Chapter Sixteen
From Bill's words, Hermione was able to gather that getting Harry's magic back was her number one priority. Once she was done creating portkeys for the boys, they left. Luna, Neville and Ginny left as soon as theirs were done as well and Hermione felt
strangely alone as she sat completing the rest. She had just finished when Harry woke up for the final time.
She watched as his eyes took their time adjusting to the light. He let out a slight groan, even yawning for good measure. He fumbled about for his glasses and he was able to find them on the table to his right before she had to intervene. When his gaze
settled on her, he seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
"You're here," he stated softly.
"Good morning," Hermione said, setting the portkeys aside and shifting until she was perched on the edge of the couch. "How are you feeling?"
Harry took a moment to survey his own body, moving around slightly to figure out how much pain he was experiencing. When he didn't move, he could barely feel a thing. When he did, however, it was like needles were being pressed into his left side. He
decided not to tell Hermione that, though he was sure that she could tell from the grimace on his face.
"Slightly ashamed," Harry eventually admitted, his gaze unable to meet hers.
"As you should be."
He risked a smile. "I didn't even say thank you, for, umm, saving my life, I suppose," he choked out, trying not to recall his various nightmares from the depths of his unconsciousness.
"I didn't say thank you either," Hermione pointed out.
Harry sensed the end of that topic of conversation. They had been involved in too many Battles to start thanking each other for life-saving heroics now. "What are you doing?" he asked, shifting ever so slightly.
"Making portkeys. Today is a busy day for our makeshift team of bandits," she said with a genuine smile. She went on to explain to Harry what their various friends were up to and he listened in thoughtful silence.
"I think it is a good idea to relocate," Harry eventually said. "Perhaps we can find some place where you don't have to sleep on the couch."
"And there I thought you wanted me close," Hermione said, her voice void of any amusement, as much as she tried.
"I do," Harry said just a seriously.
Her gaze never once left his. "Good, because I'm never letting you out of my sight again."
Harry was saved from a response by George and Angelina entering the lounge, hand in hand.
"Oh good," George said. "You're awake." He looked at the woman beside him. "I told you I heard voices."
"Yes, George, you're a regular Seer," Angelina humoured him as she led them to an armchair. Once they were both settled, they looked at the younger witch and Muggle expectantly.
"I believe we have things to discuss," George began.
It didn't take them long to get the location of a suitable Potter residence from Harry. It was obscure enough that even the Ministry wouldn't think to look for them there. George even mentioned that he thought Harry's family was just full of surprises.
Harry was courteous enough not to return the compliment.
Harry was sure that the property was abandoned. It was somewhere in the Scottish country side and Harry had never actually visited it. As far as he knew, there were no wards, but they would have to be careful when they first visited. Harry was too injured
to Apparate just yet so George, Angelina and Katie were chosen as the discovery party. Hermione, Cho and Hannah stayed behind to keep an eye on Harry, Fleur and the baby.
Hermione had to reinforce the wards with all she had, seeing as their numbers were severely depleted. While Harry and Hermione were alone in the lounge, he took the opportunity to query her about the bad things that George and Bill seemed determined
not to talk about... at least to him.
Hermione appeared reluctant and Harry reasoned that it was probably best not to push her. Eventually, though, she relented: "Molly told them that they're coming for you, Harry. With deadly force this time. She wasn't going to do anything to stop them.
She couldn't."
Harry took a deep breath, trying to steady his heart. "What about the Cloak?"
Hermione shook her head. "Something must have changed. Maybe they don't need it anymore, or they found another one. Maybe it was all a ruse to draw you out to get the prophecy. They wanted to force your hand." She looked down at her hands. "I sometimes
get the feeling that we're doing exactly what they want us to. Every move we make is somehow telegraphed by them and we're continually playing into their vindictive plans."
"Why do you think that?"
"I don't know, really," she admitted. "But what I do know is that they don't expect you to get your magic back."
"Then they definitely underestimated you."
Hermione risked a look at him. "Are you mad at me?"
He frowned slightly. "For what?"
"Well, Ron mentioned that what I did was irresponsible... I just, umm, seized the opportunity. I know that I couldn't have, umm, actually stopped your heart myself. I suppose it was unsafe, but I don't regret it."
"Because it worked?"
She nodded. "Which means that we're another step closer."
Harry shifted, trying to sit up straight. "When do you want to start?"
She stood up from the couch and moved towards him. Slowly, purposefully, she knelt down in front of him. "Harry, the next part of the process is for you to do. I can't help you with this next part." She waited for his nod, before touching the point on
his chest where his heart lay with a slender finger. "You have to look in here, and clear up here," - she pointed at his head - "for the rest to work. You have to want the magic back."
"But how will I know?"
Hermione smiled slightly, her eyes drifting over his soft face. "You'll know."
That piece of information really didn't help Harry as he watched her stand up and exit the lounge. At this point, he wasn't certain that he did want the magic back. It carried so much weight. If he were wizard again, he'd be responsible for ending
what could be a terrible, horrible war, that could have been avoided if good men had chosen to do nothing.
Merlin.
Harry closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. Really, the whole thing made him think of his Occlumency lessons with Snape. They hadn't been productive at all, and he'd spent months blaming it on the slimy professor. Maybe even years. If Snape had
just shown more interest, tried harder, then maybe Sirius would still be alive.
It took a Muggle Harry to realise that it'd been him the entire time. If anyone was to be blamed, it would be Harry Potter. He had to admit that his disdain for the man had also clouded the way he approached the lessons. Okay, they were both at
fault. And Dumbledore! He had to know that putting them together would end disastrously.
These thoughts weren't helping. He needed to clear his mind, somehow find a way to reach into himself, find his own magical core and open the door to let the magic in - whatever that meant. From where, he didn't yet know, but he trusted Hermione with
everything that he had. And, right now, he was sure that all he had to offer was the breath in his lungs.
He would give it up if it meant his friends would be safe. Of that much, he was absolutely certain.
Harry unknowingly began to think about Julia. Bloody Julia Ahern. He wanted to be mad, but he just couldn't bring himself to feel the emotion. Somehow, it was just something he could accept. He did have lots of questions though. It all seemed so
elaborate, really. How serious was the Order about keeping him in line? How big of a scheme had it been really? Was her father really the man he met? Was he even dead? What about the bistro? Was it all just a front? Was her name even Julia Ahern?
If not, where was the real woman?
Why did they pick her to be his love interest?
Despite himself, Harry knew the answer to that question. Which undeniably brought his train of thoughts right back to Hermione Granger. She fascinated him. In fact, she'd always fascinated him. There were things he felt, that he wouldn't dare name.
There was a big chance that he wouldn't survive this next part of their latest Battle. Whether he regained his magic or not seemed moot when there was yet another bounty on his head. This was supposed to be the good Ministry.
Those were mutually exclusive words, Harry surmised. He even chuckled, which hurt his side more than he would admit. If he'd ever felt powerless before, he definitely felt it now. He didn't even think he had the strength to stand and possibly go to the
bathroom on his own. He also suspected that he smelt rank. When was the last time he brushed his teeth?
Harry suspected that he'd been magically cleaned several times, but even he knew that nothing compared to a hot shower.
Clear your mind, Harry.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the armchair. It was difficult to think of nothing.
Before he knew it, he was thinking about his parents. And Sirius, Remus and Tonks. They were all the reasons he was alive today. He knew it before, but now he knew it for sure. They'd fought for him, not just against Voldemort, but against their own as
well.
Harry suddenly thought about Teddy Lupin. He hated that he'd failed his godson, even though he had managed to keep discreet tabs on the growing little boy. He hoped to Merlin that he would never find out whatever role his grandmother played in the death
of his parents. Nobody needed that. Harry vowed then to do all he could to do right by the little boy, wherever he was.
Which was the moment Harry managed to clear his mind. How he did it, he didn't know. For just a sliver of a moment, he had looked within and what he saw scared him. It was dark. He was dark.
His eyes snapped open in alarm and he swore aloud.
"That bad, huh?"
Harry looked to the source of the voice. George was standing near the window, looking curiously at the raven-haired man.
"You're back already?"
George nodded, turning his body to face Harry fully. "You were right. The place was completely deserted. We did a thorough search. There were a few latent wards. We broke them, and set up new ones. Hermione will cast more when she gets there."
Harry just nodded.
"Katie and Ange are still there now, cleaning up as best they can. I came to inform everyone it was safe. Hermione is preparing Fleur for travel as we speak."
"Any news from Ron and Bill?"
George shook his head. "Nothing yet. They said they would check in at two o'clock. We'll use the time to inform them of our new headquarters."
There were things Harry knew he had to say, and George knew he had things to say as well; but both men left them unsaid. They knew. They could have whatever conversation they had to have when all this was over. Even so, George did have pressing
questions.
When he spoke, his voice was almost a whisper. "After everything Andromeda said about Remus and Tonks, and how they dared to defy what they wanted to do to you... Do you really think that's why they're dead?"
Harry swallowed. "The Battle had too many moving pieces, George. I can't be too sure. It would be difficult to ensure such a thing did happen."
"But they could have been placed in a more dangerous area on purpose," George pointed out.
"Perhaps," Harry had to agree.
"Do you think the same thing happened to Fred?"
Harry was quick with his response. "No." He took a breath. "If you had no idea about the ritual, what makes you think he did?"
George looked down at the ground, suddenly unable to meet Harry's gaze. It was all Harry needed to see the truth.
"You did know, didn't you?" the green-eyed man asked curiously, feeling absolutely no anger towards the remaining twin.
"Not specifics," George admitted. "We heard talk of some power ritual. We didn't know what it was for or who it was about. Honestly, Harry, if I had known - " his voice cracked. "I don't even know what I would have done, but it would have been
more than nothing."
"Damn you and your Extendable Ears, right?"
George risked a smile. "I'm really sorry, Harry."
"George, really, there's nothing to apologise for. It's done now."
"You're a good man, Harry Potter."
"So are you, George Weasley."
They looked at each other for another short moment before George returned to looking out the window and Harry rested his head back once more. Harry considered trying to look within again but it was a little too scary. It was almost as if the demons were
preparing to attack. All he knew was that he didn't want to face it alone.
A little while later, Hermione returned to the lounge to find Harry asleep and George still standing at the window.
"Did you tell him about the plans?" Hermione asked George.
"Sort of," he admitted, sneaking a look at the sleeping form of Harry Potter. "Is he feeling better?"
"I'm about to check the wound. I have to administer a few potions, and then I can determine if he's fit to travel. Fleur is ready to go, and I think Cho and Hannah are itching to leave as well. They could help with the cleaning."
"Do you think it's safe for us to take Hannah there?" he asked, bringing up the concern over Hannah's loyalty. There was no doubt she was loyal; the question was just to who.
"I don't think we have much of a choice right now," Hermione admitted. "She's still here, isn't she? And I'm getting antsy the more time we spend here. Today just feels like it could be a bad one if we don't move quickly. We're lucky enough they haven't
come for us yet."
George nodded his understanding. "Okay, I'll take Fleur first, get her set up, and then I'll come for Cho and Hannah. By then, hopefully, Harry will be ready, and the rest will be back. Though I doubt that."
"Ron mentioned they might be gone all night."
"I don't like this," he admitted. "Having us all split up like this. It's like we're asking to be attacked!"
Hermione did that thing where she put a hand on his arm and it did wonders to calm him down. Really, the witch must have some kind of calming powers in her hands. Just her touch had such an effect on Weasley men.
And, perhaps, Potter men.
Hermione had to wake Harry up to get a closer look at his wound. It hurt to move but he happily did it, just to feel her hands on his bare back. Such soft hands, such trusting fingers. She rubbed a soothing balm over the deep slash and he even moaned
from the sheer relief. The nasty tasting potions didn't even bother him.
"Did you have any success?" Hermione asked Harry once she was done working on him. She covered him with the light blanket once more.
"A little," he said truthfully. "It was, umm, quite scary, to be honest."
"I thought Harry Potter wasn't afraid of anything," she said, her eyes smiling.
He appreciated what she was trying to do. "Has George taken Fleur to the new house?"
Hermione nodded, shifting from kneeling at his side to sitting on the couch. "Left a little while ago. Hannah and Cho are packing things up. They'll head over there soon."
"And you?"
"Us."
Harry managed a smile. "Okay, what about us?"
"Rest a bit more and then we'll discuss our options," she told him. "George might have to fly you on a broom if I deem you not strong enough."
"What? You wouldn't fly with me?" he asked, sounding amused.
She glared at him. "I wouldn't make fun of the person responsible for your recovery, Potter," she said hotly, though he could tell she was trying hard not to laugh.
"Duly noted, Healer Granger."
Hermione shot him one last look before she rose to her feet and disappeared from the room. Harry must have fallen asleep because, the next thing he knew, someone was violently shaking him, shouting for him to wake up.
"They're here!" someone screamed. Ginny maybe? "The wards are starting to fall!"
Harry barely had time to focus his eyes before someone tugged him up and out of the armchair. It hurt like hell, but it had to be important so he didn't protest too much. Harry tried to make himself as light as possible but whoever had him slung over
their shoulder was still grunting from the exertion.
"Is he strong enough?" the person asked, his voice rushed and breathless.
"Just go!"
Harry knew that voice belonged to Hermione. He would know it anywhere. What was going on? He needed his glasses to see clearly.
"Neville!" It was Hermione again. "Take him! Just go! We're right behind you! I'll get Ginny!"
There was a piercing scream and Harry felt his heart drop. The person holding him - Neville - swore, and Harry sensed his hesitation. It took another bark from Hermione - something about Neville taking hers and she getting his - to get Neville
to activate his portkey. The feeling literally pulled at Harry's wound, and he couldn't hold back his pained howl as they were transported to some new location.
He landed ungracefully on the ground, and was quick to roll over onto his front, as if it could turn down the stinging in his left side. It didn't. Harry fought the tears but it was no use. The pain was bordering unbearable and he was sure he would end
up passing out.
"I'm sorry, Harry." It was Neville, right by his ear. "But I have to stun you."
Harry wanted to argue but he knew it was the best option for them, given the circumstances. He stopped writhing in pain, long enough for Neville to put him out of his misery, if only for a little while. The last thing Harry heard before the spell impacted
with his chest was the sound of his own heart beating.
In that moment, he looked within.
It was dark.
So. Very. Dark.
