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SIYE Time:15:20 on 29th March 2024
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Gods Bless Accidental Magic!
By Dopeydo

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Crossover, Humor, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence, Violence/Physical Abuse
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 306
Summary: Everybody has their limits. As Harry finds his reason to live, he will break many of them… and not all intentionally. As Harry finds his reason to live, he will learn what it means to be broken in turn. There is a great power in friendship, but there is just as great a power in fear. (Crossover occurs late in the story.)

Note: Picks up from halfway through chapter six of PS. Abuse warnings are limited to pre-Hogwarts experiences. Rating is mainly for language.
Hitcount: Story Total: 200340; Chapter Total: 3964
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
A shorter chapter than is usual after that bombshell dropped. This is not over yet.
Many thanks as usual to my awesome betas, Arnel and BobVosh, and credit to JKR for the world, but this chapter is all me :)




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The common room was far too quiet. It had never been so full, and yet every single person was talking as though afraid of disturbing a slumbering dragon. Neville Longbottom found his skull echoing with random thoughts of everything and nothing as he sat by the fire with Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Anything to distract him from his grief... If only life were so simple.


 


The rest of their house was giving them a fairly wide berth, out of respect for their mourning. Ginny was utterly distraught, and had spent the whole evening staring into the flames, tears streaming endlessly down her cheeks. For his part, Ron had not spoken a word.


 


While they had been this way from the moment they heard the news, Hermione had responded differently. By the time they came back and found her in the common room she had brought down a stack of books — Lockhart’s books — and begun to read. Disbelieving, Neville looked over ten minutes later and noted that she hadn’t passed the first line. From her expression she was far from engrossed. In fact, he had been just in time to see her hurl the novel into the fire. Hermione had buried her head in her hands and not looked up since.


 


Neville only then realised that, in holding back tears of his own, he had been holding his breath. It came out ragged, shaky...


 


Harry was gone.


 


His body had been levitated to the Hospital Wing under a cloth. In spite of their combined efforts in combing the castle, it had been Hermione who’d found him. She had not spoken a word of what had come to pass, but apparently had gone upstairs to investigate when the thunderous crashing had begun in the boys’ dormitories. Light had been seen coming from the windows that outshone the sun. And once the noises had died away, and the light had faded, and the castle had stopped quaking under the onslaught… the silence was punctuated by a blood-curdling scream.


 


Those who had seen Harry being carried away said they had never seen Madam Pomfrey quite so grim. He wasn’t dead, she had said. But he was in a place that no magic could bring him back from. Only time could tell whether Harry Potter would ever wake up.


 


Neville squeezed his wand until sparks exploded from the tip, but he couldn’t contain a sob. The idea that Harry might not be coming back...


 


At that one choked cry, the dam burst.


 


Ron shouted something indiscriminate and stormed towards the portrait hole.


 


Her eyes brimming with tears, Hermione balled her hands into fists and began to wail.


 


Ginny seemed almost calm. It was only as Neville wiped the tears from his eyes that he realized something was wrong.


 


Her tears were catching fire, and there was something different this time. For as the flames spread into her clothing, the red Gryffindor lining began to blacken. A drop landed on the sofa and continued to burn as her entire robe went up in flames.


 


“Ginny, no!” Neville yelled, aiming his wand at her face without the slightest idea of what spell to cast.


 


A great gust of wind swept the room. But the fire was indomitable.


 


“Help me!” Neville cried. People had only just realised what was happening, and were fumbling for their wands as the flames spread.


 


The sofa was engulfed, and Neville darted backwards as the carpet began to catch.


 


Aguamenti!


 


Ventus!


 


Abisquia Caloris Ignis Concidius!


 


It took half of the wands in the room to stop the fire from spreading. The portraits had rapidly evacuated their frames, but a couple of students who had not been quick enough to react were crying and screaming as their classmates tried to put out burning clothing.


 


“Somebody get McGonagall.”


 


“I’ll find Madam Pomfrey.”


 


“We’re doomed.”


 


Hermione was frozen, staring at Ginny from where a seventh year had hurriedly dragged her away from the spreading conflagration. Ron was little better, sitting horrified by the portrait hole as their common room was simultaneously torched and flooded.


 


Ginny was staring blankly into the distance, her eyes empty. She sniffed, the fire disappearing as if smothered, and stood up, walking stiffly to the girls’ staircase. All that remained was the blackened, charred furniture, still smoking gently in her wake.


 


Turning to the side, Neville suddenly and violently emptied his stomach onto the common room floor.


 




 


Slamming the dormitory door behind her, Ginny collapsed against it, emptying her lungs as she fought the urge to cry. She succeeded, but as the weight of what had happened, and what might have happened, settled upon her temples, it was all she could do to keep her scream of frustration and anguish silent. Instead, a good part of the boiler shielding and Fay’s bed that had been unfortunate enough to be in the path of her fury vaporised into dark mist.


 


Staring at the further destruction she had wrought, she sank to the ground. What if she had unleashed that kind of power in the common room?


 


Raising a hand, she examined the fire that she had become so familiar with. It seemed cold now, almost lifeless as it steadily burned. A ghost at her fingertips.


 


Everything had gone to hell this year. She had drifted away from Harry, drifted away from her friends and now that which she had prized above all else was gone for good. Even her magic was turning sour.


 


“Ginny?” said Hermione through the door, knocking quietly. “Are you in there?”


 


With an almost dismissive gesture, Ginny willed that the door fuse to its frame.


 


“Ginny?”


 


It wasn’t Hermione on the other side of that door. The girl Ginny heard was lost and frightened. And while normally she would have grabbed her friend by the wrist and talked over chocolate frogs, today Ginny wanted nothing to do with it. For today, Ginny was lost too, and there was only one person she could possibly turn to.


 


She didn’t even hear the muffled sob as Hermione turned and left. Dragging herself over to her bed, she sat heavily on the luxurious, soft mattress, and slid her hand under the pillow.


 


Ginny’s eyes flew wide open.


 


Casting aside her pillows with a flick of her wrist, she saw nothing but bedsheets. Now suddenly frantic, she tore apart her pillowcases, flinging her duvet back... and found nothing.


 


The diary was gone.


 




 


A great crashing noise from above almost sent Hermione down the stairs the short way as she turned rapidly on her heel. On seeing red hair flying, Hermione felt her heart leap. And just as quickly it was trampled underfoot as Ginny careened past her. Her friend didn’t even appear to have seen her, gripped as the redhead was by some incredible panic.


 


‘Perhaps she’s going to try and see Harry,’ Hermione thought, her mood dropping even further. The image of him, burned and broken on the floor, was scorched into her retinas for all of time.


 


He had been invincible. He always seemed invincible. As stupid as he was sometimes, Harry Potter did not deserve to die. What world could take him from them? How could this magical world take Harry Potter from her?


 


Her left knee buckled as she reached the bottom of the stairs, but Hermione was just about able to stay upright. She felt weariness akin to having been awake for a straight week. And yet she dreaded what she would see when she closed her eyes. Looking around, Hermione saw fifty heads turn hurriedly away. Onlookers who wanted to busy themselves making gossip of their grief but cared none to share the burden. The sight of Neville, waiting anxiously by the fire, was the greatest relief Hermione felt capable of. She dared not to dream of Harry waking.


 


“Hey,” said Neville softly. “Did you and Ginny...?”


 


“I don’t think I could fight with Ron right now,” Hermione breathed, shaking her head. “I just want to wake up, Neville.”


 


Neville nodded, and they sat in silence for a moment.


 


“He’s not gone,” said Neville.


 


“Neville, please...” Hermione grimaced.


 


“I know him,” said Neville. “Better than I’ve ever known anyone. And when he wakes up he’s going to be pretty disappointed if we fell apart and let Slytherin’s monster keep killing.”


 


“You think that’s what...?” said Hermione.


 


“No,” Neville said firmly. “He’s not Muggle-born and he hasn’t done anything high profile enough yet to get their attention. Unless whoever is controlling the monster wants to take credit for it.”


 


Hermione shuddered. “Please, Neville, I can’t talk about it. Not yet.”


 


“Fine,” said Neville. “I suppose that can wait. But we need to figure out who’s behind this before anyone else is attacked. And I’ll be doing that with or without your help.”


 


Neville reached a hand out to her. He was pleading with his eyes for her not to abandon him. But all Hermione could now think of was Harry’s ravaged body, his killer laughing as the amorphous beast stood victorious over her friend’s corpse, lowering its head...


 


Staggered by wave upon wave of nausea, Hermione hurried past a distraught Neville towards the portrait hole. Distracted thus, nobody in the common room saw Ginny appear at the foot of the boys’ stairs, holding something hidden in her robes, a faint smile on her otherwise emotionless face.


 




 


“What is your professional opinion on his chances, Madam Pomfrey?” said Professor Dumbledore.


 


There was a muffled sniff. “I can’t say. The boy is tough, but...”


 


“Is there anything more that might be done for him?” said the headmaster, sounding both soothing and urgent.


 


“There are rituals that could force his mind to respond,” Madam Pomfrey said forlornly. “But they could just as easily break him. The only safe way is for him to recover on his own.”


 


“An uncommon occurrence it would seem,” Professor Dumbledore said.


 


“Yes,” said Madam Pomfrey. “Only... only three of the recorded nineteen have...”


 


“Young Harry Potter will awaken, Poppy,” said Professor Dumbledore. “As you yourself said, his mettle has been tested and found worthy of his house. He is not lost.”


 


“I can only hope,” said Madam Pomfrey.


 


Their voices were barely noticed by the object of their concerns.


 


Harry Potter drifted aimlessly in the void.


 


Below him lay his body, slowly healing from the copious burns, broken bones and the mess the fight had made of his internal organs.


 


Above him were the stars.


 


The hospital wing floated in the abyss like a leaf on the water, almost silhouetted against the pinpricks of cosmic light below as Harry rose.


 


Dumbledore’s voice grew faint, yet Harry had barely been able to hear it even when he was closer, so overwhelming in their numbers were the disembodied voices that moaned and pleaded and whimpered in the dark. Harry recognised them. He had heard them when he travelled by Portkey to Romania and back, and they waited for him to enter that same in-between space in Apparation.


 


“Stay...”


 


The word echoed gently in his mind, and Harry frowned up at the emptiness of space. The voice had not come from the Hospital Wing. Disturbingly, unlike the apparently wordless voices that came from all around him, this was crisp, clear English, though it did sound as if spoken in a tunnel.


 


Was the man talking to him?


 


Where was he supposed to stay? In this strange, beautiful limbo? Or perhaps simply away from whoever the man was?


 


Would he hear Harry speak in turn?


 


“Hello?”


 


Harry was treated to the singularly unnatural experience of hearing his voice reverberate within his skull without a single trace reaching his ears as conventional sound. It was nauseating. His ears felt as though full of treacle, and his face was numb.


 


“Can anyone hear me?”


 


‘In space, no-one can hear you scream,’ Harry mused. Perhaps that truly was where he drifted now. And maybe it was weariness from the fight, but he didn’t feel any real urgency to get back. In fact, the thought barely crossed his mind. And he continued to drift upwards as if propelled by some supernatural force.


 


Turning back to look down upon the fragment of Hogwarts that had torn free with him, Harry saw what must have been the entire Milky Way galaxy beneath it. Great arms of stars were flung out from the rotating centre, where a blinding, swirling mist pulsed with energy.


 


Harry should have felt small. In the face of such greatness, in the light of his failure, he had every right to feel diminished and beaten. And yet the only thing he knew was wonder. Being destroyed by Riddle felt almost immaterial next to what he saw, and the strange sense of purpose he gradually was being filled with. There was something out there — something in the stars — that was calling to him, regardless of what the mysterious man said.


 


No matter how powerful the call though, it could not block out the voices that still pulled at Harry, wordless but somehow intelligible. They were terrified and angry and desperate. Above all else, they were trapped. But their despair was not one to recover from. It was a timeless woe that weighed on Harry’s soul as they reached out to him. And Harry knew for sure, now...


 


This was the realm of the dead.

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