Chapter 8 Reviewing the Past
POTTER VICTORIOUS, THE DARK LORD IS DEAD!
In extraordinary events that took place late last night and early this morning, Harry Potter has done what many believed he was destined to do and has defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, formally known as Tom Marvolo Riddle.
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was the scene for the events after He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named arrived at the school and demanded Harry Potter be brought to him. The battle raged for hours before He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named gave Potter an ultimatum: go and face him, or watch as he killed his friends and supporters.
In this special edition of the Daily Prophet we reveal every detail of what happened last night and how He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was finally beaten, along with interviews with the survivors and tributes to those who died fighting protecting the school and a way of life. See contents for full details.
She turned the page of the newspaper and saw the moving images of people looking devastated, lost and broken.
She turned more of the pages, glimpsing at photographs and headlines, taking in the odd word that was printed. The names Potter, Weasley and Granger caught her eye the most, but that might have been because she had trained herself to find them faster than normal, it helped when scouring newspaper after newspaper for information.
Not that there had been much news on the three of them over the past few years. After the war she couldn't pick up a newspaper without someone having written an article about one of them or the people they were close to. Every time she had read one of the names a jolt of anger had seared through her. It didn't happen any more, her initial rage and anger had died down, but had been replaced by a cool desire for revenge and a meticulous plan.
She turned to the back half of the large publication to the page titled 'Obituaries'. The section was the biggest in the paper. Every person who had died fighting against The Dark Lord and his supporters were each given an in depth biography and details of their contribution to the war effort and the Final Battle at Hogwarts. She looked down the page and saw the photographs she had seen so often, once again.
Ministry Aurors adorned the top half of the first page, Nymphadora Tonks' picture being the most eye-catching and bright, and then the bottom half showed those members of The Order of the Phoenix that had died.
The pages after continued with the names and photographs of students, teachers and residents of Hogsmeade who had joined the fray, but hadn't survived the fighting.
She turned the page again, and, as it did every single time she looked at this page, her stomach turned and her heart started to beat faster.
Her eyes dropped to the bottom half of the page. The paper was crinkled where her tears had landed and damaged the parchment and the ink was smudged too.
She didn't read the title anymore, because she knew that it said 'Death Eaters Killed'. That was it, no explanation on how each one died, whether they gave their lives for another or were fighting for what they believed was right. Just a list of the dead. No dignity. Nothing but a name.
Her eyes settled on the second name on the list, which she had learned by heart. The name was so familiar, yet in a way, she was only just getting used to it. She traced the name with her finger and took a deep, shaky breath.
'I won't fail you. I promise.'
…
'RON! Where's- Ahhh! Merlin! Okay, OWW!'
Hermione simultaneously rubbed her left shoulder with her opposite hand and her right foot with her left, wobbling slightly as she tried to keep her balance.
'Jesus, Ron! When I ask you to tidy stuff I mean tidy it, not shove it in the cupboard I hardly go in so I won't notice you've only done half a JOB!'
'Huh?'
Ron poked his head around the door to the cupboard and looked a little confused.
'Don't worry yourself, my love, I've only nearly decapitated myself with the box that was precariously balanced on the top shelf in here, you carry on with what you were doing!'
'Huh? Okay!'
He disappeared from sight.
'Ronald! Get your arse back here now!'
He reappeared
'But you just said-'
'I didn't mean it! I was being sarcastic! Why the hell is there this much rubbish in here?'
'It's not rubbish! It's… it's… stuff!'
She raised an eyebrow at him.
'Okay, fine, but when have I had the time to sort through it?' Ron asked.
'What exactly were you doing before you came in here?'
Ron scuffed his foot along the metal carpet covering.
'lisnintquidditch…'
Hermione nodded and turned back to the cupboard.
'Magically clearing it would be better than nothing!' She turned around to see Ron's face lighten up. 'Until you have time to clean it properly, of course.'
His face fell again.
'Fine!'
'If you could pick up whatever nearly decapitated me, it would be much appreciated.'
She turned and directed her attention back to looking for what she went in the cupboard for in the first place for: the strong magical stain remover only brought out when cleaning spells failed her. She had no idea what Crookshanks had rolled in and then proceeded to wipe all over the lounge room floor, and, quite frankly, she didn't want to know, but she had to remove it nonetheless.
She stood on a large trunk and reached to the very top shelf and got a hold on the metal container and then, with a release of breath which she had been holding while she stretched, she landed heavily back on the floor. She turned around, expecting Ron to laugh at her for either the way she struggled, or for not using magic to summon what she wanted, but he wasn't there.
She walked through to the kitchen, cleaner in hand, and found Ron sat at the kitchen table with the box, which had nearly knocked her out earlier.
She sat down opposite him, and looked at the things he had pulled out, there was a smaller, metallic box, a file full of newspaper clippings, two official scrolls, a couple of scruffy pieces of parchment and two velvet covered boxes.
'So, it's this that nearly killed me-.'
Her head dropped at what she had said without thinking, but Ron smiled and took her hand in this.
'Well, you never know, these Horcruxes,' he picked up the metallic tin, 'might still be trying to do us in even years later!' Ron said through a chuckle.
She laughed. 'Yeah, maybe!'
She took the tin from Ron and heard the Horcruxes clunk around, even though they were in a cloth bag inside the tin. If you asked her why they had kept them, she wouldn't have been able to give you a straight answer, but when Harry had presented both Ron and Hermione with the mangled metal objects that they had each destroyed, they didn't scoff at him or throw them away in fear of the memories they brought with them, they just took the one they destroyed and hid them away from prying eyes.
She didn't think at all that they still had homicidal qualities about them, but they still kept them hidden from sight, it was hardly something she wanted to talk about over dinner, and some things she just didn't want to think about.
'You know,' Ron started, unfolding the first edition of The Prophet printed after the Final Battle, 'do you ever think back on the stuff we did and not believe any of it?'
Hermione smiled.
'When I do think about it all, I sometimes have trouble getting my head round some of the things we had to do, even if I was involved in it all.'
Ron looked back in the box.
'How come we have five copies of the paper?' he asked.
'Oh, well, I thought that if people threw theirs out because they couldn't bear to look at it then they might want to in the future, hence the spares. George specifically asked me to keep one for him. You know he got rid of everything – newspaper clippings, Order reports he and Fred had kept, but he knew he'd want to look at this one day, or maybe show any kids he might have, so asked me to keep one for him.'
Ron nodded and smiled.
Hermione reached for the paper and looked at the front page. There was one larger picture with a few more underneath it. She looked at the main picture, which showed Kingsley Shacklebolt reading from a scroll of parchment and Harry, Ron and Hermione stood behind and to the right of him. The three of them looked reluctant to be there, as they kept looking at the floor and muttering between themselves.
She flicked through the pages, briefly reading the odd snippet of information and then stopped when she got to the obituaries page.
'I can't remember who wrote Fred's obituary. Was it your dad?'
Ron shook his head. 'Nah, George wanted to do it, well I think he felt he needed to, whether he wanted to is another thing entirely. The Prophet said they'd do it if we didn't feel we could, but that wasn't going to happen. To be honest, I think the both of them had written something down, just in case.'
Hermione's eyes flickered to the box and her gaze landed on the two crumpled pieces of parchment in the box. When they had reached Hogwarts and the Room of Requirement, and before Ron had realised they could use the Basilisk Fangs as a way to destroy the remaining Horcruxes, Hermione had hidden herself in the corner of the room for a couple of minutes and hastily written a note to Ron.
Tears had filled her eyes as she had written it, and she could feel her eyes burning with tears as she remembered choosing the words carefully, but also, essentially, saying her goodbyes to the people she loved.
She snapped out of her thoughts when Ron squeezed her hand.
'I'll put all this away, shall I? These aren't the best things to look at of an evening.'
Hermione nodded. Ron started to put the rest of the objects in the box while Hermione flicked through the last few pages of the paper. At the end of the obituaries the list of the dead Death Eaters and known Dark Lord supporters were listed.
She read the first name on the list: Tom Marvolo Riddle. A sense of calm washed over her. Sometimes just reading it in black and white was enough to calm her and reassure her everything they did was for a reason. At the second name, memories of excruciating pain and a sense of losing her mind washed over her, and the calm she had felt a few seconds earlier died.
Never before nor since had she felt pain like that.
'Answer me! CRUCIO!'
It had taken every ounce of courage she possessed to not scream out the answers she wanted to hear. She nearly gave in, nearly said everything she knew about the sword of Gryffindor. But then she heard him. Heard him screaming her name and she remembered how he had come back to her and searched for them until he had found them again. She would hold on for him, and show the courage he had shown.
Bellatrix Lestrange was not going to beat her.
No one with the name Lestrange was going to hurt her again.
…
Anger surged through her. Jonathan had sent her a rather brief but to the point note.
She mentally chastised herself; this is what you get for hiring thugs who have no idea about anything!
They were going to pay for this. It could jeopardise everything!
Everything she had planned could dissolve any minute.
They were going to pay for their stupidity, of this she was certain.