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The War We Fight | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff Warnings: Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 175 Summary: This is the story of a war. A war between good and evil, light and dark. This is the war Harry will fight, where he will learn the meanings of life and death, love and friendship, sorrow and betrayal, honor and hardship. This is the war where he will fulfill his destiny. H/G with some R/H sixth year fic. Hitcount: Story Total: 95162; Chapter Total: 4355 |
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A/N: I want to state quite clearly, the OWL results are not mine. They belong to Nimbirosa's Bond of the Gryphon, a brilliant fic which she is rewriting as The Return of the Ancients. If you haven't yet, go check them out, and leave a nice review. I think the way she did the results is brilliant, and therefore asked to borrow them, seeing as I know for a fact I'd never come even close to something as good or as developed as that. And she very kindly agreed to let me use them. So thanks Nim! You're great. Now, on with the story, and don't forget to review. - King Whitney Jr. Chapter nine: Visitors, Conversations, and OWL results. Ginny opened her eyes and stretched languorously. She had slept more in the five days since Harry returned then in the two weeks he had been gone put together. Slowly getting up, she walked to the window, and let the light in. The sun was already quite high in the sky, and she could hear the bustle of conversation down in the kitchen, meaning that everyone else was already up. She put on some clothes and made her way downstairs, to join her family for breakfast. But she stopped just outside the door once she heard the angry tones and raised voices. It seemed her mother was trying quite valiantly to set some order in the room, to no avail. She slipped in unnoticed, and sat quietly at the end of the table, letting the heated discussion wash over her, as her own thoughts wandered. She grabbed a still warm piece of toast and started to chew slowly, smiling inwardly. “We can't all go! It'll overwhelm him!” Someone shouted. “He needs family support!” “Poppy will freak if we all go! You're crazy if you think she'll let us all see him!” The argument was still going on full force around her, and Ginny was beginning to feel sorry for Harry, she was pretty sure he wouldn't appreciate everyone's concern at this particular moment in time. Or their pity for that matter… She had started writing to him again, but his answer had been vague and quite frankly wholly unsatisfactory. She had missed their previous understanding and confidence, but hadn't been surprised at his reaction. He had never been one quite adept at sharing pain. She had wanted to tell him about the dreams, but seeing his letter, had hesitated. Truth be told, his words had not been conductive to such confidences; they had a drop of cold distance she hadn't liked. She wondered if the two of them would ever reach that level of familiarity and trust they had during the summer. If not, she would certainly miss it quite dearly. “Ginny!” Her mother's sharp tone snapped her out of her reverie. Looking up she saw that everyone's attention was fixed upon her, waiting for some kind of answer, to a question she didn't know. “What?” She asked to no one in particular. “We asked you what you thought of the matter,” said her mother impatiently. “What matter?” Asked Ginny, still surprised at the question. No one had ever cared to ask her opinion on anything before. “The 'visiting Harry' matter, obviously.” Mrs. Weasley's voice was chilling. Ginny realized she should really say something, or else the woman might explode. “Uh…” she begun hesitantly. “It really depends on what sort of message you want to send Harry.” “What are you trying to say Ginevra?” Snapped Mrs. Weasley. Ginny felt her own temper flaring at her mother's tone, but answered calmly enough. “Well, mom, it's quite simple. If you want to show Harry that he has the support of a family, that we all consider and love him as one of our own, then the lot of us should go.” She paused to draw breath, and saw that her whole family was listening to what she had to say. She wondered for a brief moment what had gotten into them; it had got to be the first time she was actually heard in the Weasley household. “However, if you want him to feel comfortable enough to talk to us, and maybe - just maybe mind you - open up and talk about what happened, then it should only be Ron, if he can keep his temper and hold his tongue, Hermione and me.” The moment she stopped talking Ron was all over her, like usual. He didn't miss a chance to disagree with her of late. He usually didn't even think before speaking and ended up looking foolish and petty. It was the case right now. “And why wouldn't he talk to us if we all went? He knows we're like family.” “Oh, I don't know Ron,” her voice was dripping sarcasm, and she saw her Dad actually flinch, “maybe he would feel, I don't know, overwhelmed, I think.” She glared at him, before continuing more seriously. “Be honest, Ron. Would you talk about spending two weeks in the hands of your worst enemy, probably being tortured incessantly, being absolutely powerless to stop it, to a bunch of people who will come, stand beside his bed wringing their hands, embarrassed and not knowing what to say? But no, of course you're right, it's the perfect environment for confidences!” The others were no longer listening to their argument; after all, it had become a common enough sight over the holidays. Mutterings were heard around the table as they started discussing again what to do. “Then why should you go?” Ron tried again. “You aren't even his friend!” She felt a stab of hurt at his words. Ron never spared her lately. He went directly to what was the tenderest; the most precious to her, what he knew would hurt the most. Blinking quickly, so as not to show her distress, she answered, in a quieter voice, but no less vicious than his. “Maybe Ron, I might not be his best mate, as you obviously are. You seem to forget, however, that I spent the whole summer corresponding with him and that the Dark Lord used me to blackmail him into talking. I'm simply the person he spent the last two weeks worrying about; it will do him no good whatsoever to see for himself that I'm fine, and that Voldemort didn't get to me after all.” She took another bite out of her now freezing toast and continued to glare at Ron, to Bill's obvious amusement. He had been listening in to their discussion, and she was somewhat comforted by his approval. He had nodded when she talked, and that was enough for her. She continued to eat in silence, simply listening to the loud voices around the table, her previous good humour totally evaporated after her argument with Ron. Suddenly her mother slammed her cup on the table, immediately silencing everyone. She was obviously tired of the whole subject, and was decided to put a stop to the whole discussion. “I think Ginny is right. She, Ron and Hermione will go see Harry,” she said at last, and she silenced Ron, who was about to talk with a single look. The look, as the other Weasleys liked to call it. “Ron, I'm saying this once, and only once, if I somehow get to know that you said anything harsh, acted as anything but the most supportive of friends… You'll have me to deal with once you come back. Is that clear?” Ron didn't actually answer. He glared at the table in general, narrowly sparing Hermione, and left the room, climbing the stairs loudly to make his point. Ginny felt like giggling, or maybe even laughing out loud. Ron was acting like such a spoiled brat these days! It was refreshing to see her mother at the other end of his temper for once and not herself, his favourite scapegoat. Her mother's voice once again brought her back to the present: “I want all of you down here in half an hour. Hermione, can you tell Ron that? I'm sure he will be more receptive if the information comes from you. You'll floo to the three broomsticks and from there a carriage will take you all the way up to Hogwarts. Go on, now, go get ready.” She shooed all of them from the kitchen as she started to wash up. Her brothers left for work immediately after, as did her father. As she walked up the stairs to her own bedroom, she saw Hermione enter Ron's room, and heard some raised voices. Ron was going to have to get his act together, and soon, otherwise he would find himself all alone without even noticing it. This whole situation didn't bode well for their visit. Ginny entered her room, and changed into something nicer. After all, if she was going to see Harry, it was the least she could do. The whole situation would probably be awkward enough without her feeling self-conscious on top of everything else. She had no idea what she would say to Harry once she got there. Would it be as easy to talk to him as it was to write? Or would she stutter and flush, as if she was eleven all over again? Simply thinking about seeing him made her heart beat faster, and pleasant warmth to spread through her body. She put on a nice pair on jeans, one of the few clothes she owned that she had chosen herself, and was not some cast off from her brothers or a second hand her mother had bought, and a nice, dark grey shirt, with and imprinted dragon that matched her hair. She realized then, that she wouldn't even be alone with Harry. How could she speak freely with Ron less than three steps away? She shuddered, and the small amount of dread that had begun to creep inside of her suddenly doubled in size. Someone knocked on her door, then, just as she was finishing plaiting her hair, and Hermione came in. “You look nice, Ginny.” She said softly. “Thanks, Hermione. How did it go with Ron? I heard him shouting…” “Well, he likes to make his feelings perfectly clear to everyone, and he wasn't happy with what your Mom said, so… But at least he agreed to go, and that's something.” She plopped down unceremoniously on the bed, and sighed loudly. “I'm getting so tired of this situation with your brother, Ginny. At first, I thought it was only a phase; that he was dealing with all that had happened in the Department of Mystery, and You-Know-Who, but now… He's so angry with the world!” “Well,” Ginny smiled mischievously, “he seems happy enough with you, Mione. You're the only one he still listens to.” The other girl blushed crimson, and mumbled: “Well, yes, but he hasn't done anything yet.” Then, a bit more forcefully. “You seem pretty comfortable defending Harry's interest too, Ginny. Anything you're not telling me?” Ginny plopped down beside the older girl and sighed despondently. “I wish! I actually thought, before he was taken, that I might have a chance. But now… His last letter was so cold! It was as if he wasn't there, really. As if he was writing automatically, and didn't feel any of it. It was scary, really.” “Well, Ginny, you should just be glad he wrote. I haven't heard from him in ages.” Hermione said bitterly. “I'm glad that at least he's opening up to someone, even if it's not me and Ron.” “Well, maybe it's good Ron is keeping his distance. I'm not sure Harry would deal well with the things Ron has been saying lately. I'm not sure he realizes just how much he hurts us, or me, more specifically.” For the first time Hermione really heard the hurt Ginny was feeling expressed in her voice. “Yes, Harry takes thing too much at heart. I hope Ron doesn't do anything stupid, or it could get nasty…” “Well, we'll have to see how today goes. You think Ron will keep his head cool?” “We'll see…” said Hermione worriedly, as she got up and together they made their way down the stairs. Remus wasn't sure he should enter the Hospital Wing. Poppy had said that Harry was fine, that he would be weak for a few days, but otherwise, would recover perfectly. And she assured him he could talk to him now. But if he were honest with himself, Harry wasn't the one he was worried about. Poppy had said that it would be good for him to have company, that Harry needed a distraction, and some light conversation to take his mind off the pain, and Remus didn't think he would be any good as a distraction. He had no idea what to say, or how to act around Harry anymore. Gathering all the remains he could find of his Gryffindor courage, Remus pushed the door open, and stepped inside the ward. He spotted Harry straight away; he was lying in the only occupied bed of the whole infirmary. His heart gave a small lurch as he once again saw his best friend's son lying in a hospital bed. They looked so alike, it was scary. Especially now that Harry had grown a bit, and was no longer such a lanky kid. If you didn't meet his eyes, Harry could pass for James anywhere. Remus walked towards his bed, and saw, with slight relief, that Harry was indeed looking much better than when he had first arrived. Harry heard his approaching footsteps and turned his head to see who was coming. His green eyes lit up, and he smiled faintly when he saw the werewolf. The older man tried to smile back, but wasn't sure he quite managed to hide his discomfort from the boy. Judging by Harry's expression, he saw through his disguise with ease, but chose not to comment on it. “Hi Remus,” said Harry cheerfully, “came to save me from boredom?” “Hello Harry.” Remus slapped himself internally for his foolish worries, and sat down next to the bed. “Not sure I'm the answer to your problem, however.” They laughed slightly, but soon slipped into an uncomfortable silence. “How have you been Harry?” Remus asked at last, cursing himself for his lack of tact. He couldn't keep the concern out of his voice, and knew it would sit well with Harry. “I'll be fine.” Harry's voice made it quite clear that the subject was not open to discussion. But Remus couldn't quench his conscience, that told him he was responsive for this particular young man's well being, and that it was his duty to ask. He plunged on, even though all his instincts told him to back off. “You don't look fine, Harry.” Harry shot him a reproachful glare, before turning away. He answered nonetheless. “I'm perfectly fine, under the circumstances. You didn't expect me to come bouncing back after the last two weeks, did you?” Seeing and opening, Remus asked tentatively: “Do you want to talk about what you went through?” The silence that followed his question was so long that he actually stopped hoping for an answer. Harry's voice actually startled him, when he finally did speak. “I saw Bellatrix Lestrange there, Remus. She was one of the ones that came to my uncle's house. I saw her afterwards as well. She's a sadistic bitch, that woman. Voldemort treats her like some sort of lap dog, and she thrives in the attention. It's disgusting.” Harry stopped talking, but Remus felt he hadn't said all he wanted to say, so he gave him time, and soon, Harry took up where he had left off. “I never thought I could hate someone more than I did Voldemort, Remus.” He paused, and for the first time since he had begun to talk, looked Remus in the eye. “But then, I didn't actually think I could feel this kind of hate.” Remus shuddered fearfully at the fire that he saw burning in Harry's eyes. It went beyond the silver twirls, and the haunting green. It was a deep, heartfelt pain; a new feeling that had been totally absent from Harry's eyes until that moment. So this was what Dumbledore had been talking about when he said that Harry would never be the same again, Remus thought. Somewhere in a dark damp cell, in between two curses, Harry had been robbed of his last naivety; the innocence of childhood, and in that same dungeon, he had learned what it was to hate. Remus gave Bellatrix a momentary and fleeting thought, wishing her luck if she ever faced Harry alone again. He was quite sure she wouldn't have Wormtail's luck. Snapping back to the matter at hand, Remus searched his mind for something to answer. Hopefully something smart, and witty, that would alleviate both of their consciences. No such luck, though. He wasn't sure what Harry expected him to say in response to his statement. He chose, since Harry was being so blunt and to the point, to ask him what was on his mind. “Why do you say you hate her more than Voldemort? I mean, everyone expects him to be your worst enemy…” It was quite an honour to be in the top of Harry Potter's enemy's list, the objective of every Dark Lord, when they were done wracking havoc in the world. He wondered what Bellatrix had done to deserve it; after all, to surpass even Voldemort must be a difficult achievement. Harry's eyes, still burning with that strange new fire, were fixed in the pristine white ceiling when he spoke, voice tight with barely suppressed emotion. “Voldemort robbed me of my parents, Remus, thanks to him I'll never know first hand what having a family really means. But Bellatrix went beyond that… She took away the only support I knew. She robbed me of something that I can actually miss. I had Sirius for two years, I had a small taste of trust and love…” Harry blinked to stop the unwanted tears to fall from is eyes. “I know exactly what I lost when Sirius, when Sirius…” Even after more than a month, he couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud. “And all of this because of my own stupidity. It's so much worse!” The heartfelt pain in Harry's eyes, wagging a losing battle with his hate, reminded Remus of how young he actually was. He wanted to take him in his arms, to tell him to let go. Show him that repressing all his feelings would be the end of him, but something held him back. His pity would not be welcome, and his concern even less so. “I don't know how to deal with this Remus,” continued Harry. “I've never, ever wanted to hurt another person in my life. Even the Dursleys, and they treated me pretty shabbily my whole life. Not even Voldemort, I only ever wanted to stop him from hurting others, never to actively hurt him. Now… I'm not sure now, that given the chance I would not hurt, maybe even kill - who knows - Bellatrix. And you don't need to tell me how wrong it is to want revenge, I know it already. But I don't seem to be able to make it feel wrong!” Harry turned away, ashamed of his confession, and Remus felt his heart clench at the sight of this pain, those conflicting emotions that were eating him alive. It was ironic really that he had come to the hospital to try and get a better look at Harry's feelings, and now that he had, with almost no effort in his part, he had no idea of what to say, or how to deal with them. He wished Sirius were here. He always knew what to say, what to do in those situations. He was the one who should be here comforting Harry after this ordeal, not him. He wasn't cut out for the job, and it made him feel awfully inadequate. “Harry,” he said at last, “look at me.” But Harry didn't. Remus continued talking anyway. “I don't think you should feel bad for hating someone who has done you so much harm, caused you so much pain as Bellatrix Lestrange has. You must understand however, that emotions are just that, emotions. You must allow yourself to feel them, but not be blinded by them. There must be balance in everything, you see… You can't let yourself to be disconnected from your heart, Harry, it gives you strength. But you can't constantly struggle with your emotions. It will drive you crazy, and I'm talking from experience.” “Balance!” Harry gave a bark of laughter, filled to the brink with bitterness. “How can there ever be balance in my life again, Remus? My balance disappeared the moment I stepped into that blasted place.” “It might take you some time to feel like yourself again, Harry, but I'm sure you'll get there sometime. You're tough, Harry, and I've got faith in you.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Look, Harry, I want you to know that I'll be around the castle a lot more this year. I'm not Sirius, and I'd never presume to take his place, but I need you to know that anything, anything at all that may be in my power to give you, I will.” Harry turned and looked at him then. That piercing gaze that had previously been a Dumbledore prerogative piercing through Remus like a knife. And then he said, smiling slightly: “Thanks Remus. I… It was good talking to you. And I know you miss him too. Maybe even more than I do, I guess. He was your friend for so long!” Harry struggled to say the last words, coming out in a strangled sob. Remus reached out, and took his hand, comforting him with as much as he thought would be welcome. They were silent for a long while, a comfortable, thoughtful silence, quite unlike their first. It was finally broken by Remus, who realized their time together was coming to an end. “Harry, in another matter altogether, I discussed things with professor Dumbledore regarding the rest of your summer. He thinks it's best if, as soon as you are well again, you go to headquarters. It's the safest place right now, since Privet Drive is out of the question, and you can't stay here all alone. The Weasleys will be there to keep you company.” He added the last part when he saw the distress in Harry's eyes when he heard the news. They heard footsteps in the corridor, and Lupin smiled. “That would be Ron, Hermione and Ginny. Madam Pomfrey let them come today, to save you from your boredom as you so mildly put it.” Harry's whole countenance lit up, and Remus felt slightly better after the whole conversation. “The headmaster gave me your OWL results as well, so that you can open them with your friends. I'll leave you alone now, should I?” Remus handed him a pristine white envelope, with the ministry's seal in bright red in the front. “Thanks, Remus. Really.” The werewolf only smiled, and left without another word. As he watched the older man's retreating back, Harry sagged back in his bed, and closed his eyes briefly. As much as he hated to admit it, he was tired. Remus visit had been quite the emotionally draining experience, and he wasn't so sure to be up to the task of seeing his friends. Not that he had much of a choice anymore, they where already here, and fast approaching his bedside. A/N: Hang on, the chapter isn't done yet, I had to cut it in two, otherwise it wouldn't fit! |
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