The low shine of light

Chapter 4. The Real Hero

He floated in soft quiet darkness with no pain or memories there to torment him. The silence was complete and comforting in every way to the young wizard. How long he had been in this sheltered place, Harry could not say.

But as with most things in Harry's life up till now, it wasn't to last.

Suddenly an ear-piercing scream echoed through the void surrounding Harry. It rose sharply to an agonising pitch that had Harry reflexively flinching from the pain-filled sound. Neither a single light nor any shape could be seen in the gloom. The only reality was the sound of agony, wrenched from the throat of someone unseen. As suddenly as the sound had come, it died down to a whimper and then it was gone.

"Harry...Harry...Harry..." A new voice was calling his name, sounding far away at first. The voice grew louder for a moment, then weaker before strengthening once more. It seemed to advance and retreat like waves across a beach. Harry turned blindly in place seeking the source of this new sound. The darkness lightened into grey fog and he felt a rushing sensation as if he was surfacing through a deep lake.

Light pierced the fog and Harry found himself tangled up in the bed covers, sweat soaking his pyjamas and hair. A shape was bent over here and was gently shaking his shoulders.

"Wake up, Harry." It was the calm voice he had heard last in the darkness. Somehow, Harry realised instinctually that this voice had not been the screamer. Harry opened his eyes wide, blinking tears away to focus. Mild blue eyes shone through half-moon glasses perched precariously on a long nose came into focus when Harry squinted, relief blazing through him as he recognised the old wizard. Dumbledore.

Harry was panting slightly from the dream, if that was what it had been. He could still hear a distant echo of this scream in his mind. As he recovered his equilibrium, he now realised to whom the scream belonged.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Harry knew that had been just a regular nightmare born out of his fears and anxiety. "Professor Dumbledore!" Harry gasped. His heart was beating a fast tattoo inside his chest, causing him to gulp for air.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Dumbledore said carefully. Harry nodded quickly, questions blossoming in his eyes for the ancient wizard. Before he could vocalise even one, Dumbledore minutely shook his head and let his eyes shift toward the right.

"Morning, Harry." came the rather depressed voice of Ron Weasley.

Harry turned his head to see Ron sitting on the bed that had been his last summer. Slowly, Harry sat up and looked with expectation at the Headmaster. "What happened to the Grangers?" Harry asked him, guessing Dumbledore had wanted to keep something from Ron and so had asked a general rather than the specific question he had wanted.

"The Grangers are now being cared for in St Mungo's as we determine what was done to them. The healers are still investigating their condition, but they are stable for now."

Harry could tell that Dumbledore could read his irate expression at this lack of information. The older wizard turned toward the young red-haired wizard, "Mr. Weasley, could you fetch some of your mother's excellent breakfast upstairs for Harry?" Ron nodded and trotted downstairs, shouting to his mother that Harry was finally awake and was hungry. Obviously, Ron had forgotten Mrs. Black's portrait, which started screaming obscenities and imprecations at top volume.

Harry didn't bother to listen to the row that had developed downstairs after his friend's faux pas. He turned to Dumbledore, who gazed back serenely enough, but Harry noticed his twinkle was not present.

"What's really going on, sir? I need for you to tell me." Harry was proud of how even and calm his voice sounded.

Dumbledore nodded and said softly, "I will tell you everything in shortly, Harry. Molly is adamant that Ronald and Virginia are not to be told the particulars of the Granger's situation. I would request that you do not share what I tell you with Ron or Ginny for Molly's sake. Can you do this?"

Harry did not like the idea of having to keep secrets from Ron, but knew if he did not agree, Dumbledore would not inform him further about what had happened to Hermione and her parents. He nodded curtly as the Headmaster raised an eyebrow.

"As I said previously, they are in St Mungo's and are in stable condition for now. Hermione seems not to be affected in the same way as her parents." The old wizard sat down on the foot of Harry's bed and pulled out his wand and quickly cast a spell. Small sounds that Harry's consciousness had disregarded as simple background noises now seemed intensified. Privacy charm, the young wizard thought the voice sounded like Hermione in the back of his mind.

With a deep sigh, Dumbledore continued. "We are still working on determining the exact nature of the curse that was cast on the Grangers. We have discovered that it is slowly draining the life force from its victims."

Harry stared; his face was a study in abject horror. Dumbledore met the eyes of his young student unwaveringly as he stated, "Harry, this spell is new to all of us. We can stop the progression, but until we gain a working knowledge of what the curse is truly... we cannot reverse the process."

The pause caused Harry's blood to boil. Dumbledore was censoring what he was telling him again. Unable to check his anger, Harry spat out, "So, now this is the part where you tell me that it isn't my fault and pat me on the head and tell me not to worry?"

The young man's tone was icy. Dumbledore reflected for a moment at the turn in the conversation, but then with a grave nod, continued.

"As I previously stated, Hermione is not affected in the same way, possibly the curse is not meant for witches or wizards, or something happened during the casting to disrupt it. The healers are positive she will recover fully within a few days. Her parents remain our greatest concern."

Harry turned away to stare out the window. The sunshine was bright and clear today, as if in opposition to Harry's mental and emotional state.

Dumbledore turned to gaze out to the brilliant light outside. "The ramifications of this curse is staggering, Harry; a new spell to kill Muggles and only Muggles. Such a heinous thing would broach the secrecy of the Wizarding World. This thing would rightfully panic any sensible individual, magical or non-magical. Voldemort's hubris could very well lead to more than just a wizard civil war..."

Harry shifted his gaze to the slightly stooped back of his teacher. The weight of the knowledge lay heavily on Harry's mind, and he saw its weight in Dumbledore's posture as well. A sudden trill of sound sounded in the room. Dumbledore turned and dispelled the privacy charm just as Ron reached the door and carefully backed into the room with a tray of eggs, bacon and toast. A single glass of cold pumpkin juice must have been magically restrained, because as Ron juggled the tray, the liquid did not slosh out.

Ron placed the tray on the desk beside Harry's bed and looked between his friend and the Headmaster, detecting the strained atmosphere in the room. In a rare moment of sensitivity, he mumbled about helping his mother downstairs and hurried from the room. The tall youth's heavy footsteps sounded on the stairs, waking Mrs. Black once again. Mrs. Weasley's voice rose to a similar decibel level to berate Ron for waking the portrait once again.

Harry flopped back on his bed and stared sightlessly up at the ceiling. Dumbledore sighed softly, "Harry, I must discuss what you need..."

"I need to see Hermione."

"I will take you to St. Mungo's by portkey after you have eaten and dressed. Please do realise that events are in motion, and you need to be prepared for Voldemort. I will begin your occulmency lessons as soon as poss..."

Harry interrupted, "I see Hermione before I do anything, Professor." His flat tone and calm voice made the determination behind the words.

Dumbledore closed eyes wearily for a moment, then stood up and straightened his robes before saying softly, "I am sorry that you are angry with me, Harry. I had hoped that we could overcome what happened between us last year quickly, but I see that is not yet a possibility." He removed a watch from his robes and then said, "I will escort you to St Mungo's and Remus and Arthur will bring you back here when you have visited Hermione. I have business to attend at the Ministry but I will return tomorrow to begin your occulmency training. Remus, Kingsley and Nymphadora will also be instructing you in defensive and offensive skills and magic for the rest of your stay here."

Harry clenched his jaw to stop himself from shouting at the headmaster. As always, he was being told how he would be living his life instead of being asked what he wanted. Stonily he stared at the older man and did not speak. Dumbledore nodded once, his weariness once more present before he swept from the room.

Harry leapt to his feet and began to pace, anger demanding any outlet it could find. He slammed open his trunk and pulled out some fresh clothes when a hesitant knock was followed by Ron's head peeking around at him.

"Is it safe to come in?"

"Of course it is, you prat! This is your room, too!"

Ron glanced behind him as he entered, then quickly shut the door and demanded, "What's going on with you and Dumbledore? It looked pretty tense, sort of like Mum when she's about to lay into the twins..."

Harry held to his promise and simply told Ron he and Dumbledore had been discussing some special training. Ron's face was pensive as he commented, "I thought he had told you what's going on with Hermione. Mum won't tell us anything. It's bloody annoying."

Harry quickly changed the subject, "So, how's your summer been?"

"Pretty boring really. Did manage some Quidditch practice with Ginny at the Burrow before we got relocated here. The twins are living above their shop in Diagon Alley, which is driving Mum spare with worry. They're doing really well though."

Harry had just finished dressing and was starting on his breakfast as they talked about the twins' business success and new products when another knock sounded on the door.

Ginny nipped in as soon as they called entry and sat down beside Ron on his bed.

"Dumbledore is waiting in the kitchen to take us to St. Mungo's, Harry. Are you nearly finished?"

Harry glanced down at his plate. He had not eaten a third of the meal, but his anxiety tightened his stomach so much he felt he could not eat another bite.

"Yeah, I'm finished. Let's get downstairs and go see Hermione."

The portkey trip to St. Mungo's was quick and as normal as Harry had come to expect, but the corridor they arrived in was completely deserted except for them.

The silence was broken only by their footsteps echoing hollowly from the wooden floor. A few portraits of some unknown healers watched in interest as the group passed, but none spoke. Something about the portraits' unwavering attention made Harry slightly uneasy. Nothing about this corridor was even remotely familiar to him.

"Molly won't be happy about you two being here." Said Lupin in a resigned voice. Harry could just imagine the tongue-lashing Lupin was probably going to receive from the Weasley matriarch.

"I'm almost of age. She needs to let go." Ron responded as Harry continued to glance around at their surroundings. This was a completely different part of St. Mungo's that he hadn't seen.

"Where are we?" Harry asked Lupin.

"This is the sixth floor."

"Sixth floor? Hang on, there's only five floors." Ron stopped in his tracks and looked askance at the older man. Harry also turned to hear Lupin's explanation.

"Well, yes and no, Ron. The Sixth floor is a completely warded and protected area, unknown to most of the wizarding world. After Voldemort disappeared 14 years ago this floor was closed." A door opened several feet down the corridor and Mad-eye Moody appeared followed by Mr Weasley and Tonks.

"Here all research into understanding and reversing the Dark curses was done in secret. Also, those under Fidelius protection would be treated here in secret. The best Healers that the wizarding world had all worked here in those dark times." Growled Mad-Eye as he joined them.

Ron paled slightly as he saw his father. "Harry, how are you?" Mr Weasley asked him as he placed a reassuring hand on Ron's shoulder.

"Fine!" Harry responded shortly.

"We should go. The portkey is set to return us in a half hour." With that statement, Lupin headed down the corridor with Harry, Ron and Mr Weasley following him. Mad-Eye and Tonks went in the opposite direction. Obviously, they were going to be standing guard as Mad-eye's lecture to Tonks on vigilance echoed back to the others as they walked away.

The activity of the corridor increased as they turned the corner. A few healers scurried back and forth between the rooms and the portraits whispered encouragement to lighten the depressing ambience of the dimly lit corridor. Silently, Harry started to imagine what he could say to Hermione but his mind was blank. He didn't know. He simply didn't know what it was to fear for the life of one's parents. A lump rose in his throat as he became painfully aware that he didn't know how to help Hermione in this situation.

It had never been like this before. Finally, they stopped in front of stout oak door with a tarnished brass number plate that read Ward 9.

"I'll wait out here for you." Lupin told him as Mr. Weasley pulled Ron aside for a private word. Harry could see Ron's reluctance as the two walked a bit further to be out of earshot. Ron was obviously questioning the timing, but Mr. Weasley was clearly insistent.

Harry turned to the door and pushed it open quietly, still stewing mentally about what was going on with Ron. It distracted him momentarily from his terror over not knowing what to say to Hermione.

The room was slightly brighter than the outer corridor than he had expected. Hermione sitting upright in a bed about halfway down the ward. Her face was turned away from the door toward the windows, which reflected a pastoral view of countryside instead of the London cityscape where they actually were presently. She didn't turn around as Harry closed the door.

"Hey!" His voice sounded strangely soft to his own ears, but was still loud enough to get her attention. Her head whipped about as she gazed at her friend, desolation in her deep brown eyes. She seemed to struggle slightly before a slight smile appeared on her face.

"Harry!" Her voice was hoarse and scratchy, as if she had been using it too much. Harry went to her side. It was in her face and her eyes that it wasn't an easy situation. As long as he had known her she hadn't ever looked this way before.

He didn't know if it was the curse or simply concern about her parents. But finally gaining control over his voice, he stuttered out, "I'm - I'm sorry -"

She interrupted him by grabbing his hand and holding it tightly, almost to the point of pain. "Thank you...thank you so much." To his amazement, there was so much depth of emotion in her voice, but he didn't understand why she would thank him.

He hadn't done anything. "What...Why?"

For the first time she looked straight into his eyes. "Because of you my parents are still alive." she whispered.

"No, not because of me. You - " he tried to interrupt

"I did not," Hermione told him sharply," I - I wasn't able to fight them. I'm so stupid." Her chest was heaving under her gasping breathing as she leaned back against the pillow, her meagre strength exhausted.

"Hermione, you aren't stupid. Remember Dumbledore's army? That was your idea. You're such a brilliant witch -" Harry couldn't understand why his confident friend was saying this about herself. He couldn't let her believe -

"I'm a brilliant know-it-all who wasn't able to protect her own family." She said bitterly.

"Hermione, they were adult wizards, those Death Eaters. You did everything you should have. I know, I've fought beside you. I doubt anyone else could've done more..." he trailed off, confused. Harry couldn't believe he was having this conversation with Hermione.

"Of course, you would have done better than me, Harry. You don't lose your head when you're attacked. It was Crookshanks who saved me. If he hadn't attacked the Deatheater during the spell... I hadn't gotten to you for help-" Hermione respond dispiritedly.

"You know, you're right. You are certainly being stupid right now! Stupid to blame yourself for something you didn't do. There were two Deatheaters and you were alone with your parents in the line of fire. It's amazing that you survived at all. Don't seek out blame and guilt, Hermione, because it's not your fault that there are people like that in the world. Please, Hermione, I know you're smarter than that." Intently he watched her, willing her to understand, but all she did was to look back toward the windows.

A commotion at the door drew Harry's gaze from his friend's face to see his other best friend storm into the ward, his face and ears a blazing red that almost matched his hair colour.

Harry sighed internally as Ron came toward them. This didn't bode well.