The Lost Horcrux

The Triad

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.

***

It was standard practice at the Blue Palace that any suspicious or confirmed enemy captors were turned over to Angharad and Myfanwy for primary interrogation. They took the role of joint Chiefs of Security, were rigorous and highly-trained, not to mention efficient and experienced. But with Angharad still recovering from her injuries, and Myfanwy a much-relieved girlfriend clinging to her bedside, the task fell to Harry to complete.

Not that he would have let this interrogation go any other way ... not when he had a Weasley under his wand.

After preparing his Ritual Chamber for the upcoming interview, Harry made his way slowly through the house, weighing up the suggestion he was about to make to Hermione. The idea had only come to him as he prepared his magical space, and he was reasonably confident it would be beneficial, but Hermione would need to show great courage if she agreed to his plan. Harry knew she had courage in spades, but her fear of this particular family was easily its dark equal just now.

Harry found Hermione in her bedroom suite with Enola, who was teaching her some of the basic wand-movements she used to clean Harry's scar. He looked at her as he entered, dismissed her with just a glance, then turned to Hermione once they were alone.

"Well, that was a little rude," Hermione frowned. "I assume you have good reason?"

Harry nodded pensively. "I do. The Ritual Chamber is ready ... I'm about to bring Percy in."

"Can I watch?" Hermione asked, hopefully.

"I'm actually hoping you'll join me," Harry muttered.

Hermione flushed at that. She couldn't help it. In all her queries into ritual magic here, everyone said that Harry only ever cast personal magic alone, that to do otherwise would bring outsiders too close to his most intimate of energies. In group ritual he borrowed the magic of others, harnessed it with his own, but only fused with it on a restricted scale. This ritual, Harry had told her, would involve opening up his mind fully to tear Percy's link to Hermione away, and nobody else was permitted to join.

But here he was ... inviting her along. Hermione felt bizarrely as though Harry were asking her on a date, one where they'd finally have their first kiss. She felt as shaken by this request as she might have that one.

"I ... I thought you said you would do this alone?" she asked, her voice oddly quivery.

"I will, mostly, but I think we might be able to achieve something else, too," Harry replied. "I think we might be able to start your healing against Ron today."

Hermione perked up in hope. "How?"

Harry sat next to her on the bed and took her hand, smoothing the back of her palm with the pad of his thumb and smiling at the feeling. "I've been trying so hard, thinking so much about ways I can help you. But every time I think I find a solution, another problem comes up. So I've slowly had to accept a hard truth."

"Which is?"

"That I can't fix this for you," Harry replied, a groan of regret rising in his chest. "These wounds, these memories, these fears are so deeply ingrained into you that not even my best magic can reach them. I've come to the realisation that only you can heal yourself of this. I can help, but you have to do the hard work yourself."