False Trails
Sunday, February 9th, 1997
Turns out the dragon dropped them not far out from London, and Harry was able to drive the Quartet into the city by morning, when he, looking the most comfortable in Muggle clothes that fit him and knowing how to act around Muggles, began approaching people on the street and asking for directions to Little Hangleton. He knew the Gaunt shack was on the outskirts, but also knew, on the off chance anybody would even know what he was talking about if he asked about it, that they’d probably not want to tell him.
Within an hour he’d gotten food for his friends and a map and, Hermione promising to Confund any cops who might pull them over asking for a license, the Quartet climbed back into the car and were off for Little Hangleton, Harry driving, Draco shotgun with Prongs on his or at his feet - squirmy fella he was - and Ron and Hermione in the back, Hermione napping on his shoulder.
Careful not to wake her, Ron reached into the rucksack and retrieved a Wizard’s Wireless radio, and Harry and Draco eyed him strangely in the rearview mirror.
“What’re you doing?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised.
“Remember what Ted, Tess, and Fudge said about that radio thing… Potterwatch, was it?” The other boys nodded. “Well, I wanna try and reach it. If I can figure out the password, that is…”
“But they said that ‘River’ broadcasts every night,” Draco pointed out. “It’s not active now.”
“Oh… right…” Ron muttered, and stuffed the radio back in the rucksack, frowning, instead seeming to settle on cuddling with Hermione to pass the time as he nestled cozily in the backseat. Harry and Draco locked eyes, smirking and shrugging it off.
Draco fell asleep about half an hour later, but within four hours after that Harry, whose eyes were admittedly drooping dangerously, jerked his head up and grinned as he began to recognize his surroundings.
“We’re here!”
“Huh?!”
“What?!”
“WHERE?!”
Hermione narrowly ducked Ron as he instinctively reacted from the sudden wake-up call with flying fists, but soon the whole Quartet was looking out the windows of the rover, eyeing the tall green hedges that were just the same as they were from Ogden’s memory, if slightly more overgrown.
“There!” Draco called and pointed a finger forwards, and Harry saw the road sign Ogden had followed seventy years ago, pointing towards ‘Little Hangleton.’ Harry turned and they drove down the same hill he and Draco had walked down several months ago, Hermione and Ron pressing up against the back of their seats so close they were practically in the front of the car.
“Is that…” Hermione’s eyes had found the graveyard, and the boys silently nodded, Ron patting Harry’s shoulder as he looked to be getting dark flashbacks.
But just as Ogden didn’t spend long on the view seventy years ago, neither did Harry, turning onto the dirt path down to the Gaunt shack so that the car began to bump viciously and Hermione and Ron were flown backwards into their seats.
“Are you not wearing seatbelts?” Harry demanded and Ron and Draco goggled at him, Hermione giggling at their obliviousness while he sighed heavily and slammed his forehead against the steering wheel.
But nevertheless, they reached the door, and it looked the same as always. How could you make an already decrepit old house more barren in the seventy years since it had been emptied out? You clearly couldn’t, though the snake had shriveled down so that it looked just like a shedded skin, now, and the door was blasted open, hanging by its hinges.
Cautiously, the Quartet climbed out of the car and approached the house, Hermione at the head with Draco’s wand raised. As Harry and Draco approached they eyed the overgrown tree swaying dangerously close to the abandoned shack as if the spirit of Morfin Gaunt was going to jump out of it at any moment. He didn’t, of course, and they reached the front door, and did their best to ignore the dead snake on the door as they stepped inside…
“Lumos!”
Only to find a mess. The floorboards had been uprooted and the minimal furniture thrown about the place, and Harry would be willing to blame it on Morfin’s capture, if it was for the fact that the clear marks left behind by smells seem to be concentrated on one area, which when Hermione’s wand light danced over, glinted with something gold, like a Snitch flitting through the air.
“What’s that?” said Harry, pointing forwards at a hole that seemed to have been blasted through in the floorboards, where the glint was coming from. The four teens stepped forward and crouched around said hole, Draco digging his hand into the frosted over soil and emerging with a ring in his hand.
It was broken, the place a black stone had once set cracked and bent, as if something or, more likely, someone, had wrenched the stone free from it, but it was certainly the Gaunt family ring, and it was most certainly destroyed.
“Blimey,” Ron breathed as Draco passed the broken golden band amongst his friends, holding it up to the sunlight when it reached him. “But who… Who could’ve destroyed it?”
Harry frowned, imagining, in his head, the stone still sitting inside. Thinking of the ‘Peverell Coat of Arms’ carved into it. Of how he was still certain Dumbledore wanted them to find the Hallows, even if they weren’t in Godric’s Hollow. Because maybe they were…
“What if it’s in the Snitch.”
“What?”
His friends all turned to him, confused, but he was pulling the Snitch he now carried with him everywhere out of an inside pocket in his jacket, and kissing it, stared at the words, ‘I open at the close.’
“Think about it, this sounds a lot like what’s on Dumbledore’s grave, right? And the Peverell’s were buried there too. Maybe it’s a clue…”
“Harry, we already went to Godric’s Hollow, remember? It ended in disaster?” Hermione said, sounding exasperated.
“Yes, but think of the stone, Hermione. The stone in the ring. It had the Peverell Coat of Arms on it, right? Why is that? What if,” he leaned in close, whispering, as if revealing a closely kept secret. “What if it’s the Resurrection Stone?”
“There is no Resurrection Stone!” she snapped.
“I thought we’d established the Hallows are real, Hermione?” Ron said.
“Maybe the wand and the cloak! But the stone -” She shook her head, laughing madly. “Well that’s just a fairytale, isn’t it?”
“The whole thing is a fairytale…” Ron muttered.
“Exactly!” she snapped back. “You can’t bring people back from the dead, Harry, it’s impossible -”
“Then what else could this Snitch be for?” He demanded, rising to his feet now in his anger. “Who destroyed this ring but left it behind for someone to find? Who mysteriously left the Snitch at Grimmauld Place?”
They had asked nearly all of the Order who knew of Grimmauld Place’s location before all hell broke loose on the flight to Hogwarts, and none had claimed the present. Hermione hadn’t even been there. Who was she, trying to disprove the one lead they had on this Hallows mystery -
“You both are making valid points,” Draco interrupted, rising to a stand and spreading his hands out diplomatically between Harry and Hermione. “But maybe we should continue to the lake before you two decide to kill each other. Fighting is going to get us nowhere, remember?”
“Fine,” Harry huffed, turning and heading off towards the doorway.
They drove back the way they came and, by the time they reached London again, Harry was able to get them dinner and direction to Thorney Bay Beach, which was just an hour away, but nothing more as he returned to the car parked in a dark, deserted alley guarded by Hermione’s protection spells to find his friends nearly dozing off, Hermione, curled up in Ron’s arms, an innocent sight that made him nearly forget all she’d said in the shack.
He still believed in all he’d said, however, and after they’d stuffed themselves with stolen subs (he’d placed a handful of galleons on the counter before slipping out under the Invisibility Cloak) and water bottles (same here) he snuggled into bed (Hermione pitched the tent up again on top of the car) and held the Snitch up before him, turning it in his fingers, occasionally kissing it and eyeing it for any cracks or crevices which could be opened.
He was positive the Resurrection Stone was inside, if only he had a way of opening it, of communicating with Dumbledore and begging him for answers. For explaining the meaning behind his letter and even friendship with Grindelwald and that ‘greater good’ philosophy that made him keep questioning his actions all day yesterday.
He eventually dozed off to these thoughts, gripping the Snitch in his hand, but that didn’t stop them from haunting his dreams.
-*-*-*-
Monday, February 10th
The beach was a lot colder than Draco expected it to be, though of course that might’ve just been because it was late winter. Still, it was peaceful as he stood with his feet bare in the sand, shoes and socks discarded a few feet away, pretending like he couldn’t hear his trio of Gryffindor friends arguing behind him about why one of them should be going to the cave with Harry instead of Draco.
He held no animosity towards them for being protective over his boyfriend, of course, he’d be fighting too if Harry chose Hermione, he was only ignoring the sounds as to listen to the soft rolling of the morning waves, breathing in the salty air, and remembering times from his childhood when he would laugh and play at the beach with his parents, Pansy, Vincent, Gregory, or Theodore.
Merlin, he missed them all.
“You could just make three trips,” he turned and addressed his foolish Gryffindors, waving an arm towards the outcropping of rocks on a cliff face they had guessed the cave lay. “Unless any of you brought rock climbing gear?”
Ron folded his arms. “Very funny, Draco,” he huffed but Hermione beamed, slapping a hand against her forehead.
“Of course, Draco! Well that makes more sense.”
The blonde smiled; that’s what he was here for.
Slipping his shoes and socks back on, he watched as Harry departed on his broom with Ron and dropped him off on the jagged rocks, then returned for Hermione, before dropping her off too.
“Ready?” he asked when he flew back before his boyfriend, holding out his hand and, with the wind whipping at his wild hair and memories filled with love on his mind, all Draco could describe it as was romantic.
“Of course,” he blurted, climbing behind Harry and hugging him around the waist, which brought back even more romantic memories of their departure from the graveyard two years ago.
The rocks were slippery, Draco couldn’t deny, and the height alone was frightening, but he’d seen scarier.
Hermione bent down carefully on her knees and looked over the edge, pointing down at a clump of shorter boulders pressed up against the black rock. “Down there, I think!” She called to them over the whipping sea salty air, and the kids scaled down the side of the rock using a series of jagged niches as footholds.
It was slow, and long, as the rocks were slippery, but after a few swears from Ron and shrieks from Hermione the four of them reached just above the sea water and Hermione ignited her wand, shining its light onto the boulder behind them and, squinting, Draco could see a fissure in the cliff through which dark water was swirling.
“There,” He called, pointing a finger, and, gulping up air, he pushed off the boulder and slipped underneath the surface of the sea, immediately greeting icy cold water but, as he emerged he continued to swim forwards in a clean freestyle toward the fissure, the pressure of the water pushing him forwards. He heard three more great splashes behind him and knew his friends were doing the same.
At high tide, the dark tunnel they swam through now might’ve been filled with water, but instead the four of them swam just on the surface of wet rock until they reached steps to an opening to a large cave.
Climbing up them, he waited for his friends, and once they emerged Hermione turned and waved his old wand over their clothes, drying them in seconds with magically conjured puffs of air. Then she turned towards the cave opening, shining her wand light on the walls and ceiling inside the cave. For about five minutes, they watched, shivering in the cold air that still blew in sharply from the fissure opening, as she tapped Draco’s wand on every inch of the rock surface, until finally, as the tip slipped over the cave wall, an arched outline appeared there, white and bright against their eyes for just a moment before vanishing, leaving nothing but blurs in their eyes.
“What do we do now?” said Harry.
Hermione ran a hand over the spot the bright archway had just shined and creased her brow, flinging her hand back as if the stone had burned her.
“What is it?”
“I think that’s blood, Harry…” Harry carefully stepped forward, squinting at the rock Hermione was shining her light on and saw, nearly blending in with the black rock but still just as surely there, dried red stains.
“Maybe we have to…” Draco swallowed; what he was about to say was truly evil Dark Magic, but then again, this was Voldemort. “Maybe we have to make a sort of payment?”
“What?” All his Gryffindor friends spun around and stared at him, shocked.
“Well it’s Dark Magic, isn’t it? And old too…. Riddle thought he was big talk with old, ancient stuff. Maybe he set up a sort of ritual.”
Harry couldn’t deny his boyfriend’s logic as he turned back to the rock and frowned.
“That’s barbaric…” Hermione whispered.
“Well do you see another way?” He countered and, at her frown, held out his hand.
“Cut me.”
“What?”
“Cut me, with your wand.” She shook her head, wide eyed and mouth gaping, unable to form words, and Harry was about to repeat the order when Draco stepped forward and held out his hand too.
“Do it to me, Hermione,” he said. “I’m Pureblood, remember? I’ll bet you anything this little test is designed to sense the magic in me for whether I should be let through.”
Hermione looked at her friends for any sense to protest against this cruel sort of payment, but seeing none sighed, sucked in a quick breath of air and sliced Draco’s wand through the air. Draco winced as a clean cut exploded on his palm, but quickly pressed his hand against the rock well, smearing the fast pooling blood slightly before pulling his hand back, Hermione already fishing in the rucksack for the dittany.
The white archway appeared once more, not fading, instead guiding them down a path into seemingly endless darkness as the rock faded away.
Harry charged off, Ron following, Hermione and Draco coming in last after she had finished with the dittany, though she hurriedly walked to the front so as to light the way with Draco’s wand tip.
Within a minute, they reached an opening, standing at the edge of a deep black lake, vast in a cavern with a high ceiling that was lifted out of sight. Light, which was only present out of the wand in Hermione’s hand and a glow far away at what appeared to be the middle of the lake, was green and reflected against the still water.
“I’ll bet the Horcrux is at that light,” said Draco, pointing at the greenish glow at the center of the lake.
“C’mon.” Harry jerked his head around the edge of the lake and he and Hermione led them down the narrow bank, careful not to slip and touch the water. Something about it… Nothing in this cave felt safe, so the best they could do was stay together and not touch a thing.
They walked for quite some time, in silence other than the sound of their own footsteps echoing with slapping sounds as their feet trudged across wet rock.
“Accio Horcrux,” Hermione whispered, once, but in response there came a noise akin to an explosion and something very large and pale burst from the dark water, before vanishing once more, leaving the kids shivering with fright.
“Best not try that again, ‘Mione,” said Ron and she nodded, gulping before continuing on.
“Yes, I suppose… Whoa!” She shrieked as with a sharp clanging sound she suddenly rammed into something in midair, but as she was about to fall backwards and collide with the dark water Harry caught her by the wrist and pulled her back up on her feet.
“What was that?” Ron asked, voice shaking with worry for his girlfriend as he pushed past Draco to check if she was alright, only she pushed past him and stepped up to whatever she had just rammed into, finding nothing but plain air.
“I… don’t know…” She waved her hand through the air and, creasing her brows in confusion, hit nothing but seemingly something at the same time because her hand made a second clanging sound. “I think there’s something here… but it’s invisible…”
She managed to grip whatever she’d run into, seemingly making a fist on thin air, and lifted Draco’s wand to tap on whatever she was holding. A second later, a thick, coppery green chain appeared in her fist, hanging in the air and dropping down into the water.
Grinning, she tugged at the chain and it slipped from her grip, pulling a glowing green boat from the water in its wake.
“Blimey…” Harry breathed as Hermione gripped the pore of the boat and tugged it onto the rocky surface they stood on, bending over and examining how big it was.
“I don’t think we’ll all fit…” She glanced around at them, trying to find the one who weighed the least, most likely.
“I should go, obviously, I can do magic, but…”
“I’ll go,” Harry stepped forward, feeling a tug at his wrist and turning back to see Draco frowning at him with worry.
“I’ll be alright,” he protested, kissing him on the cheek lightly. “I’ll be okay.” He repeated, then turned and climbed into the boat, Hermione carefully climbing onto the other side, grabbing the chain and stuffing it onto the floor. She tossed the rucksack to Ron who caught it, frowning as Prongs barked in protest.
“It’ll be okay, buddy,” Harry called out to his crup, the boat already slipping off the rock and beginning to float across the lake. “I’ll be back in a moment.”
Soon, in the darkness, Harry nor Hermione could make out Ron and Draco, and were sure they now felt utterly lost and alone with no light on the rocks, but there was no speeding up the boat as it slowly cut through the water, tugged as if by an invisible string to the greenish light. It could’ve been peaceful, had it not been so terrifyingly dark and the water so unnaturally still.
“Hermione, look!” He pointed out towards where they were approaching and she turned sharply, stretching out Draco’s wand to shine light on… nothing…
“What, Harry?”
“I think I saw a hand in the water - a human hand!” She spun back around, eyes wide and face pale with horror.
“You better be pulling my leg, Harry, and if you are I’ll -”
“I’m not,” she turned paler. “I think it was that thing that jumped out of the water.”
Frowning, she pressed the wand closer to the water and, with a shriek, fell backwards but there was no need to ask why, Harry had seen it too; a dead man lying faceup in the lake.
“Are you okay?!” Came Ron’s voice from out of the darkness, calling out to them. No doubt he and Draco had heard the scream and been rightly startled.
“There’s dead bodies in the water, there’s dead bodies in the water, there are dead bodies in the water -” Hermione whispered to herself over and over, rocking back and forth slightly in the boat.
“We’re fine!” Harry called back in as strong a tone as he could muster, leaning forward to rub her arms.
“We are fine, Hermione.”
“No we are not fine, Harry!” she snapped back. “We had to use blood as payment to get into this place and now there are dead bodies in the water!”
Well, he couldn’t exactly deny her logic there, so instead he leaned back, frowning at the creepy black water.
Within minutes, the boat came to a halt, and Hermione turned, illuminating her wand light upon an island of smooth rock.
“Don’t touch the -”
“Yes, yes, I know, Harry,” she snapped, climbing out of the boat onto the rock and Harry doing the same after her. The expanse of flat stone was no bigger than their tent, and at the center the greenish light glowed from a stone basin akin to a Pensieve, set upon a pedestal of identical dark stone.
The teens stood on either side of the basin and looked down into it; it was full of an emerald liquid which emitted the glow they’d been seeing since they walked in.
“Hermione can you tell -”
“No,” she whispered, waving her wand over it and muttering, “Revelio.” Nothing happened.
Creasing her brows, she dipped her hand into it.
“Don’t touch -”
“I can’t,” she lifted her fingers again, which were completely dry. “See?” She dipped them and, sure enough, they seemed to meet an invisible barrier so that, however hard she pushed, her fingers could meet nothing but air.
“Then how do we reach it?”
“Reach what?”
“The Horcrux. It’s got to be at the bottom, right?”
Hermione circled the basin, eyeing it up and down, and as Harry stepped back to watch her he recalled the riddle from First Year she’d solved in a minute that allowed him to pass through the flames to stop Quirrel, who they’d then thought was Snape of course. Now she was just as deep in thought as she was then as she waved her wand over the potion, muttering spell after spell, incantation after incantation.
Then she stepped back, waved her hand through the air, and caught a goblet she’d conjured from midair, dipping it into the potion and stepping up to Harry. He looked down to see, miraculously, the goblet was full with the stuff. She tipped it over suddenly, and the emerald water vanished the moment it hit the rocks, the pair of teens hurried back to the basin to see it had refilled itself.
“It’s settled, then,” Hermione declared just as triumphantly as she had five years ago. “This potion must be drunk!”
“What?”
“I’ve tried everything else,” she said, shoulders slumping with defeat suddenly. “Nothing’s working. I think… It’s got to be this. The blood on the wall, the boat’s not big enough, and now this… I think Riddle was trying to weaken anyone who came to find his Horcrux as best he could.”
“But… what if it’s poison?”
Hermione looked down at the goblet, then at the basin then, as if stating the most obvious thing in the world, said, “Then I’ll drink it.”
“No!”
“Harry, what other choice do we have?”
He fell silent to that, seeing the same things she just had. The goblet… the basin… the endless expanse of dark lake around them.
“Besides, you’ve got to kill him, haven’t you? I’m not important -”
“That’s not true,” he held her by the arms tightly. “You’re my best friend. The brightest witch I know. Ron loves you, you can’t -”
“I have to,” she dipped the goblet into the basin, staring into the emerald depths with a wince but, becoming no less convicted. “And you have to make sure I keep drinking, even if it’s poison, because we need the Horcrux, Harry,” placed the goblet on the floor and hugged him close, sensing his pure discomfort and distaste for what they were about to do.
“Tell Ron I -”
“No, you’ll do it yourself,” he demanded, stepping back, but, as he looked into her brown eyes, pooling with tears, he sighed, trying furiously to blink back his own, because suddenly he was eleven and she was holding out a potion for him that would let him go on, knowing she’d be left behind. “I will.”
Smiling, she tipped back the goblet and gulped down the liquid. He watched her, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, and when she lowered it he immediately blurted, “How do you feel?”
Her hand gently pressed against her stomach, her eyes shut tight, but she dipped the goblet back in and gulped it down without answering. Her face contorted with pain after the second, and Harry gently held her hand during the third, but halfway through the fourth she slammed the goblet onto the basin and fell to her knees.
“Hermione!”
“Harry? What’s going on?”
He ignored Ron and Draco’s repeated calls across the lake, dropping to his knees and holding his friend as she began to shiver and shake. Her eyes were shut tight but twitched as if she was having a nightmare, and her body was limp beneath his hands.
“And you have to make sure I keep drinking, even if it’s poison,”
Wincing, Harry grabbed the goblet off the basin and placed it into her hands. “You have to keep drinking, Hermione,” he said, “C’mon, you can do it.”
“Please, I don’t want to…” Her voice shook with fear and despair and for a moment Harry thought he’d break under the sound, especially as Ron’s yells became angry, demanding what was happening to his girlfriend. But he had to do this. He had to get that Horcrux. It’s what Hermione would have wanted.
“You have to drink, Hermione, remember? So we can get the Horcrux. I promised I’d get the Horcrux, here…” He tipped her bowed head up, trying not to focus the tear tracks in her cheeks, and gently opened her jaw, tipping the goblet so that the potion fell down her throat.
“Stop…” she groaned, grabbing his arm but then letting go immediately, weakly. “I don’t want to…”
Harry dipped the goblet back into the basin and held it out to her with shaking hands. “C’mon Hermione -”
“Stop… Please… Don’t hurt them, I’ll do anything…” She was moaning now, gripping the sides of her head, and Ron was screaming in his ears, voice echoing around the cavern.
“HARRY WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO HER? HARRY! HERMIONE! HERMIONE!”
“It’s all right,” was all Harry could manage to say. “Stay with me, Hermione, I’m right here.” Carefully, he tipped the fifth fill back down her throat and she scrambled away from him once she’d gulped it down.
“Let me go!”
“HERMIONE!”
Hermione released a scream in response, a horrific sound that bounced off of the cave walls, and Harry winced, tears sipping down his cheeks as he watched her bent over, clawing her hands through her hair, whimpering. “Please… Please don’t do this… Ron… Ron…”
“HERMIONE!”
“I’m sorry, Ron,” Harry whispered under his breath as he stood and filled the goblet for a sixth time. The basin was half empty, and that gave him a flicker of hope, but when he turned it was to find Hermione scrambling away from him, and he ran forwards so that she wouldn’t fall off the rock into the water. All he could do was grab her arm as gently as he could and pull her back towards the basin.
“No! No, no, you can’t make me! I don’t want to! Let me go!”
“It’s all right, Hermione!” Harry pleaded, falling to his knees once more and holding out the goblet. “I know you can do this. We have to get the Horcrux, remember?”
He shoved the sixth goblet down her throat, and in filling the seventh whispered, “It’ll be alright. None of it’s real, Hermione, you’re safe.” Over and over even though it couldn’t be plainer she’d be safer anywhere else than a dark cave being forced to relive who knows what pain, Ron’s pleads of agony of her name pouring into her ears.
“Make it stop! Please I love him, you can’t do this!”
“This’ll make it stop, Hermione,” Harry lied, if only to get her to drink the seventh potion, which she did as if it was an antidote, then immediately resumed to screams of agony. Prongs frightened barks could now be heard joining in on Ron’s yells.
“Drink this, c’mon Hermione, you’ll be alright.”
“Take me. Kill me instead just leave him be, please…”
“HERMIONE!”
Hermione opened her mouth for the eighth goblet obediently in a way which made Harry sick, but he still returned for the ninth, pushing back the sounds of Ron’s shouts and Prongs’ barks and Hermione’s screams because they had to do this, they needed the Horcrux. Painfully, he thought of how yesterday they’d yelled at each other and now here he was, watching Hermione suffer.
“Please, please, you can’t do this… Ron… Ron… Ron…”
Harry knelt before her carefully, the ninth goblet in his hands, and pushed back tears. He felt like a Death Eater, torturing a prisoner, though he tried to reason with himself that this was what must be done for the sake of getting the Horcrux he still felt like all he was doing was following that cruel motto, and this was all meant to be for the greater good.
“Please, no more…”
Hermione opened her mouth and drank like a child and screamed and thrashed as if having a tantrum but still Harry filled the goblet a tenth time, feeling it scrape against the bottom of the basin and nearly letting out a sob of relief, but instead he wiped the fresh tears away and turned back to his best friend he didn’t even know if he deserved the right to call his best friend anymore, as she clawed at her chest now and howled with agony.
“Why… Anyone but him please… No… Don’t do this…”
“We’re nearly there, Hermione! C’mon, I know you can do this…” He tipped up her chin once more and she drained the glass, then pushed him away forcefully.
“I’ll die! I want to die! Take me, please!”
“HARRY LET HER GO! HARRY!”
“Hermione please… The Horcrux, Hermione, remember? We have to get -”
“RON!” She howled and her own name being yelled met her in answer, like a twisted game of call and response. But she drank the eleventh cup obediently, so they were nearly there…
“Just one more, Hermione, just one more… It’ll be over soon, I promise!” And he spoke with conviction this time, knowing it would, and maybe it was that conviction that made Hermione lift her own head, eyes raw with tears, shaking and shivering profusely, but still opening her mouth. She gulped down the final goblet and, on the last drop, released the cup from her lips, giving a rattling gasp before falling limp onto the stone.
“NO!” Harry bellowed, falling to his knees beside her because he’d forgotten, just for a moment, that this could’ve been poison. She’d stayed on so long. The Horcrux was right there, he knew it! She couldn’t be dead… “No, Hermione, don’t be dead, please…”
“HERMIONE!” He could tell Ron was sobbing now, and he heard Draco’s voice shouting along with him this time, but he drove both voices back inside his head, focusing only on Hermione as he carefully lifted her up into his arms, only for her head to fall backwards, limp.
At the same time, he came to notice how incredibly small she was, skinny and delicate, while also realizing he’d never held anything this heavy.
“No, no, no, please… Wake up, you can’t be dead, wake up…”
And then, miraculously, the round brown eyes fluttered open.
“Hermione!” he breathed with relief, the cruel call in response echoing her name from Ron and Draco’s voices.
“Water,” she croaked in a voice raw from screaming. “Water, Harry.”
“Water. Yes, okay…” He stood and ran to grab the goblet off the rocks and held out his hand to her.
“Your wand -”
“No,” Hermione croaked, clutching at her throat and wincing. “You’ll get caught. Water, Harry…”
“But -” He looked around them. How cruel, really, for her to be so thirsty now. There was water all around them, practically begging to be drunk, yet he knew there were terrible creatures lurking inside it…
But then he looked over at Hermione, who had rolled onto her side and was drawing rattling breaths over and over, pleading for water, and knew the pain wasn’t over. The potion was meant to leave you like this, dehydrated, so that you would be forced to drink the only water in sight; the black lake.
Not fully thinking it through because Hermione’s breaths were becoming more and more weak and he could hear Ron’s sobs even from here, Harry plunged the goblet into the lake and brought it back to Hermione, filled to the brim with icy water.
“Here you go,” he whispered, carefully tipping it back as he had with the emerald potion, and she swallowed it gratefully. “Better?”
Before he could hear whatever answer she had to offer an icy feeling suddenly seized his leg and he turned to see, horrified, that a pale hand had just erupted from the surface of the black lake and was pulling him backwards down the rock and to its home.
And all around him Harry could see white heads and hands emerging and coming towards him. Men, women, children, all horrifying with their jaws dropped open, their eyes seeing less holes of black. And he knew, remembering the moving images on pamphlets he’d collected over the summer, that these were Inferi.
“Hermione!” Harry now joined in Ron’s shouts, which were kicking back in full gear, no doubt seeing the army of the dead rising to drown his friends. “Hermione, a little help!”
He was slipping on the rock, and as he fought to tug his foot back other Inferi were rising and grabbing onto his hands, his legs, his feet, until he reached water and felt it seeping into his socks. Up his pants legs. “HERMIONE!”
Then, just as he was sure he would be drowned here by an army of dead guardians, the nearest Inferius was suddenly set ablaze and fell backwards into the water, but not before igniting the one closest to it, which fell backwards as well.
He turned sharply and saw Hermione supporting herself with the basin, pointing her wand at the next Inferius and crying, with a shaky voice, “Confringo!” then the next, and the next, until Harry was free to stumble backwards and scramble up the rock, and Hermione was able to yell, “Incendio!” and pull her wand around her, creating a ring of flames to surround the rock and the boat, then she lifted it and brought it down like a great whip of flames, twic, creating paths for the boat to sail through where the Inferi wouldn’t dare reach them.
Then her wand arm fell and she slumped against the basin, Harry catching her gently before she could fall to the ground.
“I’m fine,” she wheezed, holding onto one of his arms with the hand not still holding her wand tight. “The Horcrux, Harry,” she nodded to the basin and he turned and beamed as, sure enough, at the bottom sat the golden locket.
“You did it, Hermione,” he lifted it up to show her. “You did it.”
She managed a shaky smile, but nodded at the boat and he understood that all she wanted right now was to get out of this place. He couldn’t blame her, so led her carefully across the rock to it and helped her climb inside, casting cautious glances to the Inferi as they circled around the flames, before stepping into the boat himself.
All was silent on the ride back to the rocks where Ron and Draco waited, but Harry chocked that up to Ron knowing they were returning and waiting to sprint forward and embrace Hermione the first chance he got, which is what he did, as soon as her feet met solid ground.
“Hermione! Ar-are you hurt? We heard screaming, we -”
“He went bloody bonkers,” Draco said, though Harry ran forward and hugged him too immediately. “We did nothing.”
“We’re alright now,” Harry said, stepping away from the hug and turning to Hermione who was shivering in Ron’s arms as he seemed to be kissing every inch of her face.
“Sorry,” he said, stepping back, “I’m just… You were screaming and I was…”
“It’s alright,” she told him, placing a hand on his cheek and reaching her head up to kiss him deeply, or as passionately as she could manage as weak as she was.
“We should get moving,” said Draco when they broke apart, and the couple nodded, the boys heading off back the way they came as Hermione pressed close to Ron and he guided her steps. Thankfully they didn’t need her leeding with her wand as her fire illuminated their path, their shadows huge and dark across the surface of the lake. Already green light was being added to the mix as well, and Harry knew the basin was charmed to refill itself even if the locket was taken.
The moment they stepped out of the cave (after Harry wiped blood he’d gained from grazing his forearm on the rocks against the cave wall to open it once more) their fire light faded and Hermione’s wand stopped glowing, and she held her hand out for the rucksack.
“I’m too weak to swim but… Harry can fly me up on his Firebolt…” she said, her voice faint as if she herself was going to sway and faint at any moment. She opened up the bag, shushing Prongs as he barked up at her but allowing him to poke his head out and lick her face before pointing her wand into the depths of the bag and calling, “Accio Firebolt!”
It flew out and Harry caught it, climbing on and waiting patiently for Hermione to be helped on as well, allowing her to hold on as tight as he needed before kicking off the rocks and rising. With the two of them landing safe on the sand where they had started and Ron and Draco soon following after Harry swept back down to lift them up too, Hermione at last was able to sit and the boys pitched the tent for her, and by the time they were finished she was able to crawl towards the sea and wave her wand to throw up the usual protections.
Only when Ron had lifted her and carried her into the tent, only when Draco was busying himself in the kitchen cooking the last of their venison, only then did Harry sit down on the couch and pull the locket out from his pocket.
That’s when he noticed something was wrong. There was no signature ‘S’ emblazoned on it, and it was certainly a lot smaller than the one from the Gaunts’ memories. Not to mention he felt nothing as he held it, nothing special at all, as compared to Nagini and Hufflepuff’s Cup.
Frowning deeply, Harry traced his fingers around the rim and found a little latch that sank as he pressed his finger into it. Then the locket popped open, and a folded slip of parchment with it. He picked it up and unfolded it, reading.
To the Dark Lord
I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.
R.A.B.
Harry stared at the words for a long moment, not really comprehending them. Not really believing the truth they held; that all that pain Hermione just endured had been for nothing. That Ron was bent over her, wiping her face with a wet cloth for nothing. That they both had nearly died for nothing.
“Harry?” He crumpled up the piece of paper in his fist, glaring up at his friends.
“It’s useless,” he grunted.
“What?”
“It’s useless!” He hurled the fake locket across the tent and chucked the crumpled note at Ron, who had turned, looking confused. Draco, the one who’d called his name, frowned and approached him, hands outstretched.
“Harry, are you -”
“No I’m not bloody alright! Hermione and I almost died and that locket’s a damn fake! Who would be alright about that?” He raked his hands through his hair, ducking his head and trying to hide tears of anger from his friends. He knew he was only crying now because he was tired, so very tired, but he couldn’t let them see. Couldn’t let them believe, more than they already must have, that he was lost and didn’t know what he was doing.
“What’s it say, Ron?” Hermione asked faintly and Draco walked over to read it too, casting a worried glance back at Harry before doing so.
“Whose ‘R.A.B.?’” said Ron, to which Harry grunted and shrugged his shoulders in response.
“I know,” said Draco.
“Huh?”
“I know who it is,” he repeated, taking the parchment out of Ron’s hand and rubbing his thumb over the signature. Of course he knew; he’d stayed in the man’s room at Grimmauld Place. “Regulus Arcturus Black. My cousin.”
-*-*-*-
Mind reeling, Harry stumbled out of the tent and sat on the sand. He’d claimed he had to keep watch, which was probably the only reason his friends weren’t shouting for him to come back right now, but he couldn’t face them. It felt like everything was crumbling around them. Why had he dragged them into this in the first place? He could’ve left them with the Order, they didn’t need to climb in the car and drive off with him. How long ago was that now? A month? And a half? Already it felt like a year.
And they’d never stopped moving, and maybe that was because Harry had tried to keep them feeling like they were all doing something and making a real difference, when really they’d been out here since early January and all they’d managed to do was nearly die on multiple occasions from worthless trips, get themselves starved, get caught in a sticky deal with goblins over a sword they don’t even have, and get a single Horcrux plus a fake out of it all.
Honestly, Harry was surprised the incident in Godric’s Hollow when Ron had stared at him with such contempt was the only clue he’d received his friends weren’t fully backing him to the end, and was tempted to trudge back inside the tent, grab his rucksack and broom, and take his chances on doing this all alone, when he heard it.
At first, he was sure it was simply Griphook and Gornuk stalking them, waiting for the sword to magically appear in Harry’s hand so they could whip it out immediately, but the rustling was that of a cloak, he was positive of it. He even saw the movement, he was sure, behind a bush at the edge of the beach, but the next moment it was just a bush, as though nothing had happened at all. Then he winced as suddenly, in the endless darkness, his peripherals were nearly blinded by bright white light.
Turning, he nearly fell backwards in surprise at the sight of a bright silver light standing on the edge of the water, blaring across his vision. Slowly, the light closed and became more of a solid figure, and he jumped to his feet. He knew, deep down , exactly what he was looking at.
It was the Patronus from the bridge, the one that had left the boys news of Hermione’s whereabouts, only now, close up, Harry could see it’s full form; a silver doe, blinking at him with long lashes before turning and stepping onto the water.
Mouth falling open, Harry found his feet moving, as if by their own accord, to follow the doe. “No…” he found himself whispering, then calling out, taking a brazen leap, “Come back!”
She did not, and saw he walked a little faster as she strode gracefully across the water, reaching it and wading through without really noticing what he was doing. Logically, he should’ve been worried this was Dark Magic of some kind but something about the doe… She called to him. He knew, deep down, she was safe.
He made great splashes in his pursuit, but the doe made no sound as she tiptoed across the surface, a glowing creature of pure light. He followed her, until he was chin deep in the water, and here he swam, and then, she stopped, and he stopped too, even though the pair were a food ten feet from each other.
She turned her head, and for a moment Harry swore she was smiling at him, then she sank down below into the black depths of the sea, and he sucked in a great breath before tucking his head as well. He watched her swim down, down, galloping through the water like it was air, before being absorbed by something at the bottom. Harry squinted, not believing his eyes, but as the thing at the bottom of the sea glowed brightly all it’s features became defined and he knew, surely, as it gleamed and glistened with a glint of red, glittering rubies layering its hilt, that this was the sword of Godric Gryffindor.
He emerged only to catch his breath, but didn’t intend to waste anymore time; he’d already been waiting since July for the sword, since Cornelius Fudge had told him it was promised to him in Dumbledore’s Will, and now here it was, just within reach, with a Horcrux ready to be destroyed waiting behind him.
Knowing it wasn’t going anywhere, Harry turned and cut back through the water to the beach where he stripped himself of all his soggy clothes, until he was shivering in the February night air in nothing but his underwear then, still seeing the faint glow of the sword, he plunged in.
The water was dark, illuminated only by the sword, but he had swam through the black lake during the Triwizard Tournament and fought off Grindylows; this was child’s play, surely. So he kept swimming, guided by the light emitted from the sword, and as he got closer his spirits lifted, especially when he stretched out his hand, and his fingers grazed against the brilliant rubies…
But then he felt a great searing pain all around him, and whipping his head around he saw green. Tentacles. Jaws lined with sharp teeth. Grindylows, and he couldn’t even fathom how they’d gotten here because they were scratching and biting at him viciously now, and there was no time for thinking as his body reacted instinctively, pushing and thrashing, kicking towards the surface.
But the last time he’d had this many Grindylows attack him he’d been able to use a wand, now he couldn’t, and even if he could he left it with his clothes in the sand.
His vision was becoming blurry… He felt light headed… All of this fighting and loss of blood was tiring on him, so maybe he should take a nap in the cool water? Yes, maybe he should simply close his eyes….
A splash, and his vision was flooded with bubbles before he closed his eyes. He felt hands on him and saw blurs of light through his closed eyelids, then those hands became arms and the next second there was cool water on his face but fresh air, and he was coughing, retching, cold and scared to death. He’d nearly died, but someone had saved him. Who?
“Oh for Godric’s sake put your glasses on, Harry!” Someone shoved a pair of round glasses onto his face and he blinked in surprise as he met a pair of bloodshot brown eyes.
“Hermione?”
“You’re lucky I didn’t leave you for dead after all I’ve been through today. How many times do I have to save your life?” But she was smiling, and he was certain it had nothing to do with his foolish actions but the sword she now held tightly by her side. They were on the beach - she must have dragged him up onto the sand, and he could hear male voices behind him. Turning, and shaking his head to get water out of his ears, he saw Ron and Draco, beaming at the sight of the brilliant sword, the former already holding out Hufflepuff’s Cup.
“So did you cast that doe?” Harry asked Hermione as Draco knelt beside him to hand him dry pajamas.
“Harry, what are you talking about?”
“The doe!” He looked around at his friends. They blinked back at him incredulously. “You didn’t see… There was a doe Patronus and it led me to the sword. Then it sort of went into the sword. That’s why it was glowing.”
They looked over at the sword, which had lost its glow, but it didn’t matter; he and Hermione had both seen it.
“Well I promise it wasn’t any of us,” she said.
“I swear I saw a cloak near that bush,” he pointed over at the exact bush from minutes before. “Someone could be spying -”
“Harry, no one could be spying on us. My shields are foolproof.” Despite her words the boys still hurried over to the bush and searched every inch, walking back and shrugging their shoulders.
“So we finally have it…” Ron said, staring at the ornate sword with wide eyes, gingerly picking it up.
“Well, if it’s the real one. Those goblins haven’t shown yet, so -”
“Woah,” Ron’s eyes were focused solely on the weapon in his hands as he sliced it through the air. “This thing’s awesome! Every wizard should have a sword, not these stupid drumsticks,” he tossed his wand behind him and Draco caught it, turning to shake his head at Harry and Hermione as they laughed at Ron’s antics.
“Hey,” he stopped, stabbing the sword down into the sand. “Where do you reckon Griphook and Gornuk are? They said they’d come as soon as we got the sword -”
“I’ll bet they’re waiting for us to use it,” said Hermione, picking up the cup Ron had left in the sand. “So we better get this over with, right?”
She turned to Harry, and all other eyes followed. He startled, looking from her to the cup to the sword, then back again.
“Oh no, you should do it.”
Hermione now startled, shifting back away from him. “What?”
“You got the sword didn’t you?”
“You got the cup at Gringotts!”
“You drank the potion today to get the fake locket!”
“You’re the Chosen One!”
“Exactly! Don’t you think I’ve got enough to deal with?”
She let out an exasperated shriek, looking around madly at her other friends, who were watching this with bemused grins. “But I’m hardly the brave one! I’m the smart one! Why can’t you two do it, you’re braver than me!” She gestured to Ron and Draco who looked at each other, shocked, and shook their heads.
“I haven’t lifted a finger this whole hunt, actually,” said Ron, faking a long yawn.
“I’m a Slytherin, Granger. I’m pretty certain that sword would burn me if I touched it.”
Again she shrieked and Harry grinned, picking the cup out of her hand and placing it on top of a rock a few feet away, then gesturing to it theatrically, backing away. “After you…”
She glared at him for good measure, but rose to a stand anyway, clutching the sword at her side and cautiously approaching the cup. Slowly, she began to lift the sword above her head, and as she stared down at the once seemingly harmless golden sculpture, she felt as if she could practically feel the darkness trapped within it releasing, as if it could sense it was near one of the few things capable of destroying it.
For longer than any of them would’ve liked, Hermione stood staring down at the engraving of a badger, feeling that darkness begin to seep into her very skin, voices, quiet and snakelike, wrapping around her brain and her very thoughts. But then she gritted her teeth, remembering the awful taste of the potion and the way it had torn at her insides and heart, and screamed, “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” then swung the sword down with a mighty swing upon the golden cup, which spun out of control across the sand before slowing, a black, smoky crack running straight through it.
She dropped the sword, fell to her knees, but didn’t cry or scream, instead grabbing the sand in her hands and staring forwards in shock.
“Did we… Did we actually just do that?” she asked in a shaky voice to no one in particular, though it was sure her friends would answer. “Did we just destroy a Horcrux?”
“No,” said Ron, kneeling beside her and laying a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it. “You did, Hermione.” She gave him a watery smile, and hugged him.
The four were startled by the dull sounds of clapping, first just one person, then a second, and they looked around wildly for the source, but all frowned, scowled, or glared when two familiar, small frames stepped out from behind the bushes. Harry didn’t bother thinking they were the ones he’d seen before, however, certain that person had conjured the Patronus and given him the sword. No, Griphook and Gornuk were simply waiting to pick up the scraps.
“Yes, yes, well done indeed,” Griphook said in his voice which was far too high for such a cruel face. He cleared his throat, and held out his hand. “Now hand it over.”
“No!” Ron immediately blurted but Gornuk stepped forward, fists clenched, looking ready to beat what he wanted out of them if he had to.
“We had a deal, Harry Potter.”
“I know,” Harry raised a hand to stop Ron, bending down to pick up the sword slowly and carefully. “We promised to give the sword back once we’d finished using it, but we never specified when that was -”
“You’re trying to play cruel,” Griphook grinned, tilting his chin up as if sizing him up. “But you aren’t any good at it. We goblins are crueler; we never specified when we’d determine you were finished with it either.”
“Bull -” Harry laid a hand on Draco’s and he clenched his jaw shut, but retained his scowl.
Harry knew a fight would get them nowhere, besides… “This sword may have been stolen from you or fairly bought,” he turned the hilt over in his hands, the moonlight glinting off of Godric Gryffindor’s name. “But I do know that regardless your people have been unfairly treated by wizardkind for years.”
Without a second thought, he tossed the sword forwards so that it landed at the goblin’s feet.
“Here. Take it as a sorry, for hundreds of years of hate.”
The two eyed the weapon cautiously, as if not believing it to be real, but as Gornuk lifted it Griphook examined it from all angles, and Harry could tell they couldn’t deny it was the real and true deal. Then, without so much of a ‘thank you,’ but a clear respectful nod from the two of them to only Harry, the goblin’s disapparated with two thundering cracks.
“Harry, why would you do that?” Hermione demanded immediately but Harry refused to look at any of them - to see their faces of betrayal and horror.
“We had no other choice. It’ll be alright; we gotta go to Hogwarts anyway for the final Horcrux, so we’ll just get basilisk fangs then…” It was all he could manage to say to them in encouragement as he trudged forwards back into the tent, keen on nothing else after today but sleep. Maybe enough of it would help wipe all these thoughts of what a terrible leader he was from his mind, how his friends might think of him, and how far he was willing to step into serving the greater good.