I Will Remember You

Fourth Stage: The Last Battle Field

Hermione fell on Harry's back.

"Ouch."

"Sorry, Harry," said Hermione, getting to her feet and helping him up.

"It's okay," he said, rubbing his back.

"Wow, that thing was powerful," exclaimed Hermione. "My finger was stuck to it," she added, nodding towards the silver teapot.

"Yeah, well, that's how Portkeys work," said Harry knowingly.

Hermione nodded distractedly. "Harry, this place is wonderful," she exclaimed, looking around.

Harry glanced around. They were in the middle of a great green lowland. Some huge rocks stood here and there, and small paths climbed the mountains at the sides of the plain. The weak noise of the sea revealed that they were near the coast. A golden eagle flew overhead, cawing.

"Is this the right place?" asked Hermione, unsure.

"Yeah, it is," said Harry, putting the Portkey in his backpack. "But it's just so different from when I saw it last."

"Really? Why?"

"Because the last time I saw it, it was covered with corpses," said Harry grimly.

Hermione brought her hands to her mouth, horrified. "That's horrible," she whispered.

Harry looked at her and smiled. "Well, I didn't see it very well. I looked around for only a couple of seconds before I passed out after defeating Voldemort."

"You passed out?" she asked caringly.

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and if I have to tell you the truth, that was the best thing that happened to me that day."

"Oh, Harry why don't you tell me what happened?" she asked imploringly.

Harry looked at her and raised his eyebrows. "Because there's nothing to tell," he replied harshly.

"I don't think so," she said shyly. "Maybe if you tell me, that will help both you and me."

Harry looked at her in surprise. "I have no problems. How would it help me?"

"I can help you to bear that weight."

"Hermione, I don't know what you are talking about," said Harry sharply.

"Harry, you told me everything about the Burrow, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts and all our friends, but you have never mentioned this part of our lives," she said, looking at him.

"Which part?"

"The Last Battle," whispered Hermione.

"Because-there-is-nothing-to-tell," he said through clenched teeth, stressing every word.

"Harry, if you don't want to do this for you, do it for me, please," she said pleadingly.

Harry looked away and walked past her. "We should move on, I don't want to stay here all day," he said, bringing their dialogue to an end in a tone of voice brooking no argument.

Hermione followed him noiselessly while he guided her through the wonderful landscape. There were no signs a battle had taken place here; everything was perfect. A perfect place to pass a secluded, restful holiday.

"Harry?" Hermione called him uncertainly after his outburst.

"Yeah?" answered Harry, half turning his face towards her.

"Why are there no signs of the Battle?"

"Because the Ministry of Magic cleaned everything up the week after the Battle," he said, continuing on. "Can you remember anything?" he asked her abruptly.

"No," she answered, taken aback by his curt tone of voice.

They walked without speaking for a good hour before Hermione broke the silence again.

"I don't think we're going to find anything here," she offered hesitantly.

"This place is huge, and we've only seen a little part of it," said Harry without even turning around.

'This Battle must have been even more terrible than I thought,' thought Hermione. 'To change Harry's mood so suddenly like this.'

"Are we looking for some place in particular?"

"Yes, we are," said Harry. "And if you would please stop talking for a moment, I'm trying to concentrate."

Hermione stopped. What she had felt yesterday in the pit of her stomach was no longer there. Now, she felt only a piercing pain through her heart.

Harry turned his head when he didn't hear Hermione's steps behind him.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked her harshly.

"What's wrong with me?" asked Hermione, desperately trying to hold back her tears. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you!"

"There's nothing wrong with me."

"I wouldn't say that," she said, almost crying.

"Oh, stop it," said Harry, dismissing her tears with a wave of his hand. "You don't know what it was like for me that night, and I would have never come back here if it wasn't for you."

"Strange, I thought that nothing happened that night," said Hermione sharply, throttling down her tears.

Harry glared at her. "How can you say these things? I'm doing everything for you and-"

"And why you are doing everything for me? Because you just want to know how I survived, or because you care for me?" She was looking at him, half in anger, half in misery.

Harry stood there for a minute without speaking, upset. He had to admit to himself that his first thought was that if Hermione was still alive, maybe Ginny and Ron had survived too. But now there was something else. He had started to feel something that he thought he would have never felt towards Hermione.

"Well?" she asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Harry looked at he. "Well, what?" he asked, a little bit more rudely than he meant to.

"I asked you something."

"And there's no need for me to answer. You know why I'm doing all this."

"I thought I knew why, but now I'm not sure anymore," she said, looking at him with pain filled eyes.

"Okay, if you think that I don't care about you," he said, taking off his backpack. "We can go back right now." He pulled out the Portkey.

Hermione looked intently at him, thousands of emotions passing through her: anger, fear, guilt, and more she could never explain.

"No," she said slowly. "No, it's okay."

Harry looked at her and threw the Portkey back into his backpack. Without a word, he turned and started to walk.

Hermione followed a few feet behind him.

The sky was getting cloudy above their heads, and a cold wind started to blow around them.

"It's going to rain," said Harry absently. "If we don't find a shelter, we'll come back to Hogwarts with the Portkey," he added, in a tone of voice that didn't invite a reply.

Hermione just shrugged her shoulders, and looked around so she wouldn't have to stare at Harry's stiff back.

"Harry," she suddenly exclaimed, stopping.

"What?"

"Look," she said, pointing to her right.

Far away, in the middle of nothing, there was a small, shabby-looking hut. Harry couldn't remember anything like that being there the last time he had been here.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

"I don't know, I've never seen it," answered Harry, shrugging.

"Let's go and have a look," said Hermione.

"It doesn't look like anything interesting to me," answered Harry.

"Well, let's just have a look, please," said Hermione. "Maybe we can go in and protect ourselves from the rain that's going to fall."

Harry would have loved to say 'no' just for fun, but Hermione was right after all. It was going to rain, and he himself had just said they needed shelter.

"Just a look around," said Harry, heading towards the hut that looked a lot like Hagrid's.

Hermione followed him, rather happy to have convinced him to do something that she wanted to do.

The nearer they got, the better they were able to see the hut. It was circular, with a wooden door and a couple of boarded windows.

"Harry, look at the door," said Hermione, pointing at it.

Harry looked at the entrance. A yellow piece of parchment was hung on it. He got closer, and read the note on it aloud.

"Warning! Do not enter. Property of the Minister of Magic."

Harry snorted derisively, and stepped back, pointing his wand at the keyhole.

"Alohomora," he said out loud.

The door opened in front of them.

"Harry, what are you doing?" asked Hermione, seizing him by the arm. "There's a 'don't enter' sign on the door."

"Yeah, well, I've never taken Ministry of Magic signs very seriously," he said, entering.

Hermione followed him so closely that when Harry stopped, she almost bumped into him.

Inside, it was just too dark to distinguish anything.

"Lumos."

Harry's wand lit and showed a narrow space filled with items.

Harry looked around. "Hermione, do you know what kind of place this is?"

Hermione shook her head while she was looking around.

"I do."

"Do you? It looks almost like a store," she said uncertainly.

"Well, almost," said Harry, trying to illuminate every single space of the hut. "I told you that when the Battle was over, the Ministry of Magic sent people to clear up the place and give an appropriate burial to all the people that died there."

Hermione nodded.

"Well, they stored everything they found in here," said Harry, looking around.

Hermione seemed horrified. "And the bodies? Where did they put the bodies?"

"Oh, not here, don't worry," said Harry quickly. "They were buried in the Isle of Drear - now that there are no more Quintapeds."

"No more - what?"

"Never mind," said Harry nonchalantly. "Let's find something to light up this place."

"These, for example?" asked Hermione, holding up a handful of candles.

"Perfect," said Harry, lighting them and making them fly over their heads with his wand.

The light was quite dim, but finally they managed to have a better look at the hut. It was bigger than it seemed; actually, it was too much big for what they'd seen outside. It must have been enchanted, like the Weasleys' car. There was a big bed, a basin, and a table with a couple of chairs, but almost all the space was taken up with big trunks. On each trunk, there was a small piece of parchment with a label on it. One said 'Wands', another one 'Crystal Balls', another 'Clocks' and so on. Every trunk contained different items, each of them found after the Last Battle on the field.

"Look, Harry." Hermione was holding a long piece of parchment in her hand. She handed it to Harry. He looked at it, and saw it was a long list of names.

"Count of the victims on the Field of the Last Battle," Hermione read the title.

Harry glanced quickly towards all the names, searching for names that he knew.

Creevey, Colin. Death.

Finnigan, Seamus. Death.

Goyle, Gregory. Death.

Granger, Hermione. Not found.

McGonagall, Minerva. Death.

Malfoy, Draco. Death.

When he reached the bottom of the list there were at least twenty people with the same surname.

Weasley, Arthur. Death.

Weasley, Bill. Death.

Weasley, Charlie. Death.

Weasley, Delacour Fleur. Death.

Weasley, Fred. Death.

Weasley, Ginevra. Death.

Weasley, George. Death.

Weasley, Molly. Death.

Weasley, Percy. Death.

Weasley, Ronald. Death.

Harry threw away the parchment in anger. "That piece of rubbish doesn't say anything new."

Then he had an idea and, picking up the parchment again, he checked the list another time.

"What are you doing?" asked Hermione carefully.

"Searching," answered Harry, without looking at her.

"Searching for what, if I may ask," asked Hermione shyly.

Harry showed her the list. "Look, you have a 'not found' next to your name. I'm searching other names with it next to them."

But after checking the list twice, he threw it away again. "Nobody else was 'not found'," he said, looking at Hermione. "Only you. Why?"

Hermione felt really uncomfortable at that very moment. Harry was looking at her like he was waiting for an answer, but Hermione didn't have one.

"I-I don't know," she stammered.

"No, of course you don't," said Harry bitterly, sitting on the bed and putting his head in his hands.

Hermione stepped towards him uncertainly, and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, sitting down next to him.

"Harry, tell me about the Battle," she whispered into his ear.

Harry lowered his hands and looked at her. "Hermione," he whispered pleadingly.

She smiled encouragingly.

"Okay, but I have to tell you that it won't be easy for me to tell and it won't be easy for you to listen to either," he said, looking blankly in front of him.

Then he took a deep breath, and closed his eyes, ready to recall the last moments of life for all his friends and enemies.