Erised - Chapter Twenty-Eight

[tamchronin]

This is your last chance.  Read from the start, or forever suffer confuzzlement.  (That's confusion, for those who don't know Tamspeak.)

 

 

This is not the end.  This is not the beginning.  This is merely an interlude through which all things progress.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Once Into a Vanishing Horizon

 

Hermione didn't think of it as suicide.  It was self-sacrifice.  Ron had called it suicide, of course, when they'd gone back to leave another Hermione, in another time, a note that would hopefully end this all.

 

Ron had said many other things, and her lips still tingled from the kiss she'd used to shut him up and get him to cooperate.  She hadn't wanted to die without having been kissed at least once in her life.  That would have been worse than a tragedy.

 

It would have been worse than the situation already was.

 

She wished there could have been more, but time was already gone, and the eggs had been destroyed, and she felt a giddy sort of rushing in the pit of her stomach as a succession of images seemed to swirl around her all at once and finally resolve into one nightmarish vision.

 

"The spell backfired," Professor Riddle was saying.  "Kill the boy.  Don't worry about Miss Granger, she'll be dead soon enough."

 

She heard someone utter the killing curse, and heard a thud beside her.  She didn't even have the strength to look.

 

"This," she whispered soundlessly.

 

"She's trying to say something," a man said in a cold voice.  She recognized it vaguely.  Malfoy.  Was it the older Malfoy, or was it Draco?

 

"Bring her here," Professor Riddle commanded.

 

Long hair tickled her cheek and she forced her eyes to focus.  Ah yes, Lucius Malfoy.  She wondered if Draco was among them, or if he was too young.

 

She was placed in Professor Riddle's arms, and he looked intently into her eyes.  "What is it?"  He brushed hair away from her face with surprisingly gentle fingers.  "What are you trying to say?"

 

"This," she whispered again.  "Is not."

 

"What is it not?" he asked, almost kindly, as he watched her struggle to get out her last words.

 

She rallied the last of her strength, projecting the words at him more as a spiritual force than through true speech.  "This is not the end."

 

 

Hermione wiped away the tears, sniffling softly as she opened the book.  It had taken quite a fight to convince Professor McGonagall to give her permission to check out the book from the library, but the new headmistress had finally relented.

 

"You're smart enough to realize, after reading it, why you can't do anything with it." Professor McGonagall had said.  "Now out!  I've a lot of work to do."

 

"That's what she thinks," Hermione whispered to herself as she opened the book.  "I've got to at least try, and no one would blame me for it."

 

As the front cover opened, however, a bit of parchment fell out.

 

Hermione might have ignored it, but she'd caught her own name upon it.  She bent over and picked it up, wondering what on earth could be in this book that would--

 

Her thoughts froze as she recognized the handwriting as her own.  Her heart pounded so loudly as she read that she was almost surprised Madam Pince didn't throw her out for causing a disturbance.

 

 

 

 

Dear Hermione,

 

I know what you're thinking, and I can't entirely blame you, but please trust me.  Don't do it.

 

Please, just don't.

 

I know that the only thing in your mind right now is that you can bring Professor Dumbledore back, but you should know more than anyone that if you did the consequences would be catastrophic.  You can't even imagine what it is like.

 

It hurts to lose someone you know and love and respect so very much.  He was like a grandfather to you, and to everyone at Hogwarts.  Believe me, I know.  I'd do just about anything to bring him back, myself.  To have the power to do so, and yet restrain yourself even in the midst of grief is a challenge that no one should have to face, and yet you do.

 

If you create the spell you intend, it will fall into the wrong hands.  You know whose hands I speak of, but I am afraid to put the name here, lest it draw his attention.  Just imagine what a world you would be in, if such a thing were to happen.  And believe me, it will happen.

 

I beg you.  Look forward, not back.  Let this letter be the only paradox to remain the legacy of your grief.

 

~H

 

 

Hermione looked at the note, biting her lower lip, tears falling from her eyes faster than she could blink to clear them.  She knew that the note was right.

 

She slowly folded it in half and placed it back in the book, biting her lower lip.  For a minute she flipped through the book, not looking at it, but not willing to put it back, either.  She could so easily just give Dumbledore a similar note, persuading him not to leave Hogwarts that night, begging him--

 

He'd stay, she knew.  He'd stay, and he'd live, and--

 

No.  He'd approved of her meddling in time to clear Sirius Black and Buckbeak, but that was different.  She wasn't sure how, but it was.  Even in the midst of her grief, she knew it was.

 

She finally pulled out the note and set the book back on the shelf.  She then walked out of the library and into the bathroom, pulling out her wand as soon as she was sure she was alone.  "Incendio," she whispered, setting the paper alight.

 

The paradox would die with her.

 

A few minutes later she walked into the Gryffindor common room.  The mood was so somber that it made her wonder again if she'd made the right choice.

 

"There you are," Harry said, walking over and putting a hand on her shoulder.  "Are you ready?"

 

Hermione nodded.  She could still go back...

 

Ron joined them, clasping her hand tightly.  No more words were said as they climbed through the hole behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.  It was time to say goodbye to Albus Dumbledore.

Comments

[christmasjedi.livejournal.com]

Pardon the silence... I'm attempting to gather my thoughts into something that might make sense. I'm a bit tired.

It seems to me that everything resolved rather abruptly, but I'm pleased with the resolution. This was a very clever story, and I'm grateful that you chose to share it with us.

I'm afraid i'm too tired to be eloquent. Nice job. Great story. And thanks for posting the end before you left! (Hope you have a great con!)