Harry Potter and the Perseus Castle

By Ahn Na Blue

Standard Disclaimer: We all know who owns Harry Potter. And we all know it isn’t me.

Summary: It’s the trio’s seventh year at Hogwarts, and the hunt for Voldemort is on. With the evil wizard laying seige to the muggle world from the safety of the ever-moving Perseus Castle, it is time to bring the fight to him. What a time for Harry and Hermione to realize how they feel. And what a time for Ron to realize how he feels! Just when they need each other the most, will they be torn apart instead?

Chapter One: The Last Train to Hogwarts

In the great dining hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a seventeen year old boy was sitting alone, in Quidditch robes, scratching at the lightning bolt-shaped scar on his forehead. These days he would have liked to scratch it off. Because he was Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, and who was also, according to many, The Boy Who Would Soon Be Killed By He Who Must Not Be Named.

Without that scar, he might have only been Harry, just Harry Potter, not The Boy Who Anything, and maybe it would have been some other boy sitting here under the ceiling of wrestling thunderclouds, which seemed to be enchanted to match his mood as much as anything else. He pushed his spoon roughly into the bowl of rice pudding that Dobby the Hogwarts House Elf had brought him. He wasn’t really hungry. It had just been an excuse to get away from the falsity that had infected the school since the moment he had arrived.

Truthfully, the whole year had started strangely. He had stayed either at The Burrow or at Grimmauld place for all but two weeks of the summer, yet, when he and Hedwig had arrived at the station and were just about to go through to the platform, he felt a strange sensation behind him and turned around. Standing only ten feet away had been his aunt Petunia, looking as birdlike and uncomfortable as ever, but also, sad somehow. And she was alone. There were no hulking shadows of Dursley men, just her, shifting from foot to foot and waiting for him to talk. Which he finally did.

“Aunt Petunia. What are you doing here? Did I forget something? Where are Dudley and Uncle Vernon?”

“They don’t know that I’m here. And you’d better not go telling them!” She had added hastily, as if they were the people he confided in. She had her lips pursed, and her arms crossed, peeking from side to side trying to see if anyone was watching. “I don’t know why I’m here either.”

At about that time Hedwig had become fed up with being shifted around under his arm, and started to flap around and click her beak. Aunt Petunia looked horrified. Harry sighed. “Look, could you try to figure it out then? I’m going to miss the train.”

She had glared at him and took a hesitant step forward. Then she reached into her purse, removed a brown package, and thrust it at him. “It’s a sandwich,” she snapped when he looked confused. “Chicken salad and watercress.” For some reason the sandwich had made her emotional. “My sister used to like it.”

Harry put Hedwig’s cage down immediately and took the package in both hands. The paper was too stiff to hold just bread. He thought there might be a letter from the Dursleys inside and his stomach shuddered at the unpleasantness. He looked back up at Petunia, who was staring intensely at the sandwich and biting her lower lip.

“My sister used to like it when I would cut off the crust and cut them into small triangles. We’d pretend we were Edwardian ladies having tea.” Her mouth curled into an unfamiliar smile. “Then my sister would feed the crusts to the pigeons, like they were the poor.”

Harry noticed how she always said “my sister” and never “your mother.”

Petunia had seemed to regain her resolve then and raised her eyes to his. A little higher actually, so she was looking down her nose at him. “I know what’s happening. I know about Lord…Lord…the thing that killed my sister. That…that Dumbledore has been sending me bird mail all summer. Tell him to stop.”

She was actually being nice. Harry wondered if she had flipped her lid. But she was his family, and he could tell that for once, she was missing his mother, so he reached out slowly, just to take her hand. She jerked away as if from fire.

“No,” she had said tersely, once again looking at the sandwich. “I just wanted to…to give you that. You’ll miss your train. And don’t tell your uncle or your cousin that I was here.”

“Fine.” Harry said tonelessly, then stuffed the sandwich into his robes and picked up Hedwig. But just as he turned, Petunia came towards him, and grabbed him by the arm.

“You…you fight him for her.” When she had looked up at him then, her eyes were full of long forgotten grief. She hadn’t given him a chance to respond, just patted him quickly on the shoulder and walked away, not looking back.

So he had gotten on his last train to Hogwarts. What he found when he opened his sandwich was not a letter, as he had feared, but an old black and white picture. It was of Petunia and his mother when they were children, apparently playing dress up, with white gloves and ladies’ hats several sizes too big. They were posing for the camera in enormous, flapper style dresses, with their arms around each other. It was a muggle photograph, so it didn’t move, but that was probably better, because the innocent joy that was captured in his mother’s young smile was frozen there perfectly. She was beautiful. Harry thought he might love his Aunt Petunia forever, just for that.

That had been a month ago. That one scrap of happiness. Of inspiration. Now here he was, alone, sitting in the dark poking at his pudding. Gryffindor had beaten Slytherin earlier that evening. Harry hadn’t caught the Snitch, but neither had Draco Malfoy, the other seeker, and Gryffindor had outscored them the hard way, fighting through the hours until the match was finally called at 400-185. But even after the difficult victory there were no rowdy parties in the halls or in the Common room. Everywhere was quiet. Quidditch was really the only thing left at Hogwarts that was business as usual; since Voldemort had started attacking muggles and muggle-borns with increasing fury, attendance at the school had dropped by half. Hermione was one of the few muggle-borns left, and she was only there because of Harry. Muggle-borns everywhere were hiding themselves, even Hermione’s parents were sequestered away in the Annexe, a secret place between the muggle world and the wizarding realm, which was difficult for even Voldemort to find.

Classes were a joke. With the exception of Professor Moody in Defense Against the Dark Arts, most of the professors were too preoccupied to teach correctly, so, much to Hermione’s displeasure, there hadn’t been an exam all year. It was also to the displeasure of Professor Snape, who was pushing them in Advanced Potions as enthusiastically as ever, but was under orders from Dumbledore to suspend any testing.

In fact, many in the wizarding community thought that the school should be closed, that children should be with their families during wartime, but Dumbledore insisted that Voldemort must not be yielded to, and that the young wizards and witches were actually safer at Hogwarts, with all of its protective charms, than they were at home. So the school stayed open. But with studying unnecessary, the halls were usually filled with wandering students, each with hypnotized, frightened faces, who looked at Harry like he was some kind of savior. It made him want to pitch a tent made out of his invisibility cloak.

“Am I going to have to take points from my own house? What are you doing here alone in the dark, after hours?”

Harry grinned as Hermione walked over to him with her arms crossed. “Just because you’re Head Girl doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”

Hermione plunked down on the seat beside him and crinkled her nose at his coagulated rice pudding. “That’s exactly what it means actually. But I suppose for the great Harry Potter, I can make an exception.”

Harry frowned and turned away from her. The whole school was singling him out, did she have to do the same thing? She was supposed to be his best friend. Well, aside from Ron. He felt her hand on his arm and looked up to see her big brown eyes starting to water with regret for her carelessness.

“I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t mean that like it sounded. I was talking about your greatness on the Quidditch field today, you know, pummeling Slytherin and that detestable Draco Malfoy.” She was desperate to assure him of her intentions.

He looked at her fondly. The face he had met on that first train to Hogwarts was older now. A little slimmer, and she was wearing her hair longer, with the sides clipped back. There was a faint shimmer of gloss on her lips and he caught himself staring at them, then shook his head and tried to keep from smiling. It was no wonder that Ron had taken to following her around like a lost puppy. He sometimes joked with her that there was an invisible thread tied between her and Ron’s robes.

“Where’s Ron?” He asked, and let his smile break through, which put Hermione immediately at ease.

“Back in the Common Room.” Ron had no duties aside from Quidditch. Neither him nor Harry had been made Head Boy, presumably because of their obligations, or destinies, depending on who you asked, in the war. The honor of Head Boy had actually gone to Neville Longbottom, of all people. But Harry was glad for him. Neville had been one of the few to stay solidly at his side throughout his Hogwarts years. Of course Harry’s line of thinking would have also meant that Hermione should have been excluded from the position of Head Girl. But he rationalized this away with the notion that there was really no other choice. No one in the school was as anal retentive as Hermione, and of course everyone knew that she could shoulder responsibility as easily as a mule could haul a sack of grain.

“Harry it’s getting late. You should be getting back to the Common Room too.”

He swung a leg over his seat like he was going to obey her. “What about you? Or don’t Head Girls need sleep?”

Hermione leaned on her elbow and looked at him with her eyebrow cocked. “I have to make one last check of the Astronomy Tower.”

“Putting a stop to all that reckless snogging? Such serious business.” He then decided that it was serious business. “Hey, who have you caught up there anyway? I bet there are some strange couples sneaking around this place.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “It’s none of your business Harry.”

“Come on, who? Parvati and Seamus? Pansy and Draco? That’d be a nasty sight,” he continued to guess, poking her insistently in the ribs and making her giggle, which he sort of enjoyed.

“How about Snape and Mrs. Norris?” he asked, tickling her some more.

She was trying to squirm away from him now, half-heartedly pushing his hands away. “Snape and Mrs. Norris? Harry have you lost your mind?”

“All right then, if not those two, then maybe Crabbe…”

Hermione giggled under his fingers. “Stop that tickling! Crabbe and who?”

Harry stopped tickling briefly. “I don’t know. I guess Crabbe and…Just Crabbe.”

Hermione laughed loudly and covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s disgusting. If I ever discovered THAT in the Astronomy Tower I would resign as Head Girl. Now up to the Common Room with you! Out of those Quidditch robes and into bed.”

“Okay Mum,” he said sarcastically, rising off his seat and wriggling his fingers at her, ready to start the tickling assault again. “Right after you.”

Hermione reached into her sleeve and whipped out her wand. “Harry Potter, don’t make me stun you.” But she didn’t stun him. Instead he got to chase her out of the dining hall and up the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room, delighting in her feigned squeaks of terror, and smiling more broadly than he had in weeks.

The next morning found Harry and Ron digging into a big breakfast of enchanted kippers and griddle cakes. The kippers were enchanted to keep them from stinking up the entire school.

“I don’t know about you Harry,” Ron said, almost between mouthfuls, “but I’m liking this no testing thing. It’s bloody brilliant. I don’t know why Dumbledore didn’t do it long ago.”

Harry grinned. “Probably because he wanted us to learn something.”

“I KNOW that,” Ron said, exasperated. “But you’ve got to admit that it’s nice not to have a certain someone breathing down our necks at every exam.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Ron, Snape is still breathing down our necks.”

“I didn’t mean Snape,” Ron grinned, and then pulled out his wand and tapped it on his head, making his hair do a perfect bushy impression of Hermione’s. “ ‘Ron, Harry, are you studying? Ron, Harry, do you need more pages for your organizers? Do you want to borrow my notes, I know you need my notes, because you both spend more time trading wizard cards in class than you do paying attention…”

Harry laughed. Ron definitely had the Weasley talent for frivolous magic. He would make a good partner in his brothers’ joke shop one day.

“Ow!” Ron yelped suddenly and his hair went back to its normal shade of red. Hermione had seen the impression, and whacked a reversal charm on the back of his head. Then she smiled at him sweetly, winked at Harry, and continued walking, checking the status of the other tables.

“You shouldn’t make fun of her so much. She’s much better at magic than you, she could cause you to relapse into slug vomiting.”

Ron gave a closed lipped smile, gazing after her. “You know I only pick on her because…” He paused and Harry looked rather uncomfortably into his kippers. Ron shrugged. “Well, you know, because it’s how we’ve always been. It’s like our thing.”

Harry didn’t get a chance to respond, because suddenly Professor McGonagall was standing behind him. “Dumbledore has asked to see you Harry. You are to accompany me to his office at once.”

“What’s going on?” Ron asked as Harry stood. The whole dining room had come to a stop. Everyone had put down their forks, and no one was even trying to pretend that they weren’t listening. Harry slumped his shoulders and wished for the millionth time that year that he had his invisibility cloak. Maybe carrying it around wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“I don’t know. I’ll see you in Potions.” He walked out with Professor McGonagall and felt hundreds of eyes on his back. But he turned around, just once, to see Hermione run back to Ron and question him about what was happening. After he answered her, she looked worriedly after Harry, and he gave her a brief smile.

“Hurry along, Mr. Potter.”

“Yes Professor.”

Inside Dumbledore’s office, Harry was filled with the same sensations of safety and awe that he always got upon entering. Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, so he walked over to Fawkes and stroked his feathers. A few of them came off in his hand.

“It looks like you’re about ready to combust again, Fawkes.”

The phoenix squawked softly and nudged Harry with his beak. Harry shook his head in apology. Usually he smuggled in a pomegranate from the kitchen, but there hadn’t been time on this visit.

“Harry,” came a voice from behind him, making him spin around.

He exhaled and smiled. “Professor Dumbledore.”

“Have a seat, please.” Harry sat down opposite him at his large desk. “Cookie?” Harry shook his head. “Ah yes. I suppose you’ve just finished your breakfast. Oh well. I’m trying to unload them, as they say,” Dumbledore said, peering down at the cookies. “Minerva- Professor McGonagall keeps leaving them on my desk. Don’t tell her Harry, but I don’t really like them.”

Harry smiled, and then grew uneasy. “Professor, I don’t mean to be rude, but, could you tell me what this is about?”

Dumbledore sighed. “I know that when I call you here, it always seems to be to talk about something unpleasant. Something dramatic. I hope there will be a day when I will ask you to my office to chat about the weather, but-”

“But this just isn’t that day, is it.” Harry clenched his teeth and unconsciously rubbed at the scar on his forehead.

“No, you are right. This is not the day.” Dumbledore interlaced his fingers on the desk. “Harry, you remember Remus Lupin.”

Harry turned to his right to see his old Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher emerge from the shadows. He jumped out of his chair and shook his hand enthusiastically.

“Hello Harry,” Remus said fondly, and then “Accio chair,” before they both sat down side by side. Harry was beaming. He hadn’t seen Remus at all that year. Or very often over the last two years. Since Sirius had died, Remus had emerged as one of the foremost Aurors in the Order of the Phoenix, and his pursuit of Voldemort kept him away for months at a time.

Dumbledore smiled at their obvious fondness for each other, then turned serious. “This morning, Remus returned with some very interesting news.”

“I’ve discovered where he’s hiding, Harry,” Remus said tensely.

“Voldemort,” Harry whispered, making Remus wince. Although the use of the Dark Lord’s name had become more common since the onset of the war, it was still an unpleasant thing to hear.

“Yes. He’s gone to ground at Perseus Castle.”

“Perseus Castle?” Harry asked, looking from one man to the other. “Where’s that?”

“That’s precisely the problem,” Remus sighed, leaning back in his chair, obviously still exhausted from his journey.

“Let’s skip the ‘where’ for now, and start with the ‘what’,” Dumbledore smiled. “Perseus Castle is a place of pure magic. More magical than Hogwarts. More magical than any other place in the wizarding realm. It can be manipulated into anything by the person who inhabits it. And the powers of the person inhabiting it are magnified, just by being there. It is the perfect stage for Voldemort to launch his attack.”

“So, where is it?” Harry asked, although he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“That’s the trouble Harry,” Remus interjected slowly. “Perseus Castle can be anywhere. It exists and moves in the mist. So, it can be reached from any body of water, if you know the incantation to call the mists to you, but-”

“But we don’t know the incantation.” Harry said glumly.

“We don’t, I’m afraid. And the Death Eaters aren’t being exactly forthcoming about it.” Remus gritted his teeth. “I chased Bellatrix LeStrange through six miles for forest, just to see her jump into a stream and disappear.” His eyes were narrowed as he remembered. Harry narrowed his eyes as well. It had been Bellatrix LeStrange who had killed Sirius, and nothing would have pleased him more than for Remus to capture her.

“But,” said Dumbledore, smiling at the Auror, “seeing Bellatrix disappear was the thing that led to Remus’ deduction of where Voldemort is hiding.”

“It’s true. I never would have guessed it. Perseus Castle has been lost to the world for years, ever since the death of the last of its family’s heirs. I don’t know how he found it.”

“Who knows what strange realms Tom Riddle has been able to travel to during his years amongst the partially dead. He has always been resourceful.”

Any mention of Voldemort’s strengths annoyed Harry, and for some reason, so did Dumbledore’s referring to the dark wizard as ‘Tom Riddle’. “Forget about that,” he said rashly. “How do WE find it?”

“I don’t know,” Dumbledore said softly. “It cannot be apparated into, much like Hogwarts, and its presence cannot be detected unless one is looking for it. At certain points in time, it is most certainly very close to Hogwarts, all without our knowing.”

“That’s why I’m going back out looking for it,” Remus said, standing suddenly.

Harry stood with him. “But- you just got back.” He started to follow Remus to the door.

“I’ll just make a quick stop with Professor Moody…and then perhaps to the kitchen for a meal-”

“Remus!” Harry half shouted, making him turn and face him.

“Yes Harry?”

Harry looked at him intensely. Remus Lupin was the last of his parents’ close friends. One of his last links to them, and also his friend. But he felt rather sheepish saying so in front of Dumbledore. “Don’t forget to bring plenty of your potion. We don’t need you biting anyone. Unless of course it’s LeStrange.”

Remus smiled and walked back to Harry, pulling him into a tight hug. “Don’t worry.” And then he turned and left. Several moments passed in silence as Harry stared at the closed doors with Dumbledore behind him.

“Harry.”

“Yes Professor Dumbledore?”

“You know that this war is going to end soon.”

“Yes. But I don’t know how it will end.”

“I don’t know either. But I do know that we’ll find a way to Perseus Castle. Hagrid, Remus, Nymphadora, they’re out there finding ways to help you.”

Harry looked at the floor. “It won’t matter.”

“What was that Harry?”

Harry shook his head. “I said it won’t matter. The prophecy says that it’s either me or him. In the end it will be me fighting. Me alone. Just like always.”

They paused for a moment, as Fawkes exploded into flames beside them, and fell into a pile of ash. Dumbledore walked over and poked a finger into the pile, exposing the featherless chick and tickling his chin. “Don’t put too much faith into the prophecy, Harry. Voldemort believes it with his whole being, which is likely to our advantage, but I am not as certain of its truth. One must die at the other’s hands. Think back on your life. Although I know it may have felt like you have been alone many times, is that really the way it has been?”

The conversation with Dumbledore had caused Harry to miss Advanced Potions. He didn’t really care, although he hoped Snape hadn’t seen fit to pile on homework as a celebration of his absence. He was walking with his hands stuffed into his robes, his fingers worrying at his wand, ignoring the stares of the other students as he continued to think about what Dumbledore had said. What had he meant? Of course he had been alone. That time with Quirrell and the Stone, again with Riddle’s memory and the Basilisk. He had been the one fighting. In the woods defending Sirius from the Dementors. In the Triwizard Tournament. Harry rubbed his scar in frustration. He knew that Dumbledore was wise. He just didn’t know why he had to be so maddeningly puzzling.

When he got to the Gryffindor Common Room, Ron and Hermione were waiting. They looked tense. Ron had his hand on Hermione’s shoulder, and her face was as pale as day old porridge. When she saw Harry, she leapt up from Ron’s grasp and ran to him.

“You look worried. What did Dumbledore say?”

Harry tried to look chipper and could tell by her expression that he wasn’t succeeding. “They found out where he’s hiding.”

Hermione gasped and Ron’s jaw dropped open. They were scared. And why shouldn’t they be? Hermione hadn’t seen her parents for a YEAR because of the war, and Ron’s father had already been badly injured in the fight. He almost frowned and then stopped himself. He was going to have to put on a brave face for the entire school. It was probably better start practicing right away.

“Look, they don’t know much of anything yet. It’ll be fine, all right?” He pointed to his scar. “I’m The Boy Who Lived, remember?”

Ron at least, looked a little relieved. “Yeah, right. Although you might regret being that when you see your Potions homework.”

“Potions homework?”

“Yeah, Snape took it as a personal holiday when you didn’t show up.” Ron threw his arm around Hermione’s shoulders. “Hermione already helped me with mine.”

“That’s great,” Harry said flatly. After this morning’s revelations, homework from Snape was something he just couldn’t face at the moment. “Listen, I think Hedwig was a little stiff yesterday, I’m going to go check on her. Catch up with you at Quidditch practice Ron.”

The Owlery was thankfully empty when he entered it. He took a seat near the window and called to Hedwig, who flew over and landed heavily on his forearm. He smiled. She was getting fat. She hadn’t been allowed to deliver any letters that year, for fear of her safety. Sometimes Harry would take her out flying with him over the Quidditch pitch on his Firebolt, but apparently she was spending the rest of her time catching and eating too many mice.

“Harry.”

Harry closed his eyes and exhaled at the sound of Hermione’s voice. “Hermione-” I just want to be alone right now, he was going to say, but for some reason he didn’t. He just let her walk over and sit down next to him. Hedwig clicked happily as she stroked her wing.

“You know that was a really lame excuse. I know Hedwig hasn’t been out on a delivery since you came back to Hogwarts. If she’s suffering from anything, it’s not stiffness. It’s high cholesterol.” Hedwig nipped at her finger.

Harry laughed softly and leaned back, looking at her. She wasn’t watching him, waiting for him to speak, or trying to see if he was upset. She was just petting Hedwig, and smiling gently at her. Of course she knew that Harry was upset. And she knew that he would tell her why, when he was ready.

It could be that she already knows why I’m upset, Harry thought to himself. Sometimes it seemed to him that he and Hermione didn’t really need words. They could understand each other with just a look, or a well placed elbow. And he depended on her. So often her mind, or her ear, or her shoulder was there just when he needed it.

He watched her tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear and reached out for her hand. He held it in his lap and stared down at it, at her slender fingers entwined with his. When he glanced up, she was looking at it too.

“I want to tell you that everything’s going to be all right, Harry,” she sighed regretfully.

“But you don’t know that that’s going to be true.” She nodded, agreeing with him, and he could see her lips tremble. The thought of seeing her cry didn’t fill him with annoyance or dread, like most girls’ tears did, but only pain, and suddenly he needed her very badly, more than he had in all their years together. He set Hedwig down, ignoring her hoot of displeasure, and touched Hermione’s face, gently turning her to him.

She wouldn’t meet his eyes as she moved into his embrace. Instead she kept her lids demurely lowered, and closed them completely as their lips met. It was tender and passionate, foreign and familiar all at once, as he crushed her closer to him and felt her sharp intake of breath. He wasn’t thinking, only focusing on a strange, bright feeling surging up from his chest and into his throat. He thrust his fingers into her hair and wrestled her lips open, not really knowing what he was doing but wanting the feeling to last, and to deepen. She had her hand resting in the crook of his elbow and he wished she would put her arm around him, move nearer.

“Hermione? Are you up here?”

Harry’s eyes flew open and he stared into hers for an instant before he broke the kiss and turned to the door, too late. Hedwig sensed the sudden change of mood and fluttered away to a more distant perch.

Ron was standing in the doorway, his Advanced Potions textbook under his arm. His face was reddened, from embarrassment or fury Harry couldn’t quite tell.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaimed, finding her voice first. “This isn’t- I mean we didn’t- oh I don’t know what I mean to say!”

“Bloody Hell,” Ron growled, and now Harry could see that he was furious. He was staring right at Harry. “You knew. You bloody knew and you did it anyway.”

“No, Ron I-”

“Don’t bother. Just… Just stay away from me the both of you!”

Hermione was speechless, her eyes wide. She was wringing her hands.

“I’ll go after him. He wouldn’t know what to say to you just now.” Harry quickly touched her cheek, and then ran after his friend.

To be continued…

AN: Buried in there is a small tribute to the webmistress of Harryloveshermione.com. It’s not meant to be a stealing sort of thing. Just a tribute sort of thing, and if you haven’t gone to the site and seen her skewed shipper screen caps, then I suggest you do so immediately.