Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Harry Potter and the Burden of Becoming

Chapter 68 - A Black Slate

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In the corridor just off the grand entrance hall of the Ministry of Magic, Harry blinked trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light. Sliding over the polished wood floor on his hands and knees to get a better look around the wall, he brushed up against the guard unconscious in the corner. If anything, the wizard appeared to be sleeping, enjoying some sort of dream by the small smile that was on his face. For a moment, all Harry could hear was the burbling babble of the Fountain of Magical Brethren. Then it happened again: Voldemort's voice issued a command, there was an electric snap, a crack, and Hermione let out a short, sharp scream.

Harry moved to get a better look at what he hoped he would not see, but knew he would. Slowly rising up from all fours, he clung to the side of the wall and peered around its edge into the resplendent hall. While the fireplaces were dormant, large lit lamps flickered along the walls casting a weak glow over the entire room. His eyes could make out the newly repaired fountain -- the centaur, house elf, wizard, witch and goblin all smiling at each other. Behind the fountain's large base, he could see the feet of a wizard wearing Slytherin robes that had fallen in a heap on the floor. "Ron!" his mind screamed. Further to the left his gaze landed on a trembling witch in dark purple robes, her wand at the ready. She was looking up at something, her wand arm trembling slightly. Harry continued to move his head around the corner expecting to see a vast hoard of Death Eaters, but instead found one hooded figure, Lord Voldemort himself.

The Dark Lord was floating some three to four feet off the ground, his wand pointed directly at Hermione. His red eyes burned brightly in the darkness and his face bore a broad smile of smug satisfaction.

"As I was saying... I am expecting your friend, Harry," he hissed. "Perhaps, before I put you down like your friend there, you can tell me where he is, and when he will arrive." Voldemort cast a beam of red light striking just to the left of Hermione whose shield charm was unnecessary. Still, she let out a short shriek as she jumped to the left. "Cat got your tongue?" he asked.

"Harry's too smart not to know this was a trap!" Hermione yelled back, her voice echoing off the stone walls. "He wouldn't step within miles of here!"

"Trap?" Voldemort began to laugh in a thin, jerking rasp.

"I won't let you have him!" Hermione cried. "He's my friend!" She held her wand a bit higher, and the trembling vanished.

"Friend?" Voldemort sneered. "You didn't serve your other friend very well, I'm afraid." He began to cackle pointing at the pile of green robes by the fountain. "How do you suppose you can now help Potter?" His voice was cold and meant to antagonize.

"Leave now," yelled Hermione, "or I'll fry you completely!" The Dark Lord's face froze in a look of pure hatred. Harry's eyes, adjusting to the light, could now see that the bottom of Voldemort's black robes had been badly burned. There was a reason he wasn't standing on his feet.

"I have no more time for games, Ms. Granger," he said with a slither. "And I would certainly prefer your absence when he arrives. It's time for you to join your friend." He again pointed at the crumpled wizard by the fountain. "Good-bye."

What happened next was a tale told at Hogwarts and debated in the legal circles of the Ministry for years to come. It was a confluence of events that happened almost simultaneously, and many argue to this day if the sequencing had been only slightly different....

Harry rounded the corner to reveal himself fully. The move went unnoticed by Voldemort, but not Hermione who turned her attention away from her adversary.

"Harry!" she cried, almost wishing her eyes were lying to her. Only they weren't. He was charging head on toward the two duelists just as Voldemort raised his wand.

"NO!" Harry screamed, not hearing Voldemort's spell, but seeing the faint green light emanate from the Dark Lord's wand and streak toward Hermione. "Locomotor Saxum!" Harry called remembering his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class with Tonks. In an instant, a stone bench that was at Hermione's side flew upward toward the green beam now headed her way, but it was too late. Harry watched in horror as the shaft of translucent green slipped past the bench and struck Hermione squarely in the chest. Her eyes closed and she fell limply to the ground. The stone bench crashed to the floor, shattering and spraying pebbles across the polished wooden floor.

"YOU BASTARD!" Harry roared, still charging forward as both his friends lay dead on the floor. "Never again! Never again!" Harry raised his wand.

Most wizards live their lives never thinking about the deaths that happen around them every day. Even in these dark times, times of war, the sacrifices of those who risk their lives are often ignored in preference of thoughts concerning the menu for the evening's supper. And yet, wizards and Muggles alike were being killed because of the man floating before him. He would have liked to have said that he raised his wand in a noble effort to protect the precepts of the Wizarding way of life. But what he felt now was not noble; it was not self-sacrifice. Harry's soul had filled with pure hate. It was time to cross over, to kill. Love harbors no enemies. "Avada..." The sword defends, it does not attack. "...Ke..." Embrace the world, and...

"Harry wait," a woman's voice filled his ears and splashed cool water upon the fire in his soul, but the fuse was too far gone.

"...davra!"

A green light burst forth from his wand and struck the floating Voldemort. It wrapped around his robes and imploded inward. Without so much as a gasp, the Dark Lord fell to the floor with a dull thump, his singed robes furling quietly over the top of him. He looked more like a filthy pile of laundry than anything else.

Once again, except for the burble of the fountain, all was quiet. Harry's hand was clenched tightly about his wand, his knuckles white; he was finding it hard to breathe and he thought he was, once again, going to be sick. Not wanting, but needing to, Harry walked over to Hermione, her body extended on the floor. He could feel the sorrow and guilt welling up from inside and had to blink to see properly. She was on her back, her eyes closed. The anger and resentment welled back into him again. "I should have been here! I shouldn't have waited!" He wiped his face with the sleeve of his robe.

"I'm s-sorry," he whispered, falling to his knees at her side and dropping his wand. "Oh, God, I'm sorry." He began to cry as he reached down and took her hand. It was warm, a sensation he had not expected. He looked up to her face and realized that, like the guard at the entrance, her eyes were closed while her face bore a thin smile.

"Hermione?" he whispered as a faint flicker of hope whipped at his soul. He reached up to her face, holding it between his hands. "Hermione!" He saw colour; he felt warmth. She's not dead. Beads of perspirations prickled out all over his body. He reached madly for his wand, and finding it at her side he held it at her chest.

"Ennervate!" he cried.

Instantly, Hermione's brown eyes burst wide open. Instinctively, she reached for her wand, and struggled at first when Harry grabbed her arms.

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay."

"Harry?" she asked in disbelief. Her body remained tense, and her eyes fearful.

"It's okay, Hermione," Harry answered her fear. "I've killed him. I used the Killing Curse. Voldemort is dead." He tried to say it with a smile, but his face wouldn't muster the right muscles. Instead, he turned her to see the twisted wizard covered in black robes on the floor.

"Dead?" she asked. Her eyes were flashing from Harry to Voldemort and back again, as if trying to convince herself that Harry was really here. Finally, the tension of her body withered and she grabbed Harry by the robes.

"Oh, Harry!" she said softly, and hugged him close. Her eyes, filled with tears, looked up into his. "He's not dead; that's--"

"Ron!" Harry exclaimed. "What about Ron? Is he okay?" He left Hermione's side and rushed over to the pile of robes by the fountain. Hurriedly, he pulled back the green robes, and looking at the site beneath them dropped the cloth and stepped back, and back again. He rubbed his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. Again, Harry tried to gather his bearings.

Like Hermione's, his body was on its back, his legs splayed outward and his hands flat against the polished floor. Harry guessed he was alive since, like Hermione's, his eyes were also closed, draped to either side by a slick mass of greasy black hair.

"Snape?" Harry asked out loud, taking another step back.

"He followed me," said Hermione. "Somehow he knew where I was going. He got one good shot at her legs before she took him down."

"What?"

"She used the Voldemort disguise to take down the guard. I guess she thought it'd frighten me, but--"

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked becoming agitated. Hermione stepped over to him and wrapped his arm in hers. Then she walked over to the crumple of dirty laundry that was Voldemort. She was beginning to shake, and Harry didn't understand why.

"It wasn't Voldemort, Harry; it was Tonks. She's a Metamorphmagus and I think--"

"WHAT!" cried Harry, ripping his arm from Hermione and rummaging through the pile of black robes. His heart was pounding, his mind trying to recall any moment, any reason to make him believe that....

He pulled back a black flap of cloth and found her face. His heart sank. Her lids were open, and her eyes had rolled backward in their sockets so that only the whites revealed themselves. Harry choked, unable to grasp a breath. This was no prophecy; it was... it was murder. He grabbed Tonks about the shoulders, his emotions shuddering all over the place.

"Nooo!" he howled in a low mournful cry that echoed in the great hall. "No, no, no, no." He rocked her back and fourth in his arms when his cheek met hers and a small exhale of air popped from her lips. Harry stopped. "Did you hear that?"

"It's just air, Harry," said Hermione calmly. "She... she's gone."

Harry held his hand to her face; she was cold, but the eyes... the eyes were wrong. He'd seen the blank, expressionless stare of Cedric Digory and this was not it. Her voice. He'd heard her voice and hesitated. Hermione... Gabriella... had they both been right? Did he not have it in him to kill? If Tonks was still part of this world, where on the thread of life was she now? Harry had to find out.

"She's not dead!" he gasped. "She can't be."

"Harry, she's--"

"She's not dead! I won't let her be dead!"

Harry repositioned himself and knelt over Tonks' cold body. He could do this without the stone. Gabriella had said it was just a way to magnify the gifts he already had. Without further hesitation, he reached down and placed his hands over her eyes, closing his own. Focusing with all his might, he saw the darkness open up before him revealing the pathway to her life energy. In the distance was a brilliant red light. It burned bright but then dimmed, only to burn bright again and then dim. It was like a great engine trying to start, but unable to keep its fires burning.

Harry willed himself closer and as the red glow began to fill his vision he saw the curse he had just cast. A weak green tentacle had sprouted from the nothingness below the red glow and was growing upward, reaching for the light. Every time the two colours touched, the red glow would dim, but the green tentacle would pull away as if stung. Harry watched as the scene repeated itself. He wondered how long this battle might last, perhaps forever if he didn't do something.

He reached out and grabbed the green tentacle with his hands and squeezed expecting it to burst like a filibuster firework. Instead, the squid-like beam of light twisted and writhed in his hands, tangling itself around his arms. It was more difficult than he was prepared for, and Harry had to redouble his efforts. Suddenly, he saw the slithering light sprout another appendage that wrapped itself around Harry's neck. He was starting to lose this battle; if only he had the stone. In a great thrash he pulled his foe high above his head and that was when he saw it -- his right arm glowing against the darkness. His scar was outlined in a brilliant orange, and the green tentacle seemed repelled by its light. He suddenly felt, for some reason, like he had the strength of a dragon.

Harry pulled his arm close to his neck and the thing squeezing there let go. He could at least now breathe, if that's what he was doing, but his green foe would not relent, and as the battle raged on, he could feel himself tire. Thought of failure began to creep into his mind, and he began to wonder what would happen to him if he died there in the darkness of Tonks' essence. Suddenly, a voice, his own voice, echoed in his mind. "The sword defends, it does not attack. Defend yourself, Harry."

His right arm flashed a solid orange now, and there almost suspended on the surface of his skin was a blade of light. Harry let go of the green tentacle in his left hand and grabbed the sword. Its wings gave a great shudder and pulled him away from the green glow before him. The squid-like tentacle turned from Harry and surged to again attack the red light that was Tonks, but the vines about Harry's sword sprouted large and yellow, and pinned the green curse against the darkness, holding it fast. It hung there, suspended in the darkness as Harry raised the orange sword above his head and plunged it down onto the twist of green. A great surge of something that looked like green lava began to erupt from the fissure, and Harry pulled himself away when the snake on his sword opened its jaws wide and swallowed the green glow whole. In an instant it was over, and all that remained in the darkness was the red glow pulsating before him.

The orange sword faded in his hand, flashed brightly once more on his arm, and then disappeared in the dim light. Harry pulled back from this other place, the place where Tonks' life force now burned warmly if not brightly, and the vision of darkness before him began to coalesce with a vision of Tonks, the red glow fading to red cheeks. There was a gasp; it was from Hermione.

"She's alive," she breathed. Harry looked down to see Tonks still curled in the layers of her black robes, but her eyes were closed and her breathing regular. He sat back, winded and dizzy, but satisfied knowing that she was safe. Hermione helped Harry steady himself as he sat on the floor.

"What did you do?" she asked. "How... how did you--" There was a low groan from the other side of the great entrance hall. The spell on Snape was wearing off and he was coming around. "Harry," asked Hermione, "you cast the Killing Curse? Are you sure?" Her words filled the quiet hall.

"What? What was that?" Snape called out still on his back. He took to his feet and, rubbing his face, came over to the two Hogwarts students seated next to the Auror. Harry expected a snide comment, and he wasn't disappointed. Snape narrowed his eyes at Harry and said with a remarkable tinge of concern for Tonks, "What have you done this time, Potter?"

"I thought I killed her," Harry replied, holding Tonks' hand which was now warming in his own. "I thought..." but he couldn't finish.

"He used the Killing Curse, Professor," added Hermione in a matter of fact tone, "thinking it was Voldemort attacking me."

"He what?" cried Snape. Quickly, he bent low to Tonks and felt her head with the palm of his hand. It was, in Harry's mind, a surprisingly tender touch. Harry wondered how Snape could show an ounce of compassion to anyone, let alone someone who had just hexed him. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Tonks was a Slytherin. Snape held out his wand and bathed her face in a pale purple light, and a look of confusion crossed his face. "It was a Killing Curse," he whispered. His eyes slid to the corners and glared at Harry. "Obviously not very effective."

"I must take her to St. Mungo's at once," Snape said urgently, "but I can't take all of you." His eyes scanned the hall nervously. "Ms. Granger may be able to Apparate that far, but I'm afraid you, Potter, are once again a disappointment. I can't have you alone, and I can't have you wandering because I know where you'd go." Harry's eyes met Snape's, and reinforced that the professor was correct in that regard, he would run downstairs given the opportunity. Snape waved his wand and sealed the doors and fireplaces.

"Ms. Granger, please ensure your friend, Mr. Potter, stays out of trouble. At least until someone returns for you; it should only be a few moments." With that he reached down and gently lifted Tonks into his arms. There was a loud crack and the two disappeared. Immediately, Harry ran over to the doors leading to the steps, and tried to open them.

"Alohomora!" he called.

"You'll need a stronger spell than that one," said Hermione. Harry turned at her and glared.

"You are going to help me, right?" Hermione looked at him and then looked away.

"Hermione!" yelled Harry. "I have to hurry!" He was sure it would soon be midnight, and he had no idea how long Draco could keep the real Death Eaters away from the Ministry. Tonks had said it would all be ready; all he needed to do was to get downstairs.

"They're going to be back any minute, Harry," she said, trying to keep her voice steady but failing miserably. Harry spun toward the sealed doors and started to ram them with his shoulder. "Harry!" she cried. He charged again, sending a large clank reverberating around the stony walls.

"I can't believe..." he said, turning to take another run at the walls. He knew he'd never get through, but it made him feel better. There was another crash, only this time Harry grimaced in pain. "Snape!" he hissed as he walked back from the doors his left arm limp at his side, his head tilted low so that he was glaring at Hermione over the top of his round glasses. He turned to the walls again.

"Stop it!" she cried. "Can't you see I want to help? Don't you know I want him back too?" Her eyes were swollen and tears began to drip indiscriminately down her cheeks. "It's too dangerous, Harry. I won't lose you! Not again!" She dropped her hands in her face and began to cry. Harry looked to the doors and then to Hermione. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but instead he walked over and held her. Together they sat at the edge of the Fountain of Magical Brethren and he held her in his arms.

"You won't lose me, Hermione," he said softly. "Not tonight." Looking at the ripples of water in the fountain, he reached into his pocket and twiddled with the small vial there. He slipped his fingers passed the glass, pulled out two galleons, and tossed them into the churning water. "For Tonks," he whispered.

The air was still. Any moment now they'd be coming to take them out of here. Snape was probably busy trying to find someone else to gather Harry and Hermione so he could run back and be with his master as they attacked the torture chamber where the basin now sat waiting to be used. He smiled wondering what the look on Voldemort's face would be when he found the room empty, save for the bowl and Lucius Malfoy's blood. Hopefully, he would not take it out on Draco. Harry sighed. Sitting next to Hermione, he looked down at the spot where Snape laid unconscious.

"I can't believe I thought Snape was Ron," he said in the stillness of the night. "I thought... I thought he was dead... that you'd both been taken by the Dark Lord."

"Ron's safe," Hermione whispered, "I made sure of that."

"Good," said Harry with a smile. "When I saw you talking in the Great Hall at dinner, I thought for sure you were plotting something together.

"He wanted to," she said with a sniff and wiping her eyes. "Ron promised me he wouldn't read my thoughts, but I think he slipped. He asked where I was going, and if it was after Tonks."

"What did you tell him?" Harry asked.

"Well, I had to give him something. I couldn't have him here. Tracking Tonks was my job and I wasn't going to lose..." she stopped herself and gave a little shudder. Harry pulled her close again.

"You said it yourself, Hermione," he said warmly. "You can't do it all on your own. Sometimes we need to recognize that we're not alone, that our friends are here to help." She turned and smiled at Harry, then gave him a hug.

"You're right, Harry," she said with her hand against his face. "I'm sorry." She held his gaze for a moment and a small glimmer flashed within them. "Let's open the doors," she said quickly standing to her feet.

"Are you sure?" he said with a smile.

"Yes!" said Hermione, exuberance filling her voice. Harry's heart skipped as they walked across the great expanse of polished wood.

"I wish Ron were here," said Harry with excitement.

"Wait till he hears the story," said Hermione brightly. "Here we are battling it out at the Ministry, and he's all alone at home."

"Home?" asked Harry.

"Yeah," she answered with a mischievous smile. "I told him I was tracking Tonks, and was sure she was going back to the Burrow to reestablish it as Voldemort's base." She pulled her wand ready to open the doors. "I hope he doesn't get too mad when he gets there and finds it's still deserted." Harry immediately grabbed Hermione's arm.

"The Burrow? You sent Ron to the Burrow?" Hermione nodded. "He's flying there on my Caduceus?" Again she nodded, only this time she was picking up on the anxiety in Harry's voice.

"He had mentioned it, but I didn't think--"

"Oh, no!"

"What, Harry?" she asked nervously. "What's wrong?"

"Hermione, Voldemort... he returned to the Burrow last week."

"That's not possible," she began, but as she looked into Harry's eyes she could see that he was unflinching. "Harry, how can you be sure?"

"You may be chums with Snape," said Harry, "but I have my own source."

"Malfoy," Hermione breathed, and with that thought ensconced in her mind a look of horror filled her eyes -- Ron was in trouble. Harry wasn't sure how she had put it all together, but he didn't care. The important thing was to rescue Ron. He wanted to leave immediately, but they'd have to wait for someone to return. What was taking so long? Hermione was not taking it well.

"I... I sent him there," she said blankly. "They'll kill him."

"He knows to be careful," said Harry. "He won't just go barging in to attack--" Hermione glared at him with eyes that said they both knew that Ron was action first, thought later. She reached up and touched his face again.

"Tell them where we are, Harry." Her eyes were resigned to her fate, and resolute at what she must do. There was a loud snap, and she was gone.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled, but his voice just echoed in the resplendent hall. "The doors." He slumped against the wall.

"Hey, you!" a voice cried out. It was the sleeping guard that Harry had seen. At last, he thought, someone to help. He started running toward the groggy wizard.

"I need help!" Harry called.

"Stop right there!" the guard yelled.

"It's urgent! I really need--" There was a red flash of light that rolled directly at him. Harry pulled his wand and threw a shield charm with no time to think of where to deflect the attack. Unfortunately, it ricocheted the stunning spell straight back at his assailant. The guard was hit squarely in the chest and flew back against the wall, falling once again to the floor unconscious.

For a moment Harry considered reviving him, but hesitated, thinking about the fight that might ensue. Then a wild thought crossed his mind; it would only take seconds if he did it right, but he'd have to move quickly.

"Sirius!" he whispered excitedly. With his wand he inscribed on the wall above the guard a note in flaming gold letters: We've gone to the Burrow to save Ron. Voldemort's there. He ran back to the doors and remembered that Hermione had not yet opened them.

"Damn!" he cursed. He kicked the huge slabs of polished mahogany with his foot, sending a sharp stabbing pain through the ankle he had twisted in Advanced Apparation.

"Ouch!" he yelled. Then a queasy nervous feeling began to fill his stomach as he considered the possibility. He could do this... he just needed to focus.

The thought of traveling through hundreds of feet of pure stone was really not appealing at all. One false thought and he'd probably be splinched where no one would find him again. He slipped out his wand and focused on the picture in his mind that was more vivid than any of his other memories: the stone dais where Sirius slipped through the veil.

Vision - An image appeared before him of the ancient stone room below.

Channel - With pure concentration, Harry stepped through to the other side.

Reconstruction - His body reassembled upon the first large stone step, just up from the floor where the dais sat underneath the Curtain of Phenolem. It was the same spot where he stood with Neville when he watched Sirius fall to the other side.

The room was exactly as he remembered. Large stone steps climbed upward from the dais to the doors that exited back into the Ministry corridors. He imagined the wizards and witches that would sit here, looking down on the accused before they were killed, or later cast alive through the veil. He would have liked to think it a barbaric time, but wasn't sure his own was much better. Candles lined the dais and on its edge were the golden basin, a flask of red liquid, and a thin tube -- the Black key. Harry took a step down when a shadow fluttered from behind the stone archway covered by the veil. He held his wand at the ready. He heard the voice before he saw the face.

"Ah, Harry! Thank Asha you could make it." Out stepped Grigor Darbinyan, wearing neat blue robes. He held no wand, and instead was holding his hands out in an open gesture of welcome, his face smiling.

"I was getting worried," said Grigor, "there isn't much time." Harry held his wand and narrowed his gaze. This only made Grigor smile more broadly. "You are worried, I see. A prudent approach and I dare say I'd do the same in your position." He sat up on the dais with his hands folded in his lap. "Tonks and I have been planning this for months. Where is she by the way?"

"She was called to a fight outside Ipswich," Harry answered cautiously. "She said I was on my own."

"Pity, she did so want to be here when we fetched your godfather." Grigor leaned toward Harry who had taken a few more steps in the direction of the curtain. "But we do have you, and that's all that matters really. He is your godfather, isn't he?"

"Yes," Harry said curtly. Stepping closer to the dais, Harry's heart began to beat faster and faster. He was so close, but....

"Well, Tonks knew about the golden instruments in the Black family all along, and when she heard I was from Al Bsahri she thought I could help." Grigor casually crossed his legs. "Well, I gave her what little information I could find, and believe me it wasn't the easiest to come by." He rubbed his neck. "Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there was a connection between the two of you. Finally, I thought, a way to apologize to Harry for almost killing him. It's a grand gesture, don't you think?"

Harry was growing unsure. Something in Grigor's words made sense. It was almost mesmerizing listening to him as he told the tale. But was it fact or fiction? Harry wanted to believe, he needed to.

"There are Death Eaters coming," Harry said flatly, wondering what the reaction would be. "Perhaps... Voldemort himself." Grigor, however, seemed unconcerned.

"I'm well aware of our timetable, and you're right, we have little time left." Grigor pulled his wand, and Harry held his higher. Grigor only chuckled.

Grigor cast a spell with a deep accent that, to Harry, sounded nothing like Armenian. A white glow erupted upward toward the ceiling, and then crept along the walls to the floor and finally filled the floor with an eerie white mist that hung low only a few inches from the ground. "An anti-apparation charm; we will be free from visitors for a few moments," he said warmly. "Have you brought what we need?" Harry glanced down to his pocket, a move noted by Mr. Darbinyan. "Good... good. Bring it here, we must hurry. Unless I'm mistaken your godfather will be first to arrive, and then we can be on our way." Grigor held out his hand and, almost ignoring Harry, turned to face the basin and blood upon the dais. Clearly, not a threatening posture if he wanted to attack.

Harry looked at the curtain, the ingredients on the dais, and Grigor essentially ignoring him save for the lone left hand extended in Harry's direction waiting for the final ingredient. He could bear it no longer. Quickly, Harry shifted his wand to his left hand and entered his pocket for the vial with his right. It was the moment Grigor had waited for.

The motion was smooth and graceful as Grigor spun on Harry, his wand outstretched. Harry reached for his own wand, but his hand was trapped inside his pocket for the briefest of moments. It was all the time Grigor needed. Harry felt his body freeze and he fell to the floor stiff, but wide awake. Grigor walked over to him and pulled the small vial from his pocket. His face wore a look of triumph.

"It's fortunate, Harry, that Tonks was called away. I was not looking forward to killing her too, and not totally sure I could pull it off. I guess it's all a question of what we're willing to sacrifice for family." He patted Harry on the face. "I'm sure she'll miss you dearly. Perhaps if there's time, I can return her cousin to her as I promised. It only seems fair." Grigor stepped back from the dais.

"But... first things first. There is one more step," Grigor greedily whispered to himself, "and I will be avenged." He turned back to face Harry and levitated him up toward the dais. Harry was sure he would be tossed bodily into the curtain. One way, he thought, to join Sirius, but certainly not his top choice. Then his body stopped and was set gently onto the stone slab next to the golden basin.

"I'm afraid, Harry," said Grigor, "that I need one more ingredient. Well, not so much an ingredient as bait." He sighed deeply. "One Muggle who is really a wizard. Not something you can just go and buy at the local apothecary, eh, Harry?" He stepped close to Harry, leaning over his still body. "You see, I'm not the only one you fooled this summer. But it must remain our little secret." He held his wand over Harry's lips. "Don't say a word," he breathed, as if Harry had any hope of uttering a sound. A look of excited anticipation filled Grigor's eyes, while one of horror filled Harry's.

"Ah," said Grigor, "Midnight." He turned to face the far wall as a blue doorway appeared just above the first stone step. "Only family may pass," he whispered to Harry. In a bluster of mist, Harry could make out a person walking slowly forward. Whoever it was stepped out onto the stone floor, and the doorway vanished leaving the wall still glowing white. Harry's hands began to perspire, and he was feeling very ill. The sensation overwhelming him was telling every pore of his body that the person entering was Voldemort. But family? The figure stepped close and leaned over him.

"Hello, Harry. It's good to see you again," she said with a smile. She leaned down and stroked the side of his face. Her green eyes were as piercing as ever, but her face had aged. Wrinkles creased the eyes and forehead, and streaks of grey filled her long, light brown hair.

"I believe you've met," said Grigor, but in case you haven't, let me introduce you. Harry, this is Emma, Emma Slate."

"Oh Grigor," she said with a tone of embarrassment. "Let's not be so formal." She looked down into Harry's eyes. "You can call me Anaxarete; in the end, all my lovers do." She leaned down and kissed his lips; he could taste the death upon her. "And in just a moment, Harry, you and I are going to become very close."