Harry Potter & the Ritual of Love's Memory

It was a challenge to tell the whole story. Hermione was so much better at explaining everything so that it all made sense. He made it through his own sixth year fairly quickly, pledging to go back through and give further details on some of the memories later. There were quite a few gasps when Harry told the tale of the horcrux hunt. None of the three had ever gotten the full story of the night Death Eaters broke into Hogwarts, and they looked stricken as he explained the last few minutes of Dumbledore’s life.

“Bloody hell…” murmured George in a way that felt very much like Ron.

“But at least you got the horcrux!” interjected Angelina, who was clearly shaken by the story.

“No, actually we didn’t.” 

Harry took a long breath before continuing the tale. George and Angelina both unleashed quite a few swears once Umbridge became a character. All were impressed once he reached the part where they infiltrated the Ministry of Magic. 

Soon, Harry had come to one of the parts he was most wanting to avoid. How could he in good conscience drag Ron’s memory through the mud, especially less than a week after he’d readily sacrificed himself on account of others?

He did his best to gloss over the incident and didn’t dwell much on the intervening time until he reached the point when Ron triumphantly saved him from the locket in the pond. He didn’t explain that the horcrux had taken the form of himself and Hermione in a state of undress, but made sure that they knew that it took the form of some of his greatest insecurities and that he bravely destroyed it.

Angelina made a rude hand gesture toward the redhead before turning to Harry. “What about you? Any ideas on what’s next?”

Harry sighed. It was as good of an onramp to the conversation as he could hope for.

“That’s kinda complicated,” he began, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “I’m sure you’ve guessed, but we were doing some stuff to fight against…” Harry trailed off and grabbed the bridge of his nose. “I’d completely understand if you don’t want to hear the details, especially since it’s cost us so much…”

He felt like he was drowning. How in the world could he explain two years of training, searching, fighting, fleeing, and loss?

As he paused, Angelina stood up abruptly, opened a cupboard, and reached for the top shelf. George nodded and conjured four glasses. Before Harry could protest, Luna spoke up.

“We’re with you, Harry. We’re not going to judge. If you’re up for telling us, we will listen.”

“You don’t understand,” whispered Harry, his fists clenched tightly. ”This is stuff that got Dumbledore killed. The mission he set me on… I told Ron and Hermione that they didn’t… If they hadn’t been with me, they might still be…”

“ENOUGH!” yelled George, with no trace of the prankster remaining on his face. Harry sat stock still. “You aren’t allowed to pretend this is all your fault! You saved Ginny’s life in my fourth year and Dad’s life in my seventh! You bankrolled Fred and me to start our shop! I’m still shocked Mum and Dad never found a way to adopt you, and all of us were looking forward to you being a brother-in-law someday!” George’s chest was heaving and his face had gone Weasley red. “Did I miss anything?!”

“I believe Harry saved Ronald with a bezoar after he was poisoned in my fifth year,” posited Luna.

George gave a slight bow to Luna. “Do you see, Harry?! How can you not understand? I’m here trying to list off all the ways you’ve made the life of the Weasleys better, and I bloody forgot a time you saved one of our lives because you’ve done it so many bloody times!” 

Harry had just started to open his mouth to argue when Angelina pointed her wand at him. “Silencio!” Harry’s mouth opened and closed animatedly, but no sound came out. He eventually looked at George, then Angelina, then Luna. He released a large, inaudible sigh.

“Okay,” started Angelina. “We’re going to try this again. Harry, I think it’d be fair to assume that you’ve got a lot more to share. I will do my best to prevent this beautiful manchild,” she waved her wand at George, “from interrupting you if you can do your best to explain things without blaming yourself. Agreed?” 

Harry nodded.

Though his body felt like it was made of lead, Harry trudged downstairs. Angelina’s parents were already gone for the day, so Ange, Luna, and George were huddled around the kitchen table. From the untouched food on their plates, it looked as though none of them had recovered much of an appetite.

“Bit of good news this morning,” said Angelina, though her voice did not sound like good news was something she really believed in. “Heard from Alicia. She and Wood were able to grab a portkey to Barcelona, then made their way across the pond. She couldn’t give many details, but they should be safely to Canada by now.”

Harry didn’t smile, but his countenance did seem to become slightly less dour. He sat next to Luna and dished some cold eggs onto his plate, before promptly ignoring them.

“Are you three going to head out, too? Do you have any idea what you’ll do next?” Luna looked to Harry and to George and Angelina. “With my father gone, I’m having a hard time thinking through what to do.”

“It sounded like Ange’s parents were going to try to leave England. Is that right? Are you going to head out with them?”

Angelina looked over at George. “Have the last few weeks changed your mind about wanting me to move in with you? It seems like I’ll be trying to find a new career since the Quidditch league has been reduced to shambles, but I’d rather prefer doing that with you.”

“Well, I’m not exactly sure what I’ll be doing from here on out, but I suppose I could be persuaded to spend some more time with you.” George waggled his eyebrows just a little as a smirk crossed his lips. Even though the smile didn’t look all that genuine, Harry felt slightly better to hear George teasing.

He awoke to find Luna kneeling over him, attempting some sort of incantation. Harry turned to see George curled up on the couch with his head in Angelina’s lap. He didn’t seem to notice the fat teardrops that regularly dripped from the tip of her nose onto his shirt.

Realization of the horrible truth began to set in. Harry looked frantically back and forth between Angelina and Luna. Luna was the first to move, confirming with a small shake of her head.

The Weasley parents, who had taken him in and treated him like a seventh son. A twin who’d protected him, both on the Quidditch pitch and in the halls when everyone thought he was the Heir of Slytherin. The girl he’d saved in his second year, who’d recklessly stood by him in the Department of Mysteries, and whom he spent the happiest days of his life with, their fingers interlocked. 

He would never see that blazing look on Ginny’s face again. Never watch her sprint forward, quaffle in hand, aimed at an overmatched Keeper who didn’t stand a chance. He wouldn’t get to marvel at her ferocity when being teased by her brothers. He would never experience being on the wrong end of her Bat Bogey hex for making her mad, never get to enjoy making up under the big tree behind her dad’s shed. Harry would never get the chance to tell Ginny how he felt about her, that he…

Suddenly sick to his very core, Harry scrambled to the bathroom and vomited, the burn in his throat matching the stinging in his eyes.

By the time he reemerged and steadied himself on a chair near George and Angelina, he felt completely hollow. More news washed over him like waves crashing against a battered shoreline. Bill and Fleur had been able to flee to France and Charlie was still in Romania, but Percy had been killed in a purge of ministry officials who had connections to blood traitors. His death coincided with most of the Aurors, including Tonks and Shacklebolt. The werewolves had been ordered to execute any of their number not loyal to Voldemort, and Remus had been lost that same day.

Luna wrapped up with the members of the DA that she was aware of. The Creevey brothers hadn’t made it. Neither had Hannah Abbott. Angelina and George had apparently not yet run out of tears, and their muffled sobs restarted with the news that Katie Bell had been killed. And the portraits had confirmed that Neville, Parvati, Padma, and Seamus didn’t make it, either.

Harry lost track of time and the count. It was more than his mind could comprehend. So much loss. By the time the three had finished, a numbness had overtaken him.

Finally, it was George who broke this silence. “I know you’re in bad shape, Harry. You look like you’ve been through hell. But do you have any news?”

Harry didn’t respond for a long moment. He didn’t speak, didn’t even move. Eventually, he whispered, “I lost them both.” He then dissolved into tears once more.

A great and terrible cry rose up and out of George. In a fit of rage, he put his fist straight through the wall, tore it back out, then repeated the feat a second time before Angelina could reach him and pull him away. George slumped to the floor, ignoring his bleeding hand. Angelina pulled his head to her chest. Whatever attempts to comfort him she made were lost to her own sobs, but she held on for dear life as grief wracked both of them.

Luna’s face was in her hands, clearly overwhelmed by the flood of emotions. With a herculean effort, she walked to the chair that held a shaking Harry and gently took his hand in hers.

The four of them stayed there for a long time before sleep finally caught up with them.

The next few hours ended up being some of the most excruciating of Harry Potter’s life. After reaching the safe house (the home of Angelina’s parents), the four sat down to swap news about what had been happening. By the time Luna, Angelina, and George shared their updates the hollow look in Harry’s eyes had fully reappeared.

As best anyone could guess, Voldemort had decided to go on an all-out offensive after leaving Gringotts. Harry was speechless as the others relayed the rumors that had filtered out from Hogwarts paintings and ghosts. A fallen ministry had allowed the despondent Myrtle to give a summary of Voldemort’s purge of the castle that she’d learned from portraits, and with better details regarding the battle in the Great Hall that she’d personally witnessed. 

Each death seemed like a battering ram to Harry’s chest. He didn’t bother to hide his sobs as he learned of so many who were killed. He collapsed onto Angelina’s shoulder when she told him about McGonagall. A modicum of pride flashed onto George’s face and she recounted how his products had helped his favorite Professor.

After finishing up how things went at the school, George took over as the lead storyteller. 

“We haven’t been able to confirm anything officially, but it seems as though members of the Order were all targeted. I’ll spare you the details for now, but we lost…” his voice shook with emotion. “We lost a lot of good people.”

Angelina moved to sit on the couch next to George, wrapping an arm around him as he gathered himself.

“There’s no easy way to say this.” Harry wanted to shout for George to hurry up but also wanted to bolt out the door, as if hearing the news would make it more real. George let out a cry, and Harry knew the Weasleys must have lost someone.

“I was out on guard duty when they came. I only got knocked out as the Death Eaters broke into Aunt Muriel’s, but Mum, Dad, Ginny, and Fred…” A strangled sob wracked George while tears flowed from Angelina and Luna. 

Harry’s head was spinning. It couldn’t be true. He sprang out of the chair before the dizziness hit. His vision was suddenly blurry and he had the sensation of falling.

Harry felt the bind dissipate as it was removed.

“Right, well… Umm…” Harry’s cheeks were suddenly red. He kept his gaze fixed away from the blonde. “George, you two gave me the Marauder’s Map so that I could sneak into Hogsmeade in my third year. You didn’t even realize that my Dad helped make it.” The three standing over him noticeably relaxed a bit but kept their wands pointed at his prone body.

“Ange, I wasn’t conscious for many of the times that Wood had to mourn a loss,” George laughed again, ”But I remember him trying to drown himself in the showers. Very glad we came back to win the Cup that year.”

Angelina smiled wide, and her wand was back at her side, as was George’s. With reddened cheeks, he looked imploringly at the last inquisitor. “Do I have to?” She nodded.

“Fine!” Harry looked away and muttered in a low voice. “We found you in a passionate moment with Parvati.”

Luna smiled sweetly. “For the record, I knew it was you as soon as you started blushing. But you are exceptionally fun to tease.”

Harry sat up, only to find a freckled hand in front of his face. He grabbed it and felt himself being pulled up to his feet and into a tight embrace. 

“It’s good to see you, Harry. We were all worried, especially after the last couple of days.” George released him, and Harry had just enough time to see tear streaks on his face before Luna wrapped her arms around his midsection and squeezed.

“You look like you’ve been through hell. I’m glad you’re okay.” Harry blinked back his own tears as she held him for several long moments.

She sniffled a few times during the long moments before she let go, and Angelina pulled him into a hug, too. “Get over here, Harry. It’s been too long. We thought we lost you.”

The breath caught in the back of Harry’s throat. He was certainly not used to being embraced, and the isolation of the past few days on top of the previous months made it all the more jarring to have friends surrounding him like this. Hugs had been few and far between, usually either awkward, sisterly hugs from Hermione or decidedly non-sisterly hugs from Ginny. He did his best to swallow a sob that had begun to materialize.

“I think it would be beneficial to get Harry somewhere safe,” said Luna as Angelina ruffled his messy black hair. “We can swap news and try to figure out some next steps.”

George nodded emphatically. “Ange, you’re better at side-along apparition than me, and he’s pretty banged up. Want me to take Luna and you help Harry?”

“Should I be jealous that you want to apparate with another girl, George?”

“Eh, I get the feeling that, despite my devastating good looks, I might not be her type.” He tried to grin at Luna, even though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. ”And note that I’m not getting defensive about you apparating with a bloke who's been on the cover of Witch Weekly. That’s very secure of me if I do say so myself.”

Angelina gave Harry a quick look up and down. “He’s pretty scrawny… I probably won’t look to trade you in for an upgrade. At least not yet.”

Harry saw George proffer an arm to Luna while giving Angelina a rude hand gesture. He grabbed tightly onto the older girl’s arm and felt the familiar pull of his body into nothingness.

“Petrificus Totalus!” called out a dreamy voice from behind a nearby tree. Harry felt his entire body become still, but not before the slight twinge of a smile reached his eyes.

Harry felt his body being eased to the ground. When his back was steadily against the cool grass, his eyes darted back and forth to the three faces that stood over him. Their wands were out and at the ready.

“Right then,” said the dark-haired young woman. “How can we be sure it’s really him?”

The younger blonde girl next to her looked quizzical. “I’ve got a question that only Harry would know the answer to.”

The redhead young man opposite her replied, “Me too. How about we each ask him something.”

The witch next to him nodded. “We’re each going to ask you a question, then release you from the full body bind. Answer quickly, and don’t you dare make us think you’re trying something tricky, got it?”

Harry couldn’t actually move his head to nod, but the look in his eyes seemed to be enough of an answer.

“This should be easy enough for the real Harry:” the redhead smirked to himself. “What did Fred and I give to you back in our fifth year? Next?” 

“When we lost our first match in my fifth year, what did Wood do afterward?”

The wizard next to her sputtered in laughter. “Damn, woman! That’s better than mine.”

She punched him good-naturedly in the shoulder, then turned her attention to the youngest of their group.

“Hmm. How about this… When you and Ginny barged into the fourth-floor broom closet…”

“He took Ginny where?!” called out the male voice.

“...I had already been in there with someone for a while. You seemed very embarrassed and blushed rather a lot before promising to never mention it to anyone. Who was I with?”

The source of the male voice snorted loudly and nearly fell over as Harry’s eyes grew wide. “I must be losing my touch. You both put me to shame.” He brandished his wand and readied it at Harry’s unmoving body. “Ange is going to lift the spell, and Merlin help you if you don’t know the answers. Ready?” The two girls nodded.

He grabbed into his pocket for his DA coin. A moment later, it warmed in his palm as the words “safe at pond?” materialized. He was grateful to feel it warm again less than a minute later, with the words “yes. you coming?” etching themselves into the metal. He quickly replied, “be there soon” before he pulled his invisibility cloak from his pouch and covered himself.

Through the underbrush he crept. Months of living on the run had helped train him to step softly and to avoid anything that might betray his position if stepped on. 

Harry stayed on the side of a gentle hill as he moved silently towards the pond. A little ways away, he was able to catch a glimpse of the clear water pool as the sunlight glinted across its rippled surface. A silvery hare hopped back and forth near the water’s edge. Though he couldn’t see Luna herself yet, her Patronus somehow seemed to warm his insides, as if a tiny dementor that had been hovering over him had been chased away.

His fears of an ambush were dispelled, and Harry began to run forward. The sudden, overwhelming need to see another human being, an actual friend, bubbled up inside him, and he was sprinting towards the pond before he fully had time to comprehend what he was doing.

The hare looked up from a patch of grass it had been examining and cocked its head to the side. While Harry was still a few steps away from it, he felt a pull at his ankle. The world was suddenly upside down, and he watched his cloak float down to the ground that was a good six feet below him. 

“Luna! It’s me! Are you all alright?” The rush of blood to the head combined with the panic of being upside down suspended by his leg reminded him, albeit too late, that rushing into a clearing based solely on an ethereal rabbit wasn’t the wisest decision.

A jet of red light struck him in the chest, and he felt his wand fly out of his hand. Harry kept one hand on his face to keep his glasses from falling off as he frantically looked at his surroundings.

The late-spring sun shone brightly in the clearing where Harry landed. He immediately covered his eyes, accustomed to the low light of the vault as he was. A thicket of trees lay a few dozen yards away, and Harry quickly made his way toward them. He drew deep breaths, marveling at how fresh the air smelled. He was not meant to live underground, that much was certain. He wouldn’t have called it optimism, hope, or even happiness, but he did feel somehow lighter now that the subterranean world was behind him.

He crouched down behind a tree so that he was obscured by the trunk and some shrubs growing near it. He directed his wand towards the dozens of small punctures and cuts on his forearms and legs. While he could be reasonably assured that he’d never be able to cut it as a professional healer, his wounds had soon closed enough that he wouldn’t leave a trail of blood droplets wherever he went.

Harry had apparated a good half mile from the pond. He hoped it was far enough away to keep anyone who might be monitoring the Weasley’s property from being alerted. He looked around for landmarks so that he could get moving.

A little ways off, he noticed the plot of land where Bill and Fleur had said their vows less than a year prior. Memories of the night came flooding back unbidden.

Fred and George setting up a prank that they later sprung on Ron. Bill’s happy tears as he watched Fleur walk up the aisle towards him. Mrs. Weasley smiling warmly while straightening her husband’s tie. Mr. Weasley resting his hand on Harry’s shoulder while chatting amicably with some distant family member. Ginny beaming as she danced back down the aisle after the new bride and groom had left.

Harry shook his head quickly from side to side, trying to dispel his memories. He needed to press onwards to meet up at the pond, and he needed to do it carefully. He didn’t think this could be an ambush, but he wasn’t about to let down his guard. 

Kreacher stopped in his tracks. Harry was being stretched by the vines, with blood already dripping from his wrists and ankles. Walburga stood, appearing more winded than a painting should, as she looked down on the teen. The elf stepped forward, yowled in pain, and grabbed his ears with either hand.

“You will not give aid to this blood traitor, Kreacher! You will make your Mistress proud!” The portrait was growing louder with each word she screamed, and Kreacher seemed to be engulfed in pain.

Another cry of pain emanated from deep within Harry. His head turned towards the elf, and his tear-brimmed eyes silently pleaded.

“YOU WILL HAND THAT FILTH OVER TO THE DARK LORD!!!” bellowed Mrs. Black, whose painting seemed to be shaking itself off the wall.

“Won’t.” 

The wand flew from Kreacher into his master’s hand. Harry slashed at the vines, which receded back into the walls.

“YOU TRAITOR! YOU HAVE SULLIED THE HOUSE TO WHICH YOU ARE BOUND! I CAST YOU OUT OF THE HOUSE OF BLACK FOREVER!”  

Harry looked back towards Kreacher. The elf looked as if he was gasping for breath underwater. His body shuddered and he fell to the floor. Harry rushed to him just as his body stopped convulsing. Kreacher’s vacant eyes stared without seeing.

Harry roared as he turned on the spot. With all the power he could muster. He aimed his wand at the painting and screamed, “REDUCTO!”

An explosion shook the house. Dust and debris settled onto the floor, blown a bit by the breeze that wafted in from the gaping hole in the wall where a portrait had once hung. Harry looked at the small body of Kreacher one last time before apparating away.

A screech filled the air as Harry landed on his knees in the entryway. “Filth! Wretch! Disgusting half-blood besmirching the house of my ancestors!” The portrait of Walburga Black screamed at the top of her lungs. “How dare you set foot back in the Ancient and Noble House of Black?!”

Acid green vines shot forward out of the walls, their tendrils wrapping around Harry’s wrists and ankles. They pulled taut, thorns digging into his skin. He cried out in pain as his grip on his wand slipped. It clattered to the floor.

The portrait sneered. “Oh, I can’t wait to find out what the Dark Lord will do to you! Maybe he will give you a taste of the Cruciatus right here where I can watch.” A manic glee lit up her face as she rushed beyond one side of the frame, already calling for Death Eaters to claim the captured intruder.

Kreacher came to Harry’s side at once, attempting to sever the vines. As soon as his magic had cut through a vine and he began to work on the next, the first vine reconnected and thickened, holding its prey tighter.

Harry yelled as more thorns pierced his arms and pulled him in opposing directions. The elf looked panicked as the second vine started mending itself before he had even finished cutting it.

“My wand!” Harry gasped. “Grab my wand!”

Kreacher dove at the wand, which had rolled several feet away from the struggle. He grasped it and triumphantly raised it aloft.

“KREACHER!” boomed the voice of Mrs. Black. “Kreacher! Don’t let that dirty-blooded thief escape! You must keep his wand from him! The Dark Lord’s followers are already coming!”

“Alright, Kreacher, it’s settled. You get me to Grimmauld Place and I’ll apparate away as fast as I can. Have you been able to check in on the house to see if it’s safe?”

“Kreacher feels that the wards have changed. It is likely that Master’s enemies will be alerted when we arrive.”

“Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” Harry shook his head and started gathering his things. He doubted he’d ever make it back into this vault, not that he wanted to come visit anytime soon.

The muffled shouts of goblins on the other side of the doors were growing louder. There was a terrible scraping sound as if something heavy was being dragged across the ground.

“Master must take Kreacher’s hand!” barked the elf as he darted towards the wizard. “The goblins will soon have the doors open!”

Harry grasped the small hand that was offered and felt Kreacher’s long nails dig into his flesh as the elf summoned enough magic to transport them. A crack echoed through the vault as they disappeared, leaving the room in complete blackness for the goblins.

Harry quickly pulled the DA coin from his pocket as he felt it warm up. He greedily looked at the few letters on the coin and felt his heart sink a bit when he saw “CC. On continent.” 

He let out a sigh. He felt no ill will towards Cho. He didn’t really feel much of anything towards her. He was glad she was safely away from these shores and hoped she’d be safe out there, somewhere. But if Harry was honest, he was really disappointed that he hadn’t heard back from anyone he was closer to yet.

He slid the coin back into his pocket, trepidation building as he looked at a large grandfather clock across from him. He needed to leave soon.

Before his hand had even reemerged from his pocket, Harry felt the coin warm up again. The ups and downs of communication with the outside world had him feeling hopeful as he stared at the changing letters.

“GW AJ LL - hiding”

Harry’s heart lept as he stared at the six letters at the beginning of the message. “Kreacher, we’re in business!” shouted Harry. He pointed at the coin. “LL has to be Luna, and GW is either Ginny or George. It’d make sense if the third one was Angelina. If we don’t hear from Neville, they might be our best option.” He pointed his wand at the coin again, and “on run. meet you?” replaced their message.

Moments later, as Harry held the coin in his hand, a new message replaced his. “pond?” 

A pond… Harry wracked his brain. If the GW was Ginny or George (and he couldn’t imagine it being anyone else), then the message had to refer to the pond the Weasley’s had brought him to during the summers. He had loved swimming around in the small pond, wrestling with Ron and the twins, and splashing Hermione and Ginny when they weren’t looking. The corners of his mouth almost curled enough to be considered a sad smile.

Harry had to think about how to communicate his plans in so few letters, but finally settled on his reply: “pond in 20 if no trouble.”

The sounds of the goblins clearing the cavern grew louder. Kreacher’s huge ears twitched as he came to a stop.

“Master does not have much more time. Has Master decided to whom he will go?”

Harry’s brow furrowed in concentration. While he had slept, Kreacher had attempted to surreptitiously scout for allies with whom Harry could connect. Most of his obvious choices weren’t available. His first choice would have been to meet up with Lupin and Tonks, but Kreacher had been unable to find them. Shell Cottage and Aunt Muriel’s house were off the table as well, since Kreacher had reported that both were abandoned. Harry scowled when remembering Kreacher’s description of the burnt-out homes. The Burrow was a no-go, as was Luna’s house. 

The guilt of losing Ron and Hermione welled up in the pit of his stomach, but it was buffeted by the potential guilt of so many others who were in danger. He had no idea where the Weasleys had ended up. Not for the first time, he wondered if Ron’s death would mean the end of his connection to the family he considered to be his own. How could he ever look Mr. Weasley in the eye after leading his son to his end? Would he never be gathered up into one of Mrs. Weasley’s bone-crushing hugs? Could he ever explain things to Ginny?

Harry’s eyes burned again. He shoved the thoughts back, unable to think straight. With monumental effort, he turned back to Kreacher, who was patiently standing at the ready. The elf seemed to understand what Harry was thinking, but did not bring attention to the fresh tears streaming down his Master’s face.

“Still trying to figure that out, Kreacher,” he said with a sniffle. “What do you think about Neville’s place?”

The old elf looked thoughtful. “Longbottom Manor is an old, pureblood home. There are many protections, and Kreacher will not be able to gain entry. But it would be a safer place than most.”

“That figures. I’ve still got my communication coin from the DA. I don’t want to give away the plan to everyone with a coin until right before I leave, just in case,” he turned the coin over and back in his hand. Hermione’s superior spellwork on the Protean Charm was intact, even now that she was… “I’ll send out a call for members of the DA to check in. Maybe that will give us a better idea of options.”

“Kreacher, I’ve got a question. What happens to you if I die?” The elf froze in his tracks. He snapped, and the dishes and empty vials of potion disappeared. 

“Master must not die. Kreacher will protect Master.” 

“Dobby saved me from Malfoy Manor. He gave his life to protect me and get us to safety. I can’t handle any more death on my account. What happens to you, Kreacher, if I don’t make it?” There was a hard look on Harry’s face as he stared down the elf.

Kreacher hesitated before starting cautiously. “If Kreacher cannot serve his Master, elf magic will bind Kreacher to another member of the Ancient and Noble House of Black. If Master has not designated a family member, Kreacher will pass to whichever witch or wizard has the closest ties to the Black bloodline.”

“Who would that be?”

“Mistress Narcissa Malfoy.”

Harry swore loudly.

“And if she’s your Master, and she demands to know everything you have heard about the Order, or helping me and my friends, or the fight against Voldemort, your magic would force you to tell her, right?”

Kreacher nodded and looked almost ashamed that he could be used to harm those his current Master cared for.

“The Malfoy family already has elves, sir, and Kreacher is very old. New masters would likely force out any important information, then would kill Kreacher.”

“You said that happens if I don’t decide who you go to?”

“Yes, Master is able to assign Kreacher to bond with a different member of the Black family line.”

“Would Nymphadora Tonks work? She’s the daughter of Andromeda. Or Andromeda, herself. Either of them would be better than the Malfoys.” 

Kreacher nodded. “Mistress Andromeda and her line have been cast out of the Black family, but still has the blood of the Blacks. Kreacher could bond to Mistress Andromeda.”

“Okay, how about this… We don’t have much time. If I die, I order you to present yourself to Andromeda and offer to bond yourself to her, Nymphadora, Remus, or Teddy.” Unbidden, an image of a cross-looking Hermione wearing a S.P.E.W. pin sprung into his mind. Her face was reddening as she built up to one of her famous lectures. “Wait, before I order anything, Kreacher, would you rather be freed? It’s your life, so if you’d rather have clothes, I could…”

“NO!” screeched the elf. “Never! No, never! Kreacher will not abandon the Ancient and Noble House of Black. Kreacher will serve Master Harry Potter or Mistress Andromeda’s family. Kreacher will not accept clothes, never!” The elf stood resolute and more than a little angry.

Harry smiled the first legitimate smile since before he had entered these ruddy caverns. “I apologize for insulting you, Kreacher. I know that your service to the Black family means so much to you. I only wanted to ask because my friend Hermione would have wanted you to have the freedom to choose, and I had to honor that for her.”

The elf still looked upset but gave a quick nod. “Kreacher sees. Master’s friend did not understand elf ways, but tried to help nonetheless.”

“Yeah, she really did.” 

It was less than an hour later when Harry woke up with a scream on his lips and vomited off the side of the conjured bed. His tears had returned in full force, and he wept bitterly.

“Master Harry Potter, sir.” Harry had never heard Kreacher’s voice be so…tender. “Please allow Kreacher to care for Master, sir.” A few more sobs clawed their way out of Harry before he could answer.

“Kreacher, I’ve lost everything. Ron and Hermione… They’re both gone.”

“Shh, Master. Kreacher is knowing. Kreacher must help Master regain his strength. Master must get to somewhere safe.”

Harry didn’t have the heart to argue. The elf quickly cleaned up the mess beside the bed and brought a lighter soup to Harry as he sat up.

The warm soup felt good in his belly, and the rawness in his throat seemed to subside a fraction with each gulp he took. “Kreacher, what happened? What’s going on out there?”

“The Dark Lord’s war has truly begun,” whispered Kreacher. “Hogwarts has fallen.”

“You were weak enough to give valuable information to that old fool and stupid enough to think he could provide you with safety. You’ve made your choice, now for some fitting consequences. How about you do the honor of ending one of your students? Imperio!”

Horace couldn’t feel the pain in his leg anymore. Nor could he feel the exhaustion that had been gripping him moments before. 

He heard a voice inside his head. The disembodied voice told him to kill the witch in front of him. A nagging thought in the back of his head feebly fought with the voice, but it was no use. Killing her would be easy, and it would make everything better.

The portly wizard stepped forward and trained his wand on the witch, who was kicking at another wizard robed in black. Quite impolite of her to kick like that, he thought. The wizard seemed to almost be caressing her, but she struck at his outstretched hand. Yes, killing her was the best course of action. 

The nagging thought was becoming more and more frantic. It was trying to wrest his concentration away from his task. It seemed to be trying to convince him that he knew this strange woman. And there was something familiar about her… But no, the voice was certain that he must kill her. There just wasn’t any other option.

“Hor… Horace…” wheezed the professor, even as Voldemort’s grip tightened.

Slughorn’s glassy eyes shot open. “‘MONA!” he cried, as a blast of green light shot from his wand, not at his former student, colleague, and friend, but at the monster holding her. Before the light reached its target, Voldemort brought her in between the curse and himself. Her body went limp in his hand, and he flung her corpse to the floor in front of the horrified caster.

Horace Slughorn fell to his knees. His wand slipped from his fingers as he grabbed Pomona’s still-warm hands in his. Voldemort stepped forward and said something to him, but he didn’t hear what had been spoken. He simply looked at the bright and inquisitive student who had wowed him all those years ago with how quickly she took to potion making. His thoughts fluttered to her fifth year when she had actually taught him about lesser-known properties of gurdyroot and how it could enhance potions. He’d just gone over those findings with his sixth-years a week ago. Last year, he’d headed to her greenhouses to remind her of the story as soon as his class covering gurdyroot had finished. With everything that was going on, he had yet to mention it this year. He’d planned to remind her of it over the weekend.

A flash of green light reflected in the tears that were flowing freely down his large cheeks.