Harry Potter - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Resuscitation of Agapé ❯ So Desperate In Our Sorrow ( Chapter 12 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Harry Potter and the Resuscitation of Agapé
Year 6 At Hogwarts
by Jessica X

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WARNING LABEL: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS. INGREDIENTS OF PRODUCT NOT COPYRIGHTED BY AUTHOR, BUT THE RECIPE IS. RATED R FOR MILD VIOLENCE/LANGUAGE, AND MATURE THEMES: KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN. IF INGESTED, INDUCE VOMITING, THEN... OH, JUST KEEP VOMITING.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: Now that your hatred of me is smouldering a little quieter, I present you with Chapter 12.

By the way... did any of you pay attention to and/or actually listen to the song I recommended in the last chapter? If so, was it fitting, or no? If you can (or rather, if it's not much trouble), send an email on; it'd be nice to know if the soundtrack I had in mind actually fits with my story.
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~*~ Chapter Twelve: So Desperate In Our Sorrow

Numb.

Harry Potter had forgotten how to feel. His mind had gone blank, and his heart felt of stained glass; at the moment, it seemed impossible - laughable, even - that he would ever feel anything resembling emotion again. How could this have happened, right here at Hogwarts? Not here, not now...

Not to her.

"Hah!" he heard a voice say from his shoulder. "Snippy little Mudblood Her-WHINY finally got what was coming to her, eh?"

His blood ran as if ice had been injected into his veins. Before he really realized who was speaking, he already had Malfoy by the neck of his robes, dangling above the ground, his wand-hand curled into a fist, raised to strike. Malfoy glanced around for Crabbe and Goyle, his faithful toadies, on instinct, but for once, they were not with him.

"Wh-wha- how'd you get so-"

"What did you say?"

Malfoy's eyes were round with fear, and his voice was nearly an octave higher than it usually was. "I- I didn't-"

"I don't care what your opinion is on Voldemort-" Draco winced "-or how pureblood you are. I don't care how annoying she was to you, and how much you despised the fact that her parents were Muggles. You DO NOT speak ill of the dead. Especially not if I wouldn't."

Despite how badly he was shaking, Malfoy managed to grit his teeth. "Not m-many Mudbloods can say they actually laid a h-hand on me. If somebody hadn't killed her, I w-would've, eventually."

Harry's green eyes flashed so malevolently that the next thing from his mouth actually came out in parseltongue. A loud thunderclap sounded, and Malfoy screamed.

"You," Harry said in a low, growling voice, attempting to compose himself, "you would wish someone dead for a single slap in the face."

"Y-you make it sound so trivial-"

"IT IS TRIVIAL!!! You spineless, worthless sack of goblin shit!!! You strut around the castle like my father used to- all full of himself, thinking the world was born so he could play with it!"

Draco's fear gave a little with confusion. "Your father-?"

"Your cronies swarm around you like bouncers, keeping you from fighting your own battles, keeping you from actually having any REAL friends! You are the most pathetic little worm I've ever seen! And you have the GALL to laugh when someone else's friend dies!" Malfoy opened his mouth, but Harry closed it for him with a swift jab to the nose. "I'm not done talking, yet!"

Malfoy head bobbed up and down, blood streaming down his face.

"No," Harry said quietly. "No, I think I am."

He flung the disheveled blond boy to the ground, where he slid a few inches in the forming mud. He scrambled to his feet, ready to face his enemy - but Harry's wand was still out, and he was already pointing it at Draco's heart when he attempted to go for his own.

"Here's a fun little riddle, Lucius Junior. Do you know what curse is as green as my eyes?"

Malfoy's face took on a look of puzzlement, then broke into sheer terror.

"No... no, you... not you, you could never do it, you don't have the guts-"

"WHO NEEDS THE GUTS WHEN YOU HAVE THE FURY?!" Harry shouted, his eyes burning, his wet hair rippling in wind that wasn't there - that his rage was creating. "Avad-"

"NO!!!"

Ron had flung himself at Harry's back, slippery fingers grabbing his wand hand and lifting it from its bead on Malfoy's chest. "He's not worth it, Harry! He's not worth Azkaban!"

Harry stiffened at the word "Azkaban". He shrugged Ron off and said, "You're right." He slowly walked forward, his wand pointed at the Slytherin's throat. Tears of despair and hatred were playing at his eyes, but his voice was low and crystalline.

"Listen to me closely, you bastard. Hermione is dead. She was killed by one of your dad's mates. Your dad is a murderer, and runs with murderers. You would do well to avoid following in his footsteps if you ever want to make any of your own. Ron may have stopped me today, but I swear, solemnly, here and now: If you ever make fun of Hermione, or Cedric, or anyone else who's lost their life fighting your dad's boss..." His voice dropped to an even quieter, more dangerous tone. "And if I ever find you've helped kill any of my friends, however minimal your role... I will find you, and I will watch your face glow green before it goes cold. I will watch your corpse burn until there is nothing left but ashes, which I will then spit upon and scatter to the corners of the earth. Do not cross me in this matter. Do you get me?"

Detached horror had rooted itself deeply in Draco Malfoy's pointed features. It seemed that he had never thought Harry Potter, beloved hero of the wizarding world and royal pain in the posterior, vaunted St. Potter that regularly defeated the villain as if he were going for a mid-morning walk, could say something so dark, so disquieting, so... evil.

"DO YOU GET ME?!"

Draco nodded, whimpering.

He raised his leg and kicked Malfoy in the hip, sending him to the ground.

"Get out of here." He waited for him to run, but he did not. "MOVE YOUR STUPID ARSE BEFORE I REMOVE IT!!!"

And Malfoy was tearing across the lawns and through the front doors. Harry sent a Stunner over his shoulder, just to reinforce the point.

Harry's blood was getting tired of going from freezing to boiling; he still couldn't tell which it was at the moment. He was still drawing ragged breaths in rage, but his mind slowly crawled away from the anger and toward the anguish.

Hermione. Gone. Those two words did not belong together. Hermione could not be dead, it was an impossibility - and yet, as he stood there, staring at her lifeless body, he could not deny it. Her lips were not the light pink colour they ought to be, and her half-open eyes had lost that sheen; that knowing glint when she had just realized something she'd been mulling over for ages, the sharp look when she knew he or Ron were up to something and disapproved. His wand fell from his hand as he sank to his knees, shaking, falling over her wet, limp form. Brave, sweet Hermione, HIS Hermione - he couldn't trouble himself to fathom or deny that now - had given her life for him. So unselfishly, she had taken the full brunt of the Killing Curse so that he might see another tomorrow... and she had perished, and was never coming back. As he fell, he noticed Ron was already kneeling beside her, mouth moving but only making croaks, tears streaming down his face and mixing with the rainwater as he held her still-warm hand.

Wait...

Though he felt as if he could die with grief, swallowed in the dark sadness, a pinprick of light turned up in the forefront of his mind... "still-warm hand". He felt her other one - indeed, she barely felt colder than she had when alive. A gear turned, an idea clicked into place.

This was NOT going to happen again.

"I need to borrow Pigwidgeon."

"Wh-what for?" Ron wailed, great drops falling from his cheeks onto Hermione's arm.

"I need to send a letter to Charlie, and I'm betting Pig will find him faster, won't he?"

"But wh-what's Charlie got to d-d-do with anything?!"

"Ron!" Harry shouted, and Ron jumped. He took a breath, then continued, clear and steady. "Time is of the essence, and we've - I'VE - wasted enough as it is! If we're going to save Hermione, we've got to work quickly!"

~*~

Ron was still in fits when Harry returned from the Owlery, but he had done as Harry had asked; he had brought Hermione's lifeless body to Moaning Myrtle's lavatory, toweled it off, and was now holding a goblet just under his chin as his large tears fell into it. Myrtle was not there; he supposed she was visiting the prefect bathroom or the lake.

"What the b-b-bloody hell is going on, Harry?" he demanded the instant he'd seen him enter.

"Give me the goblet," he said, kneeling on Hermione's other side. Ron handed it over obediently, and Harry peered inside. "More than enough. You're a good friend, Ron."

Ron just stared at him, apparently at a loss for words. Harry quickly felt her face; it was still quite warm. Without further delay, he began jerking phials of ingredients out of a knapsack he had been carrying.

"Ron, I need you to hold this for me." He handed him an open notebook on which a clearly-printed list of ingredients was written, and several notes had been scribbled in the margins. Ron glanced at it for a moment (most likely puzzling over why several pieces of lined parchment had a metal spring shot through them), then tucked it under his arm.

"What are you doing?"

"Holding it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I meant hold it up so I can read it, git!"

"Well you should've said that, then!"

Harry bit back a scathing retort. He could quibble with Ron later, but for now he had vastly more important matters to tend. As Ron held the notebook up for Harry with a sigh, he could see how distressed he was. He wasn't sure how he'd thought Ron would react at this sort of thing, but it was strange to see him so... emotional.

The minutes stretched into nearly an hour as Harry carefully mixed ingredients, pouring them into the vessel Ron had been catching his tears in, cautiously checking and re-checking the pages of his notebook. Finally, he withdrew a long black quill with an alarmingly sharp point from his bag.

"Did you forget something in your note to Charlie?"

"No." He took out a bit of parchment, and began to write: 'Blood of this one, given joyfully, so that this one may know them once more.'

"Harry-!"

"I know," he said through gritted teeth as the shining red words he'd just written on the paper suddenly appeared, cut deep into the back of his hand. As his shaking hands folded up the parchment, a thick drop of blood fell to the floor.

"But... where'd you get one just like Umbridge's?"

"From Umbridge," he said, a humorless smile passing over him briefly as he watched the cut heal over. "She said she had loads more, and wanted me to keep it as a memento. Don't know why I didn't bin it immediately; I suppose I kept it as a sort of badge of honor... staring down evil and that rot. But I'm glad I did, now."

With that, he dropped the parchment into the goblet, withdrew his wand from his robes, and muttered "Incendio!"

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

He watched as the flames in the cup burned slowly, reminding him of the Triwizard Tournament that seemed as if it had taken place centuries ago, then looked up at Ron. "This is a Temporary Reanimation Draught. I needed to work fast, as it has to be brewed fresh, and you have to complete it within three hours of the... the moment it happens." He fought back a fresh wave of grief and pressed on. "If we've done it right, and I'm pretty sure we have, Hermione will be able to talk to us again."

Ron stared blankly. "What do you mean? But... but that's impossible!"

"Unfortunately, as I said, it's only temporary. If we can't do something else to bring her back properly before this draught wears off... she's gone forever."

"Harry," Ron asked hesitantly, not daring believe this, "you have that 'something else' already planned out, don't you?"

"As a matter of fact, I do. That's why I had to write to Charlie; one of the things I need is a dragon heart."

Ron's jaw dropped. "WHAT?! You mean an ENTIRE dragon heart?! But those aren't exactly plentiful, you can't just go killing dragons to collect their hearts!"

"Hermione's not worth it?"

Ron fell silent instantly.

Without hint of a warning, Harry shouted, "Fawkes!"

Nothing happened.

"Please, Fawkes, I need you more than ever," he whispered.

After a moment, in a flash of fire, the beautiful phoenix appeared next to Harry, fluttering to his outstretched arm.

"I need a few of your tears, if you're willing," he said, indicating the goblet whose fire had just burned out moments before. Fawkes cocked his head at Harry.

"Fawkes... look." He gestured to Hermione's lifeless corpse with the cup. "I need your help."

Fawkes stared at him for what seemed like a long time. Then, he inclined his head toward the goblet, and four pearly tears fell into the mixture, turning it a translucent blue the moment they touched the surface. Harry put it down and stroked his feathers, smiling sadly.

"Thank you, Fawkes. I really owe you."

The phoenix let out a few notes of song, which made Harry feel more confident in his plan, then disappeared again in a flash.

"Give me your wand."

Ron looked at him, startled. "Wh-wha...?"

"Damn it, Ron!"

"Sorry!" He hurriedly handed it over to Harry, looking somewhat frightened.

"Your wand has a unicorn tail-hair core, right?" Harry said as he took it, not waiting for Ron's answer. "As you know, unicorn blood can preserve a human life, but it turns its drinker into a wretched thing in the process. But using anything else from a unicorn in making this draught will triple its life, without that nasty soul-killing side effect."

He pointed the wand into the goblet and began to stir. Slowly the liquid changed from blue to purple, then to pink, and finally to a glowing white. Smoke was floating on its surface.

"It's done." He handed Ron's wand back to him. "You can put down the notebook, now. And... cross your fingers."

Trembling, Ron crossed all the fingers he could manage to cross as Harry slowly bent over Hermione. He felt her face, and was panicked slightly to notice she was a great deal colder than she had been. Not wanting to waste another moment, he used the hand that was on her face to elevate her head slightly, raised the goblet to her lips, and tipped it forward.

For a moment, nothing happened as he forced the mixture down her throat. Then, a thick, pink-tinged steam began to issue from her mouth, and a moment later from her nostrils, billowing slowly upward. When all the potion was inside Hermione, he set the glass down quickly and put his now-free hand on her cheek.

"This will work, Ron," he whispered, more trying to convince himself than Ron.

"Well, your wonky schemes usually do, don't they?"

Minutes ticked by, and the newer smoke replenished the older as it dissipated. It had been nearly half an hour before anything else happened, and when it did, Harry drew back in shock.

Hermione had sat bolt upright, her unmoving body suddenly heaving with breath, her cold, somewhat surprised face suddenly wide-eyed and open-mouthed in sheer terror. She clutched a hand to her heart, then looked around the room quickly, her eyes finally finding the two of them.

"Wh... what hap... wha..." she panted, trying to regain the use of her throat. Her voice sounded a bit strange - unearthly.

Suddenly, Ron let out a little gasp and pointed at her face. Harry had to take a second look before he realized what he was supposed to be seeing.

Hermione's eyes, still wide as dinner plates, were jet black with violently red irises. Her face was a ghostly white, tinged with blue; her lips were a greatly darker shade than they had been ages ago in Charms class. A strange mark he vaguely recognized had appeared on her forehead.

"That mark is from that book!" he said, grabbing his notebook from where Ron had set it. "It's some kind of ancient rune, I drew it here in the corner of the page, see..."

Hermione suddenly snatched the book from his hands and stared at the rune in the corner. "It-" she coughed "-it means 'for the nonce'," she whispered, still trying to get her voice working properly again. "I don't... what's going on?"

Ron was shaking too badly to answer.

"Well," Harry said, scratching his head, "I suppose I've just... turned you into a zombie."

She blinked at him for a few moments, then scrambled to her feet and launched herself at the nearest mirror. A few moments passed as she examined her strange new appearance. Then she slowly turned back to Harry.

"And you... you did this?"

"Well, yeah," he said. He wasn't sure whether to grin or run for his life; those new eyes of hers were difficult to read.

Next moment, however, she had thrown her arms around him, crying into his shoulder. Only now did Harry breathe a sigh of relief - his desperate scheme had actually succeeded, and Hermione was with him again. A brief eternity passed before either could manage speech again, their hands clutching at each others backs.

"Thank you- I- you wonderful, brilliant- thank you, Harry..."

"Aw, I couldn't just let you stay dead. I wouldn't be much of a chum if I did, now, would I?"

She drew back and planted a brief kiss on his mouth as murky black tears flowed down her cheeks. His heart leapt; whether this was because of the kiss or the mere fact that she was alive to do it, he couldn't discern.

"Give... give me a phial," she croaked.

Ron blinked for a moment, evidently his welling joy having given way to bewilderment at the fact that she'd just kissed Harry, then snatched up an empty one and handed it to her. She held it up to her face and let a few of her tears fall into it.

"W-What's that for, part of the rest of it?" Ron said.

"The rest of what?" she said, stoppering the phial of dark, inky liquid. "Zombie tears are really rare. I may as well keep some as long as I've got such easy access."

Harry almost laughed as he watched Ron's struggle not to faint, but was cut off unexpectedly; Fawkes reappeared in another flash, fluttering onto Harry's shoulder.

"Fawkes!" Hermione exclaimed, beaming.

"What is it?" Harry asked, taking him from his shoulder to his arm. There was a scrap of parchment in his beak.

"Well, go on, take it!" Hermione said impatiently.

He did so, and read it. Then he gulped and looked up.

"What?"

"Dumbledore wants to see all three of us in his office." He glanced at Ron, then back at Hermione. "Now."

The three of them were just exchanging more nervous glances when a voice floated over to them from one of the toilets. "Somebody's in trouble," Myrtle sang gleefully.

~*~

"Sit," Dumbledore whispered.

The three of them obeyed, shifting nervously in their chairs.

"Voldemort's attack on Bristol was a diversionary tactic." His voice was low, quiet, grave. "We realized this too late. The Aurors and all the magical law enforcement officers we can spare are repairing the damage as we speak. His true goal, as I suspected, was an attempt on your life."

"Sir, it was-"

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he said, sighing as he at last turned from the window and moved slowly toward his seat. "Hagrid's already related all that he witnessed in the Forbidden Forest. But I must ask you three what possessed you to charge in there to begin with."

"We saw her," Harry said. "Well, we didn't know it was her at the time, but... but she was watching us. She's an Animagus - a hyena. I'd seen her there before - the night the other students left for Christmas break, when we ran into you - and I just wanted to find out who or what was spying on the school."

"Foolish of you," he replied, and a hint of anger played at his tones. "You should have alerted one of the teachers."

"But you all went off to fight-"

"Come now, Harry. Do you think I would leave the school completely unattended? Professors Snape, Sprout, Flitwick..."

All three of them dropped their gaze.

"You needn't worry about Bellatrix for the moment; she is long gone, our gamekeeper saw to that. Furthermore, we have taken more strenuous preventative measures - taking into account Animagi - and I can assure you that nothing of this nature will ever happen again."

He turned his gaze upon Hermione.

"Far more serious than Bellatrix's trespass on these grounds and your reckless disobedience, I'm afraid, is what you have done to Miss Granger."

Harry was quite taken aback. "Done?! I- I saved her life!"

"Have you?" Those blue eyes were again piercing him like a needle through wet paper. "Where, may I ask, did you find the instructions to make that draught?"

Harry squirmed uneasily. Dumbledore knew what he'd done, and realized that it wasn't a permanent thing. "'Arcane And Obscure Elixirs And Draughts,' sir." He could feel his friends' eyes suddenly upon him.

"I see. You are aware that the contents of that book are considered quite dangerous, and most certainly Dark?"

"Yes, sir."

"And may I ask where you acquired such unscrupulous material?"

He hesitated. Dumbledore did not rush him onward, but waited patiently. At last, Harry spoke.

"Knockturn Alley."

"Harry!" Hermione breathed.

"I didn't want to have to go through it again," he said meekly. "I've already lost so much, I- I didn't want to have to lose any more."

"So you purchased a Dark Arts book and began thumbing through it for ways to circumvent the laws of nature," Dumbledore said softly.

"Yes, sir." A few moments passed in silence before something suddenly came to him. "You were wrong."

Dumbledore's eyebrows arched slightly.

"All of you. You'd said that- that Sirius couldn't be brought back, you said once people died, they were dead and that was that. But the Draught works, and I'm sure the-"

"Harry, you must listen." His tones bore a slight edge, and this more than anything quieted Harry. "Once a human being has left this coil, they are meant to stay gone. It is unwise to cheat death."

"BUT I CAN'T JUST-"

"I fear for you deeply, Harry. You have now discovered the great and terrible power of the Dark Arts, and it is not so easy to discard the promise of their hideous strength as it is to find it."

Harry stared at him with something teetering on outrage. How could Dumbledore be saying it was wrong for him to bring his friend back to life?

"I will not say I am saddened to see Miss Granger among us once again," he said, his eyes not straying from Harry's, "as that would be an outright lie. However, it is not something you should have done." He sighed. "I'm afraid I will be needing that book."

"WHAT?!"

"I cannot allow you to keep a volume with such maleficent secrets within its pages. My school is no place for such practices. I daresay that if I ever find you to have in your possession another book such as that one, I will have no choice but to expel you."

"Professor-!" Ron began.

"Or you, Mr. Weasley. Don't be so foolish as to think that just because I am directing this at Harry that the same rules do not apply to any student."

Dumbledore's gaze took on a hint of sorrow as he turned it on Hermione, whom was looking at him through her eerie new eyes as if she couldn't believe what she was seeing was actually their headmaster. His shoulders drooped ever so slightly.

"Oh, what will we do with you, now?"



~*~ To Be Continued