The Dragon Curse

Chapter One

This time, This place
Misused, Mistakes
Too long, Too late
Who was I to make you wait?
Just one chance
Just one breath
Just in case there's just one left
'Cause you know,
you know, you know

That I love you
I have loved you all along
And I miss you
Been far away for far too long
I keep dreaming you'll be with me
and you'll never go
Stop breathing if
I don't see you anymore

~Nickelback- Far Away

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Seven months can feel like an infinitely long time when you have lost all hope, when you have given up on everything around you.

Voldemort was dead; Draco Malfoy had destroyed him, and in the process, had destroyed himself. The only boy Harry Potter had ever loved had died saving the world, saving Harry from destruction himself.

After the war and after the funeral, Harry knew he had to do only one thing. He had to tell someone what happened, everything that happened, so that he could then forget about it forever. He told Hermione and Ron, his best friends. He told them everything from the letters from the Angel to the Games of the Dragon. They were sympathetic, of course, but no amount of sympathy or sorrow would help Harry ever get over him.

On days such as these when every memory of Draco came flooding back, he would force himself to do anything but sit and think. Keeping busy was the easiest way to live and forget.

And on any other day, he would have called Ron and Hermione over, and they would have played chess, talked about their day, and Harry would force himself to be engulfed in everything else around him. But today, this particular day, was the day when he had turned on the Muggle News, and there on the screen was a top story about a group of "terrorists" Harry knew as remaining Death Eaters, who were celebrating something with mayhem and destruction.

Harry listened intently, his face hardening as he watched.

"There have just been four explosions struck on London's transportation system," said one reporter.

The television showed the scene of damage and police and ambulances everywhere.

"This is a very sad day for the British people," the reporter continued. "We will not be terrorized."

There were only a handful of Death Eaters who had survived the war and even fewer who escaped punishment by the Azkaban guards. So what, after only seven months, could the Death Eaters have to celebrate about?

Harry stared at the screen as the story unfolded, but since it was only the Muggle news, the reporters didn't have much to say on these "terrorist attacks" because they couldn't truly understand them.

"This clearly was a callous attack on purely innocent members of the public, deliberately designed to kill and injure innocent members of the public," Paddick, the head of the police stated.

He sighed and turned off the screen, his mind floating back to Voldemort, and back to the day he was destroyed.

He was curled up on the couch; his Muggle attire of a gray shirt and blue jeans were extremely wrinkled as if they had been crumpled under something heavy for a long time. His black untidy hair was brushed, but only in a half-hazard way, and his green eyes had no shine, no sparkle. The vibrancy that they had once held was gone, and they seemed almost...hollow. Empty. They probably would have been, if it weren't for the sadness they so obviously revealed.

What Harry really wanted to see was the Daily Prophet. They would cover the story in greater detail; it would be the thing that would let Harry's panic die down. He glanced over to the curtain-less window, checking for an owl, but didn't see one in the distance.

Forcing himself to do something, Harry dragged himself up from the comfy couch and stomped his way into the kitchen to make lunch. A nice tuna sandwich would get his mind off his troubles for a moment.

The thoughts that kept creeping into Harry's mind were about Voldemort. Why else would these Death Eaters be celebrating? It had to be something about Voldemort, but Harry didn't want to be a part of that. He had done his job in saving the magical community, and he was done.

A loud tap tap came at Harry's window, and he noticed a barn owl pecking at the glass with the newspaper tied to its leg. He stared at the closed window for a moment, unsure if he really wanted to find out about it - because if he found out anything, he knew he'd get involved.

He took in a deep breath and opened the window for the owl. It flew in, landing on Harry's kitchen table.

"Hey," he said, stroking the owl.

It nipped him as he untied the Daily Prophet from its leg. He glanced at it but did not open it, did not unfold the paper to see the large headline. Instead, he threw the paper on a nearby side table and went back into the kitchen, finishing up his lunch. He heard the owl give a hoot as it flew out his window.

He brought his sandwich into the living room and turned on the television for noise. He just had to keep his head filled; he had learned that over the last seven months.

But today, all of the distractions he had created for himself were not working. His mind wandered to Hermione and Ron. Wandered to Ron's reaction... his reaction to when Harry had asked him to play the Dragon Games with him, to bring Draco back. He had been desperate enough to want to play that wretched, awful game again, just to bring back his love. He'd begged Ron, pleaded, and Ron said he'd have to think about it. Of course it was Hermione who, a few weeks after he asked Ron to play, came to him and told him that players were only allowed to play once.

His hopes smashed again, and he went back to his silent brooding. He knew Hermione and Ron watched him carefully all the time; they didn't want him to do anything rash. They worried over him constantly, told him to get up, get out, live, but he would just tell them he couldn't do that. They'd shoot each other worried glances, and then be silent until Harry changed the subject.

Hedwig gave a loud hoot, and Harry looked over to see her looking up at Pigwidgeon, the tiny little owl that was flying circles around her head. Harry quickly got up and untied the white envelope from Pig. He opened it, reading the letter quickly.

Dear Harry,

Ron and I were thinking of stopping by your house for a bit this afternoon. Let us know if that's okay.

Love,

Hermione

Hermione was the one who felt the need to inform Harry of every time they were going to visit. She said it was 'only polite.' Harry didn't understand exactly why she did this, and neither did Ron. Ron was the one who showed up randomly on Harry's doorstep at all hours of the day just to chat with him. Really, Harry knew Ron was keeping an eye on him, especially on the days when Harry felt particularly awful. But it didn't bother him much.

He wrote a quick reply, telling her it was all right, and sent the letter back with Pig. Hedwig snipped at him, upset when Harry didn't give her anything to send off.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't have anyone else I want to talk to."

Hedwig ruffled her feathers and took off out the window, leaving Harry alone again.

---

Ron and Hermione's small apartment was neat but cluttered - a mixture of the two personalities that lived there. The apartment had a small kitchen, a bedroom, a guest room, a bath and a living room, all in close quarters. Hermione was standing near the front door, putting her purse together as Ron scurried in and out of the room, looking for something.

"Hermione, have you seen my other shoe?" Ron called from the bedroom.

Hermione sighed. "Have you checked under the couch yet?"

Somehow, Ron's shoes tended to disappear a lot.

Hermione had moved in with Ron a little under a month ago, and she was enjoying it to an extent. The only problem she had was Ron's carefree attitude about where he put things.

"Here it is!" he said.

She looked over to see him pulling out his shoe from under the couch.

"Ron, you really need to put things where you'll find them," she said matter-of-factly turning back to check herself in the mirror.

She looked tired, like she hadn't slept in a while. She grumbled under her breath and rummaged around in her purse to find something to help her look more awake. Ron stood by her side, looking just as tired. Only it seemed to be affecting him a lot more than her.

"Harry's going to start worrying about us," she said as Ron yawned.

"Nah, he won't." Ron shook his head. "He hasn't been noticing anything for a very long time."

Hermione pursed her lips, knowing he was right.

Harry hadn't been the same since Draco died. Of course, neither Ron nor Hermione knew the extent to which Harry had loved Draco, but they knew he had let the boy into his heart - something Ron still didn't fully understand. They supported Harry's decision to like the boy, though, and were even devastated by the tragic reality that Draco Malfoy was dead.

"And he'll be really distracted by the big news," Ron said, taking her hands.

Hermione smiled brightly. "Maybe it'll cheer him up for a bit."

Ron nodded. "It should."

"Ready to go, then?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said with a nod. "Let's go."

Before Ron and Hermione went to Harry's, they had to stop by a bookstore. Their house was just in London, so it was easy for them to walk to Diagon Alley.

When they entered the book store, the minimal talking that had been going on died down momentarily. People turned to look at them, and whispers began to follow.

Hermione and Ron were used to this by now, but it was starting to get on Hermione's nerves. Wherever they went, whispers about how they helped saved the world were never far behind. But this wasn't what happened. Both she and Ron had arrived too late for the war; they were only there for the clean-up, just in time to see their best friend fall into a catatonic state.

She ignored the whispers as best she could as she passed a hand along the books, searching for the right title. Ron was glancing around at the room, watching the ones who were whispering about him. He remembered the times when he had been so jealous of Harry for all the attention he received, and recalled how a similar amount of attention had lost him loads of Quidditch matches. He liked the attention even less now, but it only seemed to have doubled.

Ron noticed a thin vulture-like looking woman.

"Hey, Hermione," he said, frowning. "Isn't that Madam Pince?"

Hermione looked over to see the Hogwarts' librarian watching them as if they were back in her library, making more noise then was permitted.

"Yes." Hermione nodded.

Madam Pince looked away and turned to talk to a woman next to her, who Hermione was even more surprised to see was Narcissa Malfoy, Draco's mother. Narcissa looked pretty together for a woman who had lost both a son and a husband.

The woman in question glanced over at them, shooting Hermione an indescribable look before the two women left the shop.

"What was that about?" Ron asked, staring after their retreating backs.

"I have no idea," Hermione said, pausing to think. "Did you notice anything funny about Narcissa?"

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"She didn't look like she was grieving." She frowned. "I know it's been a while, but she looked actually happy."

"She's a Malfoy," he said by way of explanation, unperturbed. "They thrive on grief and destruction."

"I don't think she'd be this calm about the death of her loved ones."

"What's Pince doing with her?" Ron asked.

She frowned again before turning back to look for the book. She had no clue why Pince was with Narcissa or why Narcissa looked so unaffected by everything, but she had a feeling they'd find out soon.

"Should we bring that back home?" Ron asked, nodding to the book Hermione had found and purchased. "Before we go to Harry's?"

"We'd better." She nodded. "He doesn't need to know about this yet; it's safer for everyone if he's in the dark until we have everything completed."

Ron nodded, and they walked back home.

---

About half past one, Hermione and Ron knocked on Harry's front door. They were smiling giddily when he answered, and Hermione pulled him into a giant hug before he could ask what was going on.

"Harry!" she squealed.

Ron grinned at Hermione and turned back to Harry as she let him go. "Hey, mate."

"Hey," Harry greeted, slightly confused. He shut the front door as they entered, and watched them closely. Hermione still seemed oddly happy. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Nah," Ron said.

Hermione shook her head and then held up her left hand. There on her ring finger was a small engagement ring, two little diamonds on a white gold band.

Harry looked up at them, wide-eyed. "When?" he asked, all other thoughts leaving his mind.

"Last night!" Hermione beamed.

"Congratulations," Harry said, pulling Hermione into another hug.

Ron smiled, taking Hermione near him when they pulled apart.

Ron and Hermione, married. It was a really good idea - it just never really crossed Harry's mind before. The two were perfect for each other - unless you counted their perpetual bickering - but it seemed in an odd way that they enjoyed it.

"Can you believe it?" Ron asked, looking down at Hermione, eyes full of compassion.

"It's great." He smiled warmly at his two friends.

He could see how happy they were, how very much in love, and a part of him was jealous - jealous he'd never get to feel that way again. But he shook it off because this wasn't about him; this was about his two friends being in love.

"Let's celebrate," he suggested.

At least it was something to keep his mind off everything.

He went into his kitchen and pulled down a few glasses and champagne. He brought them back out to the living room, where Hermione and Ron had seated themselves on the couch.

"Have you set a date?" he asked. He sat down across from them in a squishy white chair, leaning foreword towards the table to pour the drinks.

"October fifth," Ron answered, smiling.

"That gives us seven months to get ready," Hermione said as she slid her drink off the table with a clink.

Ron took his, and Harry rose up his glass for a toast.

"A toast," he said. "To my best friends for finally settling down."

Hermione gave him a half-hearted smile, and Ron laughed, but all three of them raised their glasses and drank.

Harry sat back and examined everything that was happening, watching their celebration as if from afar. He watched himself be happy and carefree- or at least, pretend to be the latter. He joked with Ron and Hermione, teasing them about how they use to be, and how long it took them to finally admit their feelings for each other. Everything was surreal, but it was happening, which was more than he could say for a lot of things that went through his mind lately.

Hermione set down her glass to fill it again, and Harry saw her eyes fall on the unopened Daily Prophet. He had the urge to scoop it up and toss it in the trash or knock the rest of the champagne on it, but he didn't. Instead he watched her pick it up and glance at the headline news.

Ron watched her in silence just as Harry did, but Ron wasn't afraid of what she might find in there.

Hermione's eyes furrowed as she read, and when she finished, she looked up at Harry.

"Have you read this yet?" she asked, an undetectable tone in her voice.

"Not yet," he replied. "Anything good?"

Hermione shook her head and handed it to him silently, and Harry was forced to read the article.

Death Eaters Celebrate - Is The Magical World at Risk?

Seven months after You-Know-Who's demise, a group of presumed Death Eaters were found in local Muggle and Magical neighborhoods yesterday afternoon. Their celebration consisted of torturing the local Muggle tenants and threatening the Magical ones with haunting whispers about You-Know-Who's comeback. No Death Eaters were caught, but many interviews with local residents told us what happened.

"They knocked on my door, all of them carrying a mangled body of one of my neighbors. I tried to grab my wand but they stopped me and told me I would bow down to the Dark Lord when he returned for his final takeover of the magical world..." Ms. Joney of Little Rille, a victim on the Death Eater attacks told us in an interview.

The new Minister of Magic, Allie Aiyana, who just stepped down as Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, was on sight along with Aurors Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody and Nymphadora Tonks. Aiyana's only statement was this: "The best we can hope for is that these Death Eaters are just going out for one last hooray. We don't want to get everyone worked up over nothing, and I see no verifiable evidence to consider Voldemort to still be alive. Of course, there is always that possibility, but as of now, there is no reason to panic."

All of the tenants attacked are being relocated and put under protection from the Ministry. Auror Tonks has asked us to put in the statement of caution and warning. "You-Know-Who may not be back, but that doesn't mean his loyal supporters are not going to be trying to make a statement. We need to be aware that there is hatred in this world, and it is directed at people who we all care about. If you notice any odd or suspicious behavior from anyone who may be considered dangerous, please inform the Ministry. We must track down these perpetrators before they destroy the world we're trying to piece back together."

Though everyone in the Ministry assures us that You-Know-Who is most likely not back from the dead, this reporter remains weary, as we have been told this before and the circumstances that followed nearly destroyed us all.

Harry looked up at Hermione, passing the Prophet to Ron. He stared, dumbfounded. This couldn't be happening. Mustn't be happening. After everything - no, he couldn't think about this now. No, no, no.

When Ron finally looked up from the paper, he looked a little ill.

"You don't think-" he gulped.

"That reporter was awfully rude." Hermione frowned. "He's going to cause a global panic."

"Maybe he should," Harry muttered under his breath.

Harry thought the reporter was right to strike fear in everyone's hearts; if people were aware this time, then they could stop it before anything happened.

The real trouble was that Harry couldn't understand how Voldemort could be back. Draco had destroyed him. Destroyed him with the only weapon that would shatter Voldemort and his Horcruxes - or at least, that's what Aiyana had explained to him.

Hermione and Ron both glanced at him wearily, and Harry ignored them.

So much for a time to celebrate.

Harry heard Hermione whisper something, but it made no sense to Harry. He looked up, and Ron was whispering something back into her ear, shaking his head.

"What?" Harry said, almost wanting to shout.

"Nothing," Hermione said quickly. "Harry, would you like to go out with Ron and me tonight?"

He didn't answer right away, waiting for them to explain where they were going.

"We're going to a big party of Ginny's, and she invited you so you won't be intruding or anything," Ron assured.

Harry paused for a moment. A party would be nice, a party would be simple, but it could also be hard. He hadn't dealt with a lot of people all at once for a very long time.

"Alright," he agreed, forcing himself to nod. "I'll go."

Tonight, more than any other night, he'd need something to distract his mind.

"Great." Hermione smiled. "Ron and I are making our announcement tonight."

"Who's going to be there?" Harry asked.

"Everyone from Ginny's class and our graduating class," Ron said, and then paused. He gestured to Hermione and then to himself, and corrected, "I mean, from our graduating class..."

The thing was, after the war, Harry didn't go back to school. He was done with the whole idea, done trying to live up to everyone else's standards. Moreover, he didn't know how he'd make it through the day, sitting in potions time after time, where there would be no Draco to glance at.

His dreams of becoming an Auror died away also, and all he wanted was to be alone. But with a name like his, even without the scar, people still expected him to be someone, and Harry was pretty sure he wasn't living up to that anymore.

"Well, we'll see you at the party?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, where?" He leaned back in his chair, resting his head against the in-sewn pillow.

"Fred and George's place," Ron said.

Since Arthur and Molly's death, Ginny had moved in with Fred and George in a very nice house at the countryside. Ron moved into an apartment with Hermione, and Percy had not been heard from again.

"We have to go home and change," Hermione said. "You should get dressed up, too."

Harry almost asked, what for? But he knew she was only looking out for his best interests.

"Yeah, sure."

"See yah, mate," Ron said with a wave.

The two left, taking their distracting presence with them.

Harry trudged up to his room where he glanced into a mirror. What would people say when they realized he didn't have a scar anymore? Would there be more talk than ever before, or would they simply believe his scar was connected to Voldemort?

Harry sighed. He guessed he would find out when he got there.

---

The party was nothing Harry was used to. There were drinks and tons of people everywhere, most of which Harry didn't know. In the corner was a large buffet of drinks and plastic magical-degradable cups. Harry was dressed in black slacks and a white cotton shirt. He hadn't bothered to do anything with his hair except to flatten it on his forehead , , just so people couldn't check out his scar, however nonexistent it may be.

Fred and George were the ones to greet him at the door, their smiling freckled faces beaming as they pulled him in.

"Harry, mate!" Fred said. "Welcome to our home." He patted him on the back, hard, and Harry nearly stumbled into George.

"How've you been?" George asked as Harry moved back, fixing his glasses.

He opened his mouth, breathing out a heavy sigh. Awful, horrible, dismal, crappy, dreadful... care for me to go on?

"I've been okay," he said instead. He glanced around so that he wasn't looking anyone in the eye.

"Well, grab a drink and join the party," Fred suggested.

"Have a good time!" George said.

The twins turned back to the door and opened it for the next guest.

Harry looked around for someone he recognized, and the first person he did was Luna Lovegood. She had her blonde hair up in a funky fashion - that could possibly not have been a fashion at all - wore a blue dress with pockets, ribbons, and black swirl designs, and bright white tights with black buckled shoes.

"Hey, Harry," she said in a dreamy voice.

"Hi," he said, smiling. "How've you been?"

"Pretty good," Luna said. "Yourself?"

Oh, this is really no good at all.

"Okay," he answered, looking out into the crowd.

He spotted Ginny who had already spotted the two of them. She was in a dark pair of denim jeans and a blue halter top. She looked good, even though Harry didn't feel that way about her anymore.

"Hey guys," Ginny greeted. "Harry, you came!"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. He wondered how much Ginny knew about what happened after the war - after all, he had told Ron, and the two siblings usually shared a lot with each other.

"Well, grab something to drink. I'll be right back; I want you to meet someone." Ginny gave Luna a bright smile as she walked away to another room of the house.

"She's dating someone?" Harry asked.

"Yeah," Luna nodded. "Since last Friday."

"Oh," he said. "Well, I'm going to get a drink, want anything?"

"Oh, no," she said. "I'm fine, thank you."

Harry nodded and poured himself a glass of cheap red wine. He didn't mind that Ginny was dating someone. He was actually happy for her, as long as the guy didn't turn out to be a jerk.

"Harry," Ron called to him, joining him by the table. He was wearing a bright green shirt that Harry had never seen him wear before. Since when did Ron delve into such bright colors?

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked.

"She's off talking with Parvati," he said, pouring himself a glass. "Having fun yet?"

The answer to that question was no. He'd not be able to fully enjoy himself for a while, if ever.

"I just got here," he answered with a shrug.

Harry noticed Ginny leading a tall, brown-haired, brown-eyed, charming guy towards them - the guy Harry recognized as his old roommate, Keifer Pax.

"Harry," she said. "I want you to meet-"

"Keifer," Harry interrupted, nodding to him. "We know each other."

"Hey, Harry," Keifer nodded in greeting.

Harry noticed Ron eyeing Keifer suspiciously, but the two must have already met because Keifer nodded to him as well.

"Hey, Ron," he said.

"Be nice, Ron," Ginny warned before he could say anything.

"I was just going to say hey," Ron said, and turned away. He glanced into a room where low music was playing. "I better go find Hermione." He left, and Ginny shook her head.

"Well, go dance or something, Harry," she said encouragingly. "You look like you're having a miserable time."

Harry was trying to make it seem like he was having fun, but clearly, that façade wasn't working.

"I'll just go look for Hermione and Ron," he said.

He noticed Ginny watch him, concerned as he left, but he didn't turn back. He went into the room where the music was playing, and many people were dancing. Looking around, he saw Fred glance at him with a devilish look on his face. Whatever he was up to wasn't going to be good.

"Harry," Fred said, throwing an arm around him. "Have you met Ted?"

Harry, confused, was swung around to face Ted, who turned out to be a guy with brown hair, olive skin, and a modest face - who Fred was trying to hook Harry up with.

How Fred and George knew about Draco he would never know, because he wouldn't ask.

Harry gave a small, not-too-real smile to the guy, and turned to face Fred who had already disappeared. He sighed and turned back to Ted.

"Hey," Ted said, smiling.

"Hi," he said awkwardly.

There was no way, no how. He was never going to hook up with anyone else.

"Some party, huh?" Ted asked, making small talk.

"Yeah... Listen, Ted, I-"

"Do you want to dance?"

An awkward pause.

"Well, uh, no, not exactly, sorry," Harry said, avoiding Ted's eyes.

I can't handle this! he thought desperately. I have to get out of here.

Before Ted could make a reply, Harry bolted out of the room.

He left the party completely, his mind racing as he went back home.

He opened his front door and gave a startled jump at the sight of Aiyana sitting on his couch.

---

Peter Pettigrew wasn't alone. He was never alone anymore. With him this particular day were three Death Eaters who had survived the war and gotten out before Aurors had stunned them.

Peter only knew one of them personally; the other two were recent additions to the Dark Lords followers. The one he knew, he didn't exactly care for: Lucius Malfoy. He wasn't quite sure how Lucius had survived the war, for the last time he remembered seeing him in the battle, his son had his wand upon him. But maybe Draco wasn't capable of such hatred as his father was.

Well, that didn't much matter now, because Lucius was in charge- not Peter. This was why he didn't particularly like the arrogant blonde.

Lucius barked out orders before turning to Peter, who squeaked in fear.

"Pettigrew!" he growled. "Yarley! I want you two to fix this place up, make it livable."

"Yes, Lucius," Yarley, a beautiful woman with pale skin, blonde hair, and wild green eyes said.

Peter nodded and stumbled off to do Lucius' biding. They were in a house that the four of them would occupy until they gathered more of their followers. They had to build up an army again, because according to Lucius, Voldemort wasn't dead.

The rat-like man trembled at the thought, but he wasn't in any position to question Lucius' authority or superiority. He had to assume his Master was still alive and do everything Lucius asked him to, because he had to please his Lord. He had to, or he'd be killed. That was the fate of everyone who crossed the Dark Lord.

---

"Professor?" Harry asked. "What are you doing here?"

"Please Harry, call me Minister or Aiyana," Aiyana smiled graciously.

Harry wasn't in the mood for her playful antics - he just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again. Aiyana looked calm and collected as always, but there was an underlining sorrow and grief that wasn't showing clearly on her exterior.

"Why are you here?" Harry repeated.

Aiyana sighed, and looked him in the eye. "Harry, please sit."

He knew this wasn't going to be something he wanted to hear. Knew it had something to do with the Death Eater's celebration.

He sat on the edge of his sofa, crossing his feet at the ankles and pressing them against the couch..

"You heard about the Death Eaters?" she asked, glancing at the open Daily Prophet still lying on his couch next to him.

He nodded. I knew it.

"I believe you've also been wondering about the rumors of Voldemort's return?" she said, watching Harry closely.

Not entirely, he thought. Really, he just wanted to be left alone and let someone else be the new hero.

"Has he?" he asked.

Aiyana shifted in her seat uncomfortably and pulled back her hair. For a moment, this seemed like a bizarre thing to do for someone who used to be a man. But then again, when was Dumbledore ever considered normal?.

"I'm afraid he never even died." Aiyana's words were, painful, honest.

At that, Harry stared at her with an expression of 'what?' on his face.

"I'm not quite sure how, Harry, but Voldemort knew of your attempts in the Games," Aiyana said gravely, her blue eyes grieving for him and the others who had lost so much in the war. "He put up every precaution against your efforts, and he succeeded."

Then why are you telling people that he might not be back? he wondered, though he didn't say anything.

"The Horcruxes are the only way, Harry..."

Aiyana trailed off in Harry's mind. He couldn't think, couldn't hear, could only see two words flash before him. In Vain. Everything was in vain. Draco's death, in vain. His mother's death, in vain. Arthur's, Molly's, Sirius', all in vain.

What did it matter anymore? More people would die, more people would get hurt, and all of it would be in vain. The ones he loved would be killed, the ones he cared about would be destroyed.

At this moment, Harry decided he didn't want to be a part of anything anymore. He'd go away. Away from Ron, away from Hermione, away from Ginny - away from everyone. Anyone and everyone he loved was in danger. Ginny had been right all that time ago; he shouldn't have thought Draco couldn't get hurt loving him.

Harry wasn't going to be the cause of that danger anymore. He looked up at Aiyana.

"I'm done," Harry said. He didn't say anything more, and he didn't wait to hear Aiyana's reply. Harry left the room, entering his own bedroom. He shut the door and got ready for bed. Tomorrow, Harry would search for a place to go, a place where he'd never have to deal with pain again.

---

It was very early in the morning, and Aiyana had stopped by Ron's and Hermione's house immediately after her visit with Harry. She told them about Voldemort and Harry's reaction. Hermione and Ron silently worried as she explained, and when she left, they looked at each other.

All they knew was that they needed their best friend back, their - for lack of a better word - "savior" back. And there was only one way they could do that. They had to finish something they had been working on for a little under seven months.

Harry meant a lot to both Hermione and Ron, and that's why they were working on what they were doing. Harry deserved happiness, deserved love.

Hermione retrieved the book she had purchased the day before and began to read aloud to Ron.

They were going to save Harry, no matter what it took.