"So, Voldemort has taken control of the Ministry of Magic and Hogwarts through Thicknesse and Snape, Harry's wanted as the prime suspect in Dumbledore's murder, and Muggle-born witches and wizards are being rounded up and sent to camps…" Inside the tent, Sirius Black summarized the grim intelligence he'd gathered from Harry and Hermione, a bitter smile twisting his lips. "Things really couldn't get any worse, could they? By the way, where's Remus? Why isn't he with you?"
"He…" Harry's voice faltered as he recalled the harsh words he'd flung at Lupin months ago, his insides twisting with guilt.
Noticing Harry's expression, Hermione, seated nearby, took over. "Professor Lupin was going to help us, but… his wife is pregnant. Harry thought… well, that he should stay with her instead of wandering with us."
"Remus is married now, is he?" Sirius let out a long sigh. "Hermione, who's the poor soul that ended up with that bloke?"
"Well…" Hermione hesitated, suddenly aware of the tangled web of relationships between Tonks, Lupin, and Sirius. Her mind stalled. "Professor Lupin's wife… you actually know her, Sirius."
"You know her?" Sirius's brow furrowed, a question mark practically hovering over his head. He began mentally listing every single older woman he knew.
"No, Sirius," Harry sighed. "It's Tonks. His wife is Tonks."
"Which Tonks?" Sirius's brain still hadn't caught up. "Does Ted have other relatives? Don't tell me Andromeda and Ted got divorced?"
"It's… Nymphadora Tonks," Harry clarified, belatedly realizing the complicated dynamics between Tonks, Lupin, and Sirius. His own mind started to knot.
"What?!" Sirius shot to his feet, his voice booming. "Remus married my cousin?!"
Meanwhile, Dumbledore, clad in a flowing grey-blue robe, listened to Harry and Hermione's account of the current situation. He fell into deep thought, and only after Sirius's brain began to short-circuit did he finally speak, his voice slow and measured. "Harry, regarding my death in this world—you said you witnessed the entire event?"
"Yes, Professor," Harry replied, clearing his throat uncomfortably. Sirius let out an angry curse nearby. Talking about Dumbledore's death in front of him felt bizarrely awkward. "I saw Snape kill you."
"Before Severus killed me, did I try to resist? What exactly happened?"
"I don't understand, Professor. Why does that—"
"Just answer the question, Harry," Dumbledore interrupted, his piercing blue eyes calm, as if discussing the death of a complete stranger. "Did I try to resist?"
"You were in bad shape," Harry said, his voice heavy. "Malfoy couldn't bring himself to do it. Then more Death Eaters showed up, and then Snape. You were pleading with him, but… I was bound, helpless, forced to watch as he…" Harry's voice broke. "As he killed you."
A flicker of curiosity passed through Dumbledore's eyes. "What did I say, Harry? Do you remember?"
"'Severus, please…'" The memory clawed its way to the surface, and Harry clenched his fists, his breath hitching. Anger surged, making his body tremble. Then, two hands rested on his shoulders—one Sirius's, the other Hermione's. Their weight grounded him, and slowly, he calmed. "Then he cast Avada Kedavra…"
"Hmm…" Dumbledore's expression suggested he'd heard what he expected. He nodded, satisfied.
"Speaking of my death, Harry," he continued, "the version of me in this world must have left you something before I died. Let me think… For you, Harry, it would be the Sword of Gryffindor. For Miss Granger… perhaps The Tales of Beedle the Bard, which Gellert and I once studied together. And for Neville, it would be…"
"No, Professor," Harry interrupted. "It wasn't Neville. It was Ron."
"Ron?" Dumbledore's brow creased in confusion, then understanding dawned. "So that's the divergence between our worlds…" He nodded thoughtfully. "And for Mr. Weasley, it was this, correct?"
Dumbledore pulled a silver Deluminator from his robes. Harry and Hermione nodded in confirmation.
"Now, since you and Miss Granger have experienced a magical resonance…" Dumbledore drew his wand and lightly tapped both Harry and Hermione on their heads. "I think this will do for now."
Neither knew exactly what he'd done, but a sensation like invisible, icy liquid trickled from the tops of their heads.
"Now, off to bed, both of you," Dumbledore said, cutting off their protests with a wave of his wand. The chairs beneath them transformed into two single beds side by side. A gentle but irresistible force nudged them to lie down.
Dumbledore and Sirius stepped out to gather food, leaving the tent in silence. Harry could almost hear Hermione's breathing from the bed beside him.
His mind drifted back to his earlier conversation with Sirius.
"…You can't give away the last thing you have. Create a happy future for Hermione with your own hands…"
Sirius's words echoed relentlessly in Harry's mind. Finally, he made up his mind.
"Hermione…" Harry turned to face her bed.
Hermione, wrapped tightly in her blanket with her back to him, stirred slightly.
"Can we talk?"
Her breathing hitched for a moment before she answered, still facing away, her voice carefully controlled. "About what?"
"About you… me… and Ron."
It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over her. Hermione's body went rigid.
"Yes, about Ron," she said, her voice devoid of emotion.
A cold draft slipped through the tent's flap, wrapping Harry and Hermione in a chill.
"Hermione… I'm sorry," Harry began, his words tumbling out faster, as if he were trying to say everything he'd ever wanted in one breath. "I know you like Ron, and I know Ron likes you. I don't know if you'll still want to keep going with me after I say this, or if you'll even want to stay friends, but like Sirius said, I've sacrificed enough for this world. I don't owe anyone anything. I don't need to step aside for others, and I don't need their pity. All I have is this small piece of my life, and I refuse to lose anyone else I care about."
He paused, then pressed on. "For that, I can forgive Ron's second betrayal. I can pretend nothing happened and keep treating him like my best mate. But you, Hermione—I can't imagine a life without you. Two years ago, in the Department of Mysteries, when that Death Eater hit you, I thought the world had ended. My hand was on your shoulder, I could feel your warmth, but I couldn't bring myself to look at you. You were lying there, like a corpse, and for the first time in my life, I felt pure terror. I couldn't think straight. If Neville hadn't found us, we probably would've died there."
Harry kept talking, oblivious to the faint trembling in Hermione's frame.
"Then, in sixth year, when you started liking Ron, I wasn't surprised. I'd already noticed how close you two were in fifth year. But somewhere deep down, I held onto this hope—this hope that you'd still stay by my side. So I started looking for ways to keep you close. That's when I noticed Ginny. I don't know what I felt for her, but when I realized I liked her, I was thrilled. I thought I was happy because I could be with Ginny, but after talking with Sirius just now, I realized I was thrilled because it meant I could keep you near me."
"But now, I don't think that way anymore. After Ron left, we fought together, fled together, danced together, researched Horcruxes together. We shared joy, sorrow, pain, and every moment of the past six months. We even laughed in the face of death. I'm not content just having you by my side anymore. I want to hold you in my arms, to build a future with you, to grow old with you…"
"Even if it means losing Ron's friendship, or the Weasleys'. Even if it means you might turn away from me. I still want to look into your eyes—the eyes of the person I love most."
Harry's trembling voice filled the tent.
"Hermione… can I love you?"
She turned slowly, her hands pressed to her mouth, tears streaming from her warm brown eyes.
Harry stared, stunned, as she reached out, pulling him into her arms. Her tears fell freely as her face drew closer.
And then she kissed him—again.
"Looks like something big happened while Albus and I were out," Sirius said an hour later, hauling a dead deer over his shoulder. He grinned at Harry and Hermione, who sprang apart in a flustered panic as he entered the tent.
"Figured it out, have you?" Sirius asked, looking at his godson.
"Yeah…" Harry mumbled, his face flushed as he nodded.
"Gotta say, Harry, when it comes to romance, you're nowhere near James's level," Sirius teased, clearly unimpressed with his godson's slow confession. He glanced at Hermione, who was hiding her face under a blanket. "But you, Hermione—you're practically another Lily."
"Sirius, tell me about them," Harry said, looking at his godfather.
"Hold on, let me deal with this venison first. We'll talk over dinner," Sirius replied, waving a hand as he headed toward the kitchen.
Minutes later, Dumbledore returned. His gaze swept over Harry and Hermione, a faint smile playing on his lips.
Sirius, as it turned out, was a surprisingly skilled cook. For the first time in six months, Harry and Hermione ate their fill.
While Sirius busied himself casting preservation charms on the remaining venison, Dumbledore picked up his wand and turned to Harry and Hermione.
"Mind studying with me for a while, Harry? Miss Granger?"
The two exchanged a glance, and Hermione raised her hand. "Professor, aren't you going to help us fight You-Know-Who?"
Dumbledore shook his head. "Miss Granger, I'm merely a visitor from another world. I'll have to leave eventually. Yes, I could help you destroy Horcruxes and face Tom, but what happens after him? What if another dark wizard rises? This world is yours to protect. The best help I can offer is to raise your potential—to make you stronger."
Hermione and Harry fell silent, nodding in agreement.
"Then, wands out," Dumbledore said. "Let's begin—"
"Professor," Hermione interrupted, gripping Harry's right hand. "Harry can't use magic right now. His wand is broken." She raised her other hand, gesturing.
"Is the broken wand still with you?" Dumbledore asked.
"Yes…" Harry pulled out his wand—holly and phoenix feather, nearly snapped in two, held together only by a single feather. "We tried repairing it, but… the damage was too severe."
"No, Harry," Dumbledore said. "You couldn't repair it because you weren't strong enough."
He placed the broken wand on the ground, then tapped it lightly with his own. Before their eyes, the wand fused back together, its tip sparking with red embers.
Hermione's eyes widened in astonishment.
"Try it, Harry," Dumbledore encouraged with a nod.
Harry picked up his wand, and a sudden warmth surged through his fingers, as if the wand and he were rejoicing in their reunion.
"Now, let's begin the lesson," Dumbledore said, waving his wand. "You too, Sirius—don't think you're sneaking off." With another flick, he pulled a reluctant Sirius back, then conjured a stream of colorful bubbles from his wand's tip.
"First lesson: the essence of magic…"
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