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Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 306 Summary: Moving on, strange dreams, mysterious newcomers, Death Eaters, the Veil of Shadows, and a little bit of life, laughter and love. Join Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione for their last year at Hogwarts - and the first year of the rest of their lives as they learn that just because Voldemort's gone doesn't mean life's going to be easy! Hitcount: Story Total: 160803; Chapter Total: 11407 Author's Notes: Many thanks to my main beta, my wife - TeyriJen, who intended to be co-author on this story, even if it didn't end up working out that way. Also, many thanks go to KitJordan and IcarusPhoenix for their beta work. If you see similarities between this and Icarus' "Nineteen Years", well, that's because we've known each other for far longer than is healthy for either of us. Rated R for creative freedom, but we'll probably stay in PG-13 territory.
Note - this chapter was re-uploaded on 01/07/08, to fix some minor edits and clarify some points. |
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Chapter One – "The End of A Very Long Day" * * * * * "I think I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry said quietly. Though the portraits in the Headmaster's office heard him, they wisely let his living friends be those to reply. Harry was just fine with that - he especially didn't want any commentary from Phineas Nigellus on that point. Or on any point, really. "Somehow, I don't think we're ever going to have it easy, mate," Ron said, trying to be his normal self. The sentiment was true, but he was too tired to make it into the joke he wanted. "It's nice to dream, though," Hermione added, and Harry heard the fatigue in her voice as well. The truth behind his friend's admissions was not something Harry particularly wanted to consider - not until a very long night's sleep, and, at the very least, a couple of sandwiches. With that in mind, he didn't reply with anything other than a grunt. There was really no need to say anything else. Not now, at least. By unspoken agreement, the three turned and shuffled past the half-broken gargoyle guardian and down the stairs. Ron and Hermione followed his lead, both still processing the evening's events. When they reached the wrecked corridor below, Harry suddenly stopped. His reward for this action was Ron thudding headlong into his back, and Hermione subsequently plowing into the both of them. "Harry, what is it?" Hermione asked, confused, trying to think of what Harry could have possibly forgotten – or even more frightfully, given the recent events – seen. Harry had to admit - it had been a hell of a day. In barely twenty-four hours, they'd broken into Gringott's Bank (which was supposed to be highly impossible), escaped on the back of a dragon, returned to Hogwarts, found the final two Horcruxes, destroyed them, and been part of a battle of the size of which the wizarding world hadn't seen in more than fifty years. Harry had died - died! - and Neville - Neville! - had destroyed Nagini, and then Harry had beaten Voldemort himself. None of it seemed possible. None of it seemed quite real. He turned to face his two best friends. "I... I don't know what to do now," he said, honestly. For the first time in his life – since he was eleven years old – Harry really didn't know what came next. The reality of it came crashing in on him. Voldemort was dead. The man who'd tried to kill him since he was an infant, and every year since he'd come to Hogwarts, was no more. The man who killed his parents, the man who held the wizarding world in fear for years not once, but twice, was dead. Death would not abandon its claim on Tom Riddle this time. Any shortcuts he'd taken on the road to immortality were now firmly cut off. And now, for the first time since learning of his place in the magical world, Harry was no longer a marked man. He was... free. The Prophecy had been fulfilled - and Harry was alive. He was alive. It was an outcome he hadn't considered - hadn't let himself consider, not really - not since he'd learned of the prophecy in Dumbledore's office two years ago. Ron seemed to intuitively grasp this, and did so more quickly than Hermione. She still had a puzzled expression on her face - but to be fair, Harry was perfectly willing to put that down to how bloody tired they all were. "C'mon," Ron said, grabbing his friend's upper arm. "Let's go back to the Great Hall, get a bite.” Some solutions, it seemed, were universal. * * * * * Harry knew that after the events of this night, 'tired' could not accurately describe how he felt. But the need, the drive, to be doing something overtook him as they walked Hogwarts' devastated corridors. Everyone there had chosen to fight, to stand up to Voldemort and his followers, to do what they knew to be right. Harry was proud that his return to the school with Hermione and Ron had been the catalyst for the final conclusion and that so many had taken his arrival as a signal. It was a humbling notion, one which made him feel personally responsible for every wounded witch and wizard… Especially the dead. Fred. Lupin. Tonks. Colin. And how many others he didn't yet know about? Ginny. Ron. Hermione. Neville. Luna. How many there could have been...? He would do what he could for them – for all of them. As he passed familiar faces in the corridors, survivors huddling together, Harry didn't shy from the attention, for once in his life. Ron and especially Hermione watched with pride as he offered words of comfort, of thanks. Harry didn't realize it, but he was exhibiting the very qualities that had made Hermione push him into leadership of Dumbledore's Army. Simply put, whether he knew or accepted it - Harry was a leader. He'd grown into a man people looked up to, and he would be that way for the rest of his life. "Eventually you'll figure that out, Harry," Hermione whispered to herself, though Harry didn't hear her, as we was distracted by his task of comforting Dennis Creevey . The young man was standing proudly as Harry thanked him and his brother for their help, and offered his condolences for the price Colin had paid. Eventually, As they passed through the very familiar doors of the Great Hall, Harry was surprised to find it still as crowded as they were before. He watched as a small train of people were moving from the around the staff table to the Trophy Room - the large chamber to which Dumbledore had sent him after the Goblet of Fire spit out his name as the unexpected fourthTriwizard Cup Champion. It was there that they'd moved the bodies, at least, those from the immediate area, he supposed. He would have to go in later... to find out whom else to mourn. But for now, there was only one person he needed to find. He felt Ron and Hermione's silent eyes on him, his face, and they knew exactly who it was. It seemed an interminable search. Harry's gaze flitted through the hall, passing over many familiar faces. The Malfoys were there, still hiding in a corner, with the uncertainty of their futures more than evident on their features. Harry was surprised when he looked at Draco or Narcissa , and didn't feel the old familiar hate welling up. He mostly felt pity for them. When he looked at Lucius - well, some men were beyond redemption, whatever anyone said. But now wasn't the time - frankly, Harry had better things to do. Neville was chatting animatedly to Susan Bones, who was twirling her fingers around her hair as he showed her the sword of Godric Gryffindor. It was still laid out on the table in front of him, though Harry could see that Neville had cleaned Nagini's blood off of it. Luna was sitting near him, laying her head on Dean's shoulder, who was right next to Seamus. The former was was wearing the truly baffled (though pleased) expression, Harry had seen him wear around Luna back at Shell Cottage and the latter was comforting Parvati Patil. She had survived her duel with Dolohov, Harry was happy to see, though he knew Lavender Brown was being treated for wounds inflicted by Fenrir Greyback. Hopefully her name wouldn't be one more added to the butcher's bill. There were so many he was glad to see who were, if not whole, at least alive. He could be thankful for that, at least. There were several others who he didn't, however. Intuition struck Harry when he noted Padma's absence - if she was alive, she wouldn't be far from her twin. Cho Chang among those unaccounted for, and Harry felt the tightness in his chest harden some more. Harry didn't quite know how, but he was sure his former crush, first love, whatever one wanted to call her - was lying in that anteroom. It might have been selfish, but that thought caused him to stop scanning the space - he didn't want to know who else had died. Not right now. Later - later, he could deal with the loss. Right now, he just needed one person. Just one. Ron spotted her first. Hermione saw that he seemed to pause a moment as though making a decision before he put a hand on Harry's shoulder, directing his attention to where they both knew it should be. "She's over there, mate," he said pointing, the approval conveyed clearly in his tone. "Set things right." "Thanks," Harry said, and knew that Ron accepted what he was really thanking him for. - - - - - - For her part, Ginny was sitting in the Great Hall, simply listening to the low buzz of conversation around her. Everyone was talking, eating, mourning - trying to process the wildness of this one absolutely... insane evening. She looked sadly at George and felt her heart ache as she thought of him without Fred. It was just... unnatural more than anything and it would hit George the hardest. She looked around her, at families with their arms around each other, crying softly, talking softly, and reveling in each others' presence. Her family surrounded her as well, and while she did take comfort in this, none were who she wanted right now. She needed a little bit of strength beyond her own to help her try to get past the horror of that night. And no matter what had taken place a year ago - or hadn't taken place in the time since - there was just one person whose arms she wanted to feel around her. It wasn't just that night she wanted to feel wash away, but the horrors of the past three years: ever since Harry had appeared outside the Triwizard maze, clutching the body of Cedric Diggory. She felt him before she saw him, heading across the Great Hall with Ron and Hermione trailing behind him. He wasn't stopping, even though voices called to him. He acknowledged the groups with a nod, but continued to move until he was right behind her. Ignoring the fact that her parents were staring at them, Ginny stood up and turned directly into his arms, feeling them enfold her. - - - - - - - Harry breathed deep as his nose pressed down into the youngest Weasley’s signature flaming red hair. Wildflowers. How he'd missed that smell. How he'd missed her. What he hadn't missed that he hadn't needed to call out to her, that she had just known, instinctively, that he was nearby. It was almost like magic. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were watching them carefully. The former appeared a bit surprised, (though hardly displeased and maybe just a little bit resigned), while the latter had an extraordinarily unsurprised and knowing smile on her face. Some little corner of Harry's brain suggested that Molly had probably started plans for her daughter's wedding around the time Fred, George, and Ron had first brought him to the Burrow in that battered old Ford Anglia. Somehow, that thought didn't send him running in utter terror. Maybe he was just tired, but in the end, it sounded rather... nice. Harry smiled as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and as Ginny smiled, a part of him felt a pure and simple joy, no matter the circumstances. “Uh... Hi,” he said a bit lamely, and started cursing himself for just how stupid that sounded. He also pretended not to notice Ron’s snicker, or the thump of Hermione’s reaction to it. “Hi, yourself," Ginny replied, her deep brown eyes twinkling with something other than their familiar mischief. They stood silent for a moment, simply staring at each other. Ginny was surprised at how different Harry looked. Not just physically, though there was that, too: his hair was longer than she'd ever seen it, touching down nearly to his shoulders, and his robes were burned and torn, with dried blood in far too many places. She would be willing to bet that there were new scars to match those on his forehead, forearm and hand. But he, Harry, he was.... more mature, definitely, more... something. He was marked by everything that had happened to him, everything that he had gone through. It had left its imprint on him, as surely asVoldemort's spell had left its well-known scar. He looked like a leader, for the first time that Ginny could remember. Instead of fighting against his destiny, he had finally accepted it and wore it like a mantle around him, setting him apart from those around him. Ginny was sure that he felt free, now that Voldemort was dead, but he was still marked. Harry could only think that Ginny had become, if anything, more beautiful. During his time away, when all he had to dwell on were his memories, Ginny's face had become some sort of an amalgam between the girl that he remembered as Ron's sister and the young woman who had given him the only thing that she could think of for his birthday - her heart. Now, he noted the maturity in her face, the grief in her eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to see that disappear. He sadly missed the young man and woman they should have been at this point in their lives. There was strength therethere as well, but that was nothing new. Instead, it had been sharpened, more defined. There were marks on her face and throat, grime from the dust still billowing about the castle. Bruises were fading on what skin Harry could see. Time, life, and war had all changed her, too, it was plain to see. No one could deny the young woman Ginny had become, and Harry found he didn't lament that change one bit. Maybe there needed to be more words, apologies given, Things Said, and all that... and it would probably come. Later. For now, he just lowered his lips to hers, meeting in a kiss that seemed to make several moonlit nights pass in nothing but a moment. Ginny felt the unfamiliarity of his stubble as Harry's lips pressed to hers, and for them both, the rest of the world seemed to melt away. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else ever would, not as much as what was right there, right then. The creature in his chest roared its approval once more. Not conscious at all of the probably hundreds of people watching, Harry opened his eyes and slowly pulled back. He was not surprised (though was very pleased) to see Ginny’s deep brown eyes staring back into his own. One palm slipped up to her cheek, and for a moment, he could only be amazed at how soft it was, even covered in the grime of battle. Her hand, even softer, slipped up to cover his. “I love you," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he was even remotely aware he said them. For a moment, there was no response except for the blazing look that Harry had come to classify as being uniquely Ginny. Then her eyes softened, a faint blush spreading over her cheeks, and she whispered back, "I love you, too. Always you, Harry..." Her voice trailed off as Harry pulled her back into a crushing hug, almost as if he were trying to join their bodies together by force, erase the lines keeping them separate. If only he could lose himself in her for a moment, or a lifetime, then perhaps he could forget all the death and pain that surrounded them. Though the pair in front of them may have been pretending like the entire world around them didn't exist, Ron and Hermione were extremely aware of just how much attention was being paid to Harry and Ginny. Hermione did not fail to notice Ron's reddening features, though she did misinterpret them. "Ronald, you said you were fine with this..." Ron though, didn't wait for her to finish. "Oi!" he yelled at the many onlookers, waving his arms as though shooing off pigeons. "Give 'em some privacy, you tossers! It's complicated enough without you lot spoiling it!" "Ronald, language!" Hermione hissed quietly, this time swatting him on the arm. Her heart wasn't really in the remonstration, though, and she was smiling. She rather agreed with the sentiment, if nothing else. Duly chastised, most onlookers quickly went on their way - many smiling, though none more so than Harry and Ginny, who'd looked up at his outburst. Ron, though, didn't miss the ghost of a smile touching George's lips when he heard his little brother echo Fred's words from the previous year. "Oh," Hermione said, a smile playing about her lips as well. Knowing that the time for questions would be coming, she reached over and took Ron's hand. He looked down in surprise for a moment, but curled his fingers around hers almost proprietorially. It was still a new feeling between the two of them, regardless of how long things had remained unspoken between them. "Well, well," Mrs. Weasley said, looking between Harry and Ginny, almost lost in each other's eyes, and Ron and Hermione. She cleared her throat, and then gestured to the seats at the table with the rest of the clan. "Let's all have a seat, then. Let's get some food now while we can, although I must say that I'm surprised that anyone has any presence of mind remaining to make food. After all..." She trailed off. Harry watched Ginny's gaze dart towards George, and then quickly turn her stare gaze away. He had the feeling that many times throughout the next several days that the same thing would happen, and from all of them. Caught between the desire to return to normality and then aftereffects of the nightmare they were currently emerging from, no one was quite sure what to say. How to react. To display pleasure, even happiness or contentment, it seemed almost a dishonor to the memories of those who had died. Even as he had the thought, Harry knew that it was stupid. No one would have wanted the survivors get on with their lives more than those who had died so they could - and no one would have wanted that more than Fred. "Never underestimate the house elves of Hogwarts," Harry replied distractedly, the thought bringing to mind another victim of this war - innocent, strange little Dobby. "They've given as much as the rest of us." "They had as much to lose as the rest of us," added Hermione, not forgetting her fight for equality for all, even now. Instead of the usual scoffs, though, Harry saw a smile pass her face as she noted that this only earned her several accepting nods. The house-elves joining the battle, underKreacher's leadership - would probably change the way a lot of people saw them. Not everyone, Harry knew, but enough, just maybe, that Hermione's hopes were more than just flights of fancy. Hermione sat first, pulling Ron down beside her. Harry followed shortly thereafter and Ginny took the seat next to him, sitting so close as to almost be on the same chair. It was excessive, she knew, but after the past nine months of not knowing anything and fearing the worst, she wanted to remind herself as much as possible that he had survived, that he was still right here beside her, and nothing was going to take him away again. Harry followed Ginny's eyes as she finally noticed Ron and Hermione - and the extremely obvious hand-holding going on there. It was, perhaps a bit strange, given that their robes were burned, like Harry's, and all three showed the signs of fighting far beyond what had just occurred here tonight, yet the affection was what got her attention. "When...?" she started to ask, bringing a smile to Harry's lips. "In the middle of the battle, of all things," he said, thinking back to earlier. "Apparently," Harry smirked as Ron started to blush a little bit, "It was 'now or never'." Harry turned his focus away as Ginny and Hermione began whispering quietly across the table to each other, and he took in those closest to them. Charlie sat next to his father, drumming his fingers on the table in an excess of energy. Mr. Weasley and Mrs. Weasley talked of inconsequential things, which Charlie would grunt an answer to if required of him. George and Percy were barely saying anything, as Bill watched them both in concern. It would hit them the hardest, he knew, even harder than it would hit their mother. Fleur was next to him, taking a moment from helping patch up those around them. In her time with the Order, the former Tri-Wizard Champion had proven to be exceptionally good at healing charms, and had served as their battlefield medic, Remus had said. Harry saw the appraising looks she kept casting over him, Ron and Hermione, but he appreciated it as Fleur wasn't saying anything. She ate no food, only sipping from a flask of pumpkin juice to wet her throat. Her right hand was clasped in Bill's own, which snaked around her shoulders to meet it. Occasionally, she would lean against him, obviously taking comfort in his presence, as so many were doing with their loved ones. Harry did note, however, that Bill's hair was back to the length it had been before his wedding to Fleur. He wondered absently how long it would be before Molly started trying to cut it. Remembering suddenly that his own hair wasn't much shorter than Bill's now, he also wondered if he would be in for the same treatment. A quick look to Ginny confirmed they were both thinking the same thoughts. "Not a chance," Ginny whispered in his ear. "The hair stays." Harry just smiled. Well, that decision was made, it seemed. The four youngest ate the food that appeared in front of them. It was plain fare by the usual standards of Hogwarts, but it was hearty and satisfying. All around them, activity slowed in the Great Hall as more and more found family, seats, and food, even as others began searching for places to sleep. The wounded had been moved to the infirmary, if they were able to be moved. Healers from St. Mungo's had Apparated outside the grounds as soon as possible and were seeing to the many injured - from the defenders and attackers of the castle alike. The latter, of course, were being kept quite unconscious and secured in Filch's dungeons until the Aurors could do something with them. Harry smiled as he realized the old caretaker's chains had ended up having a use after all. "Well, I think that we shall remain here for the night, of course, but that tomorrow we should think about going home. We have some very busy days and weeks ahead of us, and I think that we will need the... comfort and familiarity... of home. George, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy," Molly started with a nod to each in turn, "If you want to return to your own homes, I understand, but..." "If it's not too much strain," Bill interjected, "we'll come back to the Burrow for a while. You and Dad'll need the help to fix the place back up. I think it's too early to split up just yet. Besides, we still have... Fred... to bury." Tears welled up in the eyes of several present at the mention of the missing Weasley, and Harry tightened his grip around Ginny's waist. Molly broke the silence again, sniffing. "I think that would be just lovely, dear. We shall be a little crowded, but it will be nice to have us all under one roof again. Harry, Hermione," she continued, suddenly turning her attention to those two. "You'll be along as well, of course?" It was not a question. Both nodded reflexively, taken off-guard by the decisiveness in her voice, which was firm despite it's quaver. "We can stop by Auntie Muriel's to pack, but between all of us, I think we can get the Burrow livable again. I shudder to think about the state of the house now." "I can't think of anywhere I'd rather be, Mrs. Weasley," Harry replied honestly. "It's Molly, Harry - and to you too, Hermione." she corrected him after a quiet moment with a pointed look at both of them. "I think we're well past formality at this point, don't you?" Harry's questioning look was caught by Arthur first, who just gave him a small nod. "Thank you... Molly," he said, trying it out (and decidedly ignoring Ron's expression of complete shock). After wolfing down his sandwiches, Harry looked around aimlessly for a while, his gaze settling on nothing in particular. It was nice just to let his mind be blank for a while, think about nothing, just simply be. It was the tableau farther down the table that finally caught and held his attention, where George was starting to look positively catatonic. Harry gave Ginny's hand a quick squeeze, and then stood to walk around the table to where the remaining twin was seated. "George," he said quietly, placing his hands on both of the lone twin's shoulders. It hurt beyond words to see George's pain-filled eyes lift up to meet his - eyes that he had never seen filled with anything but laughter. The missing ear didn't help, either. "I'm sorry, George. I can't pretend to understand what you've lost. I don't know that anyone can. But if Fred had to go..." "At least he went laughing," George finished in a manner eerily reminiscent of how he and Fred had always finished each other's sentences. "Exactly," Harry said, giving him a strange sort of smile. It wasn't a happy one, to be sure, but George understood the meaning. "But I can't say thank you enough for everything you've given to this, George," he finished, and looked at all of the Weasleys - all of his family. His gaze passed over each of them in turn. "All of you. There... there aren't words enough." There weren't, but neither were there words appropriate. The actions and the feelings behind them - even though it had been done as much for the safety of their family as for him - transcended anything that mere words could explain. The looks he had in return from the Weasleys - those of blood, marriage, and otherwise acquired - were enough for now. As he returned to his seat, Ginny stood and pulled his face to hers. He reveled for just a moment in the feeling of her soft palm against his cheek as she whispered into his ear: "There never have to be, Harry." Both the words that Ginny had found and the looks that he had received acted as a balm to his heart, beginning to heal the hurts that still lingered. He took his seat beside Ginny and sat down to eat with his family, for once, giving no thought whatsoever to what came next. * * * * * Though fatigue threatened to overtake him, there was one last thing Harry had to do before he could finally let sleep claim him that night. After some time had passed, the adrenaline began to wear off and the events of the very long night had everyone claiming beds wherever they could. Harry had noted Ron and Hermione's disappearance not too long before, and looked down to share a knowing look with Ginny. "Now or never, right?" she chuckled, and so did Harry. Bill, Fleur, Arthur and Molly were among the many who'd camped out on the transfigured cots in the common room, though he noted with satisfaction that the eldest Weasley sibling was not yet asleep. Ginny and Harry were now curled up in front of the fire. It crackled and sizzled comfortingly, a gift from the house-elves, much like the food. She had been staring into the fire, thinking about nothing, simply relaxing with Harry right beside her. Occasionally, flashes from the battle would surface in her mind, but she would resolutely push them back down, thinking on flying on a broomstick, high above the rest of the world until the unsettling images left her. There would be time enough to think over what had transpired at Hogwarts later. For tonight, she wanted to do nothing. She grabbed his hand as he stood up to walk past her. "Where are you going?" she asked him quietly, loathe to disturb the peacefulness of the room. "Not far," he assured her. "I promise. There's just one more thing I've got to do tonight." "You're not going alone," she informed him, shoving herself up from the floor to stand next to him, still holding his hand in hers. "Not alone, no," Harry admitted. "But I do need Bill's help. I'll explain... later. Tomorrow, I promise. It's a long story." "Fine, you can explain tomorrow. But you're a daft prat if you think you're getting out of my sight any time soon, Potter. Where are we going?" she said, looking around for a cloak against the chill night air. She didn't see her cloak anywhere around her - and why should she, she reminded herself - but there was a handy blanket stuffed off in the corner, overlooked in the search for bedclothes. She grabbed it and prepared to fling it around her shoulders, and frowned when she discovered just how much the blanket limited her movement. Harry thought, for a moment, of asking her to simply wait up here. But then he considered the likelihood of just how well she would accept that request, and decided against it just as quickly. "All right. Get a cloak while I get Bill - Hermione put her bag up in the dorm, you should find one there." Ginny just nodded, and hugged Harry tightly once more before heading towards the stairs. Harry returned her tight embrace, even if he didn't respond to her questioning look, and watched distractedly as she tiredly ambled her way up the flight of stairs to the girl's dormitory. He couldn't help but think that even as tired as she was, in robes torn and stained from battle, she was still the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen. "You know," came the quiet voice beside him, “I saw her watch you like that for years. I always wondered whether you'd smarten up and do the same. Charlie bet me a few galleons you wouldn't. I'll have to collect on him tomorrow." Harry smiled faintly at Bill's comment. He'd chuckled ever since fourth year at how obvious Ron and Hermione's mutual attraction had been. He shouldn't have been surprised to find that he and Ginny had apparently been the same way. "Bill," he acknowledged. Bill seemed to sense that Harry wanted to talk to him about something, but Harry merely waited in silence until Ginny came back down the stairs, fighting a yawn. Harry turned to the other man then, as Ginny snuggled up next to his side. "Let's take a walk," he suggested. His tone left clear that it was not just a walk that he had in mind. . Bill raised an eyebrow, but was silent as he followed Harry and Ginny out the portrait hole and all the way out to the grounds. The silence continued unabated until they had very nearly reached their destination - Dumbledore's cracked tomb. Harry could tell from the expressions on the curse-breaker's face that he was growing more and more curious. It was obvious he'd thought this would be about Ginny somehow, but it was very clearly about something else entirely. "Harry," he said hesitatingly, eyeing the marble tomb. There was a hairline crack running across it, showing that it had been resealed. "What's this about?" "This," Harry replied, pulling the Elder Wand from his pocket. Any member of the Order would recognize it as Dumbledore's, he knew. "What is that?" Ginny asked, eying the fairly nondescript - to her, at least - wand. "Merlin's balls," Bill cursed in surprise. "Harry is that...” He pursed his lips, thinking carefully on how to phrase his question. He couldn't believe Harry would have possibly robbed Dumbledore's grave, but.. "Harry, how did you get Dumbledore's wand?" "You should know, Bill," Harry frowned, not understanding Bill's hesitation. "You saw me take it from Tom earlier tonight." "Tom?" the eldest Weasley asked before drawing the connection. "Voldemort had it? But why? I heard you say something about wands when you were fighting, but I couldn't hear all of it." "Tom stole it from the Professor's grave," Harry said sadly. He tensed slightly at this, but calmed when Ginny squeezed his hand. "If it was a normal wand, I don't think he'd have bothered. But it's not. This is actually the Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows. Dumbledore took it from Grindelwald when he defeated him back in 1945. He's had it since then." Bill and Ginny stood there for a moment in silence, and not a little bit of shock, trying to understand what was going on. To them, the Elder Wand had been a child's tale, the stuff of myth, and about as real as a crumple-horned snackork. Now Harry was sitting here telling them that it was absolutely real. "But if Voldemort had the Elder Wand - why couldn't he defeat you?" Bill asked. "Long story," Harry chuckled. He'd been saying that a lot, and, for just a moment, he felt a definite kinship with the deceased Headmaster. Was this how Dumbledore had always felt, then? When he had all the answers that no one else even knew, or knew that they should be looking for? He was brought up short by the fierce stare he was now getting from Ginny. No, she didn't like being in the dark any more than he had. "Long story short, Tom wasn't the wand's true master. I was. The wand wasn't about to kill me." Ginny frowned. "You're talking about wands like they're alive, Harry." "Maybe they are, in a way," he shrugged, and focused his attention back on Bill. "Then that means.." Harry watched as Bill drew the conclusions he figured were correct. Bill knew enough about the basis of legends from his work as a curse-breaker to figure out just how bloody and violent a history the Elder Wand really had. "I have no intention of advertising this fact," Harry assured them. "The Order will be the only people to know everything that happened here tonight. I intend to return the Elder Wand to the man who should have been its last master. But if anyone ever figures the whole thing out, there's nothing to stop them from stealing it the same way Voldemort did. I can reseal the tomb, but I need to make sure anyone who ever tries to violate it again regrets it." Harry paused for a moment, wondering what would happen if he just kept the wand... but the thought was dismissed shortly. It felt wrong somehow. Like he wasn't deserving of such a responsibility. Harry then decided that any further self-reflection could very much wait until he'd gotten some rest. Bill nodded, flashing him a tired smile. "And who better than a curse-breaker?" "Exactly," Harry nodded back. "Well," he said, clapping his hands together before drawing his wand, "let's get to work then." It was very nearly dawn when their self-appointed task was completed. Glowing runes now lined the edges of Dumbledore's tomb and all of them had very nearly had collapsed from the exhaustive spell-casting. Harry and Ginny had handled the more minor protections - ones he'd learned from Hermione over the last year, or she'd learned from their mother - and assisted Bill whenever asked. Bill's additions were.. memorable indeed. Quite satisfied that no one would ever lay claim to the Elder Wand again, the three stumbled their way all the way back to Gryffindor tower well before the first rays of sunlight were broke over the horizon. Harry was asleep before he'd even hit the pillow. He didn't really remember entering his old dorm, or finally slipping out of his boots or his half-destroyed robes. He had had, after all, a very long day. |
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