Here at the End

By

Ahn Na Blue

Rated PG-13

Chapter One: The Trees by the Lake

Disclaimer: I think you all know that the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

And by the way, I really really wanted to write ‘Harry Potter and the Ginormous Catfight’, but this is for the Felix Felicis competition, so, oh fine.

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The grounds of Hogwarts had seldom been so quiet, even in summer. The students were gone, and so too were many of the staff. Few saw a point in hanging about when there was little chance of the school reopening in the fall. All that remained were a handful of witches and wizards, plus one Squib, a nasty cat, and some old ghosts.

And of course the giant squid. And some centaurs in the forest. And the mermen. And, then there was a half-giant, drunk and snoring in the pumpkin patch.

But all of these things were still. The mermen and the squid were slumbering at the bottom of the lake, and even the centaurs had gone to bed. The castle was completely dark. Nothing in the night moved. Nothing at all.

Except for one tiny little star, zipping and swooping through the sky, which if you looked closer you would realize is actually a hippogriff. A hippogriff with one too many names. A hippogriff with a past. And on his back was a tiny rider. With distinctly fuzzy hair.

******************

Harry Potter was taking one last look at Privet Drive. Today was his birthday. Not that that was important. His birthday had gone virtually unnoticed for the whole of his life. But this one was special. He was seventeen. An adult. And that meant that whatever protection Dumbledore had left him at the Dursleys’ was gone. So there was no point in hanging around.

He was standing in the kitchen helping his aunt prepare breakfast when he realized that he was leaving, and that he would probably never be coming back. He looked at his aunt with no particular feeling. He looked at his uncle, and his cousin Dudley, sitting at the table, their fat pink faces smeared with butter from their toast, and grimaced.

“I’m leaving today, Aunt Petunia,” Harry announced suddenly.

“The bloody hell you are,” Uncle Vernon snorted. “You’ve got a lawn to mow.”

“Look, I’m leaving,” Harry continued, ignoring him. “And I suppose I should say, well, not thank you exactly, because you’ve all been really quite awful, but you did let me live here, and that’s probably kept me alive, and I do enjoy the being alive part, so-”

“Where will you go?”

Harry stopped rambling and turned to his aunt, surprised to hear the tone in her voice, and the look on her face. He blinked for a moment. He really didn’t know. He could’ve stayed a week and then gone to the Burrow. But then he had gotten an owl from Ron saying that the house was in an uproar over the wedding and if he didn’t want to be annoyed, worked like a dog, and positively covered with Phlegm (though Harry really thought that Ron wanted all of the Phlegm to himself), that he should stay away until the nuptials. And the more he had thought about it, the more he had agreed. As much as he wanted to see Ron was as much as he didn’t want to see Ginny, he couldn’t imagine how things would be between them now that…now that they had parted. Would they go back to normal? Would they be extremely embarrassed? Or would one look at her break his resolve and bring them back together?

He thought about all of them, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, all getting ready for the wedding, cleaning, decorating, organizing, or rather, being organized by Mrs. Weasley, and wished that he could feel right about being there. But he couldn’t. As much as he needed to be happy, to be distracted, he had things to do. Things that Dumbledore had left him to do. And he would never let him down. Not ever again.

“Harry? Where are you going?” Petunia asked.

“And will we never see you again?” Vernon barked hopefully.

“I’m going back to Hogwarts,” Harry answered, and the moment it left his lips he knew it was true. It was, after all, the only real home he had ever known. “And I’m going to go to Godric’s Hollow,” he added, looking squarely at his aunt. “To visit my parents.” Behind him, he heard Vernon grunt dismissively, and had to try very hard to resist using Levicorpus.

Petunia was acting very strangely. She was mumbling something about Harry’s needing a sandwich, and pacing back and forth through the kitchen, wringing her hands.

As he watched her, it occurred to Harry to ask a question that he’d never thought of asking before. “She was your sister,” he said suddenly, and Petunia ceased pacing and stood staring at the floor. “Did she love you?”

“What the bloody kind of question is that?” Uncle Vernon demanded, crumbs of toast flying from his mustache.

Harry gave his uncle a glance that said, my wand’s in my pocket, and if you’re very quiet, it will stay that way. He turned back to his aunt, who looked up at him.

“Yes, Harry,” she said, looking as though she might actually convey a decent emotion. “Yes, she did. And I- I-”

Harry sighed and smiled at her, just a little bit. “I won’t be needing that sandwich, Aunt Petunia.” He took one last look around the kitchen, and was unable to conjure up one single, happy memory. Well, except maybe for that time he blew up Aunt Marge.

“Er, goodbye,” he said, and then Apparated the heck out of there.

***********************************

After that squeezed through a bottle feeling that he wasn’t quite used to, Harry opened his eyes on Hogsmeade. It was quiet. It didn’t feel normal. And he knew that it would be exactly the same at the school. He looked at the Three Broomsticks sadly. He could really use a butterbeer, but Madam Rosmerta was probably still at St. Mungo’s being de-Imperialized, and besides, he wasn’t really sure if he could stand to see her yet, or if it would make him think too vividly of those last moments with Dumbledore. Of the look on his face when he saw the Dark Mark in the sky over his school. Harry shook the image out of his head and started walking.

It seemed only seconds before he was staring at the passageway to Dumbledore’s office. He kept staring at it, like maybe if he just stared hard enough, or stood there long enough, he could will Dumbledore to be inside.

“The password is ‘chocolate whip’.”

Harry turned his head to see Professor McGonagall, Headmistress McGonagall, he supposed, standing behind him. He heard a soft grinding as the passageway opened.

“Hello Headmistress,” he said, and she winced like she’d rather he hadn’t said it. “Chocolate whip?”

“As long as I am here, Potter, the password will always be food,” she smiled, and led him up the stone steps.

***

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Harry said to her once they were inside the office. He was standing in front of her desk, trying very hard to ignore the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, which still looked freshly painted, and which was also smiling down at him serenely. He supposed that it should make him feel glad, like some part of Dumbledore was still with him, but it didn’t. It only reminded him that he would never again be out of that portrait.

“I’m not, actually,” the headmistress answered. “I can only assume that you’ve returned here because Hogwarts is your home. And because the enchantment that-” she hesitated to say Dumbledore’s name, “that was placed on you has expired. You are very smart to come here Harry, and to train while under the protection of the school.”

“Er, yes, thank you,” he said, having not really thought of training at all. But she was right. Where else could he find such resources? Where better to prepare? He was becoming more and more glad that he came. “So is it all right if I stay here until the school reopens?”

They looked at each other quietly for a moment, knowing that the school might never reopen.

“Of course. The Gryffindor boys’ dormitory is at your disposal. As are all of the school’s resources.” She peered at him through her glasses. “All of the usual school year rules still apply.”

“Right.” Harry smiled. “Well, thank you.” As he stood, she stood with him, and he saw her glance up at Dumbledore’s portrait. They left the office together, neither one wanting to be left alone with it.

***

After listening to the echo of his own footsteps ring through the empty corridors for awhile, Harry ventured outside. The sun was very warm and bright, and he wanted to see Hagrid, whom he knew must have taken Dumbledore’s death particularly hard.

He walked down the path and up to Hagrid’s hut, and was just about to knock on the door, when it opened.

“Harry!”

Harry blinked. “Hermione!”

“What’re you doing here?!” they demanded together.

“I came to see Hagrid,” Harry said. “Have you been here the whole summer?”

“No, I-” Hermione began, and then put her finger to her lips as she came out and closed the door behind her. “Hagrid’s sleeping.” She gripped his wrist and led him away towards the pumpkin patch.

“In the middle of the day?”

“He’s taking it very hard, Harry.”

“Oh. Right.” Harry kicked his feet in the dirt.

“I’m glad to see you,” she said, smiling at him.

“Me too. Glad to see you, I mean. So, have you been here the whole summer?”

Hermione kept glancing nervously back at the hut, like their talking might wake Hagrid, even though they could hear the sawing of his snores quite clearly.

“Let’s take a walk,” she suggested.

***

“Have you been having to feed Buckbeak?” Harry asked her, brushing at some downy gray feathers that were stuck to the sleeve of her shirt.

“What? Oh, yes,” she said quickly, shaking them off.

“He saved me, you know,” Harry said. “From Snape. The night that- the night of the attack, he charged in out of nowhere, nearly pummeled the stuffing out of him.”

“Oh? Did he?” Hermione said, sounding almost bored, almost like she already knew.

“So how long have you been here?”

She shrugged. “Only a few days. I couldn’t stay with my parents any longer. They’re trying, but they don’t understand. And I don’t feel like I can tell them everything, either, like if they knew, they’d flip out and put me in some kind of Muggle protection program. And I thought of the Burrow, but then Ron owled me and-”

“Phlegm?”

Hermione smiled. “He says there’s a lot of it going around.”

“He must be thrilled.” Harry smirked, and she giggled, and then quieted. “So you came to Hogwarts instead?”

“Yes, it was the only thing I could think of to do…and I thought that I should…for Hagrid…I wasn’t really there for him this year, what with dropping Care of Magical Creatures, and then with Aragog’s funeral, and now,” she sighed. “He really needs someone. Poor Buckbeak looked half starved when I got here. And Hagrid was drunk, he just kept saying ‘great man, Dumbledore’, over and over.”

Harry did his best to look serious. He was truly concerned about Hagrid, but he’d never heard Hermione do her Hagrid-impression, and it was quite good.

Beside him, Hermione made a sheepish face. “I didn’t get you anything for your birthday, Harry,” she whispered, looking very regretful. “I tried, but everything- everything I looked at seemed stupid!”

“It’s okay, Hermione,” he said, frankly just pleased that she was here, and that she had remembered his birthday at all. So few people did.

“It’s not!”

“Yes it is. I don’t have much use for presents right now anyway. And I’m really glad that you’re here. That can be my present.”

“It can?” she said, brightening.

“Sure.”

She lowered her head. “I promise to get you something better, later.”

Harry sighed. They had walked down to the lake, down by the trees, and he could see the giant squid rolling lazily in the water.

“This place reminds me of Ginny,” he said quietly.

By his side, it was a long time before Hermione said, “The lake, and the trees….they make you think of Ginny?”

Harry nodded. “We used to walk here, and sit on those rocks, and…other things.”

“Oh,” Hermione said, sounding very distracted.

Harry looked around at the leaves, and thought of the way Ginny’s hair looked when the breeze off of the lake caught it. He sighed again.

“Like you’ve never walked here with anyone else,” Hermione said, rather shrilly.

“What?”

“Nothing. Harry, how did you get to Hogwarts?”

“I Apparated into Hogsmeade.”

“You Apparated without a license? You haven’t taken your test yet have you?”

Harry groaned. “Hermione, aren’t you ever going to let me break the rules?”

“It’s not likely,” she snapped, walking faster, glancing around at the trees like they were all Whomping Willows.

“Bill and Fleur’s wedding is next week,” Harry said, trying to keep up with her, and to change the subject. “Maybe we should go to the Burrow a little early and see if we can help out.”

“You want to see Ginny?” Hermione stopped walking.

“I don’t know,” Harry said truthfully. Well, not exactly truthfully. He did want to see her. He just didn’t know if he should. Hermione was looking at him very sympathetically, and he wanted to confide in her. “I broke up with her, because with me she’d be in danger. Voldemort would use her to get to me.”

“That’s the only reason?” Hermione whispered.

“Well, that and the fact that I have four horcruxes to find and a dark wizard to kill and I don’t imagine that’ll leave me much time for snogging.” He thought of kissing Ginny under the trees, and sighed again. “I was right, wasn’t I?”

Hermione looked down, like she didn’t want to tell him something. “I can’t tell you whether or not you were right, Harry.”

“Why not? You always could before!” But Harry could tell that she wouldn’t budge. “Well anyway, I know we have to go to the wedding, but I don’t know what’s going to happen, I mean, it’s obvious that we still like each other- is she going to expect me to be her date? Just as friends? I don’t know-”

“Look Harry,” Hermione said matter-of-factly. “Ginny and Ron are both in the wedding party. They’ll be busy most of the time; I’m sure they won’t even need dates. So I guess you’ll just have to sit with me.”

Harry looked at Hermione, but she was staring straight ahead. They only had a day or two before they should depart for the Burrow. He hoped that it was enough time for him to think of something to say to Ginny that didn’t sound awkward or stupid.

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Author’s Note: This fic is dedicated to all of you theorists out there. You know who you are. You’re the ones who research the significance of hippogriffs and the histories of love potions. You’re the ones who analyze every loaded sentence, and every loaded silence. Don’t stop. Because whether or not those theories bear fruit, the evidence is THERE, and it’s brilliant and loads of fun. You didn’t just pull that stuff out of your butts, and I refuse to believe that JKR put it in there just to be a turd. So here’s to you, my feeble attempt at thanks, for your meticulous investigation. Bravo. You didn’t just read between the lines, you crawled between them and built a scale model of Buckingham Palace out of Linkin Logs. Good show.

Next time we’ll see Bill and Fleur’s wedding, and we’ll see how Ginny reacts to Harry and Hermione showing up together. And I know, the Harry mooning over Ginny stuff is gross. But come on, I’m trying to be realistic.