Chapter Twenty-Four
Revelations
Harry gaped, the blood pounding in his ears. “What the—”
“Surprised to see me?” Hermione asked.
Harry tried hard to come up with a complete sentence, but all that came out was, “But— you— no—”
“Yes, Harry, me,” Hermione said and Harry didn’t recognize her voice. It was too low, too threatening, too mad. It wasn’t the Hermione he’d known.
“No!” he screamed and lunged at her.
Her wand was drawn and she flicked it, mumbling something, sending Harry crashing into the wall inside the room. Steel bands immediately wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles.
“And you brought your friends,” Hermione said, chuckling. “Muggles! How nice of you.”
“Don’t touch them,” Harry screamed at her. “Don’t you hurt them or I’ll—“
“Or you’ll what?” Hermione asked. “You are no match for me. You never were, not back at Hogwarts and especially not now, when you haven’t done magic in years.”
She flicked her wand again and Myra and Darius came soaring into the room and they were both slammed into the wall, just as Harry had been. Darius’ his head slammed hard into the wall and he fell unconscious to the floor.
“Darius!” Myra cried.
“Oh do shut up, you drama queen,” Hermione said, placing a full body bind on her. She fell next to Darius, her eyes still wide open and afraid.
“Where is Draco?” Harry asked. When Hermione didn’t reply immediately, he screamed, “Answer me!”
“Harry, Harry, Harry,” said Hermione. “You really aren’t in a place to demand things.”
“Where is he?”
Hermione’s eyes narrowed at him. “Why would you want to see him? He’s a murderer.”
Harry’s blood froze to ice and his heart stopped. “What are you talking about?” he asked, although he suddenly had an idea of just what this was all about.
“He murdered Ron!” Hermione said and flicked her wrist again. “Emolio.”
A large structure began moving and Harry’s eyes widened at the sight of Draco, clad in a black robe and strapped to a large, wooden circle by his wrists and ankles. He was clearly unconscious, his head bobbing from side to side as the structure moved. There were cuts and bruises covering every inch of visible skin. Harry struggled against the metal holding him prisoner.
“He didn’t murder Ron,” Harry said, knowing that he had to at least try to talk sense into her. “Death Eaters murdered Ron, not Draco.”
“Malfoy killed him!” Hermione said, not listening to Harry. “He lured him outside and killed him. He’s a cold blooded murderer!”
“He was cleared of all charges,” Harry said. “Dumbledore said he wasn’t guilty.”
“Dumbledore was a fool,” Hermione said and her voice held a hatred that Harry had never heard before. It scared him, made his blood run cold.
“Dumbledore was the greatest wizard of his time,” Harry withheld. “Draco was framed; his father and Voldemort wanted him to prove his allegiances and when Draco refused to kill Ron, they killed Ron instead, with Draco’s wand!”
“No,” Hermione screamed back at him. “You’re wrong! And today I’ll show you. He’s brainwashed you, don’t you see? It is what he does – he did it to Ron, to make Ron follow him outside, so that he could kill him. He’s a murderer! I’ll show you. Accio knife.”
Harry’s heart stopped again. “What are you doing, Hermione?”
“I told you,” she said, “I’m going to show you that he’s guilty. That he did murder Ron, my love.”
“Hermione—”
“Don’t ‘Hermione’ me,” she snapped at him, advancing at him with his knife. “You should be thankful for this. You will be thankful for this, because by the end of this day, he will be dead and you’ll be Harry again, the Harry who’s not brainwashed.”
She was standing a bit too close for comfort with the knife, but Harry would rather have her here than anywhere near Draco. He just had to keep her talking, until he could figure out a way to get out of there.
“You’ll be happy with me,” Hermione whispered. “It will be the three of us again.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to bring him back, Harry,” Hermione said. “Ron. With his murderer’s blood, I will bring him back to life. Then we can be together again.”
“You’re insane!”
Hermione whipped around and the knife slashed through the skin of his cheek before he had time to react. The pain came a second later and he felt blood start flowing from the new wound. He held back a scream.
“Don’t say that,” she hissed at him.
She turned around and walked over to Draco. “Enervate.” She glanced over at Harry. “This process is painful. We wouldn’t want him asleep for it.”
Draco barely stirred, his eyes opening to look hazily around. He didn’t raise them enough to see Harry; he slumped back, his chin resting on his chest.
“Draco,” he whispered, but Draco didn’t react to his voice. He looked at Hermione and asked, “What are you doing, Hermione?” He had to keep her talking.
“Oh, I’m not doing anything,” said Hermione, smiling. There was a mad glint in her eyes. “It does everything by itself now.”
“What are you—”
“You never were all that good at listening in school,” Hermione said. “Potions was good, sometimes. Did you know that part-Veelas react very differently to a lot of potions than a regular human?”
The colour drained from Harry’s face. “You were poisoning him,” he whispered.
“Not quite,” Hermione said. “For a human, the potion would have been a harmless painkiller and help for healing. For a Veela, or part-Veela, however, the draught works very differently. It destroys the pain by severing the contact between the body and the soul. So the body still feels the pain, but the soul doesn’t. Problem is that if you take it for too long, it will separate your body and soul entirely and they won’t be able to patch themselves together again. That’s why it’s called the Draught of the Dementors by the Veelas. It takes the Veela’s soul away.”
Harry felt sick. He’d helped Hermione, albeit unknowingly, in her sick schemes. He should have checked the potion more carefully – he should have listened in potions.
Hermione continued without noticing the rage building up within Harry, or perhaps she did and she didn’t care. “I’m going to exchange Malfoy’s soul for Ron’s.”
“You can’t bring back the dead,” Harry said, his voice shaking.
“Don’t you want him back? I saw how tortured you were, Harry,” Hermione said, taking a few steps towards him again. “We loved him. There were so many who loved him. It was never fair that Malfoy got to live and Ron died – and today, I’m going to correct that.”
“Life isn’t fair!” Harry said to her. “Ron is dead, you have to accept that.”
“No!” Hermione snarled at him and whirled back to Draco. She raised her wand and pointed it at Draco at the same time as she started chanting.
“You were the one who blew up our apartment, too,” Harry said loudly, wanting to – needing to – disrupt her spell.
Hermione lowered her wand and glared at Harry. “I was frustrated. You quit with the potion and I was tired of waiting. I wanted him dead. Making a bomb was simple enough.”
“You nearly killed me instead,” Harry said.
Hermione frowned. “You weren’t supposed to go in there. If you had just stayed outside, none of this would have happened.”
“But why kill him? You wouldn’t have been able to bring Ron back. And where does Mona fit into everything?”
He kept his eyes on Hermione, who was now turned towards him again. In the corner of his eye, he saw Draco stir again, moving slightly. It got his hopes up; as long as Draco was moving he was still alive.
“Ah, Mona,” Hermione said and she smirked in a fashion that was eerily like Draco’s. “She was my protégé.” At Harry’s frown, she continued, “At Hogwarts. You wouldn’t remember, but in our seventh year, she was in her third year and she was quite— troublesome. Had problems at home and in school. I was assigned to help her out and she became better. But then he—“ she whirled around and pointed at Draco again “—killed Ron and I stopped helping her. She became worse and was thrown out of Hogwarts after beating up one of the other girls in her year. She didn’t fare any better in the Muggle world – she wouldn’t shut up about the Magical world and Hogwarts, and she was subsequently placed in psychiatric care. It was just a coincidence that she happened to have a crush on ‘Harry Evans’ and that she stumbled into our lives so timely.”
“Yes, I bet it fit in well with your plans,” Harry spat at her. “Someone to blame things on.”
Hermione shrugged.
Harry continued, “But then she became ‘troublesome’ again when she found out about your plan to kill Draco.”
“She was ungrateful,” Hermione said, narrowing her eyes. “She always was. In school, I helped her bring up her grades and she thanked me by beating up a fellow student. After your apartment blew up, I offered her a place to stay when the police started looking for her and she thanked me by running away to you to tell you of my ‘evil plans’.”
“So you found her and stopped her from talking by cursing her,” Harry said, letting his disgust show. “Is she dead?”
“Yes,” Hermione said simply, not sounding the least bit bothered by it. Then she snapped, “Enough talking. It is not what we’re here for.”
She walked over to the other side of the room and brought out her wand again. Mumbling a spell, a large casket suddenly came floating through the air. Harry swallowed. He had a feeling he knew what – or rather, who – was in that casket.
He noticed Hermione’s hands were shaking as she brought the casket into the middle of the room, directly in front of the structure where Draco was bound.
From the floor, Harry heard a soft sigh. He looked down to see Darius’ eyelashes fluttering, but then he went still again.
Hermione walked over to Draco and brought her hand up to cup his bruised cheek, the gesture almost loving.
“And now,” she hissed at him, “you die.”
She flicked her wand and the lid of the casket came off. Harry nearly threw up as he saw the body of his former best friend, frozen in time. Ron’s hair was still the vivid Weasley-red, his skin pale and lightly freckled. His lips were blue, his whole body still. He was dead; why couldn’t Hermione see and accept this?
Still, a part of him wondered if it was possible. Could they bring him back? Could it work?
Another flick of her wand and Ron was lifted from the casket, hanging freely a foot up in the air. Hermione flicked her wand and the robe covering Draco’s upper body disappeared. Hermione brought out her knife again and placed it at Draco’s left shoulder.
“No!” Harry screamed, struggling against his binds.
A pained gasp and weak struggling came from Draco as Hermione drew the knife from the left shoulder to the right as she chanted. Harry couldn’t see how deep the cuts were, but by the way Draco’s blood started pouring out, dripping down onto the floor, he could only assume they were deep. Then Hermione took the knife and cut from the base of his throat down to his navel. Harry felt sick, the need to throw up strong. He continued to fight for his freedom, but the binds held him.
Hermione moved back and over to Ron.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and slashed his wrist, just barely. No blood came; it was frozen with Ron’s body.
Hermione stepped away, chanting in a language Harry didn’t recognize. Her eyes were closed. Slowly, Ron and Draco began moving closer together, drawn by magic. The blood dripping from Draco’s body splattered on the ground and light started coming from it. It was soon blinding and Harry felt his eyes watering. He would not look away.
Suddenly, Draco’s body seemed to be splitting. The light, the life, left Draco’s body and it slumped down as his soul was drawn out.
“No!” Harry screamed, fighting to be free.
Another form was coming up from the light and Harry recognized Ron’s form.
Then all of a sudden, a form leaped from the ground and tackled Hermione. Darius had woken up.
Hermione fell to the ground, screaming.
“No! Not now! Noo!” she yelled fighting Darius. The knife cut through Darius’ chest and he screamed.
The forms of Draco and Ron’s souls seemed oblivious to the fight going on. They seemed to be looking at each other. Ron was— smiling? Harry wasn’t sure, but it looked like it. Tears filled Harry’s eyes as Ron turned to him instead.
‘I never blamed you.’ Harry heard Ron’s voice in his head; it was telepathy because Ron’s lips weren’t moving. ‘You were the best friend anyone could have.’
“Ron!” Hermione screamed, her attention on him for a second. Darius took the opportunity to land a punch over her face.
Ron turned to Hermione and looked at her coldly. ‘You are not yourself,’ he said to her. ‘This is wrong. He's not the man who murdered me.’
Her eyes widened. “He is!” she screamed. “He lured you outside and killed you! Then he left school! He was guilty!” Her voice was hoarse with tears.
Ron shook his head at her. ‘No, he wasn’t. The only thing he’s guilty of is wanting to be my friend.’
“No!” Hermione screamed, pushing Darius off. Darius was momentarily stunned when he slammed his head on the ground.
‘Now I have to return,’ Ron said. ‘Don't try this again. I don't wish to be brought back. I had a good life and wonderful friends; my wishes for my life were fulfilled.’
“No,” Hermione said, her voice suddenly hoarse. “No, no, you can’t leave! I need you! I—”
Ron smiled at her. ‘We’ll be together soon, Hermione. I loved you, too.’
Then he began sinking into the light on the ground again. With a last hand movement, he pushed Draco’s soul. Draco’s soul seemed to stumble back into his body, absorbed at once.
“Noo!” Hermione screamed, falling to the ground, her fists slamming into the ground, where the light disappeared more and more until it was gone and the room became dark again. She sobbed, “No…”
“Hermione, release us, it’s over,” Harry said pleadingly. “It’s over.”
She looked up and he was frightened by the madness in her eyes. “No, it’s not over! He’s guilty! He did all this!”
She got to her feet and pointed her wand at Draco again. “Crucio!”
A hoarse scream rippled through Draco’s throat and his body shook under the curse.
Myra was crying and screaming herself, as much as the body bind would allow her to.
Then she was thrown aside again as Darius charged at her again. The wand fell from her hand and landed just next to Harry. Hermione struggled against Darius, trying to push the knife through him again. She swung her other arm at Darius in an attempt to punch him. He was bleeding profusely from the knife wound she’d given him earlier and didn’t have time to duck. He staggered away from her, almost falling to his knees, but picking himself up just before his knees touched the ground.
With one last gathering of strength, he launched himself at her.
The room suddenly went very quiet.
Hermione staggered back. The knife was deeply imbedded in her chest and blood was pouring from the wound. She tripped over her wand and fell to the floor, hitting her head hard on the stonewall. Groggily, she struggled to sit up, to get her wand and heal herself. But she didn’t reach it; instead, she fell back again and lay still on the ground. The blood pooled around her.
Darius fell to his knees, both hands grasping his chest, his breathing laboured.
“Darius!” Harry yelled at him.
“Harry,” he whispered.
Hermione’s magic was weakening and suddenly, the binds holding Harry released him. Myra was set free from her body bind and she crawled over to Darius.
“No—” she whispered, taking him in her arms and pressing her hand against his chest. “No, no, no.”
“I’ll be— fine,” Darius whispered to her. “Don’t worry— about me—”
She cried, her tears falling on Darius’ face.
“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes closing.
“No! Darius! Don’t say that! Don’t— you’re not—” she sobbed, holding his lifeless body closer.
Harry ran over to Draco’s side. “Draco.”
Draco’s eyelids fluttered open. “Harry,” he whispered, before he closed them again. “I’m sorry— I shouldn’t have— brought you into this—”
Harry brought out his wand and unlocked the chains holding Draco. He slumped forward into Harry’s arms.
“Stay awake, just stay awake,” Harry said to him, holding him tightly against his chest.
“I love you.”
Harry closed his eyes and held back a sob. Crying wouldn’t help.
“Harry, help him!” Myra cried from her place next to Darius. Harry saw Darius’ unconscious form in her arms, bleeding just as much as Draco was.
“Hold him a moment longer and I’ll be back in a second,” Harry said.
Then he Apparated, hoping that he still had enough magic within to do it.
The ward of St Mungo’s was busy. “Help me!” he screamed and everyone stopped. Within seconds, Healers had come up to him and they took Draco out of Harry’s arms. Two Aurors came to him as well and he begged them to come with him. He told them where they were to Apparate to and a second later, Harry found himself with the two Aurors back in Hermione’s room.
“Take them to St Mungo’s,” Harry said, pointing at Myra and Darius. “He was stabbed by a knife. And send more Aurors here.”
The Aurors nodded. Without asking any questions, they took Myra and Darius in their arms – Myra still sobbing and Darius unconscious – and Apparated away.
Harry walked over to Hermione, slowly, his feet feeling as heavy as lead. He had to get back to St Mungo’s, but he couldn’t do it before he knew that Hermione was truly dead. Somehow, it felt like he still owed her that much.
She was still breathing shallowly, her chest heaving. Blood was still oozing from her wound.
“Now you’ll get to be with him,” he said.
She looked up at him and her eyes were suddenly clearer, the madness that had filled them before now gone or at least diminished.
“I’m sorry, Harry,” she said.
Harry closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again. “Not nearly as sorry as I am.”
She grasped for him and he took her hand, not quite sure of why he was doing it, but doing it nonetheless; she had been his best friend after all. She attempted a smile at him, but it came out more as a grimace. Then she drew a last, shuddering breath before her body went completely still. The hand in Harry’s became limp.
“Good bye, Hermione,” Harry said, placing a hand over her eyes and closing her eyelids. Then he stood up, feeling more exhausted than he had ever before.
He Apparated away, knowing that the Aurors would take care of everything else. Now he had to get to Draco. His heart filled with dread of what he would find at St Mungo’s. Flashes of Darius and Draco ran through his mind.
He arrived at the same place as he’d been before, the people still milling about.
“Mr Potter,” said a woman, tapping his shoulder gently.
“Yes?” he asked.
“I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
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