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[[!meta title="Introduction: Plans"]]
Hermione was scared.
Ron had abandoned them, they had *no idea* where the remaining horcruxes were
or how to destroy them, snatchers and death eaters were just *everywhere*,
and *everything just kept getting worse.*
Frankly, it seemed like failure was the most likely outcome. Almost certain,
in fact. But Voldemort couldn't be allowed to win! If they were going to die,
she'd just have to do something about it.
"Harry, there's something I need to do."
"What is it, Hermione?"
"I've been reading, and there's this ritual... I want to do it."
"A ritual? What's it for?"
"It's just in case everything goes wrong. I don't think it'll be needed, but I
just want to be sure. I know how to do it, we just need—"
"But what does it do?"
"It's not dark or anything! Please, I just need to do this. Trust me?"
Harry just looked at her for a moment. There was something she was hiding, that
was certain, but he *did* trust her, more than anything.
"OK, Hermione. What do we need to do?"
"Just a quick trip to the Ring of Brodgar. This is the right time of year, and
it's a full moon, so we can do the ritual tonight."
"The Ring of Brodgar?"
"It's like Stonehenge, but up north in the Orkney islands, and it's still
functional and mostly hidden from the muggles. The old ritual sites, they're
like batteries collecting magic. We're going to borrow some of that magic."
"And that'll make us stronger, so we can defeat Tom?"
"Not exactly... stronger, no. Please, just don't ask me the details, OK? I
promise it's safe, and after we do this you can just forget all about it. It's
just something I need to do for us."
"I trust you, Hermione. OK, let's get everything packed up and we can head
out."
<hr />
"...seventh month, so we draw from the point seven degrees deiseil of Jupiter,
and orient towards the moon. There, done!"
"Done?"
"I've finished drawing the ritual circle. Come here, I need to draw a rune on
your sternum."
Harry watched, bemused, as Hermione carefully inked a small shape on his chest
with a metallic silver Sharpie. After finishing his, she pulled the neckline of
her shirt down slightly and drew her own.
"So, now what happens?"
"Just sit there in the center, Harry. Let me sit next to you, here, and in just
a few moments the Ring will activate and release its magic for the ritual."
"And then what?"
"Just sit, Harry. Where's the locket?"
"I left it well outside the circle, like you said."
"Good. It's important that it doesn't interfere."
Hermione had pieced together this ritual from bits and pieces she'd found
looking for ways to help in the fight against Voldemort. Nothing like it had
ever been tried, as best as she could tell. That was one reason she'd
constructed the ritual circle in the Ring of Brodgar; the ancient stones held
protections that should safely ground any dangerous magics if her ritual
failed. If the ritual succeeded... best not to think of it. Just a contingency
plan.
Harry took a few minutes to enjoy the stars. He trusted Hermione to know what
she was doing; if she wasn't telling him what the ritual was for, there must be
a good reason.
Without warning, there was a thunderclap, and all the stones in the Ring of
Brodgar began to glow an unearthly blue. Harry and Hermione stared, transfixed,
as a ghostly image of the two of them appeared before them. Harry idly noticed
that the image of himself lacked the lightning-bolt scar.
And then, without any further sound, the image vanished. The Ring briefly
flashed red, then darkened and returned to its mundane state.
Harry looked over at Hermione. "Was that it? Did it work?"
"Yes, Harry, it worked. Now forget about it. Help me erase these runes and
clean up, will you?"
"OK, Hermione. Hey, that thing you drew on my chest is gone!"
"Don't worry about it. That's supposed to happen; it's all part of the plan."
<hr />
Plans. His whole life had just been other peoples' plans.
Dumbledore's *stupid* plans to ruin his childhood and make him sacrifice
himself to defeat Voldemort. The Ministry's plans to parade him around as a
figurehead and political tool to keep the same old politicians in power. Molly
Weasley's plans for One Big Weasley Family and her damnable willingness to
help her children along with love potions.
Those love potions had shattered what was left of Hermione's independence and
motivation. Marrying Ron had destroyed all her plans for the future.
All his life, Harry had let other people tell him what to do. People with more
experience, more money, more political clout. Now here he was, one hundred and
forty-four years later, miserable.
The marriage with Ginny had been a sham. None of his children had been *his*
children, and his wife hadn't even had the courage to tell him while she lived.
Instead he was left to discover it for himself when he went to file his will
with the Goblins, only to be told that he had no living blood relatives to
inherit his title.
His best friend, whom everyone had said would change the world, had instead
accomplished nothing. Her dreams and ambitions were trampled under the
insecurities and jealousy of her husband. Harry had used his connections with
the Unspeakables to at least sneak her new books to read, but Ron would never
allow her to pursue her own research or political aspirations.
Unhappy, depressed, angry, and alone, Harry went to sleep. Some time during the
night, his heart stopped, and the 162-year-old boy-who-won died in his bed.
His body flashed, once, a bright blood red.
Miles away, Hermione Weasley smiled in her sleep as she felt her magic gather
itself for something great. Seconds later, she too flashed red, and died.
<hr />
"Wake up, Hermione, you need to get ready for school! And happy birthday, dear!
We'll have a cake and presents for you when you get home!"
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