A/N: The first of many flashback chapters! Hopefully this won't be too jarring, but we do need to jump back and forth a bit to fully capture what's going on in this AU. Enjoy, and don't forget to review!
July 2, 1997 (Harry)
Harry Potter sat atop the ramparts of the Hogwarts Astronomy Tower, staring down at the courtyard far below, wondering what it would feel like to fall.
It had been less than a week since he'd been frozen in place beneath his Invisibility Cloak, just a few feet away from this very spot, and watched on helplessly as Albus Dumbledore was murdered by Severus Snape. Dumbledore had made the fall to the courtyard below, but he was already dead and wouldn't know the sensation of the fall itself. Harry found it an apt metaphor for the man's life and legacy: a lifeless, useless shell, never realizing the consequences of what now lay ahead thanks to his actions.
Far off in the distance, on the school grounds by the lake, he could see students and faculty congregating for Dumbledore's funeral. Harry had no intention of attending. He didn't much fancy the company of others right now, nor did he care to dwell any further on what had truly been lost. On what it meant for the coming war, now that the burden of defeating Voldemort had passed on to him and him alone. Harry preferred to sit here and listen to the wind whistle through the ancient castle, just for a while longer, before it was time to depart his one true home, possibly never to return.
Unfortunately, his quiet reflective period was interrupted by a new arrival atop the tower. "Harry James Potter!" a shrill voice rang out. "Get down from there this instant!"
Harry turned. Hermione Granger was standing atop the spiral staircase, face alight with mingled terror and fury at his precarious perch at the edge of the tower walls. He didn't much feel like moving, but he also didn't feel like an argument so he reluctantly swung his legs back over the rampart and stepped down onto solid ground.
"How did you know I was up here?" he asked.
"Some second-years saw you from the courtyard and got spooked," Hermione frowned. "They seemed to think you were about to jump."
I thought about it, Harry thought bitterly. "You got through my wards," he said instead, referring to the protective enchantments he'd set on the stairwell to prevent unwanted guests. It was not a question or even an accusation, but a simple statement of fact.
"I've got a fair bit more experience with wards than you do," Hermione said with a wry grin. "And I doubt you put much effort into them."
That much was true. Harry had only cast a handful of light deterrents: a Notice-Me-Not ward and a handful of Compulsive Charms to cause any visitors to suddenly feel the urge to go somewhere else. A skilled witch or wizard could dismantle them in a few minutes, and Hermione certainly qualified.
Harry gave Hermione a quick once-over. She was dressed not in her school uniform, nor in street clothes as he was, but in a simple pink sundress that flowed down to her knees. It was not a showy outfit in the slightest, but he marveled at how beautiful she looked in it. She was no longer the scrawny, nerdy girl he'd befriended six years ago: she was a fully-grown adult now. How had he never noticed it before?
Hermione must have sensed his wandering gaze, because she blushed slightly and looked down at the dress. "I thought I'd look presentable for the funeral," she said, a little embarrassed. "I bought it for my holiday in France last summer, but I figured it was appropriate enough for—"
"You look nice," Harry said quickly. "Good choice."
"Thanks," Hermione muttered. "Anyway, Ron and I are heading down to the lake in a couple minutes. You should probably join us if you don't want to be late—"
"I'm not going," Harry said bitterly.
"What? Why not?" Hermione demanded. "Everyone expects you to be there."
"Yeah, well maybe I'm sick of doing what's expected of me," Harry spat, unable to hide the venom in his tone. "Maybe it's time I started doing what I thought was best, not what other people decided for me."
"Harry," Hermione said delicately, stepping closer towards him, "you don't have to bear this burden alone. I know Dumbledore put a lot of faith in you to finish what he started, but you can let others help you."
"You know I chased after Snape, the night he did it?" Harry asked. "I tried to stop him from leaving the grounds. And he destroyed me, Hermione. He tossed me aside like I was worthless."
"Snape is a powerful wizard," Hermione reasoned. "And you're still a student—"
"Snape is nothing compared to what I'll be up against with Voldemort!" Harry roared. "If I couldn't even match his strength, how am I supposed to defeat the greatest Dark wizard of all time? Tell me that, Hermione! Even if we find all the Horcruxes – which is a big 'if' – how can I possibly stand a chance?"
Hermione didn't have an immediate answer for this. "R-Ron and I assumed," she stammered, "that Dumbledore was teaching you things in your private lessons...that he was helping you prepare—"
"He taught me nothing!" said Harry. "Dumbledore failed me, Hermione, don't you get it? He left me to fend for myself, with only a wild goose chase to keep me distracted long enough for Voldemort to hunt me down and kill me. I'm doomed."
Harry's eyes searched hers, as if demanding an answer. Finding none, his anger receded to despair, and he bowed his head, angry tears spilling down his face. Hermione crossed the remaining distance between them and embraced him in a comforting hug.
"Don't talk like that," Hermione said sharply into his shoulder. "You've found your way out of worse scrapes before, you always manage. And we'll be by your side every step of the way."
Harry held onto Hermione for dear life for several moments. He fought to regain his composure, his silent sobs slowing to quiet sniffles, and then he broke apart from her, drying his eyes on his sleeve.
"Sorry," he said with a deep breath. "Just…a lot going through my head at once."
"No need to apologize," Hermione said with a small grin. "I'm here for you."
Harry nodded forlornly. He stepped back towards the rampart, but rather than climb atop it as before, he leaned back against it and slid down to the floor, sitting with his knees clutched to his chest.
"Well...if you're sure about skipping the funeral," Hermione said, stepping towards the stairwell. "I promised Ron I'd meet him in the Entrance Hall in about five minutes." She turned to go, and Harry felt a sudden, powerful urge to call out to her.
"Hermione?" he said, and she turned to look at him again. "Will you...stay up here with me?" he asked, a hopeful tone in his voice. "Just for a little while?"
He could see the internal struggle playing in her mind. She had gotten dressed up to pay her respects, and Ron was waiting for her down below. But she eventually decided that her friend's current needs were more pressing. "Sure I will, Harry," she said.
She approached the rampart beside him, and he took her hand to help her down to the ground. Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and she rested her head against him. He could feel her shivering slightly in the cool afternoon air, so he waved his wand overhead, conjuring a thick wool blanket which settled over the two of them.
"That's an impressive bit of Transfiguration, Harry," Hermione remarked as her shivers subsided under the warmth of the blanket. "I've always said you don't give yourself enough credit."
"If I ever need to tuck Voldemort into bed, I'll be set," Harry said dryly, eliciting a hearty chuckle from Hermione. Harry also felt loads warmer now, and he didn't think it was the blanket – he felt far more at peace now than he had in the entire week prior. Hermione's mere presence was enough to give him hope that his future was not as bleak as it seemed. He closed his eyes and did his best to enjoy this last moment of peace, before the weight of the coming war came crashing down upon him once more.
Molly Weasley was elated when Harry arrived at King's Cross Station the following day announcing that he would be returning to the Burrow rather than Privet Drive, but the rest of the Order was less keen. Moody had already plotted a careful transportation plan to sneak Harry into Little Whinging, and he tried to force Harry to stick to the original plan, but Harry put his foot down and refused to go. Eventually Moody relented, faced with the prospect of causing a scene in the busy Muggle terminal, allowing Harry to return home with the Weasleys.
The first thing Harry did when they arrived was to call a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. That drew looks of surprise from the adults; Harry doubted they'd yet decided on a new leader in Dumbledore's absence, but he also doubted they had him in mind. But nobody argued with the idea, so the following evening, a dozen-odd members of the Order crammed into the living room of the Burrow to hear what he had to say.
"What do we know about Voldemort's plans now that Dumbledore's gone?" Harry asked the room, preferring not to skirt around the issue and address it head-on. "Surely he'll be more aggressive now?"
"It's hard to say what he's up to," Moody growled. "Especially now that we've lost our valuable spy. He has always preferred to operate from the shadows, but with no Albus to deter him, he may be less subtle from now on."
"He'll continue trying to kill me no matter what we do next," Harry frowned. "I might need to disappear for a while. Maybe show my face outside of Britain somewhere, so he stops harassing you guys for harboring me."
"But surely you aren't running away!" Molly gasped. "You have to finish your education!"
"Hogwarts isn't safe anymore," Harry said sternly. "And no, I'm not running away; I have things I need to do. But if Voldemort believes I have, he might stop targeting Order members. He won't want to spill magical blood if he can avoid it."
"We can't afford to divert resources away from Britain, Harry," said Lupin, taking on a parental tone that Harry resented. "We can keep you safe, but it'll have to be in designated areas like this—"
"You can't keep me safe forever," Harry retorted. "No offense, but Voldemort could show up here by himself and take all of us on at once. If we keep playing this cat-and-mouse game, we'll keep losing people."
"We aren't going to just let you travel alone, Potter!" Moody barked. "What do you think you can accomplish alone?"
"As I said, I have things to do," Harry said simply. "Things that you'll only slow me down for. And I won't be alone; Hermione will be with me."
That shocked everyone in the room to silence. All eyes turned to Hermione, who looked frozen with all eyes upon her.
"Why her?" Molly Weasley demanded. In fact, all of the gathered Weasleys looked slightly offended by this, eyeing Hermione with suspicion.
"She's Muggle-born," Harry said simply. "Once Voldemort moves on the Ministry, she'll be a target. He won't harm pure-bloods if he has no reason to, but she'll be in just as much danger as I am."
"This is preposterous," Moody muttered dismissively. "I won't entertain this. Potter and Granger will both stay put, and we can reassess how to proceed once we learn more about the Dark Lord's plans."
"We'll be staying until the wedding," Harry announced simply. "Then we intend to leave, and you won't know where we've gone. We might not be in contact for a while – months, perhaps years. But we'll need people to remain behind in Britain so once we're ready to move on Voldemort—"
But the rest of his statement was drowned out by cries of protest and outrage. Clearly nobody was happy with his plan, and Harry was reduced to frustrated silence as every adult in the room shouted their grievances. Harry didn't expect them to agree, and he knew he wouldn't be able to convince them all in the next month. But he didn't have to. His intent was clear, and once he disappeared without informing anyone, he hoped they would understand. They should not come looking for him. He had to remove himself as the focal point of the war until he was ready to face Voldemort alone.
The rest of the meeting wasn't particularly productive, and Harry walked out after several more minutes of arguing with the more senior members of the Order. Over the coming days he would be individually cornered by Lupin, by Moody, by Kingsley and more, each of them imploring him not to do what he planned. Harry reassured them that he would reconsider, that he would listen to their ideas at subsequent meetings. But his mind was made up. He would appease them until it was time to go, and then he would go without saying goodbye.
Harry spent the rest of his time at the Burrow avoiding all of the Weasleys, especially Ron and Ginny. He had rejected the former's offer to stay in his room on the first night, instead opting for Bill's empty one, while the latter seemed to hover in every doorway of every room he walked into, forcing him to find somewhere else to be. He knew he had a difficult conversation ahead with each of them, and he wanted to avoid them for as long as possible. He had a rough future ahead of him, and it didn't involve either one of them.
He and Hermione managed to find small pockets of time to converse in private between meals, chores, and Order meetings. They both agreed that they needed to stick together, but they couldn't agree on much else beyond that. Hermione thought they ought to travel the countryside throughout Britain, gathering intel about the Horcruxes and not staying in one location too long. Harry disagreed; he felt they needed a centralized base to work from, somewhere discreet and far from Voldemort's reach – somewhere far away from the British Isles. Hermione had vague ideas of some isolated French seaside towns, but that was the extent of their planning before someone interrupted their hushed conversations.
The only other notable occurrence before the wedding was the arrival of Rufus Scrimgeour, to deliver Dumbledore's final bequests to Harry, Ron and Hermione. For a brief moment, Harry was hopeful that he'd been wrong after all, that Dumbledore had indeed left them instructions on what to do next. But Scrimgeour was perplexed when Harry just laughed hysterically at their "gifts": an old Snitch, a book of fairy tales, and a fancy toy lighter.
"How fitting," he told Ron and Hermione sardonically after Scrimgeour had gone. "Three worthless trinkets. Oh, and the Sword that he never intended for us to have, as a reminder of what he wanted us to do."
"It is a helpful reminder of what needs to be done," Hermione offered optimistically. "And we don't know that these 'trinkets' are useless yet...maybe we'll learn something new about them…"
"Yeah, more puzzles for us to unravel," Harry rolled his eyes. "Typical Dumbledore, just stringing everyone along and expecting us to behave." Hermione could not argue with this; even she had sounded doubtful that these items could be of any help to them. Ron looked eagerly between the two of them, hoping to be included in a strategy conversation for once, but Harry just stormed off, too consumed with frustration with Dumbledore to even entertain what it all could mean.
Bill and Fleur's wedding came mercifully quickly, and Molly kept everybody busy with preparations in the week leading up to the big day. Moody tried to insist that Harry use Polyjuice Potion to disguise himself, but Harry refused, arguing that the Death Eaters already knew he was here and nobody on the guest list would wish him harm. This led to yet another row with the Order, which ended Lupin offered that "it's what Dumbledore would have wanted," leading to another predictable Harry rant about how their so-called hero was dead and gone, and what he wanted no longer mattered.
But Harry would wind up regretting his decision to forego the Polyjuice, as scores of wedding guests approached him during the reception to wish him well. Everyone seemed to want to offer him their condolences for Dumbledore, as though believing he wanted to hear them most of all. "Such a wonderful man," gushed Dedalus Diggle, shaking Harry's hand so enthusiastically he thought it might fall off. "He cared so deeply for you, I just know he did. You must be devastated."
"Yeah, I'm truly torn up over it," Harry said in as sarcastic a tone as he could muster. But Diggle nor anybody else recognized his clear disdain for these shows of affection, and he endured many more such awkward handshakes and well-wishes. He finally got a reprieve after Luna Lovegood very helpfully upended the drinks table, causing a distraction large enough for him to slip off to a quiet corner to be alone. This was why he'd avoided the funeral after all.
He couldn't bring himself to enjoy the festivities, even knowing that this might be his last few hours of happiness with his friends before the war truly began. He and Hermione had planned to leave at dawn the morning after the wedding, but they still hadn't planned on where to go. And even if they had, Harry was still at a loss for what to actually do. Hunting Horcruxes seemed like a wild goose chase. He had to get stronger, to grow his power as a wizard, but he had no idea how. Who could he possibly learn from? What books could he read to become skilled enough to face the most fearsome wizard of his time?
"Potter."
Harry flinched at the sound of his name, already dreading having to speak with whoever had spotted him this time. But when he turned, he saw a face he hadn't expected to see at the wedding. Once his rival in the Triwizard Tournament, now someone he saw as a peer: Viktor Krum.
"Krum," Harry said with surprise. He extended his hand, and the lanky Bulgarian shook it gruffly.
"You are without a disguise," Krum remarked, an eyebrow raised as he looked Harry up and down. "I would 'ave thought Dumbledore taught you better than this."
Harry chuckled hollowly. "Yes, well, he wasn't very much of a teacher after all," he grinned.
"I am sorry to hear of 'is passing," Krum said solemnly. "He vas a good man and great wizard."
"You're half-right there," Harry said sardonically. That only caused Krum's eyebrow to raise even higher.
"I always thought you vere his number one fan," Krum said. "Karkaroff seemed to believe that you vere in Dumbledore's pocket."
"I was, back then," Harry said bitterly. "Lately I'm not so sure he had anyone's best interests in mind but his own, and look where it got him."
"There are rumblings overseas that Voldemort vill move on Britain now that he is gone," Krum said darkly. "Do you believe this is true?"
"It's inevitable," Harry agreed. "And I'm supposed to be the one to stop him. But I'm just a kid, aren't I? Dumbledore taught me nothing about how to fight, how to win. I don't know how he expected me to fare on my own at all."
Krum pondered this for a moment. Then, to Harry's astonishment, he chuckled. "Karkaroff vas right again," he said. "Dumbledore is too noble. 'E did not vant to corrupt you."
"Corrupt me?" Harry frowned. "What does that mean?"
"Many at Durmstrang believe Dumbledore vas foolish not to teach ze Dark Arts," said Krum. "'E of all people should know that to become strong, you must embrace the Dark, study its power. 'E perhaps wished for you to remain the pure symbol of hope, but zat will not help you defeat a Dark Lord."
"Karkaroff taught his students Dark magic?" Harry asked, suddenly enthralled. "Could you teach me?"
"Karkaroff taught us the theory of the Dark," Krum corrected. "Only to learn from its potential. 'E knew better than to allow students to harness such terrible spells. But he walked The Path and knew its terrible secrets. Dumbledore did, too."
"Dumbledore studied Dark magic?" Harry gasped. "Are you sure?"
"Karkaroff vas positive of it," Krum shrugged. "The Dark Lord would not haff feared him otherwise. 'E may have given up his Dark tendencies, but he knew enough to defeat Grindelwald."
Harry's brain was rattling with so many questions that he didn't know which ones to ask first. Did Karkaroff know Grindelwald? What was 'The Path'? How much more powerful was Dark magic than Light? But before he could pick Krum's brain further, a slender hand grabbed his arm from behind.
"There you are!" Ginny giggled. "Stop hiding from everyone, silly, it's time to dance!"
Harry could only give Krum a sheepish shrug as he was dragged back to the center of the tent, where soft music wafted over the dance floor and couples swayed to and fro together. Harry reluctantly turned towards Ginny as she directed his hand to her hip and began to slow dance with him.
"You've been avoiding me all summer," she said frankly, her amber eyes searching his for answers.
"There's been a lot going on," Harry mumbled noncommittally.
"You're planning something," Ginny deduced at once. "We've all seen you sneaking off with Hermione to talk in private. You two ought to be careful, or Ron might start getting the wrong idea." She left the unspoken question linger between them; Harry doubted that Ron was the only one getting the wrong idea about his true relationship with Hermione…
"There's a war coming, Ginny, you must know that," he said, again side-stepping the real issue on her mind. "And I'm at the center of it whether I like it or not. I need to figure out what to do once I leave the Burrow."
"But why leave?" Ginny demanded. "You know the Weasleys are just as invested in this war as you are. We want to win too, we'll keep you safe—"
"It's not fair to any of you," Harry interrupted. "This is my burden to bear, not yours."
"And yet Hermione is allowed to help you, and the rest of us aren't?" Ginny demanded.
"Hermione's a Muggle-born," Harry reminded her. "She'll be targeted first in the war. You pure-bloods will be just fine."
"We'll be targeted for associating with you!" said Ginny.
"Which is why I can't let you do that," said Harry frankly. "After tonight, I have to keep my distance. It's for your own good."
"Did it all mean nothing to you, then?" Ginny asked, her voice starting to crack a bit. "All those nights we spent together in the castle? The things we whispered to each other when we were alone?"
Harry's stomach began to tighten into a knot at her words. This was the conversation he'd dreaded, the one he'd been trying to avoid all summer. Ginny's eyes bored into his, imploring him, seeking to understand. He didn't want to break her heart...but if she insisted, he'd oblige her.
"Ginny," he said sternly, grabbing her arms and stopping their dance. "Let me be very clear. You were a beautiful distraction for me last term. An escape from the horrible future I knew lay ahead of me. But we were never meant to be. I don't have time for relationships right now...not ones that don't help me win this war."
Ginny's hardened facade was beginning to break. Her lower lip quivered; her wide eyes began to well up with tears. "I waited years for you, Harry Potter," she said softly. "And I finally had you. Now you're telling me you led me on all this time? You were just using me?"
The illusion was suddenly broken for Harry. Ginny was a little girl again, Ron's younger sister, the girl who worshiped the Boy Who Lived before she even met him. Now, looking into her eyes, he couldn't distinguish her look from the adoring strangers who scrambled to shake his hand in Diagon Alley. "You fell in love with the idea of me, Ginny," he said quietly. "You never had me, not really. We had our fun, but that's all it'll ever be. I'm sorry."
Something shattered behind Ginny's eyes, and Harry's heart fell at the sight. She slipped her arms out of his grasp and fast-walked off the dance floor, beelining for the exit – no doubt to her room back in the Burrow to cry. He felt terrible for hurting her, but he knew it was for the best. Better that she face reality now and start to accept it than continue clinging to some hope that she could still "have" him. Harry didn't want to be "had".
"Still out breaking hearts, eh Potter?"
Harry turned. Ron was walking towards him, and from his uncoordinated movement and slurred speech, Harry could tell he was drunk. Ron gave Harry a friendly clap on the shoulder, but the force behind the gesture told him there was a bit of malice behind it.
"Just making sure Ginny understood where we stood, so she couldn't misinterpret things," Harry shrugged.
"You know very well how she's interpreted things," Ron glared. "I warned you – hic – when you started dating that she would fall head-over-heels."
"You're right, I shouldn't have given her hope," Harry agreed. Ron was looking for a fight, and he had to tread carefully to avoid one. "But now things are cleared up. She won't misunderstand my intentions again."
"Good, that's good," Ron muttered. "At least she understands what a prick you are now."
"Do you want to talk about this in the morning?" Harry said hotly. "I'm not in the mood for this right now."
"You'd like that," Ron snarled. "You and 'Mione will prob'ly be gone by sunrise. She already told me you're planning to skip off together. Mate, if you fancied her, why couldn't you at least tell me?"
"That's not what this is about," Harry denied. "Hermione's in just as much danger as I am when the war begins. We have to stick together for survival."
"God, I must be the world's biggest idiot," Ron laughed, a little too loudly. People around them were starting to cease their dancing to eavesdrop on their conversation. "Spent six years thinking I was your friend, that you two thought highly of me. But in the end, I was just a disposable sidekick all along. I'm no better than Ginny with her schoolgirl crush."
"I am your friend, you prat!" Harry protested. "Did you miss the part where there's a war coming? I'm leaving you out to protect you, so you won't be tortured or worse when the Death Eaters come knocking! You really expected to charge into battle against Voldemort with me? You're right, you are an idiot."
"I expected honesty," said Ron. "You can't even admit you're in love with her. You can't even do me that kindness."
"I never loved your sister, Ron, haven't you been listening?" said Harry.
"I'm not talking about Ginny!" said Ron. He opened his mouth to say more, but closed it again, falling unexpectedly silent. In fact, a hush was falling over the entire crowd; Harry looked around to see that all eyes were on the southern end of the tent. A silvery creature was bounding through the air towards them, coming to rest over the dance floor, opening its mouth to fill the silence with Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice:
"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."
Pandemonium reigned. Harry and Ron were jostled about as witches and wizards around them scrambled for the exits. There were loud cracks of Disapparation as people fled, while others screamed for loved ones, for children, for parents. Harry took off at once, jumping to get glimpses over the crowd, searching for the one person he needed to find…
"Hermione!" he shouted over the din. "Hermione, where are you?"
"Harry!" a faint voice cried out from his left. He abruptly changed course, searching for the source of the voice. A sickly orange spell sliced through the air in his direction; Harry's wand was out before he could even register it, deflecting it upwards into the tent roof, where it tore through the fabric and whistled through the night. Fights were already breaking out between party-goers and hooded figures. It would only be seconds before they spotted him.
Hermione was fighting the sea of bodies jostling for the exits, fighting to reach him. Harry shoved two older wizards aside and grasped for her, barely grabbing hold of her wrist. He was about to turn on the spot and Disapparate the two of them far away, when a heavy body collided with the two of them, grabbing onto them both.
"Take me with you," Ron begged, his eyes wide. "Don't leave me."
"Get off, Ronald!" Hermione shrieked. Another jet of light whistled past Harry's ear, and he turned to fire a Body-Bind Curse at the Death Eater who had appeared before them. They didn't have time for this…
"Ron, let go or I will hex you," Harry shouted into his friend's ear. "I mean it." He pointed his wand in Ron's face, doing his best to ignore the desperate look in his eyes.
"Potter!"
Once again Harry wheeled around to face the speaker, and once again he was surprised to see Krum approaching them. Krum's wand was drawn, firing nasty-looking curses at the Death Eaters all around them, and from the screams of those who were hit by them, Harry knew they must be Dark spells. Ron and Hermione also looked shocked by Krum's display of strength, and Harry felt both of their grips upon him slacken.
Harry grabbed Hermione's arm and wrenched them both free of Ron's grasp, sending him tumbling to the ground. He reached out with his free hand towards Krum, who grabbed hold of his wrist. Ron's cry of anguish was drowned out by the crushing weight of Disapparation as Krum twisted the three of them away, leaving the wedding behind, taking them to some destination unknown.
A/N: Thanks for reading! Please note that this is NOT a Dumbledore/Weasley-bashing fic, but it was important to show how and why Harry diverged from canon from here on. Coming up next: we're back to Eva's Hogwarts journey in the present-day. See you soon, and please review with your thoughts so far!
