- CHAPTER THIRTEEN -
Personal Responsibility
Hermione was frantic.
Harry's body writhed before her, each seizure worse than the last, and there was nothing she could do. She had attempted every healing spell she knew, shaken him, splashed him with water, but the nightmare or vision or whatever this was held her boyfriend in a vice-like grip and nothing she tried would break its hold. She was helpless. All she could do was hold his head and stop him from hurting himself during his seizures.
"Please, Harry, please come back to me," she pleaded with him, her fingers caressing his damp forehead.
Hermione didn't know what to do. She could not, would not, leave him alone in this state, but she was running out of options. He needed to get to a hospital, but she couldn't move him by herself, much less to the closest magical hospital hundreds of miles away in Paris.
There was one way to get help... a very risky way... If she flew over to the nearby village and started casting spells, the French Aurors would be alerted immediately. It would mean the end of their seclusion, and she might get arrested, but that was the least of her worries, Harry's health was all that mattered right now. As long as the Aurors didn't stun her on sight, she'd have a chance to explain things. They'd be able to help him.
As if in response, Harry's shaking intensified. She needed to do something- anything! If she stunned him, maybe that would make it stop, buy her time to-
"AAHH!"
Hermione leapt back, startled by his scream. Harry's eyes shot open, and he scrambled up. Without thinking, she threw her arms around him, squeezing out what little air he had left, immensely relieved that he had woken up even if he wasn't fully responsive yet.
"It's all right. I'm here," she whispered soothingly, resting her forehead against his as she tried to calm him down.
"Hermione?" he choked out, his eyes wild with terror.
"Yes, I'm here. I'm here."
"Hermione..." he took a deep breath and some of the tension left him as he clung to her.
"It's all right, Harry. Everything's all right," she soothed, but he shuddered and shook his head.
"N-no... no, it's not..."
"What... what did you see?" Hermione asked apprehensively. She leaned back and looked him over with worry, almost afraid of the answer. For him to be in this state, it had to be something truly horrible.
"I..."
"Please, Harry, talk to me," she pleaded with him.
"It- it was awful..." he finally began, his voice trembling. "It was... I saw... him... V- Voldemort... he's- he's back!"
Hermione gasped, his words beyond even her darkest fears.
"He- No! Are you sure?" she asked with dismay. She didn't want to believe what he'd told her, it had to be a nightmare, but Harry's visions had shown real events before. They knew already that Voldemort hadn't truly died and that he'd regained some twisted physical form. Had he really found a way to return now?
Holding onto her, Harry nodded haltingly. "I saw him. I saw... It- it was terrible! They were in a graveyard. He did some kind of ritual. Voldemort, and- and Wormtail, and... and Krum- Voldemort abducted Krum. They fought... Krum was good, but he... it wasn't enough. But Voldemort was really mad that he didn't get to kill Krum himself. Krum did some kind of fire spell that killed two or three Death Eaters, but then the flames turned on him, and- and then..."
"Oh, Harry!" she exclaimed, hugging him so tightly she could feel his heartbeat. Why? Why was it always her Harry who had to experience these- these horrors? Still, thousands of other questions raced through her mind, yearning for answers.
"How did all this happen? What did Voldemort do? Why was Krum there?" she began to question him. She needed to know more to properly help her boyfriend. "I'm so sorry to ask this... I know it's going to be hard... but you need to tell me what happened, from the beginning, while it's still fresh."
"Sure..." Harry sighed, picking himself up off the floor and flopping onto the nearby sofa. "So... like I said, Voldemort did some kind of ritual to regain his body."
"How?" she questioned and sat down next to him.
"I didn't see the ritual. The vision started afterwards," Harry explained. "I only saw him as he stepped out of a huge cauldron. They cut Krum and took his blood. Wormtail cut off his own hand."
"Cut off his hand!?" she repeated, horrified.
"Yes... Voldemort conjured a new one for him. Not that it matters, he's dead anyway."
"Dead? How?"
"Krum-" Harry shook his head. "No, I think I should tell it in order."
"Of course," she agreed.
"Well, Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron, healed Wormtail and conjured a new silver hand for him, but only after he'd summoned the Death Eaters with Wormtail's Dark Mark. They arrived within less than a minute. Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Avery... maybe ten more..."
"So much for being under the Imperius Curse," Hermione muttered darkly, though she had already known the Dark wizards' excuses had been total hogwash, of course.
"Yeah... Well, Wormtail, Crabbe, and I think Avery are dead," Harry continued. "And one or two more Death Eaters. Not sure about Goyle, I think he's alive, barely, he got burnt very badly."
"How did that happen?" she wondered once more.
"Right, so, after Voldemort spoke to the Death Eaters, he wanted to duel Krum," Harry retold what he had witnessed. "He made some insane speech on how he wanted to kill the winner of the Triwizard Tournament. And on how much he would've liked to kill me instead."
Hermione squeezed his shoulder, unable to find words of comfort.
"No surprise there," he said bitterly and shrugged. "Anyway, Voldemort released Krum from his binds and gave him back his wand. He was mocking him, but I think Krum was actually a much better duellist than he expected. Krum took him pretty much by surprise when he started throwing spells at him. He didn't hit Voldemort, but he caught Wormtail completely off guard, blew off his head, and then killed Crabbe, too. Of course, in the end, there were just too many of them, not to mention Voldemort himself, and Krum couldn't outrun them forever. They injured him, but he gave as good as he got, went down fighting to his last breath. He killed a huge snake..."
"A snake?" Hermione questioned.
"Yeah," Harry affirmed. "I don't know why it was there. But Krum killed it when it attacked him. Voldemort had only been toying with him before, but when the snake died he was furious. Terrifying. Krum didn't last long after that..."
He rubbed the scar on his forehead and shuddered. "I think that was the worst part of it. Voldemort was unhinged. He screamed at Krum as he hid behind a gravestone. The Death Eaters were getting close, but then Krum did this huge fire spell... The flames were... alive, the fire consumed Avery and at least one other Death Eater, maybe Goyle as well, but then I think he lost control and was caught up in the flames."
"Fiendfyre. Demonic Fire," Hermione guessed from his description. "It's incredibly dangerous. Krum had to be very desperate to use it."
"I think..." Harry drew a shuddering breath. "He was hurt pretty badly at that point. I think he knew it was over, he didn't want to give Voldemort the chance to torture him..."
"Oh, that's terrible," she whispered sadly, not wanting to imagine what it must've been like for Krum to make such a decision. She wrapped her arms around her boyfriend once more for comfort, and Harry sighed as he leaned back into her.
"Yeah... Voldemort got even angrier when he realised that Krum was dead. He was trying to contain the flames and yelling at the Death Eaters when I woke up."
"I'm so sorry that you had to see that," she quietly spoke to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "We really need to do something about these visions. I think it's time we look for help on that. A magical hospital somewhere in Europe, far away from Britain..."
"Far away...?" Harry gave her a questioning glance. "Won't we have to go back?"
"Back?" Hermione frowned at him, confused. "Back where?"
She could tell from his expression that he thought it was obvious. "Back to Britain. To Hogwarts."
"What!? No!" she shouted, taken aback by his suggestion. She sat rigid and stared deep into his piercing green eyes. "Why should we? This is just one more reason to stay away."
He looked back at her quizzically. "I... But... We can't just let Voldemort-"
"Let him?" she cut him off angrily. "Let him do what? It's not- It's not our job to stop him from doing anything!"
"He'll come after me regardless," Harry argued.
"And that's precisely why we won't return to Britain, much less Hogwarts," she tried to reason with him. "Because then he'd know where to find you."
"We can't run forever," he insisted. "And he'll keep on killing innocents in the meantime. Just like he murdered my parents. Don't you see? This is still my fight!"
"So you'll let him kill you, too!?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch.
"No-"
"But what are you going to do? Walk up and kill him? Cast the Killing Curse? Shoot him? You wouldn't even get close! And most importantly, it's not your job. It is not your responsibility!"
"You know... that might be good, actually," Harry said with a frown.
She blinked. "What?"
"Shoot him. It'd be much easier than spell-casting, quicker too... and-"
"Harry!" she shouted, frustrated with his stubbornness.
"But-"
"This is a war! You're fourteen! Leave the fighting to the Ministry, the adults, anyone else! Even if they completely botch it, which I'll admit is more than likely, it's not your job to fix their mistakes. It's not the job of fourteen-year-olds to fight wars when the general public can't be bothered!"
Harry scowled at her, and she took a deep calming breath, cursing those foul Dursleys for turning him into this. Him taking the blame for everything, disregarding his own well-being, feeling responsible to protect everyone's life except his own... In a way, his selflessness was commendable, but it was disheartening to see how the boy she loved so much valued his own life so little. She'd hoped that they'd moved past that by now, but she knew it wasn't his fault.
"Look, Harry," she started anew, softer this time, and reached for his hand. "It's not your responsibility to avenge your parents' deaths or fight a madman who's out to kill you. That's why there's a police force in a civilised country. It's the Aurors' job to do that. And beyond that, the adults' job. Not ours. Not yours."
"But-" he began, only for her to interrupt him again.
"We don't owe them anything! You don't owe them anything!" she pleaded with him, her voice hitching slightly. "You've already lost your parents fighting this madman! You've fought him twice in the last four years, and for what? So you could get dumped with abusive, magic-hating bigots, get ridiculed and unfairly treated at school, and get thrown into life-threatening situations again and again and again!"
Harry slumped back into the cushions, and Hermione felt she was slowly getting through to him.
"The wizards and witches of Magical Britain outnumber the Death Eaters a thousand to one!" she pressed on. "They can bloody well take care of their own safety. If they can't get off their arses and defend themselves, why should you- why should we risk our lives for them? Maybe they'll get lucky and another baby will miraculously save them! But I won't risk losing you! I can't lose you!"
Choking back a sob, she desperately threw her arms around him. "Please, Harry, please don't do anything rash or stupid! Don't risk your life when we don't owe them anything."
"Okay, okay, all right, I get it," he grumbled, looking away from her, and she could tell he didn't like her conclusion at all.
"Promise me, please, Harry," she implored him. "Promise me that you won't do something stupid."
He sighed as he met her eyes. "I won't do anything stupid," he assured her. "I won't run off into danger without thinking or without giving us a chance to plan and prepare..."
Hermione pursed her lips, unimpressed by his response. She didn't want him to run off into danger at all. "You still think we should go back," she said quietly.
Harry grimaced. "I don't know... I agree that it's the Ministry who should fight Voldemort. But when have they ever done anything? On the other hand, well, I don't like it, but I agree that it'd be stupid for us to fight him. Still... if Voldemort ends up winning... Our friends are at Hogwarts. Your parents live in England. We can't just abandon them..."
"So... What do you propose then?" she asked, but there was only little heat left in her voice. She was tired of arguing with him, and if she was honest about it, she could also see his point.
"I'm not saying we should fight," he clarified. "I don't know what to do, I don't have a plan either. But if things get bad... We can't sit here and do nothing, Hermione... there has to be something we can do..."
"Yes, that's fine," she agreed, mollified by his response. "Of course. We'll still help them when we can... But we won't go back!"
"We won't go back," he agreed, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Thank you, Harry..."
"I reckon we should still up our Defence lessons and duelling practices," he added, causing her to tense again. She narrowed her eyes at him with suspicion, but he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Just to be safe. Just in case. So we can defend ourselves in case it's needed."
The earnestness in his voice set her at ease, and she regretted having doubted him. "Sorry," she apologised. "You're right, obviously. We should do that. It's only smart."
"It's all right," he said, and she was relieved to see that he wasn't upset with her. "What now?"
Hermione perked up when a sudden thought hit her. "You know what we can do to help?" she asked excitedly. "We should write a letter to Sirius or maybe Dumbledore and tell them what you saw!"
"Sure, we could do that..." Harry agreed hesitantly.
"I think it's really important!" she tried to convince him. "They need to arrest the Death Eaters now, before they start killing people again. If we're fast, Dumbledore and the Ministry might even take them by surprise!"
Not waiting for a response, she darted to a nearby cupboard to fetch pen and paper and rushed back to the sofa table.
"All right. Tell me all the names you remember!" she demanded as she readied the pen.
"Well, Voldemort didn't address everyone by name..." Harry said slowly. "But I remember Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Wormtail... Macnair, Nott... Avery and Jugson... "
She nodded when she had written down the names. "Okay, go on..."
"Well, there were at least eight more, but I don't think he mentioned them by name..." he said with a frown. "Sorry... You should add, though, that Wormtail, Crabbe, and Avery? I think? Were killed. And one or two more Death Eaters. Not sure about Goyle, but I think he's alive but got burnt very badly."
"Right..." She nodded and took a second sheet of paper, ready to get started on the letter. "I'll mention that, together with everything else you've told me..."
"Who's the letter for, by the way?" Harry asked. "Sirius?"
"Oh... You know, maybe you should write to him, too," Hermione pondered. "But a letter only to Sirius wouldn't be enough, I think. What could he do? No one would listen to him, and he has to stay hidden anyway. He could only forward our letter to Dumbledore. So it's probably best to write to Dumbledore directly..."
"Really?" he asked, looking sceptical.
Hermione nodded reluctantly. "I have plenty of doubts about him, but I think we can trust him on this. And we don't know anyone in the Ministry we can trust... Mr Weasley, maybe, but he's not really important enough to do something about it..."
"No, I think you're right," Harry agreed with her. " You write to Dumbledore then and I'll take Sirius."
"Let's do that," she said and started writing while Harry picked up another sheet of paper and got started on his own letter.
For a while, they worked in tense silence, interrupted only by her occasional questions to Harry over one detail or another as she wrote down the full account of his vision. When she was done, Harry read it over, and she amended a few points upon his suggestion.
Harry, in the meantime, had finished his own brief summary of events in the letter to Sirius. As they had planned before, he also wanted to ask his godfather to be at a specific phone box at a specific time so that they could call him.
"We said we'd call a phone box in London, right?" Harry asked her when he got to that part of the letter. "Did you have one in mind?"
"I'd have preferred to look up the street names on a city map," Hermione replied, furrowing her brows as she tried to think of a place that could be described in a letter. "I remember a pair of phone boxes at Covent Garden Market. Opposite the market hall, at the corner of the street leading to the Underground station Covent Garden. Do you think Sirius will be able to find those?"
"I reckon we'll have to try and hope for the best," Harry replied as he scribbled down what she had said. Hermione just hoped Sirius would be able to follow the instructions.
"What time and date did you give him?" she asked when Harry stopped writing.
"Dunno," he replied, looking up at her. "Nothing yet."
"It depends on how soon we can send off the letter, when it'll get delivered, and how long Sirius will need to get to London," she mused aloud. "We should probably give him one or two days at least to travel. Or maybe we could give him two options. At noon either in three days or in five, and we'll just try our luck calling the phone box twice..."
"That might work," Harry agreed.
"So, today's Thursday. If we manage to send off the letter tomorrow, you could suggest Sunday or Tuesday next week for our call," Hermione concluded.
Harry nodded along. "We really should send the letters off as soon as possible, right?"
"Sure, why?" she asked.
"I mean, it's pretty late – or rather, early – already," he said. "And after what has happened... I don't think I'd get any sleep tonight, anyway. So, let's maybe just travel tonight instead?"
"Oh... all right," Hermione agreed with him.
"The closest Owl Post office would probably be in... Rennes or Toulouse, right?" Harry continued. "Toulouse is probably closer. But Rennes is further North, so the owls will be in Britain sooner."
"With an express delivery, the distance won't matter," Hermione corrected him. "The owl will more or less teleport to Britain anyway..."
"Ah, well, in that case, I suppose Toulouse might be best," Harry said, and Hermione nodded thoughtfully.
"Yeah, it will be. But mostly because we have to decide where to go next... And that would be further south, I think. We need to find a healer to have them look at your scar and do something about your visions. But that might completely blow our cover. France is far too close to Britain to risk that... I think... Greece might be good, or maybe even Egypt."
"We haven't really looked up magical communities outside of Europe yet," Harry cautioned.
"Right..." She nodded. "Greece, then. If I remember correctly, there's a famous magical hospital in Larissa."
Harry snorted as he shot her a grin. "I'm pretty sure you remember correctly. You always do."
"Flatterer," she said dryly before giving him a soft smile, glad that they were back at their lighthearted banter.
"All right. So, to Toulouse tonight, and then to Greece," he concluded. "I suppose we'll travel through Italy again, then."
"Yes, but much faster this time," she said. "I want you to see a healer as soon as possible. I just hope they'll know how to get rid of your visions..."
"I guess... They've been quite useful, though," Harry pointed out. "Maybe... I don't know, the visions might let us warn people, like now..."
"No!" she disagreed vehemently. "They're not worth the pain they're causing you. And they're too dangerous. Just imagine if you had such a fit when we're on the broom! We really need to find a way to stop these visions!"
Harry's eyes widened at her remark. "You're right," he said, giving her a worried look. "What if that happens when we're flying? It would be better... I think you should use your own broom from now on..."
"No, it's all right," she tried to assure him. "I agree, we need to be more careful. If your scar starts hurting again, land immediately. And tell me what's happening. When I'm behind you on the broom, at least I'll be there to hold you and take over the broom. I think I can ride it well enough by now to land safely if you faint again..."
"All right, fine," he relented. "Let's just hope it doesn't happen again."
"Yeah, let's," she sighed, though it sounded rather dispirited even to her. Worriedly, she observed her boyfriend as he picked up the pen again, deeply troubled by his strange connection to Voldemort and how his curse scar affected him still. She could only hope the healers in Greece would know how to treat him.
Harry quickly finished his letter to Sirius, and they were ready to go a few minutes later. Harry fetched his Firebolt, and they stepped out of the tent into the grey, gloomy night. As he readied the broom, she folded the tent with a press of her wand and stowed it away in her space-expanded bag.
"Ready?" Harry asked her when they found themselves standing in the dark, empty clearing, illuminated only by the pale moonlight shimmering through the clouds. Crickets chirped in the grass around them, and the rolling of the waves that crashed at the shore sounded in the distance.
"Yeah. Let's go," Hermione said quietly and climbed onto the broom behind him. Harry kicked off and they were away, Hermione wrapping her arms around his waist as they took up speed. Soon, the pitch-black ocean disappeared behind hilltops as they speedily travelled further inland. Silently, she leaned against Harry and got comfortable for the long flight. It was a sensible precaution for her to share his broom in case he fainted again, though she would've wanted to keep him close in any case. Emotionally drained after tonight's events, she drew comfort from their closeness, and she could tell that Harry felt the same.
While the landscape below them passed in a blur of dark shadows, Hermione continued to mull over what had happened that night. She was still terrified about Voldemort's return and what it would mean for Britain, for her, and mostly for Harry. But aside from her worry and sympathy for her boyfriend, Hermione couldn't help but feel immensely relieved and thankful that he hadn't taken part in the Triwizard Tournament and that they'd escaped Hogwarts and Magical Britain. Otherwise, she was certain it would've been Harry in that graveyard. And if Viktor Krum, older and far more experienced, hadn't made it, then Harry wouldn't have stood a chance either.
No, more than ever, she knew that they had made the right decision to leave Britain. With Voldemort back, she and Harry would do what they could from abroad to support his opponents. They would help. But they would not risk their own safety or endanger themselves. She could vividly imagine that to the hysteric and entitled wizarding public of Magical Britain, that wouldn't be enough. They'd call for the Boy-Who-Lived to come back and protect them from the Dark Lord whose name they didn't even dare to mention. Well, tough luck for them. This time, it would be up to the adults to get off their collective arses and put up a real fight. The Boy-Who-Lived was done saving them, the ungrateful lot they were. He'd stay right where he was, with her, and Magical Britain could go bugger itself.
A/N: A huge thank you to Proton6 and Matterrific for proofreading and improving the chapter!
