The Greatest Loss

Right Behind You

As Harry stepped onto the Hogwarts Express, another essential weight was lifted from his shoulders, the first one being that everyone in the Order was still alive. Now he felt the familiar relief of another Dursley summer behind him. Only one more to go, he thought.

"Oi! Harry, there's a compartment here! Quick!" yelled Ron from a few paces ahead. Harry followed him down the aisle and dipped into the compartment and sat opposite his gangly red haired friend. As Harry and Ron sat and the train began moving, they both sort of looked away, perhaps towards the window, then one would look at the ceiling, the other towards the closed compartment door, then catch a glance at each other, smiling a fake smile that departed their faces quickly before they started glancing around again. They both knew what the other was thinking, however. About Hermione.

Hermione wouldn't be joining them at Hogwarts this year. She wasn't there to remind them to change into their robes at the right time, or to provide background information on the chocolate frog cards supplied by the trolley. Most of all though, she wasn't there to smile and psych them up for the new year, always confident it would be wonderful.

Since Hermione's death in Voldemort's last attempt at Harry last Christmas, both Harry and Ron would have periods where all they could do was think about her, concentrating solely on that empty place. There were times, of course, more often now it had been several months, where they could forget, proceed with their lives like normal, pursuing things as always. But there were too many memories of her, she was everywhere, and they couldn't escape it. There was Hogwarts of course, where they had always been the trio. Sometimes it seemed the only memory-free place was on the quidditch field. Soaring up and circling the golden hoops and swooping down with adrenaline pounding in his veins were the times where Harry could concentrate singly on the game and be excited, competitive, and nervous just like everyone else. But that first winter, after practices there was no Hermione there to perform her famous fire charm to warm him up, or pretending to do her homework when she was really admiring their skills from underneath the apple tree. And following games, who was always there to envelop him in a whirlwind of bushy hair and Gryffindor banners, smiling exclaiming, "Harry you did it!!! Oh, Harry!! Your last save, Ron, that was spectacular!!!"

No, Harry and Ron would have to endure these new gaps in their lives. Summer, one could say was better, in terms of forgetting. Hermione was never at the Dursleys, and for the beginning part anyway, wasn't at the Burrow. But of course at least at Hogwarts, Harry was kept busy with his schoolwork. But when he wasn't doing chores at Privet drive, Harry was kept a prisoner, caged within his own thoughts. For hours he'd be thinking, replaying her death over again as if pressing the "replay" button on his omnioculars, or reminiscing about the best of Hermione. He'd see her pretending she went looking for the troll to McGonagall, figuring out the basilisk's identity, fervently searching through an ancient, miniscule anthology of hippogriff hearings, glistening that night of the Yule ball, being courageous enough to invite all those people and virtually leading them into their illegal defense association...

And Ron, who would spaz at seemingly random times, not so much thinking about her as his moments of instinctual fury. Like whenever he would so much catch anyone use the term "mudblood," he would nearly tackle him, become sort of a Jekyll and Hyde type, a distant, almost frightening spark in his eyes. He had started to work harder, too. He actually read all the books gathering dust Hermione had given to him over the years. He would do all his homework, working often well past midnight. It was not uncommon for him to be seen in the library, an hour or so before breakfast, during class breaks, and on the weekends. Excellent grades soon became a standard for him, but anyone who knew him would say he had two small creases in his face that had not been there before, and that his eyes were always underlined in those purple bags.

Yes, Harry and Ron's reactions to their loss were very different. Harry tried to separate himself as much as he could from Hermione's shadows, focusing hard on trying to forget. Ron, however, immersed himself in Hermione's old habits, her old ways, her old stomping grounds, trying to be the person he thought she would want him to be. Ron and Harry seemed to grow years however, in the last 7 or so months. Both had matured deeply, both of them had learned one of life's most important lessons, the one about taking things for granted. As for their friendship, the remaining two of the three had stayed friends of course, but they weren't quite as connected as before. One might expect they would bond closer, but it seemed that an essential missing link that bound them together was missing.

Conversation never included the "H" word. At first, the first month after she was gone, they were both silent. There were times when they were forced to talk about it, at her funeral, a private ceremony by the lake, or those couple of nights when Ron would start crying doing his homework in the common room, his face nearly purple from trying so hard to prevent their flow. And sometimes Harry would wake up, screaming, then panting, then sobbing hysterically in the middle of the night.

Whenever these sorts of things happened, Ron would take Harry down the common room, or Harry would lead Ron to their dormitory, and they'd ask the same question, "Do you, er, want to talk about her?" Usually the reply would be, "Nah, I'm alright, really," or "I'm okay, mate, I think I just need a second."

One late evening after dinner, Ron started one episode, crying softly and pounding his fist on his essay. He was upset until they went to bed, avoiding everyone's eyes for a few hours now. Harry unfolded his invisibility cloak and poked Ron, to get his attention, not to wake him up, Harry knew Ron wouldn't be asleep. They went out together, out to the tree the three of them would always sit by. It was the first time they really talked about it.

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"Harry, I just, I just can't stop thinking about her. She was just so god damned great, you know? Why'd he, I mean, Harry sometimes I just don't know what's happening to me. I have this, this feeling, inside of me, this other me who wants to just tear out of the sensible me and go out there and track down every last one, Harry, every last death eater! And then I want to go and kill him, Voldemort!"

Harry was a little shocked, this was the first time Ron had ever voiced Voldemort's name. He didn't even flinch or stutter when speaking it. Harry knew his friend had changed.

"I know, Ron, me too."

"I don't know how to control me though. Just sitting in those classes? When more people are being tortured, more evil plans being plotted? We're wasting time, Harry, we need to do something! It's, it's up to you and me now. Screw Dumbledore, Harry, we need to go now!"

Ron started to get up, pulling Harry up with him.

"Ron!" said Harry, grasping his friend by the shoulders, turning his body around to face him. "We can't just go now Ron! You're right, there's too many problems to just sit around, but we can't just go galloping off on the search for death eaters! Voldemort can read my mind, Ron! I'm only just beginning to be able to block him out! We'd be dead before we even found out where they are. That's what Voldemort wants us to do, go looking for him! We, we o-owe it to her Ron. We owe it to her to stay alive! But, I promise you this, mate. We'll find him. Maybe I'm the only one who can kill him, but I can't do it alone. Even if half the wizarding world is demolished by then, we'll do it for her."

"You're not going to die, Harry. I'm going to be right there with you. You will kill him, Harry. I'll be there to back you up. Remember the very beginning of our first year? Malfoy challenged you to that midnight duel. I said I'd be your second, remember? Well, nothing's changed, mate. Even if I can't kill him, I'll destroy his empire. I'll hit him with the curse and lock his feeble soul in a jar."

And they both strode up to the castle.

~*