Chapter 30
Is It Too Late to Save You?
As Harry walked back into the castle, hand in hand with Hermione, the momentous events of the past few hours started to sink in. He had battled Lord Voldemort under the surface of the lake, more or less holding his own, and in fact inflicting significant harm to his enemy. He found Hufflepuff's cup and managed to free it from its protections. None of these accomplishments surprised Harry in the least, as he had entered the water fully expecting to succeed.
But later he kissed Hermione. While still in the lake. Several times. Passionately. This astonished him, and when he looked down at her hand in his, he had to raise his eyes to her face to confirm that in fact Hermione Granger walked next to him, not Ginny Weasley or even Melissa Montgomery.
Hermione felt equal parts exhilaration and bewilderment. She never intended to kiss Harry like that, not in the lake. Something inside argued that she should have waited, that the right time had not yet arrived. Everything seemed to be moving too quickly - the horcruxes, facing Lord Voldemort, kissing Harry, apparently becoming his girlfriend.
But she would not have changed a thing, and deep down she knew that she would never enjoy a moment like that again, when both Harry and she allowed their emotions complete freedom, pure and unadulterated.
Out of habit, they walked towards the common room when Harry realized that he still held the cup in his hands.
"Cho is in the common room," he noted, "I don't think she should know about this."
Hermione nodded her head in agreement, suggesting, "Why don't you wrap the towel around it, and then you can take it to your room."
Harry agreed but added, "I don't want to go there yet. Let's go somewhere we can talk."
That somewhere ended up being Professor Flitwick's Charms classroom, which happened to be on their way. Normally cluttered with cushions, feathers, and other practice items, it seemed too sterile in its summer status, yet Harry enjoyed its ambiance nonetheless. It brought back years of memories, and for one of the first times in his life, he felt nostalgic. They sat next to each other in an ancient two-seater wooden desk. The fingers of Harry's right hand entwined with the fingers of Hermione's left hand, and the two friends sat silently, each waiting for the other to speak.
"I wasn't expecting that to happen," Harry finally admitted quietly, and Hermione knew that he referred to the kissing in the lake.
"Neither did I," she agreed, "but I'm not sorry. Are you?"
Harry smiled, "Not a chance!" They smiled at each other, but looked away from embarrassment. After a short silence, Harry asked, "Are you sure Ron will be OK about this? I mean, I still thought that the two of you . . ."
"We talked about it yesterday, while you were in the lake. He realizes that we aren't right for each other. Like I said before, you should talk to him about it. I don't want to put words in his mouth. He actually figured out his feelings better than I did, amazing as that sounds." She sounded both amused and embarrassed that a brute like Ron could be more in touch with those feelings than she. "I think I never let myself think that you and I could . . ."
As Harry gradually came to understand the ramifications of their new status, he frowned. Hermione noticed, and squeezed his hand, wordlessly asking him to express his worry.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea, Hermione. For you, I mean. I have to absorb this." He held up Hufflepuff's cup. "I've already changed so much. Dumbledore's letter, the horcruxes. I'm not even sure that I like myself anymore."
Hermione pulled his hand towards her, and with her right hand she turned Harry's downcast face towards hers.
"I'm sure," she whispered, and she leaned forward to kiss him, "I know what I'm getting myself into."
"I wish I did," Harry tried to joke, managing only a grimace.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"How can I be surrounded but such imbeciles!" groused a pacing Rufus Scrimgeour to Jeremiah Harrison in the Minister's office, "Chang escapes, then Shacklebolt escapes, and to top it off, the Daily Prophet escapes. How am I supposed to accomplish anything?"
Dressed as usual in a finely tailored dark muggle suit, Harrison did not immediately answer, deep in thought over the latest troubling events.
"I understand your frustration, Rufus, but you are missing the true concern. You have traitors among your aurors, which is the worst place to have them. They can create great difficulties."
"We've long suspected Shacklebolt. We've never been able to prove it, but he's been at a desk job, not privy to any sensitive information, though he must have recruited Cho. Shacklebolt has known the Chang family for many years."
Harrison poured just an inch of brandy in two large glasses and handed one to Scrimgeour. Both men lived disciplined lives, only drinking moderately.
"I'm not so worried about Shacklebolt," he opined, "because he is not responsible for most of it. He's had nothing to do with the Prophet mess. Or the Potter mess. It seems to me that there are too many messes to be a coincidence. But it's not Shacklebolt; it's someone else."
Paranoid by nature, Scrimgeour quickly latched on to his friend's idea, especially since Harrison normally shot down the Minister's conspiracy theories. He sipped his brandy slowly, allowing his bushy eyebrows to crease in thought.
"Harrington was the auror on the Potter case; I met with him a couple of times. Seems like a capable sort; at least he has an excellent file. He's also part of the team trying to track down the Prophet's location. And I understand that he was among the aurors that allowed Shacklebolt to escape. Coincidence?"
Harrison pursed his lips, almost upset with himself to be thinking similarly to Scrimgeour, but in this case, he could not discount the idea out of hand. Whether it turned out to be this Harrington fellow or someone else, Harrison sensed that this time the conspiracy theory had a solid basis.
"I think Harrington should be questioned, Rufus. The sooner the better."
Scrimgeour nodded, and both men lifted their glasses to their lips.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
Voldemort reached the other end of the lake, having swum as quickly as he could. Nearing the shore, he waved his wand at himself to cancel the fancy transfigurations of his head and feet, and he stood in the shallows. He tried to ignore the pain in his shoulder, arm and head, and immediately he searched for Pettigrew. Irritated that his manservant did not appear promptly, Voldemort walked out of the water and cast a drying spell on himself as well as a spell to numb his pain. After a minute's search, he found nothing.
Certainly Wormtail would not have returned to their current base without him, and Voldemort felt sure that the pathetic death eater lacked the strength to betray him. Peter hated him, which provided an excellent reason to keep him around. Voldemort loved to be hated and feared, and Wormtail hated and feared him more than anyone.
About to abandon his brief search, a straight twig caught his eye next to the trunk of a large pine. In fact, the twig turned out to be Peter's wand.
"Accio," Voldemort thought, and the wand flew into his hand. Carefully he examined the area around the tree. Clearly Peter had been sitting with his back against the trunk, as Voldemort could see the firmness of the ground where he had rested and the scuffed dirt from his shoes. A few feet away, he noticed some footprints in a patch of dusty soil. Fresh, huge footprints. Immediately he knew that it had to be that half giant with whom he attended Hogwarts a half century before, the one that he framed for Myrtle's death.
What an insufferable girl she was, he mused, recalling the victim of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, when he first opened it as a student. She had taken a liking to him, the handsome Head Boy, and despite his attempts to repel her advances, she persisted. In the end, it all worked to the best, as she proved to be an easy victim. Framing the half giant with the murder added icing to the cake, except that Dumbledore managed to get him off the hook somehow. Apparently the worthless Wormtail managed to be captured by the stupid oaf.
Voldemort grimaced. Wormtail knew too much. And he would talk. With a wave of his arms, he disappeared.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
To everyone's relief, Professor McGonagall earlier arranged for the transfer of Cho Chang to a new location, so when Harry and Hermione arrived to the Gryffindor common room with Hufflepuff's cup wrapped in a towel, the precaution proved to be unnecessary. Harry unveiled the rather unimpressive cup, only a fraction of the size of Tom Riddle's trophy.
Ginny's face remained impassive upon the entrance of her older friends. From her vantage point on a hill overlooking the lake, she witnessed Harry and Hermione's snogging sessions in the lake and their interaction on the shore. She could not hear them, but she could imagine their voices. Despite her earlier revelation that something existed between the two H's, she could not avoid her heart falling into her stomach.
Yes, she knew it before. She felt it when Harry hugged her in his hotel room a few days earlier, and his behavior over the past few days only reinforced it. But a fraction of her spirit clung on to the hope that this could turn around. Maybe he would learn to control his new personality and she would learn to adapt to it. The possibilities still existed. Until now.
Though Harry and Hermione did not hold hands upon entering the common room, their faces could not disguise the giddiness of their new relationship. Ginny remember her first days as Harry's official girlfriend, free to walk hand in hand with him openly She considered those the happiest days of her life, but now they seemed days from an earlier life.
Evan sat on one of the sofas after having rested for another half hour. By now the effects of Voldemort's spell had almost completely worn off, and he did not appear much worse for wear. He reached forward to take the cup from Harry, examining the small badger etched into one side.
"We should leave the castle," he informed the others while turning the cup in his hand, "The wards are down. McGonagall stopped by earlier to collect the girl, and told us that the antiapparation wards remain in the castle, but all the rest have been destroyed. They cannot be replaced quickly. We can take the cup somewhere else, somewhere safe, and take care of it there."
All of this made perfect sense of course, but Harry initially dismissed it out of hand.
"I'm not going anywhere," he declared, "Voldemort will have to come here. I intend to be wherever he goes."
"But we have to destroy the horcrux first," Hermione noted, "Maybe we should leave at least until then. Besides, why don't YOU decide where to meet Voldemort for once. It seems like every time, he's the one who's calling the shots. Why don't YOU call the shots for once."
Harry stared at Hermione, dumbfounded, and Hermione's mouth opened slightly when she realized what she just said. Never had he seen her take such an aggressive attitude towards Voldemort and Harry's destiny. Harry felt emotion well up inside him. In the past, his friends always stood with him, beyond anything he could have hoped for. But now Hermione went beyond mere support. He now felt that he had a partner.
"The Ministry will find out, Harry. This cannot be hidden. So far, McGonagall has kept it quiet, but she'll have to report this today. By tonight I expect a force of aurors here to attempt to protect Hogwarts. We simply cannot stay here," Evan argued, though he implicitly recognized that Harry should make the final decision. All of them did. They convinced him.
"Where could we go?" he asked.
"Mr. Harrington, do you know how to protect a muggle house?" Hermione asked.
Evan raised his eyebrows but answered, "I can do a decent job. It would keep Voldemort away for awhile, but not forever."
"That's good enough," she nodded, "You are all invited to my house." She smiled enthusiastically. "I promised my parents that I would try to visit them, since I had to leave early, and I told them that I might bring Ron and Harry too. They wouldn't mind Ginny and Mr. Harrington too."
"Your house?" Ron asked skeptically, "Is that any more safe than here?"
He looked instinctively to the one adult in the group, Evan Harrington, as if he had to provide his opinion. The others followed Ron's eyes and awaited the auror's response.
"Noplace is entirely safe, but I happen to know that the Ministry placed some protections on her house last year. I learned about them when I was tracking you," he explained, nodding towards Harry. "I can add a few temporary wards, and we should relatively safe there for a few days. Voldemort's going to be focusing on Hogwarts, so I agree with Hermione. Let's let him come, only to find that both the trophy and cup are gone. He'll be desperate, and desperate people make mistakes. Then we'll take him on our terms, not on his. Once we figure out what to do with the cup, we can deal with Voldemort and his snake at the same time."
Now everyone redirected their eyes to Harry for the final say on the matter. Part of him preferred to remain at the castle, waiting for Voldemort to attack, but he also understood the wisdom of Hermione and Evan's thinking. He nodded his head.
"Let's pack and get out of here."
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
Just minutes after a house elf disappeared with his dirty dishes, Draco returned to his bed, opening a thick book written by somebody named Dickens. A muggle, but Draco read it anyway, having absolutely nothing else to do. He understood little of the novel, something about a boy named Copperfield, but he could tell that the author wrote well. Since he already twice read the last edition of Quidditch Weekly before its seizure by the Ministry, he had to read the novel.
If he did not read, he began to think. He did not want to think.
To his shock, however, his door opened for the first time since Lupin and Shacklebolt left him. The house elves did not bother with doors, simply popping in and popping out when necessary. Again Lupin and Shacklebolt entered, closing the door behind them.
Draco had no idea that Kingsley now lived in the safe house with him, no longer able to appear in public, at least in the wizarding world. Even in the muggle world, he would stick out like a sore thumb, so for the moment, Kingsley felt almost as much of a prisoner as Draco, though at least he had the run of the house. Draco marked the page in the novel, and set it on the bed. He noted that Lupin carried a small pouch.
Kingsley conjured a wooden chair while Remus pulled up the one chair in the room, and both men sat down, neither having even acknowledged Draco with anything more than a nod. Remus held the pouch on his lap.
"We have news, Draco. Bad news, I'm afraid," Remus began, skipping any preamble.
Draco stiffened, and from the expressions on the faces of the two men, he guessed. His heart sank.
"Your mother is dead," Remus continued with little sympathy in his voice. He cared nothing for Narcissa Malfoy, the cousin of his best friend, Sirius Black. Narcissa stood for everything evil in the magical world - muggle hatred, pure-blood snobbery. She only cared for one person, other than herself: Draco. "Lord Voldemort killed her."
A long silence followed. This could be a bluff, Draco considered, but why would they need to bluff? He willingly would tell them everything he knew, and even if he did not, they could give him veritaserum. The two men anticipated Draco's reaction.
"Here." Remus handed the black pouch to Draco.
Draco received the pouch gingerly, as if it could bite him, and untied the cords. Looking inside, he reached in and pulled out several items of jewelry which belonged to his mother. Her wedding ring, a gold Slytherin ring which she wore on her right hand, a simple gold necklace that she commonly wore, an intricately carved gold bracelet.
These items hardly proved his mother's death, but he did not disbelieve his two captors. Deep down, he knew he may have written his mother's death sentence when he betrayed the dark lord. With the two men sitting in his cell, he did not know how to react. Again he stared at them questioningly.
"We discovered something else on her, Draco," Remus added after pausing a minute to allow Draco to examine the items. He pulled a note from a pocket and handed it to the young wizard. Draco opened the half sheet of parchment and immediately recognized his mother's distinctive handwriting. Immediately he noticed that her handwriting, normally impeccably perfect, appeared to be rushed.
Dearest Draco:
The dark lord has called for me this morning, and if I am not mistaken, these will be my last words to you. I can only hope that fate will allow you to read them, as unlikely as that now appears.
You will grieve for me, but do not feel sorry for me. I am receiving my just rewards for a life misspent. Now it all seems so clear that I marvel at how I could have failed to see the error of my ways. If my errors only served to ruin my own life, I would not despair, but I know that they have destroyed your life as well. Do not attempt to rationalize my actions. I freely embraced the enticements of the dark, and I deserve no pity.
Wherever you are, realize that you cannot return to the dark lord. He will torture you and kill you as he will torture and kill me. He deceived us. We chose to believe that he would save the wizarding world for those of us pure of blood. But what we really desired were the privileges and wealth that come with the subjugation of others. For many years, your father and I enjoyed the spoils of our decisions, but in the end, he and I both will meet early and violent deaths.
Is it too late to save you, Draco? Have we molded you so thoroughly that my words now cannot move you? Let me state it plainly. I was wrong! Your father was wrong! The dark lord is wrong! If given the chance, Draco, you must oppose the dark lord in any way you can, even if it means sacrificing your life. You are the last Malfoy, and only you can rescue our name.
You must reprogram your mind, my son. Accept that all that we taught you was mistaken. Muggles are not inferior to us. Muggle-born and half-bloods are our equals, if not our superiors. This is so clear to me now; how could I have been so blind for so long? We have blinded you as well, but now I am attempting to grant you the gift of sight. Use it, Draco! If you must die, then die a noble death, not the pathetic deaths of your parents.
The dark lord fears Harry Potter. I know you hate him, but he is the key to the dark lord's destruction. I do not know why nor how, but the dark lord believes it; therefore, it must be true. You need not befriend Potter, but you must support him in whatever way you can.
In only one way have I succeeded in life. I have loved you with all my heart, even if I have failed you in every other way. You now have the knowledge to change your path. Change it now, and know that whatever fate brings your way, my love will always live inside of you.
Mother
The words shocked Draco so completely, that even when he finished the letter, his eyes remained focused on the blank parchment below her name. He could not form a rational thought, his mind overloaded by the death of his mother and her incredible dying words.
Remus and Kingsley had already read the note, and observing Draco's reaction, they decided he needed some time. The two men stood, and with a wave of his wand, Kingsley vanished the conjured chair.
"We'll give you some time to think, Draco," Remus informed him, though Draco barely noticed, "We'll be back later to talk about this." The next thing Draco heard, the door latched, and the bolt clicked shut.
xxxx xxxx xxxx xxxx
"So my maternal instincts did not let me down, did they?"
"No, mum," Hermione admitted with an embarrassed smile, "Everyone seemed to know before Harry and me."
Mrs. Granger smiled lovingly. Naturally the arrival of their only daughter with a man, two teenaged boys, and a teenaged girl shocked her, but she happily invited them into her home, marveling at how easily the house could be made to adapt. Ginny would sleep in Hermione's room, and Mrs. Granger could only shake her head when her daughter changed a small chair in her room into a bed, complete with sheets and comforter.
The males would sleep in the small guest room, which only contained one bed. She offered to allow one of them to sleep on the couch downstairs, but the man told her not to worry. How he managed to increase the interior size of the room threefold without changing the outside dimensions of the house would baffle her for the rest of her days.
Not having planned for such a large group, dinner consisted of Chinese takeout, and before they knew it, darkness had fallen. The three men already had retired to their room, and Ginny apparently awaited in Hermione's bedroom.
"You two seem very happy," Mrs. Granger commented, "I hope you have fun together. Just don't worry about a future yet. If it's meant to happen, it will happen."
"Thanks, mum," Hermione responded with a wide grin, and mother and daughter embraced. Finally Hermione broke free and informed her mother, "I should go to my room. Ginny is there all alone." She bit her lip at the thought, not anxious to be alone with her friend for the first time since the events in the lake. Did Ginny know? Did she see anything? What should Hermione say to her?
Meanwhile the three males had all quickly prepared themselves for bed. Evan considered returning to his home for the evening, but a sixth sense kept him away. He knew that he had been walking a tightrope, and today a stiff breeze hit him. How much longer could he keep up the charade? Already on this day, he had been forced into desperate actions, allowing Shacklebolt to escape and lying about having to meet Harry Potter. Sooner or later they would figure it out, though he hoped that the time had not yet arrived.
Throughout the evening, Harry and Ron seemed to enjoy themselves well enough, distracted by the novelty of moving to the Granger residence. Now in the room together with nothing to occupy them, Evan noticed their reluctance to look at or even speak with each other. They needed to get past this stage, the auror decided; they could not allow this baggage to weigh them down in the important days to come. Evan decided to broach the subject himself.
"So, Potter," he smirked, "That was smooth. Right in the middle of the lake. I never thought about snogging a girl for the first time in the middle of a lake. Now I know why I've never had a way with women. I've no imagination."
Harry could not deny the humor in it, and he chuckled while he shook his head in disbelief. Ron forced a smile as well.
"I wouldn't recommend it," Harry advised them, "We nearly drowned a couple of times. Take it from me, keep your snogging adventures on dry land." They all laughed.
The topic opened, Harry nervously glanced at his best mate, who sat on his bed with his long legs crossed and his back against the wall.
"Hermione told me you talked," Harry informed him, "She says you're OK with it." He sounded nervous and hopeful.
Ron grimaced, but nodded his agreement, looking down at the sheets beneath him.
"We talked. It wouldn't have worked between us; we could both see it. If I was OK with my sister, I guess I can be OK with our friend," Ron explained in a slightly pained voice. They paused for a few seconds until Ron smiled and added, "But in the middle of a lake! Really, Harry! Who kisses a girl for the first time in the middle of a lake?"
Harry smiled and knew that Ron would remain his best mate, and a wave of relief passed through him. Sure there might be a few uncomfortable moments, and Harry resolved to attempt to keep his amorous activities with Hermione more private for the time being, but in the end, they would be fine.
"You sure, mate? This just happened, completely unplanned. I gave you your chance; I didn't try to steal her from you." Harry felt this to be a statement of extreme importance, and he eagerly awaited Ron's response.
"I had my chances. Many chances, and I wasted them all. We could have had some good times, maybe," Ron mused, "Or maybe we would have argued all day. I don't know, but I wish we would have found out. But no use crying over spilt milk." He finally stared directly at Harry and asserted, "I'm fine, mate. Really."
Across the hall, Hermione pulled on an oversized t-shirt that she used as pajamas and returned to her bedroom. Ginny already lay on the transfigured bed, staring straight above her with her hands behind her head. Hermione glanced at the younger witch several times, but Ginny made no effort to make eye contact.
Hermione climbed onto her bed, and sat cross-legged just as Ron across the way. She waited a few moments to see if Ginny would react to her in any way. The younger witch did not move a muscle. Just by observing her, Hermione knew that she must know, or have figured it out.
"I guess you were right, Ginny," Hermione spoke softly, "About Harry and me, I mean. It sort of happened today. I'm not sure if you knew."
"I know. I saw you in the lake."
The two talkative girls remained silent for a extremely uncomfortable length of time. Ginny determined that she would not be the first to speak and continued to stare at the ceiling. Hermione bit her bottom lip, wondering how to approach this situation.
"I didn't plan it, you know," she suddenly asserted defensively, "It just happened. Harry was just as surprised as I was. But it happened, and I'm happy that it did. I'm not going to apologize for it."
Hermione felt a need to defend herself even though Ginny had accused her of nothing. The younger girl finally moved, turning to her side so that she could see Hermione.
"I know, Hermione. You don't have to justify yourself. It's not something I really want to talk about right now. Maybe in a few days, it won't hurt so much."