FicWad

After spending a quiet afternoon in his room with Ginny, Harry felt the pull to reconnect with Ron and Hermione, even though the potion for the ritual was ready. Despite knowing that delaying the ritual was risky, Harry couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed another moment with his friends before potentially facing his fate. Reluctantly, the adults acquiesced to Harry’s request, under the condition that he would inform them immediately if he felt unwell. So Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny gathered around Dobby’s grave outside the cottage.

Ginny gently tucked the blankets around Harry, who gazed solemnly at the worn headstone with the inscription “HERE LIES DOBBY, A FREE ELF.” A colourful array of flowers adorned the grave site, a testament to the peace and tranquillity of Dobby’s final resting place. Each bloom seemed to capture a memory of the brave and loyal elf.

I wish you were here with us, my friend.Harry grieved.

Harry’s heart felt heavy; a lump lodged in his throat as they reminisced. The grave, humble yet profound, seemed to echo with the loyalty and kindness of the house-elf who had once risked everything for them.

Harry lifted his gaze towards the vast expanse of the clear blue sky, while the crashing waves below provided a calming sound. The gentle roar of the waves was somewhat muffled by the towering cliffside, creating a serene atmosphere. However, the tranquillity was disrupted as a sharp pang of pain shot through Harry’s body, causing him to tense up. Despite being initially comforted by the soothing waves, Harry hid his discomfort from his friends, not wanting to worry them.

“Are you okay?” Ginny’s voice broke through, her brown eyes searching his. The warmth of her concern enveloped him, and he saw Ron and Hermione lean in, their expressions hardened with worry.

Harry inhaled deeply, steeling himself against the faint tremors that echoed from his core. “I do get pain sometimes,” he confessed, feeling the edges of vulnerability blur his resolve. But as he felt their eyes on him, the weight of their concern bore down even harder. “But I’m fine!” he added quickly, summoning what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Ron, ever the protector, couldn’t soften the furrow in his brow. “Are you absolutely sure, mate? Perhaps we should just head back to your room instead. You’d probably feel more comfortable there.”

With a hesitant nod, Harry replied, “I’m sure.” His hand instinctively brushed the cool stone of Dobby’s memorial. “I want to spend some time with him, too.”

The subject dropped, though the air around them thickened with unspoken words. Ginny shifted closer, resting her head on Harry’s chest, grounding him. The warmth of her presence melted the ice of solitude he’d wrapped around himself. For a moment, nothing else mattered but the rhythmic sound of her heartbeats—steady, reassuring.

The thought of Dobby’s death made Harry’s hand tremble as he wondered when—or if—the pain of losing someone so close would ever go away. Though their memories continued to haunt and comfort him, the loss remained devastating. Having survived Voldemort’s Killing Curse, Harry had firsthand experience with death. It now seemed to follow him everywhere, even into his dreams. He couldn’t help but wonder if it hurt to die.

“I miss Dobby,” Hermione expressed unexpectedly, appearing to tap into Harry’s thoughts. Her voice trembled slightly, laden with loss. “He was a courageous house-elf, always ready to put himself in danger for what he believed was right.”

Ron nodded, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I remember how he affectionately referred to me as Wheezy. It took me a while to figure out why.”

Harry smiled at the memory, but a shadow of sorrow darkened his eyes. “Dobby was more than just a servant; he was a true friend,” he murmured softly. The rest of the group silently nodded, lost in their thoughts, understanding the weight of that statement.

“You’re absolutely right, Harry,” Hermione pondered, her gaze locked on Dobby’s grave. “He had deep loyalty to you. I think Dobby considered you his best friend.”

Harry’s smile turned bittersweet. “He truly was a free elf.”

Ron chuckled, though his voice held a sombre edge. “The way he showed his dedication was rather unconventional. Remember when he unwittingly harmed Harry to try and protect him?”

The memory hung in the air like a ghost, unforgiving. Harry hung his head low, a wave of regret washing over him. “I had already forgiven Dobby. I had advised him not to put himself in danger trying to save me again.”

He fought back tears, overwhelmed by the guilt. “But he did... and now he’s gone because of me.”

“Stop that,” Ginny interjected firmly, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. It was a fleeting comfort that made him flinch, a reminder of the pain he was in. “Don’t blame yourself; it wasn’t your fault. If anyone is to be blamed, it’s Bellatrix Lestrange. She’s the one who killed him, not you.”

Ron hastily added, “I have immense respect for Dobby,” he declared solemnly. “He saved our lives.”

Hermione nodded, trying her best to remain positive despite the grief. “Dobby always found ways to help, even if those ways were unconventional. He was extremely loyal and hard-working.”

“Yeah,” Harry responded quietly, looking from one friend to the next. “Like you three.”

The words hung in the air, tender and surprising. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were momentarily taken aback, stunned by Harry’s admission. It was as if a hidden door had swung open, revealing thoughts long buried.

Harry continued, the words spilling out of him like a long-held secret. “Not everyone is fortunate enough to have such a strong friendship. I didn’t have any friends for the first eleven years of my life because Dudley bullied me for being different.”

He paused, swallowing hard, his gaze drifting toward the crashing waves. Memories flickered to life like fireflies in the dark. “When I got my letter from Hogwarts, I never thought about making friends because I didn’t think anyone would want to be my friend. I was used to being lonely, but then you showed up at the barrier to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters and later in my train compartment.”

Harry chuckled softly, the weight of nostalgia filling his heart. “I realised that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.”

His eyes settled on Ron. “I’ll never forget that day. All of the other compartments were full, and you accompanied me. I must’ve looked so alone. Given how isolated I was back then, I appreciate you reaching out. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to me.”

Ron rubbed the back of his neck, his ears turning a shade of crimson. “Yeah, well… You did seem really lonely.”

Harry awkwardly laughed. “I didn’t intend to make myself seem like that. When I first started in the Wizarding World, I was very confused because I had no knowledge of spells or the magical history. I felt like a fool being suddenly thrust into this unfamiliar world.”

Ron grinned, his earlier shyness fading. “Yeah, it was a shame you didn’t know anything back then. But look at you now!” He gestured proudly at Harry. “Saviour of the Wizarding World! The-Boy-Who-Lived! The Chosen One! The teen who defeated You-Know-Who! You’ve come so far since those days when you were just another kid feeling really lonely.”

Harry’s face flushed with embarrassment at Ron’s enthusiastic proclamation. “No, I mean yes, I did defeat Voldemort, but I couldn’t have done most of it without you,” he insisted. “You’re much stronger than others may think. If you hadn’t sat next to me on the train that day, I wouldn’t be here. If Dobby hadn’t blocked the entrance to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, I might be expelled for missing our second year or still stuck at the giant chess board from our first year.”

“Wow, I still remember the flying car and the scary incident with the Whomping Willow that broke my wand—not to mention Hagrid’s giant spiders!” Ron exclaimed, visibly frightened at the recollection. Hermione and Ginny chuckled at his expense. “I was so glad to finally get out of that forest. I’m never going back there, I promise!” Ron added with a nervous laugh.

Harry grinned. “Yeah, or else you’d have peed your pants.”

“I already told you, I almost did!” Ron shot back, impatience creeping into his tone. “I was just really scared, okay?”

Laughter erupted between them, a joyous release overshadowing the sadness in the air. Despite the sharp pang of loss for Dobby, they found solace in one another’s friendship, an understanding that life would go on, and order could be restored amid the chaos of grief.

Taking a deep breath, Harry turned to Hermione, his other closest friend, with a grateful smile. “Hermione, without you, I wouldn’t have realised how reckless I truly am,” he said with a grateful smile. “You’ve been my guiding light throughout everything.” The weight of those words lifted a burden from his heart, one he hadn’t known was there.

Hermione blushed briefly before rolling her eyes playfully. “I always knew you needed someone to keep you in line, even when you thought I was just a know-it-all.”

Harry was genuinely surprised by her words. His jaw dropped in shock. “Wait, are you sure you’re talking about me and not Ron?”

Ron, who had been lounging right next to Hermione, looked up with mock indignation. “Hey! She was referring to you, Harry, not me. Don’t bring me into this!” He gestured dramatically, a smirk dancing on his lips.

Hermione crossed her arms, a mock-serious expression crossing her face. “Without me, both of you would likely fail, not just in dangerous situations but in your everyday lives as well.” Her words hung in the air, a mixture of humour and truth that stung.

Feeling utterly mortified, Harry and Ron exchanged glances. They knew she spoke the truth. They needed her more than they cared to admit.

“You’re always right, Hermione,” Harry conceded, glancing at Ron, who nodded in agreement. “You’ve been there for me through everything, even when Ron was not as supportive.”

“Hey!” Ron protested, crossing his arms defensively. “I’m always on your side, Harry. You wouldn’t call me your best mate if I didn’t have your back most of the time.” His voice held a hint of hurt, though he attempted to keep the playful banter alive.

Harry sighed, a hint of annoyance creeping into his tone. “That’s true, but remember when you doubted me during the Goblet of Fire incident? Hermione was the one who had my back. You didn’t come around until after the First Task. You really let me down.”

The words hit Ron like a physical blow. He stared at Harry, jaw agape. “That’s not fair!” he protested, frustration spilling over. “I admitted my mistake and apologised sincerely. Give me a break.”

Amidst their bickering, Hermione and Ginny, who had sidled up alongside with a smile, couldn’t help but chuckle at the display.

Harry shot Ron a wide grin. “I was just teasing, mate,” he assured him, wanting to lighten the mood.

“Oh, I see...” Ron replied with mock seriousness as he rubbed his chin. “Well then, I’ll make sure to give you a hard time about my sister,” he shot back playfully, a conspiratorial smile spreading across his face.

Ginny, hearing this, elbowed Ron sharply with a warning look. “Don’t even think about it, Ronald Weasley, or I’ll give you a hard time with Hermione!” Her tone was fierce, but her wink after it showed that she was clearly joking. Hermione laughed, the sound bright and hopeful.

“Don’t give him ideas, Ginny!” Ron retorted defensively, the sibling in him rising. “I can say whatever I want—I’m your brother!”

“Stop with that nonsense!” Ginny exclaimed, her tone mimicking their mother’s commanding voice.

The laughter that erupted from Harry and Hermione was contagious, and it eased the tension that had formed moments before.

“But truly, Ron...” Harry gazed up at him earnestly, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I appreciate our friendship more than anything. Thank you for always being there for me. You’re a true friend, and I hope that in twenty years, we can reminisce about the strong bond we share and all the incredible adventures we’ve had together. You’re the best friend I’ve ever had, and I genuinely mean that.”

Ron raised an eyebrow, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “You’re only saying that because you’re afraid of what I’ll do to you for dating my sister,” he said, although his mock suspicion gave way to a grin. Ginny shot him a disapproving look, shaking her head.

Harry chuckled nervously, nodding his head, an exaggerated gulp escaping his throat. “Yeah, maybe there’s a bit of truth to that,” he admitted sheepishly. To his surprise, Ron merely grinned in approval, the tension dissolving into friendly banter once more.

Then, unexpectedly, tears welled up in Hermione’s eyes, catching everyone off guard.

“Please don’t cry, Hermione. There’s no need for tears,” Harry reassured her, bewildered by her sudden emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry! I just... This friendship means so much to me,” she said, her voice quavering as emotion enveloped her. In a spontaneous gesture, she enveloped both of her friends in a warm embrace, squeezing them tightly, her heart swelling with love and gratitude.

Ron chuckled, albeit a bit sheepishly. “Let Harry catch his breath,” he interjected, a smile playing on his lips as he returned her hug.

Hermione released them from her embrace, wiping her tears away as she settled back into her seat.

“Thanks, Hermione.” The words slipped from Harry’s lips before he fully realised it. Hermione looked up abruptly, her face momentarily caught in confusion before it melted into a soft smile.

“You’re the most caring friend I could ever hope for,” Harry continued. His voice wavered slightly, the weight of unspoken gratitude pressing against his chest. “Your constant encouragement lifts me; you recognise my inner strength and remind me of that, even when I lose sight of it. Our friendship has helped me become a braver, more confident person. You inspire me with your courage and resilience. Despite the difficulties of life, our journeys together have strengthened our bonds.”

Harry paused, taken aback as Hermione’s eyes began to glimmer, the familiar spark of her spirit dampened by a flood of emotion. “I’m… extremely grateful to have you as the sister I never had. Your faith in me is everything.”

His words broke through what had seemed like an unbreakable shell, causing tears to spill down Hermione’s flushed cheeks like rain against the parched earth. Ron, sitting nearby, whipped his head around, shock clearly etched on his face. “Look at what you’ve done,” he murmured, shaking his head, his arm instinctively wrapping around Hermione’s trembling shoulders. The gesture was one of comfort, a silent promise that he too would stand by them, no matter the tides of change.

As Ron quietly reassured her, Hermione’s tears ebbed, and her breathing steadied. After a long moment, she wiped her cheeks dry and gave Harry a meaningful glance. “I understand why you’re feeling sentimental,” she said, her voice soft as the sand beneath them. “But Harry, you don’t need to be afraid. We’re here.”

Fear—it clung to Harry like shadows in a darkened room. Fear of parting, fear of loss, fear of the uncertainty that clawed at him every night. He shrugged, casting his eyes low to hide the welling tears. He had a million memories, a thousand inside jokes, and a hundred shared secrets thanks to their close friendship. Ron and Hermione had always been there to lend a helping hand when he needed it, showing him care and love even during his strangest ideas and stunts. Despite numerous obstacles and attempts to separate them, their friendship has stood the test of time. Now, Harry felt suffocated and couldn’t stop trembling. He did not want to leave them. He was afraid of dying, no matter how much he denied it. He wanted to grow old alongside them, riding life’s never-ending roller coaster, never knowing when it would end. However, knowing that his time was running out stripped him of his will to live. He clung to each moment of his illness, fearing that every breath would be his last.

“I’m afraid I won’t have another chance like this to express how grateful I am for you both,” Harry said, his voice barely above a whisper as despair crept in. “I don’t want to pass up this opportunity to truly express myself before it’s too late.” Vulnerability had crept in through the cracks, and Harry found his composure slipping away as tears filled his eyes.

Hermione immediately leaned in, her warmth wrapping around him like a blanket. “It will never be too late, Harry.” Her tone brimmed with steadfast assurance, as she gently patted his arm. “You’ll always have ample time to share your thoughts and emotions with us. There’ll be countless opportunities for you to express yourself in the future. We’ll ensure that you get to experience so much more, and we’ll always be there by your side to support you.”

Soft words, filled with hope, but doubt gnawed at him. What if the potion they were contemplating would take them somewhere he couldn’t follow? The idea of not controlling their fate sent a chill down his spine.

Tears flowed unrestrained as Harry broke down, his body trembling in the solitude of his fears. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione formed a protective circle around him, holding his hands tightly, reminding him he wasn’t alone. Feeling their solidarity, Harry breathed through the storm of anguish, reminding himself to ask for help and to accept the comfort they so willingly offered.

Looking up at the darkening sky, Harry felt a sense of calm wash over him as the gentle wind brushed against his face. His friends’ presence brought him comfort and reassurance, and as they exchanged knowing looks, Harry felt a sense of unity and readiness for whatever challenges lay ahead.

The group spent the remainder of the hour reminiscing, sharing stories, and alternating between laughing and crying. The bond between them grew stronger as they connected on a deeper level, understanding and supporting each other through their emotions.

The salty sea air had already clung to their skins as Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny said their goodbyes to Dobby. With his steadfast friends by his side, Harry slowly trudged back to the cottage, the four of them carrying renewed hope for another day and wishing only for good things and dreams of a better life ahead.

Harry could feel the world around him blurring, out of focus. The candle flames flickered ominously, casting fleeting shadows across the table. He could feel their eyes—concern, worry—all directed at him as if he were a fragile glass figurine, ready to shatter at any moment. As the thick air clung to him like a damp cloak, Harry felt suffocated by the weight of unspoken fears.

Even though everyone seated at the table appeared to be relaxed, there was undeniable tension in the air. The howling winds rattled the old windows of the Burrow, each gust echoing the turmoil in Harry’s heart. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, usually the vibrant core around which all laughter and stories revolved, had turned silent, their usual banter replaced by glances at their plates—uneasy, burdened. They shared the same anxious mystery, an unspoken acknowledgement of the gravity of the evening ahead.

The purpose of their gathering was to repair his fractured soul, but the potential dangers of the potion and ritual lingered in the back of everyone’s minds, casting a shadow of fear over them. The silence was deafening, broken only by Harry’s occasional cough, which brought them back to the painful reality that they were still eating at the table.

Sipping his Invigoration Draught, Harry had hoped for a surge of energy to combat the exhaustion that threatened to drown him. Unfortunately, the potion had the opposite effect, exacerbating his already fragile state. As the wind howled outside and his nerves intensified, Harry found himself completely devoid of appetite. An overwhelming sense of pain enveloped him, manifesting as severe nausea, a pounding headache, and a burning sensation in his chest with every breath he took. Despite futilely massaging his temples, the pain only intensified, reaching unbearable levels. In a sudden moment of clarity, Harry felt as though he was losing his grip on life, succumbing to a profound feeling of hopelessness. The sheer exhaustion weighed heavily on him, leaving him too weary to muster the strength to continue fighting. With a sense of resignation, he came to terms with the possibility of this being his end, albeit reluctantly. If this was to be his fate, Harry found solace in the thought of meeting it in the comfort of his familiar surroundings, surrounded by those who cared for him. All he desired now was the tranquillity and relief that sleep would bring him. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of exhaustion finally pulling him under, ready to accept whatever came next.

“Harry!” Voices broke through his spiralling thoughts, cutting through the fog. The frantic calls pierced the unease, each concerned inquiry like an anchor dragging him back towards consciousness. “Harry? Are you alright?” The concern radiating from their words unfolded a warmth amidst the chill wrapping around him. Among them, Ginny’s gentle touch and soft tone were unmistakable, drawing him like a moth to a flame.

“I’m okay,” he managed to croak, barely more than a whisper. The assurance felt hollow, a thin veneer covering the tumult beneath. As he lifted his head, the effort consumed what little strength he had. He stared into Ginny’s eyes, which swam with worry—their depths reflecting not just concern but a fierce determination that kindled something within him.

“You don’t seem well. Would you like to lie down?” Ginny suggested softly, her eyes scanning him, searching for signs of hope.

Harry hesitated, the weight of politeness grappling with his aching body. He knew leaving the table would draw attention and disrupt the fragile peace they were all holding onto, but the sickly pull of fatigue became undeniable. With a small nod, he surrendered to her kindness.

Seeing him move stirred the others into action, and the space around the table brimming with unease shifted into a realm of concern. Hagrid, towering and protective, immediately offered to carry him, but Harry shook his head, mustering the remnants of his dignity. “Could you just help me walk, Hagrid?”

Hagrid’s face illuminated with understanding as he gently held onto Harry’s elbow. With trembling resolve, Harry pushed himself to his knees before rising, every movement a battle against the shadows that writhed at the edges of his vision. “Take it slow,” Ginny advised, her voice steadying him like a lighthouse beacon amidst turbulent seas.

Clenching his jaw, he took a tentative first step, his leg trembling, but he concentrated on the finish line—the solace of his bed, the soothing stillness of sleep. Ron and Hermione flanked him, their presence a balm, a reminder that he was not alone in this fight against the encroaching darkness. Hermione’s hand gripped his shoulder, her warmth radiating through the cold shuddering runs down his spine.

As he made his way back to his room, Harry observed that Hagrid was unusually quiet, leading him to believe that he was holding back intense feelings. Harry could tell that Hagrid was relieved when he hugged him tightly, but once they reached his bed, Hagrid couldn’t contain his loud, messy sobs. He made frantic attempts to dry his tears, as if they were releasing all the emotions he had kept bottled up.

Harry couldn’t shake the unnerving feeling that Hagrid was holding back intense emotions. It struck him as odd; Hagrid was the type who wore his heart on his sleeve, never hesitating to express his thoughts and feelings. But tonight, he was quiet, and it worried Harry.

“Are you alright, Hagrid?” Harry asked, looking up at his towering friend.

“Hm? Oh, yes, yes, Harry. Just thinkin’, y’know?” Hagrid replied, but his voice lacked enthusiasm, and his brow furrowed with hidden concerns.

As they entered the small room, a wave of familiarity washed over Harry. The warmth of the space comforted him yet felt dulled. Hagrid stepped close, and before Harry could say another word, Hagrid swept him into a bear-like hug, squeezing him tightly. In that embrace, Harry felt Hagrid’s relief, like a sigh escaping from a bated breath. Yet, as they settled down beside Harry’s bed, it all came crashing down.

Hagrid’s shoulders began to shake, and a low, messy sob escaped from him, echoing in the room like thunder. Harry stiffened, not knowing what to do as Hagrid dabbed his eyes with a large, spotted handkerchief, the fabric barely able to contain the tears that streamed down the rough canvas of his cheeks.

“Hagrid,” Harry said gently, placing a hand on Hagrid’s massive arm.

“Sorry, Harry,” Hagrid stammered, his voice raw and heavy. “It’s jus’—yer gettin’ weaker and weaker, and I can’t stand it.”

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny lingered near the doorway, their expressions laden with worry. They stood silently, forming a small circle of concern around Harry and Hagrid.

“Don’t worry, Hagrid,” Harry began, forcing a bravado he didn’t entirely feel. “I’ll be fine.”

Harry’s words found their mark, and Hagrid wiped his eyes, his face slowly softening—yet the worry was evident, hanging in the air.

“I have faith in yer friends, Harry,” Hagrid continued, with a voice shaped by both reassurance and sorrow. “Everythin’ will be okay. It’s just—you’ve been like a son ter me.”

Tears high with unspoken fears glistened in the eyes of the others as Harry wrapped his arms around Hagrid, their warmth blending in a moment filled with shared uncertainty. “You’ve been like a father to me. You were the first wizard I met, and you kindly introduced me to this world—my world. You’ve always looked out for me and supported me through many difficult times. If it weren’t for you, Hagrid, I’d be a completely different person today. I can’t thank you enough.” Harry looked up at Hagrid, his own brilliant green eyes filled with sincerity and gratitude.

A faint smile surfaced on Hagrid’s face, yet it quickly faded, his unwavering worry looming large. Harry felt sadness wash over him as he witnessed Hagrid’s open expression of fear and anguish; it was an anguished contrast to the jovial half-giant who often cheered him up with tales of magical creatures. The only other time he had seen Hagrid like this was when he thought Harry had perished in the Forbidden Forest.

“Yeh’ve been through a lot already, Harry,” Hagrid choked out, his grip tightening slightly. “I can’t even count how many times yeh ended up in the hospital wing—knocked out or recoverin’ from a fall off yer broom.”

Harry thought back to those moments—the hospital wings, the battles, the scars both physical and emotional that he carried. No matter how much he wished to evade danger, it always found him, like a predator stalking its prey.

“And now this,” Hagrid said, his voice breaking slightly as he sought to regain his composure. “I don’t know how yeh handle it. It’s like all this darkness fallin’ on yeh...I just can’t…” He wiped his eyes again, the handkerchief now soaked.

Harry felt the weight of Hagrid’s words. “I promise you, Hagrid,” he said, steadying himself as he tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, his green eyes unwavering as they locked onto Hagrid’s. “We’ll get through this. It may seem scary now, but we have to believe that everything will turn out fine in the end. I need you to believe that too, for my sake. Can you do that for me?”

Hagrid stared at Harry for a moment, lost in thought, before he nodded slowly, acknowledging the request with a trembling smile.

“Alright, Harry,” he said, though the tremors in his voice wouldn’t completely leave. “I’ll try.”

“Don’t worry,” Hermione said, her voice soft yet firm like a guiding star in a murky sky. “We’ll give it our all, like always.” Her gentle smile, bright and unwavering, seemed to infuse some hope into the tense atmosphere.

“Yeah,” Ron added, peeking from behind Hermione, his smile strained. “When have I ever let you down?” His tone betrayed a hint of desperation masked beneath feigned cheerfulness. It was a joke, and yet the crack in his voice whispered of vulnerability.

Hermione shot him a pointed look. “That doesn’t exactly boost confidence, Ron.” She shook her head but couldn’t suppress a smirk. “And you wonder why I always have a backup plan.”

“I’m just trying to lighten the mood,” Ron defended himself with a slight smirk. “All this heavy emotion is quite draining.”

“Ah, yes, I forgot how tactful and sensitive you can be, Ronald.” She elbowed him playfully, the warmth of their friendship acting as a blanket against the chill of fear that crept into the air. “Just you wait—if our plan fails, you’ll be wishing you had taken this more seriously,” she teased, her eyes glinting.

“Will it fail?” Ron blurted, his grin slipping away. Genuine fear etched into his features as he glanced back at the grim face of Hagrid.

Hermione rolled her eyes, exuding exasperation. “I’m not certain what we’ll face once we cast the spell, so you should prepare yourself in case your tact and sensitivity vanish.”

Ron swallowed hard, nervously darting his eyes from Hermione to Harry.

The moment grew solemn as Professor Slughorn entered, his presence shifting the atmosphere once more. “I hope that all of you are able to navigate through this trial successfully,” he stated, his voice rich with gravity.

The Weasley family gathered, their warmth like melting snow around a fire. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stepped forward, embracing their children tightly, weaving words of reassurance around them like a comforting spell.

“You have the ability to succeed in this,” Mr. Weasley said, his tone steady. “It all starts with believing in yourselves.” He turned to Molly, who stood near him, pride and worry mingling in her eyes.

“We have complete faith in you and Hermione. We know you’ll face whatever comes your way together,” she assured, her voice thick with emotion, one hand wiping away the tears forming at the corner of her eyes.

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley walked over to Harry with open arms, enveloping him in a loving embrace. There was no need for verbal communication to convey the depth of their affection and care for him. This embrace from the couple, whom Harry saw as his real parents, stirred up a whirlwind of emotions within him. Unlike his experiences with the Dursleys, Harry felt a sense of unconditional love that he had never felt before. Tears of gratitude began to gather in his eyes as he softly murmured, “Thank you.” Before letting him go, they tenderly kissed his forehead, a gesture that touched Harry deeply.

Professor Slughorn returned, potion cups in hand, jostling Harry back into reality. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all accepted one gently. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation as they clustered around Harry’s bed, eyes darting nervously yet determined.

Harry cleared his throat before turning to face his friends. “Thank you, all of you, for everything,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “I’m not sure what comes next, but I’m very proud of you. We’ll get through this—we’ll see another day.” He remembered his half-hearted promise from earlier and saw the concern on their faces, but he couldn’t stop smiling. Harry felt extremely fortunate to be surrounded by his family.

Slughorn brandished the Anima book, showing them the incantation etched within:“emenda eum animum.”“You must all drink the potion,” he instructed. “Then speak the spell in unison while pointing your wands at Harry.”

With a collective determination, they nodded, clinking their cups with a nervous “To Harry!”

The bitter potion slid down their throats like fiery ash. Coughing, they steadied themselves, each raising their wands like a shield pointed towards the unknown.

“Emenda eum animum!” they chanted in unison, the syllables echoing through the room with courage.

A brilliant silver light erupted from their wands, enveloping them in a radiant glow. In that moment, Harry felt the warmth of their bond coalesce into a powerful force, swirling around him. The light zoomed toward him.

And then—everything went still. The light hit him, and he went limp, a jolt coursing through him as he gasped for breath.

Suddenly, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny collapsed to the floor, their forms falling still, leaving a deafening silence in the room.