With Honor

With Honor

Chapter Six - A Present From Fawkes

It was, much to Harry's consternation, a whole day later before they had finally cleaned up Grimmauld Place, even with their combined efforts.

Hermione apparently had not yet heard from Professor Flitwick, and Harry, so charged with the thought of returning to Godric's Hollow, woke up hours before Ron and Hermione, prowled around the house looking for food but finding only mouldy cheese and rotten loaves of bread and as a result, was irritated when they walked down together, arm in arm, yawning after a good night's sleep.

"Good morning, mate," Ron said, flopping down onto a kitchen chair.

"I'll make some breakfast," Hermione offered.

"There's no food," Harry said. "Only thing consumable is Butterbeer."

Ron groaned, but Hermione put on a voice that sounded strangely like Ron's.

"Are you a wizard or not, Harry?" she said. Turning her back, she summoned what looked like delicious pancakes out of thin air, placing them on the Black family china which Harry had told Kreacher to clean the night before, and surprisingly he had found them immaculate.

As Ron and Hermione munched happily on their breakfast, Harry had paced the room restlessly.

"Flitwick send a reply yet?" he shot at Hermione.

"No," she said. "And I don't expect him to for another day at least, it'll take Hedwig quite a while to find Flitwick, and even if she had, he might take a while to respond."

"Great," Harry said bitterly. "So if Snape comes tonight, we're all dead aren't we?"

"What makes you think Snape knows," asked Ron. "It's just a possibility, and plus, it's not Hermione's fault, what else do you want her to do, teach Hedwig to apparate?"

Harry's annoyance immediately evaporated.

"Sorry," Harry mumbled.

"That's quite all right," Hermione said. "Here, have a pancake, Harry."

Harry took the offered pancake, and found that the food did wonders for his mood. Soon Harry, Ron, and Hermione were talking quite cheerfully, feeling at ease despite knowing that Death Eaters could know where they were at this very second.

Suddenly, there was a loud tap on the window from the living room, and the three took out their wands warily.

"If there's trouble," Harry muttered. "Apparate back to the Burrow immediately..."

Slowly, the crept out of the kitchen, towards the sound.

Tap, tap, tap.

"There's nothing there," Ron said, squinting at the window. "Maybe someone's just messing with us for a laugh."

"No one can see this place," Hermione reminded him.

Tap, tap, tap.

"Stay back," Harry said, reaching into his pocket for his Invisibility Cloak.

"I'll go with you," Ron said, sliding underneath with Harry before he could protest. The two made their way awkwardly into the living room - the cloak was far too small now, Harry was sure their feet were showing due to Ron's height...

Tap. Tap. CLUNK!

Ron and Harry jumped at the same time, the cloak flying off them, tripping Harry over.

Hermione suddenly burst out laughing.

"It's just Pigwidgeon," Hermione said, pulling Harry to his feet.

Sure enough, tapping on the window was a small owl.

"Come in here, Pig," Ron said gruffly, opening the door and collecting his owl. "Hey look, Mum's worried about us already."

"Everything all right?" Harry asked as Ron opened the letter.

"Yep, she reminded us, Apparition test next week, I think I'll be ready this time," Ron said. "I'm going to ask her to send some food over though, we'll probably enjoy some homemade meat pies after a grueling day of adventuring, right?"

"Sounds good to me," said Harry. "Go send the letter, and we'll get going."

Ron quickly scrawled a few sentences down on a piece of parchment and tied it to Pigwidgeon's leg. "Go on, get going featherball."

He threw Pigwidgeon to the air, where the owl disappeared from sight a few seconds later.

"Shall we?" Ron said. "Godric's Hollow awaits."

"And it's high time we went," said Harry, grinning.

***

An hour later Harry, Ron, and Hermione had arrived at the small village of Godric's Hollow. All seemed peaceful, there were children running and playing in the sun, enjoying the last weeks of holiday. There were people scattered about on the dirt roads, a few cows which Harry assumed belonged to farmers on the land, and various old and strange contraptions that were probably related somehow to farming.

All in all, it was not in any way spectacular or noteworthy, and it certainly did not look like it had been touched by murder.

Yet it has, Harry thought, as he continued down the road to where Dumbledore had once told him his parents' old house had been.

Suddenly, Harry saw what he had come to search for, and picked up his pace.

An opening, where there was no buildings around. The ground was black and deadened, it looked as if it had not recovered, even in sixteen years, from the evil of Voldemort.

He jogged to the spot, and instantly felt a strange chill run through his bones.

Ron and Hermione had caught up to him.

"This place," said Ron slowly. "It feels weird... almost... cold."

Harry looked at Hermione, who in turn looked absolutely stunned.

"Are you feeling all right, Hermione?"

"Yeah... actually... no," Hermione said, slowly backing out from the dark patch of earth.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, concerned.

"This place," Hermione whispered. "It... it feels like..."

"Death," Harry supplied.

"Death," Hermione repeated.

"So this is where it all happened," Ron said, looking awed.

Harry turned silent.

Had I really spent the first year of my life here with my parents? Was I happy? Were they happy? This was the place where Lily and James Potter had lived, this is the place they had died...

He felt his two friends watching him closely, but he ignored them, walking along the barren land in a trance-like state.

"Lily! Take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"

James Potter's voice echoed in Harry's mind, as clear as it had been when he had first relived the memory, courtesy of a Dementor...

Harry spun around, feeling slightly sick.

"Not Harry! Not Harry! Please - I'll do anything..."

Harry reeled as his mother's scream echoed in his head.

A high pitched laughter, the same laughter that had haunted his dreams many times in the past few years, found its way into Harry's thoughts again.

"Voldemort," Harry whispered.

Suddenly, another voice seemed to ring in his mind, familiar and foreign at the same time.

He's a darling boy, James, I'm sure he'll grow up to be a bit like his father.

I doubt he'll get as many girls as his old man, but I'm sure he'll have his fair share, another voice replied.

Harry heard a tinkling laugh.

That's because having me as his mother will inject some decency into him, he won't go around breaking hearts, will you, sweetie?

You will, won't you, tyke. At least until the right girl comes along for you. Just don't choose a redhead, those are the hardest to chase... hey, Lily, stop it, you're teaching him violence...

There was more laughter, and Harry stumbled a bit, a collage of images streaking across his mind.

What's going on with me? Harry thought.

He walked on further, his feet propelled as if by some unseen force.

In the distance, he saw two white tombstones.

This is where they're buried...

Step by step, he made his way to the tombstones, vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione following him from a distance.

As he approached the tombstones, he saw the names James and Lily Potter etched tidily into the marble.

"Hi, Mum, Dad, it's me, Harry."

He felt slightly awkward as he kneeled to the ground, facing the tombstone.

"I just want you to know, my life has been great. There have been times when I've wished that I could have been someone else, and often I still do. I've lost nearly all the adults I've ever cared about. But even though I have to deal with a lot of stuff like that, I also have the greatest friends that anyone could ask for. Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, they've stuck with me through thick and thin. I believe their friendship is a blessing which in itself overcomes a lot of the stuff I've been through."

Harry was feeling slightly more comfortable now, as he knelt and thought of his parents.

"I've missed you two, so much sometimes that it hurts to think of you... when I saw you and Dad in Snape's pensieve..."

Harry paused.

"I really wish you could be here, Mum, Dad. I really miss you, and I wish you could be here to help me through everything. I wish you could give me advice, you see, there's this girl, a brilliant girl that I really like, that likes me back too. But with all the danger I'm in, I can't bear to risk losing her. She's one of a kind, Dad, probably what you thought about Mum back in your days. She even has red hair too."

Harry laughed quietly.

"I know you advised me against it, Dad, but I suppose it runs in the family, liking redheads. The thing is, I really don't know what to do. This summer, when I was with her... she made things so much easier for me, everything felt so right, despite everything. But would it be selfish if I wanted to be with her? It would put her at more risk than she could possibly know... sometimes, it just gets harder and harder not to run to her and beg her to run away together, just to be with each other, to forget about Voldemort, about the war, about everything..."

Harry sighed.

"But it's just not meant to be, and I know it. Don't worry, I'm going to find a way to destroy Voldemort once and for all, I'll make you proud, I promise. Oh, Mum, Dad? One more thing..."

Harry took a deep breath.

"I love you."

With those three words, a burst of flame appeared from thin air, knocking Harry backwards on to his bottom.

Slowly, the fire seemed to take a shape, and Harry gasped once he recognized it.

"Fawkes?" Harry said, amazed.

The bird simply stood for a few moments, flapped its wings, and disappeared once more, but leaving behind a large package and a piece of parchment which Harry caught before it hit the ground.

Ron and Hermione, who had been waiting a respectful distance behind now quickly rushed to Harry's side.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Ron demanded.

"Fawkes," said Harry solemnly. He looked down at the parchment in his hand.

Dear Harry,

If you're reading this, I assume my time on this world has ended. You have received this message from Fawkes, if you have gone to your parents' graves as I expected you to, and said something that reflects your greatest strength. If I indeed I am as fortunate as to have not faced death, then let me apologize for this letter, and the error of Fawkes for bringing it to you. If I am indeed passed on, please accept this pensieve - a mark, as I'm sure you'll agree, of our improved relationship as of your sixth year of education, a memorable one I'm sure. In addition to a safe haven for all of your thoughts, I have also placed content you may find useful in the case of my demise, in such finding the weaknesses of the one you must face, as well as a few personal recollections from myself and your parents' friends, which you may find comforting on a day when all seems lost. I am sure you understand what I mean, but in the interest of the war effort, should this fall into the wrong hands, I shall not go into detail here. I think you shall find that only you and your true friends shall be able to access the memories within. All is not lost, Harry, remember that you can always carry on, you were born strong and you have only grown stronger. I have the utmost faith that you will succeed where no one else can. Forget not the power that the Dark Lord knows not, in the end, it will save you once more.

Your friend and mentor,

Albus Dumbledore

"Is it from... is it from Dumbledore?" Hermione asked hesitantly.

"Yeah," Harry said, handing Hermione the parchment.

"That's Dumbledore's pensieve then?" Ron asked, after reading the letter from over Hermione's shoulder.

"I suppose," Harry said, picking up the heavy package with a grunt.

"Cool, let's go back and see what's in it," Ron said.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed.

"What?"

"It's fine," Harry said, looking at his parents' graves one last time. "I've done what I needed to do. We've got a war ahead of us, Ron is right, we better get started on this."

"Back to London?" Ron said, helping Harry hold the box.

"Yeah," Harry said. "Could you just... maybe give me one last moment?"

"Of course," replied Hermione kindly, leading Ron away.

Harry bent down to the graves once more, after handing Ron the pensieve.

"I promise you," he whispered, even as he watched Ron and Hermione start walking off. "That I will, from this day on, try my best to do what is right, and not what is easy. Mum, Dad, Professor Dumbledore... I promise, I won't let you down. I promise you won't be ashamed of the boy you've raised to be strong."

And with that, Harry Potter walked away from his parents' graves, and little did he know, he was never to return again.

***

"So, how does a pensieve work exactly?" Ron asked, puzzling over the basin.

"Well, the times I tried, I just kind of leaned into it, and fell through this weird mist thing..." said Harry, lugging three large bags full of food into the kitchen. "Well there's the last of it, that should last us a few weeks."

"Okay," Hermione said, carrying in a small cloth bag which contained cookbooks and various other information they would need to survive in a house on their own. After all, spellwork could only get a certain amount of tasks done, not to mention only attain a certain level of cookery. Hermione was able to provide them with a near unlimited amount of food and drinks due to her charmwork and transfiguration, but she had sternly insisted on buying food from the store a few blocks away, as organic food was, no doubt, healthier and often tastier too.

"Here's the Daily Prophet," Harry said, tossing Ron the paper. "Anyone we know dead?"

"Hmm, nope," Ron said, skimming through the front page. "Looks like they've caught another Death Eater though, this one killed three witches in a nightclub..."

"My mum and my grandparents' funeral is this Sunday," said Hermione suddenly.

"Way to bury the lead," replied Ron. "Do you want us to come with you?"

"I'd like that," Hermione said softly.

"We'll be there," Harry said.

"But what about hunting for the Horcruxes, you can't just drop everything..."

"We don't even have a clear direction of where to go," Harry said. "Other than knowing the objects, the old diary which was destroyed, Voldemort's snake maybe, something from each founder, including Slytherin's pendant that R.A.B. destroyed..."

"Supposedly destroyed," Hermione corrected.

"Supposedly destroyed," Harry conceded. "And the ring that Dumbledore destroyed. We know the Hufflepuff relic is a cup, I have no idea what the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw relics are, Voldemort's snake is hardly easy prey, and so again we are left with no leads."

"We've got the pensieve," Ron said. "Let's start with that before we say there's no leads."

Ron peered into the pensieve cautiously.

"Reckon maybe one of us should try it first, and the others should stay back, y'know, just in case we need to be pulled out or something..."

"I'll go," Harry said immediately.

"Don't you think maybe we should read about how to operate a pensieve before..." Hermione started, but Harry had already moved towards the stone basin, eager to explore the tool Dumbledore had left him.

He had started lowering his head into the pensieve, and the familiar feeling of falling into a memory rushed through him.

And before he knew it, he had landed in a completely unfamiliar place, into a crowd of giggling girls.

"So you finally did it, huh Lils?" a pretty blonde girl asked, gushing.

"Well, he has been pretty sweet lately," a redhead girl said, shrugging. Harry couldn't help but smile. It was Lily Evans, the very same person he had visited earlier that day, only now she looked as if she was Harry's age.

"Aren't talking about my good buddy Prongs are you?" said a boy cheerfully, it was Sirius Black, and beside him was Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and James Potter.

"Sirius, get off," James complained good-naturedly as his friend threw an arm around him, scooping him to face the circle of girls. "Hey Lily."

James Potter's voice was sheepish, and he didn't look one bit like the boy who had gloatingly abused Snape in front of the school.

"Hi James," Harry heard his mother say, smirking as he saw her blush slightly.

"Aww, isn't this cute, the ever so lofty and sophisticated Lily Evans and my best friend ickle Jamesie flirting!" Sirius said, delighted.

Peter laughed shrilly, and Remus chuckled.

"Imagine what the world would be like if those two got married," a girl said, and the Marauders laughed.

"Wouldn't last," Sirius said confidently.

"Yeah, some sneaky little bastard would probably come along and ruin it," Peter added, sniggering. "You know, try to take Lily from James here..."

"As if Prongs could let one girl tie him down forever... no wait, it's Evans, the girl that empties Mr. Potter's mind. My guess is they get a happily ever after a year after graduation," Remus said confidently.

"Shut up, Moony," James growled. "C'mon Lily, let's go for a walk."

Girls let out whistles and the other Marauders catcalled immaturely as the two made their way away from the group.

Suddenly, the scene shifted rapidly, landing Harry in a classroom full of children he did not recognize at all.

"So who can tell me about the Legend of Ravenclaw's Tiara?" a young looking witch questioned, standing at the front of a chalkboard. "Yes, Ms. Black?"

"Isn't this rather pointless?" a good-looking girl asked. "I mean, all this history stuff, it isn't going to really help us do anything, is it?"

"Of course it is," the teachers said patiently. "Callista, you must realize, we cannot move on to the future if we don't rightly know our past. Rowena Ravenclaw was possibly the greatest founder of Hogwarts, unbiased and..."

"Gryffindor was!" half the classroom interrupted indignantly.

"No, Slytherin," the other half shouted.

"Now, now, first years," the Professor said, smiling. "All the founders are important, and I was just joking, none is greater than the other..."

"But Professor Marsh!" a girl protested.

"Now," the Professor cut in, "Who can tell me bout the Legend of Ravenclaw's Tiara?"

A small boy with auburn hair raised his hand.

"Yes, Mr. Dumbledore?"

Harry did a double take. Was that boy, sitting right there in that desk none other than Albus Dumbledore himself?

"Ravenclaw's Tiara," Dumbledore said, fiddling with his wand and not looking directly at his teacher. "Is one of the last surviving heirlooms of the Ravenclaw line, it's said to have been Rowena Ravenclaw's herself, it's said to have all sorts of magical properties, it brings clarity of thought, helps innovation, gives the wearer a feeling of calm..."

"That'll do, Albus," the Professor said, looking impressed. "As Mr. Dumbledore here kindly informed us, Ravenclaw's Tiara is indeed a relic, a treasure of Hogwarts' history."

"Where is it now?" a boy asked.

"In the Ministry Museum for Ancient Treasures..."

Suddenly Harry felt something yank him hard around the shoulders, and he was forcibly pulled out of the pensieve.

"You okay?" he heard Ron ask.

Harry shook his head slightly to clear it, and inadvertently made Ron and Hermione fret, each of them taking one arm and pushing him into a chair.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Harry said. "I got thrown into two memories there, one was of my parents, and the other was of Dumbledore as a kid in school..."

"Wait, slow down, Dumbledore in school?" Hermione questioned skeptically.

"Yes, a memory of Dumbledore in his school years," Harry said. "They were discussing something about Ravenclaw, a tiara..."

Suddenly Harry blinked as realization hit him.

"Ravenclaw's tiara," Harry whispered. "Could it be? A Horcrux?"

"If Dumbledore put it in," Hermione said slowly. "Than he must have thought it was a possibility..."

"Who knows where the damn thing is now anyway?" Ron said.

"The Ministry Museum of Ancient Treasures," Harry said.

"How did you know that?"

"The teacher in the pensieve said so..."

"But if Voldemort had already taken it to turn it into a Horcrux, it wouldn't be there anymore would it?" Hermione reasoned.

"Well," Harry said. "At least we've got a lead. Tomorrow, we're going to the Ministry Museum."

"A dream come true, eh Hermione?" Ron said, taking out a loaf of bread and ripping a chunk out. "Save the world, and get to visit a treasure trove of academics. What's next, a House Elf rally for freedom?"

Hermione smacked Ron on the head as they all burst into laugher. They had just recovered when Ron spoke again.

"So, what's for dinner, sweetheart?" Ron said in a strangely accurate mimic of Mr. Weasley's voice.

"Whatever's on the first page of One Thousand and One Recipes for Easy Home Cooking, honey," Hermione replied, and they all collapsed into laughter again.

***

The news that the Chosen One expressed interest in the history of the Hogwarts Founders was barely contained at an urgent request from Harry to keep his visit private.

The curator of the Ministry Museum for Ancient Treasures had nodded sympathetically.

"I do quite get what you are going through, Mr. Potter, although of course not on your scale. As Curator of this fine museum, I constantly find myself inundated with requests for formal dinners and the lot. My name is Philip Fields by the way, it's a pleasure to meet you at last. Fame is a fickle friend, would you not agree?"

"Er, yes, of course," Harry said, slightly overwhelmed by the curator's talkative nature. Ron and Hermione followed behind him, both of whom looking slightly miffed at being completely ignored.

"I, for one, understand your concerns for privacy, the Prophet can be a little overwhelming at times," the curator said, letting out a booming laugh.

You can be a little overwhelming, Harry thought irritably as the walked down the freezing cold museum corridor.

"Is there any aspect you are particularly interested in, Mr. Potter?" the curator asked, making a grand gesture with his hand beckoning Harry into another large hall.

"I was looking for any surviving relics of the Hogwarts Founders," Harry said.

"Ahh, the Hogwarts wing!" the curator said happily. "Our most popular! Memoirs and heirlooms of every single Headmaster since the Founders themselves took the helm of that fine school..."

"Do you have Ravenclaw's Tiara present in your exhibit?" Harry asked, now lengthening his stride to keep up with the trotting man.

"Ahh... Ravenclaw's tiara," the curator said sadly. "A mess that was, I suppose you didn't hear of the Great Robbery, over seventeen years ago now, that was, I was but the junior Head of Public Relations here at the MMAT..."

"The Great Robbery?" Hermione piped in.

"Yes, my dear lady, the Great Robbery. One happening, I am ashamed to say, here at the MMAT itself, the only thing stolen in about two centuries of operation..."

"Ravenclaw's Tiara?" Ron questioned.

"Indeed," the curator said sadly. "A pity, too, it was the most beautiful of the lot if I might say so myself. Did you know, Rowena Ravenclaw was lined up for the throne of a muggle kingdom before she forsook the crown to pass on her magical knowledge to students? A fine woman she must have been, a fine woman... here we are! The Hogwarts Wing!"

The curator spread his arms wide, a smile on his old face.

"Wow," Hermione said softly.

Inside was the most peculiar assortment of items Harry had ever seen, everything from wands to big leather sofas populated the museum wing.

"After you," Harry said, grinning at Hermione's awestruck face.

***

After a long day at the museum, Harry, Ron and Hermione had departed with one key piece of information, confirmed by the curator - Voldemort was suspected to have stolen Ravenclaw's Tiara.

It was in an exhausted state that the three friends returned to Grimmauld Place. Hermione had been happily chattering about the various treasures they had seen in the museum until Ron had, for reasons unknown to anyone save himself, loudly stated that tomorrow would be Hermione's mother and grandparents' funerals, which served to silence Hermione swiftly.

Arriving back, however, they saw Hedwig sitting dutifully on the kitchen table, perched uncomfortably on a rather large parcel.

"Flitwick's replied!" Harry said, quickly untying his owl. "Thanks Hedwig."

The owl, who had been looking at him quite indignantly before now hooted softly and flapped up the stairs to where Harry knew the snowy owl would enjoy a long sleep before heading out the following night to hunt. He made a mental note to put some owl treats in the cage, as he opened the parcel.

Out tumbled a long letter and a large tome entitled 'Fidelius: "I'll guard your secret with my life"'.

"Looks like a fun read," Ron murmured. "What's in the letter, Hermione?"

"Oh nothing," Hermione said, her voice suddenly unnaturally high. "Just... well Professor Flitwick was happy to hear from his devoted students over the summer, and expects nothing but great achievements from us next year."

"Us?" Ron said, snorting. "More like you, right?"

"Well..."

Ron grabbed the letter.

"Dear Miss Granger," he read aloud. "How wonderful to hear from my favorite student over the holiday! I assume you have been doing a lot of independent research over the holiday, the Fidelius Charm is far beyond NEWT level, yet a witch of your caliber should find it obtainable, albeit greatly challenging..."

Hermione snatched the letter back, red-faced.

"Oh what's the modesty for Hermione, we already know you're Flitwick's favorite," Ron said, grinning.

"So, how do we do it?" Harry asked.

"Give me a few days to read the book," Hermione said, sighing. "I'll have it done before Hogwarts starts."

"Thanks Hermione," Ron said cheerfully. "You're the best."

But Harry had gone silent once more. Hermione and Ginny would be returning to Hogwarts this year, leaving just him and Ron to search for the Horcruxes. He would miss both of them very much, and he hoped it would not effect his searching.

"Well," Harry said, stretching and letting out a yawn. "I'm off to bed, we'll have to get up early tomorrow if we're going to pick up Ginny on the way."

"Yeah, wouldn't want to be late for your darling, would you?" Hermione said, slightly irritably.

"Good night," Harry said, ignoring her as he went up the stairs. He continued along the dark corridors until he reached the master bedroom, where Sirius had slept. He had felt slightly awkward about taking Sirius's room, which he had felt should remain off limits, but Ron and Hermione had pointed out that Sirius would not have wanted to have everything he touched become taboo. Grudgingly, Harry had taken the room.

The room in itself was not by any means fancy. There was a large, King-sized bed, an ancient wardrobe still full of Sirius's old robes and cloaks, a cracked mirror which Harry had repaired, and various strange instruments Harry had not experimented with.

Harry took off his robes and flopped down onto the large bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Tomorrow would be a hard day for Hermione. He had often heard people say a death did not truly become real in the hearts of the ones suffering the loss until they saw their loved one buried. All Harry could do, he thought grimly, was stand by her, and hope she would be all right. After all, she had Ron to comfort her, something he noticed Ron did more and more these days.

His thoughts drifted to Ravenclaw's tiara, and where Voldemort may have hidden it. He thought about the trials that he and Dumbledore had faced in their effort to collect Slytherin's pendant, and was not at all confident about his chances without the wise wizard at his side.

He would have Ron at his back, however, and maybe Hermione. Would it be enough? Harry remembered Dumbledore's burnt and deadened hand which had resulted from his destroying one single Horcrux. They had four to destroy, would they too be scarred, or possibly even killed?

Harry sighed. He knew that the defences Voldemort had constructed would no doubt be very hard to get past, and he was thankful that Voldemort did not know he was going after the Horcruxes, otherwise he suspected that he would never be able to wrench the Horcruxes from Voldemort's grasp.

Yawning widely, he blocked out a sudden burst of loud laughter from Ron and Hermione, probably from the room next to his.

Wondering vaguely what his best friends were doing, he closed his eyes and within minutes, was fast asleep.

***

The combined funeral of Hermione's family was a small, private affair, taking place in strictly muggle surroundings. Harry, donning a black t-shirt and jeans felt underdressed next to the various relatives and friends of the Grangers that had attended, and had stood with Ginny, who was dressed rather inappropriately, wearing a normal length skirt that had various guests mumbling about children with no respect for the dead. Apparently, Harry discovered, that showing any flesh above the kneecaps was unacceptable at funerals, and in consequence he had spent the day walking at Ginny's side, hoping that strength in numbers would turn away the mumbles. It had not worked, however, Harry was glad for her company as Hermione was swamped with the various friends and relatives offering condolences, and Ron stood next to her, looking somewhat like a bodyguard with his arms crossed, dressed in a formal muggle suit which Ron declared to be fashionable - Harry noted that it, at least, was better than Hagrid's hairy brown one, and when mentioning this to Ginny, they had to clap their hands over each other's mouths to stop from uttering laughs.

Harry and Ginny had each prepared word of comfort to Hermione, but they quickly found that formal declarations of remorse were something Hermione did not need at all. She looked desperate to get away, probably wanting to mourn in peace without pompous members of the Orthodontist club shaking her hand and saying they were sorry for her loss. They also drifted awkwardly around Hermione until she gave them a small smile and assured them that she'd be fine without them.

Harry had to admit, it was amusing to see Ron stand so confidently by Hermione's side, comforting her when she needed it. Unexpectedly, at the end of the funeral when they had sent Ginny back to the Burrow and they themselves returned to Grimmauld Place, Hermione's eyes were completely dry, and she had a steely look in her eye as she stood tall and proud, locking glances with both Ron and Harry.

"My grandparents are all gone now," she said slowly, as they gathered in the living room. "My mother is dead, and my father is probably never coming out of that coma - no Ron, I've heard the Healers, I'm okay with it, I've got to accept it for what it is - the point is, you two... all of this, everything comes down to Voldemort. It's because of him my family is gone. At least my family by blood, I've still got you two."

Harry and Ron smiled, as Hermione grabbed each of their hands.

"And I've come to realize, that as long as Voldemort is out there, other people will have to feel the pain I've been through, and they might not have friends like I do to help them through it. The war is here and now, Merlin knows if we'll all make it through or not, even the best fall down sometimes."

"Dumbledore," Harry said quietly. Hermione and Ron nodded.

"The thing is, Harry, I've come to realize, everything I've worked for, ambition, achievement, academic and otherwise, everything I've done at Hogwarts... it won't mean a thing to me if at the end, you two aren't around to share it with me. The war is here and now, education can wait."

"Sod school," Ron said forcefully. "You're at least ahead of all the NEWT levels, probably already into special study material already."

Hermione smiled at Ron, who squeezed her shoulder.

"I guess what I'm saying," Hermione continued slowly. "Is that I'm in, Harry. Until the end, I'm ready and willing to stick with you. Through anything, I promise I'll be there, beside you and Ron, just like I was meant to be. After all, I got to look out for the closest thing I have to a family, don't I?"

Harry looked into Hermione's eyes and saw a fierce determination that shone there, so similar to the expression he had associated with Ginny. He wondered vaguely whether Hermione had rubbed off on Ginny or vice versa. However, it was her eyes that told Harry everything he needed to know, the eyes that formed a sacred bond that could not be expressed in words.

"We'll be unstoppable," Ron said proudly, a grin so wide on his face Harry was surprised that it didn't hurt him.

"We'll be just like the Three Musketeers," Harry chipped in, grinning despite himself.

"We'll have each other," Hermione said happily, tears now welling in her eyes. "And no matter what Voldemort does, he'll never take that away."

"I'll drink to that," Ron said, reaching to the table and producing three small bottles of Firewhiskey.

"Me too," Harry said, taking one. "Hermione?"

"Well I suppose hanging around you two delinquents will rub off on me eventually," Hermione said with a smile. "Toss me a bottle, Ron."

"There's my girl," Ron said, handing her one and winking.

"To our own little family," Harry said, raising his bottle.

"Cheers," Ron and Hermione said, and the three friends clanked their bottles noisily, and it seemed to Harry that Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place suddenly became a much happier place.