Monsoon

Monsoon Chapter Two

"Why'd you have to break all my heart? Couldn't you have saved a minor part?"

-Rufus Wainwright

***

No sooner had they sent an owl to Professor Flitwick (for Professor McGonagall would be far too busy to help) then Hermione began pulling books off of the shelves in the library, muttering to herself under her breath. Harry and Ron sat on the floor, awaiting their instructions. They knew what Hermione was like when she was this focused, knew that the best thing to do was what they were told. Harry still felt like someone was pouring ice water into his heart every time he thought about the Dursleys, but he knew he had to focus. He just needed something to do.

"Hermione," Harry demanded, "anything we can do to help, please?"

"What? Oh, sorry, yes. Just, um, look through these books for spells on detecting spells, and maybe any undetectable spells and their signs. Oh! And be sure to write down page numbers. Here." Hermione pulled out pen and paper as if from nowhere and Ron and Harry set about dividing the books amongst themselves.

The night passed with some results, mostly Hermione going "a-ha!" and then scribbling furiously. Harry and Ron would shrug at these outbursts, knowing that any response they got would be garbled by her excitement, as it always was, and that they wouldn't really learn anything. So they kept quiet and turned their heads back to their books.

A knock on the door the next morning (and Mrs. Black's ensuing howls) awoke the three from their positions, asleep on their many texts.

"I'll get it," Harry jumped up. He came back a few moments later accompanied by Professor Flitwick.

"Hello! So glad I can be of service. Now, what seems to be the trouble? Miss Granger mentioned something about spell-detection?"

"Yes, Professor. We need to know if there are any spells on this object that would prevent its destruction and how to break them. We figured you were the best to ask."

Hermione's compliment nearly knocked the tiny man over, but instead he rolled cheerfully on the balls of his feet. "May I see the object?"

"Yes, sir," Ron replied, handing him the box.

"Hmm, well, judging by the fingerprints, it's safe to touch, but let me see, let me see..." Professor Flitwick then muttered a great number of things, none of which Harry heard distinctly, and frowned.

"Well, there do seem to be quite a number of charms protecting it, indeed. I'll be right back," and with a whoosh he was gone, only to return moments later, his arms laden with books. "Miss Granger, kindly look up deflection spells, Mister Weasley, anti-mutilation charms (check under weaponry), and Mister Potter, if you could please find any references to blood-linking curses...that is, if I am correct in assuming this artifact is a Horcrux that once belonged to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Yes, sir, it did, um, does, but I have a book about blood links, I'll look that up," Hermione turned pink to the very tips of her ears, and sounded almost guilty, as though he had just caught her cheating in class, instead of omitting the fact that they were trying to destroy a horcrux.

"Fine, dear, just fine, now then, I suppose Mister Potter shall take deflection instead." Flitwick's pacific tone made Hermione visibly calm. She hated keeping things from people, but they weren't sure whether or not telling Flitwick about the horcruxes was a good idea. They didn't want to endanger one of the few remaining pillars of Hogwarts by saying too much.

The four spent the rest of the day doing what they had done in the night, taking notes and marking pages. With Flitwick's help, they managed to remove a few of the curses blocking the locket, and within the week, they thought they had managed to remove all but one.

"Hmm, this one is particularly tricky. It seems that he made it so that no one who is not related to him, has no part of him within themselves can destroy it. Interesting..."

"Me, then, right?" Harry sighed. He was sick of being reminded of what he shared with Voldemort, how he was like him.

"Actually, no, Mister Potter. You-Know-Who may have inhabited your mind, but not your body. No, who we really need right now is Ginny Weasley."

***

Harry's heart stopped. He couldn't take this. Ginny was preparing to risk her life for a battle that wasn't hers. Flitwick was wrong, anyhow, and he had told him about the time at the Ministry and about Nagini, and Ron's dad, but Flitwick insisted that Ginny was the best for the job, since she had been 'used' for so long during her first year at Hogwarts. Ginny, while being prepped, was alternating between determinedly not looking at Harry and trying to shoot him confident glances. Hermione stood beside Harry, whispering reassurances in his ear, but Harry heard none of it. He was pale and his voice shook when he said, "I don't want her doing this. I don't want her hurt, too," and stormed out of the room.

Ginny followed behind him.

"Harry, don't be stupid," she called after him. "This is my choice to make, not yours. I know the risks, I know I could be hurt, but...isn't it worth the risk? Isn't it?"

Harry turned and paused.

"No. Ginny, it's not. I would rather die a thousand deaths, survive a thousand battles, than live one day in a world without you. I can't have you hurt trying to help me, I couldn't...I can't, I just..." Harry fought to keep the words down, saying instead, "I could never look your mother in the face knowing that I had caused harm to another of her children."

"Harry, Fenrir hurt Bill, not you, and no matter how much you try to make this about you, we are all involved. Yeah, the final battle is yours, I'll grant you that. But let me do this. I'm not a child, and this isn't blind heroism. This is something worth sacrificing for...it's like you said, I couldn't either, Harry, I couldn't live in a world without you in it." Ginny's fierce eyes shone bright and met Harry's. Harry knew he had lost. He couldn't argue with her, couldn't prevent her from doing what she wanted. Her hand slipped into his as they walked the short distance back to the library, breaking apart as they reached the door.

"Here goes," she said.

***

Ginny took the box with the locket and placed it on the table.

"Destructo."

The box fell apart, but the locket remained intact.

"Hmm, yes, I thought this might happen," Professor Flitwick responded. "Yes, I believe the locket has to be destroyed in a more traditional manner."

"What?" Ginny asked.

"You have to break it without magic," Hermione responded.

"I'll see if I can find a hammer or something, then, right?"

"That would be wonderful, Mister Weasley," Flitwick replied.

"I'll help him." Harry didn't know what to say to Ginny (or Professor Flitwick, for that matter) and was eager to leave the room. They quickly located a mallet in the kitchen and brought it upstairs. Harry handed it to Ginny with some trepidation, but he knew that her mind was made up. Ginny whacked at the locket with all her might, but despite her efforts, she didn't even make a dent.

"Professor, do you think maybe it has to be broken by hand, literally?" Hermione asked nervously, remembering Harry's description of Dumbledore's hand after he destroyed the ring.

"Worth a try, I suppose," said Ginny, and began to try to break the locket apart, pull it in two by twisting at the open sides. "I...got it!"

Suddenly there was a flash of bright green light, and Ginny, then Harry, collapsed on the floor.

***

"Harry, Harry are you okay? Wake up!" Hermione seemed on the verge of tears.

"Yeah, I'm fine, my scar just...hurt. I'm okay."

"She's not waking up!" Ron's voice cracked with emotion.

"What?" Harry sat up very quickly, and despite his head's protests, rushed to Ginny's side. "She's still breathing. We should get her to a hospital."

"We can't take that risk, Harry. We'd have to explain to them how she got hurt. How can we do that without chancing telling the wrong person we know about the horcruxes?"

"Hermione, I'm not just going to let my sister lie here and hope she gets better all on her own."

"I'll just fetch Madam Pomfrey, shall I?" suggested Professor Flitwick.

"No!" Harry cried, "We've involved enough people as it is. Listen, professor, what do you know about healing?"

"Well...there are a few things I can try."

Professor Flitwick spent the next two hours trying every charm he knew to diagnose and cure Ginny. "She seems to be under some severe manifestations of a sleeping charm. There is a way to fix it, but I do need supplies, and to borrow a text from...someone. I'll be right back."

And with that, Flitwick disappeared. They all knew where he had gone. Snape had proved his willingness to continue to spy for the Order of the Pheonix after Dumbledore's death, but Harry, and many others within the Order, had a difficult time trusting him. Snape did not attend meetings (for Harry may have just killed him if he did), but sent in reports through various covert means. It seemed that they were just too tired not to trust him, too desperate not to believe what Harry thought were lies. They tested out his information, and for the most part, Snape was right. It galled Harry to admit it, but Snape had done what he had to for the war. He hated every fiber of his being with every fiber of his own, and he knew that if he ever had to face him, it would take all of his strength not to attack. So Harry avoided the topic altogether, especially since he found it difficult to breathe whenever he thought on it too long.

"Alright, I think I have what I need," said Professor Flitwick upon his return two hours later.

"What can we do to help, Professor?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"Well, let me see. Hmm, page 42, yes, here it is. Mister Weasley, why don't you finely chop these mandrake roots and worms; Mister Potter, please soak the contents of these bottles in bubotuber pus and salamander blood, they're already prepped. Hermione, you finish the rest, you can see it on the page here. I'll start the fire here, best make it the blue flames this time, eh?" Flitwick seemed a little nervous, but in control of the situation, and they were glad to have directions to follow instead of having to plan while they were worried about their friend.

Soon the potion was bubbling a fluorescent pink with a fine mist. Harry went and grabbed a goblet from the cupboard under the floor and filled it with the mixture. Ron raised Ginny up and Harry poured some of the solution into her open, still mouth.

"We'll just have to wait a few moments to see if it works."

Ron lifted Ginny off the floor, and with Harry's help, moved her to the small sofa. Harry felt like time had stopped. Her sharp intake of breath signaled to Harry that the potion had worked.

"Ginny?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm okay, I just, I ...I wanted to move but my body wouldn't let me, I tried to talk, but it just wouldn't work." Ginny's breathing was slowly returning to normal and she pushed herself up on the couch. Harry quietly showed himself out of the room. He returned to the room he had stayed in when he had visited Sirius before his fifth year. Looking around the room, Harry felt something inside of him snap and before he finished sitting on his bed, he had burst into tears. His whole body shook as he let out his relief, frustration, and anger.

Back in the library, Hermione stood up to go after Harry. "Hermione, no. Just let him go," Ron said, grabbing her shoulder.

***

The next day, Professor Flitwick treated them to a homemade breakfast (while Hermione asked for the spells). Despite the delicious sausages, Harry's stomach was in a knot. He was so tired of his life being in constant turmoil, would so gladly hand over his responsibilities to someone else, but he knew he couldn't, knew he wouldn't feel right having someone else do the work that was created for him. He had resolved the night before to not think on the things that might have been too hard. Wishing things back the way they were wouldn't make the present any better, and besides, things weren't so great then, either, he reminded himself.

They were all glad to have destroyed a third horcrux, but that also meant having to search for the next one, which was a much more daunting prospect. While there was a chance that one of the three remaining horcruxes was the Gryffindor sword Harry had pulled out of the Sorting Hat in second year, that meant that their search would bring them back to Hogwarts, a place that Harry had vowed never to return to. He also knew that Hermione would probably talk them into returning to school for their seventh year. She did.

***

It was a strange sensation, heading back to school nearly a whole month early, but Hermione was right, they did have a lot of research to do. Anyhow, it would be nice to be there without the pressing stares that Harry had begun to get not just at school, but everywhere he went. People knew exactly what he looked like, thanks to the Daily Prophet and they were either always eager to offer encouragement or a frightened look. The only person he could count on for pure, unmitigated hatred was Malfoy, and Harry had to admit he sometimes missed the simplicity of their relationship. Mutual loathing was not wonderful, but at least it was reliable.

Harry was thinking all of this while sitting in what was usually used as the Prefects' car on the Hogwart's Express. Ron and Hermione seemed comfortable with the well-padded seats and personal heating vents, but Harry felt very out of place. He had to admit, he was relieved to be back at Hogwarts, in familiar territory, but he knew that it would not be the same. Hogwarts had been deprived of what made it so wonderful, the lively students bustling about the school, shouting and waving at each other.

When they finally stepped off the train to begin their short journey from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts proper, Harry looked around. The place that had once been filled with children laughing and trading pumpkin pasties for licorice wands now looked as though a tumbleweed would roll through at any moment. Harry sighed, picked up his trunk, balanced Hedwig's cage on top, and started trudging towards the school that he once ran to. Ron and Hermione followed behind him, Hermione casting significant glances at Ron the whole time.

Soon, Hagrid approached, gave them a shaky smile and a, "hello" and opened the gate with a key from his enormous keychain.

"Alright there, Harry?" Hagrid asked.

"Yeah, you, Hagrid?"

"Better now that you lot are back. The castle gets awful lonely without anyone makin' the usual racket. It'll be a right good day when the school opens officially. Show 'em that we aren't scared of 'em--aren't scared o' teachin' kids to fight the likes of them." Hagrid nodded his head at the end of this statement, as though confirming for himself the truth of what he had just said.

Hermione shivered in the cold, and Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Harry looked up at Hagrid, and together they led the way back to the castle.

***

Behind the doors leading into the entrance hall, Harry, Ron, and Hermione stepped into the castle. It was like stepping into a defeated fortress for Harry, who had grown accustomed to Hogwarts being his home; as his home, he had expected it to be indestructible, indefatigable. The Death Eaters had not only broken into Hogwarts, they had broken through any illusions of safety that Harry had here. It surprised Harry to think how safe he had always felt here, despite the numerous attempts on his life that took place at his school year after year. Then again, before coming here, Harry had had to endure the constant violent outbursts of Dudley, so any relief from that was welcome. No sooner had he thought this then he felt a surge of guilt. Dudley was dead, for no reason other than his unfortunate relation to Harry, and Harry was just being...well, honest, but it still felt bad, thinking ill of the dead.

As Harry's mind sunk into the squalor of all these dark things, he didn't notice that a house-elf had taken his bags away. When he looked up, Ron and Hermione were walking towards the Great Hall, talking about where they should look first for the sword of Godric Gryffindor, and what curses might be placed on it. Harry followed at a slow pace, wanting to listen without having to contribute. He had no idea where to look, and while he did have a good idea of where to start, he just didn't think that he could bear going back into Dumbledore's office again, especially so soon after his death. Harry's emotions took a sharp turn towards irrational anger as he thought about that night, about how he had been forced to sit motionless as the man who watched over him like a father died at the hands of someone he had been blind, or forgiving, enough to have trusted. It was too much to handle, so Harry pushed himself to focus on the matter at hand.

"Hmm, that's a thought. The sword could be back in the Chamber of Secrets. But Dumbledore...he, um, he," Hermione faltered at the mention of their former headmaster, then forced herself on; "he had the sword, and the Sorting Hat. Maybe the Sorting Hat knows where the sword is. I mean, it lives in the headmaster's office; it has to see everything that goes on there. That's it--we'll ask it first thing tomorrow!"

Hermione seemed relieved to have a plan, and the three of them stared at their table, wondering exactly how they were going to get food.

"Um, Hagrid? How do we get food?" Ron asked.

"Oh, right, o' course, you'll be wantin' to eat a right big meal, it'll be jus' a mo'" Hagrid said, moving from the back of the room where he had been standing, trying not to eavesdrop, and going for the door. Moments later, their table (they had seated themselves at the Gryffindor table without a thought) groaned under the weight of chickens, salad, potatoes, and other delicious foodstuffs to dazzle their palate. Ron dug in, of course, while Hermoine spooned a bit of each dish on to her plate, offering each plate to Harry as she finished. Harry took some as well, but ate little. His stomach was in knots over everything that was going on. He didn't even have quidditch to take his mind off things. Harry sighed, put his fork down, and closed his eyes, leaning his head against his hand as his worried friends looked on.

It was the hardest thing for Hermione to do, just let him sit there, distraught, without being able to even try to help. But as Ron had told her, it was best to just let Harry be right now. He didn't need their interference while he sorted things out. It struck Hermione as strange that Ron, for once, had any sort of insight into a person's emotional well-being, but she shrugged it off, grateful to have an ally to help her understand the bundle of unanswered questions that Harry was becoming.