False Fate
By MD1016
Part IV: The War
Chapter 18 – The Chosen, the Forgiven, the Secret, and the Heart
"A five?" Ron couldn't believe his ears. "Last night was a seven if ever there was one!"
Hermione gave him a coy smile, a shrug, and ate another bite of her toast.
It was the last of breakfast. He and Hermione woke late that morning and had already missed Harry and Ginny, so they sat off by themselves at the end of Gryffindor table. At the next table over Ron recognized his two students, and they waved and giggled a little. He waved back.
"They've got a crush on you," Hermione said, though she didn't seem quite as put out as Ron would've expected.
"Naw," he said, and went back to his eggs. "They're just friendly. They're Hufflepuff's, after all."
"Of course they have a crush on you," she said with an exaggerated sigh. "As well they should. Just don't do anything to encourage them."
"Why would I do that?"
She didn't answer, but instead stared at her breakfast. "I don't believe it."
"What? Toast? I don't believe you'd choose it over eggs and bacon, either. I mean, toast is good with a cup of tea and some marmalade, but given the choice-"
"Shut up, Ron," she said, giggling. "No, I've just figured out the runes, I think. I don't know why I didn't see it before – it's just that everything seems so much clearer this morning."
This made Ron smile smugly. "That's because last night was of the seventh order, and you know it!"
"I know no such thing." She stood, then and muttered something about books and the library, and that was the last he saw of her that day.
Under Ron's careful instruction Charity Knowles managed a full Apparation during their morning lesson, and ended up within a meter of where she wanted to be. She seemed shocked when she reappeared, and it took her a couple of minutes to shake off the sensation of being squeezed through a rubber tube. Having witnessed her friend's success, though, Ruby Wu became jealous, and began to pout, but with a little encouragement from Ron she was beaming again by the end of the lesson. Ron felt the morning a success.
He went to the library to find Hermione, who hadn't been with Madame Pomfrey, and was surprised to find her absent. As he was already there, though, he decided to continue to delve into Rowena Ravenclaw's past. Miss Pince, the librarian, happened by a couple of times, and though Ron was very much within his rights to be looking through the books he couldn't help but feel they both knew he had no business being there.
He'd just finished his sweep of the last book in his stack when a thick, dust-covered tome was dropped in front of him. Vulture-like, Miss Pince stood beside him, thin and hunched. Ron had trouble believing the old woman could lift the large, thick book without a spell's aid.
"Pages thirty seven through ninety-nine," she said, almost accusingly, and then lumbered away.
Ron looked down at the cover. Hengist of Woodcroft: The Life and Times of Hogsmeade's Father. Not what he'd been expecting, but Ron opened the cover anyway, and carefully turned the tissue-thin pages to page thirty seven.
Harry had had Dobby clear an area around the hearth in Hermione's apartment so the four of them could still meet secluded away from everyone else. They sat on cushions near the warming flames surrounded by books and parchments and little whirling, whizzing things piled so high that he felt as if they were in the valley of some elaborate canyon, hidden away from the rest of the world.
Hermione had drawn a list of words on a hand-held chalk board, next to three runes. She began her instruction. "Unlike our language, runes are complete words or parts of words that are dependant on each other for their meanings. On rune can mean a hundred different things if placed before or after any combination of other runes. Which is why I was having difficulty translating the meanings of these three. Until I realized this morning that they're less a sentence and more a code.
"The first rune is intelligence. The second is wisdom, and the third is cleverness. Taken at face value they are the quintessential Ravenclaw qualities we've all known since we first got here. But the order is important. In the drawing they're in that order: Intelligence, wisdom, cleverness. And that's what they mean."
Harry shrugged. "That would make sense – if those are her most valued attributes, and what she based her House on."
"Right," Hermione told him. "But in the woodcut she's holding the scepter backwards. Upside down." She opened the book Ron had found for them all to see. And sure enough, now that Ron knew what he was looking at, there was a tiny round ball just behind her hand that was partially hidden by her sleeve. "There's the scepter's head," Hermione said, and pointed to the ball.
"It's supposed to be a sapphire," Ron told them. He didn't remember where he'd read it, but he knew it was true.
"That's not a leap," Ginny said. "Their house color is blue."
"Backwards is the key, then?" Harry asked. "Why does that make a difference?"
"Because," Hermione told them, "If it's cleverness, wisdom, and intelligence – in that order – then wisdom after cleverness becomes the word 'secret.'"
"So, then, it's cleverness, secret, intelligence?" Ginny asked.
"Not quite. Because whenever the rune for intelligence follows secret, then it becomes 'power.' You see, it's a puzzle. And it's brilliant. There are eight layers! 'Power' turns 'secret' into 'danger,'" she said, drawing lines between the words as she went, "and 'danger' anywhere next to 'wisdom' turns 'wisdom' into 'prophecy.' 'Prophecy' directly in front of 'danger' becomes 'battle,' and 'battle' before 'power' becomes…well…" She seemed less sure of herself now. "It's hard to know, exactly. It's sometimes translated as 'ultimate' or 'final' or 'great.'"
"All of those mean basically the same thing, don't they?" Ron asked.
"Not to the runes, because they act on each other in different ways. If it's 'ultimate,' then we end up with the three words: 'doom, battle, ultimate.' If it's 'final,' then we end up with 'dead hero' or 'fallen hero,' then 'battle, final.' If it's 'great,' then it's just 'prophecy, battle, great,' because that combination is static."
All eyes went to Harry. He seemed startled by her findings. "I choose the last one, if I get to pick," he quipped.
"There is another possibility," Hermione continued, "though it makes little sense. 'Power' immediately after 'battle' can mean 'forgiveness.' Sometimes. Way back. Even before the ancients. Because forgiveness meant mercy. And if that word is 'forgiveness,' then it changes 'battle' to 'secret' again, and we end up with: 'prophecy, secret, forgiveness.'"
"'Prophecy, secret, forgiveness'?" Ginny echoed. "A secret prophecy of forgiveness?"
"I don't expect I'll be forgiving Voldemort anytime soon," Harry quipped darkly.
"Maybe it's a prophecy of a secret forgiveness," Ron said. "Hey! I bet if we had the scepter it would tell us – Hermione, you said wizards' scepters are magic, right?"
"But we don't know where it is," Hermione reminded him.
Ron grinned, and his chest swelled a little. "I think I might," he told them and laughed when all of their faces dropped. "I know! I can't believe it, either! But Irma Pince gave me this book – she wouldn't let me take it out of the library, but I copied down all the important stuff – and did you know that Hengist, the guy who founded Hogsmeade, was a relative of Rowena Ravenclaw? And did you know that his home is what we now call the Shrieking Shack?"
"No!" Harry exclaimed.
"Oh, yes, mate. And upon further investigations I discovered that while the shack didn't start shrieking until the 1970's – and we all know why that is now – the shack itself was considered quite haunted starting in 1946. That's when the Hogsmeade inhabitants boarded up all the windows and doors. And who do we know who's got enough blood on his hands to fill a house with restless spirits?"
"Wait, 1946," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Isn't that the year Tom Riddle killed Hephzibah Smith, Hufflepuff's only remaining descendant, and stole both the cup and the locket?"
"Give the woman a prize!" Ron said happily. "That's exactly when that happened."
"So, then, she was used to create a Horcrux?" Ginny asked. "What's the connection to the Shrieking Shack?"
"Not just any Horcrux," Harry said, inspiration in his eyes. "The scepter. I saw in the pensive that Riddle went to Smith's house to see if the rumors were true about the cup and locket, and then he came back later to kill her. There would be no reason to go and come back unless he had to retrieve something to use when he killed her. And she was a descendant from one of the original four. How much more perfect could it be? Kill her, make a Horcrux, dramatically alter one of the most powerful magical family lines, and get two more artifacts out of it at the same time! He must've thought he'd won the lotto!"
Hermione laughed. Ron and Ginny had no idea what a lotto was.
"You think Voldemort made the tunnel from the Whomping Willow to the shack?" Ron asked. "Or did the Mauraders do that?"
"If he did, then he probably was working on it while he was in school here at Hogwarts," Hermione surmised. "And if he researched Ravenclaw in the library here, then it's a fair assumption that he saw the woodcut with the scepter. If he was going after artifacts, then certainly that would be one he'd look for."
"There's only one way to find out!" Harry said, jumping up.
"Tonight?" Ginny asked.
"Wait!" Hermione cried out. "We have to come up with a plan!"
"No plans. And right now." He headed for the door. Ron made to go after him. Ginny and Hermione quickly followed.
"Not you," Harry told Ginny. "If we get caught you would be expelled."
"I'm not staying here!" she told him.
"Ginny," Harry said patiently. "We both know how important it is for you to graduate. To you and your mother, to me, to everyone. Besides, if we don't come back we'll need someone to alert Lupin. Please let's not argue about this when we both know that you staying here makes more sense."
"Then let's not argue," she said, just as calmly. "I'm going, Harry Potter. I don't need your permission, and I certainly don't need your approval. If we're a team, then we're a team. Or were those just pretty words to get into my knickers?"
"Come on, you know that's not true." Harry, red in the face, looked to Ron for support.
"You've made that bed, mate. Looks like you'll be lying in it a long time to come."
Ron, Harry and Hermione hurried out of the castle, presumably with Ginny on their heels. She wore Harry's Invisibility Cloak, in an effort to at least keep her hidden. The grounds were dark, and the night still had a chill. Ron's heart pumped far faster than their brisk walk required, and he wiped perspiration from his upper lip. He was nervous about their lack of strategy. Ron was the only one in the group who'd witnessed what Harry looked like after he destroyed the cup Horcrux. The others didn't know what it had really cost Harry. A plan of attack made a lot of sense.
Halfway across the lawn and down the hill toward the Whomping Willow, Harry stopped abruptly and reached out beside him to stop Hermione as well. "There's someone there," he whispered loud enough for all of them to hear.
"Hagrid?" Ron asked. Hagrid's hut was on the other side of the Willow, and Ron could see the yellow glow of its windows.
Another few moments of straining against the darkness told them all that it couldn't possibly be Hagrid. The figure was too slight, too small, and wore a shawl.
"Madame Trelawney?" Hermione asked, shaking off Harry's hand and taking a few steps forward.
"Hello?" the figure called, and wandered in their direction. "Hello?"
It was Trelawney, and Ron thought she looked quite drunk. Her every third step gave way to a stumble, and she seemed to gazing around as if she wasn't quite sure where she was.
"Professor Trelawney," Harry said. "Are you all right?"
"The stars!" she bellowed. "They're speaking to me!"
Harry looked back at Ron, who hadn't a clue as to how they should go about dealing with their old Divination professor. She was obviously in her cups.
"What are they saying?" Hermione irritably asked, her arms defiantly crossed.
"Very bad things!" Trelawney warned, and her voice warbled.
This elicited an eye roll from Hermione. "Right, then. Good night." She walked around Trelawney and towards the Willow.
Ginny took this opportunity to unveil herself. "What are you doing out there?" she asked the professor. Trelawney screamed, startled, and pressed a hand to her mouth.
"Ginny, no!" Harry cried, but it was much too late.
"Weasley," Trelawney said peering at Ginny, still with the Invisibility Cloak draped over her shoulders, through thick, round spectacles. "You've gone and lost your head."
"More like her body," Ron quipped.
Trelawney seemed to notice him for the first time. "Weasley," she said again. And then she looked at Harry. "Oh, you poor soul, you tempt the Fates on a night such as this. To be out…in the dark…alone."
"He's hardly alone," Hermione snapped.
Trelawney gazed at her for a moment or two. "Have we met?" she asked.
"Of course we've met," Hermione said tartly.
"I think we should bring her with us," Ginny said to Harry. He studied her, but didn't respond.
Hermione did. "You've got to be kidding!"
"I'm not," Ginny told her, somewhat cattily. "Remember who it was that made the first two prophecies concerning Harry…and now we're in search of a scepter that promises another prophecy-"
"Well, promise is a bit strong," Hermione muttered.
"- and it can't be coincidence that she's out here – here – by the Willow tonight. It's not like it's her custom to come down from her tower!"
"Professor Trelawney," Harry said. "Do you know why you're out here tonight?"
"It's a night full of omens, my dear boy. Dark, terrible omens! The stars are speaking!"
"She's gone mental," Ron said under his breath to Harry. "Never was one with all her wits about her…"
"She's coming," Harry told them.
"No way!" Hermione said, shocked, and threw an accusing hand at Ginny. "Because she's your girlfriend?"
"Because she's got a point," Harry told her sharply. "You're still sore because Trelawney told you you haven't any talent as a seer."
"Not an ounce, of Gift, I'm afraid," Trelawney said sadly. "And such a plain girl…"
Hermione crossed her arms and fumed.
"She's coming," Harry repeated, and then he and Ginny began to steer the teacher in the direction of the Willow.
"She's off her gourd," Ron told Hermione, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders to get her walking again. She went with him only hesitantly. "You're far from plain. She obviously needs stronger glasses."
"He chose Ginny over me," Hermione grumbled.
"Of course he did. He's sleeping with her, isn't he? I'd choose you in a heartbeat."
She rolled her eyes. "He used to care what I thought."
"I'm sure he still does," Ron assured, not at all certain why Hermione was so against Ginny all of a sudden, and then he remembered it wasn't all of a sudden. "So, what happened between you two, anyway? You and Ginny, I mean."
"Nothing," she said quickly. It was exactly what he'd expected her to say.
"As your True Love I must say that I'm hurt and offended that you would keep these kinds of secrets from me." He used a mock offended tone that had won him begrudging grins in the past.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, and Ron knew he had her. "Oh, all right." She turned to him, but stared at his chest. "But you must promise to keep this to yourself." She sighed and looked over toward the Willow, toward Harry. "Ginny and I were…comparing…and I gave her some pointers…and, well, I think I may have said too much."
"About what?" Ron asked.
She looked at his knees. "About Harry."
"Huh," Ron said. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.
"We're pairing off," she said, almost as if she was thinking aloud. "I never see Harry anymore. Or Ginny, but that's more because she's taken to avoiding me." She glared at them, and Trelawney between them. "It's all changed between us."
"We've grown up. He's got another girl in his life now." And then a sick thought popped into his head. It made his stomach go all wonky. "You're never jealous of Ginny, are you?" It made sense, really, now that she'd slept with both of them she might've decided that she liked being with Harry better. He took a step back and forced the cool night air into his lungs.
"I suppose I am, a little. I've had you both to myself for so very long now…oh, Ron, that's not what I mean and you know it. I'm over Harry. Romantically, that is. But he's still my best friend, and, well, now we're four instead of three, I suppose. Or, tonight I should say five." This last comment had a barb.
"Come on," Ron said, though he refrained from the arm around her this time. His insides were a little knotted.
They came up behind the other three, and without breaking her stride Hermione lifted her wand and shouted, "Immobulous!" The Whomping Willow immediately stopped whomping. Apparently, Harry and Ginny hadn't thought of that.
Ron said with a smirk of pride, "That's my girl!"
They all slipped down the gaping hole at the base of the tree, and into the dark tunnel below. Hermione and Harry lit their wands.
"Oh, my," Trelawney said repeatedly. "Oh, my stars…"
The passage was incredibly narrow, and brought back the terrifying memory of Ron being dragged along its length, backwards and by his broke leg. That was the first time they'd met Sirius and learned the truth about Scabbers. They'd been just children, then.
When at last they made it to the rickety staircase that led up and into the bottom floor of the Shrieking Shack, a blast of air slammed the door open at the top of the stairs. It whooshed past them down the tunnel.
Trelawney gasped. "The spirits are abound! We dare not go in!"
"We've got to go," Harry told her. "It'll be all right."
"Uh…Harry," Ron said over his hammering heart. "Maybe she's right."
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron," Ginny snapped. "If you're afraid you can wait out here."
"Who's afraid? I'm just saying that the professor has a point."
"Then stay here," Ginny told him, as she headed up the stairs. Harry followed close behind with the professor in tow. Hermione sighed and followed, leaving Ron to stare up after them. There were spiders up there. He could feel it in his bones.
They gathered in what was left of the parlor, with the crumbling grand piano and shattered chandelier. Dust and cobwebs covered every surface including the ceiling. The curtains were in tatters and the windows were boarded up. The walls moved, and creaked as they did so, and the floor thumped along as if it was walking on them. Nothing was straight or still in the old place, and it had a dizzying effect.
"The village of Hogsmeade came together in 1946 and boarded this place up. Seems a young couple came in for a bit of privacy and the walls drove them mad – or so the legend goes. The villagers even capped off the chimney to keep the evil in."
"Nonsense," Hermione said. "Lupin spent a night here once a month while he was at Hogwarts, and it never drove him mad."
"I'm just telling you what was in the books," Ron said. "But now that I think about it, if it wasn't this place that drove them mad, then maybe it was something else they encountered while they were here. In 1946."
"Or someone else," Harry said grimly. "Dumbledore told me about how Tom Riddle lured two children from his orphanage into a cave – the same cave where he hid the Slytherin locket – and those children were never the same again. Maybe the young couple happened on him, and he did something to them, too."
"And then Hogsmeade goes and boards this place up? Maybe he had a hand in that, too. One or two well-placed Imperius Curses and let the hysteria build on itself," Ginny said as she walked slowly around the room. It was her first time in the Shack, of course, and she was obviously disturbed by it. Ron had been there before and he was still found it…unsettling.
"Where do we begin looking?" Hermione asked. "Harry, you know Voldemort the best. Where would he hide his Horcrux?"
"In a place of honor," Harry said, without even having to think about it. "Trophy curio, or awards wall. Or…" Something must've occurred to him because he left the room then with purpose.
"Harry?" Ginny asked, and then they all followed.
"Where would the portrait gallery be? This is an old house, right? An old pure blood wizard's house. They always have a pedigree gallery some…ah."
The main entry of the Shack was once a three story affair with stairs and landings lining the circular space up to the copula at the top. Now, of course the stairs looked as if they'd rotted under thread-bare, dusty rugs, and the railings were broken or missing or barely there. Hanging on the walls were once ornate frames in every size imaginable, many of the canvases were now slashed or hanging in rags. Of the canvases that remained intact, most of the subjects had gone long ago, their paint heavily cracked and faded. It was dark in the entry, though, and difficult to make out anything significant from the ground floor, even with all four of their wands focusing light up at the walls.
"What is this foul place?" Trewlany asked, having finally discovered where she stood. "It is full of evil and death, can you not smell it?"
In truth, the place did smell like decay, Ron decided. He wondered if that's what evil was supposed to smell like.
"Right, then," Harry said and made to go up the stairs.
"Wait!" cried Hermione, and stopped him in his tracks. "This isn't safe," she told him. "You've no idea if those stairs can even hold you." She lifted her wand to him and cast, "Wingardium leviosa!" Harry rose into the air.
"Brilliant!" he called out. She didn't even try to hide her proud smile. "Now, get me closer to that one there," he commanded, and she aimed him in that direction.
"Er…Harry…" This was Ginny, and her hesitant voice made them all look to her. She pointed directly up. Harry, Ron and Ginny all pointed their wands at the very center of the square ceiling three stories above them, and a deep blue glint shined back. In a house covered in dust it was quite startling to see something that shiny. Something that could only be a sapphire.
"Get me closer," Harry called down.
"No!" Hermione yelled up. "It could be cursed!"
"I'm almost certain that it is," Harry told her. "Get me close enough to see it properly. Trust me!"
She huffed, but relented, and steered Harry higher and closer to the ceiling above. As he went he lit the walls and portraits and Ron did detect some movement in them, however little. The walls were still shifting, and the floor rapt sharply under them. Hermione stumbled a step to the right and Ginny caught her so that Hermione could catch Harry, who had fallen several meters when Hermione's wand jerked.
"Good catch!" Harry called.
"Thanks," both Ginny and Hermione answered, and then glared at each other.
"Focus," Ron reminded them, and the girls scowled and then looked back up to Harry. They really had a lot in common, Ron decided. Both were stubborn, brave and strong, and both loved to be right.
"What do you see?" Ginny called up.
"It looks like the scepter," Harry yelled down. "I can even make out the runes. And there's a…an eagle, I think. It looks like a crest."
Ron wasn't watching Harry, though. His gaze was locked on Hermione, and her wand arm. It was shaking as if her muscles were quivering under a heavy load. "Herm-"
"Harry!" she cried, "I can't hold…" She didn't even finish the sentence. Her arm dropped to her side, and then she collapsed to the floor, kicking up dust in a great cloud around her.
Both Ginny and Ron pointed their wands and called, "Arresto momentum!" together, and Harry stopped just a meter above them, suspended.
"Give me a broom over this any day!" Harry gripped. "Hermione, are you all right?"
Seeing Ginny had Harry's well-being in hand Ron dropped down beside his girlfriend. He rolled her shoulder back and turned her head gently toward him, and she gave him a faint smile. "Can't move," she told him. "Weak."
"I'm getting you out of here," Ron said, and slipped an arm below her head.
"Ron, I need you here," Harry said, coming up behind him now, having landed safely.
"Something's wrong with Hermione," Ron told him. He slipped his other arm behind her knees and lifted her with a grunt.
"The Horcrux is right there!" Harry insisted.
"Look, mate, I'd do anything for you, but if you're asking me to choose between my Love and you, you lose." He shifted Hermione closer to him; she was dead weight, and deceptively heavy.
"It's an Energy Drain Spell," Harry told him. "It's one of Voldemort's protective curses on this place. Any bit of magic used will drain ten-fold from our wells."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "I've never heard of anything like that."
"Just…try and give her a little of your magic," Harry said.
"No!" Ron was horrified that Harry would suggest it. "Don't you remember what happened to her that first time the two of you attempted the energy exchange?"
"Why? What happened?" Ginny asked.
Harry glared at Ron. "I was taking. You'll be giving. It's completely different. Just be careful not to give too much and she'll be fine."
"Wait," Ginny insisted. "What happened?"
"I'm taking her to Madame Pomphrey."
"Stop." Harry put a firm hand on Ron's arm. "This is how it is, mate. This will be how it is when we go into battle. We have to make choices, and they're not going to be easy. Hermione's not hurt, she's not in any pain. We can't just stop everything any time one of us takes a blow. We have to get the Horcrux, and we have to destroy it."
Harry made a very convincing argument, and Ron was torn. He looked up at the sapphire, now just a shape in the murky darkness and his heart thumped in his chest. He gazed down at the witch in his arms, and his heart twisted.
"Where's Professor Trelawney?" Ginny asked. None of them had noticed when she'd wandered out of the room.
"Blast it!" Harry cursed, and then he and Ginny rushed out to find their wayward teacher.
Ron lowered Hermione to the ground. "I'm going to give you a little magic," he told her. "Not much, but enough that you can stand on your own." Her eyes blinked slowly. "It's going to be important that you not cast any spells. With your reserves so low it could…I don't know, but I don't want to risk you burning out completely. Understand?" She blinked again.
Ron pulled up a little of the cold within him, and reached out to her with it. He had trouble finding her with his magic, and he began to fear that there was something terribly wrong. But then, like a pearl in an oyster, she was there. He smoothed over her, cradled her, let his magic fill her well; always mindful not to over do. And the girl in front of him sighed deeply.
"You…did this…last night," she said, her voice breathy and weak. "This, I remember feeling."
"Easy now," Ron said as he helped her to sit. "You're going to feel a bit shaky at first-" He was cut off when her lips pressed hard into his. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer.
"I guess you're feeling better, then," he quipped. She nodded, but her eyes were full of his lips. "Are you feeling better?"
She nodded again. "I feel very…queer. I can't quite…" She grabbed his ears and pulled him down for another fierce lip-lock.
"Knock it off," Harry said, irritation dripping from his voice. He and Ginny pulled Trelawney between them. She seemed reluctant to return to the entry, and terrified of what hung from the ceiling.
Ron helped Hermione to her feet. She swayed a little, but remained standing.
"You're in charge of this one," Harry told Hermione, and placed Trelawney's arm in her hand.
"She was trying to claw her way out through a wall," Ginny added, dryly. "I think, perhaps, Hermione was right-"
A shaft of blue light shot down through the center of the room, and caught Professor Trelawney in its beam. She froze, as if stuck, and then began to rise ever-so-slowly. A blast shot Hermione and Ginny off of the professor, and threw them both back against the walls.
Sybil Trelawney's head fell back, her eyes rolled to white, her voice was low and throaty and eerie.
"The Dark War will end with an evil death
Only if the Chosen can keep his forgiven secret,
Only if the Chosen can protect his heart.
The time will be selected by the fifth little death -
A fortnight more before the darkness will descend.
The Dark shall call at midnight at the home of them both,
The place of beginnings and ends.
And if one shall survive the other must die;
For some hearts will surely be broken,
And some deeds cannot be forgiven,
And some secrets are meant to be told."
There was another blast and Professor Trelawney fell to the floor as nothing more than dust, a shawl, and a pair of spectacles.
Ginny gasped, threw her hands over her face and looked away, Hermione went still and stared. Harry stood slowly and walked to the edge of the beam of light. Ron didn't know what to do.
"Everyone out," Harry said. "It's time to finish this."
"I'm not leaving you!" Ginny wailed.
"I said out!" An odd wind picked up in the room, and Ron felt the tell-tale signs of Harry in his well.
"I'm feeding Hermione, mate," Ron warned.
"Ginny, get Hermione out of here," Harry commanded. His eyes focused on the Horcrux above. "Ron will have to cast a Shield Spell and he can't feed Hermione and me and Shield all four of us at the same time."
"But-" she tried to argue, as confusion and fear settle in.
"I need you, Ginny. I need you to get Hermione to safety."
Her face was pale, distraught, and Ginny shook her head. But she went to Hermione and caught her as Ron pulled away. Ginny levitated her friend, and with one backward look at Harry, she turned and hurried the two of them to the underground tunnel.
"Can you do it?" Harry asked, his gaze focused upward.
"Can I feed you and cast a Shield Spell at the same time?" Ron clarified. "You mean my Patronus? You're far better at that than I am, you know."
"Unfortunately, I have to destroy the Horcrux. Anyone else who has tried has met with unfortunate ends." Harry looked at him now. "Ron, mate, it has to be the strongest Shield you've ever produced." Harry shook his head, looked back up at the Horcrux. "I wish there was another way."
Harry looked worried, and this worried Ron. "Maybe there is. Maybe if we get Lupin-"
"Lupin can't do this," Harry said sternly. "It has to be me. And I need you. Anyone else…well…" He looked down at the ash pile and shawl. "She had to be here for the scepter to give us the prophecy. Her death is on me. I don't want anyone else's to be." He turned back to Ron. "The most powerful Patronus you can muster. Put everything you've got into it."
Ron nodded. "Everything."
"You've really been the best mate, you know?" Harry said quietly.
"You, too, Harry. You, too."
With a deep breath Harry pulled out his wand. "Ready then?"
Ron gripped his firmly in his hand. "Ready."
They stepped together, each with their own purpose, and each thinking of a girl. Ron felt Harry's pull tighten, and the cold inside started to rise. Ron reached out with his magic and linked with Harry's, gave energy to him. He focused on the night before with Hermione. His Patronus appeared: a small, squash-faced cat that sat patiently and flicked the tip of his tail. It did look like Crookshanks, with tufts of fur sticking every which way, but Ron didn't let that bother him. He focused on that cat and Hermione, and let his magic flow.
Harry began to siphon more from him, and Ron pulled up more and more energy to compensate. At first this stretching of his magic felt good, invigorating, but as the minutes wore on it began to hurt. There was a burning sensation, and Ron grabbed his middle with his off hand to quiet it.
"Don't pull back!" Harry screamed, though Ron could barely hear him. A huge, howling wind had come out of no where, whirling and churning as it slammed through the house. The walls and floors shook even harder, groaned and cracked under the pressure. And what portraits were left came to life to protest, though they were mostly drowned out by the whistle-like siren emanating from the Horcrux as it was being split apart. Was that Voldemort's soul screaming as it died? There was a tremendous cold that descended on the room. Ron thought he could actually smell the magic in the air; fresh and vaguely metallic.
But he ignored all that, as McGonagall had instructed, and he remembered Hermione's cat-like smile as she lay contented against his chest. He thought of the feel of her fluffy hair between his fingers - it was starting to grow out once more - and the pink, uneven patch on her neck and cheek where she'd burned herself with Viktor's wand. And then he imagined running a finger over the special place at the base of her spine, between the dimples where her back met her bum. That wonderful, concave place both smooth and rough now, both perfect and scarred. He loved that hidden place. He loved the way she giggled when he kissed it. The way she watched him over her shoulder with dark eyes that sparked in the firelight.
When at last the pain in his gut became too much to ignore, Ron opened his eyes again. There was a brilliant flash of red. The walls blew away. And all that was left was a blue light that canopied them like an umbrella. Ron felt Harry's magic fall away. He pushed out farther, followed his friend and filled him with as much as he could, and threw even more energy at his Crookshanks while he thought of his mistress.
But the pain became too much, and the thought of Hermione gave way. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.
Then, everything went black.
Ron saw stars. Millions of them. Tiny specks of white against black. Sirius…there he was. Canis Majoris. The Dog Star. The brightest light in the sky. And there was Regulus, Sirius' brother. Greek name Alpha Leonis. The Lion Star.
Astronomy had never been one of Ron's strongest subjects – most of the time he copied off Hermione – but as he lay there looking up at the stars he couldn't help marveling at the vastness of it all. There was Bellatrix – that evil witch – in Orion. And…Andromeda. Tonks' mother. Shiny in the sky. Were all the Black family named after stars? Funny thing to do, name a person after a star…or was it the other way 'round?
So many stars…
Oh, Tonks. You left too soon. Your son won't remember you. He still needs you. And Remus. We all need you.
"Get help!"
Are you with my dad? With Sirius? Up there in the sky looking down on us all? Just a point in the night? Tell him I love him. Tell him he was a good father. Tell him he was right…about everything.
"They're over there! In the crater!"
Or, maybe I'll tell him myself. Am I dying? Or already dead? I hope not. Hermione would never forgive me. And Harry... Is he safe? Where is he? Where am I? Madam Rosmerta?
"Here! They're here! Call up to Hogwarts! They need the infirmary!"
Are you a star, too, Madam Rosmerta? You're a goddess, you know? Hermione told me once, and I believed her. A goddess in some religion long forgotten, and not a star…just surrounded by stars. Don't leave…
"Are they alive? I can't imagine how anyone could survive-"
"It's Harry Potter. He's the boy who lived, isn't he?"
"Must be true, then, what they say 'bout him being the Chosen One."
There were people there now, though Ron didn't know how many or who. Their shadows passed over him, and occasionally a face or a shoulder would block out the stars. Someone was touching him, his hand and face. Someone was crying – there was always someone crying, wasn't there?
And then he was floating. A cloud drifted, blocked out the stars. And when it passed Draco smiled down at him. Yes, Draco was a Black – his mother was a Black, so he was, too – but he didn't have a star. Draco had an entire constellation. The Dragon. Leering down at Ron, baring its teeth, whispering to him and laughing. Whispering a secret: that he was the secret.
The stars were talking, just as Professor Trelawney had said.
And then they were just stars again, dusting the nothing that stretched out above.
The next time Ron was aware of anything he was looking at the wood arches that held up the vaulted ceiling in the Hogwarts infirmary. It was a familiar sight, as was Hermione who sat by his bed reading a book. She had a bit of her light brown hair tucked behind her ear, and a stern look of concentration knitting her brows. After a moment she looked over to him and started when she realized he was looking back. She smiled.
"You all right?" Ron asked. She looked completely recovered from her sudden weakness at the Shrieking Shack. She confirmed this with a nod.
"A couple of days of rest and I'm good as new."
It took a moment for this to sink in. "A couple of days?" Ron's throat was dry and rusty, and his voice sounded more like a frog's croak than anything else.
"It was a week ago last night that you and Harry destroyed the Horcrux. And the Shrieking Shack. And most of the hill it sat on. What happened, Ron?"
He shook his head. It was too thick and muddled to think too hard. "Harry…OK?" he asked. He rolled his head to one side and found Harry two beds over. He looked as pale as the first time Ron had seen him just after a Horcrux was destroyed, with dark and hollowed eyes, grey lips. He didn't look at all right.
"You've been in and out," Hermione said quietly. "Harry hasn't moved a muscle in a week." Her eyes dropped to Ron's hand, and she brushed the tip of her fingers against his. The barest touch sent a tingle of sensation all the way up to his arm pit. "We're all terribly worried about him. Nothing Madam Pomfrey does seems to make any difference at all. Ginny is beside herself."
Now Ron looked at Harry with concern. Had he burned him out? Ron remembered the drain of his energy, the way it flowed from him like a geyser, and the pain. There were so many demands on his magic – his own Patronus, Harry's draw, and the curse that had demanded payment. With so much leaving him Ron couldn't remember if he had even tried to control what Harry had gotten. He very well could have burned his mate out and not even realized it. And if he had…
Ron struggled to sit up, despite Hermione's protests, though eventually she just gave up and helped him on to one elbow. Ron closed his eyes and reached out to Harry with his magic, shocked to find his own energy weak and sluggish. He searched beyond where he expected to find Harry, pushed farther in. Where there should've been cold there was nothing at all. Ron whimpered his distress, and he felt Hermione's grip on his arm tighten.
If he'd burned Harry out he'd be defenseless. The war with You-Know-Who was lost, but so was his friend, because there was no doubt in any of their minds that Voldemort would not let Harry live under any circumstances. If Ron had burned Harry out, he'd want to be dead.
Please, he pleaded with any force that might help. Please let him be all right.
When at last he'd gone as far as he dared, Ron collapsed back on his bed. "I've killed him," he whispered. Heat prickled his eyes.
Hermione protested with a weak, "No," but she didn't understand. She wasn't there. She had no clue as to what passed between him and Harry when they shared magic. Ron shook his head again, and a tear slipped down the side of his face.
Ron closed his eyes. He couldn't leave, could run away, and so he closed his eyes and reached out again. He dove into Harry's empty well. "He's gone," Ron whispered. "All his magic…" Ron balled in that empty place, pooled and filled, never finding walls to confine him or other magic to reject him. And with what energy he could muster Ron laid there and filled his friend, gave him all of his magic, his energy, his life. Harry had to survive, after all, Ron did not. It was a truth Ron had known even in first year. Ron could be sacrificed, but Harry must go on.
Ron felt Hermione's hand slip into his, and he held it with all his might. He would miss her, he was sure. And she would undoubtedly miss him, but it was Harry that had to face Voldemort in the end, not them. And Hermione would live, even with a gaping hole in her soul, and she would find a way to forgive him for leaving.
And then there was a ripple in the immense pool Ron gave him, and a small, snake-like sensation that Ron found familiar. Harry was there, swimming through the magic. Then Harry, two beds down, began to scream a deep, throaty rebellion, and Ron felt him push against the energy he'd given. There were shouts, voices, as people began to panic, but Ron knew what to do. He pulled back and took his magic with him; slowly, of course, because of the sluggishness within him. But Ron retreated, and as he did he felt Harry grow stronger, reach out to him, poke him a little. Ron poked back.
Harry stopped screaming, and now someone was crying. Ron couldn't move, couldn't open his eyes. He concentrated on his withdrawal. His assault had worked. Harry would be all right.
When he woke again, it was dark, and the room was still and quiet. Ron lolled his head and found Harry where he'd left him. Hermione was asleep on the bed between them. Ginny's head turned to him and caught his eye, and her face lit up when she saw him awake. She rose silently and hurried to his side.
"Ron! Thank the stars!" she whispered, and leaned down to hug him as best as she could. His arms were still too heavy to lift. "We've all been so worried! Mum's come to stay at the castle, and Bill and Fleur have been here twice. Lupin's just beside himself – honestly, we were sure he was going to lose it for a while there."
"Harry?" he managed to croak out.
She glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes filled with tears. "He's looking better, but…you're the first to wake up." When she looked back at her brother she tried to give him a smile. "You'll be all right, now, don't worry."
"I'm not worried," Ron told her. "Harry, too."
She nodded, but he could see she didn't believe him. He could see the pain in her pretty face. It reminded him of their mum.
Two days later Ron was sitting up in bed, eating dry toast and tea, wanting eggs and bacon and potatoes, when Harry groaned. It was the first sound he'd made in two weeks, and everyone in the room froze. But then he groaned again, and Ron thought he heard a weak "Ginny," come out of his lips, and everyone jumped up and yelled in celebration. Hermione and Ginny hugged each other laughing, Lupin ran to Harry's side. Ron's mum, who was holding a green little Jack, started to cry all over again. Madam Pomfrey went into healer mode and forced Neville, Luna, Seamus, and Hagrid out of the infirmary so she could tend to her patient. Everyone else was soon to follow, though Ginny kissed her boyfriend on the cheek before she went.
Harry opened his eyes that night, and the next day he was able to sit propped up in the bed. Madam Pomfrey kept a stern eye on the four of them, refusing to allow them to discuss anything weightier than the weather or the latest Quidditch scores. Hufflepuff was doing quite well that year, and it looked as if Gryffindor might lose to them.
Ron was released a week later feeling rested and bored out of his skull. His students, he discovered, no longer needed him as they both managed to pass their Apparition exams, and were proud (and a little giggly) when they showed him their licenses. Lupin had taken over tutoring Harry's students, and Ron was told that attendance had plummeted.
His first night out of the infirmary Hermione led Ron back to his quarters in Ravenclaw Tower. She crawled into bed with him, kissed him sweetly on the lips, doused the lights, and rolled on her back.
"Ron, I can't stand it," she said in a desperate tone. "I need to know what happened at the shack."
"This bed is bigger," he said, staring up at the canopy. "Did you get a new bed?"
"I transfigured it into a double. I'm serious, Ron. You and Harry have been avoiding the issue, and I need to understand what happened with the Horcrux, and you and Harry. McGonagall was the one who told us that something terrible had happened in Hogsmeade that night, though I was so out of it, her words didn't really register with me until the next morning. Ginny was the one who had to tell McGonagall about Professor Trelawney. She was there with me in the infirmary, when you and Harry were brought in."
"I don't remember that."
"I'm glad," Hermione said quietly. "Lupin went all scary. We were afraid he might transform again."
"He didn't?"
"No."
That was good. If he'd turned feral in the infirmary there would be no telling what would've happened to him. Or to Hogwarts. It could've been a very messy situation.
"Your mum came," Hermione told him, and rolled closer. She draped an arm over his chest and played with his t-shirt. He hugged her shoulder closer and inhaled the smell on her hair. It was girly and nutty, and maybe even a little sweet. "She tended to Jack that first night. Lupin and Ginny and I…well…it was a difficult night."
She inhaled sharply, dislodging the memory. "Tell me, Ron. Please."
And so, Ron told her what he could remember about the Horcrux and destroying it, though his memory was spotty at best. He'd been told there was an explosion and that the Shrieking Shack had been completely and utterly destroyed. Kingsley and Moody had both made detailed sweeps of the area and there was no sign at all of the Horcrux or even the rest of the old house. Ron had no memory of an explosion, though there was something vague in his head about things blowing away.
He smoothed her hair back from her face and whispered about the stars, then, and Draco – the constellation. She listened to his story with her arm hugging his chest, and her breath warming his soul. In that moment he felt he could tell her anything at all.
The following night Ron and Hermione sat beside Harry's bed, while Ginny sat with his feet in her lap, massaging them, and they talked about the new prophecy for the first time. Ginny produced a small piece of parchment, already well-worn and creased, and she read aloud what they all had heard that night.
"I ate two of Fred and George's Memory Snaps, so I'm reasonably sure I got it all down properly," Ginny told them.
"Aren't those banned from Hogwarts?" Hermione asked pointedly.
"Yes. They are."
Were they still fighting? Ron wondered. It had been ages. But Hermione seemed to think better of whatever it was she was about to say, and instead she muttered, "Well, good thinking. It's important to get it right."
This response seemed to surprise Ginny, who then offered her a hesitant smile. "That's what I thought," she said.
"So," Hermione said, "why don't we take it line by line and see what we come up with?"
Ginny read the first line. "'The Dark War will end with an evil death.'"
"Evil death – that can only be Voldemort," Ron said happily. "Good news, at last!"
"Well, it could mean a death by evil means," Hermione offered. "But I do think the Dark War refers to this war now."
"Agreed," Harry said. "Next line."
"'Only if the Chosen can keep his forgiven secret,'" Ginny read. "If you're the Chosen, Harry, then what's your secret?"
Harry shrugged. "I don't have any secrets," he said. "The Prophet has made sure of that."
"I'm your secret," Ron told them. "I'm your Smisurato."
"It says forgiven secret," Hermione corrected. "Has Harry forgiven you?"
Ron looked at his friend. "Yeah," he said. "It was touch and go there for a while." Once Hermione fled to Bulgaria Harry had sworn he'd never forgive Ron. For a while Ron had believed him.
Both Ginny and Hermione exchanged questioning looks, but neither Harry nor Ron elaborated.
"Next line," Harry said.
"'Only if the Chosen can protect his heart.'"
Harry's hand went reflexively to his chest. "That I'll try to do."
"Hart could be a buck," Hermione reminded them. "Or it could be a symbolic heart."
"So," Ron said, "The war will end either in Voldemort's death, or the death of someone else by evil – we're assuming Harry on that, yes? But only if Harry can keep me, and protect his heart at the same time?"
Hermione looked doubtful, but didn't offer a rebuttal. Harry just looked dark. "Next line."
"'The time will be selected by the fifth little death,'" Ginny said.
Hermione cleared her throat. "A 'little death' could be what the French call le petite mort…an orgasm."
Harry snorted. "Whose would the prophecy be foretelling?"
"Well…yours, presumably," Hermione said, and her cheeks went very red.
"Yes, well, we passed up that benchmark last fall, if I remember correctly," Harry said with a subdued grin.
Ginny stared at the paper. "'A fortnight more before the darkness will descend.'"
"So a fortnight after I have my fifth top-off, all hell will break lose?" Harry quipped.
"Maybe it means you with Ginny," Hermione posed.
Ginny went red even redder, but continued to stare at the paper. "'The Dark shall call at midnight at the home of them both.'"
"The home of both Ginny and Harry?" Ron asked.
"Them both probably refers to Harry and Voldemort," Hermione said.
"You know, I'd rather the prophecy didn't refer to my love life," Harry said, cutting in.
"Yes, well, I'd rather the prophecy didn't refer to you at all," Hermione said tartly. "I'd rather none of us had to deal with this, but we don't always get what we want, do we?"
They all froze in surprise. Then Ginny read another line. "'The place of beginnings and ends.' So if the home of them both is a place of beginnings and ends. Where would that be? Harry doesn't technically call Privet Drive home anymore-"
"Godric's Hollow," Harry said. "It's where all of this started, and I guess it's where it will end. One way or the other."
"'The home of them both,'" Hermione quote. "Unless Voldemort has taken up residence there…he hasn't, has he?"
Harry looked a little green. "I don't know."
Ginny continued. "'And if one shall survive the other must die.'"
"We've heard that one before," Ron muttered.
"'For some hearts will surely be broken.'"
Moody had said more people would die before it was all over. That was the nature of war.
"'And some deeds cannot be forgiven.'"
Harry looked at Ron, then Hermione, and then Ginny.
"'And some secrets are meant to be told.'"
End of chapter 18