Chapter Eight: Past and Present Conversations
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Friday May 10th 1996
11:40 p.m.
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Harry moved quietly. His invisibility cloak was tucked under his arm, but he didn't bother wearing it. Few moved through the halls of Hogwarts anymore. The astronomy tower still had a few visitors, but a majority of the students kept to their common rooms. Even the professors had more deviant matters to deal with than curfew breaking. Yet, his footsteps were silent, it wasn't good to tempt fate. His path was direct, leading him straight to the library. Harry leaned against the door and slipped inside.
"Where will she be tonight?" Harry whispered to himself. His eyes scanned room. Moonlight reflected of the long tables, leaving the room looking as if it had been etched in silver. But, a soft flicker of gold light streaked through the cage that encircled the restricted section. "Again?" murmured Harry.
With hardly a whisper of noise, Harry slipped through to the restricted section. He followed the light that had twisted through the stacks. He paused. There she was.
Hermione Granger was perched over a large book, her eyes trying to read in the dim light from her candle. She was leaning one elbow on her knapsack. Harry could see her school books from today's classes inside, untouched. His vision shifted to Hermione herself and his eyes dropped as he took in her exhausted form. Her shoulders hunched, dark shadows under her eyes.
"Hello Harry," her voice sighed like the wind.
"Hermione." Harry noticed his own voice sounded hollow. He pulled out the chair across from her. He made no motion to remove any books, his face staring blankly at the table. For a moment the fluttering of the page and the spluttering of the candle were the only noise.
Harry looked up as he heard Hermione rummage through her bag. She had dug into the side pockets, with a small sigh she tossed an object to him. It was a protein bar.
"You didn't eat dinner," she commented. Harry nodded as he absently unwrapped the bar.
"How would you know, you missed dinner too."
"I know you," was all she said, and Harry supposed all she had to say.
"You already ate yours," stated Harry. It wasn't a question. He knew her too. Hermione nodded and held up a purple wrapper.
"You always take the good flavors," said Harry at an attempt of humor. Hermione just rolled her eyes. There were no good flavors.
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11:45
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"What are you reading?" asked Harry. He was hardly interested. She was no doubt reading another obscure theoretical text. He only asked out of habit now.
"Atrum Scientia," she said softly. She lifted the book slightly and Harry examined the dark leather cover.
"What does that mean...my Latin still isn't the best," Harry rubbed his forehead, the lack of sleep was giving him a headache. But, he still wasn't tired enough for bed.
"Dark Knowledge." Hermione's eyelids flickered up, she watched Harry closely.
"Hermione..." Harry's voice trailed off as she continued to stare at him. He swallowed nervously.
"It's not what you think," rushed Hermione. She clutched at her hands as she spoke.
"What do I think?" asked Harry slowly. Hermione ran her fingers through her bushy hair, causing the already wild locks to become more disordered.
"You think I'm going dark, That I'll become like them--"
"That's not what I think," interjected Harry. Hermione shook her head. She gathered her hair in her hand and began twisting it back into a bun.
"Harry I've known you since we were eleven, I can tell what you're thinking by the look on your face." Hermione tilted her head. She looked like the old Hermione for a minute. Her tone crisp as if she were lecturing him on school rules.
"I'm just worried," conceded Harry. He looked away from her.
"Worried? About me going Dark!" Hermione shook her head, she took a deep breath and tried to look Harry in the eyes. "I won't ever be like them. I'd never use this knowledge on someone innocent, I'd just stop them..."
"No! Hermione don't you see that's how it starts." Harry's green eyes met Hermione's brown. His eyes pleaded for her to understand.
"What starts?" she asked confusedly.
"It's how people start down the road to darkness. You read more than I do Hermione, who said that the path to hell was paved with the best intentions." Harry reached his hand across the table but Hermione pulled away.
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11:48
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"I can't...I can't Harry." Her face screwed up in misery, but no tears fell. She squeezed her face tight, trying to contain the sob that threatened. "I'm not like you Harry. I'm not that noble. I always thought I could be. I always thought that if I was faced with the same stuff you faced that I-I'd be strong and not let it get me but...dammit Harry I can't anymore. I can't sit around casting tickling charms and stunning spells and just expect it to be enough."
"Hermione--" Harry reached out again but she pulled away more.
"I can't. They bandy about crucios and killing curses and we stun them and they just get back up. They need to be stopped." Hermione's voice was wrecked with unshed tears.
"Hermione, you're talking about killing people." Harry's words were quiet, but Hermione flinched as if she had been slapped.
"People That Deserve It!" she yelled as loudly as she dared, each syllable of her word enunciated. Her face met Harry's and she turned away with a sob. She brought her hand to her face to hide the tears that were slipping down.
"Does anyone deserve it?" Harry asked numbly. He stared at the table top as he spoke.
"Yes!" Hermione raised her head, there was no sadness on her face now. Her expression reeked of confidence. "Some People DO!" Hermione's voice carried throughout the room. She dropped her head. "It's the only way to stop them," she whispered. But Harry heard. The two friends sat in silence a moment. Hermione's words traveled over Harry like shockwaves. A part of him feared that she was right.
"Aren't you thinking about killing people." Hermione's voice broke the silence.
"W-what?" Harry paled as she watched him.
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11:53
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"Killing. Your extra lesson, with Moody and Shaklebolt, you never talk about them. That's what they're for right? Killing Voldemort."
"Hermione, you don't--"
"That's what they're for, right?" demanded Hermione, her eyes drilling into his. Harry slowly turned away, his face as still as a statue. He stared at the bookshelves for a moment, anywhere but at Hermione. Silence hung in the air for a long time while Harry looked away, and Hermione continued to stare at what part of his face she could see. When his voice finally spoke again it was brittle.
"Hermione, I'm just worried about you going down that path." Hermione closed her eyes and released an annoyed sigh.
"Isn't that a little naive, to think that there is this path to darkness, and once you're on it you can't turn back, it's just knowledge--"
"I've felt it." Harry's soft voice cut off Hermione's words. She lifted her head and a looked at him, her forehead crinkling. Harry rubbed his scar nervously. He'd never told anyone about this before. "I can feel it in my scar, reaching out from him. It would be so easy to let go Hermione, it would be so easy to just... let go,"
"Harry, you can't think that. This isn't some slippery slope, one step and you fall. It can't be like that. You can't think that by killing Voldemort you'll become like him." Hermione's last words were filled with an incredulous tone. She smiled slightly and shook her head. As if Harry had said some amusing quip.
"Don 't you think I worry about," stated Harry. He swallowed as the words ground out of his throat. He bowed his head and looked away from his friend.
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11:55
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Hermione's lips quivered as she took in the man before her. He oldest friend.
"You can't think that," she dictated firmly. But Harry wasn't listening to her. He was staring at his hands. And, she had no idea what he was thinking. She reached her hand across the table and grasped his forearm. "No, Harry. You're not like him. You don't have the potential to be like him,"
"Aren't I?" Harry's emerald eyes flashed as he spoke. "He mentioned it in my second year, when he was Tom Riddle. He said he noticed... similarities."
"He was lying, our twisting the facts. He didn't even know you. I know you Harry. You're nothing like him. You're good, and noble and kind. You give people second chances who don't deserve them. No matter how messed up your life has been, you've never given into it. At some point in his life Tom Riddle chose to let go. He chose to take that path of darkness, he embraced it. But Harry you won't, you never would." Hermione spoke with a passion she believed in the depths of her soul. Harry's drank in her words thirstily. He wanted to believe her. He wanted her to be right. He wanted her to be right about everything. But deep inside, the part Harry never let show, he had doubts.
"You have to be ready to kill--"
"Hermione," Harry's hush voice interrupted her. "I am. Don't you think I want him dead too? He's taken so much from me. I want vengeance just like everyone else, I know you want it." Harry shook his head. He did want revenge, more than Hermione could possibly know. It burned inside him he wanted it so much. But alongside that burning anger and rage existed a very real fear. Was he willing to risk his soul, his innate goodness...he didn't even know what it was called. But was he willing to risk it by becoming a killer?
"But are you ready? Do you understand how far you'll have to go." Hermione's voice seemed to be speaking more to herself than to Harry.
"What do you want me to say?" demanded Harry. "That I want them to suffer, maybe I do. I hate them enough to power a dozen crucios. But that doesn't make it right--"
"It doesn't make it wrong either. Harry, you won't go down that path, you won't let go." Hermione took his hand in hers. The book Atrum Scientia between them.
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12:00. Midnight. Ron Weasley has been dead for a week.
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The Hogwarts's bell tower tolled the time. Harry and Hermione were silent as they listened to the echoing chimes.
"What should I do?" Harry asked. Hermione's eyes flashed in the candle light, gold flecks sparkled in her brown eyes.
"I found a spell...
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Present
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Harry watched as the growing light lit up the land around him. As he stared out into the fields he could almost look past the landscape and see his friends. He took a deep breath and felt as if the air went through him and cleansed him. Peace was coming so much easier here. Only a few hours ago he had fought for every ounce of calm.
Harry sighed. He shouldn't have let his problems with his Uncle disrupt him so. But, it had felt so stifling and uncontrollable as he had sat on that stoop. It was no wonder he had wanted to release some magic. A reasonable response. And, it wasn't as if he had hurt anyone who hadn't deserved it. They were vampires, they killed and maimed for fun.
But, it wasn't what he had done that frightened him. And he knew it. Rather, it had been his vicious enjoyment. He had been interested, intrigued. And it sickened him. His actions had been eerily familiar of another wizard who was fascinated with watching death. Harry's eyes closed shut. No! He wasn't like that. Yet, Harry's hand shook slightly. He was already slipping. Letting go.
"Harry?" a soft voice cut through Harry's thoughts. He whipped his head around in surprise.
"Ginny?" Harry's voice registered shock as he took in the slim red head clutching a broom.
"Harry, what are you doing here? Where have you been?" Ginny ran up to Harry as the boy rose to his feet. She paused before him, but with only a slight amount of hesitation, she pulled him into a soft hug. Harry smiled slightly, but his eyes were sad.
"You disappeared, the whole wizarding world has been going mad wondering where you are. They...they said you deserted us." Ginny's brown eyes examined Harry carefully. Harry closed his eyes and sighed softly.
"I'd never--"
"I know," she responded without hesitation. "So where have you been?" she questioned.
"It's kind of a long story," answered Harry. With a smirk Ginny plopped to the ground and looked up at Harry expectantly. Harry shook his head at the pushy red head.
"Well, it all started with this letter from America...
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Back at the Hellmouth
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Rupert Giles clutched his heart and he stared at the golden sword in Buffy's hand. Harry's sword. God No. God No. The words kept repeating in his mind. This couldn't be happening.
Buffy quickly took in her Watcher's ashen face.
"No, Giles it isn't what you think," she said quickly.
"What?" Giles's voice sounded feeble, the words barely leaving his lips.
"He's not hurt, he's not dead." Buffy spoke quickly but clearly. Giles closed his eyes, his posture sagged and he collapsed into a chair. "Giles?" Buffy knelt beside him.
"I'm fine Buffy, just...what happened?" he asked quickly regaining control. Giles removed his glasses and looked at his slayer intently.
"I'm not exactly sure. Something magical happened, and I'm sure Harry did it...he kinda went all transparent."
"Transparent...I ...well I can't say I'm an expert with wizard magic...but it isn't something I've heard of. How...how was he, when it happened?" questioned Giles. His voice was curious and clinical, it was easier to solve a problem if one avoided emotional attachment. Giles cringed slightly. The first rule of the Watcher's council, remain objective. Gag.
"Well before he disappeared he was really kinda out of it. It seemed like he couldn't hear me...he looked upset I guess." Buffy's face turned pensive as she tried to remember how Harry had looked. She had been so concerned at the time over his...not-thereness, that she hadn't paid much attention to his expression.
"What led to this?" Giles asked. His eyes focused on Buffy as she tried to recall the sequence of events that had occurred.
"Well, he was a little out of it when we left." Buffy paused and raised her eyebrows at her watcher, who had the presence of mind to look mildly guilty. "He had spotted a group of five vampires headed into town. We cornered them in an alley. Harry beheaded one, and the four split themselves up between Harry and I."
"Wait...wait just a moment. Buffy how could you let Harry fight two vampires..." Giles's voice was filled with a panicked accusation. He stared at her his mouth agape. "Harry wouldn't be able to handle--" Buffy raised her hands and cut him off.
"Giles have seriously lost your mind? Harry can fight. He's a fighter. You should have seen him roast the vamps his first night out. He dusted two without even breaking a sweat." Giles shook his head.
"Buffy I know his magic might look impressive, but it hardly means he is ready for--" Buffy had stared at her watcher, completely gobsmacked.
"Giles!" she said firmly, interrupting her watcher. "Listen closely. I can see you have blinders when it comes to Harry. When I say he's a fighter. I mean, He's. A. Fighter! Giles's he's been fighting big bad for longer than I have. When he was twelve, he killed some giant snake monster thingy...basalick or something--"
"A basilisk?" questioned Giles. His face paled as Buffy nodded. "What else has he told you?" Giles asked, failing to keep all the jealousy from his voice.
"Not much." Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "He doesn't like to talk about his past much...but Giles you got to get this through that usually intelligent brain of yours. Harry's a fighter, he's good at it. My spidey sense is tingling," Buffy looked at Giles, her face determined. Giles sighed. How could he argue with Slayer intuition. It wasn't as if he knew his nephew enough to argue with her. He looked over at Buffy to see her shaking her head slightly, a frown marring her face.
"I'm so stupid," Buffy moaned. She took raised her hands and smacked her head. "I sensed that something was wrong before we left. He was more...focused than usual." Giles quirked his head in confusion and Buffy correctly interpreted the gesture.
"Harry isn't usually all serious about patrol. I mean he pays attention when he's fighting but he doesn't make it all gloom and doom. He can laugh about it." Buffy smiled slightly. Harry had a way of looking at things that was similar to hers. Sure fighting evil was dangerous, but you couldn't center on that. You had to find some joy in life. Buffy blinked her eyes thoughtfully. That had been what had been different about him earlier.
"Stupid Buffy," she moaned. "He was upset earlier too. He said he wanted to fight," Buffy sighed. "But I don't think that's what he really needed."
"He was emotionally troubled?" Giles asked pensively. He tried to keep the worry out of his voice, but he had a feeling it had slipped through.
"Yeah," stated Buffy. She looked at Giles with a curious frown on her face.
"Perhaps...and this is only supposition, but I know wizards and witches can preform magic accidentally when they are upset. When Lily was eight, she lit Petunia's bed on fire." Giles smiled in remembrance but the glow didn't reach his eyes.
"So you think...you think he's okay?" questioned Buffy.
"I don't really know. It seems odd for him to still be preforming accidental magic...I believe wizards usually manage to control their magic as they get older." Giles sighed and rubbed his forehead. "I have a feeling Harry has trouble deeper than he's told us."
"Well duh Giles, happy people don't decide to jump right into the demon killing business. He'd be going to parties or...hanging out with his friends." Buffy sighed as her head drooped. "Of course this is somewhat your fault" accused Buffy. Giles closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I think you might be right," whispered Giles. But, Buffy's slayer hearing caught the words. Rather than gloating as she normally would, Buffy rose and placed a comforting hand on her watcher's shoulder.
"I'm sure he'll be back Giles. Then you can make it right."
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"So, you have another prick for an Uncle," stated Ginny. There was no question in her words, just a growling of anger.
"He's not really--"
"Harry he ignored you for practically a week," contended Ginny. She spoke slowly, as if Harry was being particularly thick. Harry rolled his eyes.
"Well when you put it like that," he said.
"But meeting the Slayer, that had be neat. What's she like?" Ginny asked curiously.
"Well, she's one of a kind..." Harry trailed off, trying to think of how to describe Buffy.
"Well, being one of a kind, sort of comes with the whole Chosen One gig, huh." Ginny leaned to the side and bumped shoulders with Harry. "It must be nice meeting someone like yourself," concluded Ginny.
"No, she's better than me..." Harry sighed. "I think you'd like her." He turned to look at Ginny who was glaring at him. "What?" Harry asked concern filling his words.
"Harry you're a great person...you know that right?" Ginny asked looking at his face worriedly.
"Ginny..." sighed Harry. He wasn't in a mood for an argument. He had finally regained some sense of inner peace.
"Harry. I don't get you. You killed the worst dark lord in...forever and you act like you're some failure. You go back to the Dursleys, even though you hate it there. The ministry awarded you the Order of Merlin First Class, and you didn't even show up for the presentation. Then you sneak off to the Americas without a so much as a by you leave...I just don't get it." Ginny shook her head. Harry was staring down at his hands. When he answered his voice was quiet. But, Ginny had no trouble hearing him.
"I am a failure. Look around Ginny." Harry raised his face and the look in his eyes made Ginny's heart feel as if cracking. The pain on his face was so raw.
"Harry..." Ginny looked away she wasn't certain what to say. So she said the most cliche thing that came to mind. Something that Harry had no doubt heard so many times. "It wasn't your fault." Harry looked away.
"I know." He said, when he turned back to her, his expression had turned back into the Harry she knew. A small crooked smile. The pain had been tucked away agin, you could only find it in his eyes. Ginny bit her lip sadly. She wished she could help Harry. But what could she say?
"How's Neville?" Harry asked. It was an obvious attempt to draw attention away from himself, but Ginny found herself relieved as well. A small flush graced her cheeks as she smiled.
"Oh, he's fine. He ugh, gave me this." Ginny held up her hand and Harry spotted a ring on her finger. His eyes bulged in surprise.
"Ehhhh..." Harry stuttered, not sure what to say. Ginny laughed.
"It's not what you think. Gez Harry, I'm only sixteen. It's a promise ring. Although I'm not entirely sure what the promise is..." Ginny's voice trailed off she gazed at the ring. "I'm not even really sure if Neville serious about--"
"Trust me, Neville's serious," stated Harry. Ginny blushed. "Promise me you won't get married for a couple years, yeah, I'm already bogged down with invitations." Ginny rolled her eyes.
"It's in the air I guess, strange how not having to worry about being murdered will do that to you." Ginny smirked as Harry groaned.
Harry's face turned away from Ginny. His eyes snagged on the gravestones that surrounded him. So many familiar names. And now, that was all they were. Only names, no people to be attached to them. Harry sighed. For a guy who hated graveyards, he'd spent a lot of time in them lately.
"I should go, you probably want some privacy," said Harry. He rose to his feet. Ginny rotated her waist and watched him walk away.
"Where you going?" she asked.
"Back to Sunnydale for now, but I don't know." Harry shook his head in confusion.
"Why go back Harry? There are people that love you here, at home. Mum' gone mad wondering where you have been." Ginny spoke with conviction. Harry cringed as she spoke.
"I've got to go back for now. Buffy needs me...well I'm not sure if she really needs me. But she could use some help. And I can't be here right now." Harry sighed and Ginny nodded sadly. "But I won't be gone too long. Uh, tell your mum I'll drop in for dinner some night." Harry smiled, but it still didn't possess his past warmth.
Ginny nodded her head, she turned to face her brother's grave. She stared at the name for awhile. She missed him. When she was younger she thought she'd be glad to have him gone. She had enough brothers after all...but she missed him more than she'd known. She shook her head softly. Harry still blamed himself. The dark haired boy hadn't been able to look her Mum in the eyes since Ron had died. He shouldn't blame himself. It wasn't his fault.
"Harry," Ginny spun around. She scanned the graveyard, a sigh already on her lips. Harry was gone.
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Harry arrived back in Sunnydale, and it was still dark. Interesting. Odd how time zones worked. He had arrived in downtown Sunnydale, and he had no intention of going back to his Uncle's house. He needed a place away from that turmoil. Instead he recalled a run-down motel which operated late into the night. It was hardly comfortable, but it would work for the night. Popping around the world and battling his inner demons had worn him out. He only wanted to see the inside of his eyelids for the next few hours. With an exhausted sigh, Harry apparated to the motel.
The balding man at the front desk was rude. He had leered at Harry unpleasantly, telling him that any guests, cough chicks cough, were extra. He also implied that if Harry needed and entertainment, he "knew a guy". Harry had shoved the man his money and claimed room thirteen. Harry stumbled into the room, flicked on the lights, cast a quick scourgify on a suspicious stain on the bedspread, and collapsed. He did a poor job of reinforcing his Occlumency, but figured it was better than nothing before falling asleep.
Harry wouldn't sleep well, but it was better than nothing.
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A/N: Writer sobs to herself...do you still like me? (Gosh that sounded needy!) I really liked my last chapter and only got half the reviews I usually do. Must I threaten you again! Here's the deal you review and I write. Even if you hate my work I want to hear from you. So, please review.
Sorry that wasn't for you lovely people who have reviewed. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.