The Wise One
Book Three: Being
Arc Three
Inevitable Finale
Hope and desire
Warring with truth
And reality
Wanting to revel in power
(Seductive and strange)
I won't live long enough
I made my choices
But I never knew
Choice is only faith
And praying for destiny
To forget my name
But destiny calls me
(Sweetly and softly)
And I cannot argue
When it begins to drown me
Yet I am resolved
Faith is a choice
I am stronger than this
Too stubborn to let go
I won't fade away
Into this inevitability
When fate looms daunting
I choose being
"I try to make it through my life
In my way
There's you
I try to make it through these lies
And that's all I do
Just don't deny it
Don't try to fight this
And deal with it
That's just part of it
If you were dead or still alive,
I don't care,
I don't care,
Just go and leave this all behind
Cause I swear
(I swear)
I don't care
I try to make you see my side
Always try to stay in line
But your eyes see right through
That's all they do
I'm getting buried in this place
I've got no room, you're in my face
Don't say anything
Just go away
If you were dead or still alive,
I don't care,
I don't care,
Just go and leave this all behind
Cause I swear
(I swear)
I don't care
I'm changing everything
You won't be there for me
I'm changing everything
You won't be there for me
If you were dead or still alive,
I don't care,
I don't care,
Just go and leave this all behind
Cause I swear
(I swear)
I don't care
If you were dead or still alive
I don't care
(I don't care)
I don't care
(I don't care)
Just go and leave this all behind
I don't care
(Cause I swear)
I don't care
At all"
~ I Don't Care ~ Apocalyptica feat. Adam Gontier
"Forgive me, my love
I stand here all alone, and I can see the bottom"
~ "You ~ Breaking Benjamin ~
Chapter 20
"He's here," Hermione said briefly.
Draco and Harry had heard sounds in the hall downstairs, but they'd been too focused on their respective projects to pay attention. Now they set them aside, carefully noting the step they'd each arrived at, and came to the top of the stairs just in time to see Hermione gasp, "Oh, Neville!" and rush forward to hug the tall young man who stood there so awkwardly.
Harry slowly descended the stairs, leaving Draco at the top to take up the job of standing awkwardly. Neville was the only person not living in this house who knew of Draco's location—which had to be stressful, Harry reflected.
When he got to the bottom, he saw why Hermione had exclaimed so loudly. Neville looked awful. Harry remembered him as being sort of pudgy, but between June and November he'd become gaunt-looking. Not just thin, because his body carried the tired look of losing the weight too quickly. He was obviously running ragged, to judge by the deep circles under his eyes and the premature grooves carved beside his mouth and into his forehead. His nose had been broken at least once, and not set properly. He had the hesitant posture and movement of someone who had suffered from the Cruciatus Curse recently—which Harry knew only too well, having spent the past week helping to nurse Colin back to health. His eyes were the same, though—burning with a dark and private fire.
"Hermione, it's good to see you," he said with a smile that was not wide, but was genuine. "You look well."
Hermione's face was soft and sad. "Come on, Neville, come to the kitchen. I was just fixing lunch for the boys, you can eat with us."
"I should be going. I've got people covering for me, saying I've gone off somewhere to work on some homework in private . . ."
"You can work on it a little longer," Hermione said firmly, and led him by the arm. He followed with a hopeless look that Harry knew only too well. When you knew someone was right, but you didn't see how their way would help. Harry followed them to the kitchen.
"Hey, Neville," he said quietly.
"Hi, Harry," Neville replied, sinking down into a chair with a sigh.
"I would ask how you've been, but I can guess."
"It's that obvious?"
"That, and Ron told us quite a bit when we saw him."
"Oh, right," Neville recalled. "That feels like a long time ago," he sighed.
It was a long time ago. Well over a month, now. Merciful Merlin, what have I been doing all this time? Just being with Hermione? And what has that done but make it that much harder to say— no. Not yet. Please, not yet.
Yes. Soon.
"Tell me what's been happening," Harry said, as he walked over to the sink to fill the kettle. He didn't bother setting the kettle on the stove to boil, just rapidly cast warming charms until it was steaming and making a faint whistle.
Neville described the situation at the school. Detention was thinly veiled torture, and classes were nothing more than sermons on bigotry and cruelty. When the news had come out about the break-in at Gringotts, a boy was caught with the newspaper, and Terry Boot's attempt to rescue him from punishment had led to his being chained in the Great Hall with strips torn out of his back shaping out the words EXHIBIT A. Terry's fellow prefect Michael Corner had joined Neville and Ginny in setting Terry free, and Neville had claimed sole responsibility for it, placing Confundus Charms on the others so they wouldn't be able to contradict him. The staff had been forced to allow Madam Pomfrey to treat Terry, or he'd have ended up in St. Mungo's and the truth would get out. The truth wasn't getting out now, because no one and no correspondence passed the wards without inspection.
"You could get the truth out, the same way you get out," Harry said, refilling Neville's tea, which he'd drunk without seeming to notice it was there.
Neville shook his head despondently. "Who'd dare to print it?"
"Xenophilius Lovegood," Harry snorted.
"And what would be done about it?"
There Harry fell silent. Nothing, he thought. Nothing would be done, except reprisals on Lovegood. Judging by what he heard from Sirius, people's ability to fight was fading by the day. Minister Bones had lost all her power, and the Death Eaters in the Ministry were gaining power every day. It wasn't just the Imperius Curse, that was the most disheartening thing. There were far too many who actually believed in Voldemort. And the parents of the students wouldn't help. The only ones being punished were the ones who opposed the new system. Some of them liked it. Some of them thought it was right. The school would shrink in size, but it would not close.
Was it right? he thought in despair. Was it right to fight against something that so many people believed in?
I don't have to decide that, he reminded himself. It's not for me to decide. I may be fighting, but all I am concerned with is bringing a murderer to justice. I fight against Voldemort, and all other questions may be decided by discussion and not by violence. Reasonable people can talk about this stuff. Oh my god, am I a pacifist? Seriously?
"I find it does not interfere with the quality of my life if I do not allow it to." He smiled when he remembered what Dumbledore had said—only he was talking about being an optimist. Harry didn't think he was one of those anymore.
After Hermione had forced some food into Neville, Harry said, "Come upstairs," and led the way without looking back. He figured Neville would follow him out of curiosity, if nothing else, and then he wouldn't have to explain and be argued with.
Neville and Draco looked at one another with obvious guards up as Harry led him into the lab, but neither of them said a word.
"Sit," Harry said, and Neville sat. He had his eyebrows up and his mouth was set in a line that invited caution when dealing with him. He didn't like not knowing what Harry wanted.
Harry proceeded to briskly inspect him for injuries. He'd seen downstairs that several of Neville's fingers were taped together, and discovered that they were broken from having a door "accidentally" slammed on his hand. He'd set them himself as best he could, but he was completing lacking in medicine to treat it. They were fixable, but his nose was too healed-over to do anything about. He had some lacerations across his chest. Harry gave him a dose of homemade Skele-Gro and the variant of skin growth potion that he'd learned from Sacha and still considered superior. Most of Neville's pain was coming from repeated bouts with the Cruciatus Curse, the only real cure for which was painkillers and sleep. He knew he wouldn't be able to get Neville to sleep, so he dosed him with painkillers and hoped that simply being out of danger for an hour and eating something would help him recover. Not likely, that. Colin was only now getting back to full strength, and he'd been doing nothing but sleeping—well, sleeping and snogging Kimberly, but they all pretended not to know about that.
"Come on, Harry, this is a waste of time," Neville said, his discomfort clear from his hunched shoulders and downcast eyes. "I'm fine. It's the other students who need help."
"That's bollocks, Oh Great and Fearless Leader. If you keep going like this, you're not going to make it. Who went and made you the whipping boy, anyway?"
"I did," Neville said shortly.
"All right," Harry said quietly. "Just . . . take care of yourself, okay? We can't afford to lose you. I might even miss you. It's been nice, sharing the Chosen One duties."
Neville found enough humour left in himself to smirk at that. He noticed Draco was smirking as well, although probably because he was thinking of some clever way to humiliate him. Neville took a deep breath, then let it out.
"Thank you for your help, Draco. These potions are going to make a huge difference, for us."
Stunned, Draco just turned around and began a final check of what they'd been calling "The Care Package." Blood replenishers, Skele-Gro, painkillers, sleeping aids, anti-infection treatments, bruise cream, bandages, and tape. They had not made the bandages or tape, but they'd brewed up everything else. For some reason, bulk ingredients roused less suspicion than complete potions, maybe simply because they'd been acquired at multiple locations. Hermione had added a few things, too— some books that had been banned from Hogwarts, the most recent newspapers, and a huge batch of rock-hard cookies to which one could apply the phrase "it's the thought that counts."
It was all in cardboard boxes, and Sirius had volunteered to help Neville transport it back to the school. He was anxious to check on his former students. He and Simon had put in some time in the lab this week, although they all deferred to Draco as the boss. They'd needed to restock the Order's supplies as well as creating the Care Package, and Draco had become extremely efficient over the past six months.
When Sirius and Neville left, with a round of "good luck" and "thank you" from everyone, and Draco followed them to the front door with anxious instructions about proper storage, Hermione glided into the laboratory and into Harry's arms.
"I'm worried," she said frankly, laying her head against him.
"About what?" he asked, putting his arms around her because she would think it was weird if he didn't.
"About everything knowing we're here again."
"Neville won't tell anyone."
"I know. But everyone will know that he knows where we are. It could be really bad for him."
"The only people who will know are the people he trusts enough to let into the Room of Requirement. I think our tactic worked, for the most part, nobody has been watching the street this week. We could leave again, but . . . it's going to be over soon. Then it won't matter."
"You really think so?" she asked, raising her face to look at him.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "Once we figure out how to get the Ravenclaw diadem, it'll be a matter of hours before we can finish it."
"But Harry . . ."
"What, love?"
"I'm so afraid of how we're going to get the diadem," she whispered, her eyes flooding with tears. "You act like you're just going to walk up to Riddle and ask him about it."
"Well, I'm going to search the manor first, of course. Actually revealing myself to Riddle is pretty low on my list of possible methods."
"But then what?"
"I absolutely will not die without getting the information to you, that's what. I trust you to carry on if I can't. You know what to do, don't you?"
"The snake, then Riddle himself. I know, Harry. But I don't want to do it without you. I don't want to do anything without you."
He nuzzled his face in her hair. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"What bridge?" Draco asked as he walked back in.
Harry looked up, and there was a gleam in his eyes. "Draco, I could use your help."
Draco cast a pointed look over the lab.
"I know, I know. I want you to draw me a map of your house."
"A map?"
"And point out to me the most likely hiding places for a seriously Dark object."
Draco blinked several times, his face comically surprised. "Are you actually planning to break into the Manor and thieve something? Despite the fact that my home currently contains the Dark Lord, my father, and a host of very nasty people?"
"I'd be doing my best to avoid confrontation with the nasty people, you see. Hence why a map would come in handy."
Draco looked frozen there, a deer in the headlights. He seemed to have vacated his own body for a moment, his eyes were so far away. Then his breath came whooshing out of him, reanimating him. "No."
"What? No? Just like that?"
Draco's jaw became rigid, and he took on that stony, stubborn look he could get. "I've already gone as far as I can go with this. I can't just knowingly betray him. I will sit here and laugh about a teenager hitting him with a Stunner, but I can't just give my entire heritage over to you. No."
He pivoted on his heel and marched from the room. At the door, without even turning around, he said, "Finish the Dreamless Sleep, would you? I'm on the seventh step."
When he was gone, Harry made a face at Hermione. "Sorry. I was hoping that would go better."
She was glaring at him.
"What?"
"You might have said something to me, at some point, about how you were going to ask him that. I would have been softening him up all week if I'd known."
"Oh. Sorry."
"Harry, what is going on with you?" she snapped. "You've been pulling away from me the whole time we've been here. I have to come find you if I want anything, and it used to be that you were never happier than just being with me. I don't know what's got into you! I know the fight we had in the graveyard was rough on you, but it's more than that. I don't like being lied to, Harry Potter."
"I'm not lying to you."
"You're keeping things from me."
He had nothing to say to that.
"Oh, Harry . . . why would you? Why can't you just tell me, whatever it is?"
He pushed her away. "Because I'm not ready to admit that I need to say anything, yet." With that, he left the lab. Head reeling and heart cracking, he went to check on Colin, who was on the third floor with the werewolves. He was alone, for the moment, which meant he'd been crying and had kicked Kimberly out so she wouldn't see it.
"Hey."
"Hey."
"How are you feeling?"
Colin shrugged, then held out his hands, which were impressively steady. "Better," he said simply.
His eyes were red, which was how Harry could tell he'd been crying. The first few days, it had been because the torture had ruptured a lot of blood vessels, but that had healed up. The pain of his brother's death wasn't so easy to fix. Losing Dennis wasn't something that could be fixed, not with magic or anything else. Harry had briefly considered the ring he had in his possession, but why would he torture Colin with nothing but a shadow of his brother? It would look like him, sound like him, but you couldn't touch it and you couldn't love it. It wasn't even a cheap replacement, more like a punishment. Harry didn't know the true origin of the ring, but the story told about it made Death sound like a cruel bastard who wanted to torment some poor grief-stricken fool. He had never once been tempted by it, and he had never understood why Dumbledore had been, tragic family history notwithstanding.
"I'm glad," Harry said, trying to smile at him. It was tough to smile when it was his fault that all this was happening. He should have finished this task weeks ago. There had been nothing stopping him but his impossible need to grow close to Hermione, to try to squeeze a lifetime of love into a few short months . . . But that was such a selfish need of his, because when this was all over, she'd regret it and she'd hate him, and it wouldn't be worth anything. And now that need had taken Dennis Creevey, too. Harry felt quite certain that he had hit rock bottom, emotionally.
All this was in his mind and his heart, but it was private. All he said to Colin was, "Maybe you can come downstairs and eat at the table with us today."
Colin nodded agreeably. "I want to. Kimberly's been helping me walk around the room since yesterday."
"How's that going?"
"Good. My legs seem to be back to normal. If I can manage the stairs, I think I'm ready to leave."
Harry nodded. "Your parents will be glad."
Colin's face twisted. "You think I'm stupid enough to put them back in danger? I'm not going home."
"What? Where are you going?"
"To Hogwarts. Kim and I both, we're going to hide out in the Room of Requirement. I guess there's a lot of students who are having to hide almost full-time now, it's not just Dean and Seamus. Two more will hardly make a difference."
"Who's hiding?"
"Some of the younger students who are starting to get permanent damage from the punishments, because they haven't learned how to shield any of it. And I know that Ernie Macmillan and Ginny Weasley both had to move in there full-time, and Terry Boot might have to join them because ever since he got his back done he hasn't been able to keep his mouth shut . . . Harry?"
"What?"
"You're awfully pale."
"Am I?" Harry asked dully. "Maybe it's hearing about the horrible things a bunch of kids are going through."
"It's not like we're the only ones. All the adults have to deal with it, too."
Harry shook his head.
"Well, it's the way it is, right? I mean, there's a war on, and we're going to deal with pain and everything unless we're willing to roll over and let You-Know-Who win, which I'm not—"
"Riddle," Harry said harshly.
"Huh?"
"His name is Tom Riddle. It's not Lord anything, because he isn't a bloody lord, and Voldemort is just some stupid name he concocted for himself. He's a half-Muggle with a chip on his shoulder, and his name is Tom Riddle. You lost your brother because of him, and you deserve to call him by name."
Harry stood up.
"Where are you going?"
"To finish this," Harry whispered, knowing Colin didn't hear him. Not for another minute, not for one more single ghastly blood-soaked minute would this go on, it was time, he had to find Hermione and he had to force Draco to give up the information—
There was a sort of a strange noise from the closed door of the Lupin bedroom that sounded like someone was being strangled with the thing they loved most in the world, a sort of cross between a bellow and a gasp.
"Dora!"
"Merlin's shirt, it's happening!" Tonks cried out.
Harry froze, eyes wide. What was happening? Not that . . .
Remus barreled out of the bedroom and straight into Harry, sending them both flying into the wall. Harry put out an arm to catch himself against the wall and the other arm grabbed around Remus to keep him from falling over. It was a near thing, and he ended up having the wind knocked out of him.
"It's the baby," Remus said, staring at Harry with wild eyes. "She's in labour. Where's Addison?"
"At work."
"I have to get her. Addison has to help!" he yelped, and went careening down the stairs with small panicked noises.
Yes. That.
Harry peeked into the room, already cringing in case Tonks threw something at him. He'd heard that pregnant ladies were sort of unreasonable, especially when they started feeling like someone was trying to reach through their spinal cord to tear them in half from the front.
But Tonks was calmly spreading a dark gray sheet over a wooden rocking chair and sitting down in it. She saw Harry and smiled. It was a distracted smile. "Hi."
"Hi, Tonks, I'm just, I mean I was just looking in on Colin and I heard, and then Remus came out, and I didn't know if you were okay, but I'll just leave and—"
"Harry, dear, do shut up."
He did.
"I only just started, and it'll be hours before anything exciting happens. I expect Remus went to get Addison?"
Harry nodded dumbly.
"Then come on in here and keep me company," she said serenely. "I could use a foot-rub, if you've nothing better to do."
Harry had several things that really ought to take priority, but the fact that within a matter of hours, a baby was going to come from this woman's body and there would be a living and breathing infant in this house that had not been there yesterday had him sort of lost. An entire person that had been produced from the love shared by Remus and Tonks was a strange thing to contemplate. So Harry found himself kneeling down on the floor and putting her bare, swollen foot in his lap. He was feeling a great deal of awe for the woman in front of him, making his movements gentle and slow. Knowing she was pregnant was different from knowing she was in labour.
Hermione appeared in the doorway. "We saw Remus go tearing off shouting something about killing Addison for going to work today. Sirius was afraid to come up here."
Tonks gave Hermione the serene smile she seemed to have perfected recently. "As you can see, we're doing all right up here. My water only broke a few minutes ago."
"Are you going to deliver the baby here?"
Tonks nodded. "No sense risking lives by going to the hospital. Addison will know if anything goes wrong enough to move me there."
"Do you need anything?"
"Harry is doing a lovely job, but thank you." Noticing how antsy Hermione was, Tonks used her wand to bring the small chair from her vanity over beside her. "I could always use more company, though. Why don't you sit down and tell me what you've been studying today?"
When Remus arrived with Addison, looking thoroughly not-put-together, he was halted in the doorway by the sight of the three of them. Dora was resting with her hands on her womb, occasionally grimacing and shifting uncomfortably, but perfectly calm. Her face had sort of drawn in, like she was listening to music that no one else could hear. Hermione sat at her side, chattering with animation about some obscure branch of Arithmancy and obviously not caring that Dora wasn't paying attention except in the strictest sense of not interrupting. Harry knelt at his wife's feet, rubbing them with singular focus and several glances of adoration cast in Hermione's direction for her brilliance.
Addison pulled him back out of the room. She could see that the two teenagers were keeping her friend calm, which was exactly what she needed at this stage. It was not the first time she'd seen a woman having her first child somehow understand and organize her surroundings into the exactly proper shape. It wasn't even magic, unless one was inclined to believe that the deepest underpinnings of instinct and harmony between mother and child were magic. She had some sympathy for that opinion.
"Come, Remus, I think what Dora could really use right now is a cup of tea. Why don't you fix one up for her? And something to eat, she's going to need all the strength she can get . . ." Softly convincing and tugging on his arm, she led him away, knowing she wouldn't be able to keep him that way for long and determined to give Dora as long as she could. Once the father was on the scene, with all his inability to grasp what was happening inside the mother's body, stress levels went off the charts.
But he broke away from her in the middle of the staircase and started rushing down ahead of her. "I've got to get her mother! Andromeda will kill me if I don't get her now!"
When Kimberly and Colin discovered what was happening, they quickly packed their few belongings and fled. They'd been warmly welcomed as houseguests, but this was definitely a family thing. But still, even while they were traversing the creepy passageway into the school from the Hog's Head, there was a warm glow occupying something in their middles. Life went on. Somehow, against all odds, it went on.
Harry had always shown an impenetrable strength before the eyes of the world. Hermione and Sirius knew his weaknesses, his foibles, but even they rarely saw him overcome by them. He was a strong person, and he was well-practiced at hiding his moments of weakness. It had always been easiest for him to ignore the clamor in his head when someone he cared about needed him. He had become very used to maintaining his composure while everyone else was falling apart around him.
Hermione, who had known fear so intimately and had come through it by such a long process, was better at understanding when people were afraid or upset, and had more patience for it. She had become strong, and she deeply appreciated the fact that she had come far enough to use that strength to help someone else find their own.
Therefore, it was Harry who assisted Addison and Andromeda with Tonks, while Hermione and Ted kept Remus occupied. Neil, Jeremy, and Sirius had done their best to convince Remus to leave the house with them for a little while, but he was having none of it. Tonks had started screaming insults at him the last time he'd gone in to see her, and he couldn't leave when he thought she was angry with him.
Sirius had reminded him that when Harry was born, they had forcibly removed Lily's wand so she couldn't harm James, and that she had told James quite emphatically that she hated him, which was a bit better than what Tonks had said.
"But it is my fault," Remus said, looking ill and pale and clammy. "I did do that to her. And it's going to be . . . our child will be . . . I don't even know what our child will be!" he shouted, covering his face with his hands. "I say I love her, but if I really did, I would have left her alone!"
That was when Hermione took over. She put a cup of tea into his hands (without telling him it contained a generous dose of whisky), put her hand over his, and said, quite firmly,
"You know very well that isn't true."
He looked up at her with surprise.
"Your child will be loved, is what it will be. Loved by parents who love each other, and that is a very good thing. I know you're worried that it will be a werewolf, and I know that Sirius is about to tell you that's stupid," she said with warning in her voice and a quick sharp glance at the other man, "but I understand. Worry isn't always logical. But if you're worried about what a child needs, you just ask Harry. He was part of a perfectly normal family who could provide him with complete stability, and he won't even talk about them because he hated it so much. Then he went into hiding with a runaway criminal and suddenly received everything that had been missing from his life. Nothing else matters, but that your child knows exactly where to go no matter what happens in life. If your child can go to you, and be loved, then you'll have done everything you should do."
Remus went still, his head down, and it looked like Hermione was taming a wild animal with her soothing words.
"She said it was my fault," he mumbled.
Hermione giggled, and he looked up at her.
"Well, you'd say a lot of things if you were in that much pain, wouldn't you?"
There was a horrible yelling upstairs, and they all winced.
"I remember when Dora was born," Ted said faintly. "Glad I'm not up there." He shot a look at Sirius. "Your boy is daft, is what he is."
"Now, dear, that's it, just lay back," Andromeda encouraged her daughter.
"You're doing wonderfully," Addison said, sending a warm smile at Tonks from between her upraised knees. There was a sheet draped over her legs, and Harry was very pointedly not on that side of the room. He was smoothing her sweaty hair away from her sweaty face.
"I hate all of you," Tonks panted.
"My eardrums return the sentiment," Harry smirked at her.
She grimaced. "Sorry, but it bloody hurts."
"So you've been saying, and I'm rather inclined to believe you." Harry had given up on holding her hand after she'd squeezed all the feeling from his fingers. "I've already dosed you as much as I'm going to, though, so we'll all just have to bear up."
"We?" she snarled. "I don't see you going through labour."
Harry looked down at his throbbing hand, the feeling that was returning to it decidedly unpleasant. "No, but I think you've dislocated my pinky."
"I have?" she asked with interest, momentarily distracted.
He held up his hand with the crookedly jutting finger. "Yep."
"Harry, come here and let me see that," Andromeda demanded.
Harry just shrugged. He took a deep, hearty breath and held it while he gripped his pinky with the opposite hand and jerked it back into place. He blew out his breath and smiled at her.
"There. Problem solved."
"I've broken a couple of my fingers," Tonks said, her voice full of marvel. "And it hurts like blazes."
"Yeah?"
"So why aren't you screaming?"
Harry shrugged again. "I fixed it."
"You are a weird cookie," Tonks said frankly, and laid her head back. "But you're a good diversion, anyway. Remind me why you're in here and my husband isn't?"
Addison and Andromeda rolled their eyes at one another.
"Because your husband is freaking out and you keep throwing things at him, mostly," Harry answered.
"You're next," she said with narrow eyes.
Harry grinned. "You just saw that I'm impervious to pain. I'm also immune to freaking out. You're stuck with me."
Tonks began to pant and tense up and her teeth gritted. Harry didn't know how she was still dealing with every single contraction with this tenacity, because he would have lost his mind by now. He just blotted the sweat from her face with a washcloth and tucked the loose strings of hair back and waited until it was over. When she fell back again, with another word of encouragement from the women, he handed her the cup full of ice chips he'd made earlier.
"You're such a good kid," Tonks muttered. "I can't imagine how that happened, because I know better than to think Sirius had anything to do with it."
"Hear, hear," Andromeda joked.
Harry's smile turned a bit shy at that. "He really did, actually. I don't think I would have ended up with nearly as much compassion if he'd left me with the Dursleys."
"I never really heard anything about that," Tonks said, looking up at him curiously. "I guess I always thought that Sirius took you because prison made him a little crazy." Andromeda snorted something, but Tonks ignored her. "What do you mean, you wouldn't have any compassion?"
Harry looked away, uncomfortable. "Well, yeah, it was a long time before he was really okay after Azkaban, but . . . I needed to be taken away. The Dursleys weren't very good to me. I always had to look out for myself, and it was just . . . I was learning that everyone is alone in the world, so you have to look out for yourself, and other people are only there to make you suffer. I honestly didn't know that there was such a thing as caring about someone else more than you cared about yourself. And I honestly didn't know that it wasn't normal to starve me or lock me up if I did something wrong. And I didn't know that so many things weren't as wrong as the Dursleys made out they were . . ."
"Oh, Harry," Tonks said, gripping his hand in a much different way. "I had no idea."
"No one had any idea," Harry said. "Except Sirius, and he put an end to it. And he took me away and gave me a home where I was allowed to be myself. I found out that it was normal for me to have a bedroom to sleep in, and food to eat every day, and clothes that fit. If I felt bad for stray dogs, that was okay. And if I liked to study the stars, that was okay, too. If I burned the toast, Sirius hugged me and made some new toast and let me eat it, and that was actually the hardest thing to get used to. Not hugging, even though that was weird, but just the fact that I was allowed to screw up sometimes. He wasn't going to scream at me and call me a freak and put me in a cupboard for two days. Not even the time I melted half the kitchen and probably deserved it. He just . . . loved me. And that made it okay for me to love him back. I had never loved anything before, and I sort of got hooked on it."
The women all looked like they were crying or about to be, and Harry was feeling beyond uncomfortable. He hadn't meant to say so much, but being here in this room was weird. The world was out there, beyond the closed door, and everything that happened in here stayed in here, out of sight of prying eyes. It probably wasn't even appropriate for him to be here, but it felt somehow right to bare something so private to Tonks when she was laying here in incredible pain with no pants on, while two women talked about her dilation.
"Anyway . . . that's how I know that you and Remus are going to be such great parents. Can't see you smacking a kid around just for accidentally shrinking a jumper. In fact, when I think of your kid in trouble, I just see Remus sitting him down and talking his ear off about right and wrong until he's begging for daddy to just let mummy smack him so it can all be over with . . ."
Tonks laughed, but it got lost in a scream. Harry winced but stayed with her. His being here was helping her, somehow, so he'd stay.
Hermione kept up a steady stream of clean linens and hot water, and she ran to the lab for potion when Andromeda thought Tonks could have more. After a while, Harry fell silent, just holding her hand, while Andromeda sang a few old lullabies from Tonks' childhood. Tonks had dozed a little between contractions for a while, but then they started coming closer together, and they realized it was nearly time. The men had all professed to be unable to sleep, but they'd dosed Remus with whiskey again and they all ended up snoring on various pieces of furniture in the parlour. Simon had been helping Hermione work, but he was too distracted by imagining the situation upstairs and spent most of the time pacing, so he had been banished to the sparring room to work out his tension.
After one earth-shattering groan, Addison looked at Harry and said, "Get Remus."
Harry jumped to his feet and ran. He honestly didn't remember taking the stairs, and wondered if he had somehow flown down. Light on his feet, he went to Remus' side and woke him with a shushing so he wouldn't wake the other men, and yanked him out of the room. Simon and Hermione dashed up the stairs with him, right at Remus' heels, but Addison came to the door and barred the way.
"Just Remus," she said briefly, and shut the door.
The three of them trooped back downstairs. Harry noticed how pinched Simon's face was.
"Why don't you go to bed?" he suggested. "It could still be a while, I think. Get a few hours of sleep and it'll all be over when you wake up?"
Simon said a rude word.
Harry put his arm over Simon's shoulders. "I know, mate, I didn't think you would. Who could sleep when their mum's about to give birth?"
"It sounds horrible," Simon muttered. "I don't know why anyone wants to have babies."
Harry shot Hermione a triumphant grin.
"What? Hey! She's not my mum!"
"You sure?" Harry asked rhetorically. "Anyway, let's just go down to the kitchen and make something to eat."
"Ooo, good idea," Hermione said fervently. "I'm dying."
No, you're not, I am. The sheer flippancy of Harry's internal monologue made his stomach turn. After the surreal experience of sitting with Tonks all afternoon and evening and into the night, he'd almost forgotten. When her water broke, he'd been literally on his way to confront Riddle. At this point, it would have to wait for tomorrow. But no longer than that. It was time for it to be done.
Harry sat so still that he almost didn't breathe.
"If you don't relax, he'll cry," Remus said.
Harry stared down at the wrinkled red face and felt feelings he had no name for. The crossed blue eyes were almost looking back at him, but he'd been informed that the baby couldn't really see yet. The tiny, perfect fist, red-skinned but tipped with miraculous and white little fingernails, was waving in his direction. Moving so slowly it looked like he'd been cursed, Harry moved his own hand to intercept. The tiny little fist closed over his thumb.
Harry struggled not to break down into weeping. Teddy Evan Lupin was the most heartbreaking thing he'd ever seen. He had learned, as he'd told Tonks last night, a lot about love. But he was only now learning that it was possible to love someone instantly and completely. Any parent could have told him it was true, but he'd never known to ask. Today, he understood. The newly arrived person in his arms had his heart, without doing a thing to earn it except existing.
"I still think you should have actually let us name him after you," Tonks whispered, her voice a bit hoarse.
Harry looked up and she smiled at the entranced expression he wore. Remus and Simon had already taken a few turns at holding him, and they'd both looked that way—sort of gobsmacked, but in a good way.
"My name is boring," he said. "Nothing against my parents, you understand. But you try being six and being called Harry."
"Well, he's called Teddy, but I see your point. Always liked the name Evan, anyway."
Harry would have replied, but his attention was focused entirely on Teddy. His hair was rapidly changing colour, become an angry shade of red.
"Uh-oh," Remus muttered, delicately scooping the baby out of Harry's arms and handing him off to Tonks. "He's hungry."
Harry averted his eyes.
"I'll, uh, I'm a little hungry myself, actually," he muttered, and hurriedly vacated the room. It was now nine o'clock in the morning. Teddy had been born at 1:49 am, and Harry had gone to bed at two, only to rise again at six to cook breakfast for everyone. He'd operated on less sleep before, so he wasn't as tired as he had a right to be. He was just feeling overwhelmed.
Remus caught him in the hallway. "Harry."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"Dora told me how you talked to her, kept her calm and tried to make her comfortable. I wish I could have done it myself, but you saw what a wreck I was. It was better to have somebody in there who wasn't having fits. So thank you for doing that."
Harry smiled. "You haven't even tapped into what I'd do for your family."
Remus shook his head and pulled Harry into an embrace. "Merlin, Harry, you are family. In fact, we'd like to make it a little more official."
"What do you mean?" Harry asked, stepping back.
"Dora and I were wondering what you would think of being Teddy's godfather."
"What?"
Remus put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "We both think you're pretty well-qualified, especially after you talked to Dora last night. You know better than most people what makes a good godfather, and I saw your face when you were holding Teddy. You already love him."
Harry shrugged. "Who wouldn't? But Remus . . . I can't."
His smile fell, but his hand tightened. "You can't?"
He'd thought he'd found rock bottom when talking to Colin, but this was the real bottom. Harry wished he had the strength to hold his secrets, to simply hurt their feelings and walk away . . . but he didn't. He could live with the idea that Remus and Tonks would resent him, but he couldn't deal with the idea that Teddy would grow up thinking ill of him. Because his rekindled resolve to finish his job was all about that little boy, was all in the name of giving him a safe world to live in, a good world that didn't have all this blood status crap and all this death . . .
"I'm sorry, Remus," Harry whispered. "I just don't think I'm going to be around to do it."
"What are you talking about, Harry?"
"I'm talking about maybe not living through this war."
"You can't possibly mean that. You've always said you have no intention of dying . . ."
"I know what I've said," Harry said with a bleak smile that chilled Remus to the core. "It's scary that the one lie I've ever told so blatantly was such a good one, isn't it?"
"Harry—"
"Please don't say anything, Remus. Please. I'm not entirely certain of anything, okay? And it'll still be a day or two before I'm ready, so I want the chance to say goodbye to everyone."
"A day or two?" Remus gasped.
"I have some things I have to go figure out," Harry said. "Some things to prepare. But I'll be back to say goodbye, and even then I sort of hope it's not really goodbye. But just in case I'm don't come back . . . your son is the most beautiful thing I've seen, outside my girlfriend's smile, and I am honoured by your faith in me. Thank you."
He left Remus gaping there in the hall outside the bedroom, and went downstairs. It wasn't quite possible yet for him to internalize all his feelings. He just went to his bedroom and lay down to stare at the ceiling, letting things pass over him in waves. He was thinking about love. Many different kinds of love, all of them tinged with regret. Love for Sirius, with the grief of never being honest about the end of this war and knowing how hard it would hit him when it came. Love for Hermione, and wishing there was time for an absolutely mind-blowing shag first but also guilt for even getting so close to her when it could only end badly. Love for that tiny little person upstairs with the most bitter longing that he could be what Remus and Tonks wanted him to be. And love for them, too, for the way they'd accepted him even though they didn't have to, and terrible regret that the next big family dinner wouldn't include him.
But coursing through all that was a much different kind of love. It was more like respect, and conviction, but it turned into love when he tried to direct it toward a specific person. And it was for everyone. Everyone who deserved to go to school or work in safety. Everyone who deserved to wake up and to go to bed without worrying if someone was coming to find them and hurt them. Everyone who deserved to have opinions and talents and the ability to practice them without fearing a midnight visit of reprisal. Everyone who deserved to live, instead of just survive.
Was it a fair trade, what he had for what he wanted them to have? He had so much here, with all this family and all this potential, and all the things he wanted to do. To be. He wanted to be, and only be himself with nothing riding in his mind or the scar on his forehead. How could he give that up? But he thought about Mona who loved her son more than anything in the world, and Sacha who knew the Dark Arts but didn't practice them, and Catalina out there somewhere with a target still painted on her back simply for making Sirius fall in love with her. And his friends, Ron and Ginny, who deserved to make it through the day without being called blood traitors. And Neville, who ought to be released from that terrible bondage he'd put himself under. And Hermione, who was the biggest target of all and who could never have a real life until this war was won. For them, he could give it up. For them, he'd do anything. And he'd do it for the people whose names he had never known, whose faces he barely remembered, because despite knowing he had enormous potential, he hadn't yet grown so big as to think his life was worth more than theirs.
So he would destroy the Horcruxes. He would take Riddle's power. He would deliver the world from a monster and give them a man whom they could judge and condemn and punish. They deserved it, and there was no use left in wishing someone else could do the delivering. He was done with that.
He should be feeling resigned, feeling loss, or determination. But he wasn't. He was laying there fighting feelings of glee. His head hurt and his stomach was turning victorious little somersaults and he saw for a moment, superimposed on his ceiling, the hand of a tall, thick-chested blond man reaching out to shake his.
He was so very tired of having Riddle sharing with him. He was almost ready to give it all up just to get rid of that. As he focused his energy on dispelling the leftovers of another person's joy in his head, he began to feel despair. Riddle had just gained followers abroad. If Harry didn't do it now, it would be too late.
Hermione was upset with him, but Harry didn't know why, and she wasn't saying. He used Legilimency, too impatient to coax it out of her. Turned out she was upset that they were doing this at all, since Draco had a valid reason to refuse to help, and she was also upset that they were doing it right now, when Teddy wasn't even a full day old yet.
She spun around and shot him a glare. "Were just in my head?"
Harry didn't know what to say.
"I swear, Harry, I don't know what is wrong with you right now. First you're keeping things from me, then when I want to do the same thing, you just barge on in and take it anyway!"
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
"Oh, are you? How many times have you done that? Just gone digging in my brain if I don't feel like talking? Did you consider the fact that sometimes my feelings aren't logical and I don't want to share them because I'm hoping they go away? Or did you consider respecting my privacy at all? We've always been really honest with each other, and we've also been really honest about when we need some space. Haven't we?"
"Yes."
"We built everything we have on honesty and trust. Our relationship has always been about trust, hasn't it?"
"Yes."
"So," she whispered, her eyes full of tears, "can you tell me why you're so intent on destroying that relationship now, when I need it most?"
Harry's heart, already at the breaking point, tore in half. He could swear he felt the blood pumping his life away, all over the floor. What was he doing? He was ruining everything for Hermione, and it wasn't even time yet.
No. Really, what was he doing? Did the fact that he was approaching the end somehow make it okay for him to just reach into her mind? What was he turning into, while he was so busy regretting things? Every time he thought he'd reached absolute bottom, he found some way to sink lower.
"Harry . . ." Hermione stood there like there was a huge crack in the floor that separated them. Like the scant few feet between them might as well be an entire continent. "You've got so much pain and sadness inside you right now that I can feel it from here. I want to help you, but I can't if you won't tell me what's wrong. You've been acting so strangely since we came back to London, and you've got guilt plaguing your every step. I don't understand. I want to, but I can't unless you let me back in. I thought you wanted me to know everything about you, but you're not acting that way anymore. What happened?"
"I figured out that not everything about me is worth knowing," he answered, and then he led the way to the Tonks' house, with Hermione trailing behind him in shock and hurt. Draco was there by himself, feeling like he'd be intruding by coming over to work today. And Harry was going to press him for answers again. Because there was no time left. Not for him. He wouldn't let Teddy live one day in this world, not when he had the power to make a new one.
Draco was seated in the living room in front of the fire, which was not burning very well, probably because Kreacher was at Grimmauld Place helping out. The flicker played over the well-worn carpet, but most of the light came from the windows. Harry briefly reflected that the earth-toned furniture and drapes worked well with the natural light, but now was hardly the time for discussions of home décor. Narcissa was not in sight, for which Harry thanked his lucky stars. Draco had a book open in his lap and was eating a piece of toast, which he dropped onto the book so he could grab his wand from the table. Then he realized it was just them, and looked down at his book.
"Oh, bugger!" he muttered, throwing the toast into the fire and using the sleeve of his robe to rub at the page. "Shouldn't you be celebrating a birth right now?" he asked them.
"Says the baby's bloody cousin," Harry said, rolling his eyes.
Draco looked almost scared at that, and quickly reverted the topic. "What are you doing here?"
"Where's your mother?"
Draco gripped his wand and concentrated for a moment, then shrugged. "Asleep."
"Good. I need to ask you something."
"What?"
"The same thing I asked you yesterday."
Draco paused to think, then he stood up so he could face Harry more evenly. "I said no."
"Which I am not accepting," Harry replied.
Before it could move into an argument, or worse yet, a duel, Hermione stepped in. "Draco, I'm sorry that Harry's being so harsh, but there is something we need really desperately, and we're trying our best to locate it. Is there any way you can help us?"
Draco looked back and forth at the two of them, from Harry's hard expression to Hermione's pleading one. "This is something really big."
"This is . . ." Harry blew out a breath. "This is it. This is the last piece of the puzzle. I find this thing, and it's over. I find this thing, I play my cards right, and we win."
Yes, we, he was thinking, because as much as you would rather not think about it or admit it, we're on the same side now. You didn't want to be, and you hate being here, but it's only because your father taught you to hate the part of yourself that has convictions that can't be bought or sold. I know you'll be glad when we win, even if you won't let anyone see it.
He didn't cast an Imperius charm on Draco. There had to be a line he wouldn't cross. There had to be, or he would never be sure he even deserved to win. He'd gone too far already. Much too far. If Draco wouldn't help willingly, then he would have to accept it, his gruff words aside.
"Tell me what you're looking for," Draco said finally. "Maybe I've seen it."
"It's a diadem," Harry said.
"A diadem?"
"You know, like a tiara," Hermione supplied.
Draco shot her a look. "I know what it is. Forgive me for being a little stunned that the fate of the world rests on a piece of outdated jewelry."
"Well?" Harry said.
"Well, for Merlin's sake, my mother has about six kinds of outdated jewelry passed down through the family. Can you give me a better description?"
"It wouldn't be kept with your mother's jewelry, for one thing. It's not meant to be worn. In fact, there's sort of a rumour that it might have once belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw."
Draco made a disgusted face. "And you think my parents would keep such a thing in their home? Who do you think we are?"
"They'd do it if the 'dark lord' asked them to, wouldn't they? Are you telling me you haven't seen anything like that?"
"There are parts of my house I've never even been allowed into," Draco said stiffly. He was keeping his dignity a lot better than Harry was, and Harry tried really hard to rein himself in. He absolutely shouldn't make a remark on the kind of house Draco had grown up in. "If you don't have a better description . . ."
"We don't have any description, do we?" Hermione asked, giving Harry a stricken look. "We don't know what it looks like."
"I'll know it when I see," Harry said with conviction. "I feel them."
Hermione knew this, and shuddered, but Draco just looked lost.
"Feel who?"
"Never mind. We need to make another visit, but we'll be back. We'll go get a better description."
"You do that," Draco said, looking faintly amused now.
"Draco?" Harry took a step forward, until their faces were nearly touching. "Not a word. To. Anyone."
He nodded, backing away and licking his lips.
Harry took Hermione's hand. "Hang on."
"Where are we going?"
He took them to Hogsmeade.
"Harry, what are we doing here?" Hermione asked, mystified. "And can we please slow down?"
"No, we can't," he answered. He ducked into the Hog's Head, dragging her behind him. "And we're getting into Hogwarts, of course." He tried not to remember the last time he was here, when he'd been disguised as the Death Eater Markowicz. But his neck itched with the memory.
"We're going to see Professor Flitwick, aren't we? He'd know the most about the diadem."
"No. It's too much risk that we'd be seen by the other professors, and then we'd really be in it. We're going to ask Luna Lovegood."
"Oh," Hermione said weakly. Harry hoped they'd gotten well beyond the jealousy that had fueled that old rivalry. Luna was just Luna, and she was the only person he could think of who might have a clue what the diadem looked like. He was still hoping that he could retrieve the diadem without confronting Voldemort, so that he could be the one to finish things off.
"Here, you," came a gruff voice to their left. "Have a seat, don't go blocking the door."
Harry turned to look at the old man, and felt a rush of strangeness in his belly. When he'd been here before, he was a little preoccupied with pretending to be a Death Eater. But now, he took a moment to look Aberforth Dumbledore in the bright blue eyes and feel the loss of his mentor all over again. He wondered, not for the first time, how this man had struggled through losing his brother. Harry knew they hadn't really been on speaking terms. He knew that he and Neville had been the headmaster's family, in the end. But Harry rather thought that would make it harder on Aberforth. To know that his brother had died with those issues unresolved.
"Are you who I think you are?" the old man growled.
Harry nodded, giving Hermione's hand a squeeze to indicate that she should be patient for a moment. He hardly had any time left, but he'd been with Dumbledore at the end and he should be able to say something to this man.
"You're the one that my brother was training up, like the meddlesome old coot he was?"
Harry felt his free hand balling up into a fist.
"I'm Harry Potter," he said sharply. "And I asked the headmaster to teach me, because I'd never met anyone who knew as much as he did."
"Knew everything except how to apologise," Aberforth grunted, retreating back behind his bar when he saw that Harry was not receptive to his attitude.
Harry gave him an incredulous look. "Are you insane, or just bloody stupid? He made his whole life an apology. Everything he did was done for someone else's sake, and I don't care how bad things went when you two were young, because at the end of his life he'd become one of the best men I'll ever know. And if you'd pulled your head out of your arse long enough to talk to him, you'd have known that. You think now that he's dead, you can just say what you like about him?"
Aberforth was rapidly blinking, sending flashes of blue at Harry, then he suddenly laughed. It sounded like rusty parts scraping over rock, but at least it was humour. "That Longbottom boy never lets me say anything about him, either. Longbottom's a good sort, and I had to see what sort you are, didn't I?"
"Why?" Harry asked, confused.
"I'm not about to let just anyone through, am I?" Aberforth asked rhetorically. "Can't be sending fools and cowards to join the fight."
Harry relaxed a bit, feeling an inextricable desire to like this man. "Oh, well, that's okay. We've been doing our bit from out here. We just need to go up for a minute to talk to someone."
"Long as it ain't that bastard of a headmaster," Aberforth said with a shrug. "I've seen what he allows to happen to those kids, and I hope he meets a werewolf in the Forbidden Forest some night soon."
Harry felt a pang at that. Snape was just one of the people whom Harry should have delivered long since. He could only hope that this went well enough that everyone would understand what Snape had done. And not done, for that matter. Harry wondered if Sirius or Snape would tell anyone that it had been Harry, all along.
And suddenly Harry just had to say it. He went to the counter, knowing that Hermione was behind him and would hear this and would be even more hurt that she hadn't known until now, but mostly just feeling like Aberforth of all people deserved the truth.
"Your brother was sick. Very sick. He was dying," he said, feeling choked and glad that the bar was empty of patrons. For some reason, what bothered him was not people overhearing, but someone seeing him cry about it and getting the wrong idea. "And he knew that he was dying. He asked Snape to let him go out with some dignity."
Aberforth's face twisted in rage, and he found his wand in the pocket of the stained apron he was wearing.
"But he wouldn't do it. He didn't do it."
"What are you saying?"
"I'm saying that Snape's never killed anyone in his life."
"Then . . . Albus did die of illness?"
"For the most part," Harry murmured. "But Snape had to make it look good for Riddle, didn't he? So I helped. I used Snape's wand."
"You're telling me that you killed my brother?"
"I did. At his own request."
Comically surprised, the old man sat down on the stool by his cash box, letting his wand fall onto the bar with a clatter.
"You did?"
"Snape was the only one who knew, all this time, but he couldn't say anything because he was supposed to have done it. But it's almost over now, and I wanted you to know. Because you were his brother, and I can see that it still means something to you. So now you know. And I have to be going, because I have a war to win. I just, well, need to thank you for everything you've done for the students. Everything that shouldn't have been necessary, because I should have been able to do this sooner. You're a good man, like your brother."
Aberforth didn't say another word, he just took them to the portrait that Neville had told them of, the portrait of the sister who had died so long ago and who had stood between the Hog's Head and Hogwarts in more ways than one. Harry had never asked about Ariana, but he'd been told all kinds of stupid things when he'd been forced to hang out with politicians. He found himself smiling at the girl as she opened the secret corridor for them. None of it had been her fault, and he was sorry for whatever part of her was stuck in the portrait for having to watch all the bitterness that had followed her death.
Hermione took his hand again when they began their trek upward. He almost broke into tears that she would still even want to touch him, after the way he'd treated her for the past week.
"Harry?" she whispered, and even so quiet her voice bounced off the dank walls and carried too far.
"Hmm?"
"You didn't tell me."
"It wasn't mine to tell. Snape and I had to sort of protect each other, you see? I couldn't have told, because it was up to him. But . . . I keep saying this. It'll be over soon, and then it won't matter anymore. But Dumbledore was in so much pain, Hermione, and I don't feel guilty for doing what he asked. I just wish I could have told you sooner."
"There's a lot of things you haven't been telling me," she murmured. "I know we don't have time right now, but once we get the description, and before we go to the manor, we really have to talk."
"Okay."
They clambered out of the portrait hole and found half of the DL staring at them.
"Harry? Hermione?" Ron said, looking up from a book he was reading.
"What are you doing here?" Dean added, looking up from some sort of medical treatment he was applying to Ginny's knee.
"Not that it isn't good to see you, oh Great One," Seamus threw in, tossing a handful of cards onto the table where a few other students were sitting with him.
"Is Luna here?" Harry asked, helping Hermione through. "We came to see her."
"I'm here, Harry," she said, coming through the press of people. Harry took in a few of the things surrounding them as she came forward. The room was decorated all in white and black, for some reason, and full of hammocks and study desks. There were far too many people here for Harry's sanity to contemplate. Far too many people having to hide in their own school.
Hermione was being greeted by some of her old roommates, but she pulled away from them to follow Luna and Harry over to a corner. Everyone was just staring at them, waiting for Harry to reveal the reason he'd come out of hiding. He was gratified to see that the Care Package had gotten some use, he saw a few bandages here and there and the tell-tale oily smear of bruise cream that hadn't been rubbed in long enough. But he cleared his throat, and made everyone jump, get guilty looks, and turn away to resume their previous activities. Those seemed to include studying, fighting with wooden swords, playing cards, and painting one another's fingernails (which, thankfully, was strictly a girls-only activity in this room). He didn't see Neville, and assumed that he was either causing trouble or getting into some.
"Luna, do you remember when we talked about the diadem of Ravenclaw?"
"Yes."
"I believe that it is real, and not lost. But to find it, I need to know what it looks like. Do you happen to know that?"
"I know what it is supposed to look like," she said dreamily.
"Focus, Luna. Tell me."
"Okay, but I really think it would be easier to show you."
"To show me?" he repeated blankly. "You have it?"
"There is a statue of Rowena in the common room, and she is wearing the diadem. Would you like to see it?"
Harry and Hermione looked at one another and spoke without words. They knew it was a bad idea to leave this room and go into the school. But the more information, the better. Because as bad an idea as it may be, it would be still worse to walk into Malfoy Manor without a clue what the diadem looked like. It wouldn't be a brilliant idea to take it on faith that they'd found the right one and have it turn out to be some manky old Black family heirloom.
So Harry nodded. "Okay, Luna. Take us there."
"Do you have your Invisibility Cloak?" Hermione whispered.
"No, I left it at the house. Hold still, I'm going to Disillusion you."
She held still, then repeated the favour on him. Luna, being herself, had no problem acting as if she were walking alone, and didn't act at all bothered by two invisible people following her to the Ravenclaw dormitories. She didn't make any attempt to speak to them, just hummed tunelessly to herself as they made their journey past trick steps and statues they couldn't identify. Harry's heart was squeezing unbearably, wondering if he was seeing these halls for the last time. When they reached the plain wooden door that was the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room, Luna lifted her hand to the bronze knocker. The eagle spoke softly.
"Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?"
Luna looked thoughtful. Harry was impatient.
"Neither," he snapped. "It's the same stupid chicken and egg question that Muggles torment themselves with, and it's neither one, because it's a never-ending circle, and we don't bloody have time for this."
"Oh, well," the eagle said in a highly affronted tone, and the door opened. Harry paid no attention to the tall starry ceiling or the high windows, instead making a beeline for the white statue set opposite the door. He stared at the tiara on the head of the woman before him, marking its important features. It was small and delicate, and etched with Ravenclaw's clever little motto. He hoped it would be so easy to identify the real one, but he sort of doubted that it would actually have the words engraved on it.
"Okay," he said. "Okay. Now back to the Tonks' house to ask Draco about it, then we go to the manor. Hermione?" he said, holding out his hand for her, even though they were both invisible. She knew that he was reaching for her, and she somehow found his outstretched hand. Even with everything between them, she knew it, and still wanted to take his hand. It made Harry bite back a cry.
"It's going too fast," she said in a tiny, broken voice. "It's all happening too fast."
"I can't let it go on anymore," he answered.
Luna didn't even ask. She just opened the door, and they stepped out into the corridor again.
"Finite Incantatum!" crowed a triumphant voice.
Suddenly, they were there. Visible. It could hardly have been more shocking if they were naked. And they were staring into the surprised and glowing face of a doughy, ugly little man.
"It's Potter himself!" he gasped. "Alecto told me she heard someone sneaking around with the Ravenclaw bint, but I never expected Potter!"
Harry Stunned him immediately, and ran. Hermione and Luna followed him, but they didn't get far. As they rounded the corner, Snape came billowing up the corridor. His hands flashed out and he shoved Harry by the shoulders into a wall.
"You stupid child—"
Harry wasn't thinking, he was just reacting to being physically attacked. He hooked the man's ankle and shoved him away, and Snape fell to the stone floor with a growl of outrage. He simply sat there, legs sprawled, raising himself up on his hands to give Harry the coldest, angriest look he'd ever received.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" he croaked. "The Carrows called him. He's coming. He's bringing the full force of the Death Eaters to bear on you. Here."
Harry had been in motion, not stopping his movements or his thoughts once since the moment Remus had taken Teddy from his arms that morning. But now he stopped. He and Snape stared at one another, both processing exactly what was about to happen. After all his rushing, he was still too late. His moment had come. He had to stop running.
Harry broke the spell with a short nod. "I'm almost ready. I just have to say something to Hermione. We're going to hide, for a few minutes."
"People are about to start dying, Potter. Don't you understand? You . . . we are all about to die."
"I know," he said, feeling like he was speaking down a long tunnel. His ears were ringing. "The DL will want to fight, but they should get out. You have to find McGonagall and evacuate the students. What I have to do won't take long." He looked at Snape again, wondering if his eyes were actually burning holes in things or if it just felt like that. "It's almost over. I'm ending it tonight."
Snape didn't say anything, just hauled himself to his feet and watched as Harry grabbed Hermione and ran again. Almost over. Those words should have sounded so sweet to him, but the bleakness of Harry's voice had told him that it wouldn't happen the way they wanted it to. It was almost over, but the ending would hurt.
Harry: Well, folks, I'm afraid that my creator Faren has chosen a cruel path. She is choosing to post this chapter just before going away for a week, meaning that we are all suspended here for at least a week and half. She is such a maniacal bitch.
Hermione: Language, Harry. Even if it is cruel of her to just leave me running down a hall with my heart being ripped out until further notice.
Harry: I'd apologise, but I'm sort of stuck in the same position.
Snape: At least she let me up off the floor.
Sirius: Pipe down, you lot. At least you didn't get stuck completely unaware of what was happening to the person you love most in the world.
Luna: Perhaps we could pass the time by guessing whether or not she means to kill us off. I don't think everyone is going to live through this.
Neville: Honestly, I think I'll be the first to go. What is she going to do with me once the war is over? I don't even know what I'd do, and I'm me.
Ron: Well, it's no use trying to sort it out ourselves, is it? She's the author, it's up to her.
Ginny: Bollocks to that. I'm not going down without a fight.
Draco: While you idiots carry on blathering, I'll take over. The readers are supposed to be reminded that while Faren will not be able to reply to reviews until next week, she would love to come back to an inbox overflowing with reviews. I have to admit, I'd like to see that, myself. Just so I know that I'm not the only one who thinks Harry is a psychotic freak.
Harry: Shut up. No, not you, dear readers, just him. Faren wants to know if you like her poetry.