Chapter Twenty
Harry was awake for most of it. He felt every bit of the blinding pain and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. His own screams were echoing in his head, making coherent thought truly impossible.
"Give in, Harry."
Harry didn't know where the voice was coming from, but it was surprisingly soothing.
"Please, Harry," the voice said again. "Give in to the pain. Please. Just pass out. Please."
Harry felt his body tense as another wave of pain hit him, causing him to cry out. It was blistering, like he was being burned alive. Would giving into the pain make it end? If Harry were being truthful, this pain wasn't as bad as the Cruciatus Curse, and he had survived that without passing out.
"Please," the voice said again. "I can't watch you go through this. Just pass out. Please. Don't fight it. Pass out."
Harry did as he was told. It was peaceful for all but a moment, before the screaming started again. Only, this time, it was all happening in his head. And, that, by no means, meant that it wasn't real.
The moment Harry woke up, he felt it.
It was everywhere, like it was swimming in his very veins right along with his red and white blood cells, fuelling his body and giving him strength. What he was feeling was unmistakable: he felt powerful.
He was no longer a powerless Muggle; he was Harry Potter, and the wizard was back.
His eyes opened to the world and everything seemed brighter, even clearer. He felt absolutely no pain in his left side, which had to be his greatest relief.
He was still in the Ritual room. Hermione was right to leave him in here. Alone. He was now sitting on the floor, in the centre of the room, and he wasn't alone.
Harry let out a breath in relief at the sight of Bill's body. Thank Merlin for the little victories. At least, now they could give their fallen friend a proper burial.
Harry surveyed the room. It looked like a tornado had passed through it. The candles looked to be thrown about the room, and Harry's boxers were twisted unattractively. He absently wondered how much Hermione had seen.
Slowly, gingerly, Harry rose to his feet. He was surprised to find that he was no longer wearing socks. He even smiled at how strange that was. Where could they have gone?
Harry stretched his arms up in the air and both his muscles and joints complained about the movement. It really felt like he'd spent the last however long he'd been in this room on the stone hard floor. He had no idea what time it was, or what day it was.
Harry's sudden panic got him moving, and he headed to the door, only to find it locked. He sighed. It must have been a lot worse than he initially thought. He suspected that the room was also Silenced.
Harry may have had his magic back, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to control it if he tried.
Giving up on the door, Harry sat down again, feeling drained. He definitely wasn't used to having magic in his veins. He leaned against the door, which proved to be a very stupid idea when the door suddenly opened and Harry found himself flat on his back, looking up at the only person he wanted to see.
"You're awake," Hermione said, eyeing him.
"You locked the door," he said gruffly, surprised at the sound of his own voice.
"You activated a ward when you tried to open it," she said, staring down at him. "Anyway, how do you feel?"
"Exhausted," he admitted.
"Can you stand up?"
Without a word, Harry, once again, rose to his feet. He put a hand on the doorframe to steady himself. "It's like my body's being bombarded with everything new," he explained. "I'm not used to it."
She risked a smile. "But it's back?"
He nodded.
"That's great, Harry," she said, her hands twitching at her sides.
Harry could tell that she wanted to hug him but she was forcing herself not to. He found it adorably amusing but he said nothing. He didn't think he was ready for a hug right now. "How long have I been out?" he asked instead.
"Just about three days," she said. "I didn't think it would take so long, but what do I know?"
"Hermione."
"You had us all worried," she said, biting her bottom lip. "At times, Harry, your heart rate dropped so low that it was like it wasn't even beating," she explained. "I was worried."
"I'm okay," he said.
Then, realising that she needed to feel it for herself, he was the one to initiate their first post-Ritual hug. His arms snaked around her waist and he held her tight, determined not to release her until she was no longer trembling.
When she calmed down and he heard her breathing even out, he slowly pulled back to look at her. For the first time, they both became aware of the fact that he was barely dressed.
"Umm," he said, slowly dropping his hands down to his sides. "Well, umm," he tried again. "I should; we should - umm - "
Hermione couldn't help it; she laughed. It surprised her at first but she couldn't help it. It was just so funny.
"Why are you laughing?" he asked.
"The wizard really is back, isn't he?" she asked, continuing to laugh. "My my, have I missed you!"
He waited a beat before he smiled. "Three days, you said? What's happened?"
"Maybe we should get you some clothes," she suggested. "A shower. Some food maybe."
He took a deep breath. "Bill is still in there," he said cautiously. Whether it was to prepare her or reassure her, he didn't know, but it had to be said.
She let out a relieved breath. "I was worried."
"I know."
She offered him another small smile, her eyes giving away that she was thinking something that she didn't want him to know. "I'll, umm, take care of the room," she told him. "I set out some clothes for you in the bathroom up the stairs and immediately to your right."
Harry nodded once. "Thank you, Hermione." There were still questions he wanted to ask, but he knew now wasn't the time. The least he could do was put on some clothes first.
Despite everything that was already going on, he was still convinced that they would still have time to talk. He wasn't sure why he was so sure of it, but he was.
Somehow, he just knew that Hermione would make it happen.
For a moment, they just stared at each other, their eyes not straying away from the other. Harry was trying to read her face to determine what she was truly feeling but she wasn't giving anything away.
"Thank you," he said again, unable to get himself moving.
Hermione took a breath before she reached up to kiss his cheek. "Go, get dressed," she whispered. "We'll talk later."
That was Harry's cue to turn and head to the bathroom. Hermione just watched him walk away. He was clearly walking taller, and straighter. He was, of course, no longer injured, which was more than enough proof of the return of his magic.
Things were different now. The Order had immobilised him, and so the Prophecy had found some other way of bringing the most famous wizard back into play. With his magic back, there was both a greater danger and a lesser one.
Before she allowed her mind to drift too far, she headed into the Ritual room. She was caught off guard by the state of it. It was as if a tornado had ripped through it, sending all the candles and other Ritual items around the room.
But what really caught her off guard was that Bill was exactly where she'd left him, looking completely untouched. The Runes she'd written on him were also nowhere in sight, which was a bit of a relief. Those Runes had burned through her body, latching onto life and death in a painful way.
She knew that telling Harry that she'd passed out shortly after him would do no good, but she made a mental note to tell him about it at some point.
In the future.
A future that Hermione was determined to have. With him.
Hermione didn't move Bill right away. They would have a proper funeral for him when this was all over. Instead, she cast another powerful Cooling Charm, and added on a Statis Charm for good measure. She would leave him down here, far enough from Ginny, Ron and George because they didn't need to be reminded of their loss every time they walked past the dining room.
Hermione sealed the room and then headed upstairs to wait for Harry. What she didn't expect was to wait for almost forty-five minutes. It just seemed unlikely that he would take that long, and so Hermione carefully stood up from her position on the floor opposite the bathroom and moved towards the door.
She gently knocked. "Harry?"
Nothing.
"Harry, is everything all right in there?" she asked, but she was met with only silence. She tried to keep a cap on her panic but it was threatening. "Harry, open the door," she said hurriedly. "Open the door, Harry! Harry!"
She stepped back whipped out her wand, said the spell to unlock the door, and flung it open violently. What she saw shocked her to the core, her mind flying to dangerous places. Harry was lying flat on his back on the bathroom tiles, his head turned to the side and a small pool of blood near his head.
Hermione rushed towards him, dropping to her knees at his side. "Harry! Harry, hey, wake up!" She placed two fingers against his neck to check for a pulse, and almost burst out crying when she felt it. It was there, but thready at best. He was breathing.
The blood, she noticed, was coming from his nose. "Harry," she said, placing a hand on his bare chest and shaking him. "Come on, please, Harry, wake up! I need you to wake up. I need you!"
She closed her hand into a fist and beat at his chest. Hard. "You wake up right now, dammit!"
There was a long moment of absolutely nothing, and then he took in a harsh breath, his chest lifting off the ground. His eyes flew open, a flurry of consciousness hitting him in full force. His entire body was shaking.
"Harry," she said, taking hold of his head and forcing him to look at her. "You're okay. You're okay."
He felt lightheaded as he tried to sit up. Hermione helped him until he was sitting up against the bathtub. "What happened?" he asked, his head continuing to spin.
"I don't know," she confessed. "What's the last thing you remember?"
He closed his eyes for a moment. "I just got out of the shower, and I tried to reach for..." he trailed off, glancing down. He let out a small sigh of relief that the towel was still wrapped securely around his waist. That could have been a potent mixture of awkward and embarrassing for both of them if it wasn't.
"For your what?"
"My clothes," he finished nervously. "I don't remember much after that."
Hermione's eyes drifted down to the small pool of blood, her mind running a mile a minute. "Did you use magic?"
He frowned. "Magic? How?"
"Accidentally?"
He swallowed. "I don't know," he said softly. "I just reached out, and that's the last thing I remember."
Hermione thought back on everything she'd read about the Ritual, her mind racing through the pages she could recall. Even if his magical core was fresh; it wouldn't explain this. Had something gone wrong?
"I get worried when you get that look on your face," Harry said quietly, wary of breaking into her thinking.
"I should have run tests on you before I sent you to the shower," she said, sounding annoyed with herself. "Do you think you can stand up?"
It took him a while, and a great deal of effort but he was able to stand up and get dressed.
"Are these actually my clothes?" he asked, spying an old green t-shirt that was a longtime favourite.
Hermione looked at him guiltily. "Don't be mad, but I sort of swiped a few things when we were at 87 Bollinger the night we retrieved the Prophecy," she informed him. "I had a bad feeling, and I wanted to be prepared."
Harry stared at her for a moment, before he leaned forward and kissed her cheek sloppily. "You're brilliant, do you know that?"
"I think you've mentioned it a few times."
Harry followed her out of the bathroom and into a small den. She forced him into an armchair and took out her wand to run several diagnostic spells. She made several sounds, both in confusion and slight appreciation.
"What? What?" he asked.
"Well, of course Harry Potter would be such an overachiever, wouldn't he?" she commented, shaking her head.
He frowned. "Tell me what's wrong with me."
"That's just it; there's nothing wrong with you," she said, huffing. "Your body just can't handle the amount of magic you have at your disposal right now." She flopped down onto a couch, suddenly looking tired. "It'll take time for everything to adjust and get in sync."
Harry just nodded. "Why do you look so mad then?"
She glared at him. "Oh, I'm sorry if finding you unconscious on the bathroom floor raised alarm bells for me," she muttered. "I am sick and tired of you almost dying!"
Harry just watched her, searching her face for her true feelings. "I'm sorry," he eventually said. "I really am."
She sighed. "I'm sorry," she said as well. "You just worry me, you know?"
"I do know, and I'm sorry. This was never what I wanted for you, and you know that. You were supposed to live a trouble-free, Harry-free life, Hermione. I just wanted you to be happy."
She looked at him, willing herself to say words that would hint at her deeper feelings. "I don't think I've been happy a day without you, Harry," she admitted. "You are my best friend, and, well, you make me happy just by, you know, being your annoying, amazing self."
Harry got up out of the armchair and moved towards her. He didn't know what he intended to do, but he was halted by a wave of dizziness and he practically fell onto the couch before he reached her.
"Harry," she said, a reprimand on the tip of her tongue.
He groaned, a hand flying to his temple. Hermione conjured a small towel and held it against his nose the moment it started to bleed.
"You're going to have to take it easy," she instructed gently. "What on earth were you trying to do?"
He closed his eyes for a long moment. "Well, really, I think I was going to kiss you," he mumbled, and her entire body tensed at the confession.
"Oh?"
Harry removed the towel from his nose. "Serves me right, doesn't it? Just assuming you'd even want me to."
Hermione bit her bottom lip. "You assume correctly," she informed him, meeting his gaze. "But maybe we should - "
"Talk about it?"
"Maybe wait until all this is over," she offered instead. "Something to look forward to; incentive to keep yourself alive."
"Oh, you give yourself too much credit, Miss Granger," he teased.
Hermione reached for his closest hand, entwining their fingers. She stared at their hands for a moment, before she brought his hand up to her mouth and kissed its back.
Staring at her, all he could do was imagine what it would feel like to have her mouth kiss him in other places.
Harry squeezed her hand, before releasing it. "So what happens now?" he asked seriously.
Hermione spent a moment thinking about what would have to happen next. "Your magic," she eventually said. "Right now, your magic is the most important thing. It'll be the one thing we can use against them all."
"I don't even have my wand," he said, running a hand roughly through his hair. "I mean, who's to say I even remember how to use magic? What if I'm literally at the same level as I was before Hogwarts?"
Hermione regarded him sympathetically. "One step at a time, Harry," she said gently, the fingers of her left hand brushing against his right cheek.
He visibly calmed at her touch. He swore there was magic in her fingers. This woman was some other kind of witch.
"We'll figure it out, okay?" she said. "It'll come back to you eventually. You just have to let it, and maybe practice as well."
"And I'll have the best professor there is, won't I?" he said, risking a smirk.
"Speaking of being your, umm, professor; I have something for you," she said, standing up and stepping around the small table in the centre of the room.
Harry watched as she fished through her famous Hermione-bag, and eventually pulled out a wand that looked dangerously familiar. "Is that...?"
"I may or may not have taken it when I went searching for your clothes at 87 Bollinger," she began to explain, blushing slightly. "I remembered your telling me it was in a sock drawer. So very Muggle, Harry Potter."
He just stared at the holly wand in her hand, the memories flooding through his mind in a rush. That wand had served him well.
"Are you mad?" she asked, worrying over the somewhat shocked look on his face.
"I haven't even thought about it since that night," he said, sounding ashamed. "How was I supposed to do magic without it?" he asked quietly. "I'd be powerless without it, wouldn't I?"
Hermione said nothing.
Harry took a deep breath, trying to clear his head. "So... my magic," he said, not yet taking the wand from her. Really, he was a little too afraid of what would happen when he did. "That's number one. Come sit. We've got a lot more to discuss."
Hermione called a meeting for the group later that night. At eight o'clock, they all - save for Fleur - gathered in the main living room, which was furnished enough to accommodate all of them. The Patil sisters had joined them since the death of Bill and they were making plans to contact more of the DA.
Or HA now. They were Harry's Army.
They all expected for Hermione to lead the meeting she called for and ended up frowning when Hermione took a seat and turned her attention to the fireplace. Ron was just about to ask her what was going on when Harry Potter entered the room and moved to stand in front of the fireplace.
The group fell completely silent at the sight of him. He looked so different, both healthier and more ragged at the same time. He stood up straight, walked with purpose and his eyes were clearer than ever.
But maybe that was because he wasn't wearing glasses. And then there was the beard. This was, undoubtedly, a grownup Harry Potter. A man.
Harry cleared his throat before he started to speak. "Hi everyone," he said, a tinge of nervousness creeping into his tone. He'd gone over everything he wanted to say with Hermione earlier, but it was as if everything just flew from his mind as soon as they turned their expectant looks on him.
Harry glanced at Hermione, who offered him an encouraging smile. They were all here for him and he had to accept it somehow.
He took a deep breath. "My magic's back," he practically blurted out. "The Ritual was a success."
There was a murmur of approval, and several people managed smiles, though nobody made a comment.
"I want to thank you all for your patience, and all your help with all that's transpired since, well, since I reentered the Wizarding World. I also want to apologise for dragging you all into all of this. It was never my intention. You were just supposed to be witnesses to a conversation, but now we've entered a War, and it's time to fight back."
Harry took a breath. "Several things are going to happen in the next few days, which will let everyone know of our intentions," he continued. "Which is why what I say next is extremely important.
"As soon as plans go into motion, there will be no going back. I know what I have to do; what I'm required to do... But none of that is expected of any of you. So, if this is it, if you want to leave; it's okay. I promise that we won't hold it against you. This War is not for everyone and I understand that completely. Believe me, I know."
Nobody moved.
"I'm serious," Harry said. "We all saw what happened to Bill," he said sadly. "I won't have any more of you getting hurt for something that - " his voice caught. "Just, well, please don't feel obliged to stay."
Again, nobody moved.
"All right then." Harry cleared his throat. "So, well, okay, this is what's going to happen now. Clearly, we can't trust the Order, and we definitely can't talk to them anymore. Which is why we're going to try to talk to the Muggles." He waited, expecting some kind of a retort. When nothing came, he continued. "We will visit them on Sunday morning, early. We need to make them understand that we're not the ones who intend to hurt them.
"Until then, we will need to train. Ron, Dean, Seamus, do you think you can organise a training schedule? From what I remember from Godric's Hollow; there are a few rusty people about, myself included."
Ron just nodded, somewhat relieved to have Harry take firm control of the group. Ron and Hermione weren't the leaders that Harry naturally and truly was. Not when it came down to battle.
Harry turned to look at Luna. "We need a media strike," he said. "Can you organise a team to expose the Order, through as much media as you can manage? Newspaper, radio. I'm sick of everything that the Order, and the Ministry do being hidden in the dark. The people need to know. I want them all to know what they did to me. We need as many people on our side as possible.
"Which is where recruitment comes in," he said. "Not into our group, but onto our side. I won't ask anyone to fight in another War, and I want to avoid a fight as much as possible."
"But we're still going to train," Neville said, sounding slightly confused.
Harry nodded. "We went to Godric's Hollow intent on having a conversation," he said sadly. "I won't have us being unprepared again. Nobody else is going to get hurt because of me." Harry was hit by a wave of dizziness, and he put a hand on the mantlepiece to steady himself.
Hermione made a move to stand up but Harry put a hand out. "I'm all right," he said quietly, returning his attention to the group. "I don't quite have a handle on my magic yet," he told them. "I'm going to need some time to figure out how to use it again, but I anticipate results by Sunday." He offered them a small smile, which ended up looking more like a grimace.
Harry's vision blurred for a moment, and he swayed dangerously. His eyes locked on Hermione's, the brown hauntingly vibrant, and he felt this wave of supreme happiness.
And then he felt nothing.
They all watched Harry drop to the ground, landing hard on his side, blood dripping from his nose. Hermione got up quickly, but she felt forced herself to keep calm about this, because she'd seen him wake up from it earlier in the day.
"Hermione," Ron said hurriedly, rushing to Harry's side with Luna and Neville. "What's wrong with him?"
"It's just his body adjusting to the influx of magic," Hermione said, needing to stay grounded in fear of her emotions taking over and resulting in her beating hard at his chest again. "Turn his head to the side."
Ron had his hand over Harry's chest, looking panicked. "But Hermione," he said. "He's not breathing."
Hermione's own breath froze in her throat. "What?"
Ron stared at his hand over Harry's heart. "There's no heartbeat. His heart isn't beating."
Hermione scrambled to Harry's side and checked for a pulse. Nothing. She just stared at him, unable to comprehend what was happening. His heart wasn't beating. Harry Potter wasn't breathing. How could that be?
"Hermione!" Ron yelled, ripping her from her thoughts. "Do something! Help him! I won't lose him too."
Hermione wasn't prepared for this, and she froze, unable to move. He wasn't breathing. His heart wasn't beating, and all Hermione could think about was that she hadn't kissed him. They hadn't kissed, and now he wasn't breathing.
"Hermione!" Ron yelled again. "Bloody hell, do something!"
She couldn't move.
So, acting on impulse, Ron stood up, settled himself in position and pointed his wand at Harry's body. He was not going to lose another brother.
"What are you doing?" someone asked from behind Ron, panic in their voice. There was a flurry of voices until Hermione's certain voice broke through the cacophony.
"Do it," Hermione said, her eyes on Ron. "Do it, Ron."
So he did. The spell left his mouth with practiced ease. Merlin help them all if he ended up killing Harry Potter instead of saving him.
