"Harry, you're going to have to kill me."
The words rang in his ears. He felt his throat constrict and he pulled away from her, angrily looking out the window. "That's obviously not an option" he said, his tone dark.
She reached out nervously, clutching the back of his shirt. He pulled away, striding quickly from where she could reach him. "Harry..." she started softly.
"NO!" he yelled, turning on her quickly, his eyes flashing with anger. "I am not going to kill you Hermione, how could you even suggest that?"
"Then if not you someone else" she responded, tears freely streaming down her face. "You can't let me suffer."
"I won't. I am going to figure out how to go to this underworld or whatever the hell it is, and I am going to become a Damned One and then I will be strong enough to fix you."
She watched him, a tall silhouette against the window where the morning sun was now streaming through. The outside world was progressing as normal, as though nothing had changed, as if death wasn't visiting once more. He had turned away from her, but she could hear the determination in his voice. Sometimes there was a resolution in him that almost scared her.
"I don't want that for you Harry. I don't want to die, but neither do I want you to live forever. If I am... euthanized" she stopped choking up at the word. In truth she could barely believe she was saying it. Hadn't it been only the day before that they were making jokes at breakfast? Hadn't it been only two nights since the winter ball? How could everything change so quickly, how could it end like this?
He could tell from the pain in her voice that she was scared to die, and she was merely putting on a courageous face to try to hide it. He had reason to believe there was an afterlife, and that it was a good place, but it was still a mystery. A mystery he had no desire to send her off towards. He walked back to her side and crouched at the bedside so his eyes were level with hers. He wiped her tears from her face, marveling again at how beautiful and perfect she was. He wanted to keep her. He was fed up with losing everything he had ever loved.
"I am going to do this Hermione. I am going to set this right."
"You will only make it worse" she whispered fearfully. "If you become a Damned One, you will eventually become everything you fought against your whole life."
"I won't" he resolved, not believing his own words but not caring. "The old man, he chose to curse you because he knew you are the one thing I cannot live without. And he was right. I'm not me without you."
"I'll still die eventually" she reminded him, now reaching her weak hand out to gently stroke a lock of his black hair back from his face. "And then what will you do?"
"I don't know" he admitted. "But I'll be grateful for the time we will have. It can't be over just yet. If I let you die, I will kill myself as well. And I don't know much about the afterlife... but I suspect that sort of death will not lead to where I want to be."
She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling very weary. She didn't know what to think or do. What did she know of the afterlife? What did she know about dying? She was always a know-it-all but there were plenty of mysteries that still eluded her 18 year old mind. She wanted to have the right thing to say to convince him, but she was scared herself. She wanted to be strong for him but she felt so weak. And slowly she was already drifting back into sleep, and she tried to fight it, forcing her heavy lids open once more.
He was close to her once more, his lips gently kissing her cheek. "Sleep now. I love you. I will fix this."
No Harry was what she tried to say. But no words came out, and she lapsed back into a deep, dark slumber. Harry watched over her for nearly a half hour as she slept, and then decided he had wasted enough time. He had a lot left to do.
He walked briskly through the castle, his stride quick with intent. Students were getting ready for classes, but nobody dared to speak to him. The look in his eyes gleamed with fury, and anyone who passed him quickly scuttled away, hardly able to recognize him. When he got to his room he changed his clothing and packed bare essentials, still unsure of what to do or where to go.
He grabbed Anna Alvarez' report from the shelf and leafed through it in an agitated manner. The section discussing Agapios' descent into the underworld was extremely vague. In fact, it was downright useless. It merely read, "after receiving the third mark of death, the wizard Agapios is said to have made contact with the underworld. There he gave his right to die in exchange for magnificent powers and immortality."
Harry nearly set the entire useless report on fire, but then decided to stuff it in his bag. He slung the bag in his shoulder and grabbed his broomstick. There was nobody for him to talk to, nobody who could help him. Hermione was cursed, Freeman had turned out to be an impostor, and everyone else was dead. Of course... there was Ron.
Ron was loyal, brave and true. But he was not clever for the most part. In fact, he was downright slow at times which had endlessly enraged Hermione who was on a whole different pace than either of the boys. Harry highly doubted that Ron would have any wisdom to shed upon the situation, but Harry desperately needed some to talk it through with. Maybe just by going over it all something will occur to me.
Harry trudged his was to Hogsmeade, his head full of thoughts. Why the fuck couldn't the old man give me a better idea of what I need to do? For all the stupid flowery letters he sent me couldn't at least one include the address to the underworld?
When he arrived at Hogsmeade the joke shop was quiet. It was a week day and aside from a motherly looking woman who was amusing herself with a love potion, the store was empty. Ron was sleeping at the counter, his feet propped up lazily.
Harry slammed his fist down on the counter with unnecessary force, startling poor Ron from his nap so greatly that the lanky red head rocked back in his seat, flailing his arms to recover and then hopelessly pitching backwards and crashing to the ground.
"Harry what the hell?" he cursed, rubbing his head which had taken a good knocking.
"Sorry, but we need to speak. Now."
"Don't you have-er-school?" he asked weakly. Harry didn't respond, simply grabbing his friends arm and yanking him into the back room.
"What's all this about?" Ron yelped, finally realizing the urgency in Harry's features.
"Hermione" Harry said, and that word turned the sleepy, confused Ron into an intensely focused listener. "She's been cursed. That Mr. Anonymous I told you about, he is a Damned One, and he cursed her so that I will become a Damned One myself. It's powerful magic, very old. And the only way I can save her is to do what he asked. I need to go to the underworld and I need to give up my right to die."
Harry said this all so quickly that Ron's head was spinning with confusion. "The underworld? Right to die? I'm used to some pretty cryptic shit when it comes to you mate, but this is a whole new level."
"I have to agree to immortality" Harry explained shortly, unfairly wishing Ron would just get with the program.
"And the problem is..."
"Ron, would you really want to outlive everyone you've ever known?" Ron paled, fully considering the impact of Harry's words. "Dumbledore once told me not to pity the dead, but to pity the living, especially those without love. Those without love can become monstrous... just look at Voldemort."
Ron gaped at Harry, unsure of what to say. He could see the pain in his best friend's face and he knew the time had finally come that the comfort they had been living in since the war would be gone. "What can I do to help?"
"In the report Anna Alvarez wrote she discussed that the ancient wizard Agapios had to travel to the underworld to receive the final mark of death. But what the underworld is, or where it is I have no idea."
"Try the library?" Ron offered weakly.
"There are practically a million references to the underworld between Greek myth and other ancient tales, but that's all they are; myths. There's no way to tell what might be embedded in fact and what is total hogwash."
"Well, what about this Anna Alvarez? She might know something more than what she was willing to write in her report."
Harry suddenly remembered the letter from Mr. Anonymous; She is a charming woman, in more way than one.What had he meant by that?
"You're right Ron" Harry promptly announced.
"Whaa?" Ron responded, not used to hearing those two words strung together with his name.
"We need to find Anna Alvarez... or whatever her real name is. Hermione told me that she was using a pen name to avoid being attacked over her report. That might make finding her quite complicated."
Harry took the now somewhat wrinkled report from his bag and began to madly look through it once more, paging aimlessly as Ron stared helplessly over Harry's shoulder. "We could sure use Hermione's help on this" Ron said glumly.
Harry gave him a scathing look. "I am not going to ask for her help in her condition. I really don't need to hear her ask me to kill her again."
"She what?" Ron asked, turning ghastly. Harry didn't respond, simply looking back at the report with a determined and somewhat frightening look on his face. "Listen mate, I'm sure this is really hard..."
"I don't need a brotherly chat right now" Harry snapped. "Everyone I have ever loved is dead and I'm not letting her go too. What we NEED to do is figure out how to find this Anna Alvarez."
Ron wasn't sure what to say, so he backed away from his furious friend and turned his attention to gazing out the window, trying to wrap his head around what to do or say. He really did feel lost trying to deal with Harry on his own.
"Spain" Harry said suddenly. "Hermione said she had to request this report from a library in Spain. Maybe that's where Alvarez lives, maybe that's why it was only published there."
"So... we go to Spain" Ron slowly followed. "And then what? Ring the librarian's neck until he or she coughs up the real name and address?"
Harry frowned. He knew that was a highly improbable plan. "Well... she wrote the report based on ancient hieroglyphics found from a wizarding community excavation. She translated them because she is the only one who knows how to... which means that if we can find out who is the top expert in ancient runes then we may be able to deduce her real identity."
"Now there's a plan" Ron agreed.
"It says here that the tablets are being stored at the Library of Sorcery in Madrid."
"So, Spain it is."
"Spain it is" Harry echoed.
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
Hermione woke up to a dark room and supposed she had been sleeping away the daylight hours. She had been dreaming about flames once more, but her dreams had been less painful than the night before. It seemed that as long as she managed to stay focused on the soothing blue light she could keep from falling further back into the sickness and panic.
She wondered how long the stasis charm would ward off the excruciating pain she knew she was bound for. She wondered how much longer until she would be begging for death again. It was too horrible to ponder, so she lit the lamp beside her hospital bed and slowly propped herself up to a sitting position. It was an unusually difficult struggle, and she realized that her body was already weakening from fighting off the curse.
In the dim light of the lamp she was able to see that a letter had been propped on the bedside counter top with her name etched in a messy and very familiar scrawl. She reached out to grab it and was alarmed by the pale shade of her own skin and the way it was shaking slightly. She ripped the letter open and naturally it was from Harry.
Hermione,
You've probably just woken up and realized that I am gone. You probably know what I've left to do, and I know you don't agree. You are probably upset with me, and I understand why.
But I honestly don't have an option. In life we are always being confronted by choices, and the actions we take define who we are. In this case, I do not feel like I even have a choice. To let you die would be unbearable, and it would not end this conflict between the old man and myself. To die myself would be the only option, but it is not one I am willing to accept just yet.
I know that running into danger without a plan is something you have often warned me about. But I sense that this is my fate, and maybe it has been all my life. There are some things worth fighting against, but more importantly, some things are worth fighting FOR. And to me, there is nothing more important than being able to keep you.
I hope you trust that I will make this righ; that I promise to find a way. I also hope you are not terribly mad at me. I will be back very soon.
-Harry
She held the letter tightly in her hands despite their fatigue. She already missed him painfully, and couldn't imagine how he would think she was angry. She wished he hadn't gone, and she didn't know what terrible consequences there might be. But she couldn't blame him either. She couldn't say she wouldn't do exactly the same were their roles reversed.
As she lay in the dark she felt a dark cloud of fear come over her like a cold chill, and despite the fact that her body was running at a feverish temperature she pulled the blankets around her more tightly. If Harry accomplished his goal, he would come back and save her. And then what? They could return to their lives, but it would never be normal... he would have to cope with the burden of powers he never wanted, and eventually he would watch her and everyone else die and be left alone wandering the world aimlessly.
In truth, she deeply feared what he would become. She feared the knowledge that it would all be her fault. And most of all, she hated the feeling that anything involving Harry could give rise such fearful emotions within her. She had always thought of him as pure, honorable and virtuous in a way that was exceptionally rare. And now, it felt like all of that would be destroyed.
She felt the heavy exhaustion of sleep start to claim her once more. She could hardly believe her body could slumber as much as it had been, but at least she was not in too much pain yet. Her joints throbbed in a very passive way, as if warning her that the fire was coming soon, and she would burn horribly.
Come back to me Harry she thought as her eyes lost focus and her body gave into sleep. Come back, it isn't worth the price.
' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' '
Harry had never been to Spain before. For some reason, in his mind he had pictured that it would be sunny and warm, but when he and Ron arrived after a night of flying, it was anything but a welcoming scene. Since it was still February the temperature was only barely ten degrees Celsius and dark clouds hung heavy over the city, blocking out the sunrise as people began to emerge from their homes and head to work.
Harry barely had time to fixate his weary eyes on their surroundings, and he began to walk hastily down the street when Ron quickly grabbed his arm to stop him. "We still don't know where we're going" Ron reminded Harry. "And we're going to be surrounded by muggles soon. We should probably do something with these here brooms."
Harry was glad Ron's head was screwed on a bit more tightly than his own. The past couple nights had yielded little to no sleep for Harry, and in retrospect he had hardly eaten. They took cover in a dark alley to hide their actions, and Harry used a simple charm to expand the bag and make it lighter. Hermione had taught him how during their hunt for the horocruxes. He smiled lightly thinking about her little sack filled with almost everything imaginable. But the thought of her, possibly already in pain, made the smile vanish rapidly.
"Let's get something to eat" Ron suggested. "I'm starving, I can't think on an empty stomach."
Harry felt annoyed by this comment, but realized from the growling of his own stomach that there might be some merit to it. They had not taken the time to find out how to get to Madrid's Library of Sorcery, and they had no real course of action for finding it. Sitting down and filling their stomachs was, in many ways, the only logical course of action until they figured out the next step.
They found a dingy cafe around the corner and exhausted to go much further they settled on a couple rickety seats by the door. They ordered some food and coffee and ate furiously, not talking to each other. Harry had been afraid that his nerves would make his stomach uncomfortable, but there were no complaints as the hot coffee and food seemed to give him strength and wake him up some.
On his last mouthful of food Ron managed to finally ask, "so now what?"
Harry scratched his head at a loss for words. They were in a strange country without any allies to even point them in the right direction. He recalled how Diagon Alley could be accessed in London through a brick wall, but he didn't suppose they could just wander the city whacking on every brick they came across. A second stupid thought occurred to him, which was to just walk around the city with his scar prominently showing until someone from the magic community recognized him. After all, Freeman had once said he was quite famous internationally. But then, Freeman had been a complete lying wanker.
Harry was no closer to a solid solution when Ron suddenly reached into his pocket and extracted what appeared to be a small toy. Harry hardly noticed as Ron rolled the bauble about in his hand, as if carefully pondering it. "I wonder" Ron suddenly said, breaking the long silence.
"Wonder what?" Harry responded irritably.
Ron held the object closer to Harry, and Harry realized it was in fact some sort of toy. It appeared to be a tiny owl carved from wood. "Hermione gave this to me for Christmas" Ron continued. "It helps you to find things you've misplaced. All you do if think very hard about what you're looking for and it will bring you there. Do you think if we envisioned the Library of Sorcery it could find it?"
Harry took the little wooden owl from Ron's hand and smiled softly at Hermione's cleverness. "I don't know if it would only work for things you've lost... but it's worth a try."
"Of course... we don't know what it looks like really" Ron scowled.
Harry ignored this, simply closing his hand tightly around the owl and closing his eyes. He pictured books, stacks upon stack of books. And then he pictured rolls of parchment, yellowing with age, and large quills sitting at the ready in an ink well. Ron was right, he had no idea what the library looked like. But he had a feeling it generally looked much like any other wizard library.
There was a faint buzzing in his hand. He opened his eyes slowly and the little wooden owl had come to life, flapping its wings excitedly and hooting softly. It buzzed a few dizzy circles around Harry's head and then shot off quickly, stopping and waiting for them to open the door.
"Brilliant" Harry smiled at Ron, and the two quickly got to their feet and proceeded to follow the charmed owl through the streets of Madrid. By now the sidewalks and road were quite busy with morning traffic and the boys received nasty glares from many who they brushed by in their wild rush to keep up with the hyper little owl.
It had begun to rain and so Harry and Ron found themselves becoming quite damp as they sprinted furiously down the side roads, puddles splashing up and soaking their pants legs, their hair plastered messily to their heads. The addition of umbrellas made following the owl even more of a feat as they dodged and ducked, hoping to avoid losing an eye.
The owl zipped across a busy interaction, causing Ron to come to a screeching halt, but Harry feared losing the way and continued bravely into the traffic, ignoring blaring horns and foreign curse words as he zig zagged between the motor vehicles. A blue car nearly hit him at the knees, but his reflexes were fast and he leapt easily onto the hood, then hurling himself to the sidewalk where the owl was still in sight. Had it not been for his seeker training, he may not have been able to keep watch over the terribly eager charm.
Harry was beginning to feel his lungs burn and his muscles ache when the owl finally jetted down a dark alley way that was covered in trash and smelled of rotting food. The owl had stopped and was fluttering happily in front of a wall with the faded graffiti painting of a dragon. Harry stood, pondering how to get through, letting the cold rain water trickle down his face.
Moments later Ron made his way loudly around the corner, his feet slapping heavily on the pavement as he stumbled to Harry's side, breathing heavily. Heavy drops of rain fell from the red heads hair as he doubled over trying to catch his breath. Harry gave him an amused slap on the back.
"That...owl... mental" was all Ron got out as he slowly regained himself.
Harry reached out and touched the wall with his hand but nothing happened. Then he withdrew his wand and ran the tip of it against the rough surface. And slowly, the wall peeled back to reveal a village on the other side.
"Wicked" Ron grinned.
It was still raining in the hidden village they entered, but there was a sense of relief at having made it that much closer to their goal. The two soggy boys gave each other an exhausted look and began to run once more, following the owl as it resumed its wild flight. Like Diagon Alley, this village was paved with cobblestones, but was more medieval looking in many ways. The buildings were made of heavy stone and in the distance on a hill was a massive castle. They turned down a tight road way and the owl finally stopped flat in front of a magnificent building with massive columns and a long staircase adorned with statues of magical creatures plated in gold.
The boys looked at each other and exchanged a grin of relief as the little owl fell neatly into Harry's hand so he might return it to Ron. They walked up the massive steps and were stopped at the doors by two hulking enchanted statues that resembled massive guard dogs.
"¿Qué negocio tiene aquí?" the statues asked in unison, their voices booming.
"Um... English?" Ron asked meekly.
"What business do you have here?" they repeated easily.
"Blimely, their smarter than we are" Ron noted.
"Well, they do work at a library" Harry joked lamely.
"What business do you have here?" they asked again, this time louder.
"We want to see an ancient tablet that is kept here. The one about the wizard Agapios."
The guard dogs suddenly lapsed into a series of barks and growls which made the boys back off in fear until they realized that the two were just communicating with each other in private. "We agree to permit you to enter" they declared in their booming voices.
"Thanks" Harry responded awkwardly.
"But first, we must verify your identities."
Thinking of Gringotts, both boys began to extract their wands, but to their surprise (and slight disgust) the dogs began to loudly sniff them from head to toe. "You are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. You are both honored guests of the Library of Sorcery."
The dogs moved their heavy bodies away from the doorway, allowing the boys to enter. They exchanged a look at the strangeness of it all, and then stepped into the warm and welcoming air inside the building. The library was larger than anything Harry could have imagined. The book cases created row after row that extended farther than his eyes could see, and stretched to the high vaulted ceilings where thin ladders were the only means for attaining those books precariously stacked on the top shelves.
"Hermione would be in heaven!" Ron exclaimed, tilting his head back to squint at the impossibly high mountains of reading materials.
Harry smiled in agreement, but it hurt him to think about her. He felt the sudden urge to run again, to hurry the whole stupid adventure along, but he took a long breath to regain his calm. He closed his eyes and tried to think of a calming thought, of how her hair smelled, of how he felt when she told him she loved him as well. And then he regained control of his emotions and went to seek a librarian for help.
"Harry Potter?" exclaimed a voice in a thick Spanish accent. Harry turned quickly to see a short man carrying a large stack of books that almost towered over his head. The man had thick lens glasses and was bald with a short white beard.
"Er... do I know you?" Harry asked.
"No, we have not ever have met" he said in broken and somewhat peculiar English. "I have read you, in papers... you are hero!"
"Um, thanks. Let me help you with those books." Harry lifted some of the stack from the little old man's arms and Ron did the same, helping him set them down at a nearby table.
"Gracious" he said, bowing his bald head. "I am Hector."
"Nice to meet you Hector, this is my friend Ron Weasley."
Hector's eyes lit up with recognition of the tall red head, and he shook his hand with great eagerness. "Why you come to Madrid?"
"We are looking for something... a tablet about the ancient wizard Agapios."
Hector looked startled, blinking heavily behind his thick glasses. "Few know of this what you say."
"We need to know who translated it" Harry asked eagerly.
"Translate?" Hector repeated, slowing down from the rapid cadence with which he had greeted them. "Translate... only one translate the tablet. Senorita Morales."
Harry's eyes lit up, feeling infinitely relieved at how easily they had come upon an answer. He almost felt that he could scoop the small old man up and hug him, but he cautiously refrained. "Do you know where to find her?"
To this, Hector merely grinned, and gestured for them to quickly followed them back outside. As they stepped into the rain and past the massive guard statues, they stood at the top of the stairs, able to see far and wide over the village. Hector pointed excitedly in the distance to the large castle on the hill side.
"Senorita Morales!" he exclaimed.
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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank-you very much for the encouragement of your reviews! As you can tell, the adventure aspect of the story is picking up but there will be a lot more romance and such to come. Also, if the brief Spanish in this is incorrect I apologize, I do not speak it at all and had to rely on lousy online sources!