Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Harry Potter and the Birth of a New Sun

Chapter 29 - The Road Divides

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It was late and her feet hurt. Damn heels. Lavender had convinced her to practice wearing heals for her wedding. Now, with every step, she regretted it. They made the long climb from the castle entrance to the Gryffindor tower more exhausting than ever before. As soon as the three made their way back to the Gryffindor common room it was all she could do to pull off her shoes, peck Ron on the cheek, and say goodnight to both him and Patrick. Thinking about what might be facing Harry, even at this very moment, her eyes revealed her concern and Ron noticed.

"He'll be fine," he said in a strong, confident voice. "You'll see."

She loved that about him - his ability to find the smallest hint of light in the darkest of times. She'd seen his confidence and bravery grow every year, and his loyalty, as always, was unfailing. He would defend her to the end, as he would Harry, and he would never leave her side. She would very much love being Mrs. Ronald Weasley.

"I know," she whispered, with less confidence. Something was gnawing on her - perhaps the way Gabriella was behaving before she and Harry left. Every time she thought her mind might get around what it might be--

"We'll see 'em all before the cock crows," said Patrick, patting her on the shoulder. He was smiling at her, as fresh as if he were ready to face a new day. Perhaps all the excitement, she thought. It was understandable after all. She'd seen Patrick and Harry pal around quite a bit last year and, when things changed this year, she surmised it was just that Patrick had found someone else his own age to befriend. When James turned out to be... well, it was hard on everybody. She was happy to see that Harry had taken the extra effort to make it up to the second year. He'd been a bit of an arse, as had everyone else, forcing Patrick into total isolation. He was always alone everywhere he went. She was glad to see, with James' triumphant return, that that would be changing.

"You bet!" she said, forcing a great smile and returning Patrick's pat. She turned to Ron and let out a long, deep breath. "You know, I believe I'll stay here for a smidgen, maybe read a book. I need some time to think." Ron looked at her, then at Patrick.

"Erm, yeah. Sure. Patrick, how 'bout you head off to bed. We've got a busy day tomorrow, whether he comes back on time or not."

"Yer right!" said Patrick brightly. "Don't know if I'll be able teh sleep, but I'll try. I can't believe, we're gonna be getting' ready fer war!" He shook his fist with vigour.

"Yeah," said Ron. "Not something we really want' to be thinking is a good thing, eh? Before the next new moon, some of your friends might be dead." Patrick's face fell and his expression grew more sombre.

"Of course, Ron," he said. "I didn't mean it like that." Then the smallest smile cracked his lips. "But, maybe later, you and I can get together and yeh can give me a few pointers on how we'll take a hell of a lot more of them with us before we go!"

"Let's trust that it doesn't come to that, Patrick," said Hermione. "We can hope, at least. Goodnight." The tone of this last word told him it was time to leave and he didn't complain.

"'night."

Patrick jumped up the circular staircase, two steps at a time, and disappeared into the boys' dormitory. Ron put his arm about Hermione.

"We'll he's eager at least," he said, scratching the back of his head.

"Maybe too eager," replied Hermione. She sighed and turned to face the fire, pulling Ron gently by the hand to sit in the small couch. The fire felt good against her skin, warming against the night's chill air and soothing her aching feet. She had hated having to fly earlier tonight, but here, with Ron, she felt, for the moment at least, safe and secure. Yet, there was a loose thread that needed to be stitched and she wasn't quite sure how to do it. She patted the cushion next to her. "Sit with me?"

"Like, no, is an answer?" said Ron with a smile. He sat next to his fiancé.

She watched the golden flames flicker against the blackened fireplace and smiled to herself, remembering how she originally felt when she stood in front of the hearth on the first day of school. It had been raining outside, but the day was warm and inside was warmer. They had feasted and made their way up the moving staircases. She chuckled, thinking about how out of shape she was back then, how winded that climb made her feel. When she had entered the Gryffindor common room, perspiration was dripping down her temples. The windows were shut tight against the rain and the result was a stifling common room filled with stale air. She had wondered why anyone in their right mind would have a fire roaring on such a hot day. But when she had stepped in front of the flames, they weren't hot. She remembered how astonished she had been that the fires of Hogwarts had not been discussed in any of the books she had read. Now, she understood why. It was unimaginable to think of not having the fire in the Gryffindor common room lit, glowing brightly all year round, offering warmth in winter, light enough at night to read by, and, perhaps most importantly of all, if you knew the right spell and had the right ingredients, a way to always communicate to the outside world.

"Something's not right," she said, leaning her head against Ron's shoulder. "The way Gabriella was looking around. That was just... well, weird. I wish she'd just say what she was sensing."

"Well you asked that we not--" Hermione sat upright and looked Ron in the eyes.

"Oh, so now it's my fault?"

"I'm just saying, she was keeping mum until she was sure. And she wasn't sure."

"And you?" Hermione asked. "Did you pick-up anything?"

"We weren't alone, if that's what you mean," Ron said, leaning his head against the back of the couch - the result being that he now looked straight up at the ceiling. She liked that he had let his hair grow, and she couldn't help but stroke it as it dangled down over the back of the couch. "But I get that all the time. There are house elves and ghosts and other strange creatures all through the castle. It's hard to say how close, but there's always someone or something close by." He closed his eyes and the muscles on his left cheek twitched.

"There," said Ron, leaning across Hermione and pointing to a carpet near a table where students did homework in the common room. "There's a house elf below the floor, waiting for us to get out of here so she can start cleaning again." He fell back against the couch and rubbed his temples. "It's not just house elves that creep around," he whispered, instinctively pulling his feet up off the floor and curling his legs on the couch.

"Creep?" Hermione looked at Ron, and then to the floor, then back at Ron.

"I'm not going to tell you," he said. "You'll just... well, I'm not going to tell you."

She looked at Ron for a long while, but decided now was not the time. They were both tired, but she knew that neither of them would sleep until their friend returned safely in the morning.

"And in the Marauders' Eye?" she asked quietly. "What did you--"

"I didn't look," he interrupted. "I told you, I get that stuff all the time." His hand fluttered up by his head and flopped down at his side. "If I looked every time..." He stopped himself, slowly shaking his head, and absentmindedly rubbed his ankles.

"Well, Gabriella sensed more than a house elf in the wall," said Hermione. She got up off the couch and crouched at the edge of the fire. Then, she reached into her pocked, pulled out a pinch of floo powder, and sprinkled it over the flames. "Aperito! Number five, Privet Drive," she whispered.

"Remus?" Ron asked, leaning forward.

"Like I said, something's not right," she grumbled, looking back at Ron over her shoulder. "Remus needs to know there are pieces in play before he gets here."

"He's not going to be happy to hear Harry left Hogwarts without telling anyone. And Harry's not going to like that you told Remus behind his back."

"No," said Hermione. "No, he's not, but we've got to tell him. It's our job to watch Harry's back, since he won't watch his own." The flames grew green and a wooshing sound signalled that the connection had been made. She leaned her head into the fire. When she opened her eyes, she was looking out into the Darbinyan living room. Remus had been staying with Soseh and it appeared that that wasn't going to change anytime soon. Whether they were to marry or not was uncertain, but everyone knew they were in love.

"Remus," she called out, hoping her voice would carry to the upper story. "Remus!"

It took a few minutes before she could hear the sound of footsteps above the crackling of the fire in her ears. Remus appeared at the stairs, wand drawn.

"Remus, it's me," she said more quietly.

"Hermione?" he asked, still holding his wand up. "It's the middle of the night. What is it? What's happened?" His voice was elevated, concerned. He knelt at the fire to speak with her.

"Harry's gone to Greece," she told him.

"What?" he exclaimed. "Why? To fight? Surely he would have--"

"To rescue his son," Hermione interrupted. Remus fell back on his rear, looking like someone had just kicked him in the gut. His expression told Hermione at once that he hadn't known. She described what she knew, telling Remus about Jamie, Cho and Anthony. She explained Voldemort's plans as best she could.

"So they're with Sirius," he said with a bit of irritation in his words. "Figures they'd be at his castle, at... erm... We were just there a few months ago, all of us. It's at... I can't remember." Remus looked up at the glowing head of Hermione within his fireplace. "He's made it unplottable. The Secret Keeper. That Harry could keep even me from seeing where my best friend's castle is... that... that's amazing." He let out a slow breath and his mind seemed to wander for a moment. "When Soseh first told me, I didn't believe her. Now... it's hard to deny. I'm sure glad he's his mother's son."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked. Remus cleared his head with a short shake.

"With the powers he's developing, he could..." His face grew grave. "Well, it doesn't matter. Harry would never... Look, there are already a few members of the Order in Greece. I'll send some others now we know what Voldemort's target is and I'll let Arthur know what's happening. That's all we can do until he shows up there or returns to Hogwarts Castle."

"Remus," said Hermione, "there may be more. Something's going on at the castle." She relayed what Gabriella was doing in the Marauder's Eye and that she had her own concerns. Remus sat for a moment, thinking. He slipped his wand away and leaned in close.

"How well do you know Patrick?" he asked. "Wasn't he under Voldemort's Imperious Curse when he had control of James?"

"Harry trusts him," she said. "I don't see how--"

"Voldemort was on the castle grounds just yesterday, Hermione. He had control of Gabriella."

"No!"

"I spoke with Albus just a few hours ago. I think, perhaps, he knew what Harry was up to, but he didn't tell me about Harry's son. Both Albus and Harry believe that Voldemort extracted whatever information he needed and left Hogwarts. Perhaps he escaped with the knowledge that what he needs is in Greece. You tell me that his target is Harry's son, Jamie. So now Harry thinks, as does the Headmaster, that Voldemort is in Greece to find Harry's son. But what if he's not? What if it's a ruse to get Harry away? What if Voldemort's still in the castle?"

"But Professor Dumbledore... surely he would know if--"

"He's lost his Legilimency," interrupted Remus. "He's losing many of his abilities, Hermione. It won't be long until we've lost him completely."

"Then Harry would be bringing Jamie straight back into Voldemort's clutches!"

"Exactly," said Remus. He took to his feet. "Hermione, I'll be at the castle by sunrise. You've got to keep an eye out for anything unusual. Someone should watch Patrick, but don't do anything stupid. If he is being controlled by Voldemort, it's best to watch from a distance, no spells, no incantations. Wait until we can get more wizards there to help. In fact, as soon as you can, let Severus know. He may be able to sense his old master's presence." Hermione nodded her head; ash and amber spilt out onto the hearth.

"And, Hermione," added Remus. "Be careful. You know what he's capable of. He'll sooner kill you as not."

"I understand," answered Hermione. "I'll see you later this morning."

She pulled away from the flames and found herself, all of herself, back in the Gryffindor common room. She shook the ash from her hair and looked over to find Ron asleep on the couch. She was about to slap him when he spoke.

"So, what did he say?" he asked with his eyes still closed, a curl of red hair wrapped across his face.

"He thinks Voldemort's still here," she answered. Ron's eyes opened wide.

"What do you mean, here? Like here, here?"

She told him what Remus had said, her eyes darting up the stairs when she spoke about Patrick.

"That's just silly," he said. "Patrick wouldn't--"

"Neither would James Chang," she interrupted. "But Voldemort never gave him the choice." Ron's eyes narrowed as his hands gripped the armrest of the couch until his fingers began to push through the fabric and into the foam cushion underneath.

"There's one way to find out," he said, pulling out his wand.

"No!" exclaimed Hermione breathlessly. "We have to just watch. Don't let him know that you think it might be him."

"But--"

"Ron, it's too dangerous. He'll kill you. He'll kill anybody that stands in his way." She took him by the hand, knowing that he'd rather take action. Still, she had to try and convince him to wait. It wouldn't be easy. "Since I can walk the halls after hours, I'll go speak with Snape. Just stay here. Wait for Harry and make sure Patrick, or anyone else for that matter, doesn't try to wander out." Ron looked like he could spit venom. If he had been tired earlier, there was no trace of it on his face now.

"Sit on my arse, when the wizard that killed my mother might be upstairs napping?" he spat.

"Would you risk Patrick's life or the lives of the other second years sleeping with him?" Ron did not answer. "Just let me speak with Snape. Twenty minutes, that's all I ask. Just stay here on this couch for twenty minutes. Please?"

She could see him biting his cheek, mulling over a decision he didn't want to make. She could also feel his thoughts brush with hers.

"Fine!" he blurted. "Twenty minutes." He crossed his arms and legs and hunched his shoulders. Hermione smiled and stood.

"Patrick would be devastated if you confronted him and were wrong. It's even possible that Voldemort may not even be in the castle, Ron. It's just Remus' hunch."

"And yours, right?" Ron asked. Hermione looked at the fire, the flames flickering off her fair complexion, and slowly nodded. "My money's on you, Hermione," said Ron glumly. "I wish it wasn't, but it is. It always has been."

She leaned down and kissed him, stroking his hair between her fingers. Cheek to cheek she took in a deep breath. She loved his smell, and wished they could just curl up together and let the world pass them by. She stayed there, holding the moment, and then finally kissed his neck.

"I'll be right back," she whispered. "Maybe... maybe this time I'm wrong."

She walked over to the common room entrance and disappeared out into the darkened corridor, leaving Ron alone, but not before they both said, "I love you." The Fat Lady barely stirred in her portrait as Hermione continued on her way. Halfway down to the dungeons, Peeves appeared chattering some silly rhyme, a bucket of ashes he had collected from some fireplace in his hands.

"Who's afoot? Who's afoot? Soon they'll find they're covered in--" He halted as soon as he saw Hermione with her glowing wand. Without saying another word, he disappeared through the wall. Under other circumstances, Hermione might have smiled knowing that the poltergeist now feared her since their last encounter. Tonight, she was far too distracted to think about that.

At last, she came to Snape's door and rapped on the wood. She could hear someone stir inside, cursing as they did so. As she waited, her mind turned to Harry in Greece, wondering if he'd already told them of the danger, wondering if they would come willingly or risk staying where they were.

A spell was cast, unlocking the door. It made her heart skip a beat.

Her mind flashed to Ron, alone and angry in the common room. Should she have left him alone? The wooden doors opened and a very dishevelled looking Severus Snape appeared. When he saw who it was, the look upon his face turned from anger to cautioned concern.

"Ms. Granger? What could possibly be wrong at this time of night?"

It took a moment before Ron noticed that Harry and Gabriella had disappeared through the Marauders' Eye. He was halfway through some argument with Hermione, explaining why she was wrong when the familiar sensation started again. It tended to happen more when he was emotional, not being careful, and so he retracted what he likened to invisible neuro-fibroids.

Last year his mind reached out and touched everything and everyone that was near him, sending flashes of memories and feelings streaming uncontrollably into his brain. It had grown so bad that he had actually considered suicide, rather than live with the pain caused by the torrent of information and emotions flooding every waking moment of his consciousness. And even though Madame Pomfrey had helped curb the sensations, it wasn't until he'd been taken by Harry to the falls of the Forbidden Forest and fallen in to, or been grabbed by, the water that he was truly free of the curse that had ravaged his mind.

Standing there, in the Marauder's Eye where he and Harry often snuck off at night to watch Quidditch matches, he turned his back on Hermione and tossed his hands high into the air. "Great!" he cried. "They're gone!" He faced Hermione once again. "I had a dozen questions and now he's gone. For example, what are they going to do when--"

"Not to worry, mate," said Patrick brightly. "He'll be back before the morning sausages." For whatever reason, Patrick's comment irritated Ron. He was about to tell him that they weren't mates, and he'd best keep his tongue in his mouth before--"

"Patrick's right, Ron," said Hermione with a steadier voice than she had but a moment before. "It's best that we get some rest so that we're ready for when they return." The words did not make Ron any happier, but his focus on Patrick was distracted long enough for him to settle down.

"Sure," he conceded. "Let's get out of here." He grabbed his broom and the other two hopped on. They were moving out through the red eye, when he heard whispers in his ear that came from nowhere.

"Soon. I'll have him in my--"

"Help me..."

When they emerged on the other side, he asked, "Did you hear that? A voice, or voices, or something?"

"Only that slurping sound," answered Hermione. "Why, what's wrong?"

Ron stuck his finger in his ear and scratched. "Just tired, I guess."

He was indeed tired. As if school wasn't draining enough, Quidditch practice lasted an extra hour. With Harry gone, he needed to be sure that Dennis could handle Seeker, if it came to that on game day. He tried to catch a few winks after dinner, but Hermione wanted to discuss floral arrangements for the wedding. He couldn't understand why she thought he cared, but he was forced to participate in every decision. There were only two choices that she offered him that he really cared about. Both came after the "I do's." First, that there would be a live band at the reception that could seriously rock the Wizarding world, and second, that there would be plenty of Irish ale on hand. Fred and George were handling both, so Ron had nothing more to concern himself with. If only Hermione could see it that way.

By the time the three made it into the common room, he wanted to just drop on the floor and sleep, but he knew that he wouldn't. He'd wait for Harry to return, and if he didn't, Ron would prepare for war. He'd gotten a small boost of energy when Patrick left for the night, but it began to fade as Hermione continued to rat out poor Harry to Remus through the floo. Merlin, the woman could chat. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes, thinking about how Hermione's theories were almost always right. Something was wrong, but whatever it was Ron certainly couldn't cipher it out - not the way his brain was muddled right now. Instead, he let his thoughts turn to Quidditch. He was analyzing one of Ginny's moves above the pitch, when he heard Hermione pull out from the flames.

"So, what did he say?" he asked with his eyes still closed.

"He thinks Voldemort's still here," she answered. Ron couldn't believe his ears. It wasn't fear that opened his eyes wide, but hope. The Dark Lord's name held no power over him now. As far as Ron was concerned, Voldemort was the wizard that had killed his mother, nothing more, nothing less, and, given the opportunity, Ron would destroy him. He could feel the fire begin to burn in his belly, anger growing, hatred rising.

When she told him it might be Patrick, Ron's first urge was to climb the stairs and blast him in his bed. He'd figure out the rest later. But Hermione's cautions forced him to steady his emotions and think farther ahead. He loved that about her, the calming effect she had that balanced his instincts to be purely reactive. He was always much more effective in all aspects of his life, if he would simply take the time to think two, or even three, steps ahead. He was, after all, the Hogwarts Wizard Chess Champion two years running.

"Twenty minutes," said Ron, finally agreeing to his fiancé. "If you're not back by then, I'll figure out myself what to do." They hugged and he took in the hint of flowers that always followed her wherever she went. He loved that scent, the brush of her hair against his cheek, the confidence she held in whatever decision she made... even if she was a bit misguided on occasion.

"I love you too," he said, an uneasy feeling turning in his innards, as if, somehow, he knew it would be the last time he'd say those words.

When she left the common room to go get Snape, Ron began to pace.

"Lumos!" he called, lighting his wand. He'd take a few steps. "Nox."

He stopped on the carpet that he had earlier pointed out to Hermione and looked down. He hadn't done this for a long time, at least not on purpose. He reached out his mind. The house elf was gone. Probably overheard us and ran, thought Ron. He reached further just to see if the elf was still around.

"Help me. Let me--"

There was a stabbing pain in Ron's head and he immediately drew back to within himself. The voice... it was the same he'd heard earlier in the Marauders' Eye, only this time it sounded familiar.

"Patrick?" Ron whispered to himself.

"Hey mate! I couldn't sleep either!"

Ron spun to find Patrick, dressed in his school robes, at the top of the staircase. Ron fingered the wand that was still in his fingers. "Something wrong?" he asked with dubious eyes.

"Nah," answered Patrick with a hushed voice as he eased his way down the staircase. "I'm just too excited. If everythin' goes well, he could be back at any moment." He flopped down in one of the overstuffed chairs. Ron noted that he was still wearing his boots from earlier. "Where do yeh think he'll bring them when they get here?"

Ron shrugged. They'd forgotten to discuss that part. Wherever was safest he figured. But where would that be? "Dumbledore's office, I guess," he replied, not really sure.

"Yeh think? With old Dumbledore almost ready to kick it?"

"Don't say it like that!" snapped Ron, irritated by the disrespect in Patrick's voice.

"Sorry," replied Patrick with a humbler tone that was clearly a bit forced. "You ever been?" he asked. "In the old ma-- erm, headmaster's office? Should we go there to see if he's ready?"

"Yes," said Ron stiffly, "I've been there, and, no, we don't need to go see if he's ready. He'll be ready if he needs to be. Besides, if someone needs to get in to see him, it'd best be Hermione. She's Head Girl."

Patrick's eyes grew distant for a moment. He was nervously grinding his teeth with a distinct clicking sound, thinking about something. As Ron watched him fidget, the fire glinted off Patrick's eyes, casting them with a red glimmering hue. It was as if someone had poured ice water down Ron's back and lit his stomach on fire. He was sure as he could ever be that Voldemort was sitting before him. He'd never make it to twenty minutes. But then, it wasn't his fault, was it? Patrick had come to him.

"Where's Hermione?" Patrick asked finally.

"Upstairs, in bed," Ron lied.

"Funny, I didn't see her."

"Not unusual for a second year to miss a few things."

Patrick stood. Ron's grip tightened about his wand.

"Nope, I guess not. I just figured Hermione to be the last to wander off to sleep on a night like tonight." Patrick moved closer to Ron. "Chess?" he asked, pointing to the Wizard's Chess board that was set out on the table.

Ron didn't answer. He really, really wanted to know... to know if this was Voldemort before him, and the best way to find out was to reach in. He opened his mind and reached for Patrick's. There was, at first, a slight resistance, almost as if Patrick knew he was being probed. That was rare in most people and it did not go unnoticed by Ron.

The initial images flashing into Ron's mind came from Patrick's memories, not all of them good: The accident that killed his parents, the night his best friend James Chang cast the Imperius curse on him. Still, there were flashes of light and goodness. There was the night he first met Harry, and at this memory he heard it again.

"Help me!"

It was distant and yet near. Ron pressed deeper, but beyond the impassioned plea, something else was bothering him. Normally, he should be sensing emotions; he should be able to tell immediately if Patrick was excited, scared, or deceitful. None of that was here. All this he noticed in less time than it takes Professor McGonagall to transform into a cat. As he moved on he came to what appeared to be a wall, something baring his way. He'd run up against this with Harry and, on occasion, found ways around them. He was now more certain than ever that Voldemort was in here somewhere.

He probed a few places and then found a weakness. He pushed against it. There was resistance. He pushed harder. The barrier gave way, but as if Ron had stumbled across a weak spot on a frozen lake of ice, he found himself, slipping, falling, uncontrollably inward, sucked into a vortex from which he could not escape. He tried to pull away, to retract his penetration, but Patrick's mind held fast. It was then that he first felt the emotion - odium, pure hatred and revulsion.

There was laughter, slow and quiet at first, but it built into a high, proud voice.

"Finally! You are mine!"

"Let 'im go!"

"SILENCE!"

Ron could feel the pain, the pain Voldemort was using to punish Patrick for trying to exert his own will. Then Voldemort's thoughts turned to Ron and immediately the redhead tried to shield his mind. Initially, it worked, and all Voldemort could do was continue to bind their minds and speak his own.

"I... I feel as if we've met before - another life perhaps." The voice was genial, friendly, but Ron knew better than to lose his concentration. "I was right to wait. I've wanted you for some time, but I knew better than to cast a spell, or, worse, battle your mental powers on your home turf. No, I had to wait, bide my time, and here you are. Welcome to my vessel, humble, yet sufficient to bring Potter to his ruin." Ron tried once more to pull away, but was held fast. He could feel Voldemort's thoughts swirling, snakelike about his own, searching for their own way to penetrate Ron's defences.

"Formidable," Voldemort whispered. "Young Draco said as much, said that it would be impossible. But I need you my young friend. I've waited too long to find you away from her, away from your friends, willing to probe my thoughts.

"The feint on Greece has successfully convinced Harry to bring his son here. Within the hour he will miraculously battle his way through Lucius' army and escape with the boy. But we must be ready for him when he arrives and certain people need to be... dealt with.

"First we will kill Dumbledore, after you get your filthy mudblood girlfriend to help us. Then, when he returns, Harry will be slain by his own best friend for cheating with your fiancé. You will bring his son, my blood, to me. Soon I'll have destroyed them all." There was a pain, sharp and steady at Ron's temples. "We'll destroy them all, you and I.

"Wormtail has been little more than useless this past year. But you... pure of blood as you are... you show promise, more promise than Malfoy's boy. If you make this easy, I may find a place for you, a place of high power. Once I've regained my former self, you, Ron Weasley, will stand at my right side!"

"Go... to... HELL!" Ron screamed back. The outburst of emotion distracted Ron's mind only momentarily from his steady defence, but it was all that the Dark Lord needed. The pain was excruciating as it flooded Ron's thoughts to the exclusion of all else.

"We'll go together!" Voldemort excitedly cried in a cold, clear voice. "Imperio!"