Whisper

"He... he attacked.... He killed Hermione's parents."

"He what?" Harry said incredulously, eyeing Tonks with sheer disbelief. Voldemort could not have attacked Hermione's parents, he didn't know about Hermione... did he?

Don't you remember? He does know about Hermione, said a nasty little voice in his head. Remember Quirrell? And you can't forget when she met Malfoy's dad in Flourish and Blotts... He winced, realizing that Voldemort probably knew full and well about Hermione.

"Yeah... he killed them in the early morning today," she said weakly. "Good thing Hermione's at the Burrow, right?" Her eyes were glistening as if she were about to cry.

As Tonks said something about early morning, his head filled with images from the dream he had experienced that very same morning. Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes and paid attention to them.

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Harry was standing in front of a nicely sized house in a suburban neighborhood, surveying the surroundings. There was a wooden fence surrounding the backyard, with very faint blue colours flickering off the wood, making Harry think that there was most likely a pool in the backyard. He was surrounded by about seven or eight people, all wearing the same get-up: black robes and cloaks, all hooded, with masks covering their facial features. They were murmuring vindictively amongst themselves.

"Silence!" said Harry, in a voice that was very unlike his own; it was then that he realized he was in Voldemort's mind. He could have sworn that Voldemort knew, for he felt as if the Dark wizard was smirking. "We don't want to alert the girl, or her family."

The neighborhood was pitch black, because one of the Death Eaters had brought along a Put-Outer and extinguished all the streetlights. The only source of light around was the moon and the stars.

"Yes, My Lord," they all muttered together, much like a child being told off by its mother or father.

"Now, come," said Harry, and trailed noiselessly up the front lawn, making his way up the porch and using the Alohomora charm upon the front door so he could get inside the house. "Kill the girl's parents. I will deal with her." Two Death Eaters made their way up the stairs, going into the bedroom at the far end of the hall. Harry paused by the first door up the stairs, which he knew, for some reason, was the bedroom of the girl whose parents were at the end of the hall.

A woman screamed, being roused from her night's sleep and finding two men all in black standing at the end of her bed; the man beside her grabbed a baseball bat he had stored beside his bed and jumped out from under the covers, shouting, "What the bloody hell are you doing in my house?!" They were silenced, however, as Harry heard two voices hiss the Killing curse at the same time. The rushing sound of death, magnified by two, filled his ears, and the whole top floor lit up with green light.

With a feeling of immense dread, Harry knew that whoever's parents they were, were now dead. However, he began laughing, an awful, cold, high-pitched laugh, and pushed the door of the bedroom he was standing at open. Striding in there, he realized that no one was in the bed. "Damnit!" he hissed, destroying the girl's dresser out of anger. "She's not here!"

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Harry had to rush to the toilet, retching once more as the memory of the dream subsided. Voldemort had been planning on killing Hermione. Voldemort had been planning on killing Hermione. Harry was horrified and a wave of pitying grief washed over him at the thought of how Hermione must be feeling now.

"I... I remembered," he rasped, looking up at Tonks once the heaves had subsided. "He was angry that Hermione wasn't there..." But now Harry knew he was laughing up a storm, due to the leaping sensation that Harry was constantly feeling in his abdomen. "But now he's happy..."

Tonks watched him, a tear sliding down her cheek as she crossed to the bathroom sink to fill a paper cup with water for Harry. Giving him a hand to help him up, she gave him the water, which he downed in one gulp. Then, without warning, Harry felt Tonks's arms around him as he was pulled into a hug. He awkwardly hugged her back.

"But.. That's not why I've come. I've come to pick you up for Sirius's memorial service. I've already had to tell your aunt and uncle off for not letting me pass, but once they saw I had my wand they let me by." She smiled weakly.

A fresh wave of grief washed over Harry at the mention of Sirius. He fought the wail of sadness attempting to force its way out of his throat and let go of Tonks, stepping back and clearing his throat. "Well," he said hoarsely, "I'll go get my stuff, then."

"Harry..." she trailed off, not wanting to say what she had to next. "You can't leave Privet Drive until next week. Dumbledore's orders. I'm sorry, I can't do anything about it. You know I would rush you off to Grimmauld Place first thing if I could, but there's no way I can." She added the last few statements at the look of anger on his face.

He scowled at her and stormed into his room without a word, slamming the door shut and grabbing random clothing from his trunk. When he was finally finished getting dressed, he had on a pair of black slacks, one of his white school shirts, his Gryffindor tie, and his cloak. His temper has faded a bit by the time he opened the door and looked at Tonks, who was holding a black tie in her hands.

"It would be better if you wore this instead of that," she said gingerly, handing him the tie and frowning at him; her eyes were red-rimmed and it looked as if she were fighting off tears.

Harry nodded mutely, loosening the scarlet-and-gold tie and removing it. He adeptly fixed the black one around his neck and looked at himself in the mirror; he could not help smiling at his image. "I look like I'm going to a job interview," he told Tonks, who smiled back.

The two of them bypassed the Dursleys on their way out of the house, all of which were looking very frightened or angry, or, in Vernon's case, both. Tonks gave the three of them a fake smile and led Harry out the door, where a small, dark blue Mini Cooper with a few scratches and dings on the hood; you could tell she had rented it just for this purpose.

They got into the car, where Tonks spent a few minutes trying to figure out how to adjust her mirrors, and headed off, straight to London.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Harry and Tonks went to the Leaky Cauldron, where they traveled by Floo Powder to The Three Broomsticks. Sirius's memorial service was being held at Hogwarts; it was the place he loved to be at most, so Dumbledore thought it was only fitting it be held there. The two of them walked solemnly through Hogsmeade towards Hogwarts, which loomed in front of them like a haunted palace. In a way, it was a haunted palace. What with all the ghosts and.. Well you know. Anyways, they passed through the front gates and saw a party of people standing far off by the lake, all wearing black and looking rather solemnly towards the man standing away from them, wearing dark grey robes with stars embroidered on them and a hat that matched, covering the top of his long, white hair. It was Albus Dumbledore.

Harry had been walking along with his head bowed, staring at the ground, and was nearly knocked off his feet when someone ran headfirst into him, their arms wrapped tightly around him and their bushy, brown hair next to his face.

"Hey, Hermione," he said hoarsely, pushing her gently away for a moment to look at her. Her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed; her nose was rosy, and her cheeks had dried salt streaks on them. Immediately he placed a kiss on her forehead, much like any other friend would have done if Voldemort had killed their friend's parents. "I'm sorry."

She nodded, staying quiet, and did something she had never done before: he felt her fingers entwine with his and raised his brows, but said nothing. He slowly slid his hand from hers, wrapping his arm around her waist instead. She leaned her head on his arm and sighed, walking with him back to the group of people.

"Since we are all here now," said Dumbledore softly, though all the people could hear him. "Let us commence with the service.

"The man we are gathered here today to honor was a wonderful man. He was one of the few people in his family who didn't turn to the Dark Side or favor it. The first time I truly met him was when he was in his second year, and Sirius and his best friend, James --" he paused, looking at Harry, who determinedly stared at the lake. "-- Had gotten in trouble for blowing up a toilet."

Harry could have sworn he heard Fred or George whisper, "I knew someone had to have done it before us!" He also heard Mrs. Weasley hush them.

"He was a very clever young man, though a bit.. wild, I daresay. I could stand here for hours and tell you about all the times he visited my office, but that's not what we are here for. We're here to remember the good things about him.

"Sirius was named godfather to Harry when he was born, and after his best friends passed on, he attempted to be a godfather to him, but was accused of being a traitor and sent to Azkaban.

"Once he escaped, three years ago, he set out to clear his name, and nearly did so -- if only Peter Pettigrew had not escaped. If Pettigrew hadn't escaped, we might not be standing here today."

Harry could feel anger boiling up inside him at Wormtail, but more overwhelming was the urge to cry, to let it all out, and to fall to the ground and sob for days on end. He settled for just walking away from the service, his face pale and set as he walked over to the beech tree under which his father, Sirius, Remus, and Pettigrew had sat so many years ago. He pulled his knees up to his chest, his forehead resting on the tops of them; the contact of his forehead to his knee made the sharp twinge in his scar increase a bit, to where he winced -- just barely, though. So when he felt a hand upon his shoulder, he nearly jumped out of his skin with fright.

"Holy --- " he stopped, looking up and seeing Hermione. " Merlin, you scared me," he said softly, eyes wide.

She produced a small smile and sat down next to him, sliding her arms around him and squeezing lightly. "Now I know how you feel," she said, and burst into tears.

He looked at her, getting a slight sense of déjà vu -- the whole, girl-crying-on-him bit. Only this time, he didn't feel awkward and unknowing what to do. He put his arms around Hermione and gave her a tight hug, kissing the top of her head again and frowning. "I know, 'Mione," he said softly, smoothing a hand over her hair. "I know."