them. I know the real reason. I’ve heard him talking to Severus,” Wormtail said, sneering.
Harry was momentarily stunned. He was right; Voldemort had been unusually quiet all of last year. He should have come after Harry with a vengeance for all the trouble he’d caused at the Ministry.
Why hadn’t he?
Trembling visibly, Harry forced himself to ask the question, “Why?”
“He possessed you at the Ministry. I heard him talking to Severus about it. That’s when he realized the truth, and it shook him. It’s you, Harry. You are his Seventh Horcrux,” Wormtail said, smiling with a mad gleam in his eyes.
Harry’s throat was dry, and he suddenly felt very cold. “That can’t be true,” he whispered hoarsely.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
“But it is true, and I can see by the look on your face that you know it is. He intended to make a Horcrux that night he came here for you,” Wormtail said raising his arm expansively. “It was his plan. He told Severus that the spell to make a Horcrux is wordless, it takes the act of murder and an intense amount of concentration, but there is no incantation; the force of will powers the spell.”
Wormtail’s casual discussion of murder made Harry’s stomach churn.
“He believes that he got over-excited the night he came to kill you. He thought he was going to eliminate the only obstacle in his path. He was thinking of his final goal, already planning to kill you, when your mother got in the way,” Wormtail said, and here his voice did waver slightly.
Harry’s heart pounded in his chest so loudly that he could barely hear what Wormtail was saying. This can’t be happening.
“It was her death that caused the creation of the Horcrux, and when he cast the Killing Curse at you, it rebounded on him but sent that piece of his soul into you. You are the Seventh Horcrux, Harry,” Wormtail continued unmercifully.
Harry stepped back as if struck. Of course! It made perfect sense, why hadn’t he seen it before? Harry felt sick. Why hadn’t Dumbledore prepared him? Had he been trying to protect him from the truth yet again? For in his heart, Harry knew this was true. It was as if the last piece of a puzzle finally clicked into place.
“That’s why he’ll win in the end, Harry, because the only way for you to defeat him is to destroy yourself,” Wormtail said, shaking his head with mock sadness.
“And what makes you think I won’t do that?” Harry asked, surprised by how strong his voice sounded.
Wormtail frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m speaking of dying. Why would you sacrifice yourself? That wouldn’t make any sense.”
“Of course it wouldn’t make sense to you. You were the one who betrayed your best friends to save your own neck. You couldn’t possibly understand dying so that they might live. Look at that,” Harry screamed, pointing at the spot of blackened earth. “That’s where my father died because of you. He died right there, and nothing will ever grow there again. You did that to him.”
Wormtail cringed and pulled away, refusing to look at the spot.
Harry’s head began to spin. No, no, no.
“He wants to get to you now, Harry. He wants to capture you and lock you away where he can keep you safe. He won’t kill you, but he won’t make your life pleasant, either. Snape will see to that. Snape hates you and longs to see you suffer,” Wormtail said, sniffling. He was sweating profusely and appeared suddenly agitated, his beady eyes shifting in every direction.
“If you can’t destroy the Dark Lord, you can at least ruin Severus,” Wormtail said, taking a step closer towards Harry.
Harry was shivering violently now, so much that he could barely hold onto his wand. He couldn’t understand how it had got so cold. His vision was blurring slightly, and he blinked to try and stay focused.
Wormtail inched closer again, but in his confusion Harry couldn’t seem to care.
“Get away from him, Peter,” Remus’s sharp voice rang out across the garden.
Harry blinked dazedly, uncertain how Remus came to be there just then. Wormtail reacted much more quickly. He squealed and ducked behind Harry, using him as a shield between Remus and himself.
Harry was too stunned to move and only stared at the two men uncomprehendingly.
Remus glanced at Harry with a worried expression. “What have you done, Peter? What did you say to him? Harry, move away.”
Harry turned to look at Wormtail and blinked. In that instant, Wormtail morphed back into his Animagus form and sprinted into a pile of debris, squealing in fright.
Remus immediately gave chase, running towards the spot where the rat had disappeared and blasting it with his wand.
Unable to wrap his mind around what was happening, Harry stood numbly as the two raced around the ruins. He felt oddly disjointed, as if he weren’t really there and only witnessing something happening on the Dursleys’ telly rather than real events. It was Remus’s piercing cry of pain that snapped him out of his fog.
He hurried over to his former professor, who was crouched on the ground, cradling his hand. Harry could see a thin trail of blood running between Remus’s fingers.
“Damn it, he’s gone. He got me with that damn silver hand,” Remus said, shaking his hand. “It’s only superficial, nothing Poppy can’t fix. What happened here, Harry? Are you all right?”
Harry swallowed, unable to form any words. His mouth opened and closed futilely.
I’m going to die, anyway.
Remus grasped him by the shoulders and shook him slightly. “Stay with me, Harry. Tell me what happened.”
Neither can live…
Harry tried to swallow, but his throat was too dry. “How did you find me?” he asked in a raspy voice.
Remus stared at him thoughtfully for a few moments, but Harry couldn’t decipher what he was thinking. Finally, he wrapped his arm around Harry’s shoulder and led him over to a pile of broken stones that was big enough to rest upon. He pushed Harry down and sat beside him.
“Hermione first noticed you’d gone missing and found your note this morning. She was rather hysterical. You’re going to have quite a bit of explaining to do upon your return, Harry,” Remus said with a hint of amusement. “Everyone flew into panic mode trying to figure out where you could be. To his credit, Ron remained stoically silent, even under his mother’s tirade.”
Harry blinked. He heard Remus’s words, but felt as if he was speaking about something distant and not really connected to him. He couldn’t shake the fog that had enveloped his brain.
I’m going to die.
“Hermione finally caved under the onslaught from Molly. She told everyone about your plans to visit Godric’s Hollow. She wanted to follow you immediately, but Ron said it was most likely something you wanted to do alone,” Remus said.
Harry looked away. He knew Ron would understand, if only because of his own desire to avoid awkward displays of emotion. He found himself wishing they had come with him, if only to help him wrap his mind around this Horcrux business. Hermione would know what had to be done.
“Ginny had been quite livid with you, as well, until that point. She evidently felt you’d promised not to exclude her and then went back on it. She only softened when Ron explained your desire to see this place alone. It occurred to me that she’s a remarkable blend of both your friends, your Ginny,” Remus said mildly.
Harry smiled weakly. He’d never thought of it that way, but he supposed it was true. Ginny did display a lot of the qualities that
attracted him to both Ron and Hermione. He shivered again. Merlin, he’d give anything to see Ginny and be away from here right now. Why was it so unseasonably cold?
He realized Remus was waiting for him to speak.
“Ron’s right,” he said, his throat very scratchy. “I needed to do it on my own. I’d wanted to see their graves, but I haven’t found any trace of them…just this,” he said, gesturing to the ruined structure.
“I see. I understand your desire to see it, Harry, but I wish you’d at least taken someone with you. It isn’t something you should have done alone,” Remus said quietly.
Harry shrugged. “Nothing to be done for it now.”
“Would you still like to see where they’re buried?” Remus asked, his voice strained. A brief flash of sorrow crossed his face as he asked the question.
Harry nodded solemnly.
Remus stood up, and Harry followed him, finding a detached amusement in the fact that Remus still went through the now non-existent door. They walked up a hill to the area behind the cottage ruins, almost to the line of trees. Harry reckoned he could vaguely see the hint of blue that indicated how close they were to the ocean. It was a calm, peaceful resting-place. It was what Harry would have chosen for them.
Remus placed his hands on Harry’s shoulders and gave a slight squeeze. “I’ll give you a few minutes alone, but I’ll be right over there if you need me,” he said, walking back down the hill.
Harry looked down at the small stone marker baring the names of each of his parents. It seemed somehow fitting to him that they should share the same marker. He swallowed against the painful lump in this throat and sank to his knees beside the stone.
“Mum? Dad?” he whispered. “I’m here. I came back.”
Harry swallowed again; he really didn’t know what to say. “I wish…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He listened disjointedly to the sounds of birds in the trees, wondering how they could sound so cheerful when his own world was falling apart. He’d succeeded in finding one of the Horcruxes, but did he have the strength to destroy himself? How could he tell Ron, Hermione and especially Ginny? He stared hopelessly at his parents’ gravestone.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered brokenly. “I could really use some help here.”
He waited for a moment, unmoving except for the increasing trembling of his body. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but nothing had changed. The sky hadn’t opened up with answers, and no great voice of wisdom directed him on where to begin. There was nothing here. His parents’
bodies had been buried here long ago, but the only piece of them that was left behind was Harry. He’d had them with him all along.
Tentatively, he reached his hand towards the grave marker and ran his hand along the engraving of his parents’ names. The pressure of his fingers tracing the letters was met with nothing but cold, unyielding stone. Harry shut his eyes tightly and willed the tears away.
Suddenly, it had all become too much. Harry wrapped his arms around himself and hung his head, as reality seemed to slip away.
Remus appeared next to him, but Harry didn’t know how he’d got there. He wasn’t real, anyway. Nothing was real.
Remus, who appeared very concerned, was speaking to him, but he wasn’t really there. Words didn’t mean anything anyway, because it was all just an illusion. Why wouldn’t Remus stop calling his name?
He wasn’t going to answer someone that wasn’t really there.
He was walking now. Remus was leading him away – he couldn’t form the words to tell him that he hadn’t found what he’d been looking for in the first place. His legs felt heavy, and he could barely move them. The sudden, crushing sensation of being squeezed hit Harry like a blow, but he didn’t cry out because it wasn’t really happening.
Harry blinked and realized he was somewhere else. Headquarters, it looked like, but he wasn’t really here. It was so very cold and there was nothing he could do to get the warmth back in his body. He stumbled but Remus caught him before he fell.
“Harry!” Remus’s voice was harsh and slightly panicked. Harry remained silent.
Remus led him inside and into the main parlor. A great crowd of people was there, faces he knew but couldn’t place. He didn’t know why he was even trying, anyway. The room began to spin, making him feel nauseous. Voices rang out, calling to him, but he couldn’t understand the words, so he ignored them.
He saw Hermione move toward him, tears streaming down her face as she spoke. He shrank away from her, and Ron held her back, whispering something in her ear. She frowned at him, but stopped shouting and instead stared at Harry worriedly. Harry turned away, not wanting to answer her questions. His gaze roamed over the many faces, searching…
When he saw her, she was sitting alone in a chair in the corner of the room, but to him she appeared to be the center of all the activity. Her brown eyes were filled with concern as she slowly rose and simply held out her arms to him. He was drawn to her as if she were a beacon on a rough, stormy sea. He moved into her embrace, and although she was a good head shorter than he was, he bent low and rested his head upon her shoulder. She closed her arms around him and held him tightly as he clung to her, not even caring that anyone else was there.
He could hear shuffling sounds behind him and thought Remus might be clearing the others out of the room, but he paid no attention. Every
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