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Author: Mr. Intel Story: Harry Potter and the Path of Light Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Abandoned Reviews: 1 Words: 45,919
Harry's sixteenth birthday began without the solitude he'd come to expect over the past fourteen years. He was surrounded by friends and in the only place he considered home outside of Hogwarts. However, the first sounds he heard that day were not 'Happy Birthday' or even 'Good Morning'. His first conscious experience as a sixteen-year-old was listening to the Ghoul in the attic clank and bang with a vengeance. "Someone tell that thing to shut it!" yelled Ron from beneath his blankets as he rolled over to grab another pillow. Harry chuckled to himself. It would have been a rich birthday present indeed to see his aunt and uncle deal with a noisy ghoul in the attic. He let out a sigh and smiled; content to be with his friends at the Burrow. In his mind, things could scarcely be better, but then he remembered Ginny and the fact that they were still somewhat at odds with each other. A thumping of feet could be heard climbing the stairs to the attic, followed by a screech and the quick sound of someone retreating back down. Curious, Harry pulled himself out of bed, put on his dressing robe and peeked out the door. Muffled voices could be heard floating up the hallway as two people exchanged hushed words. It was difficult to hear the conversation, especially because the ghoul would let out a howl just as he started to understand the words. He pulled the door open fully and detected a voice he did not recognize. The unmistakable sounds of Molly Weasley then rang up the stairwell, "Well then YOU deal with the pestilential beast!" A door slammed and he could hear someone sigh. The sound of climbing feet announced that someone was again approaching the attic. Harry briefly thought about going back to bed, but his curiosity kept him glued to the doorway. A witch appeared on the landing below and turned to climb the last flight of stairs. "Oh, hello. You'd be Mr. Potter, then?" She wore a large terry cloth dressing gown, which was composed of alternating patterns of tie-died and plaid material. Her hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail and was as white as Professor Dumbledore's. She wore a comfortable smile on her face and beamed up at him as she made her way to the last landing on the staircase. Her blue eyes were exactly the same shade as Arthur Weasley's. Just as Harry realized he had been staring, she reached his level and shot out a hand in greeting, grabbing his and pumping it merrily. "Jeanie Cornwall, it's a pleasure to meet you." "And you..." he offered weakly. "Who..." he said, eyes scrunched in question. "I'm Arthur's sister," she said with a gleam in her eye. "You can call me Aunt Jeanie, or Aunt Meanie as the twins do." She released his hand and motioned to the attic door. "Little beast has worked himself up quite a bit, hasn't he?" A loud clank echoed through the hall to prove her point. Jeanie cracked her knuckles and flexed her fingers before taking out a wand from her robe sleeve. "I'd best get him sorted out, then. Stand aside, please." Harry obliged her, scooting back into the doorway of Ron's room. The attic door flew open as sparks erupted from her wand. He was shocked to see her congenial face twist into a determined scowl and he realized that it was exactly like the one he'd seen on Ginny's face yesterday. Jeanie ran into the open door and the ghoul's howling and clanking immediately increased in volume and frequency. Various flashes of light could be seen from the opening; red, yellow, orange and gold reflected through the doorway repeatedly until Aunt Jeanie was hurled past a pile of boxes next to the door. She got up, hair smoking, pushed up the sleeves of her robe and said calmly, "I'm not going to take any more of that from you." She shouted a spell that Harry didn't recognize and a shimmering purple light flew from her wand. The ghoul gave a final howl and the house went quiet. So enraptured in the fight between Ron's aunt and the ghoul, he didn't hear the rest of the Weasley family come up the stairs. "Well done, Jeanie!" said Mr. Weasley. "Aunt Jeanie?" questioned a bleary-eyed Ginny. She touched her disheveled hair with her hand and straightened the dressing gown that was twisted awkwardly around her small frame. "Is it really you?" "Hello, my virgin princess," she said sweetly as she cast a loving look her way. Ginny's eyes went wide and she glanced at Harry, reddening deeper than any time Harry had seen her. "Aunt Jeanie! Don't call me that with boys around!" she shouted indignantly. "Besides, you know that's not my real name." Jeanie was nonplussed however, and wrapped her into a hug. "Well it's certainly better than Ginevra," she said with a glance at Arthur. "And the only boys I see are your father, brother and from what you've said in your letters, the boy who treats you like a sister." Ginny pulled herself out of the hug and set her hands on her hips. "I can't believe you! He's right bloody here!" Harry's face heated as he watched the exchange, strangely fascinated by the freckles on Ginny's face. Ron snorted into his hand and Arthur pretended to be busy counting the Knuts in his pocket. "Ginny!" shouted her mum. "Language!" "Don't pretend to be shocked, little one. I know you better than that." Jeanie turned the smaller girl around and marched her down the stairs. "Let's have a nice cup of hot chocolate and we can talk about your boyfriend. Bean?" "His name is DEAN!" shouted Ginny, but even Harry could tell that she wasn't really that angry. "Ginevra?" asked a curious Harry. Arthur cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, well, it's a family name...and I wanted her to go by Ginger, but Molly insisted that the only girl in the family be named something respectable." "I think I'll stick with Ginny," said Harry, anxious to cut off the conversation. "Very sensible," he said with a glance down the stairs. "Now that we're all awake, let's get breakfast on, shall we?" Ron's ears perked up and he quickly followed his father downstairs. As they left, Harry spotted Hermione on the lower landing and walked down to her level. "Ready for a spot of breakfast, then?" Instead of replying she simply smiled. It was the kind of smile that said she knew something that he didn't and Harry was instantly worried. "What?" "Nothing," she chimed innocently. "You'll figure it out eventually." "Is that so?" he said with raised eyebrows. "Let's eat, Harry. I'm starved." Hermione pulled on Harry's arm until they were in the kitchen. They settled into their chairs and tucked into breakfast. Throughout the meal, Harry couldn't help but notice how quiet Ginny was, or the fact that she used her left hand when eating. Was she left-handed? Harry didn't know and the thought was oddly troubling. * Fred and George showed up an hour after breakfast, decked out in dragonskin jackets with matching boots. They were very surprised to see their aunt and cried simultaneously, "Aunt Meanie!" to which she responded by hexing their eyes to pop out of their head every time one of them looked at her. "Ron?" "Yeah, Harry?" "Why do Fred and George call your aunt 'Aunt Meanie'?" Ron sat in one of the sofas in the living room and propped his feet on the worn coffee table. "They didn't always...It's funny really, but ever since they set her hair on fire, she's been sure to hex them straight off." "They set her hair on fire?" asked an incredulous Harry. Sitting in a recliner opposite the boys, Ginny piped in, "When they were four or five, Aunt Jeanie was giving them a bath and got soap in one of their eyes. The other one set her hair on fire and she dunked it right into the bath water." "It took her a week to grow it back properly," added Ron with a chuckle. "But why would she hold a grudge this long?" wondered Hermione from the other side of Ron. "That's easy," said Ginny. "Ever since then, she's cursed them the first time she lays eyes on them. They respect that, and even see it as affectionate, but nonetheless, they steer clear of her and now she doesn't have to worry about running into one of their pranks." "She's the only one they've ever been afraid of," explained Ron. "And she's been 'Aunt Meanie' ever since." * Just before lunch, Mrs. Weasley shooed Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny out into the garden with a picnic basket. "Go and get some fresh air, dears," she explained. "Your Aunt Jeanie and I have some catching up to do." They found a shady spot under a large beech tree overlooking the pond that marked the western edge of the Burrow's property. Ginny had been aloof with him all day and Harry was torn between wanting to have it out with her now versus giving her the space she seemed to need. No matter what he did, their friendship was on the rocks, and that troubled him. It bothered him even more that he didn't know why he cared so much about it. He didn't even know when exactly she was supposed to leave today. Hermione busied herself with unloading the basket, while Ron spread out a large blanket for them to sit on. Harry shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, avoiding Ginny's gaze. "So who wants turkey?" asked Hermione, holding out a clump of sandwiches in her hand. "I've got that and ham." "How about one of each?" offered Ron. Hermione looked sideways at him as she sat on the blanket, not bothering to reply. "I'd like a ham sandwich, please," said Ginny meekly. Suddenly curious, Harry couldn't resist asking, "Is ham your favorite then, Ginny?" "Yes, actually...it is." She then proceeded to take a large bite of her sandwich, effectively halting her ability to speak. "I'm partial to ham myself," said Harry after a moment, stealing a glance at Ginny. Ron and Hermione were busy sorting out the rest of the picnic basket and didn't seem to notice the conversation. Ginny looked up from her sandwich and swallowed. "You do look like a ham kind of guy," she remarked with a small smile. Harry grinned and let his eyes drop to the blanket between them. "When do you have to leave?" Ginny's face fell and she took another bite of sandwich. After chewing on it for what seemed an age, she swallowed and looked back at Harry. "I was supposed to leave by now," she said looking at the Burrow expectantly. "Professor Dumbledore should be by any minute to pick me up. He must have been delayed," she finished with a shrug. "Oh," said Harry a little dejectedly. "How long will you be gone again?" Brightening a little, she said, "About two weeks, Harry." He fidgeted under her gaze and had a hard time swallowing a lump in his throat. "We'll have to talk some more when we get back." "I'd like that. I'd like that a lot, Harry." Still feeling her eyes on him, Harry rubbed his neck nervously and tried to calm his breathing. Then in a fit of bravery caught her eyes with his and said, "Me, too." Someone cleared his throat behind him and Harry could hear Ron say, "Hello, Professor Dumbledore." "Good morning, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger. Enjoying the afternoon sunshine I see," came the Headmaster's reply. As hard as Harry tried, he couldn't break his eyes away from Ginny and she seemed to have similar difficulty. "It's quite pleasant, Professor," said Hermione brightly. A butterfly flew between Harry and Ginny, tumbling around their heads and eventually alighting on Ginny's hand. Harry could see its wings moving, slowly flapping back and forth. Ginny giggled and the butterfly flapped its wings, taking flight once more and flew out of Harry's peripheral vision. She tilted her head, and the air suddenly cleared. A hand appeared on Harry's shoulder and the spell was broken. He looked up to see his Headmaster staring back at him. "I need to take Ginny for a while, Harry. You'll get her back in a couple of weeks." Harry blinked. I'll get her back in a couple of weeks? What did he mean by that? "Okay," he said lamely. Ginny looked reluctant to get up, and did so slowly. Dumbledore had her trunk and bags floating behind him and when she was standing, led them towards the Burrow. Harry stood to watch her leave and after they disappeared from view, slowly leaned into the tree next to their picnic area, watching the clouds as he fell into a post meal stupor. A sound from his left broke his reverie and he turned to see what it was. Hermione and Ron were locked together at the lips, sandwiches forgotten on the blanket. Harry stood there, dumbfounded for a moment and then shook his head clear. An awkward feeling swept over him and he walked away silently and hurriedly toward the pond, wanting nothing more than to be out of the strange air hanging near his friends. * The sun had moved westward in the sky as Harry sat on the opposite shore of the pond near the river that flowed out of it. He threw a pebble from the pile in his hand and watched as it arced over the exposed roots of a willow tree and landed with a splash in the slow moving River Otter. His eyes followed the expanding ripples until they turned a bend and were out of sight. "Hello, Harry," came a cheerful voice from over his shoulder. "Hey, Aunt Jeanie," he said without looking up. She had changed into a set of light green robes that resembled pea soup. Sitting down next to him on the large stump he was using for a seat, she said, "Why the long face?" "It's nothing," came the automatic reply. "Bloody hell it is." If Harry had ever wondered where Ron learned his colorful vernacular, he didn't have to wonder any more. "You've got the weight of the world on your shoulders and no one to share it with," she continued. Harry turned slowly to face her. "What if I don't want to share it?" "Oh, bollocks!" she said clapping her hand down hard on her leg. "If you don't, it'll be you they'll scrape off the ground not that dark tosser." Letting out a little snort despite himself, Harry turned back to look at the river. "At least I'll be with my family then." He expected a witty reply, but it didn't come. Harry looked up at Jeanie and was surprised to see a tear in her eye. "Is that what you think? That you don't have a family here among the living?" She grabbed him in a large hug that was remarkably like the one her sister-in-law had given him over a year ago. "You've got all the family you can handle, Harry Potter. It doesn't matter that Molly didn't give birth to you - she's your mum, which of course means that I'm your Aunt Jeanie, or Meanie, it's up to you." She held him at arms length, examining his face carefully. "You'll always be able to call The Burrow home." With that, she rose to her feet and brushed her robes clean. "Dinner's on, so you might want to think about coming inside in a minute." Then she turned on her heel and walked back towards the house. Harry turned back to the river and fought against a burning sensation in his eyes as he contemplated her words. Wiping at his eyes, he stood and gave one last glance over the slowly moving water before turning back towards the Burrow. * When Harry made it back inside, he had to blink a few times to make sure he hadn't wandered to a different house by mistake. The Burrow's kitchen was covered with colored streamers, bright floating sparklers, and clumps of enchanted faeries. Molly Weasley had worked with Aunt Jeanie to decorate the Burrow's kitchen for Harry's birthday party, but Harry had barely noticed. Even though it was the first true party he'd ever been to, he couldn't seem to focus on it. What consumed his thoughts was not the professional Quidditch robes from Ron and the twins, the dragon-skin boots from Hagrid, or even the set of Dark Arts books that Hermione had given him. It wasn't any of the things that were there, it was something (or more accurately someone) who wasn't there. He hated that they were still at odds, and that he had done something to upset her. Last night had been a rude awakening to the power she held over him. He wanted nothing more than to make things right with her, but he couldn't quite figure out how to accomplish that. This morning, it seemed that although some tension still remained, almost everything was fine between them and he found himself wondering if they had ever been fighting. The only thing he could come to any conclusion about was that girls were generally confusing. After the party was over and Ron had finished off the last of the cake, Harry walked slowly up to his room, still muddling through the days events. Ignoring the concerned looks he knew Mrs. Weasley and Hermione were sending him, he stretched his arms and pushed open the bedroom door. He plopped down on his bed and blew out his breath slowly, letting his stress out with it. A vision of the candle he had been using as a focus for his Occlumency sprang into his mind and he began to build up the mental blocks that were supposed to keep Voldemort out. He pictured it burning slowly, spade-shaped flame moving slightly with the air currents created by its heat. Liquid wax pooled slowly in a hollow at the base of the flame, periodically spilling over the edge in small drops to the base of the polished brass stand. A feeling of protection and security filled his soul as he continued to free his mind of its burdens. Then without warning, new thoughts came unbidden. Ron, Hermione, the Weasleys, and Ginny started to swirl around his head. He saw Ron flying on his broomstick, happy and free. Ron darted in and out of a stand of trees, wind whipping at his hair. Coming over the top of a hill, three men came into view, also on broomsticks. They started to chase him and Harry yelled silently for him to get away. The men changed into dragons and gained on Ron's slowing broomstick. A burst of flame caught the broom's tail and Ron dove for the ground. Harry shouted, "Look out!" as another dragon swooped underneath him to intercept. The dragon opened its large maw and swallowed Ron, broom and all. Then it turned towards Harry and repeated its motions, until Harry too was in the belly of the beast. The vision changed and this time it was Hermione. She was walking alone along a beach, smiling in the sunlight. She began running, dipping her feet in the retreating surf and then running back to dry sand as a new wave approached. A scream echoed through his mind and Hermione turned to see a small boy huddled by a clump of rocks. She ran to him and kneeled down in the sand, stretching her hand out slowly to see if he was okay. As soon as she touched the shaking boy, he transformed into a werewolf. Hermione cried out and ran towards the surf once again. The werewolf was too quick and pounced on her, biting her on the neck. Her body slumped into the sand, now stained with her bright red blood. Tears broke out in Harry's eyes and he attempted to wake out of his trance. A giant fist of iron clamped over his mind when he tried to change the visions in his head. His whole skull throbbed with pain and the more he tried to resist, the more intense the pounding in his mind became. A new vision played in his head, this time of Arthur and Molly Weasley. He could hardly stand to watch as they too met a grisly death. Then the twins, Dumbledore, Seamus, Neville, Luna, and finally, Ginny. A sob erupted from his mouth as she sat in a swing outside the Burrow. Unable to break free from the vision, he was forced to observe her being crushed by a giant. Her broken body faded into a mist and he found himself on the floor of a large stone room. Water trickled down damp walls and pooled by a heavy wooden door. A rat scurried across his vision and he found he could move. This vision was different than the rest, it felt more real and he could even detect the dankness of the air he was breathing. Footfalls echoed in the hall outside the door. Harry scrambled to his feet and the door opened. A dark hooded form hesitated in the frame, starting intently at the boy. "Hello, Mr. Potter," hissed the man. His eyes flashed red in the darkness and he continued, "I had wondered if my little spell was actually working, but then I felt you as you tried to pull away from me and I doubted no longer. Wormtail will be rewarded well for his success." "Where am I?" asked Harry bravely, unwilling to give in to his fear. "How did I get here?" "Patience, Harry, all in good time." Voldemort walked purposefully into the cell, stepping noisily through the puddle and right next to where Harry was standing. Harry moved away unconsciously until his back met the cold stone wall. "This isn't real is it? It's just another vision." "Oh, it's real enough, Harry. You see," he said taking out a long thin wand. "When I kill you here, it will kill your body where it lies in the home of those Muggle lovers." "But my scar..." he said absently rubbing his forehead. "It doesn't hurt." "Your scar was the key to the spell, Harry. Without it, we wouldn't be here." Blanching at the prospect of so easily falling into Voldemort's hands, Harry looked around quickly to see if there was any weapon he could use. He patted at his clothes, searching for his wand, but found nothing. The only other thing in the cell was the puddle of water. "There's no one here to protect you now, boy and you will finally cease to be a thorn in my side." Voldemort's tongue flicked into the air and a smile cracked his scaly face. "I'm a patient wizard Harry, but even immortal beings need to see the fruits of their labor." Strengthening his resolve, Harry straightened his back and thrust his chest out. "You're a coward, Tom Riddle. A coward who hides behind deceit and lies." "Silence!" yelled the Dark Lord. "I am Lord Voldemort! And you will pay for your insolence." He pointed his wand at Harry and yelled, "Crucio!" Harry was thrust into rolling waves of agony. He screamed and fell to the floor, writhing on the slimy rocks. The spell lifted and Harry looked up at his tormentor, breathing rapidly. "You see, Harry. Even here, you are subject to my power. Here you will meet your death." A thought came to Harry and he said, "Where is here anyway? How - how did I get here?" "Ah, curious are you? Well I supposed it won't hurt to tell you before you die." He scratched his chin with a long boney finger. "Wormtail found a spell that would exploit our link." He bent down and stretched his hand towards Harry's head, tracing the lightning-bolt scar with his finger. "Pity I didn't think of it sooner, but nevertheless, here we are." Voldemort stood once more and swept his hand around the room. "This room exists only in our minds, Harry. Linked together as they are, it only took a small spell to force you into it. I, of course, came voluntarily." Harry was beginning to catch his breath and was using Voldemort's distraction to look for a way to escape. "There are only two ways out, Harry. Either I release you, or you die," he said reading his thoughts with a chuckle. Harry thought quickly about what Voldemort had said. If he could somehow use their situation to his advantage, he could at least buy some time. Their eyes locked and Harry straightened up as his resolve returned. "Fine. Then kill me if you have to, but know that I won't be the only thorn in your side, Tom." Anger flashed on Voldemort's face at the mention of his Muggle name. "You are the last of the obstacles keeping me from dominating the wizarding world, Potter," he said, spitting Harry's surname. "Even now, the old fool you cling to for hope and power is at death's door and I will send you across that threshold to greet him." "What are you talking about?" he whispered desperately. "Didn't you know?" mocked Voldemort, pacing back and forth through the puddle on the floor. "Just before I captured you here, I heard the good news. It seems he has weaved his last spell trying to teach that foolish Weasley girl his Transfiguration skills." Harry blanched. "It can't be..." "Oh but it is. So there will be no Dumbledore to come to your rescue, no incompatible wands to protect you, and I will finally be rid of you forever." His eyes were glowing deep red and he brandished his wand yet again. Voldemort walked to the center of the cell and stood to his full height, glaring menacingly at Harry. "Now you will die." Grasping desperately to his last ounce of wit, he raised his hand in sudden inspiration at the Dark Lord and yelled the banishing charm. With an indignant scream, Voldemort was thrown back into the wooden door, cracking it from top to bottom. Harry quickly pointed to the puddle on the floor and said, "Accio!" As the water flew towards his hand, he imagined it floating in front of him, shaping into a thin disc. Then, stretching his mind back to one of last year's Transfiguration lessons, changed the water into steel. Now back on his feet, Voldemort was fuming in anger and immediately shot a purple spell at Harry. He grabbed the disc by its edges and moved it to intercept the spell. With a loud gong the light rebounded, carving out a hole in the ceiling and Harry was sent sprawling to the floor. Recovering quickly, Harry sprang back to his feet and faced down the Dark Lord once more. Another spell, this one blue hit the shield and reflected back to its caster. This time Harry stood his ground, but his hands rang from the impact. Voldemort sneered, flicking his wand ever so slightly, and the polished disc was wrenched from Harry's hands, flying to the back of the cell with a clatter. Now defenseless, Harry tried to keep his opponent off guard by shooting as many wandless spells he could think of. But every spell was swatted away easily and soon Harry's breath came in short gasps as he struggled to stay on his feet. "Very good, Mr. Potter. I never would have imagined that you could become such a worthy opponent." Another flick of the wand and Harry was paralyzed, only able to continue his labored breathing and stare his tormentor in the face. "To think that I actually once pictured you as a threat to me," said the dark wizard to himself. "It's only a pity that no one will be here to witness this final moment of glory." Harry continued to breathe rapidly, but he couldn't move, couldn't speak and there was no one to help him out of this trap. Then, as he was about to give into his despair, the room blurred and Voldemort was knocked off his feet. "No!" he screamed. "This can't be possible!" Again the room blurred, this time shaking with some unseen power and Voldemort disappeared with a loud crack. Then the room faded and Harry was pulled from the cell completely, landing on a hard wooden floor. Then his world went dark. * Harry awoke to the sounds of whispered conversation. He propped himself up on his elbows and his head swam, forcing him back down to his pillow. "Oh, Harry's awake," announced Mrs. Weasley. "Just lie down, dear. You'll be woozy for a little while." "What happened?" he asked weakly. "How did I get back here?" "You need to rest, Harry," came Arthur's voice. "There will be time to talk about everything later." "No," said Harry with all the force he could muster. "Voldemort said something about Dumbledore dying." He looked around the room, but without his glasses, could only make out the fuzzy shapes of the Weasleys. "Is he all right?" Even through his blurry vision, he could detect the uncomfortable looks the elder Weasley's were giving each other. "He's alive, at any rate," said Arthur at length. "But he's going to die, right?" said Harry desperately. "That's what Voldemort said. That he used a spell to teach Ginny some Transfiguration and was going to die." Mrs. Weasley sat down on the edge of his bed and patted his hand. "Now, Harry," she said with confidence. "He'd not dead now and I somehow doubt a learning spell would put the most powerful wizard in the world on death's door." Harry continued to look up at Molly and sighed. "You're right... It's just that Voldemort..." "One thing you should know well by now is that the Dark Lord dwells in lies, Harry." Arthur's shape moved towards the bed where he lay. "Perhaps he simply heard what he wanted to hear and used that to torment you even more." Harry didn't say anything, but sank down deeper into his bed. Voldemort was notorious for deception, a fact that he had learned sharply when Sirius had been killed because Harry had believed in one of his visions. "Let's give him some time to rest, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley, getting up from the bed. But Harry didn't want to rest. He needed to know what happened to Dumbledore and how Ginny figured into all of this. How did Voldemort know about Dumbledore's condition and why was Dumbledore teaching Ginny Transfiguration? Half an hour later, the door cracked open and Ron's head poked into the door. Harry grabbed around for his glasses and thrusting them on his face, saw Hermione shutting the door behind her. "Hey, Ron, Hermione." "Heya Harry," said Ron quietly. "We didn't want to wake you..." Harry brightened a little. "No, it's fine, I wasn't really tired anyway." Hermione led the way to sit on Ron's bed across from Harry. Ron leaned back on the bed, his arm behind Hermione. "We tried to come see you earlier, but Molly didn't want us to disturb you," explained Hermione. "What's going on?" said Harry quickly, sitting upright in the bed. "What happened to Dumbledore? How did I get out of Voldemort's trap? Where's..." "Hang on, Harry, we'll explain everything we can, just give us a chance," said Ron. Harry blew out a breath, as he was now panting slightly from his exertion. "Okay, but I want to hear everything." "Maybe you should tell us what happened to you, Harry," said Hermione, who was nervously picking at the hem of her dress. "Then we can fill in the blanks from what we know." "Alright." Harry swung his legs around so they were folded underneath him and leaned onto them with his elbows. "I was practicing my Occlumency when I started to have these...visions.... They started with you two and then the all the Weasleys. In each vision I watched all of you die. Dragons, werewolves, Giants, Trolls...It was horrible. I tried to pull my mind away from them but something kept me from leaving...like a huge hand or something." Harry took another calming breath and closed his eyes to push away the awful visions. "Then after I saw Ginny die, I was taken to this room...well, it was more of a cell, really...and Voldemort walked in." Ron flinched at the mention of his name, looking to the floor but Hermione kept her attention on Harry. "He told me that the place we were in had something to do with our link and that he used some kind of spell to force me there. He told me that Dumbledore was about to die and then we dueled..." Harry trailed off, reliving the fresh memory. "I knocked him down with a wandless banishing charm, but he was just too powerful." Harry looked Ron and Hermione in the eye. "I couldn't beat him..." He hung his head and tightly grasped at his unruly hair with both hands. "Harry," said Hermione solemnly. "No one is expecting you to beat him...And even if they did, you can't do it alone." Something inside Harry came together and he made a decision that he had been holding off on since the beginning of the summer holidays. "You're wrong, Hermione. I am expected to kill him." Hermione blanched and Ron said, "What do you mean, Harry?" "The prophecy." "The one that Neville dropped and no one heard?" asked Ron. "Yeah...but that was just a copy." Harry explained. "I saw the real thing. In Dumbledore's Pensieve." "What does it say?" asked Hermione anxiously. "No, wait! I don't think we should hear it. It you tell us, that's one more thing Voldemort could use if he captured one of us." Harry shook his head and sighed. "That's why I didn't tell you sooner. But I realized something when I was fighting him tonight." He ran a shaky hand through his hair in an effort to smooth it out and continued. "I realized that I need you guys with me for this whole thing. I need your help to beat him because if I don't, no one will be able to." The three friends stared at each other in silence as Harry's word sank in. When it became clear that no one was going to say anything, Harry began speaking again. "The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies ..." Harry's voice trailed off into nothingness and once again, silence reigned among the three friends. At length, Ron was the first to recover and said, "How do you know it's you, Harry? How come it's not someone else born on July 31st ? There must be loads of people..." "I thought that too, Ron but it's not," he said with finality. "Dumbledore said that there were two boys born at the end of July that could have been the one mentioned in the prophecy. Me and Neville." "Neville!" exclaimed Ron. "How could he think it would be Neville?" Hermione shook her head and patted Ron's hand. "Ron, he was a baby at the time, and the Longbottoms were famous Aurors. It could have easily been Neville." "Blimey, Harry," said Ron in awe. "Just think. If it was Neville with that scar on his forehead, then you'd be just an ordinary wizard..." "Yeah," said Harry, trying to not long too much for that particular fantasy. "I've thought about that quite a bit since I heard the prophecy." "It's the scar, isn't it?" asked Hermione knowingly. "That's how he marked you." "Yeah...and supposedly how he gave me power 'he knows not'," mocked Harry. "But it obviously wasn't enough tonight." "Harry," soothed Hermione. "There's a reason Dumbledore is the only one Voldemort's ever feared." Ron flinched again and Hermione smiled. "It's because he knows how to use the power he's got. You're only sixteen and can't be expected to just walk up to Voldemort and kill him. If it was that easy, he'd be long dead." "But Hermione, I don't even know what the power is! Dumbledore said something about me having love inside of me, but how do I kill him with that? How do I defeat the most evil wizard in fifty years with love?" She blinked and dropped her gaze to the floor. "I don't know," she said quietly. "But we'll figure it out, Harry. We can't let him win." "We won't... that's why I need your help. I need to figure out what this power is I have inside me and use it against him before he kills anyone else..." Harry couldn't finish the sentence, knowing that he would cry if he started to talk about Sirius. "So tell me what happened to me while I was here. How did you find me?" Hermione started, "Well, we heard you screaming and came up to see what the problem was. I guess that's when you were having the visions of us...dying," she said almost to herself. Then looking back up at Harry, she continued, "We tried to wake you, but nothing worked. It was like your mind wasn't even here." "It wasn't," pronounced Harry. "That's what he said, anyway. That my body was here and my mind was in that room. He said if he killed me there, I would die here." With a grimace, Hermione continued, "Well, Ron ran to get his parents and they immediately sent Bill to get Dumbledore. Arthur tried several spells, and Molly made a special wakefulness potion, but nothing we did seemed to work." Ron broke into the story eagerly. "Bill came back and said that Dumbledore was sick and wouldn't be able to come. That's when Hermione had one of her brilliant moments." Ron beamed at her, while Hermione blushed graciously. "It wasn't entirely my idea," hedged Hermione. "Aunt Jeanie was the one who suggested that we combine the two spells." "But you're the one that remembered You-Know-Who was using Legilimency to break into Harry's mind," argued Ron. "And it was Bill who offered to perform the shield spell while we merged the Occlumency in with it," said Hermione, seeming to forget that Harry was even there. "Why can't you just take some credit, Hermione? Why do you have to be so bloody noble about it?" Hermione huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "Hey," offered Ron. "I just think you're brilliant and want everyone to know about it." She smiled and turned back to Ron, "Thanks, Ron." They grinned at each other and Ron moved his hand to her back as they leaned into one another. Harry became increasingly uncomfortable and loudly cleared his throat. Ron's hand froze and they both abruptly turned to face Harry. "So, care to explain the whole spell thing?" he asked nervously. "Sorry about that," said Hermione primly. "Where were we?" "Merging spells..." "Right. Well, it's really rather simple, using Arithmetic vectoring, you can merge any number of spells together." "Like a strengthening spell and a warming charm on your shoes," interjected Ron. "Exactly like that," continued Hermione. "Except instead of casting two spells, you mix them so the magic is bound together, making the individual spells even stronger." "So you merged Occlumency with a shield spell," asked a still perplexed Harry. "Occlumency isn't a spell though..." "Exactly the problem we had at first," said Hermione. "We had to make a few adjustments, but we were finally able to figure out how to project the theory behind Occlumency into the shield spell cast." Harry's head was spinning. "Project... thoughts?" "Right," said Hermione excitedly. "Like when you put memories into a Pensieve. Instead of drawing out your memories, you push your thoughts into the spell, and using the right vectors, you can combine them together." Hermione folded her hands on her lap as if everything was perfectly clear. "So what does that mean, again?" asked Ron, verbalizing the very question Harry still had. "It means...," Hermione said with a contemplative pause and a gesture towards Harry's head. "That Harry is now shielded from Voldemort's ability to attack his mind but we don't know exactly how long the spell will last. It's one of the things about combining spells... if they work at all, you never know when they will stop." "So Voldemort could attack me again if this spell wears off, and you would have no idea when it happened?" "That pretty much sums it up," said Hermione. "But Bill said something about Dumbledore teaching you Occlumency in a couple of weeks, so we just have to wait until then." "Occlumency didn't do me a whole lot of good," said Harry hotly. "If you recall, I was in the middle of practicing when he attacked me." "Easy, mate," said Ron. "Maybe Snape just didn't teach it to you right..." Harry considered this for a moment and said, "Yeah, maybe you're right... But I still think I'm going to need something more powerful than some relaxation techniques to keep Tom Riddle out of my head." He turned to Hermione and asked, "Is there a way to make the spell you cast permanent?" Hermione shook her head. "Unfortunately no. We can boost the power, but the spells just aren't stable enough to last for long periods of time. That's why you don't see it done more often. Professor Vector only ever taught us the theory, so I'm surprised it worked at all." After thinking about it for a moment, Harry decided that there was little he could do about it at the moment. The conversation seemed settled, so he moved on to his next question. "So Ron's Mum is 'Molly' now?" Harry asked Hermione lying down on his pillow. Ducking her head, Hermione muttered to herself then looked back up. "She said that she considered me family and that I should call her Mum or Molly. Since I already have a mum, I thought that would be a bit much to call her that..." "I see," said Harry, working hard to control his voice. "So this doesn't have anything to do with you and Ron kissing down by the river earlier?" This time Ron's face flamed and he said, "You... you saw that?" "Yeah, I saw it, Ron," he intoned steadily. Hermione glanced at Ron nervously and said, "We...um, came to a sort of... understanding, Harry." Pausing for a moment to consider their words, he said, "Go on." Ron spoke next, "We're sort of... dating." "Sort of?" questioned Harry a little peevishly. "What does that mean exactly?" Hermione threw a pillow at Harry and said, "It means I'm his girlfriend, you ninny!" Harry finally broke down and began chuckling. Ron didn't quite understand what was happening, but eventually joined in, nervously at first, and then with full fits of laughter. As the laughing died down, Harry threw the pillow back at Hermione, hitting her square in the face. "Good to see you finally asked her out, Ron," said Harry with a smile on his face. "Yeah, well, it wasn't exactly like that..." said Ron, finally sitting up again. "You mean, Hermione asked you out?" puzzled Harry. "No, he means that after I admitted I... liked him, he couldn't say anything for ten minutes," explained Hermione with a smirk. "After a while, I got peeved and got up to leave. He grabbed my hand and wouldn't let me go, so I sat back down. "He looked over to me and said, 'You like me?'" just like that." She was giggling now and Ron simply looked mortified. "I said, 'Do you need me to spell it out for you?' and after a moment, he said, 'I like you too.'" Hermione rolled her eyes and huffed mockingly. "It was like talking with a five-year-old!" The smile on her face told Harry that she wasn't the least bit angry. "So, about the...uh, kissing..." said Harry, suddenly nervous again. "Harry, if you have a problem with kissing, then we'll just have to get you someone to snog with," offered Ron with a grin to match Hermione's. "What do you mean by that?" asked Harry, feeling the color drain from his face. Ron laughed. "Nothing... just that I know you'd be more accepting of the situation if you were... distracted." "Well, I don't care if I'm dating the most beautiful girl in Hogwarts, I won't be able to stomach watching you two swapping spit." Shivering at the mental image, he said "Eugh" under his breath. "Seriously now, I'm glad you two are together, I think it's grand. I want you to follow this as far as it can go, but I don't want to watch, okay? Let me clarify that. Little kisses are okay. I really don't want to watch wrestling tongues, and that's all that I'm going to say on that topic." "We'll see, Harry," said Hermione with a twinkle in her eye. "Something tells me the right girl will change your mind about kissing." "Yeah, right," Harry guffawed. "Kissing is just about good for nothing, if you ask me." "You just had a bad experience last time," explained Hermione. "Perhaps Katie Bell, or... someone closer to home would make things more enjoyable?" Now Harry's face flushed full. "Something you want to tell me, Harry?" asked Ron with a wicked grin. Harry rolled out of bed and punched him solidly on the arm. "You prat!" They laughed together and Harry felt winded from the effort to scold his friend. Hermione had to scoot out of their way and was at the corner of Ron's bed, but was still smiling. The door opened and Mrs. Weasley came in the room with a tray of tea. "Ronald Weasley! I told you not to disturb Harry and here you are wrestling with him in your bed!" She set the tray down on the end of Harry's nightstand and shooed at Ron and Hermione until they were out the door. "Sorry about that, Harry," she said, helping him back into bed. "You just drink some of this tea and get some sleep." Still thinking about his conversation with Ron and Hermione, he only nodded in acknowledgment and took a sip of tea from the warm mug. Mrs. Weasley fussed with his blankets and took the tray with her as she left. Harry drank some more of the warm liquid and stared at the ceiling. As the day finally came to an end, he let sleep pull on his eyes until he couldn't keep them open. Putting his half-full mug on the nightstand, Harry curled into his blankets and fell asleep.
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