Healing

Healing -Part Two

Professor McGonagall did not hold her usual brisk stature as she sat in the Headmasters office that evening. Since her attack the previous year, the aging Transfiguration professor had softened in some aspects of her life. Two of them concerned her relationship with Professor Dumbledore and her feelings for Harry Potter.

Not that she hadn't always been close to Dumbledore, or always cared about Harry. Now, things were simply at a deeper level. Near-death experiences usually brought people closer together.

She watched as Professor Dumbledore made long strokes down the back of his pet phoenix, Fawkes; the older gentleman appeared deep in thought. "Albus," she started quietly, so not to startle him.

As if waking from a dream, he turned his head with an old twinkle in his eyes. "Yes, my darling Minnie." His voice held the affection reserved for their private moments together.

It made her blush slightly (code names were a Muggle devise, and Dumbledore had insisted on them in their search for Harry), but she continued on with the matter at hand. "Are the rumors true? I hear them whisper in the hallways that Mr. Potter wishes to return to the Muggles." The simple thought brought fear flashing in her eyes.

Dumbledore, however, seemed unusually calm; almost as if this tragedy on their hands had come to some sort of miraculous end. "For once, the students of Hogwarts are spreading the complete truth. Harry has come to me and expressed that he would like to return to Surrey and discontinue his magical training."

White faced and breathing heavily, McGonagall clutched her chest and closed her eyes. Slowly, Dumbledore picked up his wand and waved it in her direction. It was immediately evident she was much more relaxed and that any sort of attack was over.

"Thank you, Albus. I needed that." She gave him a small grin and then looked to the floor. "You're not...letting him go, are you Albus?"

It was no secret by now, at least not to some of the staff at Hogwarts, that Harry was said to be the only one that could defeat the Dark Lord once and for all. His return to Surrey would be the beginning of the end of the wizarding world as they knew it.

"I wrote his aunt and uncle, and they replied with a refusal of his return. He has no choice but to remain at Hogwarts and while here, he must continue his education."

McGonagall was relieved, but her eyebrows dove together. "I thought the Dursleys did not want Harry to learn magic. If they wished, they could send him to a Muggle boarding school. Why allow him to remain at the one place they despise above all others?"

A small twinkle entered Dumbledore's eyes for the briefest of moments. Quietly he said, "I was made to understand that Mrs. Dursley had to firmly enforce upon her husband the possible repercussions of Harry returning home. It is not only the witches and wizards of Britain that must fear Voldemort's powers; it is even the Muggles who will be under his control, should he not be stopped. This threat of danger Mr. Dursley understood."

A shiver ran along her spine and McGonagall adjusted in her chair, that strong worry she usually held for Harry shining in her eyes. "But how is Harry to defeat him if he seems to have lost the will to live? The boy has resigned from Quidditch, for Merlin's sake! He refuses to eat, he sits alone in class, he walks by himself down the corridors, and he hardly speaks to anyone.

"Not to mention, I heard the most disturbing conversation the other day between Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley, Albus. Miss Granger was commenting on Harry's condition...and...and...and Mr. Weasley called him a stupid prat! Boys will be boys, but there was almost...hatred in his eyes, Albus! I...I just can't...," she trailed off, choked with emotion, tears filling her eyes.

Fawkes, in a flash, sat perched on McGonagall's leg, his large amber eyes peering into the sodden face of the professor. A low, soft humming emitted from his being, and in a few moments, McGonagall appeared calmer.

Dumbledore spoke honestly, knowing her fears would not be put to rest so easily. "His withdraw from life is most disturbing, but what he suffered this summer at the hands of Voldemort was much the same."

She was almost too afraid to ask, but her questions pleaded that he let her know what it was that occurred. He could not, as horrible as it was, deny her.

"Harry had to watch each person in his life be tortured in ways that would make grown men wish for death. Since he would not tell me such, he allowed me to enter his mind and view what he was forced to endure. I am almost amazed that Harry finds the ability to get out of bed in the morning." And there, on his face, was yet again the look that this problem had already reached a resolution.

In contrast, McGonagall looked right past him, no expression on her face. "Miss Granger has been through every school library book, searching for some way to cure him. She's not going to find what she's looking for in a book, is she Albus?" McGonagall asked softly.

There was a slight shake to the aged face of the Headmaster, and a sigh left his lips. "No, and I'm quite glad that she will not." His voice reflected this quite soundly.

McGonagall looked appalled. "What are you getting at? The weight of the world is on this boy's shoulders and he's merely sixteen years old! If no one can find..."

Dumbledore raised his left hand to quiet her and his wand hand to calm her. Fawkes still hummed softly, and after a few deep breaths, McGonagall was ready to resume a civilized conversation. Dumbledore spoke softly, as if he was the one that did not want to startle her this time. "Hermione will not be able to find in a book what Harry needs. If I'm not mistaken, and much to my delight, I believe Harry's cure lies in her heart."

Seconds passed in which McGonagall paused to think. Then an odd, romantic glow filled her face. A full smile reached Dumbledore's lips and he said, "Now we just have to hope she realizes this herself."

This brought McGonagall back to reality. "And if she doesn't?"

There was that look again. "If, and I stress the if, it comes down to that situation, I just might have to have you sit down with Miss Granger for a little chat. But rest assured, I do not believe it to be much longer before Harry and Hermione both realize the power they have that can defeat even the darkest of evils."

***

Hermione, in her short five-year friendship with Harry Potter, felt like she had cried ten years worth of heartache over him.

Tears slid down her cheeks when she was alone with an unconscious Ron on a large chess board, wondering if Harry was still alive...

Tears soaked into her pillow when she was unpetrified and realized Harry had almost been killed a handful of times while facing a large, hideous snake...

Tears dampened her shirt after Harry discovered his parents' betrayer and nearly lost the closest person to his father he had...

Tears were almost constant during her fourth year, with Harry facing potentially fatal challenges, on no speaking terms with their other best friend, having to deal with a nosy no-good reporter, and fancying a fifth-year Ravenclaw...

Tears were so common in fifth year; with the beginning, middle, and end of Harry's relationship with Cho Chang to Sirius' death, and everything in between, Hermione began to wonder if she would ever stop crying.

The answer came quickly in the beginning of sixth year; yes. With Harry distanced from everyone and everything, it stirred enough hurt inside of Hermione that instead of crying, she decided to take action. Neither hell nor high water would stop her from bringing Harry to his senses.

But by second week of term, Hermione had exhausted all the books in the library that could possibly help (and a lot that couldn't), and found nothing. Random students would weave their way to her during the day and voice their concerns and their ideas to break through the stone wall that Harry had become, but it all seemed hopeless. They knew, because between Hermione and Ron, they had tried most of them. It didn't better the situation about not being clear on what had happened to Harry, either. Even if they did know, Hermione doubted they would find the solution in a book or off the top of their heads.

No, it was going to take time, observation, and a lot of thought before Harry started to act human again. Maybe he would just move out of it one day...and then again, maybe he'd always be this way. Maybe Voldemort had done such a horrific number on Harry, that he would never push beyond his scars.

Hermione felt like she had been through a thousand life times with her emotions for Harry, and in the same respect, she felt like her journey was about to begin. If Voldemort really had scarred Harry so deeply, it would just make it feel longer. But she would stay by his side for every minute, whether he talked to her or not, because she cared too deeply about him to abandon him. If that meant she had to follow him to death...well then she was going to prepare herself to die.

It was back to square one, for now, she thought as she made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. Her trip to the library for the day was over, though it was still only breakfast time, and now she wanted to crawl back into her bed and sleep. At least in her dreams Harry was talking to her again.

"Hermione," a deep voice called from the other end of the corridor.

Four pair of eyes were watching her. In fact, it appeared as if they had been looking for her, because they all turned her way and Ginny Weasley looked relieved.

"We knew you'd be in the library, but we were hoping we were wrong," Ginny said as the marched past her brother Ron, the deep voice, and took Hermione by the arm. "Come on," she muttered under her breath.

Hermione connected eyes with Luna Lovegood, who did not appear so dreamy today, and she followed the group towards the unknown destination. "Where are we going?" she finally asked, suspicious that they were up to no good.

"Keep your voice down," Ron whispered, scowling at a pack of fifth year Slytherins that walked by. "Some place more private."

It wasn't long before Ginny was pacing three times in front of a moving tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, concentrating hard. Slowly, a door materialized on the opposite wall and all five people hurried in to a hidden room.

"I wanted us to be comfortable," Ginny stated, throwing herself into an overstuffed beanbag chair. Neville seemed mildly impressed, but Luna and Ron were paying close attention to a confused Hermione.

"What's going on? It's Saturday; shouldn't you be outside," she asked, wishing they would have waited to drag her off to talk until after a nap and lunch, at least.

"Too many ears. The Room of Requirement is guaranteed privacy," Ron said and then paused, hungry anticipation on his face. "Did you find anything, yet?" He, possibly more than Hermione, was most ready to bring Harry back to his original state. He didn't put in as much work, but if they found a solution, he would do whatever it required.

She should have figured that that was what they wanted. If they had said something before their little treck halfway through the castle, she would have saved them the trouble of coming to the seventh floor and just told them no. She sighed miserably and let her normally strong facade fall in front of her group of close friends. After all, you didn't risk death together and walk away acquaintances.

Hermione turned to Luna, a look of sympathy in her eyes while she answered Ron's question. "No. What's wrong, Luna? Not feeling well? I don't think I've ever seen you in this state before."

Luna, a fifth year Ravenclaw, shrugged her shoulders slightly, as if it were nothing. It was obviously something. "You've never seen me on my Mum's birthday then. I tend to miss her most on those days. No, this hasn't to do with my Mum at all. Harry threw away the butterbeer necklace I made him."

One large gasp let out of Hermione, though she almost wasn't shocked. Harry might have not liked the gift even in a better frame of mind, but the worst he would have done was to stuff it in a sock and pile it in the bottom of his school trunk. He would have NEVER thrown it away, and most definitely not when Luna was still around.

"Ginny was ready to kill him," Neville added. "Her face was almost as red as her hair!"

Ginny somewhat blushed, but she still looked very angry. "I've never been so frustrated with someone in my entire life, and I live with Ron!"

"Hey," Ron protested over Hermione's understanding look. "I'm not nearly as horrible as that arse has been lately. I would sure like to know what got into him so I could beat it out of him."

"Ron, that's enough," Hermione stressed tiredly. There were only so many of his insults she could take before she felt offended. "I'm as sick of his behavior as you are, but what can we do? I've tried to think of everything, and have had the school tell me about as much. Nothing's worked!"

It was with this that Neville perked up a bit, his face a sort of glow. "Actually, Hermione, I came up with an idea," he said, a little embarrassed about the 'I' part.

As bumbling as he might be at times, Hermione trusted that it couldn't be too bad of an idea. She knew the potential Neville possessed, and knew it was only his lack of confidence that kept him from being a great wizard. She gave him an encouraging look.

"Well, Harry always seemed...I don't know, to find something worthwhile with the D.A. It was almost as if he had accomplished something great, which he did, in fact. I know that he quit Quidditch and that makes it seem hopeless, but we need the D.A. now more than ever and I was thinking, that if you just talked to him about starting it up again, well, maybe he would talk to us to teach us. It's a start, at least." Neville seemed to lose his steam at the end, but the smallest glint of a smile was in Hermione's eyes.

"I'll try, Neville," she said softly. As long as Harry would stay in one place long enough to listen, it was worth a shot. That was exactly the problem though. Harry avoided everybody like a death plague, as if he was afraid to get to close because they might just drop over and die.

Luna, evidently, was either reading her mind or thinking the same exact thing. "We formulated a plan at breakfast. Since what we need is a place Harry can't escape unless we let him out, we've decided to test just how magical this room really is. We're going to lure him here, you already in the room, and when you're done talking to him, we'll let him go."

It sounded okay, and it would probably work because when they had been conducting secret Defense Association (D.A.) meetings the year before, the room had never failed to supply them with exactly what they needed. Still, Hermione wasn't sure.

"What does luring him up here involve?" she asked.

Ron looked guiltily to Ginny, then cleared his throat like he was about to make a speech in front of the whole school. He seemed that nervous, too. "WE thought that if we told Harry that Malfoy was trying to break into the Room of Requirement and that you had accidentally turned yourself into a newt while trying to stop him, he would come."

Hermione gave a very pointed glare, and hoped she didn't sound conceited. "Ron, that is almost the stupidest thing you've said since I've known you. Besides the fact that Malfoy could hardly break into this room just as we have it, I highly doubt I could turn myself into anything..."

"We know," Ron interuppted. "But he'd have to come check it out just to make sure, because it's so ridiculous it couldn't possibly be true, see? Plus, with Ginny's oddly advanced acting abilities, Harry just might be fooled enough to come." He gave an odd look to his sister, whom didn't seem the least bit sorry for her 'abilities'.

"Desperate times do call for desperate measures," Luna added plainly.

Hermione nodded at her, but then turned to Ron. "And if he doesn't come to see if I've really turned myself into a newt," she asked a bit sarcastically.

"Well then," Ron said, looking straight into her face, "I reckon we ought to have him checked into St. Mungo's."

Not even Neville, whose parents were currently residing in the magical hospital due to insanity, could disagree with this.

Hermione sighed, threw up her hands, and closed her eyes. "Fine. Go find him. The sooner we get through with this, the better."

***

"Harry!" The whispered scream managed to only turn Dean Thomas' head, and that was because his girlfriend was doing the calling.

"Good luck," Dean mouthed noiselessly and moved over so Ginny could sit by Harry. It was a rare occasion that Harry joined them in the Great Hall for breakfast, and Dean had seized the opportunity to try and get Harry to talk. He was not surprised he had been met by silence and doubted if Ginny would get much more.

"Harry, you have to come quick." Looking quite serious, Ginny didn't even sit down, just up and grabbed Harry by his cloak sleeve and dragged him out of the Great Hall. Since they were quiet, they didn't attract a lot of attention. Since Harry was allowing a friend of his to talk to him and touch him, almost all Gryffindor eyes watched them leave.

It wasn't until they were almost there that Ginny realized she hadn't said anything to get him to come. She had simply forced him. A sickness crept into her stomach; Harry didn't care anymore. That would make Hermione's job even tougher. Merlin, they needed a miracle.

Across from the doorway to the Room, Ron, Luna, and Neville stood under Harry's invisibility cloak. They decided that if they were all seen, with no trace of Harry's enemy Draco Malfoy, it might look a bit suspicious. Hermione had argued it wasn't right to just take Harry's things, but Ron had pointed out that Harry wouldn't care anyway, and that he was going to watch as much as he could. As wrong as it was, Ron won.

Stopped, and bewildered now that their plan wasn't exactly on track, Ginny did the only thing she could think of. She opened the door, pushed Harry inside, and slammed it shut.

Hermione had been waiting, but she was still shocked when it became evident Harry hadn't been tricked in the least bit. He stood not five feet in from the door, face blank and hands down at his sides limply. His head, for the most part, was erect, but his eyes were downcast. She didn't think he had even looked at her.

Another part of her heart died.

"Er -" she started nervously. "Hi, Harry." It wasn't an overjoyed hello, or even a sad one masked in cheerfulness, just plainly offered.

Harry didn't look up. Instead, his head moved a little up and down in what looked to be a hello, but Hermione wasn't sure. For a full minute they stayed there in silence and she wondered how, even if he wasn't talking to them, he could stand in the room with her and not even ask what was going on. She would be brimming with questions, had the roles been reversed.

This was worse than before. How was she supposed to provoke feelings in someone who had stopped caring about everything? If only he were angry, like last year. Then she could start something, even if it was a rampage. It would be better than nothing. Part of her missed the screaming.

"There's something I need to talk to you about, Harry," she said softly, wondering if there was even hope anymore. She choked back the urge to cry and straightened herself smartly. "Would you like to sit down?"

No sooner were the words out of her mouth then two wooden, but padded, chairs appeared behind them. They each sat, Harry emotionless still and Hermione slightly shaking. For so long he had been avoiding her, and now she had, well somewhat had, his attention. How to even begin this conversation was beyond her.

So she just started talking. "I know you're avoiding us, and I hope that at least in your head there is a really good reason why, because you've really ticked off a load of people at the school. I've never seen Ron so furious, and Ginny's about to hex you if you're not careful. Did you know Luna saw you throw away that necklace she made you? Honestly, Harry, if...what is wrong with you?"

She waited patiently, staring at the top of his head because his face was looking down to his lap. When it was obvious he wasn't going to speak, and her anger revved up a little more, and she continued.

"That's not what I wanted to talk about, but believe me, we will later. To the point, which is, there's a war going on and we really need the D.A. now more than ever. You're the only person qualified to lead us, and actually probably the only student that we'll listen to because of how well you handled everything last year. I know you don't want to be around us, but Harry you have to teach us to fight." She was almost pleading, but at this point she would get down on her hands and knees and beg.

So many wild emotions were running through her, she felt like she was about to explode. She was angry, obviously, for his behavior. She was sad that he wouldn't even look at her. She wanted to die because he was in so much pain. She was disappointed that he didn't even put forth any effort to act like a civilized human being, and she was more than full with the desire to simply hug him until something changed.

And on the other side of the room, Harry sat like he felt nothing at all. But...but then something stirred, and every so slightly, Harry's head began to rise. It stopped to where his eyes were still on his lap, but she could see the top of his scar now. Oh dear, she thought, please let him speak!

"You know stuff," Harry said so softly that it was almost unheard. But Hermione did hear it, and in that instance her heart leapt to her throat and this time, she wanted to cry in happiness. Harry was speaking. God, she hoped this meant he was healing.

"But we need more! We need to practice, to learn, to grow!" Hermione stood, suddenly so full of determination (thanks to her breakthrough) and vigor that she couldn't possibly contain it.

Harry's head rose slightly higher. His voice was slightly scratchy from lack of use. "You can teach them. You know..."

"Not nearly half of what you do, Harry! Besides, I'd be a bumbling fool in front of the D.A., trying to teach them spells I've never used." She was on her knees in front of him, trying desperately to look him in the eye, the way they used to when they were planning things together, discussing things of great importance, or even trivial matters. His eyelids prevented that. She wasn't going to stop now, however, when she was this close. "Harry, you're our leader, the one we look up to. You've fought so many battles and came out triumphant every time."

She had to make him see how much he was needed and valued; how much he was loved.

His head rose a little higher, his eyes were almost in sight. "I don't know if I can do the spells anymore."

Without thinking too deeply, Hermione sprung to her feet and took a few steps back. Harry was somewhat watching her. "That's rubbish, Harry, and I'll prove it."

"W-what?" He stammered, now the nervous one. His large green eyes looked fully on to his best friend that was bursting with energy, fear deeply embedded in him.

Hermione flung her arms out wide and boldly proclaimed, "Go ahead! Cast a spell. Pick your dagger and strike. Come on, I'm ready." She was way too anxious about this.

"Hex me, Harry!"

It took a moment before she could respond, because Hermione had trouble processing the fact that Harry Potter was sitting across from her, crying harder than she had ever witnessed someone cry before.