Chapter- 3 : Grief

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God, he was exhausted.

Discovering Hermione's clue, hearing of Ginny's kidnapping, the long hours waiting, the confrontation with Lockhart, the cave in, fighting the Basilisk, Riddle, Ginny.

And Ron.

Telling Ron had hurt. And left him feeling utterly helpless. He'd known his best friend for almost two years now, and he'd never seen him go that white. Not last year when he'd offered himself as a chess piece sacrifice; not even earlier this year facing Aragog.

At least he'd been able to say yes when Ron asked if her killer was dead too.

It was a cold comfort, but it was something solid to hang on to. And Ron desperately needed something solid as his world started to shake.

He'd gotten Ron and Lockhart to the Hospital Wing doors, hoping Hermione might be unpetrified and awake by now. Ron could steady himself with cold comfort, but he hoped she would be able to give him a warmer one.

If only I could have stayed… But no, he still had things he needed to do tonight. So fearing Pomfrey might attempt to stop him, might dose him with potions or forbid adults to ask him questions, he'd seen Ron and Lockhart through the doors, then turned to do what he had to.

Which brought him here.

He watched the stone gargoyle finish moving aside, and entered the small room below the headmaster's office. Someone of authority would be there who he could talk to, even if Dumbledore was banished. He only managed a few steps up the stairs when he heard raised voices and stopped dead. A man whose voice he didn't recognize, Professor McGonagall… and Molly Weasley.

No.

Wasn't there a limit, on how many times a person had to inform someone a family member was dead? And to be forced to tell someone who'd taken him into her heart, worried over him through letters, hand-knitted a sweater and given him his very first Christmas gift…

I'd rather be back fighting the Basilisk.

But Mrs. Weasley deserved to know. And Harry was the only one who could tell her.

Closing his eyes he gathered the shreds of his willpower. Repeating his vow - this must be done, and if no one else can, I must do it - he ascended the stairs.

When he got to the top he saw the rest of the people in the room. The male voice he'd been unable to identify was Lucius Malfoy, a cringing Dobby crouching at his boots. Mr. Weasley was there, one arm around Mrs. Weasley, both of them radiating worry and fear. Dumbledore – Harry had no idea when he'd come back, but he felt a rush of gratitude at his appearance – calmly presided over it all from behind his desk, face set in an unusually grave expression.

Harry's entrance brought silence to the room.

He avoided looking at the Weasleys and simply ignored Malfoy, remembering all too well the venomous confrontation at the beginning of the school year. A brief glance and nod was all he could manage to Professor McGonagall. Mainly, he kept his focus on Dumbledore's face as he limped across the space separating them. It took the clang of the bloodied, ruby encrusted sword dropping on the desk to break their stasis.

He met Dumbledore's eyes for only a moment, before looking at the ground. He- couldn't. He couldn't meet their eyes and say this. "Professor Dumbledore, I need to talk to you. Can you send Mr. Malfoy away?"

"Harry…" The headmaster's voice was concerned and warm and comforting, and he wanted to close his eyes and just… let it go. Hand it all over. Tell Dumbledore, then let him deal with telling everyone else… "Are you sure?" Harry nodded without looking up. "Very well. Lucius, I ask you to give us a moment of privacy, please."

"I think not." Malfoy's cold, drawling tones reminded Harry of Draco at his most insufferable. "I'm a governor of Hogwarts. Nothing concerning this school could possibly necessitate my absence. From Mr. Potter's appearance, something of moment has occurred. Speak your news, boy."

Harry glanced in helpless appeal at the headmaster, but Dumbledore made no further protest. Upset that an enemy of theirs would hear this at the same time they did, he turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, unsure how to begin. Finally, he just said the only thing he could think of: "I'm sorry… Ginny's dead. Voldemort killed her."

Mrs. Weasley gasped and sank into a chair, eyes disbelieving, silent. Mr. Weasley's lips pressed tight together, almost white, and the man swayed as if receiving a blow. Harry looked on helplessly. "I wish I could have saved her." Then, again: "I'm sorry..."

He bit back all the other things he wanted to say. I wish it had been me instead. I swear I tried my best to bring her back safe. I killed him, and it wasn't enough.

Please don't hate me.

"Harry," he turned his head at the sound of his name, to look at Dumbledore. "Sit down." A chair appeared near the wall, which Harry hesitantly sank into. "I know it will be difficult, but I must insist you tell me all that has happened."

He began his recital with only a few fits and starts, feeling dazed in a way that didn't at all muffle the pain. He started with discovering Lockhart packing and moved on to heading down to the Chamber with Ron, then to the near obliviation. He briefly recounted his battle with the Basilisk, ignoring the assessing and somewhat disbelieving glances between himself and the sword. But when he got to Voldemort, he faltered, throat tightening in a way that threatened to cut off his words.

He closed his eyes, then took a steadying breath and began again. "So. The Basilisk was dead, and Fawkes had healed me from its poison while Voldemort stood there gloating, but he still had my wand. While he was focused on me, Fawkes retrieved the diary, and he dropped it into my lap. I grabbed the snapped off Basilisk fang and stabbed the diary with it. Voldemort shrieked, then disappeared. But the link between him and Ginny meant that when he died, she did too. I- " His voice wavered a bit, and he took a somewhat shaky deep breath before continuing, "I checked on her. She wasn't breathing and she wouldn't respond and she was so cold. Then I got Ron and Lockhart, Fawkes flew us all out of the Chamber, and I took them to the hospital wing. Then I knew I still needed to report what happened, so I came here."

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