The Ashes and the Flame

The Ashes and the Flame

Part VI. The Long Fall From Grace

The baleful round eye of the full moon hangs directly over our heads, shattering its beams on the North Sea's choppy waves. It's midnight, and Angelina, Neville, Eloise, and I are shivering the harsh salt spray off the coast of Azkaban. Harry, sitting silent and still in the stern of our boat, is the only one who seems unaffected by the weather. Up ahead the great rock looms, a dark, menacing hulk rising from the brilliantly illuminated water. My shoulders tremble, and I'm not sure it's just from the cold.

All too soon, we draw near. Eloise expertly slips our tiny craft past the moored Ministry fleet. There are a handful of battered, waterlogged ferries for transporting employees and prisoners, and one ship that looks suspiciously like a sky-yacht. I crane my neck, trying to get a better view. Sky-yachts are exceedingly rare, and I wouldn't have known about them if Theo hadn't told me. Even his family can't afford one. I briefly wonder who it belongs to - perhaps the Warden of Azkaban? - but I realize I have no desire to learn the answer.

As we bump up on the quay, I whisper, "I'll take Harry and go find Professor Snape. The rest of you stay here."

"I'm going too," says Neville stubbornly. "You can't rescue him by yourself."

"So am I," Angelina adds simultaneously.

"Fine," I say, privately relieved. I don't relish the thought of battling dementors on my own, even with golem-Harry by my side. They won't affect him, but there's no guarantee that he'll be able to shield me.

We tie the boat in the shadow of one of the Ministry tubs. Leaving Eloise to guard the boat, we clamber onto the dock. "Come on," I tell Harry, and obediently, he follows.

In a cleft where moonlight doesn't reach, we discover a narrow stairway leading up to the fortress itself. The climb is long and treacherous. The stone treads are slick with salt spray, and as we daren't risk a light, we have to feel our way up. The ascent seems to last forever. When we finally reach the top, huffing and out of breath, we discover an open courtyard, cast into darkness by the forbidding square building at its center.

After a moment's hesitation, Angelina leads us in.

The first thing I notice is the insidious, oppressive chill. I don't know if it's due to its location, or its inhabitants. This place leaches all happiness from my heart, the very life from my bones. It's also unsettlingly quiet, and to my consternation we can hear our feet scuffling along the stone floors. Nothing keeps us from entering - I suppose no one in his right mind would want to do so in the first place - but I fear that getting out may be a different matter.

The fortress itself is neatly laid-out in a crisscrossing grid of hallways. We hurry down the main corridor, peering into the cells to see if Professor Snape is there. Most are blessedly empty, which isn't terribly surprising. From what Sirius Black told us long ago, I know the highest security prisoners are kept at the center, where the concentration of guards is greatest. We head deeper into the heart of Azkaban.

Initially, we don't encounter many dementors. Harry's presence seems to put them off. I suppose it's because he has no feelings; it's starvation for them, so when he approaches, they turn and glide the other way. Finally, we come upon a cluster of the creatures that doesn't flee Harry's emotional vacuum. There must be about a hundred of them crowding a narrow side passageway, pressing toward a single door well off the main corridor. Are all the guards of Azkaban standing here? I wouldn't be surprised.

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding: in my heart, I know this is where Professor Snape must be, and he wouldn't be here voluntarily. He's a new prisoner; he's fresh meat. Still, the number of dementors nearby startles me. Given the nature of his memories, he can't provide them with much more sustenance than Harry can - unless, I realize, he's close to death. Fear surges in me, and I urge Harry to hurry.

As we approach, I hear terrified whimpers in the hungry shadows. Professor Snape's normally silky voice is nearly unrecognizable. My feet slow of their own accord; I'm fascinated despite my horror. What dark secrets does the man possess? Part of me wishes to know.

"Don't hit me, please don't hit me."

A gurgling silence follows, only to be broken by another scream.

"DON'T MAKE ME KILL HER!"

I feel ill and ashamed; I've heard too much. Pulling out my wand, I focus my thoughts on Theo and shout, "Expecto Patronum!"

A silvery otter blossoms and waddles down the corridor, scattering dementors before it like rotten leaves. Harry stalks forward, clearing even more room. Angelina races to the cell and flings open the door. Inside, Professor Snape is cowering in the corner. He looks like death warmed over.

"Come on, Professor, we're here to rescue you," Angelina says briskly.

He gives us one long, relieved look before passing out. Neville quickly bundles him up and casts Mobilicorpus. Then our little party is speeding back through the corridors, my silvery otter and I leading the way while Harry brings up the rear. Professor Snape stirs briefly, moaning a bit, then quiets down again.

I'm pleasantly surprised when we reach the courtyard without being challenged, but I should've known our good luck wouldn't last. As we approach the stairs, a figure disengages from the shadows behind us. None of us even notice until our wands are flying out of our hands. Only then do we spin around, hearts hammering.

A tactical error, I realize. I start backing toward the stairs. Despite the darkness, I can tell the others have the same idea. We're so close; we might be able to make a run for it, though I don't like the idea of racing down those treacherous stone steps. I hope Eloise is ready to cast off. On second thought, I simply hope she hasn't yet been discovered.

"Lumos," says a familiar voice behind me.

My heart leaps: Theo. We're saved. But then the rational part of my mind takes over. What is he doing here? Hope wars with fear: something's not right. Tentatively, I take another step backward.

The person in front of us says coolly, "Don't even think about the stairs. My partner has you covered, and even if you get past him, there are dementors at the bottom who wouldn't mind giving any of you a little kiss, I daresay."

Oh god oh god oh god. I'd know that drawl anywhere. My heart feels like it's crumbling into a million pieces; my stomach clenches. Theodore Nott has betrayed us, just as I'd initially feared he would. Why? I want to shout at him. But that would reveal too much, so I only breathe, "Malfoy."

Theo moves forward, clasping his arm tight around me so that my limbs are pinned to my body, and deposits a cold little kiss on my neck. His gestures make a mockery of our earlier embraces. How can he be so cruel? Suddenly, with his wand digging into my back, I'm terrified. At that moment I couldn't run even if I'd been free. All I can think about is how Luna died. I don't want to suffer her fate, I don't I don't I don't, Theo you promised I wouldn't...

Draco sounds delighted. "Hermione Granger. I should've known you'd be part of this pathetic little rescue mission. And who else do we have here? Longbottom, Johnson, and - Merlin's beard!" The last comes out as a yelp. "Harry Potter! You're supposed to be dead!"

His shock infuses me with new courage. We may be wandless, but we're certainly not defenseless. We've got the Harry-golem on our side, after all.

"That's right," I say grimly. "Harry Potter. I bet you didn't think I'd figure out the spell, did you, Theo? But I did."

Malfoy laughs, a contemptuous bark. "You didn't figure out anything, Granger! Did you realize Theo was infiltrating your tatty little organization, or that he brought Snape to Azkaban? Did you have any idea we staged that little show at Falconsrest for your benefit? I bet -"

A surge of hatred wells up in me, just as Nott's grip slackens a little. I seize the opportunity to escape. Hooking my leg around his, I twist out of his arms and throw him to the flagstones. He lands hard. His wand flies out of his hands and skitters across the courtyard into the shadows. He wheezes, "Draco, the counterspell! It's -"

Neville and I both leap on him, and he subsides, coughing. I spare a wary glance for Malfoy, but Harry's already moving, deliberately striding toward him, death in his cold green eyes. Malfoy squeaks out a Stunner, but even though it hits Harry directly in the chest, it doesn't slow him down at all. His inhuman hands pluck our wands out of Draco's nerveless fingers and toss them back to us. Then, with a quick movement, he seizes Malfoy, steps to the fortress wall, and flings him over. Draco's terrified wail seems to last forever; yet the abrupt thud that cuts it off comes all too soon.

Theo blanches. He makes a half-hearted effort to scuttle away, but it doesn't help. Harry is suddenly next to us, reaching out and effortlessly picking him up, too.

"Wait!" I call out.

"What do you mean, wait?" Angelina sputters. "He betrayed us!"

I step forward and look up into Theo's pale, wretched face. "Just tell me why," I say quietly. "Please."

To his credit, he doesn't flinch away from my gaze. "Because I was born to it, I suppose. I've always supported the Dark Lord, and I always will. Uncovering resistance to his rule is a particular specialty of mine. I'm the one who caught Tonks and Bill Weasley, after all, and I had you believing in me too."

"What about your father? Did Lucius Malfoy kill him or not?"

He grimaces. "Yes, but I reported him. The Dark Lord does not tolerate weakness in his followers."

With each word, the fragments of my heart disintegrate into smaller and smaller bits. His eyes gleam with passionate conviction. Then he shakes his head a little. As if against his will, he adds, "But Hermione - you're different. You defy my expectations of Muggle-born inferiority. You're brilliant, and passionate, and... and enthralling, and for that, I would've tried to save you."

"No," I say sadly. I tell myself I can't believe the last part; I simply can't allow myself that indulgence. His cruelty would've been preferable. "Even if that's true, I would've been your weakness. Either you'd have eventually killed me, or one of the other Death Eaters would have."

An emotion I can't immediately identify flits across his face and is gone. Regret? Admiration? Resignation? Closing his eyes, he says quietly, "You're probably right."

Harry lowers him to the ground and gently breaks his neck.

Goodbye, Theo, I think miserably. I'd feared his death, but for it to happen this way is far worse. I feel like someone has doused my heart in bubotuber pus. Stumbling back, I say, "Let's get out of here."

But at that moment, we hear an explosion of pops. It sounds like fireworks. A phalanx of slender hooded figures surges forward, surrounding us, and a thin, high voice cuts through the darkness. "Leaving so soon? But I've only just arrived."

At the sound of that cold, shrill laughter, my heart stops beating: Lord Voldemort is here. Neville whimpers beside me. I'm tempted to do the same. Even Professor Snape quivers restlessly in his unconscious state.

Merlin knows why he came. Perhaps Malfoy or Nott called to him while we were talking. It might be too late for them, but not too late for their cause. A cold feeling settles around my chest. By trusting Theo, I've failed everyone. It's hopeless, utterly hopeless. We can't withstand the Dark Lord himself. We've already lost.

Then Angelina shouts, "Expecto Patronum!"

A huge silver lion lights up the night, loping around in a great circle that slowly drives the dementors back into the prison house of Azkaban. Finally, only one hooded figure remains. Hope surges back, and a reckless sort of courage returns to me. I straighten my back and say, "Are you sure you wish us to stay, Tom Riddle?"

He puts his hood back and laughs, his red eyes gleaming in the night. "Ah, the ever-entertaining Miss Granger. It's good to see you doing so well since the last time we spoke. Have you discovered fates worse than death, little one?"

"Yes," I tell him defiantly.

He scoffs. "Betrayal, perhaps?"

My heart clenches. Oh, Theo, I think sadly, remembering how I slowly fell for him over our cozy fireside chats. Would I give up those evenings to spare myself this pain? Aloud, I say, "Perhaps. But to have never loved, or been loved - that is far worse."

"You say this even with your broken heart?" he sneers. "Stupid girl, love is the purview of the weak and foolish. Do not think to lie to me. Lord Voldemort knows when you're trying to deceive."

"You know I'm not lying," I say. I think of the pure red light pulsing in my hand this afternoon. That was the manifestation of my love: my love for Theo, for Harry, for Professor Snape, for the world. "You've never understood the power of the heart, Tom. And see what it can accomplish!"

On cue, the Harry golem moves forward, into Voldemort's line of sight. He lets out a shriek of fury and surprise. "Impossible! Harry Potter is dead! Nothing can bring back the dead! Avada Kedavra! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

A rush of green light washes over Harry, but he continues forward inexorably. Lord Voldemort stands paralyzed, seemingly unable to comprehend his doom marching toward him. Then, in a strange parody of a lover's embrace, Harry envelops the Dark Lord in his arms. A brilliant red glow surrounds the two, and Tom Riddle starts screaming. It's a horrific sound.

The glow gets brighter and brighter, until I have to look away. Suddenly, just as in the Forbidden Forest earlier that day, there's an explosion of unearthly white light.

"Love," I hear Harry's voice say wistfully.

And then I can see again. Angelina Johnson is shaking her head in disbelief. Neville is gaping at me. Only Professor Snape slumbers on, oblivious. There's no sign of Harry or Voldemort anywhere.

I walk over to where they last stood. Only a small pile of ashes marks the spot, and I sigh. Now there's nothing left to remind me of the Boy Who Lived except my memories. Without a body, it's as if he never existed. A tear rolls unnoticed down my cheek and splashes onto the cinders.

At that, a scrawny little bird pokes its head out of the ashes, looking indignant. He cocks his head at me, opens its beak, and lets out a glorious warble. Immediately, my spirits lift.

"Look, everyone!" I exclaim. "A phoenix!"

He looks up at me expectantly. I reach down and scoop him up, cradling him close to my chest. Pearly tears slip down his beak and soak the front of my robes.

"Oh, Harry," I murmur, warmed despite myself. Perhaps my broken heart can mend, after all. "Welcome back."