The Last Waltz

The Last Waltz

Chapter 4

My conception of the library has always been in between two opinions one that says that the library was only for those who primarily like to read and another says that the library can be for just about anybody who needs the right information. In the end, I wind up balancing between both opinions and having it so that Hermione, who primarily loves to read, would go to the library and provide me with the right information.

However, I chose to go to the library myself this time. I don't know what made me do it. I suppose it was the fact that it was nearly Easter break and there wasn't much to do. Well, except for the homework, but that can be overlooked.

"Oh, Harry, I haven't seen you in here for ages."

I looked up. Hermione was sitting at her usual table crowded by all manner of books. I smiled and sat down to join her.

"So, found anything worth knowing?"

She gave a grim smile and tucked a hanging strand of hair behind her ear. "Well, I don't know what you mean by worth knowing, but I have picked up on a few things that I am quite happy to know."

"Oh?"

She reached for a large dark green book and opened it to a page where she seemed to have placed a bookmark. She looked down and busied herself at finding a paragraph. "All right, here it is. Now listen and tell me what you make of it."

I nodded, leaning in on my elbows.

"'Music is the key ingredient in the magic that has become the dance. The notes, tones, and sounds cast a spell on every living creature causing a different reaction. To most humankind both wizard and muggle alike, it provokes a change in thought pattern, soul, spirit, and temperament. Some need to cope with this spell by moving to meet its potency.

"'Thus, the dance commences. Within this phenomenon a new magic is created. The spell which was music has soon become a power source for a remarkable method.'"

I blinked at her. "So the music is the important key to the curse."

"Well, its not just one curse itself, is it, Harry? We're talking about a method of cursing here. The thing about the word we're using right now, 'curse,' is inaccurate in itself. You see, I read about this witch. Er...Nathalie Vidanser; she taught music in France during the 1820's during which she discovered that the infamous dance cursing plaguing the people of Europe at the time could be turned around and used, rather, to heal those under the thrall of dark wizards. It struck Wizarding Europe like a bullet and under a hundred dark wizards were taken by the former Wizarding Guard and imprisoned."

Somewhere during her explanation, I had sat up. "So you mean you've found the anti-curse."

She frowned and shook her head. "I have found the existence of one, not the spell itself."

I sighed and laid my head on the table.

"I will keep looking, Harry. And as much as I'd like you to believe that I could get this solved quickly and without assistance, I cannot. It's just...well; I had planned to say this right away in the infirmary when you told us about everything, but...I couldn't gauge your reaction. The thing is, Harry, if this is all happening because Malfoy is working under the influence of Voldemort, well-what I mean to say is....." she trailed off as I felt myself begin to frown.

"What? Tell me what you were going to say!" I demanded impatiently.

She jumped at my tone, but her expression grew firm. "I think you should've told Professor Dumbledore by now."

I stood up, pushing my chair back abruptly. "What?!"

Hermione looked around nervously lest Madam Pince might round a corner and chastise us. When she saw that the coast was clear she looked round at me desperately. Her voice was hushed, but vehement. "Harry! Death Eater or not, Malfoy is a student and Dumbledore is in charge of students. If Malfoy's walking around with a tattoo on his arm and wielding dark magic against you-our only hope-he's going to be able to stop him and have him out of the school."

"I don't care!" I hissed back, "There's no way I am going to give Malfoy the satisfaction of watching me go crying to Dumbledore just so I can be safe and secure. I am going to solve this on my own."

She rolled her eyes. "And you're doing so well at it now!"

"I am handling it."

She gave me a pained look. "Harry, we all know you're the big hero and everything, but we also know that it's all right for you to ask for help. Look at you, you're acting as if Malfoy is the Dark Lord you were destined to fight, but he isn't. He's nothing...just a-a-"she searched for a word, "a hurdle. He's a hurdle that stands in the way of your success and Ron and I-and everyone else-we're in charge of getting rid of those."

I ran a hand through my hair, tired and my arms still aching. "Did any of you ever consider that maybe if I can't jump over a little hurdle on my own then perhaps it's possible that I might not be able to take on the bigger things? I must do this on my own! If I don't, what worth am I to take on Voldemort?"

Hermione looked down at her books. "Do you want to know what I think?" she asked softly.

I rested my hands on the table and slowly took my seat as she continued to look downwards. She took this as a signal that she might go on and her gaze came up to look at me again. "I think....that we put too much pressure on you, really..."

"No," I broke in, "this is how it-"

"Please, Harry, let me finish," she pleaded. "It's just that I, personally, would like it if you could fight evil and be done with it. Yet, more than anything, Harry, I want you to come out of this alive and unhurt. And it's not just me who wants this. Ron, he's dying for you to make it and he's so ecstatic and proud that you've made it this far. I don't know what it will do to him if you don't."

I shook my head half heartedly. "I can't help it if I fall."

Hermione grabbed my hand to get me to look at her. "That's exactly what I mean, Harry; you can't help it if you fall. But we-the people around you- we can help it. We make it seem like the world is your responsibility and that it's all up to you. What we've failed to understand is that....you see-and don't take this the wrong way- you're like a weapon against Voldemort for the world and the people that love you and take care of you are in charge of making sure that you are preserved for the right time. We do need you, but you need us just as well."

"But I need to defeat Draco!" I persisted.

"No!" she returned harshly, "No, you don't. Look, what is Malfoy if Voldemort is dead. He has nothing to feed his power, nothing to tell him what he is doing will bring him great reward, and nothing to reward him anyway. Defeat You-Know-Who and you defeat him. That's two victories and on the plus side, you get to defeat him second hand so that he gets the disgrace of being not big enough to meet against Harry Potter face to face," she added with a little smug grin.

I allowed a weak smile. "You're right....as usual."

"Of course I'm right. Now, for the next little while you stay clear of Malfoy whilst I look for the counter curse."

I nodded, rubbing my eyes under my glasses. We both then started at the voice that broke into our corner.

"And how is he going to do that, Granger, when he likes me so much."

I turned and ah-there you were. Standing there, your school robes done up tidily over your uniformed clothing of black and green. You half leaned against the bookshelf, on hand in your trouser pocket and the other holding a book under your arm.

Hermione stood up quickly, her face a mask of rage. "You! You get out of here!" she ordered, her arms crossed and her glare quite blatant.

I didn't look at you. I refused to look at you again. You with your expressions of distaste, of avarice, and of ill will; looking at your face gave me chills then and sometimes picturing it now makes me feel a moment's emptiness.

You stepped forward, your movement almost feline as you seemed to sweep around the bookcase and it took me a moment to realise that I wasn't supposed to be looking at you. I looked at your shoes quickly as I felt your gaze flicker at me for a moment.

"Are you ordering me around, Mudblood?" you spat and I felt my fist clench.

"I'm telling you for your own benefit that if you don't clear out now, I shall be forced to report you to the Headmaster. I know full well what you are and I have Harry to back me up on that."

You took several menacing steps toward her and I only stood there dumbly watching with a slight detached fascination and a caged anger. Hermione leaned away nearly over the table as you came too close to her. I took a step in your direction suddenly awoken from what seemed a trapped state.

"Don't even think about it, Potter," you ordered, not even looking at me. I was shocked to feel myself taking two steps back and nearly ploughing into opposite bookshelf.

You grabbed her arm and leaned in so close I could see how she cringed at the feel of your breath on her cheek. "You, little muggle girl, couldn't conceive of what I am. If you weren't so rank with fear and muggle filth, I'd kill you myself. Fortunately, we have plans for Potter over there. If I were you, I'd stop protecting him and start running. Because when the last battle is here, it is not you he will turn to, but someone entirely different." Here his voice took on a mocking childish tone. "And you, Miss Granger, will stand helpless, crying for him to listen to you. Do you know why he won't?"

Hermione tried to twist from your grip and I continued to watch, gripping the books behind me. Torn between the urge to just run and rid myself of the bleeding feeling inside my gut or to run at you, abandoning all pretences just to get you away from her. I mean, I couldn't take it. I couldn't take watching you grip her elbow like that; your filthy, conceited hands inching their way around her waist and the fight she put up against you. The worst of it was that it was taking me this long just to do something.

Yet, even as I stood there battling with myself to fight you, I knew it. I knew it was there. I knew that even if you stood there and broke her to pieces in front of me; I would stand there still watching you with that feeling of disgusting want and longing.

"I could tell why, but then you'd have to be killed," you whispered. I could see from where I stood-your hands-I saw one of them set the book you'd been carrying down and the other inch over Hermione's left thigh. That's when I felt the chains that seemed to hold me to the bookcase spring free and I lunged at you. I felt my fingers brush over your robes, but I am sure that I never touched you. The next thing I knew, I had toppled over the table with Hermione under me. She gave a cry of surprise which sounded like, "Oh," and amid all that chaos, I heard Madame Pince shriek.

"What is going on here?!"

I scrambled off of Hermione and looked up. Madame Pince was eyeing me with great dislike and I looked at Hermione. I was shocked to see, that the fall had struck her head against the bookshelf and she was unconscious. I looked around for you to give you a glare or two, but it was as if you hadn't been there at all.

Madam Pince frowned, her eyes narrowing at the sight I had presented her with.

I looked to Madam Pince, hoping that she didn't think what I thought she thought. Yet, I knew then that she did.

"Come with me, Potter," she said coldly. She called a few other students who had come around the bookshelf to have a look at the spectacle to help carry Hermione out to the infirmary. I watched her being carried out and I looked around myself helplessly, hoping to spot you and yet if I did, I am certain that I probably would not have done a thing.

Madam Pince carted me down the hall and down one flight. We walked and walked while I was never sure where we were going and yet when we stood before the headmaster's office, I wasn't the least bit surprised.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know I didn't do that, Professor."

Professor Dumbledore folded his hands in a light fashion and fixed his searing blue gaze on me. "I am aware that you would do no such thing to bring harm to Miss Granger, Harry. The information that I want from you is who would do such a thing."

I blinked, feeling a blush creep up under my ears. Yet, as I struggled with myself to speak, the words kept bouncing about my head. You are not weak, you are not weak. You must not rat out on Draco; you must not run crying to Dumbledore. Yet, I couldn't think of what I could tell him in place of the truth. What believable thing would I be able to tell him that would seem more plausible than what was before me?

"It was just an accident, sir," I muttered, staring up at him.

Dumbledore's eyebrow rose in surprise. "An accident, Harry," he paused, still blinking at me such that the blush that was threatening to overtake me came forth. "And just how did such an accident come about?"

I looked at my hands on my lap, frowning, scouring my mind for an idea, any idea. Then, I thought of it and I sighed out loud. "Hermione and I were talking about something and we were joking around and then...I didn't realise that I had pushed her so hard...she fell and hit her head on the bookshelf. I was so surprised that I didn't explain myself immediately, sir, which led several others to the conclusion that I might have been..." I trailed off, hoping to be able to leave it at that.

"Well, that is relieving, Harry. Although, I should warn you that-ah-playing roughly with young women is not encouraged here at Hogwarts."

I felt myself shrink to the age of five just as he said that and I gave him a weak, relieved smile.

"You may go, Harry, and...."-here he wrote a small note on a piece of parchment- "and give this to Madam Pomfrey when you go to the infirmary. That should clear your name and allow you in."

I nodded numbly, still relieved that he had taken the lie so easily. I did notice that he often did take in my little lies, of which I am grateful to him for. I wondered thouhbut hadn't that always been my undoing? Who knew?

One would think that I would have wanted to see Hermione right away, but it was just that...I didn't want to see her like that. I wanted to see her when she was well and out of there which I hoped honestly was soon.

I decided that I would just go flying or something to get my mind off everything and anything. I didn't feel like thinking, I didn't feel like worrying, and I didn't feel like... feeling. I walked down three flights slowly and I was soon at the front entrance. It was a spring rain pouring down outside in early May. I was only in my t-shirt and jeans, but I didn't care to go and fetch a cloak. I just stepped out in the rain.

It was numbing and the perfect sedative for my aching; my aches to both hurt and love you at the same time.

I walked on.

I passed over the thick green grass and I even passed the spot at which you had taken me that Valentine's night. I kept walking around the lake and past Hagrid's. I walked and walked until I could hear the sound of the water in my socks as my trainers squelched the water in and out. My t-shirt was plastered to my skin and dripping after me in cold droplets that I no longer felt.

I didn't stop until I reached the forbidden forest and there, I stopped dead. I watched the rain darken the trees and the invisible clouds above me drift by. I listened to the dead quiet of the leaves and animals. I was drawn in. I stepped past trees and bushes, scrambled over the underbrush, and climbed over or under excessively large roots.

My mind didn't wander from what I was doing for I was thinking of completely nothing. Such that when something to my right moved into my line of peripheral vision I was not distracted enough to miss it. I started and looked, but of course I saw nothing in the dense darkness. My curiosity pushed me to the place where I had seen the movement despite my mind's reason telling me that it might have simply been an animal, but since when-in my excursions to this very place had it, "simply been an animal."

I stepped around the thick tree, expecting to see the culprit, but the place was bare of movement. I stepped around the roots and came to the very spot from which I began. Ruefully, I shook my head and cursed my paranoia, but I hadn't even the time to think after that for I was suddenly seized from behind and thrust bodily into that very tree.

My cry of surprise and outrage was cut off by someone's hand over my mouth. I opened my eyes, but they too were covered. I could feel the press of another body, holding me in place and one hand over my mouth and the other over my face. My senses could tell me that there was only one there before me and I struggled, but the hold was strong.

I felt something being slipped into my pocket. It was something cold and hard, and then I felt a whisper in my ear, soft and low, quite obviously male. "Use it for it is now yours to do with it as you will. Beware though, for with incorrect usage comes perdition in its wake."

I swallowed as the whisper made me shudder involuntarily all at once. Then those same hands, which had held me up against the tree with such force, used the same force to haul me across to another tree where I felt the burning pain of my chest hit the bark. I had only managed to push myself up when I felt the wind direction change and I looked up. There was no one in sight and no sign of anyone being there. My chest burned and stung with what I now knew was a cut, I could feel myself bleeding such that when I looked down at my shirt, I saw the red leaking into the blue turning it dark purple. I swallowed heavily and only gained enough strength to reach into my pocket.

My hand closed around a handle of something that felt rather like glass. I pulled it out. Before my dizzyingly blurry vision, I saw what looked like a dagger, a dagger with a glass handle and a porcelain sheath. It was decorated with black writings in a language I didn't know. I pulled open the sheath to find that the dagger itself was made of a blue glass structure. Upon closer inspection, I noticed that it wasn't just glass, but something rather more valuable. In my hands was a solid diamond dagger with a glass handle.

Use it for it is now yours to do with it as you will. Beware though, for with incorrect usage comes perdition in its wake.