Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Songs of Regret	By : RavieSnake Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 76454 -:- Recommendations : 5 -:- Currently Reading : 17
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters from it. I also hold no rights to any of the songs mentioned. I make no money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 39
- 40
- 41
A/N: Warning: this chapter contains severe burn injury.
I know…I know! I’m sorry everyone’s always getting hurt. This is the last major injury…… for a while. After this I’m going to have some mercy on the characters and let them recover and spend time together for the next few chapters as they prepare for shit to really go to hell.
Anyway, Hermione’s music in this chapter: Lux Aeterna AKA Requiem for a Dream by Clint Mansell
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dumbledore, Harry, Hermione and Draco disappeared from the headmaster’s office with a crack to arrive a second later in the dark front hallway of number 12 Grimmauld Place. They landed in something of an unsteady heap and Draco, unable to rebalance himself as quickly as the others, fell backwards into the wall causing the curtains of Mrs. Black's portrait to open.
"What the fuck is that!?" he shouted, slamming his hands over his ears at the sound of her resulting bloodcurdling screams.
"FILTH! MONGRELS! BE GONE FROM THIS HOUSE!" Mrs. Black wailed from her portrait, her eyes rolling madly at the sight of Harry and Hermione. Draco pushed off the wall to get a better look at the source of the screams and the moment he did so the wailing increased three fold.
"NOOOO!" the woman screamed from within her painting when she saw Draco's face, her hands tearing at her hair, "ANOTHER TRAITOROUS SON OF BLACK!! SHAME!! DISHON-"
"That's enough of that, I think," Dumbledore said calmly, lowering his wand from where it was pointed at the now closed curtains of the portrait.
"I'd forgotten how unpleasant that was," Hermione muttered as she picked up Draco's fallen crutch and handed it to him. He took it and positioned it under his arm as he glowered back at the curtains.
"Who the hell was that?" he asked.
"Walburga Black," Dumbledore answered with a sigh.
“This is the House of Black, then?” Draco said, squinting his eyes at the molding wallpaper and wrinkling his nose. “Not what I had imagined.”
“Let’s leave your fancy Manor unattended for fifteen years and see what it looks like,” Harry said defensively. Draco made a noise somewhere between a chuckle and a snort.
“Good luck getting the elves to leave it to find out,” he said, brushing at a spider that had begun crawling across his shoulder. “I thought one lived here, no?”
“I sent him to work in the kitchens at Hogwarts,” Harry said with a frown, “Kreacher can’t be trusted.”
“Luckily for us,” Hermione snapped, turning to Dumbledore. “So is it here then?”
He nodded and cast a quick spell that illuminated the house. “I’ve made sure to keep any would-be thieves from absconding with any heirlooms.”
“What’s here?” Harry asked anxiously, blinking back and forth between them as his eyes adjusted to the light. “Why are we here?”
But Hermione was already stomping down the hall toward the kitchen. The men followed her and then watched as she went to the cupboard she knew Kreacher had still called home in the future-past and opened its door.
“Oh my,” she said, covering her mouth and nose with a hand at the stench that met her from within the elf’s nest of filthy blankets. She pulled her wand with her other hand and began lifting and moving the blankets about with it like a poker stick.
“Hermione, what are you doing?” Harry asked as the sound of the many trinkets Kreacher had amassed in his tiny hovel clinked about at her prodding.
“She’s looking for the next Horcrux,” Dumbledore answered calmly.
The color drained from Harry’s face. “What? Why the bloody hell is she looking in Kreacher’s cupboard!?”
“Sirius’s younger brother, Regulus, gave one to him,” Dumbledore explained. “Voldemort used Kreacher to hide this Horcrux and, as a result, Regulus discovered his secret. He gave his life trying to expose it.”
“But Regulus was a Death Eater,” Harry said, shaking his head in puzzlement, “Sirius told me he was the youngest ever.”
“Second youngest,” Draco muttered quietly. Dumbledore spared him a sideways glance, but Harry ignored him and went on.
“Why would a he want to expose Voldemort’s use of Horcruxes?”
Dumbledore pursed his lips. “The idea of soul splitting rather disenchanted young Regulus. He realized the true evil that Tom Riddle had become. Unfortunately, he was unable to survive the Horcrux retrieval and gave it to Kreacher just before he died with instruction for him to destroy it.”
Harry scowled slightly at Hermione’s back as she continued to sift through the elf’s small living space. “So, then why didn’t he destroy it?”
“He tried,” came Hermione’s muffled reply to the question. Dumbledore nodded grimly.
“As I said, Horcruxes are not easily dispatched…even for house elves.”
“So…wait,” Harry said, his breath getting faster, “there…there’s been a piece of Voldemort’s soul in here this whole time? Even while we were all here?”
“That is likely, yes,” Dumbledore answered. Harry’s hands went to his middle and looked like he was about to be sick when Hermione suddenly called out.
“Found it!”
She stepped back with her arm stretched in front of her, wand pointed out with a clunky gold locket swinging from its tip. She hurried over to the kitchen table and flung the locket onto its worn surface.
“That’s it?” Draco asked, hobbling over to peer curiously down at it. Hermione nodded with a repulsed pout at the ancient necklace as she roughly wiped her wand off on her robes as if it had been contaminated.
Harry joined them and his brow knitted in recollection at the sight of it. “I remember that,” he replied breathlessly, “it…we found it when we were trying to clean this place out last year. We…we even all took turns trying to open it, but it wouldn’t budge.”
“You have to ask it nicely,” Dumbledore replied cryptically.
“Parseltongue?” Harry sighed in a manner that suggested he already knew the answer. Dumbledore simply nodded and reached into his robes. He carefully pulled from an inner pocket two large fangs and held them out to Harry and Draco.
“You may need these,” he said as they stared down at the curved teeth.
“Is…is this a basilisk fang?” Draco asked, leaning forward on his crutch to take the one offered to him.
“It is,” Dumbledore replied.
“How did you get them, sir?” Harry asked, his hand moving not to take the fang but to rest over the place where his arm had once been punctured by one.
Dumbledore gave a half shrug. “I was lucky enough to have a memory of someone using Parseltongue come into my possession,” he said, casting Hermione a twinkling glance. “It’s a tricky language to imitate, I’ll admit, but…the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets didn’t seem to mind my slight mispronunciation.”
“This is cool,” Draco commented as he carefully turned the great tooth in his hand, “but seems rather unnecessary given that you and Hermione both can cast Fiendfyre.”
Dumbledore inhaled a troubled breath. “I believe it is in our best interest for each of us to be armed against this particular Horcrux. We know the least about how this one will react to possible destruction than we do the others and given what we do know of its ability to transfer Dark emotion I think it’s wise to be ready.”
“Transfer Dark emotion?” Harry asked, finally reaching forward to take his fang.
“If you touch it for too long, you start to feel…” Hermione shuddered as she glared at the locket “…it feels like an angry dementor is living in your head.”
“And what do you mean ‘react’?” Harry inquired of Dumbledore with a concerned look at Hermione. “Is this thing going to try and fight us or something?”
“Yes,” Hermione, Draco, and Dumbledore answered in unison. Dumbledore tapped his wand to the tooth in Harry’s hand.
“I trust you remember the fight the diary gave?” he said solemnly. Harry blanched and gave a silent nod.
“The ring and diadem,” the old man went on, “were relatively tame in comparison and I suspect the others will be as well, however, this one… This Horcrux is the only one Voldemort took extra care to hide. I fear it contains the darkest and most powerful portion of his soul and therefore will put up the most resistance to destruction.”
Draco bumped Hermione’s shoulder. She turned to him and met his gaze.
“How do you not know how this thing will fight us?” he thought to her anxiously. “I thought Weasley destroyed it.”
“I wasn’t there when he killed it. Ron and Harry both refused to ever talk about what actually happened with it. All they’d ever say was that it screamed,” she thought back. Draco gulped and turned his attention back to the locket.
He’d expect the Weasel to go on in lengthy detail about every aspect of any heroic deed he’d managed. For him to refuse to describe the way he had destroyed a Horcrux meant it must have been something truly too traumatic to recount.
“So, what do we do now?” Harry asked. Hermione and Draco both looked up at Dumbledore with expectant expressions as well.
“The plan here is fairly simple. You and I,” he said turning to Hermione, “will have our Fiendfyre cast and at the ready, and Harry will tell the locket to open using Parseltongue. The moment it opens we will direct the Fiendfyre at it while you two   – he nodded at Draco and Harry –   will be prepared to step in and use the basilisk fangs should we be unsuccessful.”
“And if we fail as well?” Draco asked, his voice wavering slightly.
“Severus has instructions to arrive here with back-up if we do not return to Hogwarts within the hour,” he answered. The four of them stood then staring tensely at the locket until Draco set aside his crutch and took a seat at the table.
“Whenever you’re ready then, Potter,” he said, setting his wrist against the edge of the table with the fang aimed at the Horcrux. Harry looked at him and then Dumbledore who creased his brow slightly.
"Make no mistake,” the old professor advised the three of them sternly as he took his place to stand on the opposite side of the table, “just because this Horcrux was easily recovered does not mean that it will easily be destroyed. I have no doubt that it will attempt to distract us or even pit us against one another to make us forget our mission. Whatever comes out of this locket, whatever it may do, whatever it may say...do not believe it and keep focused on the task. Do you all understand?"
Three solemn faces nodded at him and he flourished his wand to create a Fiendfyre phoenix that hovered before him and thrashed angrily as if barely being kept in check. He glanced around at his students again and watched as Draco and Harry held their fangs tightly and Hermione cast a Fiendfyre cobra that coiled itself in striking position.
“On my count of three then, Harry,” Dumbledore said with a nod to the Horcrux. Harry gulped and nodded back as Hermione’s music began filtering dramatically around them. The sudden introduction of sound caused him to startle and he turned an alarmed look to the headmaster.
“What’s that?” he asked nervously.
“It’s me,” Hermione answered without looking away from the Horcrux.
“We’ll explain later,” Dumbledore added at Harry’s look of befuddlement.
Harry gave the other three shifty looks but then took several deep breaths and edged closer to the table, regripping the fang in his hand as he went. “On three,” he said when he was on Hermione’s opposite side. The others all kept their eyes on the locket as Dumbledore started.
“One…...two….…three……”
The hissed word slipped easily past Harry’s lips and the locket shot open with a screech to reveal Tom Riddle’s eyes staring out at them from its windows. Hermione gasped out loud and her music rose in volume at the sight of them and she reflexively took a step back as her cobra flared its hood angrily.
The eyes swiveled rapidly around at them all and instantly changed from Riddle’s brown to Voldemort’s red and rested on Draco. The locket suddenly vibrated violently on the table and before the Fiendfyre creatures could reach it it released an earsplitting scream and a whoosh of air that sent both Dumbledore and Hermione stumbling backwards - their fire extinguishing in angry puffs of smoke. The intense sound sent Mrs. Black’s portrait curtains flying open and her indignant, crazed screams joined in the chaos.
“I SEE YOU DRACO MALFOY!” Voldemort’s voice boomed as his form rose from the depths of the locket.
“Fuck!” Draco yelled in frightened alarm, falling backwards in his chair to slam painfully into the floor. Horcrux Voldemort loomed over the table and sneered down at him.
“I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE!” the ghastly figure yelled. “TRAITOR!”
“TRAITOR!” Mrs. Black echoed.
“STAB IT!” Dumbledore hollered at Harry as he pushed his old, thin frame up from the floor. Hermione had already stood, but was staring, completely transfixed, at the image of Voldemort bearing down on her soulmate. Harry’s mouth opened and closed several times like that of a gaping fish as he too stood and stared.
“STAB IT!” Dumbledore repeated as he got to his feet. Harry shook his head as if clearing it of a daydream and then glared at the locket and rushed forward.
Horcrux Voldemort turned to him and immediately morphed. Harry halted his hand in midair as he turned a horrified expression up into the face of his godfather.
“SCUM!” Mrs. Black continued to roar behind them, “HALF-BREEDS! WORTHLESS!”
“She’s right for once on that one,” Horcrux Sirius directed at Harry with a disappointed shake of his eerie head. “What a poor excuse for a godson you were. You killed me, Harry. Killed your only true family.”
“I didn’t!” Harry cried, his arms falling limp at his sides. “I thought you were in danger!”
Dumbledore cast a new Fiendfyre phoenix and Hermione, driven by her fated instincts, rushed to the fallen Draco as Harry began to shake.
“ABOMINATIONS! MUTANTS IN MY HOUSE!”
“KILLED ME!” Sirius thundered over his mother’s ranting. Harry fell to his knees and Dumbledore sent the phoenix forward. Yet another form sprung from the locket and rounded on him.
“You killed me, Albie,” Ariana Dumbledore’s ghostly figure whimpered. “You said you’d protect me.”
The sight of his deceased sister caused Dumbledore to falter and the split-second error sent the fiery phoenix veering sharply into the kitchen wall where it exploded. The angry, crackling flames erupted and spread in a violent whoosh over the wall and across the ceiling. One of the flames licked out and caught Harry’s robes. The heat of them startled him out of his mournful daze and he screamed.
“And now you’ve killed, Harry,” Horcrux Ariana taunted abominably. “Everyone you love dies.”
“NOOO!” Dumbledore cried out as Harry fell to the floor and rolled in a futile attempt to put out the spreading Fiendfyre that morphed into the form of a giant boa constrictor that wrapped around him.
The headmaster rushed over to him but was blown back when the flames suddenly exploded again. A piercing wail accompanied the flames and overtook all other sounds in the house as Harry then rose and levitated a full four feet off the ground within the fire, his back arching and limbs seizing, as his lightning bolt scar split open and yet another manifestation of Voldemort bubbled out of it and hovered over him. The soul fragment cowered within the Fiendfyre for a millisecond before its ghostly eyes rolled back and it fizzled away into nothingness.
Harry fell with a thud to the stone floor and then continued to flail and scream.
“GET HIM! HELP HIM!!” Draco screamed hoarsely at Hermione who was still trying to sit him upright. “GO!!”
Hermione darted over to Harry and held out her hands. The fire immediately jumped from his body and concentrated into spheres in her palms. She extinguished them with a clap and then reached out to direct the flames that where rapidly consuming the house. As she did so, Dumbledore finally scrambled over to Harry’s side and began waving his wand over him.
“SHAME OF OUR WORLD! MUDBLOODS! UNWELCOME HERE!” Mrs. Black squawked through the music and Harry’s screams and the roaring of the fire.
Draco watched it all for only a moment and then picked up the fang he’d dropped when he’d fallen and pushed himself up from the floor with a determined grunt. He took a step and then stumbled forward into the table when his ankle gave out. Sirius and Ariana both turned and snarled at him before converging together into the image of Hermione.
“DEATH EATER PRICK!” she screamed at him. Draco glared back at her as he steadied himself against the table and raised his arm with intent to strike the fatal blow.
“YOU TOOK AWAY MY CHILDREN! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!” Horcrux Hermione bellowed. Draco’s face screwed up with anguish at the words, but he did not stop and brought his hand down with a ferocious roar and stabbed the fang deep into one of the locket’s windows.
There was a final shriek and then the locket went still as Horcrux Hermione instantly vanished.
Draco let the fang fall from his grip as he sunk down into the nearest chair and trembled.
“I…I killed it,” he gasped, his chest heaving with labored breaths as he shifted his eyes through the haze of smoke the Fiendfyre’d left behind to see Dumbledore tending to Harry on the floor. Hermione beside them collected the last of the flames from the charred walls into her hands and then sent them floating down the hall before falling to her knees to bend over Harry’s other side.
Draco watched the flame Hermione had sent off float over to the great canvas of the still cursing portrait of Mrs. Black and in one dramatic swoosh consumed it, taking Walburga’s words with it. When the fire went out he looked back down at the scene playing out on the kitchen floor as Hermione’s music faded away.
“Harry…Harry…” Dumbledore said, his voice quivering as he cast as many pain relieving and cooling spells as he could in quick succession on the raw, angry burns covering Harry’s arms, torso, and legs where his clothes used to be.
“Hu…hur…hurts,” Harry managed to stammer as he shook violently, his eyes closed behind the glasses that were seared into the sides of his head.
“These burns are superficial,” Dumbledore said, relief and worry and raw guilt vying for prominence in his voice. He glanced up at Hermione across from him. “Your subconscious must’ve kept it tamed just enough.”
“Hurts,” was all Harry could repeat miserably between them on the floor.
“You’ll be okay, Harry,” Hermione promised as she cried over him, “It’s actually good that it hurts…it means most of the burns aren’t too deep…just like he said.”
She placed her hand to his in a comforting gesture and then hunched over to the side and vomited when the topmost layer of his skin from the wrist down sloughed off into her fingers. Draco pushed himself out of his chair at the gruesome display and hurriedly hopped on his good leg over to the kitchen sink and turned the tap on to full flow.
At his direction, the running water poured forth and slithered in a stream across the kitchen to where Harry was laying. Dumbledore sat back on his heels but continued the spells when Harry cried out at the feel of the cool liquid building up around his damaged body to encase him entirely but for his eyes, nose and mouth. Thin ribbons of blood from the open scar on his forehead dispersed throughout the water giving it a sickly pink hue.
“We’ve got to get him to St. Mungo’s,” Hermione said after hastily wiping her face with Draco’s handkerchief that she’d taken to keeping in her pocket, “he’s going to need potions that Hogwarts likely won’t have.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” Dumbledore said, without looking up from Harry, “Severus’s collection is quite vast and Horace’s is nearly as impressive.”
“You can’t possibly be suggesting that we bring him back to Hogwarts like this!?” Hermione demanded angrily, pointing at her friend.
Dumbledore finally looked up at her, his eyes more serious than she’d ever seen them.
“This changes everything. The destruction of this Horcrux was not supposed to happen this way. Our situation is now far more dire than you can imagine and to expose Harry in such a state would be tantamount to surrender to Voldemort himself!”
Hermione shook with adrenaline and rage, but simply glared at the old man.
“Why is our situation worse now?” Draco asked as he turned off the tap and hopped over to the table to sit again. “We’re down two more Horcruxes instead of one.”
Dumbledore turned to him and shook his head. “As long as the piece of Voldemort’s soul remained within Harry he was safeguarded against the killing curse. You know this to be true…Voldemort used the Avada on him in your time and, just as I predicted, his soul was able to return from the beyond while Voldemort’s stayed behind. But now…even the simplest of offensive spells would end him in this condition. It’s far too dangerous to bring him to a public hospital that is notorious for its breaches in security.”
Harry moaned pitifully and the three others peered down at him.
“He needs Healers for this,” Hermione said miserably, as her anger ebbed into disquiet, “this isn’t a broken back, Albus. These are second degree burns…”
“And Hogwarts isn’t really any more secure than St. Mungo’s,” Draco added. “Imagine some stupid, over-eager Death Eater’s kid like Crabbe learning he could end the Boy Who Lived.”
Dumbledore’s brow furrowed deeply as he appeared to be processing a great number of thoughts at once. He met Hermione’s eyes again. “Keep casting pain relief on him,” he instructed firmly, “I will return in less than one minute.”
Hermione opened her mouth to ask where he thought he was going, but he’d already stood and swirled from sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Severus!”
Snape whirled around where he stood in the headmaster’s office at the sound of Dumbledore yelling his name.
“Albus!?” he said in alarm at the tangled state of the elder wizard’s beard and hair and the soot and water covering the front of his robes. “Where are-“
“No time to explain,” Dumbledore cut him off as he simultaneously cast a giant, silver phoenix Patronus that took off through the castle wall. “Has he called you!?”
Snape looked perplexed and Dumbledore pointed to his left forearm. “Has Voldemort tried to summon you?” he asked directly.
“No,” Snape answered. Dumbledore visibly relaxed but maintained his serious expression.
“Severus,” he said, “I need you to find Ronald and Ginevra Weasley and Poppy and collect dressings, medical equipment and any and every potion and salve you can get that one might use to treat a burn victim and bring it all to Grimmauld Place immediately.”
Snape’s eyes widened slightly with every successive word that his mentor spoke. “Fiendfyre?” he asked seriously.
Dumbledore nodded gravely. “It’s Harry.”
Snape inhaled one sharp breath at the news and then rushed out of the office to fulfill the headmaster’s orders.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ron gently shifted Susan's head back on his shoulder when it began to nod forward as she sleepily snuggled up to him on the couch in the Gryffindor common room as he read. She blinked her eyes open at the motion and looked blearily up at him.
"Sorry," she said with a small yawn, "did I fall asleep on you again?"
Ron smiled as he flipped the page and nodded. "Yes," he answered, leaning over slightly to kiss her forehead, "are you feeling alright?"
Susan hummed. "Yes. I just love how warm and comfy this common room is...and you too." She snuggled further into his side and he wrapped an arm around her.
"Love you," he said. Susan didn't respond and he glanced down at her again to see that she'd already drifted back off. Ron squeezed his arm gently around her and sighed contentedly as he focused back on his anatomy book.
The quiet peace of the common room was suddenly broken when the Fat Lady's portrait swung open and Professor McGonagall came rushing inside. The Gryffindors that were sitting around the space and Susan, who'd startled back awake, all turned their heads toward her in surprise. The professor scanned her eyes rapidly over them all and then looked to a fifth year girl sitting in a chair to her right.
"Ms. Jonas," McGonagall said to her urgently, "please go fetch Ms. Weasley from your dorm and have her come down at once."
The girl nodded quickly and sprung from the chair to dart up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.
"What's wrong?" Ron asked alarmed, setting aside his book as he and Susan both sat straight at the edge of the couch.
"I'm afraid there's been an incident in your family and the two of you were requested home at once," McGonagall answered him with a concerned expression.
Ron shot to his feet. "Are Mum and Dad..."
"Your parents are fine, Mr. Weasley," the professor said surely, "but it is a rather urgent matter. I'm to escort you to the headmaster's office immediately."
"What's going on?" Ginny asked worriedly as she emerged from the stairwell in her night clothes and walked swiftly to her brother's side.
"The headmaster shall explain. Now we must go," McGonagall replied as she began ushering them to the door. Susan followed at Ron's side and the professor paused only a moment to turn to her.
"I'm sorry Ms. Bones, but you will not be allowed to accompany us.”
Susan gave Ron an anguished looked, but he returned a shaky smile to her. "It's ok," he said, kissing her quickly on the cheek, "I'll owl you as soon as I can and let you know what's going on."
Susan nodded rapidly and then Ron hurriedly followed Ginny and McGonagall out.
“What happened?” he demanded of his head of house when she said nothing as they walked briskly through the halls.
“I’m afraid I‘m not the one to answer that,” McGonagall replied. “Professor Snape asked me to bring you to Professor Dumbledore’s office immediately as requested by the headmaster himself. You are to accompany Professor Snape and Madam Pomfrey to Grimmauld Place.”
“Grimmauld Place?” Ron asked anxiously. McGonagall merely nodded curtly and Ron and Ginny both exchanged significant looks. They remained silent then as they quickened their steps.
They all pushed into the headmaster’s office a minute later to find Snape and Madam Pomfrey levitating a number of boxes into a neat stack in the center of the room. Snape looked up at them as they entered.
“Minerva,” he said as he finished placing the last box, “Septima’s already prepared to cover the hospital wing in Poppy’s absence.”
McGonagall nodded in acceptance. “What more can I assist with?”
Snape picked up one of the boxes and thrust it into Ron’s arms. “Standard protocols,” he said to the deputy headmistress, taking another box and shoving at Ginny, “you’re in charge until the headmaster returns. Contact Molly and Arthur and then tell what you must to the other Order members…but, as far as everyone else is concerned, Mr. and Ms. Weasley are attending the funeral of a distant cousin on the continent and are likely to be absent for the next week.”
“Week?” Ron blurted out, too stunned to care that the professor had stacked another box against his chest.
“Funeral?” Ginny asked fretfully, her eyes on the packages of dressings and bandages Madam Pomfrey was balancing in her grasp. “Are we really going to a funeral?”
“No,” Snape answered shortly, hoisting the last three boxes into his own long arms. He looked back at McGonagall. “The Portkey if you would, Minerva.”
McGonagall went at once to a cabinet beside Dumbledore’s desk and levitated from it a worn, dirty football with several tattered, hanging patches. She floated it into the middle of the four others.
“Try not to fall all over yourselves in the landing,” Snape advised Ron and Ginny with a contemptuous look. They both glared back at him but he was already looking to McGonagall for her signal. She nodded at him.
“Light and Life,” she said seriously.
“Light and Life,” Snape and Madam Pomfrey answered together and Ron and Ginny exchanged wary glances again.
“Everyone touch it on three,” McGonagall said then. The other adults quickly shifted their cargo to free a hand and Ron and Ginny followed suit to hold their hands out in preparation.
When McGonagall reached ‘three’ they all touched their fingers to the manky, old ball and swirled from sight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alastor Moody’s magical eye was focused on the fast approaching Patronus before his other could even notice it as he stood looking out over the dark field behind one of the Order’s many safe houses.
“What is it? What do you see?” a quiet, feminine voice asked from behind him.
“A Patronus,” he answered gruffly, his eyes never leaving the ethereal object in question. Mr. Abbott stepped up beside his wife and hugged an arm around her shoulders as they watched the old Auror square his shoulders and grip his wand.
“Should we go inside?” he asked nervously. Moody shook his head as Dumbledore’s Patronus finally flew up to them and hovered with its wings outspread.
“Alastor,” the headmaster’s voice boomed from its open beak, “the Abbott’s are needed at Grimmauld Place. It is critical. Come at once…and bring your stores of Polyjuice.”
“What did he mean we’re ‘needed’,” Mrs. Abbott asked anxiously. Moody finally turned to face them as the silvery phoenix dissipated.
“I imagine he’ll tell you when we get there.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The football bounced down the still hazy front hall of Grimmauld Place as Snape shot out his free hand to grab Ron’s shirt collar to prevent him from tumbling backwards.
“I believe I told you not to fall all over yourself,” he whispered irritably. Ron glowered as he shrugged away from him but then snapped his head around at the damaged walls and destroyed painting.
“What happened he-” he started, but Snape shushed him.
“Quiet,” he said, squinting his eyes as he listened for signs of life. The sounds of steady chanting from the kitchen broke the silence and Snape immediately took off toward it, boxes in hand. The others hurried after him.
They entered the room to find Dumbledore, Hermione, and Draco all kneeling on the floor, wands out, casting synchronized pain relieving spells over a prostrate, sobbing, and water entombed Harry.
“Good Heavens,” Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, rushing over to them and setting down her packages.
“Harry!?” Ginny cried out, taking a step to go to him. Snape blocked her path.
“You will both not move from where you are standing while they work,” he said severely, looking both at her and Ron, “they can’t afford for you to be getting hysterical and in the way.”
Ginny’s lip trembled but she nodded as she looked miserably down at her future husband. Ron simply stood beside her, eyes locked onto the scene in silent, horrified shock.
“I need this water removed,” Madam Pomfrey said, as she began tearing open dressings. Draco glanced at Dumbledore who nodded slightly. He pretended to use his wand then as he levitated the water free from Harry’s body over to the sink to drain away.
There was a sudden loud thud from the hall and Snape quickly dumped his boxes onto the nearby table and pulled his wand. He pointed it down the hall at the three figures that had appeared there.
“Announce yourself!” Snape demanded. Moody came into the light of the kitchen, his own wand drawn and aimed in one hand and a giant, sloshing jug in the other.
“Auror Alastor Moody,” he said. His magical eye swiveled around rapidly and he made a concerned grunting noise when it landed on Harry, but he said nothing more as Snape raised his wand higher.
“What is the first thing you requested when you were rescued from the chest in your office two years ago?” Snape asked with narrowed eyes.
Moody smirked. “A drink.”
Snape lowered his wand and Moody turned to wave his charges into the kitchen to join them.
“Healers Abbott and Abbott at your service,” he said. He tromped loudly over to the table and set down the jug as the husband and wife team came forward.
“That’s Harry Potter,” Mrs. Abbott said in quiet awe as she looked upon the strange scene.
“Yes,” Dumbledore finally spoke, looking up at the sandy-haired woman, “Harry Potter who is in desperate need of healing.”
Mrs. Abbott blinked at him once and then immediately shifted into professional Healer mode.
“What caused these burns?” she asked as she and Mr. Abbott nudged Hermione and Draco aside to kneel beside Harry.
“Fiendfyre,” Dumbledore answered. Both Healers and Madam Pomfrey pursed their lips and looked grimly down at their patient. Mr. Abbott looked over his shoulder at Snape.
“We’ll need potions,” he said.
“Lots of them,” Mrs. Abbott added.
Snape swiftly brought them the boxes he’d placed upon the table. “I can brew anything you can’t find here,” he said. Mr. Abbott immediately began sifting through the boxes, pulling several vials and bottles and handing them off to Madam Pomfrey as his wife lowered her face over Harry’s.
“Harry,” she said gently, but firmly, “Harry can you hear me?”
“Ye…yes,” Harry answered through chattering teeth.
“Can you open your eyes?”
Harry cracked his lids open to look at her and she smiled.
“I’m Healer Abbott,” she explained pleasantly.
“Han….Hannah’s…mum?”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Abbott said, her smile widening. “But you may call me Maureen. My husband Clavian is here with me and he is also a Healer.”
“You call me Clave,” Mr. Abbott interjected as he shook a vial and inspected it.
“He and Madam Pomfrey and I,” she went on as if her husband had not interrupted, “are here to help you. Some of the things we may need to do will be painful, but I promise the pain will not be forever. Okay?”
“O…o…okay,” Harry said and Mrs. Abbott nodded to her husband and Madam Pomfrey. They set to work then dumping potion after potion down Harry’s throat and slathering his burns with pastes and salves as the others moved to the other side of the room to watch.
“Are you two alright?” Ron asked Hermione as she helped Draco come up beside him.
“There is no longer an easy answer to that question,” Draco said exhaustedly.
“How did this even happen?” Ginny asked miserably, tears trickling down her freckled cheeks. Draco and Hermione stared at her a moment before turning to Dumbledore for guidance.
Dumbledore looked back at all of the inquiring eyes staring at him for explanation and he sighed. “Let’s come away from here while they tend to him,” he said, motioning to the doorway, “and I shall explain.”
“I want to stay and help them,” Ron said, his gaze going back to his friend and the Healers on the floor.
“Can you apply a dressing!?” Clave called out as he massaged a shocking-orange substance into Harry’s neck. “Because if so we could use the assistance.”
Ron perked up attentively and looked to Dumbledore for permission to join the healing team. The headmaster considered him a moment and then nodded. Ron bounded over to Harry’s side at once and Dumbledore turned his attention back to the others.
“Let’s move to the great room,” he said, “this may take some time.”
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Songs of Regret