Chapter 44: Going Home
4 Privet Drive, December 19th 1997
A familiar room materialises around me; something I thought I'd never see again, when glancing back at it for the last time, almost five months ago.
It looks the same, but at the same time; it doesn't. The walls are the same sickly peach colour of my Aunt's choosing; the writing desk is in place, and the small bed made.
But my Hogwarts trunk is definitely not where I left it; at the end of the bed, closed. The trunk is instead in the middle of the room, thrown open. There's a mess of ripped parchment and my school books scattered over the room and trunk, with the wardrobe doors wide open, its contents empty. Needless to say, someone's been here.
I clench my jaw nervously, and listen attentively – there's nothing. Not a sound. Did Dobby and Hermione make it? I glance out of the window, that oversees the front garden; the street is empty, even if it is early in the afternoon. I peer up to the cloudy sky, but no one's there looming on a broomstick either.
I hastily turn towards the door, and then lift up one of the wands. "Homenum Revelio!" I whisper, and a short moment later, the spell detects the presence of one person. "What…?" I whisper in confusion, frowning at the door, before making my way through it, and then looking quickly over the landing and stairs. Perhaps the spell does not work on elves? It also could be someone else than them.
With a wand at the ready, I creep down the stairs, avoiding the two creaking steps and finally, as I reach the hallway, there's a muffled whimper coming from the sitting room.
I freeze in place. "Dobby?" I whisper, hoping to Merlin that it is the elf.
"Harry Potter," Dobby's voice says, very quietly.
I barge into the sitting room, anxiousness and relief washing over me. We escaped.
The sitting room looks more in place than my old bedroom did, but then I see them; Dobby, holding Hermione's hand, and Hermione, lying on her back on the carpet, her eyes closed, and her body still.
"Hermione!" I gasp, and run to her, throwing myself on my knees next to her. With my hands shaking, I take a hold of her shoulders. Shock fills me, and I shake her gently. "No, Hermione! Y-You have to be okay, Hermione, please!" I stammer, my eyes moving quickly over her face, and her body, searching for – for a wound, for something. "Dobby, what happened? Is she – is she – " I mumble, and then force down a nasty lump in my throat.
No. After what I saw in the cellar. After Luna – and Dean – and Ollivander – no. My pulse quickens, and my throat is dry. She can't be, she can't be…
"Miss Hermione survives," Dobby says with a weak voice.
I almost don't hear Dobby's words, and when I register them, my eyes whip at the elf. "What do you mean, Dobby?" I ask hastily, wanting to shake the elf to utter the words as quickly as possible. "She's – do you mean she's going to be okay?" I ask, desperately, looking back at Hermione.
I feel her neck with my fingertips, and there…there's a pulse!
"Dobby, she's alive!" I tell the elf urgently, looking at the creature again.
Dobby stands up from its kneeling position, and takes a couple of staggering steps backwards, holding its stomach.
"Dobby…? What is it?" I ask, as concern flickers in my chest. I stare at the elf in bewilderment, and see its large, tennis ball-sized eyes filling up with tears and – and gratitude.
"Dobby helps miss Hermione," the elf squeaks, and then, its small hand drops to the side.
Coldness sweeps over me. A hilt of a dagger sticks out from Dobby's stomach.
Bellatrix's dagger. The one she was threatening Hermione with.
"No!" I gasp, stumbling on my feet, leaping over Hermione. I manage to catch Dobby just before it collapses to the floor. "No, Dobby!" I yell, kneeling on the floor once more, with Dobby in my arms.
Panic and nausea twist in my stomach. This cannot be happening! No…I will save Dobby, I have to!
"Dobby, just – just hold on! I'll – I'll help you!" I say with a trembling voice, looking quickly around me and locating one of the wands within reach.
"Hold on, Dobby!" I gasp, grabbing the wand, swallowing down the bile in my throat as I see Dobby's eyes drifting closed and then open again. I suppress a sob of anguish as I see how the elf's head starts to loll from side to side. "No, Dobby, no…" I keep mumbling, while aiming my wand at the wound, whispering hastily a simple healing spell Hermione taught me. Even though I doubt it will do the trick.
When nothing happens, I curse under my breath. Why do I have to be so helpless? Why didn't I train healing magic?
"Dobby, hold on!" I breathe in distress, my throat constricting. "Something else, I have to give you something else!" I ramble, then look at Hermione, and after a second has passed, I remember she had packed us things to go with, in case we could not return to Grimmauld. If only she had her purse with her.
But – but the Death Eaters didn't have it, did they? They only had our wands and the coins!
"Accio beaded bag!" I bark hastily, and instantly, a small bag materialises against Hermione's belt, and then zooms towards me.
I grab the bag, open it, and without thinking anything else, I summon the healing potion. Catching the small vial of bright red potion, I finally focus on Dobby.
"Dobby, here, this will heal you! We need to take the dagger – " I say urgently, but then, my words die in my throat.
Dobby's eyes are closed, a peaceful expression on its face. The elf is relaxed, its body slack.
"…No." I choke. "D-Dobby, don't die…please don't die…"
The elf doesn't react. Nothing happens, except for the despair filling my chest.
"Rennervate!" I shout, aiming my wand at the small, frail body in my arms. Hoping, begging it will help. That there is still life inside the elf. "Rennervate! Please, Dobby! Wake up! Rennervate!"
But nothing happens.
The wand in my hand drops to the floor. The room is silent. Hermione lies there next to me, unmoving, but breathing steadily. And Dobby…Dobby gave its life for us. To save us.
I take in a shuddering breath, and don't even try to stop my stinging eyes from filling up with tears. My head drops down, and I close my eyes, still holding the small elf, feeling overwhelmed by my failures. I failed to save them; Dean, Luna, and now…Dobby. And they're dead because of me, because Luna and her father helped me, because Dean was my dormmate, and because Dobby…because Dobby came to rescue us.
And what about Regulus? My mind replays the scene, of Regulus falling to his knees, of Regulus bleeding out on the street, of Regulus, looking back at me for one last time, before losing consciousness and collapsing to the ground. If he's gone too, that's one more death on my shoulders, one more person I failed to save, and if he's gone, what will I do then?
My throat tightens at the thought. I'll be alone again. I don't even remember the last thing I said to him.
"…H-Harry?"
I cough, choke down a sob and I wipe my cheeks fast with my hand, before whirling towards Hermione, who blinks slowly on the floor, looking utterly exhausted.
But she's there, conscious, and rising up slightly to lean against her arms, watching me in bewilderment.
Relief mixes into the despair I feel, and I let out a shuddering sound, almost a laugh.
"Thank Merlin," I breathe, watching her in disbelief, unable to comprehend how she can be awake, and not be in excruciating pain after what was done to her. Hermione seems to have similar thoughts.
"H-How am I…how?" She asks, and then sees Dobby, still lying against my arm, its eyes closed. Hermione's eyes widen, panic and grief filling them. "No…Dobby…" She whispers, tears gathering into her eyes.
And then I realise what Dobby had meant, what the elf's last words meant…Dobby had helped Hermione. Dobby had healed her. I watch the small body, wondering how much of its strength it took. Wondering, if Dobby would still be alive, had it not healed Hermione? But…would Hermione be?
I let out a long, weary sigh and place the small elf gingerly on the carpet. I know there is no use thinking that. It cannot be undone, and knowing Dobby…I think the elf wouldn't have it any other way.
Hermione weeps silently, watching the elf's body with a tormented look, probably having figured out why she does have her strength again, after everything that happened during the past hour or so.
We stay silent for a long moment, until Hermione sniffs loudly. "We should bury Dobby," she says softly, giving me a hesitant look.
I glance at her, give her a sharp nod. "Yeah. But not here." I say, and swallow hard. Dobby deserves something better, something that hasn't been tainted by the Dursleys.
Only then Hermione seems to realise where we are, as she blinks and takes in the surroundings, with a small furrow between her brows.
Then, a thought comes up, and I give Hermione a small grimace. "And, er…we should probably get a move on. I didn't put up any security spells or wards…"
Hermione's eyes widen in surprise. "Harry!" She gasps, and quickly jumps up to her feet before looking around her in panic. "Oh, Harry, we have to run, we have to – try to go to someone from the Order...Merlin, how fast will they find us now that we don't have wands – "
I interrupt her by handing out one of the two wands, the one I took from Pettigrew. "Luckily I grabbed a couple," I say with a small shrug.
Hermione's eyes lit up with relief, "Thank Godric!" She gasps, taking the wand, and busies herself by putting up wards. She glances at me during it, and gives me a small frown, "I hope this is not Bellatrix's wand," she says quietly, before casting the next spell.
I grimace, "No…but it was Pettigrew's…" I tell her grimly, and then stand up slowly, as Hermione stills. "He killed himself," I tell her, staring at the wand in her hand. "He…tried to kill me first, but then, I reminded him, about – about him being in my debt. That I saved him once," I mutter, feeling somewhat uncomfortable.
Hermione nods slowly. "In the Shack. You saved him from Lupin and Sirius," She says quietly. Then she nods at the wand between my fingertips, her brows lifting up in question.
I too look at the wand, the one of the two that felt…better, that felt like it's…mine, for some reason. "Malfoy's wand." I say bluntly, and if that is not weird, I don't know what is – that Malfoy's wand feels like mine…
Hermione's brows pull into a frown. "Oh?"
I let out a sigh. "He came downstairs to check on Pettigrew, and…I dunno, Hermione. Seemed like he didn't really fight back as I took it from him," I say, a bit puzzled, and Hermione hums.
"Before – before you were taken to the cellar," She says, swallowing hard, evidently not wanting to speak about her torture, "Malfoy seemed somewhat…reluctant to identify me, didn't he?"
I give her a nod. "Yeah. So, I stunned him and Disapparated," I tell her, and add, "Dobby had gone upstairs to get you," I say quietly, keeping my gaze at the wand, as I feel my eyes prickling slightly as I think of the elf, and as I think of who was left in the cellar with Pettigrew and Malfoy. I know I need to tell her now, because I don't know if I'm able to later.
"Hermione," I say with a strained voice, swallowing hard, forcing myself to calm down. "There's something else," I mutter, and then look at her.
Hermione watches me with a confused frown, but there's also fear in her eyes, as if she's expecting for me to tell her something bad.
"In the cellar…there were," I start, steeling myself for what I know I have to say. I continue almost inaudibly, "There were bodies."
Hermione gasps, and presses a hand over her mouth. "Who?" She asks urgently after a moment, lowering her hand, that now shakes somewhat. "S-Someone we know?" She whispers, looking horrified at the thought.
"Yes," I tell her, my heart constricting. I try to clear away the tightness in my throat before I speak, very quietly. "Luna. Dean. Ollivander."
Hermione gapes at me, before she lets out a loud, disbelieved gasp, that soon turns into a set of sobs. Her eyes scrunch up in repressed emotion, and she shakes in place, while tears stream down her cheeks.
I walk up to her, and pull her into a warm embrace, feeling stricken, feeling overwhelmed by sorrow.
We stay like that for a moment, holding each other, grieving the loss of our friends, until our tears have dried and until we both agree it is time to get a move on, before the Death Eaters come to check the Privet Drive.
"Where are we?" I ask from Hermione, as an unknown view materialises around us.
We are in a dense forest, facing a small clearing, surrounded by tall trees, where the setting sun shines through, not warming anymore, but shedding streaks of light to the frozen moss floor of the forest.
The scene ahead is comforting, making the weight in my chest ease up a bit.
Hermione gives me a small smile. "Forest of Dean. I came here with my parents once," She says, and then worries her lip, her expression sobering. "Is this…would this place be okay to – to lay Dobby to rest?"
I turn my gaze back to the inviting view; breathe in the crisp and clean air, and watch the untarnished area, where everything grows wild and free. Free, like Dobby had been.
"Yeah." I tell Hermione, giving her a weary smile. "I think Dobby would've liked this."
I lay Dobby's body gently down, against the ice-covered undergrowth and walk over to a spot lit by the sun, the frozen moss crackling under my feet. "Here," I mutter, and glance at Hermione. "I want to do it myself – dig the grave. Can you, um – "
I don't have to finish my sentence, as Hermione gives me an understanding look, and flicks her wand; conjuring a sturdy spade. I take it with a grateful nod, hoping the ground is not too frozen underneath the icy grass.
As Hermione starts to put up wards around us, I throw myself into work; digging through the somewhat solid soil, letting the grief wash over me as I slowly but surely sink deeper to the ground. I think about Dobby, the first time we met, and how infuriated I had been towards the elf throughout my second year, when Dobby had tried to save my life with some questionable methods. I think about how many times the elf helped me after I set it free, during times when I myself hadn't figured out a solution; my fourth year, when Dobby sneaked into Snape's office and stole Gillyweed, making it possible for me to attend to the second task; my fifth year, when Umbridge was watching us like a hawk, making it difficult for the DA to gather – but then Dobby had found the Room of Requirement. I think about today, when the elf had come immediately after I called it, helping me without question. Giving its life to save us.
Hermione joins me in the small pit, with another spade in her hands and starts to dig the grave with me, unperturbed that my face must be swollen and blotched, or that I keep blinking through the blurriness in my eyes.
I feel my scar prickling, feel Voldemort's rage, and I know that he's torturing someone. Probably the people at Malfoy Manor – at least I suspect it was Malfoy's home, why else would they all have been there? But I manage to keep himout, I manage to keep myself in present. I close my mind from him, not letting him ruin this moment, not letting him interfere my grief.
It takes a long time, even with the two of us, but we stay silent and keep digging, until the pit is deep enough, until we are both exhausted and our muscles are straining. It must be hours later, when we are finally ready, as it is already dark.
Hermione pulls out a set of clothes from her beaded bag, almost as she knows what I'm thinking. We put my jacket, Hermione's hat and mittens, and Ron's woollen socks and jumper on Dobby, before laying the elf carefully into the small grave.
We give Dobby one last, long look, silently saying our goodbyes. Then, Hermione waves her wand, filling the grave by magic. She casts another spell, and white wildflowers cover the small burial mound.
It's beautiful.
I take Hermione's hand and give it a squeeze, grateful that she's here, relieved that I'm not alone. I think about Ron, thankful that he seemed to have managed to escape, hoping that he did find safety. Even if it was without Regulus.
"They're okay, Harry," Hermione says quietly, staring at the floral bed. "Ron and Regulus," she adds. "Ron will make sure of it. He'll save Regulus."
Despair and anguish slither inside me again, taking a hold of my lungs, grasping for my throat. I swallow hard before I reply to her, "I really hope so, Hermione," I say and turn to face her, still holding her hand. "I don't know what I'd do if – "
But then, a searing pain bursts in my forehead, making me gasp, making my knees buckle.
"AAAHHH!" I scream, grabbing my head with both hands, trembling, as unbearable pain takes over, making my vision blur, making me think that my head will soon split open and explode.
"Harry! …Harry!" I hear Hermione shrieking, feeling her arms around me.
The forest disappears, Hermione's voice vanishes, and images flutter into the forefront of my mind, taking control of me, making me lose myself into them. Into Voldemort's mind.
I'm in a room, circled by wizards – Death Eaters – and facing…facing a Goblin.
"Tell me, Goblin. What did they take?" I ask, my voice a sharp hiss, feeling enraged. Feeling…frightened. It cannot be possible. Potter cannot know…No one knows…
The Goblin in front of me stammers, explaining about the security measures, explaining how the man escorting Mrs. Malfoy had opened the vault – without the Goblin's help. Something that should be impossible.
I narrow my eyes at the creature. "As we have now witnessed, Goblin, it is quite possible! Tell me what they took!"
The Goblin looks ahead with horror in its eyes, eyes that don't dare to look at mine, "My Lord, they took a…a s-mall golden c-cup."
I stare at the creature for a split second, and then, as unbearable rage sears through me, I bare my teeth at it, screaming, lifting my hands, feeling how the power, how the anger seeps from my fingers. The windows in the room burst into pieces at my will.
The Goblin is lifted from the ground from its grovelling position with my other hand, as with the other…I slash my wand through the air, watching with a small satisfaction as the green jet of light hits the creature on its chest, before it drops to the floor, lifeless.
Like a storm, I walk through the halls of Gringotts, ending every soul that comes in my way, as they are all to blame for this, for bringing me the news about the cup, for letting…Potter inside.
Potter. Somehow, the boy has destroyed one, and now stolen another. Could he know about them? My safeguards, my treasures. But how?
And if he knows, has he taken more than one? Has he destroyed more than one? Surely, I would have felt it. No, it must be only these two, as these were the ones that were trusted to my incompetent followers.
So useless, in fact, that they let the Potter boy slip through their fingers. When the boy had no wand, and was held captive. Lord Voldemort intends to punish them severely for this. But first, I need to know. I have to make sure the rest of them are safe…
The cave…the shack…Hogwarts.
No, the boy cannot know about my connection to the Gaunts. No one did. And how could the boy know about the cave?
But Dumbledore…Dumbledore knew my middle name. Dumbledore might have connected the details. Dumbledore might have known about the cave. And what about the one in Hogwarts?
I hiss out a snarl as I think about the old oaf. Even after his death, he brings me nuisance.
I have to see myself that they are safe. I glance at Nagini, who slithers over the corpses of several Goblins, pausing next to me. "You will stay with me, Nagini." I hiss at the snake in Parseltongue.
The shack first. Then the cave. Then…Hogwarts.
"Harry!" Hermione says – sobs, her head against my chest. "Please, Harry…"
I let out a weary groan, blinking my eyes open.
Hermione whips her head up, her hands cradling my head, her eyes glittering in the darkness. "H-Harry? You're back?" She says urgently, her voice wavering.
My scar is burning in pain, and my heart is hammering in my chest. "He knows," I croak to her. "He knows I'm after them."
Hermione lets out a gasp, and I pull myself up to kneel on the frosty ground. "He's going to check the shack first, then the cave, and then…Hogwarts," I say, giving her a meaningful look.
"Hogwarts," Hermione breathes, her eyes round. "He's hidden something at Hogwarts…"
I nod at her quickly, suppressing a pointed 'I told you so'. "He's also keeping the snake close to him, just in case."
"So, the sixth one is – "
"Yeah, Hermione," I say forcefully. We don't have any time to spare. "We need to get going. We need to go to Hogwarts before he gets there! He thinks the Hogwarts one is the safest, since Snape's there!"
Hermione stares at me, looking anxious. "How will we get there? The place is swamped by Death Eaters! And we cannot Apparate there!"
"Hogsmeade." I say simply, thinking fast. "We'll go through Hogsmeade. Do you still have my Cloak?" I ask urgently.
Hermione gives me a sharp nod, making a couple of swift steps to her beaded bag on the ground, and pulls out the Invisibility Cloak, before attaching the bag on her belt with a spell.
"Good," I mutter as she hands me the Cloak. "We'll go under this."