Behind Emerald Eyes

...-...-...

.-.-.

.-.-.

Chapter 29 -

Dumbledore's Last Secret

.-.-.

.-.-.

"Has there been any change?" Harry asked a blonde-haired healer, while Hermione slipped into the hospital room behind him. The witch looked out at him with dark eyes filled with sympathy. And she shook her head.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, there's nothing else we can do but make the minister as comfortable and painless as we can." With those words said, the healer gave him a sad smile, and walked away down the hall. Harry watched her go, staring at her white shiny shoes, and listened to the steady tap that they made as they hit the hard, tiled floor. He stood there, his body numb, and head throbbing with those six, simple words.

"There's nothing else we can do."

He rubbed his eyes, wishing the emotion away. He had to be strong. With one last, desperate look down the long, sweeping hall, he sighed, bowed his head, and entered the room.

He hated going in there. It was so depressing and painful, seeing the entire Weasley Family sitting around Arthur's bed, knowing that he would die. They knew this. And they knew that there was nothing anyone could do to stop the poison from taking his life. Nothing.

He spotted Ginny sitting in a chair at the back of the room; shadows hid her tear-stained face and lank her. Her eyes, blood-shot and puffy, looked out at her father. There were no more tears to fall. Harry walked over to her, unnoticed by everyone else. As he approached, he noticed that she looked incredibly pale and green, her hands shaking as they rested on her knees. He slipped down to her side, stretching an arm around her shoulder. She didn't even have the energy to start as her eyes widened in shock at seeing him there.

He leant down and delivered a soft, tender kiss to her temple. She tried to smile, but only managed a twisted grimace before her face scrunched up. He pulled her into his chest, holding her tight as her shoulders wracked horribly, and eyes tried to dispel imaginary tears. He held her, as Hermione watched on, eyes moist, and a hand hiding her quivering lips.

...-...-...

"C'mon, Hermione, think of the most powerful healing potion you have ever read, or heard about." Harry said quickly, wringing his hands. He could feel the glass of phoenix tears in his pocket; it was pulling down, as if each growing second that Arthur Weasley spent in St Mungo's made it heavier, and harder to hold. The burden of what they were doing was growing larger. The responsibility was dragging them down, slowing their progress, and affecting their thoughts. What they were doing could determine whether Mr. Weasley lived ... or died.

Hermione was distraught. "I don't know, Harry! Maybe the Eliminating Elixir?"

"Will that allow a mix with phoenix tears?" he asked her, patting his pocket to make sure the vital liquid was still in place. Hermione's brow furrowed.

"I don't think so. The aconite will react with it producing a p-paralyzing formula, while all other ingredients will be useless," she said with a deep frown.
There is the Draught of Peaceful Poisons, but I think that needs a month to make."

"Well are there any more potions which can be mixed with phoenix tears without any of the other ingredients becoming inactive and it can be finished in under a week?" Harry asked his frustration mounting. It had been five long hours after their discovery of the phoenix tears, and it had been five long hours without any progress on their research.

"Oh, I've got it!" Hermione cried victoriously, standing quickly to show him a book. "It's the Advanced Healing Potion, that can heal most things from minor breaks to general poisons."

"Than how is that good for us? We need something that can remove a major, normally fatal poison!" Harry said with a groan. Hermione snatched the book back from him.

"I know! But if we add the phoenix tears in with it, as well as a bezoar that has been soaking in mandrake juice for half a day, then the different properties will react, forming a stronger healing draught, which should, if we're lucky, eliminate the poison coating Arthur's stomach. But, the problem with this is that the consumer needs to be in a state of peace and semiconscious, so the poison is active but not overly so. But Arthur is unconscious right now."

Harry creased his brow, his heart thumping away beneath his ribs. They were so close...

"What if we gave Arthur the Draft of Peace? That way, he will be in a state of peace and semiconscious, as the potion will wake him anyway?" Harry asked as Hermione's eyes lit up.

"I didn't know you liked Potions?"

"I do as long as Snape isn't teaching; that's why I got an outstanding in it in NEWTs," he answered distractedly, "so will that work?"

"I think so. But we have another problem," she said, looking up from the book, chewing her bottom lip.

"What is it? Harry asked, feeling his stomach drop.

"The potion takes a week to brew," he creased his brow, wondering what was wrong with that. Hermione seemed to understand his confusion because she answered him. "Mr. Weasley only has five days."

...-...-...

They worked night and day on the potion. They took off classes, getting substitutes to fill in for them and mark papers and homework. They skipped lunch and dinner, only nibbling on random pieces of food that only took a small amount of time to consume. Their every hour was filed in with tiresome research in the library's restricted section, or spending hour upon hour in the cold, endless dungeons.

The potion was steadily strengthening, becoming an incredibly powerful healing potion than had ever seen before. Harry and Hermione were working blindfolded, not knowing if what they were trying to accomplish would work, or if one of these days, and owl would find them, bearing news of Arthur's death. They told none of their workings, afraid that hopes would be raised, only to crash down once they discovered the potion was as useless as Snape in a dress.

"Add the powdered root of asphodel," Hermione murmured, her face hidden behind a thin stream of wavering smoke, flickering as if she was an old movie rewinding. Harry took up the measuring cup full of a light green powder. He gently sprinkled it over the top of the potion as Hermione stirred clockwise, mixing the powder through the dark purple potion. It turned a light grey. "Good, we need to let this rest for fifty-five minutes, until the asphodel dissolves, and then we must add the diluted orchid acid."

"Then how long before we can mix in the phoenix tears?" he asked, stepping back into the shadows, where the potion's fumes had not as yet reached. Hermione joined him.

"Eighteen hours, but the potion needs to be 32 degrees exactly, otherwise if it's too hot, the phoenix tears will turn to water and be useless. And if it is under that temperature, the tears will overpower all other ingredients, and the healing properties will be too weak to heal even a minor poison," she said softly, the flames from the fire dancing in her brown eyes as if the light of her life was shining through.

"Then will it heal Arthur?' he asked in a hoarse whisper.

She turned to face him and he saw the indecisiveness in her eyes. "I don't know."

...-...-...

The next eighteen hours was the worst they had ever had to sit through. They stayed up all night in the dungeons, watching the potion slowly darken and listening to the crackling of the flames. The whole castle was asleep beneath the starry heavens, with the howling wind their unanimous breath as they stirred in their slumber. None knew of the secret mission two of their own were conducting deep in the bowels of Hogwarts School. None knew of the extraordinary lengths these two people were going to, to save one of their family. None knew, that in just five short hours, a potion would be completed that could save the life of the Minister of Magic, who was riddled by the most powerful poison in the entire universe.

None knew all this, except Harry and Hermione.

They sat in the cold of the dungeons, in the shadow of a solid stone wall, watching, waiting, for the potion to be completed. Mr. Weasley's time was slowly drawing to a close, in just two hours to be precise. And the potion was not due to be completed for another five. They were hoping against every god imaginable that Arthur would be able to hold out until then, otherwise, all was lost.

"How long now?" Hermione asked him softly, shivering at his right. He looked down at his watch and sighed.

"Four hours, forty-seven minutes." He answered, his breath clouding before his eyes. He heard Hermione sigh painfully at his side, so he pulled her closer, draping an arm around her shoulders. She burrowed her head beneath his chin, the flames of the fire reflected in her eyes.

"What if it doesn't work?" she asked after a while, her voice sounding so distant in the room. Harry shifted restlessly.

"It will."

"But what if it doesn't?" she asked again, in barely a whisper this time. There was silence as Harry comprehended her words. They rang through his head, bringing the full implications of what they were dong down onto of him.

"We will try again."

...-...-...

Midnight came and went, with Harry and Hermione waiting on chilly breaths for an owl that they feared would come. But soon it was one o'clock, then two, with still no news from St Mungo's or the Weasley's. The potion had less than an hour to go. Hermione was making sure the temperature was still at 32 degrees, when a tapping sounded from outside the wooden door of the dungeon. Harry tensed, exchanging nervous looks with Hermione. He walked forward, his wand ready at his side, before pausing in front of the door. He pushed it open. No one was there.

"Hello?" he asked softly, looking both ways down the stone halls. He saw no one. A hoot sounded from his feet, and he looked down in alarm. An owl was sitting on the cold floor, a letter clamped in its talons. It felt as though his blood had turned to ice. He picked up the envelope with shaking hands, just making out his and Hermione's names scrawled on the front in blotchy writing. The owl took off.

He turned to face back into the room, looking up at Hermione who was staring at him in fear. She took a step forward, her mouth open slightly and eyes wide. He could hear his heart thumping painfully in his chest, and he knew he had never been so anxious in all his life.

"Is it -?" she stammered. He nodded.

"Yes." He said in a hoarse whisper, staring fearfully at the envelope. He opened it slowly, wanting and not wanting to read its contents. Hermione was standing in front of him, her hand touching his arm in a small amount of assurance. He pulled out the small piece of parchment, startled to find it containing only a few short words, smudged by dry tears.

..

He's almost gone.

..

"Is he -?" Hermione's voice cut through his slightly relieved mind, bringing him back to the present and the lifelessly cold dungeon. He shook his head, swallowing a lump that had risen in his throat.

"Not yet."

...-...-...

Harry and Hermione were sprinting down the endless white corridors of St Mungo's, their footsteps echoing down each floor. It was just after three o'clock in the morning, and the hospital was silent apart from the insistent beeping resonating from each room. They ran up a staircase before turning left down a long hallway that was cast in shadows. One sliver of light had escaped from the bottom of one door, that a nurse was standing guard at. They skidded to a halt in front of her, both of them breathless.

"Is he - is he -?" Harry stuttered. The nurse shook her head slowly, a sadness in her eyes that he knew all too well.

"But it will be soon," she said softly, moving aside to allow them entrance. Hermione looked at Harry with a pained face and he nodded once, taking a deep breath before pushing open the door. The room was silent when they entered, with the room completely dark apart from a pale yellow light that was shining from a lamp on a bedside table. Molly was sitting at her husbands side, her hand enclosing his in an eternal touch of love, while her tear-filled, puffy eyes, stared at the still face of Arthur. Ron stood off to the side, only his blue eyes seen in the shadows, glowing in the lamp-light. He looked over at them when they entered, and they both could see the sorrow in his gaze. Fred and George stood at the foot of the bed, their faces set in identical looks of pain and a harsh acceptance that Harry found disturbing. Bill and Charlie were leaning against the far wall, eyes on their dying father, as he lay in his hospital cot.

Harry spotted Ginny sitting on the floor by the wall, her arms wrapped around her knees as she rocked back and forth. Her usual sparkling eyes were dull and faded, and her glittering red hair was lank and draped across her shoulders in oily folds. In her hands was clasped the family photograph of everyone together, the same one that was situated on the wall of Harry and Hermione's apartment.

A Healer was checking charts on a wall with resigned eyes when Harry and Hermione approached him. "Sir, we believe we have a potion that may save Mr. Weasley's life." Harry said softly, glancing at the Weasley's to make sure they weren't listening. But they all were too involved with their fading dreams to notice their conversation. The Healer stared at him as if he were crazy.

"There is no known cure to this poison!" he hissed in outrage. "I don't know what you're playing at!"

"But we have created an antidote using phoenix tears, that should save him!" Hermione cut in quickly, pulling out a pair of glass phials from her coat. One was a Draft of Peace, and the other was the newly-finished potion. The Healer eyed them distastefully.

"How do I know you're not just trying to speed up this man's death?" he said angrily, not bothering to lower his voice. The Weasley's looked up in alarm, while Molly let out a tearful sob.

"Why would we want to do that? We're only trying to help, and we think this potion will work!" Harry said irritably, his emerald eyes flashing.

"What's this, Harry?" Ron's voice sounded, as the youngest Weasley's son stepped forward. The Healer turned quickly to Ron, his dark eyes widening.

"These people believe they have a potion that is capable of healing your father!" he said, motioning to Harry and Hermione who were practically glowing in anger. Ron turned to look at them and they both could see the desperation and hope in his eyes.

"Are you s-serious?" he said painfully, his voice breaking. Harry nodded, glancing at Hermione.

"We don't know if it will work, but we're pretty sure it will." He said softly. "We don't won't to put your hopes up, Ron. This has never been done before."

"If you two have made something that you think will heal my father, I will give you permission to do whatever you need to do." Ron said, ignoring the objections of the healer. Harry and Hermione smiled and nodded.

"Thank you."

They went forward, towards Arthur's hospital bed, trying not to look at his pale, stony face. Molly looked up at them with pleading eyes, and her mouth opened soundlessly, as if she didn't have any life left to speak. Harry gave her a small smile, before turning to Hermione.

"We need to give him the Draft of Peace first, wait for ten minutes, then give him the other potion, right?" he asked in barely a whisper, watching as she nodded, her eyes glued to Arthur's lifeless face.

"Y-yes, we d-do," she stammered softly.

"Hermione, look at me." He said, as she tore her eyes away from the Minister to stare at his calm face. "We need to do this, now, before he gets any worse." She nodded, swallowing, before moving forward with the Peace Draft.

"What are you doing?" Fred asked suddenly as Hermione bent over his father. Harry looked over to him.

"We've been working on a potion that has phoenix tears in it, and we need to have Arthur half-awake for it to work. Do you trust us?" Harry asked softly. Fred looked down at his father and he nodded once, gripping the bed frame tightly. Hermione went forward again, gently opening Arthur's lips and pouring in the Draft of Peace. It took a few moments before anything to happen, but soon the Minister's eyelids flickered and his face relaxed.

When ten minutes past, Harry moved forward to help Hermione administer the second potion. But she was shaking so much that he had to take over, incase she spilled the black liquid before it could be given to Arthur. He steadied his own hands before moving forward to open Arthur's mouth and pour in the entire does of potion. When he had done that, he moved back and watched as the man swallowed before growing still. Hermione stepped to his side, her eyes wide.

"What now?" Ron asked from Harry's other side, his blue eyes glued on his father. Harry looked down also and he sighed loudly.

"We wait."

...-...-...

A few hours passed with still no change in Mr. Weasley, though he was still alive when all the Healers thought he would be long dead. Harry left the Hospital Room, knowing Ginny had left not long before. He thought she must have gone to the Tea Room or the bathroom, as she had been gone quite a while.

After a quick look around the Tea Room and not spotting any red hair, he knew Ginny must have gone elsewhere. He searched the entire floor and the one above, and the ones below, with still no sign of her. He even asked a witch who had been exiting the bathroom if he had seen a woman with red hair inside. But there was still no sign of her.

Harry was starting to get worried when his scar seared with pain, though it was incredibly brief. He clamped a hand to his forehead just as sudden, icy fear spread through his body. His sprinted all the way back to Arthur's hospital room, but just as he was about to enter the room, his feet stepped on something course. He looked down to find glass scattered about the white floor, in tiny fragments that caught the light. He knelt down to inspect it further, finding a piece of torn paper on the floor. Curious now, he picked it up to find a message scrawled on the back.

...

Potter,

Guess who I have? Find her if you can.

...

With shaking hands and a thumping heart, Harry turned the page over and fell backwards onto the glass-strewn floor. It was a photograph. A family photograph. One that was all too familiar. But where his face was supposed to be, there was only a burnt hole, the edges still warm.

...-...-...

It had been three days since Ginny had been taken by the Dark Lord. And it had been three days of tears, arguments and useless searching. It seemed as though Ginny had disappeared off the face of the earth. Mr. Weasley was slowly getting better, although in order for this to occur, they had to loose another one they loved dearly.

Order Meetings were conducted all through the day, with both Aurors and order members searching for Ginny Weasley. But, there were no clues as to where she could have been taken. Harry blamed himself, although everyone told him it wasn't his fault. But he knew different, he knew the only reason Ginny was taken was because she loved Harry, and Harry loved her.

There was nothing they could do to get her back. They had nothing to go by, no clues and no witnesses. Each day was like an endless nightmare, except it was real. Harry was sick of hearing that it wasn't his fault. He was sick of doing nothing. In a reckless attempt to find someway of bringing Ginny back, he paid one more visit to Dumbledore's office.

It was just as he and Hermione had left it. It was silent and thick with dust and mystery. The cobwebby silver instruments on the desks no longer clicked and twirled, but he didn't care for that today. He went through each and every cabinet in the headmaster's office. He went through the drawers in his desk, pulling out age-old parchment and notes about candidates for the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

He turned around in anguish, finding nothing among the papers in the desk. He looked down at the floor, as furious tears spilled form his eyes. Something from the corner of his eye caught his attention, and gazed over at a large drawer beneath the glass cabinet once housing Gryffindor's Sword. It was a deep drawer, with a simple keyhole right in the middle. Something about it pulled to him, so he dropped to the floor and crawled towards it. He traced the keyhole with his finger, as something clicked in his mind. In one flash movement, he had the chain around his neck off, and watched the key dangling from his palm. He stared at it for a few seconds before taking it up in his fingers and placing it in the keyhole and turning it. It fit perfectly.

He pulled the drawer open, listening as it scraped along a thick layer of dust. Inside was a wide, black bowl, with the middle of it supporting a thin, silvery spider's web, that glittered in a white light that was shining from the inside of the dish. With a thumping heart and open mouth, Harry reached down and pulled out Dumbledore's Penseive. It was scratched and spotted with age and constant use, but it still evoked strange memories inside his heart. He placed it on the headmaster's desk as he sat down in the purple armchair behind it. He stared at it for a few moments, knowing now was the time to do what Albus Dumbledore had wanted him to do so long ago. Now was the time to find out what was kept hidden from him for so many years.

He pulled out his wand and dipped it into the swirling mists of thought. When he pulled it out, a figure came with it. It was a miniature version of Albus Dumbledore, turning slowly, staring out with eyes that held no twinkle. Harry leant forward in desperation.

...

Hello, Harry, if you are hearing this than I have began my next great adventure and passed on from this world. Do not worry yourself about it, dear boy, for I do not worry about it. Death, is as I said, the next great adventure. My time on earth is over, my flame extinguished, but I will light another candle and start another journey.

I cannot say that I was always proud of my life. I did some very foolish and reckless things in my time. Most of them are to do with you. I have kept many secrets from you my dear boy, but I kept them from you because I believed I was keeping you safe. But now that I look back at the things I have done and said, were not truly keeping you safe. They were only fueling your distrust of myself, and for that, I am eternally sorry. I never meant to hurt you, Harry, I only wished the best for you. I always have.

But it is now that I talk to you, that I must confess another mistake I have made. For, I have kept one other secret for all these years. I was planning to tell you after your graduation from Hogwarts, thinking that would be the most appropriate time. But, if you are listening to me now, I have failed you yet again, for it means I have left without telling you another part of your destiny.

I am eternally sorry, Harry, for all the things I did. But remember that I only did them because I loved you. And still do. I hope that you are able to forgive an old man, who does not deserve forgiveness.

...

The rotating figure of Dumbledore sighed, before pulling off his glasses and wiping them on his long sweeping robes. When he placed his half-moon spectacles back on his nose, Harry leant forward even more, until he was almost touching the spectral man.

...

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will have a son . . . mothered by the last and only in a line of fire, and heir to the mighty lion . . . powers only the father can match, will he bear . . . born as the fifth month rises and when the moon is split . . . the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will have a son . . ."

...

And suddenly, it all made sense.

.-.-.

.-.-.

.-.-.

.-.-.

Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter and never will.

Duh, duh, duh! Hey all, and look at that cliff-hanger! I told you two major things were going to happen in this chapter, and there they were. Ginny was kidnapped and a prophecy was revealed!

Well, I shan't keep you all waiting. Please review and thanks to all those that have so far! Yoo Hoo! Almost 300 reviews!!!!

Later Days...

DW