Chapter Eleven
Ron watched his two best friends out of the window of Shell Cottage's kitchen. Seeing them talk and actually seem to enjoy each other's company made him feel a lot calmer about what they were about to face. If only for a little while.
Bill's return brought with it further complications and Fleur had just managed to calm him down before Harry and Hermione stumbled back into the cottage. Their smiles quickly faded, replaced by grave looks of responsibility. It was time to talk.
Bill started, relaying what he had learned from his visit to the Burrow. He gathered them all in the living room. Ron had made sure Luna knew they were safe, and she had insisted on joining them. Shell Cottage held quite a bit of meaning to her as well
and none of the others seemed to object. Hermione didn't have to worry her parents with any of this.
"Mum was livid," Bill said. "Enraged, really. Dad should be more afraid of her, I reckon. She absolutely let rip at him. George even had to pull her away. The Order, attacking her dear Harry. And, of course, Ron and Hermione. But the fact that there had
been any attack at all, she was angry. And she's mightily scary when she's angry."
Ron raised a hand to acknowledge the truth of that.
Bill continued, only slightly amused. "Dad told her that the attack hadn't been successful. Apparently the Prophecy Record had shattered when Harry threw it."
All eyes turned to look at Harry, who merely shrugged.
"Mum also tore into Percy. I doubt she's letting him anywhere near the Order again. Dad also let him know what he thought. Nobody was supposed to get hurt, least of all killed. That Killing Curse could have landed anywhere."
"Did you get a chance to talk to Dad?" Ron asked.
Bill swallowed, looking a bit worried. "I did, yeah. He reckons I know where you three are." He grinned for a moment, unable to resist it. "He told me that it would be safer for everyone if you three just returned to the Ministry and everything could
just be sorted out. He said they would explain everything, if you would tell them exactly what was in the prophecy." He was looking at Harry. "You do know what the prophecy was, right? You found out, before you threw it into oblivion, right?"
Harry just nodded.
"Why don't you tell us, Harry?" Luna prompted.
Harry would have liked to have a bit more time, but that wasn't to be. Slowly, he rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of everyone, just as Bill claimed the spot on the couch he had vacated. For a moment, Harry felt vulnerable. And helpless. What
he knew wasn't good. Saying it all out loud would be too hard, he was sure. How was he supposed to face a potential reality that meant the end of his kind? His former kind.
Harry didn't know where to begin. It really didn't matter what he ended up telling them. The prophecy was going to be fulfilled one way or the other. As he looked at them, he had the urge to yell out 'you're all going to die' but he kept a hold of himself.
He would once again do all he could to make sure that didn't happen.
Harry cleared his throat. "The prophecy told of a man, the same boy to vanquish the Dark Lord. It said that, should he survive, some time after his twenty third year, another evil would rise, possibly within him. This necessary evil would form with the
sole purpose of eradicating all those with magical abilities." Harry paused to let that sink in.
Hermione recovered quickly enough to ask for clarification. "Wait. What? What does that mean?"
Harry waited a beat before he responded. "What I understand is that Voldemort's reign of terror against Muggles did not sit well with those who know of the existence of magic. They're afraid of the power magicals possess, particularly the Dark side. Some
decision appears to have been made, and they want to bring down all who are affiliated with magic."
Bill shook his head. "No. They wouldn't do that. The Department of Muggle Liaisons has good relationships with the Muggles privy to our existence. They wouldn't."
"Wouldn't they?" Fleur asked her husband, her voice airy and thoughtful.
"Wait," Hermione sounded. "So we're in danger, we've been here before. What I don't understand is what Harry and his magic has to do with anything." She looked at Harry, anticipating a response. She had to wait quite a long time.
Harry knew he was responsible for what was happening. However intentionally, or unintentionally, the Muggle world were afraid. And rightly so. Voldemort had torn many lives apart, leaving masses of bodies from both worlds in his wake.
"It's me they're afraid of," Harry said solemnly. "In the great tale of the Second Wizarding War, the name Harry Potter surely comes up many a time. If I ever turned against the Muggles, would they stand a chance?"
Hermione mentioned her thoughts. "Which is why Dumbledore had them perform the ritual to remove your magic. If the Muggles saw that you were no longer a threat, good or bad, then they wouldn't deem it necessary to kill us all?"
He hesitated. "I think so."
Hermione sensed that there was still something he wasn't telling them. "Harry?"
He swallowed. His hands were even shaking; he desperately didn't want to say what he had to out loud. It didn't make sense. It couldn't have been true. He never could have... could he?
"How?" Hermione asked suddenly. "How would they get rid of us, if they had? Or if they are to?"
Harry looked down at the floor, suddenly unable to look any of them in the eye. He was almost ashamed of what he knew, and he desperately wished Hermione hadn't been the one to ask the burning question.
"Harry?" Luna soothed. "It's okay. Just tell us."
He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He did not look up when he spoke. It came out as a mumble, even though it wasn't what he intended. "The Order didn't take my magic because they were afraid of the possibility of me turning against the Muggles,"
he said. "They were afraid I'd turn against them. Against all of you."
"Excuse me?" It was Ron.
Harry just managed to lift his head, but he still didn't meet any eyes. "The Muggles. They would have used me, to get rid of all of you."
"How?" Hermione asked, not allowing herself to think about the implications of his revelations.
Harry was sure he looked pained. "I was a powerful wizard," he said, merely stating a fact. "And I was supposed to die," he said softly. "That was always Dumbledore's plan, and it worked out the way it was supposed to. I died in the Forbidden Forest,
and that should have been it. But I survived, which was where I'm sure Dumbledore's contingency plan came into effect."
Hermione sounded somber. "You were the weapon they had to disable," she said, her eyes darkening. "They couldn't risk you turning against them."
"Because of what Dumbledore believed was within me," he said, his sentence directed at Ron and Hermione.
Of course, both of them knew he was referring to the Horcrux that had lived within him for some sixteen years of his life. A piece of Voldemort's soul. Would it really have been able to possess him, or would he have acted on his own?
Harry decided to continue, somehow feeling that maybe the Order were justified in their actions. "After the war, even before I knew that I was powerless, I already knew I would be in a dark place. I suppose I was susceptible to a lot, and I think I was
convinced that it would have been better if magic didn't even exist."
The room was stunned to silence.
"For a while, I was the Master of Death," he said, even though it sounded stupid on his lips. "I've had all three Hallows in my possession at some time or the other."
Ron blinked unbelievingly. "You would have turned against us?"
Harry's eyes widened. "No. Never!" Then, somberly, he said, "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not the me you knew, but a different one."
Nobody said anything for a good while as they each tried to process what Harry was telling them.
Hermione tried to make sense of it. "Okay, so they took your magic away because they were afraid you would, essentially, turn Dark? The Muggles, or whoever is out to get rid of us, can't use someone who doesn't have magic, right?"
Harry merely nodded.
"So what is the problem now?" Ron asked. "Why all the fuss? They don't have you. It's over, isn't it?"
Bill shook his head. "They found another way," he said sadly. "Without Harry, they had to. We pose too much of a threat for them to just forget that Voldemort and his followers were responsible for many Muggle deaths. Whether or not Harry has his magic
is irrelevant now. The prophecy will still happen in some capacity, even without Harry."
Harry pressed his lips together, getting to the part of prophecy that really made a person stand up and take notice. He cleared his throat. "The prophecy said that I would, again, have the power to control what was surely to come, whether I caused it
or not. Which really just confuses me."
Hermione closed her eyes for a long moment. "Which really means that you might not have even been prophesied to turn Dark," she said. "Harry, think of the exact words. Did they mean that you would have, once again, been the Wizarding World's saviour?
As in, you're the one who controls the outcomes either way? That, when they used you, whoever they really is, that it would be for Dark purposes? Not Light?"
Harry didn't want to nod. What he had heard in the prophecy made him feel Dark, unworthy. He hated that they were all thoughts that he had actually thought a few times in his life. The world would be better off without people who could cast a spell to
kill in one utterance. Sometimes, he still believed it. Magic was dangerous. They were all dangerous. And Harry, Muggle and all, was totally defenseless.
He didn't know if his thoughts existed because he'd had Voldemort in his head, or because he had been dealt a terrible hand by the Wizarding World. That had been Dumbledore's plan, hadn't it? Use him and use him for the ultimate plan to defeat the Dark
Lord, and then what? Strip him of his powers? Too bad you didn't die, Harry, but we'll kill you slowly anyway.
Ron cleared his throat, sensing that Hermione's question had in fact been of the affirmative kind. Harry's lack of response was enough. Somehow, their raven-haired friend was at the centre of it all. He had the power to instigate, or end whatever would
happen. He had the power to decide how it went, and right now there were three forces trying to take steps forward: the Order and their misplaced ideas of trying to prevent the prophecy, Harry and Co. and their need to find the answers before planning
to stop whatever onslaught was surely coming their way, and then the Muggles or whoever they were working with to end all that was magic.
Ron felt a shiver shoot up his spine. This was all new to them all. It wasn't the same as it was before. Right now, nobody even knew who the true enemy was. The Muggles or the Order. Either way, Ron was certain that his little band of younger generation
didn't want anybody to die. Least of all Harry Potter.
"Okay, so now what happens?" Ron eventually asked.
Bill sat up straight. "Dad mentioned a meeting," he said; "between what's left of the Order and, well, us. I think we should meet with them and sort this whole thing out. Maybe if they can explain, we can make our own decisions."
"If they'd just been 'onest with us in the first place," Fleur added, sounding irritated.
"Can we trust them?" Ron asked his older brother. "Seriously, Bill, they used the Cruciatus on Harry, and Percy even cast a Killing Curse. How are we supposed to walk into a meeting knowing all of that? They'd slaughter us."
Bill spent a moment thinking about it before he raised and then dropped his shoulders.
"What about witnesses?" Hermione suggested.
All eyes turned towards her.
"Witnesses?" Luna queried.
Hermione looked at Harry. "The Order wouldn't try to hurt you if people were watching," she explained. "If we can round up people that we trust, I think that it's a good idea to meet with them. Having people around should keep the peace, as long as we
make it certain we're not gathering for a war."
"That's brilliant," Ron said, nodding his head as he thought about how it would all come together.
Harry looked at Hermione, who was still looking at him. "You thinking meeting with them is a good idea?"
"I can think of worse ones."
Harry risked a smile before he turned his attention to Bill. "Okay. We'll meet. We have to pick a suitable time and place. Somewhere neutral, in the open, sort of public. And we need to get word out to people once the confirmation of the meeting is made."
Bill nodded. Then with a smirk, he said, "I know this is a terrible time to say this but boy is it good to have you back, Harry."
By evening, Shell Cottage was buzzing with the arrival of new visitors. When Bill sent out the message to the Order's younger generation, they came. No questions asked. Just yet, at least. Bill had spent a few minutes explaining what was required of them:
merely their presence. He mentioned that they were indeed going to meet with Kingsley and several members of the Order, or the Ministry. They weren't sure. Nobody asked probing questions, though Ginny did ask how prepared they had to be.
Bill assured them that all they were going to do was talk.
The Golden Trio were rather relieved by the lack of questions. In truth, Harry was feeling particularly overwhelmed by it all. Again, too many people were going to put their lives on the line. Not for him this time. He hoped. For themselves.
On top of Bill, Fleur and Luna, the trio were joined by Neville and Ginny, George and Angelina, Cho Chang and Katie Bell, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, Dean and Seamus - who Ron insisted they could trust - and the Patil sisters.
As the evening went on, it wasn't only Hermione who noticed that Harry seemed to retreat into himself, choosing to sit alone in the corner of the living room, looking out the window at the lapping high tide waves. Ron and Hermione exchanged a look over
it, which prompted Hermione to move towards their green-eyed friend.
"Hey you," Hermione said, nudging his knee from her standing position. "Why are you sitting here all alone, and all sullen?" She tried to make a slight joke of it but there seemed to be something weighing heavily on him; something he clearly didn't want
to talk about. When he didn't say anything, Hermione stepped closer, dropping the volume of her voice. "What can I do to make all of this better?" she asked, her need to comfort him threatening to erupt from within.
Harry looked at her, his eyes shining. "You're doing it," he said softly, even managing a slight smile. "I'm sorry I'm not being very social. I guess I'm a little overwhelmed. I didn't expect this many people to come out. I don't want to put them in danger."
It took great effort for Hermione not to reach out and touch him. She wanted to run a hand through his hair in an attempt to assure him that they weren't really going to war. They were going to talk; to learn what was really going on. All the people in
the house were merely witnesses, to insure that whatever Kingsley and Mr Weasley were up to wasn't going to hurt him.
But they were in a room with a lot of people. And Harry had kissed more than one of those people, which was a thought that was nagging Hermione. It was stupid, really, for her to be thinking about that at a time like this, but she couldn't help it.
It was Harry who initiated the contact. He reached for her hand and squeezed. When he let go, he looked her in the eye. "Thank you."
"For what?"
Harry thought of the little conversation he had had earlier that morning with Ron. It felt like a long time ago, after the events of the day. "Everything."
Before Hermione could question him further, Bill called for everyone's attention.
"It's time to go."
