Chapter 12
What Could Have Been
"Merlin!"
"That's what I thought when I realized. A horcrux sitting right under our noses!"
Hermione's eyes widened saucer-like as Ron explained his revelation about the locket at Grimmauld Place. She arrived at the Burrow early in the morning, intending to return home soon enough to meet Harry for breakfast again. Seated in Ron's room, Hermione and Ginny, still in her bathrobe with her hair only half brushed, occupied Ron's bed, while the tall, thin redhead paced excitedly near the window.. Previously, Ginny had informed Ron that she knew about the horcruxes, Harry having confided in her during the Spring. This news did not set well with her older brother, but he realized that if she knew, she may as well learn about the locket too.
Ginny turned to her friend and added, "Hopefully Mundungus didn't grab it when he stole the silver. He might have sold it by now. That would be a disaster."
Up until this moment, Hermione did not mention the fact that she had spent the previous two evenings with Harry, not certain whether she should reveal his location even to them. Given this new piece of information, however, she decided she needed to clue them in.
"You put the silencing charm, right?" she asked, continuing in a whisper even after Ron nodded his head, "Listen, Harry is with me. He found me a couple of days ago, and he's hiding in a hotel not far from my house." Ginny jumped off the bed at the news, completely astounded.
"Is he alright?" she asked quickly, "I mean, has anything happened to him?"
"A LOT has happened to him," Hermione replied, "but he's OK. Look, you have to promise me that you won't tell anyone about this, not even your mum and dad. We don't want the Order to know yet." Ron and Ginny immediately agreed, and Hermione informed them of almost all that occurred over the past days. Almost. She omitted mention of Melissa Montgomery.
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Harry slept restlessly that night and abandoned his bed shortly after six in the morning. In the coolness of the early morning, he donned jeans and a sweatshirt and quietly left his room for a walk, pulling a hat over his bleached hair and scar.
He could not accept the intensified presence of Voldemort inside of him as easily as Harrington did. Of course, as Hermione and Evan continuously reminded him, only Voldemort's personality traits would become more noticeable. They insisted that this could be an advantage for Harry if he learned how to harness it, but all Harry could think was, That's easy for them to say.
Passing by a bakery, he purchased a muffin to satisfy his stomach until Hermione arrived later in the morning. Right now, he realized, she probably was sitting with Ron and Ginny at the Burrow, discussing whatever Ron deemed to be of such importance that he placed a muggle telephone call. Fleetingly, Harry wished that he could be with them, but a moment later he gave thanks that he could have some time alone.
With the information from Dumbledore, Harry suddenly began to doubt everything he did and felt. When he became upset at times the previous evening, he inevitably wondered, Was that me or Voldemort? Would he ever truly feel like Harry Potter again?
Yet he knew that he had no time to adjust; he would have to do so on the fly, because soon the storm would arrive. If Evan's information proved true, all hell was about to break loose, which would only be intensified by Evan's plan, to which Harry and Hermione reluctantly agreed. As he paced the streets, however, the auror's plan began to make more sense, and in fact Harry almost looked forward to it. If the plan worked, Scrimgeour would have to back off, and Harry would have some space to move. If it did not work? Well, Harry would resume his life on the run.
Tonight he would go public.
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"Many of the old wards have fallen, my lord. As you suspected, they were tied directly to Dumbledore and died with him."
Lord Voldemort sat impassively while receiving the report of three death eaters, whom he had designated to check the protections of Hogwarts Castle.
"However, new protections have been installed, and they prevented us from entering the grounds or approaching the lake. As you requested, we attempted to approach the lake from various sites, but in each instance we were blocked. We believe that the lake could be reached from Hogsmeade, but we cannot be sure whether we could approach Hogwarts from that direction. Presumably the wards would prevent anyone from approaching the castle in that manner as well."
"Yesss," Voldemort responded after the death eater finished his explanation, "This is to be expected, but these new protections can be overcome. Nobody at Hogwarts has the power or skill to erect wards such as those devised by Dumbledore." Voldemort stood slowly and faced the leader of the group of three. "Your mission is to identify these new protections and to overcome them. We must have access to that lake."
His three followers exited, leaving Voldemort alone with Peter Pettigrew in the dark sitting room of a large, ancient farm house in Scotland. Peter sensed the disquiet of his master since their recent travels to the abandoned cabin near Little Hangleton and the cave high above the rugged English coast. Voldemort did not pace or otherwise display nervousness, but Peter knew his master's moods better than anyone, having spent so many hours of each day with him. They remained silent for a long time, Peter standing near the door, almost unnoticeable but available to Voldemort's call.
Finally Voldemort softly asked his servant, "Any word on Malfoy?"
Peter stepped forward and answered, "No, Master. He still has not returned. Alexander remains comatose and beyond help. He will die soon. We have no way to determine if Draco was captured or fled." Peter did not repeat the news of Bellatrix's death, her neck broken against a tree trunk.
Suspicious and untrusting by nature, Voldemort from the beginning believed that Draco Malfoy had betrayed him. No doubt he had nothing to do with the injuries to the other two death eaters, but when he survived and the others lay unconscious, Draco must have decided to flee. Voldemort wanted to track him down immediately in order to mete out his merciless punishment. At the moment, however, he could not spare anyone, and now he found his forces further depleted.
Voldemort had other means available to him, but he immediately decided against implementing them for someone as unimportant as Draco Malfoy. These means could only be applied in dire circumstances; this situation did not qualify as such.
Patience, he reminded himself. He would live forever, so he had forever to accomplish his goals. Death eaters would come and go, live and die, and he must not bury himself in such unimportant details. Draco would receive his sentence in due time. Of greatest immediate importance, Voldemort knew that he must focus on safeguarding his remaining horcruxes. This posed a number of problems, however, for two of the horcruxes currently rested in locations beyond his reach. He needed to determine how to overcome the new wards at Hogwarts.
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Hermione checked her watch, noting that she needed to leave the Burrow so that she could meet with Harry by nine o'clock. Given the news from Ron, she wanted to speak with Harry as soon as possible, and preferred to do so alone, outside the presence of Evan Harrington.
Just as she began to say her goodbyes, three owls flew threw the open window of the kitchen, dropping off envelopes for Ron, Ginny and Hermione. In all the bustle of the past days, Hermione completely forgot about her Hogwarts letter, which in past years she anxiously awaited. Instead of excitement upon receipt of the thick envelope, she felt dread. Given Harry's situation, how could she possibly return to Hogwarts.
Adding to her nerves, she discovered that the large brown barn owl delivering her letter also carried a second envelope, addressed to Harry Potter. Below his name, Professor McGonagall wrote a brief note of explanation: Miss Granger: As Mr. Potter currently is not available to receive post, please accept his letter and deliver it to him if he should contact you.
Ron and Ginny must have felt the same way, given their muted response to their letters. The three held the envelopes silently for a few moments before finally Ginny ripped hers open. Ron and then Hermione followed suit. To noone's surprise, Hermione pulled out the Head Girl's badge, and she quickly read McGonagall's congratulatory note. Ginny noticed the badge and quickly hugged her friend.
"We knew it would be you, Hermione. Congratulations."
Ron also embraced his friend and appeared genuinely happy for her, but when their eyes met, they both understood. The badge meant nothing. The letters meant nothing. Hogwarts now represented their past, not their future.
"I have to get back," Hermione finally muttered softly, checking left and right to assure that Mrs. Weasley could not overhear them, "Harry and I have a lot to discuss. I'll let you know what's going on as soon as I can."
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William Oglesby, Editor in Chief
Daily Prophet
Dear Mr. Oglesby
Harry Potter is willing to grant an interview to the Daily Prophet. I believe you will be extremely interested in what he has to say. Meet Mr. Potter tonight at 6:00 pm. Come alone. Directions are enclosed.
After reading the anonymous note for the fourth time, the editor in chief of the Daily Prophet decided that he would keep the appointment, despite the dangers involved in responding to such an invitation. The potential reward justified the risk.
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As Hermione entered Harry's hotel room, she showed Harry his Hogwarts letter. He took one brief look at it and flipped it on top of the dresser. Unopened. While Harry finished brushing his teeth, she held his letter in her hand.
"Do you mind if I open your letter, Harry?" she called out to him.
"Go ahead."
Surprising herself, Hermione felt more nervous opening Harry's letter than she did her own. Against all odds, she held out the hope that McGonagall may have designated Harry as Head Boy rather than the more likely choice of Ernie McMillan. Why should I care? she asked herself, since Harry would not be returning to Hogwarts anyway. Yet for some reason, just the idea that the two of them could have been Head Boy and Head Girl together moved her.
She recalled feeling similarly on that day in Grimmauld Place when they received their letters before fifth year. When she learned to her shock that Ron had been designated prefect rather than Harry, she could not hide her disappointment. Harry should have been named, in her opinion, and she never understood Dumbledore's reasoning. As much as she liked Ron, she often wondered how anyone in his right mind could name Ronald Weasley as prefect over Harry Potter?
Pulling out the various sheets of parchment from the envelope, she found no Head Boy badge. Of course not, she chided herself. The badge would only be awarded to a prefect and a top student, and clearly Harry did not meet either criterion. Moreover, McGonagall knew of Harry's current predicament. Despite all of this, Hermione could not avoid a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"What's the matter?" asked Harry upon returning to the main room, noting her long face, "Something in the letter?"
"Oh, nothing," Hermione responded quickly, "Nothing important."
Intrigued, Harry persisted, "OK, something unimportant then. What?"
His friend turned away and stuffed the sheets of parchment back into the envelope.
"Really, it's nothing. I just thought it would have been nice if you had been named Head Boy, but of course, . . ., it doesn't really matter." She stepped away from Harry, her back to him so that he could not see her face.
"I couldn't be Head Boy," Harry mused matter-of-factly, never having once considered the possibility, "I didn't even make prefect. Best thing Dumbledore ever did for me, not naming me prefect. Wouldn't want to be Head Boy either, even without everything that we're facing."
"I know, Harry," Hermione agreed, "Still. I guess I'm wishing for something that could never be. I'm just being silly." Despite her best effort to disguise her disappointment, Harry noted her demeanor, and frankly found it strange.
"You're Head Girl, right?" he asked, moving a couple of steps toward his friend..
Hermione still faced away from her friend but nodded. Harry swiftly reached her and softly placed his hand on her shoulder, turning her towards him. He smiled at her warmly, and gently wrapped his arms around her.
"That's brilliant, Hermione." he whispered in her ear, "You deserve it. I'm really proud of you."
Harry spoke the words warmly, but unexpectedly he felt Hermione wrap her arms around him more tightly, burying her face into his shoulder. At first Harry did not understand his friend's actions, but in a moment he felt her chest heave slightly. A soft whimper escaped her lips, and Harry realized that she was crying. He had no idea why, but he pulled her an inch closer to him and rubbed his hand up and down her back.
After perhaps half a minute, he finally asked, "What's bothering you, Hermione? You should be proud to be named Head Girl. It's a tremendous honor, and I can't think of anyone more deserving."
Hermione's brief tears ended and she regained her composure. Releasing Harry from her grasp, she sat on the side of the bed, not responding right away. Harry sat down next to her, but remained silent.
"I don't know what's wrong, Harry. I'm as surprised as you are that I'm crying. Of course I'm happy to be named Head Girl, but I guess it just makes even more clear what we are facing. We can't go back to Hogwarts, of course, so I'll have to turn it down. Maybe I'm just thinking about what could have been, what should be."
Harry nodded his head and considered Hermione's remarks. He realized that he had passed that stage months ago, even years. What could have been, what should be. Not worth thinking about.
"I wouldn't know what that is anymore - 'what should be,'" he softly commented, "I understand what you mean, but I've never lived 'what should be.' I wouldn't know it if I saw it."
Hermione lowered her head, ashamed to have cried in front of Harry. Harry of all people! If anyone did not need to have to deal with an emotional friend, Harry would be the one. He had so much on his mind now, especially today, when he would meet with the Daily Prophet editor. How could she have lost control and wept into his shoulder?
"I'm sorry, Harry," she whispered hoarsely, "None of this is important. I just have to come to terms with our situation. The Hogwarts letter triggered something inside of me. Don't worry about me. OK?"
Harry smiled and wrapped his right arm across her back and pulled her towards him.
"OK. I believe in you, Hermione. I can't do what I have to do without you; if I could, I would." He held her for a few more moments, but then released her, grabbed her hand and helped her to her feet. "I'm hungry. Let's get something to eat."
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"TOO MANY RUMORS ARE CIRCULATING!" growled Minister of Magic Scrimgeour, "We do not have as much time as I hoped. The first steps of our plan must be implemented immediately."
"But sir, with all due respect," replied the Minister of Defense, "We are nowhere near being able to take action. And there simply is no way to prevent leaks of information, not with the sheer number of people who must be involved." His exasperation filled his office, where Scrimgeour arrived unannounced.
"Exactly! That is my point," Scrimgeour emphasized, "I realize we cannot do everything at once, but we must control the flow of information. Thus we need to control the press as soon as possible. How long do you need to shut down all publications and to take control of the Daily Prophet?"
The Minister of Defense resisted the urge to shake his head and briefly calculated the manpower and planning involved in such a mission.
"A week, perhaps. Maybe five days if we set other matters aside."
Scrimgeour hardened his eyes and placed both of his hands on the edge of the desk, leaning over it.
"Two days! Make your plans today and tomorrow. The day after, we strike." He abruptly turned around and stormed out of the office, preventing further argument by his Minister of Defense.
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Peter Pettigrew lay on his bed in a room of a new base of operations, this time an ancient, half-crumbling mansion not far from the coast of northeastern England. How Voldemort knew of all of these locations, Peter never learned, but in years past the dark lord apparently developed a network of such sites, though this current location lacked the comforts of most of the others. Not given to explanations, Voldemort merely issued the order to move, and they moved. No questions asked.
Happily, though this nameless mansion provided fewer comforts than their previous hiding spots, Voldemort often sent Peter away, wishing to be alone with his thoughts. Never had Peter witnessed the dark lord so perturbed, and now obsessed with breaching the wards around Hogwarts, and especially gaining access to Hogwarts' lake. Of course, no explanation.
Though no death eater would admit it freely, recent events caused doubts to arise regarding the dark lord's sanity, or at least his competence. Why the delay in taking any serious action? Why continue with these meaningless random attacks? What happened to the dark lord's master plan? Spending more time with Voldemort than the others, Peter did not feel that the dark lord had lost his mind, but clearly some event distracted him from the long-term plans.
Peter lay on his bed, hoping to fall asleep for a short nap, which at least partially would relieve his constant sleep deprivation. But the image of Draco Malfoy emerged in his mind. Despite what Peter reported to Voldemort, everyone assumed that Draco defected. Had he been captured, Voldemort's sources in the Ministry most certainly would have heard and passed on the information. Peter could only shake his head.
Draco, a Slytherin, apparently possessed sufficient courage to abandon the dark lord. Peter, a Gryffindor, lacked such courage, despite the fact that the sorting hat assigns only the brave to Gryffindor House. Draco never struck Peter as an especially brave person, yet he seized the opportunity to escape.
What would I have done? Peter mused, though he knew that almost certainly, he would not have abandoned the dark lord. Draco's courageous act only served to embarrass Peter. All death eaters knew that the dark lord did not accept resignations. The only escape from servitude was death, and that now most surely would be Draco's ultimate fate. Draco knew that but acted anyway.
THAT is bravery, Peter considered. He wondered if perhaps deep down he possessed such bravery as well.
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William Oglesby briskly entered the Leaky Cauldron, searching rapidly for Arthur Weasley. Unexpectedly, the tall Scot just received an owl from Weasley half an hour before, urgently requesting the meeting. Oglesby had met Arthur casually a few times over the years but never socialized with him and did not consider him a friend.
The Daily Prophet's Editor's first inclination was to ignore the requested meeting due to his much more important appointment with Harry Potter, scheduled just one hour after the time designated by Weasley. Ultimately, Oglesby determined that time allowed a brief meeting with Arthur while still leaving enough time to arrive punctually for Potter.
The innkeeper, Tom, noted Oglesby's arrival, and with his eyes directed the newspaperman to a private room to the left. Oglesby nodded briefly and turned in that direction. Upon entering the room, he noted that Arthur Weasley had not taken a seat, and the three tables in the room had not even been prepared for dining. Clearly, Weasley did not expect this to be a lengthy meeting either. The two men shook hands.
"I'll get right to the point," Arthur declared after briefly thanking Oglesby for agreeing to the meeting. "You did not hear it from me, but in two days, the Ministry will shut down the Daily Prophet and all other wizarding publications. Scrimgeour intends to impose Martial Law, and this is the first step - control of the press."
Oglesby's eyes widened to their largest possible circumference, and he could not utter a word.
"You understand the ramifications of this, correct?" Arthur inquired, "I felt that you needed to know. You can decide how best to react, but whatever you do, you must act quickly. The Ministry will act the day after tomorrow, according to the rumors. I don't know at what time."
"Thank you, Arthur. I don't know what to say. What should I do?"
"I don't know, Will. But we need the Prophet to stay independent." Arthur and William stood silently for a few moments, and Arthur decided that the meeting had lasted long enough.
"Good luck, Will," he concluded, shaking the stunned man's hand again, "I'll leave by the side door. You can go out the way you came in." And with that, Arthur Weasley turned and walked away, leaving Oglesby standing mutely alone.
A thousand thoughts ran through the head of the Prophet's Editor-in-Chief. If Weasley's information proved correct, and he had no reason to believe that it would not, he had tremendously difficult decisions to make. After a few seconds, he turned around and rushed out of The Leaky Cauldron, running back to the Daily Prophet's headquarters at the other end of Diagon Alley.
Bursting through the front door, he ordered his personal assistant to gather his four deputy editors immediately. When the assistant did not move quickly enough, he yelled at her, something the normally mild-mannered man had never done in the past. Within five minutes, the two witches and two wizards arrived at Oglesby's office.
"Put out the word. Everyone must stay tonight. Everyone. All night. I have an important interview in half an hour, after which I will return. We will be working all night. I'll explain when I come back." The four editors stared at Oglesby as if he lost his mind, but he did not care. When they remained standing, he raised his voice, "GO!" The four editors scurried away.
Oglesby turned and looked out of his third-story window overlooking bustling shoppers on Diagon Alley. He recognized that the decisions he made this night would have ramifications far beyond the existence of a mere newspaper. His action or inaction would directly affect the course of history of the magical world.
First, however, he intended to keep his appointment with Harry Potter.