SIYE Time:0:34 on 12th December 2024 SIYE Login: no | | |
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The World Turned Right Side Up By drawjones
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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, General, Romance, Tragedy
Warnings: Sexual Situations, Violence
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 259
Summary: With Voldemort gone and a world no longer in fear Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione begin to move on with their lives, only to find that happily ever after is just beyond the horizon.
Hitcount: Story Total: 217864; Chapter Total: 6202
Author's Notes: Sorry ladies and gents for not posting sooner, although SIYE and my computer seem to be having issues. Namely when booting in Vista and trying to access the site with either IE7 or Firefox, the site is supposedly 'unavailable' while I can access it via Mac Leopard using Safari. Needless to say, I've had to deal with the annoyance of converting my Word files to Text files, and then correcting all the punctuation errors so that I can then post via Safari. With that said, I hope you enjoy the chapter, I imagine some of you will not like Gryffindor very much after this chapter, but I feel he forces Harry, and the others to at least think about some very important issues. As always, I greatly appreciate the reviews and comments.
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Ron, Hermione and Ginny stood in shock as they listened through the door leading to Gryffindor's library. Minutes before, Harry had gone in there to see Gryffindor - who had wanted to speak with Harry alone. Now, they stood with their ears straining to hear the heated words that were coming from Harry.
For the first few minutes, everything had been fine. While Hermione, Ron and Ginny had mulled about, just passing the time, expecting Harry to be out in a few minutes, they did not hear anything out of the ordinary. That had all changed just a few moments ago. First they heard Harry shouting in a rather loud voice over and over.
While the words were not clear, Ginny was almost certain that she had heard the words, "No," and "I won't do that," come from Harry. Now, as all three strained to hear, Ginny desperately wished that she had an Extendable Ear with her. Again and again, they heard Harry's voice raise in anger only to remain silent for a few moments, probably whenever Gryffindor was talking to him.
Whatever Gryffindor could be saying, Ginny knew that, for Harry to be yelling, it had to be quite upsetting. As her mind raced, she tried to guess what their conversation could be about, but there was nothing she could imagine any worse than what they already knew.
Time had grown painfully short for them. In fact, there was only a little more than a month left before Daemon would most likely have his potion prepared. That had put everyone on edge and made them all quite jumpy. Numerous times, Harry had snapped at Ron, only for Ron to turn and snap at Ginny, who then in turn would take out her frustrations on Hermione, only to have it all cycle back to Harry.
Again, Harry's voice raised to an alarming level as the door leading to the library began to shake. Ginny looked at Ron with concern. Harry had rarely lost control of his emotions to the point that he caused things like that to happen. What Ginny saw in Ron's eyes did not help her feel relaxed either.
Normally, she could count on Ron to be a rock when it came to Harry. His eyes were always calm and calculating. As she looked at him now, though, she saw the same fear and concern she knew to be in her eyes.
Finally, they heard Harry scream, "ENOUGH!"
A moment later, the door to the library flew open, slamming hard against the wall, nearly flying loose from its hinges. Harry appeared from the room, his eyes full of fury, his jaw firmly set and his fists tightly clinched by his sides.
Instantly, everyone knew it was not a time to talk to Harry. They all fell in silent step behind him as he made his way away from the library.
As he marched, Harry silently fumed. His mind was racing. He could feel every beat of his heart with the intense throbbing in his head. With each beat, he only clinched his jaw tighter, making his head hurt worse. Harry's whole body was tense, his muscles ached and he walked rigidly.
Paying barely enough attention to his surroundings to get out of the castle without walking into either a wall or a suit of armor, he made his way towards the area where the foursome usually practiced. Lost in his own thoughts and anger, he paid no attention to the others following quietly behind him until Ginny, finally sensing that he was beginning to calm slightly, caught up with him and lightly placed her hand in his.
Startled by the sudden and unexpected contact, Harry stopped, gazing down at the hand that was now in his. For a moment, his anger continued to cloud his mind, until he looked up to see Ginny standing beside him. Her eyes were full of concern, but she did not speak. He could tell by the look in her eyes, she wanted to know what had been going on to make him so angry, but as Harry lost himself in her eyes, he felt his anger ebb slightly.
Soon, his face changed from the raging scowl he had worn first walking out of Gryffindor's library, to expressionless. While not the smirk or smile Ginny hoped he would soon wear, she would accept any improvement, no matter how small, at the moment. Taking a moment to squeeze her hand in appreciation, Harry looked ahead once more and began his trek again, this time hand in hand, stride in stride with Ginny.
Quietly, they finished their journey and Harry came to a stop in front of a tall tree. Releasing Ginny's hand, he began to run his fingers through his hair as he began to pace. Ron, Hermione and Ginny all stood by, waiting for him to begin talking. They knew that, when he was ready, he would tell them.
Finally, Harry let out a frustrated growl as he looked at Ginny, then Hermione and finally, Ron. When he looked at Ron, Ginny saw something in his eyes that caught her by surprise. While he looked at Hermione and her, Harry's eyes held anger and frustration. When he looked at Ron though, Ginny saw hurt and resignation. Although she did not know why, Ginny felt all to certain that Harry's issue with Gryffindor had something to do with Ron.
Harry let his eyes linger on Ron for a moment, a look of pleading and apology soon filling them before he tore them away, turning his back on everyone.
"Gryffindor..." Harry began through clinched teeth, the anger and frustration bubbling over. "Gryffindor, wanted to talk to me about the four of us."
Ginny heard him take a deep breath before he slumped his shoulders in resignation and turned to face them.
"He wanted to talk to me about the next battle with Daemon," Harry said, more softly than before, his anger seeming to deflate in an instant.
Ginny turned to see the concern in both Hermione and Ron's eyes mirroring exactly what she was feeling. Stepping towards Harry, she began to reach out before he held his hand up, motioning for her to stay where she was. Seeing that he was still struggling with what to say, she simply nodded her understanding and remained where she was.
"Gryffindor told me it was time to take stock of our most valuable assets," Harry finally started again. "He said that, during battle, knowing whom and what were most important was crucial. He said that way, emotion could be kept in check and situations could better be managed."
"I don't understand," Hermione began. "Of course it's important to know your assets going into a fight," she continued. "We've been doing it since day one, so why the big deal now?"
Harry looked at her for a minute, searching for the words. Twice he opened his mouth to speak, only to snap it shut again. "Well, the focus of this conversation was more on the whom," Harry said softly once more turning his back on the group. "Gryffindor wanted to talk to me about our order of importance."
"Hell, mate," Ron began, relief evident in his voice. "Everyone knows that you are the most important one, and we're your support."
A look of contemplation and then finally understanding spread across Hermione's face, "There's more to it than that. Isn't there, Harry?" she astutely asked.
Nodding his head in affirmation, Harry began again, "Yeah... Yeah, there is. This order of importance was about who would be the easiest to lose, and still have a chance for overall success."
All three stood in shock as they processed what Harry had said. After what seemed an eternity, Ginny finally spoke, "So, he wanted to talk to you about which of us to let die?"
Harry looked at her reluctantly. "Not in as many words, more so he wanted to talk to me about whom I should and should not take risks to save or protect as the battle progressed."
After another long pause, Hermione quietly added, "He doesn't expect us all to make it."
Harry nodded. "He told me that it would be foolish to assume we would all survive. He said that that other founders and he had only barely survived the battle, and they had years more experience than we do, both with magic and working together."
Ron frowned as he listened to Harry speak. As soon as he had heard Harry's words, his analytical and strategical mind began working and pretty quickly had come to a pretty stark conclusion.
"I'm the most expendable," he said flatly, his voice betraying none of the fear or anger he was feeling at the moment.
"Oh, Ron, that's ridiculous," Hermione retorted immediately having missed the glances Harry had give Ron earlier. Looking over towards Harry for support, Hermione's face dropped as she saw him quickly look away when their eyes met.
"No, it's not Hermione," Ron responded. As she opened her mouth to protest again, Ron cut her off. "Think about it," he began, "This is just like in chess. You may have to accept the loss of some pieces because of the position and advantage it would afford you. I mean look at the three of us. You and Ginny both directly help Harry. Ginny with her shields and you with your charms, but what do I do? "
Again, Hermione opened her mouth only to be cut off before she could speak.
"I'm just an extra wand," Ron said softly. "I don't do anything Harry himself already doesn't do. I don't help with charms, I don't help with shields. So if it came down to me or one of the two of you for Harry, he would have to pick me to go.
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but no words came out. Even though her heart was screaming in rage at what she had been told, her logical mind began to churn it over. A sickening feeling came to her stomach as she found herself beginning to agree with the logic of what Ron had said.
"But there has to be another way," she choked out as she felt tears beginning to rise up in her eyes.
Sensing her hurt and despair, Ron walked quietly over to her and put a comforting arm around her. He whispered softly into her ear as she wiped away a tear from her eyes that had begun to fall.
"There ARE other ways," Harry finally replied. "This is the last resort. Gryffindor wanted me to already have considered it before we found ourselves in the heat of battle. He wanted me to already know who I would let fall, and at what stage of the battle it would be necessary."
At Harry's words, everyone fell silent. To have heard Gryffindor finally articulate with Harry something they had all known in the back of their minds seemed to suck the life and energy from the group. No one wanted to speak. Even though time was quickly running out for the group, this seemed to bring finality to the events that were to come.
***
Daemon stood quietly over the cauldron before him, patiently watching it simmer. The dragon's blood and mistletoe were nearly ready for the next ingredient. Now, only the faintest trace of the original color could be seen. Soon, all hints of color disappeared and the potion became a pearly grey.
Raising his wand, he lowered the intensity of the flame, and, with an incantation, changed its color to a deep purple. Looking back up to the cauldron, he saw the potion quickly begin to lose its pearly appearance and soon become a dull grey.
Smiling to himself, he moved to the edge of the table and began to prepare the next ingredient. He paused for a moment looking at a woven basket. Casting a protective spell over his hands, he quickly removed the top and set it to the side.
A moment later, a distinctive triad of hisses began to emanate from the basket before being followed by a trio of snake heads. Hissing angrily at Daemon, the Runespoor quickly slithered out of the basket. Immediately, the right head seemed to take the lead and all three heads worked in unison, moving the body in a straight line away from Daemon.
Focusing his attention on the far left head of the snake, Daemon in a swift motion grabbed it just behind the head. For a moment, the other two heads seemed oblivious to the grip that Daemon held over the left head. Only after they seemed to register that the body was no longer cooperating with them, they began to look around and see just what was wrong. An instant later, Daemon felt a dull thump against his hand as he watched both the middle and the right heads begin striking at his hand.
As he had expected, his spell held and the snake heads were being completely ineffective. Whether they bit him or not though, it did not really matter. It was the left head whose venom was dangerous. It was the left head whose bite could easily penetrate his shields, and because of that, it was the left head's venom what he needed.
Again and again, the other two heads struck at his hand. Soon his interest began to wane, and was quickly replaced with annoyance. Grabbing a knife that was lying nearby with his free hand, Daemon raised it slowly, and then with a lightning fast chop, severed the middle head. For a moment, the right head paused, turning to look at the missing head, and giving Daemon time to strike again.
As his last strike echoed against the table, the Runespoor's body began to violently flail. Daemon maintained a stranglehold on the left head, just behind its jaw. The body, though, quickly doubled around and began to coil up Daemon's arm. Daemon could easily feel the power of the Runespoor's body as its coils quickly began to restrict the blood flow down his arm and into his hand.
Watching his hand slowly growing a dark red color due to the restricted blood flow, Daemon paused for a few moments. As he marveled at the power of the creature's body, he felt the left head trying to struggle in his hand. Tightening his grip further, he felt the head struggle a bit more before once more become still in his hand. Confident that he had the creature well under control, Daemon strode over to the cauldron.
Chancing one final glance, he saw that the potion was still dull grey in color. Now, the surface was also smooth as glass, as the simmering had come to a stop. Knowing that it was now ready, he took his wand and pried the left head's mouth open. Hooking the wand behind the deadly fangs, he forced them forward, just as the Runespoor would do when about to strike. Once the fangs were fully protracted, Daemon let his thumb and index finger slide carefully up the head while still maintaining his grip.
Resting those two fingers gently against either side of the head, he held the fangs over the cauldron and began to slowly squeeze where he knew the venom pouches were. Soon, two drops of venom appeared at the tip of the fangs and seemed to hang on for just a moment as they grew larger, until finally falling free and dropping into the potion.
Daemon looked at the potion for a moment, wanting to ensure both drops had fallen into the cauldron. As he watched the concentric circles radiating out from where both drops had impacted the surface of the potion, he knew they both had found their mark.
The Runespoor's job done, Daemon moved it away from the cauldron, and calling forth his magic into his hands, incinerated the remaining head and body before letting it fall to the ground. He then looked over his hands, and finding his shields to still be intact, raised his wand and cancelled the spells.
Turning his attention back to the cauldron, Daemon noticed the snake venom floating in two small drops on top of the potion, almost like oil in water. Knowing that the venom mixing into the potion would be something that would take a long time, he quickly ensured everything was in place and there was nothing that would find its way into the potion by accident. Certain that the potion would remain undisturbed, he quickly strode from the room, closing the door behind him and making his way once more to the main hall of his castle.
Entering the hall, Daemon quickly took seat on his throne. He closed his eyes for a moment and began to rest. He let his mind begin wandering, and soon found himself thinking of times long in the past. While he had not intended to fall asleep, fatigue soon claimed him, and he found himself trapped in an all too familiar dream.
Daemon was walking hurriedly down an overgrown forest path. He had been gone for far too long. He had said it would only take him a couple of weeks at most to find a cure to help those in the village, but he had been wrong. It had been over three months, and now he had heard very frightful rumors on his journey back home.
Although much of Britain was being swept up with Muggle hysteria about witches and wizards, Daemon's village had been one of the last places where wizards lived openly. The fact that Daemon was such a good wizard and constantly used his powers to help those who were sick or injured, whether Muggle or Wizard, had played a large part in that.
Now though, with a plague quickly spreading throughout the villages of northern Britain, and which seemed to only affect the Muggles, paranoia and fear began to overtake them. Immediately, Muggles began to blame Wizards for the plague, calling it a curse. Many men that had once been friends with Wizards, quickly turned their backs on them and led the persecution and murders of entire wizarding families.
Daemon had done everything in his power to help his village, and for the most part, his actions had served to allay the fears of the Muggles. Very quickly, though, it had become apparent that even he did not know how to stop the plague. Feeling that his best chance to help them came from journeying into southern England, where rumors told of a similar plague a few years prior that had been contained, Daemon made his decision to go.
Trusting that his family would be safest staying in the village, where the Muggles were still friendly and appreciative, Daemon had left his wife and small son with a promise to return as quickly as he could. That had been three very long months ago.
Unfortunately for Daemon, finding the villages that had suffered under the earlier curse had been harder than he expected. Once he had actually gotten to the villages, Daemon found himself faced with another problem, as there were no Wizards living among the Muggles. Evidently, just as was happening in the villages around his, when the plague had struck these villages, the Muggles had attacked the Wizards. As a result, once the plague had been stopped, the Muggles and Wizards reached an uneasy truce, and the Wizards had moved away from the Muggles.
It had taken Daemon the better part of a month to find the Wizarding villages that knew of the cure for the plague. The hardest part of his journey though, still lay ahead of him. His time in southern England had seen very stark and dramatic changes occur. He could no longer travel openly as a Wizard through England, and the farther north he traveled, the more hostile and aggressive the Muggles he encountered became.
Even though he had readily shared the cure with whomever he encountered, Daemon found himself the target of acts of bigotry and hatred from Muggles who had lost loved ones to the plague. Although he was not proud it, there had been a few Muggles that had left him no choice but to use his magic to protect himself.
He had not killed any of them, but quite a few men had been left in magical restraints. While Daemon had begun to grow uneasy about what may be going on in his village, he felt fairly certain that all of his good and openness with his neighbors would serve to keep their minds open and not let them fall prey to the hysteria sweeping the land.
All of that hope had come crashing down the previous night, however, as Daemon had snuck near the camp of a group of Muggle Wizard hunters. As he listened to the men talk, he heard them mention his village. Immediately, his interest piqued and he began to listen intently as he heard one of the men relay a tale about having been in the village a few days prior.
He told of how the fools had continued to allow a witch and her son to live in the open as part of the village. He also told how he and another man had quickly shown the villagers the error of their ways and readily taken care of the problem. For Daemon, the innuendo had been enough and he revealed himself to the men.
Disguising himself as a Muggle traveler, he quickly entered the camp with welcome, and got the whole story from the man. As the man had relayed one horrifying detail after another to Daemon, he found himself quickly losing control. His anger finally overcame him as the man spoke of the witch's cries to the villagers about the good her husband had done for them.
Daemon did not know for certain if his family had been murdered. He had lost control of his temper before that point. None of the men had a chance to do more than look at him with a look of surprise and fear as he cut each of them down with the most powerful severing curse he could muster.
Immediately after that, Daemon had set out with the utmost haste to his village. He had not slept, ate or rest since that time, and now he was fast approaching his village after nearly two days. At first he had been sickened with himself as realization of what he had done began to set in, but as he relived the conversation over and over in his head, regret was soon replaced with gratification.
Finally approaching the end of the path, Daemon saw his village in the distance, visible only in the moonlight. Not wanting to deal with hostile Muggles were his worst fears true, Daemon made his way around the village, to his house on the far side.
Even from a distance, Daemon's heart dropped. He saw his house in ruins ñ burned husk was all that remained. As he quietly made his way through the rubble from the back of the house, his hopes raised for a moment, as he did not find his wife or son. Those hopes were short lived though, and a heart breaking cry rang out through the night as he found both his wife and son's charred bodies hanging from a tree in front of the house as a warning to any wizard that may enter the village.
As Daemon collapsed to the ground, his grief overtaking him, the Muggles he had worked so hard to save began to come out of their homes to see what the cries were about. As he saw them, rage and vengeance began to fill the void where his heart had once been. He saw the looks of surprise and regret in their eyes as they began to timidly approach him. Realizing there was nothing left for him, Daemon made his decision. Rising to his feet, he carefully began to stride towards those approaching him.
Just as a villager began to speak, Daemon awoke with a start. Bounding from his throne, he looked about the great hall, but found himself to be alone. He looked at the windows to find that it was now dark outside. He had fallen asleep and not meant to. The nightmare that had tortured him nearly every night since that fateful time left him feeling tired and enraged. He could feel his hatred coursing through his veins.
Feeling his anger begging for release, Daemon paused for a moment. Letting his magic surge forth, fueled by his loathing and hatred, the air around him began to crackle with energy. With only destruction and despair in mind, he disappeared with a loud CRACK, and the great hall was calm once more.
***
Gryffindor stood looking at the trio before him with his arms crossed over his chest. He had expected Harry to react poorly to their discussion about when and who to let fall if the need arose during the final battle. What he had not expected, though, was the fury that the trio standing before him would come to him with.
Ironically enough, it seemed to be Ron who had best understood his point of view. He had not been advocating sacrificing anyone, or just letting anyone die needlessly. He had simply wanted to get Harry to understand that, in the course of the battle, there very well may come a time, when trying to save one of the others could very well put Harry and the rest at such a disadvantage, that it may mean defeat for them all.
Gryffindor knew Harry was loyal beyond words to his friends. He knew that Harry would gladly step in front of a spell for anyone one of them should the need ever arise. He also knew, though, that this was a weakness Daemon would be all too happy to exploit against Harry. Whether Harry or any of the rest would ever talk to him again, Gryffindor knew he had said what needed to be said. He had little time left to get them ready for the battle, and he had to have Harry ready to take whatever steps necessary to defeat Daemon ñ even if it meant letting someone he loved fall in the battle.
Now, Gryffindor focused his attention on the fuming witches before him. Even through their fiery eyes and withering glares, he was certain they could see the logic of his arguments. At least, they would when they cooled down and thought about it. Everyone in the group had been on edge, and nerves were raw.
Finally letting out a sigh, he looked to Ginny and spoke, "Have you got anything else to say?"
Ginny's lips thinned into a line as her jaw clinched for a moment. "How could you tell Harry he has to make a decision like that?" she finally asked in an eerily calm voice.
"Simple..." Gryffindor began without hesitation, "...even Ron admitted it earlier, you have to be willing to make sacrifices at times in order to win. I didn't tell Harry whom or even if he had to choose. I simply told him that this was something he needed to understand and be cognizant of during the battle."
Hermione huffed in disgust, "But Ron?" she questioned skeptically. "First, Ron; then, me, and finally, Ginny. Why not just tell Harry he had to do it himself? What you did was as good as."
Gryffindor sighed again before answering. He knew they were arguing out of loyalty and emotion right now. He could tell that they were mostly upset over the fact that Harry was now having to bear the weight of knowing he may have to make a decision that would cause one of his friends or even Ginny to die. He was certain that each of them, in their own way, had already accepted the very real possibility that they could die, but knew that if they stood together then it was possible for them to survive.
"I'd rather have Harry hate me now and be depressed now as opposed to the alternative," Gryffindor finally said aloud.
"And just what is the alternative?" Ginny questioned.
"One of you dies, and Harry, either freezes and breaks down in the middle of the battle, or he becomes enraged and starts to attack without plan or thought," Gryffindor answered. "And quite frankly, either of those options can lead to only one thing."
Gryffindor did not say what the one thing was. It was obvious to everyone in the room what he meant. A long moment of silence passed as everyone seemed to consider what he had set forth before them. Finally seeing the glares from Ginny and Hermione soften, Gryffindor decided to try another avenue and see if he could help them calm further.
"Unfortunately for Harry..." Gryffindor began, his voice soft and his eyes looking beyond the trio at a distant wall, "...with such tremendous power comes a responsibility equally as great. He'll always be the leader, the one people gather around and look to for guidance and direction. Because of that, he's going to have to accept the fact that those who are loyal to him and follow his direction will not always come home at the end of the day."
"You seem to speak from experience," Ginny softly interrupted.
"I do," Gryffindor replied. "Even when the other founders and I faced Daemon all those years ago, I was the unspoken leader of the group. While I couldn't bear the idea of one of my friends dying, I had to face and accept the fact that they very well could have. We all did survive, although I won't say it wasn't without some very harrowing moments."
For a moment, Gryffindor grew silent as something seemed to catch in his throat. While Ginny and Hermione did not know for sure if it were possible for an apparition to cry, he seemed to be struggling within himself to maintain control at the moment. Finally, letting out a long sigh, Gryffindor seemed to steady himself.
"At one point during that battle, I left an injured and unconscious Helga completely unprotected and open to attack by Daemon," he finally continued. "Had he chosen to kill her, there was nothing anyone could have done to stop it. To have done things any different though, would have put myself, and Salazar, and Rowena in a nearly indefensible position. The only thing that kept me from freezing or making a very stupid mistake was the fact that we had all already discussed the very issue that Harry now struggles with. For our group at that time in the battle, Helga was the most expendable if it meant too much risk to the group otherwise."
Gryffindor's voice gradually softened as he spoke until it was but a whisper. The trio stood in absolute silence, their rage and fury now gone. Reluctantly, they began to consider Gryffindor's words and arguments without emotion. Slowly, they began to understand the importance of what he had forced Harry to admit and even plan for.
He had not given Harry a list set in stone of who must die in order to win, but instead, he had forced Harry to accept that the death of someone he loved may very well be required to win the day and see Daemon destroyed forever. None of them may like what they had been forced to consider, but ultimately that did not matter. The only thing that truly mattered was that they were prepared for all things that could happen in the battle. Especially those things that were very possible.
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