? It couldn't be. This was Harry. Harry didn't make stupid mistakes. He didn't get hurt. He passed out quite a bit, sure. But the only times he ever ended up getting really injured were during Quidditch matches.

'We have to get home,' Hermione said quickly. She grabbed her wand off the bed. 'He needs to go to St Mungo's.'

'He can't go there!' Ron cried.

'He has to!'

'It'll draw too much attention,' he argued. 'Damn it, Hermione, we can't.'

'We don't have a choice.'

'He'll be furious when he wakes up.'

'If we don't, he might not wake up,' Hermione whispered.

Something inside of Ron snapped. 'We'll take him to the Order. McGonagall can decide.' He grabbed Harry again and Apparated home to The Burrow, unsure if Hermione was following him. There wasn't enough time to care.

They landed roughly on the kitchen floor. It was better, he supposed, than hitting the table.

Hermione appeared smoothly beside him. 'HELP! IS ANYONE HERE? IT'S HARRY!' she cried, and really, she was doing nothing to help calm Ron's panic.

How would they get help in time? They needed to find McGonagall. Was she at Hogwarts? What about Headquarters? And even if they found her quickly, what could she do for Harry? They needed to get a Healer. Where would Audrey be? Or was Hermione right about St Mungo's? Harry would be angry, but Ron would take his friend's wrath any day of the week as long as it meant Harry lived.

Ginny tore into the kitchen, followed by the rest of the family, and if Ron hadn't been so wrapped up in the situation, he would have realized that it was far too quick of a response. They were all awake already. But why?

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Charlie awoke to the sounds of his sister screaming. He sprung out of bed and stepped into the corridor. Fred and George were passing him quickly, yelling his name for him to follow, and he did, unable to think of what could be wrong but knowing that it would have to be bad to evoke that type of fear from Ginny.

He followed the twins down the stairs and ended up outside of his mum and dad's bedroom. Ginny was there, looking smaller and more frightened than he could remember, hollering at the top of her lungs.

Mrs Weasley was beside her, telling her to calm down, insisting that she'd just had a nightmare.

'It's Harry,' she cried. 'It's not a nightmare! He's hurt! I need to help him –'

'Ginny,' Charlie said. 'Harry's got Ron and Hermione with him. I'm sure they're fine.'

He didn't know if he believed that. And he didn't know if he even cared about Harry's well-being after the argument he'd had with Ginny yesterday morning.

He knew he was being ridiculous. How could he resent Harry for the things Ginny had said, and yet not be able to resent Ginny herself?

It was quite simple, really. Looking at his sister right now, he saw the same scared girl who had been possessed by Tom Riddle in her first year. And this time around, who was to blame? Harry Potter.

'He's not fine!' she yelled. She turned to the twins. 'We have to do something!'

Fred and George exchanged looks. It was obvious neither of them knew what to do.

'How d'you know he's in trouble?' asked Charlie, hoping to point out how irrational she sounded.

'I just know,' she said angrily. 'Look, there's –'

'HELP!' a voice cried. There was noise coming from downstairs. 'IS ANYONE HERE? IT'S HARRY!'

It was Hermione's voice, and at the sound of it, Ginny turned and ran down the stairs. Everyone followed close behind, and when they came to the kitchen and saw the state of the trio, the only thing going through Charlie's mind was how could she have known?

'Oh,' gasped Mrs Weasley. She ran toward them and dropped onto the ground beside Harry.

Ginny let out a soft sob and lurched forward toward the trio, but Charlie grabbed her around the middle and held her back. She couldn't go there.

'Harry,' she cried, and for such a small girl, she put up quite a fight. She kicked against him, squirmed with all her might in an attempt to get free and go to Harry. He took a foot to the groin and a fist to the face, but he refused to let her go. If they were going to help Harry, they would have to act quickly. They couldn't deal with Ginny being an emotional wreck right now.

'Fred,' said Mr Weasley. 'Get Minerva.'

Fred ran to the fireplace and went to Hogwarts by Floo.

'George – go to Headquarters. Find Audrey and tell her to meet us in the Hospital Wing.'

George nodded and left.

Mr Weasley then pointed his wand at Harry. 'Mobilicorpus.'

Harry, still unconscious, rose into the air and Mr Weasley led him toward the fireplace so they could Floo to Hogwarts.

Ginny continued to fight against Charlie. He felt like a prat keeping her restrained like this, but he couldn't let her go. She would want to be at Harry's side, and the Healers needed to work quickly if Harry was going to live. They couldn't have a hysterical girl yelling and crying and getting in their way.

'Let me go,' she cried. 'I have to go to him!'

'Ron!' he called, needing his brother's assistance. Surely, Ron would be able to calm Ginny down.

But when Charlie looked around, he realized that Ron had run after Harry, just as Ron would run after Charlie, Bill, Percy or the twins. He realized that Harry really was another brother to Ron – in fact, he was probably more a brother than Ron's actual brothers. And Hermione, the only one who would ever have a hope of getting Ron to listen to reason, had gone with him. Of course she had.

He wondered how he had spent so much time observing the three of them, and yet he had never managed to figure out that Harry's destiny was not just his own, that it was also Ron and Hermione's. And that if Harry fought, they would go. Because there really wasn't another option. When a part of you was fighting for life, the rest of you didn't stay behind. It couldn't.

'Get the fuck off of me, Charlie! I mean it!'

She went slack against him, and in all of his life, Charlie had never seen anyone so distraught.

'You can't be with him right now,' said Charlie. 'It – it doesn't look good, Gin, and –'

'Shut up!' she screamed. 'Let me go! You bastard, let me go! I hate you for this!'

He let his sister go then, trying to comprehend what she'd just said, and she used the opportunity to run after Harry, Ron and Hermione.

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