The group followed Ginny up the stairs and into Harry’s bedroom. Sunlight streamed across the floor, filling the room with a pleasant glow. Harry lay still, his breathing even, as they entered. Ron and Hermione knelt beside the bed while the others remained standing, their faces etched with concern for the boy lying there.
“Harry?” Hermione said gently.
Harry’s eyes fluttered open and focused on the fuzzy outline of his friend. “Hermione...” he rasped.
“How are you feeling?”
After a pause, he whispered, “Alright.”
Ron snorted. Hermione smiled. Exhausted, Harry let his eyes fall shut again.
“I came by to see you,” she told him. “Thought you could use some company.”
Harry’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Thanks,” he croaked.
Hermione cringed at the hoarseness of his voice. He must have screamed a lot, she thought sadly.
Drawing a breath, Mrs. Weasley said, “Harry, Professor Slughorn is here to speak with you. But if you aren’t up for it, he can come back another time.” She glanced at the professor, who gave a curt nod.
Harry sat up slowly, wincing as pain flared through his body. Ron and Hermione helped prop him against the pillows. He looked pale and exhausted, with dark shadows under his bloodshot eyes. Ginny gently slid his glasses onto his face and he murmured his thanks. Running a shaky hand through his messy hair, he tried to get comfortable despite the lingering ache.
He glanced up to see Professor Slughorn watching him with concern. “Professor,” Harry greeted him, clearing his throat when his voice came out hoarse and weak. He knew he must look dreadful.
Though he had hoped to speak privately with Slughorn, his friends showed no signs of leaving. Their eyes kept darting to him anxiously, as though expecting him to collapse again at any moment.
Sensing Harry’s discomfort, Hermione blurted out, “Harry, we already knew about the… soul.” She looked to Ron for support as she revealed the truth.
Ginny’s head jerked up sharply. “Soul? What are you talking about?” she demanded, looking from Hermione to Harry in confusion.
Harry lowered his head, staring silently at his hands. He didn’t know what to say. It didn’t matter now if they knew about his damaged soul. There was no cure. He just had to accept it, go on with life, and wait for the inevitable end. This is how it always goes, he thought heavily.
Hermione heaved a deep sigh, reluctant to be the one to tell Ginny about Harry’s secret. She felt trapped in this position yet had no choice. Before she could explain, however, Ginny directly asked Harry herself, much to Hermione’s relief.
“What are you not telling me, Harry? What’s this about a soul that Hermione mentioned?” Ginny asked pointedly.
“Yeah, since when have you known? Why didn’t you say anything?” Ron chimed in, earning a stern look from his sister for the interruption.
“It’s not really...I don’t...” Harry stammered, caught off guard. He hadn’t expected them to find out so soon. Meeting Ginny’s worried gaze, he knew he’d have to disappoint her for now by addressing Ron and Hermione first.
“I felt it when Voldemort’s Horcrux inside me was destroyed,” he explained simply.
“What did you feel?” Hermione asked gently.
“I can’t describe it exactly. All I know is my skin burns now whenever it happens,” Harry said, rubbing his arm.
“Are you saying you’ve felt like this for three weeks already?” Hermione asked, alarm showing on her face.
“It wasn’t as intense at first. The first time it lasted just a second, but the episodes have gradually gotten longer,” he clarified.
“And the potions I gave you didn’t help either.” Mrs. Weasley muttered this more to herself than to Harry, who still acknowledged her with a nod.
“I’m afraid no potion can stop what you’re experiencing, Harry,” Slughorn said sadly. “I didn’t intend to deliver bad news, but the truth was all I could provide, unfortunately. It’s not your body that suffers, but your soul. Over time it may wither away bit by bit, which I suspect is causing your symptoms.”
“Symptoms?” Harry asked, confused.
“Ron mentioned several things happening to you recently, Harry,” Hermione said anxiously.
“What do you mean?” Harry asked, puzzled.
Ron looked at him apprehensively. “You’ve been acting strange, mate. Sometimes you’re so confused it’s like someone obliviated you, and you can’t remember anything. You’ve been really out of it. And all those books about souls...”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up in disbelief towards Ron. “You went through my stuff?” he asked incredulously.
Ginny gave Ron a look that said ‘I told you he’d be mad.’
“Yeah, I did,” Ron admitted, as if it was the obvious thing to do about secrets, ignoring Ginny’s glare. “But not completely on purpose,” he added quickly. “I saw your notes, and since you won’t tell us anything, we tried to figure it out.”
“And you violated my privacy just to uncover this?” Harry asked hoarsely, his anger barely contained.
“I don’t regret it,” Ron said boldly. “Now we all understand the situation.”
“And then what happens?” Harry glared at Ron.
“Then we find a cure,” Ron stated simply.
“There is no cure!” Harry said in frustration.
“You can’t know that for certain, Harry,” Hermione interjected gently. “There must be some solution.”
“I’m almost out of time, Hermione. What do you expect me to do?” Talking aimlessly was aggravating Harry. Even if they searched for a cure, he didn’t know if one existed. “And just so you know, there were no other reference books on my specific problem.”
“You could be mistaken, Harry. Don’t assume it’s hopeless—”
“But it is!” Harry cut Hermione off sharply. She gazed at him with disapproval while Ron glared daggers.
“So you’re just giving up?” Ron spat angrily. “Is that what you mean? That you’ll just let death take you? Are you really so willing to die?”
Harry glared silently at Ron, who stared back furiously. “I won’t let your hopeless attitude ruin what we and your parents fought so long for - to live!” Ron shouted, shaking with rage. Before anyone could respond, he stormed out of the room. Mrs. Weasley hurried after him.
Frozen in bed, Harry couldn’t meet Hermione’s, Professor Slughorn’s, or especially Ginny’s gaze. He wanted to be alone, ashamed of himself. Ron was right—”his parents had valued life above all and sacrificed themselves so he could live, yet here he was, ready to toss it away like trash.
Despite feeling tense after witnessing Ron’s temper flare up, Hermione spoke softly to Harry. “We want to help you, but nothing will work if you continue to push us away. We understand how difficult this is for you, and that you’re afraid, but you’re stronger than you think. You’re a fighter, Harry. I know you are. You must hold on and battle as fiercely as you can, because we’re not abandoning you, and you shouldn’t abandon yourself either.”
Harry knew Hermione was aware of everything he had endured—”how far he’d come, all the times he had persevered when he felt he couldn’t go on, all the mornings he had dragged himself out of bed no matter how difficult it was, and all the times he had wanted to surrender but made it through another day, never forgetting the strength he had gained and developed.
Professor Slughorn, who was awkwardly standing behind Hermione, said to Harry, “If I must say, Harry, m’boy, you may not always have a comfortable life or be able to solve all the world’s problems at once, but don’t underestimate the importance you can have. History has shown us that courage and hope can spread. There are plenty of obstacles in your path, Mr. Potter - don’t become one yourself.” With that, he excused himself and left, giving them privacy.
Hermione followed after giving Harry a worried look and nodding at Ginny, who returned the gesture.
Neither Ginny nor Harry spoke when Hermione closed the door. They struggled to find words to comfort and reassure each other.
Harry’s heart skipped a beat as he met Ginny’s disappointed gaze. Clasping her hands, she stared straight at him, her face flickering with emotion.
“Ginny, I...” he trailed off, watching helplessly as she turned away, tears in her eyes. The sinking of his heart told Harry she was unprepared for this revelation, blindsided by Ron and Hermione’s discussion. He knew the sudden news must have hurt her deeply.
“I did what I thought was best for you or for us, Harry...” Ginny said in a strained voice. “I’ve given you time and space to think things through, to work out what you need. And you have. You knew.”
Tears glistened in Ginny’s eyes as she looked at Harry.
“Are you even going to tell me what’s going on with you?” she asked, frustration lacing her words as she struggled to control her emotions. “Or am I just going to keep guessing? Because right now I’m so disappointed. You kept me in the dark!”
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Harry sat motionless.
“It’s already hard for me, Ginny,” he said sadly. “I don’t want to make it harder for you. I don’t have a choice—”
“Yes you do,” she said angrily. “And you know it!”
“What do you expect me to do?” he asked, frustration growing as he tried to make Ginny understand his predicament.
“You could’ve told me sooner instead of me finding out from someone else,” she said, glaring at Harry as tears threatened to spill down her cheeks. “I’m your girlfriend for goodness sake!”
“I’m sorry, I know I’ve apologized before, but I’ll say it again: I don’t want to hurt you, Ginny,” he replied earnestly.
She cocked a skeptical eyebrow. “And you think I care about that?” she asked accusingly.
“I care...” said Harry with dignity. “I don’t want your life to fall apart because of me.”
Ginny glowered at Harry, outraged disbelief clouding her eyes. She trembled, fighting to steady her voice as she demanded, “You’d rather I live ignorant and content than share the dangers you face? Is that what you truly want?”
Harry sighed, his shoulders slumping wearily. “It’s for the best,” he murmured. “You know the curse upon my life, Ginny. Though it pains me to admit, we have no future together. I cannot escape my fate, nor can I protect you from its fallout.”
“No,” she said defiantly, refusal burning in her eyes.
“No what?” asked Harry, bewildered by her defiance.
“Don’t give up on us!” she snapped, “I’ve cried for you, thinking you were dead, but you survived. I won’t lose you again, not for anything. I’ll take any risk to keep you safe. Stop pushing me away—let’s find the cure together.”
Harry sighed heavily, as if admitting defeat. “I suppose there’s no way around this.”
“No,” Ginny said firmly. “Don’t try to protect me. I’m helping whether you want me to or not.”
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The fierce afternoon sun only exacerbated Ron’s foul mood as he stormed out of Harry’s room into the stifling living room. Seething with anger, the heat made him feel even worse. Though he hadn’t meant to yell at Harry, Ron struggled to control his temper when faced with Harry’s bleak outlook.
Collapsing onto the sofa, Ron buried his face in his hands just as his mother marched in, hands on her hips. Resigned to the imminent scolding, Ron didn’t even try to explain.
“Ronald -” she began.
“Mum, please!” Ron interrupted, too weary to hear a lecture when he already felt so awful.
“Don’t you dare—”
Ron struggled to explain himself to his mother after his outburst at Harry. “I know I shouldn’t have said that to him, but he was being so stubborn,” Ron said. “He was going on about dying and wouldn’t listen to us. How could I stay silent after losing Fred? I just...I couldn’t...”
Unable to finish his words, Ron took a shaky breath, frustration and sadness welling up inside him. He stared at the floor, trying to compose himself.
Molly sighed, seeing the anguish on her son’s face and in his slumped shoulders. She knelt in front of Ron and gently touched his arm, understanding his pain.
“When people are at their lowest point,” Molly began, “they can lose control of their emotions and say things they don’t mean. I know your words came from a place of pain, but lashing out won’t help you express your views.”
Just then, Hermione and Professor Slughorn came downstairs and hurried over, worry etched on their faces.
“Harry is under so much strain,” Molly continued as Ron watched Hermione impassively out of the corner of his eye. “It’s understandable that his emotions would overwhelm him, making him disregard anything else. But don’t feed those feelings that could push him over the edge. Do you see what I’m saying, Ron? You’re his best friend for a reason.” She squeezed his shoulder and walked away.
Hermione went over to Ron and sat beside him, taking his hands in hers. Ron squeezed her hands gently, reassuring her that he was alright. In times like these, he just wanted Hermione by his side. Harry had always been central to their lives. Losing him to a problem they felt they could have better solved was something Ron didn’t think he could ever accept.
Why did Harry have to believe there was no way out? Ron thought sadly, frustration still clouding his mind.
“Professor,” Hermione said suddenly, her voice tinged with desperation as she looked up at Slughorn, “earlier you mentioned Dumbledore might have known a way to mend a soul. Could he have kept a book with that information?”
Slughorn sighed and slumped into a chair across from them. His tired eyes peered at Hermione, who waited patiently and hoped to hear good news after the bad news they’d heard. Slughorn looked down at his hands and thought hard.
“I suppose so,” said Slughorn, “but he could have read it elsewhere, not just the Hogwarts library, or heard it from someone. You can never really know. He liked traveling when young and is skilled at conversation.”
“We could at least check Dumbledore’s office first to see if we find anything,” Ron suggested. “If not, we can figure out the next step.”
Slughorn and Hermione glanced at him.
“That’s one possibility, Mr. Weasley,” said Slughorn.
“If the book is still in Dumbledore’s office,” Hermione eagerly suggested to Ron, her expression suddenly turning worried, “do you think Professor McGonagall would allow us to borrow it? Those books belong to Dumbledore himself.” She glanced hopefully toward Professor Slughorn. “Professor, I know it’s asking a lot, but could you try to find the book we need from Dumbledore’s office? It may contain information that could help us.”
Professor Slughorn pondered Hermione’s request in silence for a few moments, barely looking their way. “I believe I could,” he finally said thoughtfully. “Minerva likely wouldn’t mind. However, it may take some time to locate the specific book among Dumbledore’s many shelves.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said with a small smile, relief washing over her. “At least now we know where to start looking for a cure,” she added happily.
Slughorn stood up and said, “I must be going now. It was good to see you both so concerned for your friend. I can only hope to bring good news once I find a promising book to bring back on my next visit.” He turned and strode to the kitchen fireplace to Floo back to Hogwarts. Ron and Hermione followed him. He waved goodbye before disappearing into the green flames. For now, all Ron and Hermione could do was wait for Slughorn’s return.
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After Molly informed Arthur of Harry’s dire condition in a letter at work, a somber mood settled over the Burrow. When Arthur returned home that evening, he still clutched Molly’s letter, his face pale. Sitting at the kitchen table, Molly recounted to him the day’s troubling events. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny listened nearby, their worried faces reflecting the gravity of Harry’s situation.
“Is Harry resting now?” Arthur asked, gazing up at the ceiling as if he could see through to Harry’s room above.
“Yes,” Molly replied. “I gave him a sleeping draught. He was becoming increasingly restless.” Lately Harry had struggled to sleep through the night. At random hours he would wake, burning with pain too intense to bear silently. Ever since admitting to Mrs. Weasley that he had been using Silencing Charms, she had forbidden that practice. She insisted she would rather be woken by his screams than left unaware of his suffering. Now Harry had no choice but to muffle his cries in his pillow. The sleepless nights showed in his dulled green eyes and dark circles.
Arthur sighed and asked his wife, “Do you think we should take Harry to St Mungo’s Hospital?”
“No,” Ron interjected suddenly as his parents looked at him. “Harry wouldn’t like that.”
“Why not?” Molly asked. “He would be better cared for there than here.” As much as Molly wanted to help Harry, she had to admit she lacked the medical knowledge to treat such grave illness and would have to rely on professionals.
“Did you forget what Slughorn told us?” Ron asked, looking at his mother who raised her eyebrows. “No potion or spell can cure Harry’s symptoms. They may try to make him comfortable, but the pain will always return.”
Molly looked at Ron and Hermione in disbelief, her eyes darting between them as they sat at the far end of the table. “Are you really suggesting we do nothing while Harry suffers right in front of us?”
Hermione reluctantly nodded, avoiding Molly’s gaze.
“You can’t be serious!” Molly exclaimed. “Harry’s condition is worsening by the day. I can’t just stand by and pretend everything is fine.”
“That’s why we’re waiting for Slughorn to return, so we can start finding a cure,” Ron replied, running a hand through his hair as he stared absently at the clock on the wall. His stomach churned as he considered what could happen to Harry if they kept delaying.
“I wish Professor Slughorn would hurry up,” Hermione muttered under her breath. “Otherwise I’ll have to use Harry’s books about souls.” She stood up abruptly, startling the others in the kitchen. “Why didn’t I think of that before?”
“Think of what?” Ron frowned at her.
“Harry’s books,” she replied. “You said in your letter he has books on souls. I could read them since I’m here.” She strode across the room and up the stairs.
“You’re not going to barge into his room and take them now, are you?” Ron asked, hurrying after her.
“Yes, I am,” Hermione said, stopping outside Harry’s door and reaching for the handle.
Ron grasped her arm. “You can’t go in there. If Harry sees you, he’ll—”
“He’ll what?” Hermione interjected sharply, shaking off his hand. “You know I don’t care what he does at this point, and besides, your mum already gave him a sleeping potion.” Before Ron could protest further, Hermione turned the doorknob and entered Harry’s room.
The room was shrouded in darkness, illuminated only by the faint moonlight streaming through the window. Hermione could hear Harry’s labored breathing as she entered. Moving swiftly to his desk, she scanned the scattered book covers and gathered up three volumes. Just as she turned to leave, a mumbled utterance escaped Harry’s lips. Lost in fitful dreams, she thought. Creeping slowly toward the door, Hermione paused at the sound of her name on Harry’s breath.
“Sorry... ’Mione... Ron... Gin...”
Hearing quiet sobs, Hermione’s heart sank at the thought of Harry’s slow decline.
“Please hang on, Harry. We’ll get through this,” she whispered.
Harry, though apparently asleep, muttered “...M’kay...” This unexpected response surprised Hermione and released the tears she had been holding back since arriving at the Burrow.
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That evening in the living room, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny occupied themselves reading the library books Harry had borrowed, occasionally taking notes to add to what he had written. However, the only helpful information they could glean from the books were symptoms they had already discussed at length. To their disappointment, no mention of ‘Horcruxes’ or ‘soul mending’ appeared in any of the three books.
“Those were just basic symptoms that can be fixed with a potion or spell,” Ron sighed in frustration. “But not for Harry! How can they keep all this quiet?”
Ginny rolled her eyes as Hermione shook her head and answered, “It’s very dark, dangerous magic, Ronald. As I’ve told you repeatedly, they can’t have people learning to split their souls like a Horcrux from library books.”
Ron knew his idea was foolish, but he clung to the hope that more people writing books on mending souls could shorten their already wasted time and help Harry quickly.
“What’s Slughorn doing at Hogwarts now, anyway?” he asked impatiently, snapping shut the book he had read countless times. “It’s not like the books are on another continent—they’re in Dumbledore’s office! Yet Slughorn hasn’t sent word or anything.”
“Give him time, Ron,” said Ginny. “He only left a few hours ago.”
“That’s my point!” Ron spat. “Slughorn’s been gone for hours - it’s nearly midnight! Harry could be dead by now.”
Ginny glared at Ron. “Don’t say that!”
“Well, it’s true!” he shot back. “We’re just wasting time reading these useless books while Harry’s out there suffering, if I may add.”
“We can only hope Professor Slughorn gets back to us soon,” Hermione said calmly, though she felt impatient too. “You’ve been to Dumbledore’s office. He has tons of books. The one we need might not even be there. I’d gladly go to Hogwarts and help Professor Slughorn search if I could.”
“He could try a Summoning Charm, like you did for the Horcrux books,” Ron suggested.
“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Hermione replied.
“Why not? You summoned the Horcrux books, didn’t you?”
Hermione was silent for a while before speaking hesitantly. “While I agree it’s a good idea to summon the soul book, Ron, something about it makes me feel it won’t be that simple like it was with the Horcrux books. But,” she continued thoughtfully, “if we ever find a way to mend a soul, do you think that would be an easy task?”
Ron and Ginny gazed at her puzzled. When no one responded, Hermione elaborated, “You know creating a Horcrux is extremely dangerous, right?” The two nodded as she went on, “Not to mention you have to commit murder, which is evil enough by itself. So don’t you think mending a soul would be just as difficult?”
Ron’s eyes widened in alarm. “I certainly hope not. I don’t want to kill someone and spend the rest of my life in Azkaban.”
Hermione, crossing her arms, reassured Ron, “I’m not asking you to kill anyone. I’m just saying there may be certain necessary tasks for us to complete.”
“I’ll do whatever’s needed,” Ginny said flatly. Ron gaped at her.
“I agree,” Hermione said, smiling at Ginny. “What about you, Ron?” Ginny asked. “Will you back out?”
Hermione smirked as Ginny teased Ron. Scowling at them, Ron snapped, “I’ll do it too! And you’ll need a man on your side.”
Hermione and Ginny laughed. Unbeknownst to them, Harry had woken up and heard their laughter downstairs. He smiled sadly, wishing he could join them.
To be continued...