Chapter VII… Doomsday Averted

Harry woke with a violent cough, choking out a mouthful of dust. He was aware of strong arms around him, pulling him out from underneath something heavy.

"Harry," a voice whispered, and he felt those arms shaking him, "Harry!"

"I'm okay," Harry wheezed, adjusting his glasses. He found himself looking into wide, gray eyes – Michael Morimontes pulled him to his feet. The larger boy was covered in dust, his black clothes stained white in places. Standing up, he was nearly a foot taller than Harry, "Where's Hermione?"

"I don't know. A chunk of the ceiling fell on you, and I didn't have time to look."

The food in Harry's stomach soured, and he struggled a moment with a panic that welled up inside him, "We need to find her."

Harry drew his wand and glanced around at what was formerly Florean Fortescue's – the storefront where they had been sitting was torn apart, and indeed the ceiling had caved in… robed bodies were strewn about the ruins, a few moving, most not. Harry and Michael shifted the debris aside, pulling whomever they could free. Soon, the parlor was clear and the boys could only stare at the horrific sight before them.

Diagon Alley had been torn apart, buildings gutted and the cobblestone gouged. Smoke filled the air, smoldering in the wake of whatever had come through. The panic that Harry strived to suppress immediately flooded his mind – Ron was with his mother and Ginny, and he hoped that between the three of them they had survived. But Hermione…

They are alive, she is alive… the words became a mantra within Harry's mind.

She is alive.

The path to Madame Malkin's was littered with bodies, and the sight of a child leaning against a building, staring lifelessly into the fires stoked Harry's panic all the more, guilt simmering beneath it all. The guilt that with every other person he saved, he was slowly losing someone else. Guilt that he valued one particular life over another.

And he didn't understand why.

"Harry!" Michael screamed at the top of his lungs, "I need your help!"

Madame Malkin's was completely destroyed, flames reaching high enough to lick at the sky. Michael had his wand in his hand, quietly chanting as a jet of water doused what he could reach when Harry joined him. It took five agonizing minutes to kill the blaze, which squealed and roared as if it had a life of it's own.

"A dark wizard did this," the large boy coughed as he brushed his hair away from his face, "this fire was enchanted, almost alive."

"Fiendfyre," the word came easily to Harry, as did the tome from which he remembered it, "but it was imperfect. If whomever cast knew what they were doing, we couldn't have put it out ourselves."

Dark wizards… and Harry knew that Death Eaters were responsible, picking the Alley at its busiest time without reason…

…a hand grabbed his shoulder, and Harry turned, stopping short of jabbing Ron in the eye with his wand.

"Hey, watch it!" Ron hissed in shallow breaths, "Mum sent me to get you and Hermione. We need to go!"

"She's missing, Ron!" Harry's voice cracked a bit as he said it, "They might have her."

Ron's expression darkened at his words, and he made a strange noise in the back his throat, "I saw them. They were heading towards the Leaky Cauldron."

Harry's mind raced, piecing the route together – suppose they came from Knockturn Alley, he thought, and from there to Gringotts, then here, then Florean Fortescue's. Ollivander's would be next and finally the Leaky Cauldron.

"They haven't left yet." There was a quiet rage in Harry's voice, and he could see the plan form wordlessly in Ron's eyes.

"I'm going with you," Michael said, wiping soot from his brow, "You don't know how many of them are out there."

Ron eyed the strange boy apprehensive, and Harry nodded, "Yeah, let's go."

The three of them ran back the way they came, the ruins of the Alley a blur in Harry's eyes. It had been a half-hour since the initial attack, and Harry swallowed his panic, anticipating a firefight ahead.

Just past Florean Fortescue's, a black-clad figure was sprawled on the ground, petrified in a battle stance. His eyes, the only mobile part of his body, darted about fearfully behind a porcelain mask. Harry slowed, observing the frozen Death Eater… they didn't take her, she fought back. She ran.

Twenty yards away, another Death Eater stumbled out of a shattered building. Harry strode forward with his wand drawn, "Where is she?"

The Death eater slumped against a wall, the emotionless mask a sharp contrast to the confused, stuttering voice, "S-she came, like lightning."

Harry pulled the mask away from the Death Eater's face, recognizing the man as Nott Senior. Pale and sweating, the man's eyes looked just as confused as his voice, "It was like f-fighting an army."

"He's confounded, Harry. We won't get anything useful out of him." Ron sighed, pulling Harry's arm away, "Let's find her."

They hadn't walked more than a few steps before Ron swiftly and violently punched the man in the face. Nott crumpled to the ground, and without a word Ron walked back into step with Harry.

"Morsmordre!" Harry froze at the word, and he saw a jet of light climb into the sky. It burst far above Diagon Alley and the sky turned green.

The Alley became a blur again as Harry sprinted forward, ignoring the cries of Ron and Michael. He ran around the corner and came face to face with the remains of the Leaky Cauldron. At the foot of the destruction a Death Eater was locked in combat with Hermione; another Death Eater observed the battle a few steps removed, it's hidden face tilted as if appraising the fight. Harry could see her whisper her spells, the closest the two of them had come to silent spellcasting. To her credit it was quite effective, as the Death Eater was losing ground, it's technique growing sloppy and increasingly ineffective… practical application indeed.

The Death Eater dropped to the ground to dodge Hermione's stunning spell, and Harry suddenly scrambled for his wand when he realized what it was going to do as it choked out the words "Avada-"

"Reducto!" Harry screamed, feeling the power in his words, and the spell caught the Death Eater in the hand holding its wand. Both wand and flesh exploded in a crimson mist, sending the Death Eater soaring into a pile of rubble at the feet of its companion.

Hermione blinked a few times, shaking the look of dull shock out of her eyes. Harry went to her, keeping his wand trained at the remaining threat and ignoring the fallen Death Eater's caterwauling, finally getting a good look at her – she was bleeding from an unseen wound on her head, and she favored her left leg when she came to meet him. There were several small cuts on her arms and face, and a large, violet bruise decorated her cheek. She smiled, though it pained her to do so, and Harry did his best to prop her up with his free arm.

"Dolohov, get up. You've embarrassed us enough." The other Death Eater said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Dolohov moaned as he got to his feet, clutching at his wound, "That brat… Yaxley, do something!"

"Be lucky he didn't aim for your head, you fool." Yaxley's voice remained deathly calm, "Besides, we aren't alone anymore."

Harry turned around and saw Ron and Michael at the corner, their wands drawn. Yaxley chuckled grimly at the sight, and Harry's rage threatened to boil over, "What are you doing here? Why did you do this?"

Yaxley tilted his head again, studying Harry from behind the mask, "You don't know? He said you were intelligent."

In a flash, Yaxley drew his wand at Ron and Michael, "Confrigo."

"Protego!" Harry prayed that he was fast enough, and the air around the boys exploded. A crippling pain seized him as feedback from the curse tore through his body. The surrounding buildings shuddered as the blasting curse rebounded, scarring stone and tearing chunks out of the ground. Harry dropped to one knee as pain coursed through him, electric under his skin.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione whispered into his ear, "You can do this."

Harry tightened his grip, focusing on the word, imagining an invisible bubble around his friends. Slowly, the pain receded, the air around them clearing. Ron and Michael looked confused as they stood in the only clean spot in an alley full of debris. Harry managed a weary smile at this, and he turned his attention back to the ruins of the Leaky Cauldron. He wasn't surprised to find that Yaxley and Dolohov had disappeared.

Ron sprinted up to them, and he helped Harry to his feet, "That's twice this month you almost died, mate. That red stuff is supposed to stay on the inside, you know."

Harry could feel fluid warmth around his lips and down his jaw. Sheathing his wand, he touched his mouth and found it bloody. His nose and ears were bleeding and nausea began to wash over him. Still, relief that Hermione was alive, that Ron was unscathed tempered whatever injuries he suffered.

"That other guy left," Ron said, glancing around the ruins, "He said that he was going to get his dad."

"Stay where you are!"

The trio turned around to find Aurors pouring into the clearing, wands pointed at them.

"Stand down!" Harry saw Kingsley Shacklebolt push his way through the group, his brow furrowed in frustration, "That is Harry Potter! Children didn't do this. Go and help the victims, Merlin knows there are enough of them."

The Aurors parted, and Kingsley turned to face them, "We have Healers on their way here to look at you two. You're lucky I don't ship you to St. Mungo's for observation."

Harry grinned at Kingsley's words, and didn't even resist when the Healers felt the need to poke and prod every sore area on his body. My friends are safe, he thought, and sighed as the adrenaline began to wear off. He shivered at the sudden chill in the air when an arm snaked around his shoulders with a slivery blanket. Hermione slid next to him, a bandage on the side of her head and flecks of a purplish salve spread on the cuts of her face. She grinned at his disbelieving gaze and lay her head on his shoulder. Harry tensed at first, feeling very much like a child who refuses to be comforted. The feeling of Hermione's hands at the small of his back slowly relaxed him, and he finally accepted her embrace... the warm feeling swallowing his panic whole.

My friends are safe.

There were no immediate answers for the events of the day; Harry having spent a good portion of the afternoon in interrogation with the Aurors. His wounds mended, he was finally released in Arthur Weasley's custody to rest for the evening. Unfortunately, The Burrow was hardly a relaxing environment – when Harry arrived, Ginny was planted on the couch with a frustrated look on her face.

"They're upstairs, arguing as usual." She sighed, her legs hanging over the back of the couch, "And I think they're serious this time."

"Did she silence the room? I don't hear anything."

"She must have, or Mum would have broken it up by now."

Perfect, Harry though as he ascended the stairwell, his mood darkening with every step. He paused a moment to collect his thoughts in front of Ron's room before entering, bracing himself for the wall of sound as he cracked the door.

"-and what I choose to do is none of your business, Ronald!"

"It was stupid and you know it, going after them like that, like you had some sort of death wish."

Harry stopped, leaving the door open just a hair as Hermione continued, "Who knows how many people they would have killed if someone hadn't stopped them."

"You didn't do it for them," Ron's voice dropped to a deathly whisper, "you did it for him, you thought he was dead and you wanted them dead too."

Hermione made a noise in the back of her throat as Ron pressed on, "I've seen the way you look at him. The way you touch him when he doesn't notice. I saw you the other night, stroking his hair when he was asleep."

"He was crying in his sleep, I was trying to help!"

Harry could feel his cheeks flush at that – he didn't remember any visions or waking dreams that night. After a moment, he chuckled silently at the thought of him having a simple nightmare. I should be so lucky, he thought.

"And why should you care if I was interested in Harry? Why is it such a big deal?"

"Because he gets everything! He has money, he has fame, he could have any other girl in the school if he realized it! He doesn't need you too!"

"What? I'm not good enough for him? He could have a real girl instead of me, Ronald? Maybe you're the only one who didn't notice I was a girl until I was fifteen!"

It was Ron's turn to be silent as Hermione's voice rose with every word, "You were so angry when Viktor asked me to the Yule Ball, yet I was your last resort for a date. You ogled Fleur every chance you got, and you have the nerve to be angry when I stayed behind to support Harry. You get so frustrated every time I beat you during D.A. Meetings, yet you teased me when ever I took the extra time to practice. And now you're mad because I'm concerned about Harry, because I care about him, and why? Why, Ronald? Because he has too much already? I'm not a trophy. I'll be with whomever I damn well please, and you Ron Weasley, will have to deal with it!"

Harry opened the door, and both Ron and Hermione jumped at the sound. Ron immediately turned around, wiping away what look like tears. Hermione slumped against a lamp table, her hair disheveled and chest heaving. She looked at him, and knew that he had listened to every word.

"Are we alright in here?" Harry tried to sound optimistic, hoping that there wasn't a permanent fracture between his best friends.

"Yeah, mate." Ron was quiet, as if completely drained, "I think I'll head to bed."

"So will I." Hermione shot up and darted out the door, "I need some fresh air."

Harry stood in the doorway, trying to think of something to say. The words stubbornly refused to form as Ron sat down in his bed.

"I'd like to be alone right now, if that's alright."

His eyes met Harry's, and for a moment he looked... wounded, like he was ready to crawl into bed and never come out. It scared him, but there was little else he could do.

"Good night, Ron." he said, closing the door and hoping the night could heal what words could not.

Hermione was in the kitchen, sipping a glass of Ginny's iced tea when Harry returned downstairs, and Ginny herself was slicing bread for them. A frosty glass was waiting for him at the seat next to her. He smiled a little bit as he sat down, and the sweetness of the tea was strangely soothing to him.

"I'm going to take Ron a plate before bed," Ginny said, wrapping several slices up neatly in a basket, I'm sure he'll need it. See you in the morning."

With Ginny upstairs, Harry and Hermione were left alone in the kitchen. They sat in silence for a few minutes, mentally preparing themselves for what was to follow.

"Why did you do it?" Harry was the first to break the silence, turning to face Hermione. Her light, brown eyes glittered with old tears, and he suddenly found it very hard to look at her, "They could have killed you."

"I thought they had killed you." She said, her voice slow and steady, "A chunk of the ceiling fell on you and you wouldn't wake a-and... I decided to hurt them."

She wasn't crying, her tears exhausted from the events of the day, but the anguish in her still brewed below the surface, "I ran out and they were still there, gloating. I don't think they knew you were in there, but they recognized me the second I stepped out. I fought them the whole way to the Leaky Cauldron, holding back just enough not to kill them outright."

"Yaxley wasn't with them at first, but I imagine he was watching the whole time. He was already at the Leaky Cauldron when I cornered Dolohov observing his handiwork. Dolohov was furious that I had disabled the rest of their numbers, but Yaxley just stood there. I had the first shot, but Dolohov was more aggressive than the others. He was the one that did the most damage, aside from Yaxley."

She caught his eyes, and something inside Harry shifted – much like the Yule Ball, he felt as though a veil had lifted from his vision and that he was really seeing his friend for the first time. It wasn't just Hermione sitting across from him, it was someone who was ready to sacrifice her life because his own was threatened. She was someone who saved countless lives by stopping whom everyone else was afraid of, and Harry felt humbled in her presence.

"You were spectacular, Hermione," he whispered, "You were magnificent. I couldn't have done it."

Hermione's face flushed at his words, "Of course you could have, I didn't do anything special."

"I didn't see anyone else out there fighting them. Even the Aurors didn't get there until all the Death Eaters were either down or gone. That is what makes you special."

He was leaning over the table, and she had risen to meet him. They hovered inches away from each other for a fleeting moment, close enough to feel each others breathing. Harry's mind was alight, wondering exactly what to do...

... to his relief, Hermione stood up, a gentle smile on her lips, "It's late. We should go to bed."

Harry anxiously agreed, his heart beating a little faster than it should have been. This is new, he thought, trying to slow his breath in an attempt to wrangle his nerves. For the first time his best friend brought this... reaction out of him, and he settled into bed wondering if it was such a bad thing.