Erasing Death Chapter 2: Protection and Friends, a harry potter fanfic

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Chapter 2. Protection and Friends

The hours of mourning Harry spent in a daze. Initially he even imagined his eyeglasses to be malfunctioning – for how else could you explain the blurry forms and traces of intangible mist in place of the usual relative sharpness?

But then Harry remembered Sirius, remembered going through a similar phase once, and drowned his silly question in a sea of practiced nonchalance that didn't conceal his real grief from the sharp eyes of his friends, who watched his every move. On their faces sympathy warred with pity. Harry always turned away at the sight.

He had let in on the secret of his impending death very few people, the bare minimum: Madame Pomfrey, obviously, Hermione, Ron.

Those were the ones who mattered most, the closest ones. He couldn't lie to them. In the time of crumbling worlds, they were Harry's unique pillar of support, and the mere idea of tearing that one solace away from his dying hands brought up panic to Harry's chest.

He squashed those pitiful thoughts. They resurfaced time after time.

The overprotectiveness of Ron and Hermione both bothered and warmed Harry. Their insistence that he took precedence before the Horcrux-hunt annoyed him, for how could they not see that the defeat of Voldemort won over the life of a single person? That by caring for him they were taking away the precious time they could spend researching powerful battle spells and tactics, inventing means to protect their friends and family and Hogwarts, scheming up ways to get to Voldemort's horcruxes?

But no, both Ron and Hermione took the exasperating I-am-your-best-friend-you're-more-important-to-me- than-an-old-locket route.

Hermione holed herself up in the library – not that she wouldn't in any other case – and flipped through the pages of ancient tomes till the wee hours of morning in search of some sort of a cure for Harry. He attempted to drag her to the section where they were likely to find horcrux-books. It didn't end well for him. His ear drums still hurt. Harry didn't enjoy shouting matches about the importance of his life in the whole ordeal.

Ron, on the other hand, followed Harry like an eager puppy. A very annoyed eager puppy. He glared and snapped at everyone who dared shove Harry, or lightly punch his shoulder in greeting, or even tap him with a finger!

Harry bristled. He wasn't a delicate china teacup, for Merlin's sake! He wouldn't shatter. He wouldn't allow himself to.

Most of the DA picked up on something and also treated Harry like they would a bloody princess or a pureblood.

Ginny didn't even kick up a storm when he solemnly delivered the news of their imminent breakup. She attempted to battle his decision with logic, sulked and glowered, but didn't slap or punch him like Harry got a feeling she wanted to do. He supposed Ron's glaring presence just behind him had something to do with that.

Neville's smiles strained around the edges, and Harry suspected it was not only because of Dumbledore's passing. He refused to allow Harry to comfort him either. It left the green-eyed boy feeling more isolated and lonely as ever – Ron retained some of his spark still, but something in Neville's gentler presence always reassured Harry, too.

Most of the others grieved for the Headmaster, just like Harry, but sometimes they would come to him and clap him on the shoulder or try to cheer him up, which had rarely happened before. Harry guessed Ron had slipped and implied that Harry was very down or perhaps even shattered, for whatever reason, and the others attempted to brighten his day even through their own suffering.

He appreciated it. Really, he did. Initially, he had smiled and thanked them, but then it all escalated in a ridiculous way – and the whole made-of-glass treatment thing ceased to flatter him quickly.

Harry's only respite among all that protectiveness lay with Luna. She probably knew about his sensitive condition but didn't give a damn about it, treating him like she had always done – blabbering all about nargle-hunts, shoving a Quibbler in his face, spouting nonsense and cheering him up with an occasional wise thought. Not as oppressive as Harry's best friends, she drew his affection those days.

Harry actually contemplated cracking up and revealing her the truth about horcruxes. If his friends contented themselves with mollycoddling him instead of brainstorming ways to find Voldemort's anchors to immortality, Harry could as well toss them aside and carry on his plans with a minimum of help: Luna and her dubious knowledge of the Founders and the magical world.

Except that he didn't want to involve anyone at all.

The less people knew – the bigger their chance to escape Voldemort or not rush into an unknown danger of searching for Merlin-knew-what in Merlin-knew-where Merlin-knew-how.

Harry wished to spare Luna that bit of potential risk.

Later, after the re-opened wound of Dumbledore-s funeral, Harry found out he shouldn't have bothered. Luna always had a knack of hitting upon dangerous ideas all on her own.

Maybe that was why he liked her.

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Harry had mourned and grieved for both himself and the late headmaster so much that his trails of tears had long run dry. Just like those of the people around him. When they buried the wizened body that held no trace of anger or betrayal or hurt, just acceptance, Harry didn't know whom he pitied more, who of the two of them had lost more: his old professor, who had lived and experienced life in all its colours and apparently hadn't regretted one thing, or himself, a boy lost in a world of fighting with no hope ahead of him now.

With the news of his imminent death, Harry felt as if some part of him had died already, before the decease had even begun its course.

With empty eyes, Harry watched.

When Lavender burst out crying, stifling her sobs into Parvati's shoulder, and Neville rubbed his eyes but stayed strong with eyes dry, and Ginny concealed her face with both her hands in an attempt to hide her silent weeping, as if her shaking shoulders didn't give her away already, a thought struck Harry.

If Voldemort didn't kill him, in a few years Harry would be where Dumbledore now was.

Would they grieve him like that, too?

Would they care?

Would they weep and scream and lament?

Harry balled his fists. Suddenly, he couldn't watch those black-clad people anymore.

He needed to get away. Fast.

Everyone, even Ron and Hermione, held a single figure in their sight, so Harry slipped away with no trouble at all.

He wandered off to an oak near the Black Lake. He didn't come there alone often, more used to visiting the place with Hermione and Ron for company, but now the solitude soothed him. Wallowing in self-pity, he didn't notice the shadow that fell across the grass in front of him, and jerked when a pale, almost translucent hand lightly poked him on the shoulder.

Harry's eyes darted up.

"Luna!" he breathed out in relief. "What are you doing here now? Shouldn't you be at- at the ceremony, with the others?"

Luna didn't reply. Instead, she dropped on the grass and crossed her legs Indian-style, watching him with a pensive frown that Harry recognised for her deep-in-thought expression.

"There are more wrackspurts that usual clogging your ears today," she finally said in a mild tone. She didn't accuse him, merely stated the fact. Perhaps that put Harry at ease somewhat.

A strained smile flashed across his face.

"Your necklace isn't working as it should. It's no wonder they are here."

"Of course it doesn't. You never put it on." Surprise at his lack of comprehension coloured her tone. Harry's grin grew a tad more genuine. "If you don't like necklaces, I can give you a dress. A dress might cheer you up." She scrunched up her forehead in thought. "At least, so some girls think."

Harry shook his head in exasperation, carefully hiding his grimace. He didn't want to offend Luna, but sometimes her ideas were... a nit over the top. Just a twinge, really.

He was so refusing this one.

"I am a male, Luna," he reprimanded her with a slight warning. "I don't wear dresses."

"I didn't say anything about wearing it. Just trying it on will do." Luna shrugged her shoulders. At Harry's quiet snort, she added, "And look, the mention of dresses has killed a wrackspurt already. They can be a deadly weapon." She nodded repeatedly with a wise expression to prove her point.

"You can be a deadly weapon, Luna," Harry laughed out. "Did the snorckacks lead you here?"

"Not really," she denied calmly. "I came because my feet carried me to this old oak where you had wrackspurts attack you."

Harry sighed and drew his knees to his chest, while his fingers fumbled with the grass, sometimes tearing the green strands out of the ground.

"You know that nothing is going to be the same now?" Harry asked her in a hollow voice. "After his- after the incident everything will change. People. Lifestyle. Hogwarts. Ministries and higher-ups. Everyone will question the Ministry's capability of protecting them, and of course you know how the Ministry's protection goes – the place is filled with a bunch of parasitic bumbling idiots!"

Harry's initially soft voice grew in volume until it reached the plank of shouting.

Daily and nightly, the war weighted on his mind.

Luna raised her hand to tread through his black tresses, but didn't interrupt his harangue.

"And Ron and Hermione are to occupied with-" He faltered. "With other things, and don't care that much about the war anymore, and it's become such a mess-"

"They care about you."

That shut Harry up. He sighed and batted Luna's hand away, messing up his hair himself in irritation.

"I know," he ground out at last. "I appreciate it, really, I do."

He closed his eyes, loudly exhaling. Confiding his thoughts troubled him a lot, maybe because he didn't practise it often, never with anyone outside of their small circle of three: him, Ron, and Hermione.

"I worry about all those people who depend on the Ministry that has nearly fallen and can't protect themselves without any outside help. I can't tell you much, but Dumbledore left a Task to the three of us, and we are those people's last and only hope. They simply won't survive if we don't carry it out!" Harry cried out in agitation, staring in Luna's eyes imploringly, beseeching her to understand.

It was important that someone realised how important the Task was, that horcruxes must be destroyed before everything else, that he couldn't be selfish but prop up the heavy mantle of Dumbledore's successor and rid the world of the Dark Lord.

Because, if no one assured him, Harry might just take the easy way out.

Hermione had offered him a way the night before. For all the three of them. It was outlandish, dangerous, impossible, ridiculous... and utterly promising, both for Harry and for the whole of the Wizarding World.

He longed to explore the possibility, to speak about it in depth...

But the fright of falling in love with the idea took over.

"Hmm..." Meanwhile, Luna traced invisible circles in the air with her finger. "Sounds awfully conceited of you, Harry."

"What?" Harry blinked. Of all the things she could say, that one never made it to the list.

"You are speaking how the existence of the world and of its people depends on you, how everyone and everything would die out if you fail..." Now it was her turn to blink. "The wrackspurts put even more ideas in your head than I imagined. Even the Ferret is not as pretentious as you are acting now."

"The Ferret-" Harry's face and mood darkened as he spat out, "Don't mention that bastard to me! I'll kill him next time we see each other."

Pure, undulated rage overtook him and Harry drowned his desire to kill things and toss around spells. Malfoy's fault, all of it! Because of that scheming nuisance Harry's clock was ticking his life away and he himself was torn between the shackles of duty and the pull of his own wishes.

At the moment, even Harry's hatred of Snape quivered before the one he granted Malfoy.

Luna smiled in understanding, her smile reeking of promises.

"I will sic nargles on him in your absence," she assured him lightly. Harry's eyes sharpened.

"'In my absence'? What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you will be absent. You are not going to return to Hogwarts next year, right?" Harry froze, while she nodded thoughtfully to herself. "Yes, you have two main choices before you right now, but returning to Hogwarts is a third and it doesn't count. No matter what you decide, we'll miss your presence in the castle."

Stunned, Harry gawked at her.

"I never told anyone about either of the possibilities," he let out in a strangled voice. "How-"

Luna's gaze abruptly sharpened, just at the same time as Harry noticed Ron frantically looking for him across the lake.

The two didn't have much time alone anymore.

The girl rummaged through the numerous pockets of her dress – surprisingly black, considering she was, well, Luna – before fishing out a small pendant in the form of a few twigs held together by what seemed to be a lock of blonde hair. The blonde shoved it into his hands in a hurried fashion, springing to her feet.

Ron was nearing them with a furious expression on his face.

"It was supposed to go to my mother," Luna confided. Once again her hand dove into another pocket, and this time she dug out a piece of strange, rough parchment. It quickly ended up in Harry's clutch. "But she met my father before she had had the chance to use it. Or maybe she knew, like I do now."

She paused and her eyes glittered as she added, "And, Harry, I want you to consider that why would you want to improve the world when you are not around to see the fruit of your labour? It's all the wrackspurts. They make you lose every scrap of common sense."

Her dreamy smiled returned as she scurried away without looking hasty at all.

Without a single word of explanation, of course.

Harry sighed. Typical Luna. Dumping a load of hazy bits of information on him and not even sticking around to see his reaction.

"Harry!" Ron huffed out as he finally reached him. Harry winced; his escape had obviously worried and troubled his friend, to the point where the redhead had probably freaked out and been running around Hogwarts and its grounds in search of him.

"Sorry," Harry muttered sheepishly, covertly sneaking the items Luna had handed to him into his pocket. "Needed to get away from it all for a second. Where is Hermione?"

Ron shook his head with a scowl. "Honestly, mate. It's no fun searching all 'round the place for you. And Hermione's in the library, of course!" He nervously glanced around to check if anyone was listening to them before leaning in to whisper in Harry's ear, "She told me she found something on Arhianrod Academy."

Harry's heartbeat quickened.

The entire ride back to Hogwarts the trio spent cooped up in a locked compartment without allowing anyone in.

They were making plans to transfer.

At first, Harry had refused, appalled at the very idea of abandoning the war. However temporarily, for hazy possibilities, but Hermione and Ron vehemently refused setting off on a horcrux-hunt until they found a cure for him, and both provided legit reasons as to why they would be highly unsafe at Hogwarts even without him there.

Right now Harry was reassuring himself by hearing out the reasoning again.

"Everyone knows Ron here is your best friend," Hermione not-so-patiently repeated for the umpteenth time. Harry nodded. "And I'm a muggleborn. I can't be safe in a Death Eater-y environment by default."

"Yes, but- Who knows how unsafe this new school is going to be? The books mention the high mortality rate, no?"

"Hey, mate, when the alternative's to spend a year chumming up to overgrown torture machines, you appreciate whatever other choices you have," Ron protested, munching a chocolate frog. He had made up his mind, Harry realised numbly.

Harry sighed and rubbed his temples. Sometimes he wished stubbornness didn't exist. He merrily ignored the nagging thought that his own bloody-mindedness and clinging to the war duty represented the same thing.

"It mentions that we will be studying Dark Arts there," Harry breached the nitty gritty of the matter. Carefully, he gauged the reactions of both of his friends. They paled but otherwise remained certain in their decision. "I- I can't sacrifice your purity like this. True, going to Arianrhod might kill two birds with one stone, as we can find a cure for me and a way to destroy Voldemort there, but we'll be constantly interacting with dangerous creatures – and I mean worse than Hagrid-dangerous, even! – and we will have to learn revolting magicks. Are you ready?"

Harry himself was.

He had pondered on the matter, and while he would prefer to go the secure trope provided by Dumbledore, the idea of new sorts of magic thrilled him, not least because it gave him hope to actually live and see the result of his questionable heroics.

When the conventional stops working, you resort to the unconventional, right?

Harry, while not as bookish and studious as Hermione, had always enjoyed magic. Mostly the practical aspect of it, of course, but sometimes particular details fascinated him, too: although Patronus had been a necessity, it didn't change the appeal it had for Harry. He just didn't like long-winded explanations of how a spell worked, preferring instead to rise from his arse, gather his magic and raise his wand, and actually make it work.

"I don't want to learn any-" Ron grimaced, as if he had eaten a barrage of rotting lemons. "-any Dark Arts unless it's necessary. But, y'know, hard times? I'd be casting them as little as possible, but I'd like to research ways to get stronger with other means."

Hermione nodded, too, and Harry read certainty and determination swimming in her eyes. He mentally gave in.

Almost. One final attempt.

"They demand perfect marks there," he brought up feebly, knowing the battle was lost, but remaining pig-headed through it. "Hermione, you, of course, can boast of that, but my marks in most subjects are as good as Neville is in potions. Not exactly straight O's material."

"I've thought about it." Hermione's lips stretched in a smug smirk. She dug into her bag. "And the first thing I did as soon as I got the vibe that you might just agree to all this madness was contact the headmaster, of course! Ta-da!"

At Harry's disbelieving stare she threw her hand with a letter tightly clutched in it up in the air.

Ron whistled. "That's fast, Hermione!"

Harry glared at them, accusing. "You knew! And neither of you thought to tell me!"

Hermione shrugged a guilty shoulder before her brown eyes sparkled. Harry almost grit his teeth but refrained at the last moment. The secrecy of his best friends overwhelmed him sometimes. Every time they turned it against him, actually.

"I didn't want to push you-"

"As if I'd believe it," Harry muttered. Hermione ignored him.

"-so I delayed telling you about the reply."

"Didn't want to freak you out, mate," Ron piped in helpfully while nearly finishing off another chocolate frog, the last in the box. With a nervously sheepish expression, he offered the card to Harry, but withdrew his hand at the skewering glower he received in reply. "Right," he mumbled dejectedly.

"I can't believe how careless you are," Harry hissed at Hermione. "Owl post can easily be intercepted, especially right now. If you truly believe-"

"Not the post to Arianrhod," Hermione interrupted smugly, pointedly. She waved the letter in front of Harry's nose, as if to say, 'See here? It got there all right, they even replied us!'

Harry snorted sceptically. "Yeah. Of course. This school is obviously so fabulous and super-powerful and has so much authority that even Voldemort has the courtesy to refrain from checking any letters that go there. Even when he sees they're from me or you two."

"It's kinda true?" Ron offered from the sidelines, for once enjoying that the amount of information he possessed was superior to Harry's. The black-haired boy refrained from smacking that annoying grin off the redhead's face with a well-placed hex.

"Explain."

Hermione nibbled on her bottom lip.

"How do I put it... Well, actually, he can still open any letters that come to Arianrhod if they are directed to a student or a professor. On the other hand, when you address the headmaster, you have to cast a spell mentioned in the books, which activates some a charm that in turn activates a special protection. This protection doesn't allow anyone but the headmaster and his or her deputy to read or even open it. The reply is protected in the same way – no one but the addressee can see what is inside."

Harry leaned back in his seat, impressed. He didn't know much about complicated stuff like magical theory and such, but that sounded like an impressive feat of magic. He could see Hermione appreciated it, too: her eyes gleamed like they rarely did since the news of his impending... demise.

Harry's friends nervously observed his reaction. It irritated him. When they tiptoed around him and his moods, the latter got only worse because subconsciously such reaction knocked down his self-assurance, making him think himself untrustworthy and as viable to burst as a volcano – except that in some cases a volcano would seem a lovely paradise holiday with a bit of hot in comparison to Harry's mood.

"We are certainly going to learn it when we go there," Harry remarked calmly. His lips twitched in amusement at their disbelief when he failed to react angrily like they had expected. "So, what about the reply? Wait, did you contact the deputy or the headmaster?"

"I was just getting there," Hermione replied in exasperation. She took the letter out – beige paper, black ink, expensive – and carefully unfolded it. Harry noticed the worn edges – she must have re-read it a lot then. Probably checking for hidden meanings or seeking reassurance that the sender was telling the truth. Whatever that truth was.

"So, Deputy Headmaster Hilarius Tristis assures us that Human World OWL results don't matter as long as the student keeps up with the curriculum of Creature World. We'll have to take exams to get into the appropriate year, of course, but..."

Harry grinned.

"Splendid!"

And so they began concocting their escape plan.

The horrid summer passed, although this time Harry found it less unbearable. Hermione had snuck in some books so he could prepare for the entrance exams, and also had given him the portkey to Arianrhod that would activate any time during summer with the password.

So, Harry studied.

He brushed up on his Potions knowledge. At first, Harry was unable to make heads or tails of the subject, but with a great amount of determination and Hermione's handy notes, without Snape sneering down at him, Harry found himself to be a decent brewer.

He breezed through his Charms and DADA textbooks, scraped through all the other subjects Hermione insisted on his revising. Deputy's letter had also offered three lists of the subjects they were allowed to take each. Some choices in the selection horrified them. They had chosen the more innocent-sounding ones, Hermione's list impressing Harry and Ron, even though they should have expected that on some level.

Harry had selected Healing (who wouldn't want to help a fallen comrade?), Parselmagic (just swell to use Voldemort's tricks against him), Battle Spells (which included protective shields and techniques, too. The list didn't include DADA), Advanced Charms, Physical Training, Occlumency (he hoped the teacher was good). Hermione had forced him to take Potions, too, to see if he would improve without Snape's imposing glare.

Harry shared Battle Spells and Physical Training with Ron, but not with Hermione, who insisted she considered those too manly even for her. Harry agreed. His best friend had no place on battlefield.

Ron's eyes had lit up at the sound of Blacksmithing, because that's where his brothers wouldn't shine for sure. He had also chosen Magical Creatures and Transfiguration, just so he wouldn't seem like a lazy idiot in comparison to his two friends.

Hermione's range of subjects included Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Alchemy (which sounded neat. But not for Harry's brains), Magical Theory, Warding, Spell Creation. She shared Advanced Potions and Advanced Charms with Harry. She had also decided to be the most responsible, knowledgeable and respectful person by taking up Creature World Culture.

Arianrhod gave all of them a purpose, even shoving aside Harry's moping and sulks about the death that awaited him.

The start of Harry's summer didn't prepare him at all for its tragic proceedings – Moody'd death and George's injury.

Every drop of death or hurt fell like salt on torn wounds.

When the guests of Bill and Fleur's wedding panicked and flailed around the place, Harry, Ron, and Hermione traded a look.

Time had come.

Filtering out of the tent and apparating away, they took out the portkey that led to Arianrhod, clasped their hands around it, and allowed the object to carry them away, into the unknown.

I didn't kid you when I told you that I don't want any bashing involved. Ron and 'Mione are goin' with Harry! Don't believe I've ever seen any stories with Ron tagging along, btw. It's always Hermione at most.

Also, a question: do you want tah have Voldemort somewhat redeemed sometime? No, I don't mean a hugs 'n' kisses reunion and Harry forgivin' the bloke for all his misgivings, and Voldy'd have tah work for it, and if it comes, it probably won't come until very late into the fic... But yeah, the question hangs there somewhere. I'm in ho hurry to receive the reply ;D

Read and Review, please!