Rating: T
Genre: Action or … you know, whatever Harry Potter is.
Written by: Gina. Moi. DON'T STEAL!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters, or the storylines (well, okay, I own a BIT of the storyline … I did write the fic, after all!) or ... anything. They all belong to J.K. Rowling!
A/N: I've never written a full-on HP fic like this before so …go easy on me! I've mostly written ship stuff but … PLEASE READ AND REVIEW! Have some mercy!
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Chapter 1
Hermione held her breath as she half-lead a crowd of a hundred people at the least behind her. She glanced from the back of Harry's head, not needing to see his face to know that there was a determined frown on his features, to Dumbledore's shining silver hair that peeked out from his cap. Worried, she turned around to look at the people behind them. There were wizards of all types following their escapade - men and women of all shapes and sizes, walking resolutely side by side towards either their victory or their death. She craned her neck to see the Weasleys not too far behind. Arthur Weasley nodded to her and gave her a shadowed smile in encouragement while Molly patted her husband's shoulders and gave her a warm, but sad look. Slightly appeased at the sight of familiar faces other than Harry and Ron, she turned back around and kept her steady pace. Harry and Dumbledore had broken into soft dialogue but it was too quiet for her to hear. She exhaled slowly, trying to let her fears escape into the wind along the way. She was not aware that she had been shaking when a warm hand clasped itself around hers, weaving it's firm fingers between her own. She looked down at the paling skin and followed the arm up to face the comforting eyes of Ron Weasley.
'You OK, Hermione?' He asked quietly, holding her hand tightly. She didn't answer, but nodded slightly. 'No, you're not. You need to work on your lying skills.'
'I wasn't aware it was considered a skill.'
'Oh, it is. We used to have competitions when we were 7 to see how many lies we could put past mum.'
'Did you win?'
'Never.' He said with a sheepish grin. 'Fred and George were always topping us off.' She looked at him with an unreadable expression and looked back down. 'Oy,' He shook her hand a little and raised her chin gently with his other hand when she refused to look up. 'Look at me.' She obliged after a few seconds. 'We'll get this.'
'Ron … '
'No, look, forget what I just said about lies … this isn't one. We're going to make it through. Do you hear me? We're going to make it through, and you'll help me write my application for jobs and you're going to be there to scold me when I don't get them because of my sloppy penmanship.' She cracked a weak smile. Encouraged by this small sign of mollification, he grinned back and shook her hand again.
'Thanks, Ron.' She said, squeezing his hand as well before looking back ahead of her. The battle was slowly coming to present.
Molly Weasley looked ahead at Harry, Hermione and Ron leading the adults through the forests. She had argued her opposition on getting the entire Order into the neck of the most dangerous woods in Britain when they weren't 100 percent sure that You-Know-Who was even there at all. She didn't want to put her children in danger. Yes, by now, she considered Harry and Hermione one of her own. They were such darling youngsters when she first met them, and look at them now.
Harry had grown to be a fine young man, serious but not neglecting what little youth he had left. He looked so brave, guiding all of them without a moment's hesitation. She felt a sting of pain in her heart knowing he had been forced to mature all too quick in his adolescence and did not get to enjoy being a child as he so deserved. Ron and Hermione had as well, being joined at each side of his hip and never seen without him. When she saw their hands interlock, she tugged Arthur's sleeve and nodded in their direction.
'Look.' She whispered with an enamored smile. 'Tsk, oh, Arthur … ' She leaned her head on him and looked at her son and his friend exchanging a moment, fighting back the tears that this may be the last time they may do so … or the last time she may witness such an exchange. Suddenly overcome by the prospect of being unable to see her Ron and the rest of the children grow up, never being able to be a grandmother … Molly cried. She cried silently but fervently, clutching her husband's robes as he wrapped his arm around her and quietly tried to console her.
'Shhh … Molly, everything will be OK … '
'Harry,' Dumbledore said in such a hushed voice Harry had to lean in a little to hear him properly. 'I realize that this may very well be the last time either of us will meet again.'
'Professor, don't say – ' Harry began, not wanting to browse the thought that Dumbledore – or he – may perish that night. But the older wizard held up a hand to cut him off.
'It may be. Tonight is going to be an epic night, and great wizards will be sacrificed for the freedom of all. I just pray … ' He sighed tiredly, running the sentence off, looking weary and not at all ready for the fight they were about to endure.
'You don't have to pray, professor.' Harry said densely. 'We're going to win. We're going to beat Voldemort and the Death Eaters are going to pay for all they did.' He didn't say that Voldemort himself would be paying the debt to society as well, because he didn't intend on allowing him to survive past that night. Personal vendetta or not, Harry would kill him. He had to.
Dumbledore did not smile, but a flicker of shaded amusement appeared in his eyes as he looked down at the unwavering young boy. 'You have become … a far greater wizard than I, Harry.' He said not unaffectionately. Harry looked up in surprise. 'It is true … I do not know of any other man or woman who has suffered quite as much as you have … and been able to endure the pain for so long. Many wizards would have given in by now, but you, my boy … you keep pushing past the obstacles in life and you have made it to this point.' He raised a wilting hand and put it on his shoulder. 'No grandfather could have asked for more.'
'Professor – ' Harry began, but was interrupted by a loud bursting noise and a flare of green light erupting from the mid forest section. The emerald mist lingered in the air above them before swiftly forming into a glooming figure of death - a skull with a serpent extending out of its mouth as it's deadly tongue.
"HARRY POTTER!" A hoarse, shrill cry erupted from the origin place of the spell. The extremity of hate and impatience behind the voice of the caller sent shivers down the spine of everyone in the crowd. All but Harry. Dumbledore looked down to see his reaction but saw only his hand where it had previously laid on top his shoulder. He looked up to see that Harry had already started a sprint for where the voice had boomed his name.
'Harry!' Dumbledore called out, shocked by his courageous, if not foolish move. Or perhaps … he mused desolately and sighed … he was not all that shocked.
Harry heard his headmaster's cry but did not bother turning back. Voldemort was waiting for him. And Harry was waiting too. He had been waiting for 7 years. He would get his revenge, no matter what.
'Harry!' Hermione gasped, staring at his quickly disappearing body in the thick of the woods. 'Ron, what do we do?'
Ron stared at Harry as well, frozen for a second. After recovering from the stun, he closed his mouth into a thin line and broke into a run after his best friend, never letting go of Hermione's hand as he did. He expected her to complain and hold him back, but surprisingly, she had caught on and began running at his side. He looked over to see her have an ambivalent look of anticipation and fear splashed on her face. She looked to her side and their eyes locked. He shook her hand and she shook it back as they slowly caught up to Harry on his run.
'What're you two doing?' He demanded between pants.
'Like we'd … let you … be an idiot … without us … ' Ron said, already exhausted by the sudden jolt of exercise. Hermione nodded and Harry lowered his head momentarily to conceal the grin that spread across his face. He had never doubted Hermione and Ron's loyalty. He never imagined that they would ever end up like the Marauders, or like any other dead-end friendship. They would be together for life. They would stick by him no matter how much Hermione thought it was hasty or thoughtless. They would keep him grounded even when his temper got out of control and his benevolence agonizingly panged them at their cores. They were his friends, and they had never let them down. They never would, and he would never allow himself to not return the favour.
'Harry!' Hermione shrieked, forcing Harry to look up. Beyond the bushes and trees a few feet from them, Voldemort lay sitting on a stone chair, devouring the fear he sensed in the air. His paper-pale eyelids hovered; halfway closing his eyes while Death Eaters had their hoods up, standing completely still. Harry halted to a stop, nearly letting Ron and Hermione crash into him. He stared unblinkingly at the bizarre sight in front of him; frozen and waiting … he wasn't sure what for …