Work Text
Prologue
Awareness came to Him slowly.It was not that he had been unaware, no; His focus had simply been stretched far beyond than a comprehension of a single mind. Thoughts, sensations, trickled back at a snail’s pace- something or someone called His attention, and like a pack of hounds responding to a whistle, His Self suddenly pinpointed towards a solitary source of interest, in a way He hadn’t been used to since... well, since practically forever, really.(Is there a way to measure ‘forever’, when one exists outside time?)He was curious- and wasn’t that a doozy, to be able to put a word to that sensation? When was the last time He felt anything- and that curiosity was what drew him forward, once the initial Call tapered off, leaving behind only an echo.After awareness, after the ability to feel, there came other things. An illusion made a reality, as suddenly He walked, on two feet, though He was certain the solid ground beheld no importance to His own existence.No, with passing hours (or were it simply seconds?) it became clear that He was merely a guest here, a guide, perhaps- or maybe He got it all wrong and He was the focus, the anchor?Curiously (and what a delightful feeling that was, curiosity), He let His eyes- His eyes- wander through the thick mist, let Himself walk forward, His feet silent, His body weightless and there only because now that He had it, He let it stay that way.(He didn’t need it- hadn’t need it for more than time itself was a thing; time had the annoying thing to put a limit on existence of everything, and physical bodies tend to degrade and decay- after a certain point, it became more convenient to simply exist outside of Time’s domain)It was not flesh and bone, however, He could tell as such. No, this body was only as real as His mind itself made it- a representation, an identity, something He could own and introduce Himself as such.(After all, He thought of Himself as He through this whole awakening, and that was a step in a certain direction when it came to who He was)Deciding that the finer details were not a bother right now, He shed the questions of ‘who’, and instead focused on ‘where’. The mist was thinning as He walked forward (or had He been standing?), and started revealing shapes through the brightness; a tiled floor, and thick, brick pillars; a running railway track on the side of what was obviously a train station.Huh. The familiarity of the place had Him finally pause and rub His chin. A memory of a mirage from lifetimes ago flashed through His mind, and that had Him nod; yes, He had been here before, on the brink of death- Limbo, or perhaps more fittingly, Bardo: awaiting change, from one state to another, be it from life to death, from death to afterlife, from nonbeing to existence.He had no use of such place; His final transformation had been just that- final, absolute. Irreversible. Yet here He was, in this glorious place of infinite changes. Perhaps it stood to reason then, that this place was meant for someone else.And as if that final thought was what was needed, there was a gasp- a wholly flesh and bone kind of reaction, one He had no need of for eternity, yet it did catch His attention all the same. Turning, He watched a man- nay, a boy- materialize out of the swirling mist, from one moment to another- in a blink of an eye, or perhaps in the time that it takes for a mountain to crumble; one was never sure for how long it takes someone to stitch themselves back together once the template of a physical shape was lost, but He waited patiently none the less, watching as The Boy dressed himself with something that was more a habit than a deliberate action.Content that He was, to let The Boy take in his surroundings at his own pace, there was unavoidably a moment where He felt he need to interfere- and that was where both of their attention was drawn by a wheezing whimper, something else hiding curled and wretched under a bench nearby.The Boy recoiled, and yet, in the next moment reached for it anyway- with the kind of determined kindness that was achingly familiar, however as He Himself peered down at the fraction of a tortured, frayed soul, He knew that no amount of kindness would make it right again.“You cannot help.”He paused then, if only to marvel at the sound- oh, when was the last time He actually spoke? The sound of it was both so familiar and not; a flash of an impression from life long gone, and He knew that never before had His voice been so... ambiguous. Otherworldly, unchained by the trouble of aging. Not young, and yet not feeble and old either- something curiously in between.Curious, so curious. Curiosity had been His driving force before, wasn’t it?The Boy flinched and cursed as he hit his head on the bench seat above him- it will pass, He knew, pain had no hold on them here- but thankfully the shock had him retreat from the soul fragment, and focus on Him.Two pairs of emerald green eyes stared at one another. The Boy seemed to swallow an instinctive reaction, before simply observing with a familiar intensity- one that He was ultimately intimate with.(Ah, the solution to the riddle is right there, isn’t it? But He had all the time in the world, and if experience is to tell, it would be beneficial to let The Boy figure it out)“...You are not Dad,” the Boy finally said, words slow and deliberate, something sharp and shrewd in his gaze “You are not James Potter.” His eyes flickered right above His eye level, The Boy clearly inspecting something He himself did not bother to take note of just yet. Still, He gave the observation a genuine thought, and found Himself shaking his head soon after, dark messy hair bouncing around his face as He did so.“I am not.” He confirmed, easy as breathing. Perhaps, He thought as he observed The Boy back, there is purpose to this meeting after all. He was Called, He was sure of it now- but Called not because of whom He had been, but who He was now- now, and for all Eternity.Who they both are, really, for the Hallows are hardly so common to be bound to just one reality and one timeline.“...You are me.” Harry finally breathed and Harry nodded, smiling, because oh this was a treat, wasn’t it? In all his existence and nonexistence, Harry never had the pleasure to meet himself, not since He had became a constant- in the same way Death is.“...I don’t understand,” they boy murmured after a moment, still watching, still staring, but now he was also looking around, curiosity and unease warring in his expression “Why am I here? Where is here?” His eyes flickered towards the bench and Harry looked that way as well “What is that? And why are you here?”Harry hummed, then sat down at the bench. After a beat of silence, His younger self (how young really? He must have been younger than seventeen, certainly) sat down beside Him, expression pinched.“This is the place in between existence,” He said easily, forgoing the first question- no, they would come to that one in time, as He was sure Harry himself knew answer to it “Between life and death- between death and afterlife.” There was a growing tenseness in young Harry’s shoulders, his brows furrowed, but he kept his silence, instead starring at Harry with frightening intensity.“That,” He continued, motioning towards the quiet sniffles under the bench “Is a soul fragment. Incomplete- viciously, cruelly cut off from the whole. You might guess whose.”“Voldemort’s” the boy immediately said, voice toneless, and his hand rose to absently rub at his scar, correctly guessing at its previous place of residence. Something like sudden understanding- sudden grief- misted over his green eyes, and the hand fell from his forehead to clutch shakily at his throat.“...I died,” he whispered, and Harry ached at the fragility in his voice- yes, younger, and certainly not that prepared to walk to his death the way Harry did. “Voldemort, he- h-he-“ Harry choked off whatever he wanted to say, and looked up at his older self tears clearly pooling in his eyes.“I died,” he repeated, less shaky but no less grieved “That’s why I am here. In this- this- in-between place, or whatever.” One tear pooled over and slipped down his cheek and the boy swiped it away with almost irritated motion, taking a deep breath, before focusing his attention back on Him.“Why are you here?” He repeated his question, though it was mostly a baffled demand- the young wizard clearly guessing that thought they are Harry Potter, they are not the same.“I was Called,” Harry explained, but knowing that would tell very little to His younger self, He continued without prompting “I do not know the nature of your death... nor what lead to it. However, while in my... existence, as Harry Potter, I made choices that, you could say, led to a curious purpose for me after death. “ a poor word to use, really; Harry never stopped being alive, even while He was meant to be long dead; much like energy, He cannot be destroyed, only changed. He simply is.“It was the Triwizard Tournament.” His younger self’s voice was flat, and his grip tightened on his neck “You would know about it, I guess?” At Harry’s nod, the boy continued “The final task, a maze- the cup...”“A portkey,” Harry murmured understandingly, and when Harry was unable to continue, He picked up the story from His point of view “Me and Cedric got to it first. I asked him to take it with me- a Hogwarts victory, ideally.”“It took us to a graveyard,” Harry continued miserably, and there was a tremor to the clenched hand “Pettigrew was there- Pettigrew and him. Wormtail- he cast a killing curse at Cedric.” Something in his eyes steeled and he looked up at his older counterpart defiantly “I jumped. I pushed Cedric away. We fell and it missed us.”Something painful immediately tightened in His chest. One little change- a what if that had tormented Him through the whole of His life as Harry Potter.“I couldn’t save him,” He admitted wistfully, memories from lifetime ago flashing in front of his eyes “I was weakened; Voldemort’s presence crippled me. The curse hit.”There was an understanding in those young eyes- that and horror. Tears spilt anew, but this time Harry didn’t bother wiping them again- weeping freely for a version of a Cedric, whose life had been cut short. “...Good,” he whispers finally “Good that I saved him.” He licked his lips, eyes flickering towards Harry uncertainly. “The cup- the portkey,” he continued quietly “I used accio- I thought, if it brought us there-““-It will take you out, correct,” Harry nodded- and reached out to gently took hold and pull back the hand that was now clawing at the boy’s throat. He couldn’t be hurt- not in-between- but Harry remembered the childish need for comfort from that night, ages ago, and knew it was a right choice when Harry clung to His hand like a lifeline.“I meant for both of us to get out,” he continued miserably “But I wasn’t holding onto Cedric, so when it came close, he caught it, and-““...And only Cedric got out,” Harry finished quietly and his younger self nodded, unable to verbally confirm. And He could see it all too easily happening: He himself, summoning the cup closer, so they have easier path out- smart thinking, He came with the best plans under pressure. But He wouldn’t account for Cedric, who would have been an unknown in his reactions. A seeker, his reflexes would have been honed, similarly to his. Catching a trophy cup as it came close would have been easy.And He would have been left behind. Trapped, underage and inexperienced. No means to run away, no way to apparate, wounded and struck with panic as the exit closed.“It’s not Cedric’s fault,” Harry continued, stressing his words, as if he was willing both of them to believe it, but Harry knew that resentment was hardly a logical reaction- not when Cedric’s action was a question of survival “He looked- even as he was going, I know he realized what he did.”“But he still did it.” Harry said sadly, and Harry’s lips thinned as he pressed them close, trying to stop them from trembling- trying to stop the bitterness from flashing across his eyes. Cedric, after all, signed up for the Death tournament.Harry did not.“...He still did it.” The boy agreed softly. Then he laughed a bit, but it was not a happy sound. “Wormtail panicked- I think, there weren’t meant to be witnesses, you know? And now, Cedric knows someone tried to kill us, and Voldemort was screaming- he was there- as a really ugly baby-““-As a homunculus.” Harry agreed, and decided to steer the explanation away from the fact- better that young Harry thinks of it as a construct than the twisting of an actual innocent child by dark magic and possession. Knowing what he knew now, possessing an adult witch or wizard in the same fashion as Quirrell would not work for the resurrection ritual; their mere presence would have been a cause for its failure. A child- a toddler- would have been easier to take control of.Easier to overwhelm and snuff out, until only Voldemort remained.“Yeah, that,” Harry confirmed uneasily, even if it was clear he had no idea what ‘homunculus’ was “Anyway... Wormtail panicked. He grabbed me. I panicked.” Chuckling hollowly, the boy then moved to touch his throat again.“ He had a knife,” Harry said tiredly “I think- though I remember very little after...- well, they wanted to use my blood? But not like, lots of it. Just enough. There was a big cauldron...” He shook his head. “I think it was an instinct to him,” he continued, flicker of disgust appearing in his eyes “I trashed in his arms, and he couldn’t hold me very well, so he...”His younger self trailed off and his free hand caressed his bare throat again- and Harry understood at once.“...He spilt your blood.” He said quietly, because it was far better than saying ‘he slit your throat’. Harry apparently agreed, because he swallowed and nodded sharply, just once.“...He spilt your blood,” Harry repeated suddenly, an epiphany forming “In a graveyard... Death’s domain, and that was after the Killing Curse washed over you.”“It didn’t hit us,” Harry reminded him, puzzled, but clearly all too eager to turn the discussion elsewhere “I was close, but it missed.” Harry waved that away.“You wouldn’t know, but the Killing Curse is no mere feat of magic,” He started, ignoring the much louder whimper from the horcrux under the bench (yes, it would be very intimate with that curse, would it?) “Out of the three Unforgivables, it is the only one that is blanket-banned across all continents. In United Kingdom, there could be a leeway to the other two- Imperius and Cruciatus- as in Healer’s hands, both can be repurposed for medical reasons. Though this is not known to the wider public.”He rose from the bench and started to pace- much in the same way He used to when delivering a lesson to His students, after He decided to hang up His auror robes and pursued the profession in teaching- and Harry certainly proved to be an attentive audience.“Both Imperius and Cruciatus have well reasoned if not well documented points of origin,” Harry continued, smiling faintly when His younger self leaned forward “They are not to be considered curses either- A curse always have a counter curse, yet neither Imperius nor Cruciatus have one, and as far as I am aware, all means to craft one resulted in failure.”Yet He felt respect for the bold witches and wizards of the eighteenth century, many of which gave up their health to try.“They cannot be blocked by the strongest shields either- something that is shared among curses near universally. Do you want to venture a guess why, Harry?”It was the first time since they met that He addressed his younger counterpart by name, and both of them jolted at the absurdity of it. Yet the younger frowned in thought anyway, eyes flickering from Harry towards the running railroad and back.“...Our defense teachers were really rubbish,” he said finally, rubbing his forehead, but shook his head to continue “I don’t- well, if I should guess,” his lips twitched “I don’t think I ever saw anyone block common charms...?” he then blinked when Harry clapped and pointed at him in triumph “What, really? They are simple charms?”“Manipulation Charms, to be specific, but in essence yes,” His older self moved to pace again “An in-depth, at time rather sinister charms, sure, but technically in the same class as for example the Levitation Charm. In that, you manipulate the connection that object has towards Earth’s gravity- not gravity itself, mind you, but it is as if you make the object ‘forget’ there is gravity in the first place.” He was grinning and it was exhilarating, to be teaching once more.“In case of Imperius and Cruciatus, both manipulations are done at rather personal level... Imperius is a step above a simple Cheering charm for example- manipulation of emotions while making the person’s mind ‘forget’ they are the one in charge- much like you make a feather ‘forget’ gravity exists.”“But I threw it off,” Harry clearly had to point out, as invested as he was in the lecture, spotting the disparity right away “When Moody practiced it, it didn’t work on me.”“Oh no, it worked,” Harry shook his head, deciding not to trouble the other with Moody’s real identity just yet “But much like with any charm cast, one can develop a certain resistance to the effects. This is what actually makes Imperius and Cruciatus different from outright curses. Trust me, Harry- there are far more sinister curses that can affect a family for generations forward. It was simply more convenient for the Ministry to classify those two under Curses as to have a legal repercussion; you cannot be charged with life in Azkaban for if someone chokes to death while under a tickling charm after all- another well known Manipulation.”“With Imperius,” He continued, ignoring Harry’s mildly horrified look “The first component of the spell is the key. If you know your ins and out of your emotional state, then even subconsciously, sudden state of bliss would be a major red flag. And where the will goes, your magic follows, and it essentially, well, purges your body and returns you to known state. Which is when the hold breaks.”“But that means anyone should be able to do it,” Harry says slowly “I mean- no-one ever feels that free, do they?”“Logically, no,” Harry agreed, mildly amused “The lives we lead are never completely strife free, even for the happiest person on Earth. So sudden bliss should be suspicious. And yet, out of our classmates, only you were able to beat the ‘curse’. Why is that?”He was content letting the boy mull it over, while marvelling at the surety of His own existence and mind. The longer they stayed like this, talking, interacting, the longer Harry felt like Himself. Like the Wizard he used to be, all that eternity ago, a being of mortal flesh and bone. It felt like pulling on a new pair of trousers; stiff and unyielding at first, but getting comfortable with wear and tear- fabric softening until wearing it became almost seamless.“...You said the magic purges the body,” Harry started slowly “And that the manipulation is done at a personal level...” He looks up at his older counterpart shrewdly. “Is Imperius manipulating the brain?”“Your hormones, specifically,” Harry specified, pleased “Dopamine, to be precise- a ‘feel-good’ hormone, as the muggles put it. Much like drugs and- well, other activities would cause a rush of dopamine through your brain, Imperius simulates that- rising the level enough where you become compromised enough not to notice your actions. A perfect puppet, with strings finer than spider silk. That’s why it is damn hard to prove someone was under an imperius- Dopamine is a natural product of your body and not something that can be called harmful. And the control part is hardly that- it is a suggestion at best. Once the initial rush fades- because the bliss effect is not permament, it’s just a cover- the real insidious part of the charm starts.”He smiles, and based on Harry’s expression he knows it’s not a nice smile, but Harry would have killed for this knowledge in while in his Auror career.“The reason why you were able to throw of the Imperius at first was because how unreasonable the order was. But what if it wasn’t? If ‘Moody’ didn’t want you to jump on a table or tap dance or sing in front of everyone in that moment... If instead he asked you to go about your day as usual, would you notice anything?”“But if the bliss was unnatural-““But that state is temporary- it lasts only long enough for the command to take hold.” He interrupted the protest “And I remember, Harry. Until he told us to jump on a table, we were quite ready to obey. If ‘Moody’ chose a different, reasonable command, we would have been under with no-one wiser. Like a sleeper agent, if you know what I mean. That’s why, in the long term, the charm is so dangerous.”“That’s horrible,” Harry breathes, and He can see the understanding finally settling in- the discomfort “You mean- if Moody really wanted, he could have been controlling any of us? Even after the lesson?”“Oh, I believe he tried,” Harry said flippantly, and when his younger counterpart frowned, he decided to explain “You are aware, there was Voldemort’s agent at the school?”“What- you don’t mean,” the boy jumped to his feet, furious and horrified at once “Moody- Moody is the Death Eater?” He looked stunned and betrayed at once “But- he helped me! He taught me to throw it off!”“After he tried to test if you can be controlled by it or not,” Harry pointed out, though he understood his younger self’s anger “Trust me Harry- I know. Plans upon plans were made, to get us to the graveyard; there was no certainty we would have made it through the Tournament in one piece, let alone be able to win it. There needed to be a Plan B- one that, thankfully, never came to fruition.”Age and experience allowed Harry to look back at that Defence lesson, and realized he had been tested, again and again, Junior trying- thankfully in vain attempt- to see if Harry’s resistance can be whittled down by putting him under the spell again and again- most likely growing frustrated when instead of weakening him, the opposite happened.‘An anomaly,’ Hermione called it, one Christmas Eve after Harry took leave from work, after one particularly nasty case where long-term Imperius played a role. She looked just as troubled and thoughtful as he himself was. None of them- nor their classmates- ever realized just how incredibly impossible his resistance to the spell was. It was subtle, in was insidious; while for Harry, the bliss effect lasted a considerable amount of time, in reality it has been barely a fraction of a second between getting hit by the spell and being issued an order. Logically, there was never enough time for him to reason his way out of its hold- something Junior knew and was just as baffled over.“But Moody was Dumbledore’s friend,” Harry continued, in much weaker voice “He was an auror- why would he-?”“Polyjuice potion,” Harry said simply as it explained everything- and honestly to an extent it did, especially when Harry’s expression firmed. “Who?” The boy asked simply.“Barty Crouch Junior.”A blink.“But he’s dead. Died in Azkaban- Snuffles- Sirius said so.”“Dementor’s are blind. Crouch’s wife was ill and dying, and her last wish was for her son to be out of Azkaban. Crouch loved her too much to tell her no, so they used polyjuice to switch and get him out. He had Junior under Imperius ever since- until the Quidditch World Cup.”Harry’s face soured.“He cast the Dark Mark, didn’t he?”“Just so,” Harry confirmed “To my belief, the sight of the attack there prompted enough fury that he was able to overcome his father’s order. Quite fanatically loyal he was- is- to Voldemort’s person. He’d seen the ‘merriment’ as insult and would want to punish it.”Fear suddenly flickered in the boy’s eyes.“Dumbledore- my friends- they don’t know Moody is the impostor.”“...No. They do not.”“And I am dead. I cannot warn them.” He curled his hands into fists. “Cedric- Cedric doesn’t know.”Yes- Cedric would have been most in danger now, would he? The surviving witness. Much in the same way that Harry has been a liability, Cedric was now one- though, there was still a chance he wouldn’t be. After all, he only witnessed and unknown wizard trying to kill them, not Voldemort’s resurrection.The boy breathed deeply, sitting back down on the bench. He was visibly gathering himself, pulling back from the bitter grief he once again felt for his fate. After a moment, he looked back up at Harry, smiling a little weakly.“How about- how about Cruciatus,” he asked shakily “How does that manipulate?”“Are you sure you want to continue?” Harry asked awkwardly- after all, he himself is hardly affected by the grimness of death; he suddenly realized that his younger self doesn’t have that luxury, all his experiences painfully raw at the moment.His younger self shrugged a bit. “I am dead,” he pointed out, a bit sardonically, but clearly coming to terms with it “I assume, I have all the time in the world, now. And,” here he flushed a little “It’s interesting. I want to know. I, well, it’s probably useless to me now but- I want to know.”“Right.” Well what to say to that? Besides, he had been building up to a point, wasn’t he? But, just to be sure- “Time... is not really an issue here. We are currently outside of it. The living world is affected by time, sure- but here, we are not among the living. Er, physical living world that is- metaphysical is a different can of worms.”“Oh good,” interestingly, Harry’s shoulders relaxed a bit “So like, no time passed since I died?”Harry shrugged. “A second, maybe.” Hard to measure really- he knew from his own experience that some time does pass, even while they are inbetween “I would say, honestly, that you are currently in the process of dying. Not yet separated from your body just yet, though physically, you are without life as of now. Who can tell really- this is not exactly something that can be researched with accuracy.”“Hermione said that a person is aware for few seconds after decapitation,” Harry said knowledgably, flushing when the older wizard stared at him “What? I was nearly done in like that,” the boy defended “And I was certainly aware for a long time after Pettigrew- well-““I don’t remember Hermione ever telling me that,” Harry murmured, a bit disturbed but mostly fond, because that is so Hermione “That’s quite morbid.”“You are the one casually talking about my dead body right now.” Harry grumbled, crossing his arms, sniffing when the older wizard nodded at his point “Anyway, Cruciatus.”“Night and day from Imperius,” Harry decided it would be best to continue “Imperius is subtlety. A thin needle really. Cruciatus is a sledgehammer. Our muggle schooling probably only touched on this but, do you remember how cells communicate with each other?” At the boy’s frown he moved to elaborate “Basically, there is lot of happening with chemical compounds, elements- but in your neurons- the brain cells- those communications happens as sparks of electricity. Small ones, but it does happen.”“Let me guess- Cruciatus affects those electrical communications.”“Just so. This is why Neville’s parents ended up with brain damage- it’s not really that they went insane, as much as the pathways between their neurons were, well, fried. What Cruciatus does, is overwhelm your body with false signals, and those signals are transmitted to the brain. The brain gets overwhelmed, and, well, there you have it.”“That’s still though, a really subtle,” Harry was frowning “Imperius, affecting the hormone creation? Cruciatus, affecting the cell communication? That’s like, incredibly- what’s the word-““Surgical?” Harry offered, quirking his lips when his younger self nodded “But that’s because they are, Harry.” He grinned when the boy looked doubtful. “You might be surprised, but at a point, in distant past, Wixkind had been incredibly advanced. Magic gave witches and wizards an oppoturnity to further research into diseases and ailments in a way muggles could only dream off; did you know, that the simple Diagnostic Charm is older than Hogwarts itself?”“Imperius was never meant to be used to control anyone with malice- it was a healing tool, mostly used by trained professionals. Relaxant spell, following by reasonable order- like convincing a distraught patient to take their potions or eat.”“Similarly, Cruciatus was meant to be used as a localized spell- used only on one part of a body. It was used to test for nerve damage, so the healers could pinpoint with precision what to focus on. Overall Nerve Restoring Potion had not been invented yet- but a localized ointment was a thing.”“Why are they named Imperius and Cruciatus though?” Harry sounded sceptical “Casting ‘I torture’ while supposedly looking for nerve damage doesn’t strike me very healer-like.”“Those are just words,” Harry dismissed “You would have learn this later, but most casting can be done nonverbally; the words are just crutches that helps you form an intent in your mind. The actual meat of it- spell creation and spell alteration- is rather long and technical and I won’t bother you with it. The sum of it is, some asshole in the past- most likely someone with healer training as you wouldn’t have been able to learn those spells otherwise- saw malicious potential in both of them and started using them outside workplace. But the actual incantations were most likely under Healer’s Oath, so they would have had to find a way to get around it. Hence, rather on the nose incantations for both.”“How can one spell become something else?” Harry was baffled “I mean- how can one spell have multiple incantations?”“Bit of a placebo effect?” Harry shrugged at his unimpressed look “I don’t know what to tell you. From my studies, the original spells were Greek- as were most of the healing charms at the time, and some of the powerful ones still are, to this day.”“Greek? Most of the ones we learn are based on Latin though?”“Sure. And the strongest of enchantments are done using Nordic runes.” He chuckles “That dips into Magical Linguistic studies, and trust me, that’s a rabbit hole you don’t want to jump into. The gist of it is that words and letters only have that much power over magic because we, the wix, believed it so. Without that belief, none of these languages would have any hold over us; they would be inert, like English.”“Where are you going with this,” Harry finally asked, curious but troubled “I mean- it was interesting, I wasn’t lying about that- but you said, at the beginning, that ‘Killing Curse is no mere feat of magic’.”“That’s because no spell lasts forever,” Harry explained “Yes, a curse can affect generations, but eventually it fades. Shields fall, wards crumble, enchantments become faulty. That’s why you have many job positions that focus on maintaining those kind of things. You can kill a person with a cutting curse, sure (and there is no reversing death)- but the purpose of the curse is to cut, not to kill, and even on a cadaver, you can close the wounds and mend what is broken.”“You would think, ‘Oh, but the Killing Curse is painless, it could be used to humanely kill livestock’- and trust me, there were others before you who thought the same, and used the curse as such.”“What happened?” Harry’s voice was hushed, but attentive, peering at his older counterpart with something like apprehension.“No-one knows, from where the curse came from,” Harry started slowly “I believe first recorded mentions of it were from Mesopotamia, though back then it was referred to as ‘Nergal’s Breath’- however, even then, it was written about in such a way, that implied that the curse was much older than that.” Seeing his younger self’s mild confusion, he explained. “Nergal was believed to be the God of Inflicted Death. Fitting, I would say.”He shook his head.“Anyway. From my studies- and my experience- the Killing Curse is not much as sudden death, as it is absolute death. A life-stopper, essentially.” Watching Harry opening his mouth, the older wizard continued “Imagine, for just a second, your example. You said it yourself: even after decapitation, a person is still aware for few seconds. That’s consciousness. But did you know that up until roughly five minutes passed, a witch or wizard would have been still able to essentially re-attach the head back to the body and be able to save them?”He smiled faintly at the boy’s astonished look.“Similarly to your death right now. If, by miracle, someone was able to get you within the next five minutes of losing consciousness, they would have been able to heal your wound and stabilize you enough to save your life.”“I always thought that Killing Curse like, stops the heart,” Harry said uneasily, pursing his lips when his older counterpart shook his head “At least, that’s how Hermione reasoned it.”“The effect is much more sinister,” Harry grimaced “Perhaps, and absolute death is a poor way to call it; life-stopper is more accurate, but even more accurate is to call what it is; that once it hits you, you are removed from life.” He laughs a little “Or, well, that was the original intent of it. It is perhaps one of the only well known necromantic spells known to wixkind today; a swift separation of soul from the body, as to leave the body untouched and undamaged.”“What?” Harry’s voice was weak “A necro- killing curse is part of Necromancy?”“Yes,” Harry nodded, “Oh, on the whole, a not such bad way to go for the victim- separation of a soul from the body does happen in any other death as well, but, well, not instantaneously. Takes a while, naturally. Longer than it would take for your body to become brain dead through the lack of oxygen actually, if someone happened to resurrect you the advisable time to prevent that. I think there is a speculation it can last hours, even days, for the soul to leave to the afterlife.”“This is why I am in the inbetween,” Harry realized suddenly “Because I am still connected. You said time doesn’t matter here, does it? That means, no time passes- or it passes faster.”“Exactly,” the older wizard confirms “The real issue is what happens after with the body. Normally, well, the processes start right? Rigor mortis, then decay, scavengers and the like picking what was left of you apart until there is nothing but food for the worms. This doesn’t happen when Killing Curse is involved.”“It separates the soul, but also pretty much... halts everything. What is left of you- the body- it becomes absolutely pristine. Untouched by diseases, by parasites; untouched by time. It’s like it becomes antithesis to life. In times where Necromancy was abundant, a perfect tool for further use; however it comes with a cost; something that was realized when one “clever”- and I use the word loosely- wizard thought it would be great idea to speed up the culling of his livestock, and then sell the butchered meat to the community. An altruistic intent, I am sure, but with catastrophic consequences.”“What happened?” Harry was pale almost ill looking- clearly he had thoughts but was saving them for later.“What happens when one consumes flesh that is the antithesis of life?” Harry asks rhetorically “Essentially, it was like being affected by the curse itself. Instantaneous death right after the first bite. No-one knew what happened; the butcher himself fell a victim to his folly. It was shelved as an unsolved mystery for quite a while, before someone made an observation on how the Killing Curse seems to preserve the body- and how, even after the death happens, the mere presence of it seems to affect its surroundings.”It was a chilling shock, to be able to access classified files about his parents’ murders, back when he finally rose high enough in Aurors ranks to do so. To read on the standard procedures, when it came to deal with a Killing Curse remains.“What about Mom and Dad?” Harry’s mind was clearly turned to the same page. His green eyes were wide, almost fearful “Does that mean- that their bodies are-““Untouched,” Harry confirmed “If one were to exhume them- it would be like they simply died yesterday.” And as far as he was aware, they would remain that way for eternity- as no-one has been able to correctly guess if the effect fades or not. There was a rumour that Unspeakables were still carefully monitoring the burial grounds which had been erected for the victims of the livestock debacle, and even centuries later, their bodies were pristine- and so were their clothes and everything that had been with them for the weeks it took for someone to find their cadavers.“There is a procedure,” Harry started carefully “When it comes to burying Killing Curse victims. Their remains are pretty much treated as cursed objects. Lead lined coffin, with silver finishing. If the family wishes to bury them that is. Much preferable is cremating in purging fire.” He shakes his head.“It’s not that they are poison- not in the way radiation is, if one were to compare it. But, well... The Killing Curse is essentially something of a summon; and what it does, is that it summons Death. And unless the body is thoroughly disposed of, Death’s presence remains- even after they collected its due.”“...Death,” Harry repeated, licking his lips “As in, with capital ‘D’?”“Correct.”The boy licks his lips again. He swallows. Looks into his older self’s eyes, afraid but pushing past it.“At the beginning, you said you were Called.”And Harry smiled.“That I did.”“You said... you said that when you were Harry Potter,” here the boy gave him a stink eye, and Harry smiled wider “You made choices that gave you a ‘curious purpose’ after death.”“I did say that.” He confirmed pleasantly.There was a moment of tense silence, before Harry took a deep breath.“Are you... Are you Death?”“I mean,” Harry laughed, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head “In a way, technically, I am?”“How can you be JUST ‘TECHNICALLY’ DEATH??” Harry shouted, jumping from the bench seat to start pacing in front of it “How the fuck- that doesn’t- what did you do????” He twisted to look at the older wizard incredulously.“Yeah, about that,” Harry sighed, leaning back against the bench backrest “Remember how I told you that wix belief gives language power?” at the boy’s nod he continued “It was something like that.”“Don’t tell me they started to believe we are Death,” Harry begged immediately, groaning when his older self grimaced.“Not directly,” Harry muttered “And even that, decade is hardly enough for someone to be elevated that high. No, if there is anyone to blame, blame our ancestors.” He rubbed his eyes tiredly “Way before the Potter family was just a twinkle in someone’s eyes- and trust me, our family is old- there were three brothers. Their names are hardly important; but what is important is the fact they were clever, arrogant cookies, and liked to play with things they shouldn’t.”He snorted. “Rumours and myths and legends would tell you, that they bested Death and got gifted special items as a reward for tricking them; the much grounded truth is that they dabbled into the exact part of Necromancy that gave rise to the Killing Curse, and it allowed them to craft three artifacts of unique power and properties: The Cloak of Nonexistence-“ He charted a visible shimmering triangle in the air “- The Stone of Counsel-“ he drew a circle inside it “-And lastly, the Wand of Ending.” He slashed the symbol from point to bottom, splitting the image in half.“An impressive feat of magic; as they used the antithesis of life to make them everlasting, indestructible- and most importantly, untouchable by other kinds of magic and enchantment.”“What do they do?” Harry asked almost breathlessly, likely guessing there was more to those items than meet the eye.“The Wand is just that- a wand,” Harry’s lips twitch “But one unlike that which Ollivander sells, it does not choose a wizard; it is not loyal. A neutral tool, but one that is without limitation; you see, there is only so much a simple wand is able to handle- this is why wandless magic is such desirable skill for many a wix, as it would allow them to wield powers unlike they ever dreamed off- something no mere wand is capable of channelling without fracturing under the pressure.”“But not the Wand of Ending.” Harry correctly guessed, prompting a nod.“Not the Wand of Ending,” Harry agreed. “It is called such, because no-one would be able to match it- whatever feat of magic it starts, it always finishes. Be it a fight, a complicated enchantment, a miracle. And where other wands would strain and break, this one never will. The time changed over the years, and it simply became to be known as the Elder Wand- or the Death Stick, as its history became rather bloody.”“The Stone of Counsel has the power to reach across Time- and reach into Inbetween. It calls forth the souls of the deceased, usually to speak with them. Myths talked about it as the Resurrection Stone.”“Resurrection Stone?” Harry sounded sceptical “That’s bit untruthful isn’t it? If it only calls their souls- spirits?”“It’s actually closer to the truth than you’d think,” Harry shrugged “The brothers dabbled in Necromancy, remember? And if the myth about the second brother is to be believed, his fiancé perished and he was desperate to see her resurrected again. The stone was a meant to be tool for that; I could only speculate he so desperately worked on a way to craft her a new body (as the old one most likely decayed long before) and meant to use the stone as to call her soul back into the Living.” He shook his head.“A miscalculation, I’d assume. He meant to call the spirits from Beyond, but no mere mortal is able to cross the Veil so easily- so Inbetween is only as far as he was able to reach. And in the Inbetween-““-The Soul is still tied to the body,” Harry finishes, realizing “You said it calls across Time- that means she would still be connected to her old body, in the past. He would have never been able to connect her to new one.”“He took his own life, in the end,” The older wizard nods “I think he had realized that bit himself, eventually.”“That’s,” Harry started quietly “That’s actually rather sad.”“It is. Remember Harry, Necromancy was hardly the frowned upon discipline, back in the day- it was simply another branch of magic. Dangerous, much in the same way Alchemy is dangerous. A person was hardly evil for dabbling in it. If you think about it, Nicolas Flamel himself put a stopper to his own death by creating the Philosopher’s Stone, yet no-one goes around calling him a Dark Wizard.”The boy nodded. “...And what about the Cloak? How can a Cloak make you nonexistent?”“You would know,” Harry prompted in amusement “We have been using it since our first year.”“Using-“ his younger self swallowed the rest and then looked on incredulously “You mean- the Invisibility Cloak?? But- that doesn’t make sense! Fake Moody still saw me under it, and pretty sure I can’t just walk through people!”“Because we never wore it properly,” Harry grinned “It’s a cloak, Harry, it’s meant to be worn like one- fastened around your neck and everything, so you can pull the hood up. We weren’t supposed to run around in it like covered in a bed sheet.”“Are you serious?” Harry blurted out, indignant “You mean- all this bloody time, it was much cooler than it already was?”“Yes,” He shrugged at the other’s annoyed exclamation “It’s rather incredible feat of magic really; I might be biased, but well, outside of the three of them, I always considered that one most useful. The cloak cannot be summoned; and you are undetectable when you wear it- that includes scent and sound when you wear it properly. Naturally, you are invisible- but more than that, it’s like you are just a shade to anything living. I could only guess at its original purpose- but I always thought that the youngest brother- our direct ancestor- most likely had many enemies he sought to hide himself from. The legend is unclear, but it tells that he gave the cloak to his son and then greeted Death as an old friend; that could very well mean they were attacked and he chose to save his child with it instead of himself.”“What do they all have to do with you being Death, though?” Harry interrupted, impatient “I mean- I guess you said they were created with some Necromancy, but they don’t seem to be connected.”“They aren’t,” Harry agreed “Well, at least they weren’t. But such is the nature of people, we like to tell tales- and the more interesting, the better. As I said before, no-one believes the brothers created these items themselves; they believe they were gift from Death. The real history twisted into a cautionary bedtime story for children, with enough mystery for Dumbledore to drown himself in.” He grinned when Harry snorted. “And since people believed they were created by Death- a single entity- they believed they were part of a set. The Deathly Hallows. No-one was able to hold more than two at a time- not if they sought after them with the purpose of possessing all three. Because whoever managed to collect, possess and use all three, would naturally become the Master of Death.”“Oh, you did not,” the boy groaned, sliding down the bench seat until he was near sprawled on it “They did not.”“I collected and used them all by accident,” Harry confirmed ruefully “I, naturally, did not believe any of that hogwash- because truthfully, that’s all that was. Complete bullshit. But, well, tell that to the millions upon millions of witches and wizards, who lived and died in the utmost belief of their power and what they do together.”“You are the Master of Death,” Harry rubbed his face tiredly “How does that make you Death?”“Death isn’t an actual entity,” the older wizard shrugged “Or well, not as the legends tell it. It is a constant in an equation of life. It is there, but not really sentient? Or conscious. I would more call it ambient, in the same way Hogwarts is.” His lips twitched “I, however, am Master of it. After all, similarly, magic by itself is formless, neutral. But when one masters it...”“...Then you are a wix,” Harry looked at his older self wide eyed “And wix gives the magic direction and purpose. So, by itself, Death just is- but now, you are what gives it Sentience? Thought? Direction?”“Basically,” Harry sighed “I am now what you would think of when you read the story of Three Brothers. I am that Death, the being that was cheated.”“Are you going to kill me?” Harry blurted out, causing his older self to blink.“Kill you-? Mate, you are already dead.”“Oh, right.”There was a long pause, where both pretended that question wasn’t embarrassing.Harry cleared his throat.“Well. Anyway. What I meant to say... Death is a constant. I am a constant. Things like Time and Reality doesn’t really affect me.” He stared down at his younger self who just stared back. “It doesn’t affect us.”“Wait.” Harry continued to stare “Doesn’t affect us? But- that would mean that I-““-Are the Master of Death too, yeah.”“But- wait. That doesn’t make any- I only have the Invisibility Cl- the Cloak of Nonexistence, or whatever the bloody hell it’s called! How can I be Master of Death?”“You are one because I am one,” Harry explained a bit impatiently “That’s why I was Called, summoned; the killing curse, your ‘death’- our ‘death’, our spilled blood- and all that in Death’s domain, the graveyard.” He laughs weakly “Oh, I know it sucks, but, well, that is why I am here. Right now, you and I, we are the same- the same soul, even if our experiences differ. And because I am a Master of Death- you are now one as well. A perfect collection of coincidences, isn’t it? I wasn’t actually, you know, me, before you arrived here.” He shrugged “My life as Harry Potter ended eons ago- or just a minute ago, one can never tell when Time doesn’t exist. I guess I was quite content being just a Constant- then you quite rudely pulled me out of ambient awareness to focused sentience, so I guess, thanks for that mate.”“What are you blaming me for,” Harry defended himself indignantly “I didn’t mean to summon you or pull you away from afterlife or- wait is there an afterlife?” he blinked at the thought occurred to him “You said there is Beyond? Are Mom and Dad there?”“There is, I did say that, they are there-“ a warm certainty like nothing else filled him at that- huh, guess he did spent some quality time with them- and he shook a warning finger at his younger self “- and no, I will not tell you more about that, because I cannot, and there are things mortal mind cannot comprehend and you are still mortal enough in that regard.”“You just said I am Master of Death,” Harry complained, frustrated “That stinks of double standard- why can you go and see them and I can’t?”“Because you are still connected to your body,” Harry shut him down “And until you move on, you can’t be with them.”The next silence was sullen as both of them glared at each other before the younger of the two sighed and leaned back into the bench.“...Is that my only option?” He asked quietly, elaborating when his older self just blinked “Moving on I mean. I just...” he looked away “I wish It wasn’t just that one. I think... I was always going to see them right? Eventually.” He twisted his hands in his lap, and Harry felt his heart pang when he noticed more tears welling up in his younger’s selves eyes. “I just didn’t think ‘eventually’ would come so soon.” The tears fell. “I didn’t... I didn’t even say goodbye to Ron and Hermione.”“...Fuck, kid,” Harry exhaled, weary and ignoring the muttered ‘don’t call me kid’ with ease “It doesn’t work that way. I mean, I could technically stuff you right back in, but your body is still dead, and you don’t have the power required to- well, get it back to functioning state. Yeah, right now, second or two passed, but once we leave this place, we don’t have that luxury. For all you know, you would wake up a vegetable at best- or die again right away, and you’d be back here.”“...I don’t have the power,” Harry tested out slowly “Do you have the power? To heal the body?”“I can’t,” Harry shut that down “Like yeah right now we are basically one soul, but it is still you connected to the body- only once you move on, we will be completely and wholly the same. Merged, in a way. But not right now.”“And if we merged now?”The older one paused, then squinted at his younger self, who stared at him with defiance.“...Theoretically,” he started slowly, still refusing to back down from the eye contact “I could... reshape the body. So that it functions again. Heal it, I suppose, if you want to get fancy about it.”“I am not agreeing,” he warned, when he saw triumph flash through Harry’s eyes “Do you even realize what you are asking? If we merge, you are at risk of being snuffed out. My experiences vastly overpower yours; I was nearly hundred and fifty when I passed on- and that was before I took up the mantle of Death. Now, I am just... so much more.”“I don’t believe that you can’t do anything to prevent that,” Harry pointed out, grinning when his older self grimaced “I knew it.”“I could, theoretically, make sure your conscience takes the precedence over mine, when it comes to sense of self,” Harry said reluctantly before rolling his eyes when the boy’s expression fell into horrified realization at what he was asking “Stop that. I am not that actually attached to my ‘sense of self’- didn’t you hear me when I said I was happy to exist as ambient awareness? Trust me, after you spent an eternity being bored out of your mind, ambient awareness is a blessing.”“I shouldn’t have asked,” Harry said miserably “I’m sorry- it was a dumb idea-““Well, I didn’t say that.”Truthfully, the longer Harry thought about it, the more he wondered if it could be done. Crossing his arms and tapping his foot on the ground, he gave it a careful consideration.“...Technically,” he started slowly “You don’t need all the memories of my nonbeing. A general knowledge of it is enough- I doubt you would want to be aware of the souls I shepherded on.” He shot the boy a look to stop him from questioning that- he really didn’t want to get into the more well known aspects of his job as Death. “In any case, having only hundred and fifty years worth of memories to deal with shouldn’t be that big of a strain on your brain. The real issue is, well, all of this,” he motions to himself, grinning faintly.“Harry, I am Death. I am not mortal- not anymore at least. I kept onto my quite normal mortality until the very end- and when I passed on, it was like I was suddenly more- as if I was a Star and I went supernova, and now I am a galaxy- that’s how different it is, and I did have enough close calls to know the difference between dying and what happened to me.”He shook his head.“I am afraid that even if we merge, and even if you remain dominant- it would be like stuffing the sun in a sock.” His lips twitch when Harry couldn’t help but snort. “As in, you would be at very risk that before you- us- we have the chance to fix our body right up, we will burn though it like through a paper bag.”“Then there is nothing to lose by trying, is there?” Harry argued quite reasonably “Either way, if it doesn’t work, I am still dead, right? And you said we would merge anyway.” The boy looks up at him, searching. “This is a chance for you too. Or is there not anything you would have done in your previous life differently?”“You manipulative piece of chicken shit,” Harry cussed him almost fondly, shoving him off the bench and ignoring his complaints “You would guess so, huh?”“You seemed sad when you mentioned Cedric,” his younger self said simply, rubbing his elbow and glaring as he stood up “It... It eats at you, even now, doesn’t it? That you couldn’t save him.”It did. Even through all of his hundred and fifty years and thought eternity of nonexistence, Harry still remembered the young Hufflepuff’s death with haunting vividness.“Let’s try it,” Harry begged “You know how to beat him, right? You wouldn’t have lived that long otherwise- Voldemort wouldn’t let you. You could beat him even now- I know you could.”“With that kind of single minded focus, why don’t you become a ghost,” Harry grumbled, but he was getting up and stretching, as if readying himself for a run “Clearly, you have some unfinished business.”“I don’t want to be a ghost,” Harry disagreed, and the watched the other with rising nervousness and excitement “That seems like torture and waste of time.”“You can’t, even if you wanted to,” His older self shrugged “Master of Death. You would make a poor job of it, if you were stuck as a ghost.”The Horcrux was long forgotten.“So,” Harry breathed “We- we are doing this? Merging? Coming back?”“Oh we are going to try, I will give you that,” Harry corrected “It might still blow up in our face.”“But it might not.”“It might not.” He agreed, and then offered the boy his hands. “Go on then- grab on. I should perhaps be more concerned how eager you are to do this.”“I am dead,” Harry mentioned once more “Should I be more concerned how easy it is for you to give up, uh, yourself?”“I was dead for longer,” Harry shrugged “And what can I say, I have a people saving thing. And honestly, it’s not like I will be gone. I am you, and you are me. At purely soul level, nothing will change. What are few memories in the face of that?”“One would think it would be forbidden,” Harry breathed, and his hands were shaking and clammy when he grabbed tight “I mean- isn’t it a little like cheating death?”“But Harry,” His older self grinned widely “We are Death. Is it truly cheating, when we are doing what we always could?”And it was with an echo of the younger’s laughter, that the misty King’s Cross disappeared into a flash of bright light, leaving behind nothing, not even an speck of dust.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
Chapter 1: Fortune Favours The Bold
He likes to pretend sometimes.That whatever it is that he brings to the table- when it comes to the friendship, when it comes to their friendship- is something unique, and irreplaceable, but Ron knows that he’s mostly deluding himself.Perhaps he should blame it all on getting older; at eleven, it was all too easy to get caught up in the idea of not being worse than others- like, yeah, even back then, having everything be second-hand was awful, but it was easier to just not take notice and focus on the simple things, enjoyable things. And truthfully, what importance a first year or second year had? He knew they were just considered annoying midgets by the rest of the school, barely worth a notice by the older kids.But fourth year is a halfway point. And what had Ron accomplished by the start of it? In the summer, the first night after he got home from the station, he remembers just lying in his bed, stroking the breast feathers of his new owl, and just thinking. Stewing in the niggling doubts of- of just not being good enough. Contrary to their previous ‘adventures’, third year was rather... disappointing. And he knew he shouldn’t feel like that (it had been bloody terrifying, facing down an accused murderer after all) but he just couldn’t help it. Previously, be it going down the trapdoor or down the Chamber of Secrets, Ron felt involved- invaluable to the mission’s success. Sure, Harry was the one who dealt with the major threat at the end, but Ron helped to get him there, and he had been there to help him out after- but the end of their third year really felt like a slap to the face, sobering him up.Harry didn’t need him to accomplish those feats; he didn’t even need Hermione really- all he needed was the Time Turned she was using, and Ron was pretty sure that with enough push, Harry would be just as good- if not better- than Hermione, when it comes to spell casting and other bits of magic.Watching his best mate practically shine in Lupin’s classes, going leaps and bounds beyond what even their ‘brightest’ witch was capable of... It just really put into perspective just how much raw talent Harry actually had.And sure, Hermione was scarily smart- and pretty much nearly on top of everything in school- but Ron saw the amount of work she put into it, day by day, clawing to the top shedding sweat and blood, just so she could prove to others (and herself) that she belonged there.Ron was... no-one special. A ‘sidekick’ at best, the one crazy enough to go along with their plotting and schemes- willing muscle and willing follower, but the redhead knew that if Harry would have been forced to pick between either of them simply based on usefulness, he’d pick Hermione.It rankled. It truly did. And he thought he’d feel bitter and jealous over that but... not really? There was a tightness in his chest when he thought of that kind of choice- not really fear, but something like nervousness; disappointment. He wouldn’t blame Harry for picking Hermione over him, but... He’d rather he picked both of them. And wasn’t that silly? One would think that he’d want to be chosen in that scenario, but Ron knew that if Hermione got left behind, that would be just as awful.He wished he was brave enough to talk about this- with either of them. The worry he had for his place in their lives. The fear he felt, when Harry was suddenly the Champion; it wasn’t that he really thought he did it- but it was easier to let himself believe so. Logical, truly- a sign that Harry was moving on and really didn’t need Ron in his life, not enough to even share a way to get past Dumbledore and get into a super cool, super dangerous tournament.(A hidden part of himself whispered please Merlin please, let this be just Harry being a stupid teenager, just one peaceful year, that’s all we want-)The following weeks was just... a test. A test to himself- a stubborn show of his own independence, because bloody hell, he can live without Harry being a constant by his side, he can go about his day and school and have fun with the other blokes from their year without subconsciously seeking out green eyes just so he could delight at the mirth he’d see in them, when he manages to land a particularly fantastic jab at Malfoy or some other stinker-He didn’t account for Hermione to just... up and leave him for the dust of course. That was a new fear he hadn’t had the chance to think about before, and sure, she didn’t really just stop talking to him, but she wasn’t impressed with him either.He couldn’t defend himself against her hidden accusation of jealousy- oh they were a complete bullshit of course, but jealousy was something he was familiar with, and far easy to submerge in, and it was easy to ramble about ‘more fame’ and ‘more money’ than I think I can’t imagine life without Harry in it and that scares me-He just didn’t imagine that going about his day without Hermione present would be just as bad.It was easier in the third year- they were constantly snarling at themselves like pair of mad dogs, and anger was enough of a motivator to keep away and ignore the hurt that was layered underneath all of it.But they weren’t at odds now- Ron certainly wasn’t angry at her, and he knew she wasn’t angry at him, just frustrated (he could see that after his second round of complaining about Harry’s celebrity status, her anger faded and she started staring at him all scary, like he was a puzzle she’s trying to figure out-).That frustration did manifest in her deciding that Harry was the priority in that moment- and, well, yeah, Ron wasn’t happy about that choice, but with how the whole fucking school was suddenly at the other boy’s throat, he was secretly glad he she did.It also allowed him to have his panic of I don’t think I can imagine life without Hermione in it either away from both of them.Why oh why was he suddenly the most emotionally developed out of the three of them? There was a realization forming in his mind that he refused to touch with a ten foot pole- not now, not after the first task, when Harry looked so small and so terrified while dodging a pissed off dragon that was as big as Ron’s whole damn house-(-He knew dragons were big, and Norbert- Norberta now- was certainly no pixie, but he didn’t think they were that big-)- No. Harry didn’t need Ron’s disaster of a blubbering mess that was his realization. He needed a friend, so friend was what Ron will be, and he will be darned if that won’t be enough.(If Ginny was able to push her own messy feelings aside, Ron can do it too. No way he lets her best him in this as well)Of course, then there was Hermione ‘I-want-to-know-everything’ Granger.Ron lov- he appreciates Hermione. He really does. She is crazy clever, and a terror, and vicious little thing- but also in much the same way all women seems to be able to do, she sniffs out weaknesses faster than one can say Quidditch. He has perhaps the slightest of ideas what she expected from him after he near tripped down the bleachers in his hurry to get to Harry before he loses the opportunity to talk to him- but if she was expecting a heartfelt confession, she was the one who was crazy, not him.Then the Yule Ball was announced, and she suddenly turned into a determined niffler after they spotted something shiny.And as always, her best weapons were books.“There is nothing in the rules against a same sex partners.” She announced just loud enough for him to hear- but it was still enough of a shock of a sentence to startle him bad enough that he jerked his hand and spilled ink on the potion assignment he had been attempting to chew through.Damn. What a conversation starter.She didn’t heed his cursing and fixed it with simple murmur of an incantation- but with that excuse out of the way, he had to pay attention, but that didn’t mean he would made it easy on her. Side-eyeing her, he moved to cautiously continue with the essay, ignoring her frown with practiced ease.“Ron.” He was sure she was scowling at him now. “The rules. I just said-““Heard you the first time,” the redhead muttered, deciding to reread what he had already written because he didn’t really want to repeat the same points twice “Good for them I guess. Don’t see how that has anything to do with me though.”“You could ask him,” She pressed, softer than he ever heard her talk, and he wanted to laugh that she was completely misunderstanding the situation as it was “You never know- he might surprise you-““I don’t plan to,” Ron was determined to shut that way of thinking fast “He already has enough messes to deal with- he doesn’t need that on top of everything.” It was pointless to get defensive or play dumb, not when Hermione is so certain she has the puzzle all figured out. Giving up his essay as a bad job for now, he sets down his quill and turns to face her. He was a coward in many things, but they only had a little window of time before Harry returns, so better they make it count.“That’s- it’s not a mess,” she defended in a hiss, and Ron was almost sure she was offended for him, not because of him “And if you just gave it a chance-““If you worry that he’s gonna have a bad time otherwise, why don’t you ask him?” Ron wondered aloud, but without any heat. Honestly, it would be the best solution for all of them. Ron... wouldn’t mind if the two of them went to the Yule Ball together; they would do the opening dance, and everyone would be all chill and normal about that, and Ron would go alone, but then he’d have the chance to dance with both- as a friend, as it should be, just bit of a lark between friends, nothing too messy that needs looking into.(It just fits, you know? They were pieces of the whole, the three of them, so having two together would be better than nothing. Ron can stay by the sidelines- he is used to it, he had been in the sidelines for most of his life now)Something quick flashed across Hermione’s face at the suggestion- too quick for Ron to decipher the whole meaning of, but it was fragile and uncertain, and so complete opposite of what he was used to seeing, that he was sure the sight of it was now burned into his mind forever. Then Hermione’s expression was determined once more.“I couldn’t,” she said firmly, stubbornly- and Ron inwardly rolled his eyes, because if he though Harry was a self-sacrificing idiot, then Hermione was sometimes even worse- and they called him blind “I- well, if he asks, I won’t say no, but-“Here her certainty seems to leave her and she cuts herself off to look aside and bite her lip, frowning. Ron knew what she was thinking; attempting to predict anything Harry does when it comes to social interactions is like expecting Snape to hand out candy on Halloween- nigh impossible.It occurs to him now, that this was a prime opportunity for Ron to ask her to the Ball; and the words were on his tongue far faster than he expected (going to the Ball with Hermione would have been just as fantastic as going to the Ball with Harry-)He closed his mouth; swallowed the words. She would have said yes- he was certain of it. But there was still an option that Harry would ask her as well, and then she’d be in the awkward position of choosing one or the other- and to be honest, Harry was probably in the bigger need, considering he was in the opening dance for the cursed thing.They didn’t have a chance to talk about it again- especially after the thoughtless disaster that was him falling under Fleur’s allure and making a complete ass of himself for all to see. He thought they were on the same page- he and Hermione that is. Shaking himself off the humiliation, and his mind firmly on the problem that was the Yule ball- and his, Harry’s and Hermione’s involvement in it- he thought that it was time for action, and to solve it once and for all. Hermione wouldn’t have wanted to choose between either of them, and after the disaster that was his proposal to Fleur, Ron would rather die than go without a date for the Ball, so it seemed safe to propose that Harry take Ginny and Hermione go with him.Clearly he was wrong.He hadn’t wanted to believe it- not until he saw it with his own eyes. He had been more than fine with Harry and Hermione eventually going together (in the back of his mind, the one that liked to go through all possible scenarios, he was sure he would be more than fine if by the end of it the two of them hooked up- it would be inevitable, and expected, and yet- though Ron wouldn’t be an active part of it, he would still be sort of part of it- and that was fine).Watching Hermione going with bloody Krum of all people... it was like a betrayal. And not because of the nonsense she accused him off, once he gone and made an asshole of himself again (as if he could care less about the stupid tournament at this point), but just...It was like being reminded anew that neither Harry, nor Hermione, needed him- not like he needed them. And he could see the frustration, the confusion that was hiding behind the hurt that he put into her eyes- she had her own little puzzle figured out (or so she thought) and yet here he was, acting completely out of what she expected of him.And he couldn’t tell her.Couldn’t tell her that there was no ‘other half’ to his own piece, but ‘two thirds’ that he was missing- and what a fucking fine mess he was making of it all.
Mom, Dad, I think I am a little bit in love with both of my best friends, and I don’t know what to do.
He couldn’t tell either of them. Not when he saw how happy the grumpy bloke made her (she deserved to be treated like a pretty girl, Merlin knows Ron blew through all of his chances now), and he could see how skittish Harry was from the thought of making any more attempts at relationships, and knew that his tolerance for that year was shot.(Besides, Ron thought with aching in his chest, Harry liked Cho. And who was Ron to get in way of that? He was glad the boy still talked to him, despite the mess from the beginning of the year- he was content with what he had. He had to be.)It was easy to pretend that that’s everything to be worried about this year; silly things like first time crushes and stupid arguments, school and wanting to play Quidditch-But nothing can ever be so easy, can it? Stupid journalists attacking them in the papers, and ministry officials robbing Snape’s ingredients storage, and then appearing from the forest babbling like madman, and attacking other people-(Being Harry’s most precious thing- enough to be put down at the bottom of the lake as the goal- was perhaps the only highlight. Sure, maybe Ron was looking too deep into that, but he would be lying if it didn’t please him regardless)“You’re gonna win this thing mate.” Ron figured if he said it often enough, he’d believe it too. It was the last night before the Third Task- the nerve wracking final stretch. “You aren’t just gonna survive- you’re gonna win it, just you wait. And all the bloody blighters will eat their words, you will see.”It was just as well that the common room was empty; the redhead knew he wouldn’t be as free in his pep talk if Hermione was here- oh she would have probably stared at the two of them like she was in a theatre play, he was sure of it, and that would have made things really awkward really soon. For such a smart witch the girl can really be dumb sometimes, as if Harry needed terrible confessions at that very moment.Ron thought about it, of course; it would have been so scarily easy too, to just reach out and take his hand and just hold it, and Harry was sharp enough to realize that hardly being normal interaction for two of them. But seeing how pale he was, the anxiety tightening Harry’s features... Ron just couldn’t do it.(Especially as it was just the two of them- it wouldn’t be the full set, it would have been wrong)So he gave his mate a hearty slap on his shoulder, and threw an arm around them to squeeze him just briefly- you know, like blokes who are just friends are to do- and then chased him towards the dorm rooms with all the commandeering power his mom had, and based on Harry’s grin, it worked well enough.Hermione wasn’t as impressed with him the next morning of course.“I thought you told him,” She hissed at him, after she made it back from the library just in time for History to start- it was perhaps the best opportunity for her to corner him, especially when Harry failed to turn up from where he was dragged off to by McGonagall “I thought you wanted to ‘talk’ to him yesterday!”She made honest to earth quotation marks, and Ron warred between feeling fond and wanting to bash his head against the desk.“There is nothing for me to tell him- no, listen-“ he reached out to grab her hand tight when she made a little growl, and pretended his heart just didn’t consider leaving the orbit from how hard it jolted at the contact “Even if there was anything to tell- which there isn’t- he was just too wound up and you know the bloke would just stay up the whole night, not getting a wink.”“Why are you so against this?” Her tone was now almost anxious, frustrated in completely different way “Is this- is it because he was raised by muggles? I know there is rather- er- poor view when it comes to same sex couples-“ She paused when it became clear from his expression he hadn’t been worried about that before, but clearly is now. “Oh, confound it, Ron, it’s Harry-”“And what is stopping you from telling him?” he finally hisses back, because two can play that game, and if she thinks he is too blind to not see the way she hovers around Harry, even as her new boyfriend (at least he assumes Krum is her ‘boyfriend’) tries his hardest to get her attention, then she really is not as bright as she thinks.He deflates when her face goes almost white and the next look she shoots him is spooked. As if she was terrified at what he figured out.“..I couldn’t,” she whispered, her voice barely heard over the monotone drone of Binn’s voice- the man is unable to shut up even as he is supposing to hand them out their tests “Ron- Ron- you know I couldn’t, I wouldn’t-“ she tries to pull her hand free but the redhead keeps a tight grip on it “There is nothing to tell, really-““There is nothing to tell,” he agreed, perhaps a rueful and a bit amused. What a pair of idiots the two of them are, really; going and catching feelings of all things. He sighs and lets go of her, moving to rub his face tiredly. Things were so much easier when they were eleven.A thought occurred to him, and he shot her a suspicious look.“...Do you think you are getting into my territory or something?” He had figured she had been just much of a chicken about it as he was- not wanting to risk ruining the friendships by silly thing like feelings, but then he remembered that Hermione was always so much more brave than him. At the way her face grew even paler, he groaned under his breath in exasperation. “Hermione.”“It doesn’t matter,” she says, avoiding his look, and her voice calm despite the fact she looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but in the class right now “It’s all just- Ginny said that it just makes sense for me to have little- little c-crushes-” Ron thinks Ginny’s right in that “- but since I’ve been with no-one but you two for ages, there is no-one else to direct it to and if I branch out-“Nevermind, Ginny can go take a stroll through the Forbidden Forest.“Ginny should mind her own fucking business,” he muttered, ignoring Hermione’s disapproving hiss at his language “You ever thought about just... giving it a go?”“I really don’t want to talk about this right now.” The witch’s face was pinched- and yeah, Ron can see how this can be awkward for a girl, talking crushes with a boy- especially if the source of said crush is a guy both of them like. Still, the redhead thinks she has the easy task of it- logically, he thinks she has higher chance at scoring a date than he does, and that’s only when he counts Harry in that.If only he could be that lucky.“Then after the Third Task is over,” he proposes determinedly before he can chicken out “After Harry wins the whole thing ‘cause obviously-“ he gives a quick little grin when Hermione’s lips twitch “- then both of us takes Harry aside and we- we tell him, alright?”He ignores the queasy feeling in his stomach with now almost half a year long practice, and from the way the girl pressed her lips, she didn’t feel much better. He expected her to protest- that if she’d be doing any confessions, it would be away from him, since in her eyes he was probably a competition- but, curiously, her eyes flickered to him with and odd emotion in them, and the hand he held before twitched. Cautiously, quietly, he slowly reached for it again, and took hold of it.She didn’t pull away.They stared at each other for a long minute, something sensitive flashing between the two of them- before Ron exhaled softly, a gentle thrill filling him, a sudden fragile certainty rising within him.“Both of us,” he repeated and marvelled at the hesitant little smile that crossed her lips “Both of us will tell him, yeah?”She turned her hand around his grip and took hold of him, palm to palm fingers curling around his, the touch almost gentle, but the smile remained, uncertain and vulnerable, but there.“We tell him.” she agreed softly, tone wondrous and the light in her eyes bright- brightening even as she shook his hand as if they just made a deal and let go.Ron leaned back into his seat and fought the urge to kick back and place his feet on the desk. There was lightness like nothing else filling him, a sense of right settling in a part of himself. It wasn’t even a confession, really; more like simple acknowledgement of something- something good and exciting. Both of them on the same page, finally, and even now he could see the smile that remained on her lips, and the way her hand rose to trace the expression as if she was puzzled by its determination to stay. It was a step into the unknown; there still was Harry to consider, but Ron felt oddly optimistic.(There they were, two thirds of the whole- they were just missing the final piece now.)The feeling was enough to fuel him through the day, carry him through the rest of the exam and well until lunch, and it only grew stronger when through of it all Hermione remained a firm fixture against his side (even as she elbowed him few times and hissed at him to stop grinning for god’s sake, people will think you went mad, but considering she was hard pressed to stop smiling herself, she had no room to talk).The shock of seeing his Mom and his oldest brother sobered him up a little, and seeing her treat Hermione so coldly certainly put a damper on the whole thing- he worried, for a minute, what was it that really bothered him mother. Was it the fact that Hermione supposedly played both boys at once? Or that she was thought to be Harry’s girlfriend? Was she holding out to some silly hope that Harry would turn his attention to Ginny, since his sister would not shut up about him ever since she learned about his existence?What would she think if both Ron and Hermione wanted to try for Harry’s attention?His gaze flickered towards Hermione’s, finding it equally troubled. He hated this; this uncertainty of if their families would even accept the fragile little thing the three of them could build together.The earlier excitement suddenly felt like from an age ago. All the better to return back to Earth, really; though the rest of their exams passed with a solemn weight hanging over their shoulders, neither Ron nor Hermione could find it in themselves to bear to be apart for more than just few minutes. With the bubble of innocent happiness burst, it was also much easier to focus on the daunting Third Task looming closer and closer- but with it, also came the tentative sense of relief.One more day.One more day, and it all will be over- and they will drag Harry away from this nonsense, and perhaps he’d even convince Hermione to go have a cheeky night stroll through Hogsmeade (it’s not like the tunnels were closed); they will come and see Snuffles, and Ron can just imagine the happiness that would make Harry’s eyes sparkle, at the thought of regaling his Godfather with what he saw in the maze.“He’ll be okay,” Hermione murmured to him determinedly, her hand reaching for his, putting stop to the nervous twisting of his wand. Huh- he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. “We prepared for this the best we could; now all we have to do is wait.”“For a supposed exciting tournament, I don’t think they got the ‘exciting’ part down,” Ron muttered back, even if he was sure his heart wouldn’t withstand all the stress of watching all of it anyway; the First Task was bad enough, where every second was his mind blubbering at him that he is about to watch his best mate be burned to a crisp. They were sitting the closest they could to the front rows of the stage- first in line, so they could be on their feet and ready to flank Harry the moment he was back out of the Maze.“Seems the Third Task will be just much of a waiting game as the second,” the witch agreed absently, her gaze locked in on the four contestants waiting at the entrance to the bloody thing, all ready for the whistles to blow “Neville mentioned they were all pretty much relying on what the Merfolk deemed to share, when it comes to the events under surface; Bagman tried, but there is only so much you can do to engage the audience when all they have is the surface of the lake and your word.”“The waiting might be the worst part actually,” Ron exhaled, uncertainly cautious in showing his worries- feeling warmth spreading in his chest when Hermione tightened the grip on his hand “If we had a way to watch, at least we’d know how he’s doing.”“I am glad we weren’t awake for the second task,” the girl whispered back, almost a guilty secret with how much she tried to not be overheard “I don’t think I could bear it.”Swallowing, Ron just gave a short nod and held her hand more firmly. It has been a task, to keep it together in the last stretch of the day. The exams offered a welcome distraction, but even those came to an end. Keeping a confident face every time Harry glanced at them for strength was a challenge, but one they both did their best to take on- most likely succeeding, seeing their friend stood almost confidently now, somehow just as tall as the other three contestants, for all they were older.“Look at him,” Hermione murmured, and Ron was not surprised to see the tender affection grace her tone and he was sure her look would match it. All of the Champions were now moving towards different entrances to the Maze, and the tension in the air was so thick they could cut it. “He really has a way to pull the crowd, doesn’t he?”“Glides across the ground, plonker,” Ron felt fondness warming him up from the inside, satisfied to see most of the school’s attention was drawn to the confident stride Harry was pulling off “Serves them right for doubting him.”“Ladies and gentlemen!” Bagman’s voice suddenly boomed across the expanse, jolting them from their appreciate staring “The third and final task of the Triwizard Tournament is about to begin! Let me remind you how the points currently stand! Tied in first place, with eighty-five points each - Mr. Cedric Diggory and Mr. Harry Potter, both of Hogwarts School!”Loud roar of cheering rose from the stands, all four Houses eager to show their appreciation for their two Champions. Ron supposed the Slytherins hardly cared at this point who was it who brought their school to the lead, just as long as they win.“In second place, with eighty points — Mr. Viktor Krum, of Durmstrang Institute!” The applause has been no less enthusiastic, though even then it could only hope to reach the excitement of the locals. “And in third place — Miss Fleur Delacour, of Beauxbatons Academy!”“Any thoughts on what will you do with Krum?” Ron asked her in muted tone while they both smiled and returned the wave to Harry, glad that all of yesterday’s nervousness seemed to leave him “Nothing against the bloke- just... you know...”“Haven’t really had the chance to talk with him today,” Hermione said equally quietly, side-eyeing Ron’s mom on the other side of him, apparently wary of bringing the Quidditch star up in front of her. Which, you know, understandable. “But honestly, it’s not like are dating.”“You aren’t?”Well that was news for him. Flashing her brief glance, he could see the way her cheeks pinked.“I thought, especially after the second task-““No,” Hermione said quickly, peering at him a bit guiltily “Don’t get me wrong, Victor was- well, he is very kind, and I liked spending time with him, but...” Her flush deepened. “It wasn’t the right fit.”‘Spending time with him’- Ron supposed that is a good alternative way to say ‘snogging the living daylights out of him’. He supposed it should bother him more- but he already had his meltdown about that around Christmas, no need to be asshole about it second time.“Well that’s alright then, I suppose,” He said with only a bit of forced cheer, though he squeezed Hermione’s hand to show he’s fine “Though it might a bit awkward with him after today.” Given her grimace, he knew she agreed with him.Anything else he had been meaning to say got interrupted by a loud whistle- and immediately both of them leaned forward, eyes locked onto Harry, watching him and Cedric make their way into the Maze. It felt like no time passed before the second whistle was heard, and Krum tore into the dark, away from the light of the torches.A beat- and then finally, the third whistle, heralding Fleur’s departure.Ron forced out a slow exhale.“And now, we wait.” Hermione said softly.“Now we wait.”Knowing how the second task progressed, Ron hadn’t been very surprised to find that Bagman once again provided commentary on the goings in the Maze- though from the faces around him, he assumed the ‘excitement’ of the task turned out to be even more of a disappointment. He was right in thinking the waiting without any visual evidence would be terrible.He did not anticipate the pure torture staring at the ominously dark hedges would bring.“This was such a waste of resources,” Hermione hissed under her breath “All that careful planning and not one of them thought to provide a way for the audience to be actually able to see what is going on?”Usually, Ron would be quick to agree- however as he watched the few organizers mill around the hedges, waving their wands and muttering among themselves- as he squinted to see the edge of Bagman’s smile strain and the way he constantly checked back to them- a sense of foreboding seemed to turn his stomach into stone.“Something’s wrong,” he breathed to the witch next to him, tensing and straightening in his seat, his eyes flickering from Bagman to the organizers and back to Bagman “Look- I don’t think we are meant to fly completely blind-““They don’t know,” Hermione whispered, straightening as well, and her grip on his hand became almost too painful “Something’s wrong, and they don’t know what. They can’t fix it.”It was becoming increasingly apparent that even what little information they were able to get to Bagman, it was not enough; it was all too jarring to suddenly notice that out of all the Champions, it was Harry who got reported on the least- as if whatever was interfering with the Task was targeting Harry specifically.“He’ll be fine,” Ron said, and pretended he didn’t hear his voice waver “He’s Harry- he’s always fine.” He has to be. But from the look in Hermione’s eyes, as he turned to glance at him, the way she looked almost nauseous, it was getting harder and harder to believe-Suddenly a scream, drawn out and terrible, echoed from across the Maze, causing them both to flinch and jump to their feet- their reaction thankfully forgotten in the wordless loud gasp and murmur of the crowd, when soon after a shower of reds sparks exploded above the dark misty hedges; a clearly agreed upon signal.
“And Miss Delacour has sent up the red sparks! That means the Third Task- and the Tournament as s whole now comes to an end for our lovely Beauxbatons Champion, please everyone give her your very best cheer to send her off!”
A smattering of lukewarm applause had been the answer to Bagman’s clearly forced enthusiasm, and Ron very reluctantly allowed Hermione to pull him back down to their seat, his heart beating painfully in his chest. He ignored his Mother’s and Bill’s concerned gaze with practiced ease, instead focusing on his breathing, attempting in near vain to try and get it under control.“I don’t like this,” Hermione was whispering feverishly under her breath, expression tight as she watched the teachers carry out the unconscious Beauxbatons Champion out of the Maze “I really don’t like this-““It’ll be fine,” Ron’s voice was trembling, same as his hand that was clutching onto hers “She’s just- knocked out-“But there was a thread of anxiety curling and tangling deep inside his chest. Something was wrong. The redhead could feel it, but couldn’t put his hand on it; there was a sense of dark anticipation- far sharper and far more ominous than he had ever felt before.(There had been a reason why he chose Divination, two years before; partly for the easy O’, partly because of a niggling feeling at the back of his mind. Weasleys were not known for clairvoyance, but there was at least one confirmed Seer in the family. When none of his efforts in the class yielded results, Ron- at least secretly- heaved a sigh of relief.)(Now he wondered if he fell into the false of sense of security too soon.)Suddenly a second scream rang through the night sky; shorter than before, and far more distant, and it took all of Ron’s willpower to remain in his seat. It sounded male- but as his nerves were shot, he couldn’t for the love of him recognize to whom it belonged to. After what seemed like an eternity, a second body was carried out of the Maze.
“Aaand that’s a wrap for Mr. Krum! Things are getting exciting folks- It’s now neck to neck between Mr. Diggory and Mr. Potter, both of which, might I remind you, tied for the first place in the previous Tournament Tasks! If there has been an opportunity to place your bets, ladies and gents, it would be now!”
While Bagman babbled, Hermione grabbed hold of his forearm tightly, shaking it enough for Ron to tear away his gaze from Fleur- who had just woken up and was babbling hysterically to the judges- and turn his attention to her.She looked ashen.“That wasn’t Victor’s scream,” she whispered urgently “Whoever was attacked-““Harry?” He breathed back, leaning closer, the cord inside him so taut it nearly snapped- but she shook her head.“I think it was Cedric- it just didn’t fit Harry either-“Suddenly loud and guttural shouting caught their attention- as well the attention of pretty much everyone close enough to the entrance of the Maze. Bagman’s voice was booming, growing more frantic in clear effort of trying to pull the audience focus away from what was happening- but neither Ron nor Hermione paid him any mind. Both of them watched in still silence as Krum fought his headmaster who was trying to bar him from getting up, instead clearly struggling to pull himself up to trembling legs. His voice was sharp and urgent, his usual grim demeanour shot as he gestured to himself and to Fleur in impatient sweeps of his hands- growing clearly more and more agitated when everything that has been said was clearly being dismissed.Suddenly a loud ring of a bell echoed among the audience- and Bagman positively beamed.“That’s it, ladies and gents- the final stretch! The perimeter line set around the Triwizard Cup has been just breached, and it looks like- yes-“ One of the organizers leaned closer to murmur to his ear, and if anything else, Bagman looked even more excited “-Yes I just got a confirmation that both of our final Champions crossed the line, and are directly competing for the title of a Triwizard Tournament Winner and the grand prize of one thousand galleons! This will be very tight race, folks-““Oh thank goodness,” Ron suppressed a flinch, glancing at his Mom while she heaved a sigh “I never imagined it would be so nerve-wracking; what an awful, awful set up- nothing like any of the competitions that happened at Hogwarts before! Certainly can’t hold a candle to the duelling tournament when you attended, remember that, Bill dear?”“I remember,” Ron’s oldest brother answered obediently, though much like him and Hermione, his eyes were narrowed towards the two disqualified Champions “Though this one is on larger scale than a simple inter-house competition, Mom; things are bound to get messy.”“First dragons, then forcing them dive into a freezing lake,” the Weasley matriarch continued complaining, grasping the front of her robes while she continued to crane her neck towards the front of the Maze, where the Organizes set up a victory stage, on which supposedly the winner should appear “What is taking them so long? Shouldn’t have one of them grabbed hold of the Trophy by now?”Yes- what was taking them so long?Ron bit his lip, his eyes seeking out Hermione’s own, exchanging a look of deep worry. Bagman has been so certain that the Task- and the Tournament- was about to be over the moment he announced breaching of the perimeter. And yet- with the audience’s rising confusion, as they all looked around, first towards the stage, then to Bagman and to the opening of the Maze- seconds ticked by, and there was no sight of either of the Hogwarts Champions. Bagman himself seemed to cancel his Sonorus for the moment- and could be seen having a vicious but whispering discussion with the Organizers and all the Judges.When he turned back towards the benches, clearly less enthused than before, he cleared his throat, murmuring as he pressed the tip of his wand to his throat-Suddenly, there was a sound like bending of wooden branch, and Cedric Diggory came crashing down onto the prepared stage, appearing through the air like a snitch through the mist. A beat of silence- where the organizers and audience alike took a moment to process what they were seeing, ignoring Bagman’s echoing “Good Lord!” as the former Quidditch star tumbled off the stage- and then there was a sudden erumpent of cheering and clapping, the students of Hogwarts jumping to their feet, whistling loudly.Ron jumped to his feet as well, heart beating loudly- “Oh dear,” he could hear Mom sigh but clap politely “And poor Harry was so close!”- though cheering was the last thing on his mind. His eyes frantically searched the entrance of the Maze, waiting, praying-Both Fleur and Krum were full on sprinting towards Diggory, who had been stumbling and wavering on his feet, but were beaten there by the boy’s father, and Amos Diggory’s cheer and boasting was the loudest of them all, as he hugged his son tight and then dragged his hand- the one still clutching the Trophy- high up the air, so that it could be seen by all. One quarter of the school- presumably the Hufflepuffs- roared their approval like many-headed beast.“The sparks,” Hermione was standing right next to him, her own attention pinned to the air above the Maze, flicking back and forth towards where she could only assume was the centre “Come on Harry- send the sparks-“A shout drew the redhead’s attention, and he snapped his head towards the stage; Diggory was bending over and vomiting violently over the side, forcing the witches and wizards surrounding him to jump away. He had thrown the Trophy aside with nary a care, forcing his father to dive after it with a shout- and Ron felt his blood freeze when the Hufflepuff straightened and the redhead was able to get a good look at his fellow student.Cedric’s eyes were wild; his face pale and expression deeply frightened.Ron was racing down the benches even before his mind could catch up to him. He only paused when he felt a tug on his arm, and twisted around with terrible enough glare to snap at whoever dared to stop him--But instead it was just Hermione, who yanked at him to wait for her, as her short legs couldn’t keep up with his long strides. There was a flicker of a second when he considered letting her to just catch up to him later- but that idea fizzled out just as quickly as it appeared, and instead he held out his other arm, helping the witch climb over the rows and pushing through the cheering attendees, desperately trying to catch whatever it was that Cedric was now shouting.“-ill there!” the boy was now trying to push away from his father, who was telling everyone around that “-It was just nerves, it happens, you know how it is-“, shaking his head wildly and looking around in desperation “No- Dad please, listen-!”Camera flashed wildly, and Rita Skeeter was dictating to her quill with a shark like smile on her face “- ric Diggory, Hufflepuff, Sixth year student and all around considered to be the true Hogwarts Champion-““-lease! He’s still there! He’s still there! We have to go back, I have to go back-!”
“-GGORY! DIGGORY! DIGGORY! DIG-“
“-t’s alright Amos, we can do the official congratulations once he had a spot of calming drought- or perhaps a tip of Fire whiskey, eh? I am sure your boy’s Head of House would be willing to look the other way for just a second, this calls for celebration after all-!“It was chaos; Ron tried to push through the thickening crowd, growing frustrated as he kept being jostled around and unable to get direct sight at the panicking Hufflepuff. Over the mess of voices, and cheering and shouting, he could hear Fleur’s rapid fire French and Krum’s sharp and jagged Bulgarian- both of them seemed to be kept at distance from their fellow Champion, seemingly under assumption of trying to steal his spotlight- but Diggory kept repeating “I have to go back! I have to go back! Headmaster- Professor Moody- Please-!”Hermione’s hand on his forearm was like vice, and Ron was sure she’d leave bruises, but he could care less about that, not when the terrible feeling in his chest only deepened. He tugged her behind him and used his broadening but bony shoulders to jab his way towards the front, baring his teeth at one of the organizers who tried to hold him back from getting any closer-“DIGGORY!” He bellowed, and somehow his voice was louder than it should be, as if he Bagman cast the Sonorus charm on him while he wasn’t looking “CEDRIC!”Finally, impossibly, the older boy’s eyes locked with him- and the bright grey eyes filled with relief, when he realized there was at least someone willing to listen.“Portkey!” the Hufflepuff seeker gasped, staring at Ron almost feverishly “The cup- it was a portkey-!”Ron ignored the older Diggory’s loud comment of “Of course it was my boy!”, instead leaning closer, showing the one organizer aside when he tried to block his path again. “Where?” He demanded, terrified but needing to know-“Where did it take you?”“He- he told me we should both take it-““Where did it take you?!”“I DON’T KNOW- a graveyard-!““Dumbledore?” Fudge was staring at the Hufflepuff Champion, but his attention briefly flickered towards the Headmaster, who had just returned from his inspection of the Maze, quickly followed by McGonagall and Hagrid; the latter two were pale “This- we should perhaps have young Diggory take a trip to the Hospital Wing-“
“-GORY! DIGGORY! DIGGO-!”
“You left him there?”His voice was strangled- barely a gasp as Ron felt he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. But it seemed that suddenly the crowd around them fell silent with a hush, and the cheering that came from the stands was like a distant echo, unable to pierce the bubble of clarity that settled upon the victory stage.“It was a Portkey,” Cedric repeated, voice strained and rough, as he had been shouting for all this time “It- it took us to a Graveyard- someone was there-““Us?” Now Dumbledore pushed himself into the discussion, his voice sharper than any other time Ron heard it “You and Harry, Cedric?”“We took it together,” the boy gasped, and he was trembling all over- Ron could recognize the way his face went green, and he was sure he’d sick up again soon “A- a Hogwarts victory, he said- but we went elsewhere, and there was someone- a wizard- no, two-““Cedric,” his father shook him gently, disbelief marring his face “Cedric, what are you saying?”“’Kill the spare’,” the seeker howled, and the crowd jumped back, confused and disturbed “I was the spare, they cast a killing curse- Harry, Harry pushed me down, he saved me-!”Of course he did- of course he did-There was a terrible premonition hammering at the back of Ron’s head. He could barely feel Hermione pressing to his back, her whole body shaking like a leaf; he could barely hear her soft “-no, no, no-““Where is he?”He couldn’t recognize his voice- it was like someone else borrowed his skin and was asking questions he himself couldn’t bear to ask. He expected to be shushed over- but everyone was now staring at the two of them, at Ron and Cedric- Cedric whose eyes were now filling with tears- No... No please... – and who seemed to have the same problem in getting air into his lungs, but-“Harry summoned the cup,” the boy was now openly choking on tears, sagging in his father’s hold “But only I caught it- Harry- He-““He’s still there,” Ron echoed blankly- and now Cedric’s panicked cries made sense “Harry’s been left at the Graveyard.”“The Maze is empty,” McGonagall finally inserted herself into the discussion, her face stricken “Mr. Potter is no longer on the school’s grounds.”Cedric made a retching sound and he bent over the stage, sicking up once more.The crowd around them exploded into chaos; people were yelling and screaming, panicking now that it was clear the ‘Boy-Who-Lived’ has been kidnapped, and Ron felt himself being pushed back- away from the commotion. He felt like someone whacked him on the head; dazedly, he watched Dumbledore and the rest of the adults responsible for the Tournament being swarmed by witches and wizards, demanding action- Fudge had been pushed into the mercy of Rita Skeeter, who- with a predator’s grace- asked question after question, positively delighted when the Minister kept turning redder, his face becoming more sweaty and his speech stuttering and without reason.“-Ron- Ron-“He felt himself being twisted around, and two clammy hands cupped his cheeks, forcing him to tear away his gaze from the commotion and instead focus blankly onto Hermione’s own ashen face. Painful gasp pushed out of his chest when he noticed she was weeping- steady stream of tears were running down her face, and now that he was more aware, he could feel his own cheeks wet, and his eyes were burning-“-The agent,” he gasped instead “Hermione- someone-“As one, they twisted around, fear, anger and grief fuelling their determination, automatically searching for Karkaroff, who has been the prime suspect, according to Snuffles’ testimony-“What’s Moody doing?” The brunette breathed, pulling at his arm to get his attention- and Ron looked the direction she was, spotting the grizzled old Auror hobbling towards the school, near past the confused audience, his arm firmly secured around Cedric’s elbow.Taking the only witness they currently had away from everyone.It clicked.They exchanged a quick, horrified look- before they were suddenly tearing down the expanse of the field, ignoring his Mother’s “Ron, Hermione- what are you-?”It was mind boggling, how easy the two of them reached for their wands; drawing them with a speed that no other fourth year possessed- but then again, they haven’t spent weeks trying to get the third member of their friend group up to snuff so that he could compete with sixth years and seventh years, and have a chance to win.They had the element of surprise; whoever ‘Moody’ was, he apparently didn’t expect to be followed so quickly, and as both of them whipped their wands and roared “Stupefy!”, the only thing their Defence professor could do was to try and dodge it.They predicted this, of course- and Hermione, always faster than him at casting (though not faster than Harry), followed her first charm with second one not even a blink after- and though ‘Moody’ was able to shield away from that one, it caused distraction long enough that Ron was able to get close and ram his curled fist into the Impostor’s face.Pain exploded in his hand, but the redhead relished in the sickening ‘crunch’ he felt as his fist connected- and before ‘Moody’ could gather his wits, a fourth flash of red light managed to bring him down, face-planting into the grass. Ron looked towards Hermione- but she only shook her head- that had him turn the other way.Cedric was sprawled on the ground, gasping and sweating, but the wand he aimed at the Impostor barely shook, and there was something confused but feral in his gaze, his eyes flickering between the two Gryffindors, clearly unsure about his contribution in attacking their teacher, but willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.“Mr. Weasley! Miss Granger!”Ron turned a defiant glare towards his Head of House- clearly, their little spell casting wasn’t as inconspicuous as he’d thought, as it seemed even the chaos that ruled over the stands wasn’t enough for people to be unable to notice their little skirmish with the supposed ex-auror.McGonagall was clearly at loss of words- but she managed to turn her severe, shocked look at the two of her charges, grasping for thought while the rest of the teachers- and Dumbledore- caught up with her.“What on earth are you two-?!”“That’s not Moody,” Ron said forcefully “He started taking Cedric away- away from his dad-“ flash of hot anger bubbled in his blood when the transfiguration professor shot him a sceptical look- why, when there were things at stake, their Head of House never believed them-?!“Professor,” Hermione’s voice was trembling with equally suppressed anger- it seemed he wasn’t alone in his disappointment when it came to the school’s authority figures “Cedric is the only one who has the slightest idea where Harry was taken, I find it highly suspicious that anyone- especially a former member of the law enforcement- would foolishly separate him from-““Weasley, Granger, I understand your- delicate state right now, but this is preposterous-““Minerva.”All of their attention snapped towards Dumbledore who has been bending over the stunned ‘Moody’, inspecting his flask, before handing it towards Snape. Professor Sprout has been helping up shaken Cedric to his feet, the boy silent and letting his gaze flicker between the two defiant Gryffindors and their Head of House. His own Head looked almost disapproving, frowning towards the Deputy Headmistress, but clearly keeping her opinions to herself.“...Polyjuice,” Snape closed the flask with a sharp snap, exchanging long look with the Headmaster “I am certain of it.”Ron felt a rush of vicious satisfaction. He chanced a look at his Head of House, who looked stunned.“...Minerva,” Dumbledore repeated, not looking away from the sight of the unconscious Impostor, something severe and grim in his expression “I need to you to call the Ministry; contact Amelia Bones, and relay the urgency- I’d like squad of Aurors preferably yesterday. Pomona-“ he turned towards the unusually serious looking Herbology teacher “-Please escort Mr. Diggory to the Hospital wing, and do not allow yourself to leave his side. Filius,” The Charms professor straightened “Employ the rest of the Teaching Staff; all students are to head directly to their dormitories, and are to remain there, until there is more news to be shared.”He blue gaze turned onto Ron and Hermione, who, while he was busy giving orders, shuffled closer to each other, stubborn looks on their faces. Dumbledore simply heaved a sigh.“...No exceptions.”“What-““Professor, but Harry-“He raised his hand, silencing them. “Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley,” the old wizard sounded unusually serious “I am afraid this is nonnegotiable. I will, of course, inform you of Mr. Potter’s whereabouts the moment we find out more, but as of now I would be grateful if you followed Professor Flitwick and joined the rest of your classmates.”“Come on now,” the shortest professor murmured to them as Ron deflated, allowing himself to be herded away from “Let’s get you settled for the night. We will have the castle elves prepare a supper to be ready to be sent to the Common Rooms.”It was perhaps a testament to how shaken the both of them were, that Hermione didn’t even stage a protest against the treatment of the elves.Now that the adrenalin and self-righteous anger passed, Ron felt a shiver run up his spine. Suddenly, the air seemed too cold- and the tears that managed to dry themselves on his cheeks seemed to well up again, causing his eyes to burn. He flinched, when Hermione’s body suddenly pressed to his, but did nothing to push her away. Instead his hand blindly sought out hers, clasping it tightly, and breathing out when she squeezed his hand back.His sight blurred. Terrible, hollow feeling pulsed against his chest, a gaping chasm opening up and threatening to swallow him whole. How stupid it was- to think that just few hours before, both of them were making silly plans for the rest of the terms, where they thought to bring the last piece of their little trio for a not-date date- carefully, slowly, because Harry was as shy as a new born fawn, and they didn’t want to spook him.“He’s not coming back.”Hermione’s voice was barely audible- nearly unheard over the clamouring of their fellow students, as the two of them moved like living dead, headed just vaguely in the direction of the Gryffindor tower. He turned his bloodshot eyes to look at her, and she peered up at him with something wounded, something lost. “He’s not coming back,” she said again, her voice blank “Is he?”There was something final in her gaze- some knowing feeling that he, himself, could feel deep inside him- could feel it gnawing at his bones and clawing at his skin, threatening to howl like a wild animal-“...No.”Both of them fell silent. The rest of their walk to the Dormitory was spent in a daze, and when they automatically headed towards the three seats situated the closest to the window, the other Gryffindors parted for them and allowed them to pass unbothered. No-one tried to approach them- no-one dared to question them, nor anyone attempted to take the third seat that remained empy, even as the rest of the House settled in to wait.Low murmur could be heard for all that the usually rambunctious Gryffindors tried their best to remain silent. When the food was sent up, only Ron and Hermione stayed seated- their hands holding onto one another, both of them keeping their attention on the entrance to the Common room.Neither knew how much time passed; neither had cared to touch the plates that Neville put in front of them with worried light in his face. They did not react when the twins, unnaturally quiet and serious, gently put blankets over their shivering shoulders, nor did they so much as blinked when after the last of the food was gone, their closest peers settled down around them, dragging more seats and pillows and blankets towards the silent duo, and joined them in their vigil, watching the back of the Fat Lady.Slowly, the rest of the Common room emptied; prefects getting up and gently shooing the youngest years up to their beds, with the fifth years and up slowly following. They spared the huddle of fourth years and the odd younger or older student a lingering glance, before leaving them to their solitude.The fire in the hearth continued to get lower; the elves clearly deciding to let it dim and grow weak, casting the now silent Common room in dark shadows. One by one, their classmates slowly fell into light slumber- leaning against each other and taking comfort from simple proximity.Ron hardly felt the night get late; it felt like no time has passed, since the two of them sat down. He felt adrift- weightless in that it felt like his body was hardly there. It was only the secure warmth and grip of Hermione’s hand that reminded him where he was- who he was. Still, the strength they seemed to draw from each other was fragile at best; cracked and fractured and ready to shatter at the slightest of breeze.The entrance opened.As if they practiced it, both of them stood, hands still clasped- and for just a second, Ron eyes were seeking out a familiar mess of dark hair, hoping to see glint of round glasses and a hand lifted in a lazy wave-“Mr. Weasley,” McGonagall looked defeated; her eyes were red, and there were deep circles under them, her gaze flickering between the two of them “Miss Granger.”The redhead’s heart beat painfully in his chest; Hermione’s nails dug into his skin, and he was sure that she was making him bleed, but he couldn’t bring himself to react in the moment. All around them, their classmates, roommates- their friends and family, were waking up, their sudden stirring putting a halt to their Head’s prepared speech.Professor McGonagall’s throat worked soundlessly, the wind taken from her sails when faced with solemn if hopeful eyes of good chunk of her students. She regarded all of them with raw sort of ache in her eyes- as if she was memorizing their faces.As if she didn’t know if she would have the chance later.She then took a deep, if shaky breath.“Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger,” she started again, her words soft- gentle in the way one would speak to a wounded animal “I would ask you to come with me.”