In a cluttered room, a massive serpent hissed, its enormous body filling Harry Potter's entire field of vision. He leaned against the table behind him, gripping his wand tightly in his right hand, panting heavily. One leg was limping, and blood trickled slowly down his left arm and right leg.
The snake was poised to strike again at any moment, and Hermione still hadn't appeared.
The thought that the brown-haired girl might already have met with disaster tore Harry's heart into pieces.
The serpent coiled its body tighter, preparing a deadly strike, while Harry stood like a Quidditch Keeper guarding the goalposts, straining to anticipate the direction of the attack. But unlike a Keeper, Harry was guarding his life, and he had only one chance—either he died, or he held on a little longer.
The scar on his forehead throbbed incessantly. Blood and sweat blurred his already impaired vision, worsened by his broken glasses. For a fleeting moment, Harry felt the urge to give up. The wizarding world, Voldemort—he was tired of it all. Watching the last of his family slip away one by one—his father… his mother… Sirius… Dumbledore… and now, quite possibly, Hermione next… He was exhausted.
Harry saw the snake's head fixate on him. Then, as if from a low-angle view, he saw another version of himself in his mind's eye. He knew he was about to deliver a fatal strike against the boy standing before him.
He adjusted his angle slowly, muscles tensing, then lunged forward.
But just as he was about to strike the boy, a powerful spell hit him.
A flash of red light sent the snake hurtling to one side, its tail slamming heavily into Harry's wand-hand. Harry heard a sickening crack but had no time to dwell on it.
Half-kneeling on the ground, the scar on his forehead burned as though someone were pressing a red-hot iron against it.
"Hermione! It's him! He's here! Run!" Harry heard his own voice shouting. Then a hand grabbed his wrist, and he felt himself being dragged off the floor. He was falling freely, a green light flashing nearby, but in an instant, he was whisked away by Apparition.
In the split second before they vanished, he saw himself transform into a gust of wind, sweeping through a village. He saw two figures leap out of a window, their forms twisting in midair. He saw himself angrily brandish his wand, the green light slicing through the air where they had been, blasting a nearby wall apart.
A foreign memory flooded Harry's mind.
Clad in a black robe, he glided silently down a dim street, stopping before an ordinary house. He stood in the shadow cast by its lit windows, watching the happy family inside.
The curtains were open, revealing a family of three in a small living room. A red-haired woman cradled a little boy in blue pajamas, while a tall, bespectacled man with dark hair conjured colorful puffs of smoke from his wand to entertain the child in her arms. Their faces glowed with contentment.
He waited patiently, biding his time until the couple parted, until the man set his wand on the nearby sofa and stretched lazily.
Then he approached the front door, pushed it open gently, and heard himself let out a cold laugh. A pale hand drew a wand from beneath his cloak and blasted the door open.
He stepped over the threshold and saw the dark-haired man rush toward him in a panic.
"Lily! It's him! He's here! Take Harry and go! I'll hold him off…"
Harry heard himself laughing maniacally.
"Avada Kedavra!"
A green light illuminated the entire hallway, and James Potter collapsed limply to the floor.
Now, standing beside the house with a gaping hole in its side, he stared at the spot where the two figures had vanished, recalling the greatest failure of his life…
"Harry, you're okay! You're going to be fine! I've bandaged you up!" A voice, familiar to the depths of his soul, called faintly from a distance.
He summoned the snake back to him. Staring at the hated house, he raised his wand, and orange-yellow flames erupted from its tip, engulfing the entire building.
"No… I lost it… I lost it…" The familiar voice grew closer.
He floated up from the ground, leaving the smoldering ruins behind, and resumed his search for clues. He needed a powerful wand, one that would ensure he was never defeated.
"Harry, you're going to be okay. Wake up, please, wake up!" The familiar voice echoed in his ears, and then it hit him—he was Harry, Harry Potter, not Voldemort…
He opened his eyes to see a worried face hovering above him. Instinctively, he raised his left hand to touch it, but a sharp pain snapped him back to reality. No, she loved Ron, not him—not Harry Potter. He couldn't betray his friend, and more importantly, she was the only family he had left. He couldn't—wouldn't—risk driving her away.
Seeing his green eyes open, Hermione set down the sponge in her hand. Looking at Harry, she asked softly, "Harry, are you—are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he lied.
"We escaped," he heard his own voice say.
"Yes," Hermione replied. "I used a Levitation Charm to get you onto the bed… You were badly hurt… I couldn't move you otherwise… And, um, were you having another nightmare?"
Her beautiful brown eyes studied him cautiously, but Harry noticed the purple shadows beneath them. He saw the small sponge in her hand—she'd been wiping his face.
"You're sick," Harry said, concern lacing his voice. "Really sick."
"No, I'm fine…" Hermione straightened, her gaze darting away. "Just a small bug…"
Harry propped himself up on the bed with his right hand, finally taking in their surroundings. The tent they'd been living in for nearly half a year. He rubbed his head. "How long have we been out?"
"Two days…"
"Two days… Have I been unconscious the whole time?"
"Not exactly," Hermione said, her expression uneasy. "Since early this morning, you've been shouting and crying in your sleep… and, um… wait…" Her tone made Harry nervous as she added, "When I was treating your wounds yesterday, that locket seemed stuck to your skin… I couldn't remove it, so I used a Severing Charm…"
Harry didn't know what he'd done or said in his sleep, but it was clear Hermione was trying to change the subject.
She paused, then continued, "You were bitten by the snake, but I've cleaned the wound and applied some Dittany… I've also set your bones…"
Harry peeled off the damp T-shirt clinging to his body and looked down. A vivid red oval scar marked his chest, and a half-healed bite mark scarred his forearm.
"Where's the Horcrux?" After confirming he wasn't about to die, Harry's focus shifted back to the locket.
"It's in my bag," Hermione said, her voice low as she sat on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. "I think we should keep it stored away for a while…"
Harry lay back on the pillow, gazing at her weary, ashen face.
"We shouldn't have gone to Godric's Hollow. It's my fault. All my fault, Hermione. I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault. I wanted to go too. I really thought Dumbledore would have left the sword there for you to find."
"Yeah, we guessed wrong, didn't we?"
"What happened, Harry? What happened after she took you upstairs? Was the snake hiding somewhere? Did it come out, kill her, and then attack you?"
Harry briefly recounted the events to Hermione, then suddenly realized something.
"Hermione! That snake…"
"That snake is a Horcrux!" Hermione spun around to face him. "Dumbledore was right!"
"If he made seven Horcruxes, then the ones we haven't confirmed yet are…" Harry's excited tone faltered. Even if they knew which were Horcruxes, they had no way to destroy them…
He sighed, sat up, and pushed the blanket aside.
"Harry, no, you need to rest!" Hermione reached to push him back down.
"You're the one who needs to sleep!" Harry said, eyeing her haggard appearance. "You're in terrible shape. I'm fine, apart from moving a bit slowly. I'll keep watch for a while. Where's my wand?"
Hermione didn't answer, just looked at him sadly.
"Where's my wand, Hermione?"
Harry watched as she bit her lip, tears welling in her eyes. Then he remembered—the sharp crack.
"Can it be fixed?" he asked, his voice hollow.
"Harry… I tried…" She reached to the bedside and handed him a wand, nearly snapped in two.
"Harry," Hermione said, her voice so soft he could barely hear, "I'm so, so sorry. I think it was me… You know, when the snake lunged at you, I cast a Blasting Curse, and part of its body must have hit your wand…"
"It was an accident," Harry said mechanically, feeling an emptiness akin to the day Hedwig died. "We… we'll find a way to fix it."
"Harry, I don't think it can be fixed." Tears streamed down Hermione's face. "Remember Ro—"
Her words were cut off by a sudden alarm.
Someone had breached the protective enchantments Hermione had set.
"I'll hold them off! Harry, you—" Hermione stood, wand in hand, heading for the tent's entrance, but Harry grabbed her.
"No! Hermione, I won't let you die before me!" His right hand clamped onto her arm. "Without you, I'm nothing!"
"…Harry…" Hermione looked at him deeply, then leaned down, took his right hand, and pulled him up from the bed. It was the closest they'd been since their dance during their time on the run, their heartbeats almost palpable through their clothes.
Looking at Harry, who was nearly her height, Hermione whispered, "Together?"
Harry gazed at the girl beside him, feeling the warmth through her pajamas, and nodded. "Together!"
Hermione smiled, the first smile she'd shown in ages. Then, in a moment she'd never dared imagine, she kissed Harry's lips—her second kiss to him, three years after the first on his cheek, in the winter before what might be their end.
Harry's eyes widened, unable to believe what had just happened.
Hermione, the girl he loved most, his only family, had kissed him…
"That was my first kiss. Lucky you," Hermione said, rolling her eyes playfully.
Harry was stunned.
The sound of approaching footsteps snapped him back to reality. They could feel the protective enchantments around them being dismantled at an alarming rate—a bad sign. It meant their enemies were either numerous or… incredibly powerful.
The footsteps grew closer, more urgent. Then a man with long, disheveled black hair burst in.
"Harry!" The man lunged toward Harry and Hermione with excitement.
Hermione instinctively raised her wand, but her arm felt trapped in molasses, the air binding her hand. To her horror, she couldn't even move her fingers.
She closed her eyes, bracing for pain or restraint.
But nothing came. Instead, her hand was empty, and she felt the boy beside her trembling. "Sirius?" Harry, now holding Hermione's wand, pointed it shakily but firmly at the man who had fallen through the Veil years ago.
"Harry, of course it's me… You're both okay, thank Merlin…" The man moved to embrace Harry, but the wand glowed dangerously.
"When Hermione, Ron, and I went to save you in third year, what did you escape on?" Harry demanded, staring at the man who looked exactly like his godfather.
"Merlin, you're like a mini Alastor… Good question, though," Sirius sighed. "First, it was just you and Hermione who came to save me that night. And I escaped on Buckbeak."
Harry and Hermione's eyes widened. Harry reached out, trembling, toward the man who had been dead for two years. "Sirius, are you really…"
"Hold it. If you're testing me, I get to test you two," Sirius said, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Harry, where did we first meet? Hermione, same question."
Hermione answered instantly, "The Shrieking Shack."
Harry thought for a moment. "Magnolia Crescent?"
"Magnolia Crescent? Where's that?" Sirius asked, puzzled.
Harry stared at his godfather, expressionless.
Sensing Harry's disapproval, Sirius waved it off. "Never mind, addresses don't matter. Oh, and Harry, I assume you know these two, Albus?"
A tall, white-bearded man stepped into the tent. He looked at the stunned Harry and Hermione, smiling.
"Good morning, Harry, Hermione."
--
Support me & read more advance & fast update chapter on my patreon:
pat reon .com/yuuwand