Okay, it took a little bit to get this chapter right, but I'm finally satisfied with it. Props to TeyriJen, FaifhfulCynic and TopGun as betas this time.
Also, much as I'd like to, I can't take credit for the idea of the wizard air conditioning fires. I'd love to, but it's from another fic, although I can't recall which.
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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: 160806; Chapter Total: 8257 Author's Notes: |
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Chapter Nine - "A Little Direction" The spells were flying fast and furious today. It was worse now than it had been at the Second Battle of Hogwarts, or the Christmas assault on Diagon Alley last year. All around him, the witches and wizards of the Order, and the civilians nominally under their protection, were dueling with Voldemort's Death Eaters. Harry felt his insides clench at the remembrance of that last major attack - Fred and George had been defending their shop and the fifty-odd civilians who'd taken shelter with them when a series of reductor curses had brought the building down. No one had survived. Harry sometimes thought, as many people as he'd lost over the years, the pain should somehow hurt less. But it never did. Put it away for later, Potter, he mentally chided himself. The Order needs you now. Ginny needs you. Albus needs you. Shaking his head, Harry barely registered the warm trickle of blood running down his left arm - shrapnel had turned the meat of his bicep into a confused mess, and Ginny's tourniquet and healing spells had been far too hastily done. But there wasn't time for Ginny to do any better on it. She and the other Healers - Fleur, Poppy, Hannah, Katie - they had far too many wounded to deal with, walking or otherwise. Harry considered himself lucky that the blasting hex that had blown the windows of the office he'd been had only struck him with shrapnel. As powerful as that hex had been, it had to have been one of the Malfoys or the Lestranges who'd launched it. But Harry could still hold a wand, and frankly, he was needed too badly back at the main battle. The Order couldn't afford to lose the Ministry - there were no havens left. Long since deprived of any authority, the Ministry's real value lay in other areas now. It was a shelter, a place to survive, to hang on, but that was all. Since the destruction of Hogwarts, it was the most heavily magically fortified building in Britain. It was also the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix - a virtual army that was woefully outnumbered and out-powered by the myriad forces under Voldemort's control. As he took one of the Floo shortcuts back to the Atrium, the building shook again - testament to the fact that Voldemort's duel with Dumbledore was still going on. In the thirteen years since Hagrid had told him he was a wizard, Harry had faced Tom Riddle in battle just over a dozen of times. But he'd never been able to beat him, thanks to the binding Riddle had done. The blood he'd acquired from the both Harry and Dumbledore had been used in a dark ritual to protect Nagini, his final Horcrux. Even the one inside Harry had been destroyed years ago, but that damn snake still remained. And every time Dumbledore or Harry came up against Voldemort directly, things just stalemated. The binding saw to that - the only wizards Voldemort had ever feared, and he'd managed to keep them from killing him. The only comfort was that Voldemort couldn't create any new Horcruxes. There wasn't enough soul left in him to do it. No more, Harry swore grimly. Avoiding any more of the more minor battles surrounding him, Harry Apparated to the other side of the Atrium - Just in time to see Albus Dumbledore struck with a flash of purple light. Time slowed to an interminable crawl as the old wizard fell backwards towards the floor. Dumbledore's wand fired off a final spell at Riddle, who also fell to the ground in heap. "Albus!" Harry cried, rushing to his mentor's - his friend's - side. Dumbledore managed to hold his head up weakly. "The binding is broken, Harry, I have taken its effects upon myself... Nagini is dead. I'm afraid that..." he coughed, and Harry tried to run a diagnostic spell over his friend before Albus held his arm back. "No, Harry, it is my time. I am sorry to say that I cannot finish this - it is now up to you." "Albus, no - we'll get you help, you can't - " "I am sorry, my friend," Dumbledore said honestly. "But the Order is yours now. My war is long past, and I have held out far beyond my time. This war, this battle is yours. It has, as ever, been my privilege to know you and fight by your side, Harry. Burn... brightly..." Albus instructed him, and then drew his final, shuddering breath. "...and be reborn." Harry finished, remembering something Albus had once told him, from the tales of Beedle the Bard. "Thank you, Albus," Harry said quietly. He felt the wetness travel down his cheeks as he performed a duty he was all too familiar with. With one hand, Harry closed those famous blue eyes, eyes now bereft of all twinkle, forever. "Oh, how very touching," came the high, cold voice of Voldemort. "The old man is dead, boy. And now you can join him." Harry closed his eyes for a moment, and then gently laid Dumbledore's body flat on the ground. Wand out, Harry stood squarely, his thoughts fondly turning to his family. He thought of his wife, Ginny, and his brother- and sister- in law, Ron and Hermione, and the children they all hoped to have. Arthur deserved to have grandchildren some day. It wasn't as though there was anyone else left to provide them. And Gin - she'd make a great mum. That thought sustained him, pushed away his despair, as Harry faced his destiny. He raised his wand, ready to duel the monster who called himself Voldemort one final time. Today it would all end - one way, or the other. He met his opponent's cold red eyes, eyes which smoldered like a dead fire's embers, and then... Harry Potter smiled. "Hello, Tom." * * * * * "Harry!" Ginny's shouted cry - or maybe it was the pillow she hit him with - startled him out of his sleep. "Hurry up, it's Sunday! 'Dromeda's going to be here with Teddy in ten minutes!" Bloody hell - now I'm having nightmares about things that never happened? That's just not fair, Harry thought blearily as he awoke. "Teddy?" Harry asked numbly, his voice thick with sleep. "Yes, Harry, Teddy. Our godson? You know, little bloke, likes to make his hair blue?" Ginny moved around the room, picking up clothes and chucking them towards the clothes hamper. None of them actually made it (she wasn't trying very hard), but it wasn't her job to clean up Harry's room. Honestly, she was just excited about Teddy coming today. They'd had a standing arrangement with Andromeda to see both of them every Sunday. This visit was going to be different, though. For the first time, she and Harry were going to watch Teddy by themselves. Unsupervised. With no one around to help. Or interfere, Ginny thought. "Right," Harry said, shaking his head as though to physically toss the odd dream from his mind. His neck wasn't sore anymore - he'd found the cause after his first night here, a small orb that had apparently fallen out of a housing on the bed frame. The orb was covered in barely visible runes, and he kept meaning to have Bill or Hermione take a look at it, but he'd ended up just putting it back into its housing on the bed-frame. He would think about it occasionally but... well, it wasn't really that important, was it? They were just dreams. Why bother anyone over something so... silly? Harry untangled himself from the bedclothes then, completely forgetting that he was clad only in a pair of boxer shorts, and that he was significantly not alone. He was startled out of his half-awake stumbling by Ginny's appreciative wolf-whistle. Harry stiffened at this, suddenly aware of the circumstances, but mustered the self-control to at least not blush (much). Instead, he simply squared his shoulders and tromped proudly towards the bathroom. Ginny chuckled wickedly. She enjoyed making him squirm. Growing up with so many brothers hadn't rendered her completely immune to the male form (thankfully, because that would be both gross and a little sad), but she was much more comfortable with casual nudity, even partial nudity, than many girls she'd talked with. The fact that it was Harry, well, that just made it all the better. She watched attentively as he strutted across the room towards the bathroom, enjoying the way his muscles moved underneath his skin. It looks so soft from here... She shook her head sharply and abruptly left the room. There was no time today to be sidetracked with such delicious possibilities. Once the door was shut, Harry permitted himself to wince. He wasn't really embarrassed about Ginny seeing him nearly starkers - it was more surprise at himself for being so comfortable around her that he'd never even felt all that shy in the first place. Being that comfortable around anyone, but especially Ginny... that was still a very new thing. But then, with a whistle like that, he was fairly certain Ginny hadn't minded the view at all. That was worthy to note for future reference. The dream was completely faded by the time he slipped into the shower, replaced by much happier thoughts. * * * * * Harry wasn't surprised to find that Andromeda had already come and gone by the time he had gotten out of the shower and dressed. Teddy's grandmother reportedly had a great deal of personal business to take care of today, so her being in a hurry was no big shock. It was also the reason that he and Ginny were watching Teddy unsupervised (or at least, unaccompanied). Ron had been carted off by Hermione to some sort of family reunion for the Grangers, so they wouldn't be around the house today. Ginny had promptly insisted to her parents (Who had agreed awfully easily, Harry thought,) that she and Harry could handle Teddy for a day, thank you very much, and had bullied her parents into taking a day for themselves out in the country somewhere. Teddy was only six months old. How difficult could this possibly be? Now, Harry was starting to wonder just how their self-confidence in regards to their developing parenting skills had been so very, very wrong. Snack time had been the first time that Harry realized that perhaps parenting wasn't simply an acquired skill that one picked up as the years passed and one grew older. Teddy refused to take the bottle - he was, instead, having much more fun grabbing the bottle by the tip and waving it around enthusiastically. The third time it hit Harry in the face and knocked his glasses askew, he turned to Ginny in exasperation. It really didn't help matters that she was trying too hard to stifle her giggles. "Oh, think that's funny, do you? Here, you have a go then!" He handed baby and bottle over to Ginny. She rolled her eyes at him with a grin, and then took a hold of Teddy. She tucked him into her arm and placed the bottle in his mouth, talking gently to him the entire time. In no time, the bottle was empty at Teddy was sucking air. She looked up at him with a twinkle in her eye. Harry looked at the empty bottle, and then glared at the baby, who had now moved on to happily trying to place his toes in his mouth. He turned abruptly away, muttering under his breath, with Ginny's peals of laughter following him out the room. ***** At the moment, Harry was seriously considering that taking on this particular task to be one of the bigger mistakes in his life. And given some of the whoppers the young wizard had made, that was saying rather a lot. "Augh!" Harry cried as he pulled back the corners of the soiled nappy, its contents not fit for polite description. Teddy found his godfather's response extremely entertaining, and babbled happily at this response, causing Harry to narrow his eyes and suck in a deep breath before shouting, "Ginny!" Ginny came rushing in - all the way from the top floor, by the sound of the clatter - at Harry's cry, looking more than a little bit worried. "Harry, what is it? Is everything okay?" "Look!" He said, pointing at the offensive smelling (and looking) nappy. "That's not normal, is it? That can't be healthy!" Comprehension (and a bit of irritation) dawned on Ginny's features then, and she was clearly trying not to laugh. Much. "Harry - that... looks normal," she confirmed with a giggle. "That can't possibly be normal." "It is." "It's green!" Ginny forgot all pretense at this point, and departed, laughing quite loudly in a way that Harry thought was more than a bit rude. Eyes still narrowed, he faced Teddy with a grimace. Teddy, for his part, had moved on to amusing himself by blowing spit bubbles. "You know, Teddy," Harry confessed as he considered Ginny's abandonment, "I don't think I like your godmother very much anymore." Teddy gurgled once again, and abruptly changed his hair from blue to a flaming Weasley red. Harry had to chuckle as he redoubled his efforts towards his Herculean task. "Yeah, mate, alright. I like her too. Just don't tell anybody." * * * * * Around eleven, the young couple decided that as nice a day it was shouldn't be wasted. With that in mind, they decided to take Teddy for a stroll. Harry had purchased a Muggle pram for Teddy when he'd been buying everything else to outfit his godson's room at Grimmauld Place, and today they would finally get the opportunity to use it. Teddy had, as usual in the presence of both of them, adopted Ginny's flaming red hair and Harry's deep green eyes. (He did occasionally switch to Harry's black hair and Ginny's brown eyes, but this was less common.) It would be quite easy to pass the three of them off as a young Muggle family out for a walk, so neither Harry nor Ginny thought anything of it. If truth were told, Harry thought that Ginny was, perhaps, a little too enthusiastic at 'playing family'. But he hardly minded, as he (though he did not confess it) found that he enjoyed it more than a little bit. They walked around the square outside, idly pushing Teddy around, and just generally enjoying the company. Ginny had herself wrapped around Harry's arm as they walked, and they spoke of simple, inconsequential things. They amused themselves by pointing things out to Teddy, and to each other. When a flock of ravens settled on the fountain, Teddy squealed for a better look. Ginny laughed, and took him out of the pram in order to accommodate him. At the sight of the black birds, Teddy screwed up his face and shifted his hair to an imitation Harry's messy black locks. Harry would have laughed at this display, except for one complication. Unfortunately, a middle-aged Muggle woman and her young child were watching the young (apparent) family exactly when this happened. The woman screamed. By reflex, Harry's wand was out and trained at the source of the scream in bare seconds. Ginny was only slightly behind him, and to be fair, she was hampered by the infant in her arms. This was possibly not the best response, as the Muggle woman screamed once again and pushed her young child behind her. Thankfully, there was no one else in the square at this time of morning - most of the populace was attending church services. It was a particular blessing as Harry realized what had occurred. "Oh, hell," he muttered under his breath, and carefully aimed his wand. "Obliviate," he said sadly. He hated that damn spell, and even more, he hated to have to use it. The woman's face went instantly slack, and her little boy looked fearfully out from behind her legs. Ginny also cursed softly under her breath as she replaced Teddy in his pram. Then she laid a reassuring hand on Harry's forearms as they strode purposefully over to mother and child, pram pulled behind them. The mother was still standing blankly, waiting for Harry to release his memory spell. Ginny knelt down in front of the little boy. "I'm very sorry we had to do that," she said softly. "My name's Ginny, this is Harry, and Teddy. Can you keep a secret?" She didn't want to obliviate the boy any more than Harry did. The boy nodded, growing less fearful at the very calming way in which Ginny was speaking. "What's your name?" "Robert," he whispered quietly. "Hi Robert," Harry said, kneeling down also. "I had to erase a few minutes of your mom's memory. You see, I'm a wizard, and my girlfriend here is a witch. But it's a really big secret. Can you not tell anybody?" Robert grinned. "I won't say anything, sir." Harry returned the boy's grin with a wide one of his own. Impulsively, he ruffled the kid's hair. "Good lad," he acknowledged, and then turned to deal with the boy's mother while Ginny distracted the child with sparks from her wand. As the memory-modified mother and her son walked away, Robert turned back to wink at Harry and Ginny, drawing laughter from both. Once they were out of hearing range, Harry let out a long breath. "That was too close." Ginny nodded. "I'm glad we didn't have to obliviate the boy. But then, it's easier with kids, I suppose. They're not like adult Muggles." Harry frowned, "Why?" "They're still innocent," she smiled. "They still believe in magic." "Be nice if we didn't have to hide," Harry muttered, and shook his head. "Think we ought to get Teddy inside now?" "Yes, lets, before we end up in those Muggle papers - or with a warning from the Ministry about the Statute of Secrecy." Harry had to laugh then. "Now you're worried about that? When you've been performing underage magic all summer?" Ginny frowned. "You mean you didn't - oh, of course you didn't know. Harry, there's no one working in the underage magic office right now. I heard Dad telling Mum one night. He had to pull all those people into working under him in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Too much going on - he needed them on serious matters. I think he was rather hoping I didn't find out, actually." "I can't imagine why," Harry noted sarcastically. "Haven't heard you complaining when I'm healing you up, Potter." * * * * * As the afternoon progressed, Harry and Ginny did find that there was something they were good at with Teddy: namely, playing. They had an abundance of toys, and therefore, there were no problems with this whatsoever. Teddy was, unfortunately, still a bit too small for the training broom Harry had eagerly purchased for him. Harry had therefore promised his eager-eyed godson that he would get it back out around Christmas. This had drawn loud protests from the infant until Ginny had deftly distracted Teddy by blowing raspberries on his stomach. Nap time turned out to be nowhere near as simply dealt with. Teddy, no matter how much they held, rocked, or sang to him, seemed to have no interest whatsoever in sleeping. This wouldn't have been a problem, except that he was clearly tired, and even fussier because of it. After nearly an hour of trying to calm the screaming infant, both Harry and Ginny were snapping at each other, and Ginny was about three seconds away from calling her mother. "Look, we obviously don't know what the hell we're doing, Harry - just let me call Mum!" "No!" Harry insisted stubbornly. "We said we can do it. They're just going to laugh at us if we call them now." "Well, yes, but..." Ginny admitted, nervously chewing her bottom lip. "But I don't know how to get him quiet, and apparently, neither do you!" "Well, why don't you know? You're the one with six siblings!" "Of which I am the youngest, Potter, as you well know! I don't know any bloody more about babies than you do!" Harry's response was cut off by the appearance of someone else in the room. Kreacher came shuffling in, drawn, Harry suspected, more by the shouting between himself and Ginny, rather than that of Teddy. Or perhaps all three. His presence drew curious looks from both wizard and witch. "What?" Harry snapped in a tone that was far from kind, and would have gotten him cuffed upside the back of his head by Hermione if she were present. He stopped, and breathed deeply for a moment and closed his eyes. When he spoke again, he was much calmer. Kreacher, he noticed, wasn't ruffled in the slightest. "I'm sorry Kreacher - you didn't deserve that. Did you need something?" he asked as politely as possible over the noise Teddy was making. "Would Master like a suggestion in dealing with the young one?" the old elf asked, turning his head up to stare at the fussing child. "Please!" Ginny all but screamed. Wordlessly, Kreacher extended his arms towards Teddy, and Ginny handed the infant over. With practiced ease, defying how large his bundle was in comparison to himself, Kreacher held Teddy upright over his shoulder, burped him, and then angled him back down in his arms. He rocked Teddy and began gently crooning to the infant. Within moments, the blue-haired baby was sleeping soundly. Harry and Ginny stared at Kreacher with identical expressions of open astonishment. "Kreacher, how did you - " "I can't believe I forgot to - " Kreacher just smiled, an odd (and somewhat frightening) expression to see on the wizened old house-elf."Young Master Sirius was very much the same..." he trailed sadly. "Would Master like me to put the little one down for his nap now?" "Yes, please, Kreacher, thank you," Harry babbled in clear relief. His throat caught slightly at the mention of Sirius, and he felt some of the old anger coming back. He calmed it quickly enough - it was no use blaming Kreacher for his role in Sirius' fate. Like Hermione had said, the last of the Blacks had spent a lifetime cultivating a bad relationship with the house-elf, and he had paid for it in the end. And Kreacher, for all his faults, had clearly cared for Sirius when he'd been a baby. It was, perhaps, not anywhere so near a black and white situation as it had first seemed. But then such things seldom were. That thought settled itself unpleasantly in his stomach, but Harry put it away. Right now, he had an angry redhead to deal with, and that was something that required one's full attention. He looked back over to Ginny, whose brown eyes were smoldering in more-than-obvious anger at him. Merlin, she's beautiful like this... he couldn't help but think. Before he could pursue those thoughts, however, a burst of sudden inspiration hit him. And, abruptly, Harry laughed. Such a response more than threw Ginny off her stride from the mental argument she had been building up in anticipation of whatever Harry was going to say. Clearly, laughter was not among the responses she'd been expecting. And yet, for some reason, Harry's laughter was infectious, and after a moment, Ginny found herself laughing just as hard at the humor of the entire situation. "Harry..." she stopped, trying to catch her breath."Harry, why exactly are we laughing?" "Because..." he started, trying to breathe deeply as well. "Because... I was thinking - your parents didn't fight awfully hard on whether we were going over to the Burrow today, did they. That's not like your Mum - she'll take any opportunity to see a baby. And Hermione doesn't have any cousins, so who's her 'family reunion' with? And what's Andromeda got to take care of on a Sunday? We've been set up!" Then he howled with laughter again. Ginny got the point before he broke down again, however, and tried to stop herself from launching into a fresh peal of giggles. "You honestly think Mum set this up to keep us from getting ideas?" Harry nodded. She considered that for a moment. "Well, bloody well worked, didn't it?" "Oh yeah," Harry confirmed, "No babies. Not for years." "Agreed," she said fervently. "Good thing I'm on the potion then, isn't it?" Ginny grinned mischievously. Harry had to grin widely at this news as well. Seeing as they hadn't taken that particular step yet, that was a bit of a surprise. But if she was... "Yeah?" "Yeah." "Brilliant," Harry murmured as Ginny drew close to him without prompting. He smiled fondly at the touch - as always, she was able to follow the pattern of his thoughts. If he was a more paranoid man, it would have frightened him. Mad-Eye Moody he was not, however, and Harry instead found it very pleasing to be so well understood. "Well," he said suggestively. "Looks like we've got a little time to ourselves now." "Looks like," she confirmed with an agreeable twinkle in her eyes. "Guess we'll have to find something to occupy ourselves with, then." "Guess so," Ginny replied, and drew Harry down on top of her for a deeply passionate kiss. * * * * * With Kreacher's surprisingly informative assistance, the rest of the day passed largely without incident. The hunchbacked old house-elf was able to provide pointers at appropriate times, and Harry and Ginny found themselves becoming much more accustomed to the baby in their midst. It was, all in all, a rather wonderful day and Harry couldn't help but be a little sad when Andromeda showed up to take Teddy home. By mutual consent, they had decided not to mention any of their difficulties to any of the co-conspirators who had set them up, except for Ron. Their day with Teddy had been just fine, thank you. Ron returned home only a scant few minutes after Ginny herself had disappeared into the Floo. He grinned like mad when Harry confronted his mate about his role in their apparent setup, and after a few minutes of horsing about (including a minor playful hex or two), all was forgiven. Ron was still trying to get his ears to stop wiggling when Harry indicated the chess board atop the table along one of the walls of the den. "Fancy a game?" "If you're that eager for punishment, who'm I to disappoint?" Ron answered cockily. "I'll beat you one of these days, mate," Harry retorted. "That's what I like about you, Potter," Ron shot back, and directed one of his pawns into an opening move. "Your never-ending optimism in the face of hopeless odds." "Prat," Harry smiled as Ron moved his first piece, and began to settle in for their usual silent game. He had to wonder, however, just why their games were always so quiet. It was a given, of course, that the ordering about of their pieces was the exception. That and that Harry's had a habit of behaving mutinously whenever they disagreed with his orders (Which was often.) But other than that, the two always remained silent, and all that ever accomplished was to let Ron focus even more, and Harry stew over the fact that he was losing. As he made this realization, Harry suddenly felt that he'd been very, very stupid through eight years of chess games. He'd also spent eight years trying to copy Ron's style of playing, but he wasn't Ron. Ginny would definitely agree with that. Time for a change, then, he decided, and ordered one of his bishops into an unconventional attack, causing Ron to frown slightly. Ron was a strategic player; a planner. He meticulously thought at least five steps ahead. Harry couldn't beat that - his own strengths lay in improvisation, in making the most of what he had at the moment, by impulse more than anything. If he tried to out-plan his friend - as he'd been trying for eight years - he'd lose. Badly. But he could be unpredictable. Oh yes, that he knew how to do. A few moves later, Phase One was in progress. Ron was frowning even harder, trying to figure out Harry's pattern. Time for Phase Two. "So, Ron, did you hear that new Keeper fell through for the Cannons?" Ron's head snapped up, his mind no longer anywhere near wizard chess. * * * * * Unfortunately, this tactic had only lasted for a few short minutes. It had been paying good dividends - Harry had swiftly been able to relieve his opponent of both a bishop and a rook - but Ron had quickly twigged to what Harry was doing. Both then spent the rest of the game trying to come up with things to throw the other off, which would have been particularly amusing to any observer. Harry had briefly considered starting to share details of just what he and Ginny did when they were alone, but decided that since Ron would either A) hex the hell out of him, or B) retaliate with details of what he and Hermione did, that it really wouldn't be worth the effort. There were things a man should never know about his sister, after all, and it applied both ways in this case. "Checkmate," Ron said with a grin, as Harry's king threw down his sword in surrender. Harry did not miss that the chess piece was glaring murderously at him, and not his ginger-haired friend. "Damn," Harry muttered. "I really thought I was going to be able to throw you off enough to win this time." "It was a good try," Ron said in what was clearly mock sympathy - and with a tone that Harry found to be more than a little patronizing. "Means you get the drinks." "I'm going, I'm going," Harry conceded with a long-suffering sigh, and headed off to retrieve two butterbeers from the kitchen. Then, he rethought it and grabbed two bottles of Old Ogden's Fireale instead - a rich Irish ale from the makers of Ogden's Firewhiskey. It was a good, smooth brew, and Harry found that he was starting to prefer it over butterbeer. That it took a lot more Fireale to get smashed than the relatively small amount of Firewhiskey it took to achieve a similar state was also a bonus. When he returned, Harry found Ron pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. He was backlit by the soft blue flames that were the wizarding version of air conditioning - the enchanted fire gave off cold instead of heat. The light cast deep shadows across his friend's face, making even more obvious what Harry had been suspecting all evening. Something was clearly weighing on his friend's mind, and had been for some time. He'd thought so from the way Ron would occasionally look at him and start to speak, but then snap his mouth closed. Finally, Harry grew tired of it. He knew these signs, after all - his mate was feeling guilty about something. "All right then, out with it, you," he ordered as he handed Ron his ale. "Out with what?" "Out with whatever has you pacing like Hermione waiting on test results." Ron gave a snort of amusement before collapsing down onto the couch. He took a long, appreciative pull from the bottle of ale before speaking. "That obvious, eh?" "Ron, mate," Harry noted in a tone that was usually reserved for speaking to small children, " 'Subtle' has never been a word to describe you emotionally." "I sent our applications in to the Auror Division last week, while you were up at Hogwarts," Ron confessed without further preamble. "I know you said you hadn't made up your mind yet, but - " Harry froze at his friend's pronouncement. When he spoke, his voice was empty of tone and inflection, his words and voice very carefully neutral. "You what?" Ron sighed - he could read Harry as well as Harry could read him, after all. "Bugger. Look, Harry, I know you've been going through this big soul-searching, needing-to-find-yourself phase or whatever, and that's all good, but -" The black-haired wizard's mouth was set in a thin line now, and his eyes were narrowing dangerously. "So you thought you could make decisions for me, is that it?" The redhead fixed a level stare on his friend, and refused to back down whatsoever. "No, mate. I just did what I knew you were going to do anyway." "How d'you know that?" Harry asked. "How could you possibly know when I don't? For all you know, I'm going to play Quidditch, or be a... a... curse breaker, or..." "Harry," Ron said pointedly. "You've never even considered any other careers, mate. You'd have told me if you were." "Maybe I wouldn't," Harry said sullenly, knowing that the words were unconvincing. "Then I know because of this," Ron countered, "I know because two weeks ago, I wrote the Cannons and declined their offer of being Keeper. Just like you turned them and Portree down for the Seeker job. Because I don't want to do anything else, either. Not even Quidditch. You're going to be an Auror, because we both know that just because that snake-faced git is dead doesn't mean there's not still dark wizards out there. And you'd never be able to live with yourself if you weren't doing something about it." "That's not -" Harry started to protest, but even he was aware he was only doing so half-heartedly. Ron's admission had shocked him out of his denial. His best mate had turned town his bloody dream job, playing Keeper for the Cannons? After finding out that, how could Harry possibly deny what he'd been thinking lately? "Mate, are you sure - you've wanted to play for the Cannons since you were old enough to climb onto a broom." "Tell me I'm wrong!" his best friend shot back, refusing to be distracted from his point. "Tell me you've changed just because you fulfilled some sodding prophecy of Trelawney's. It's who you bloody are, mate. I know this because I've been around you for too damned long, and I'm making the same choice. That stupid nobility of yours has rubbed off on me. But go ahead, mate. You tell me I'm wrong. You say the words and I'll Floo Kingsley right now and tell him to bin the damn applications." Harry sighed heavily. "You're not wrong." "'Course I'm not," Ron acknowledged easily. "You know it as well as I do. I saw it last night when you were telling us about the Elder Wand. You as much as made up your mind when you took that thing back. You're just being thick about the whole thing, like always." "You know, I'm really tired of everyone else - you, Gin, 'Mione - all understanding me better than I do. It's bloody annoying." "Then stop lying to yourself, mate," Ron said softly. Harry gave a snort of agreement. "Reckon I should," he admitted. "So, Aurors? Don't suppose you mentioned that we come as a team, did you?" Ron grinned widely. "I might've said something about it, yeah." "Brilliant," Harry shot back. "When's our interviews then?" At that point, there was a knock on the door of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. This was a surprise, since most people Flooed first and just came through there. Not to mention that when Harry had re-cast the Fidelius, he had kept the number of people that knew his home's location to a very, very short list. As such, he was hardly accustomed to visitors knocking at the front door. Harry's eyes shot over to Ron. "Now?!" Ron blushed, having the grace to at least be very, very embarrassed. "Erm... yeah. Shoulda mentioned it sooner, I guess." "Gee, d'you think?" Harry shot back. "Git," he muttered under his breath even as he waved his wand towards the door to undo the magical locks. There was the intimidating click of several keyless bolts retracting, and the door glowed a soft blue for a moment as Harry dismissed the wards that would severely punish anyone who tried to force entry. It wasn't that Harry was exceptionally paranoid or anything - he just liked his privacy. Besides, Constant Vigilance! and all that, he mused with a smile as the door swung open. Both young men shortly adopted identical expressions of shock when they saw who was on the other side. "Minister Shacklebolt?" Harry said in surprise, drawing a wide smile from the bald, dark-skinned wizard. "Evening, Harry; Ron," the Minister said casually as he motioned to the black-robed Ministry security wizards behind him to stay behind. The security wizard frowned, but acquiesced - if the Minister wasn't safe at Harry Potter's house (which the security wizard couldn't see, thanks to the Fidelius charm), then he really wasn't going to be safe anywhere. Kingsley had a folder and some paperwork in his hands, and there was a gleam to his eyes that briefly reminded Harry of Albus Dumbledore. "And I've told you before, it's 'Kingsley'. Can I come in?" "Of course, Min - uh, Kingsley," Harry stammered as a reply and stood back from the door. Kingsley strolled in very casually, and showed himself towards the den. He was familiar with the layout, of course, having been in Grimmauld Place any number of times as a member of the Order of the Phoenix. He was eyeing his surroundings carefully, however, clearly appreciating the remodeling work that had been done. Harry hung back for just a moment after the elder wizard passed, and drew Ron aside by the simple expedient of grabbing him by his upper arm and all but yanking him back into the hallway. "What the hell is the Minister doing our interviews for, Ron?!" he hissed. "Haven't a clue, mate," Ron shot back honestly. "I thought it'd be Robards or Proudfoot, maybe, or even Dad, since he's head of the DMLE now." "If you'll come back in here, Harry, Ron," Kingsley's mirthful voice came, containing a more-than-pointed note to it. "Then I'd be happy to explain myself." "Right," Harry muttered, and returned to the den with Ron in tow. He tried to relax as he did so but now that Kingsley was here, he was unaccountably nervous. What if they laughed at the application? Yes, he'd filled it out - mostly at Hermione's insistence - but he hadn't intended to send the damn thing in. Knock it off, Potter. You told Ron it was time to stop lying to yourself, and it is, Harry mentally chided himself. You want this. So get it. "I have to say, Harry," Kingsley began, looking around at the old manor appreciatively. "I like what you've done with the place. This is much, much better than the mangy old mess it used to be." "Thanks," he acknowledged, trying to remind himself that there was no reason to be nervous. This was Kingsley, after all. And even if the man was Minister - how many times had he sat across from him at the dinner table? "It was a family project." "I imagine so," the Minister acknowledged. "And your other project? How's that been coming? Arthur's been telling me all about it. He's quite excited about it, really." A much more genuine smile spread across Harry's face then. Learning Arthur was excited enough to be talking of their project at work wasn't surprising - especially since he couldn't mention it at the Burrow, not with Ginny around. "All done. We're going to test the charms in the next few days sometime, but I think we've got it. Made a couple of new additions, too." "Smashing," Kingsley chuckled. "I'd love to see it, when you've the time some day. Well, to business then," he continued and opened the folder in front of him. "I have to say, gentlemen, that I'm not surprised to see these applications at all. Now, my status as Interim Minister will be ended when we have elections on New Year's Eve, and I will happily be puttering my way back down to the Auror Office. That's why I'm here personally - and Harry, Ron, I thought you'd appreciate the advice of a familiar face." "We do," Harry supplied for them both. He was grateful for the other wizard's explanation as well. He knew Kingsley no more wanted to be Minister than he himself did, even if Harry thought the other man was doing a smashingly good job so far. One of Kingsley's best decisions had been an edict which had seized the property, holdings - and most importantly, accounts - of all the convicted Death Eaters. The money had gone a long way towards the reconstruction efforts across the country - and had had the added benefit of putting the Malfoys out on the street. Harry knew it was petty to enjoy another's misfortune so much, but, just this once, he allowed himself to enjoy it. That alone would have convinced Harry that Shacklebolt deserved to be Minister for life. "Harry, correct me if I'm wrong, but you've never been comfortable with your fame. You've never wanted strings pulled on your behalf, yes?" Kingsley asked, drawing Harry away from his musings of Draco Malfoy in tattered and ill-fitting robes. "Right..." Harry trailed, getting an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. Ron grimaced at this. He didn't really have a problem with that, and he said so. He'd very much been hoping to bypass the fact that, on paper at least, they didn't exactly meet the requirements. They had dropped out of school, after all. "I mean - we did do all the legwork so Harry could take Voldemort down. Doesn't that count for something?" "Doesn't matter, Ron," Harry corrected absently. "It was prophecy. I never had a choice about stopping Riddle, just as much as you'd have never left me to do it on my own. That doesn't necessarily mean we'd make for good Aurors." He then thought of their... expedition to Gringott's. "Some of the ways we went about it might mean rather the opposite, actually." "Bollocks," Ron muttered grumpily, folding his arms and not wanting to concede the point. "There is, however," Kingsley interrupted, "a solution. One that will keep the pair of you from looking as though you're taking advantage of your - shall we say, celebrity status - and are instead earning your way." That it would help keep Kingsley's administration from looking like it was playing favorites (like several of the previous ones) went unsaid. Both Harry and Ron had looks of protest at that point, but Kingsley continued on. "Don't get me wrong, gentlemen. I think you've more than earned your way. But you'll have problems your whole career if you don't do it right. That's attention no one wants and you two rather even less than that." "What's the solution, then?" Harry asked curiously. Kingsley opened a folder and placed two sheets of parchment in front of the two young men. "What we can do, gentlemen, is this. These are magical contracts - Declarations of Intent - that state that you have been accepted into the Auror Department. You sign these, gentlemen, and you're on the payroll." Ron's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "And the catch?" "There's a few," Kingsley granted. "The first term is that you - both of you - return to Hogwarts and completes your final year. You will then take and achieve your NEWTS in Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Charms, and Herbology. Next, you'll be but through the official Auror training program, which we've compressed down to two years from three. In the meantime - yes, even while you're in your last year of school - you'll be listed on the rolls as Reserve Aurors. That means we'd be able to call on you in an emergency." A slow grin spread across his face. "Knowing you two, of course, you'll be in the thick of it regardless. At least this way, you'll have some official standing. But you pass those tests and the training, gentlemen, and you're in," Kinsley informed them, "All the way, and on your own." Harry leaned back as he weighed everything Kingsley had told them. Sign that parchment, and the decision was made, he knew. Was he really prepared? Could he go back to Hogwarts? Why the hell not? Wouldn't that be nice? A final year of school, with no one trying to kill him? A normal year with his girlfriend and his friends - and... With Ginny. They wouldn't have to be separated for most of the next ten months. The upcoming school year had been like the white elephant in the corner of the room every time they'd seen each other lately... but, in the end; there was no need for the separation. Harry knew Ron felt the same; Hermione was going back, after all. But this. One normal year... and then he and Ron would have purpose in their lives. Harry realized then that he'd made his decision the moment he'd realized he wouldn't be separated from Ginny. He and Ron locked gazes briefly, and with the small nod the redhead gave him, Harry knew his friend's thoughts had moved along the same lines. As one, they turned back to face the Minister - and their future boss. "Where do we sign?" Harry grinned. Kingsley's grin matched his own as he conjured up a quill. "Right here, then." The three men kept talking late into the night, detailing Harry and Ron's responsibilities. They were officially Aurors now, even if they were reservists with terms waiting before they were brought to full active duty. But being on the Reserve wasn't an empty thing. There were details and procedures they had to be apprised of, recommended books to read, laws to familiarize themselves with and a whole host of other things. Ron, for his part, was glad that he had some money of his own now - just so he'd be able to afford the book list. "Blimey," Ron eventually said, though he yawned halfway through the word. "It's late," he said, and pointed at the clock. "So it is," Kingsley agreed, and stood to leave. Harry and Ron both escorted him to the door, and shook hands with Minister as he prepared to leave. Just as he opened the door, Kingsley paused, and turned back to the two young men. "Oh," he noted. "I forgot to give you these. You'll want them, I think." The dark-skinned wizard reached into his pocket, and drew out two small black leather holders. He tossed one to Harry and one to Ron, and was gratified to see them both catch the small projectiles. Kingsley gave a half-salute, "Good night, gentlemen," he said with a wide smile, and disappeared out the door. Harry flipped the small leather wallet open, and couldn't help but smile. It was a badge. It was his badge. The logo of the Ministry of Magic was embossed against a golden shield, with crossed wands in the foreground, all done up in reflective silver. Down at the bottom, etched across a small bar, was the following: Harry J. Potter Auror Division, Reserves A quick glance confirmed Ron's was identical (save for the name, of course), and both men grinned widely at each other. "So..." Harry trailed. "One more year at Hogwarts, eh?" Ron nodded. "It won't be so bad. There's no Snape anymore, after all, and there's no way Malfoy'll show his face again." "Plus - the girls'll be there." "Too right," Ron eagerly agreed. "And no Death Eaters. No Snatchers. Just Quidditch, Hogsmeade and classes." "Might even have some time to test some stuff for George," Harry pointed out. Ron grinned. "Hey Harry?" "Yeah, mate?" "Let's not tell the girls yet." Harry frowned at this. "Erm... why?" "Imagine the looks on their faces when there's not two Hogwarts letters that show up, but four," he grinned. Harry's frown vanished. Hermione's reaction alone would make the omission worth it. But Gin... "All right, but if Gin hexes us, I'm hiding behind you." "Coward." "Prat." "Git." "Ponce," Harry snorted, and dodged to avoid Ron's answering swipe at the back of his head. "Ron?" "Yeah, mate?" "Thanks for pushing," Harry confessed. "I needed it." "I know, mate." |
| Reviews 306 |
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