Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Dislocation	By : LinguaMagus Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 2823 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own Harry Potter or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
Chapter 9:

“Harry? I have an idea, but I’m not sure you’ll like it.” Hermione grabbed his hand as they rose to leave Fortescue’s and then Diagon Alley.
“Yeah?” Harry paused and glanced around warily.
“I think I know where we can start looking for books on Horcruxes. We… wouldn’t have to go far, either.” She grimaced in anticipation.
“What are you— Hermione, no!” Harry cottoned on immediately. “Listen, I’ve seen you in Knockturn Alley before. You fit in about as well as a horse in a fishbowl. I don’t think they’re going to be very enthusiastic about seeing me either.”
“Harry, I’ve never… oh.” Her voice grew small. “You mean future me. Listen, Harry. I don’t like it either. That place gives me the creeps. I just don’t know what option we have. Normal libraries and book stores don’t like being associated with the dark arts, we’re never going to find anything there just browsing. We have to know what we’re looking for, and we don’t even know where to start.”
“You’re right. I don’t like it, but you’re right.” Harry rubbed his eyes in frustration. “Fine, but I’m going in with you. I’ll just, I dunno, disillusion myself or something. A disguise for you wouldn’t be the worst idea, either.”
Hermione pulled them into a small alcove behind Madam Malkin’s and pulled a coat out of her bag. Harry rolled his eyes, but Hermione just said, “It never hurts to be prepared” a little haughtily. She laid it out and tried a few spells to make it look darker and more sinister. Harry laughed when one attempt covered the coat in little bats that looked like winged jellybeans. They were about as sinister as a Saturday morning cartoon.
“Hermione, luv, you have many admirable traits. I’m not sure if being intimidating is one of them, though.” Harry said, gently taking the coat from her and giving it a critical once over before transfiguring it into a simple black cloak with a hood. He draped it over Hermione’s shoulders and grinned. “Well, that covers up your clothes, but I don’t know what we can do about your face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?!” Hermione asked in annoyed alarm.
Harry kissed her on the nose. “Not a thing. Unfortunately, it just screams ‘I’m here to help.’ You don’t have a mean bone in your body.”
“You’re one to talk, Mr. Potter. Saved anyone lately?” Hermione made a face.
“Well, hopefully they won’t notice me. I don’t think any amount of privileged upbringing is going to make them want to help The Boy Who Lived,” He said sarcastically.
“In any case, we may as well get it over with. I’m not going to become anyone else if we wait here longer.” Hermione flipped the hood over her head, and with her polite and studious appearance covered, she could pass as someone who didn’t want to be noticed.
“Ariana looks pureblood enough, I think. If you don’t bring attention to her, I don’t think they will either. Now for me. I’ve never tried this before, so I guess just let me know if I’m still too obvious and we’ll figure out something else.” Harry pulled out his wand and awkwardly reached up to tap himself on the head.
The raw egg feeling made him shiver. Unlike before, it felt like it was moving over him in waves. A half dozen eggs cracking over his head instead of just the one. When it finished, he shook himself to get rid of the feeling that he was wearing an extra skin made of jelly, and Hermione gasped.
“Harry! You’re gone. I don’t just mean disillusioned, it’s like you’ve got your cloak on. I can’t see you at all. I knew something strange was happening when you were casting spells you didn’t know, but this is something else. There are maybe a handful of wizards in the world who could cast a Disillusionment Charm strong enough to vanish completely.” Hermione’s tone fought between fascination and concern.
“I know. I don’t how to describe it, but I feel like Dumbledore is helping me somehow. I barely have to think about what spell to cast anymore. It just sort of shows up in my head and I know what to do. I don’t think it’s dangerous, though.” Harry shrugged, then realized he was invisible and said, “Either way, it won’t last forever, so let’s go.”
Hermione nodded and they made their way quickly over to Knockturn Alley, trying not to draw any attention to themselves. Practised as he was at being invisible, Harry always found it challenging to move through busy streets when people couldn’t see him. When they slipped down the Alley and out of sight, immediately he could walk freely. In the entire street, there were only a few shoppers visible, and they were all hurrying into stores and away from the persistent vendors of questionably legal curiosities with their little trays and heavy jackets.
“Let’s start at Borgin and Burke’s. If the books are rare or valuable, they’ll probably at least know how to find them.” Harry whispered closely behind Hermione.
Hermione nodded and they ducked into the dark and grimy shop. She visibly shuddered at the awful things sitting on shelves and hanging from walls. Harry noticed the evil-looking masks he had seen years before and wondered whether they were the same masks, or if some had come and gone. One thing was certainly the same. The Vanishing Cabinet. He was tempted to destroy it right now before it could be used by Draco, but that was still years away. There would be time to solve that problem later.
Hermione went up to the counter, and Ariana clutched tightly to her arm. Borgin was pointedly ignoring her, fixing tags to a series of withered curled up things that Harry realized with a silent retch were actually fingers. One of them bore a thick, gold ring with some sort of foreign symbol. Harry hissed in a barely audible voice directly into Hermione’s ear. “Remember, arrogance. Don’t let him ignore you.”
She coughed in alarm, but recovered and turned the sound into clearing her throat ostentatiously. Borgin looked up in annoyance, but Hermione stared at a point six inches over his head and said imperiously, “You are responsible for this… establishment, yes?”
Borgin set down the tag he was holding and said, “Borgin and Burkes has a reputation that speaks for itself, madam. We are the foremost dealer of rare and powerful magical artifacts in all of England.” He added snidely, “For those who can afford them.”
Harry whispered urgently to Hermione, “Ask Ariana for gold.”
Hermione paused only briefly to register, then waved a hand at Ariana. “Ariana, dear. Please satisfy the gentleman’s curiosity.”
Ariana turned back in panic to look where she thought Harry might be. As soon as she wasn’t facing the counter, Harry grabbed her hands and held them out. She froze and waited to see what would happen next. Harry took his gold pouch and poured a fountain of galleons into her open palms. She turned back to display them to Borgin. She was met with a grin full of long, yellow teeth.
“Forgive me, lady. I see that you are a respectable member of our community and I should have welcomed you as such. Might I interest you in one of the fingers of Angelica, Princess of Cathay? The legend has that the ring would render the wearer invisible if placed between the lips. However, in fact it was the hand itself that was charmed. Even today, the fingers are more effective than demiguise wool.” Borgin gestured at the withered fingers on the table obsequiously.
“If my wish is to not be seen, I will simply not be present. There are others to take care of things like that for me.” Hermione said disdainfully. Apparently this was an appropriate response because Borgin simply nodded and moved out from behind the counter.
“Madam, I am Caradoc Borgin. Owner and proprietor. Is there something specific I can help you find today? We have many uncommon items for those with more refined taste.” He said in a voice like an oil slick.
“My understanding is that you are a man who knows how to be discreet. What I am seeking is of a somewhat sensitive nature. I would need guarantees that my request would not fall on unwelcome ears.” Hermione said. Harry was impressed. She sounded much more comfortable in this character than the last time he had seen her in Borgin’s shop.
“I am famed for my discretion where my friends are concerned. Would you consider us friends, Ms…?” Borgin left the question hanging.
Hermione hesitated, trying to think of a suitable name that wouldn’t draw suspicion. “I am the Lady Eymerich. Eloisa to my friends, Caradoc.”
Harry could practically see the rolodex turning over in Borgin’s brain, searching for any familial connection to a known pureblood family. “Eymerich…” Something went click. “Surely not that Eymerich!”
Hermione smiled unpleasantly. “I see you know your history, Mr. Borgin. Yes, the same. Inquisitor General, author of ‘Directorium Inquisitorum.’ You didn’t know the line was magical?”
Borgin struggled to digest this new information. “It does make a perverse sort of sense, I suppose. Forgive me, then, you are… Spanish?”
“Not for centuries now. The family relocated to France many generations ago. Are you satisfied, or shall I bring Father Nicholas’s headstone next time?”A bead of sweat ran down Hermione’s temple. This extended duplicity was obviously taxing her creativity.
“Forgive me, yes, I would be delighted to assist. What is it you require, madam?” Borgin was all helpfulness again, but Harry knew that he would be pulling out any history book he could find to check Hermione’s made-up credentials as soon as they left. He just had to hope that Hermione had either guessed right, or picked someone obscure enough that it couldn’t be verified.
“Please understand, Mr. Borgin. When I say I require your discretion, I mean that I cannot allow my request to reach any ears. Not the Ministry, not Albus Dumbledore, not even the Dark Lord. Am I clear?” Hermione said intensely.
Harry tensed. He hadn’t even considered it, but if Borgin went to Voldemort and told him someone was sniffing after information on horcruxes, it could be a disaster. Hermione was risking a lot by even making the association, but it was the only way to be sure. It seemed that this was not an infrequent request, however. Borgin merely shrugged and held his hands out.
“My lady, the Dark Lord has more effective servants than myself. He would not deign even to ask for information about my customers. As for the Ministry, we are well practised at keeping those bureaucratic fools at arm’s length.” Borgin said encouragingly.
“Thank you. Tell me, then. What do you know of… horcruxes?” Hermione asked carefully. Borgin’s eyes lit up with greed.
“Ahh, Madam Eymerich, I see that you are a woman of inspired taste. Magical artifacts of that sort are rare indeed. If there is a particular item you are seeking, I would be delighted to broker the transaction.” Undoubtedly allocating a hefty pile of gold to himself for the trouble, Harry didn’t doubt.
“Nothing so mundane, I’m afraid. My interest is more, shall we say, academic. I’m seeking any text that would be able to provide, perhaps, instructions?” Hermione was tip-toeing around the issue, but the subtle implication that she wanted to create a horcrux of her own was exactly the sort of thing Borgin wanted to hear to stay interested. It was business and leverage over a customer wrapped up in one neat package.
“Of course, madam, of course. I believe I know exactly what you mean. While I have no such works in my shop, I know exactly who would be able to assist. Your name will, of course, not be used. How may I contact you when I have found it?” Borgin asked, clearly hoping for some clue where she might be staying.
“This is my ward, Ariana. If you contact Tom at the Leaky Cauldron, he will know how to reach her. Be warned, Mr. Burke. I will pay fair value for whatever you find, but do not think that you can take advantage of my need. I do not tolerate extortionate men.” Hermione threatened emptily. Borgin just smiled his greasy smile.
“Well, madam. I am looking forward to satisfying your request. Is there anything else I can interest you in while you’re in the store?” Borgin asked.
“Thank you, no. If you perform your duties adequately, you may enjoy my further custom. There is a certain item that I am interested in that, if you could acquire, I would compensate you very well indeed. First, however, you must demonstrate your trustworthiness.” Hermione said regally.
Harry wondered what she meant. He couldn’t remember having told her about the goblet, and that was the only other horcrux they knew about that wasn’t accounted for. Borgin was eager at the idea of further gold, so it was only after much showcasing of high value items that he eventually showed them the door. As he held it open, Harry slipped quickly outside and waited for Hermione and Ariana. He gave Hermione’s arm a quick squeeze to let her know he was there, and they went up out of the alley and ducked into the alcove behind Madam Malkin’s again.
Hermione threw back the hood on her cloak and took a huge breath. “Goodness, Harry! That was exhilarating. I really hope he doesn’t suspect anything.”
“The fake name was brilliant. How did you think of that so quickly?” Harry asked.
“It was just luck, actually. I was just reading about Eymerich this morning and the name popped into my head. I’ve just always like the name Eloisa because of the Alexander Pope poem.” She said while trying to shake some life back into her limp hair.
“Oh, the poem. Sure.” Harry mumbled. Hermione gave him a patronizing look. “Anyway, you did a great job. We need to make sure we talk to Tom to let him know how to reach Ariana.”
“Actually, I already did that. Last time we were here, I was considering how we were going to get her school books. I didn’t think we’d just come back here again.” Hermione shrugged.
Harry laughed. “I probably should have known you were already a step ahead. Anyway, want to get out of here? I think we have everything we need now.”
Hermione nodded and they left. While they were riding the bus back, Hermione turned to Harry in her chair. “Harry, can I ask you something personal?”
“I think we’re probably a bit beyond shyness, Hermione. What is it?” Harry shifted his seat to face her.
“Why weren’t you interested in Ginny? I know you find her attractive. She’s obviously crazy about you. I would have guessed you enjoyed her company.”
“Actually, before I came back, we were dating.” Harry said guiltily. Hermione looked at him in surprise. “We started dating towards the end of sixth year. She was seeing Dean, and I sort of, well, pushed them apart.”
“So is that it? You feel guilty about taking her away from Dean, so now you won’t take her away again?” Hermione asked.
“No, not really. I don’t really think she and Dean were a good fit anyway. I think I only started giving her more attention because I was jealous. That’s the thing, though. At the end of sixth year, I had to face a certain reality. I was on a path that only went to one place. I’m going to have to fight Voldemort eventually, and I’m not going to carry the whole school with me. I realized that the only two people I wanted with me were you and Ron.” Harry touched Ariana’s hand and she smiled at him. “And you now, of course.”
“Harry…” Hermione said softly. “You’re very sweet, but I wish you wouldn’t think like that. Things have the chance to be so much different now. You don’t have to be so alone.”
“I know. Thank you. I’ve felt less alone this last week than I have my entire life. It still just put things in perspective for me. What Ginny wants from me, I can never offer. She’s not in love, she’s just obsessed. Without me taking up that place in her life, she has the chance to find someone who thinks about her the way I think about you. She deserves that.” Harry said, staring at his hands.
Hermione leapt across the gap between chairs and kissed him. “I love you. You’re so much better than you realize. I want you to know that whatever happens, I’ll always be in madly, wildly in love with you.”
Harry blushed and kissed the back of her hand. The rest of the ride back, they both watched the busy streets of London rush past the window. Harry was just stepping onto the stoop at Grimmauld Place when Hedwig flew down and came to rest on his shoulder, rubbing her round feathery head against his cheek. He greeted her warmly and stroked her wings, and they went inside.
“Good, you’re back. Kreacher showed up a little bit ago with one of the books you were looking for. He’s probably lurking around here somewhere.” Sirius paused in the middle of halfheartedly dusting the top of a lamp table in the foyer.
“Thanks, Sirius. We’ll find him.” Harry went into the kitchen to look for the old elf. He didn’t have to search long, as two crusty gray feet were sticking out from underneath the furnace. “Hey Kreacher. Did you find a book for us?”
There was a frantic scuttling as the elf tried to rotate out of the space all at once. A wizened head with a nose like one of the more inappropriate types of fungus poked out from the little cave. “It’s the Potter boy. Yes, Kreacher found one of the books. Kreacher found ‘The Magical Art of Destroying, Demolishing, Dismantling and Imploding.’ Kreacher left it on the Potter boy’s bed, so that it would not be missed.” Then he started muttering, “Yet still he finds Kreacher and bothers him when Kreacher is trying to protect his belongings.”
Hermione giggled. Harry said, “Thanks, Kreacher. That’s just fine. We’ll go get it now.”
Upstairs, they found the book lying on Harry’s bed right where Kreacher said it would be. Ron was sitting cross-legged in bed with a weathered bag of gobstones. “Are you lot finally back? It’s so boring around here. What’s the old book about? That mad elf nearly took my head off when I tried to look at it earlier.”
Hermione plucked the book from the bed and then sat down to start looking through it. “It’s a book on magical forms of destruction. We asked Kreacher to find it to see if it will help us destroy the horcrux. Now hush, you two. I need to read this,” she said bossily.
Ron rolled his eyes. “Want to play chess, Harry?”
“Sure!” Harry plopped down next to him. Ron pulled his chess set out from under the bed and started setting up the pieces. Harry had no idea how Ron got so good because he never seemed to play against anyone who was even half as good as he was. He got distracted wondering whether there were Wizard’s Chess leagues and didn’t notice that Ron was holding his fists out and waiting for Harry to choose.
Harry picked, got white, and they started. After several years of this, the chess pieces trusted him a bit more, but were still unhelpfully morose about his chances. A few moves in, and some of the pawns started begging to be moved to riskier positions so that they could just get it over with and be destroyed. Harry fell for this the first time and lost a key pawn to Ron’s Queen-side Knight, and after that just told them to shut up every time they made a suggestion.
Hermione continued to leaf through the book, occasionally mumbling something or making notes. Ariana sat next to her, whispering questions about different spells in her ear. Harry glanced over at her after it became clear that losing was a foregone conclusion. From the satisfied little smile on her face, he guessed she was finding useful information. He looked back at the chess board to see Ron’s Bishop eviscerating his Queen with its staff. He made an aggressive play to get his pawn across to its highest rank, but in doing so, left his King open. Ron put him in check, took his Knight, then checkmate.
Just as Ron was setting the board back up and trying to convince Harry into another game, Hermione spoke up. “I think I found something. Harry, go get Sirius.”
Harry shrugged and jogged down the stairs to see if Sirius was still dusting in the foyer. He found him slumped against the wall in the hallway drinking from a dirty glass. “Sirius, Hermione thinks she found something. Can you come up here?”
Sirius jumped up excitedly and followed Harry back up to the room. He didn’t waste any time once he was through the door. “What’s the plan, Hermione?”
“Okay, so, I’m reading about destroying magically protected objects, and I think I have an idea how we can destroy the locket.” Hermione had her notepad out and was following a sequence of items with her finger. “When protecting a powerfully magical item, most wizards choose to leave themselves a sort of back door. A way around the enchantments that only they know, so that if they have to alter the spell in some way, they don’t have to undo everything from top to bottom.”
Harry pulled out the locket and laid it on the bed in front of them. “So what’s the back door? How do we find it?”
Hermione studied it carefully. “It’s going to be something that Voldemort was confident only he could do or know. It wouldn’t be just about complexity because he would be too afraid that Dumbledore could discover it. It’s something more personal.”
Harry stared at the heavy locket, the ornate S coiling serpent-like over the face. An idea clicked into place. “Hermione, what if it’s just parseltongue? As far as he knew, he was the only heir to Slytherin, and it’s not like he had any children.”
Hermione snapped her fingers. “I’ll bet you’re exactly right, Harry. That’s exactly the sort of thing he would choose. It would only reinforce his superiority.”
“So what should I do? Just speak to it in parseltongue? Ask it to open up like I did the Chamber of Secrets?” Harry asked.
“I think so. But before you do, everyone should get ready. He’s bound to have some sort of trap or curse waiting for when we unlock it.” She turned to Sirius. “Sirius, once we have it open, I need you to try and unmake it again. It’s definitely going to put up a fight, though. Can you keep the spell from getting away while we try to deal with whatever comes out?”
“Don’t worry about it, Hermione. I’ll be fine. You three just keep the thing from killing me, and I’ll do the rest.” Sirius said, thrilled by the prospect.
“How are we supposed to be prepared if we have no idea what’s going to come out, though?” Harry asked, perplexed.
“We just have to think fast. If you’re not sure, just use a shield charm. Remember, he wouldn’t want anything that would kill someone instantly because then he wouldn’t be able to change the spells himself.” Hermione said.
Harry thought back to Dumbledore’s words at the underground lake. ‘I should have said, he would not want to immediately kill the person who reached this island.’ He shuddered as a gloomy chill reached back across the years. “You’re right. Okay, I’m ready whenever everyone else is.”
“Let’s get on with it,” Sirius said with a slightly manic look.
Hermione nodded. Harry took Ariana’s hand and guided her over to another bed behind him where he could shield her with his body if needed. He drew his wand and stood over the locket. It was just quietly malevolent, not giving any indication of its true nature. Harry focused on the single serpentine letter, willing it to become a true snake in his mind. He imagined it slithering across the golden face. A hissing syllable escaped his mouth and the locket rattled like a trapped cockroach.
“Open,” Harry said. But the sound that left his mouth was sibilant and threatening.
With a tink, the locket swung open. Behind each window, a shifting eye, dark and rich as he remembered Tom Riddle’s eyes from the memories of him as a youth. Time slowed, and Harry wanted to reach out to the locket. He wanted to look into those dark eyes and feel the comfort in their power. It no longer laid on the bed, but levitated a foot above it. The room was buried in an oppressive silence, and yet somehow musical.
A voice, struggling to be heard, erupted to his right. “Labeconcinnio!” Sirius held his wand outstretched and seemed to be fighting against gravity itself. The dull grey sludge slithered through the air like a slug of volcanic ash. When it touched the locket, there was an awful, piercing shriek. Harry felt like knives were being driven into his ears.
The eyes were no longer looking out from inside the locket. They were looking out from a shadow in the center of the room. The shadow shifted and spun while searching for a form, and Harry was reminded of the boggart from years before, trying to decide which student to terrorize. When it congealed, the shade grew tall, its hair grew dark, its skin was pale and wan. The eyes were no longer dark, but scarlet and slit-pupiled. Tom Riddle stood before them. Or perhaps by this point, he had already fully discarded that name. He was not the Voldemort that Harry knew, more snake than man, yet this was clearly not the same handsome boy on whom Hogwarts had bestowed its greatest honor.
Before he could even think to react, silver fire lanced out of the Voldemort shade’s fingers and flew through the air with an audible ripping. Harry threw himself flat, bearing Ariana to the floor, and his wand whipped out to deflect the spell. With a sound like a car crash, the fire collided with a shining silver shield that Harry had conjured above him and splashed across its face like molten lead on a mirror.
“S— Stupefy!” Hermione gasped. The beam of red light shot across the room and passed harmlessly through the shade.
Harry risked a glance at the locket and saw that the sludge appeared to be having some effect. Unlike last time, it was not able to repair itself as quickly as the sludge ate through it. There was a corona of energy around it that seemed tainted. As if the magical corruption within it was becoming exposed to the air. Realizing that he had lost focus for too long, he jolted back to Voldemort in time to see him holding hands aloft like a composer and pouring a viscous green light out of the air towards Sirius. Yanking his wand sharply, Harry tore Sirius’s feet out from under him and brought him crashing to the ground as the green light shot past.
“Sirius!” Ron shouted and ran to his side to help him back to his feet.
Black fog was rolling off of the Riddle shade in waves. Something deep inside Harry told him that whatever that fog was, it was imperative that it didn’t make contact with anyone. Not knowing what else to try, he waved his wand and shouted “Wingardium Leviosa!” With a few quick gestures, he lifted the corners of the rug up and over the shade, like packaging takeout. The fog trickled from the small opening at the top.
He looked back at the locket and saw that it was heavily damaged, but some internal force was still holding it together. Without thinking, he pointed at it and cried “Peredio!” The remains of the locket pitted and sizzled as if being dissolved in invisible acid. The shrieking intensified and Harry was sure he was going to have permanent hearing damage if it continued.
The pathetic rug cage he had thrown over the Riddle thing exploded into gouts of crimson fire and the shade stood in the middle with tongues of flame licking over the surface of his manifestation. His skin cracked and split and rotting flesh protruded. Veins of dark magic suffused the inside of the construct. As they decayed and frayed, little beads of magic touched the fire and burst into sparks. With a final ragged scream, the shadow of what Voldemort once was became an inferno of darkness. All light was negated and the obsidian flare that enveloped him roared out into the room, consuming everything in its path.
Harry bellowed wordlessly and thrust his wand at the black fire like a sword. Like pulling a drain plug, the fire swirled and spiraled into the tip of the wand and where it retreated, a charred and dessicated surrounding remained. Harry collapsed in exhaustion, and Ariana curled over him protectively. He could not see the locket from where he lay, but at this point, he could no longer summon the energy to sit up and look.
Ron yelled out, “That’s it! We did it, it’s gone! Look!”
There was a great sigh of relief before Hermione cried, “Sirius! The spell! You have to stop it!” From Harry’s position on the floor, he could see the grey sludge growing exponentially as it devoured the bed and raced towards the next thing it could find.
Ron held Sirius up, and with an almighty effort, Sirius managed to pull the spell back into nonexistence. The frame of the bed held a few tattered pieces of mattress and the locket was gone completely. No one moved. They all just fell to the ground. Silently, Harry wept. Ariana cradled him in her lap and stroked his head.
From the moment he had told the locket to open, the entire thing had taken less than two minutes. Yet Harry felt that he had spent days worth of effort. Slowly, he struggled to his feet and went to check on Hermione. “Are you okay? Did anything hurt you?” He asked gently.
She sat in a little ball, holding her hands to her stomach. “I’ll be okay, I think. That fire burned me, whatever it was.” She held out her palm and a livid streak curled from the pad of her thumb across her wrist. Harry looked at it closely, but he didn’t really know anything about cursed fire or how to treat it. He kissed her on the forehead.
“I’m sorry, Hermione. We’ll have someone look at it to make sure it heals well. Does it hurt?” He asked.
“A bit, but I’ll be okay. It’s a small price to pay.” She added desperately, “We did it, Harry. We destroyed a horcrux. I don’t know how we did it, but this proves we have a chance.” He hugged her gingerly and went to check on Sirius.
“Is he okay?” Harry asked Ron.
“I’m fine. Don’t fuss over me. I just got the air knocked out of me when you saved my neck, that’s all. Could do with a drink, and then I’ll be right as rain.” Sirius answered abruptly. Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged.
“I think that corrosion spell clinched it, Harry. That was a good call. We were really up against it there for a minute.” Sirius said ruefully, rubbing his head.
“Sure,” Harry agreed absentmindedly. Truthfully, he didn’t know anything about the spell he had used, but he was happy that it had worked at least.
Together, they hobbled through the wreck of the bedroom to the door and descended the stairs. Blessedly, the kitchen was empty, and they ate and drank in peaceful quiet for a little while before the anxiety of the magical battle above started to fade into memory. Harry held Hermione’s hand and worried over it, trying to think of different ways to try and fix it.
Moody clumped through the kitchen door without preamble. “What are you lot doing all sitting around? Potter, what’s wrong with you? You look like you went ten rounds with a troll.”
“Leave off, Alastor. We’ve just destroyed a cursed object that wanted us all dead. We just need a bit of rest.” Sirius said.
“Destroying cursed objects is no game. You should know better than to have a bunch of teenagers sitting ringside for something like that.” Moody scolded. “Although if it were going to be any teenagers, I suppose this crowd could be worse.” He admitted grudgingly.
“Harry saved my life. I wouldn’t have made it out of the room without him there.” Sirius retorted. “He’s at least as good as James ever was. Maybe better.”
Mad-Eye gave an unimpressed grunt, but left the issue alone. “Well at least none of you are injured. Last thing we need is some Mungo’s healer poking around, asking questions.”
Harry spoke up, “Actually, sir. Hermione got burned. Would you mind looking at it?”
Moody limped across the room with an alternating thunk as his clawed foot hit the old floorboards. He grabbed Hermione’s hand roughly and pulled it towards his electric blue eye. She gave a startled little ‘eep.’ He growled and turned it this way and that. “What sort of object were you dealing with, Granger? This was done by a very nasty curse. You got very lucky.”
“It was… something of You-Know-Who’s. A locket.” She said vaguely. “Do I need to go to St. Mungo’s?”
“You-Know-Who’s locket, you say? Something like that, and you didn’t think to involve other members of the Order? Constant vigilance!” He roared. “Honestly, you lot have all the sense of a pack of kneazles.” He abated slightly. “No, Granger. You don’t have to see a healer. As I said, you were lucky. It will scar, no doubt about that, but it didn’t properly touch you. It will heal on its own, just keep it clean and DON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.”
Harry stood up defensively. “We did it on our own, though. Order members or not, we destroyed it, and there weren’t any serious injuries. If it weren’t for Hermione, we would never have known how.”
Moody sighed and thumped his staff against the ground. “Luck, Potter. Keep counting on luck to get you through, and eventually it won’t. You need to think. Or next time, you’re going to get someone killed.” Grumbling, he limped out of the kitchen and they sat in embarrassed silence. He was right. If just one thing had happened differently, they could all have died and no one who knew the truth about Voldemort’s horcruxes would have been left.
Their moping was interrupted by a ‘Shave and a haircut’ knock at the front door. Harry got up, relieved to have a distraction and went to see who it was. He was hoping it was Tonks. He could use somebody light-hearted around to get his head out of the upstairs bedroom for a bit. When the door opened, though, it wasn’t Tonks. A pair of enormous multi-colored Spectrespecs stared back at him, framed by a mop of dirty blonde hair. A Cheshire grin brought the look together and unbalanced Harry completely for a few beats until he reoriented his telescope to Planet Luna.
“Hello, Harry! I would like to have dinner with you tonight as friends. You said before that you would really like if I came to visit, and I would really like that as well.” She said as if explaining the concept to a small child.
Harry laughed and welcomed her in. After the initial shock, he found that he was actually glad to see her. There was something very relaxing about her unfocused cheerfulness. “Hi Luna. Thanks, it’s good to see you. Ron and Hermione are in the kitchen. Want to join us?”
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Dislocation

Chapter 9: