Disclaimer: This story and characters do not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.

Warning: Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrance in the dark side, please keep that in mind.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know if you are enjoying the story! And thank you to those who left reviews!

I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.

I am the son and heir of nothing in particular.

Chapter 4

London, August 5th, 2004

Time: 10:35AM

The soft rays of the sun shined brightly that day, even if for many it seemed disheartening and endless. Nevertheless, they gave energy to wake up and encouraged the plans for the day, despite the chaotic environment.

However, there were two people who did not share the warmth of such a beautiful summer day, locked behind the walls of the Fortress and with only artificial lights to illuminate them.

"My Lord."

Harry bowed, feeling Voldemort's scarlet eyes analyzing him after attending to his call from only minutes prior. He saw in him suspicion and mistrust, but Potter remained quiet, not showing any expression, and awaiting the orders of his Lord. He had foreseen that he would find out of the events of the night before… Of the turmoil he had gone through… The gossipy elves probably had something to do with it, aside from the alarms placed in the tower… He was most likely aware of the power burst.

Besides, Filldeserp's pride, which could always be seen in his stance and in his eyes, was outstandingly absent that morning. His expression lacked the usual confidence and neutrality, although not many would be able to notice the subtle change. Among them was Voldemort, who was certainly not satisfied with the situation.

Filldeserp imagined it was an effect of the alcohol he drank the night before. It had completely thrown him off balance. Perhaps it had not been the best course of actions, but… It had been the only way to avoid conflict. He still did not understand how he had been able to dream of a memory and, as much as he justified himself by saying that it had been beyond his choice, it had been a failure. Failure that in a twisted way had demoralized him.

His shields were not as impregnable as he presumed…

"What happened last night, Filldeserp?" Asked Voldemort, narrowing his eyes. Harry did not answer. There was no answer for that, and besides… he knew his Lord was aware of the circumstances. "Perhaps you are too accustomed to passive missions and lost practice and rhythm…" He said with accusation noticeable in his voice.

"It is not that, my Lord, I…"

"I believe" Interrupted him Voldemort, anticipating the excuse that Harry was about to tell "I taught you how to control yourself in any situation that could present itself, Filldeserp. Or perhaps those pathetic aurors had an effect on you?"

Harry held his gaze with determination, attempting not to reveal the truth behind them. Only the Dark Lord and he were in his study, and Harry was thankful for that. He knew that such failure would have consequences, and he did not want to be humiliated in front of them, the useless death eaters… He could still recover, correct the mistake…

The aurors had not affected him. Nothing in the attack had affected him. There was no reason for such disarray, and that was the worst part! He did not know from where it had come from, he could not eliminate it…

"I cannot allow my heir to have weaknesses, in particular, emotional ones…" Voldemort pulled his wand out of his robe in a threatening attitude and stared at him. "You need to relearn the Laws again, Harry. I will personally take care of it."

Without saying more, the wand transfigured into a leather whip, one that Harry had seen being used in tortures… he had even employed it recently, knowing the intense effect it had on its victims. Because of it, his body was waiting expectantly, knowing what would happen and believing himself capable of facing it. It was necessary… Tom was right… His system could now allow such weakness; he had to reject it and exterminate it. He had to learn. The answer had been so basic!

Voldemort made a fast movement with the whip, slashing the tense silence that had been present. Harry's muscles contracted themselves with anticipation. He saw the maniac glow in the scarlet eyes of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named… It was all meant to cause panic in him, but he had faced similar situations in the past… In missions that were much worse than that. The benefits were obvious: his face was impassive and no thought was crossing his mind.

Out of nowhere, metal chains surrounded his pale wrists and he felts his skin burn to the touch of the ductile, malleable and strong metal. The more he tried to resist the pain, the more it intensified… As much as he tried over and over to release himself from such cuffs, nothing reduced the torture… He was bound to that torture and could not escape. And the pain reminded him of his own helplessness in the past; there was no room for powerlessness and regret.

Surprisingly, his body convulsed when extreme pain overwhelmed his feet. He pursed his lips hard and bit his tongue in an attempt not to scream when he understood what was happening: Nails had pierced his feet, his point of balance. He never thought that such chastisement could lead to such chaos, to so much suffering… The feeling of being slowly pierced, of losing all support and feeling himself falter… Without being able to evade it.

Darkness surrounded him. The only thing he felt was pain… pain deep in the depths of his soul, not only physical. He could smell his blood, which extensively stained his clothes, his wrists burning… The smells combined were nauseating. Unintelligible voices spoke on his head, talking of things he was not capable to understand, things too distant to reach him… Images flashed showing him different realities, parallel to his own. Everything was nonsensical and excruciating.

When he began thinking the punishment could not get worse, he felt the whip on his chest, slashing his elegant robe. He bit his tongue with more impetus, finding strength where he could so as not to be weakened, but the taste of fresh blood invaded his mouth.

Impious hits on his back and shoulder followed, leaving him completely unprotected and defeated. His skin teared and he felt hell itself on his body. A dagger went over his superficial wounds, opening them more and making them burn. Cold and Fire focused on the same place. Skin and Blood.

But he never screamed. Out of his mouth came no sound that could tell the suffering that overwhelmed his body. He could not reason what he was going through, he could only feel… A pure and plaintive feeling. Nothingness and Everything were fused in his mind at that moment. Nothing made sense… Nothing.

Oddly, the pain on his wrists began to decrease, while the nails slowly pulled back from his body. The only thing that continued was the whipping. He could sense the Dark Lord's heavy and constant breathing over him, who seemed to be using all his energy on his assault, in provoking so much pain so that he would never repeat that mistake or make any other. It could be said that he was Educating him, that he was reminding him of his position in his elite and the responsibilities it entailed.

There was an unsettling pause. Minutes went by, but he was not paying attention. Harry did not have the courage to open his eyes, much less to gaze above the ground. His head was lowered and his entire body shuddered. He could not control his body's reactions, it was inevitable.

"Remember this every time you disobey me, Filldeserp."

Scarce and bitter tears came out of his eyes, tightly closed. The only real sensation was pain, the only weakness he showed… And one Voldemort had barely discerned. He spit the blood out of his mouth and coughed. It was the last thing Voldemort allowed him before the final blow.

The blow of Reality.

In the blink of an eye, everything vanished. He was in the same room, in the same moment… Just in a different situation.

He fell to the ground, on his knees, when he lost balance after he stopped feeling the imaginary chains that had tied him and kept him standing. He raised his eyes and stared at Voldemort, who observed him unaffected, although a slight snare could be noticed. Harry's clothes were intact, and his skin was as white and unharmed as always. There was no blood on the floor, nor on his body or on his Lord's robes… No sign that someone had been tortured in that study.

It did not take long for Harry to understand what had happened, and he realized that it was worse than the physical damage that the Dark Lord could have inflicted. It was the feeling of not knowing what was true or false; of being deceived and… Chaos. He felt dizzy knowing he had been lost in a different dimension… A dimension that did not exist.

It had all been a mental trick. A trick in which the torture he had gone through did not exist in reality. He had been manipulated by the Dark Lord. Most likely the sham had began when he looked at Voldemort directly in the eyes. Then, he employed all the illusion tactics caused by the visual contact… The pain, the anguish, and the despair had been real… But not the wounds, or the chains, or the nails, or the whipping…

Voldemort walked toward him and leaned so that his eyes where at the same height. He held his chin possessively, searching in his eyes something unusual. He smiled satisfied when he did not find it.

"As you can tell, Harry… The power of hypnosis and confusion are very advantageous in this kind of torture." Said Voldemort.

Harry shuddered as a secondary effect from the torture and closed his eyes tightly, to suppress further convulsions.

"Not only to be used, but also to be detected and eliminated. As excellent as your Occlumency skills are… Your mind is weak to this kind of torture as it is unfamiliar to its characteristics." He paused. "You have to get better, Harry. Those memories you have from your time at Hogwarts are a consequence of longings buried so deep you do not even know they exist."

Harry's eyes widened, stunned by his words. How could his Lord know about that dream, which he kept hidden behind many mental barriers…?

"Your mind was completely vulnerable during the torture, so I was able to examine…" Explained Voldemort, suspecting what Harry had been thinking. "I hope this torture helps you rethink and suppress all regret, Filldeserp, or I will repeat it as many times as necessary… Or until I have to make it happen."

Harry nodded in silence, with his mind spinning due to the information received and the confusion his body had gone through. The last thing he saw before his sight blurred and he lost consciousness was Voldemort's arms around him in a fatherly embrace, not allowing him to fall to the ground and firmly holding him.

London, August 7th, 2004

Time: 9:30PM

Ronald Weasley entered quietly to the apartment he shared with his coworker, Neville Longbottom. He turned on the lights and closed the door with caution, without making any noise. He walked across the living room while contemplating it thoughtfully. It was simple and without many decorations due to constant moves. There was a big window on the wall to his right, which provided a great view to one of London's main avenues, where thousands of muggle vehicles drove by daily.

He sat on a very comfortable crimson couch and sighed with nostalgia, remembering the date that was languidly coming closer. August 9th… A day that every year brought memories, guilt, regret, and… silence that should not be kept. It had been seven years since he had committed the only crime of his life; a crime nobody knew he was guilty of… And it would continue to be that way, otherwise, if he were to confess, he would lose the trust and love of Herm and Neville, the support from the Order, and his freedom… He had never wanted to do so, but… He had unintentionally become another Peter Pettigrew, another coward and traitor…

But at that moment, when he was asked to choose between life and death… He chose life, condemning two others with his actions. He preferred his own skin before risking losing everything for those whom he loved. It had been a teenage mistake… He thought he was doing what was best for him, that he was showing outstanding self-worth and independence… However, now that he thought about it carefully… It was never for him. He was never threatened because he was Ronald Weasley. No, it was because he had been Harry Potter's best friend and it was another way to… another way to stir him up. Of making him fall and lose hope.

And they definitely got what they wanted.

- Flash Back-

London, August 8th, 1997

It was a beautiful and peaceful summer afternoon. It was a shame they could not enjoy it by playing quidditch, with the cold breeze whipping their faces. Locked inside the general headquarters of the Order, they could not even take a walk on Diagon Alley because they were on a brutal war, where nobody knew when or where the next attack would be… There was fear of going out and never coming back. Every goodbye said hid behind it the fear that it would be the last time for telling people how much they were loved. Many preferred not doing so, not knowing what they missed.

He was in the room he had been sharing with Harry for three years. He could not believe how fast years had gone by. He was seventeen and about to go through his last year at Hogwarts, to then work as an auror. How things had changed… He thought he had matured and improved. He thought he had a future and had finally found his place.

Harry was on his bed, reading a book about Defense Against the Dark Arts he had bought days before through owl service, when Herm entered the room not even bothering to knock before opening the door. Her face glowed with happiness and expectation, with three thick envelopes on her right hand, which she was shaking in the air.

"Our results have come!" She exclaimed, as if she was saying that Voldemort had finally been destroyed.

"How exciting!" Ron said sarcastically. However, Harry closed his book in an instant and straightened up with interest.

How things had changed…

Hermione handed the letters to their respective owners and sat on Harry's bed, next to him, to open her own letter. When reading its contents, a smile filled with pure joy and pride appeared on her beautiful face and hugged Harry in her excitement. He laughed softly to her reaction and interrupted the embrace seconds later, to finish reading his own mail

"I passed all of my classes." Ron said, although his face showed slight disappointment. "Defense and Charms with Outstanding, although my level in Potions and Transfiguration went down again. I'll have to put a lot more effort if I want to get accepted into the Academy…"

"I will help you." Hermione offered kindly.

"I'm sure you've gotten Outstanding in everything…" Ron muttered, with bitter mockery. She shook her head.

"I've only gotten an Acceptable in Herbology… The same in Astronomy…" Ron looked at her truly surprised.

"Impossible! How about you, Harry?" He asked, giving attention for the first time to his friend, who had grabbed his Defense book again.

Harry smiled with pride and satisfaction, pointing at his letter for Hermione and Ron to read it themselves. The young girl was faster than the red-hair and was the first one to read it, not believing what her eyes were seeing. Her astonishment was shared by Ron, who looked at Harry with his mouth open.

"Outstanding in everything!" Ron blurted, full of envy and disbelief.

"Aha." Harry said, as if it was nothing.

"That's great, Harry!" Hermione hastened to say before Ron said anything else.

Granger turned the letter to see what else it said. It did not mention any missing grades, nor had any comments from any school representative with respect to the accomplishments of the Gryffindor student; what it said was an announcement of him being chosen as Head Boy, granted because of his academic and moral achievements throughout his six years at Hogwarts and the results of his lasts tests. Hermione could not help but feel disappointed, feeling that she had been usurped, and above all, by one of his best friends. Nevertheless, she was happy for Harry, he really deserved it. She was not blind to not have noticed the effort and attention her friend had began to put on his studies.

On the other hand, Ron would most likely say that it had not been just that, but that it had been because he was Harry Potter, against whom nobody could compete… He was Dumbledore's favorite and the idolized hero of the Magical Community…

"You're Head Boy, Harry! That is fantastic, congratulations." She smiled, although it looked forceful… But she did it. Unlike Ron, who showed anger in his eyes.

"Thanks, Hermione." – Answered Harry, not giving it importance.

They continued talking for a while more, although the manner was colder and more distant compared to how it had been years before. Harry had not paid much attention to them for months, and Ron had begun to get along better with friends other than the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione was not sure what had happened that caused such event, it had just… happened. Distance had damaged the trio, which in that summer had been forced to spend almost every hour together. Hermione tried to mend their friendship, but since she was the only one who seemed to want that… Her efforts were in vain.

That night they had dinner with the rest of the members of the Order of the Phoenix, to which they were part of since the last term. Even if they did not attend all the meetings, or were aware of everything the adult members handled, at least they were aware of the situation. Ron and Hermione were extremely excited and thankful for it, but Harry seemed indifferent, to everyone's surprise, and to the suspicion of some.

Ron found himself alone that night, laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling immersed in his thoughts. Harry was wandering the hallways, as he tended to do every night until he decided to go to bed. After all, the house belonged to him by law since Sirius had died. Not only the house, but also a big part of the Black's fortune.

Something incredible happened then. An owl entered through the window, located at the top of the room, and flew toward him. Ron watched it suspiciously, since he had never seen it before. It had black feathers and eyes the same color. It carried a letter. The odd thing was that the Order tended to check all mail sent to headquarters and handed it to them personally… Hmm… What danger could there be? It probably was a letter from Neville…

He took the letter and immediately the owl took flight and left the room. Ron could not be more confused. He observed the letter with detail and opened it carefully, finding a blank parchment. He took it and examined it, but there was nothing written on it. He pulled out his wand from his pocket and casted a couple of invisible ink revealing charms, but it did not work. For a few seconds, he was suspicious… But he decided it was an insignificant piece of parchment and burnt it with a touch of his wand, not knowing that was the worst thing he could have done.

He leaned back on the table again and without further thought, he fell asleep.

He was walking on the familiar hallways at Hogwarts, with his eyes looking ahead of him. People were walking by next to him, not paying attention to him or saying a word. He continued his walk to the Great Hall. He crashed against a couple of people, but none showed any anger or desire to apologize, they simply continued as if nothing had happened. Not looking at him. As if he did not exist…

He ran toward the Gryffindor table, where he saw Hermione and Neville happily having lunch, talking about an upcoming test on Defense. He tried to talk to them, but no sound came out of his mouth. He tried several times, having the same result: silence. He then decided to catch Neville's attention, tapping him on the shoulder. If he could not make a sound, touch should work… However, his friend did not show any reaction. He waved his hand in front of Hermione's eyes, but she ignored it… Or did not see it.

He pulled back a couple of steps, feeling hopelessness overwhelming him. He was invisible and incorporeal to everyone… They could not hear him, or feel him. He was no one. A no one in that place. Nobody seemed worried about his absence…

He ran toward the exit, driven by his perception. He avoided people, as they would bump into him and would be completely unaffected due to their unawareness of him. But he was not unaffected. He reached the grounds, where voices and laughter did not decline but increased in intensity. He ran and ran, until he reached the lake. He got close to it, thinking that maybe he could see his reflection on it. However, the water did not show anything different.

He felt himself faint. There was no point in being there…If nobody could notice him. He was lost, alone and… annoyed. He could not believe what he was seeing, what he was reasoning, what was happening…

He let his instinct guide him, he had nothing to lose… He did not know what to do, nor was interested on knowing why his body was leading him in the opposite direction. He was only aware that the speed of his steps increased to quickly go around the lake.

He was so inattentive that he did not see the obstacle in his way. A big and sharp rock that made him fall suddenly to the ground, hitting himself hard and feeling stunned. He felt a sting on his right cheek and took his hand there, his fingers encountering fresh blood.

Unconsciously, he turned his eyes to the surface of the lake, where his reflection surprisingly appeared. It was not a hopeful image. His face showed bags under his eyes and distraught, his deep blue eyes were sadder and his freckles did not seem as agreeable as they used to. His hair fell over his face graceless… lifeless.

A shadow covered him. Through the water's reflection, he saw someone he did not know behind him. The unknown individual pulled out a dagger out of his robe and took impulse to stab him with it. Ron tried to turn and defend himself, but his body did not get the order from his overwhelmed brain. He only managed to close his eyes and wait for the dagger to wound him, in a coward and devastating gesture.

However, the lethal blow never came. He waited in vain, until he had enough courage to open his eyes to see what was happening. He found himself in an altered scene, where shadows abounded and surrounded him, not leaving him with any possible escape. He felt solitude more than ever; he felt the pain, the anguish… The hopelessness… Inside and out of his heart… The prison that Darkness had over him. He could barely move. He felt as if he was suffocating because oxygen was naturally lacking in that place.

It was then that an evil voice resounded in his mind.

"You are next, Ronald Weasley. Choose what you want: To live or to die. To live requires sacrifices… I will only ask you to obey one of my orders and I will forgive your impertinence. Otherwise, death will follow you…

He woke up, completely scared and bewildered. His breathing was hectic and cold sweat covered his forehead. It had been a long time since he had the kind of nightmares which, when he woke up, made him shake involuntarily. Besides, he had never felt so confused and disoriented…

He watched his surroundings to make sure he was in his room at headquarters. On the other side was Harry, resting peacefully, apparently not having any nightmares harassing him. He now understood how his friend felt whenever dreams that appeared to be real attacked him. There was no balance between reality and fantasy.

Likewise, he knew that everything had been a product of his imagination. It was most likely a wish from his subconscious, a desire to be part of the action and not a secondary character.

He stood up slowly and walked to the bathroom to wash his face and to try to revive his spirit. It was in vain, he raised his head to look at himself on the mirror and saw his image. He had to hold on the closest piece of furniture to not fall down due to the terrible impression.

There was a deep cut on his right cheek…

Had it…? Had it been real… or while he was asleep, had he unconsciously cut himself with an object?

London, August 9th, 1997

"Hey, Ron, how did you cut yourself? It looks pretty bad… Ron, are you listening to me…?"

He was having breakfast with some members of the Order. Hermione was watching him with slight worry, but he was not taking his eyes from his plate, lost in his thoughts. He was more pale than usual and he seemed depressed while he played with his breakfast, not taking a bite. The cut on his cheek was healing quickly, although it was still very noticeable.

He could not take his mind out of that damn dream. The last words he had been told resounded inside his head, over and over… As if demanding him to decide and do what he had not been asked yet. He could feel in his stomach the weight of his fear and guilt. He did not understand where that last one was coming from, but…

"Good morning."

Harry entered the kitchen at that moment. Everyone present smiled at him and answered his greeting, at the same time as Mrs. Weasley gave him his breakfast, which Harry thanked her for with a nod. He sat down in front of Ron, who noticed he looked better than in previous days. He seemed happier… Or pleased, perhaps…

It irritated him how everyone seemed to respect Harry and how the world stopped when he walked in. If Hermione had been worried about him before, it was certainly not happening anymore. Everyone was constantly congratulating Harry for being chosen as Head Boy, especially Remus. It amazed them how the boy had managed to overcome his godfather's death and improve his abilities every day. It all made Ron feel very suspicious, and he tried to keep himself as distant as possible.

Next to him, Remus and Tonks discussed the ministry, while on the other side of the table, Mundungus exchanged opinions with Arthur about cauldron manufacturing. Hermione listened with attention the explanation Harry was giving her about one of the topics of their History of Magic homework. Ron was shocked by how Hermione had suddenly forgotten her curiosity with respect to the wound on his cheek. He almost felt as if he was reliving his dream when he saw neither Harry nor Hermione paying attention to him.

At that moment Potter's emerald eyes turned to his direction and watched him for an instant, inspiring certain arrogance. Ron frowned. He was under the impression that such look from Harry meant he knew something he did not. Slight suspicion appeared in his head. Could it be related to the dream…? Why was Potter so pleased that morning?

He wished everything was like before… For Harry to be his best friend, the one with whom he could spend nice and fun moments, with whom he could count on every time there was a problem and somehow… everything would be bright again. But those times were part of a past stuck in time. He could not trust Harry anymore, because he was not the same as before. He now seemed like a masculine version of Hermione, reading all the time and speaking politically. And worse. Cold and reserved. Perhaps even, when he was in a bad mood, ironic. And that Harry was no longer compatible with Ron.

Damn. He could not write to Neville either… The Order rarely let him communicate with him because of the possibility that mail could be intercepted. He sighed. He also did not want to talk about his dream with Hermione, but he needed someone… Someone with whom he could share his suspicions. He watched the faces of the members of the Order. No. They were not what he needed.

"Are you done with your breakfast, Ron?"

"Huh?" He came back from his reverie. Hermione was talking to him from the door. Next to her was Harry.

"With Harry, we're going to the library. See you there?"

Without giving him time to respond, the duo left the room, not interested on what he had to say to them.

He cursed at Snape for the tenth time in three minutes. He could not focus and the damn potions professor had given them a ton of homework, which had complex exercises that in his moment of confusion made it impossible for him to solve. He needed to finish soon with that part of his homework; otherwise he would spend his entire summer on it.

Hermione seemed occupied with her own problems in her Herbology homework, and Harry was just a few feet from him, reading with calm a book on advanced Transfiguration. He could have gone to him, ask him about the problems he was having trouble with and everything would be solved. But his pride was stronger and he did not want everyone else saying that Potter knew more and could do better than him. That was not true!

He hit the potions book hard with his left fist. His frustration was immense and he hated feeling ignorant and useless. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself… Without being able to once more. It did not matter how often people warned him, his inclination to think before acting was still untamable and there was nothing he could do.

He closed his eyes and in a few seconds, without intending to, he entered a dream state. Among the mess of ideas and thoughts, only one phrase stood out: Nothing. Mattered. Anymore. All emotion was scattered from his soul when reality lost sense and he stop feeling his body for some reason. He was rid of all tension and moodiness. He just simply let himself go and be dominated by that bewildering peace.

His breathing was harmonized by the conflicting smells in the environment. Incredible sounds buzzed in his ears while a fresh breeze seemed to sigh on his face.

"You have ten hours to decide, Weasley."

As he was out of his reality, it was hard for Ron to understand what the unknown voice meant. But soon he figured it out. However, he did not know from where those words were coming. Were they stuck inside his mind or someone, close to him, was articulating them? He did not know, could not understand the order of the circumstances.

"If you accept, go tonight at midnight to Regent's Park, with your wand and, obviously, without letting anyone know. If you do not accept, simply prepare yourself, because your days are counted."

The feeling of dreaming disappeared at that moment. He blinked several times, until he recognized the library in headquarters. The potions book was open in front of him, but he ignored it completely. Panic invaded him and he could hear his own heavy breathing. He stood up and watched his hands, which were slightly shaking. The horrible words whistled in his mind like a sentence.

He had to choose. White or black. There was no kind of grey in those options. Finally, after all that time… he had power over his own destiny. He did not know if that made him happy now. Maybe he should inform the Order of what was happening? Would they believe him? What would happen? Who was the one intimidating him?

If the Order had believed so many times on Harry's dreams, why not in him? Nevertheless… He rethought the idea. He was not the Boy-Who-Lived. He did not have any kind of connection with Voldemort. He was not an important factor in the Magical War. Why would someone threaten him? How much could his life be worth to the Order? Perhaps the dream had been an illusion and that voice a sequel of his obsession…

If he could not believe himself, how could he show up in front of the Order? If everything turned out to be a lie, he would end up like a fool in front of everyone. A teenager who wanted attention and that, above all, was putting at risk the lives of so many with his fantasies…

It was a fact. He had to go to Regent's Park and check what the truth was. And depending on that, who was after his life and why.

"Ron, are you okay?" Asked Hermione. He looked around to find Hermione frowning and Harry smiling arrogantly.

"Yes, I don't know why you ask." He lied shamelessly while he closed the potions book and put away his parchment. "Everything is perfect."

Hermione wanted to answer back but Ron did not give her time and left the library, not interested in what she had to say. Exactly the same way Granger and Potter had in the morning.

He made sure his wand was perfectly placed on his belt. He looked at himself in the mirror again, to make sure everything was in place. He was wearing muggle clothes to not call attention, despite the fact that he was convinced that at midnight nobody would see him in that part,where he had only been to once. He did not remember it well since that visit had occurred when he was a child and… there had been nothing interesting to remember.

He had never been there again and it was also not the best thing during war time. If he thought about it more carefully, he should not attend the appointment. It was too risky. However, it was his chance. He had used the hours between making up his mind and midnight to find out where the park was, how he could get there easily, and what he would do to insure nobody noticed his absence. Above them all Harry, since he was the only one that could wonder where he was at that time after seeing an unoccupied bed.

How unlucky could he be? Potter would not worry about him, and if he did, he would only mess it all up. As a preventive measure, he managed a couple of spells to pretend he was sleeping, when in truth, he was only leaving a replica of himself in Grimmauld Place. He had turned seventeen; he could do whatever he wanted without having the Ministry on his back.

He left the room quietly. He walked down the stairs which, in his opinion, creaked more than any other he had ever stepped on. He had to learn where exactly to step on so as to produce the least amount of noise, and that was an impossible mission. Nevertheless, when he finally reached the hall, he had to correct himself. It was more impossible for nobody to see him, especially when members of the Order of the Phoenix were in the kitchen, in a secret meeting dedicated to things that they, as young people, were not to be directly concerned about. He heard the different voices arguing and shivered.

If everything worked out, he would be back before any of them noticed his escape. But, what if he did not come back on time? What would happen then?

He did not want to think on the consequences of his actions and pulled out from his pocket the small bag that had the floo powder. He walked toward the chimney and threw some to the fire. He breathed slowly, trying to focus on what he was about to do. He was about to abandon the safety of the Order… Only to find out who was threatening him and why they were doing so. How could he be so sure that it was worthy to risk himself in such a way?

There was only one way to find out and it was to go, without fear, to the meeting. Ron muttered his destination and instantly he disappeared from the headquarters of the Order, without noticing the green eyes that had been watching each one of his movements from a corner of the room.

Regent's Park, located north of West End, included a classic urban grid and large residential terraces. He was surrounded by elegant buildings close to the London Zoo, which amazed Ron by its magnitude. He was not expecting to find himself in such a big and peculiar place, which was nothing at all like what he had imagined.

To arrive to the place he had to stop by the Leaky Cauldron, where he had needed to move with caution as it was not the best place to be at night. However, he could not avoid it. It was the only place he knew that was connected to the Floo Network. From there he took the Knight Bus, which took him there directly.

He began thinking how he was going to find his stalker in such place, especially considering he had no clue of his physical appearance. He looked at his wrist watch and realized he had arrived minutes before the agreed time. He did not know if that gave him an advantage.

He walked to go into the park. He stopped in front of a tall lamp-post that lighted up the area. Big trees surrounded him from everywhere. If it had been day time, he would have been thankful for the nice shade they could have provided; however, they only made him feel afraid. It was like being surrounded and shrouded in darkness.

Going back to the topic... How would he find his stalker?

"It is not your mission to find me, it is mine." A male voice answered behind him.

Ron turned to look behind him and found a hooded individual. His face was not in his field of vision. But analyzing his body language, Ron could tell the arrogance and confidence he showed. He could have made fun of him but, being at a disadvantage, he hesitated. Not knowing to what, he felt afraid and weak.

"Weak people like you make me sick, because they are extremely useless in this kind of situation."

The red-hair had no time to get mad to such underestimation. The man walked the steps that separated him from Ron, who was finally able to see his features, only to be horrified by what he saw: a pale face, covered in coldness, with powerful scarlet eyes. The eyes he had never seen, but he had heard of before. And nothing he had heard of before had been a lie.

They were eyes that consumed all the courage and rebellion someone might have had. Eyes that reflected greed, an endless desire for revenge, and corruption. They glowed with power, authentic power he had never seen on anyone before. Not even Dumbledore's pleasant blue eyes could have inspired so much in that small instant…

He felt panic. Pure panic. He fell back a couple of steps, not giving credit to what his eyes were seeing. Not wanting to think he had committed the craziest thing by going straight to the Dark Lord, thinking he could face him on his own. A mocking smile appeared on Voldemort's face noticing the vulnerability of his victim.

"What is your choice, Weasley?"

Why him? Why was the Dark Lord after him? He had done nothing that could have affected his plans directly! At least, not more than what Potter had done, or a ministry auror… Why him?

"I do not believe you are on the best position to ask, are you, Weasley?"

He could not believe his ears either. He was an idiot. He had been a complete idiot. He was going to die and there was no turning back. He. Was. Going. To. Die.

"You do not necessarily have to die."

His blue eyes widened in amazement. Was He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named…? Was he reading his mind, without any visual contact…?

"You should not be so shocked, having such a weak mind. Now, answer." His scarlet eyes glowed with malice. Ron closed his eyes tightly, to get back the energy he needed to say what he was going to say.

"What do I have to do if I want to live?"

"You will only know that if that is what you choose." He was not surprised by the answer. What else could he expect from the most powerful dark wizard in history?

Was it worth it to die in that place? Was it worth it to have wasted seventeen years in a cause he would never achieve? Was it worth it to die, when he was given another opportunity? Another opportunity that would cost a lot, but… Not more than his existence, right?

"To live."

In that moment, he did not know what such insignificant words truly meant. He did not know how much he would pay for his life, nor the guilt he would carry from that day on. Nevertheless, he would never know that his actions would be the main cause for one of the most revolutionary tragedies in the Magical Community. He never believed himself guilty of that crime. Nobody was believed guilty of that crime. But there had been one behind the Decision.

He entered the house mentioned on the map using a charm on the main door's lock. His mission was simple: to eliminate the two inhabitants. He could even let them live, but making sure that they would never see the light of the sun again with their coherent minds. He could not help feeling dirty to follow such order. For that hour, he felt like a death eater. Without the possibility of choosing what to do or how to react. He could not contradict the Dark Lord. It was not in his power. At least he had not had to kiss the robes of such deranged being… He just had to obey that order and he would be free.

He walked in total silence toward the living room. All the lights were off and it appeared that the muggles were sleeping. He could not help but feel nervous. He was about to kill two defenseless muggles. Two people who had no way to defend themselves from him. He observed the bottle the Dark Lord had given him. It contained mortal venom. It was instantaneous. If he managed to go unnoticed, they would die without knowing… Eternal Sleep.

He casted a lumos spell and began walking the steps that would take him to the second floor where the bedrooms were most likely located. His steps were imprecise as his entire body was shaking. He bit his lower lip to try to focus on holding his wand firmly.

"Hermione? Is that you?"

The voice of a woman. However, that was not what shocked Ron. No… had the woman called him Hermione? How many Hermione could there be in London?

He turned to see the woman at that moment, who was exiting her room on her sleeping outfit, thinking that it was her daughter who was walking on the hallway. Her expectant face suddenly clouded with confusion and fear when noticing instead an unknown young man, pointing at her with a wand. The woman stared at him. She knew she had seen him before, but did not know where…

And Ron knew he had also seen her before. She was Hermione's mother! She had the same hair as her friend: bushy and brown. Although her eyes were black instead of almond.

He felt the panic return from deep inside of him. He had to kill Hermione's parents. His best friend. Only because he wanted to live. Why? That was unfair! It was… cruel… Tears came out of his eyes. Tears that went down his face softly.

"Mrs. Granger…"

"Who are you?"

He got his courage together and casted a Stupefy. They woman fell to the ground unconscious.

He opened the door through which Mrs. Granger had come out and entered the room. He found a shocking environment, an environment that had a familiar smell, one that he was often around. He guessed the room belonged to a young girl because of the bright colors that decorated it, and the style of the furniture. Besides, there was a small library on the corner, where he found a great amount of both muggle and magical books. It was definitely Hermione's bedroom.

He walked toward the bed with effort and caressed the bed with sadness and longing. Hermione would hate him, she would despise him with all her might… Each part of his body was crushed by guilt because of what he was going to do, but it did not matter anymore. He had to execute his mission or nothing more would be worth it. It would all end. He knew he was being selfish, but…

He quickly left that place and entered the next room, ignoring the body that slept on the hallway. He was determined and prepared. What would happen he would carry over his shoulders for the rest of his life, he knew it.

There was Hermione's father, resting peacefully on the bed, not knowing that his killer was walking toward him and examining his condition. Ron stood next to him, opened his mouth carefully, leaned him forward and placed the bottle with poison on his lips. He took a deep breath before pulling the bottle and holding his nose to force him to drink all the liquid, without wasting a single drop.

The man coughed heavily once the toxic entered his system and Ron laid him softly on the bed. He watched the symptoms of the poison, trying not to look at him directly. His world blurred. He was not thinking coherently. He did not want to think of what he had done. Mr. Granger began shaking vigorously due to the sudden high fever. He moaned in his unpleasant sleep and Ron could see the pain on his features. Not being able to take the cruel reality in front of him, he left the bedroom not looking back.

Now, he just needed to deal with Mrs. Granger. He watched her body, lying on the floor. However, he could not do it anymore. He did not want the pain inside of him to double. No… He had no more strength. The woman in front of him did not deserve to die. She did not deserve the fate they wanted to impose on her. He fell to his knees while tears bathed his face.

"You are weak." Someone said behind him. Why was he always caught by surprised? "Don't you feel strong enough to cast a simple Cruciatus? Aww…"

Ron turned back to see. Who else could be heartless enough to say such words? Bellatrix Lestrange smiled cynically and with unbalanced insanity. That was it. There was nothing else he could do… The main role had been given to her.

"Alright, I will show you. Maybe then you will learn what it is to serve the Dark Lord. Crucio!"

Mrs. Granger screamed and screamed in pain. She cried frantically, begged… Every part of her soul was left scattered over the wooden floor, just like her blood and her merciful tears. She felt it once, twice… perhaps even three times. Ron was not aware of what was happening anymore…

That was the cost of his life.

He burst into his bedroom at the headquarters of the Order half an hour after the massacre. His eyes were swollen because of crying. and his body could not stop shaking. Nobody had noticed his absence, or that is what it seemed as nobody was waiting for him at the entrance. However, he could be wrong. There was one person who could have noticed his escape and it was the one person he did not want finding out about the event.

When he entered the room he was startled when he saw Harry lying on his bed, with his summer nightclothes, reading the same defense book from the day before. He seemed focused on his reading; however, he raised his sight from the book when he heard the door creak. He looked at him solemnly, making Ron think that he knew more than he thought.

"What are you doing up?" Harry raised an eyebrow to Ron's abrupt question.

"Can't I?" He replied. "After all, it is my house, isn't it?" Ron looked at him frowning.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"I can't. Besides, I'm anxious to finish this book. It's really good, you should read it…" Ron gave him an eloquent look.

"You act like Hermione."

Hearing the name of his friend from his own lips caused him pain. Guilt was eating him… Harry seemed to notice his expression of pain and the changes on the face of the red-hair. He watched him closely and raised another eyebrow.

"Is there anything going on?" He asked intrigued.

"No, should there be?" Ron avoided the question. Although, if he had not tried so hard not to, Harry would have smiled at him mischievously.

"Maybe, the fact that you weren't in the room for over an hour is alarming, right?"

Ron opened his mouth to say something, but could not answer coherently. He pursed his lips and waited for Harry to finish his accusation. To this, Dumbledore's golden boy looked to the window and remained in silence for several minutes, which irritated and exasperated Ron to no end. Did Potter really know what had happened or was he just faking it?

"Where have you been?" Asked Harry directly, leaving his book to focus his full attention on the conversation. Ron wished he would have kept reading and ignoring him as usual.

"Wandering around the house. You do it, don't you?" Harry's eyes narrowed to his vague response.

"If you had been wandering around the house, someone would have seen you." He accused him.

His words hit Ron. That meant that Harry had asked the different members of the Order if they knew where he was… What protection did he have against that? Who could lie for him, to give evidence he had been at Grimmauld Place?

"No, I was just in one of the rooms in the attic. Those that nobody really goes to, you know…" Harry looked at him suspiciously. Nevertheless, Ron tried to feign as much confidence as he could and he added, "Anyway, why are you so worried about where I've been?" Harry's green eyes darkened before his question and he sighed.

"You are right. I should not think that everyone would want to be heroes in this war like I am, right?" With another sigh, Harry looked down to his blankets. "Goodnight."

However, the feeling Ron had that Harry knew more than he was saying only grew stronger with his words. But… how could Potter know what he had done that night?

London, August 10th, 1997.

"There was a death eater attack in the proximity of Regent's Park." Dumbledore informed them, looking alternatively from Harry, to Hermione, to Ron, who did not know why such news concerned them enough to be part of a private meeting inside the library of Grimmauld Place. However, Hermione tilted when hearing his words.

"Only one house was attacked." The Hogwarts headmaster sighed with nostalgia. "Your father is dead, Hermione, and your mother is in critical condition. She is currently in Saint Mungo's…"

Hermione turned deadly pale when the devastating news came out of the lips of professor Dumbledore, who was sitting in front of her. She felt her insides tearing painfully and a void filled the bitterness in her heart. Silent tears came out of her almond eyes, which had just lost all glow of happiness and hope. She could not believe it. She did not want to believe it.

She lost her balance and it did not take long for her to feel cold hands holding her so she would not hit the floor. No, she did not actually feel them. Her mind was in another world, too far to notice what she was going through.

"It can't be…" She moaned.

The pain was worse than she could take. It was worse than any Cruciatus could cause, it went beyond any physical wound. It marked her heart. Her past, present, and future.

"Herm… Herm…"

She heard from a distance a hypnotizing voice calling her. When she opened her eyes again, she saw bright green eyes looking at her. He took her chin and lifted her head imperiously. Hermione could not cry, not in front of them. She had to be strong… had to drown such… such sorrow for just a moment. She would cry on her own, she would vent to herself. She could not fail them. Harry, Ron, the Order… She had to be strong…

"Don't feel ashamed of your suffering." Harry muttered while he touched his cheek gently and cleared her tears. "Cry."

As if those words were the key to her soul, her sobs increased and she held onto Harry in a sudden need of comfort. She hugged him with desperation, as if fearing he would also disappear, and she took refuge on his chest, to escape reality. She felt vulnerable… However, in Harry's arms, she was protected. She was reflected in his eyes, in his invisible darkness… He understood her like no one else. He knew how to comfort her. He… He was her world, the only think she had left.

Harry felt a lump in his throat because of the sorrow he felt to see her cry. He could tolerate crying from anyone but Hermione. She was the only one who had ever looked deep inside of him to fully know him; she was the only one who had always been by his side, working for his well-being. She did not deserve something like that. She was the most innocent among innocents. She should not have been in that war, where betrayals and lies were frequent, where hatred and anger were plentiful… She was too pure for that.

Harry knew how it hurt to lose a parent… He had lived it with the death of Sirius. With him, his world had been lost and distorted. With his death, everything stopped making sense. Nothing else mattered. He forgot his principles and loyalties. He forgot his past… All for a desire for a present more beneficial for himself. Where he could make his own decisions, right or wrong. He was not afraid of death. He had nothing to lose.

Nothing, except Hermione. He hugged her more tightly against him and ran his hand through her hair. From above her shoulder, he saw Dumbledore observing the scene calmly, unwrapping a lemon drop. He felt his deep hatred toward the headmaster reborn from deep inside of him. Only Dumbledore could be so calm in a situation like that… No, calm was not the right word to describe it, but indifferent… As if he was not interested on the death of Hermione's father, or how destroyed the girl was. Oh, right… She was not a fundamental character in the War, why get worked up by it?

What the old geezer did not know was the she was a fundamental character in the War. But it would take him years to realize it, if his blindness did not lead him to his death first. He would regret everything he was doing to Herm and him… He would regret not understanding the magical potential Granger had, and not having considered his attitude better. He swore it by his blood.

He turned his sight toward Ron, who remained frozen on the other side of the table. Not knowing what to do. Where to look. What to say. And Harry guessed that it was not because of the distressing situation, but because of a deeper and strident feeling. Guilt.

The pieces of the puzzle finally came together inside Harry's mind. Now he could see a clearer image. The murderer of Hermione's father was only a few feet away from him. He knew it. He might not have real evidence, but his intuition was telling him so. The loose ends from those days had finally found their place.

He looked at the weak shape between his arms and he felt sick to his stomach. He could not do that to Hermione. He could not accuse Ron without proof… It was also not the time. He would talk with him… And from there he would see what he would do. He was divided between his loyalty to Hermione and the old one he once had for Ron. Perhaps it would not be best for the girl to know who her father's murderer was… The reality would be too harsh for her.

Time would tell.

"Did you want to talk with me?" Asked Ron, walking again into the room that he shared with Harry hours after the talk they had with Dumbledore.

There was his roommate, anxiously waiting his arrival. Or as anxious as someone could imagine a calculating, calm, and intelligent Harry Potter.

"I did." Harry answered, raising his eyes to have them on the same level as Ron, giving him a glacial look.

Ron felt very uncomfortable and avoided Harry's eyes for several minutes, pretending he was looking at the dull view outside their window. He was actually trying to prepare himself for the long conversation he knew he was going to have with his previous best friend. Preparing excuses and lies, believable alibis… Because he suspected that Potter had worked out who was the real culprit of the death of Hermione's father and the severe condition of her mother.

Harry stood up and walked slowly toward him, watching him scrupulously on the way. It was as if he was expecting Ron to suddenly cry and tell him the truth, without having to question him or force him. No, that was not what Harry intended. His reasons were bound to something deeper: Legilimency. However, Weasley did not suspect that.

"You know as well as I do that Hermione needs us during this difficult time. It would be good for us to leave our differences behind, at least while we're in Grimmauld Place… Don't you agree?"

Ron stared at him, surprised of what Potter had just said. And that was exactly what the Boy-Who-Lived intended: emotions such as surprise, pain, or anger were the ones that would allow him to enter an individual's mind more easily. They were referred to as weaknesses after all… That was why Harry had worked so much on suppressing them from himself.

Once he was able to enter the surface of the mind of the red-hair (without him noticing, obviously), he began looking into the events of the night before, searching for key concepts. He saw isolated images, with no real meaning, that blocked his understanding of the event. Too many emotions together: pain, regret, shame, wrath… The flow of feelings was such that Harry felt a virulent oppression in his chest and had to leave momentarily his roommate's mind before his own mental barriers dwindled.

Ronald saw Harry suddenly shudder, taking short breaths, focusing his eyes on him and looking at him with… disgust. Although the last thing was something more related to his own imagination: Potter was only trying to erase the memories that pictures he saw brought him back. Despite that, he could not help feeling surprised by the change in the Golden boy's condition. What was happening to him now?

"Had… Had you seen Mr. and Mrs. Granger recently?" Harry asked, with his eyes not looking at anything in particular. Ron frowned to the sudden change of topic.

"Why do you ask?" Ron had no way of knowing that Harry was seeing Hermione's parents through his mind.

"I never talked to them… At least, I never had a real conversation with them. Hermione always insisted that I should, that they were very interested on knowing their daughter's friend… It's a shame I didn't listen to her, don't you think?"

The red-hair felt deep rage being born deep inside of him. If he wanted to use the right term to describe it, it was jealousy. Hermione had never said that to him. Had her parents never wanted to meet with him as well? Why did everyone always give more importance to Harry? He was also important! He had done things to help Hermione!

"Like killing his father?" A voice inside of him reminded him. He clenched his fists, trying to compose himself. The events of the night before flashing in his mind again… Multiple times, trying to remind him of the sin he had committed… Hammering it to his mind. The guilt he would carry for the rest of his life. His negligence… His weakness.

Suddenly, he felt his thoughts mixing with someone else's. His anger and regret were nothing compared to what the other person was feeling. The magnitude of such emotions stunned him. What he felt was deeper, even if it did not belong to him.

He raised his sight from the floor and he finally realized who was causing everything. Harry Potter. But this time, Ron had to take a couple of steps back, scared by the aspect he was showing. His already cold green eyes were filled with dark feelings: of anger, resentment, and shame. His body was shaking in incomprehensible pain. Among such unleash, an aura of power, which Ron had never noticed on him, wrapped him intensely. But that sort of light that surrounded him was not white or of any light color, as any member of the Magical Community would have expected, but a dark grey, seemingly black. At that moment, Ron did not understand what was happening. However, months later… Everything would make sense.

"Harry? What…?"

"How dared you?!" Yelled Potter. Ron closed his mouth immediately. "How could you do that to Mione?!

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ron yelled in response, making Harry's anger increase.

"And you are so insolent to deny it?! I've seen everything, Weasley! I've seen how you killed him…! How you let her be tortured…!"

"You don't understand!"

"I understand more tan you think! You are a coward!"

He saw how Potter took deep breaths to compose himself, but he was too out of control to think of doing so. He knew what he was, how stupid he had been to accept such order, but… He would like to know what the so called Boy-Who-Lived would have done in such situation… There was no point in asking him: he would probably pretend to be a hero as always and would say he would have never taken the deal, that he would have died stupidly and in vain.

"And what if I am?!" Harry could not have expressed more hatred and disgust in his eyes and in his posture to the response of his previous best friend.

"You have betrayed everyone! You have exchanged Hermione for your own life! Are you proud of that?! Are you proud of the pain you've caused?!"

"I am not a death eater, Potter! I will never enjoy pain, Hermione's least of all…"

"Then?!" Ron began to guess there were silencing shields on the room; otherwise, someone would have ran to the room to see what was happening.

"I didn't have a choice! That you can always escape death does not mean that everyone else have that same skill! You have always been Dumbledore's protégé. He has always believed you… What do you think would have happened if I had gone to him and had told him what was going on?"

"Hermione's parent would be fine." Harry answered coldly. "Or at least, they would not have been killed by their daughter's best friend. Dying is better than living with the price you've paid! Because it's not you who's been affected… But Hermione."

"You don't understand!"

"Go back to the hell you came from." Harry muttered before leaving the room, slamming the door.

Ron sat on his bed after losing all strength on his legs. Harry's words resounded inside his mind like a death sentence. It was horrible seeing how those green eyes, that at one point had shown friendliness toward him, had observed him with unrivalled disdain. It was the feeling of betrayal. Of the pain caused by knowing that trust had been broken. Personally, Ron felt emptiness inside of him with respect to that. He did not want to think about the situation from that point of view. He would rather think of what would happen next.

Potter knew what had happened, what he had done… How long would it take for him to accuse him to Dumbledore? How long it would take for him to become his family's disgrace, a blasphemy…? He had to move fast if he wanted to avoid that future: he had to conceal himself and…

A brilliant idea was born in his mind. Nobody ever saw Potter at night. Nobody knew if he stayed at home or not, everyone just assumed he did because he had nowhere else to go. But if… he took that to his favor? If he blamed Potter? Obviously, Dumbledore would not believe him… Everyone would support Potter. Or maybe they would not? After all, he had been acting weird for the last few months: he spent most of his time among books and wandering on his own.

He needed someone important to support him to force Harry to remain quiet. He stopped his thoughts to the cruel idea that formed inside his head. If Hermione thought Harry to be guilty… that would be enough to make useless the Golden boy's accusation if he were to open his mouth. Besides, it would probably work against him: everyone would think that he was trying to come up with an alibi, just as Ron was doing.

He only had to wait for the right time. It was not convenient to go and lie to Hermione right at that moment, and cause her more pain than she was already feeling. She had been crying for hours alone in her room. She had asked for that.

"Going over the Granger's case…" Tonks began to say in a serious tone.

Almost all the important members of the Order were present in that meeting, except for Hermione, who had excused herself that night. Harry and Ron had not spoken to each other since the fierce argument they had several hours before.

Ron knew that Harry had not said anything yet. Otherwise, Dumbledore would have talked to him alone; he would have talked to him to then inform the Order of his betrayal. He knew that was how the system worked. Nevertheless, he could not stop feeling nervous when the conversation shifted to the attack on the Grangers.

"We all know that powerful shields where placed on that house." Tonks said, sighing with sorrow before continuing with her speech. "Shields the Order installed and made sure to test for their effectiveness." Some members of the Order nodded. "Only someone who was a member could enter, which leads us to a terrible conclusion…"

"We have a traitor." Moody muttered, observing every member with his magical eye.

The expressions of the members of the Order were very different. Some seemed indifferent to the notion of a traitor while others could not hide their disturbance to the fact and their affliction was evident. A clear example was Remus, whose face was darkened by a veil of memories and misery.

The war was proving to be hell for the last marauder. And not just for him, but also for the rest of the aurors, professors and ministry workers. Everyone wished for everything to be over, to go back to the monotonous happiness in their lives.

"Yes." Kingsley nodded. "Once the member of the Order entered, he allowed access to a couple death eaters and they took care of torturing Mrs. Granger."

"How is she?" Dumbledore asked. Arthur Weasley bit his lower lip.

"It will take a while for her to recover."

"If she ever does…" Harry whispered with a dry voice.

Some people watched him sadly while others avoided the young Gryffindor's intense look. Perhaps some felt guilty of the intangible suffering that his eyes revealed, and many, like Mrs. Weasley and Dumbledore, felt helpless. Or at least the last one pretended…

"At the time of the attack, there was a small meeting here." Kingsley said. "Thus, those who were in this kitchen are excluded from suspicion… However, we have many members left and any of them could be the traitor."

But they would never know who the real traitor was because they would never suspect the youngest Weasley boy (who could have guessed?) and besides, they stopped looking the day of the Hogwarts attack at the end of Harry, Hermione, and Ron's seventh year, assuming who it had been.

"Hermione, Hermione… Come on, Mione, stop crying." The girl did not listen to him. "You have to live, Mione. You have to keep going."

"I can't. I won't be able to, Ron."

"Of course you can. You have always been able to do anything, why would this time be any different?"

"You don't get it… You don't understand what I'm going through. You don't know what it's like to feel alone, completely alone in this sadistic world, where nothing matters… And it's good that you don't know; nobody should."

"Hermione…"

"I just wish that I could talk to my father one more time, to tell him how much I love him, how much I need him… how much I will miss him. It's incredible how you don't appreciate what you have until you lose it for good. Do you know, Ron? You are so lucky to have such a warm and big family… There will always be someone by your side. I, however, don't have any brothers and look… my mother is fighting to survive insanity. What do I have left?"

"Please, Hermione, don't say that. I am here for you."

"It's not the same. It will never be the same…"

"You have to move on, Mione. You can't really want to spend the rest of your life locked in here, can you?"

"No, of course not. I am just afraid to go out and face reality. To walk on the street and ran into my father's killer… I just couldn't take it."

"Do you want revenge?"

"No."

"No?"

"I want peace."

"Hermione… what would you say if I told you who the traitor is?"

"What?"

"You know there is a traitor inside the Order, otherwise they would never have been able to enter your house."

"But… but… you know who it is? How?"

"He told me himself. It's so horrible to see what he has become…"

"What are you talking about?"

"I couldn't believe it in the beginning…"

"Ron?"

"He follows He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named with true devotion. And to think we thought him our hero."

"Ron, are you saying…?"

"He is the one responsible, Hermione. He is."

Harry preferred not to continue listening after that. He could not believe what Ron had done. He could not believe his need to sacrifice everyone else for his own sake. He had always thought him so loyal… Despite the jealousy, he had been a great friend. But it was extraordinary how things changed. How a world could change its shape and have its condition worsened.

Throughout his entire sixth year he had fought against the feeling of considering joining the Dark side, to continue with his friends, those whom he had thought truly cared for him. For Him and not for the Boy-Who-Lived. At that moment, he realized how foolish he had been. There were no friends to whom he should be loyal. There was nothing to keep him on Dumbledore's side. All the ideals that he had once had and followed, his enthusiasm and fervor fell apart before him. It was only a matter of time until Hermione stopped talking to him, believing him guilty of a crime that he had in no way committed. There was no point in continuing fighting for a lost Cause. A cause that would only lead to tragedy and loss. A cause in which nobody would walk by his side and that he knew was a rough path…

It was that night when he went to sleep early for the first time in a long time and, when meeting Voldemort through his dreams, accepted becoming his equal and right hand, as he had offered previously. It was that night that the fates of the muggle and magical worlds were fully sealed. Not before, not later… That night the Darkness captured Harry Potter's will forever. It was the borderline situation that sealed an era and shaped directions.

Cry…