Title: The War We Fight
Summary: This is the story of a war. A war between good and evil, light and dark. This is the war Harry will fight, fight until the last breath leaves his body. This is where he will learn the meanings of life and death, love and friendship, sorrow and betrayal, honor and hardship. This is the war where he will fulfill his destiny.
H/G with some R/H sixth year fic.
Disclaimer: Nothing here belongs to me, as anyone reading this probably knows. I'm only enjoying myself while waiting for HBP.
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to DancingPandaa, who made me change my plotline and chapter plans by giving me a plot bunny! I'm not happy with this chapter, I feel like it's missing something, but I can't put mi finger on it… But I'm posting anyway, to see what people think.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all
Emily Dickinson
Chapter Seven: Returning home
Harry didn't like floo powder. Even under normal circumstances he had a lot of trouble landing upright, so he had little to no hope of succeeding today. But that certainty didn't prepare him for the awkward fall, tumbling and jerking that took place at his arrival at the Hogsmeade pub, nor for the heavy wooden chair that rolled over him, knocking his breath away.
The loud noise attracted the attention of just about every customer in the place, and brought Madame Rosemetra's clinking hills to his side. With some effort, he sat about halfway upright, leaning heavily on his elbows, trying to face the woman when he talked to her.
She gasped loudly when she recognized the dirty and bloodied form that had landed in her establishment; quickly kneeling beside the boy and helping him find a more comfortable position in her hard floor.
"Harry," she cried, "what happened to you, dear, what's going on?"
He didn't seem to register her question, and was staring concernedly at the fireplace from where he had just fallen. Then he whispered, in a low growl, his voice catching.
"Close the fireplace."
"Why?" She asked concernedly.
"Just close the fireplace. Block it from the floo." Realizing that she probably didn't want whomever it was that had done this to Harry to find his way to her pub, she did as she was told, and after a few waves of her wand and a muttered incantation, blocked her fireplace completely from the network.
Harry knew that there were strong wards around Hogsmeade, including anti-apparition wards, except for a few authorized persons. But the floo wasn't being monitored at all, and the last thing he wanted was for a few of his captors to come tumbling out of that fireplace. He was in no condition to fight.
"It's done." The older woman said to him, and a heavy burden was suddenly lifted from his shoulders. He breathed, deep steadying breath, trying to clear the cobwebs that were threatening to overcome his mind.
By now, every patron at the bar had assembled around him, and Harry suddenly felt very self-conscious, knowing that his grand entrance would be in the front page of the Prophet by the next morning. It was obvious that someone had already recognized him, from the various whispers about the "Boy-Who-Lived" circulating the room. It seemed that just as all other aspects of his life, his captivity would become common knowledge.
Wanting to get out of the pub as fast as possible, not feeling at all safe in the crowded room, full of whispering and staring strangers, Harry made a huge effort, and shakily got to his feet. He needed to warn his headmaster of the danger Ginny was in. His whole being seemed to be driven by that one foremost thought. It was what gave him strength to stand up, and keep walking, when every fibre of his body was screaming at him to just give up, curl down on the floor and sleep.
Madam Rosemetra quickly pulled one of the most comfortable chairs of the pub towards him, and, despite his protests, made him sit down.
"Harry, you're in no shape to be going anywhere! Be reasonable, dear."
"But I need to see the headmaster, I need to see Dumbledore!" He whispered over and over.
"Sit tight, I'll see what can be arranged. You wouldn't get to the gates in the state you're in."
She turned towards the customers still surrounding her unexpected guest and, pointing to a tall, slightly plump, balding man, said:
"Rudolf, yes, you. Think you can get all the way to the station and bring the spare carriage? You know, the one they keep for visitors?"
The man didn't bother to answer her question, and nodding his assent, left the pub, in a brisk pace.
She turned back towards Harry, and in a soft voice asked:
"Can I get you anything Harry?"
His eyes were starting to glaze, but he whispered:
"Water."
A few minutes later, she sat back down beside him, and handed him a glass, with iced water, with the admonition that he drink it in small seeps, else he might get sick. She noticed that the simple act of bringing the goblet to his lips was proving to be a huge effort for the boy, and felt a stirring in her heart. No one deserved to have to suffer that much.
Taking the cup from his unresisting hands, she put it in the counter. Patting his hand, she whispered in a strangely motherly tone:
"Don't worry Harry, you'll be up in the castle in no time at all. And I'm sure Dumbledore is there; he hasn't left for the holidays. He'll be able to set you straight in no time at all."
"Thanks, Madam Rosemetra." Harry managed, his voice a little less raspy after some water. "I need to talk to the headmaster, Ginny is in danger, they must keep her safe."
His incoherent mumbling didn't make much sense to the woman, but she felt an urgency to his tone, that left little doubt as to the importance of what he had to say.
A few minutes passed, and Harry was getting increasingly restless, fighting a losing battle with his body to stay awake, before the unmistakable sound of a carriage pulling over was heard by the door. Rosemetra helped Harry to his feet, and for once he didn't complain. He was barely standing, and she was supporting all of his weight.
The carriage was the same one students used to get to school on September the first, a couple of Thestrals, their black shiny coat glistering in the afternoon sun stood before it. Their blank eyes followed Harry's every move, with a grudging respect.
As Harry's bleary eyes locked with theirs, they seemed to acknowledge his presence, giving a deep, unexpected bow, which confused Harry to no end. The whole scene was deeply disturbing, and would have shaken Harry in any other circumstance. However, his mind felt too full to give the incident more than a fleeting thought.
His only concern was putting a foot in front of the other and getting inside the carriage that would take him to safety before he blacked out completely. He managed to step into the carriage and thank Madam Rosemetra for her help, before she closed the heavy door for him.
The soft movement of the carriage, the warm, comfortable interior, calmed Harry's frayed nerves. He managed to get his emotions into some semblance of control, before he slowly drifted into unconsciousness, the quiet and comfort lulling him to sleep.
Ginny slowly woke up in her bed, comfortably tucked in by her mother. She stretched languorously, noticing for the first time the terrible headache she had. The light coming in trough the window was hurting her eyes, and she wished someone would come in and close it for her, as she was way too tired to move that far.
She closed her eyes, and turned over in her bed, intent on going back to sleep, but the light was unforgiving, and kept her awake. She wished with all her heart that someone had remembered to close the damn shutters.
As those thought were crossing her mind, she heard someone quietly opening the door, and peering inside. Tonks, seeing her awake, stepped inside. Her foot made contact with the rug, and she ended up sprawled on the floor.
Ginny couldn't help it. She laughed outright, and ended up groaning as a sharp pain racked her head.
"Yeah, go ahead Ginny, laugh at my misery." Muttered the young woman, getting up from the floor. She pulled a chair nearer to the bed, and said, going straight to the point:
"Ginny, before you passed out, you said something. Could you repeat it to me?"
Ginny took a moment to assemble her thought, at the same time making herself comfortable in her bed.
"Yes, I told you that Harry had escaped." As she remembered those last moments, a true, heartfelt smile lit Ginny's face, and for the first time in weeks she felt like laughing out laud, for no reason at all.
Tonks didn't seem as happy with the news as Ginny thought she should be. A slight frown marred her features. She was silent for a long while, but finally asked her:
"How did you know he had escaped Ginny? How can you be sure?"
"Tom told me. That's why I passed out, I guess. I'm not used to having him inside my head. He told me I wasn't in danger anymore, at least for the time being, because he had no more use for me. He was very angry, furious even. Of course, Harry slipping trough his finger again would do that to him, I guess." She sighed happily and was about to go back to sleep when Tonks cut in with yet another question.
"But how can you be sure? He didn't say it outright did he?"
"I just know it, Tonks," said Ginny exasperatedly. "I can't explain it any better than that, I can feel it." She closed her eyes, again, waiting for the other woman to leave. She was tired, her head felt like it was splitting open, and for once in a very long time she felt she could sleep safely. It really wasn't fair that Tonks begun her blasted interrogation the moment she opened her eyes.
When it became apparent that the auror wasn't leaving, Ginny opened her eyes and said tiredly:
"Don't you have something to do? Like, alert professor Dumbledore, the Order, Remus. You know, start looking for Harry? I don't know where he is, only that he's escaped. He's probably hurt, and will go somewhere he fells safe. That means either here or at Hogwarts. Maybe Headquarters, but that would remind him too much of Sirius, so probably not."
After staring at the girl on the bed in stunned silence for a few moments. Tonks got up quickly, and muttering something that sounded like "I have to talk to Remus" left the room in a hurry. Without closing the shutters.
Ginny closed her eyes in exasperation. She had no intention of getting out of her bed just to close the window. But she wanted it closed nonetheless. Wanted it closed with all of her being. Suddenly, she heard a loud bang, and opened her eyes, panicking. Was something happening?
The window had closed itself.
A black carriage stopped before Hogwarts front entrance. No one stepped out of it, and no one came forth to greet its occupant. No noise disturbed the silence surrounding the school, no voices, no footsteps. Only more silence.
Said school's headmaster was currently in the middle of a heated conversation with one of his aurors.
"Look, professor. She's pretty sure of her facts, and they match what information Severus gathered from his last summons. The time matches as well: he was called only minutes after Ginny collapsed. I think you should at least take a look at Hogsmeade's floo points. Just send someone, if he escaped, then he probably needs help and medical attention. Ginny was quite emphatic when she pointed that out to me."
The old headmaster wasn't pleased with this whole situation. He had failed to save the most important piece in this war. He was acutely aware of his failure, but had no hope left for Harry. Too much time had passed, and Voldemort wasn't a patient man. They had to move on and find a new way of defeating the Dark Lord. Ginevra would just have to accept those facts. Their hero was gone, and he seemed to be the only one accepting that fact.
"Tonks, I believe the chances of Harry escaping from Voldemort's headquarters are next to nonexistent. Miss Weasley is obviously distraught, and I don't hold this against her, but I'm sure Harry is still lost to us."
The young woman whose head was in the fire made an exasperated noise. She obviously had great faith in whatever it was that Ginny was saying. But Dumbledore was trying to think rationally. And his reason was telling him that no one, and that meant no one, not even Harry Potter, escaped from Voldemort once Voldemort had them in his prisons, and wanted them to stay there.
The Dark Lord sometimes released prisoners, once they were so far gone that he lost interest, when their mind was so damaged that no repair was possible. But no one escaped. And that was the simple, no matter how harsh, truth.
"Professor, you should at least hear what she has to say! I know it seems farfetched, but she seems pretty sure, and… I don't know professor; it wouldn't cost us much to send someone to The Three Broomsticks, Honeydukes, The Hog's Head and Zonkos. They are the most probable places where he would go, that have floo access."
"And why do you suppose Harry flooed out of his place of imprisonment, Nymphadora?"
That made the young woman stop, not only because of the use of her name, but also because of the question. She didn't know why she was working with the theory that Harry had access to floo powder. It had seemed logical at the time.
"Professor, well, it seems like the most likely option. He can't apparate. If he had walked, Voldemort would easily catch him, and flying seem unlikely for someone who's been with You-Know-Who's Death Eaters for the better part of two weeks."
It all made perfect sense, thought Dumbledore, apart from the part where Harry escaped from Voldemort all by himself. As he sat there, before his fireplace, thinking about the possibilities of it actually happening, Fawkes, who had been napping on his perch, suddenly opened his eyes and trilled a few happy notes.
This, above anything else made the old Headmaster start. Fawkes hadn't sung since he had heard about Harry's disappearance. His bird was unusually fond of the young wizard. Nothing else would have brought him to the chamber, with the sorting hat no less, giving Harry a fighting chance.
He fixed a piercing glance in his lifelong companion, an unasked question hanging in the air. The Phoenix opened his wings, and continued singing his haunting melody, beckoning the old man forward with his voice. He bade the metamorphmagus a hasty goodbye, and followed his pet.
The bird flew with undisguised glee towards the entrance hall, effortlessly beating its wings, only stopping to allow his master to catch up with him. Dumbledore couldn't believe his ears. First Ginevra, then Fawkes. He felt, for the first time, hope blossom in his war-hardened heart. It seemed impossible, a miracle he couldn't understand, but apparently it was happening.
He pushed the front doors of his school open and stepped outside. A carriage was there to great him. It took his mind a moment to process this information. His heart seemed to miss a beat. He couldn't seem to move forward, to confirm or deny his hopes. Fawkes had no such qualms, and soared trough the open window, and all the Headmaster could hear was his happy trilling.
So it was true, he thought, as he moved forward, and opened the door of the carriage. Harry had escaped. Eying the sleeping boy inside the carriage, dirty and bloodied clothes hanging from his frame, Dumbledore felt a rush of emotion that left him shaking. This boy, this young man, had gone through so much, and yet lived on to fight another day. He could only hope that he would still be the same after all was said and done, that their saviour didn't break before his time.
Madam Pomfrey had worked for more than an hour, non-stop, before she finally left Harry's bedside. Once she did, the Headmaster, Remus, Professors Snape and McGonagall were still waiting for her briefing.
"Well?" Asked Remus impatiently. "Can we see him?" He seemed to be barely controlling his urge to blast the screen separating him from his young charge into oblivion.
"How is he Poppy?" Asked the headmaster more quietly.
The healer sighed tiredly, before answering.
"He's not in as bad a shape as I was expecting from the state his clothes were in. The blood actually came from a single cut in his arm, obviously the work of a cutting hex. The wound wasn't healed at all, thus becoming infected. I treated it as best I could, but I think he will be left with a slight scar from this one. The infection is too far-gone, I can't close the cut before it's treated, so I'll have to let it heal naturally. It won't be a very large scar, a thin line, in his upper arm, I believe."
"What else, Poppy?" The headmaster asked quietly.
"He has a bad case of pneumonia. He was obviously restrained in a dank place. I'm treating him with antibiotics, and he should be fine in a few weeks."
"Why can't you treat him magically?" Professor McGonagall asked.
"He's used an incredible amount of magic in a very short period of time. I need to give him some time to adjust to the change this has brought. I can't risk his having a burnout. And he's been cursed continually for a long time, I don't know how his body would react if I used too much magic in him right now, I have to wait until the residual magic has left him."
"What do you mean, cursed continually?" Remus voice shook.
"I mean exactly that, Remus." Madam Pomfrey's voice was incredibly sad as she said this. "There are residual traces of many, many Cruciatus curses, and a few other pain ones. I gave him some potions to alleviate the discomfort, and a dreamless sleep potion, but I won't risk anything more for the time being. His body has to deal with all that on his own, or I could risk aggravating the situation. You know what too much foreign magic can do to a person, I don't want his immunologic system turning against himself."
"Will this have any long time effect on him Poppy?" Remus was turning green as he talked, and the mediwitch thought that he might be occupying one of her beds soon.
"I can't see any physical damages from the cursing if that's what you want to know. I measured brain activity, and everything seemed fine. Emotionally speaking, we'll have to wait until he wakes up. Another thing you might want to know is that I found symptoms of a long exposure to dementors. I think his guard was one of these creatures. I treated him with some chocolate, but like the cursing, this might have some emotional long time effects."
"Oh god. Poor Harry." Whispered Remus. "He hated dementors so much."
"Is this all Poppy? He wasn't subjected to any kind of physical torture?" The headmaster, contrary to Remus, seemed relieved by the nurse's presentation.
"No, I found no signs of physical torture. They only used their wands, and that is unusual for Death Eaters, but I won't complain, as it means he will heal more quickly."
Snape, who had stood quietly in the back of the group said:
"The Dark Lord had plans for him. He gave explicit orders not to damage the boy, Potter was lucky."
"Lucky!" Exclaimed Remus. "How can you even say that Snape?"
"Would you rather he were dead, Lupin? Or insane? His brain turned to mush? No more useful to us than if he were dead? At least no one was actively trying to cause him long time harm."
Remus paled considerably at this, and didn't answer.
"Well," continued the nurse, "he's sleeping now, and I don't want any of you to wake him. He needs to rest, and he'll sleep for a long time, I hope. Come back in a couple of days, and maybe he'll be able to talk."
"Can't I see him?" Asked Remus desperately. "I won't wake him. I just want to see him with my own eyes, please."
The nurse smiled sadly, and nodded. "Go ahead. But only for a few minutes, Remus. He must rest."
The others left the hospital ward, while Remus crossed the curtains surrounding Harry's bed.
Ginny was seated in the living room of the Burrow, fresh out of a shower and feeling more relaxed than she had in months, when Remus stumbled out of the fireplace. He didn't seem to register her presence and sank heavily into one of the overstuffed armchairs before the fire. He seemed to have aged a decade in the last month, Ginny noticed, and the burden only seemed to grow.
Seeing Harry alive and back hadn't helped matters much. Remus had simply come face to face with his own faults, and the consequences of his mistakes. The pale form of his charge had been a living accusation, his almost transparent skin, in sharp contrast with his ebony hair made his heart clench, every shivers and every cough sent a stab to his conscience.
Ginny was desperate for some news on Harry, so she decided to make her presence known to the distraught man in front of her. Clearing her throat loudly, she asked quietly:
"How is he Remus?"
The werewolf was startled out of his musing, and turned towards her. It took him a moment to register her question and when he did, he made a noncommittal noise, before answering in a tight voice:
"Madam Pomfrey said he should be fine in a couple of days. Physically at least."
She nodded. Then said:
"I wonder how he'll be after he comes to. It'll be hard to get him to trust us again…" she added in an undertone, that Remus' enhanced senses caught nonetheless, "we had come such a long way..."
"He'll be fine, Ginny, you'll see." He seemed to want to convince himself as much as her, but that didn't sit well with Ginny. Glaring at him as she said:
"That's a load of bullshit. He won't be fine! He wasn't fine to begin with! Do you have any idea how he was during the holidays? How he was feeling after Sirius died?" As he didn't answer she continued. "Of course you don't know how he was, because all you and Dumbledore and your bloody Order did was dump Harry with his horrible relatives when he had just lost the closest thing he had to a father!"
She stopped talking, as she looked him up and down, as if measuring him. "You know, Professor, I would have expected something like that from the Order, even the Headmaster. But not from you. You know Harry! You knew he wasn't himself after what happened at the ministry. Why didn't you check on him, let him know there was still someone who cared about him, that he wasn't all alone?"
She felt like she had said enough. It felt good to come clean, to say out loud the things that had been on her mind all summer. But looking at Remus she regretted her outburst almost immediately. She seriously needed to learn to control her temper and her tongue. Looking at the defeated look on the man's face, her anger on Harry's behalf quickly turned to pity. Truth be told, Remus was beating himself up enough without her adding her two knuts to the pile.
"You know, Professor, Harry really cares about you." She tried to take his mind off the subject at hand. "You were the first adult in the wizarding world that knew his parents well, and that talked to him about them openly. You have no idea how much he valued that." Remus didn't know, but she did. Harry had written many letters about his parents. Remus always figured in them somehow.
"Did he…" Remus voice cracked, but he continued, after swallowing the lump in his throat. "Did he say that to you?"
She smiled; trying to sound comforting, and not letting the pity she felt show in her face. She, of all people, knew that pity was never a welcome emotion.
"Many times, Professor. He admires you. Says you were the best defence teacher he ever had, that you saved his life at least twice already."
"Saved his life?" He gave a bitter half-laugh. "I never saved Harry's life. I failed him every way I could."
"It's true, Professor, that you should have visited Harry, that you should have taken him away from that house. But give yourself some credit, you did teach Harry how to conjure a Patronus. He would have died in his third year if he didn't know that charm, and last year too, come to it."
"That's all I ever did for him Ginny. Taught him a charm he could have learned from a book. I wasn't there when it really mattered."
"Maybe you weren't, Professor, but you can make up to him. It's no use beating yourself up about something that is past and gone. Harry needs you. Now, not yesterday, or tomorrow. He needs you right now, the moment he wakes up. You must be there for him, Professor. You're all he has left."
As the thought hit her, she felt tears prickle in her eyes. This was the truth, she thought. Harry was all alone now, he had no one left that he knew for a fact would put his wellbeing before everything, even the survival of wizardkind. All the cheerfulness she had felt, after receiving the news that he had been found, left her in a gust of sorrow. Suddenly, life didn't seem quite so bright.
A/N: Here it is, chapter 7. I'm not happy with it, but I thought I couldn't procrastinate forever, so I'm posting it anyway, in hopes of some lovely feedback and constructive criticism. So people, press the little button down there!
brickie717: Thanks, I'm glad you think my story has quality! I try really hard to keep it nice and good, with a solid plot and good grammar.
DancingPandaa: That last bit was for you! It wasn't in my plotline, and I didn't plan to write it, but once you said that you wanted Remus and Ginny to talk… They needed to talk! Thanks for the review!
OfficersWife: Your profile can get corrupted? I didn't know that! I glad you liked the chapter. I'm not so happy with this one, so let me know what you think!
haydenrocks14: Reread this 5 times, uhn? I'm flattered, and I thought I was the only obsessed reader, who couldn't keep herself from rereading fanfiction she knows almost by heart!
Dumbledore: Thanks! I'm flattered! About the angst… I'm sorry but it will keep at least for a few more chapters. Then, we'll see!
Madoleine Tolkien: Suspence tends to do that to a person, lol! I hope you enjoy this chapter, and leave a few words. Thanks for the review!
RDC: Loved your review! Pillock indeed! And the trios plus Ginny's meeting will be next chapter, so you'll see how it goes!
NamelessHeretic, Tenolian, becky: Thanks for the review! I hope you keep reading and reviewing!