Chapter One:
…Just like falling asleep
All in all, Harry was somewhat surprised to note that walking to his death wasn't the hardest part of this whole thing. Not really. He couldn't even say he was truly surprised. His life always seemed like an elaborate stroll to his death anyway, in some form or fashion.
Even though, he must admit, Harry hadn't quite pictured his death going like this, though. Figured there be some action, some fight, some… something, right?
Harry risked his life before, countless times, with the kind of recklessly audacious resolve of a Gryffindor archetype made real. He often fighting for somebody or something else, rarely just himself.
Though others said often, Harry never thought himself as particular brave or noble. He mostly fell into situations due to helping someone out, like he wished somebody had done for him when he was younger. Though, as a result, he did get used to learning how to cope with a rotten hand so often so early that he had apparently developed an odd talent for knowing how to do what he had to do to get through.
He wasn't some Golden Knight in shining armor sparkling bright, draped in glorious honor. No, he was a scrappy survivor covered in cuts & bruises drenched in his still leaking blood, but still standing none the less, even if he would need a long nap in his personalized hospital bed shortly after to stay that way. The other guy, maybe not so much.
He had bloody danced on the edge of oblivion so often, he felt like he already knew the dirge that awaited him by heart, had even memorized all the steps.
But this. This here, this "how", this is new.
No epic struggle, not even a skirmish or even a cat & mouse chase.
No, instead Harry was here, was just a boy walking through the woods to casually put his head in the mouth of a rabidly feral monster. No muss, no fuss, no mercy asked or needed.
Can't forget to say please to the Beast, either, though a thank you won't be said, on account of being dead. Dead men tell no tales, or deal in niceties, after all. Voldemort's ghastly wraith taught him that much.
Harry sighed; he would feel bored with his own brooding melodrama if he could feel anything at all. Instead, he was almost numb, feeling practically nothing yet everything but nothing even still, oddly enough.
Harry sighed again; he could see the encampment just ahead, the sentries were in sight.
He paused for a beat, just watching them. They seemed nervous, filled with twitchy anxiety. Just jitterbugs who can't seem to stay still even if their lives depended on it. Knowing sweet old Tom, guard duty might just be a polite death sentence. Having shared far more of Tom's thoughts & feelings over the last few years, Harry was very aware about how Tom felt about his minions, especially disposable ones. Harry knew Tom never hesitated to make those minions aware of his feelings as well.
Harry walked past the sentries, to the rim of the clearing. He could see the Death Eaters moving around the camp, while Voldemort loomed in the middle, like a cursed reptile trying to mimic lordly behavior. Harry stared at him, he could feel the painful echo in his shard.
Won't be long now; his life span could be counted in minutes if not seconds.
No, this part of the walk wasn't hard at all for Harry. Especially after talking to his parents, to Remus, to Sirius. He found comfort, solace, even, in their faces. Their voices. That comfort helped him keep moving. Helped him cope with the shock.
Walking away from Hermione was the hardest part. It was why he didn't stop, even though he heard her calling for him, the desperation in her tone still echoing in his ears, in his heart.
In his soul, at least the part that wasn't Tom too.
He had walked past the Weasleys, though seeing Fred's body hurt. A lot. Seeing Remus lying next to Tonks almost got him; the thought of their newborn son now a fellow orphan almost unmade him, but helped Harry more resolute, to finish this finally, to be done.
But her voice, almost made him turn back.
Made him want to damn Dumbledore, damn Snape, & tell Hermione he wanted to accept that offer she made so long ago. Disappear to the Forest of Dean, together. She & Him, Harry & Hermione. Together forever and a day.
He could see the dream, even now. A simple, quiet life, of books & broom rides; no more megalomaniacal bigots or overgrown bullies. Maybe find her parents, create Hermione-blessed foolproof aliases & just disappear. Harry scoffed. The Brightest Witch vanishing into the wind with the Boy Who Lived to Walk Away, could be another Skeeter bestseller.
Harry sighed, again. He knew that wasn't him. He just really, really, didn't want to die. His spiteful anger caused his temper to almost explode. His scar pulsated in response, scorching hot; he gritted his teeth, refusing to scream or whimper or make a single sound. He even fought his wince down to an inaudible grimace.
But Voldemort looked up suddenly anyway, like he knew. Like he always did.
Harry stared at him, afraid he'd been heard & not just sensed, noticed despite the cloak. He seized up, body live wire tight. He wasn't ready yet, damn it. But one breath, became two, became several more.
Voldemort's eyes remained unfocused, distracted. Harry exhaled, he was still safely unseen, despite standing in the middle of enemy territory like a loon.
He watched further as Voldemort scanned the area, still searching for something. Someone. him. He stopped, nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Apparently, the Golden Boy is not here. He's abandoned the cause." The Death Eaters chortled in bloodthirsty glee.
"Gryffindors…" Tom shook his head, sighed, before a wry smirk appeared.
"I must confess myself, disappointed but not surprised." Harry could hit Bellatrix's mad laugh echo around the clearing.
"After all, Fate can only do so much if the Fated lack the Will to back it up." Voldemort paused, seeming to savor the moment. "The Chosen One has chosen to run away, like the cowardly child I believed him to be."
His psychopathic peanut gallery were just cackling away around him in a chorus of mad monkeys,looking like they gotten hit with a mass tickling charm.
Like all Harry was, what he'd been through, what he was giving up, was inconsequential.
Like Harry didn't matter, like he never mattered. Like he was nothing more than a big joke.
"Oh- Ohhh…" Harry hissed. "It's like that, now, is it?"
Harry felt something, for the first time in a long time. That resigned malaise he'd been laboring under ever since he heard the Headmaster pronounce his true purpose, through his walk out of the castle, right by what was left of his loved ones still living, his little pep talk with his loved ones dead & gone away, waiting for him to catch up in a bit.
That vacantly chilling subhuman void of negativity where his heart & soul used to be finally ignited once more, blazing in righteously wrathful spite & rage.
Unlike so many times before, Harry refused to let his rage use him, not now, not for his last. Instead, he used it, channeled it. It made him sharper, gave him focus.
It gave him resolve, to end this on his terms.
"You know Tommy, it's kinda, ironic, I could say.…" The interjection caught every one in the clearing totally off guard. Harry continued, nonplussed. "I mean, You, Tommy-Tomcat Riddle, of all people, calling me, mocking me, as a coward?"
Harry's cool voice seemed to come from everywhere & nowhere all of a sudden. The disdainful chill in his tone cut off the Death Eaters cacophonous revelry like someone had yanked a plug out of the socket.
Harry watched Voldemort & more competent Death Eaters casting all manners of detection magic, all for naught. The Cloak of Invisibility was truly a marvel, only "beaten" by Dumbledore.
He shook off the thought, returning his focus to his scrambling enemy before him. Harry fought the urge to chuckle, stifling it to a twitching smirk.
Suddenly, Harry could just feel the Death Eaters. All of them. Every single being in that clearing was within his sphere of awareness. He could pinpoint their location without a glance, he feel their emotion with barely a thought.
It felt like he was playing Seeker as Captain again, flying on his broom with total command of the sky, fully aware yet at ease. Except he wasn't flying at all, he was still here, in the clearing, under the Cloak.
Nothing has changed, but somehow, something just did. Because he was himself yet he was also everywhere as well.
He could feel Bella's rabid dog madness, read Lucius' false bravado, Narcissa's fear, not for herself but for… Draco, of course. He's not here.
At the center, was Tommy boy. A veneer of superior invincibility covering a tempest of existential dread. Would make a shrink a fortune as a case study, Tommy would.
He didn't know what it was, but now, knowing he was at the end, that nothing matter, he felt audacious almost giddy, nearly manic. For the first time, he felt truly unleashed.
He grinned crookedly; deciding to enjoy his last moments. Very much a "so long, sod off, thanks for nothing" kind of vibe flooding him.
"You, little Tommy "Flees from Death"? You, Scaredy-Tomcat who tried & failed to kill a baby because the words of a drunk had him shaking in his snakeskin boots?" Harry guffawed "You-you, calling anybody a coward, is just-just- hilarious, really. I can't-." His chortling rippled through the clearing, finally getting himself back under control.
Harry stood back, looked around, letting the moment linger, more & more. He just watched them, enjoying seeing the terrors of Britain now lost, looking around, frantic. He smirked, seeing feared Death Eaters going from cocksure braying like jackasses to frightened prey animals in a mere heartbeat.
Their disquieted fear permeated the air, flooding the space with their collectively noxious anxiety. Bloody hell, their apprehension was almost palpable, nearly tangible. He inhaled slowly, savoring all of it like a fine meal for another moment or two.
Harry wished he could take advantage, had the skills to unleash serious havoc, make all these rabid howler monkeys actually eat the death they could handle, with as much pain as they dished out to others, but…
Harry sighed, again. His giddy diminished, a smidge. Alas, alas, alas. That's just not the role he was cast in. Not in this lifetime, at least.
Not for the first time, Harry cursed Dumbledore for not helping him more, especially during 6th year.
Not for the first time, he cursed himself for not being proactive enough to actually prepare himself on his own. It was his life, after all. Now it would be his death too.
He could've become the Wizard Knight he needed to be to survive. Hell, he could've actually bloody won! But no, Operation "Love them to Death" might have been the only honest truth the Headmaster ever said.
Anyway, it wasn't like Harry had the skills to make another, more aggressive plan actually viable.
"You dare mock Lord Voldemort!" Voldemort bellowed, breathing like an asthmatic bull. "Uh, yeah." Harry said, the glib smirk on his face was practically audible. His chuckling at their master was visibly disturbing the Death Eaters.
"I'll gut you, you filthy peasant, you cur!" Bellatrix screamed, practically frothing.
"Oooh…. Big words for a madwoman cow towing to a inbred bastard son of a Muggle."
Voldemort reared up, projecting his magical aura to intimidate & suppress any possibility of challenge. He sent out another wave of detection magic, but to no avail. Harry watched Voldemort frown, the unease plain on his mutated face. "Come out & Face Lord Voldemort, Harry Potter. Face your death."
"All you had to do was ask politely." With that, Harry dropped the Cloak to the ground; his sudden appearance caused the Death Eaters to gasp in utter shock. Harry smirked, staring directly at Voldemort's very disquieted glare.
Weirdly enough, the Cloak chose not to lay down, instead it seemed to flow back into him, seemingly caressing his shoulders, comforting him for what was to come. Odd, he thought.
Harry snorted. May you live in interesting times, indeed.
Voldemort recovered his composure, trying to regain the momentum. "Well, well. Harry Potter. You decided to come after all. Coming to face your Death-"
"Yeah, yeah, Tommy. Sorry to interrupt your obviously practiced monologue. I know you spent a long time practicing & all-"
"Silence!" Voldemort's wand whipped through the air, cutting off Harry's speech.
Harry paused & just looked at Voldemort. He raised an eyebrow, looking so totally unimpressed, before casually canceling the spell, wandlessly.
"-as I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted! Anyway, I know you practiced, probably in front of a mirror or to Nagini, poor snake, but I'm not interested, that's all. Move along, Tommy."
Voldemort looked apoplectic. "You-you- Dare…"
"Yes, yes. I do, so can we get going already? Geez, you act like this is the first time we've done this or something. Can't we just skip ahead in the script a bit?"
It was wonder Harry had ever found him intimidating. Maybe knowing that his own Death was actually the intended outcome of this confrontation rendered Voldemort's presence less fear inducing & more pitiful.
Voldemort huffed & puffed like angsty dragon. He kept opening & closing his mouth, his eyes going mad with rage. Harry raised an eyebrow again, then rolled his eyes, scoffing. At that, Voldemort straightened suddenly, raising his wand with lightning speed.
"AVADA KEDEVRA!" The incantation roared across the clearing, echoing all the way back to the castle.
As the green bolt of lethal magic seared the air in its path toward him, Harry relaxed. He found that he had two distinctively parallel thoughts rolling through his head.
Finally, it's over.
I'm sorry, Hermione.
He smiled then, rueful yet wistful as well. Harry's expression never changed even as the spell hit home, even as his body hit the ground, the oddly knowing look in his dead eyes caused Voldemort to shudder; disquieting him even while his followers exalted in apparent triumph.
0o0o0~~~~
Hermione searched for Harry, looking every place she could think of, even though she knew it to be fruitless. It was if part of her knew he was gone, knew where he was going.
It was why she'd wanted to accompany him to the Headmaster's office. She saw the look on his face, as he raced toward the office with Snape's dying memories clutched tightly in his hands. Part of her knew that what Harry would learn there, would be significant, a critical turning point.
Harry told Hermione, told her & Ron both, that he needed to do this alone, that he would see them after. She was conflicted, everything within her screamed that he was making the wrong choice, that he needed her. She started to raise her voice, wanted to disagree, vehemently, but Ron capitulated easily, too easily in her opinion. She huffed at the memory, looked back at him with a severe side eye.
"What?" Ron said.
She shook her head, let it go, for the moment at least. "No, nothing, Ronald. We just- we have to find Harry, now."
Ron shrugged, his apparent concern was far, far too mild for Hermione's taste. "Look, it's just how Harry is, innit? He gets in these… moods, gotta take time for himself, right? Maybe those memories had something… personal or something. Harry probably just needs a bit, let it settle? I mean- It's got to be why we haven't found him yet, right?"
It was Hermione's turn to shrug at him. She couldn't quite dispute what he'd said, not with the purely logic. Indeed, she found her brain somewhat agreeing with Ron's awkward rationale. Didn't help her, though. Not with her hearts raging like it was, calling them both dunderheaded mouth breathers.
It felt like, if she agreed, just stopped searching for him, seeking him, fighting for & to be with him right now, right this very moment. If she somehow just- let Harry go & just…. be? She felt like it would be the worst mistake she had ever & would ever make in a thousand lifetimes.
She felt that deep in her heart, her soul, where logic doesn't live, but miracles do.
A miracle is more than just magic; miracles defy belief. Miracles matter. She knew that now, breathed it, lived it. Took her forever, but she's starting to get there.
It was still a lesson Hermione found herself needed to learn & relearn over again. It was one lesson that she never saw in a book, nor picked up with from a teacher. She'd only lived it, through Harry, beside Harry, with Harry.
Ever since she watched him crawl up a troll's back for her, Hermione knew Miracles existed. It was sort of funny in a way; she'd had a much easier time accepting, rationalizing & comprehending that magic is real, that her new school recruiter can turn from a woman to a cat & back on a whim, than she did trying to reconcile why a peer, a classmate, a boy, even, would dare risk his life climbing up the back of an unholy monster. For her? For her?
Forget the whole Boy Who Lived thing. Harry, in that moment, was a living Miracle. Not for allegedly repelling Killing Curses or whatever, not even for being the one who actually knocked out the Troll, which was Ronald, to be fair, all credit due.
Just for being willing to climb up that monstrous back, for her. Being willing to Act, for her. Willing to be her friend?
That was a miracle. The Miracle, really, if she were being brutally honest. For Hermione, driving off dozens of Dementors is a milquetoast Tuesday in comparison. Though, seeing the Basilisk corpse just now was very bloody intimidating.
So, now, Hermione can do nothing but fight. Fight for him. It's all she has left, really. Fight for another miracle. She fought back the angry tears, not for the first time. Ron didn't seem to see it, didn't seem to know, but she did. They needed another miracle. She just didn't kn-
"AVADA KEDAVRA!"
Hermione gasped, a similar sound echoed from those nearby who were unfortunately awake & aware enough to hear that terrible, terrible cry. Hermione suddenly felt a gaping wound had utterly ripped through her chest, right through her heart, leaving it barren, cold, lifeless. She couldn't make a sound, she flailed, grasping for a breath that refused her, denied her, mocked her. There was no noise, as if the entire world had gone still, quiet, as if it mourned with her.
The silence was then broken by the triumphant roar from deep in the forest. Hermione gulped, choked; tears filled her eyes in a flood.
That voice, that spell, that response. She didn't know… but she knew.
"Hermione! You-we-he-it might not-" Ron swallowed. She looked at him, his eyes wide, mouth gaped, face pale as a ghost. She could see her utter agony reflected in him. Her eyes narrowed.
"No." Hermione snarled. She refused. She just- no. Just. No.
She stood up, defiant, face scowling, hair practically crackling on end. Ron jumped back, seemingly shocked at the look on her face, but she barely noticed.
Just. No.
Hermione dragged back the falling tears back into her eyes by sheer force of Will. Not this way. Not on her watch.
There will be another miracle; if Harry can't do it, she'll just have to do it herself. See how he likes it, for once.
"Miss Granger…?" Hermione gnashed her teeth. In that moment, Hermione truly hated. She hated this, she hated all of this with the scorching rage of a thousand imploding suns. Hated this bloody society with its utterly random & baseless obsession with division & discrimination to the point of happily killing one another for it. "Miss Granger…?"
Hated this bloody school, with a staff so celebrated & yet so inept that it required children to save it annually from doom. And not just the same doom, oh no. That would be repetitive. They had to save it freshly novel calamities threatening mass casualties on the regular, like it was on the schedule before the Bloody Leaving Feast.
Most of all, she hated herself. She always hated to fail. Been that way since forever. Especially when she learned success meant her parents might actually look at her for more than minute or two. It was why she drove herself so very hard. To be the absolute best. Because the best is never unseen.
But then she got to Hogwarts and was a brand new reason to hate failure. He saw her. At her best & worst. She still felt embarrassed by her behavior 6th year. What unsightly horrid thing she was. But he didn't care, he just stayed, right there.
She never wanted to not fail at something like she wanted to not fail him. Not fail this. But she did.
"Miss Granger?" A new voice cut in, breaking through her rapidly spiraling thoughts & tumultuous feels. Hermione blinked, coming back to herself.
Her parents would be aghast, losing her composure, showing weakness at all, much less in a public space. Right now, Hermione couldn't care less. Her very best friend was…. Her miracle was…
"Miss Granger, are you well?"
Hermione sniffled, took a breath & turned. She surprised to see it was the Grey Lady that had been cajoling her.
"I- well- I'm-" she tried, but she couldn't seem to form words. "I- I'm-" the tears threaten to make a reappearance. She sniffed, closed her eyes tight, took all that fear, that anguish, that grie- those feelings, & shoved them way down deep, with the rest of the turmoil she'd repressed for ages like a champ.
Yay, childhood, She thought. Glad to see it be good for something useful.
"Miss Granger? Miss Granger? Look, I know this is a bad time, a horrible time, but may I please have a word?"
Hermione shook her head back and forth, trying to gather focus. She ignored Ron's vaguely confused stare. "Of course, what can I do for you?"
The Grey Lady tilted her head a bit. "It's not what you can do for me…"
Hermione's eyes furrowed. She felt herself growing somewhat impatient, but calmed herself; she had the strangest feeling that this was it. So diplomacy mattered, for as long as she could muster. "'Might I ask what you mean by that?"
The Grey Lady nodded, seeming pleased by her decorum. "You may, and I am pleased to answer. The Castle has given me a special opportunity, as a result of the happenings here today."
"Oh?" Hermione tilted her head, eyes going slightly unfocused. Between them, Ron kept turning back & forth, as if he were watching Wimbledon.
"Yes." The Grey Lady nodded proudly. "Due to the actions of you & your friend, I've been given an opportunity to move on, as it were. My last earthly regret has had, oh, how did your young man & his forebears used to put it." She paused. "Oh- Oh yes, that last bit of mischief has been throughly managed."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh. OH!" The diadem! She was talk- "Oh yes. That would- yes."
The Grey Lady nodded again, affirming Hermione's unspoken query. "Yes. That. So, I am presently preparing to move on." The Grey Lady paused, seeming to gather herself. "But before I can, I've been asked a last favor, by the castle, as it were."
"A favor? You- The castle asked you- well, wait- wait- give me- too many tangents." Hermione stopped, took a few deep breaths.
The Grey Lady seemed bemused, like she'd been in this spot before, likely from both sides of the equation.
Hermione shook her head a bit. "Got to- Put that one on the back burner for later, much, much later. Got to stop that for now. Okay. So. -Um. Favor. Yes. That. I'm guessing it has something to do with me, that's obvious."
The Grey Lady flicked into a faint smile for a beat. "Yes, miss Granger. You see, the castle has been around for a very long time. It considers all of us here part of it, part of an enduring family. She watches over us, as best she can. But she has her limits."
"Fascinating. I've-I've- I'd never even seen a hint of this, not anywhere."
Ron snorted. "Not even Hogwarts: A History?"
She twisted her lips at him, rolled her eyes before returning her gaze back to the Grey Lady, who was still wearing that bemused big sister look.
"You see, miss Granger, the Castle does the best it can, but that job can become… difficult, when there are others who have an agenda of their own."
Dumbledore. Hermione's mind screamed. She looked at Ron, who seemingly missed the specific reference. She shrugged internally, deciding to fill him in later if necessary.
"I understand."
"I figured you would."
"Wait- wha-"
"Not now, Ronald. I'll- I'll- let me just tell you about it later, all right?"
He looked back & forth between them, narrowed his eyes. She sighed internally, choked down any frustration from her expression or tone. She'd gotten a little better at managing him over time.
"Look, it's- it's- I just get this strong feeling- my instinct says that we don't have a lot of time for any detours right now."
"On that, we agree miss Granger."
Ron seemed to settle down, reluctantly nodding while still chewing on the clue. That's fine by Her, Hermione thought.
"So, the favor?"
"Yes, before the favor, i must ask a question that might be construed as somewhat… indelicate? Perhaps, quite personal."
Hermione's brow furrowed. "Indelicate? Personal? In wha- how- but- wait, wait- you know what- doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter at all." Hermione gritted her teeth, visibly bracing herself. "What's the question."
The Grey Lady nodded, then smiled, again looking quite pleased for a "yet to be understood" reason. "If you had the chance to save Harry Potter right now, to change his fate from the increasingly likely dark outcome he's headed toward into a much brighter future, what would you be willing to surrender?"
Hermione heard Ron's gasp, his apprehension spiking palpably. She was totally unruffled, but she was tense, wary of any possible traps, rhetorical or otherwise. "Surrender? How do you mean?" Her tone was probing, delving; there was no trace of doubt, of remotely sharing Ron's still present anxiety, just a resolute mind seeking clarification for optimal results.
"Perhaps, instead of surrender, sacrifice might be a more precisely accurate word for it."
"Ah." Hermione understood. She gave a single cool nod, then relaxed her stance. She was still locked in on the Grey Lady, still ignoring Ron's totally slacked expression, his nervous eyes. His opinion didn't matter in this moment, one way or the other. Not now, not since he left them. She understood that, too.
"Yes, ah."
"In that case," Hermione began, looking the Grey Lady straight in the eye so there can be no misinterpretation or misunderstandings. "I'd give everything, more besides."
The Grey Lady nodded, as if unsurprised. Hermione heard Ron gurgling in shock, though. She turned him, perplexed.
"Herms- Hermione? Wha- wait, wha- you- but you kissed- he said- sister- wha-"
She slashed her hand, irritated beyond belief. "Yes, Ronald. I said everything. And I meant it. I don't get why you're surprised though. Or did you forget, Ronald, that I've already sacrificed my parents for this. I've no idea whether or not i can restore their memories or if they'll forgive me if I did. I'm perfectly aware, Ronald, I can end up an orphan either way but I did it anyway. I'm not going to stop now. Especially when I know he'd do the same for me, when he already has, too many times."
Hermione glared at Ron then, his myriad of emotions so easy to see, the rising red of his temper tussling with the pale white of his fear, as plain as the nose on his face. She didn't have time for this. "So, Ronald. Either you can get over it, or you can leave us. It's your choice, again."
She turned back to the Grey Lady, who was watching with a little Mona Lisa smile on her face. Hermione faced her, resolute.
"What do I have to do?"
"First, Take a deep breath. Then close your eyes." Hermione did so. "Reach out with your magic, feel yourself, your surroundings, your friend, me."
The Grey Lady placed her spectral hands on either side of Hermione's face. "Breathe, child." She intoned gently. "Breathe, & Be." At Hermione's suddenly anxious look, the Grey Lady smiled back at her. "Just Be."
"But-"
"It is all right, child. I'll be right here, child… Hermione. Just. Be"
Hermione stopped then. She looked at the Grey Lady then, took solace & confidence from her utter calm. Hermione listened & simply let go. Dismissed her need to over analyze, to fret, to second guess, to deconstruct & be hypercritical.
There was no time for doubt, or hesitation. So, Hermione gave, she breathed & then she just... Be.
She pulsated then, glowing like a newborn star. She knew The Grey Lady in front of her glowed.
The entire hallway glowed in return, seeming to pulse rhythmically in jovial merriment.
She hadn't done a meditation like this in ages; not since her initial studies of magical theory before first year. It wasn't like this, back then. Not by a long shot. She could feel… everything.
She felt Ron, his odd maelstrom of emotions still fighting for space & dominance. He felt… lost, bereft somehow, yet angry too? She almost wished she had time to reassure him, but this was for Harry.
Ron should've known better, already. He should've known that there was no choice to be made because the choice had been made the moment when he crawled up that Troll's back.
Harry had always been her Miracle. He had taught her, had showed her, that magic was more than just casting spells or reading times. It was about bonds. For a lonely little girl like her, watching a woman turn into a cat & back was less fantastical than the idea that she'd ever have a bond even a mere fraction of this.
For her, the bond forged in a broken bathroom was more valuable than all the gold in Gringotts. For that bond, she had already given all she had, but she'd always been ready to give more. To give everything.
Yes, Harry had always been Hermione's personal miracle. She just hoped she had enough of one in her right now, for him.
As if in response to her resolve, she could hear Hogwarts ringing it's bells, as if it were cheering her on. She feel the castle, adding itself to her, sending her somewhere- no, sending them both- oh. Oh. She was starting to get it.
Hermione thought she'd feel sad, at the end, but she didn't. Instead, She laughed then, so did the Grey Lady. Ron did not, but she was okay with that. This moment wasn't for him, she knew.
She looked again at the Grey Lady, who looked at her with shining pride, that was more than any look she'd received from her own mother. She grinned brightly, then. It wasn't over yet, they still had a chance. They could still win.
Even if she wasn't here to see it, he could still win. And that was all that mattered.
That was everything.
"You're doing it, Hermione!" The Grey Lady, no- Helena, crowed, gleefully proud, like all her favorite teachers & imaginary big sisters rolled up into one extra perfect phantasmic package.
Hermione preened. "Thank you, Helena. So very much." She found herself becoming emotional. "You Don- you- this- thank-"
The Grey Lady winked, before interrupting her. "You have to let me know how it all worked out sometime."
Hermione blinked. She cocked her brow, confused. All she could do Shake her head, bemused. Ghost humor, maybe, who knew?
She could only agree. Helena giggled, as if there were still a hidden punchline waiting for her somehow.
No matter. She breathed. Again. Once more. She closed her eyes. No regrets.
In that moment, Hermione gave everything.
0o0o0
It could be said that Albus Dumbledore had chosen to live his life after death in much the same manner as he did during his life before death; essentially, a great deal of expedient eavesdropping, shrewd stage managing & guileful gamesmanship, often intermixed with some contemplating, woolgathering & navel gazing as well.
Though, he could admit, he also could fall prey to a nice brooding session or three every now & again. No matter, wasn't like he had not earned that particular indignity, a thousand times over.
Indeed, to call his life interesting was only valid if one meant it in the proverbial sense, even his pre-death was quite frenetic; he spent much of time putting out a myriad of fires while also igniting more than a few of his own.
Right now, Albus is serene. Everything & everyone is in place. The only thing that remained was the last wager, the "Great Scar Gambit" as it were. Honestly, even that never truly worried him, they were contingencies if events had proven his wager to be a foolish one, a sucker's bet.
But, 'twas no matter, anyway.
He. Was. Right! Sweet Vindication!
Now…
Only one last bit of housekeeping left on the docket. The boy arrives, Albus engages in some rhetorical finesse with gentle aplomb, then gently places young Harry on the proper path so Albus could finally achieve checkmate.
At that thought, Albus glowed, grinning like the mischievous schoolboy he'd always been at heart. It was almost over! Albus bounced in his ephemeral cloud space while kicking his feet to a beat only he could hear.
He popped sherbet lemons, savoring each, one after another after another after another, cataloguing the highs & lows while noting any flaw, no matter how minuscule. The next in the sequence would have that flaw removed; sometimes he found the flaw was more of a foil, it contrasted another virtue elsewhere & the flaw's absence served to diminish & previous boon. There was a lesson in that, a profound one even. Albus chuckled to himself.
Ever the teacher, he thought.
He was not overly concerned much, now that the game was no longer in doubt. He found himself feeling nostalgic, like he often did after previous triumphs. Sure there had been a hairy moment or three, some close calls every now & again. He knew it wasn't over just yet.
But, everything is in place, all the pieces are in the optimal position, with checkmate looming delightfully on the horizon. He would allow himself some time to bask, he deserved it really.
Albus was interrupted by the sight & sound of a simple luminous couplet flaring with a bit of staccato whimsy. Ah, the signal he was long waiting for, though earlier than expected. His key supporting actor was about to enter the stage. Young Harry is here.
Reluctantly, Albus put his sherbets away, needing absolute focus. The Game's afoot & he had a role to play.
Wait, hold on.
Was he feeling two presences? Yes, that is two very different individuals. Both distinct & quite distinctive. Moreover, neither felt remotely familiar to him. How odd? Could that be an accidental byproduct of this pocket, maybe? Albus's brow furrowed, lips briefly tightening.
And, why now? Why two?
There's a substantial difference in their auras as well. Puzzled, Albus narrowed his eyes, stroked his beard as he pondered.
Albus shook his head clear, seeking his calm. There's no reason to allow his thoughts to meander, especially now. Despite the disquieting oddities & resultant questions, the fact remains that it most likely young Harry approaching. The differences Albus can perceive might be a result of Harry finally dislodging that unwanted tenant from its hostile roost.
All said, It's an oddity but there is most assuredly a reason & it will become evident. So, the only thing he must do now is wait.
Albus popped another sherbet lemon, the taste further restoring his balance. He could now make out the two approaching presences, the details still obscured by the mists for some reason, yet another oddity.
They seemed to keep an even pace with one another, born of a familiarity of similar walks together, Albus deduced. One was fairly tall, certainly taller than Young Harry, but the other seemed to be dreadfully… small, unnaturally so, even.
Albus narrowed his eyes, frowning. He had previously considered the possibility that young Harry & the Horcrux might actually separate as a consequence of the gambit, he'd even briefly speculated on what possible condition the Horcrux could find itself in as a result. But in all his idle whimsy Albus had never imagined the Horcrux incarnating as some form of House Elf?
Albus stroked his beard, frown becoming distinctively more pronounced. Certainly an Oddity upon conundrum upon enigma topped by a Riddle, for sure.
The duo finally came into the clear.
Wait, The man was not Harry, not in any imaginable stretch. The House elf, if it even was that at all, was not a Horcrux either, his magic had neither a dark taint nor elven tint. Moreover, it dwarfed Albus by a significant degree.
Albus's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, boggled beyond belief. What was happening here, what had happened to the Plan? He had no words, his mouth simply opening & closing over & over of its own volition.
The two in front looked at one another, clearly amused by Albus's visible shock & dismay.
"Hello, There." The man said jovially, as if they'd run into each other during a polite stroll through Hogsmeade, not in purposefully designed spirit trap set on the edge of existence itself.
Albus could only stare at them, his brain was scrambling into incoherence, shattering utterly into a thousand thousand jagged edges of stained glass. As he struggled to recalibrate his mind, the only thing he barely could hear at the outer limits of his breaking consciousness was the mocking sound of his beloved sherbet lemons cascading to the ground below.
Wha-… Wait… What.
The next sound Albus could hear was polite chuckling. He looked up, at those… strangers… those… interlopers…. blasphemers even. Violations to the Plan. What was happening?
Both dared to laugh. At him! He glared at them.
"Waiting for someone else, were you?" The misbegotten filthy abominable elf had the sheer audacity to smirk. At him!
"Expect us here instead, you did not, hmmm?"