Chapter Fifteen

Ron sat down on the couch with Hermione once he'd draped a light blanket over Harry's still shirtless form. On top of Harry's freshest wound, there were countless scars on his body, telling stories of countless Battles against the terror of Voldemort.
Ron even shuddered at the sight, his mind wondering how he could have ever been jealous of his best friend's fame. If this was what it got him, he'd much rather be Ronald Weasley.

But, even then, that wasn't turning out to be so great. His parents were at the forefront of all that currently irked him. Sometimes he couldn't even believe the way he'd acted towards Harry. He'd been such a child then. He couldn't even imagine
what life would be like without his magic, but he strongly suspected that he was now going to have to learn what it was like living a life without parents. He still hadn't even told them that he was engaged.

Both Ron and Harry kept their eyes on Hermione, waiting for her to explain herself.

Hermione took her time, quietly enjoying the presence of her two best friends. "It worked," she finally said.

Ron swallowed. "But how? When?"

"I was listening to his breathing," Hermione continued to explain. "I had to hear if it stopped. If it did, I could perform the first step of the process. I figured that it could be the only good thing to come out of what happened at Godric's Hollow."

"But how did you manage it?" Ron pestered, his tone of voice filling with a mixture of hurt and anger. "You were exhausted. How could you even try such a thing, when you knew how dangerous it was? To yourself! To Harry! Do you have any idea what you put
me through? I could have lost you both!"

Hermione didn't respond for quite some time, waiting for him to calm down sufficiently. "I had to try, Ronald," she said softly. "I believed Harry would come back to us. I'm sorry but I had no other choice but to follow through with the step when I felt
no pulse."

Ron shook his head. "That's precious time you wasted!" he almost yelled, the anger bubbling from deep within him. "What if we had been too late? What if Luna didn't manage to revive him? He could have died, Hermione. I'd much rather he be a Muggle than
he be dead."

Hermione glared at him. "And you think I didn't think about that as well, Ron?" Her tone was harsh, accusing. "You don't think that all I want is to take Harry away from all of this, keep him safe somewhere and just live? You don't think I can't tell how
this all looks! I'm not stupid, Ron. I know all the possibilities. I made a calculated risk, because you know as well as I do that Harry would never forgive himself if the fact that he didn't do everything to get his magic back was the reason we all died!"

Harry just listened in silence to the way they were going on about him. His two friends seemed to forget that he was sitting right there, listening in to their heated debate over something that seemed so trivial now that it was done. He ended up having
to clear his throat, making them both look at him and burn red in embarrassment.

"Tell me more about it," Harry said to Hermione.

"Based on what I knew before, Harry; your magical core had, essentially, been removed. I researched ways for that to happen and brought the options down to a few possibilities once you told me that Aberforth was the one to lead the ritual. He had to be
working under Dumbledore's orders. I had to start thinking like Dumbledore would have."

Harry just nodded, not finding it necessary to speak.

"From what you told me of Kingsley's knowledge of the ritual they did and the way he asked to look at your hands; I was able to zone in on two possibilities. Harry, they used Dark Magic on you."

That wasn't very surprising to any of them, which was about as sad as Susan Bones hitting a pregnant woman in the back with a particularly nasty hex.

"Dark Magic, as you know, is irreversible."

"And bloody painful," Harry added.

Hermione knew all too well how painful an Unforgivable could be. "My enchantments and runes allowed me to essentially reset your magical core, and when, umm, you, uh, died, you came back with a fresh core. To put it simply."

"How fresh?" Ron asked, trying to keep her talking about things not related to the fact that she had allowed Harry to stay dead for an uncountable amount of time, just to take a step towards getting his magic back. He doubted it was something he would
get over quickly. He also couldn't fathom why Harry wasn't angry.

"Like a newborn baby."

"Which means he'll only have control of it in eleven years' time?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "He has a core. No magic. Just the core."

"I don't understand."

Hermione was silent for a moment as she tried to find the right words to explain what was happening within Harry, who was sitting quietly and watching her intently. They hadn't had the chance to talk and she was secretly hoping that Ron would give out
and go to bed before Harry fell asleep again. "I think that Harry was catastrophically injured during the ritual," she said, eventually turned to Harry. "It killed your magic, but it didn't kill you."

"Surprising," Harry muttered.

"A wizard's magical core exists within the body but the ability to replenish, use and control it starts in the brain."

"They injured my brain?" Harry asked, his eyes widening in mild horror.

"They've never stopped."

Harry closed his eyes as he fought off another wave of pain. This time, he knew it was an emotional wave. "How could Dumbledore have allowed this?" he asked sadly. "These were all people who were supposed to care about me. Sirius never would have allowed
them to do it."

"Neither would Remus and Tonks," Ron added, his voice somber.

"And now they're dead," Hermione said, her tone bitter. "They're Dark. They're the Darkest. They killed their followers who didn't agree with their ideals. I mean, it's one thing to believe in something so strongly but an entirely other thing to force
it so severely onto unsuspecting people. All this terrible stuff that they've done; I think we should still be thankful that they didn't just kill you, Harry."

"Because then we'd really be screwed," Ron muttered. "You're the only one who can save us now."

Harry's gaze drifted from Hermione to Ron. "Save you from what?" he asked curiously. "We don't even know what we're going up against. Because, right now, we have two enemies, right? The Order, and whatever the Muggles have concocted for the Wizarding
World's ultimate demise. How are we, a band of random misfits who happen to harbour traitors and a single defenseless Muggle supposed to stop the world from burning to the ground all around us?"

Both Ron and Hermione just stared at him. He looked utterly defeated, both physically and emotionally. They exchanged a worried look and Ron shook his head.

"Julia," he mouthed when Harry closed his eyes once again. "Witch. Order spy."

Hermione's eyes widened. "No?" she mouthed back.

"She hit him with that hex," he mouthed, hoping she would understand.

From the many swear words Hermione mouthed, Ron was sure that she understood. "I'll kill her myself," she whispered hotly.

"Good," Ron whispered back. "Because she was aiming for you, remember?"

Hermione's face twisted in anger she couldn't even explain. It was rage she'd never felt before. In all honesty, she probably would have had the means to utter an Unforgivable. And, what was worse, was that Hermione wasn't even really angry for herself.
She was livid because of Harry. What more! Ah! What more could those wretched, miserable excuses for human beings do to this poor poor boy who deserved nothing more than a happy, decent life? Hadn't he suffered enough? Hadn't he been forced to endure
enough? How did they sleep at night?

Ron watched in amazement as Hermione's emotions played out on her face, shifting back and forth until she managed to calm down enough to let out the breath she'd been holding. Her cheeks were red with anger and her lips were pressed together in a tight
line.

Once she felt calm enough, Hermione looked at Harry. "Harry, are you sleeping?"

"Hmm," he sounded, though he didn't open his eyes.

"Do you want to go to sleep?" she asked.

"I want to talk to you," he said, his voice barely a slur.

That was the moment that Ron took his leave. There would be time to talk when the sun came back up. It was too scary to have such conversations in the dark anyway. Ron squeezed Hermione's shoulder in support before he mumbled a goodnight to the both of
them, letting them know that they should wake him if they needed anything.

Harry opened his eyes once Ron was gone, his gaze seeking out Hermione. She was already looking at him, her eyes pained and kind and sorrowful. "He told you?" he asked softly.

Hermione nodded. "I'm sorry."

Harry risked a smile. "It's only fitting though, isn't it?"

"What?"

"How could I have been so stupid to think that someone could actually love me?" He sounded lost, even broken, and Hermione knew that there were certain things that she could not say to him. Not when he was like this; not at a time like this. "I
really am nothing without my magic. So bloody pathetic. The one thing I was so sure of, that I was so proud of, turns out to be a nasty, vicious lie. How do I even know if any of it was true?"

"She probably does love you, Harry," Hermione found herself saying, for his benefit only. The words tasted vile in her throat.

Harry's eyes snapped towards her in anger but he didn't say anything. He just looked at her and, slowly, the anger left his eyes as they softened at the sight of her. Eventually, he cleared his throat and started to speak again. "Why didn't they just
kill me? Really, it would have been so much easier."

Hermione wanted to deftly argue with him, but even she had to admit the validity of his observation.

"They could have just ended it all when I was seventeen. This all just seems like so much work for something that could have been so simple. I mean, if I was gone, they'd be no prophecy, right? If I was gone, the Muggles wouldn't have anyone to use. Nobody
would have to worry about my going Dark because I'd be dead." He let out a long breath. "With me out of the picture, none of this would happen. Even now, if I die, both the Order and the Muggles can relax, knowing that I won't suddenly rip
through either of their ranks in misguided terror. They should have just killed me."

"Harry?"

"Yes!" he almost yelled. "This is worse, Hermione. I'm still just some pawn. I want it to end. Don't you want that? I want that." He stared hard at her. "You should have waited longer."

Hermione's eyes bulged.

"You should have waited longer. When I stopped breathing, when my heart stopped; you should have waited."

Hermione really didn't know what to say to that. Out of everything she expected him to say, this was not it.

Harry closed his eyes again, hating himself for his own words.

Hermione sifted through her thoughtsuntil the anger got the better of her. "You insufferable git!" she hissed. "Ungrateful, repulsive, disgusting," she muttered. "I've spent days, endless hours worrying over you and your stupidity and this is all
you have to say me? I should have waited longer? Are you kidding me right now?"

Harry said nothing. All he did was look at her blankly, his eyes relatively unfocused as waves of pain threatened to engulf him.

"You want to die so badly; you can do it yourself!" Hermione huffed and angrily folded her arms. She looked away from him, her eyes boring into the coffee table in front of her.

Harry stared at her for another while. He was mad... at himself, really. For everything before and everything now. And everything to come. Whether he liked it or not, this was his life.

"I'm sorry," Harry eventually whispered. "I'm sorry, okay? Don't hate me. I just woke up from death and I found out that my girlfriend is a backstabbing wench and that I've probably got a permanent brain deformity. You have to forgive me."

Hermione took her time looking back at him, her gaze softer and thoughtful. "You're allowed this oneindiscretion, Potter; but you've got to get it together now. We need you. I need you."

Harry just nodded, relief washing over him. He knew this whole thing would have been a lot more difficult without Hermione. And Ron.

He waited another while, trying to organise his thoughts. Then, in a quiet voice, he asked, "What you were saying, umm, about my head injury... I do get headaches sometimes. It's a dull, throbbing pain, that doesn't go away when I take a painkiller. Could
that be it?"

"Maybe."

"You said that they've never stopped," he said, recalling her words. "That I've stayed in this injured state for all these years. How could that be?"

Hermione did not want to have to tell him her theory. Really, it was the only possible theory. When she dropped her gaze, it came to Harry.

"Oh," Harry said softly. "Julia wasn't just a spy, was she? She kept me injured. While I slept right beside her, she performed magic on my brain, keeping me powerless." Before Harry could stop himself, he started to cry. It all just came out of him. Everything.
All of this was too much. Just a few weeks ago, he was living comfortably with his perfect girlfriend and working in his neat little cafe without a trouble. It had been such a good, easy life. To think it all a setup was painful. It was near heartbreaking.

And now what did he have? All he wanted to do was go home. He needed to be able to go home. He didn't ask for any of this. He'd already been the saviour once before. It was tiring. He was just so very tired.

At the first sight of his tears, Hermione stood up and moved towards him. In complete silence, she sat down on the armrest of the couch and drew him in towards her, holding his head against her. She repeatedly ran her hand over his hair, trying to soothe
him in a way she hadn't done since they were teenagers. Hearing him cry made her want to start as well but she knew she had to be strong for him. She could cry for Harry later.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered against her. "I'm supposed to be stronger. I'm supposed to be better. You aren't supposed to see this."

"You've seen me cry before, Harry. I think it's only fair."

He let out a small, muffled laugh that tickled her skin through her top. Then he yawned, coughed and sighed in quick succession.

"I think it's time for bed for Mr Potter," Hermione said, moving to extricate herself.

Harry wanted to protest but he knew she was right. He was barely holding onto consciousness at this point but the last thing he wanted was to be alone.

Hermione stood up and stretched. She fixed the light blanket over Harry, covering him further. "Are you comfortable?" she asked, still bent over him.

He nodded, his eyes never once leaving her face. "Where do you sleep?"

Hermione did not want to admit that she didn't actually have a place to sleep because she had spent all of her time in a chair next to his unconscious body. So she pointed to the couch instead. "Right there."

Harry didn't even try to mask his relief. "Goodnight, Hermione."

She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss against his forehead, just to the right of his fading scar. "Goodnight, Harry."


Harry had bad dreams. In every one, he didn't get to Hermione in time to be hit with the hex instead of her. In every one, Hermione was struck right in front of him, his name the last thing she said before her eyes rolled back, never to be seen again.

He woke up several times during the night, out of both types of pain. He was so relieved whenever he looked towards the couch and she was still there. Julia hadn't taken her away from him.

By the time the sun started to rise, Ron and Bill were already wake. Hermione found them in the kitchen, nursing cups of coffee. Ron poured a cup for her when she sat down and nobody said anything for a good minute.

"Were there any problems last night?" Bill eventually asked.

Hermione shook her head. "It was a bad sleep, but he slept."

"And you?" Ron asked.

"Same."

Both men just nodded absently.

"He's not all right," Hermione said cautiously. "It's bad. I don't think he's ready for what is to come. It's too much right now. He's too... distraught."

"What can we do?" It was Ron.

"I don't know."

Bill let out a long breath. "Look, he still has quite a bit of recovering to do. We'll discuss this at a later time." He waited a beat for their nods. "Right now, though, we need to talk about what's going to happen today."

"I'm sure they know where we are," Ron said sadly. "Dad could bring them here if they were keen on attacking. They're probably treating their injured and gathering reinforcements like us. But, if they weren't sure before; Susan has probably told them.
We'll have to relocate."

"Where?" Hermione asked.

Bill responded. "Talk to Harry. It's my understanding that the Potters and the Blacks have several ancestral homes. If we can find a new base, set up suitable wards; we should be able to maintain cover until we figure some other things out."

Ron spoke next. "Bill, Dean, Seamus and I are going to find Reinhardt today. I have a reasonable idea as to how to find him. We'll probably be gone all day." He waited for any questions. When none came, he continued. "Luna, Ginny and Neville are going
to tackle the issue with The Zuri. I don't think getting Hannah to do anything right now is wise. After everything that's happened with Susan; her support of us might be wavering. I've got Cho and Katie keeping an eye on her.

"They'll stay here with George and Angelina to help out if anybody shows up before we can move to a new HQ. Hermione, you'll need to create portkeys for everyone, preferably to wear around their necks. We need a strong evacuation plan. You saw what happened
at Godric's Hollow."

Hermione nodded her understanding, adding to her mental list of things to do in their absence.

"What happened that night was uncharacteristically emotional," Bill said. "I honestly don't think that they intended to fight us. But, now that they have, they won't stop. They realise the importance of Harry. If they want to avoid a War, they'll need
Harry." Dead or alive.

"Do you think they'll come for him?"

"Definitely."

Hermione looked at Bill. "How can you be sure?"

"Molly told us when George and I were there," Bill said.

The fact that he referred to his mother as Molly was not lost on Hermione. She hoped that the relationship was not completely severed that they wouldn't recover from this. "Bad things, huh?"

Bill nodded somberly. "I wish that was all..."

"What?"

"She said that, if Harry didn't join them, Andromeda would happily hand over Harry's dead body to the Muggles as a sign of good faith."

"They're going to kill him?" Hermione asked softly.

"Mutterings of what they should have done in the beginning apparently. They'd stupidly taken it to a vote and decided not to."

"If they caught him, they could just use the Imperius if they wanted him to do their bidding so badly!" Hermione said. "It's better than killing him."

Bill turned to Hermione, his eyes sad. "He's a Muggle, Hermione. It's practically the same thing."