Chapter 40 – Love and Horror

It had been an unusually frustrating for Hermione. The seventh year Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson had once again been a shambles, as any teacher or Ministry Auror supervising the class had been called away at some point, leaving the students to their own devices. If it hadn't been for the DA she would have given up all hope, and glancing around the classroom at fellow members, she could tell she wasn't alone.

She had headed straight for the library as the lesson ended, having been granted a pass to the restricted section, but yet again, she found to her astonishment that the books on her list had already been lent out to somebody else. These included magical history guides, placed under 'restricted' as they included chapters on ancient Dark magical rites and incantations, though quite why somebody other than Hermione had taken these away for casual reading was anybody's guess.

Finally giving up the ghost, she resigned herself to a thorough inspection of the last few copies of the Daily Prophet. There was rarely anything that related directly to the activities of Death Eaters, but the clues were there if you knew where to look. The occasional three inches of print would be reserved for concerns about various disappearances, but it seemed that the Ministry was very keen to keep their troubles a closely guarded secret.

It was as she flicked through the most recent edition that Ron scurried up to the table, cautiously avoiding the watchful eye of Madame Prince.

"Hermione!" he hissed, making her jump and earning him a cold glare.

"What is it?" she whispered, slowing down her breathing to a civilised pace, "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"Sorry, but I really needed to talk to you," he replied briskly, "I've just come from Hagrid's, and he said that Crookshanks has made a good recovery now so you can take him back to the castle."

"Really? Oh Ron, that's wonderful!" she said, throwing her arms around him and completely forgetting that she was annoyed.

"I was thinking…," coughed Ron, the wind having been knocked out of him, "Maybe we should bring Harry along if he's feeling up to it."

Hermione rapidly gathered up her newspapers.

"If I go and fetch him, could you take these back to the common room?" she murmured.

Ten minutes later, Hermione found herself standing in the hospital wing with Harry crying into her shoulder. This was a difficult situation for her. She considered herself to be a very understanding individual, but she couldn't pretend to know exactly what he was going through.

"Harry, listen to me," she said, pulling him upright and attempting to dry his eyes on the corner of the bed sheet, "There is something you should really get through your thick skull. There are people who believe in you, who know you have the strength to see this through to the end. They believe and trust in you so much that they will fight alongside you, come what may. They would die for you, if that's what it took. That goes for me and Ron, it goes for the Order of the Phoenix, and most especially for that girl you love so much. Stop thinking you're alone."

There wasn't a great deal Harry could say to this, and Hermione continued before he could even make the attempt.

"Perhaps you could start with a slightly more modest goal than leading wizardkind into battle. How about getting dressed and coming with us to collect Crookshanks from Hagrid?"

In that instant, Harry couldn't help but laugh at himself through the distress. She was right. Dumbledore had once said that death was not the worst thing that could happen to a person, but as long as Voldemort believed otherwise, maybe death was the only thing to fear. Rubbing the last of the sleep out of his eyes, he reached for his glasses and climbed out of bed.

The moment they set foot outside the hospital wing, Harry suddenly became aware that he was once again surrounded by the dangers of the outside world. Perhaps he had already been in a state of recovery for too long. Now was the time to toughen himself up a little more. One thing he was not about to do, however, was venture outside into the frosty grounds of Hogwarts without gloves, and he was most grateful when Ron appeared with a spare pair. The three of them stomped across the grass to Hagrid's cottage, under the constant surveillance of two Ministry Aurors who stood at the castle entrance.

"You know, for a school with so many protective charms defending its borders, I sometimes think they're being a little over cautious," muttered Ron quietly.

"They can't help it," replied Hermione, pulling her scarf tightly around her neck, "After everything that's happened, I don't think I'd be taking a chance either."

As they approached the cottage, the door flew open and there stood the groundskeeper himself, holding Hermione's cat carefully in his hands. He smiled warmly as Hermione rushed up to him.

"Oh, Crookshanks!" she cried, taking the creature in her arms, "Thank you so much for looking after him, Hagrid!"

"Best ter be careful with 'im fer a while, mind," said Hagrid, "Poor thing's 'ad a hell of a shock to the system."

Hermione nodded as she delicately stroked the back of Crookshanks' neck. He was purring warily, but obviously happy to see her again.

"Erm…I don't suppose you two would mind if I had a quick word with Harry, would yeh?" Hagrid went on, a little secretively.

"Fine by me," shrugged Ron.

Hermione was too busy attending to her cat to really mind, and all Harry could do was look inquisitively at Hagrid as he followed him inside.

Troubled by his own thoughts, Ron slowly ushered Hermione down towards the lake. He had seldom had a peaceful moment alone with her, and now seemed as good an opportunity as any. She finally tore her attention from Crookshanks, setting him down to wander amongst the reeds, and looked about her, taking in the scenery she loved.

"Seems to be getting colder every day," she remarked.

"Darker too," murmured Ron in agreement, "even during the middle of the day."

The was a long silence, during which their eyes only met fleetingly. Hermione could tell that something was bothering him, but she somehow couldn't bring herself to ask. Ron then closed his eyes and took several long deep breaths before he dared speak. His face had become as gloomy as the sky above them.

"We're going to die, aren't we?" he said mournfully, "We're not going to survive this war. How can we?"

Hermione was looking at him properly now, more in shock than anything else.

"Ron, why would you say something like that?" she asked.

"Because this school is all that protects us," he replied, "We're Harry's best friends, and that makes us prime targets. They're seasoned murderers and…well, let's face it, we're just a group of kids. Having the DA is all well and good, but something I happened to notice about the meetings is that there were no Death Eaters present. Are we supposed to stay here for the rest of our lives and hope for the best? I mean, you saw what happened to Percy and he wasn't even in contact with us! How can we…?"

At the very thought of his late brother, Ron trailed into silence and lowered his head. Hermione, on the other hand, had heard quite enough.

"Ron, let me ask you a question. How many times have we been sent headlong into danger with Harry and lived to tell the tale? Have you ever wondered how things have had a way of working out? Yes, there has been tragedy along the way, but do you think it's all a matter of luck that we're standing here now?"

She moved closer and took his hand, squeezing it a little as she continued.

"We protect each other, it's as simple as that."

Ron looked up at her, trying his best to smile at her encouraging words. He then turned his head quickly and pricked up his ears.

"What?" enquired Hermione, "What is it?"

"Err, nothing," he replied after a pause, "I could've sworn I heard something moving in the grass."

As Hermione took a brief look around herself, Ron hesitated as another thought entered his mind.

"Hermione…," he said, bracing himself as if about to be on the receiving end of some brutal hex, "There's something I wanted to tell you."

She was once again giving him her full attention, which made Ron feel even more uncomfortable. There was something about the way her dark eyes danced in front of him just threw him completely off track.

"What is it?" she asked.

Struggling to find the tongue in his own mouth, he attempted to verbalise his thoughts.

"Well…we've known each other a long time, and…er, I'm really pleased that we're, you know…together."

This wasn't going well at all, he decided. However, she was smiling at him, so he must have said something right.

"What I mean is…," he stammered as he double-checked with himself exactly what he did mean, "I think you're really…um…no, look, what I meant to say was…"

Hermione took both his hands in hers and gave him the warmest smile she could. Why did she have to do that? he thought. Now he was completely lost.

"I…I just…" he began, "I think I lo…"

"Oi, you two!" came Harry's voice loudly from up the slope behind them, "You could've told me you were heading down here instead of leaving me to run around the grounds like a headless chicken!"

"Sorry about that," replied Heremione impatiently, rolling her eyes and returning her attention to Ron, "What did you want to say?"

"Erm…nothing," he said, glancing at Harry, "Doesn't matter."

The moment had gone, along with his nerve.

He gazed out at the horizon and was oddly struck by what he saw.

"Y'know, those are some really dark clouds out there," he said as Harry joined them.

Hermione sighed in mild annoyance.

"Ron, we've already discussed the weather, you don't need to drag out the conversation,"

"Err, Hermione," said Harry, staring straight ahead in horror, "I think you should take a look…and Ron, I don't think those are clouds."

As the three of them squinted intently at the swirling, dark grey mass beyond the far end of the lake, there were cries of panic echoing from the castle behind them. With each passing moment, the shapes within the murky cloud became clearer and more defined. By the time Ron and Hermione had realised what they were looking at, their eyes were even wider than Harry's. Hovering around the magical boundary of Hogwarts was a swarm of over a dozen Dementors.

"What…the…bloody…hell…?" was all Ron could manage, as his tightened around Hermione's hand.

"I think the war's come to Hogwarts," breathed Harry in reply.

They then watched in disbelief as the creatures began to float out over the lake, lengthening their ominous shadow.

"But…but that's impossible!" Hermione protested, "They can't get into the grounds! There's too many protective charms, I was talking to McGonagall about it!"

"Perhaps those safety measures were put in place when the Ministry thought they

were in control," muttered Harry resentfully as he reached for his wand.

"Well, what are we supposed to do now?" enquired Ron, trying to sound as brave as he could.

Harry was far too consumed with rage to feel fear. This just wasn't right.

"Howarts is the one place I feel safe," he seethed, "He's not going to take that away from me!"

With that, he pointed his wand in the direction of Gryffindor tower and closed his eyes with deep concentration.

"Oh, tell me you're joking!" uttered Ron incredulously.

"I really don't think he is," murmured Hermione, unsure whether to feel more scared for Harry or proud of him.

Within a few moments, they saw Harry's Firebolt racing broom flying through the air towards them. At the same moment, they saw staff and pupils alike pouring out of the castle entrance. The news of the new arrivals, it seemed, had travelled at an alarming rate.

"You're mad!" Ron exclaimed as the levelled out in its flight path and glided smoothly into Harry's hands, "I'm telling you, you've finally cracked! The whole Azkaban social committee is lurking out there, and you think they'll just scarper if you ask nicely?"

There were now Aurors making their way across the grounds as the crowd of students surged forward for a closer look and teachers attempted to keep order. Too many voices were shouting at once for the three of them to tell who was addressing who, until they heard "You there! Don't move!"

Hermione turned back to Harry.

"They'll try and stop you," she warned, "You'd better hurry."

"What?!" cried Ron, spinning around to face her, "Are you trying to encourage him? I thought you were supposed to be the sensible one!"

Before Ron could reached out and grab his friend's arm, Harry had already kicked off from the ground.

"HARRY!" he called after him, utterly panic-stricken.

"Why didn't you trying talking him out of it?" he moaned to Hermione, "He's going to get himself killed!"

She put a hand on his shoulder and looked at him earnestly.

"He won't get himself killed, Ron, simply because he's…well…Harry," she said, "And did you see the look in his eyes? Would you have honestly wanted to try and stop him? He knows more about defending himself than any of us, and as his best friend, I think you should just start believing in him."

As these words lingered in the air, Harry was soaring at incredible speed around the outskirts of the lake and over the forest, taking care never to stray within arm's reach of the Giant Squid. The wind swept his hair back and stung his face as he rose high above the trees and tried to make out the movements of his foes. Slowing down as he drew near, he pointed his wand and harnessed the exhilaration of taking to the skies once again. The silver stag erupted from the wand tip and galloped through the air towards the dark creatures who were now clearly aware of his presence. The two floating nearest to him recoiled as they were blinded by the shining Patronus, but the group surrounding them seemed completely undeterred. Casting the spell again, another Dementor shrank away from the swarm as it felt itself poisoned by the light.

Harry seized the opportunity and broke into a dive, raising his wand for a third time. It was then that he felt a sensation that he had first experience in his third year at Hogwarts, only far more intense this time around. For some reason, he had failed to notice the two Dementors who floated by his side as he flew, and now a deep despair was slowly but surely gripping him from inside. Each positive memory was slipping away from him one by one. He felt weak, and began to lose control of the broom as the edge of the forest came into view.

"Expecto…Patronum!" he cried as loudly as he could, "Expecto…Expect…"

The spell became increasingly lacklustre as his words trailed off and his breath failed him. There were now three more Dementors who descended on him from above as the Firebolt began to lose height at an alarming pace. As Harry struggled to remain conscious, he could almost hear a hollow sadistic laugh, barely more than a whisper, from within their ghostly black hoods. He was aware of plummeting towards the last clump of trees before the broomstick flew out from beneath him, and he crashed unceremoniously through some surprisingly forgiving branches.

Upon finally hitting the ground, he tumbled over and over down a shallow slope and came to rest on his back near the edge of the lake. This barely caused him any discomfort, as every feeling seemed to have been torn from his body. It was as if it was as if the body that lay there was not Harry, but instead a pale, empty shell. He imagined that somewhere inside him was his soul, but judging by the Dementors circling like vultures overhead, this too would soon be leaving him. One of the creatures, having possibly made a bargain with the others, swooped down and lingered just a few feet above him to regard its helpless prey. The one thought that remained in Harry's head was that this was not the way things should have turned out. He couldn't end things this way.

Trying with every shred of will power he had left to stay aware, he took in the sight of the Dementor floating gradually closer to him. Like a kindly afterthought, it gave him back the gift of fear before preparing to take his life.

But now there was something else in Harry's eyes. A small, distant object that appeared at the far right corner of his vision. The object was moving very rapidly through the air over the lake and growing in clarity. It was a person. A witch or wizard who flew with great determination on a broomstick across the water. Just as the Dementor sank towards Harry's face, a blinding silver light engulfed them both. Despite the haze in front of him as he blinked, he made out the shape of the dark creature falling back in dismay. The broom, with its pilot, was now hovering steadily above the grass. Whoever it was had their wand drawn, firing a constant stream of blue light at the swarm. Whatever kind of magic this was, the Dementors seemed to be in a state of panic, and a few even appeared to be retreating.

"Spes!" Called a voice from the hovering broom, "Audite meus vox!"

Three of the creatures were suddenly paralysed, far from the picture of cold and calculating malevolence they would normally exude. The voice was one he recognised, though not as he remembered it. There was a feminine quality to it, but also a harsh and distinct rasp, as though this witch (as Harry assumed it was) had put her throat through some severe punishment recently. Harry himself could only try to keep a grip on his reality, still half blind and his head swimming with pain and despair. It was then that the voice called out once more.

"Arbmu tu etrever!"

The paralysis of the three was causing the rest of the swarm to fall back in genuine alarm. Following this last incantation, the witch fired a stream of silver light that appeared to ensnare them, as a hollow, deathly scream issued forth from beneath their black robes.

"ETREVER!" she repeated, "ARBMU TU ETREVER!"

As if freeing themselves from invisible binding ropes, the three Dementors flew upwards together for a few moments, before uttering a petrified shriek as they fell, and burst into a sheet of flames that spread across the lake. Their Dark companions quickly made their own fear evident, and rapidly escaped through the grey clouds that still hung gloomily in the winter sky.

Harry could feel himself fading again. His vision was little but a blur of dull light and darkness. His eyes finally closed as he sensed the figure of the witch floating smoothly down to land close by him. What must have been only seconds later, he felt a hand grip his own, and another on the side of his face. Feeling at first like it could have come from far in the distance, he heard a voice. Slowly, the voice drew nearer and began to grow in clarity, like the first rays of sunlight penetrating a storm cloud. Then all at once, he could not only hear but also understand the voice. Despite the words he was hearing, the tone was the most gentle he had ever known, almost maternal in nature.

"Can you hear me? Come on, you crazy bastard, don't give up on me now…"

Still hoping that he wasn't already dead, Harry began to will his legs to move. This proved impossible, so he started with the more modest task of moving his fingers, but to no avail. He felt both drained inside and devoid of all feeling, until he felt the touch of warm soft lips on his forehead. The nerves in his face slowly came to life and a tingling sensation spread through his limbs. He was alive, even if it was only in the loosest sense of the word.

"Harry…" said the voice soothingly.

At the sound of his name, his lungs awoke and his breathing steadily increased as he felt his eyelids open cautiously. His first sight was incentive enough to keep his eyes open forever. He could feel the blood flowing through his veins once again, and a sense of hope in the pit of his stomach. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

"There you are," smiled Ginny, "Don't worry, it's alright. You just look a bit shaken. Do you think you can walk?"

Harry considered. There was only a dull ache in his legs, which he suspected was down to a few bruises. He tried bending his right leg, which didn't seem to be causing him any discomfort, then did the same with his left.

"Hold on to me," she said, motioning for him to steady himself on her shoulders as he struggled to his feet, "Does it hurt?"

He managed a smile as he shook his head.

"Well, lean on me if you need to," she responded, guiding him towards the edge of the lake where a boat was approaching.

Together, they climbed carefully aboard, Harry following her lead in a slightly dazed state. He was still in no condition to question what was going on. As he looked out across the water, he was suddenly struck by the scattered ignited remains of the Dementors that continued to burn fiercely like rogue bonfires on the lake surface. Ginny sat down in the boat and pulled Harry backwards until he was resting across her lap.

"You know, this would look a lot more impressive at night," she remarked as the boat steered them safely between the flames, "Quite romantic, actually."

Harry tried to feel comfortable, but he was still attempting to piece together what he had just witnessed.

"Err, I…don't suppose you could tell me how you…?"

"Very old magic indeed," replied Ginny, gazing into the distance where a large crowd of anxious witches and wizards had assembled on the castle end of the lake, "As every magical creature is born, so is the means of its destruction."

As though connected by a long thread, the magical eye of Professor Moody was staring back at her. His thoughts at that moment were along the very same lines. Though a Patronus Charm was well known to repel a Dementor, it had been generally accepted that nothing could actually kill one. He shot a dark sideways look at Professor Lockhart, who, he imagined, could very likely scam himself another bestseller from an incident such as this.

Back in the boat, Harry was appreciating the simple fact that he was alive and looking up into the eyes of the girl he loved. As she stroked his hair comfortingly, he realised that all the questions he thought would be burning holes in his mind simply didn't matter anymore. He would have liked to know what exactly what Ginny had been doing so secretively over the past months, and whether or not she had been able to overcome whatever troubles she had gone through, but now he was perfectly willing to wait for the answers as long as necessary.

"I told you I would find you," she said softly, "You did trust me, didn't you?"

"I can't deny, there were I few times when I thought I'd given up hope," he replied, "But you found me just in time, so I'm not going to complain."

Ginny gave him a smile and an affectionate peck on the cheek.

"I'll do whatever I can to look after you, but can you please promise me that you won't do something like that again?"

"Only if you stay with me," murmured Harry.

They both expected there to be a barrage of angry, concerned and excited voices greeting them as they finally approached the school grounds, but instead there was nothing but silence. Bewildered, respectful silence. The crowds even parted straight down the middle as they came to rest on the bank, and even those who would have wanted to speak couldn't yet decide how to begin. Ginny rose to her feet and stepped from the boat, and without even meeting the sea of eyes that were fixed upon them, she turned to look at Harry who was apprehensively regarding the many onlookers.

"Well, what are you waiting for, a red carpet?" she enquired, before taking his hand and leading him up the slope.

They were all rooted to the spot, their heads turning slowly to follow Harry and Ginny as they moved resolutely towards the castle. Ginny knew it wouldn't be long before the first of the staff or Ministry Aurors found their voice or feet, and she quickened her pace, pulling Harry along behind her.

"You do know that they'll be wanting to speak to us about this sooner or later, don't you?" whispered Harry, jogging slightly to draw level with her, and convinced that everyone could hear his voice in the dead silence.

Ginny made a swift reply without even turning to face him.

"Harry, I have been hiding from the world for nearly two months, and it feels like an age since I last saw your face. If any of them think they're getting their hands on you before I do, then they are very much mistaken."

As they came to the final stretch of ground leading up to the castle, the two of them became aware that the entire population of the school was now in steady pursuit. From among the heavy trampling of feet behind them, the sound of two pairs of footsteps breaking into a run could clearly be distinguished. It was at this point, as they nearly reached the castle entrance, that they turned around to see Ron and Hermione approaching.

"Ginny?" uttered Ron breathlessly, "What the…? What happ…? Where have you…?"

Ginny walked a few steps back and laid a hand on her brother's shoulder.

"Ron, please," she said calmly, "Not now. Not yet."

Ron looked into her eyes questioningly. Then somehow, not that he could ever explain how, he understood. Ginny smiled her thanks and led Harry inside. A moment later, Professor McGonagall came storming up to the two who remained outside.

"Perhaps you could explain what this is all about?" she demanded, "I will be needing to have a word with all four of you as soon as possible! I -,"

Ron then suddenly took the Headmistress by the arm and looked at her with a slightly pleading expression.

"Please, Professor," he replied, "Not now….Not yet."