Chapter 3 – The Abyss

There were echos of angry voices and hoofs behind them as they ran from the hidden unknown in the forest. She stopped for a moment to catch her breathe, and was instantly surrounded by a mob of masked wizards, each one gazing down at her with their cold, red eyes. She attempted to scream, but was immediately silenced by a tall wizard in flame red robes. He shouted something unintelligible at her, and raised his wand. Before she could move, a figure in an emerald green cloak pushed her aside, and took her place…

They were running again. How they avoided the men in their dark robes, she was unsure of. She turned to her right, and saw the same green cloak running beside her. Suddenly, the figure stopped, and gestured her to come over. She stepped towards the cloak, hesitantly bringing her hand to remove the hood….but the cloak floated to the ground before she could touch it, empty and lifeless. She looked around in surprise, trying to find an identity. But there was none. A flint of light by the cloak caught her eye, and she bent down. A wand….a very familiar wand….11 inches. She picked up the wand, and heard a cold, calculating laugh to her left. There, behind a tree, stood a young man…almost like someone else she knew, but it couldn’t be…wouldn’t be. He pointed at the ground where the cloak lay, but as her gaze shifted away from the dark haired man back to the spot where she was standing, a scream built up in her throat. A tombstone, not there a moment ago, now stood erect. And she knew….and the stranger knew that she knew. And he laughed, as she let out a final blood-curdling scream……..

“Hermione! Hermione! Wake-up!” A panicked voice quickly whispered in the dark. Hermione opened her eyes, surprised to find herself in the 6^th year girls dorm room. Lavendar and Parvati were both leaning over her, their wands lit at the tips.

“I…a forest…tombstone…Harry!” she managed to gasp out, as she sat up in bed. It was too real, she thought, it couldn’t have been a dream! “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you both up. I had a horrible nightmare.” Both Lavendar and Parvati looked at each other, and shook their heads. This was the third night Hermione had woken them up with her nightmares. And each night, they got worse.

“Well, I…uh, guess we should all get back to bed.” Lavendar said, trying to stifle a yawn. The girls were trying their best to be supportive and understanding, but being woken in the middle of the night didn’t help their studies…and Professor Trewlaney insisted that true Seers required much sleep to clear their minds and focus. It made for an interesting class time.

Hermione lay back down on her pillow, trying to recall the events in her dream. Sleep did not come easy to her as of late – though she welcomed the numbing dimness it brought. She had been floored by everyone’s sympathy, but blindly walked through her classes. Ron had tried to talk with her, but she had burst into tears and ran up to her room. This is the only place that doesn’t hold a memory for me of him..of us. The classrooms, halls, grounds….Hogsmeade….Oh, Harry. Why? And she slowly sank back to sleep, one enormous teardrop falling down her face.

He, too, had seen the forest. Had tried to outwit and outrun the mob of wizards. But the figure in the hooded burgundy cloak remained a mystery….until now. For he saw her, saw her as she picked up his wand….heard her scream at the sight of a tombstone. But from where he stood now – where he stood, he was unsure, or even how he came to be so far from her – he saw an inscription slowly reveal itself upon the cold, gray slab. For a moment, he knew what it would say – he had guessed it by the look upon her face as she screamed. But then the carving took an unusual curve…a turn there, an extra line here, and it all came upon him.

“Nooooo!! I won’t let you!” He screamed into the darkness, feeling a hatred he had never known before swell up in his chest.

“But why not, Harry Potter? You think I’m in this for fun? I warned you, didn’t I? The stakes are high. I am not likely to displease my master. And I am not likely to fail. Oh, what a tangled web we weave…..” And Tom Riddle walked from behind a tree, grinning malevolently, and appeared at Harry’s side.

“What do you really want with me? You want to defeat me, fine. I’ve beaten you three times already. You can’t kill me, anyway…you told me so yourself when you first brought me here.” Harry slowly exhaled the breath he had been holding, trying to think. His scar was aching, and he was painfully aware of how feeble his comment sounded.

“You have decisions to make, Potter. Of course, they are all in my favor, are they not? After all, I control everything here. But how to choose…you should have predicted this all along. Did you really think that your life would be so easy? But enough, I grow tired of talking to you. I quite enjoy this little game of charades with your mudblood girlfriend. It’s a pity you’ll never get to marry her….” Harry made a move to hit him, but with a flash of blue, the past self of the Dark Lord disappeared. Harry felt his feet slip from underneath him, and instantly found himself in one of the girls’ dorms.

He knew instantly whose it was. Hermione’s. He had been sent here every night for the past three nights. Agony, this is. What does it all mean? And how do I decide – was there any truth to the tombstone? And if so, what is the right choice? Harry was quickly interrupted in his thoughts by a stifled cry in the bed next to him.

“Harry….no….love you…” Harry allowed himself to smile, in spite of his condition. If only I’d thought of using my invisibility cloak and spying on her before all this! He absentmindedly brushed her hair with his hand, but found it was more like passing his ghostly hand through her. She’s so beautiful! I really have no choice. He sighed, and sat down on her bed, watching her bedsheets rise and fall with every breath. That’s my decision. I have no choice but to….

“Granger! Will you please pay attention?”

Hermione was acutely aware of Professor McGonagall’s stare as she turned away from the window and looked back at her Transfiguration professor. “Sorry, ma’m. Did you ask me a question?”

McGonagall began to respond, but was interrupted as the signal for the end of class broke into the silence. “Class dismissed,” she announced, as the students began to put their things together, “for homework, I’d like a 2 foot long summary of the dangers associated with flight transfiguration, and the necessary precautions needed to ensure a safe and successful switch. Granger, Weasley, please stay after to see me. That is all.”

Ron quickly put away his books, and walked over to where Hermione was absentmindedly forcing her wand into her bag, causing red sparks to burn a hole through the canvas.

“Oh, Ron, I’m sorry I’m getting you into trouble. I didn’t sleep very well last night. I had…another dream.” Hermione definitely looked the worse for wear, Ron thought, with huge circles under her eyes. He had been trying to help her around the last few days, but nothing he did seemed to help any.

“It’s okay, Herm. I understand. Let’s go talk with McGonagall, shall we? And then we can go to lunch…I hear the house elfs have made an excellent pudding today…a couple of the guys went down there this morning, and sampled it, “ Ron said, trying his best to sound cheerful. Truth be told, though, he didn’t feel it. His gut told him to hide…hide from the world until he could make heads or tails of the situation. But he knew there wouldn’t be such an easy conclusion. Comes with the territory of being best friend to the most famous wizard alive…er…dead…I don’t want to think about this…not now. And so he focused his energy on Hermione, though she seemed oblivious to it all.

Professor McGonagall strode over to where the two were sitting, each in their own thoughts. She wasn’t upset – not really. She had already had a long talk with the Headmaster about what she was going to ask them, and she knew that every grieving process needed closure. “Granger, Weasley…you’re not in trouble. I wanted to talk with you both for a moment about…Potter’s memorial service. As you know, we’ve planned it for this coming Friday…”

It was all too common knowledge about Harry. His Aunt and Uncle had refused to help in any kind of funeral arrangement, except to say that they would send a few flowers – and indeed they had come, two dandelions, half dead, sat next to Harry’s body (which had been magically altered from the death process) in a closed off room in the infirmary. So, Dumbledore had agreed to hold a memorial service in Harry’s honor at Hogwarts, and then allow Sirius, his godfather, the decision in where to bury him. “Snuffles” had arrived the day after the death, and had spent most of his time with Dumbledore in his office, or with Hagrid, the Hogwarts’ GameKeeper, in his cabin.

McGonagall continued, “The Headmaster would like the two of you to speak, if you are comfortable. After all, you two knew Harry the best….just think about it, and let me know tomorrow….I need to get ready for my next class.” And the professor walked out of the room, quickly heading for the nearest bathroom.

There was a moment of silence, and finally Hermione spoke, “pudding sounds good”. And her and Ron walked to the Great Hall in silence.

…..But this time, when she looked at the tombstone, new words were formed upon it…as if fate were reversing her decision…and as the young girl turned from the marker and the dark haired man laughing, she caught a glimpse of him….pale, thin, a ghost.

It was as if time had slowed down. Once again, they had been running. She stopped, and reached for him, and he was transported away. She picked up his wand, looked at the other figure, and back to the tombstone. But then she turned and met his gaze. His eyes widened in surprise…

It was him. The man who had been wearing the emerald green cloak. He was standing on a small grassy knoll just a hundred feet or so away. She’d recognize him anywhere…same black, unkempt hair, glasses. She formed a single word with her dry mouth…

…..and she said something barely audible, but he caught it.

“Harry!”

“Harry!”

And she knew. She looked at him, and then back at the tombstone. And the writing changed. She looked back at him, but he had changed also. And it dawned on her what had happened. And she screamed. “Noooooo!!!!!”

Hermione awoke with a start, her sheets soaked in sweat and tears. She ran into the common room, yanked open the portrait door, and ran down to the Great Hall. Not knowing where else to go, she screamed for Dumbledore at the top of her lungs. She began shaking, feeling a cold trepidation of her dream seep through her body.

In a matter of moments, a sea of voices could be heard as professors began racing towards her. She looked towards her right, and saw Dumbledore and Sirius running. She ran to meet them, and managed to get one sentence out before she fainted. Those around her looked astonished and skeptic.

“He’s alive….but not for long!”