A/n: This fic isn't abandoned, only cursed. I've had some technical difficulties, which mysteriously align with my moments of inspiration. Something to tide you over.
When news of Kurt Hummel's capture had reached Tracey Davis, she had given herself a little peptalk- angry at herself for calling herself 'Tracey Anne' in the process. She had told herself that his end was not the end of his vision, she was still in charge of the children. She had to remember how he had thrown caution to the wind in all his efforts to protect the children, not just from the external factor, but from themselves as well. She had ignored all protocol and propriety as she got up from her seat and took the podium.
"My best friend is gone, everything is worse now," she let the words sit there for a moment, let everyone remember that her loss was their loss. Kurt Hummel, their general, was now a prisoner of war, presumed dead. Many might have thought that this was the end of their little teenage rebellion, but it was only a new beginning.
"We may never know what has become, or will become of the Master of the Order of the White Lotus who once walked among us," Tracey forced herself to smile; the Carrow twins sneered at her, the threat of her punishment evident on their faces. What they didn't know is that she had learned a lesson more valuable than standing up and being counted from Kurt Hummel, she had learned how to play into the desires of others.
She turned her nose up and hardened her face, "we know that it is a loss from which wizardkind will never recover." Her voice was a challenge, a plea, for Hefina Flint to use whatever power or influence she had to bring back her only friend. Her voice quivered for a moment but she shook it off, "Kurt Elizabeth Hummel was a symbol of what makes a good witch; dedication to ones craft. We will never have another like him-"
Alecto Carrow got to her feet, "The Dark Lord-"
"The Dark Lord mourns this loss," Mistress Flint got to her feet, her neck long and swan-like, "Considering his own birth, he knows that every drop of wizarding blood matters." She turned to Hipster Weasley and bowed her head, "I never knew Kurt Hummel personally, not like the rest of you."
She moved to Tracey's side and threw her arm over the Head Girl's shoulders, cradling her as if she were a child. Holding Tracey in a way that she would never have known she needed to be held. Saying with her body that she was there to help Tracey through this dark time. This racist and magic supremacist was giving her the very thing she craved.
Tracey tried to shake the woman off but she only held on tighter, knowing that Tracey hadn't gotten enough from the embrace, "So there is little comfort I can afford you." She clasped her hands over her stomach. No, her womb, "what has happened to Kurt Hummel WILL. NOT. HAPPEN. TO. A. SINGLE. HOGWARTS. STUDENT. EVER. AGAIN."
She had raised her voice to a shout, directed at the Carrow twins, "These children are our future, and must be protected as such. Least we run the risk of being overcome by the muggles, as we once were."
Tracey hated what she had tapped into, but she allowed herself anything to protect the children. She looked to Neville, who would not meet her gaze. Then she looked into Hipster Weasley's green eyes, they were truly never blue- he simply nodded his head, reassuring her that this would have been what Kurt would have wanted.
His words- Kurt's words- echoed in his head, 'in service of the lord, one often needs to step away from God.'
~0~
Hermione:
The Locket of Slytherin sat between them on the coffee table of Kurt's tent. Everything about doing this without Kurt made doing this without Kurt so much harder; they lived in his tent because they couldn't go back to his house and explain to his boyfriend how they had let him die. Every moment that they lived was an awful reminder of what they ad lost, who they had lost.
Harry reached out for the locket again but Hermione smacked his hand away as if he were a naughty child, "Why do you serve as a constant reminder of why I'm pro-choice?"
"I don't know what that means," Harry glared at her, "but when Kurt explains it to me, it better not be bad."
"Or what?" Hermione scoffed, "You'll stop sending nothing every month?"
Harry reached for the necklace once more, she slapped his hand away again, "No."
"Why?" Harry snapped back.
"You're connected to the Dark Lord," Hermione missed when Kurt was around to be the bad guy on her behalf, "what if he receives a homing beacon every time you touch the locket?"
"I'll-" Ron reached out but received the same admonishment, "what?"
"You barely paid attention to your education," she scolded him, "Do you not remember what happened to Katie Bell when she touched a cursed necklace?"
"So," Harry glared at her, "this is on you?"
"It should be Kurt," she held back a sob, "he knows magic darker than we can imagine… he thought a horocrux was the most boring type of dark magic, he'd know how to destroy it."
"He didn't tell you how to do it?"
Hermione glared at Harry, "with basilisk venom, or the Sword of Gryffindor- which is imbued with basilisk venom."
"Nothing else?"
"He mentioned fire…" she was silent for a moment, "but that was for the living horcrux that he thinks is in the wreckage of your parents' house."
"Why-"
"Look," Ron cut him off, "you had to be at the lectures to get it."
"I wasn't invited," Harry bit back.
"With good reason," Hermione got to her feet and snatched the necklace off the mahogany and glass coffee table, "follow me."
They stepped out of the elaborately decorated white interior, into a cold and lonely woods. Hermione threw the locket on the ground, "ready with the finite incantatem, we don't want to start a forest fire."
Ron looked afraid, standing there with his wand at the ready, "Which one?"
"All of them," Hermione shrugged; afraid that, like Kurt had done for Dumbledore, she would have to do the unforgivable in order to rid the world of this evil.
Kurt had forged her a dragon heartstring wand from the evil Umdlebe wood for just such an occasion. His hope had been that a darker wood would allow her to cast magic that was beyond her grasp- Dark magic didn't make a dark wizard, but it did require a… talent which she did not truly possess.
"Incendio," the locket hopped in place, seeming to mock her. Her anger grew, "inflemare."
The locket did not respond, she feared opening it in case she was inadequate- if they failed to destroy it while it was closed, they wouldn't stand a chance once it was actively defending itself. Kurt had promised that none of the other Horcruxes would be like the diary- Tom Riddle had poured himself into it long before it became a vessel for part of his soul, it had existed before he knew there could be many- it held more of him than any of the others.
Hermione knew all this but feared that she would not be sufficient in her magic to call on the horror needed to destroy the locket. She could take his place as leader, but she would never be Kurt Elizabeth Hummel. She would never be broken in the same way as him; she would never know his loss, or what it meant to be thrown away like he was as a child, what it meant to have the first person you truly opened yourself to die for you. She took a deep breath and, within herself, prepared her best impression of Kurt, "Aro."
Her flames were the traditional shades of red and orange, not the blue which had garnered Kurt some fame. Her patience grew thin, "Pestis Incendium."
The wand designed specifically to allow her to perform dark magic, spluttered and did nothing. As if to mock her bookish goodness, to remind her that she was no Kurt Hummel. That, while the Death Eaters might have taken Kurt, they definitely would have killed her. She didn't want to weep, only channel the anger into her spell, "Aro!"
The flames mocked her with their warm hue. She called on the darkest moment of her life, reminding herself that she had goaded Kurt into patricide, "Aro!"
She was met with nothing but red flames, the colour of their noble house, mocking her. If she was truly as brilliant as any Ravenclaw, she would be able to do this. If she was smarter than she was brave or foolhardy, she would be able to conjure those blue flames. She would be able to do the last task on Kurt's to-do list, it she was truly the brightest witch of the age, she would have it in her to kill Harry Potter.
She tried her hardest to convince herself that she was capable of finishing what needed to be done. She hoped to convince herself that she was as worthy of a love like Kurt had with Hipster Weasley. Hermione took a deep breath, before she to cast the spell once more, and the wand built specially for her to use dark magic shattered in her hands. Her, now dead, best friend's work made redundant by her own shortcomings.
~0~
Ron:
Ron's mind could only focus on one thing since Hermione had failed to destroy the locket, 'What would I say to Charlie?'
How could he explain to the brother he knew the least, loved the least; that their loss was equal? How would he convince his most dangerous brother that he had done everything he could to the save the boy he loved? How was he expected to face the reality of what they had lost?
Because that was Ron's Kurt they had lost. That was the first person he had loved involuntarily, and now he had to contend his own loss with his brothers- a brother who had known Kurt for less time but had loved his friend so deeply. Charlie had lost the love of his life, but so had Ron… and nobody seemed to care because You-Know-Who was committing crimes against humanity.
Were they even humans? Ron supposed not, Kurt has said something about 'cruel and unusual punishment' in the context of Azkaban, it was how Ron had learned about 'context'. If they could do to their prisoners what the British Wizarding Ministry was doing to people in Azkaban, then they were inhumane, and so, not human.
He stopped in his tracks. Hermione and Harry kept walking for a few steps; first Hermione stopped, and then after some times, Harry stopped.
"What is it now?" the boy he'd once convinced himself was his best friend whined. Ron's stomach churned but he only gritted his teeth, "if we keep stopping, we won't get-"
"Get where?" Ron quirked a curious brow in his best Kurt impression, "where are we going?"
"Somewhere," Harry rolled his eyes, "anywhere but camping-"
"Kurt hated camping," He and Hermione chorused.
"Said it was a glamourised homelessness," Hermione's face made Ron's heart want to break, "without having to consider the poverty associated with it."
"Kurt's gone," Ron let out a defeated sigh, "and my brother who didn't really talk to us before him, has lost the only person he's ever really loved."
"The only person likely to love Hipster Weasley," Hermione let out a hollow chuckle.
"Your brother losing his boyfriend isn't the worst thing about Kurt being… gone," Harry chuckled.
"Really," Ron tilted his head in condescension, "Then what is?" there was a cold silence, "he died to preserve what you mean to the rebellion, but I think he meant more."
"Ron," Hermoine warned him.
Now the silence was loaded, but he powered through, "considering only he knows how his contamination of the prophecy impacts our reality."
"Kurt's not dead," Hermione snapped.
"You two are going on as if he's still here," Ron held back a sob, "and that's because you don't have to explain to the person who loved him most… how you lost him."
"I have to live with it!" Harry barked back.
Ron smirked, "not for much longer."
Harry growled his response, "What's that supposed to mean?"
He patted the top of Harry's head like he was an obedient dog, "he's going to get you any day now. With your recklessness, and we'll be left in the aftermath with a broken Charlie and no plan."
Hermione didn't fight her tears, they had been avoiding the truth for too long. She shook her head, "no, Kurt would want us-"
"Kurt would want us to mourn him!" Ron screamed, "he wouldn't appreciate us using his intellectual property without acknowledging his death."
"Kurt's not dead!" Harry snapped.
"Says who?" Ron chuckled, "he is the face of youth revolt, people who've never heard of Harry Potter failing upwards know that Kurt Elizabeth Hummel vanquished the Dark Lord in the Chamber of Secrets."
"I'm sorry that I'm not Kurt!"
"You should be," Ron snarled.
Harry was boiling now, "but I'm in charge now."
"I know Kurt, whose death you won't even acknowledge, didn't die and leave you in charge," Ron scoffed, "If anyone, Tracey Anne is in charge now. Neville is in charge, Hermione Granger!"
"Not me," Hermione hugged herself, "please, not me."
Ron was screaming at this point, ignoring Hermione's protestations, "You? Not with your intellectual incuriosity."
"Considering the fact that you're speaking in multiple syllables," Harry got closer to him, "you and the Kurt who desired your brother more than he ever did you, must have discussed the matter."
Then Ron punched Harry Potter. He punched his best friend, and it all came to a boil for him. He removed Slytherin's necklace, throwing it on the ground and moving to Harry's side. He had lost himself in the grief, int the pain of being disconnected from his Northern Star.
"I'm sorry," he got to his knees and held Harry by the cheek, "You know parts of him make us like him."
Harry flashed a bloody smile, "this is where Kurt would make fun of our intellect."
"He's not dead," Hermione scolded both of them, the locket in her hands and her aura exuding power, "no matter what the necklace makes us think."
They took a moment in their positions as they tried their hardest to make her words real, to pretend that everything would work itself out in the end. The Death Eaters had not disappeared people, Kurt was not gone- it simply would not stick for more than a moment before reality swept in to ruin it like Halle Parker's pictures.
"Charlie is never going to speak to me again," Ron chuckled.
Hermione nodded her head, "just when he'd just started saying something interesting to someone other than Kurt."
"Did you know that my family are only in Gryffindor because Mum made us believe it was the only right choice," Ron chuckled, "The entire House System is a farce, did you know that?"
"What do you mean?" Hermione furrowed her brow.
Ron guffawed, "While we're cowering in the woods, who is in charge of the children?"
"Neville," Harry shot back, "who is in Gryffindor."
"Was," Hermione corrected. Rolling her eyes at having to provide exposition like Kurt usually did, "Slughorn did away with the house system."
"Who is supporting him?" Ron pressed on, "Tracey Anne and the Slytherin girls. Gregory and the Ravenclaw Boys. Dennis and Kurt's fan club."
"Well…" Harry glared at him.
"Well?" Ron was quiet for a moment, "What?"
"I was going to be in Slytherin," Harry chuckled, "but you and Hagrid hyped Gryffindor."
"I was almost in Slytherin," Hermione gaped at them, "but I had read somewhere that it was only for dark wizards."
Harry made himself comfortable on the ground, "are you telling me that-"
"We could have all been sexy Slytherin girls?" Hermione chuckled, taking the spot next to him.
"Yes," Harry chuckled, spitting up a bit of blood, "we could have all fucked Goyle, or at least have seen the Serpent of Slytherin." There was another silence, this one was different, "What am I missing?"
"I didn't let being in Gryffindor stop me from seeing it," Hermione flipped her hair.
"I didn't let being asexual stop me," Ron smiled with pride, "I named it, after all."
"Well," Harry was silent for a moment, "I was off being an idiot when all of this happened."
Hermione and he exchanged a knowing look, as if agreeing that it's what Kurt would have wanted, "or you were getting a handjob in the library."
Harry took a deep breath, "that was one time!"
They laughed as if they were new friends in first year; before the philosopher's stone, before Voldemort, before Nancy Drew became a matter of life and death.
Ron cleared his throat, "I know that isn't the girl who was worn as a ring on the Astronomy tower laughing."
"Ronald Billius Weasley," Hermione shook her head, "this is why you will never truly be a Slytherin Girl." She sat up in her space, "we keep solemn the truths shared with us by our sisters."
"Lisa told you guys about our…"
"Rendezvous," Hermione offered.
"And you guys told everyone with ears," Harry said with indignance.
"Lisa isn't one of us…" Hermione grabbed Harry's shoulder, she smiled kindly. She shot Ron an ugly look, "He was on probation."
Ron's life shattered once more, "you can't demote me again." He gasped for breath, "I cannot go back to simply being only the bare minimum of what my mother required of me."
"It's almost as if your entire identity is tied to you being legally alive," Harry smirked.
Ron shook his head, "not even close." He was silent for a moment, "before you knew about Hogwarts, you had an identity… Kurt was the first person to ask more of me than 'be in Gryffindor'."
"Ron…" Hermione looked at him with large, wet eyes, "I need to show that I'm more that."
"Kurt requires a quorum for any serious decision making," Hermione let out a sigh of relief, "you get to keep your status until the next congregation of Slytherin Girls."
"I think I'll survive it," Ron nodded to himself.
"At least you're thinking, it's a step in the right direction," Harry repeated the words Kurt had spoken to him so many times.
They sat marinading in the words for a moment.
"If Voldemort is stupid," Harry spoke cautiously, "like I'm stupid, what and where are we looking next?"
