The Winterscapes

The Winterscapes - Chapter Fourteen

Dumbledore was not sitting at the High Table at supper when the students returned from the Easter holiday. Neither was Harry anywhere to be found. Hermione and Ron were now resigned to the fact that he was keeping something from them, so they dug into their suppers without so much as a shrug in the other's direction. Near the end of the meal, Professor McGonagall came down from the High Table and tapped them both on the shoulder. "Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, when you are done will you please accompany me to the Hospital Wing?" Then they exchanged worried expressions.

Professor McGonagall would not answer their questions. She merely led them to the Hospital Wing, opened the door, and, once inside, went into a private room and brought out Professor Dumbledore. "Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger, how good it is to see you. I hope you enjoyed your holiday." They nodded. "Good, good. Now, you are here because I must speak to you about Harry. You are his closest friends, though perhaps this year has been more difficult than usual for the three of you. The first thing you should know is that Harry is going to be fine. Perhaps we should sit down?"

He went on, "Now, the beginning ... As you know, Voldemort has been attempting to regain his old power in the years since he returned to his body. Fortunately, he never quite achieved that goal. I knew that if I, along with other members of the Order, confronted him directly, we would be likely to win. Unfortunately, confronting him was never so simple. He held his meetings, conducted his raids, and certainly lived from day to day, but no location charm could find him. He could only be found by those loyal followers who are linked to him. But Harry, although not a loyal follower, has a link to Lord Voldemort."

"His scar!" Ron said.

"Precisely, Mr. Weasley. The link between Voldemort and Harry is a very old magic that is difficult to understand, but one thing that we know about it is that it works both ways. It was Professor Dagmar's idea--he's one of the Order's best strategists--to use Harry to feel Voldemort out, and to have Harry use the link to make Voldemort "light up like a target," in Professor Dagmar's words. Harry had to send surges of magic to Voldemort through their link, and at first it was very difficult for him. Voldemort probably did not even notice his efforts. Harry came to my office frequently to attempt to make the connection, and Voldemort certainly began to experience it. He had an idea of what we were trying to do, so he attempted to block Harry, but we continued our efforts until it became easy for Harry to open the link. Eventually Harry could send bolts of pure, magical energy to Voldemort at will. That occurred shortly before the Easter holiday. Then, when all the students left, various members of the Order came to the school. We took the anti-Apparation charms down briefly, and Harry, with all of his considerable might, surged so much magic to Voldemort, in the form of thoughts, memories, hopes, and spells, that our simplest charms could detect the end of Harry's link. We Apparated directly to there, to Voldemort's side. He was already on the floor writhing in pain. No doubt you remember the pain that Harry felt when Voldemort opened the link unintentionally by mere proximity, so you can imagine what he must have felt when Harry was doing it on purpose. Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Flitwick, Arabella Fig, and Mundugus Fletcher and I cast the killing curse together, and Voldemort crumpled right before us."

They were shocked. "You mean--Voldemort is gone? Just like that?" Hermione asked.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "I believe that his spirit still exists somewhere, as Harry's scar has not yet completely faded. It would have if the one it connected him to was truly gone, but we have bought ourselves time, and hopefully stopped the worst of the killings and disappearances."

Ron looked puzzled. "But what's wrong with Harry? He's here, isn't he? In the Hospital Wing? And why didn't we hear about any of this in the Prophet?"

"The effort was of course draining on Harry. At first we thought that he might die of exhaustion. Now it seems that he is going to be OK. You did not read about what happened in the papers because most of the wizards and witches at the Ministry and the Prophet refuse to believe that Voldemort had even returned in the first place, despite the destruction he caused, which is why I told you myself. Now, shall I let you in to see him?"

Ron and Hermione could barely contain themselves.

Harry lay there, the white sheets pulled up to his chin. His skin was milk white. His head rested on a white pillow, and his black hair was smoothed back off of his forehead, revealing a faint, faint lightning bolt-shaped scar. His eyes were closed and his eyelids and lips were almost blue. Oh, Harry.

"Harry," whispered Ron. Harry's eyes flickered open.

"Oh, Harry, why didn't you tell us?" Hermione kneeled beside the bed. He turned his face slightly towards her.

"There was nothing you could do to help, and I didn't want you to worry."

"You prat," Ron said. "We were already worried."

Harry closed his eyes again "Will you two stay here for a while?" They stayed until Madam Pomfrey kicked them out.

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That night, though the weight of years of worry and fear were lifted from her, Hermione could not sleep. Several thoughts swirled around her head. Harry had said that there was nothing she could have done to help. There were also things she remembered that Draco had written in his journal. About how he couldn't sit back and let the other side win. Well, apparently they had won. What will Draco do now? He can't exactly be a Death Eater anymore. There were still sick wizards out there, even if the worst of them was gone. They might even try to bring Voldemort back. Harry hadn't thought there was anything she could've done to help; Dumbledore had probably thought the same thing. Well it wasn't over yet. Not by a long shot, and she would use all of her intellect and all of her magical abilities to do something, until it was truly over.

The next morning she went to Professor McGonagall's office. "Miss Granger, do come in," Professor McGonagall said.

Hermione sat on the hideous gold and scarlet chair brocade chair. "I've changed my mind, Professor."

"About what?"

"I don't want to apprentice. I want to go to the Auror Training Academy."

Professor McGonagall looked up from a stack of parchments she was rearranging and pursed her lips. "Auror training is difficult and dangerous, and once you are finished the work is even more so. There would be very little book learning. I'm not sure you know what you would be getting yourself into."

"I do, Professor McGonagall. And none of that matters anyway. I could be a good Auror."

Professor McGonagall thought for a moment before she spoke. "I can't sway you if you've set your mind to it; that is one thing I have learned over the past seven years. Now, I believe that applications for the Training Academy are due in mid-May of your seventh year, so you better get to it."

Hermione smiled broadly. "Thank you, Professor."