PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: rich.sanidad

Story: One Blink

Part: 09 - A New Allegiance

Rating: Teens

Setting: Pre-DH

Status: Completed

Warning: Violence, extreme language

Reviews: 3

Words: 4,444

Updated: August 22, 2009, 11:26am

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09 - A New Allegiance

Hermione could not wait to get back to Harry. Although she could not be sure yet, she felt that her recent discovery was not a coincidence. The appearance of Grindelwald’s mark on the Peverell tombstone just seemed too convenient for someone as clever as Professor Dumbledore.

“Will you slow down? It’s not like he’s going to go anywhere without us!” said Ron’s voice from somewhere behind her.

Hermione rolled her eyes as she twisted her way around a crude stone angel. She had half a mind to smack him with her copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard. “This could be important!” she said over her shoulder.

“Some scratching on a tombstone could be important?”

“It is if it’s related to something Professor Dumbledore wanted us to find.”

“Oh, come off it. What are the chances that he expected us to find that exact tombstone in this entire graveyard?”

Hermione threw her arms up into the air. “Fine. But I still think there’s something more to this business than what we’ve worked out so far.”

“Even if you’re right, I don’t see why you’re so excited. I’ve never even heard of any Peverells. Even Harry’s been having second thoughts about everything Dumbledore left us to do.”

Hermione stopped walking, forcing Ron to run into her.

“OOF! What the hell did you do that for?”

“Sorry.” Hermione turned in place and looked up at the Muggle face that Ron had borrowed for their trip to the graveyard. “What did you mean by that?”

“By what?”

“That remark about Harry having second thoughts. What did you mean by that?”

Ron blinked twice, looking at her as if she had grown a second head. “Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

Hermione frowned slightly. “Noticed what exactly?”

“You know, the mumbling under his breath so we won’t hear what he’s saying. ‘I can’t believe he never told us...’ or ‘Why couldn’t he have just...’”

Hermione blinked a couple times before responding. “I... I guess I’ve heard him once or twice... Do you mean to say he’s been doing it more often than that?”

“Yeah... loads... especially right before he nods off for the night.”

She visibly relaxed and began making her way across the graveyard again. “That explains it then. I’m the one who relieves him when his turn at the watch is done, so I’m usually outside when he does it.”

Ron nodded in agreement and began following her again. “Right. I forgot about that. Look, let’s just give him a couple more minutes.”

“You really don’t think much of what I found, do you?”

“I just think that if he was ready to leave his parents’ graves, he would have come to find us on his own.”

At this, Hermione stopped in her tracks, causing Ron to run into her again.

“Will you stop doing that?” he said, pulling some brown hairs from his mouth.

“Sorry. I just thought I heard voices...”

“What? Who could he be talking to?”

“Shhh...” Hermione suppressed the urge to correct Ron’s grammar and hid behind a tombstone two rows from where Harry appeared to be conversing with two figures.

“Did you just hear something?” asked the taller of the two.

“No, I didn’t hear anything,” said Harry quickly.

The two men ignored his reply and remained still. After several moments had passed, they relaxed. “Must ‘ave been the wind,” said the shorter, stockier man.

“Sorry to disturb you. I’ll just be going...” said Harry as he began to back away.

“Hold on a moment.”

Harry immediately froze in place. He could not chance looking at the watch he had received from the Weasleys for fear it would give him away as a wizard, but he estimated that he had fifteen minutes left before the Polyjuice Potion wore off.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Erm... Polkiss. Piers Polkiss.”

The two men in black robes exchanged a glance. Neither seemed to recognise the name Harry had offered them. The shorter one shrugged as if to say, “There’s no reason to doubt him... yet.”

“Did you know the Potters then?” The taller one continued his interrogation.

Harry turned slowly and looked dolefully at the inscriptions on the headstones. “No,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know them.”

“Then why were you visiting their graves?”

“I... er... I was just... searching for my parents’ graves.”

“You don’t know where your own parents are buried?”

“I... I don’t... get to visit very often.”

The Death Eater gave him a long stare, but eventually gave him a half-hearted grunt. Harry exhaled, not realising he had been holding his breath. He then gave a nervous nod and slowly turned to take his leave. As he took his first two tentative steps, he consciously controlled his pace, hoping that it was not obvious that he was trying to rush. He tried to fill his mind with mundane thoughts to perpetuate the illusion of being casual. Shoelaces. Forks. Chocolate Frog cards. He briefly wondered if he had remembered to pack his cards the day he left Surrey when he heard a voice.

“Look out!”

Harry threw himself behind the nearest gravestone as the sound of spellfire erupted behind him. In front of him, he could see Ron and Hermione, still in disguise, defending themselves from behind two large tombstones. Bloody hell. It was bad enough that he did not have a wand, but to be stuck in the middle of the crossfire... He was safe for the time being, at least. He was almost within arm’s reach of the taller Death Eater, but Ron’s spells prevented him from making a run at Harry. Of course that also meant that he was trapped in his current position, as he could easily get hit by a stray spell if he tried to move.

He fingered the hilt of the Sword of Gryffindor as he looked up at the sky and watched a few more flashes of green and red fly back and forth. It was not a wand, but it was better than nothing. Suddenly, a tremendous volley of green spells flew towards Ron and Hermione’s hiding position. Harry froze when his friends did not return fire right away. Only one of those needed to find its mark for his world to come crumbling down, and his stomach tightened as he dreaded finding out the truth.

“Do you hear anything?” said the voice of the shorter Death Eater.

“No... you?” replied the taller one.

“No. Maybe we should take a look.”

“Yeah... go ahead then.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You’re short.”

“So?”

“If they’re still alive, you’ll be a harder target to hit.”

Harry heard the shorter man cursing to himself as he tried to come up with a suitable argument.

“Well,” said the taller man impatiently, “go on then.”

“Look, why should either of us have to risk our necks?” said the smaller man after a short pause.

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re tall.”

“So?”

Harry rolled his eyes. It was like listening to one of those poorly written television shows that Dudley used to watch.

“So, you can just lean out a bit to see if they’re still alive, and neither of us will have to break cover.”

Harry heard only silence as the taller man contemplated his cohort’s suggestion. “All right then,” he finally said. “But keep your wand ready.”

The shorter man must have nodded or something, because the next thing Harry heard was some movement behind the stone separating him from his erstwhile interrogator. As the man took a cautious step forward, it dawned on Harry that in all of the chaos, he had been forgotten. He took another hopeful glance at where his friends had been hiding, but was disappointed to see no sign of life. An angry roar filled his chest. When the hint of a shadow appeared above his head, he swung the Sword of Gryffindor with all his might.

“AAARGH!”

“What happ—”

“MY ARM!”

Suddenly, a flash of red streaked towards the Death Eaters. Harry’s head spun quickly to where it appeared to originate and was greeted by the sight of both Ron and Hermione firing Stunning Spells at their attackers. He was so happy to see them that he almost did not notice the loud pop behind him.

“Damn it!” said Ron. “They’ll be sure to tell others about this.”

“Harry, are you all right?” said Hermione as she stood up.

It took a few moments for Harry to find his voice. “Yeah... yeah... I’m fine. What about you two?”

“We’re fine,” she replied. “They were terrible shots.”

“Not that we’re complaining,” added Ron.

Harry shook his head at their nonchalance.

“What’s wrong, mate?”

“I... I thought you were dead when you stopped firing spells at them.”

Hermione showed some remorse by covering her mouth as she gasped, but Ron only shrugged his right shoulder.

“Sorry, but it was the best I could come up with at the time.”

Harry said nothing and turned away. He knelt on the ground and placed a hand on the large headstone that had separated him from their attackers. In one motion, he leaned over and began to vomit. Hermione took a step towards him, but was held back by Ron, who shook his head when they made eye contact.

When Harry finally stopped, Ron’s voice was soft. “All right there, mate?”

“Yeah... sorry... it’s just...”

“You don’t have to explain,” interrupted Hermione.

“I don’t?” said Harry, standing up and turning around.

“Of course not. It’s perfectly understandable that—AAH! What is that?”

Ron’s mouth fell open as he stared at the gruesome object in Harry’s hand. Apparently, Harry’s aim had been more effective than they thought. The raven-haired Gryffindor pried open the lifeless fingers of the detached arm he had found on the ground and put the wand it had held into his pocket.

“Let’s go before they return with reinforcements,” he said and tossed the amputated limb aside.

It was her fourth night of detention, and Ginny was still perplexed. She was not confused as to why she had detention. In fact, she was only a little surprised that Snape had taken this long to resort to the pettiness he had always shown in his Potions classes. The problem at hand—if it could be called that—was the nature of her punishment. She had feared for the worst when he had told her to “wear something comfortable” the evening he had announced her detention. The Carrows’ perverted cackling rang in her ears during the long walk back to Gryffindor Tower, and her imagination played out horrible scenarios in her mind. When she finally reported to his office later that night, the task that he had set before her was surprisingly harmless. If her memory served her correctly, it was the same one that he gave Harry last year after the confrontation with Draco Malfoy in the girls’ loo. Only thirty-eight boxes of detention records left to sort...

“That is all for tonight, Weasley.”

Ginny looked up from her desk and nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Snape stared at her menacingly, and longer than she expected, forcing her to suppress a shiver. “I trust you have done as instructed and told no one as to the nature of these detentions?”

Ginny nodded obediently. The last thing she wanted to do was give him a reason to escalate her punishment.

“See that you continue to do so. I will know if your tongue loosens.”

“Yes, sir.”

The headmaster returned to the papers on his desk, and Ginny stood up, recognising that she had been dismissed. As she made her way into the corridor, she realised that an added benefit of doing her detentions with Snape was the proximity of the headmaster’s office to Gryffindor Tower. Running into one of the Carrows, who were always looking for any excuse to punish anyone who was not a Slytherin, was unlikely, provided she went directly to the Fat Lady’s portrait.

She had not been tempted to perform an act of defiance since the failed theft of the Sword of Gryffindor. But now... as she looked over both shoulders to ensure she was not being followed, the urge to do so nudged the back of her mind, just as Arnold, her Pygmy Puff, would do to her hand whenever he sought attention.

It did not need to be a brash statement of rebellion, just enough to prove to herself that she had not lost her touch. Enough to prove that her presence here still meant something. The playfulness of personality she shared with Fred and George awoke as she passed by one of the new portraits that the Carrows had put up. She looked around the hallway one more time to verify that she was alone. Satisfied, she stepped closer to the picture.

It was not a very flattering picture of Aello Carrow—Ginny doubted that such a thing was even possible. The witch that had spawned the two most hated members of the current Hogwarts staff had a large, hooked nose that resembled a mutated eggplant. Her hair looked as if it were made of withered seaweed. And, when the portrait smiled menacingly at an observer, its three teeth seemed to gleam a sickly green hue. Ginny was surprised as to how long she could stare at it without either breaking into laughter or looking away in disgust.

The young Gryffindor chuckled to herself as she pulled out her wand. There were so many options to choose from: giving the portrait a new, Gryffindor-coloured wardrobe, removing its hair altogether, or even adding a Snape-like figure for Mrs. Carrow to—ew, never mind. Really, anything she did would be an improvement to student morale, as well as to the picture. And even if she was caught, it was not as if the Carrows could do anything else to her. She already had detention with Snape all term. What was the worst that could happen? She had withstood a Cruciatus Curse from Crabbe or Goyle before; there was no reason to think that she could not do so again. And they would still have to prove that she did it. A little Veritaserum would only reveal... oh, hell. Memories of a certain green-eyed wizard came to mind, and it quickly dawned on her that even this little act of revolt could have potentially disastrous consequences.

Frowning, Ginny put away her wand and turned back towards Gryffindor Tower. The portrait snickered at her, and she gave it an angry two-fingered salute, not even attempting to suppress her Weasley temper. As she finally made some progress back to safer environs, Professor Snape exhaled tiredly from his hiding spot.

Hermione stared uncertainly at her best friend’s back. He was sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped loosely around his legs and his eyes level with his knees. Last year, she would occasionally catch him in this position, staring at the fire in the Gryffindor common room. It felt so natural back then to just sit down next to him and interrupt his brooding. It was not as easy to actually get him to talk about what was on his mind, but at least she felt comfortable around him, unlike now.

Harry had gradually regressed to his solitary ways ever since the battle at the graveyard. She had expected him to pull away, especially when she thought about the manner in which he had procured himself a wand. But she did not predict that it would last this long. It seemed like every day of the past few weeks he spent more and more time outside the tent, just looking off into the distance. And this time there was no longer a Horcrux to blame.

“Are you going to just watch me all day, or did you want to ask me the question that’s on your mind?”

Embarrassed, Hermione stepped through the door of the tent and closed the flap behind her.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Harry shrugged a shoulder, but did not turn around. “It’s all right. I suppose I haven’t been very good company lately, have I?”

“Oh, I don’t know...” said Hermione as she came forward and sat down next to him. “When you’ve actually spent time with us, you’ve been fine.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Harry frown. “Have I really been that bad?”

“I didn’t mind it so much at first,” said Hermione as she looked off into the forest. “After what happened in the graveyard...”

“Yeah...” Harry reflexively looked away from her.

“We’re not judging you,” she said quickly as she turned to him and put a hand on one of his knees. “You did what you had to do.”

“I know...” Harry exhaled tiredly and turned back towards her, but still avoided her eyes. “But it’s not how I expected to get a new wand.”

“Of course not.”

“I just...” His voice trailed off quietly.

“... needed some time to think?” said Hermione with a tilt of her head.

Harry nodded slowly. “Yeah... something like that.”

She chewed her bottom lip, but he said nothing more. She resumed mimicking his pose and wrapped her cloak tightly around herself. Perhaps he had become accustomed to the winter weather, but she definitely had not. With some luck, spring would be breaking through in another two or three weeks. She still wondered how he had lasted nearly a month without the tent. “So... about that question...”

“What question?” Harry turned his head to look at her.

“The one that was on my mind while I was staring at you?”

“Oh. Right...”

Hermione looked at him hopefully.

“Go ahead... Wouldn’t want you to burst from curiosity,” he said as he returned his attention to the forest.

She gave him a small frown that he did not see. “What’s been on your mind lately?”

Harry continued to stare stoically at the trees in the distance.

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not like you were before...”

He adjusted his sleeves, but remained silent.

“Are you shutting us out for a reason?” Hermione finished.

Harry slowly turned his head to look at her. She was relieved to see no trace of anger or resentment in his visage, but was confused by its impassive expression.

“I’ll answer your question on one condition,” he said quietly.

Hermione was so surprised at his response that she let a few moments go by before nodding her assent. “Anything...” she said small voice.

“You have to answer a question that’s been on my mind first.”

“Of-of course.” Her surprise had not abated, but she would have agreed to eating one of Hagrid’s rock cakes if it meant getting some answers from him.

“What’s going on between you and Ron?”

Hermione’s mouth opened a little. “I don’t understand...”

“Ever since you found me again, something’s been... different. You two are nearly as tense around each other as you are around me. And you never try to find time to be alone anymore.”

“Is that... is that one of the reasons you’re always going off by yourself?”

Harry looked down and stared at the ground between his feet. When he turned back to Hermione, she looked as if someone had just stolen Crookshanks, her pet half-breed Kneazle. Eventually, her mouth formed a tight frown, and it looked as if it would never open again. Harry shook his head, although he did not appear to be surprised by her reaction.

As he started to stand, she quickly grabbed his elbow, pulling him back down next to her.

“Wait.”

He arched an eyebrow but did as she requested.

“It’s not that we wanted to deceive you, Harry. We just thought you’d be better off not knowing the truth.”

“Because that approach worked so well for Dumbledore fifth year.”

Hermione glared at him, but his eyes did not flinch.

“I just didn’t want you to feel...”

“What? Angry? Irritated?”

“Guilty.”

Harry could not hide the surprise he felt. “Why would I feel guilty?”

Hermione sighed. “Because that’s who you are. You are ever your friends’ most tireless guardian. You don’t write love letters, and you don’t give fancy speeches. But damn if you don’t take responsibility for every bad thing that happens to us.”

Harry had to raise his eyebrows at her language.

“Sorry, but it’s true and you know it.”

“All right... but what does that have to do with you and Ron?”

Hermione sighed again. Why did she ever agree to his request without hearing what it was first? “Ron... Ron and I are... we’re taking a break.”

“From what?”

She rolled her eyes. If she had still needed proof that he was back to being himself, that would have been it. “From being a couple.”

“Oh...”

“And it’s not because of anything you did. All right?”

Harry nodded, although the blank look on his face prevented Hermione from discerning his true reaction. She took to playing with the grass near her seat as she gathered her own thoughts.

“So... it wasn’t because of me?”

Hermione had to suppress the urge to smack her forehead. “I already said that, didn’t I? We... We just thought it was for the best.”

“But... don’t you two really care about each other?”

“Yes... very much...” Her voice had become very quiet. He could almost taste her sadness. “But what we’re trying to do right now is too important.”

Harry looked down at the ground between his feet.

“I know what you’re thinking,” said Hermione.

“Oh, do you now?”

“Yes. You don’t believe me. You’re thinking of what you said that day you left us petrified on the floor of the tent a few months ago—that we were spending too much time thinking about ourselves instead of our mission.”

“Is that all?” His voice was predictably annoyed.

“Well...”

“Go on.”

“You’re probably also upset because you’ve already had to do the same with Ginny. And you were hoping...”

“... that you two wouldn’t have to make the same sacrifice.” Harry dropped his head, defeated. “I suppose you can lecture me now on how you knew what was best for me after all.”

“No...” Hermione shook her head slightly. “I don’t want to do that. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t right all the time.”

She was greeted with a half-suppressed snort, and she responded in kind by slapping him playfully on the shoulder. At least he had not lost his sense of humour yet. A couple of minutes later, he sighed idly, convincing Hermione that it was safe to resume her inquiry.

“Now then... what have you been brooding about?”

Thankfully, this time he answered without pause. “Wands, actually.”

“Wands? Is there something wrong with yours?”

“You mean other than the fact I got it from a severed limb? Not really, and that’s what’s confusing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s been a long time since my original wand broke...”

Hermione bit her bottom lip in a brief moment of tension.

“... but it feels as if I haven’t had too much difficulty using this wand.”

“Of course not. Why would you?”

“But... Don’t you remember going to Ollivander’s shop and having to try dozens of wands before finding the right one?”

“Yes, like it was yesterday.”

“Then what are the chances that this one would work almost as well as the one Mr. Ollivander found for me – the one whose magical core was supposed to protect me from Riddle?”

Hermione nodded slowly as she let Harry’s arguments soak into her mind. “I think I see what you’re getting at. But is that really a problem? It sounds to me that this unexpected discovery is a good thing.”

“I suppose so... but only to a certain point. I’ve only tested it with rudimentary spells, Wingardium Leviosa and the like. I still don’t know how it will do in a fight. And I certainly don’t expect it to protect me against Vol—”

“Harry!”

“Erm... sorry. Anyway, I can’t tell what kind of core it has—”

“Thestral tail hair, I think.”

“Thanks. But whatever it is, it won’t help when I go up against Riddle.”

“Mmm...” Hermione’s brow furrowed and she reflexively moved her hand to feel the grip of her own wand. “And this is what you’ve been contemplating when you come out here by yourself?”

“Not exactly. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, obviously. But, I only did so after hours of pondering this mission... this quest... We still have too many questions and not enough answers.”

“Agreed.”

“I’ve been going over every memory I have of the time I spent with Dumbledore, and I haven’t been able to come up with any clues. I even read the book Skeeter wrote about him.”

Hermione stared at him incredulously.

“Well, some of it, anyway. Between that and trying to work out what we’re supposed to be doing, I wonder if I ever really knew the man at all.”

Hermione’s face now wore a mask of sympathy. “Harry...”

“Don’t, Hermione. We need answers now, not well-meant assurances.”

“I can’t help it. Whatever we may think of his methods, Dumbledore always had reasons for what he did.”

“I always said he was barmy,” said Ron suddenly as he flopped onto the ground next to Harry.

Hermione jumped slightly in surprise. “Where did you come from?”

“The tent.” Ron shook his head in mock disgust. “And she’s supposed to be the smart one?”

Hermione reached over and took a swipe at her favourite redhead just as Harry bent his head down to avoid getting slapped himself. Ron leaned away to avoid her playful violence, and she practically mauled Harry in her second attempt to smack Ron.

“Oi! Can you two do this later?”

“Sorry,” said Hermione as she resumed a more civilised demeanour.

“Yeah, sorry,” said the youngest Weasley male, although the playful smile on his face said otherwise. Harry could not help but smile too. Ron continued, “Now, where were we?”

“We,” said Hermione, “were discussing what to do next to figure out what Dumbledore wanted us to do.”

“Go on then. I know you already have an idea in mind,” said Ron.

“Well, since you asked...”

The two boys turned and looked at their cerebral friend, and the look on their faces reminded her of their early study sessions from first year. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

“I think we need to get some more information on Grindelwald’s mark.”

“And how do you propose we do that?” asked Harry.

Hermione grimaced. “You might not like this idea.”

“Why not?” said Ron.

“We’d have to go to Ottery St. Catchpole...”

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