Harry's Grief - 7

Harry had no idea what they did all day. Uncle Vernon, in particular, seemed lost without a telly, and Aunt Petunia was on hands and knees scrubbing and muttering that she'd see to it there was no need for those foul creatures to enter her room.

If his heart hadn't been so heavy, he might have even been amused by it.

"Voldemort's shut down St. Mungo's," Ron said grimly. "Anyone needing medical attention has to be approved by the Ministry – namely him."

"That's barbaric," Harry replied, knowing he should no longer be surprised by anything.

"He won't allow them to heal Muggleborns," Hermione said, her mouth set in a grim line.

"What are you going to do, Harry?" Bill asked.

Harry raised his eyes slowly, realizing all the inhabitants of the room were staring at him. Harry could almost feel a gauntlet being passed, as if they'd finally accepted that he was the only one who could end the madness.

Aunt Petunia's eyes widened, as if she was only just realizing it was Harry whom they were turning.

"I'm going to stop him," Harry said. It felt good to say it out loud, and doing so bolstered his confidence. "I've already asked Moody for some assistance, but I have one other thing I have to do first before I can confront him."

"Why? What is it you're doing that is so important? It seems to me stopping him should be the most important thing," Bill said, wincing.

"Bill!" Mrs. Weasley said, tears filling her eyes.

"It's not what I want to happen. I wish it didn't have to be Harry, but we all realize it does, even if we don't want to have to admit it. Harry has said it has to be him, so I'd like to know what else is so much more important," Bill said.

"It's okay," Harry said quietly. "It's a reasonable question. I still can't give you the answer, but I promise you that what I'm doing is helping to ensure I can kill him when the battle begins."

Harry absently watched the expressions on his aunt's face, uncertain what was going on behind her eyes.

"How do you even know where to find him?" Professor McGonagall asked.

"Are you kidding?" Fred asked incredulously. "Harry doesn't have to find him – all he has to do is go outside and stand still for a bit. V-V-Voldemort always seems to find him."

"Fred!" Mrs. Weasley shouted. She was working herself into quite a state.

Mr. Weasley patted her back. "It's all right, Molly."

"It's not all right. Nothing is all right, and I can't bear the thought of letting Harry walk right into this," she cried, taking a sharp breath.

Harry knelt in front of her, taking her hands in his own. "Mrs. Weasley," he said, uncertain what he could possibly say that might make her feel better.

"Don't, Harry," she said, squeezing his fingers as tears leaked from her eyes. "I know what you're going to say, but understanding it and accepting it are two different things. You're like one of my own children, and I can't bear the thought of having to watch you do this. I should be the one protecting you."

"I don't want you to protect me, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied, his throat tight. "The people who've already tried haven't done so well."

"Oh, Harry," Mrs. Weasley said, throwing herself in his arms.

Harry felt panicked, and he raised his eyes towards Ginny, seeking help. He was dismayed to see tears glistening in her eyes, as well.

Mr. Weasley was the one who came to his rescue, pulling his wife back and letting her cry on his shoulder.