Summary: Front page: THE DAILY PROPHET 4 May 1998
WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?
Despite the Official Ministry Statement (published above) we are no closer to receiving an answer to the question on the lips of every witch and wizard in the country. Where is Harry Potter?
It appears that Mr Potter left Hogwarts School early yesterday morning, apparently in the company of his close associates Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. An attractive young Ministry clerk, who did not wish to be named, told The Prophet “He’s at the Ministry, having an important meeting with the Minister. My friends and I saw him. He asked us out to the pub, but we had to turn him down.” This statement is at odds with a leaked report from the Portkey Office, which claims that Mr. Potter has fled the country, travelling to Australia with his companions. When asked about rumours that Mr Potter had been seriously injured and was being treated at a secret location, Acting Minister Shacklebolt said simply, "Nonsense."
Rating: PG
Categories: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2009.08.11
Updated: 2010.03.01
Index
Chapter 1: Sepulchral Mist
Chapter 2: Emotions Exhumed
Chapter 3: Morbid Thoughts
Chapter 4: Love Unveiled
Chapter 5: A Pall Over The Burrow
Chapter 6: Under a Shroud
Chapter 7: Family Plots
Chapter 8: Morning before Mourning
Chapter 9: Death Watch?
Chapter 10: Deadlines
Chapter 11: The Corpse in the Cemetery
Chapter 12: Funereal Progress
Chapter 13: Inhumations
Chapter 14: Commitals
Chapter 15: Postscripts
Chapter 1: Sepulchral Mist
Author's Notes: This is my story of the first week after the battle. Days of funerals and mourning, Grave Days.
1: Sepulchral Mist
Harry Potter opened his eyes to almost total darkness. It was early, very early; there was not even the slightest glimmer of dawn. The stars and quarter moon provided scant light to the room.
Harry concentrated on his other senses. He was stiff and sore. As he lay in his bed Harry reminded himself that he’d had much more serious injuries over the years. The pain was, in a way, a good thing; it reminded him that he was alive.
The soreness was the result of the lingering effects of the Cruciatus Curse, combined with the many other scrapes, scratches and burns he had sustained over the past few days. The stiffness, he realised, was simply because he had been lying in the same position for far too long. He wondered how long he’d been asleep.
Harry lay in bed for several minutes, moving slowly and trying to ease his stiff joints. He kept his eyes open, peering into the gloom until he could almost make out the shape of the curtains around his bed. He had collapsed onto the four-poster bed and hadn’t even bothered to close the curtains. Harry listened carefully, analysing the sounds as he tried to sense his surroundings.
He was not alone. Harry could hear the sounds of several others sleeping; their regular breathing interrupted by the occasional sigh or snore. His dormitory room in Gryffindor Tower had been empty when he had thrown off his clothes and fallen into bed. It had been only a few hours after noon when he’d left Ron and Hermione. Unlike him, they had returned to the celebrating crowds. He had made his way along the deserted corridors to his dormitory to get some much-needed rest after more than thirty hours without sleep.
Harry listened carefully to the other sleepers. Ron … that was Ron’s breathing, he was sound asleep. Neville … there was no mistaking that noise, he was here too. There were other, quieter, breaths in the background. Dean and Seamus, he wondered; or Hermione? He held his breath and strained his ears. Not Hermione, he decided. He had shared a tent with her for so many months; he could easily recognise the pattern of her breathing. Dean and Seamus he suspected–hoped–because if it was, then he’d really be home. How long since the five of them had shared this dormitory? It was June last year; the night before Dumbledore’s funeral. The day he broke up with Ginny, he remembered, but not, he remembered happily and hopefully, the last time he’d kissed her.
Slowly and quietly Harry pulled back his bedclothes and sat up in his four poster bed. He moved carefully, stretching hesitantly and easing his aching muscles into motion. When he was satisfied that he wasn’t going to cramp, he gently reached around the curtains to his bedside table and ran his fingers over its familiar surface. This action, in the dark without waking his room mates, was second nature to him. He’d had years of practice. His scuttling fingers found his glasses, three wands, his watch, and the dry and curled remains of the plate of sandwiches Kreacher had brought him yesterday.
He could easily tell the wands apart, even in the dark. The Elder Wand, somehow cool to his touch; Draco Malfoy’s wand, strangely familiar to him now, and Draco’s no more; and, as the warmth spread through his fingers, his own holly and phoenix feather wand.
Harry put on his glasses, picked up his watch and his wand, and pulled his bedclothes over his head.
Lumos, he thought. The wand obeyed him perfectly, emitting a low glow; just enough to see his watch face.
It was a little after half past four. Dawn, his watch told him, was still almost an hour away. He had been asleep for more than fourteen hours. His roommates had not disturbed him; not even the normally noisy and blundering Neville. He had no idea when any of them had come to bed. Suddenly wide awake, he was struck by an idea. Now! He’d do it now!
Harry felt around on the floor for the filthy clothes he had discarded yesterday and quietly pulled them onto his bed. While scrabbling on the floor he also found his invisibility cloak and the Marauder’s Map. He vaguely remembered pushing them roughly under his bed yesterday afternoon before crawling into bed. For a second time he pulled his bedclothes over his head and carefully examined the map by wand light.
He checked his dormitory first. The map confirmed that his guess had been correct; everyone was here. Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus were all back in their old dormitory. He looked quickly through Gryffindor tower. Hermione, Ginny and the Patil twins, Parvati and Padma, were all in Hermione’s dormitory. Why was Padma here, and not in the Ravenclaw dormitory, he wondered.
Lavender Brown was missing, he realised! He had not seen her since she’d fallen from the balcony. He tried to remember if anyone had told him what had happened to her. In a panic he checked the Hospital Wing. She was there. If she was on the Map, she was alive. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Returning to his examination of Gryffindor Tower he saw that George, Charlie and Percy Weasley were sharing a dormitory with Oliver Wood; Arthur, Molly, Bill and Fleur Weasley were in another. The final occupied dormitory contained Angelina Johnson, Alicia Spinnet, Katie Bell and a girl named Leanne Cowper; Katie’s friend, he remembered. Gryffindor Tower, while not full, had a lot of residents.
Harry dressed himself in the dark. He picked up his invisibility cloak, all three wands and his trainers and tiptoed over to the door. Gently easing it open, he crept down the spiral staircase to the Gryffindor common room. By the light of the fire, he checked the map. Two unfamiliar names, Edmund Byers and Dominic Strang were standing guard outside the portrait entrance; a few unknown names patrolled the corridors. Aurors? Harry wondered. How could he find out? He paced around the common room for a few minutes, thinking, and then…
‘Kreacher,’ he whispered. With a pop, his house-elf appeared in front of him.
‘Master.’ Kreacher bowed low; then stood silently, awaiting orders.
‘Thank you for your help…’ Harry paused, trying to remember when the battle had ended. ‘Yesterday?’ he said uncertainly.
Was it really only yesterday that Tom Riddle had died?
‘Kreacher was simply doing his duty,’ the house-elf croaked, bowing again.
‘No, what you did was more than that, thank you.’
‘It is an honour to serve, master.’ Kreacher bowed yet again.
‘Kreacher,’ Harry asked, ‘can you tell me who is outside in the corridor?’
‘Aurors, Master Harry,’ Kreacher replied, ‘to keep you safe.’ Harry scowled; even under his cloak he could not leave the tower. The Aurors would see the portrait hole open, and these days everyone knew about his cloak. The house-elf looked closely at Harry, examining the dirty and sweaty clothes he was wearing.
‘Master Harry cannot go out, not dressed like that,’ said Kreacher disapprovingly. ‘Kreacher will fetch clean clothes.’
‘Wait,’ Harry said; a wild idea struck him, ‘Kreacher, can you take me to the prefect’s bathroom on the fourth floor? A bath and clean clothes would be wonderful.’ Kreacher appraised his master with his huge, watery eyes.
‘Master Harry wishes to avoid the Aurors?’ asked the house-elf.
Harry nodded. The elderly elf firmly took Harry’s hand and Disapparated, reappearing in the prefect’s bathroom as requested.
‘Thanks Kreacher,’ Harry said, turning on the taps and watching the bath rapidly fill with hot foaming water.
‘Kreacher will bring Master Harry clean clothes,’ the house-elf said, and vanished. Harry undressed and slid into the warm, soothing water.
After twenty minutes scrubbing, swimming and floating, he was fresh, clean and completely relaxed; the aches and pains in his muscles soothed. He looked around the room and saw, next to a fresh white towel, a neatly folded pile of clean clothes; his dirty clothes had gone. His muddy and scuffed trainers had been cleaned. Harry hauled himself out of the bath and quickly towelled himself dry. He recognised the faded black jeans, boxers and socks as his own, the t-shirt, however, was new. It was bright red, with the golden Gryffindor lion rampant embroidered by hand over the heart. A card was attached to it. It read: “to Master from Kreacher. Happy Christmas.” Better than a box of maggots, Harry thought, grinning to himself as he pulled the t-shirt over his head.
‘Kreacher,’ he said, his house-elf appeared again; looking a little apprehensive, Harry thought.
‘Thanks for the t-shirt. I’m sorry I didn’t get home for Christmas,’ Harry said. ‘I should have got something for you too, I’m sorry.’
Kreacher struggled for words.
‘Master Harry gave Kreacher this,’ his long fingers lovingly caressed the locket dangling on his skinny chest, ‘Master Harry is a good Master, as good as Master Regulus.’ That, Harry knew, was the highest praise possible from Kreacher.
‘Thanks Kreacher,’ Harry paused, ‘Kreacher, I thought that I might go home today, back to Grimmauld Place. Do you know if it is safe?’
‘Kreacher does not know. Death Eaters arrived the day you went to the Ministry, master. Kreacher fled, he followed master Harry’s earlier orders; came back to Hogwarts.’
‘Well done Kreacher, you did the right thing.’
The house-elf bowed then stood erect and tilted his head first to one side, and then the other; his ears twitching.
‘Your house is empty, Master,’ the elf announced. ‘Kreacher will go and clean.’
Before waiting for a reply, Kreacher vanished. Harry considered calling him back, but decided against it. He did not want to rely on having a house-elf at his beck and call. He was already feeling guilty about giving the elderly elf so many orders.
Harry opened the Marauders Map again and looked to see if anyone other than the Aurors were moving around Hogwarts. There was a moving dot outside the castle; someone was walking through the grounds towards the main entrance. Harry checked and saw that the dot was labelled ‘Kingsley Shacklebolt.’ Harry could not believe his luck. One of the two people he wanted to see was on his way to the castle. Harry pulled on his invisibility cloak, and dashed through the school.
The corridors he ran through were curse scarred and on a few occasions he had to leap over rubble or feebly stirring suits of armour. By using every short cut he knew, Harry arrived in the Entrance Hall at the same time as Kingsley Shacklebolt. The acting Minister for Magic, wearing statesmanlike robes of crimson and blue, was greeting two Aurors.
‘All quiet,’ a short, plump and inoffensive-looking witch in navy blue Auror robes was telling Kingsley as Harry, under his invisibility cloak, slipped into the entrance hall from behind a tapestry. ‘The healers have all of the bodies prepared for collection, all apart from You-Know-Who. What are we going to do with him?’
‘I don’t know, yet,’ Kingsley replied. ‘Perhaps we’d better ask Harry.’ With that, the acting Minister for Magic looked directly at the spot where Harry stood. Harry was momentarily surprised, but he pulled off his cloak and smiled at the Minister. The two Aurors standing with Kingsley jumped in surprise and turned their wands towards him.
‘Can I ask how you got out of Gryffindor tower without alerting the guards I had placed there for your safety, Harry?’ Kingsley asked unconcernedly.
‘Would it be all right if I told you later?’ he asked. ‘There’s something I need to do, and I’d like you and Professor McGonagall to help me.’
‘As you wish, Harry, I was on my way to speak to Minerva,’ Kingsley said. ‘She is expecting me. I am certain that she won’t mind if you join me?’
Harry fell into step alongside the tall, acting Minister for Magic. As they climbed up to the first floor, Harry turned to head towards Professor McGonagall’s office.
‘Not that way, Harry,’ Kingsley said. ‘Minerva will be in the Headmistresses office. Whether temporarily or permanently is, of course, a matter for the School Governors.’
Harry turned on his heels and continued up to the seventh floor and the Headmaster’s (Headmistress’s … he wondered?) office. The gargoyle guarding the entrance had been repaired.
‘Harry Potter,’ Kingsley said, the gargoyle leapt aside. Bemused by the password Professor McGonagall had chosen, Harry followed Kingsley. They ascended the stairs to the office to find Professor McGonagall waiting at the door.
‘Good morning Kingsley,’ she said. If she was surprised to see Harry, she did not show it. ‘And good morning, Harry. How are you?’ she asked.
Harry struggled to reply: how was he? Was that really such a difficult question to answer? He hesitated as his emotions ebbed and flowed. One second he was so full of feelings: grief, pride, sadness, joy, anxiety, that he thought he would explode. A second later he felt strangely empty and detached.
‘I don’t really know,’ he replied honestly. ‘I’m alive!’ He noticed the surprise in his own voice when he spoke.
‘A lot of people aren’t,’ he continued unhappily.
Both Kingsley and Professor McGonagall reached over and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He stood and looked at his House Mistress and the acting Minister, then smiled sadly.
‘Harry has come to ask for our help, Minerva,’ Kingsley explained. ‘What can we do for you, Harry?’
Harry hesitated before speaking, Professor McGonagall and Kingsley waited in silence. ‘Tom Riddle broke into Professor Dumbledore’s tomb, and stole his wand,’ said Harry, producing the Elder Wand from within the folds of his invisibility cloak, ‘I want to return it, and re-seal the tomb. I’d like to do it before the castle wakes.’
‘Ah,’ said Kingsley, ‘then I believe our business can wait a few minutes, Minerva.’
‘I agree.’ Professor McGonagall nodded.
‘Professor Dumbledore’s wand,’ Kingsley asked, ‘are you sure, Harry?’ Professor McGonagall, too, was watching him carefully.
He chose to deliberately misunderstand the question. He looked Kingsley in the eye.
‘Yes, it is Professor Dumbledore’s. And Tom Riddle stole it. It was his final choice of weapon: the last wand he chose to use against me. His own wand didn’t work against mine; and mine broke Lucius Malfoy's.’
The acting Minister regarded Harry in silence for a few moments.
‘Tom Riddle,’ Kingsley mused. ‘Why choose to call him that Harry?’
‘It was his name, at least the name his mother gave him;’ Harry said ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle: not the Dark Lord, or Lord Voldemort, or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who. Tom Riddle! Tom Riddle isn’t scary, so that’s what we should call him.’
Harry looked around the Headmaster’s office; the paintings were all listening intently. Professor Dumbledore’s portrait beamed at him and nodded approvingly.
‘Can we talk on the way to the tomb?’ Harry asked.
‘Of course, Harry,’ Professor McGonagall said briskly. ‘Let’s go.’
Harry walked between Kingsley and McGonagall as they descended the stairs. Very quickly, he explained about the Horcruxes. They walked past battered suits of armour and on every landing Harry looked sadly along the battle-scarred corridors of the castle.
‘Professor Dumbledore realised that if Riddle knew we were looking for Horcruxes he’d increase his protections, or simply move them. Once we’d broken into Gringotts, he finally realised what we were doing. We had to find the last one, and we had to do it quickly. It was here, so we had to come here, and Riddle followed us, I’m sorry.’
‘Harry,’ Professor McGonagall said firmly, ‘you and your friends are heroes, and it’s time you realised it.’
‘I don’t want to be a hero, I never did, I just wanted the killing to stop … but I was too late for Fred, Lupin, Tonks ... all those others,’ Harry determinedly fought back tears.
‘Harry, you did not kill anyone. You are not to blame for those deaths, and, like it or not, you are the hero of the wizarding world,’ Kingsley rumbled. ‘Look at this.’ He showed him a copy of the Sunday Prophet. The headline read: “Voldemort Dead — Official,” and below, “The Chosen One Triumphs,” Harry groaned.
‘Come along Harry,’ Kingsley said kindly, stepping aside to let Professor McGonagall take the lead as they walked through the entrance hall. ‘Let’s get this job done, best get it over with now, while there is no one about. Then I must speak to Minerva about the future of the school …’
‘You can’t close it, you mustn’t,’ Harry interrupted, horrified at the possibility. Kingsley looked at Professor McGonagall.
‘That’s what I think, too, Harry,’ he assured. ‘Once we’ve discussed that, I think that you and I, or you alone if you’d prefer, should work on a statement to give to the press.’
‘I’m not doing an interview,’ said Harry firmly.
‘You won’t need to, if we get the statement right,’ Kingsley advised solemnly.
‘You would be in favour of us reopening the school?’ Kingsley asked as they walked through the entrance hall. There has been a suggestion that it be permanently closed and that a new school is built on a new site.’
Harry shook his head. He stopped and looked around the hall. Statues were broken, banisters and balustrades cracked or missing, but the grandeur remained.
‘There have been a lot of deaths here, I know, but Hogwarts School has seen many conflicts, and other deaths over the centuries. But it’s still here, a testament to the founders. It should re-open, it must re-open.’
‘Thank you for your views, Harry,’ Professor McGonagall said. ‘I was unsure myself. Some of the Governors are in favour of closure, but I believe that you are correct. We should re-open. Will you return, sit your final year?’
‘Or, can I ask?’ Kingsley interrupted before Harry could reply. ‘Do you have a career in mind, any idea what you want to do next?’
‘I wanted to be an Auror,’ said Harry, he thought for a minute, ‘I still do, I want to make sure that there are no more Voldemorts, no more killings.’
‘I think we can arrange that for you,’ Kingsley smiled, ‘you can start tomorrow; or possibly the day after. There will be a full meeting of the Wizengamot tomorrow; I would be grateful if you would agree to attend it with me.’
‘Harry missed his last year’s schooling,’ Professor McGonagall pointed out forcefully, ‘he does not have the NEWT’s required to become an Auror.’
‘Minerva,’ Kingsley replied, ‘given the circumstances, do you really think anyone will care?’
‘Professor,’ Harry said, realising that the acting Headmistress wanted him back at school, ‘after these last few months I’m not sure that I could cope with coming back to school. I’m not sure that the school could cope with me being back, either. I’m sorry.’
He turned to address the acting Minister. ‘Kingsley, people will talk if I’m made a special case. Could I study for my NEWT’s while doing my Auror training, without coming back to school? Then I’d be fully qualified. It won’t stop all of the critics, but I’d feel better.’
Professor McGonagall looked thoughtfully at Harry. ‘For obvious reasons, we will not be holding examinations here next month,’ she said. ‘However, if we can get the school open on time, I intend to ask the Governors to allow us to schedule examinations for students just after Halloween, for those students who almost got to their final exams this year. Most subjects were taught correctly,’ she pursed her lips disapprovingly as she spoke. ‘If you work hard over the next six months you should be ready for your NEWT’s. If not, well, you can sit them in a years time. I’m sure that any professor you ask will be prepared to help you, Harry. Now, shall we continue?’
They walked through the Entrance Hall and out into the grounds. The castle exterior was full of gaping holes and the grounds were strewn with debris and rubble. Harry surveyed the damage in horror. Minerva McGonagall noticed Harry’s sorrow.
‘We will be open for the start of the school year, Harry,’ Professor McGonagall said with certainty. ‘Kingsley has given me his assurance that if we decided to re-open, we would be ready for the first of September. We have almost four months to tidy the place up, to get everything ready. We can do it.’
Harry looked at the devastation, and then at the determination on Minerva McGonagall’s face.
‘I’m sure that you can: and you will,’ he replied.
They walked down towards the lakeshore, towards the grave of Albus Dumbledore. Long shadows were streaming across the castle grounds as they approached the white tomb. A chorus of birdsong sprang from the trees as the dawning sun peeked tentatively above the Forbidden Forest. Twenty-four hours ago, thought Harry as his mind flew back to the last dawn he’d seen. Now, at this very moment, Voldemort had been dead for a day. He shook himself from introspection and looked out over the grounds.
A thin dawn mist crept across the Black Lake, snaking white tendrils into the low ground by the lake shore. The scene was eerily beautiful. The fog created a clammy pallor around the lakeside as it sought out and filled all of the low ground. It was as if the lake had turned to clouds and risen by a dozen feet. The mist effectively screened both the tomb, and the three people approaching it, from the castle.
It was simply dawn mist, Harry knew, but as he walked deeper into the enveloping white it was as if the school itself was helping screen this private, secret, act from the world. The swirling moist air cooled and calmed Harry preparing him for the duty he must now perform.
He halted in front of the white tomb and pulled the Elder Wand from within the folds of his invisibility cloak. He turned to face the acting Minister and the acting Headmistress. Suddenly, he felt very young and very foolish. I’m about to give orders to the most important wizard, and probably the most influential witch, in the country, he thought.
And they’re going to do what I ask without questioning me, he realised.
Nervously, he swallowed hard and thought carefully about what he was going to say. Kingsley Shacklebolt and Minerva McGonagall waited politely, watching him.
‘Tom Riddle used several different wands against me; none of them worked. Finally, he decided to steal Professor Dumbledore’s: that didn’t work either. I don’t want this wand; I want it to go back where it came from, where it belongs. I’d like to make sure that it’s protected, and that the tomb is repaired. Will you help me?’
Kingsley and McGonagall nodded.
‘Of course, Harry,’ agreed Kingsley.
‘Certainly, Harry,’ affirmed Professor McGonagall.
‘Thank you.’
Harry approached the tomb slowly. He used the Elder Wand to carefully widen the crack in the top of the tomb, just enough to expose the partially unwrapped corpse of Albus Dumbledore. With the Elder Wand still in his hand he carefully reached inside the tomb. He gently placed the wand into the cold, dead, desiccated hands of the corpse. As he did so he looked down, for one last time, at the body of the man who had guided him and watched over him for so many years. After releasing the Elder Wand back into the care of it’s true owner he moved up and straightened the Professors glasses, that done he transferred his own holly and phoenix feather wand into his wand hand.
‘Professor; wherever you are now, I know that it’s not here. But this is all that remains of you, all we have to remember you.’ Harry said.
He was astonished how calm he was; more astonished because, somehow, he knew exactly what he must do.
‘This wand is yours, keep it safe.’ He said.
He touched the tip of Elder Wand with the tip of his own holly and phoenix feather wand. Concentrating on using the Elder Wand to create a perfect spell he said:
‘Protego.’
A shimmering shield, cast with two of Harry’s wands, holly and Elder, enveloped and enclosed both the body and the Elder Wand it held. He withdrew his wand from within the shield spell, and stepped back from the tomb.
‘Could I ask one of you to try to pick up Professor Dumbledore’s wand?’ Harry asked.
Professor McGonagall shook her head.
‘There is no need Harry; that was a brilliant piece of spell work. You have a remarkable knowledge of wand lore. Albus’ wand will continue to generate that protection spell from within. I don’t know why you needed us.’
‘I … I wasn’t sure it would work, Professor,’ Harry stammered; praise from Professor McGonagall was a rare and treasured commodity.
‘If you could add to the protection, and reseal and repair the tomb I’d be grateful,’ he said. ‘I don’t think that I could repair that crack, certainly not neatly.’
After a short consultation, both Kingsley and McGonagall cast a series of additional protection spells over the tomb. Finally, Minerva McGonagall carefully and seamlessly repaired the cracked tomb.
Harry stepped back up to the white tomb and placed his left hand on it. The magical protections made his fingers tingle.
‘Rest in peace, Professor,’ he said. ‘Your plan didn’t work quite the way you intended, but it worked. The job you gave me is done, and you helped me right to the end. Even … even after your death you helped.
Tears in his eyes, Harry was about to step back from the tomb when Professor McGonagall stepped alongside him. She placed one hand on his shoulder, the other on the white tomb.
‘Albus,’ Professor McGonagall said, ‘I doubted you; I doubted your trust in Harry. Forgive me.’ Harry was stunned; Professor McGonagall looked close to tears, she turned to speak to him.
‘Harry, I owe you an apology. On the night Albus died, I asked you what you had been doing. I was rather sharp with you when you refused to tell me. I now realise that you were, as you told me, following Albus’ instructions; that assurance should have been enough for me.’
Harry couldn’t think of anything to say. He was saved from embarrassment when the acting Minister spoke from behind them.
‘Goodbye, Albus, old friend, I will do my best to follow your advice.’
Together they turned away from the tomb.
‘Minerva, Harry, can we adjourn to the Headmistress’s Office? We need to discuss the repair of the school, and then, if you don’t mind Harry, we can Apparate to the Ministry and work on an official statement about yesterday’s battle.
Harry nodded his agreement; suddenly, he was afraid to see his friends. He wanted to be somewhere far away from Hogwarts. He’d had hours of back slapping and congratulations yesterday. Today he realised, would be more of the same but mingled with introspection and mourning. The battle was won, but at what cost? He could not face seeing Molly, or George, he realised, not yet.
Chapter 2: Emotions Exhumed
Author's Notes:
I neglected to thank Spenser for betaing chapter one for me. Apologies, Spenser.
He’s done a great job on this chapter and he now has chapter three. Thanks again, Spencer, and thanks to you all for reading.
2: Emotions Exhumed
Kingsley’s discussions with Professor McGonagall were brisk and business-like. They discussed methods of repairing the school, examinations, and possible improvements which could be incorporated into the rebuilding.
‘You do intend to reopen the school in September then, Minerva?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Professor McGonagall had made her decision. ‘I will need your assistance, Kingsley. There is a lot of work to do. We will need additional funding for the repairs.’
‘I am meeting the Wizengamot tomorrow. I will do my best to ensure that you have everything you need. I’d be grateful if you could get me a provisional list of your requirements by then.’
‘I already have it,’ Minerva McGonagall informed him. She handed him a thick roll of parchment.
It was not even six in the morning when they reached the Entrance Hall. Harry stood in silence, only half listening as McGonagall and Kingsley concluded their discussion. He was looking around the hall, his mind drifting back as random events from the battle fought to be remembered. Ron had thumped Draco on those stairs. Up there was where he’d seen Professor Trelawney; and that was where he’d seen Lavender fall. At least Lavender was now safe in Madam Pomfrey’s care.’ A question from Professor McGonagall brought him back to the present, ‘Will you stay for breakfast, Harry?’ she asked.
Breakfast … Harry gazed longingly into the Great Hall, but all he saw was broken windows and the memory of corpses.
Kingsley looked at Harry and said, ‘I must get back to the Ministry, but if you want to say goodbye to your friends …’
‘No, thank you; I’ll see them soon enough,’ said Harry. He had made his decision. He did not want another day of congratulations; he certainly did not want a day of mourning. He needed some time to himself; he needed time to think, he told himself as he tried to justify his decision.
‘If you want to come with me now, we can discuss the press statement,’ Kingsley said slowly.
Harry looked around at the battered and broken Entrance Hall. Was he really leaving Hogwarts so soon? He’d outgrown the place, he realised sadly. After last year there was no going back.
‘Will I be allowed to decide what is said in the press statement?’ Harry asked.
‘If that’s what you want, Harry,’ said Kingsley, nodding.
‘Then, yes, I’ll come to the Ministry with you,’ confirmed Harry.
‘Phillipa,’ Kingsley addressed the plump witch, who was still guarding the Entrance Hall, ‘please inform your colleagues that Harry is leaving. He is travelling to the Ministry with me. Goodbye, Minerva.’ Kingsley and McGonagall shook hands.
‘Goodbye, Professor,’ Harry said, holding out his hand. ‘I hope that they make you Headmistress, and thank you; thank you for everything.’
Minerva McGonagall’s eyes were sparkling with tears as she shook Harry’s hand.
‘You’ll be back, Harry.’
‘But not as a student,’ Harry told her sadly.
‘Good luck, Harry,’ she said. ‘This school won’t be the same without you.’
Harry smiled sorrowfully and gazed around the battle-scarred walls of the Entrance Hall, ‘I hope not Professor; I hope that you’ll have a much quieter time without me.’ He looked down fondly at the acting headmistress, vaguely wondering when he’d grown to be taller than her.
As he walked alongside Kingsley down the drive to the main gates Harry did not look back at his school. He was lost in thought, wondering whether he was doing the right thing, and worried that, if he turned, he would return to the school which had been his home for so many years. Then he remembered a more pressing problem.
‘Is there a way to get someone to Australia, quickly, Kingsley?’ he asked, as they walked toward the gates.
‘Australia?’ Kingsley asked. ‘Why do you want to go to Australia?’
‘I don’t, but Hermione does,’ Harry explained. ‘Her parents are in Australia, she … sent them there to try to keep them safe last year. I know she’d like to get them back as soon as possible. Can you help?’
‘There is a way,’ Kingsley pondered. ‘I’ll need to speak to both the Portkey Office and the Department of International Magical Cooperation. When we get back to the Ministry, I will organise a Portkey series.’
As they left the school grounds Harry finally plucked up the courage to turn and look back at his old school. He stood for some time, taking in the view. Eventually, when he’d imprinted the image on his mind, he turned to face the acting Minister.
‘Ready?’ Kingsley asked.
Harry nodded.
‘Kingsley,’ he said, remembering that he was now with the acting Minister, a man who was formerly an Auror, ‘I’ve been Apparating since my birthday, but I haven’t passed my test.’
Kingsley Shacklebolt chuckled. It was an infectious deep, bass noise which made Harry smile for the first time since the battle.
‘Extenuating circumstances, Harry,’ Kingsley noted. ‘But, as an Auror and acting Minister, I really shouldn’t condone any more lawbreaking. I will take you to the Ministry by Side-Along-Apparition, if you don’t mind.’
‘Okay.’ Harry nodded and took Kingsley’s arm.
The Ministry building was almost deserted when they arrived. Harry was surprised, until he remembered that it was still only a little after six o’clock on a Sunday morning. They quickly made their way up to the Minister’s Office. Apologising to Harry, Kingsley left him alone with an early edition of the Sunday Prophet while he went to speak to various Ministry officials. When he returned twenty minutes later, Kingsley joined Harry at the long table which stretched down one side of the office.
‘I’ve spoken to the Portkey Office,’ Kingsley informed him. ‘They’re dealing with your request. I’ve spoken to the Auror Office, too,’ Kingsley continued, pushing a small white card towards him. ‘This is yours, if you want it. I’ve made the arrangements with Gawain Robards.’
Harry read the card: “Harry J Potter — Trainee Auror”, and looked in surprise at the acting Minister.
‘Thanks, but; not even an interview?’
‘Not for you,’ Kingsley shook his head, ‘nor for any of your friends, if they want to become Aurors. I was particularly impressed by the actions of your friends Mr Weasley and Miss Granger. Mr Longbottom, Miss Lovegood and Miss Weasley also excelled themselves, as did the rest of your little group. We lost over half of the Auror Department during the last year, Harry. We will need new recruits, urgently. If you want the job, it’s yours.’
‘Thanks Kingsley,’ said Harry. ‘If I take this, does that mean I’m working for you?’
‘You’ll be working for Gawain Robards,’ said Kingsley. ‘He’s an experienced Auror and a good man. He was a close friend of Rufus Scrimgeour.’
Harry carefully considered the card. Was this really what he wanted? He thought back to his last look at Hogwarts. Never again he told himself. He made his decision and tucked the card into his wallet.
‘Now, Harry, What shall we tell the press?’ Kingsley asked.
Harry pondered the question in silence for some time. Kingsley did not press him, and Harry slowly began to unburden himself to the slow-speaking acting Minister. While standing next to Dumbledore’s tomb he had made the decision to tell Kingsley almost everything. It was important that someone knew. Harry needed advice about how much to tell, and who to tell it to.
It took Harry a long time to tell his story and they suffered from frequent interruptions. Members of staff from both the Portkey Office and the Department of International Magical Cooperation were in and out of the Minister’s Office, agreeing on Portkey locations and travel arrangements.
At nine o’clock, while Harry was explaining what happened at Malfoy Manor, a harassed clerk knocked on the door.
‘Sorry to interrupt, Minister,’ he apologised. ‘Security has held a Miss Granger and a Mr Weasley in the Atrium. They are demanding to see Mr Potter.’
‘Arrange to have them escorted up immediately,’ Kingsley ordered.
Harry grinned as his friends entered the Minister’s Office a few minutes later. Ron was wearing jeans, a grey t-shirt and an old tweed jacket; Hermione wore jeans and a lightweight sweater; both looked stressed and unhappy.
‘Git,’ Ron scowled by way of greeting. Hermione was no happier.
‘What the hell were you thinking of, disappearing like that!’ she shrieked. ‘We were just getting ready to organise a search party when Ginny checked with the Aurors. We were worried sick!’
Harry was astonished.
‘Kingsley and McGonagall knew where I’d gone, so did the Aurors,’ he told his friends defensively. ‘I wasn’t going to wake Ron up to tell him. You all needed to sleep.’
‘Have you forgotten how to write?’ Hermione shrilled. ‘A note would have been enough to stop us worrying! What have you been doing?’
Harry could feel himself becoming annoyed, but before he could reply, Kingsley stood and spoke.
‘Mr Weasley, Miss Granger–or–may I call you Ron and Hermione?’ he asked. They nodded. ‘Thank you. I asked Harry to come with me. I wanted his help. We need to agree on what, exactly, we are going to tell the press. Harry has also asked me to do something for him. I have spent almost three hours trying to set up a series of Portkeys between here and Australia.’
‘Oh,’ exclaimed Hermione in a very small voice; she gave Harry a grateful look.
‘Wow.’ Ron grinned.
‘I’m expecting that the arrangements will be finalised very soon,’ Kingsley continued, smiling at the three teenagers. He watched them carefully. Ron and Hermione needed to talk to Harry.
‘I’ve no idea whether you two have eaten, but I know Harry left Hogwarts before breakfast, and I expect that you both wanted to find Harry before thinking about food. Why don’t you go outside and get something to eat. I’m sure that you still have things to talk about. If you head down towards the Embankment, you’ll find several Muggle cafs,’ Kingsley told them.
‘Take these,’ he pulled five twenty-pound notes from his desk and handed them to Harry. ‘I don’t suppose that you have much Muggle money. Meet me back here in an hour. I should have some news for you by then. We can finish our discussions later, Harry. We have all day.’
Harry was hungry, and so surprised by Kingsley’s offer that he unthinkingly accepted the cash, stuffed it in his pocket, grabbed his friends by the arms and led them from the Minister’s Office.
‘Come on, you two,’ he said as they walked through the secretary’s office, ‘let’s get some London air.’
‘Harry,’ Hermione asked hesitantly as they left the empty office and walked towards the lift past rows of empty desks in a large office, ‘the Portkeys, they are for…’
‘…for you?’ Harry interrupted. ‘Yes; it’s the fastest way to Australia apparently, though I don’t know all of the details yet.’
They were almost at the lifts. Hermione flung her arms around Harry, hugged him tightly, and kissed his cheek.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, as Harry gave her a quick hug in return.
‘Oi,’ Ron protested, ‘what’re you doing?’
Harry grinned, ‘Jealous, eh?’ he winked at Ron over Hermione’s shoulder. Then he put his hands on Hermione’s shoulders and pushed her away to arms length. ‘So, what’s happening between you two?’
Both Ron and Hermione, Harry was pleased to see, blushed.
‘I don’t know,’ said Hermione, looking down at her feet.
‘It looked like you both knew yesterday,’ Harry laughed. He looked at Ron, who was looking more scared than Harry had ever seen him.
‘Heat of the moment,’ Hermione mumbled, still blushing, and avoiding Harry’s eyes. Ron looked shocked. Harry was surprised, and then it struck him … Hermione was nervous because she’d made the first move, she’d kissed him. She probably needed to be sure that is wasn’t heat of the moment, that she wasn’t another Lavender.
Harry pulled Hermione into another hug, peering past her hair, he caught Ron’s frightened eyes and mouthed, ‘Say something, now!’ to his friend. He let go of Hermione, turned on his heels and strode over to the lift button.
‘I’ll get the lift,’ he announced.
‘Hermione,’ he heard Ron say. Harry determinedly looked at the lift doors and pushed the button again.
‘I didn’t think it was nothing,’ Ron continued. Hermione didn’t speak. Harry resisted the urge to look round.
‘I–would–could–you–me,’ Ron stuttered; he stopped, sighed and took a deep breath. ‘Hermione, would you like to go out with me,’ Ron asked slowly and carefully, ‘because I’d like to go out with you.’
There was no reply, but Harry heard muffled slurping noises coming from behind him. A lift arrived and the doors rattled open. Fortunately, it was empty. Harry stepped inside and turned to face the door. Ron and Hermione appeared to be glued together at the lips. Ron had his arms around her waist and had lifted her off the ground.
‘The lift’s here,’ Harry announced. Nothing happened.
‘THE LIFT IS HERE,’ he said again loudly. Ron lowered Hermione to the ground and they reluctantly parted. Both wore dazed expressions. Ron swaggered into the lift, hand in hand with Hermione. They were giggling. Harry was unsure whether to be amused or annoyed.
‘Atrium, please,’ Ron ordered with mock pomposity, while waving his hand imperiously.
‘Certainly sir,’ Harry replied, bowing, ‘and would sir and madam like me to stand in a corner facing the wall?’ All three burst out laughing as the tension and fear of the past few days were momentarily forgotten. They were still laughing hysterically, arms around each other, when the lift doors opened at the Atrium level. They were faced with half a dozen Ministry staff, looking at them in astonishment.
‘Sorry,’ Harry apologised to the surprised workers, ‘it wasn’t that funny really.’
Looking around, he recognised a stooped, white haired wizard.
‘Hello, Mr Perkins,’ he said. ‘We lost your tent; sorry.’
‘Harry, and Ronald, isn’t it?’ Arthur Weasley’s elderly colleague asked, surprised. Harry glumly noticed that everyone’s eyes flicked up to look at his forehead.
‘And Hermione Granger,’ Ron added, still laughing. ‘See you later Mr Perkins. Sorry about the tent. We’ll buy you a new one, but we’ve got to go.’
The three slid their way past the Ministry workers and made their way through security, into the Atrium and to the exit. Ron and Hermione were holding hands. Hermione reached out and linked her other arm through Harry’s.
‘Where shall we go for breakfast?’ she asked as they approached the cubicles at the Ministry exit.
’Anywhere you like,’ Harry replied, waving the money Kingsley had given him. They each entered a toilet cubicle. ‘I’m feeling rather flush.’
They all started laughing again.
When they reached the outside world with its bustle and traffic noise Harry pulled himself together. He looked around and found a road leading down towards the Thames.
‘This way,’ he said, leading his friends down the busy street.
‘Is everyone mad at me for leaving?’ he asked.
Hermione nodded.
‘Mum was in a right state, she thought you’d been kidnapped,’ Ron said. ‘We were just getting ready to alert the DA when Ginny had her brainwave and found an Auror to ask.’
‘How is she?’ Harry asked. Ron looked rather combative, so Harry immediately made the question more general. ‘How is your family, everyone, after…’ he hesitated before finally forcing the words from his mouth. ‘…after Fred?’
Ron said nothing. Hermione, looking worried, slipped her arm around Ron’s waist and hugged him.
‘Fred’s funeral will be a week from today,’ Hermione said. ‘Mr Weasley told us last night. He’s already made the arrangements. Everyone’s really worried about George. It’s hard for everyone, but George especially; he’s taking it really badly.’
‘Fred…’ Ron began, his eyes wet with tears. ‘Fred wasn’t the only one; Remus, Tonks, and little Colin. Was there something we could have done, anything, to have stopped Voldemort sooner?’
Harry shook his head.
‘I’ve been wondering the same thing, Ron,’ he said. ‘A lot of good people died, too many.’
They walked down the street in a morose silence for several minutes. Harry could not think of anything to say. He wished that he hadn’t brought the subject up. He wondered how long the deaths would be a wall between them and happiness. It had been a bitter victory.
‘Will this place do?’ Harry asked, stopping abruptly outside a coffee shop. ‘It’s a nice morning. We could buy coffee and sandwiches to take out and sit on the riverside.’
Ten minutes later they were sitting on a wooden bench watching the boats on the Thames. Hermione sat between the two young men, but she and Ron each had an arm around the other and Harry found himself a little apart. Although he was with his friends, as they ate their sandwiches and drank scalding hot coffee, Harry felt strangely alone.
‘Busy, isn’t it?’ Ron said, breaking the uneasy silence.
‘Not particularly,’ Hermione replied, ‘you need to get out into the Muggle world more often, Ron.’
Ron shrugged. ‘What’s Kingsley got you doing, anyway?’ he asked Harry.
‘I’m writing a statement for the press, explaining how we defeated Tom Riddle.’
‘YOU defeated Tom Riddle,’ Hermione corrected.
‘I couldn’t have done it without you,’ Harry argued, ‘and that’s what I’m going to say.’
Both Ron and Hermione looked pleased, though Hermione did her best to try to hide her pleasure.
‘Do you want to be Aurors?’ Harry asked. Ron nodded enthusiastically, but Hermione shook her head.
‘No,’ she said. ‘I want to join the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures when I finish school. There are a lot of changes needed in the Ministry!’
Ron rolled his eyes.
‘Auror–that would be cool,’ said Ron enthusiastically. ‘It’s a; shame about all the training, and anyway, we don’t have our NEWT’s.’
‘We will be able to shortcut that,’ Harry said. He explained Kingsley’s offer.
‘You mean you’re not going back to school!’ Hermione exclaimed. ‘Harry, you can’t take a job. You will miss out on your final year!’
‘It didn’t do Fred and George any harm, they’re both…’ Ron began before stopping, eyes wide in shock. Hermione kissed him on the cheek.
‘We’re all going to do that, Ron. A lot! We can’t forget Fred, we mustn’t. I’m sure that we’ll mention him a lot, he was a big part of our lives,’ she said, giving him a consoling hug.
They pondered Hermione’s words, No one spoke until they had finished their sandwiches.
‘Time we were heading back,’ Harry announced, to break yet another uneasy silence. ‘Come on you two.’
‘Hey,’ Ron asked, ‘where’d you get the t-shirt?’
‘A present from Kreacher, clean clothes, a new t-shirt and a trip to the prefect’s bathroom. It’s the easiest way to avoid Aurors,’ Harry said. Ron laughed.
‘You can’t Apparate within the Hogwarts grounds,’ Ron mimicked Hermione’s lecturing voice, ‘unless you’re like Harry and have your own house elf. House elves are great!’
‘Isn’t that what I’ve been telling you for years, Ron?’ Hermione asked waspishly. Ron just grinned.
‘Don’t you ever get sick of being right, Hermione? Just make a mistake, once in a while; see how the rest of us feel.’
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but Ron grabbed her around the waist and kissed her into silence. Harry decided to leave them to it and walked on ahead. He wondered if he should ask Ron about Ginny, but he remembered Ron’s last reaction. Ginny can wait, he told himself sternly; there’s still work to be done. Anyway, he thought grimly, I can’t even talk to Ron about Fred, what could I possibly say to Ginny?
Harry re-entered the Ministry without looking back over his shoulder. He was standing in the Atrium, waiting for Ron and Hermione, when a young witch with thick dark curly hair entered the Atrium from the lifts. She saw him, squealed ‘Harry Potter’ turned and ran back to the lifts. Harry groaned. Where were Ron and Hermione?
Two minutes later, the curly haired witch was back, with two friends in tow. All three had quills and parchment with them. Harry was mortified; they were going to ask him for his autograph.
All three were giggling as they approached Harry, who was by now fervently wishing that he hadn’t left his invisibility cloak in Kingsley’s office. The curly haired witch, blushing furiously, approached and, as he’d feared, asked him for his autograph.
‘Why?’ Harry asked aggressively. The curly haired witch was taken aback, but one of her friends, a buxom blonde in her mid twenties stepped forwards.
‘Why not?’ asked the blonde witch brazenly. ‘It ’ud be summat to tell our grandchildren, your grandchildren, too, if you play your cards right!’ she winked, her friends giggled. ‘D’yer wanna meet us in the pub after work? We finish at five.’
Harry had no idea what to say. He was saved by the appearance of Ron and Hermione, who were arm in arm.
‘Sorry,’ he said to the three witches, ‘my friends and I have an urgent appointment with the acting Minister. I think we’ll be busy all day.’
‘Let’s go,’ he called, urgently, ‘we can’t keep Kingsley waiting.’
He hurried off to the lifts. Ron and Hermione followed after him, Ron shouting ‘what’s up, Harry?’ as they went. There was a lift open and waiting. Harry hurried in and jabbed the button before the three witches could join them.
‘What happened, Harry?’ Hermione asked. Harry told her. Ron burst out laughing.
‘Blimey mate,’ he chortled, ‘now you’re getting girls asking you out! If that had happened to me I’d have…’ he caught sight of Hermione’s face, ‘…done exactly the same thing,’ he finished in a monotone.
‘Ever considered having the words “Insensitive Wart” tattooed across your forehead, Ron?’ Hermione asked scornfully. ‘It might help the few poor fools who’ve never met you.’
Ron tried to look contrite.
‘Sorry, Hermione,’ he apologised. ‘I’m not used to this girlfriend stuff yet.’
‘No?’ Hermione asked. ‘What was Lavender then?’
‘I’ll tell you about Lavender, when you tell me about Krum,’ Ron offered.
‘That was years ago, Ron,’ Hermione began. ‘And…’
‘Not now,’ Harry interrupted, ‘I don’t want to know,’ his discomfort showed on his face.
Ron and Hermione both laughed at him and he wondered whether things would ever be normal again. They were flipping between laughter over pathetic jokes and maudlin silence. There was no normal, it had vanished in the battle. There was only the aftermath.
The Ministry offices had started to fill while they had been out. A long queue of people waited to speak to the Minister. An officious middle-aged witch sat at the previously empty desk outside Kingsley’s door. She spotted Harry, Ron and Hermione and took them past a half dozen annoyed Ministry officials and straight in to see Kingsley.
‘Thank you, Brenda,’ said Kingsley as the witch ushered the three in, then left, closing the door behind her.
‘I’ve just been in contact with the head of the Corroboree; the Australian Wizarding Authority,’ Kingsley told them.
‘They will provide assistance in the search for your parents, Hermione. The Portkey Office has set up a series of Portkeys around the world. Each Portkey will transport you to the location of the next. I have a list of the Portkeys here.’ Kingsley waved a piece of parchment. ‘They will all be in place within the hour, and they are reversible, to allow you to use the same keys on the return journey.’
‘You will be able to travel around the world in a series of hops of about five hundred miles each,’ Kingsley explained. ‘This will be a tiring and disorientating journey for you, but you will be able to make the journey fairly quickly.’
Hermione was almost dancing with happiness.
‘Thank you, Kingsley,’ she said, smiling happily, ‘and thank you, Harry,’ she continued, wrapping him in another hug.
‘After all you’ve done, this is a very small reward for you’ Kingsley rumbled. ‘Do you intend to travel alone?’
‘No,’ Ron said, ‘I’m going too…’ he paused. ‘Er, if you want me to that is Hermione. I reckon you could do with some company.’
‘Thanks, Ron,’ Hermione hugged and kissed him too, ‘but shouldn’t you stay with your Mum and Dad?’
Ron looked troubled, ‘They’ll want me to stay, but I’d rather be with you,’ he emphasised.
‘Best not go anywhere without telling them, mate,’ Harry advised.
‘Good point,’ Ron admitted. He turned to Hermione. ‘We can Apparate back to Hogwarts and tell them.’
‘You can’t Apparate anywhere,’ Kingsley ordered. ‘No licence, like Harry.’ Ron looked crestfallen; Kingsley smiled. ‘So, you two had best get down to level six and report to the Apparition Test Centre, good luck.’
‘Wow, thanks, Kingsley,’ said Ron, astonished. ‘C’mon, Harry.’
‘You can stay here, Hermione,’ said Kingsley, ‘and we can discuss the details of your journey.’
‘Good luck, Ron; good luck, Harry,’ she called as they left the Minister’s Office.
‘You don’t mind if I go off to Australia with Hermione, do you? I reckon she needs the company, you know?’ Ron asked when they were in the lift. He was watching Harry carefully for his reaction. Harry looked up into his best friend’s anxious face.
‘Just go, Ron, spend some time with Hermione and don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay. It’s not like there’s another Voldemort waiting to kill me.’ Harry paused, ‘One thing though, I wouldn’t take Hermione back to Hogwarts with you when you go and talk to your Mum.’
‘Why?’ Ron looked confused. The lift doors opened.
‘You’ve both got such a soppy look on your face when you look at each other. If your Mum catches sight of that, you’ve got no chance of going,’ Harry replied, a grin spreading across his face.
‘Good point.’ Ron agreed as Harry knocked on the door of the Apparition Test Centre.
Half an hour later they were both back in Kingsley’s office, each with a newly printed Apparition licence. The queue outside Kingsley’s door was now even longer, but again the officious Brenda ushered them past it.
‘The Portkeys are ready,’ Hermione beamed as Ron and Harry entered the office. ‘We might even be able to get there and back in a day. Depending on how quickly the Australians can find Mum and Dad. I’ve already given Kinsley the names to look for. Someone is sending the information to Australia now.’
‘Great,’ said Ron, waving his apparition licence in her face.
‘Well of course you both passed,’ smiled Hermione dismissively, ‘after all the practice you’ve had this year.’
‘Kingsley,’ Harry said, ‘there are a lot of people waiting to see you. If you can find me a desk somewhere I’ll write down the names of all of the Death Eaters I saw at the battle. Hermione can help me while Ron goes to talk to his Mum and Dad. I can work on that press statement later.’
So, while Brenda escorted Harry and Hermione to a cubicle in the Auror Office on level two, Ron hurried off to talk to his parents and, he hoped, pack for a trip to Australia.
Harry and Hermione wrote and checked a list of names of known Death Eaters and many others who they had seen fighting alongside Voldemort. It was almost noon when Ron strolled into the Auror’s office, a large rucksack on his back.
‘It looks like it’s time you went and got packed too, Hermione,’ Harry said, grinning at Ron.
‘I haven’t unpacked yet,’ she said, pulling up her jumper and taking a small beaded bag from her jeans pocket. ‘Was your Mum all right about you coming with me?’
Ron looked a little embarrassed.
‘I told Mum we’d only be two or three days; that we should be back by Wednesday at the latest. So she’s letting me go,’ he told her.
‘She seems to think that all three of us are going,’ he continued, the tips of his ears reddening. ‘I’m … not sure how that happened,’
Hermione snorted in disbelief, Ron rounded on her.
‘Look, do you want my company or not? I know I’ll be in trouble with Mum when we get back, but this was the quickest and easiest way for me to get permission to come with you. If she knew Harry wasn’t going, I wouldn’t have been allowed to go either. She wanted me to stay at the Burrow until Fred’s–er. So I–sort of misunderstood her. I didn’t lie, but I didn’t correct her when she assumed that we were all going,’ Ron continued, getting redder by the second. ‘I don’t want you to go off by yourself, Hermione. I…I just want to be with you, to help. I thought you wanted me to be with you!’
‘I’d like you to come with me, Ron,’ said Hermione. ‘But you can’t keep tricking your mum like that.’
‘If I was as clever as you I wouldn’t need to,’ Ron replied. ‘I’d just alter her memory. That would make my life a lot easier. So, am I going with you, Hermione?’
‘Magic can’t solve everything, Ron,’ she told him. ‘But of course you can come with me.’
She stood and hugged him. Ron responded with a passionate kiss.
‘You two stay here,’ Harry sighed, ‘I’ll go and speak to Kingsley.’
Ron replied by giving an enthusiastic thumbs up gesture, without breaking apart from Hermione.
Harry was back within minutes, a small bag in his hand. Hermione and Ron were still busy snogging and did not notice his approach. He stood in silence for a few minutes; watching them, thinking about Ginny, and wondering what to do. Eventually, they noticed his presence.
‘I’ve just found out that Colin Creevey’s funeral will be on the Saturday,’ Harry announced sadly. ‘He was in the DA. We should go shouldn’t we?’
‘Of course,’ Ron and Hermione said together. Harry gave a morose grunt of agreement. They should, he knew that they should, but as he thought about the many funerals to come he shivered.
‘I’ve got the first Portkey,’ he held up the bag. ‘It will work when you touch it. Kingsley wants you to leave from the Atrium.’
As he walked down to the Ministry entrance, Harry realised that he was missing Ginny more than ever. But he could not go to the Burrow. Molly Weasley thought that he was on his way to Australia with Ron and Hermione.
Harry shook Ron’s hand and kissed Hermione on the cheek. ‘Look after each other,’ he told them. ‘See you soon, I hope.’
Hermione, her eyes full of tears, hugged Harry and returned the kiss.
‘Take care of yourself, Harry. We should only be gone for a couple of days with any luck. We’ll be back for…’ she looked at Ron, tears in her eyes, ‘…for the funerals.’
The small bag contained an empty beer can. Ron held out his hand. Hermione entwined her fingers with his and they both straightened their forefingers.
‘Bye, Harry,’ Hermione whispered. ‘Thank you.’
‘And go and see Ginny,’ she added hastily as she and Ron reached into the bag. When they touched the can both they, and the can, were enveloped in a blue light. They vanished.
Suddenly alone, Harry walked back to the lift and returned to the Minister’s office. For much of the day Harry sat quietly in the corner of the office, working on his statement while listening with interest to the changes Kingsley was beginning to make at the Ministry. The day wore on, and despite the frequent interruptions by harassed Ministry officials, Harry also managed to finish telling Kingsley about the events of the past nine months. The two remained in the Minister’s office after the majority of the weekend staff had left.
They were in the office until nine in the evening finishing Harry’s press statement. Eventually, Harry declared himself happy with the result. Kingsley had tried several times to persuade Harry to make some alterations, claiming that Harry was being unduly modest, but he had been unsuccessful.
The decision not to tell anyone about else about the Horcruxes had been the first one they had made. As far as Harry was concerned, the fewer people who knew, the better. The official statement said that Voldemort had used Dark magic in order to tie himself to life; that the magic was associated with the Gaunt ring, Slytherin’s locket, a cup belonging to the Lestranges and the snake Nagini. It was close enough to the truth, and it allowed Harry to give particular credit to Professor Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione and Neville for their part in destroying the Horcruxes, for their essential in ensuring Riddle’s defeat.
Harry and the acting Minister then discussed tactics for the meeting with the Wizengamot, which was due to start at two o’clock the following afternoon. Kingsley, Harry soon realised, was a consummate politician. He asked Harry what he wanted, and together they planned how to achieve his aims.
It was after ten o’clock in the evening when Harry left the Ministry. He walked for over an hour through the noisy, busy, and brightly lit Muggle world. He walked slowly trying to gather his thoughts as he headed towards Grimmauld Place. He tried to concentrate on the dead, the work to be done, but his mind returned again and again to Ginny. His head swam with memories of her eyes, her hair, her lips, and her smile. He should have spoken to her before now, but he had no idea what he could say, or how he could say it.
It was approaching midnight when he reached Grimmauld Place. The Death Eaters had done remarkably little damage; except, Harry discovered to his horror, to Sirius’ old room. His house had obviously been searched, ransacked, but only his godfather’s old room had been vandalised; the walls were scorched and charred, every piece of furniture in that room had been destroyed. The other dark, Slytherin influenced rooms were almost untouched; whether out of respect for the dcor, from respect of Bellatrix Lestrange, or out of fear of Tom Riddle, Harry could only guess.
Kreacher had prepared the master bedroom for Harry, and had tidied the kitchen, but the rest of the house was still a mess. Harry spent half an hour reassuring the elderly elf that he’d done enough, and that it didn’t matter if it took weeks, or months to get the place back into shape. He’d then asked Kreacher to wake him at eight. The master bedroom was dingy and depressing. At least, thought Harry as he collapsed into bed, the bed was comfortable and the sheets clean and fresh.
Ginny haunted his wildly varying dreams. He dreamt that she, Hermione and Luna had been killed by Bellatrix Lestrange and woke in a panic. When he finally returned to sleep, much later, he found himself walking into the Gryffindor common room and catching Ginny in a passionate embrace with Dean Thomas. He woke, shaking and sweating, and checked his watch. It was six o’clock. He was still tired, and it felt as if a troll was tap dancing on his skull, but he did not want to go back to sleep, he couldn’t risk it. Instead he took a bath.
Chapter 3: Morbid Thoughts
Author's Notes: Thanks to Andrea for beta'ing this for me.
3: Morbid Thoughts
After lying awake for some time, listening to the pounding in his head, Harry rose and took a long bath. Returning to the master bedroom wrapped in a towel he found that all of his clothes had been cleaned, folded and neatly put away in his room. Kreacher had been very busy.
When he opened the wardrobe Harry also found a carefully flattened newspaper cutting. It was a photograph. It showed a smiling Harry with his right arm around Ginny, his left (for appearances sake) was around Ritchie Coote. Ginny looked much happier about the pose than Ritchie. She leaned toward him; Ritchie leaned away. The caption read Hogwarts Quidditch Cup — Winning Team 1996/97 — Gryffindor House: Bell, Thomas, Robins, Weasley GM, Potter (Capt.), Coote, Peakes, Weasley RB, (missing — McLaggen) — photograph by C Creevey. Harry wondered where Kreacher had found it. He found some spellotape and fastened it to the wall above his bed.
Harry sat and stared at the photograph for several minutes, lost in thought. Dozens of possible futures flitted fleetingly through his head. Some were happy, others, less so. With a sigh, he finally turned away from the photograph and dried his eyes. Dressing quickly he walked down from the third floor to the basement. When he entered the kitchen he found his house elf almost in tears.
‘No breakfast Master,’ the elderly elf whimpered, ‘no food. Kreacher has found some tea, nothing else.’
Kreacher was cowering; he obviously expected punishment.
‘It’s not your fault, Kreacher,’ Harry said gently, ‘I forbid you to punish yourself.’
The elf quivered nervously, and bowed.
‘How did you feed us before: when Ron, Hermione and I were hiding here?’
‘Money from Masters account,’ Kreacher explained, ‘but account is sealed.’
‘Sealed?’ Harry asked.
‘Goblin orders, no withdrawals.’ Kreacher muttered fearfully.
‘I’ll try to sort it out today,’ Harry realised. The goblins held all of his funds and he’d robbed their bank. He should have expected something! He checked his pockets.
‘I’ve still got some Muggle money,’ Harry said quietly. ‘I’ll walk to the Ministry and buy myself breakfast on the way. Don’t work too hard Kreacher, rest when you need to. I’ll see you tonight.’
Harry bought a sandwich from a small bakery as he walked through the bustling London streets. As he walked, he began to relax a little. He found distraction, and even enjoyment, in walking through the Muggle world. As he walked, he watched ordinary people doing ordinary things. The crowds gave him an enjoyable feeling of anonymity. He was surrounded by people, but none of them gave him a second glance. All of these people, and not one of them had heard of Harry Potter. No one here wanted an autograph, or a date!
He was one of the first to arrive at the Ministry, though he was not surprised to find Kingsley already at work in his office. The redoubtable Brenda had not arrived, so Harry simply knocked on the Minister’s door and waited for Kingsley to shout ‘Enter.’
Harry was busy telling Kingsley about his financial problems when Brenda announced her arrival. She left the Minister’s office with instructions to arrange an early morning appointment with the Goblins. Harry and the Minister then began checking a diary, trying to organise visits to bereaved families and noting the dates, times and locations of the many funerals. There were a lot of visits to be made, and a lot of funerals to attend. They were still busy when Brenda returned.
‘The goblins will see you at ten, Minister. At Gringotts,’ she frowned. ‘They claim to be unable to attend the Ministry until Friday.’
Thank you, Brenda; we’ll go to them — this time.’
‘I have a message from security, too, Minister,’ she added, ‘the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister has arrived for work.’
‘UMBRIDGE!’ Harry shouted, drawing his wand and leaping to his feet.
‘Please, Harry,’ Kingsley said mildly. ‘Try to stay calm. I’m sure that Dolores will want to meet me. Have her sent straight up please, Brenda, Harry and I would like a few words with her.’
Dolores Umbridge marched into the Ministers office a few minutes later. She looked venomously at Harry, who was sitting next to Kingsley. The Minister greeted Umbridge politely, and asked her to sit. Harry clenched his jaw and tried to control his anger.
‘I have important matters to discuss, Minister,’ she announced, ‘matters relating to recent events here at the Ministry. I’d like to discuss them privately; I really don’t think that they are suitable for tender young ears.’
‘There are no youngsters here, Dolores,’ Kingsley told her firmly, ‘Mr Potter is of age. He is the man responsible for Voldemort’s downfall. I would trust him with my life.’
Dolores Umbridge scowled but did not argue. Harry sat in silence, watching her suspiciously. She glared at him then turned her attention to the acting Minister. She gave Kingsley an indulgent smile, which failed to mask the hatred in her eyes.
‘Acting Minister,’ she began politely, her voice rose an octave as she spoke. ‘I shall be happy to continue in my post and to serve you faithfully. I have served, with some success I might add, your predecessors: Ministers Fudge, Scrimgeour and Thicknesse.’ As she spoke she was casting anxious glances at Harry, who was clutching his wand inside his jacket.
Very politely, Kingsley asked her to explain her involvement in the Muggle-born Registration Commission. Dolores Umbridge claimed that she was ‘simply following the orders of the Minister.’
‘Only following orders?’ asked Kingsley scathingly.
‘As is my duty, Minister, I followed your predecessors’ orders faithfully; rest assured that I shall do the same for you.’
Harry watched the normally imperturbable Kingsley smile; Umbridge had walked into his trap.
‘You are prepared to carry out any Ministerial orders I give?’ Kingsley asked.
Umbridge nodded, smiling.
‘Excellent,’ said the Minister, his voice loud and cold, ‘then listen carefully. I order you to present yourself to the Auror Office. When you get there, please ask to be escorted to Azkaban to await trial for misuse of privilege and for crimes against Muggle-borns.’
Dolores Umbridge broke down. She pleaded with Kingsley, leaning across his desk to implore mercy, scattering the ministerial paperwork Kingsley and Harry had been working on as she did so. Kingsley leaned back in his chair and refused every plea. Increasingly desperate, she suggested that, as Head of the Muggle-born Registration Commission, she was the ideal person to put right ‘any minor errors that may have occurred while processing such a large number of undesirables.’ Harry had to force himself to remain silent.
Harry became nauseated by her performance. Nothing, apparently, was her fault; she’d been loyal to the Minister, followed orders, nothing more. Kingsley remained impassive through every appeal. When all else failed she cried and raged; finally, she turned and begged Harry for help. He followed Kingsley’s lead and said nothing; he simply clenched his fist and showed her the faint scars on his hand, “I must not tell lies.”
Finally, she became hysterical and Kingsley was forced to call in four Aurors, who dragged a screaming and protesting Umbridge from the office. As she left Umbridge accused Harry of dozens of crimes, from breaking into the Ministry and freeing criminals, to Apparating without a licence. He’d expected to feel vindictive pleasure as she was taken away, but instead, Harry simply felt queasy.
Kingsley and Harry arrived in Diagon Alley by Portkey. The street was the same run down and untidy place it had been the last time Harry had visited, when he’d robbed Gringotts a few days ago. The beggars he’d seen previously were still there, but they were now in an orderly queue outside one shop. What had once been Florean Fortescue’s ice cream shop was now, according to the sign “The Society for the Assistance of Muggle-borns”. A hand written banner in the window read: Please help your fellow witches and wizards — give generously for the abused victims of Lord Voldemort and his followers. Harry slowed, curious about what was going on inside the building, but Kingsley reminded him that the goblins valued punctuality. They hurried on and entered Gringotts at ten o’clock exactly.
The meeting started badly. The goblins wanted Harry and “his accomplices” jailed for the robbery, the first in Gringotts history. Harry said little, but marvelled at the way the Minister countered goblin claims with wizard counter-claims. It was obvious that the goblins knew much, though not all, of the truth. Despite several minutes of harsh questioning, Harry continually refused to name his goblin accomplice. He was surprised to discover that the goblins regarded this as a point in his favour. In fact, soon afterwards Harry’s involvement in the robbery was resolved.
Kingsley persuaded the goblins to agree that, as Harry and his friends had destroyed the only item taken from the vault, a cup enchanted with darkest magic, and because the cup had, in fact, been stolen in the first place, he had not committed robbery. When Kingsley agreed to take the goblin's claims for compensation for damage caused in the robbery to the Wizengamot, the goblins finally granted Harry access to his funds.
Harry then went to check his vault, leaving Kingsley to discuss the return of Gringotts to full goblin control. To his surprise, he found that he had more gold than ever. His parent’s money had been increased very substantially by the Black family wealth. He had been rich, now he was richer. After ensuring that Kreacher would be able to access his funds, Harry took one hundred galleons from the vault then, after being assured of the legitimacy of the charity by the goblins, arranged for the anonymous transfer of five thousand galleons into the account of the Society for the Assistance of Muggle-borns.
Harry found the Wizengamot meeting much easier than he’d expected. He was cross-examined for some time about his exploits over the previous year. He confirmed the press statements, but other than praising his friends and companions, he refused to elaborate on Voldemort’s attempt to make himself immortal.
‘Mr Potter,’ one elderly wizard asked him. ‘How did you know what to do?’
‘Professor Dumbledore discovered what Riddle had done, and told me how to undo it, by destroying the objects. As I’ve said, the destruction of Gaunt’s ring by Professor Dumbledore, Slytherin’s locket by Ron Weasley, the Lestrange cup by Hermione Granger, and the snake Nagini by Neville Longbottom, allowed me to defeat Riddle.’
‘But you know the spell used?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you refuse to tell the Wizengamot?’
‘Yes.’
‘So, what is to prevent you using this Dark Magic yourself?’
‘Lots of things, not least being that unlike Riddle, I’m not afraid to die.’ Harry replied angrily. ‘But if I start appearing in public with pale skin, red eyes, and a snake-like face you’ll know it’s time to start hunting me down.
‘It’s amazing really that no-one here ever questioned the fact that the man arguing for pureblood supremacy was a halfblood who didn’t even look human,’ Harry continued. He looked accusingly at the Wizengamot. ‘His appearance should have been a pretty obvious sign that something was wrong, so why didn’t you act? He killed dozens, including my parents but when he was first defeated no one, except Professor Dumbledore, tried to investigate. You were all just happy that he’d gone!
‘But he wasn’t gone, was he? He was still there, hiding in the shadows. This time he is gone,’ he continued, angrily. ‘But more people have died. This time things must change! You allowed Voldemort to become powerful. No one tried to stop him until it was too late. You must make sure … we must make sure … that nothing like this happens again!’
The Wizengamot remained silent for some time after Harry’s outburst. Eventually an ancient and tiny witch spoke to offer Harry a medal: an Order of Merlin, first class. Harry demanded that the Wizengamot also honour many others. He listed the many people he thought worthy of medals, including Ron, Hermione and Neville. However, he did not stop there; he caused uproar when he also demanded medals for Lupin and Dobby. Several of his questioners objected to honouring a werewolf and a house-elf. Harry simply refused to accept any honour until the Wizengamot agreed to look at all of the facts, and agree to his recommendations.
He was then asked what to do about Riddle’s body.
‘You can’t give him a burial, that would create a grave; a shrine.’ Harry pondered; then he remembered Barty Crouch.
‘Transfigure his body into sand and scatter the sand in the sea,’ he suggested.
The Wizengamot agreed, and Kingsley volunteered to carry out that task personally. Two dozen members of the Wizengamot agreed to be witnesses.
Kingsley then spoke at length, telling the Wizengamot of the changes he’d made, and those he still intended to make. Harry sat silently and nodded in agreement with Kingsley’s suggestions. The meeting concluded with Kingsley being formally confirmed as Minister for Magic.
‘Go home, Harry, get some rest, get something to eat,’ Kingsley suggested as they travelled in the lift back to the Minister’s Office. Harry shook his head.
‘I’m going to write a report for them, recommending medals for everyone who fought, and I’m going to ask them to take recommendations from the others. They need to talk to everyone who was at Hogwarts before they start dishing out any medals. I’ll go home when I’ve finished.
‘I can’t order you to leave, Harry, but you should really get some rest. Please,’ Kingsley advised. Harry shook his head stubbornly.
‘I need to do this,’ he told Kingsley, ‘if I work late, I’ll come in late tomorrow.’
The Minister reluctantly agreed.
‘I don’t want to see you before noon tomorrow,’ ordered Kingsley. ‘Brenda has spoken to Mr Longbottom; he’s coming into the Ministry at two o’clock with a Mr Macmillan. We are still trying to create a comprehensive list of everyone who fought alongside Riddle. Several people escaped at the end of the battle. We must determine who is still at large, and capture them before they can re-organise. We have a squad at Hogwarts gathering names and corroborating the information provided by Madam Pince. Another squad is interviewing the captured Death Eaters. Most are saying nothing, but Mr and Mrs Malfoy are being particularly helpful. They, and their son, have provided us with an extensive list of names of Death Eaters and their allies.’ Harry grimaced at the news.
‘It would be helpful if you could double check the list they have provided,’ Kingsley continued slowly, ignoring the look on Harry’s face. ‘One final thing, Harry, I must warn you that, despite the statement we issued yesterday, the press are becoming desperate to speak to you, they are waiting outside every entrance to the Ministry, so when you leave, be careful.’
Harry found an empty desk in the Auror Office and began writing his account of the battle, recommending medals for dozens of those who had fought alongside him at Hogwarts. It did not take him as long as he’d thought. Once he’d finished, he re-checked the list of Death Eaters and their allies he and Hermione had written. It would be interesting, Harry thought grimly, to cross-reference it with Lucius’ list and see if Draco’s father had deliberately missed anyone.
It was after eleven when he left the Ministry under his invisibility cloak. He strolled past several wizards, and a lot more witches. Most, though not all, were press. After about half a mile he removed his cloak and walked through the Muggle Streets back to Grimmauld Place.
Harry gratefully accepted a mug of cocoa and a sandwich from Kreacher. He hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, he realised. At one o’clock in the morning he tumbled into bed, exhausted, and fell instantly asleep.
Harry walked into the Great Hall at Hogwarts and silence fell. The hall was full of students, most of them lying dead on the floor. Harry looked in horror at the corpses; Ron, Neville, Seamus, Dean and Lavender all lay dead. Hermione wept over Ron’s body. Fingers pointed at him, ‘Why didn’t you save them?’ the bloodied and wounded survivors shouted. Turning and fleeing from the horrific scene, he took one of his favourite short-cuts back to Gryffindor tower. As he burst through a tapestry he ran into Ginny, her arms around Michael Corner. They looked at him in disgust; turned away from him and kissed each other fervently. Feeling sick, Harry stepped backwards through the tapestry but got tangled in it and fell over.
He crashed to the floor and found himself in the master bedroom at Grimmauld Place, in a tangle of bedclothes. He had fallen out of bed. It was half past five in the morning. He did not try to go back to sleep.
Harry bathed, breakfasted, and spent the morning with a protesting Kreacher, helping the elf to tidy up the house.
‘Not work for Master.’
‘It needs to be done, and I need to be doing something,’ Harry told the elf as he began removing the broken furniture from Sirius’ old room.
Kreacher insisted that Harry eat some lunch. He prepared steak and kidney pie and followed Harry around, the meal on a tray, until Harry finally gave in and ate some of it.
Under his invisibility cloak Harry Apparated to the alley beside the Ministry. There were many more people outside the Ministry than there had been the previous night, and he had difficulty slipping through the shifting crowds.
When he arrived in the Auror Office he found Neville Longbottom, Ernie Macmillan, and Gawain Robards, head of the Auror Office already at work on several lists of names. They spent the afternoon combining the lists. Eventually they finalised a comprehensive list of those accused of supporting Tom Riddle.
‘Mr Robards has asked me about joining the Auror Office,’ Neville told Harry proudly as they worked, ‘I’m going to start work as a trainee Auror in two weeks. I’m here today to help with the lists, but I promised Professor Sprout that I’d go back to Hogwarts to help clear up. The greenhouses are in a terrible state; they will take a lot of fixing.’ Neville shook his head sadly.
They continued working long into the evening, making a list of witnesses to cross-reference and attach to the names of everyone accused. It was dull, but important, work and Harry managed to lose himself in it, the concentration required helped him to forget his other problems. Finally, they went back through the list annotating the names of those Death Eaters confirmed dead or captured.
Neville and Ernie stayed with him, working late into the night. Harry was still having difficulty reconciling the scarred, hard talking warrior Neville with the plump little round-faced boy he’d first met seven years ago. Ernie too was less pompous and more business-like than Harry remembered. While they were working, Neville and Ernie told Harry of the horrors of Hogwarts under the Carrows. Confused by Neville and Ernie’s references to “the Hogwarts DA”, he asked them what they meant.
‘There were two “Dumbledore’s Armies”,’ Neville told him, ‘the DA members who were still in Hogwarts, were fighting the Carrows. You need to talk to Justin, Katie and the others about the rest or the DA and the Resistance.’
Finally, after hours of checking and rechecking, they agreed a list of those still wanted. It was after ten at night when they finished. The list was sent to Kingsley for final approval before being sent to the Daily Prophet. Among the wanted, Harry noticed, were Rabastan Lestrange and Thorfinn Rowle. There were other names familiar to Harry, too: Bletchley, Bulstrode, Flint and Goyle, all Slytherin and all at Hogwarts with him.
Ernie Macmillan formally shook Harry’s hand and bade him an exaggeratedly polite goodnight. Neville, however made an excuse to hang back and wait until Ernie had left.
‘Harry,’ Neville began nervously, ‘can I have a word?’
‘Any time, Neville’ Harry replied, Neville looked down at his feet.
‘I want to be an Auror; it’ll make Gran so proud, but …’
‘Aren’t you sure about the job, Neville?’ asked Harry.
‘I want to do it, it’s unfinished business, but I want something else, too. I want to get my Herbology NEWT and I want to keep studying Herbology. I’d … I’d really like to teach one day.’ Neville looked at Harry embarrassedly. ‘But I really want to make sure that all of the escaped Death Eaters are caught, too.’
It was Lestrange, Harry realised. Neville needed Rabastan Lestrange to be recaptured before he could move on.
‘You don’t have to stay in one job your whole life, Neville,’ said Harry, ‘Most people don’t. If you want to help me track down the escaped Death Eaters, that’s great. When we’ve done that, you can decide whether you want to stay in the Auror Office or if you want to move on. Teaching is good.’
‘Great, right, that’s a good idea,’ said Neville. He still looked unhappy.
‘Is there something else Neville?’
Neville nodded and looked nervously around the empty office.
‘Don’t tell anyone, please, not even Ron and Hermione,’ Neville whispered.
‘I won’t,’ Harry promised, intrigued, ‘what is it?’
‘Girls,’ said Neville glumly, looking up at Harry. Suddenly, Harry saw the old, nervous Neville again.
‘Girls?’ Harry asked, “girl” would have been surprising, the plural was astonishing! Harry had a sudden vision of Neville with a girl on each arm. Desperately trying to keep his face straight he decided that confirmation was required, ‘More than one girl?’ Neville nodded.
‘There’s a girl I fancy, but she’s got a boyfriend,’ he began, ‘and there’s a girl, well three girls actually, who say they fancy me, but I don’t know if they do. ’
‘You’re asking the wrong one here mate.’ Harry was amazed; three! Then he remembered Neville’s defiance, his beheading of the snake, and he thought back to the incident in the Atrium on Sunday morning.
‘I’m no expert, Neville. All I can say is, if this girl you fancy has a boyfriend, I wouldn’t say anything to her, not unless you’re absolutely certain that she’s the one for you. Even then, if she’s going out with someone else, she must want to! So you’re probably heading for trouble. As for the others; that’s up to you. If they say they fancy you, and you fancy one of them, go for it. But they may just fancy a “hero of Hogwarts,” not you. I know nothing about girls though.’
‘Thanks, Harry,’ said Neville, turning to leave. He stopped and looked into Harry’s face. ‘See you on Saturday. Good luck with your visits; you’re starting them tomorrow, aren’t you?’
Harry nodded. He was meeting Kingsley at nine in the morning, he’d best get some sleep. He left the Ministry under his cloak, Apparated back to Grimmauld Place and collapsed into bed.
Once again Harry found himself clambering into the Gryffindor common room. Ginny and Neville were snogging. Harry watched in horror.
‘You told me to let her know, if I was certain,’ Neville said, defensively.
As Harry looked at Neville, Ginny broke free from Neville’s arms and rounded on Harry shouting and screaming:
‘You left us to the Carrows; Neville stayed and fought, he defied Voldemort, he pulled the Sword of Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat, and he killed the snake; he’s the true Gryffindor, not you.’
Molly and George Weasley entered the common room. As he gaped open mouthed at Ginny and Neville they, too, began shouting at him.
‘Get out; leave us alone, you let Fred die.’
Harry woke, shaking and sweating; it was five o’clock. He lay awake until dawn, frightened to close his eyes. It was just a dream! Neville would have told him if he’d been talking about Ginny. Harry tried to reassure himself again and again. But Neville and Ginny, with Luna, had been the leaders of the DA last year. Had they got close? He lay in bed, worrying.
Harry could not face breakfast. He met Kingsley at nine and they began making their visits to the families of the dead. Harry had agreed to accompany Kingsley because he knew that it was the right thing to do. He was not looking forward to the task; there were so many people to see.
Wednesday passed in a whirl of grieving faces. Parents of students killed; bereaved wives and husbands, children mourning parents. Harry met the families of teachers, students, Aurors, law officers and ordinary witches and wizards who had come to Hogwarts and given their life in the battle to defeat Tom Riddle.
By that evening, Harry was exhausted and grief stricken, and full of cups of tea. Kingsley, concerned for his welfare, suggested that he not take part in the following day’s visits. Harry, however, was determined to continue. That night he had an exhausted, but mercifully dreamless, night’s sleep.
Thursday was similar to Wednesday. Harry found himself falling further into grief after every visit. By Thursday evening Kingsley and Harry had visited the families of most of those who had died defending Hogwarts. Kingsley had agreed to attend as many funerals as he could, Harry, however, had refused all invitations. He told bereaved relatives, honestly, that his attendance would likely attract the press and detract from the service. He had decided to make an exception only for members of the DA, and of the Order of the Phoenix.
Harry listened to so many stories of loss, sorrow and bravery over those two days that he was overwhelmed. The names of those who’d died bubbled randomly to the surface of his brain and he desperately tried to remember who the name belonged to. That night he dreamt about Ginny again. This time he did not recognise the faceless stranger she was kissing. He rolled over and eventually managed to return to a fitful sleep.
When Friday dawned there were only three families left to visit. These were the most difficult visits; they were the visits which, he finally admitted to himself, he’d rather not make. Like the previous morning, Kreacher provided Harry breakfast in bed. It was an attempt, Harry realised, to get him to eat a proper meal. Harry had been surviving on the tea and biscuits provided at every house he’d visited over the past two days.
Harry lay back against his pillow, eating toast and marmalade, his bacon and eggs untouched. He closed his eyes and pulled his sheets tightly around his chest. Munching his toast, he thought back over the last week. He longed for company; he wished that Ron and Hermione hadn’t left. Until they returned, all he could do was work. After the funerals, he told himself, things might get better.
As he lay in bed Harry finally realised how clever Kingsley had been. Harry had been seen with the Minister every day since the battle. Kingsley had been careful to let Harry know what he was trying to achieve. People who had been Imperiused had been released; a wholesale reorganisation of the Ministry had begun. Recalling the week’s events, Harry smiled. Both Fudge and Scrimgeour had tried to bribe, flatter and threaten him into visiting the Ministry “to reassure everyone.” Kingsley had not even had to ask; he’d simply offered Harry shelter.
Harry had refused every previous Minister’s request to become a poster-boy for the Ministry; but he was doing it for Kingsley. He felt no resentment; Kingsley had sheltered him from the press and had helped in many other ways too. He’d sat in Kingsley’s office listening to the changes he was making, and he approved of the Minister’s policies.
Today though–today was going to be hard. He was visiting Mrs Tonks, the Creeveys, and finally the Weasleys. Harry wished that he could simply stay in bed. He lay there for several minutes considering doing just that. Cursing himself for his cowardice he determinedly pulled back his bedclothes and walked alonf the landing to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, teeth cleaned, washed, shaved, and wearing clean black jeans and a faded green sweatshirt Harry opened his front door. He patted his pockets, checking that he had his wand, his watch, his wallet and his DA galleon. He threw on his invisibility cloak and Apparated to the alley beside the Ministry and walked to the ministry entrance.
Flushing himself into the Ministry, Harry considered the current security arrangements. They weren’t very good. He had a few ideas for improvements, but he wanted to discuss them with Ron and Hermione before talking to Kingsley.
Harry stopped in the Atrium and pulled off his cloak. The final remnants of the obscene “Magic is Might” statue were at last being removed. The statue was to be replaced by a simple white obelisk on which would be carved the names of everyone killed by Dark Magic since Tom Riddle began his rise to power.
Harry lost himself in memories.
When he had been waiting outside Kingsley’s office with the “Wanted List” he had overheard the Minister give the order for the obelisk. He was certain that this was deliberate, that Kingsley had meant him to overhear. Afterwards Harry had spoken to Neville, and asked him if a list of the dead would be enough. Neville had stood silent for over a minute, his curse-scarred face impassive, while Harry watched him think.
‘Thanks for asking Harry,’ Neville mused, ‘I think it will be. One thing though, the Minister is going to make sure that the Muggle and non-human victims are named too, isn’t he?’ Harry had gone straight back to Kingsley and got his assurance that everyone, from house elf to reformed death eater, would be named on the memorial.
‘Harry.’
The sound of his name brought Harry back, once again, to the present. He looked round and saw the Minister for Magic, his blue and gold robes rippling, striding quickly towards him.
‘It is time we were leaving,’ continued Kingsley. Harry turned and followed the Minister out into the street. They stepped out into a hail of flashing lights and shouts. Harry had forgotten to wear his cloak. They quickly turned into the alley.
‘Ready?’ asked Kingsley.
Harry nodded and grabbed Kingsley’s arm. They twisted and Disapparated with a crack.
Andromeda Tonks was a stoical, haughty woman who had lost husband, daughter and son-in-law. Her cool demeanour, and her resemblance to her late sister Bellatrix Lestrange, acted to temper Harry’s natural compassion. He was scheduled to spend two hours with Mrs Tonks and worried about how they would be able to pass the time.
Harry soon found a distraction in the form of his godson, Edward Lupin. Teddy was a gurgling and contented little baby. As Harry gazed down into his cot and caught the baby’s eyes Teddy’s hair turned black and untidy making Harry chuckle. Mrs Tonks lifted the burbling, month old bundle from his cot and handed him to Harry.
‘You should hold your godson,’ she instructed firmly. Harry gingerly held out his arms.
‘You’ll need to support his head,’ she advised as she showed a worried Harry how to hold the baby. He cradled Teddy carefully, and began to enjoy the experience. He soon found himself swaying and rocking his godson in his arms. When Teddy fell asleep Harry carefully sat down and nursed his godson, while reminiscing politely about Andromeda’s husband, Ted, about Dora, and Remus.
When Teddy woke screaming, almost an hour later Andromeda Tonks refused to take the baby. She was obviously determined to test Harry’s abilities as a godfather.
‘I’ll get milk,’ she told Harry, ‘you can feed him.’
So Harry fed and winded his godson under Andromeda Tonks’ tutelage. That task accomplished he rocked him back to sleep in his arms. Harry felt he had achieved something important. So, apparently, did Andromeda Tonks. When Harry gently returned the sleeping Teddy to his cot, Mrs Tonks smiled. It was the first time Harry had seen her smile, and he caught a glimpse of her cousin, his godfather Sirius Black, in her mischievous face.
‘Do you …’ Harry hesitated. ‘Do you need anything — for Teddy?’ He could not simply ask her if she needed money, but Andromeda took his meaning.
‘Bella died after her husband, Rodolphus,’ Andromeda scowled at her mention of her sister’s name. ‘So Bella inherited Rodolphus estate. When she … died … the estate came to myself … and to Narcissa. I suddenly find myself wealthy.’ There was a wistful sadness in her voice which harry recognised instantly.
‘Wealthy, but without a family,’ said Harry sympathetically.
Andromeda looked at him compassionately, her eyes wide in understanding. She looked less and less like Bellatrix.
‘I’ll try to be a good godfather to Teddy,’ Harry told her, ‘he deserves it.’
‘My sister has been very good to me in the past week,’ Mrs Tonks announced suddenly. Harry scowled, and instantly regretted his reaction. His petty thoughts, Harry realised, had been obvious to Andromeda Tonks. He would, he realised need to be much more diplomatic. He owed it to Lupin and Tonks and especially little Teddy.
‘Sorry,’ he apologised, ‘I’ve just realised that my godson is Draco Malfoy’s … cousin?’
‘First cousin, once removed,’ Andromeda said coolly; suddenly wearing her Bellatrix face.
‘Sorry,’ Harry repeated. He was almost related to Malfoy! They might be attending the same family gatherings! Would they come to Tonks’ funeral? Harry didn’t want to know.
‘Oh, well, er, goodbye.’ Harry said, making a flustered and embarrassed exit.
As they left the Tonks’ house, Harry discussed the Malfoys with Kingsley. All three were wandless. Lucius Malfoy was in protective custody, working with the Auror Office to track down escaped Death Eaters. Harry had seen Lucius in the Ministry two days earlier. Bruised, scarred, scared and shabby, Draco’s father had looked thoroughly beaten. Draco had killed no one and Narcissa, Harry grudgingly admitted, had saved his life.
It was thanks to Lucius’ information, Kingsley said, that Williamson’s squad of Aurors had located and arrested Crabbe’s mother and Goyle’s parents the previous day. Crabbe’s father had been killed in the battle. Gregory Goyle, Harry had been surprised to discover, was still missing. How could someone as slow and stupid as Goyle remain on the run?
From outside the Tonks house Kingsley and Harry Apparated to the Creevey family home. Both Justin Finch-Fletchley and Hannah Abbott were there. They, together with Dennis Creevey told Harry and Kingsley about the bravery of the Muggle-born DA members. Justin, the Creevey brothers and others, plus all of those DA members who, like Hannah had left school had been busy during the past year.
Harry looked afresh at his friends. Curly haired Justin had always been taller than Harry. This was no longer the case, though not by much. Hannah’s long golden-blonde hair was loose and brushed straight back from her round face; she was only a couple of inches shorter than Justin and at least as curvy as Rosmerta. Dennis was red-eyed and, like his brother, very small; he looked much younger than his fifteen years.
Their story was amazing. Justin, helped by his father, Sir Julian, who had money and influence in the Muggle world, had spent the last year re-locating Muggle-borns to keep them out of the clutches of the Muggle-born Registration Commission.
Katie Bell’s friend Leanne Cowper worked for the Ministry, within the Commission itself. From there Leanne had been passing information to “the Resistance,” as they called themselves. Katie had not revealed this to anyone until after the battle.
Hannah, meanwhile, had been working as a barmaid in the Leaky Cauldron. She’d been listening in on Death Eaters and snatcher squads and she, too, had been passing information to the Resistance.
Safely in hiding, Colin had turned his considerable photographic talents to good use. He had managed to obtain magical photographic developing equipment and even some official Ministry stationery. He had refused to tell anyone, even Dennis, the source.
Everyone suspected that Colin had been in contact with a well connected pureblood wizard who had provided the developing equipment and the more difficult to purchase materials. Colin, assisted by Dennis, had been busy forging the Muggle documents required to create new identities for the re-located Muggle-borns and providing fake half-blood backgrounds for those whose family trees could be faked.
The group had, over nine months of Thicknesse’s rule, saved dozens of Muggle-borns and their families from Umbridge's search squads and what Justin called ‘summary injustice.’ When Harry expressed astonishment at their work Justin, Hannah, and Dennis simply shrugged.
‘We were fighting Voldemort and Umbridge the only way we could,’ Justin had explained, ‘it was a job that we had to do. The Resistance wasn’t just DA members; we had the Order of the Phoenix, and a lot of Aurors on our side, too.’ Justin nodded gratefully at Kingsley as he spoke. ‘It wasn’t too difficult, really. We found houses across the country and simply gave the Muggle-borns new names. Provided that they didn’t do magic they simply fitted in alongside their neighbours. Most Muggle-borns can easily pretend to be Muggles and the idiot Purebloods at the Ministry, like old Toad-face, were rubbish at finding people in Muggle areas,’ he concluded.
Harry suspected that there was a lot more to the story.
‘There is one thing though, Harry,’ Hannah Abbot had added, ‘Katie gave Leanne a DA galleon, I hope you don’t mind.’
Harry had been surprised, ‘Who managed to make one?’ he asked curiously.
Hannah looked relieved, ‘No one. Katie needed one quickly — to keep in contact with Leanne, so Dennis gave his up and shared Colin’s. But when Cho was recruited, just before Christmas, Katie sent her to visit Marietta Edgecombe and Cho–persuaded–Marietta to hand her Galleon over.’ Harry was again impressed, and said so. He suspected that there was a lot more to that story too.
Harry found talking to Mr & Mrs Creevey even more difficult after these revelations. They were a small, ordinary looking couple quietly grieving for their eldest son. Harry had been unable to find words to express his sorrow, or his pride at the bravery and hard work of Colin and his friends.
Worse was when Mr & Mrs Creevey insisted on showing Harry the reams of letters from Colin describing life at Hogwarts. Worst were the hundreds of photographs: of Hogwarts, of himself, of Quidditch matches and of the brothers Creevey. Harry was ashamed to notice that in many of the photographs he was gesturing grumpily at the camera, trying to shoo Colin away.
There were photographs, too, of Colin’s classmates. Harry had finally broken down in tears; the first time in any of his visits, when faced with a photograph of Colin, Ginny, and Luna Lovegood, all proudly holding their DA galleons. They were all in the same year, in many of the same classes. They were youngest in the DA, except for Dennis Creevey, who had taken the photograph for his brother.
‘Luna wants to see you, Harry,’ said Justin as they stared at the photographs. ‘She said you could call at her house, or she’ll visit the Burrow at five o’clock and speak to you there.’
‘Do you know what she wants?’ Harry asked.
‘No, sorry,’ Justin shrugged and shook his head and the conversation returned to Colin.
Harry discovered that Colin had been working tirelessly alongside Justin. They seemed have become close during their year in hiding, though not as close as Justin and Hannah, who held hands throughout the conversation. Hannah said very little, though it was obvious that she knew Kingsley surprisingly well.
‘Hannah was our eyes and ears in Diagon Alley,’ Kingsley said. ‘It’s amazing what a barmaid can find out.’
‘All I did was serve customers, whoever they were,’ Hannah said modestly. ‘I didn’t do much.’
Kingsley shook his head, firmly disagreeing with her.
‘I should have been there, too,’ said Dennis quietly, as Harry and Kingsley prepared to leave.
‘I should have gone back to Hogwarts,’ he continued, looking at Justin. ‘Justin came to collect us when Neville sent the message that you were there. But Colin stupefied me and left me behind.’
Dennis’ parting words further saddened Harry. Bidding farewell to the Creeveys he and Kingsley prepared to make their final visit of the day, the Burrow. Soon he would be facing Molly, George … and Ginny.
Chapter 4: Love Unveiled
Author's Notes: Thanks, once again to the fast, efficient and insightful Andrea for beta'ing this for me.
4: Love Unveiled
Harry was about to see the Weasleys for the first time in almost a week. His heart thundered so loudly that he thought it might break his ribs. He had not felt so anxious since he’d walked into the Forbidden Forest; walked to what he’d expected would be his death.
The Weasley’s had always been so good to him, in return he’d given them: one son, Fred, dead; and two sons, Bill and George, maimed. Ron still had scars from the Department of Mysteries. Ginny, Ron and their father had all had narrow escapes from death. He’d caused the Weasleys so much suffering. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to look at Molly, or George, or Ginny.
Kingsley held out his arm. Harry shook his head. ‘I know where I’m going, thanks,’ he told the Minister, ‘I’ll Apparate to the orchard myself.’
Kingsley looked searchingly into Harry’s face, nodded impassively, and Disapparated. Harry hesitated, terrified. For a moment he considered fleeing, returning to Grimmauld Place. Instead, steeling himself, he twisted through space and followed Kingsley to the Burrow.
Arriving at the edge of the orchard Harry looked down at the ramshackle house for the first time since the day of Bill and Fleur’s wedding. After everything that had happened, both at the wedding and during the following months, it seemed to Harry that he was remembering events from several lifetimes ago; in a way, he realised, he was. As he stared at the house, and at the chickens pecking their way across the yard, the Weasleys’ home looked as untidy, and welcoming, as ever.
He stood for a moment, taking in the scene. Mr and Mrs Weasley were standing at their kitchen door, their arms around each other; Kingsley was already striding down the hill towards them. Harry took a step forwards but, once again scared, he stopped. He began to pull his watch from his pocket, hoping to delay himself for a few more seconds. Before he had the chance to check the time a strained, carefully neutral voice to his right said–
‘It’s two o’clock exactly. The Minister is on time.’
Ginny!
Harry dropped the watch back into his pocket and turned to face her. She was sitting on the gnarled root of an old apple tree, her face hidden in the shadows of the blossom-covered branches.
Kingsley, Harry realised, had stopped at the sound of Ginny’s voice.
‘Er, you go on ahead,’ Harry said, glancing over his shoulder to address the Minister. He was having difficulty speaking and his heart was beating a fast march. Harry cleared his throat and tried to keep his voice calm. ‘Ginny and I will follow you down.’
He returned his gaze to Ginny. She was on her feet, striding downhill towards him. The afternoon sun was behind her, almost directly above her head. Because of its glare, he could not clearly see the expression on her face. Her long hair was swinging freely; it was copper red and shining. The sun made it glow and Harry was reminded of a brightly shimmering autumnal dusk. She stopped suddenly, about two yards away from him and he could finally see her clearly. She was wearing a plain, calf length, green dress belted at the waist (a cut down old robe?) and sandals, her freckled arms and legs were bare. She looked breathtakingly beautiful.
Ginny looked him up and down, her face impassive, it was as if she was examining some strange creature she’d never seen before. He, on the other hand, simply watched the sunlight dancing and gleaming in her hair as she carried out her examination.
‘Er, hello.’ Harry stammered, marvelling at his own ineptitude.
He had imagined many different emotional and passionate reunions with Ginny over the past week and had suffered so many nightmares of rejection while he slept. Now, faced with her in the flesh, words failed him. What could he possibly say to this flame-haired force of nature? How could he express his sorrow over the death of her brother? No words were enough.
‘Er…’ he again failed to speak … say something to her … he thought desperately.
Ginny stood with her legs slightly apart and her hands behind her back, her face was determinedly unemotional, but every muscle he could see, from her face to her calves, was tense. She stood in silence, watching Harry as he struggled to find something to say. Finally, she spoke.
‘You don’t look well, Harry,’ she observed, ‘you’re not eating properly and it doesn’t look like you’re sleeping well either. Why didn’t you go to Australia with Ron and Hermione? And when you didn’t go with them, why didn’t you come here instead of hiding yourself away in Grimmauld Place?’
Harry said nothing. This day was always going to come he realised. He had delayed it for a week, why?
‘I’ve … We’ve been worried about you,’ she continued.
Harry looked at her in silence. He began to panic as he tried to think of something to say. Several ideas flashed through his mind. How are you? (He dismissed it - a trite thing to ask someone whose brother is dead.) Are you all right? (Just as bad.)
Harry realised that his panic was probably showing on his face. Ginny was watching him with obvious concern and curiosity. She took another step towards him. She was now so close that he could smell her. She was within his grasp.
Perhaps if he just stepped forward and kissed her; it had worked before. Her brother has been killed! And it’s your fault! his inner demon whispered to him.
They looked at each other in silence for some time. Harry found himself captivated by her eyes. He tried to decide what to do, what to say.
‘What’s the matter, Harry?’ Ginny asked.
‘Fred,’ replied Harry helplessly, hopelessly. Her face creased into a frown. One word, one name, that was all it took to make her sad. She looked determinedly into his eyes.
‘No one blames you, Harry,’ she said gently, ‘we’re all grieving. You are too, I can see that. But we’ve got to keep going.’
Ginny paused, giving Harry an opportunity to speak. He found himself unable to say anything else. One simple word had exhausted his vocabulary.
‘I’m going to be helping George over the summer,’ Ginny continued, when it became obvious that Harry was again going to remain silent. ‘He’ll need help in the shop. He’ll need a great deal more help than the rest of us. We’ve got to think about the living, too, haven’t we?’
Harry nodded, but remained silent.
‘You’ve been visiting everyone, haven’t you?’ she tried again. ‘You’ve seen everyone who lost someone during the battle?’ Harry nodded again, too frightened to open his mouth.
Ginny continued to look at him carefully. Her silence was inviting, but still, he could not bring himself to say anything.
‘You’ve been listening to everyone, and not talking to anyone; haven’t you, Harry?’ Ginny observed. ‘And Grimmauld Place has been disconnected from the Floo network, so I couldn’t visit.’
‘If I were old enough to Apparate, I’d have come down there and made sure that you were all right,’ she added.
‘When Dad first went into work, three days ago, he found out that you hadn’t gone to Australia with Ron and Hermione. I tried to persuade Mum or Dad to go fetch you, but no; “He needs time to himself … He’ll come when he’s ready … He’s busy with the Minister. It’s best not to bother him”.’ she mimicked her mother.
‘So, you’ve been sitting by yourself; brooding, making yourself feel worse … please talk to me Harry, tell me what else is wrong!’ she asked gently. ‘Ask me something, ask me anything.’
They looked at each other in silence for about a minute; it became obvious to Harry that Ginny wasn’t going to move until whatever was wrong was resolved. Something inside him snapped.
‘Have you got a boyfriend?’ he blurted.
Shocked at his own stupidity, Harry put his head in his hands. It was the only question he really wanted an answer to, but how could he have been so idiotic as to just come out with it like that?
There was silence. Harry didn’t move; he kept his eyes closed, his head in his hands, and listened anxiously. He heard the staccato beat of his heart; he heard birdsong and leaves rustling in the breeze. He did not hear scornful laughter, or the sound of her walking away.
He felt Ginny’s hands cover his own. Cautiously, softly, her fingers slid around onto his palms and gently gripped them. Her hands were trembling, he realised. Slowly, carefully, she eased his hands from his face. Harry opened his eyes; Ginny was looking up into them.
‘Well, that was unexpected,’ she said. Her voice seemed to be catching in her throat. Harry’s heart was now trying to jump through his ribs. Why was he such an idiot? He still could not speak!
‘Before I answer your question, I have a few questions I’d like to ask you, if that’s all right?’ She was now holding his hands so tightly that it hurt. Her fingernails were pressed deep into his palms. She was fighting to keep her voice even. She spoke haltingly, her voice deep and husky. Harry swallowed; Ginny, he realised, was almost as nervous as he was.
He took a deep breath.
‘Ask them,’ he urged, fighting to hold back tears. Her grip on his hands loosened. He tried concentrating on the feel of her hands in his, and on looking into her bright brown eyes.
‘Did you meet any Veela on your travels?’
Harry was stunned. Hope rose within him. Perhaps everything was going to be all right between them? He tried feeble humour.
‘We stayed with Bill and Fleur for a while; does that count?’
‘No.’
‘Then, no! No Veela.’
‘So, Hermione?’
Harry was puzzled.
‘What about her?’ he asked.
‘On Sunday Bill told Mum that Ron had left you and Hermione alone for a few weeks, just before Christmas. Bill seemed to think that you and Hermione were…’ Ginny hesitated, and her eyes bored into his, ‘…together … and that’s why Ron left.’
Harry’s surprise must have showed on his face. He thought–hoped–that the flicker in the corner of Ginny’s eyes was relief.
‘Hermione is Ron’s girl; she has been for years I think. They finally got together last week.’
‘Hah!’ for a second, Ginny looked triumphant. ‘It’s about time! You can tell me the details later.’
Harry looked at her carefully. ‘You won’t tease Ron, will you?’ He asked.
‘No more than he deserves,’ smirked Ginny. Harry’s hopes rose further.
‘I was afraid of that!’ Reassured, Harry was about to laugh, but he did not. Ginny’s smirk had vanished, she again looked very serious.
‘Last weekend, in the lull between the battles I was out in the grounds with some of the injured.’ Ginny continued, ‘I was sure that someone walked past me. Was it you, under your cloak?’
Honesty, Harry realised, was his only option. ‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you talk to me? You should have talked to me!’
‘Because I would have had to stop, and if I had stopped, I didn’t think I’d have the strength to leave you again … I had to go,’ he pleaded, ‘to leave you, to face Voldemort. If I hadn’t gone into the forest Voldemort would still be alive, and more people would have died.’
‘You had to go?’
‘Yes,’ he told her, gazing honestly into her eyes.
‘There was absolutely no alternative?’
‘No,’ he assured her sadly. ‘It’s a very long story, but I will tell you. I’ll tell you now, if you want.’
Ginny shook her head. Her eyes were glistening. It was her turn to take a deep breath.
‘Ask me again,’ she demanded.
‘What?’ Harry was momentarily confused.
‘Your stupid question, ask me again!’ ordered Ginny.
Hopeful, yet fearful, Harry asked.
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’
‘Yes,’ whispered Ginny, smiling happily.
Harry was horrified! He tried to let go of her hands, but Ginny kept a firm grip and continued speaking, tears welling up in her eyes.
‘I’ve been going out with him for a year; he tried to tell me that we were finish…’
She got no further, Harry had realised what she was saying. Early in May last year had been the Gryffindor — Ravenclaw Quidditch match, their first kiss.
Without stopping to think he stepped forwards. He placed one hand on the small of her back and slipped the other into her hair, holding the back of her head. Then he pulled her forwards and kissed her. It was a kiss that Harry didn’t want to end. He savoured the soft warmth and sweet taste of her lips. The smell of her hair was mingled with the smell of apple blossom on the trees. He held her tightly and felt her arms wrap around him, one between his shoulder blades; the other in the small of his back. She was holding him as though she would never let go. Harry wondered if she, too, wanted this kiss to go on forever.
He felt tears trickling down his face, and not only his own. They were both crying; but Ginny didn’t pull away, so he did not either. He tasted the salt on his lips, it was another sensation to overwhelm his emotions, but he remained lost in the kiss.
After some time, Harry had no idea how long, the hand on his hip moved down to his bum and squeezed it. Startled, his heart now beating rapidly for an entirely different reason, he wondered if he dared do the same. He had just decided to risk it when he became vaguely aware of whistles and cheers in the distance. He immediately changed his mind and kept his hand where it was; but he ignored the noises and concentrated on kissing Ginny.
The whistles continued. Harry felt the hand between his shoulders let go of him for a second. The movement of Ginny’s elbow against his ribs left him in no doubt that she was making a rude gesture to the whistlers.
‘Ginny Weasley, what DO you think you’re doing?’ Mrs Weasley’s voice rang out loudly.
Very reluctantly, they broke apart; both breathing heavily. Harry looked at Ginny; she was flushed, and the look on her face was an unsettling mix of happiness and grief. They smiled at each other through their tears.
‘Leave this to me, Harry,’ Ginny whispered. She pulled him towards her and wiped her tears on his sweatshirt sleeve. Harry forgot the handkerchief in his pocket and followed her example.
They turned together and began to walk down the hill towards the Burrow. Harry took Ginny’s hand and squeezed it gently; she smiled up at him and returned the squeeze. He was elated. Now I can cope with anything, he thought, why didn’t I come here sooner?
Standing just outside the door to the Burrow were three of the Weasley brothers; Charlie, short, stocky, tanned and calloused; Percy, lanky, pale and bespectacled; and burly one-eared George. In front of them, hands on hips, stood Mrs Weasley.
‘Mother,’ shouted Ginny, as they walked down towards her family, ‘wasn’t it obvious what we were doing?’
George burst out laughing. Harry was puzzled by the apparent unfamiliarity of what should have been a familiar sound; the twins were always laughing. Mrs Weasley spun round and the disconcerting laugh stopped. At that moment Harry realised why the sound had seemed strange; it was a duet sung solo, a lonely, unaccompanied laugh. He couldn’t remember ever before hearing only George’s laugh. Fred’s counterpoint was missing from the melody. The realisation crushed him. Involuntarily, he squeezed Ginny’s hand tightly.
‘Are you all right?’ Ginny asked, concerned.
‘I missed Fred’s laugh,’ he told her.
‘It’s strange, isn’t it, just hearing George?’ she murmured sadly. ‘But at least he laughed, that’s only the third time I’ve heard him laugh since…’ Ginny was unable to end the sentence; instead, she squeezed his hand tightly and entwined her fingers in his.
Hand in hand with Ginny, Harry walked down to meet the Weasleys. It was, he realised, a glorious day. As they approached the Burrow, he smiled. He was home at last, even if he was uncertain about the welcome he'd receive. Harry felt–odd–he was elated, desperately sad, grieving and apprehensive all at the same time. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, whether he’d be laughing or crying, but he was walking towards the Weasleys and holding Ginny’s hand and, for the moment, he didn’t care.
Molly Weasley waited in silence as they approached. She moved her hands from her hips and folded them in preparation for battle.
Ginny gently pulled Harry to a halt a few yards in front of her mother. Behind Mrs Weasley, Charlie’s face was a worrying mask, and Percy was looking stunned, his ears pink. George, directly behind his mother, winked and beamed happily at the two of them. Ginny squeezed Harry’s hand again, emboldening him.
‘I feel like I’m coming home,’ Harry announced.
Mrs Weasley flicked a glance at him and, for a moment, her stern expression faltered. With an effort she returned her gaze to her daughter and re-set her face into a look of disapproval.
‘Ginny,’ Mrs Weasley began.
‘Harry and I have been going out with each other for a year,’ said Ginny, interrupting her mother before she could get started. Behind Mrs Weasley’s back, George was giving Ginny the thumbs up. ‘We got together last May. We pretended to break up at Professor Dumbledore’s funeral. I knew I couldn’t go off with Harry, Ron and Hermione, I had the Trace on me–I still do–and Harry knew he’d be going on the run. If Voldemort thought I was Harry Potter’s girlfriend it would have been bad news for us all.’
Mrs Weasley was astonished. She seemed lost for words, a first, so far as Harry could remember. George opened his mouth to speak but Ginny silenced him with a warning glance. She continued before her mother took the opportunity to interrupt.
‘And, unlike my brothers, I actually listened when you told us about your’s and Dad’s escapades at school. So don’t try any of that “you’re not old enough” nonsense on us. We’re older than you and Dad were when you started going out with each other.’
Ginny paused while her speechless mother looked from Harry to Ginny and back again.
Harry tried his best to look contrite, but he was amazed and impressed by Ginny’s performance and he suspected that it showed. He looked at Mrs Weasley and said, ‘She’s wonderful isn’t she?’
This was too much for Mrs Weasley, who burst into tears and pulled both Harry and her only daughter into a tight hug. Harry clumsily returned the hug, trying to express both gratitude and shared grief to the woman who was the nearest he had to a mother.
‘I am so sorry about Fred,’ he whispered to Molly.
‘Percy told us what you did for him; afterwards. Thank you!’
With those words Harry felt the tears flow again. He could not stop himself. The grief he felt for all of those who had died finally came flooding out. The two Weasley women held him. They supported him though they, too, were crying. After several minutes he pulled his handkerchief from his jeans pocket and wiped his eyes. It took longer for him to regain some composure. Eventually, he looked over Mrs Weasley’s head at the Weasley brothers. Charlie and Percy looked solemn and serious, but in control. George, however, looked as though he too had been crying.
‘George,’ he began, both Ginny and Mrs Weasley released Harry. He stepped between them; stretching out his hand he greeted George, who gave him a brittle smile.
‘You’ll need to be careful with her,’ he nodded towards his sister, as he shook Harry’s hand, ‘she goes through boys at a tremendous rate.’
‘Says Ron,’ snorted Ginny, ‘three in three years! Would you like me to count your ex-girlfriends, George?’
‘George,’ repeated Harry, ignoring the attempt to change the subject, ‘you and Fred did so much for me.’
‘Not as much as you did for us, Harry. I dunno what we’d have done without you.’ George looked down at his feet. The old, ebullient, loud and lively George was gone.
‘How’s business? Harry asked, suddenly sensing that it would be wrong to push George into talking about his twin.
‘It’s been dreadful. We had to close the shop. Dad tipped us off just minutes before the Death Eaters raided us. Still, things might start getting back to normal now. We’ve — I’ve got a few ideas for new products. We — I should be able to reopen in a couple of weeks.’ At every corrected reference to “we” Harry felt a knife twist in his heart. He winced at George’s loss. It was impossible to have a conversation with George without Fred’s shadow looming large over it. For almost seven years he realised, since he’d first met the Weasleys, there had never been a Fred, never been a George, there had only been “the twins,” FredandGeorge, one word; almost one person. Harry again found himself unable to speak. He found himself being pulled into a clumsy, rib-cracking hug by George.
There was an awkward silence until Mrs Weasley said, ‘Come on, inside all of you. I’ve left Kingsley and your Dad in the kitchen.’
To Harry’s relief, it appeared that Molly had decided not to cross-examine him about Ginny.
Harry followed Ginny up the steps into the cosy kitchen of the Burrow. He was ushered into one of the chairs at the large kitchen table by Mrs Weasley. She looked him up and down worriedly.
‘You look tired, dear; you’re still working too hard. You’ve been through so much, you should be resting.’
She glared accusingly at Kingsley, as if Harry’s tiredness was entirely the Minister’s fault.
‘Harry can do what he wants, Molly,’ Kingsley rumbled, ‘he is seventeen after all. If you want a holiday, Harry, take one; take as long as you want.’
‘You will stay for dinner,’ Molly commanded, ‘that house elf of yours isn’t looking after you properly. And you’re staying here tonight, too.’
‘Yes, Mrs Weasley,’ Harry nodded obediently.
‘Now,’ she continued, ‘would you like some tea and biscuits?’ Inwardly, Harry smiled; grief, tea and biscuits, even here.
Even as Mrs Weasley asked the question Ginny was moving to fill the kettle. Harry sat quietly, happy to watch Ginny put the kettle on the stove and glide around the kitchen putting mugs, a biscuit barrel, milk and sugar onto a tray. He was only half listening to the conversation between Arthur Weasley and Kingsley. After making the tea and pouring mugs for everyone Ginny handed out the mugs, passed around the tin full of home baked biscuits, and then sat down on Harry’s lap.
Arthur Weasley completely lost the thread of his conversation with Kingsley. He glanced at his wife, who shook her head. Arthur said nothing and resumed his conversation with the Minister as though nothing had happened. However, he continually cast sidelong glances at Harry and Ginny.
Harry sat contentedly, an arm around Ginny’s waist, savouring his closeness to her. Occasionally he would look at George, silent and morose, and he would feel guilty about feeling happy.
As he sat, Harry listened to what had become familiar conversations to him; a series of awkward silences and strange switches between grief, joyful reminiscence, and meaningless small talk. Something similar had happened in almost every house he’d visited over the past three days. Occasionally Harry joined in the conversation; mostly, he simply relished the sensation of Ginny sitting on his lap.
Time passed slowly. Fred was eulogised. Again and again everyone assured Harry that he was not to blame. At about four o’clock Kingsley stood and announced that he really must leave.
‘Harry, please remind everyone of the cover story for tomorrow. I will see you at three o’clock,’ he nodded to Harry, Ginny and George, ‘at the funeral. And I’ll see you all again on Sunday. But now, I must deal with this security breach at Azkaban.’
Ginny was still sitting on Harry’s lap; her right arm was resting lightly on his shoulder, his left arm was around her waist. At the Ministers parting words Harry stood quickly, holding a surprised Ginny tightly round the waist. As she slid off his lap he swung her round and she landed lightly by his side.
‘Neat move,’ chortled George.
Harry ignored him, but kept his arm around Ginny’s waist. Her hand now gripped his shoulder tightly.
‘I didn’t read the paper this morning,’ admitted Harry, ‘what’s happened?’
Kingsley stopped; he was almost at the door.
‘It’s nothing for you to worry about Harry.’ He pulled a copy of The Daily Prophet from his robes and showed Harry the headline: “Senior Undersecretary Umbridge Speaks Out — another Rita Skeeter exclusive.”
‘Umbridge is nasty and vindictive, but most of the things she says aren’t true.’ observed Kingsley placidly.
‘Just like Rita,’ Harry snarled. ‘They were made for each other.’
‘I’ve had dozens of Muggle-borns and their families contacting the Ministry about the article, all baying for Umbridge’s blood; their stories will be in the paper tomorrow I expect. The story is nothing, nonsense! Like a lot that the Prophet has been printing this week! I’m not sure whether the editor is a Riddle sympathiser or an idiot, though I’m inclined to believe the latter.’ Kingsley paused. ‘I’m more worried about the security breach,’ he continued. ‘Frankly, without the Dementors we’re struggling at Azkaban. We’re short-handed everywhere. Even so, I’ve no idea how Skeeter got her interview, I thought all of the wizard guards were trustworthy.’
‘They probably are,’ Harry said, ‘Skeeter’s an unregistered animagus, she can turn into a beetle.’
Kingsley was startled. ‘How long have you known?’ he frowned.
Harry thought hard, ‘A couple of years, maybe more, sorry.’
‘Well, at least we know now,’ said Kingsley with a sigh. ‘I’ll have her brought in for questioning. Thanks for the tea and biscuits Ginny. Bye Molly, Arthur, Charlie, Percy; take care of yourself, George. Now, I really must go.’
Kingsley reached the door and opened it.
‘Goblins’ said Harry; then wished he hadn’t.
Kingsley turned in the doorway, ‘Goblins?’
‘Replace the Dementors with goblins. They’d be keen to do the job’ Harry smiled grimly, thinking of Griphook. ‘They might even pay you for the privilege,’ he added.
‘Ridiculous,’ said Percy, ‘No wizard would want to be held prisoner by Goblins.’
‘That’s rather the point, Percy,’ asserted Ginny waspishly. Harry squeezed her waist in thanks.
‘It’s something to consider,’ said Kingsley, scratching his chin thoughtfully. ‘Now, I really must go, goodbye, everyone.’ With that he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.
Harry sat back down and Ginny again sat on his lap. There was an uneasy silence when Ginny put her arm around his shoulder.
‘There are plenty of other seats, Ginny.’ Mr Weasley said, a little sharply.
‘I’m comfortable here, and Harry doesn’t mind, do you?’
Harry didn’t mind, and shook his head to affirm the fact. However, now that Kingsley had gone the atmosphere had changed subtly. He was the only outsider. He began to feel less comfortable under Mr and Mrs Weasley’s scrutiny. Charlie and Percy looked rather hostile, too. Perhaps the Weasleys had just been waiting; perhaps they hadn’t wanted to create a scene in front of the Minister; perhaps now he was going to be in trouble.
Chapter 5: A Pall Over The Burrow
Author's Notes: Thanks, once again to the fast, efficient and insightful Andrea for beta'ing this for me. Thanks, too, to Amelíe for her additional beta input, which has certainly improved this tale.
5: A Pall over The Burrow
Harry tensed under the Weasleys’ silent gaze. Ginny simply looked disdainfully at her family and then ignored them. She shuffled on his lap, ran her fingers through his hair, kissed his scar and asked him why he’d suggested goblins as Azkaban guards. This proved to be a good topic for conversation and a kept them talking for quite some time.
Harry then found himself talking about his visits to the other bereaved families; one careful question from Ginny was enough. He unburdened himself of the worries that had been building up over the past few days; told them of the sorrowing families he’d seen and the grief he had put himself through. Eventually, he found himself entertaining the Weasleys with a description of his first encounter with his godson.
‘Did you or Bill ever give Ginny a bottle?’ Percy asked Charlie when Harry finished.
Ginny obviously hadn’t forgiven her bespectacled brother for his comments regarding the goblins. She stood; cupped her breasts in her hands and turned to face Percy.
‘No, they didn’t,’ she told him. These aren’t just something for boys to stare at, Perce, Mum fed us all.’
‘Ginny!’ Molly Weasley gently scolded her daughter, though she was having difficulty hiding her laughter. Percy blushed scarlet and Charlie and George laughed in relief.
‘Well,’ Ginny told her mother. ‘Boys!’ She shook her head scornfully and sat back down on Harry’s lap. Her family lapsed back into an uneasy silence.
‘I thought you were going to Australia,’ Mrs Weasley observed after some time. Molly had to repeat the question. Harry had been busy admiring the freckles on Ginny’s legs and wondering whether he dare move his free hand from the arm of his chair onto her knee.
‘Ron misunderstood,’ Harry began, he was feeling embarrassed. Molly was looking at him curiously, she was obviously wondering why he hadn’t been paying attention and he worried that she’d known what he was thinking. He tried to look Mrs Weasley in the eyes as he spoke, ‘I asked Kingsley to set up the Portkeys, that’s all. I wanted to stay at the Ministry, to help Kingsley. But we didn’t think that Hermione should go alone, so Ron went with her.’
Harry suspected that Molly did not entirely believe him, but she did not press the point.
‘Have you heard from them?’ Molly asked.
‘No,’ Harry shook his head, ‘The Australians were going to help to track down Hermione’s parents, getting help from their Muggle government, too. It must be taking longer than they thought. Hermione expected to be back before now.’
Molly looked worriedly at her husband, then at her clock. The hand marked “Ronald” was in the position usually occupied by the “Charles” hand … “Abroad”.
‘If they were in trouble I expect that Kingsley would have heard by now,’ Harry reassured her. ‘The Australian Authority arranged for someone to meet them.
‘I suppose so,’ Molly sighed, ‘but the first funeral is tomorrow afternoon.’
‘Colin’s,’ Harry confirmed.
‘How are you getting to Colin Creevey’s funeral?’ asked Arthur Weasley.
Harry had discussed the details with Justin Finch-Fletchley only hours earlier; he seized the opportunity to change the subject.
‘We’re meeting at Colin’s parent’s house, and travelling from there. Justin is organising it. We’ll be Apparating directly into the Creeveys’ living room in small groups. Justin has given us all times to arrive. I know where I’m going, so I’ll take Ginny and George with me.’ Harry stopped and looked at Mrs Weasley; he’d just remembered something.
‘Mrs Weasley, Luna will be coming over here soon, unless I go to visit the Lovegoods. Justin said that she wants to talk to me about something.’
‘Don’t go,’ Ginny whispered softly in his ear.
‘Luna will be welcome, dear,’ said Mrs Weasley. ‘You just stay here and relax.’ She looked at him rather sharply, and added, ‘Visitors are always welcome here; you should know that by now, Harry.’
Harry hardly had time to realise that she was gently scolding him for not visiting sooner, because George spoke immediately.
‘Even Loony ones,’ George said.
Molly Weasley glared at her son. ‘She’s a good girl,’ she scolded.
‘I wonder what she wants?’ George mused. ‘After all, she’ll see us tomorrow, at the... at the... at the...’ George halted, unable to say the word funeral.
Harry noticed the sadness in Ginny’s eyes as George spoke. She was determinedly fighting back her tears. Harry squeezed her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. She turned and buried her head in his shoulder. ‘I should have gone to see the Creeveys. I used to sit next to Colin,’ she said. She spoke quietly, so that only he could hear. Harry hugged her and silently waited for her to regain her composure.
‘Thanks,’ she whispered, before raising her voice to its normal level, ‘Go on, finish telling us about the arrangements for Colin.’
‘All of Colin’s relatives will be there, so this is a proper Muggle funeral,’ Harry continued. ‘You know that we’ve all been asked to wear Muggle clothes, we’ll be travelling to the church in cars.’ Arthur Weasley started forward excitedly. ‘Proper Muggle cars?’ he asked.
‘Yes, Dad’ sighed Ginny.
‘The Creeveys have agreed that the DA, and any of Colin’s classmates who want to go, can attend, but no-one else,’ Harry continued quickly, diverting Arthur Weasley from a conversation about cars. ‘Professor McGonagall will be there too, and Kingsley, of course. But everyone we don’t know will be Muggle relatives.’
‘The story,’ Harry advised Ginny and George, ‘is that Colin “died bravely while rescuing fellow pupils from a fire”, Colin’s parents have agreed.’
‘It’s the only way we can let the Muggle relatives know how brave he was,’ Harry continued sadly. ‘We’ll be leaving for the Creeveys’ house at two o’clock. It’s somewhere in the north, a place called Wolsingham. There is a hall booked for afterwards, with food and drink. It will probably be after seven o’clock when we get back, if we go to the hall.’
‘We’ll be some of the first to arrive. The funeral is at three. I’ve…’ Harry hesitated, ‘I’ve been asked to be a pall-bearer.’
Mrs Weasley took a deep breath, and interrupted Harry.
‘Harry,’ she began. ‘For Fred’s funeral on Sunday …’ the room went silent. Harry had been relaxing, his concerns about his not going to Australia, about Ginny sitting on his knee, had been forgotten. Suddenly, the tension in the air was palpable, it seemed to Harry that no-one in the room was even breathing.
Ginny stiffened on his lap; her right hand gripped his shoulder tightly.
‘Bill, Charlie, Percy, George and Ron will be pall-bearers, we’ll need a sixth. I wondered…’ Mrs Weasley paused.
Harry could feel how tense Ginny was; her thigh muscles felt like steel rods on his legs. Her left fist, he saw, was clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white. She was determinedly looking away from both him and her mother, out of a window.
‘I’d be honoured to,’ Harry said, ‘if Ginny doesn’t want to, of course.’
Ginny relaxed immediately. Curious, Harry turned to George, who was staring in disbelief at his mother.
‘I’d have thought Lee might have been a better choice than me though,’ he suggested.
Lee Jordan had been the twins’ best friend at school; Harry wondered why he hadn’t been asked. Mrs Weasley was instantly on her feet; she stared angrily at Harry.
‘It can’t be Ginny,’ she said sharply, ‘it has to be wizards. It’s traditional!’
Harry swallowed hard; he hated disagreeing with Mrs Weasley, especially in these circumstances, but Ginny gave his shoulder an almost imperceptible squeeze and, emboldened, he said, ‘I don’t think that conforming to tradition was something Fred was very good at.’
‘See!’ shouted Ginny, jumping to her feet and facing her mother angrily. ‘I want to do it, I should do it!’
‘Ginny,’ began Mrs Weasley.
‘No, Molly,’ interrupted Mr Weasley. ‘I’m sorry, but we had this argument yesterday, too. I think they’re right. Had it been left up to Fred to organise, I expect we’d all be wearing those ridiculous Headless Hats or something.’
‘Great idea, Dad,’ George whooped.
‘No!’ Molly shouted, she was, Harry realised, close to tears. ‘No jokes!’ she glared at Harry. ‘She put you up to this, didn’t she?’ Mrs Weasley accused, ‘You arranged it when you first arrived.’
‘Actually, Mother,’ snapped Ginny, ‘I thought you’d noticed; we didn’t actually do very much talking.’
This was too much for Mrs Weasley; she burst into tears and scuttled out from the kitchen into the sitting room, slamming the door behind her.
There were a few moments of stunned silence; Harry could hear Mrs Weasley sobbing in the adjoining room. Mr Weasley looked sternly at both Harry and Ginny.
‘Ginny, you will come with me and you will apologise to your mother,’ he ordered.
‘Apologise! For what?’ Ginny shouted, tears streaming down her face. Harry felt awkward and alone as unsuspected tensions broke around him.
‘For making her cry,’ Arthur Weasley held his hands out to his daughter. ‘Now!’ he said with a firmness Harry had never heard before. ‘Please, Ginny,’ he added gently.
Harry silently handed Ginny his handkerchief. She blew her nose loudly, wiped her tears, and meekly took one of her father’s outstretched hands.
As the door into the sitting room closed behind them, George let out a huge sigh.
‘Blimey! Sorry about that, Harry.’
‘There’s nothing to apologise for, George. I’ve caused an argument; I’m the one who should be apologising.’
George shook his head. ‘No, not you, mate. This started yesterday,’ he began, ‘when we were finalising…’ He stopped, sobbing, unable to continue. Charlie took up the story.
‘…Finalising the arrangements. There should be four, or six, wizards to carry the coffin.’
George had his head in his hands and was crying softly. Harry and Percy both walked over to him; each put a hand on his shoulder.
‘Mum assumed,’ Charlie continued, ‘that all five brothers would want to do it, so she asked George who should be the sixth. He suggested Lee, but Ginny went ballistic. She’s been acting oddly all week.’ Charlie Weasley glowered at Harry. ‘Ginny’s a tough little thing, but she’s been on edge for days. We thought that it was because of Fred, and the aftermath of the battle. Now, I think there was more to it than that,’ he accused, looking sharply at Harry.
Charlie was the Weasley brother that Harry knew least well and he wasn’t sure how he should take this remark.
‘Now you’ve arrived, she’s got some of her old bounce back,’ said Charlie. ‘So I hope, for your sake, that you’re not messing her about, I don’t care how famous you are. If you’re messing with my sister…’ Charlie glowered threateningly.
Before Harry could protest, Charlie continued.
‘George, Bill and I, backed Ginny.’ Charlie glared at Percy before continuing. ‘But Mum asked Lee anyway. He said yes straight away, but Ginny and George collared him. When Lee realised Ginny wanted to be pall-bearer he changed his mind, said Ginny should do it.’
‘We thought Mum had given up,’ Charlie concluded, ‘but she’s all for the traditional ways. I reckon that she was pinning her hopes on you saying yes; and on Ginny not arguing again.’
George raised his head; wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand, sniffed, and looked at Harry.
‘You’re right, Harry, Fred wasn’t much of a one for the formalities, he would’ve loved the idea of Ginny doing it, mainly because it will really annoy Aunty Muriel.’
George blinked away his tears and watched Harry closely.
‘Did Ginny warn you?’ he asked. ‘Or was she telling the truth about what you were doing up at the orchard?’
‘She didn’t warn me,’ Harry began, he felt himself blushing. ‘We, er, we …’
George burst out laughing. Percy looked away in embarrassment. Charlie remained stony-faced; though Harry thought that he saw a twinkle in his eye.
‘Crikey, Harry, you like to live dangerously, don’t you?’ George sniggered. ‘It’s a good thing Bill wasn’t here.’
‘I hadn’t really seen her since Bill and Fleur’s wedding,’ said Harry, trying to explain.
‘So, you were making up for lost time, were you? George teased, his sorrow momentarily forgotten as he revelled in Harry’s embarrassment.
‘If you were trying to make up nine months snogging in ten minutes, you did a pretty good job, though,’ George continued, sounding impressed. Harry felt his face begin to burn. ‘You didn’t even come up for air. You two must have been getting a lot of practice.’
‘Yeah, exactly how long have you been snogging our sister, Potter?’ Charlie added sharply, ‘And how many other girlfriends do you have? And does ‘ickle Ronnie know what’s going on?’
Harry was now certain that it would be possible to fry an egg on his face.
‘Don’t worry about Harry, Charlie,’ George smirked, punching Harry on the arm. ‘He’s not the girl magnet that the Prophet makes him out to be, he’s just a scrawny, speccy, kid. He’s marginally better at talking to girls than Ron, but not a heartbreaker like Perce.’
At this, Charlie finally burst out laughing, and Percy looked as embarrassed as Harry. Mortified though he was, Harry was so pleased to see George attempting humour that he tried to laugh good-naturedly.
‘Dad’s headless hats idea is good, though,’ grinned George when he and Charlie had finished laughing at Harry’s discomfort.
‘I really think that we should have a bit of decorum, we’re discussing our brother’s funeral.’ Percy looked horrified.
‘Perce,’ Charlie said. ‘Please try to remember we’re talking about Fred. George and Harry — and Ginny — are right. Decorum and tradition and Fred! Don’t fit; little brother!’
Harry stepped away from the three brothers and stood quietly, watching them as they continued their good-natured argument. He was extremely pleased that the conversation had, for the moment, moved away from his relationship with their sister. He was beginning to relax when the sitting room door opened and Mr Weasley poked his head out.
‘Harry, could you come in here for a minute?’ asked Ginny’s father.
’Of course, Mr Weasley,’
Apprehensively, Harry walked past Ginny’s still stern father into the sitting room. He could feel the stress when he entered the small, cosy room. Ginny was in a corner almost behind the old sofa, Molly was by the armchair next to the fireplace. The only way the two Weasley women could get further apart would be if one of them left the room. They were poised like cautious cats, claws currently sheathed but both preparing to pounce; each was a second from spitting and hissing. Arthur Weasley closed the door and bravely moved to stand between his wife and his daughter.
Harry tried to understand Molly’s feelings. He tried to imagine the horror of losing a child. He remembered his own anger at Sirius’s death. How unreasonable he’d been with Dumbledore. He remembered his fears for Ginny’s safety. Everyone’s emotions were as fragile as eggshells. He’d clumsily blundered in and broken several eggs.
‘Harry,’ Mr Weasley asked, ‘did Ginny say anything to you about being a pall-bearer?’
Ginny’s father was looking unusually uncompromising, and very much in command. Harry rarely saw Mr Weasley take charge. Harry met his gaze, but it was Mrs Weasley, he realised, who needed the answer. He moved closer to Molly and looked her straight in the eyes, wishing that they weren’t so very like Ginny’s.
‘No, she didn’t. I said what I did because I think that it’s right. Six…’ Harry sought the word, ‘…siblings; six pall-bearers.’
‘I’m really sorry that you’re arguing about this, that we’re arguing about this.’ The tension in the room was affecting him, he shook with emotion. Other than the Weasleys, he realised, he had no one, other than Hermione. He was slowly destroying the only family he had. He paused and took a deep breath.
‘I’m very sorry that I’ve upset you, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry apologetically. ‘I seem to be upsetting everyone. I didn’t want to start an argument. I didn’t want you to find out about Ginny and me the way you did either,’ he continued remorsefully. ‘Perhaps it would be best for everyone if I left. I’ll go back to Grimmauld Place.’
‘No!’ said Ginny and Mrs Weasley simultaneously. They looked at each other, startled. For a moment, Harry thought that their claws would be unsheathed, that a battle would finally begin.
‘At least you can agree on something.’ Mr Weasley observed wryly, looking from wife to daughter. Molly and Ginny both smiled sadly at Arthur, then at Harry; the tension began to flow away.
‘Tradition isn’t everything, Mrs Weasley,’ Harry pleaded Ginny’s case, ‘it was just Hagrid at Professor Dumbledore’s funeral, and you have to admit that Fred wasn’t one for following rules.’
‘I wasn’t allowed to be pall-bearer at my brothers’ funerals,’ said Molly tearfully, her head down. Her husband, suddenly understanding, stepped forwards and swept his wife into his arms.
‘Go,’ he silently mouthed to Ginny and Harry.
Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and led him from the sitting room. Keeping a tight hold, she continued straight through the kitchen and opened the door into the yard. Charlie, Percy and George stood as if to follow them.
‘Wait here!’ commanded Ginny. She spoke in a tone very like her mother’s, and her brothers obediently sat back down. She ushered Harry past her, made certain that her brothers were still sitting dutifully at the table, and then followed her boyfriend into the yard leaving three men closed in the kitchen.
Ginny wiped moisture from her eyes, blew her nose and, with an apologetic look, handed Harry his now very wet handkerchief.
‘Follow me,’ she said, leading him along the side of the house. She stepped around the corner and stopped, leaning against the wall. Harry looked around; the house wall was windowless, they were hidden from everyone inside.
He turned to face Ginny. Green eyes gazed into brown, and brown into green, as they silently considered what had just happened. He put his hands on the rough stone wall of the Burrow, one either side of her head.
‘Poor Mum,’ observed Ginny.
Harry nodded sadly, uncertain what to say.
‘Thank you,’ she continued, smiling weakly.
‘For disagreeing with your Mum? I hope I never have to do that again,’ he told her fervently.
‘For saying what you said, Harry; for being on my side.’ She smiled gratefully into his eyes.
‘I’ll come running whenever you call. You know that, don’t you?’ promised Harry seriously.
Ginny leaned forward, slid her arms gently round his neck and stood on tiptoe. She replied with a quick kiss, gentle and soft on his lips, and slid back against the wall keeping her arms on his shoulders.
When Harry tried to move closer, she held him at arm’s length. ‘We need to talk,’ she ordered.
‘Later,’ he pleaded.
‘No! Now! We don’t have long, Harry. Five minutes at the most,’ she told him. ‘You didn’t tell me what you were going to do last year,’ she continued. ‘I think that I understand why, but never, ever, keep secrets from me again, or else.’
‘Or else, what?’ Harry teased; then he saw the look on her face. Instantly, he knew what the threat was. Would she really ditch him if he kept secrets from her? He wasn’t going to take the chance.
‘I won’t; I’m sorry. From now on, no secrets,’ he promised.
No secrets,’ Ginny agreed. They gazed into each others eyes in sudden, total, understanding of the huge thing they had just promised each other.
‘I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to be safe,’ Harry tried to explain.
‘Well, that worked really well then!’ said Ginny scornfully. ‘Everyone at Hogwarts knew about us anyway; it wasn’t easy last year.’
Harry’s face crumpled in sorrow. Neville, Luna, and Ginny had been the ringleaders at school last year. Neville had already told him of some of the things that had happened.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, realising how inadequate those words were.
‘Harry,’ she smiled sadly at him, ‘you did your best; you saved us all. I had a hard time last year, but I’m sure that yours was worse. So, why didn’t you come here on Sunday?’ she asked, abruptly changing the subject.
‘Everyone thought that I was with Ron and Hermione, and,’ he admitted, ‘I was afraid.’
‘Afraid! What were you afraid of?’
‘That you might have found someone else!’
‘That was what I was afraid of too;’ Ginny scolded gently, ‘that you might have found someone else. But until you came here, you couldn’t ask me, and I couldn’t ask you. So you just sat, alone, in Grimmauld Place, and fretted and worried, and you let me do the same.’
‘I’m a bit stupid sometimes. I make trouble for myself,’ admitted Harry.
‘True!’ Ginny ruffled his hair, ‘So you agree; you should have come here on Sunday.’
‘Yes,’ Harry admitted, realising that the Weasleys would have supported him, as they supported each other, as they had always supported him.
‘Aha!’ Ginny was triumphant. ‘I’m right and you’re wrong, so listen to me in the future.’
He looked down into her smiling freckled face, his eyes flicking from fine red brows and eyelashes to nose cheeks, chin and full red lips. For a moment, he forgot his grief.
‘You are beautiful,’ he observed.
‘Don’t change the subject.’ Ginny spoke sternly, though he was certain that she was pleased.
Harry continued to gaze at her. He drank in the sight of her; tried to imprint her appearance in his memory. She was extraordinary, magnificent; her eyes were still rimmed with red, but full of passion, full of life. He knew then that he would have to tell her about the Horcrux hunt, and the Deathly Hallows, and that she would tell him everything, too.
‘I need to tell you what happened this year,’ Harry decided.
Even as he spoke, he realised that there were others who he must tell. Most people knew the half-truths and rumours already. But his friends, his family, they needed to know. Everyone who had helped him to escape from Privet Drive; it was important that they knew.
His family, Harry caught himself–he’d been thinking of the Weasleys, and not for the first time–how long had they been his family, he wondered? He had been standing gazing into Ginny’s eyes, thinking, for a minute or more. Ginny stood silently, patiently, watching and waiting.
‘I have a family,’ he realised, as the importance of his decision struck him.
Ginny looked puzzled for a moment, then she realised what he was saying.
‘You have a family and friends, Harry,’ she examined his face carefully, understanding the importance of his words. She cupped his cheeks in her hands.
‘Sometimes you forget, don’t you?’ she kissed his chin. ‘But you had neither when you were little, did you?’ she observed sadly, ‘Well, you need never be lonely again. We won’t shout at you, or be horrible to you, or lock you in a cupboard. Are you going to tell us everything?’
Harry made his decision.
‘Yes, and no, and yes,’ he replied, answering her questions in order.
While Ginny was working out his reply, Harry grabbed her hand and pulled her back around the corner towards the back door.
‘You are amazing,’ he continued, ‘and I want to be with you forever.’ Ginny gasped and stopped suddenly, astonished at his words.
‘Come on,’ he ordered, as she struggled to keep him outside, with her. He didn’t comprehend the significance of his words, not then; so Ginny relented and allowed herself to be escorted back to the door. Hand in hand they approached the Burrow. They climbed the steps, opened the door into the kitchen, and stepped inside.
Arthur and Molly Weasley, also hand in hand had just opened the sitting room door at the other side of the kitchen. The two couples looked at each other and smiled hesitantly. Ginny’s three brothers looked from one door to another.
‘We’ve come to a decision,’ Mr Weasley said.
‘Ginny can be pall-bearer, if that’s what she really wants,’ said Molly; blinking back tears.
Ginny ran across the length of the kitchen to her mother and hugged her, ‘Thanks, Mum.’
‘We’ve come to a decision, too,’ Harry said. ‘I know that now probably isn’t the time; but I must tell you what happened, what really happened, last year. Not what’s in the papers, but what we did, and why. You’re the closest I have to a family, and I owe you the truth.’
Mrs Weasley bustled towards him, arms outstretched. Harry did not really need her hug; he knew then, as he’d known for years, that he was welcome, he was already a part of this remarkable family. He knew, too, that Molly needed to hug him, to physically show him that she cared and that their recent disagreement was forgotten.
When Molly Weasley released him, Harry looked across to Ginny’s father. To his surprise, Arthur was still looking very serious, his arms folded.
‘Well, Harry, you’ve charmed the two women of the house, my wife and my little girl.’
‘I’m not a little girl anymore,’ Ginny interjected.
‘Apparently not,’ said Mr Weasley, considering his daughter carefully. ‘But you’re not seventeen yet, either, Ginny.’ He then returned his gaze to Harry. ‘You’ve been going out with my daughter for a year, and neither of you ever thought to tell me, or my wife.’
Harry looked at Ginny for help; she glanced from Harry to her mother, who was standing next to him. Molly would see any hint from Ginny. He was, he realised, on his own.
‘Er, we didn’t keep it a secret at school,’ Harry said to Mrs Weasley, it seemed easier and safer to direct his answer to Molly, rather than to her husband, who remained much less easy-going than usual. ‘But we didn’t make any public announcements, either.’
‘That’s not what Katie Bell told me,’ George interrupted. ‘She said that you snogged Ginny in front of the entire Gryffindor Common Room; that sounds like a pretty public announcement to me.’
Harry felt himself blushing again. Ginny was shooting daggers at her brother.
‘You knew?’ Harry asked George.
‘Souls of discretion me’n Fred,’ he grinned. For the first time since Harry had arrived, George didn’t frown after mentioning his brother’s name.
‘Waiting for an opportunity to embarrass us, more likely,’ Ginny said.
‘We haven’t been able to embarrass you since your second year, sis,’ George replied. ‘We tried often enough, remember?’
‘Harry’s a different matter, though,’ he grinned wickedly. ‘Come on, Harry, keep talking.’
‘There’s not much more to say. Today’s the first time we’ve really seen each other since Bill’s wedding, so I suppose it was really three months together and nine months apart, but we’re still together.’ Harry wondered if he was making sense.
‘It’s serious, I’m serious — we’re serious,’ he added.
‘We are,’ Ginny confirmed.
Harry looked at her gratefully. George and Charlie were grinning at his discomfort. Percy definitely wanted to be elsewhere. Harry stared at Arthur Weasley, who still looked solemn.
‘Ginny’s my girlfriend, I hope you understand why we didn’t tell you.’
‘Is there anything else we ought to know? Anything else you’ve been keeping from us?’ Arthur Weasley asked sharply.
‘About Ginny and me?’ Harry was puzzled, did Mr Weasley think that they’d …
‘No!’ he said forcefully.
‘Hermione,’ Ginny mouthed.
‘Ginny, let Harry answer for himself,’ Molly scolded.
‘Ginny told me today,’ Harry addressed Ginny’s father, ‘that … people … have been talking about Hermione and me, like they did during the Triwizard Tournament. She’s a girl, and she’s my friend, but that doesn’t make her my girlfriend. She never has been, she’s just–Hermione,’ he finished pathetically.
‘Just as well,’ declared George, ‘you’d have to deal with little Ronnie if you tried anything with Hermione, wouldn’t you?’
‘What?’ Harry was surprised. George seemed know everything.
‘We’re not stupid, Fred ‘n me’ve known for years …’ George laughed, ‘she’s been driving Ron crazy since the Triwizard Tournament, probably before then. But he’s so stupid he didn’t know what to do about it. Things got so bad we even felt sorry for the little twerp. Did that book we bought him help? I hope that they’re really enjoying their trip to Australia together.’
The awkward silence that followed George’s announcement was broken by a click.
Mrs Weasley glanced at her clock. The hand marked Ronald had clicked over from “abroad” to “travelling” then on to “home”. The click was followed by a popping noise from the yard. There was a sudden rush for the back door. Ginny, who’d seen her mother’s glance, was the first to move. She took off at a sprint, grabbed Harry’s hand as she passed him and pulled open the back door. They were the first into the yard. George would have been next, had he not realised that pushing his mother out of his way would not be a good idea.
Chapter 6: Under a Shroud
Author's Notes: Thanks, once again to my beta readers Andrea and Amelíe. Their input and advice has, I'm sure improved this chapter.
6: Under a Shroud
Harry and Ginny stopped in the yard and looked up towards the orchard. Ron and Hermione were halfway down the hill. They were holding hands and looking very dazed. The empty beer can they’d been holding, their Portkey, had fallen onto the grass at their feet.
Ron was wearing loud, brown and cream patterned shorts and a violently patterned yellow and red short-sleeved shirt. He was badly in need of a shave and looked very pink and sunburned. He struggled to take his heavy rucksack from his back.
Hermione wore a short blue skirt and a white vest; she was carrying nothing but her small beaded bag. Unlike Ron, she was as pale as parchment, her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy and her hair was even bushier than normal. They appeared bewildered by their reception committee. When they saw Harry and Ginny holding hands Hermione smiled wanly, but Ron shouted, ‘Oi!’
Ginny scowled; Harry squeezed her hand and gave her a look which, he hoped, would keep her quiet. Releasing Ginny, he dashed up the hill to help his friend with his rucksack.
‘Thanks, Harry,’ said Ron, a little too loudly to be polite. He let go of Hermione and shrugged his rucksack into Harry’s arms, hissing, ‘What’re you playing at?’
‘I’m not arguing with you now, Ron, I’ll talk to you later. It’s okay, honest,’ Harry murmured through gritted teeth as he put Ron’s rucksack down on the grass.
Ron looked unconvinced. ‘Good to see you, mate,’ he grunted.
Harry frowned at Ron. Why was he being so unreasonable? He’d assumed that Ron wouldn’t mind if he and Ginny were back together; apparently he did. Turning abruptly from Ron, he moved to greet Hermione. Harry hoped that she, at least, would be on his side.
Hermione had been silent, listening to the exchange. She looked ill. As Harry stepped forwards to greet her she staggered; Ron roughly pushed Harry aside, grabbed Hermione into a steadying hug, and muttered,
‘Okay ‘er-mine, I’ve got you.’
Hermione slumped forwards, clasped her hands around Ron’s neck, rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. Harry glanced back at the silently watching Weasleys. Molly was looking at Ron and Hermione very carefully.
‘Twenty-two Portkey’s halfway round the world — no fun,’ said Ron by way of explanation. ‘What time is it?’
‘Quarter to Five.’ Charlie said, before Harry could check. Ron looked up at the sun.
‘It was just after midnight when we left.’ Ron was looking confused. ‘The same thing happened when we got there, it was a totally different time. Weird! Hermione tried to explain it to me. It’s something to do with time zoners, apparently.’
Hermione glanced up in exasperation at Ron but she didn’t try to correct him, she simply closed her eyes and rested her head against Ron’s chest. Harry stared at her; suddenly, he was extremely concerned.
‘Did you find your parents?’ Harry asked her.
Ron nodded; Hermione burst into tears and buried her face in Ron’s chest.
‘Are they all right?’ Harry panicked. Mrs Weasley strode towards her youngest son; Ron looked panic stricken but kept his arms around Hermione. His mother halted and folded her arms.
‘They’re fit and well–but unhappy–Hermione doesn’t want to talk about it,’ said Ron in a tone that would accept no arguments. Harry knew better than to ask them any more questions.
‘Let’s get you inside, Hermione,’ Harry suggested.
Ginny was staring distractedly into the sky.
‘Look,’ she pointed at a figure bobbing just above the trees. She stepped alongside Harry and put an arm around his waist. Harry returned the favour, and Ron glared at them both.
‘Luna,’ Ginny observed, she glanced at her brother with withering scorn before returning her gaze to the sky.
Harry followed Ginny’s gaze and made out the blonde-haired figure of Luna Lovegood gliding over the orchard. She looked odd, almost as though she was flying sideways. Harry stared closely at the figure as she approached and grinned in realisation; Luna was riding her broom side-saddle.
‘Hi Luna,’ shouted Ginny, waving frantically with her free hand. Luna smiled and waved as she brought the broomstick down almost to the ground, slowed gracefully to walking pace and neatly stepped off to walk the last few feet towards her friends.
‘You know,’ whispered Harry to Ginny, ‘I reckon she’d be a good flyer, if she flew properly.
Luna’s robes were an electric blue, so bright they almost hurt the eye. She was wearing large, dangling spherical, yellow earrings, which seemed to be almost liquid, like egg yolks on silver chains. Not impossible, knowing Luna, thought Harry. She looked around, surprised to find so many people watching her. Her steady, unblinking, gaze passed from Harry and Ginny to Ron and Hermione and on to the rest of the Weasleys.
‘Hello everyone,’ she said. She turned to speak to Ginny’s parents. ‘I’m so sorry about Fred, Mr and Mrs Weasley. He made everyone laugh; there will be fewer smiles in the world now he’s gone. Even people he’d never met, but would have in the future, will smile less. That means that even people he didn’t know will be a little sadder.’
In the silence which followed Luna returned her gaze to Harry and Ginny. ‘I’m glad you’re together again; you’re really well suited you know.’
‘I don’t suppose you’ll stop arguing with each other,’ she said, turning to address Ron and Hermione, ‘but I’m glad you’re finally together, too!’ She paused, ‘However, I’m really not sure that shirt is a good idea, Ronald.’
‘That should be my Mum’s line, Luna.’ Ron grinned and, for a brief moment, Harry saw his best friend as he really was. Suddenly feeling a huge amount of affection for Luna, Harry let go of Ginny and strode over to the blonde witch. Luna’s instant acceptance and approval of himself and Ginny as a couple was, he realised, important to him. Given Ron’s reaction it was very welcome too, so Harry hugged her. Ginny arrived at his side and did the same.
‘Thanks, Luna,’ Ginny smiled. Luna beamed.
‘It’s good to see you, Luna,’ said Harry, ‘How’s your house?’
Luna looked across to Hermione, who was still resting her head on Ron’s chest, and calmly said:
‘You were right, Hermione, it was an Erumpet horn; the blast pattern is unmistakable. The house is a mess, but we’ll have it put back together in a few weeks.’
Hermione nodded an acknowledgement but still didn’t speak.
Luna regarded her friends carefully.
‘I have told Daddy that it was very wrong of him to try to swap you for me at Easter!’ said Luna. ‘He’s very sorry. He told me that he loves me and that he only did it because he was very frightened about what might happen to me. So I’ve forgiven him.’ Luna delivered this statement in such a matter of fact way that Harry laughed. Luna, in her own way, had solved another problem.
‘In that case, I forgive him too, Luna,’ he replied. Their conversation was abruptly halted, because Hermione sighed, her eyes rolled up into her head and she collapsed into Ron’s arms.
Keeping one arm around her back to hold her upright, Ron crouched down, put the other behind Hermone’s knees and gently lifted her into his arms. She closed her eyes immediately. Ron looked at his mother; the worried expression on his face was mirrored on hers.
‘Come on, inside, all of you,’ Molly ordered, ‘Ron, take Hermione up to Ginny’s room.’
Ron strode rapidly down towards the Burrow. Ginny, however, sprinted past him; looking back over her shoulder as she reached the back steps she shouted, ‘I’ll just clear my bed.’
Harry wondered what she was trying to hide from Ron. He considered following them upstairs but decided that, given Ron’s current mood it would be best to allow him to look after Hermione.
As the Weasleys trooped back to their house, George slapped Harry on the back, ‘You know it’s been really quiet around here without you, Harry. This is much better.’
Remembering that he’d left Ron’s rucksack in the yard Harry turned to pick it up. He found Luna, broom in one hand, struggling to lift it. He hurried over to help her.
‘Here, let me take it,’ he offered, lifting the rucksack from her and swinging it onto one shoulder.
‘Thanks, Harry. What’s the matter with Hermione?’ she asked, ‘Ronald looks a little shaky too.’
‘They’ve just arrived by Portkey, from Australia.’
‘What they need is an invigoration draught,’ said Luna practically, as they entered the house. ‘Do you know where Mrs Weasley keeps her potion ingredients?’
‘No idea, sorry, Luna,’ Harry shook his head.
As he leaned Ron’s rucksack against the wall in the corner by the door he heard the sound of raised voices from upstairs.
‘Ron, just put her down and leave, we’ll take care of her,’ ordered Mrs Weasley.
‘I’m staying,’ Ron insisted.
‘Put that back, Ron,’ shouted Ginny.
Ron’s ‘What is it? You pathetic…’ was cut off by Molly’s; ‘Ginevra, Ronald, behave or leave.’
‘Sorry, Mum,’ said Ginny.
‘Yeah, sorry, Mum,’ Ron said.
Harry didn’t hear any more because Luna shouted upstairs.
‘Where do you keep potion ingredients, Mrs Weasley? I think that Ronald and Hermione need an invigoration draught.’
A furious looking Ginny clattered down into the kitchen.
‘What did Ron find?’ asked George.
‘None of your business, George,’ said Ginny. She looked at Harry as she spoke, making it clear that, whatever it was, it had something to do with him. She then turned to Luna. ‘Good idea, Luna, I’ll help you with the potion.’ Ginny opened a large cupboard and began rummaging through various jars, vials and boxes.
‘I’ll do that, Ginny,’ Luna volunteered, ‘you get a cauldron ready.’
Luna happily sang out the names of the required ingredients as she looked through the cupboard, Harry went to see if Ginny needed any help. Arthur Weasley, Harry realised, was standing in the middle of the kitchen and watching him closely. George, Percy and Charlie sat at the kitchen table, their heads together in whispered conversation.
‘So, what did Ron find?’ Harry asked.
‘None of your business, either,’ Ginny scowled.
‘What happened to no secrets?’ Harry grinned.
‘Ginny, if Ron knows, I’ll soon know. I won’t even need to ask him,’ he told her. Ginny glared at him, obviously annoyed, before breaking into a smile of embarrassment.
‘He won’t tell you, not with the mood he’s in,’ she declared. Her annoyance vanished and was replaced with a rueful smile. ‘He’s not happy about us, is he? Well, he’d better get used to it or I’ll hex him so that he can’t sit down … or stand up, either.’
‘He’s only being protective,’ explained Harry. ‘He thinks I’ve been messing you around.’ Ginny raised an eyebrow and stared deeply into his eyes. ‘I have been, haven’t I?’
The realisation hit Harry like a punch. He had told her that they were finished, and he had kept secrets from her. He’d justified it by claiming that he was only trying to protect her, but he had hurt her. She’d forgiven him; the kiss she’d given him on his birthday kiss had proved that. But since the battle he’d been to cowardly to face her. He stared at Ginny, horrified. She smiled sadly and nodded.
‘You’re forgiven, Harry,’ she said simply. ‘Help me get this ready and I’ll tell you what he found.’
There was a thump from upstairs. Harry, at the stove with Ginny and Luna, was some distance behind Mr Weasley and his sons; who dashed upstairs. By the time Harry reached the bottom of the stairs Charlie and Mr Weasley were helping a staggering Ron out from Ginny’s room; he looked as though he’d been confunded. Percy was opening the door opposite.
‘’M a’ ri’, no prob’m,’ Ron was mumbling.
George, Harry noticed, was trying to sneak into Ginny’s room while everyone else was distracted. He was unsuccessful.
‘George! Out!’ hissed his mother.
‘Harry,’ Ginny beckoned; she was holding the sitting room door open.
‘Quick, while they’re busy.’
He was by her side in an instant.
‘Can you manage without us for a minute?’ Ginny asked Luna.
‘Of course, off you go,’ Luna hummed as she cut and crushed ingredients. She seemed to be working from memory, as there was no potions book in front of her.
Ginny led Harry into the sitting room.
‘Ron found a scrapbook,’ Ginny explained, not meeting his eyes. Harry realised that he hadn’t seen Ginny so nervous in his presence since she was twelve.
‘It’s full of pictures of you, and rumours, and–well--everything I could find last year. Every lie, every rumour, every photograph I could find is in there. It was partly to reassure myself that you–that you were still alive, and partly because I hoped that one day we’d be able to laugh at some of the more ridiculous rumours. I’d cut out yesterday’s Prophet’ article ready to paste into it. The book was open on my bed and I knew that Ron would think I was being obsessive if he saw it. Perhaps I was,’ she admitted. ‘I even found a photo of us as Quidditch cup winners and stuck a copy on my wall.’ Harry reached forwards and gently ran his fingers through her hair.
‘I’ve got a copy of that photo too,’ Harry reassured her, smiling, ‘I stuck it on the wall above my bed on Monday morning, and I spent a lot of time last year trying to watch you.’
‘How?’ Ginny asked curiously.
‘The Marauders Map, I’d just sit and look around the castle, trying to find Ginny Weasley.’
They stepped towards each other to kiss.
‘Hello, Mrs Weasley,’ they heard Luna shout from the kitchen. They managed to spring apart just before Ginny’s mother opened the sitting room door.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Ginny brightly, ‘we were just looking for your potions book.’
It was apparent that Molly Weasley did not believe her daughter.
‘No need,’ called Luna, ‘it will be ready in ten minutes.’
‘Thank you, Luna, dear’ Mrs Weasley’s voice was sweet, but full of underlying menace. ‘I’m glad that someone is working hard to help her friends recover.’
She ushered Harry and Ginny back in the kitchen and looked into the cauldron, which was hissing and steaming.
‘Are you sure that’s an invigoration draught?’
‘Oh, yes. It’s Mummy’s special recipe, it works really well.’
Molly Weasley suddenly looked worried.
‘Shall we start setting the table, Mum?’ Ginny asked, trying to change the subject and trying to keep on the right side of her obviously harassed mother. ‘We should be getting dinner ready soon.’
Harry was starving, he realised; he looked hopefully towards the stove. Molly noticed.
‘Are you hungry, Harry dear?’ she asked, concerned.
‘A little, I only had two slices of toast for breakfast,’ Harry replied.
‘And you didn’t eat any biscuits when you arrived, because you were too busy groping my sister,’ chortled George. ‘What did Ron find anyway, Ginny?’ he continued.
‘None of your business,’ replied Harry.
At the same moment Ginny snapped: ‘Forget about it or I’ll hex you.’
‘Ooh!’ George laughed, holding up his hands in mock fear, ‘I’ve got to deal with you both now, have I?’
‘She won’t need my help,’ Harry retorted.
He was rewarded by a laugh from George and a kiss on the cheek from Ginny.
‘Enough,’ ordered Mrs Weasley, staring exasperatedly at her children. ‘George, set the table for me please. Ginny, you can help me to make dinner.’
‘Did someone say dinner?’ asked Charlie, as he walked back downstairs into the kitchen.
‘Mum’s making something, with assistance from the lovely and sweet natured Ginevra,’ announced George. Ginny hissed, and gave her brother a look that made him take two steps backwards and knock over a chair.
‘That would be very welcome,’ said Percy, who had followed Charlie down into the kitchen.
‘A lovely and sweet natured Ginevra?’ George looked warily at his sister. ‘We’d all welcome that.’ Ginny grinned and winked at him.
‘That’s easy to achieve, George,’ she told him. ‘Just give me your total, unquestioning, obedience.’
George chuckled.
‘The potion’s ready,’ sang Luna, ladling a watery purple liquid from the cauldron into two mugs.
‘Should I take it up?’ Luna asked.
Mrs Weasley looked doubtful; she took a wooden spoon from a pot on the bench, dipped it into the cauldron, sniffed, and then sipped the liquid.
‘Wonderful, Luna,’ she beamed. ‘Yes, take it up to Arthur, please,’ she handed Luna a tray for the mugs.
‘Ginny, you can help me with the vegetables,’ she ordered when Ginny made to follow Luna.
‘I’ll come with you, Luna,’ offered Harry, following her upstairs.
Mr Weasley was standing between the two open bedroom doors watching both Ron, who was in a large bedroom containing two single beds, and Hermione, who was on Ginny’s bed.
‘How are they, Mr Weasley? Luna enquired.
‘They seem to be sleeping,’ said Mr Weasley. ‘I’ve never experienced such a long distance Portkey journey myself; though I heard of a few instances of exhaustion like this before the Quidditch World Cup.’
Luna marched into the larger bedroom and put the tray on a table between the beds.
‘If you could just lift Ronald into a sitting position, please,’ she suggested. Harry moved forward.
‘I’ll do that, thanks, Harry,’ Mr Weasley insisted, gently lifting his youngest son.
‘Sorry, Hermione,’ Ron burbled as Mr Weasley moved him. Arthur looked piercingly at Harry when Ron mentioned Hermione, but he said nothing. Luna lifted one of the mugs from the tray and held it under Ron’s nose. His head shot backwards and his eyes opened wide, staring.
‘Drink this, Ronald,’ Luna ordered, putting the mug gently to his lips. Ron did so and Luna gently poured the drink into his mouth. After the first swallow, Ron focussed on his surroundings. After the second, he took the cup from Luna and quickly drank the rest. He smacked his lips, belched loudly, and looked around.
‘Why am I in Charlie’s room?’ he asked. Then realisation struck. ‘Is Hermione all right?’ Ron swung his feet off the bed and ran across the landing into Ginny’s Room.
‘It looks like she will be, once we give her this potion,’ replied his father calmly, as he followed Ron to where Hermione lay. Luna, Harry noticed, had carefully watched Ron race across the landing. She lifted a tiny purple egg from inside her robes; taking her wand from behind her ear she lightly ran it around the egg.
By the time Harry and Luna had followed Mr Weasley into Ginny’s room Ron had already gently lifted Hermione into a sitting position; he was tenderly brushing her bushy hair out of her face.
Ginny’s room was as bright as Harry remembered. The walls were covered with Holyhead Harpies posters. One of the drawers in the desk under the window was partially open, a scrap book protruded from it. A wardrobe in one corner stood open. Incongruously hanging from the wardrobe door was a plastic coat hanger on which hung a green plastic dress bag from a Muggle shop.
‘Let me,’ Ron urged, reaching for the mug of potion as Luna crouched down beside the bed.
‘I think I’d better,’ suggested Luna gently, ‘you just concentrate on holding her while I give her the potion.’
‘I can do that,’ said Ron. He spoke rather too eagerly, Harry thought as he watched Mr Weasley’s reaction. Ron carefully cradled Hermione, her head resting on his shoulder. On the wall behind Hermione, Harry saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team photo. Ginny smiled at him from the picture.
Luna gently moved the mug under Hermione’s nose. Her head rolled back; Ron caught it tenderly.
‘Watch what you’re doing,’ he snapped at Luna. Hermione’s eyes flickered open at the sound of Ron’s voice; he smiled down at her.
‘It’ll be okay, Hermione, just drink this,’ he encouraged.
Mr Weasley, standing at the bottom of the bed, continued to watch his youngest son with a great deal of interest. Luna carefully poured the potion into Hermione’s mouth, while Ron made noises of encouragement. After the third swallow Hermione murmured, ‘Thanks,’ and, with a shaking hand, tried to take the mug from Luna.
Luna gently moved Hermione’s hand away and continued to pour. After three more swallows Luna finally allowed Hermione to take the mug. Hermione emptied the mug, hiccoughed and looked confusedly around the room.
‘Hi, Harry; hi, Luna,’ she sighed, ‘Oh, Ron,’ she turned, buried her head Ron’s chest, and burst into tears. Ron looked helplessly at Harry and Luna; then saw his father watching him cradling Hermione in his arms. His ears reddening Ron whispered, ‘Can you all just leave us for a couple of minutes, we’ll be down soon.’
‘Five minutes,’ warned Mr Weasley, ‘then I’ll be back.’ He ushered Luna and Harry onto the landing and motioned to them to go downstairs. After making sure that Ginny’s bedroom door was wide open, he followed them down into the kitchen. He went straight across to talk to his wife, who, wand in hand, was simultaneously supervising a spoon that was stirring a large pot of stew and a knife that was peeling potatoes.
Harry walked over to talk to Ginny, who was now putting goblets and a jug of pumpkin juice on the table. Arthur Weasley was meanwhile talking quietly to his wife. Harry saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He grabbed Ginny and pulled her aside as the potato knife flew past them and stuck, quivering into the wall behind them.
‘Sorry dears,’ said Mrs Weasley, ‘Arthur distracted me. Accio!’ The knife flew back to the sink and returned to work.
She fixed Harry with a piercing glare, ‘You said that you’d tell us what really happened while the three of you were on the run.’ Harry nodded. ‘You can do it over dinner,’ she ordered.
Ron walked down into the kitchen.
‘Hermione’s just gone up to the bathroom,’ he announced, ‘she needs to … er … tidy up.’
‘What’re you doing over dinner?’ he asked Harry.
‘Telling us everything that happened last year,’ his Mother said, quietly.
‘Little things that you haven’t told us, Ronald,’ Molly continued, her voice was calm; Harry knew that this was much more dangerous than when she was shouting, ‘For example,’ she continued, ‘why you lied to me about Harry going to Australia with you both, and why you didn’t think that it was important to tell us that Hermione is your girlfriend before you took an unsupervised trip to Australia with her.’
Ron glared accusingly at Harry.
‘I didn’t say anything, Ron,’ he protested.
‘No, you didn’t,’ agreed Molly, ‘looking after your friends, as usual. I don’t blame you for Ron’s lies, Harry.’
‘But you, young man,’ she waved a ladle angrily towards her youngest son.
‘We’re both eighteen, we can do what we want,’ Ron bravely stood up to his mother. ‘And anyway, we haven’t been having a fun time.’ Molly glared at Ron, hands on hips, Harry recognised the signs; she was rapidly approaching another explosion.
‘No, we haven’t,’ confirmed Hermione, who was halfway down the stairs. She still looked pale, weak, and very sad. Mrs Weasley looked at Hermione in concern. The battle between Molly’s anger and her mothering instinct was over in an instant. There was no contest; her anger collapsed, defeated, and crawled away to hide.
‘What’s wrong, dear?’ Ron’s mother asked solicitously.
‘I don’t want to talk about it, Mrs Weasley, perhaps after … after all of the funerals,’ she sobbed. ‘Can we change the subject, please?’
Ron glowered at his mother reproachfully, ‘Try to be more tactful,’ he told her. Mr and Mrs Weasley exchanged a look of astonishment. Harry only just managed to cover his snort of laughter by coughing.
‘Sit down, dear, dinner will be ready in about half an hour,’ Molly told Hermione kindly. ‘Bill and Fleur are coming over to see you all. They will be here soon, will you stay for dinner, too, Luna?’ she asked.
‘No, thank you, Mrs Weasley, Daddy is expecting me back soon.’
‘Luna,’ Harry remembered, ‘Justin said you wanted to talk to me about something.’
Luna jumped at the sound of Harry’s voice: she’d been staring at Ron and Hermione, deep in thought.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Luna dreamily, ‘there’s something here I want to show you.’ She plunged her hand down the front of her robes; George, who was sitting next to her, sniggered.
‘George,’ Mrs Weasley scolded. Luna looked him, a puzzled expression on her face. She withdrew her hand from her robes and put a small, folded piece of parchment on the table.
‘This is Colin’s galleon,’ she explained, ‘I’ve added a new enchantment to it,’ she looked cautiously at Hermione for her reaction. Hermione managed a look of vague curiosity. Luna unfolded the parchment, revealing the gold coin used by Dumbledore’s Army to pass messages. Silently, Luna pushed the parchment towards Harry.
‘Just touch the coin,’ she instructed. Harry did so.
Immediately, Colin Creevey’s image, smiling and waving, burst out from the coin. Glowing golden words shimmered at the bottom of the image.
He was sixteen when he was killed during The Battle of Hogwarts.
Remember him.
We miss you Colin.”
Everyone stared at the image in silence. Harry felt Ginny’s arm on his shoulder. He slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a sorrowful, comforting, hug.
‘I’ve made it so that the Muggles can’t see it,’ Luna explained, ‘except direct blood relatives, his parents. The image lasts for about a minute after you touch the galleon.’ As she finished explaining the enchantment, it vanished. ‘I thought,’ continued Luna, ‘that we could stick this to his gravestone, with a permanent sticking charm.’
She looked at Harry. He and Ginny were close to tears; as were Ron and Hermione, and Arthur and Molly. Like Harry and Ginny, the other couples had their arms around each other.
‘I wondered; would you like to be the one to fix it to the stone, Harry?’ she asked Harry.
‘I’d be honoured to do it, Luna,’ Harry said huskily, ‘have Mr and Mrs Creevey seen this?’
Before Luna could reply George stood suddenly, knocking over his chair. He grabbed Luna’s shoulders, kissed her full on the lips, turned, and ran upstairs. Molly watched George’s departure with a worried frown.
‘Oh yes.’ Luna answered Harry as though nothing had happened, ‘I showed it to them when I visited, they agreed that we could do it after the service.’
‘Thanks, Luna,’ was all Harry could think to say.
With a thump, George landed back in the kitchen; he seemed to have jumped down an entire flight of stairs. He strode across to the table, a galleon in his hand.
‘How long did it take you to make that?’ George demanded, thrusting the galleon at Luna, ‘this was Fred’s, what can I do to help?’
‘I’ll need a photograph…’ Luna began.
‘You’ll have everything you need,’ Molly Weasley said; pulling Luna into a tight hug.
George hurtled back upstairs and returned with a photograph a few moments later and strode towards them both, Molly was still hugging Luna; she released the blonde witch.
‘Thank you for the hug, Mrs Weasley,’ Luna gasped, ‘it reminded me of Mummy. Daddy’s hugs are nice, but they just aren’t the same as a real mummy-hug.’
For the second time that day, Molly Weasley was speechless. George silently handed Luna a photograph.
‘Thank you, George; I’ll start work on this when I get home,’ Luna told him, carefully placing the photograph inside her robes.
‘Come for lunch tomorrow, Luna. You will be leaving from here at two. I’ll make you some soup. Will noon be all right?’ asked Molly, finally finding her voice.
‘That will be very nice, thank you, Mrs Weasley. I’ll see you tomorrow everyone.’ With a cheery wave Luna headed for the back door.
Molly returned to the stove. The Burrow was filling with the smells of cooking and Harry was now feeling ravenous.
‘We’ll see you off, Luna,’ Ginny announced, grabbing Harry’s hand and leading him after Luna. Ron was glowering at them again, but he didn’t move from Hermione’s side to follow. Luna skipped down the steps and picked up her broom.
‘Goodbye.’ Luna smiled. ‘Look after each other.’
‘We will, Luna,’ Ginny assured her, ‘and thank you.’
‘Oh,’ Luna said, plunging her hand into her robes again, ‘I’d better leave this with you.’ She handed Harry the purple egg, which he looked at curiously.
‘This will sing when my potion is about to wear off. Ron and Hermione will be very, very, tired when that happens,’ explained Luna, ‘so you’d better be ready. Bye.’ Harry pushed the tiny egg into his jeans pocket.
With that she sat on her broom, kicked off the ground and flew away, waving. Harry and Ginny watched her disappear into the distance.
When Harry and Ginny re-entered the kitchen, arms around each other, Ron scowled at them again. Ginny parried the scowl with a dismissive raise of her eyebrows and riposted with a fearsome snarl. She tensed, waiting for a response from her brother.
Chapter 7: Family Plots
Author's Notes: This is the second longest chapter and the halfway point of the story.
Thanks once again to Andrea and Amelíe for their comments, corrections and input. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
7: Family Plots
Ginny and Ron stared at each other in angry silence. Harry gave Ginny’s waist a warning squeeze, trying to warn her not to start another public argument. He succeeded, she relaxed, and hugged him, but that only made Ron even more annoyed. Realising that he needed to talk to Ron, alone, Harry cast his eyes around the room looking for an excuse to get his friend alone. That was when he noticed Ron’s rucksack, it was still lying in the corner where he’d put it when Ron and Hermione arrived.
‘Mrs Weasley, shall I take this rucksack up to Ron’s room?’ he asked Mrs Weasley, removing his hand from Ginny’s waist.
‘Thank you, Harry,’ said Molly, ‘but Ron should really learn to tidy up after himself.’ She glared at her youngest son. Ron got angrily to his feet.
‘I’ll give you a hand, Ron, it’s heavy,’ Harry offered.
Ron looked suspiciously at Harry, before he finally comprehended what Harry was trying to do.
‘Thanks, mate,’ he managed to grunt in a surly and ungrateful tone.
Ron left Harry to carry the rucksack and silently led the way as they zigzagged up the five flights of stairs to his bedroom. At the top landing he ushered Harry into his small and untidy bedroom and indicated that Harry should sit on the bed. When he did, Ron leaned against the wall opposite and began talking quickly.
‘Ginny’s obsessed with you,’ he began, ‘I don’t think you should take advantage …’
‘She’s got a scrapbook, that’s all. That’s what you found in her room, she’s told me,’ Harry interrupted dismissively.
Ron rolled his eyes in disbelief. Harry watched his friend closely, Ron’s eyes were red, and he was almost ready to explode. As Harry stared, he realised that Ron’s annoyance was, at least in part, due to the fact that he was worried about Hermione; that worry was affecting Ron badly. Ginny first, Harry thought, then Hermione. His resolve strengthened, Harry continued.
‘A scrapbook full of stuff about me,’ he confirmed, ‘she was trying to check up on me last year.’ Ron stared at Harry, still unconvinced.
‘I’ve been talking to George, and Charlie; and even Percy. They all know you were going out with her last year, but no-one seems to know that you ditched her!’ Ron threatened.
‘Ginny says that I didn’t ditch her. I think she’s right.’
Ron began to bristle. ‘But…’
‘But we kissed on my birthday,’ interrupted Harry savagely, ‘as you know, because you interfered! That was after we’d supposedly broken up, remember. She’s been trying to check up on me all year, as you know, because you’ve been interfering, snooping in her room; again!’ Harry hammered home his point. ‘And I tried to keep an eye on her too, with the Marauders Map,’ he persisted angrily. ‘Maybe I’m “obsessed” with her, too! Or maybe it’s just that we still fancy each other!’
Ron was reeling from the fervour of Harry’s onslaught.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going to get back together?’ he grumbled. Harry was winning, he realised, but he wasn’t going to slow down yet. He needed a total victory; he continued his attack.
‘I’d told you it wouldn’t happen again! On my birthday, remember! You were going on at me–you made me promise!’ Harry retorted. ‘When I made that promise it was because I didn’t want Ginny to get caught up in all that, because I wanted to protect her! I thought that there was a good chance that Riddle catch me, and kill me. If he had we wouldn’t be arguing; would that make you happy?’
Ron opened his mouth to protest but Harry kept going, determined to hammer Ron into complete submission. He stood up from his disadvantaged position on Ron’s bed and leaned forwards, staring into his friends blue eyes.
‘Even though I’d promised you, I still hoped…’ continued Harry remorselessly, ‘…hoped that she hadn’t found somebody else. Well she hasn’t and we’re together again and you can’t stop us, so don’t try! Just deal with it!’ Harry paused for breath. Ron said nothing; he simply stared, slack jawed at his unusually passionate friend. Ron was close to complete capitulation. Harry, sensing victory in his grasp, gently pressed his point. He lowered his voice to a desperate, husky whisper, ‘She understands, Ron, she’s brilliant; I just want to be with her. Please don’t make me choose between you and her.’
‘She was in a real state last year, when you finished with her!’ protested Ron, finally finding his voice and playing, as always, the protective brother. ‘She was crying her eyes out. She’s my sister; don’t you dare hurt her again!’
‘Hermione is my friend, she’s like a sister to me, remember! She was crying her eyes out when you left us, before Christmas; don’t you dare hurt her again!’ Harry snapped back viciously.
Ron physically recoiled from the ferocity of Harry’s words, cracking the back of his head on the wall. He stared wide-eyed at Harry; unable to find a response. Harry, too, was lost for words; he’d surprised himself with his passionate defence of Hermione.
In the empty silence created by raw, uncomfortable truths the two young men looked at each other awkwardly. Both thought carefully about what had just been said, about the wounds they had reopened in each other; finally, they smiled self-consciously at each other. Ron stepped forward and held out his hand, Harry stood up from Ron’s bed. They shook hands, hugged quickly and embarrassedly, and stepped back to look at each other with new respect and understanding.
‘You’ll need to watch out for her temper,’ warned Ron, trying to make light of their disagreement.
‘Whereas Hermione, as you know, is a nice quiet girl; all sweetness and light,’ Harry replied. They both laughed, but stopped quickly. The grin on Ron’s face was replaced by a pinched and sad look, he was obviously very worried.
‘What’s wrong with Hermione, Ron?’ Harry asked.
‘Her Mum and Dad,’ Ron explained. ‘Thanks to Kingsley sending us to see the Australian Wizards, we managed to find them after a couple of days.
‘A smarmy git from their Authority, a bloke named Jayden,’ Ron spat the name, ‘helped.’
Harry recognised the tone in Ron’s voice and imagined a bronzed and handsome young Australian wizard fawning over Hermione. He determinedly kept a straight face. He’d just managed to get Ron back on his side; he didn’t want another argument.
‘We went to see them on Tuesday afternoon, at their new house. We thought that it would just be a case of restoring their memories and coming back home.’
‘But when Hermione undid the memory alterations her Mum and Dad went spare. They accused Hermione of–brainwashing–said it was appalling behaviour. I tried to help her, to explain but they told me to get out; they wanted to talk to her alone–I didn’t want to go,’ he sounded desperate. ‘But Hermione said that I should go.’
‘I told Hermione I’d book into the nearest hotel, so she phoned for a tasky.’
‘Taxi’ Harry corrected automatically, Ron ignored him.
‘I made a fool of myself with Muggle money,’ Ron admitted, ‘but I got booked in eventually. It’s hard not using magic, isn’t it?’
‘I called back on Wednesday. They all looked terrible, as if they hadn’t slept. I … fell out with Hermione … I wanted to help, but she wanted to sort it out herself. She said it was private, family stuff.’ Ron looked so miserable that Harry’s exasperation with his friend vanished.
‘I said I was almost family; I told her I lo… I told her she was important to me, but, she sent me away again.’
Harry pretended that he hadn’t heard Ron’s slip.
‘I spent the day lying by the hotel swimming pool, trying to figure out what to do.’ Ron paused for breath.
‘Blimey, mate,’ said Harry. ‘Have they made up yet?’
‘Not exactly,’ Ron looked really glum. ‘I went back on Thursday and they told to me come back in the evening. So I had another day by the pool. When I went back things still weren’t right. Hermione was still crying most of the time. Her Mum and Dad sent her outside and asked me all sorts of questions. Checking that she’d been telling them the truth, I think.’
‘They were really mad. She’d spent lots of money without asking, made them do something they didn’t want to do, and gone off with two boys. That was their version. Well, I tried my best to explain, to help Hermione, but they’re still really upset. And they’d missed her eighteenth birthday.’ Ron shrugged at this.
‘Eighteen is important to Muggles, just like our seventeenth.’ Harry explained.
‘I figured that out myself,’ snapped Ron sarcastically. Harry ignored the jibe.
‘I went back on Friday morning,’ Ron stopped, puzzled. ‘Is it still Friday here? It was after midnight when we left so it should be Saturday. We haven’t missed Colin’s funeral, have we?’
Harry assured his friend that it was Friday evening.
‘I don’t see how it can be,’ Ron pondered for a moment, looking confused. He shrugged and returned to his tale.
‘They asked Hermione to come back in the room, and spent ages talking about money and work and stuff,’ Ron continued, ‘Hermione had arranged for someone to look after their jobs over here. It turns out that they’d been planning a big holiday with Hermione when she’d finally finished school. They thought that she’d missed too many. She’d had Christmases at Hogwarts, spent a lot of her summers here. They told her that they hadn’t seen much of her for years; that she was a stranger to them, and it was going to have to change.’
‘Last summer, just before she altered their memories they’d booked a six week holiday in France, in a jeet — I think that’s French for farmhouse; for June and July this year. Hermione didn’t know; it was going to be a big surprise for her.’
‘They’re flying back from Australia, they get here on Tuesday … they’re not here already?’ Ron paused, puzzled, Harry shook his head.
‘I’ve just told you, Ron, it’s Friday evening,’ said Harry.
‘These time zoners are really confusing,’ Ron continued. ‘They want Hermione to go straight home after the funerals, to get their house ready for them. They want her to stay with them until they all go to France. No magic, and no contact with any of us.’ Ron put his head in his hands.
‘We’ve just got together,’ groaned Ron, his eyes moist. ‘If she goes off with her mum and dad, I’ll have at least three months without her! What can I do?’
Harry looked grimly at his friend. ‘Just hope and dream; that’s what I did.’
‘But you had a couple of months with Ginny first,’ Ron wailed. ‘I had two days, with a battle in the middle.’
‘It’s not much consolation,’ Harry reasoned, ‘but from the state Hermione’s in, it doesn’t look like she’s looking forward to going home without you.’
‘It’s the things her mum and dad said to her that’ve really cut her up. She’s taken them to heart.’ said Ron sadly.
Harry mulled through various ideas while Ron watched in silence. He needed to help Hermione, and Ron, but what could he do? How would he have reacted if someone had changed his memories, changed his mind, sent him away, possibly forever. Was it really any better than an imperius curse he wondered? Hermione had done a bad thing for a good reason, and was suffering the consequences. He wondered why he hadn’t realised this earlier. Perhaps he could explain things to Mr and Mrs Granger.
‘I’ll speak to her;’ Harry offered. ‘I’ll see whether I can sort something out. Maybe we could visit her at her parents’ house. If I back her up as well, maybe they’d listen to me. Even if they won’t, they might let us phone her.’
Ron looked horrified.
‘Listen Ron, talking on the phone is better than nothing, and it isn’t difficult, I can show you.’ Harry reassured his friend.
‘Oi!’ George’s voice came up the stairs, ‘dinner’s ready.’
Harry looked at Ron. ‘Can I tell Ginny you’re okay about us now?’ Ron nodded sheepishly.
‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘I wanted to talk to you; she wanted to hex you.’
When they reached the bottom of the stairs the kitchen was full and busy. The table was set for eleven. Bill and Fleur had arrived while Harry and Ron had been upstairs. Ginny’s eldest brother and his wife were deep in conversation with Charlie, Percy and George. Ginny was helping her mum to serve; Hermione was sitting quietly at the table. Ginny’s brothers fell silent when Ron and Harry reached the bottom of the stairs. Ginny walked across to Harry and slipped her arm around his waist.
‘This is going to be interesting,’ she murmured.
‘George, ‘e does not joke? You two are … togezzer?’ Fleur asked.
Harry nodded.
‘Since last year,’ Ginny said. Harry watched Bill clench his jaw; he’d never seen him looking so fiercely wolfish.
‘Ginny,’ Bill began, ‘you’re only sixteen. You’re too young … and Harry’s famous …’
‘Mum was fifteen when she started going out with Dad, eighteen when they got married, and just twenty when you were born.’ Ginny snarled, ‘and …’
‘Ginny …’ Bill interrupted, raising his voice.
‘William,’ his mother said quietly, ‘after everything you said to me two years ago, I hope that you’re not going to lecture anyone about unsuitable boyfriends, or girlfriends.’
Bill stood in stunned silence.
‘I’m not your baby sister any more, Bill,’ Ginny added, ‘I’m seventeen in three months.’
Ginny pulled Harry tightly towards her. He tightened his hold on her, too. Her hand rested on his hip and his on hers. They looked around at the assembled Weasley’s, daring anyone else to speak.
‘They get my vote,’ George said. ‘And Fred’s.’
‘Thanks George,’ Harry and Ginny said simultaneously. They grinned at each other.
‘And mine,’ Ron said quietly, looking down at his feet. Ginny hugged Harry.
‘This is a family, not a democracy,’ Bill pointed out firmly.
‘So … Mum’s vote is the only one that counts,’ Ginny told him defiantly ‘… and Dad’s,’ she added hastily, seeing the amusement in her father’s eye.
‘You should listen to your maman, mon chre,’ Fleur told her husband. Bill looked at his wife in shock. The second that Fleur agreed with Molly a look of defeat flashed across his scarred face. It was instantly replaced by a look of stubborn disapproval, but Bill was beaten, and he knew it.
‘Oh, Arry,’ Fleur herself broke the silence she’d created, smiling, ‘you look so ‘appy, but ma petite Gabrielle, she ‘as ze crush you know.’
‘She’s twelve, she’ll get over it,’ Ginny observed.
‘Not all twelve-year-olds do!’ George observed acerbically. Ginny opened her mouth, but for once was unable to come up with a smart remark. Charlie and Ron both burst out laughing.
‘If you will all sit down,’ ordered Molly, ‘I’ll serve. We can eat and talk. Harry is going to tell us everything they did while they were on the run.’
Ron guided Hermione to a chair and sat down next to her. Harry was about to sit next to Ron, but Ginny squeezed him aside to sit between her brother and her boyfriend. Ron’s brothers took chairs on the opposite side of the table; Bill sat next to his father, who was at the head of the table, then Fleur, Charlie, Percy and George. Molly sat at the opposite end of the table to her husband, between to George and Harry.
‘Beef stew,’ Mrs Weasley announced as, with a wave of her wand, she ladled thick stew onto everyone’s bowls. ‘The potatoes and more vegetables are on the table.’
Harry decided to start from the beginning; he crammed in a few hasty mouthfuls of stew while the Weasleys sat in expectant silence.
‘When we left the wedding, we Apparated into Muggle London,’ he began, ‘we nearly got caught within minutes. We–I–said Voldemort’s name. We didn’t know that they could find us if we used the name. A couple of Death Eaters arrived within minutes…’
Harry’s audience was, in the main, quiet and attentive. Mr Weasley, Bill and Charlie infrequently asked a few probing questions. The meal progressed slowly as he told the Weasleys of their adventures. Harry was interrupted and corrected by Ron and occasionally by Hermione, who was still worryingly quiet. At every opportunity he had, he ate. As the pangs of hunger abated and the tale unfolded, Harry felt the burden of the past week, of the past nine months begin to lift. Their raid on the Ministry was well known, though it had been assumed that it had been an attempt to rescue Muggleborns, and nothing else.
‘Thanks for the warning, Harry,’ Arthur Weasley smiled, ‘you had me confused in that lift.’ While Arthur explained what had happened, Harry took the opportunity to cram in several mouthfuls of stew.
Harry continued the story. He had decided not to mention Ron’s leaving, just before Christmas, but Ron interrupted, allowing a grateful Harry another opportunity to eat. With a wary eye on his mother and sister, Ron told the story miserably. Ron did not get very far through the tale before he was interrupted. After he’d described the effects of Slytherin’s locket, Ginny hugged him and kissed his cheek.
‘It’s horrible when you’ve got Voldemort talking inside your head,’ she consoled him.
‘Thanks, Ginny,’ Ron mumbled gratefully.
Harry continued the tale through to Christmas, the escape from Voldemort and the loss of his wand and then praised Ron for saving his life, for which Ginny gave Ron another hug. Harry stopped to eat, and allowed Ron to give an edited description of the destruction of the locket.
They told the full story of their short visit to Malfoy Manor. The entire family watched Molly Weasley carefully.
‘Well, she won’t be torturing anyone else,’ was all Mrs Weasley said. Harry continued the story.
He was finishing a third helping of stew by they time the story reached Hogwarts. He allowed Ron, with whispered praise from Hermione, to describe the destruction of the cup and the diadem. They reached the point of Fred’s death, and everyone paused, silent, their heads lowered in memory.
With quite an effort, Harry continued the story and told them about Snape. He made no mention of the elder wand, or of the Deathly Hallows; that, he decided, would remain a secret, even from the Weasley’s, he’d tell Ginny later.
‘I still can’t believe he was on our side,’ George protested, absent-mindedly scratching the flesh where his ear had been.
‘He was still a git, though,’ Ron assured his brother. Molly, watching George carefully, didn’t scold Ron for this observation.
Harry continued, telling everyone about Snape’s memories.
‘Harry,’ Molly Weasley was horrified, ‘you had a piece of Voldemort inside you?’ Harry nodded grimly.
‘No-one else knows. Well, Kingsley does. I wasn’t going to tell anyone else, but then I decided to tell Ginny, to tell you all. You got me out of Privet Drive, risked your lives for me; I trust you all, but I really want to keep this a secret.’
Everyone around the table nodded in agreement.
Harry then tried to describe what had happened in the forest. Everyone stopped eating; they were silent and listening carefully. When he finished, Molly Weasley was crying, and her husband was blowing his nose noisily.
‘You would have died, for us.’ Ginny whispered, determinedly fighting back tears. Her hand, which had been under the table, resting on Harry’s leg for some time, was now gripping it tightly. Harry risked squeezing her knee.
‘Why didn’t you,’ asked George, looking at Harry’s scar, ‘that’s twice he hit you with the killing curse; are you immune?’
‘No,’ Harry explained, ‘Riddle used it on me and something had to die. Thanks to Hermione I knew how Horcruxes work, if the vessel, me, died, then the part of Riddle inside me would have died too. But from what Dumbledore told me while I was unconscious, only one thing had to die, and Riddle had used my blood to regenerate himself, so I was tied to him, too. I could stay, so I did. Riddle killed his soul with the Avada Kedavra. And my … well, what I did … left everyone protected, like my Mum protected me. I’m sorry, but I had to play dead until I got the opportunity to escape,’ he added apologetically.
‘Then Neville killed the snake, and Riddle tried to kill me again, and failed,’ concluded Harry lamely.
‘You make it sound a lot less heroic than it was,’ Ron grinned.
Harry shrugged.
‘Harry,’ Hermione piped up, sounding worried, ‘you do know that you didn’t really meet Dumbledore, don’t you?’
‘I did.’
‘Harry,’ scolded Hermione, ‘Dumbledore is dead, you imagined it.’
‘Just because I imagined it,’ said Harry, remembering Dumbledore’s words, ‘doesn’t mean that it wasn’t real.’
Hermione opened her mouth; a concerned, but angry, expression on her face.
‘Please, Hermione,’ Harry held up a hand; he was tired of arguments, ‘stop.’
‘Or else,’ added Ginny; she scowled at Hermione, who again burst into tears and fled from the room. She was closely followed by Ron.
‘What is wrong with that girl?’ asked Mrs Weasley. ‘She’s been out of sorts since she got here.’
‘Ron told me upstairs,’ said Harry, ‘but I think Hermione had better tell you herself, when she’s ready.’
Molly nodded, looking at Harry in concern, ‘you look weary, dear, like you’re still carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You need some rest and a few more decent meals. It’s an early night for you, tonight.’
‘Well, if everyone is finished,’ she continued, looking at the empty plates, ‘you boys can clear the table and I’ll make some tea.’
‘Excuse us,’ Ginny told her mother grandly, ‘my boyfriend and I are going to sit down.’
‘Cake would be nice,’ she added as she pulled an embarrassed Harry into the sitting room and closed the door behind them. Bill glared at them.
She guided Harry to her father’s chair.
‘Sit,’ she ordered.
Harry did so. She sat on his knees and put her arms around his neck. He leaned forward to kiss her. She stopped him by gently placing her forefinger on the end of his nose.
‘Just wait,’ she warned. ‘This is the real test. If Mum’s not happy about us she’ll come storming in now. If she’s okay she’ll keep everyone out, make tea, and then knock on the door.’
They sat gazing mischievously at each other.
‘George,’ they heard Mrs Weasley shout, ‘just leave them alone for a few minutes.’ Ginny beamed happily.
Everything’s going to be all right, we’ve got Mum on our side and she’ll win everyone else round soon. For some reason my brothers are still more scared of Mum than they are of me.’ She was so obviously disappointed by this fact that Harry laughed.
‘Hello, girlfriend,’ he grinned, clasping his hands around her waist.
‘Hello, boyfriend,’ Ginny replied, ruffling his hair.
Harry kissed her, gently, carefully, thankfully.
‘I’m glad I’m still alive,’ he said.
‘So am I,’ said Ginny seriously, ‘But there have been times when you weren’t sure that you’d survive, haven’t there?’
Harry nodded sadly.
‘What right have I to be here? To be happy? We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re going to a funeral tomorrow and there are three more on Sunday.’
‘Fred,’ Ginny hesitated, ‘Fred lived life to the full. We should remember him by doing the same, Harry. Lupin and Tonks would say the same, wouldn’t they?’
‘Lupin did!’ Harry exclaimed, remembering his walk into the forest, and trying to explain it to Ginny.
‘I need to tell you about the Deathly Hallows,’ he began.
‘The what?’ Ginny asked.
Harry slowly told her about the Hallows, about the tale of the three brothers.
‘That’s why Dumbledore left that book to Hermione,’ said Ginny.
Harry nodded, ‘I’ll tell you the whole story later, but had the Resurrection Stone with me when I walked into the forest. I had Mum, Dad, Sirius and Lupin with me. Lupin talked about making the world a place where Teddy could lead a happier life.’
‘You deserve a happier life, too, Harry,’ Ginny told him.
Their second kiss lasted a long time, a very long time. It was finally interrupted by a knock at the door. Ginny broke the kiss, whirled out of Harry’s lap, landed in the sofa opposite, and put on a serious expression.
‘Come in,’ she said demurely.
Molly Weasley opened the door and looked at them in open disbelief.
‘Tea is ready, are you coming to join us?’ she asked.
‘Yes, please, we just needed a few minutes private chat,’ Ginny smiled winningly at her mother. ‘Come on Harry.’
‘Could we have two more minutes, please?’ Harry asked, realising that he needed to tell Ginny about Hermione; he’d promised her, no secrets.
Molly smiled her acquiescence so, very quickly, Harry told Ginny about Hermione’s parents.
‘No wonder she’s so tearful,’ said Ginny, horrified, ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at her, I’ll go and apologise.’
When they re-entered the kitchen all eyes were on Harry and Ginny. Fleur smiled, though Bill still looked suspicious. Ron and Hermione were back at the kitchen table. Ron looked grumpy and Hermione’s eyes were red and blotchy. Both were silent.
The plates had been cleared away; everyone was drinking tea and most were eating slices of Mrs Weasley’s excellent fruit cake. The room was filled with the murmur of several conversations.
‘Snape,’ began George, but shut up under his mothers glare.
‘No more questions for Harry,’ Molly ordered. ‘He’s told us enough for today.’
While Harry helped himself to a slice of cake, Ginny hurried over and began talking to Hermione in an urgent whisper. Hermione glared at Ron, then at Harry, and whispered something to Ginny. Harry moved towards his friends but was intercepted by Arthur Weasley.
‘Harry,’ Ginny’s father said quietly, ‘can I have a word with you in private?’
‘Of course,’ Harry replied, glancing at Ginny who was deep in a whispered conversation with Hermione. He picked up his tea and cake and followed Arthur Weasley back into the sitting room. Sitting on the sofa, he took a bite of fruit cake.
‘You’ve been part of this family for years, Harry,’ Ginny’s father began.
‘I know, thanks,’ Harry said, swallowing the rich, heavy, cake.
‘That’s good to hear,’ Arthur smiled, ‘you’re a good lad, Harry, but we’re all going to need some time to adjust. You and Ginny seem to be happy together from what I’ve seen this afternoon, but you’re Ron’s friend too, remember. And Ginny still has another year at school, she’s still young; you’re both still very young. Take your time; make sure that you both know what you’re doing.’
‘We do,’ Harry assured him. ‘Thinking about Ginny kept me going through the hard times last year.’
‘Good,’ smiled Mr Weasley. ‘We’ve all been through a lot; you’ve been through more than anyone. I’m simply thinking of the future: your future; Ginny’s future; my family’s future. Ginny makes you happy, and you want her to be happy. That’s good, and Merlin knows that you deserve some happiness. But what if it doesn’t last? What if you argue, fall out with each other?’
‘We won’t!’ said Harry angrily, shocked at the suggestion.
‘You might,’ Arthur looked seriously at Harry. ‘People do, families do; we have arguments over unimportant things, as well as over important ones. You know that, Harry!
‘We lost Percy, remember!’ Arthur Weasley almost choked on the words. ‘You know that. For years he wouldn’t talk to us. If you and Ginny … upset each other, it will hurt you both, but it will hurt the rest of this family, too. Ginny is my only daughter, but, as I told you, you are part of this family too, Harry.’
‘Oh…’ Harry began to understand Mr Weasley’s concerns; he wasn’t thinking only of Ginny. Harry’s throat constricted, he was finding it difficult to breathe as years of suppressed emotion welled up inside him.
‘I’ve been watching Bill and Charlie; and Percy and Ron, too. The boys are all very protective of Ginny. So am I,’ Arthur admitted. ‘I suppose I’ve always known that she’d bring a boy home, one day. I’m just worried that, if you hurt Ginny, you’ll end up lost; like Percy was. Molly and I don’t want that to happen, Harry. So, please, don’t rush in to anything; will you promise me that?’
‘Don’t rush into anything,’ Harry nodded, ‘Okay.’
‘Thank you, Harry,’ Arthur paused, deep in thought, then continued hesitantly. ‘I’m not your father, Harry, but can I give you some fatherly advice?’
‘Of course,’ Harry nodded.
‘Just before I got married,’ Arthur continued. ‘My Dad gave me the best advice I’ve ever had. He told me “never sleep on an argument”.’
Harry looked puzzled.
‘If you fall out,’ Arthur said quietly, ‘and you will, everyone does. Make up before you go to sleep.’
Harry was startled, he began to blush.
‘This has nothing to do with where you’re sleeping,’ Arthur continued, embarrassedly. ‘It means, if you argue, make up before you part. Don't wait until tomorrow, don’t storm off, and whatever you do, don’t go home and brood. If you do, it will just make things worse when you finally meet again. So, stay up all night if you need to, but sort it out. Never sleep on an argument.’
Harry nodded his understanding.
‘You’re already part of this family, Harry,’ Mr Weasley continued. ‘Molly and I have always tried to treat you like another son; we love you like a son, so I’m sure you’ll realise how awkward things might be. I need to be sure that you know what you’re doing.’
Overcome with emotion, Harry put his head in his hands to hide his tears. ‘I’m sure,’ he whispered through his hands. ‘I know what I’m doing.’
‘Are you all right, Harry?’ asked Arthur, concerned.
‘I’m fine,’ Harry muttered through his hands, as the tears again began to flow. The sofa moved as Mr Weasley sat down next to him. Harry felt a comforting arm around his shoulders. This simple act of kindness did not help Harry to regain his composure. They still liked him, they loved him! Harry took a deep breath; he was about to speak when, rather disconcertingly, Luna Lovegood began singing from his jeans.
‘Purple potion provides power.
Dismisses drowsiness, expels exhaustion.
Enchantment ending, leads to lethargy,
Tiredness, torpor, concludes in collapse.’
Harry sat bolt upright, wiped his tears on his sleeves and looked at an astonished Mr Weasley.
‘Ron and Hermione!’ he announced, struggling to his feet and dashing from the room.
He looked around the crowded kitchen. Molly and Ginny were nowhere to be seen. Hermione sat at the table, looking vacantly across the room. Her tea was untouched and her cake uneaten. Ron was standing behind her, talking to Bill, Charlie and George. Percy was talking to Fleur.
As Harry looked at Hermione he saw her eyes close; she fell face forward onto the table, her collapse cushioned by her slice of fruit cake.
‘Hermione, ‘mine!’ Ron shouted in a panic, reaching forwards to lift her up.
‘Sit down, Ron,’ Harry ordered, running towards his friend, ‘Luna’s potion is wearing off.’
Ron looked confused.
‘Potion, what potion?’ he yawned. ‘What time is it? What’s happened to Herm…’
He crumpled, but was caught by a grinning George.
‘I definitely need to get that recipe from Luna,’ George announced as, with Harry’s help, he lifted Ron into a chair. They had just managed to get Ron seated when the kitchen door opened and Molly and Ginny entered. After hasty explanations, Molly took charge.
‘Bill, Charlie, take Ron up to his room,’ she ordered, ‘Harry, George, Ginny; take Hermione up to Percy’s room. They can sleep though until morning.’
Charlie pulled out his wand.
‘Carry them!’ Mrs Weasley ordered, ‘the last time you tried to levitate Ron to his bed you dropped him and broke his arm.’
‘I was twelve, Mum,’ Charlie protested. Molly folded her arms and glared. Bill and Charlie looked at each other then each slipped an arm under Ron’s legs, put the other around his back and lifted him.
Bill groaned. ‘This isn’t the little brother I used to carry!’ he announced as they set off up the stairs.
George and Harry followed Bill and Charlie’s example. After waiting to allow Ginny to clean the cake from Hermione’s cheek, they carried her upstairs to Percy’s room. Ginny followed closely behind. Harry was rather uncomfortable holding Hermione’s slim, bare legs and was happy when he’d carefully laid his friend on Percy’s bed.
‘Why here?’ Harry asked Ginny, as she straightened Hermione’s skirt.
‘Percy’s been sharing my room,’ explained George before his sister could reply. ‘He thought I might need company.’
Molly Weasley arrived with a pair of old pyjamas, George left and thundered downstairs.
‘These are the best I can find,’ she announced unhappily, ‘unless Hermione can borrow one of your nightdresses, Ginny?’
‘Hermione’s luggage will be in her bag, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry, ‘I think it’s on the kitchen floor, next to her chair.’
‘I’ll bring it back up, Mum,’ Ginny said. ‘And I’ll help you get Hermione undressed. C’mon Harry.’ She took his hand and led him from the room.
‘Did Dad give you a talking to?’ Ginny asked as they walked downstairs. ‘Mum gave me one. They must have planned it while we were in the sitting room. My parents can be sneaky.’
‘Yes,’ Harry confirmed.
‘Are we going to behave?’ she asked mischievously.
‘I always do,’ replied Harry, trying to look offended.
They paused on the second landing, outside the bathroom door. Harry turned and slid his hands around Ginny’s waist. She lifted her face up to his and they kissed teasingly, tongues intertwining, tasting each others lips. Ginny slid her hands down and cupped Harry’s buttocks; he returned the favour. After some time she twitched her muscles under his hands and they broke apart, giggling.
‘Ginny,’ Molly called downstairs. ‘Haven’t you got that bag yet?’ They quickly descended into the kitchen, still laughing.
Ginny grabbed Hermione’s beaded bag, kissed Harry passionately enough to create an uneasy silence in her brothers’ conversation; then headed back upstairs. Harry took the opportunity to help himself to Hermione’s flattened slice of fruit cake, the only one left. After pulling some of Hermione’s hairs from the cake, he poured himself another mug of tea.
‘Well, you’re stuck with us now, Harry.’ George announced, ‘you’re an honorary Weasley, it’s just a shame about your hair.’
An hour later Harry was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, his arm around Ginny, listening to the murmur of conversation. Bill had been given a stern talking to by both Molly and Ginny and was a little more relaxed. He and Fleur had just said their goodbyes and returned home to Shell Cottage. Ron and Hermione were both sound asleep. Charlie, George and Percy were discussing the last time Ron had been put to bed by his brothers. As he listened to their conversation, Harry realised that Ron would be in for a hard time in the morning. Then his head fell forwards onto his chest. He jerked back and rubbed his neck.
‘I said you hadn’t been sleeping properly,’ announced Molly, vindicated. ‘Bed! Now, young man; and don’t argue. You can share Bill and Charlie’s room with Charlie.’
‘I haven’t brought any night clothes or anything,’ protested Harry, feebly, ‘I should go home.’
‘House elf,’ Ginny whispered.
Harry grinned, ‘Kreacher,’ he said quietly.
There was a pop, and Kreacher appeared in front of Harry. The house-elf bowed low, arms held high. In his right hand Kreacher carried a holdall. He had a clean towel over his left arm and a bag containing Harry’s razor, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste in his left hand.’
‘Master Harry will be requiring these.’
‘Thanks Kreacher. There’s no need to bow to me.’
‘It has always been expected of me, Master. Will there be anything else?’
Harry opened the holdall. It contained the black suit and tie he’d bought for Colin’s funeral, mourning robes, enough clothes to last a week, his trainers, smart black shoes and the sneakoscope Hermione had bought him for his last birthday.
‘No, thank you.’
Kreacher bowed again, though not so low, Harry noticed, and Disapparated.
‘Harry,’ said Mr Weasley, astonished. ‘Was that Sirius’s old house-elf?’
‘Professor Dumbledore said I should be nice to him,’ Harry yawned. ‘He was right, as usual, it worked.’
‘In the future, tell him we’ve got soap and clean towels,’ Mrs Weasley stressed. Harry yawned again; he could hardly keep his eyes open.
‘Alright, Mrs Weasley,’ he nodded, as he walked over to the stairs.
‘I’ll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in,’ Ginny announced.
‘You will not,’ Molly told her daughter.
‘Mine’s the bed nearest to the door,’ Charlie shouted, as Harry stumbled upstairs to the bathroom.
Colin’s funeral is tomorrow Harry remembered, his heart sinking, as he tumbled into bed. At least he’d have Ginny with him.
Chapter 8: Morning before Mourning
Author's Notes: Thanks once again to Andrea and Amelíe for their comments, corrections and input. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
8: Morning before Mourning
Harry sprinted through the corridors of Hogwarts, he had looked almost everywhere, he could think of only one more place to search. He entered the Gryffindor common room in trepidation. It was deserted, echoingly silent. Ginny was nowhere to be found. Confused, he was unsure whether he should be happy, because he hadn’t found her kissing someone else, or sad, because she wasn’t kissing him. Perhaps she’d gone for good. Panicking, he called her name.
‘I’m right here,’ she said, appearing beside him and running her fingers through his sleep ruffled hair. She sounded concerned.
The light touch of her lips on his forehead brought Harry fully awake. He struggled to move, but couldn’t; he was trapped in a tangle of bedclothes. Opening his eyes, he found Ginny perched on the edge of his bed. She wore jeans and a Holyhead Harpies t-shirt. Freeing one arm, he reached for his glasses, put them on, looked up at her freckled face, and smiled. He examined her longingly.
The t-shirt she wore was old and faded. He remembered saying that he liked it two, or even three years earlier. She’d often worn it during subsequent visits. He’d noticed, but had never commented on the fact. The t-shirt was now much too small for her in both length and circumference; it clung tightly to her curves and revealed her midriff. He drank in the sight.
You were having a bad dream,’ she told him worriedly. ‘And then you called my name, why?’
‘In my dream I couldn’t find you, so I panicked,’ he admitted, ‘but then you arrived.’ He stared into her face and smiled. ‘Like a dream come true,’ he added, laughing. ‘And wearing my favourite t-shirt, too.’
She leaned forwards and kissed him softly on the cheek. Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her on top of him and kissed her. She responded enthusiastically, but resisted when he tried to roll on top of her. He loosened his grip for a second, in order to get a better hold, to keep her with him, but she slid from his arms and stepped back from the bed.
‘I only came to see if you wanted breakfast,’ she scolded gently. ‘Everyone else has been up for hours, except for Ron and Hermione. You’ve slept for more than eleven hours, Harry. If you want something to eat, I’ll go and make you some breakfast.’
As he watched, she tugged at the hem of her T shirt. It had ridden up when he’d pulled her onto his bed. She sinuously wriggled it straight, pulling it tight over her upper torso. Unable to stop himself, Harry tried to free himself from his jumbled sheets. He launched himself at her, trying to grab her around the waist. He was almost out of his tangle of bedclothes when he realised that he was only wearing his boxers. In his desperate attempt to cover himself, he tripped on his sheet and tumbled to the floor. Ginny watched him in amusement.
‘Very slick,’ she observed, laughing.
‘I’ll need to be quick to catch you,’ he told her, rolling onto his back and pushing himself along the floor towards her. His head was between her toes, he looked up at her from the floor.
‘The view from down here is interesting,’ he informed her. As he looked up he realised that she was examining his bare chest with interest. He watched her hopefully.
‘That’s the locket scar, is it?’ she asked, initially dashing his hopes. She raised them again by bending forwards and running her forefinger gently over the pale circle on his chest. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders; her breasts were directly above his head. Next to the circle, over his heart, was a lightning bolt scar, she gently traced it, too.
‘And that?’
‘That’s where Riddle hit me with the Avada Kedavra; when I was in the forest.’
He groaned at her touch, grabbed her arm and tried to drag her down onto the floor with him. She kept her balance, slapped his hands away, pulled herself free, and stood.
‘Dad’s gone out to finalise the arrangements for Fred’s funeral tomorrow, but my brothers are downstairs listening,’ she told him. ‘They know where I am and they’ll be up here to investigate if I’m not down soon.’
She crouched down, her knees either side of his head, then ran her fingers over his stubbly chin. Another interesting view presented itself to Harry; her jeans were as tight as her t-shirt. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him, he wondered? Swatting away his grasping hand, she looked down at him with an open and innocent face.
‘No more kisses until you shave, Harry,’ she told him. ‘Breakfast will ready by the time you’re washed and dressed.’
Groaning in frustration, he reluctantly watched her stand, turn, and leave. There was a definite teasing sway in her hips as she left and the over-the-shoulder glance she gave him as she left convinced him that her innocent look was a put-on. She’d known exactly what she’d been doing to him.
Sighing, he untangled himself from his bedclothes, pulled on his jeans, picked up his crumpled sheet and blankets, and dumped them on the bed. Charlie’s bed, too, was unmade, but it was not as untidy as his own.
Stretching, he walked out onto the landing. Ginny’s bedroom was opposite; she had left her door open. She’d been that close to him all night. Her room was brightly lit by the morning sun and her bed was neatly made. A short blue cotton nightdress, little more than a long vest lay across the chair by her bed. Her window was open, the scent of apple blossoms from the orchard blew in on a light breeze and mingled with the smell of Ginny which permeated the room. He was dizzyingly reminded of their first kiss yesterday. He did not enter; he simply stared into the room, soaking up its Ginnyness.
His silent contemplation was disturbed by the smells and sounds of frying bacon. He dashed upstairs to the bathroom. Ginny was making him breakfast, he needed to get ready. As he shaved, Harry thought about the day ahead; Colin Creevey’s funeral was at three o’clock this afternoon. It would be the first of the many funerals he’d be attending.
Thinking back over the events at the Creevey house yesterday he suddenly remembered Justin Finch-Fletchley's face. When Harry was leaving, Dennis had been talking about Justin collecting Colin before the battle. Justin had looked … sad … guilty … remorseful! Justin, Harry realised, was blaming himself for Colin’s death. Justin had taken the under-age Colin back to Hogwarts, to his death. Harry found this realisation sadly comforting; he felt a sudden kinship with the curly-haired Muggle-born Hufflepuff.
By the time he got downstairs, there was a plate full of bacon, fried eggs, sausages, fried tomatoes and mushrooms waiting for him on the kitchen table. Next to the plate was a mug of steaming hot tea and a small teapot. George sat at the end of the table, reading the Daily Prophet; he was the only person in the kitchen besides Ginny, who stood at the stove wearing an apron over her jeans and t-shirt. As he watched her, Harry noticed that her clothes didn’t look as tight as they had upstairs. Ginny smiled at him as he entered the kitchen.
‘Toast, or bread?’ she asked.
‘Toast, please,’ George replied.
‘Get your own, lazybones,’ Ginny told him, ‘I was asking my boyfriend.’ Harry’s heart soared at Ginny’s emphasis on the last two words.
‘You’ll pay for that, Harry,’ threatened George, lowering his newspaper.
‘Me? I haven’t done anything,’ he protested, grinning happily.
‘You’re responsible for her now!’ announced George.
‘I do something you don’t like and Harry gets in trouble!’ laughed Ginny, ‘that’s brilliant!’
‘Does the same apply to me, George?’ Harry retorted, grinning as he tucked into his breakfast. ‘Great bacon, Ginny; it’s nice and crispy, just how I like it.’
George pretended to gag. ‘You smarmy, speccy little creep, Harry Potter,’ he spluttered, ‘I really don’t know what you see in him, Ginny.’
The three were bantering back and forth good-naturedly when Ron arrived in the kitchen, still rubbing sleep from his eyes.
‘Where’s Hermione?’ he inquired. ‘Outside?’ He moved towards the back door.
‘Are you ill?’ George put down the Daily Prophet, which he’d stopped reading long ago, jumped up and moved towards his younger brother; a concerned look on his face.
‘Why should I be ill? Where’s Hermione?’ Ron repeated grumpily.
‘You must be ill,’ George spoke slowly and softly, as though talking to a small child. ‘You’ve been in bed for more than twelve hours, little Ronniekins. Carried up to your little cot by your caring big brothers and tucked up snug by Mummy ... you come down into the kitchen and Harry’s eating … eating breakfast …’ George paused.
Ron looked angry and puzzled.
‘Your first question wasn’t, “where’s my breakfast?”’ George looked at his brother triumphantly, ‘so … you must be ill.’
‘He’s lovesick,’ Ginny added; ‘definitely lovesick.’
‘Recognise the symptoms, do you?’ George snorted.
‘Where is Hermione?’ Ron interrupted crossly before Ginny could reply, ‘she’s not in Ginny’s room!’
‘She’s still in bed, though,’ George informed Ron, grinning wickedly. ‘She must be totally exhausted … she spent the night in Percy’s room.’
There was pandemonium until Mrs Weasley stormed in from the yard, where she’d been feeding the chickens.
Ron was worried about his girlfriend, but his mother insisted that Hermione must be allowed to rest. After making certain that both Ron and Harry had eaten a hearty breakfast, she shooed Harry and her children out into the yard.
‘Get some fresh air,’ she ordered, ‘go for a walk; do something.’
‘What shall we do?’ Ron asked. George shrugged; Harry and Ginny exchanged grins and slid into each others arms.
‘No snogging,’ Ron ordered. Ginny pulled a face, but then spotted George, who had been looking downcast since their mother had interrupted their teasing banter.
‘Quidditch,’ she suggested. Ron and George agreed instantly.
‘I prefer the alternative, no matter what Ron says,’ Harry told her, smiling hopefully. Ginny flicked a glance at George; Harry understood.
‘… but I haven’t been on a broom since…’ he continued, he stopped, trying to remember.
‘Not that long ago, in the Room of Requirement,’ Ron said glumly.
Percy and Charlie were sitting under a tree in the orchard; Ginny walked up to persuade them to play, taking George with her. Harry and Ron collected the brooms and a battered old quaffle from the shed. As they walked up the hill, Harry dropped the Quaffle experimentally. As he expected, it fell more slowly than was natural, but rather faster than it should. He practiced with it as he walked.
By the time they reached the orchard Charlie, George and Ginny had bullied Percy into playing a game of Quaffle-only three-a-side, with rush-keepers. Charlie and Ginny had elected themselves captains. Percy pulled a silver sickle from his pocket and tossed it.
‘Heads,’ Ginny called. She won the toss and chose first.
‘Harry,’ she said, ‘sorry Charlie; that definitely puts you on the losing team.’
‘George,’ Charlie countered, ‘and don’t be so cocky, little Ginevra, you won’t stand a chance.’
‘Ron,’ said Ginny, completing her team, ‘we’ll trounce you, dragon-breath.’
‘Wanna bet, shorty?’ Charlie asked.
‘Five Galleons,’ Ginny said promptly, ‘if Harry will lend me the money.’
She stepped up to Harry, put her hands behind her back, leaned forwards and smiled up at him. Her chest was not quite touching his. Harry’s head whirled. He desperately wanted to kiss her, she knew it, and she was torturing him cruelly, remorselessly. He looked at her brothers for help.
‘You’re going to have your work cut out taming her, Harry,’ Charlie grinned.
‘Why on earth would I want to tame her?’ asked Harry; genuinely puzzled. Ginny beamed happily.
‘Good answer, boyfriend!’ she jumped on him, arms tight around his neck, wrapped her legs around him and kissed him hungrily. Harry just managed to keep his balance. He grabbed her around the waist and responded enthusiastically.
‘Please!’ Ron groaned. ‘No snogging.’
‘Bloody hell!’ cried George, ‘someone get a camera; the Prophet would pay hundreds for this. It’s the ideal photo for Rita Skeeter’s exclusive Potter article in tomorrow’s Sunday Prophet.’
Harry ignored George; he wasn’t going to fall for a ploy like that! Ginny showed no signs of finishing the kiss. Instead she loosened her grip slightly, leaving Harry with a choice, let her slide down his body, or move his hands lower, to better support her. He chose the latter and slid his hands under her bum, painfully aware that they had an audience. Percy cracked first.
‘So, we’re not playing Quidditch,’ Percy said hopefully, ‘I’ll just go and …’
Ginny unwrapped herself from Harry and turned to him.
‘We’re just warming up for the game,’ she said.
‘Ready?’ she asked Harry.
‘What’re we playing?’ asked Harry mischievously. George howled with laughter.
‘Quidditch, sorry,’ Ginny told him, grinning.
‘Or, you could just pay me now,’ she suggested, turning back to a stunned Charlie and holding out her hand, ‘and Harry and I will find something else to do.’
‘No chance!’ Charlie told her. ‘Not after that display.’
‘Anyway, that cash is mine,’ he continued. ‘Your boyfriend isn’t that good you know, Ginny.’
‘Maybe not,’ she enlightened him. ‘But I am!’
Charlie burst out laughing, pulled out his wallet, and showed her five gold coins in his left hand. Ginny held out her own left hand to Harry. He gave her five Galleons, which she showed to Charlie. They shook hands and put the coins back in their pockets. This was obviously a Weasley ritual.
‘Being a member of Harry’s cup winning team doesn’t make you a great flyer, Ginny.’ Charlie told his sister.
‘Charles Weasley, I am going to really enjoy this,’ she announced. ‘Let’s fly.’ With that, she kicked off and soared above the orchard. Everyone quickly followed, and the game began.
Ginny and Harry scored time and again past Percy. Ron pulled off several spectacular saves and even, thanks to the rush-keeper rule they had invoked, scored a few goals himself. Charlie got more and more frustrated with his team-mates. Percy argued back, claiming, truthfully, that he wasn’t a sportsman. George just grinned and cheered every one of Ginny’s goals. Harry, who was riding Fred’s old Cleansweep, was astonished at the way Ginny could turn her broom. She caught Ron’s most erratic passes, and her own were extremely accurate. It was over a year since he had last seen her fly. She’d been very good then, she was better now. She’d be brilliant on a decent broom.
After an hour Ginny’s team were over a hundred points in the lead and Charlie’s agitation had given way to a grim determination not to be heavily beaten. Flying above the orchard, looping, diving, and passing the quaffle, Harry found himself smiling. He pulled his broom higher and watched the Weasleys laugh, joke and catcall as they passed the battered old red leather ball. Times like these were some of the happiest he’d known. Now, he realised, he could have them again.
He watched Charlie score.
Ginny flew alongside him, ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked, concerned. ‘Charlie’s just scored because you’re not paying attention. Do you want to stop?’
‘Sorry,’ admitted Harry. ‘I was daydreaming about how much fun this is and I forgot to keep playing.’
‘It’ll be a lot more fun if we totally annihilate them,’ Ginny told him. She kissed his cheek lightly and flew back into the fray. Harry joined her, intercepted an atrocious pass from Percy and scored almost immediately. He was rewarded by a passionate mid-air snog from his girlfriend. Their kissing stopped only when Charlie took the quaffle, started the game without them, and scored another goal while Ron cursed his stupid, besotted, team-mates.
Charlie’s interruption of their snog only served to spur Harry and Ginny to really teach him a lesson. They scored six goals in quick succession and soon increased their lead to two hundred points. They continued to play until just before noon, stopping when Luna Lovegood flew through the middle of the game. Even riding side-saddle, Luna neatly avoided a “quaffle pass” from George, which Harry was certain had actually been aimed at her.
The blonde witch had a large, bulging satchel slung over her shoulder. Her hair was pinned back into a neat bun, which was wrapped in black lace and her fingernails were painted black. She waved cheerfully at everyone as she flew unconcernedly through the game and landed neatly in the yard.
By then the score was 480 to 190, and Charlie had resigned himself to an ignominious defeat. They called a halt to the game and he offered Ginny the five galleons.
‘Give it to Harry,’ she said, ‘I’ve still got his money in my pocket.’ Charlie did so.
‘I won’t make that mistake again,’ he told Ginny as they put the brooms back in the shed. ‘Where’d you learn to fly like that?’
‘Watching you, and Harry,’ she told him. ‘And lots of practice.’
‘Why didn’t you warn me?’ Charlie asked George as they strolled towards the Burrow.
‘Me’n Fred did, when we left school, but you didn’t believe us. You said, “she can’t be that good”.’ George grinned. ‘Hard luck, bighead, what’s it like, discovering that you aren’t the best flyer in the family any more? I wish Fred could’ve seen your face,’ he added sadly.
Their morning of forgetful fun was over, the rest of the day, and all of the following day was going to be full of funerals.
When they walked into the kitchen they found Hermione sitting at the table. She was wearing jeans and a crumpled and dirty t-shirt. It was obvious that she had been crying again.
‘What’s the matter, Hermione?’ Ron asked, dashing to her side and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.
‘I can’t go to Colin’s funeral,’ she sobbed, ‘I’ve forgotten to pack the clothes I bought. I must have left them in Brisbane.’
‘You left them in a wardrobe at your Mum and Dad’s place,’ Ron told her. ‘But I’ve got them in my bag. I checked your room before we left, because you weren’t thinking straight.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ cried Hermione shrilly.
‘I didn’t have a chance before we left, you were in such a panic to go, and there’s been so much happening since we got home. I forgot! You’ve just got up! I haven’t really had much opportunity, have I?’ Ron complained. ‘I’ll go and get them for you now.’ He dashed upstairs and was back within a minute.
‘Here you are.’ He handed her a large clothes’ bag, scowling.
‘Thanks Ron,’ Hermione wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her t-shirt, ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you.’
She stood, threw her arms around his waist, and hugged him tightly, resting her cheek against his chest. Ron’s scowl was replaced by an expression somewhere between exasperation and smugness. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head.
‘Young love!’ snorted Charlie.
‘You don’t have a girlfriend,’ said Molly, sharply.
‘Yes he does, she’s called Norberta,’ said a laughing Ginny. Charlie joined in the laughter as they sat down to eat.
‘I’ll have that galleon finished by tomorrow,’ Luna announced to no-one in particular.
‘Thanks, Luna, I love you,’ George said, putting a hand on his heart. ‘Will you marry me?’
‘I don’t think so,’ she replied. She seemed to be considering his offer seriously. ‘I’m busy today, you’re very silly most of the time, I don’t love you, and you seem lop-sided to me.’
‘That’s because I only have one ear,’ George told her, he winked at Harry. ‘So will you give me the recipe for that invigoration draught to make up for leaving me broken-hearted?’
‘No … and the missing ear isn’t important; that’s not why you’re lop-sided,’ Luna told him. ‘You’re trying to lean on someone who isn’t there any more. You need to find someone else to lean on, or stand up by yourself.’
The stunned silence that followed Luna’s latest cringingly pertinent pronouncement was broken by Molly Weasley as she ladled thick orange soup into everyone’s bowls.
‘Carrot and lentil soup,’ Mrs Weasley announced. ‘There’s bread, butter and cheese; Cheddar and Wensleydale.’
Everyone was subdued over the meal, Luna’s observation, accurate though it was, had not helped. Six of the nine people around the table were mentally preparing for the funeral they were about to attend. Mrs Weasley, Charlie and Percy began a loud conversation with George, desperately trying to cheer him up. It did not seem to be working.
Harry sat between Ginny and Luna, facing Ron and Hermione. As he ate, he watched his two best friends, wondering how best to help them, and how to help Hermione’s parents.
Mr and Mrs Granger had always been shut out of their daughter’s magical world. Neither he, nor Ron had ever been invited to visit Hermione at her parent’s house. She lived in two very different worlds, and she kept them apart. They needed to be brought together, Harry decided. He could try to teach Ron to act more like a Muggle; that would help. He would need to talk to Mr and Mrs Granger, too. They must all try to help Hermione, and help her parents to understand what had happened, and why.
‘Come up with a plan to help Hermione yet?’ Ginny whispered as she handed Harry a slice of bread she’d been buttering for him. He had been helping himself to a third bowl of soup. She lifted the last, crumbled corner of Wensleydale from his side-plate, winked at him and ate it. She then pushed her own plates away.
‘How did you know?’ Harry asked her quietly, she seemed to have read his mind.
‘I’m sitting next to you, and you’ve been ignoring me and staring at Hermione and Ron,’ Ginny told him softly. ‘It’s not difficult to figure out what you’re thinking, Harry.’ She squeezed the top of his thigh under the table, making him drop his spoon.
‘We need to be more like Muggles. We need to help Hermione and her parents,’ Harry said in an undertone. ‘We should practice; Ron should practice. He’s got to be able to act like a Muggle when he meets Mr and Mrs Granger. They need to be …’
‘… included,’ Ginny finished his sentence for him. ‘There is so much that they haven’t been told, just because they’re Muggles.’
‘Ginny, if you’ve finished eating, you’d best go and get ready,’ Molly ordered before Harry could reply to his girlfriend’s insight. ‘And anyone else who’s finished, too.’
There was a scuffing of chairs as Ginny, George and Luna stood up from the table.
‘Girls, you can all use our bedroom to get changed,’ suggested Mrs Weasley, ‘there’s a full length mirror in my wardrobe; Ginny will show you. Harry, I’ve ironed your shirt, and brushed your suit, they weren’t as clean as they should have been. They are hanging up in Ron’s room.’
Harry smiled and murmured his thanks, but made a mental note that Mrs Weasley apparently didn’t like the fact that Kreacher was doing his washing and ironing.
Ginny was already heading for the stairs. ‘There’re only two bathrooms,’ she called, and I’m getting the big one. George followed quickly, but stopped at the bottom of the stairs to allow Luna go ahead.
‘Beautiful, talented and insightful young witches first,’ he said with a sweeping bow.
‘Thank you very much George,’ said Luna, staring intently at him. She picked up the large satchel she’d brought and followed Ginny upstairs. George morosely watched her climb the stairs then returned to the table.
Hermione was sitting quietly next to Ron, her soup almost untouched. When Ginny shouted ‘next’, George insisted that Hermione go. George was looking even more downcast and worried. It was obvious that this first funeral would be a strain for him.
When Luna announced that she’d finished, George slouched upstairs, his hands in his pockets. Molly watched him go.
‘Look after him, won’t you, boys?’ she asked Ron and Harry.
‘We’ll keep an eye on him, Mrs Weasley, don’t worry,’ Harry assured her. He and Ron continued eating.
‘C’mon you two,’ shouted George eventually. Ron grinned, dashed upstairs ahead of Harry and nabbed the bigger bathroom.
In the smaller, Harry checked his watch; he’d need to be quick. He stripped to the waist and began washing vigorously. He was cleaning his teeth when he heard the other bathroom door open and close and Ron hurry upstairs. There was a commotion on the landing above.
Harry picked up his bag, sweatshirt and t-shirt and opened the bathroom door. A loud thumping noise was approaching him from upstairs. Luna, Hermione, and Ginny were coming down from Mr and Mrs Weasley’s bedroom. Harry stepped back into the bathroom doorway to let them pass.
Luna, in the lead, wore an ankle length black skirt and an old black blazer; under which was what appeared to be a black t-shirt with a photograph of Colin Creevey printed on it. Her earrings looked like glass teardrops, filled with the night sky. Harry was convinced that he could see stars twinkling within them.
He immediately identified the cause of the girl’s noisy descent as Luna’s boots. They were black and, were it not for the magically shining polish, they would not have looked out of place on a building site. Harry smiled at Luna. It was, he thought, a fairly good attempt. He had wondered how she would cope with the requirement to wear Muggle clothing.
‘Interesting scars,’ Luna observed, pointing to his chest as she passed. ‘You do seem to collect interesting scars, don’t you? Perhaps you should stop. It must hurt, getting them.’
‘Good advice, Luna,’ grinned Harry, ‘I’ll try to follow it.’
Hermione followed, she wore a knee length pleated skirt, an almost transparent black blouse under a black waistcoat, and high heeled shoes. Her hair was pulled tightly back and tied at the back of her neck by a black ribbon. She was sombre and silent when she passed Harry, though she managed to give him a weak smile.
Ginny wore a knee length sleeveless black sheath dress tightly belted at the waist, black lace gloves and black high-heeled boots. Her hair was shining and cascaded down her back like a fiery waterfall. Harry stared at her, dumbstruck.
‘Get a move on, Potter,’ she ordered. ‘And don’t flaunt your battle scars to other women,’ she added with a mischievous grin.
‘Wow,’ was all Harry could muster in reply; she winked.
He clambered up to Ron’s room, where his friend was hastily buttoning up a white shirt.
‘She looks good in black, doesn’t she?’ he asked when Harry entered.
‘Gorgeous,’ agreed Harry, surprised that Ron had noticed.
‘Her hair looks nice, tied back like that, too.’
‘Oh, you’re talking about Hermione,’ said Harry as realisation struck. The two young men grinned at each other in embarrassment.
Ron tucked in his shirt and picked up his jacket and tie. ‘I’ve never been able to do this,’ he waved his tie in front of Harry. I’ll go and ask Hermione to help me.
Harry quickly got changed, fastened his tie and picked up his jacket from Ron’s bed. He looked at his Invisibility Cloak and Sneakoscope, which had been lying next to the jacket; he wouldn’t need them. He left them on Ron’s bed, got to the door, and changed his mind. Having them with him was a habit, but it had been a useful one. He picked them up.
‘Harry,’ Mrs Weasley shouted up the stairs. ‘It’s time you were going.’
He almost jumped the five flights down into the kitchen. Everyone was waiting for him. Mrs Weasley was fussing over George’s suit. George stood in morose silence, accepting his mother’s attention. The others were standing next to the door, all ready to leave.
‘Why’ve you got those?’ Ron asked, looking at the cloak and sneakoscope.
‘Habit,’ Harry replied. He looked hopefully at Hermione; she was carrying a black handbag.
‘I’ll carry the sneakoscope if you like,’ Ginny said, opening a black shoulder bag. ‘You shouldn’t put it in your pocket; it will spoil the line of your suit.’
Harry threw the sneakoscope to her; she neatly caught it in the open bag.
‘I’ll leave the cloak here,’ Harry said to Mrs Weasley. He looked at Hermione, ‘I thought you’d have your beaded bag,’ he told her.
Silently, Hermione opened her black handbag and pulled out the little beaded bag, she sighed and held out her hand for the cloak.
‘It’s time to go,’ Mrs Weasley was beginning to panic, ‘you three, outside, now!’
Harry handed Hermione his cloak as Mrs Weasley hurriedly ushered him, Ginny and George outside.
‘Make sure that you bring Harry back here tonight,’ Mrs Weasley ordered her children. ‘Now go! Goodbye.’
‘You know I can’t Apparate?’ Ginny asked. Harry nodded.
‘You’re still too young to take your test.’
‘No lessons at school, anyway,’ said Ginny grimly. ‘They didn’t want troublemaking students bunking off.’
‘You’d better hold tight then,’ Harry suggested.
Ginny stepped forward and threw both arms around his neck; he slipped an arm around her waist and held her tightly.
‘I’ll just hold onto your other arm, if you don’t mind,’ George chuckled.
As soon as George took hold of his arm, Harry concentrated on the Creevey’s living room, twisted, and Disapparated, leaving Mrs Weasley’s disapproving shout of ‘Ginevra Weasley’ behind them.
Chapter 9: Death Watch?
Author's Notes:
Thanks once again to Andrea and Amelíe for their comments, corrections and input.
Finally, the story reaches the funerals. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.-N-
9: Death Watch?
They Aparated directly into the Creeveys’ living room. Harry noticed that, since his previous visit, all of the furniture had been pushed back against the wall. Justin Finch-Fletchley stood in the corner of the room, by the open door. Ginny remained tightly wrapped around Harry and Justin was staring in surprise at them. George immediately let go of Harry’s arm; Ginny, however, kept her arms around his neck and gazed up into his eyes.
‘That was my first time,’ she whispered huskily. George choked; Harry chuckled.
‘I hope you enjoyed it, then,’ he smiled. ‘You can let go now, Ginny.’
‘But I don’t have to,’ she purred.
‘The next lot will be Apparating right where you’re standing,’ said Justin anxiously. ‘If you could just move through into the kitchen, please. The Creeveys are waiting to meet you.’
George left immediately; Justin looked worriedly at Harry and Ginny.
‘Come on, Ginny,’ Harry pleaded. She released him and strode from the room.
‘You’re doing a good job, Justin,’ Harry told the curly-haired young man as he followed Ginny, ‘I’m sure that you won’t have trouble with any of the others.’
‘And Justin,’ he added, ‘Colin knew what he was doing, we all did, and we all made our own choices. He chose to go back to Hogwarts, and he chose to stay and fight, even though Professor McGonagall had ordered him to leave. It is not your fault that he died.’
Leaving Justin staring speechlessly after him, Harry followed Ginny through the open living room door into the narrow hall. The front door was to the right; to the left, Harry knew from his previous visit, the hall led into the kitchen. The kitchen door was open and Ginny stood in the narrow hall, waiting for him.
‘Come on, Harry,’ Ginny sniffed sadly. Her mood, like his, had changed. ‘Let’s go and say goodbye to Colin.’ They smiled mournfully at each other and Harry took the lace gloved hand she proffered.
They walked down the hall and into the kitchen, where George was already shaking hands with Mr and Mrs Creevey and Dennis. Harry solemnly shook hands with Colin’s parents and introduced Ginny as his girlfriend.
‘I recognise you from Colin’s photographs,’ Mrs Creevey told Ginny, smiling sadly. ‘He always said that you were very easy to photograph.’
Looking through the window Harry could see that the house, though small, had a long rear garden; and that there were already more than two dozen teenagers standing in it.
‘Most of Colin’s classmates are already here,’ Dennis explained to Harry, while Ginny was talking to Mr and Mrs Creevey about Colin. ‘They arrived a few minutes ago by bus, from up the dale. The Minister arranged Portkeys for them, because none of them were taught to Apparate last year. The Portkeys took them to a derelict barn near Wearhead and Justin organised the bus to bring them here.’
The Dennis Creevey who Harry remembered was very much like his older brother; small, enthusiastic and excitable. The black suited, black tie wearing person he was talking to was fourteen or fifteen, and looked about twelve, but there was a weariness about his features, and a forced maturity in his stance.
‘We’ve all had to grow up quickly,’ Harry observed. Dennis looked at him, surprised. Harry realised that Dennis was astonished that he had continued a conversation instead of trying to leave.
‘I wish we hadn’t,’ Harry continued. ‘So many good people dead, and all because of a madman. We’ve got to do our best to make sure that nothing like this can ever happen again.’ Harry suddenly realised that Mr and Mrs Creevey, and Ginny had all fallen silent and were listening to his musings.
‘I’m sorry,’ Harry turned to face Mr and Mrs Creevey, ‘I’m thinking aloud.’ He paused, ‘I am truly sorry for your loss. Colin deserved a life, a good life. He…’
‘Mr Potter,’ Mr Creevey interrupted gruffly, ‘When Colin first came home, and told us about the great Harry Potter, I wasn’t impressed. I suspected that you’d turn out to be some big headed show-off, someone who was simply famous for being famous. You proved last weekend, and to my wife and I yesterday morning, that you’re a better man by far than I thought you’d be. I’m sorry, and thank you.’ He reached up and patted Harry on the shoulder.
Harry did not know what to say. He was saved by the arrival of Luna, Hermione and Ron. Hermione and Luna appeared to be arguing. When Mr and Mrs Creevey turned to greet the new arrivals, Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand.
‘Let’s go outside,’ she suggested, ‘and you can meet my classmates; Colin’s classmates.’
Harry looked out into the garden. There were three steps down onto a small paved patio. The lawn extended some forty yards down to a stone wall, beyond which were thick bushes. The sound of running water indicated that unseen on the other side of the wall, there must be a river. He waited at the door for Ginny to pass, but she insisted that he went first.
When Harry stepped onto the patio Ginny stopped on the step above. In her boots she was almost as tall as he was. She grabbed his shoulder, turned him round, stood on tiptoe, kissed him lightly on the forehead, and then stepped down next to him.
‘That was a really nice thing to say,’ she whispered as she again took his hand. All of the sixth year students were watching them as they walked onto the lawn.
Ginny’s classmates were standing in several nervous looking groups. As he looked at them, Harry realised that he could easily identify the pure bloods; they were the ones standing uncomfortably in ill-fitting Muggle clothes. In the largest group, Harry recognised Jack Sloper, and many others whom he couldn’t name. It looked like every member of Gryffindor House from Ginny’s year, Colin’s year, was here. There were many students from other houses, too, standing in smaller groups. One student, however, stood alone. She was a frumpy-looking round-shouldered and hook-nosed girl. The lonely girl wore ugly black-rimmed spectacles and an ill-fitting black dress. She stood hunched, slumped and sad. George, too, was standing by himself and looking rather lost.
‘George,’ Ginny called, ‘come and meet my classmates.’
He slouched over to join them, his hands in his suit pockets. The good humour he’d shown at breakfast, and while playing Quidditch, had now completely vanished. Ginny led Harry over to George and linked her free arm through her brother’s. She then led them over to the lonely girl, who seemed terrified by their approach. She backed away. When that failed to divert them, the girl tried her desperate best to be smaller than Harry: that failed too.
‘This is Fenella Gray,’ Ginny said, ‘Fenella this is my brother George, and this is Harry.’
‘Hello, Fenella,’ Harry said, George grunted.
‘Hello,’ Fenella whispered, glancing, like everyone did, at Harry’s forehead to find the scar.
‘Fenella was in the school camera club with Colin, they did a lot of work together. Colin thought very highly of her, he once told me that she was the most talented photographer in the school.’
‘Really?’ Fenella whispered. Her knees and hips were bent and her spine curved forwards. She had finally managed to look up at Harry.
‘Colin was better, much better,’ she said tearfully, shaking her head.
Harry watched at her carefully, she was obviously very upset at Colin’s death, but she looked worried, possibly even frightened, about something. Was it simply being close to “the Chosen One,” he wondered, or…
‘Did you supply Colin with photographic equipment this year?’ he asked shrewdly.
At this, Fenella burst into tears.
‘Colin didn’t tell anyone, I guessed,’ said Harry in a panic. ‘You’re a brave girl.’ He rather feebly patted her arm, uncertain what he should do.
‘He’s dead …’ she sobbed, ‘my fault …’
‘It’s no-one’s fault but the person who killed him,’ Harry told her forcefully. It was no use; his comments had opened the floodgates and heavy tears continued to roll down Fenella’s cheeks.
Ginny opened her bag and reached for a handkerchief. When she did so, Harry realised that his sneakoscope was whirring loudly. Startled, he looked around, but saw nothing. He looked suspiciously at Fenella; she seemed to be genuinely upset and she certainly didn’t appear to be a threat.
George had turned on his heels and left the moment Fenella began to cry. He was now talking to Ron, Hermione and Luna who had just arrived in the garden. Ginny glanced up into Harry’s eyes and indicated that he should leave her to deal with the still weeping Fenella. Harry took another look and the Sneakoscope, but obeyed.
Strolling over to the Gryffindor group, Harry said hello to the only person whose name he could remember. Jack Sloper greeted him effusively and introduced him to the rest of Ginny’s year. Harry said hello to them all, but promptly forgot all the names, as he found himself being bombarded by questions.
‘Are you going out with Ginny again?’ a round-faced girl asked.
‘Yes,’ he confirmed happily.
‘Are you coming back to school next year?’ asked a second girl; a skinny, immaculately dressed blonde. She didn’t appear to be happy for him.
‘No,’ Harry answered.
‘So Ginny will likely be Quidditch Captain again?’ Jack Sloper enquired.
‘You played last year?’ Harry was incredulous.
‘We only managed the first match, Gryffindor versus Slytherin. We lost, not surprisingly given that Amycus Carrow was referee. But that one game was too much trouble for Snape and the Carrows to handle. I was back on the team, as keeper,’ Jack said proudly.
Sloper had been a very poor beater, Harry remembered, he wondered whether he’d been any good as a keeper.
The blonde girl, obviously wanting to change the subject away from Quidditch, asked, ‘Why is Ginny spending so much time with the Slytherin half-giant?’
In a flash Harry realised why (he desperately tried to remember the name) — Fenella — had been standing alone. Harry sought out the source of the question; the blonde was appraising him boldly. Part of him was shouting “Slytherin” but Colin had trusted her, and she had all but admitted providing her friend with equipment which had helped save dozens of Muggleborns. Colin’s contact had been “a well connected pureblood,” Justin, Hannah and Dennis had agreed yesterday. A Slytherin seemed a logical suspect. Harry regarded the blonde girl coolly. Her attitude reminded him unpleasantly of Romilda Vane, he wasn’t impressed by her use of “half-giant” as an insult, either. He looked his questioner in the eyes.
‘Colin was friends with Fenella, and she’s made the effort to come here. Alone, I expect. Is she the only Slytherin here?’
One of the other girls nodded.
‘Well, that’s a brave thing for her to do,’ Harry continued. ‘If she’s Colin’s friend, then she’s welcome! If, as I suspect, she risked helping Colin when he was in hiding last year, she’s been loyal, too.’ He stared coolly at the questioner as he spoke.
The blonde, Harry was pleased to note, could not hold his gaze. Several other students were looking rather embarrassed, too. He wondered whether he was being unduly generous towards the Slytherin girl. Looking across to Fenella and Ginny, Harry saw that while he’d been talking they had been joined by Luna, whose night-teardrop earrings were swinging wildly as she tried to swat several invisible-somethings (wrackspurts, he expected) from around Fenella’s head. The arrival of Luna strengthened his resolve. He turned back to the Gryffindor students.
‘I learned to stop judging people by appearances a couple of years ago,’ he told the Gryffindors.
‘Lee!’ George shouted.
Harry turned and saw that George’s dreadlocked friend Lee Jordan had arrived. He was holding Alicia Spinnet’s hand, and was being followed by, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell and her friend Leanne.
‘Excuse me,’ Harry told Ginny’s classmates. ‘There’s someone I need to speak to.’
He walked over to Katie and Leanne as Lee and George strode towards each other. Angelina stopped, trying to decide whether to follow Lee and Alicia, or Katie and Leanne.
‘Leanne,’ he said, holding out a hand, ‘welcome to the club.’
Leanne Cowper blushed.
‘Th-thanks,’ she stuttered. Katie looked embarrassed for her friend.
‘For goodness sake, Leanne,’ she sighed, ‘it’s only Harry.’
Harry grinned, ‘that’s me, nobody important, just one of Katie’s many Quidditch Captains.’
‘The most easy-going of them,’ said Katie.
‘Harry?’ Angelina Johnson asked, as she walked up behind Katie ‘the most easy-going? What on earth are you talking about?’
Angelina’s hair was, as usual, tightly braided. She had dozens of black beads threaded onto the braids. Her hair clattered as she moved.
‘Nice hair,’ Harry said.
‘Don’t change the subject Harry,’ Angelina ordered, ‘I was your Quidditch Captain, remember? Now, what were you talking to Katie about?’
‘That is what they were talking about.’ Leanne explained, while Katie blushed.
‘You weren’t as bad as Oliver, Angelina,’ said Katie apologetically. ‘I’ve told him so.’
The tall black girl laughed and dismissed Katie’s embarrassment with a wave of her hand.
‘Why isn’t Oliver here?’ Angelina asked.
‘He isn’t DA, remember,’ reminded Katie. ‘Besides, he couldn’t face it. You do know that he was the one who found Colin–afterwards--don’t you know?’
Angelina frowned sadly and shook her head. ‘You look well, Harry,’ she observed, trying to change the subject. ‘Are you back with Ginny?’
Harry smiled and nodded.
‘Good,’ Angelina hugged him and kissed his cheek. Alicia, who had left Lee and George, smiled, stepped forwards, and did the same.
‘Thanks,’ Harry mumbled.
‘I’m not going to be left out,’ Katie said, she hugged and kissed Harry, too. She then looked meaningfully at Leanne, who took a hasty step backwards. He was beginning to get embarrassed, the Chasers were all grinning at him.
‘You look different, a lot less worried than you were.’ Angelina told him. ‘Not surprising, really.’
‘Everything’s changed,’ he admitted, ‘though not all for the better.’
‘Poor Colin. How is Dennis? And how is George?’ Angelina asked, nodding and blinking back tears.
‘They’re both as you’d expect,’ Harry frowned, he looked around.
George was still talking to Lee Jordan, who had an arm around his shoulder; the two young men were watching Harry and the four girls. Ginny and Luna, he noticed, had now joined the rest of their year group, taking Fenella with them. Ron and Hermione were standing apart from everyone; they weren’t even talking to each other.
‘George is missing Fred,’ Harry continued, ‘we all are.’
The four young women nodded sadly.
‘I haven’t seen George since the battle,’ Angelina said, ‘how’s he been?’
‘Sometimes he forgets,’ Harry told her, ‘But not for long. He seems to be best when he’s got someone to tease. I don’t mind, though.’
‘What’s he been teasing you about?’ Katie asked curiously.
‘Me, mainly,’ Ginny said, slipping her hand into Harry’s. ‘You should go and speak to him, he needs company, friends.’
Standing next to Ginny, Harry again heard the whir of his sneakoscope. He looked around, wondering.
‘Not Fenella?’ he murmured.
Ginny shook her head. ‘It got louder when I came over here,’ she whispered in his ear. Harry looked suspiciously at Leanne, but she’d arrived with the Chasers. She hadn’t been close when they’d been talking to Fenella.
‘It’s probably just the sheer number of kids here,’ considered Harry.
The three Chasers had gone into a huddle with Leanne, their arms around each other.
‘What’s going on?’ Harry murmured.
‘They’ll be talking about George,’ Ginny told him in an undertone. ‘Angelina went out with Fred for a while, until he lost interest. And Alicia went out with George, even though it was really Fred she fancied. But Alicia spent most of last year with Lee and it looks like they’re still together. It’s just girl-boy stuff.’
Harry didn’t really understand, but he nodded anyway. She squeezed his hand tightly.
‘You’ve still no idea about girls, have you?’ she teased.
‘I know who my girlfriend is,’ he whispered. ‘What else do I need to know?’
Ginny beamed; then nodded towards the kitchen door. Hannah Abbot, Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan had arrived. Harry began to lead Ginny towards them, but she stopped, released his hand, and turned to the three Chasers and Leanne.
‘I’ll see you soon, Harry,’ she told him. ‘Come on girls, let’s go and cheer George up.’ She herded the four girls towards her brother.
Harry was discussing Magical Law Enforcement with Susan, who seemed very keen to become an Auror, when the next group arrived. Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein and Cho Chang descended the steps from the kitchen together. The Ravenclaw men stood silently on the patio, looking at the crowds in the garden.
Cho smiled shyly and waved at Harry. She looked very pretty in a short black skirt and a smart black jacket. Her long hair glistened in the sun as she walked gracefully towards him. As Cho approached, Harry felt an arm slide around his waist; Ginny was back at his side. He looked down to greet her.
‘You’ve upset Tabitha,’ Ginny informed him.
‘Tabitha?’ Harry struggled to remember who Tabitha was.
‘The blonde, she didn’t expect the great Harry Potter to stick up for a Slytherin girl.’ Harry shrugged and then turned back to greet Cho. To his surprise she had stopped two or three yards away and was looking carefully at Harry and Ginny.
‘Oh, hi, Cho,’ said Ginny, as if she’d just noticed the other girl.
‘How are you?’ asked Harry.
‘I’m very well, how about you?’ Cho replied. She was speaking a little stiffly, Harry thought.
‘I’m …’ Harry had been going to say happy, but the word didn’t seem appropriate in the circumstances.
‘… lost for words again.’ Ginny finished the sentence for him.
‘He’s doing okay now, aren’t you Harry?’ Ginny told Cho, Harry nodded.
‘He’s had a rough time, we all have, but we’ll get through it together, won’t we?’ she continued, resting her head on Harry’s shoulder.
‘Are you two back together?’ Cho asked; Harry nodded again, wondering how many more times he’d be asked that question.
‘We never really split up,’ Ginny clarified forcefully.
Cho and Ginny were concentrating on each other, both smiling politely. In the uneasy silence Harry again heard the faint whir of his sneakoscope coming from Ginny’s handbag. He looked around. Fenella was now listening to Luna, whose animated arm waving was evidence that she was explaining something as only Luna could. They were halfway down the garden. It was not her; it couldn’t be the Hufflepuffs and it couldn’t be Cho; they had not been here when the sneakoscope first went off.
He looked around the garden; almost everyone was here. Neville and Dean Thomas had only just arrived. They were walking towards Harry; Dean was staring at Ginny, Neville was smiling. Then Harry saw something that made his insides turn to ice. His reaction was enough to make Ginny take her eyes from Cho. They had not stopped staring at each other, Harry realised, but the silence that suddenly fell across the garden made them stop and turn, like everyone else.
‘Lavender,’ Harry whispered.
Parvati Patil, standing out from her black clad friends because of the white sari she wore, stood at the bottom of the steps from the kitchen. At the top, sitting in a wheelchair and looking even paler than Hermione, was Lavender Brown. Behind Lavender stood Parvati’s twin, Padma, also in a white sari, along with Seamus Finnegan, and Justin Finch-Fletchley.
‘Some help would be appreciated,’ Parvati requested. Ginny immediately released Harry, who strode over to the steps, but Dean and Neville got there first. Harry remembered seeing Lavender fall in the battle a week ago. He’d checked, seen that she was in the hospital wing and known she wasn’t among the dead.
He’d assumed that she would recover, but he recalled the last time he’d seen her. The werewolf, Fenrir Greyback, had been attacking Lavender, and curse scars never heal fully, Bill Weasley was proof of that!
Ron! He looked round the garden, searching for his friend. Ron was white faced, staring at Lavender in shock. Hermione, standing next to Ron, was in tears.
Harry’s mind whirled; he must speak to Lavender, but someone should be checking up on Ron, too. He knew that Ron no longer had feelings for Lavender, but seeing his ex-girlfriend like this had obviously come as a shock to Ron. Harry willed Hermione to do something, but she simply stood there, weeping.
Ginny caught Harry’s eye, she was white faced, but she looked straight at him, glanced at Ron and nodded. Realising that Ginny would do what was needed, he turned to help, but he was too late. Seamus and Justin at the top, Dean and Neville at the bottom were carefully lifting Lavender and her wheelchair, down the steps. They did not seem to be struggling as much as they should. Lavender, he realised, was partially levitating the chair.
‘Parvati,’ Harry hissed, she turned and looked at him rather coolly, then saw the shock and concern on his face.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know! I didn’t ask, but I should have, sorry. Will she recover?’ Harry whispered.
‘The healers aren’t sure,’ Parvati replied sadly. ‘They hope so, but it could take months. Or, she may be like this for the rest of her life. She was attacked by Greyback, clawed across the abdomen then thrown from the balcony. The wounds aren’t healing at all. She needs to take a blood replenishing potion every four hours. She’s in constant agony, even with a painkiller potion, and when she tries to stand her wounds re-open. Sometimes she says that she wishes Greyback had finished her off. This morning she told me that she doesn’t know who stopped Greyback, but she curses them.
‘We tried to persuade her not to come,’ Parvati glanced at her twin when she spoke. ‘She should still be resting. But she insisted; she didn’t want to be the only true DA member missing, and you know what she’s like. When she decides that she wants something, she doesn’t stop until she gets it.’
Harry didn’t know, but he nodded anyway. He looked over Parvati’s shoulder; Lavender was now down on the patio. Seamus Finnegan was hunkered down alongside her.
‘… I’m sure we’ll have you dancing again soon,’ Seamus was saying.
‘Lavender,’ Harry interrupted, ‘Is there anything you need, anything I can do?’
As soon as he spoke he realised how pathetic, trite, he sounded.
‘A way to heal curse scars would be nice,’ Lavender grimaced. ‘And a better painkiller.’
Harry looked closely at the girl he’d dismissed as a giggler; as Ron’s pain-in-the-neck girlfriend. She’d joined the DA at the very the start, she had stuck with them last year and had, he remembered, been one of the first girls to join Neville in hiding. She had fought bravely at Hogwarts a week ago, too. It was as if he was suddenly seeing her for the first time.
Harry reached out and took her hands.
‘You’re a true Gryffindor, Lavender, one of the bravest. If I can do anything to help you, just ask.’
‘Thanks, Harry,’ she smiled weakly. ‘But it’s the healers I need help from, not you.’
The tap of heels on the patio and a faint waft of flowers on the breeze alerted Harry to the fact that Ginny was approaching. As he stood and turned his head to greet her, she suddenly looked serious.
‘Hi Lavender,’ she said, ‘I was going to ask how you were, but need to borrow Harry.’
‘He’s yours,’ Lavender replied with a feeble smile.
Harry was startled by the tone of Lavender’s words. There was something in the way Lavender had spoken. It was as if she was acknowledging Ginny’s ownership, rather than allowing her to interrupt a conversation.
Ginny pointed to her shoulder bag.
‘Are you absolutely certain that this thing working?’ she murmured.
He nodded, he could again hear the sneakoscope getting louder as she approached him, realisation hit him, it wasn’t Fenella, or Cho: it was when Ginny approached him. He looked at her, stepped forwards, hugged her and pressed is mouth to her ear.
‘It’s me, isn’t it?’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ Ginny hissed.
‘I need you to create a diversion, do something to divert attention away from me,’ he whispered. Ginny didn’t hesitate, she roughly pushed him away, smacked him hard on the cheek, and ran sobbing towards an astonished Michael Corner.
‘Michael,’ she shouted loudly, ‘there’s something I’ve got to tell you about that creep Potter.’
Harry was so startled that he almost missed his opportunity. Regaining his wits, he reached into his jacket, and in one fluid motion drew his wand from his inside pocket.
‘Homenum revelio,’ he whispered.
‘There!’ he though triumphantly; the intruder was following Ginny!
As he looked he saw a movement in the air. That was when he realised that the interloper was not invisible. He squinted, and immediately managed to focus on his target. He thrust out his wand, silently casting a full body bind curse. The spell shot across the garden, apparently halting in mid-air. He lowered his wand, keeping it trained on a small area of grass.
Wands were appearing everywhere; subdued conversations were suddenly transformed into confused shouts. One of the girls screamed.
Cries of:
‘What happened to no magic?’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Harry!’
And ‘Bloody Hell!’ rang out across the garden.
Most of the DA remained silent, alert, watching Harry. Ginny had pulled her wand from somewhere and taken the sneakoscope from her bag. She turned back; ignoring Michael’s confused shouts and sprinted towards Harry, holding the sneakoscope high.
‘Quiet,’ Harry ordered; the shouts stopped abruptly. The only noise was the whining of the sneakoscope, getting louder.
‘Invisible?’ asked Ginny.
At that one word, the drawn wands, some of which, Harry realised ruefully, had been pointed at him had they really thought that he was going to hex Ginny? moved to point at the apparently empty patch of grass; to the same spot as Harry’s wand.
‘No,’ Harry replied. He took two steps forwards, looking carefully down onto the lawn.
‘That hurt,’ he told Ginny, ruefully rubbing his cheek.
‘You wanted a diversion,’ Ginny replied loudly enough for everyone to hear. ‘You got one.’
‘Someone go and keep the Muggles in the house,’ Harry ordered. He heard movement from behind. He did not bother to turn, he knew that someone had obeyed, that was enough. Ginny kissed his cheek where she’d slapped him.
‘Where?’ she asked, Harry jabbed his wand forwards pointing to a small patch of grass, at first glance no different to any other part of the lawn.
‘Hermione,’ Harry called; he was going to need her now, he realised.
‘When we met Padfoot and Moony in the Shrieking Shack, they used a spell on Scabbers. I hope that you researched it.’
‘Of-of course,’ Hermione stuttered. Harry was worried. He needed the real Hermione, the Hermione who knew everything; not the nervous, feeble and often weeping girl who’d returned from Australia.
‘Come here,’ he ordered, ‘can you cast it?’
‘I-I think so,’ she stammered as she approached slowly.
‘Now, Hermione! HERE! I need you NOW!’ Harry was being hard on her, he knew, and Ron was going to defend her any second. Sure enough, he heard a sharp intake of breath from his best friend.
‘Quiet Ron, I need Hermione,’ Harry pleaded.
‘But…’ Ron started.
‘Shut up, Ron,’ hissed Ginny; then Hermione was by Harry’s side.
‘Look,’ insisted Harry, continuing to point with his wand, he was focussing on a tiny area.
‘At what?’ Hermione asked, confused.
Harry took a step forwards and crouched down, bringing his wand closer and closer to the ground. Hermione followed the movement, followed Harry’s gaze. Then, bending lower she finally saw–
‘Sneaky cow!’ she shrilled. She stood quickly, her jaw set, and waved her wand. A flash of blue-white light shot from the wand and into the grass; except it didn’t hit the grass, not quite.
Harry had to step quickly back when a rapidly enlarging beetle erupted from the grass in front of him. As it grew two of the beetle legs shrank back into the changing body, the other four transformed into arms and legs. Finally, still held motionless by Harry’s full body bind curse, a familiar and unwelcome shape appeared.
‘Bloody hell; it’s Rita Skeeter,’ swore Ron.
‘I’d like you to teach me that spell, Hermione,’ said Harry, ‘very useful, thanks.’
Dumbledores Army stepped forwards, surrounding the restrained reporter.
‘Well done, Harry,’ Ginny whispered.
Chapter 10: Deadlines
Author's Notes: Thanks once again to my beta's Andrea and Amelíe for their comments, corrections and input. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
10: Deadlines
‘How did you know?’ Hermione asked.
‘The sneakoscope,’ Harry told her. ‘It was registering something, but it took me a while to figure out what. It’s a good thing I gave it to Ginny. I think she realised before I did that it was loudest when she was next to me.’ He gazed admiringly at his girlfriend.
Ginny nodded. ‘When I got close to Harry that last time I wondered if there was someone invisible hanging around him. But he knew before I could ask.’ She returned the gaze of admiration. ‘Harry asked me for a distraction. They hadn’t attacked, so I thought that they might be trying to listen to him, so I gave them something to hear. What are we going to do with her, Harry?’
He looked down at the prone figure on the grass. Her jewelled glasses were twisted inelegantly; her acid green robes were muddy and grass-stained. Rita Skeeter’s arms and legs were rigid; as immobile as her curled blonde hair. He berated himself for not realising sooner. George hadn’t been joking this morning. Before their three-a-side Quidditch game he’d been reading the paper. Skeeter had promised the Sunday Prophet an exclusive because she had planned to come to this funeral and eavesdrop. But how had she found out where they were?
‘Ginny, take her bag and search it, please,’ asked Harry. ‘Hermione, take her wand; everyone else, wands away.’
After Ginny and Hermione had carried out their tasks and stepped back, he removed his full body bind curse from the journalist.
‘Harry Potter,’ Skeeter said ingratiatingly. ‘You’ve grown into quite a good-looking young man since we last met.’ She curled the corners of her mouth upwards, but her attempt at a friendly smile was as thin and brittle as her chipped green nail varnish. ‘You really must learn restraint, Harry, and try not to attack on sight. Assaulting a harmless reporter, that’s not a good idea, is it?’ she suggested. ‘Just think of the bad press.’
He stared at her, trying to keep calm. He couldn’t afford to lose his temper, not until he found out how she’d found him, found them all. He watched her struggle to stand. No one offered to help her.
She had almost regained her feet when Ginny, who had moved behind the reporter, silently used an extremely accurate and low powered reductor curse to knock one of the heels from her stilettos. Everyone laughed when she fell back to her knees, cursing and swearing. Skeeter examined her broken shoe suspiciously. Even more dishevelled, she laboured back to her feet. Standing awkwardly on one heel and one flat shoe, she struggled to regain her composure.
‘You appear to be unbalanced,’ observed Ginny. Harry struggled to keep a straight face while everyone else laughed.
Rita simply glared at Ginny, shrugged disdainfully and turned to Hermione, she held out her hand.
‘I’ll have my wand back now thank you, Harmony,’ she commanded imperiously. Ron glared at her angrily, Hermione simply smiled.
‘So you can try to escape?’ Hermione shook her head grimly. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘You’re upset, I can see,’ Rita continued. ‘Harry ditched you for wheelchair-girl and then ditched her for the little red-head, did he? I really don’t know what he sees…’ Rita stopped talking, spluttering and gagging.
‘Tongue tying curse,’ Harry explained politely. ‘I’ll remove it, but I want answers, not questions, do you understand?’ Rita nodded, her face twisted in contempt.
‘How did you know that we’d be here?’ asked Harry, releasing the curse.
‘Harry, I couldn’t possibly give away my source of information,’ Skeeter said, smiling sweetly. ‘Of course, an exclusive interview with “the chosen one” might change my mind.’
‘An exclusive interview will cost you five thousand galleons,’ said Harry without thinking. Ginny looked at him in horror. Rita Skeeter gave a wolfish smile.
‘Paid to the Society for the Assistance of Muggleborns,’ he clarified. Katie Bell gasped; Ginny smiled. It was an idea that Harry had been considering for a few days. An interview might counteract some of the wilder rumours. The payment would help Muggleborns; it would be worth it for that.
‘How noble,’ Skeeter sneered.
‘Just answer Harry’s question,’ Neville threatened. Rita looked at him contemptuously.
‘I see you’ve brought your fan club,’ she told Harry scornfully.
‘We’re not his fan club; we’re his friends,’ Luna corrected politely. Rita turned and looked at Luna in open disbelief. ‘Don’t be stupid, Quibbler-girl;’ she derided. ‘He needed you once, so he used you, that doesn’t make you his friend.’
‘That just shows how nasty and selfish you are,’ snapped Ginny incandescently. ‘Of course, having neither fans, nor friends, yourself, I can see that you might find the idea difficult.’ She had opened Rita’s handbag and was busily rifling through the contents.
Get out of there,’ Rita snapped at Ginny. ‘You can’t look through other people’s property like that.’
‘You do, don’t you?’ retorted Ginny. ‘All the time, I expect. Look at this, Harry.’
Ginny passed him a scrap of parchment. It contained the dates, times and locations of all of the funerals Harry and Kingsley were both going to attend. How? Harry thought hard; only three people had seen the diary, himself, Kingsley and Brenda … and possibly Umbridge, he realised! He decided to keep that thought to himself for a while.
‘Have you given a copy of this list to anyone else?’ Harry interrogated.
‘Why should I tell you?’ asked Rita dismissively, not meeting his gaze.
She has! Harry realised.
‘Rita,’ he said, ‘there’s every chance you’ve compromised Kingsley’s security. Who did you tell?’
‘Kingsley,’ Rita observed. ‘On first name terms with the new Minister, are you Harry? I thought that this “at the Minister’s side” stuff was just a publicity stunt orchestrated by Shacklebolt to cover for his obvious lack of competence. Apparently I was wrong. You do like to tag along with the famous, don’t you? That old duffer Dumbledore…’
She stopped, shocked. Everyone around Harry had stepped closer, dozens of young witches and wizards had their wands pointed at the journalist.
‘Rita,’ smiled Harry maliciously, ‘have you met Dumbledore’s Army? You’d better be careful what you say.’
‘This is a funeral,’ he continued fiercely. ‘A funeral for a friend who died fighting Voldemort.’
Rita still winced at the name, Harry noted vindictively.
‘Fighting for what he believed in, for Dumbledore,’ Harry continued, no longer bothering to keep his temper in check. ‘You know as well as I do that some of Voldemort’s followers escaped. If you have done anything, anything at all, that might bring any of the escaped Death Eaters to this funeral, I will do my best to have you sent to Azkaban for a very long time.’
While he was talking Harry had been thinking quickly. Tomorrow’s funerals had been well publicised. Notices had been placed in the Daily Prophet. Kingsley had, he knew, ensured a high level of security. Today was different. Apart from the young witches and wizards already here, there would only be McGonagall and Kingsley. No wizard, it had been reasoned, could find one Muggle funeral in an out of the way part of northern England, not when there had been no mention of it in the wizarding press.
Was he being paranoid, he wondered? The sixth years, apart from Ginny and Luna, had travelled by Portkey. The DA had Apparated. Skeeter could not possibly have followed them, Umbridge was the only possibility. Better safe than sorry. He decided to confront the journalist. He’d made a fool of himself before after all. Harry looked around at the anxious and angry faces in the Creevey’s garden.
‘No-one but us was supposed to know about this funeral, but Rita Skeeter has found out; from Umbridge,’ Harry announced. Rita’s face betrayed the truth of his statement. He was now certain he’d guessed right.
‘Unless anyone else here wants to admit to telling someone where we are?’ Harry looked searchingly at the students he didn’t know.
‘We don’t know where we are, Harry,’ said Jack Sloper. ‘We came by Portkey, we could be anywhere.’ Harry nodded.
‘I suspect that Skeeter’s passed the information on.’ He ignored Rita’s frown.
‘There may be an ambush at Colin’s funeral,’ he concluded. The idea sickened him. The wands surrounding Rita moved even closer.
‘Who did you tell?’ he asked again.
‘No-one,’ Rita snarled, looking him in the eye. Harry was puzzled; he’d been certain that she had. Her latest answer confused him. Perhaps she was better at lying when she’d had a chance to think.
‘She didn’t tell anyone,’ Ginny observed. ‘But she passed a copy of the note to someone.’
Skeeter’s expression showed that Ginny was right. He thought back through his questions and smiled gratefully at his girlfriend. Skeeter scowled, but remained stubbornly silent.
Harry fumbled in his pocket and found his card, he showed it to Skeeter.
‘Harry Potter, Trainee Auror,’ she read aloud, surprised. ‘So, those wild rumours are true, too. Well, this is news.’
‘I’m arresting you for being an unlicensed animagus, for breaking into Azkabhan and on suspicion of compromising the security of the Minister for Magic,’ Harry informed her.
‘You can’t!’ Rita Skeeter was outraged. ‘You cannot deprive an honest reporter of her liberty on a mere suspicion.’
Harry hesitated, he’d spoken without thinking. He was untrained, ignorant of the law, could he arrest Skeeter?
‘He can,’ said Leanne Cowper. Everyone turned to look at her; she blushed at the attention but continued, ‘Article 16b of the decree for Ministerial Security allows any authorised law officer or Ministry official to arrest someone suspected of harming, planning to harm, or threatening a senior Ministry official.’
Harry looked at her in amazement.
‘There’s no such law,’ said Skeeter dismissively.
‘There is,’ Fenella Gray spoke softly, shamefaced. ‘Dolores Umbridge drafted that law, my father worked for her, he helped write it.’
Leanne looked at Fenella in disgust. ‘You’re Abraxus Gray’s daughter?’
‘Later,’ Harry ordered.
‘She’s right,’ Leanne admitted, grudgingly, scowling at Fenella. ‘Umbridge was completely paranoid after your raid on the Ministry, Harry. She thought that everyone was out to get her.’
‘Not quite everyone,’ said Justin, smiling grimly, ‘but most of us were. We simply never got the opportunity.’
‘The decree hasn’t been repealed yet,’ Fenella added. ‘At least, I don’t think it has.’
‘It hasn’t,’ confirmed Leanne. ‘The Minister hasn’t had time, what with the problems in Azkhaban and everything else.’
‘Oh, sweet irony,’ observed Ginny; smiling innocently at the reporter.
‘You’ll regret this, all of you,’ Skeeter threatened them, pursing her lips. Harry ignored her protests and conjured thin cords from his wand. She collapsed to the ground, bound and gagged.
‘We need to check out the cemetery,’ announced Harry. ‘Now.’
Dozens of grim, angry and startled faces looked at him expectantly. He sought out Ron and Hermione. They nodded their agreement, though Hermione looked confused and Ron concerned. Hermione clung tightly to Ron. She was not at her best not thinking clearly. She was in no state to help him to make plans, and Ron was still much too concerned about Hermione to assist.
‘You’re right, Harry,’ Ginny confirmed. ‘It may be nothing, but we need to be sure.’ He turned to Ginny; Neville, and Luna were at her side and nodding their agreement.
Harry smiled gratefully at his girlfriend, and made his decision.
‘Neville, use your patronus, contact Kingsley, let him know that we’ve got Rita Skeeter here; she’s wanted for questioning by the Auror Office. Tell him that it’s possible, likely I think, that she’s told others about this funeral, and tell him why.’ He handed Neville the parchment from Rita’s bag.
‘Justin, when do the cars arrive?’ asked Harry; while Neville quickly read the parchment and then cast the Patronus charm.
‘Less than half an hour,’ came Justin’s clipped reply.
‘Can you take me to a spot where we can see the cemetery, now?’
‘Yes’
‘Harry,’ cautioned Hermione.
‘Cloak please, Hermione’ ordered Harry. ‘I’m scouting, not fighting.’
‘And I’m coming with you,’ Ginny blazed.
‘No, not yet, Ginny,’ Harry told her. ‘Justin and I will check out the area.’
Ginny looked at him carefully, she stared straight into his eyes. She was searching to make certain that he wasn’t trying to keep her safe again he realised.
‘If there’s anyone there, we’ll come back for reinforcements,’ he vowed.
He held her gaze. Her eyes read his honesty. She nodded.
‘Okay,’ she said, in immediate, unconditional agreement. He smiled gratefully at her.
‘If you’re not back within five minutes,’ Ron began.
‘…you’ll get reinforcements anyway,’ Ginny finished her brother’s sentence determinedly. Harry wanted to kiss her, but their location, and the urgency of the situation prevented it. Behind the Weasleys, the grim-faced remainder of Dumbledore’s Army nodded in agreement.
‘Hermione, cloak, please,’ Harry asked again.
Hermione opened her black handbag, pulled out the beaded bag and threw it to Harry.
Opening the beaded bag, Harry waved his wand; his invisibility cloak flew out, shimmering in the afternoon sunshine. He caught it with his wand hand, closed the bag, threw it back to Hermione then motioned Justin to join him under the cloak.
‘Be careful,’ ordered Ginny as Harry and Justin disappeared under the cloak.
‘I will, Ginny, I promise,’ he assured her. ‘We’ve got to check.’
‘I know.’ She smiled at him.
Harry grabbed Justin’s arm.
‘Far enough away that no-one will hear us Apparate, but close enough to see,’ Harry instructed. Justin nodded resolutely, and with a crack, they left the Creeveys’ garden.
They appeared on a small patch of grass. Behind them was a black asphalt footpath. On the other side of the path was a grassy bank led down to a river. To the left was an almost empty car park beyond which was a high grey stone wall. Harry could see the roofs of houses over the wall. A small wooden sign where footpath and car park met indicated the presence of a “Riverside Walk”. To the right the asphalt path ran alongside the river, heading upstream into distant hills.
Directly in front of Harry and Justin was a steep grass embankment seven or eight feet high, at the top of which was a gnarled and ancient hawthorn hedge. A few yards to the right there was a V-shaped gap in the embankment. An ash track led up through the gap, rising slowly until it was level with the top of the embankment. At the junction of the track with the riverside path a second sign pointed to “The Church.”
‘This way,’ Justin whispered; quickly leading Harry up the track. It was straight, and screened on both sides by the thick hedges. After twenty yards they were level with the top of the embankment. Ten yards more and they reached a gap in the hedge. Justin pointed to his left through it. They were overlooking a cemetery and church. It was Harry realised, a beautiful spot. Directly in front of them was the cemetery, beyond that was an old stone church. To the right, another high stone wall separated the church from the back gardens of several large stone houses and an old school building.
They looked carefully into the cemetery. There were several huge and ancient trees, oaks and chestnuts, scattered amongst the graves. Near the church the gravestones were old and weathered; those stones closer to Harry and Justin were newer. About one hundred feet from the church and two hundred from where they stood was a mound of earth; next to the mound a black pit stood silent and empty, awaiting the arrival of its occupant. The final destination, the last resting place of Colin Creevey lay patiently waiting. Harry stood for a moment, overcome. He stifled a sob.
‘It’s not your fault, either, Harry,’ Justin whispered, squeezing Harry’s shoulder.
‘Homenum revelio,’ Harry whispered for the second time that afternoon, then, ‘Muffliato.’
He turned furiously to Justin.
‘Four,’ he hissed. ‘They can’t hear us because of the Muffliato spell. Do you know Homenum revelio?’
Justin shook his head. ‘Missed school last year, like you, remember?’ he explained with a sour smile. ‘That’s the invisibility revealer, isn’t it? Ernie mentioned it; he knows it, he learned it in the DA last year. Hannah knows it too; she calls it “the barmaid’s friend.” She wanted to teach me, but we never found the time.’
‘I’ll show you where they are,’ Harry told Justin. Despite his anger, he almost smiled; he was unable to imagine Hannah Abbott as a barmaid.
‘One there.’ He pointed to a spot next to the entrance from the side of church.
‘There.’ He pointed to the gate, leading to the footpath.
‘There.’ He pointed to a sarcophagus near the centre of the cemetery.
‘And there.’ He pointed to the rear corner of the church.
Justin looked from location to location.
‘Surrounding Colin’s grave,’ Justin noted. His face, like Harry’s, was pale and angry.
Harry nodded.
‘Now,’ Harry continued, ‘we go back, organise the DA, and ambush the ambushers.’
Harry was speaking calmly, but he was having difficulty keeping his anger under control. Skeeter and Umbridge! Between them they had disrupted a funeral. Harry held out his arm for Justin.
‘I’ll take us back,’ he instructed; Justin grabbed his arm and they left for the Creevey’s house.
When they appeared in the garden, Harry swept off his cloak and threw it to Hermione. She caught it and, with fumbling fingers, put it back in her bag. A lot of people started asking questions, but Neville, Luna, Ginny, Susan, Hannah, Ernie and Terry had wands pointing at Harry and Justin.
‘What was the last order you gave me?’ Neville barked.
‘Contact Kingsley,’ Harry replied. ‘Well done, Neville, good thinking.’
Harry held up his hand for silence.
‘Well done, Justin, too, the perfect spot for scouting.’
‘Bad news; there are four people, either under invisibility cloaks or disillusioned, in the graveyard. They’re all within thirty feet of Colin’s grave.’
The hisses and curses which greeted Harry’s statement were accompanied by several thumps and a nasal whimper from Rita Skeeter. Jack Sloper, Fenella Gray and several more of Colin’s classmates were backing away from her. Harry suspected that one or more of them had kicked the trussed and helpless reporter. He didn’t care.
He looked around at the angry, expectant, faces of Dumbledore’s Army. They all felt exactly as he did, he realised. How dare someone try to mount an attack at a funeral! Only Katie’s friend Leanne looked unsure. She’d been at the Battle of Hogwarts Harry remembered, but he wondered how good she was in a fight. She was brave in her own way, no doubt; he knew what she’d done from inside the Ministry. But to Harry she was an unknown; would she be a liability in combat? It was time for him to make decisions, Dumbledore’s Army were waiting for orders.
‘I won’t allow this funeral to be disrupted, or cancelled,’ Harry announced, ‘so we split into four teams. Each takes one opponent.’
‘Why don’t we just wait for the Aurors?’ Hermione pleaded.
‘We don’t know how long they’ll be. If we act quickly, we can do this. It’s twenty-odd against four. We know where they are and they don’t know we know. They won’t be expecting us.’ Harry looked disappointedly at his friend.
‘Someone will need to stay behind and keep an eye on Skeeter, the Muggles, and this lot.’ Harry nodded to the rest of the students, who had been listening eagerly.
‘We can help,’ Jack Sloper said. ‘Most of us are seventeen and a lot of us fought at Hogwarts.’
‘Yes, I want to help,’ agreed Fenella Gray. Jack Sloper looked at her, astonished.
‘Colin was my friend,’ she continued, she glared at Jack and stood up straight and tall. She was an oddly impressive, even slightly scary, sight when she wasn’t slouching.
‘Look,’ said Harry, ‘you can’t Apparate. We can.’
‘Ginny and Luna can’t!’ Fenella continued.
‘Luna can,’ replied Harry.
‘No she can’t, not legally,’ Hermione interjected angrily. ‘She hasn’t passed her test, she hasn’t even had lessons.’
‘Daddy taught me,’ Luna informed Harry as the cause of their disagreement on arrival at the Creevey’s became obvious.
‘We don’t have time for more arguments,’ Harry told her. ‘Luna got you here without splinching anyone, that’s good enough.’
‘We’re going, but it’s going to be DA members only, that’s my final decision,’ Harry told the other students. ‘We need you here anyway, to stop the Muggles finding out what’s going on. When we leave, there’ll only be half as many people in the garden as there should be. We can’t leave this place completely empty.’
Ginny’s classmates looked at him mutinously.
‘You can’t go if we don’t take you,’ he told them bluntly. ‘I’ll need at least one of the DA to stay here, too, and they may need your help.’
This poor attempt to pacify the younger students had been unsuccessful, he realised. They were still unhappy; but they remained silent, that would be enough.
‘Now,’ Harry asked the DA, ‘who’ll stay here?’
‘I will,’ volunteered Lavender. ‘Then no-one need worry about me. Anyway, I can’t Apparate until I can stand.’
‘I’m staying with Lavender,’ announced Seamus, to his friend Dean’s obvious surprise.
‘I’ll stay too, if that’s okay,’ suggested Katie’s friend Leanne, solving another problem for Harry.
‘Great,’ Harry said.
Harry looked around at the rest of Dumbledore’s Army, his allies, his friends, the people he knew he could rely on. Groups of five, he thought.
‘We need four groups ... Hufflepuffs,’ (he counted four–someone is missing, he thought), ‘plus one more.’
‘Me,’ announced Neville, going to stand with Justin, Ernie, Susan and Hannah. The Hufflepuffs smiled and welcomed Neville.
‘Ravenclaws.’ The six Ravenclaw students moved closer together. Only Padma Patil had any distance to move, as she was standing with her twin, Seamus, Dean, and Lavender. As she moved, she glanced at Parvati. Harry spotted her concern.
‘Padma,’ Harry suggested, ‘stay with Parvati; and Ron, Hermione and Dean, you’re the third group.’
Padma moved back to be with her sister while the other Ravenclaw students: Luna, Michael, Cho, Anthony Goldstein and Terry Boot gathered together.
He looked at the remaining group (Quidditch, he thought). George, Angelina, Katie, Alicia and Lee all stood together. Ginny moved to join them.
‘Not you, Ginny,’ Harry ordered. She rounded on him furiously, about to explode.
‘You’re coming with me,’ he explained hastily. Her anger evaporated instantly.
‘Ginny and I will go in together and help where we’re needed. Hopefully we’ll have nothing to do.’
‘Teams,’ he addressed the four groups, ‘we don’t have long. I want you to organise yourselves. They’re invisible, so, attackers, you should know Homenum Revelio. If there is a group who doesn’t have anyone who can use that spell, let me know now! When you arrive, I want someone in each team to cast the anti-apparition jinx, we don’t want them to escape; someone else should cast Muggle repellers, just in case; and the other three will attack.’
‘Decide between yourselves who’s doing what; and do it quickly,’ Harry concluded.
Harry looked at the groups; they were talking rapidly, determinedly, organising themselves. George had lost his surly, miserable demeanour; there was a gleam in his eye. Everyone was concentrating on the tasks they’d been given. He knew that they could be trusted to follow his instructions.
‘Harry,’ Dennis Creevey called dashing up the lawn from the house. ‘I thought this might be useful.’ He produced a sheet of glossy paper from under his jacket and handed it to Harry.
It was a photograph, taken, as far as Harry could see, from a point in the air very close to where he and Justin had scouted the graveyard.
‘Colin photographed the whole village two years ago,’ Dennis explained.
‘Brilliant, Dennis,’ Harry congratulated the youngest member of the DA. ‘This is just what I need.’
He took the photograph, used the Geminio spell to duplicate it three times and went quickly from group to group. He showed them the locations of the ambushers, gave each group a target and left them a photo.
‘Which group am I with?’ Dennis called after Harry as he gave the last group, Lee and his old Quidditch team, a photograph and told them the location of their target. Harry’s face fell.
‘Dennis …’ he began; then he realised that, although he didn’t want to take him, he couldn’t leave Dennis behind. He looked at Ginny; she stepped alongside Dennis, put her hand on his shoulder and nodded. ‘… you’re with Ginny and me.’
‘Let me know when you’re all ready,’ he ordered. ‘We need to …’
He was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a silver lynx.
The deep voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt resonated across the garden. ‘Stay where you are,’ ordered the lynx, ‘I am organising four squads of Aurors.’
‘Oh, good.’ Hermione was obviously relieved. ‘The Aurors will deal with it.’
‘NO!’ shouted George. He Disapparated!
Chapter 11: The Corpse in the Cemetery
Author's Notes: Thanks once again to Andrea and Amelíe for their comments, corrections and input. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
11: The Corpse in the Cemetery
When George vanished, a stunned and horrified silence fell over the Creeveys' garden. Time seemed to stop for Harry. There were decisions to make. He could not afford to hesitate, so he did not. He broke the silence with a command.
‘STICK TO THE PLAN!’ he shouted, ‘GO!’
Inwardly, he cursed George for his stupid recklessness and cursed himself for misinterpreting the gleam he’d seen in the redhead’s eyes. He had only just shown George’s group the location of their opponent.
Both Ginny and Dennis were some distance away, halfway down the garden from him. He needed to go now. He would have to leave them behind. Ginny wouldn’t like that, but he had no alternative. He looked towards them apologetically; then braced himself.
Ginny, her eyes wide and blazing, her face determined, her hair streaming out behind her, was sprinting rapidly towards him, wand in hand. Dennis hesitated, a confused look on his face; Harry did not wait. He was ready to catch his girlfriend and Disapparate the moment she leapt onto him.
He caught her neatly; her wand arm was over his shoulder, her other arm encircled his waist and held tight. He grabbed her around the waist.
‘Go!’ she ordered. Her command was redundant. He had begun to twist and Disapparate before she spoke. The noisy bangs of the DA Disapparating rang out around him. Harry managed no more than an apologetic glance at Dennis before he followed his friends into another battle.
He took Ginny to the centre of the cemetery, beside the freshly dug grave, Colin’s grave. As he released her she turned, rapidly taking stock of the situation. He looked at the fierce concentration in her eyes and knew that she was capable of defending herself. He concentrated on assessing the fight himself. He, too, whirled around.
The Hufflepuffs stood on an old brick path near the church. They were already in complete control. Stunning jinxes from Neville, Ernie and Susan had blasted an invisible someone against a grave near the entrance from the church. The force of the impact had cracked the gravestone, part of which had fallen forwards. The broken stone had failed to reach the ground. It appeared to be floating in midair.
‘Finite Incantatem,’ Justin shouted, while Hannah shouted ‘Accio Cloak.’ Both aimed just below the floating stone. They smiled at each other. Justin had chosen the correct spell. A feebly struggling wizard appeared underneath the broken gravestone, his disillusion spell dismissed by the curly haired Muggleborn. The wizard’s leg stuck out at an unnatural angle, obviously broken. He looked around wildly, desperately, his outstretched hand frantically scrabbling for the wand he had dropped. It was far beyond his reach. The Hufflepuff group smiled grimly at each other, their opponent was down and about to be restrained.
The Ravenclaws were grouped on a patch of grass near the gate leading out into the fields. They were spreading out, trying to surround their opponent. Harry knew Luna to be an extraordinarily impressive dueller; he’d seen her in the Great Hall a week ago. He quickly assessed the others. Anthony, Cho and Michael were competent enough. Terry Boot seemed to have appointed himself the group’s defender. His defensive spells were fast and accurate. He was blocking every spell from his invisible opponent, not just the ones aimed at him. As Harry watched, Luna, with a silent and almost offhand flick of her wand, pulled an invisibility cloak from their opponent. The suddenly visible wizard was immediately struggling to defend himself. The Ravenclaws didn’t need his help.
Harry continued to turn. His house group stood on a rough gravel path near the large sarcophagus. They were struggling. Hermione and Ron were still not at their best. They, together with the Patil twins and Dean, were desperately parrying and dodging hex after hex from their invisible opponent.
A female voice was screeching, ‘mudblood scum’ from near the stone coffin, and swearing. The shouts were accompanied by a stream of curses, all being directed towards Dean and Hermione. No one in the group was attacking the witch. Ron was frantically deflecting the curses aimed at Hermione; the Patil twins were doing the same for Dean.
Accio cloak, Harry thought, following Luna’s lead and flicking his wand. He had chosen the correct spell. His classmates’ opponent was suddenly visible as an invisibility cloak was ripped from the dancing figure of a skeletal witch with wild gray hair who stood atop the tomb.
Having helped them, Harry checked the final combat.
George was down! Harry took in the scene instantly.
Thorfinn Rowle was purposefully advancing towards George’s prone figure. Lee, Angelina, Katie and Alicia were firing hex after hex, but the big, blonde Death Eater, his wand a blur of motion, fired off one defensive spell after another. He was managing to parry everyone.
Ginny, standing alongside Harry, silently sent several stunning hexes towards him. Rowle somehow parried Ginny’s hexes too. The massive Death Eater was not attacking. He could not! He was using all of his skill simply to defend himself. For a second, Harry was puzzled by Rowle’s actions. Then he noticed that the Death Eater was holding a wicked looking curve bladed knife in his left hand as he marched forwards.
Rowle was now only yards away from George. Harry reacted immediately.
‘Protego!’ he yelled.
The hastily cast protection charm Harry used to protect George was more powerful than he’d intended. Not only did it knock Rowle from his feet, sending his knife flying towards a tree; it also pushed Lee, Angelina, Katie and Alicia stumbling backwards. Lee tumbled to the ground, flat on his back. Alicia fell on her hands and knees. Katie and Angelina remained ready to react, although both had stumbled. Angelina remained crouching, her left hand was on the ground, but her wand still pointed at Rowle. Katie had taken two steps backwards, but was still standing.
‘Expelliarmus,’ Harry shouted, as Rowle tried to scramble to his feet. At the same moment Angelina pushed herself upright. She, Katie and Ginny thrust their wands towards Rowle.
‘Stupefy!’ the three girls cried simultaneously.
His wand shot into the air. Rowle managed no more than a hate-filled glare at Harry before the three stunning spells hit him in the face and sent him cartwheeling backwards into a huge old chestnut tree. Alicia and Lee had by now regained their feet. They all advanced cautiously on the prone form of Thorfinn Rowle. Ginny, meanwhile, moved quickly towards her now stirring brother.
The combat over, Harry did not bother to catch Rowle’s wand and instead looked quickly around to reassess the other combats. Hannah and Justin were busy binding the Hufflepuffs’ opponent. Neville, Ernie and Susan had joined the Ravenclaws. Their new opponent, who had been struggling to defend himself against five attackers, was immediately overwhelmed by the additional spellpower. He collapsed under their onslaught of spells.
Anthony and Michael moved forwards to restrain their fallen foe. As if by agreement the others turned and advanced on the only Death Eater still standing, the one whose cloak Harry had removed. The skeletal, wild haired woman was still shrieking ‘Mudblood scum’ and continued to concentrate on hexing Hermione and Dean.
‘Gertrude Green,’ gasped Cho in surprise as she, Terry and Luna advanced on the emaciated witch. Harry recognised the name. Green had been placed in charge of Magical Law Enforcement by Thicknesse.
‘Surrender,’ Harry shouted.
‘Potter,’ she screamed.
Diverted by Harry’s shout she whirled around to face him, turning her back on her opponents. She raised her wand and prepared to attack him.
‘Avad …’ was all she managed before she was floored by a combination of stunning spells and full body bind curses, streaking at her from eleven wands. The force of the hexes hurled her from the top of the tomb. Harry, who had silently cast Expelliarmus while she was turning, caught her flying wand as she, too, flew through the air. The crunching sound of her unconscious body smacking heavily into the gravel path signalled the sudden end of the surprisingly short conflict.
The silence that fell over the cemetery was instantly broken by Ginny’s shouts of:
‘Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem! Damn! Harry!’
‘George?’ Harry shouted. He removed his shield spell, which Ginny had been unable to break through. When his spell vanished, Ginny stumbled angrily towards her slowly stirring brother.
‘He’s okay,’ she snarled incandescently when she reached George, ‘he’s just been stunned. But Mum will kill him, if I don’t do it first!’
George groaned and tried to stand. Ginny kicked her brother hard on the thigh before holding out her hands to help him to his feet.
Harry checked the graveyard, Terry and Justin each had two wands, and were levitating the stunned bodies of their opponents towards him, Ernie was doing the same to the woman who had been last to fall. Hermione was hugging Ron tightly, weeping. Dean was bleeding from a gash to his face. Parvati was bleeding from a leg wound. The white sari she was wearing was torn and covered in blood.
‘Get all four of them together and bind them.’ Harry ordered, moving towards his injured friends.
‘No need for this one,’ gasped Angelina, rolling the body of Thorfinn Rowle over. ‘He’s landed on his knife.’
‘That’s odd,’ Angelina continued, ‘there’s no blood. There doesn’t even appear to be a wound.’ She reached towards the dagger.
‘NO!’ shouted Harry, Angelina stopped instantly and looked up curiously as Harry sprinted anxiously towards her.
Harry arrived panting at Angelina’s side and examined the corpse cautiously. She was correct; there was no sign of a wound.
‘How was he lying?’ Harry asked. Angelina looked at him blankly.
Before you moved him,’ Harry explained, ‘how was he lying? Where was the dagger?’
‘Under his hand,’ Angelina replied, ‘I’m pretty sure it was under his hand.’
Harry nodded grimly, ‘the dagger could be cursed.’
Angelina stepped quickly away from the body.
‘I really need a dark detector,’ he muttered to himself. He cast a shield spell around the dead Death Eater and his dagger. He’d decide how to move him soon; first he needed to make sure that everyone was all right.
He again surveyed the cemetery. The three unconscious Death Eaters were being tightly bound by Neville, Luna and Ernie. George was on his feet, but was cowering from his little sister. Ginny was so obviously and explosively angry that Harry expected to see sparks shooting from her eyes. He had never seen his girlfriend furiously aflame like this before; she was magnificent, elemental, terrifying. Harry could not hear what Ginny was saying to her brother. She had, he realised, used a Muffliato spell to keep their conversation private. He decided to leave her to it.
Terry, Anthony and Susan were repairing the broken tombstone and tidying up the aftermath of the short fight. Luna, for some reason, had wandered off by herself and was examining Colin’s gravestone.
Harry strode over to the largest cluster of people, his former classmates.
‘How is everyone?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine now,’ Dean replied as Hannah Abbott lowered her wand from his face, ‘thanks, Hannah.’
‘Has anyone got any dittany? Padma asked, looking up from her examination of her sister’s leg, ‘I can’t get this wound to close properly.
Hannah pulled a small vial from her shoulder bag and hurried over to the twins.
‘Here,’ she offered Padma the vial.
‘You do it, please,’ Padma asked, ‘my hands are shaking.’
Hannah smiled cheerfully and carefully dropped some Dittany on the wound, which closed instantly.
‘I’ve never been any good with household spells,’ Parvati began hopefully, holding up a torn and bloody length of sari.
‘Sit still please, Parvati,’ requested Hannah, ‘blood on white cotton is difficult. Why are you wearing white?’
‘It is the traditional colour of mourning,’ Padma told Hannah, while Hannah slowly and carefully cleaned and repaired Parvati’s sari.
‘We asked Colin’s parents,’ Parvati added, ‘we would have worn black if they had requested it.’
Satisfying himself that everyone else was unhurt, Harry approached Ron and Hermione.
‘Bloody George,’ said Ron by way of greeting, as he watched his sister berating his brother, ‘it looks like Ginny’s giving him hell.’
‘I hope so,’ admitted Harry. ‘Are you two okay?’ He watched Hermione closely.
‘I’m tired of fighting, Harry,’ sighed Hermione, ‘will it ever end?’ She looked weary, worn and desperately sad. Harry put his arm around her shoulder, watching Ron carefully for his reaction. Ron simply nodded and, from the other side, slipped his arm around Hermione’s waist.
‘Yes,’ Harry assured her, ‘it will, I promise. These are the desperate acts of a few wanted criminals. I’m going to make certain that we catch them all.’
‘So am I,’ Ron added, ‘I promise, Hermione.’
Hermione smiled weakly, ‘I wasn’t of much use here, sorry, Harry.’
‘Hermione, you’ve helped me get out of trouble for seven years and you’ve saved my life I don’t know how many times.’ Harry released his friend and looked into her watery brown eyes. ‘Let me help you with your parents.’
‘Ron promised me that he wouldn’t tell anyone,’ Hermione frowned at her boyfriend.
‘Harry doesn’t count,’ Ron shrugged, ‘he never has. When you said don’t tell anyone I didn’t think that you meant “not even Harry”.’
‘And I’ve got no secrets from Ginny,’ Harry warned her, ‘you’d both better get used to that, too.’
Ron nodded. Hermione looked worriedly at Harry.
‘You’ve enough problems of your own, Harry,’ she told him, ‘you shouldn’t be bothering about mine.’
Harry shook his head.
‘No, I haven’t; I’ve got no problems at all, thanks to you two. I’ve got a house, a job, a girlfriend, money, and a lot of good friends,’ Harry smiled, ‘friends I want to help. But we need to be getting back. We’ll talk later, okay?’
Hermione twisted out of Ron’s grip, threw her arms around Harry’s waist and hugged him tightly. He was thankful that her hair was tied back.
‘Thanks, Harry,’ she smiled sadly.
Harry glanced over Hermione’s head at Ron; he was neither jealous nor hurt, he simply watched their exchange hopefully.
‘It’s just another problem for us to solve, Hermione,’ he assured her compassionately, ‘we can do it together. But, now you’d better let me go,’ he continued, gently disengaging her arms and handing them to Ron. ‘You might eventually make that boyfriend of yours jealous, and he’s bigger than me. Now let’s get back for this funeral.’
He turned to face the rest of Dumbledore’s Army and realised that they had been watching and waiting.
‘Neville, Luna, Ernie, would you mind guarding the prisoners?’ Harry asked, they agreed immediately, Harry thanked them and ordered; ‘Everyone else, remove the anti-apparition jinxes and get back to the Creeveys, now.’
‘Including you two,’ he told Ron and Hermione, ‘and well done everyone.’
‘Almost everyone,’ corrected Ginny sharply as she strode forwards; she was followed by a cowed and penitent George.
‘Er, sorry Harry, it won’t happen again,’ he muttered apologetically, unable to meet Harry’s eyes.
‘No,’ agreed Ginny forcefully, ‘it certainly will not.’ George jumped, terrified by the sound of her voice.
There were a series of cracks as most of the DA Disapparated. Harry looked at George. He had been going to shout at him; his impetuous and foolish act could have got someone killed. But Ginny’s brother looked so pathetic that he didn’t have the heart. Ginny, it appeared, had done the job for him.
Suddenly, there were several pops; Harry and the five remaining members of the DA raised their wands. A dozen navy blue robed Aurors appeared in the cemetery; alongside them stood the Minister for Magic, who was wearing a sober black Muggle suit and a black tie.
The two groups looked at each other warily.
‘What was the last thing we talked about at the Burrow?’ Harry asked the Minister, his wand pointed at Kingsley’s chest.
‘You will make a very good Auror, Harry,’ Kingsley replied. Harry kept his wand trained on the Minister, though Kingsley lowered his own wand.
‘But I haven’t answered your question, and I’m making you suspicious.’ Kingsley observed, ‘you surprised me by suggesting goblins as Azkaban guards.’
Harry lowered his wand.
‘Now,’ the Minister continued, ‘perhaps you would explain why you disobeyed my direct order.’
‘We were already here,’ Harry tried to lie. Unfortunately, he was unable to meet the Minister’s steady gaze when he spoke; Kingsley looked disappointedly at Harry.
‘Harry didn’t,’ George admitted, stepping between Harry and Kingsley, ‘I did. I wanted to fight Death Eaters. Everyone else followed me; they risked their lives to save mine.’
George paused, looking regretfully at the Minister.
‘Because they thought it was worth saving,’ suggested Kingsley.
‘I’ve told George that Mum does not need to know,’ Ginny said, ‘she’d only worry.’
Kingsley nodded.
‘My message was too late you say, Harry?’ he rumbled, ‘Oh well, you and your friends seem to have dealt with matters anyway. The Aurors can clean up here. You had best get back to the Creevey house. It must be time for the cars to arrive.’
Harry smiled his thanks, and handed Kingsley the four wands removed from the Death Eaters. The Aurors began checking the prisoners. One, the short plump witch Harry had seen in the entrance hall at Hogwarts a week ago, was approaching the body of Thorfinn Rowle.
‘Philippa,’ Harry called, ‘I think that knife might be cursed. He’s dead, and I don’t know how. We think he fell on the knife he was carrying. I shielded the body as a precaution.’ Harry dismissed his shield. Philippa smiled her thanks and approached the body very cautiously, her wand outstretched. The remaining Aurors looked at Harry with some respect.
‘If someone can take Williamson to the Creevey house,’ Kingsley ordered, ‘we’ll collect Miss Skeeter, too.’
‘You’ll need to …’ Harry began.
‘We’ll place an anti-apparition jinx over the entire area, and I’ll station the Aurors around the cemetery,’ Kingsley interrupted. He was beginning to sound slightly annoyed.
Embarrassed, Harry decided not to try to give more orders to the Minister and the Aurors.
‘It really is time for you to leave, Harry,’ said Kingsley. ‘You will be back here very soon.’
Neville, Luna and Ernie vanished immediately; leaving their prisoners to the Aurors.
A tall blonde ponytailed Auror, who Harry recognised as Williamson, strode towards him. Harry was almost knocked off his feet by Ginny, who dashed past Williamson and launched herself at him.
‘Find a different ride,’ Ginny told Williamson, ‘this one’s mine.’ She threw one hand over Harry’s shoulder, slid the other around his back and pulled him close.
‘Come with me,’ George offered Williamson, grinning. The pony-tailed Auror grabbed George’s arm and they Disapparated.
‘Let’s go, Harry,’ whispered Ginny, ‘and well done.’ He slipped an arm around her slender waist, quickly kissed her, and they left.
On their arrival back in the Creeveys' garden Harry and Ginny were surprised to find it shrouded in a thick mist. Both reached for their wands.
‘He’s here,’ Harry heard Neville call. A sudden wind blew up, quickly clearing the mist and revealing garden full of people.
Harry removed his arm from around Ginny’s waist and looked around the garden. Luna, he noticed, had lifted her long skirt up to her knees and was in the act of shoving her wand down a colourfully striped sock. He hastily stowed his own wand in his jacket pocket. Neville, Ernie and Ginny were also hastily putting wands away, Ginny sliding hers into her boot. There were, he noticed, several Muggles in the garden; all of whom were expressing astonishment at the speed at which the mist had lifted.
Harry took Ginny’s hand and looked for George. He was standing alone and wearing a hangdog expression. He looked frightened when they approached.
‘Williamson?’ asked Harry simply.
‘Arrived, picked up Skeeter, and left; very efficient,’ replied George.
‘I’ve had more than enough excitement this afternoon, George,’ said Harry mildly, watching Ginny’s brother carefully; ‘can we keep things calm from now on?’
George nodded and looked warily at his sister before replying, ‘Sorry, mate, I got a bit over-excited.’
‘Yes, you did,’ Ginny confirmed, ‘and very stupid, too. Now off you go. Let Lee, Alicia, Katie and Angelina tell you off, too, you deserve it.’
George still looked downcast, but he obediently trudged over to his friends. Harry looked down at Ginny and gazed admiringly into her brown eyes.
‘You were brilliant,’ he told her. They smiled at each other, and then both remembered the one DA member left behind–again.
‘Dennis,’ they said together and began looking around the garden.
Harry saw him first. He was sitting, disconsolate and alone, on the steps leading from the kitchen.
‘I’m sure that there weren’t this many youngsters here when that mist sprang up,’ muttered an elderly Muggle as Harry and Ginny strode through the garden towards Dennis, ‘and what on earth were those pops and bangs?’
Lavender, Seamus and Leanne were on the patio, watching Harry approach.
‘The house was filling up,’ Seamus whispered, ‘and we couldn’t keep the Muggles inside any longer. The mist was Lavender’s idea. She’s really good with weather charms,’ he added admiringly.
Harry noticed the way Seamus was looking at Lavender. That was something else to ask Ginny about later.
‘Good thinking,’ he congratulated Lavender. When he caught her eyes he glanced towards Dennis. Lavender nodded sadly and mimed wiping a tear from her eye. Harry anxiously approached Dennis and crouched down to look at him. Colin’s brother had certainly been crying.
‘Dennis,’ Harry began, but Dennis Creevey interrupted.
‘I know! You had to go! Ginny knew what to do, but I didn’t; so I got left behind! Again! Perhaps you should take this,’ he thrust a DA galleon at Harry.
‘Dennis,’ Harry said, refusing to accept the galleon, ‘you found that photo for us, it was a great help for planning, and no-one asked you to do that. You used your initiative. You’re clever and resourceful. You’re one of us.’
‘He was a great help here, Harry,’ Lavender added, she and Seamus had followed Harry and Ginny along the patio. ‘He Disillusioned Skeeter before any of the Muggles saw her.’
Harry stood and reached out a hand to Dennis, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. When he stood, Ginny hugged him.
‘You can’t resign from this club,’ Ginny assured him, ‘the only way out is if you betray us, like Marietta; or if you’re a coward and a fake; and you’re neither.’
Harry was puzzled. Ginny noticed and smiled grimly.
‘You haven’t even missed him, have you?’ she asked.
‘Who?’ Harry enquired.
‘Zacharias Smith,’ Lavender and Ginny spoke the name together.
‘Neville, Luna and I were worried about him during the first term last year,’ Ginny explained. ‘The smarmy little oik suddenly became very keen on the DA; he wanted to know everything about us. He was especially keen to know whether we knew where you were.’
‘You weren’t the only ones worried about him,’ Seamus added.
‘There were a few times when I saw him talking to Malfoy,’ he explained to Harry.
‘Two arrogant and cowardly little creeps out of favour with the groups they’d joined,’ Ginny observed wryly, ‘they had a lot in common. Neville, Luna and I talked about him. Nev decided that the Hufflepuffs should sort Smith out themselves; he had a word with Ernie and Susan and they agreed. Ernie never really told us what happened, but about a week before the Christmas holidays Ernie and Susan turned up to a DA meeting with Zacharias’s galleon and told us that he’d resigned,’ Ginny continued.
‘He was one of the first to scarper last week,’ Harry recalled.
‘I never trusted him,’ Ginny admitted.
‘He was a lousy Quidditch commentator, too,’ Dennis added.
‘Yes, Luna was much better,’ Harry agreed.
Dennis and Seamus snorted with laughter.
‘Everyone! The cars are here,’ Mr Creevey called from the kitchen door. Dennis and Seamus quickly shut up. They were embarrassed to be caught laughing moments before the funeral.
Ginny smiled sadly up at Harry. This was why they were here. The events of the past half hour had made them forget, for a few minutes, what lay ahead. She squeezed his hand.
‘You’ll be fine, Harry,’ she assured him, ‘have you decided what you’ll be saying at the graveside?’
His face fell.
Chapter 12: Funereal Progress
Author's Notes:
Dedication:This comes a little late in the day.
I’d like to dedicate this story to Hannah, aka ginnyweasley777 who read the earliest version of this story after we entered a discussion on a different site.
Without Hannah, I’d never have found SIYE. Without her encouragement after I sent her some early drafts I’d probably never have submitted this story.
From memory, Hannah saw drafts of the first ten chapters, so now she is just another reader.
Thanks Hannah. With the last three chapters (13-15) close to compIetion, I hope that you enjoy the end of the tale.
Neil
Thanks: as always to Andrea and Amelíe for their comments, corrections and input. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
12: Funereal Progress
Harry had no time to think. A dark suited undertaker stepped into the Creeveys’ garden and called his name. When he identified himself he was politely but firmly separated from Ginny and ushered through the house and into the street. Ten cars were parked along the road outside the Creeveys’ house. Harry was escorted to the car directly behind the hearse, where he joined the other pall-bearers and the Creeveys. Colin’s immediate family sat in the back seats; he sat alongside Justin and Jack, in the central row of seats. They sat in nervous silence, listening to Mrs Creevey weeping while the other cars were filled.
The cortege moved off down the narrow street and onto the main road following the hearse in a slow procession. As they rode, Harry thought about Colin. As Ginny had reminded him, he’d need to say something when he put the galleon onto the gravestone. But what could he say? Why hadn’t he thought about this earlier? Why had he said yes to Luna? She was so much better at this sort of thing than he was. Fretting over the duties he had to perform, he wished that Ginny was sitting next to him.
As they drove along the quiet streets people stopped and respectfully watched the procession pass. The cars passed slowly through a small marketplace. A war memorial and an old stone building stood at its centre. A white plastic sign, looking out of place on the weathered stone, identified the building as a “Public Library”. The buildings along the route through the centre of the village were stone built and slate roofed. The long-gardened brick built Victorian terraced house they had just left was modern in comparison.
The cortege left the marketplace and, after a few hundred yards, turned right up a very narrow lane. An old stone terrace stood on one side of the street; the small front gardens of these houses were a riot of colour. High stone walls lined the other side of the street. The cars stopped. They stretched almost the entire length of the lane, completely blocking it. The journey had taken little more than five minutes.
A small lichgate of weathered black oak stood at the end of the lane. Its oak shingle roof was green with moss and lichen. The Rector, his curate and the verger stood attentively on one side of the gate; on the other stood Kingsley Shacklebolt and Professor McGonagall. The Headmistress wore an extremely old fashioned looking high collared black dress. Just inside the gate were over two dozen soberly dressed Muggles, several were youths of Colin’s age.
The weathered grey stone church stood some sixty feet beyond the gate. The graveyard, the location of the recent combat, was out of sight on the other side of the church, overlooking the fields and hills.
The funeral director opened the car doors and discretely took charge. Harry soon found himself standing behind Dennis Creevey, and alongside Jack Sloper, shouldering the weight of the coffin. Jack, Justin and Harry were all about the same height, the coffin rested easily on their shoulders. Dennis supported his corner of the load with an upstretched arm. An undertaker stood in front, another behind and two more were alongside. Harry was astonished at how light his burden was.
The combination of fierce concentration on the job he had to do, and worry about the speech he would have to make, completely unprepared, meant that for Harry the service itself was over quickly. He paid little attention to the Rector’s words; though from those few he caught, it seemed that the man must have known Colin.
Little Colin, who’d survived a basilisk attack in his first year, was dead; gone. Harry would never again hear him call “All right, Harry”; never again be pestered by his constant questions and camera flashes. What had he done to deserve such loyalty from Colin, or from anyone in the DA? He was in tears as he stood next to the open grave with the other pall-bearers, watching the coffin being lowered into the ground. As he stepped away from the graveside to rejoin the mourners he felt Ginny’s hand slip into his own. Her presence calmed and relaxed him. He wiped his eyes, hearing only snatches of Professor McGonagall’s words of praise for Colin. He was vaguely aware of Mrs Creevey, and many others, weeping around him. Professor McGonagall was having difficulty in finishing her speech.
‘I understand that one of the students would also like to say a few words,’ Professor McGonagall announced in conclusion, ‘Mr Potter.’
Harry roused himself from his thoughts with a start. Ginny squeezed his hand tightly then released him. He stepped forwards and walked up to stand alongside the Rector, into the space vacated by Minerva McGonagall.
‘Just take your time, lad,’ the Rector murmured, ‘if you want to stop, that’s fine. I can take over for you.’
Harry smiled gratefully at the middle-aged Muggle before turning to face the mourners.
‘Colin Creevey was in the year below me,’ he began, ‘I have been trying to think of a way to describe him. One word describes Colin; enthusiastic. Colin, it seemed to me, was enthusiastic about almost everything: sport, photography, his school lessons, and his friends. Colin was prepared to do anything, prepared to help anyone. He was our housemate, our classmate, our friend.’
‘Almost three years ago, a group of students formed a …’ Harry hesitated, ‘… a study group. We thought that we needed extra tutoring in one subject, so we met regularly to help each other learn.’ The DA and Professor McGonagall smiled sorrowfully at Harry’s carefully chosen words.
‘Colin, and his brother Dennis, were among the youngest of us.’ Harry continued, he paused; he’d lost his train of thought. He tried again, before the Rector intervened. ‘We are here to salute brave, enthusiastic Colin; who always wanted to help others; who always tried to help others; who gave his life to help others. He wanted to make the world a better place, but he isn’t here to enjoy it with us. We can never repay our debt to him.’ Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his carefully folded handkerchief.
‘One of our group, Hermione,’ out of the corner of his eye Harry saw her start at his mention of her name, ‘made us tokens, membership medals she’d created herself.’
‘Colin’s is here,’ Harry raised his handkerchief and stepped forward to the gravestone. There was a neat, galleon-sized indentation in it. Thank you, Luna, he thought, suddenly realising what she’d been doing at the graveside after the combat. He pulled the galleon from the handkerchief and Colin’s picture burst out.
‘Luna, a remarkable source of wisdom,’ Luna looked surprised, whether at his mention of her name, or his description of her, Harry was unsure, ‘suggested that Colin’s stay with him, stay here.’
Keeping one hand in his jacket, holding his wand, he bent forwards and carefully pushed the galleon into the hole. He tried to discretely cast a permanent sticking charm on it. The hairs on his hand and arm stood up as he did so. It seemed to Harry that every witch and wizard in the cemetery was also surreptitiously casting the charm.
‘Goodbye, Colin,’ Harry said; his voice catching in his throat. He stepped back, away from the graveside. Ginny stepped forwards and touched the galleon.
‘I’ll miss you, Colin,’ she said. She then stepped back and took Harry’s hand.
‘You were brilliant,’ she whispered, hugging him tearfully.
Behind her, one after another, every member of Dumbledore’s Army stepped forwards to touch the golden galleon. Lavender, who could not reach the galleon from her wheelchair, was lifted out of it by Seamus and Dean and gently carried to the gravestone.
The last member of the DA, Luna, finally stepped up, touched the galleon and spoke loudly and clearly.
‘You were a very nice boy, Colin. You never teased me and you always tried to help.’
As if by agreement, Colin’s year group waited until Luna had finished before following. The last of the students was a distraught Fenella Gray, who left the graveside sobbing uncontrollably. Fenella was being supported by Jack Sloper and the round-faced girl. When this final personal act of remembrance was over, the Rector brought the service to a close and began moving among the grieving relatives. He went first to speak to Mr and Mrs Creevey. Harry, hand in hand with Ginny, looked around the graveyard, silently watching the mourners, taking in the scene.
‘Mr Potter, Miss Weasley,’ a clipped voice rang out; Professor McGonagall strode towards them, wiping her eyes. ‘Well done Mr Potter, very well done.’
‘I’m glad to see that you have begun to embrace life again,’ she continued, smiling benignly at them.
‘Thank you, Professor,’ Harry mumbled.
‘Thanks Professor,’ Ginny smiled sadly.
‘I have already apologised to Mr and Mrs Creevey and made my farewells,’ the Professor continued. ‘I will not be attending the supper. I really must be getting back to Hogwarts. There is so much to be done if we are to re-open on the first of September. I will, of course, see you at tomorrow’s funerals. Look after yourselves.’ She gave them a polite nod, turned, and strode away from the graveside.
As Harry watched Professor McGonagall leave he noticed a photographer standing next to the church. Thinking back to their arrival he realised that the photographer had been there, too. Harry sought out someone to ask. Mr and Mrs Creevey and Dennis were surrounded by relatives. Dennis was crying unashamedly. He was being consoled by an elderly couple. Through his tears Dennis saw them and beckoned them over. Before Harry could ask about the photographer, Dennis spoke.
‘This is my Nan and Granddad Creevey,’ he sniffed. The elderly man was short, stooped, and weather-beaten, his wife thin and bird-like. They each shook Harry’s hand.
‘You spoke well, lad,’ the old man said, ‘were you a good friend of Colin’s?’
‘Not as good as I should have been,’ Harry admitted sadly.
‘Colin was in my year, not Harry’s,’ Ginny told Dennis’s grandparents. She began telling them her memories, stories about Colin that Harry had never heard. She was a much better talker than he was. Grateful for her presence, Harry listened to her in admiration.
‘It looks like we’re going to the Hall,’ Dennis observed. Harry followed Dennis’ gaze. Everyone was gathering outside the church, preparing to leave. Harry and Ginny joined the throng and found themselves behind Colin’s grandparents, parents and Dennis walking down the narrow path to the lichgate. Harry looked at it with interest. The path was narrow, uneven and flanked by dozens of ancient, lichen covered and weathered gravestones. Many dated back to the seventeenth century.
He had no recollection of walking this route, carrying Colin to his grave. He had been distracted, grieving, concentrating; they all had. If they hadn’t found and fought them, the Death Eaters could have killed several people, dozens probably, and Apparated away. He shuddered at the thought.
Harry realised that he’d arrived at his destination when Ginny pulled him to a halt outside an old stone public hall; Frosthope Church Masonic Hall, according to the sign above the door.
‘What are you worrying about now, Harry?’ Ginny whispered as they climbed the steps into the hall.
‘The ambush,’ Harry replied, ‘a Death Eater attack in that cemetery would have been devastating if it had succeeded.’
‘But it didn’t, because of you.’
‘Because of the DA,’ Harry corrected.
‘Who knew exactly what to do, because of you,’ Ginny told him forcefully. Harry smiled at her; she was determined to give him the credit, although everyone else had fought bravely, too. He ushered her up two steps to the door to the hall.
They entered a small foyer, from which open double doors led into a large hall. Inside were several tables laden with an impressive cold buffet. There were thick cut home-cured hams, slices of cold roast beef, pies, pickles, chutneys and salads. At the far end of the hall was a large hatch through to a kitchen. Two matronly ladies were pouring cups of tea and setting them on trays.
Mr Creevey stepped forwards to stand next to the hatch. He looked nervous. As the room filled the murmurs of conversation subsided, there was an expectant silence.
‘My wife, Dennis, and I,’ Mr Creevey began, ‘would like to thank you all for coming. For paying your respects …’ He stopped, weeping, unable to continue. Dennis stepped alongside his father and put an arm around his shoulder.
‘… for paying your respects to Colin, my brother. There’s food and drinks, please help yourselves and remember Colin,’ Dennis took over from his father, ‘remember my not very big brother.’
An embarrassed and disorderly queue formed for tea. No one wanted to be first. A low, nervous mutter of conversation rose and filled the hall.
‘Shall we get some food?’ Ginny asked.
‘You go, I want to ask Dennis something,’ Harry told her, noticing that Colin’s brother was standing alone and hurrying over to speak to him.
‘I was surprised to see a photographer at the funeral, Dennis,’ observed Harry.
‘It was someone from the Weresdale Mercury,’ Dennis explained, ‘the local paper. It was news when Colin went to … got his scholarship … and when I got mine. Everyone here just goes to Frosthope Secondary. The paper phoned and asked. Mam and Dad said it would be okay. We wanted people to remember Colin. That’s all right, isn’t it?’
‘It’s fine, Dennis,’ nodded Harry, his concern’s assuaged. He had no problems with the Muggle press.
‘Ginny’s got some food for you,’ Dennis nodded towards Ginny, who was now standing with Fenella and Luna. She had collected two plates of ham, beef, green salad, potato salad, pickles and some buttered baps. Harry excused himself and went to join them. After thanking Ginny, and taking a bite of ham, Harry turned to Fenella.
‘What we talked about … before,’ he asked the Slytherin girl, ‘the photographic equipment you got for Colin, can I tell people, or do you want it kept quiet?’
‘Who … who would you tell?’ stuttered Fenella. She was slouching again, trying to be smaller than him. Luna listened to the conversation curiously, staring at both Harry and Fenella.
‘The DA,’ Harry told her, ‘and Kingsley. If I ask them to say nothing to anyone else, it will remain a secret, I guarantee it.’
‘Ginny’s small, you’re not,’ Luna interrupted, ‘you should stand up straight and be happy with who you are. You’re really quite striking, you know.’ Fenella slumped even further at Luna’s observation, her mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. There was the usual embarrassed silence which followed one of Luna’s more personal and pertinent observations. Harry took pity on the Slytherin girl.
‘Luna has the gift of forthright honesty,’ he smiled apologetically at Fenella, ‘you should listen to her.’
‘Can I tell people?’ he asked again. ‘Most of the DA will want to thank you.’
‘My … my father will … will kill me if he finds out,’ Fenella stammered as she slowly straightened her body and knees. She wasn’t as tall as Ron, or Terry, not quite.
‘I doubt it,’ Ginny said, ‘having a family member who helped defeat Voldemort-’
‘Tom Riddle,’ Harry interrupted. Ginny shrugged, Fenella had blanched at Ginny’s casual mention of the name.
‘… defeat Tom Riddle,’ Ginny continued, ‘will probably be enough to keep at least two Death Eaters out of Azkaban.’
‘My father was not a Death Eater …’ Fenella began softly, her voice little more than a whisper, ‘… he worked for the Chief Secretary to the Minister, Madam Umbridge. A few weeks before term started he told me about her plans for a Muggleborn Registration Commission, her plan to round up Muggleborns and confiscate their wands. Colin was my friend. All I did was send an owl to warn him. He contacted me later, during term time. I bought developing potions and sent them to him. At Christmas I…’ her already quiet voice dropped in volume so much that Harry had to strain his ears to hear her, ‘… borrowed some official Ministry stationary from my father and sent it to Colin. I’m not brave like you, Mr Potter, I just tried to help my friend from the camera club, and now he’s dead.’
‘You saved lives by helping Colin,’ Harry told her, ‘people should know; his friends and family should know.’
‘Tell them,’ Fenella agreed, suddenly determined. She stood tall. Luna was right, Harry realised; while she wasn’t beautiful, when she stood up straight, Fenella Gray was neither as frumpy, nor as plain as he’d first thought.
Harry and Ginny left Fenella with Luna and sought out Justin. The four Hufflepuffs were standing together, so Harry told them all. Hannah and Justin immediately walked over to thank Fenella. Both hugged her, to the girl’s obvious embarrassment.
‘Let the others know,’ Harry asked Ernie and Susan, ‘We’ll tell Kingsley.’
They found the Minister talking to Mr and Mrs Creevey. Harry waited politely at one side; he did not want to interrupt.
‘Fenella’s got lots of friends now,’ Ginny observed. Sure enough, several members of the DA were surrounding the tall Slytherin girl, including a smiling Leanne Cowper.
‘Did you want to speak to me, Harry?’ Kingsley asked. Harry nodded, and passed the information on to Kingsley and the Creeveys, too.
‘That explains the sudden popularity of Abraxus Grey’s daughter,’ Kingsley said. ‘He’s currently under investigation for his involvement in the Muggleborn Registration Commission. I wonder if she could convince him to co-operate with us. A lot of their files appear to have gone missing.’
‘I have some news for you, too, Harry,’ Kingsley continued. He led Harry and Ginny away from the Creeveys and lowered his voice, ‘Miss Skeeter has already told us to whom she sent a copy of the funeral information. I ordered Robards to organise a raid. It should be happening as we speak.’
‘Now?’ Harry was disappointed.
‘’You can’t do everything yourself, Harry,’ advised Kingsley. Ginny nodded in agreement.
‘And you don’t have to, not any longer,’ she added.
The noise level in the hall was slowly rising. People were splitting up into groups, talking, gossiping and catching up on news. Harry and Ginny left the Minister and walked around the room hand in hand, trying to talk to everyone. They had just left Terry Boot and Susan Bones, both of whom were very interested in a career in the Auror office when Katie Bell approached them. She was being watched by Lee and Alicia. All three looked nervous. Alicia was holding Lee’s hand.
‘Leanne and I have set up a charity,’ Katie began, ‘the Society for the Assistance of Muggleborns. I’m asking everyone in the DA for a donation. I was going to ask you, Harry, until I heard what you said to Skeeter. The amount you asked her for, five thousand Galleons, was donated anonymously on Monday.’ Katie watched Harry carefully, so did Ginny.
‘Presumably the donor didn’t want anyone to know who he was,’ said Harry. Carefully not looking at either girl but concentrating his gaze at a nail in the wooden floor.
‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ Ginny asked. He looked at her nervously, glanced around the room, and nodded.
‘Don’t tell anyone,’ he begged.
‘You’re crazy, Harry,’ Katie said, ‘but thank you,’ she kissed his cheek. ‘That one donation more than doubled our funds; I don’t suppose you would like to be our patron?’
Harry was stunned at the suggestion; confused, he looked at Ginny.
‘It would help you a lot, wouldn’t it?’ Ginny asked Katie.
‘Definitely,’ Katie replied, ‘it would raise our income from donations if we could just put your name on our letters, Harry.’
‘I don’t want to make lots of personal appearances,’ he mumbled, ‘Okay?’
Katie hugged him and kissed him again.
‘Three kisses in one day,’ noted Ginny acidly. Katie began to apologise; then saw the mischief in Ginny’s eyes. She looked nervously at Harry, took a deep breath and asked:
‘What you told Skeeter … the interview, would you do that, too?’
‘I’d rather it was someone other than Rita Skeeter,’ Harry admitted, ‘but I meant what I said.’
‘What about being interviewed by Lee?’ Katie asked, motioning for Lee and Alicia to approach.
‘I, er, don’t suppose you heard of a pirate wireless programme called PotterWatch, Harry,’ Lee began.
‘I only managed to hear it once,’ Harry told him. ‘You did a good job, Lee.’
‘Alicia did it really, she’s the technical expert, I just talk,’ said Lee modestly. ‘We’ve been offered work by the Wizarding Wireless Network. I’m getting my own show next month. I’d like my first show to be the last PotterWatch, too. If I can persuade the network to pay Katie’s charity the money you asked for, would you let me interview you?’
Harry looked at the hopeful faces surrounding him. Katie would get another large donation, Lee would be able to start his broadcast career in style, Ginny was nodding enthusiastically. He was trapped, but he didn’t really mind.
‘Okay,’ he sighed, ‘just let me know when.’
It looked like Lee and Katie were about to whoop with joy.
‘We’re at a funeral,’ Alicia hissed, Lee smiled and hugged her.
‘She keeps me straight. Every bloke needs someone like that,’ he said.
‘Not Harry,’ corrected Ginny, ‘he needs someone to lead him astray.’
Harry quickly agreed details of the interview with Lee. When they had finished, Ginny nodded towards a quiet corner of the room. Ron and Hermione were the only ones there; it was obvious from their stance that they were arguing.
‘We’d better go,’ Ginny said. She grabbed Harry’s hand and they approached Ron and Hermione in trepidation.
‘I promised them, no magic …’ Hermione was hissing when they approached. She glared at Ron and then at Harry.
‘Hermione, I want to help,’ Harry began.
‘We want to help,’ corrected Ginny.
‘You don’t understand, Harry,’ Hermione sobbed, ‘my parents hate me for what I did.’
‘I’m sure they don’t,’ said Ginny reasonably, ‘they may be disappointed in you, angry even, but they’re your parents, they love you anyway. Mum and Dad never stopped loving Perce.’
‘Amazing really, seeing that he’s such a prat,’ observed Ron, ‘He...’
His sister gave him what Harry thought of as her “Molly” glare. Ron immediately shut up.
‘I can understand why they’re upset,’ said Harry. ‘What you did was wrong, wasn’t it? You know that now.’
Hermione, her pale face now red and blotchy from crying, nodded sadly.
‘I don’t see the problem,’ Ron grumbled, ‘it’s not like she imperiused them, is it?’
‘It is, Ron, that’s exactly the point,’ explained Harry. ‘The imperious curse forces people to do something that they would not normally do. What Hermione did…’
Ron was thunderstruck, ‘… forced her Mum and Dad to do something they didn’t want to do,’ he finished Harry’s sentence for him. Ron looked compassionately at his girlfriend; she threw herself into his arms. ‘I never thought of it that way before. Neither did you; did you Hermione? At least, not until after we’d found your parents.’
‘They’re right, I brainwashed them,’ she sobbed into Ron’s chest.
‘We’ll help, Hermione,’ Harry promised.
‘How?’ she cried, ‘what can you do? This is a family problem, you can’t interfere.’
‘You’re right, it is a family problem,’ Harry told her, ‘but we’re your family, too. So are Mr and Mrs Weasley, we need to talk to them.’
‘But…’ Hermione began
‘Harry’s right,’ interrupted Ron, ‘Mum and Dad will help, after tomorrow.’
‘And after tomorrow,’ Ginny added, hugging her friend, ‘Mum will want to keep busy. We’ll talk to them tomorrow night, okay?’
‘But…’ Hermione tried again.
‘They’re your family, too, Hermione,’ Ron told her, ‘they will help.’
They were still formulating their plans at seven o’clock, when a bus arrived to take Colin’s classmates back up the dale; to the barn where Portkeys had been provided to take them home. Kingsley had been gone for over an hour but Harry knew, because he’d checked with the Minister before he’d left, that there were still at least six Aurors guarding the hall.
Harry made a point of saying goodbye to Fenella Gray as she left for the bus. He asked her, as he was certain that Kingsley had already done, to try to persuade her father to help the enquiry into the Muggleborn Registration Committee. Stuttering and apologising, Fenella mumbled a promise to try.
After watching the bus drive off, Dumbledore’s Army, too, prepared to leave. Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione watched their friends leave in twos and threes. Most walked up the lane and through the churchyard to find a secluded spot from which to Apparate.
The Hufflepuffs were the first to leave. They all left together, Hannah and Justin hand in hand. The majority of the Ravenclaws, all but Luna, followed. Cho ignored Ginny’s glare and gave Harry a goodbye kiss on his cheek.
‘You take care of yourself, Harry,’ Cho told him, brushing away a tear. ‘I’ll see you all again tomorrow morning. Your brother’s funeral is at ten, isn’t it?’ she asked Ron. When he nodded his confirmation she leaned forwards and kissed his cheek, too, ‘I’m so sorry for your loss, Ron, Ginny,’ she pulled out a handkerchief and was escorted out by Michael and Anthony, who nodded stiffly and formally before saying, ‘see you tomorrow.’
‘I’ll see you all at the funeral, too.’ said burly Terry Boot, who had waited until last, ‘Minister Shacklebolt has asked Susan and me to come in to meet Mr Robards in a week’s time. We could be joining you in Auror training soon, Harry. Let’s make sure that we stop anything like this ever happening again.’ He shook Harry’s hand firmly, then shook Ron’s, Ginny’s and Hermione’s, and followed his friends from the hall.
‘I want to be an Auror, too,’ Lavender Brown announced as she followed Terry towards the door. ‘But no-one has asked me, for some reason.’ She glared at Harry. Seamus Finnegan, who was pushing her wheelchair looked at her in disbelief.
‘You can’t,’ he told her, ‘not until you’re better.’
‘Don’t you dare tell me what I can or can’t do, Seamus Finnegan,’ Lavender snapped. ‘Terry’s right, we need to make sure this doesn’t happen again. I’m going to join the Auror office, or die trying. We’ll see you all tomorrow, bye.’
With that, Lavender left, followed by Seamus and the Patil twins who had quietly exchanged horrified glances at their friend’s outburst.
‘Scary, isn’t she,’ Ron muttered as they watched them leave. ‘Still, she’ll never be an Auror, I’m safe.’
‘I wouldn’t bet on it,’ observed Hermione.
‘Neither would I,’ Ginny agreed, ‘she’s a steel fist in a frilly pink lace glove, that one.’
Hermione smiled, the first real smile Harry had seen since she had returned from Australia, and agreed with Ginny.
Ron’s face fell, ‘The last thing I want is to end up working with her,’ he admitted, ‘still, she might never get better.’
‘Ron!’ Hermione was outraged. ‘Are you really hoping that she’ll be in a wheelchair for the rest of her life?’
Ron’s face fell, ‘No, not really,’ he looked ashamed of himself, ‘I just feel awkward whenever she’s around. If she did get into the Auror office I don’t think that I could work with her,’ he warned Harry.
Harry and his friends then took their turn to bid farewell to the Creeveys.
‘I’m coming to collect Dennis, tomorrow,’ George announced. He’d been standing talking to the Creeveys for some time, ‘to take him to Fred’s funeral. Take care of yourself, shrimp,’ he told Colin’s brother. ‘Remember, don’t do anything stupid. Be sensible, like me.’
Dennis managed a feeble smile in reply, ‘Good advice, George,’ he sniffed, ‘make sure that you follow it, too.’ They both burst into tears and hugged each other tightly. Harry found himself overcome, once again. He and his friends bade the Creeveys a tearful farewell. They followed Luna and Dean who were hand in hand. They all walked out from the hall and back up into the churchyard.
Safely out of sight from the Muggles, Dean released Luna’s hand, whispered goodbye, and leant forwards meaningfully. His attempt to kiss her failed. She appeared not to realise what he intended, waved to Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys shouted, ‘Bye, everyone,’ and Disapparated, leaving Dean stumbling forwards. George burst into howls of laughter.
‘Just grab her by the shoulders and plant one on her,’ George advised a discomfited and embarrassed Dean, ‘that’s what I did, yesterday.’
Dean looked at George in a mix of jealousy and horror. George took pity on him.
‘It didn’t work though; she still wouldn’t give me that potion recipe. C’mon kids, lets get back home.’
Chapter 13: Inhumations
Author's Notes:
Thanks (in alphabetical order to Amelíe, Andrea and Becca for their comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
Grave Notes: Hexworthy is a real place, on the edge of Dartmoor. My description, however, is entirely imaginary. I could not resist using the name. Highgate Cemetery is real, too. People as diverse as Douglas Adams, Karl Marx and Michael Faraday are buried there. If it has a wizards corner, I haven't found it.
13: Inhumations
Hexworthy’s Cemetery lay in a sheltered valley overlooking Dartmoor. Neat gravel paths criss-crossed their way between cropped grass and granite slabs. Standing on a hillside remote from Hexworthy village, the graveyard was surrounded by trees on three sides. The fourth, open, side presented a panorama across the moors.
The crowded cemetery contained more than a hundred people. Unlike yesterday’s Muggle funeral, today everyone wore formal robes. The mourners stood around awkwardly, waiting for the ceremony to begin. They stood in five distinct groups.
The largest group consisted mostly of redheads. They were the family, the Weasleys and Prewetts. Harry heard Aunt Muriel before he saw her. ‘So that’s Potter, is it?’ Her shrill voice carried clearly across to him. ‘He doesn’t look like much, does he?’
The Minister stood with the surviving members of the Order of the Phoenix, including Professor McGonagall. Dumbledore’s Army were all present. The chasers, Katie, Alicia and Angelina, were together as always. They were so distraught that they were hardly able to stand. Only Angelina was unaccompanied. Oliver Wood was holding Katie tightly. Lee held Alicia. There were many other former students; most of Fred’s year group had attended. Finally, there were a half-dozen people who Ginny identified as Fred and George’s employees.
Harry looked slowly around the cemetery. Most of the headstones surrounding the freshly dug grave bore the name Weasley. He was standing next to the graves of Bedivere Weasley and his wife Ysolde, both of whom had died over a century earlier.
He thought back to his one and only visit to his parents’ grave and wondered where his own grandparents, and their grandparents, were buried. He knew next to nothing about the Potters and, he thought ruefully, no more about the Evans despite spending the first eleven years of his life with one. He gazed morosely around the graveyard and saw nothing but tombstones and crypts. He shivered. Death was ever present, it was everywhere he looked.
A cool morning breeze gusted down from the moor, bringing with it the sweet sounds of birdsong and the muffled echoes of a herd of wild ponies. He looked up and out into the moorland. A kestrel hovered on quivering wingtips, watching the heather and waiting patiently. He returned his gaze to the graveside. A butterfly, an early cabbage white, fluttered frantically in the wind. It flew in front of the newest headstone, the stone marking what would soon become Fred’s final resting place. The butterfly’s bright white silhouette was in stark contrast to the grey granite slab. The sounds and sights reminded Harry that life, too, was ever present, ever changing, and everywhere he looked.
A tall grey-clad wizard gave a signal and the ceremony began. Harry heard tuts and hisses from several of the Weasley clan when Ginny joined her brothers to lift Fred’s coffin. The low, disapproving murmur was shushed almost as soon as it began, but not before it had affected Molly. Her head drooped and her knees buckled. Her husband whispered something in her ear and she stood straight and glared in the direction of the murmurs. Arthur and Harry glared, too.
As he watched the six surviving Weasley children carry their brother to his grave, tears coursed down Harry’s face. He did nothing to staunch their flow. He could not; he had a woman on each arm. He stood on Molly Weasley’s right, his left arm around her. His right arm was around a weeping Hermione who clung tightly to him, burying her head into his shoulder.
Arthur stood on Molly’s left. On Arthur’s left was Fleur. The black-robed, pale-skinned blonde stood sorrowful and silent, a monochrome vision of grief. She held her father-in-law’s arm tightly. Harry gripped Molly Weasley’s shoulder firmly as she determinedly watched her children. She was shaking with grief and sobbing loudly and uncontrollably. He could feel the tension in Arthur Weasley’s arm as he too supported his wife. Arthur was trying to be strong, but there was no doubting his anguish.
The coffin was lowered slowly into the ground and the Weasley siblings rejoined their parents. Harry released Molly. He and Hermione stepped to one side to allow the surviving Weasley children the opportunity to comfort their parents. They found themselves being dragged back into the family group.
‘You’re both part of this family, too,’ Arthur Weasley reminded them forcefully through his tears.
Harry barely heard the grey-clad wizard’s eulogy to Fred. He was concentrating on supporting Ginny, who was holding him in a painfully rib crushing hug and crying into his chest. He desperately tried to comfort his girlfriend. No-one should have to go through this. All killings were wrong; all killers must be stopped and brought to justice. As he looked at the grieving family, his few doubts about his chosen career vanished. He had been offered the Auror job simply because of who he was. He wasn’t certain that he deserved it, that he could do it. But he must make himself good enough. He must become an Auror.
When the wizard conducting the service finished speaking, George Weasley stepped nervously forwards.
‘I’ve heard people say that losing a brother is like losing a part of yourself,’ George began. ‘I can tell you that it’s worse.’ He moved his hand to the side of his head, where one ear was missing and grinned sorrowfully. No one laughed.
‘Fred was my twin, my friend and my business partner. I wanted to say something funny, something fitting … but I can’t. I can’t think of anything. We were always a double act, and I haven’t worked out how to perform solo yet.’ Molly gave a barking soul-wrenching sob at this admission.
‘Sorry, Fred, I miss you, mate.’ George stopped, sniffed, reached over the grave and pushed a galleon into the prepared hole in the stone. ‘All I can say is; goodbye, Fred, I’ll never forget you.’ He stepped back from the graveside and drew his wand. As one, Dumbledore’s Army followed suit and the galleon was attached to the gravestone by more than two dozen permanent sticking charms.
Ginny stepped forwards and was the first to touch the galleon. The photograph was of a headless young man in maroon robes. He doffed his hat, revealing a laughing Fred Weasley. Ginny grinned through her tears when she saw the image, and winked at Harry. Ron followed and he too left the graveside smiling.
Harry then led the rest of the DA forwards. After gently stroking the Galleon and whispering ‘Goodbye, Fred,’ he returned to Ginny’s side and watched the rest of Dumbledore’s Army file past. Lavender Brown dismissed all offers of help and determinedly levitated her wheelchair until she could reach the galleon unaided.
Once everyone had paid their last respects the grey-clad wizard who had performed the interment ceremony closed the remembrance service and replaced his pointed hat on his head. This was the signal that the funeral was over, that it was time to leave. Harry swallowed hard and looked at Dumbledore’s Army and the Weasley staff members. Most of them were as nervous as he was, but Ginny had assured them all that it would be all right. He pulled out a pointed hat, the DA followed his lead and together, they all solemnly placed headless hats on their heads.
‘Well, really,’ Aunt Muriel snapped. Arthur and Molly gasped. George looked startled for a second before bursting out into peals of almost manic laughter. Bill and Charlie, and even Percy laughed. Arthur and Molly were, unfortunately, incapable of laughter, but they smiled sadly.
‘You sods,’ George shouted as tears streamed down his face. Ginny pulled off her hat and ran to comfort her brother. The rest of the DA followed suit, removing the hats and moving forwards. Harry found himself swept up in the crowd surrounding George.
A whisper hissed its way through the throng. ‘Surround the grave, pass it on,’ Lee Jordan muttered, Harry turned to Parvati Patil and obeyed the instruction, helping the whisper on its way. There were, Harry realised, as he looked around, several non-DA members in the crowd. Bill, Fleur, Charlie and Percy had, of course joined them, as had Oliver Wood, many of the students from Fred’s year and all of the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes staff. One of them, a short, skinny young woman, whom Harry vaguely recognised, was staring at him. Harry stared back.
‘Verity,’ Ginny whispered in his ear, as if she was reading his thoughts. ‘I reckon that she fancies you.’
Safely surrounded by his friends, George stepped forwards and tapped Fred’s galleon with his wand. Everyone looked at George expectantly. He looked around. ‘Who’s going to touch it now?’ he asked.
Ginny walked back to the graveside and touched the galleon again. With a pop, she transformed into a giant bright yellow chicken, everyone laughed. Harry imagined Fred watching the scene and laughing, then realised that, thanks to the galleon, he was.
Ginny returned to her normal appearance after a minute, the second that Fred’s laughing image vanished. She walked back to the group and hugged George tightly.
‘I’m a coward,’ George announced to his friends. ‘Fred would have activated the charm before the service, but I know Mum wanted some dignity.’
‘You’re not a coward,’ Ginny told her brother, ‘you care about Mum’s feelings; that’s not cowardice, it’s compassion.’
‘We need to go,’ Bill reminded everyone quietly. They turned away from the grave. It was time to leave for the next funerals.
‘I’d like to invite you all back to The Burrow,’ Arthur said quietly to all of the mourners as everyone gathered at the cemetery gates preparing to leave. ‘We’re holding a wake for Fred at noon. We, like many of you, have another funeral to attend now, and some of us,’ he glanced at Harry, ‘have a third at noon. My sons and daughter-in-law will be at the Burrow to greet you. My wife and I will join you as soon as we can.’
The arrangements for the final funeral of the day, Harry knew, had caused some problems for the Weasleys. They, like many others were attending the noon funeral from a sense of duty alone.
Ginny removed her arms from around Harry’s waist, looked around the rapidly filling cemetery and hissed disdainfully. Alongside her, Ron growled and Hermione snarled. Harry followed their eyes and stared at the subject of their contempt. Pale faced and emaciated, Draco Malfoy looked terrified. He was holding something. Under their fierce gaze, he shivered in fear, almost dropping his burden, Teddy Lupin.
‘He’s Tonks’s cousin,’ Harry reminded his friends as he, too, stared at Draco. ‘Stay here, there’s something I want to do.’
Draco Malfoy looked ill. His blond hair was lank and greasy, his cheeks sunken; his always pale skin was the colour of sun-bleached bone. Harry marched determinedly towards him, taking malicious pleasure from the fear obvious in Draco’s bloodshot and dark shadowed grey eyes. Malfoy stood next to his mother. Narcissa, however, was ignoring her son. She was too busy supporting her sister, Andromeda Tonks, who was desperately trying not to cry.
Revelling in Malfoy’s discomfort until the last possible moment, Harry stopped in front of Tonks’s mother. ‘Andromeda,’ he told her, ‘I am so sorry.’
She nodded stoically. Andromeda was reserved and proper. She was determined to suffer in silence. Harry wondered what to do. She was certainly not so tactile a person as Molly. Hugging her was out of the question, he shook her hand.
‘Thank you,’ she mumbled.
Harry turned to Narcissa Malfoy. ‘And thank you,’ he told her. Draco’s mother’s forehead wrinkled in surprise.
‘For what?’ she asked, worriedly.
‘For saving my life in the forest, and for helping Andromeda,’ he told her. Finally, he turned to face Draco, who stepped hastily backwards and stumbled. Harry caught his elbow, steadied the young Death-Eater and suggested, ‘Perhaps it would be best if I carried my godson.’
Draco looked positively relieved. ‘Take him,’ he panicked, almost throwing the sleeping Teddy at Harry. Harry carefully cradled the baby in his arms and looked questioningly to Andromeda Tonks, who nodded her approval. Smiling, Harry carefully walked back to rejoin his friends and family. Molly, Fleur, Ginny and Hermione stepped forwards to meet him.
‘This is my godson,’ Harry told them proudly. ‘Teddy Lupin.’ The women gazed at the tiny bundle in Harry’s arms.
‘May I?’ Fleur asked, holding out her arms.
‘I’d like to hold him myself, for a minute,’ Harry told her.
‘I’m surprised that Malfoy let you take him away,’ Ron muttered. ‘Now there’s nothing to stop us from hexing the slimy git.’
‘Not at the funeral,’ said Hermione softly, in a tone which implied that it would be acceptable to her at any other time.
‘Harry,’ Arthur Weasley murmured, ‘it’s time.’ He nodded to the edge of the cemetery, where the pall-bearers were gathering. Harry looked down at Teddy then looked up hopefully. Fleur was quickest. She took Teddy from him a moment before Ginny and Molly offered. Much to the young Frenchwoman’s amusement, Harry made sure that she was holding him correctly before going to join the other pall-bearers.
‘Where are we, Mr Weasley?’ Harry asked as he looked around the beautiful, heavily wooded cemetery. ‘I thought that we were going to London.’
‘We are in London, Harry,’ Arthur Weasley told him. ‘This is Highgate Cemetery, at least, the wizards’ corner of Highgate. It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ Harry agreed, ‘but so is Hexworthy.’
‘It is,’ Arthur admitted, ‘and my bones, and those of my other sons, will lie in Hexworthy some day, I’m sure.’
‘Not for a very long time, I hope,’ wished Harry fervently. Arthur Weasley smiled and patted his shoulder. Harry looked around at his fellow pall-bearers. The signal was given. It was time to begin.
Kingsley Shacklebolt, along with other members of the Order of the Phoenix … and Draco Malfoy … stepped forwards and lifted Tonks’s coffin. Harry watched Malfoy move forward; He’s her cousin, her only male relative, he reminded himself. Then, with Arthur Weasley and more members of the Order of the Phoenix, Harry lifted the second coffin, Remus Lupin’s, and followed.
When Harry and his fellow pall-bearers reached the large grave, they carefully lowered Lupin’s coffin to rest alongside his wife’s. Harry looked into the open pit, reached into his pocket, and pulled out the two phoenix feathers he’d bought especially for the occasion. He stretched out his arm, released them and watched them float down onto the coffins.
Turning away, he noticed the adjoining, recent, grave. He paused in silent contemplation when he read the name, “Edward ‘Ted’ Tonks,” unconsciously pushing his tongue against the back of a re-grown tooth. Realising that he was dawdling, Harry pulled himself from his contemplation and walked across to rejoin the other mourners.
Andromeda Tonks was still being comforted by her sister. Draco had hurried away from the graveside the moment his duty was done. He stood behind his mother, obviously trying to hide. He had good reason; the hostility towards Draco emanating from Dumbledore’s Army was almost tangible. Everyone knew that Draco’s father, Lucius, was still being held in the Auror cells at the Ministry. He was “assisting the Aurors with their enquiries”, according to Kingsley. Harry was extremely grateful for the man’s absence.
Andromeda and Narcissa held each other. As he watched the peculiar family scene, Harry wondered how three sisters could be so different. Bellatrix, he knew, had been buried in an unmarked grave at Azkaban along with her husband and the other dead Death Eaters.
Harry felt a tiny amount of sympathy for Malfoy. Draco had, he realised, been asked to be pall-bearer by Andromeda. It was tradition, as Molly had said, to use male blood relatives. Draco was the only one. He wondered whether Draco had made the decision himself, or whether he was here only at his mother’s insistence.
Harry again murmured his condolences to Mrs Tonks. He tentatively patted the witch on her shoulder. She grasped the front of his robes and buried her face in his chest.
‘Teddy’s in good hands,’ he assured Mrs Tonks when she released him. ‘I’ll keep him until the end of the service, if that’s all right.’
‘Thank you,’ Andromeda Tonks sniffled as she squeezed his upper arm. ‘Thank you for everything. Dora and Remus chose well.’
Harry returned to his family. After yesterday he had hoped that the funerals might get easier. It had proved to be a vain hope. He wiped his face with his handkerchief, astonished that he still had tears left to cry. Ginny was cradling Teddy. She seemed reluctant to release him.
‘Cute little thing, isn’t he?’ she whispered as Harry lifted his godson from her arms.
‘When he’s sleeping, yes,’ he smiled, remembering his first encounter with his godson. ‘He can make a lot of noise, though.’
Harry had initially been nervous about handling the baby, but he had been determined to remove him from Malfoy. Now, as he took Teddy from Ginny, he found a strange sense of comfort in holding and watching the fragile new life created by Lupin and Tonks. He cradled Teddy carefully in one arm. The baby’s back rested on his arm and chest. Teddy’s furry fragile head was cupped gently in Harry’s hand. Harry slipped his free arm around Ginny’s waist. As they listened to the service, he smiled sadly at Molly Weasley. She seemed to have forgotten the service for some reason. She was staring at Ginny, Teddy, and himself.
Teddy Lupin burped softly and began to stir. Harry lifted the six week old baby higher, leaned forwards and kissed his forehead.
‘Cry if you want to, Teddy,’ he whispered. ‘Everyone else is.’
Teddy squirmed and screwed up his face. Harry was convinced that his godson was about to burst into tears. Instead, with a sense of timing that would have made Fred Weasley proud, Teddy waited for a solemn silence, noisily voided his bowels and settled back to sleep with a satisfied sigh. For the second time that day, Harry found himself laughing at a funeral. Then the smell hit him.
It was a few minutes after noon. Unlike the earlier funerals there were very few mourners at this bleak, grey Lancashire graveside. A couple of dozen, not several score. The skies were grey. The windless air hung heavy with the threat of a thunderstorm. Harry waited to help the Order of the Phoenix carry out their final duty for the day.
Ginny, Ron and Hermione had all insisted on accompanying him. He had not asked them to attend. In fact, he’d suggested that they stay away, but his friends had refused to let him go alone. Not even all of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were attending. All of the Weasley sons, apart from Ron, had gone to The Burrow to receive their guests. Only Arthur and Molly had joined the Order to salute another of their fallen comrades. The only others standing around the grave were Hogwarts’s staff.
He looked around yet another cemetery and shivered. This chill, still graveyard reminded him unpleasantly of Little Hangleton. The signal was given. Harry stepped forward and helped carry another coffin to another grave. He, Kingsley, Arthur and Aberforth were the pall-bearers. He had volunteered for this duty to honour the memory of his mother. He wondered what had motivated the others.
Harry stepped back and watched the other attendees, a much easier task than at the other funerals. Not a tear was being shed. Most people’s faces were a neutral, impassive mask. Some, like Kingsley and Professor McGonagall, managed a look of respect. Others, like Ron and Hagrid, could barely mask their contempt. One, Horace Slughorn, was making no pretence of interest in the service. Slughorn was carefully observing everyone. He had noticed Ginny and Harry’s arrival and was calmly and carefully weighing up the new politics and new relationships. Being seen on his arm, thought Harry cynically, would be good for Ginny if she returned to school.
Harry looked down at the grave once again and wondered. If Dumbledore was right, if death was just the next step, where had Professor Severus Snape gone? Would he meet James and Lily Potter? Could they forgive each other? Harry tried to remember Dumbledore’s words to Sirius and Severus, “I’ll settle for a lack of hostilities,” or something like that. He smiled as he tried to imagine a reunion between his parents and his potions master.
He looked at Ginny thoughtfully. Do I love her that much? he wondered.
Would I be prepared to live a lonely life and protect the son of Ginny and … he sought for someone he hated … Draco?’ He stopped; Ginny and Draco? The very idea of them as a couple was preposterous. What did he feel about Draco? Not hatred, not any more. He wasn’t worth hating, he was pathetic, a beaten bully. He wasn’t and, Harry was convinced, could never be a killer; he would not have killed Dumbledore. But he was a coward who would lie to save his own skin regardless of the consequences. His mother loved him, loved him enough to risk everything to protect him. Would Draco have done the same? He didn’t know. Best forget him.
‘What on earth are you thinking about?’ Ginny whispered, interrupting his thoughts.
‘That I’m not like Snape,’ Harry told her.
‘Why is that funny?’ she asked. ‘First you were grinning, then you frowned.’
‘You’re not thinking of leaving me for Draco, are you?’ Harry whispered, teasing. Ginny looked at him as if he were mad. He had rediscovered in their past few days together how good she usually was at guessing what was on his mind. He stopped paying attention to the service and watched her puzzle out his comment for a few minutes. Finally, he saw enlightenment on her face.
‘Your Mum, Dad, and Snape,’ she whispered. He nodded.
‘Not bloody likely,’ she assured him. ‘Draco Malfoy was not a nice boy, and he is not a nice man. He betrayed his friends to save himself. And he did it more than once. I don’t see how anyone with a brain could trust him. Besides, I’m certain that the only person he has ever loved is called Draco Malfoy, and I get the impression he’s not even very keen on him now.’
Harry snorted with laughter. That’s every funeral today, he thought, but Snape is the only one who wouldn’t have approved.
When Professor Snape’s funeral ended, there was no one to offer polite condolences to. The man had neither family nor friends. Poor, pitiful Severus Snape; everyone simply left his graveside. Most of the attendees (Harry could not even think of them as mourners) were, like Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione, returning to The Burrow to drink to the memory of Fred and Lupin and Tonks. It was unlikely, Harry realised as he watched them all leave, that any of these people would ever return to this bleak, grey graveside.
Harry waited until everyone else had Apparated away before walking up to the grave. His two best friends and his girlfriend were the only others who remained.
‘Goodbye, Professor,’ he said. ‘You didn’t like me, and I didn’t like you, but you saved my life anyway. Thank you. Somewhere, I hope, my Mum and Dad will thank you too.’ He turned to Ginny. She smiled sadly, opened her handbag, and carefully pulled out the flower he’d asked her to conceal. Taking it from her, he silently placed the single red lily on Snape’s grave.
Everyone else, he had publicly remembered. Snape had made it so difficult for anyone to like him that, despite his sacrifice, Harry could not bring himself to publicly thank the man, even when he was dead. Perhaps later.
When he stood, Hermione softly kissed his cheek. Ginny hugged him tightly before doing the same.
‘Well,’ observed Ron, gently placing a hand on Harry’s shoulder and squeezing it softly, ‘that was the last of them. Let’s hope that we don’t have to attend any more for a long time.’
‘We won’t,’ Ginny told her brother. ‘You three have put a stop to the killings.’
‘Not soon enough,’ Harry said sadly.
‘You did your best, Harry,’ Ginny said fiercely. Her bright brown eyes flickered from her boyfriend to her brother to his girlfriend. ‘You all did your best.
Harry shook his head.
‘Harry,’ said Ginny carefully, ‘who killed Thorfinn Rowle yesterday? Was it me?’
‘No,’ he protested vehemently, horrified at the suggestion. ‘That was an accident. He fell on his own cursed dagger. You mustn’t feel responsible.’
‘I don’t,’ Ginny told him matter-of-factly. ‘You didn’t kill Snape. You didn’t even kill Riddle, though Merlin knows that you’d have been justified if you had. You mustn’t feel responsible for the deaths Riddle caused. If you do, he’s beaten you. Now, take me home.’
She once again threw her arms around his neck in preparation for Side-Along Apparition. Harry took a last look at the cemetery, grabbed his girlfriend around the waist and left.
‘I’ll be glad when you learn to Apparate, Ginny,’ Ron grumbled at his sister as she again disentangled herself from her boyfriend upon their arrival in the orchard.
‘I won’t,’ Harry grinned as Ginny took his hand.
‘I suppose not,’ chuckled Ron while slipping his arm around Hermione’s waist.
The four young people looked down towards the Weasleys’ home. Arthur and Molly were well ahead of them, ambling slowly down towards their crowded yard.
‘Mum and Dad are holding hands,’ noticed Ron.
‘They often do,’ Ginny told him. ‘I hope that Harry and I are still holding hands with each other when we’re as old as them.’
‘Twice as old as them,’ Harry suggested. Ginny laughed and hugged him.
The weather was much better in Devon than it had been in Lancashire. It was a bright afternoon. Shimmering clouds of mayflies were visible under the apple trees. The yard in front of The Burrow was filled with people. Tables and marquees had been set up. The tables were laden with a cold buffet. The almost musical sound of dozens of muted conversations drifted towards them. Several people were staring up at them.
‘Well,’ said Ron, ‘now you get to meet the family.’
‘We’ve met them before, Ron,’ Hermione reminded him, ‘at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.’
‘No, you haven’t, not really,’ Ginny warned them. ‘At the wedding the family met Barney Weasley and some Muggleborn with skinny ankles.’
‘I think that you’ve got very nice ankles, Hermione,’ Ron observed. ‘Shapely.’
Behind Ron, Ginny rolled her eyes at Harry and pretended to gag. Harry sniggered.
‘She has,’ Ron protested, unaware of what Ginny was doing behind him.
‘What about my posture?’ Hermione asked, smiling at Ron’s compliment. Ron growled.
‘Muriel’s horrible to everyone,’ Ron told her. ‘But it’s not just Muriel you’ll need to watch out for.’
‘Today, it’s everyone,’ Ginny explained with a grim smile. ‘The family aren’t meeting Barney and “the Muggleborn,” they are meeting Ron’s girlfriend and Ginny’s boyfriend. That’s definitely not who they met last time. We’d best all stick together for our own protection.’
‘Shall we go?’ asked Ron.
Hermione grimaced, nodded and pulled Ron towards Harry and Ginny. She took Harry’s free hand in her own.
‘Ready?’ Hermione asked.
‘I suppose so,’ Harry replied. Ginny squeezed his hand; he returned the favour and squeezed Hermione’s too.
‘They’re not all like Muriel,’ asserted Ginny.
‘That’s true,’ said Ron gloomily. ‘Some of them are a lot worse.’
As they strolled slowly down the hill in a ragged line, they were being closely watched by most of the redheads in the yard.
Chapter 14: Commitals
Author's Notes: Thanks (in alphabetical order to Amelíe, Andrea and Becca for their comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
14: Committals
Hermione conjured half a dozen large cushions on Ron’s bedroom floor. Ron flopped gratefully onto three of them, shuffled sideways and patted the space next to him. Hermione sat, threw an arm over his chest, pushed a shoulder into his armpit and snuggled her head against his chest.
Harry sank down into another of the cushions, propped one more against the wall behind his back and sat leaning against it.
‘What a bloody nightmare,’ Ron said; ‘d’you reckon we’re safe here?’
‘I think so,’ Ginny said, curling up in Harry’s lap. ‘Between them, George and the cousins have finished off the booze, and Aunt Muriel’s complaints will start shattering someone’s eardrums soon. Mum is so busy looking after the relatives that it’ll be ages before she notices that we’re missing.’
‘Half of the people down there didn’t even like Fred,’ said Ron furiously. ‘Half of the family, anyway–Cousin “I own my own business, you know” Gilbert!’
‘Did you hear him?’ Ron continued, putting on a pompous voice, ‘“Such a shame, he was such a sweet-natured boy and so humorous” — the ignorant two-faced pillock. D’you know he told the twins that they were fools and that they’d never make any money from a joke shop.’
‘D’you know that a couple of weeks after Bill and Fleur’s wedding they broke into his house and enchanted every set of robes he owned with a farting jinx,’ laughed Ginny in reply. ‘Every time he sat down … phthphthpt…’ she blew a raspberry. ‘He couldn’t get rid of the jinx, either. Fred and George offered to do it, for a price. He bought himself new robes rather than pay them. It cost him a fortune. They despised him, and he hated them, especially when they got so successful.’
Harry and Hermione laughed.
‘So why are we here?’ Ron asked.
‘You know why, Ron. The party’s over,’ Ginny told him. ‘George drank himself unconscious in record time. The DA and the Order left not long after he collapsed. The only people left outside are dreadful relatives who’ve outstayed their welcome and are constantly asking Harry stupid questions, like “is You-Know-Who really dead?” and then being annoyed by his answer.’ She smiled admiringly at her boyfriend.
‘Yeah,’ Ron grinned, ‘good one mate, it’s great watching them struggle when you say, “I don’t-know-who? Who are you talking about?” I thought Gilbert was going to choke trying to say Lord Voldemort. Most of them had outstayed their welcome within a few minutes of getting here, Ginny, but we could have just stayed in the kitchen.’
‘Not with Bill in there,’ Harry said. ‘I’m fed up with the way he glowers whenever I do this.’ He hugged Ginny.
‘Not as fed up as he’s going to be when I’ve finished with him,’ Ginny announced.
‘Forget it,’ Harry told her, ‘he’ll get used to us eventually, and right now we need to decide what we’re going to do to help Hermione.’
‘You can’t do anything,’ Hermione said sadly.
‘We can,’ Ginny replied. ‘When the last of the freeloaders have gone we’ll have a family conference. We’ve got something else to do first, though. I snuck this up here yesterday.’
She leaned over and placed her palm flat on one of the floorboards next to Ron’s bed. Pushing it under the skirting board, she revealed a hole from which she pulled a bottle of Firewhisky and four glasses.
‘What, how…’ Ron spluttered, ‘when…’
‘I’ve known about your secret hiding hole since before you first went to Hogwarts, Ron,’ she grinned. ‘Mum only found it three years ago. I put the Firewhisky and the glasses here yesterday. I hid it here so that if Mum found it you’d be the one to get in trouble.’
Ron turned beetroot. ‘But…’
‘Ron, there are more important things than your pathetic little-boy secrets. Though why you’ve been saving the fashion photos from Mum’s Witch Weekly I’ve no idea,’ Ginny told him. This revelation, coupled with Hermione’s giggle and smirk did not improve Ron’s colour.
‘What’s the Firewhisky for?’ Hermione asked, as she gave Ron a comforting hug.
‘Us! We’ve seen five people buried within less than twenty four hours,’ said Ginny forcefully. ‘I knew that Mum would restrict us all to butterbeer, though she failed spectacularly with George.’
‘I wonder where he got all that Firewhisky,’ Ron asked curiously.
‘He bought it,’ Ginny said, ‘and Percy smuggled into the house and hid it in his bedroom.’
‘Percy!’ Ron was astonished.
‘Perce is a good man to have on your side, Ron,’ Ginny told her brother with a grin. ‘If you’re clever, like George and me, it’s fairly easy to persuade him to do something that Mum won’t like. And the best thing about it is that she never ever suspects perfect prefect Percy.’
‘Mum was sure that I was trying to pinch a bottle, too. Because I was,’ she admitted. ‘So I distracted her. While I did, Percy nicked this for me.' She waved the bottle of Firewhisky triumphantly. ‘We all need a drink. We’re all of age, so she can shout, but she can’t stop us.’
‘Why do we need Firewhisky?’ Hermione asked.
To remember, to toast the fallen,’ Ginny announced. She looked pale, worried and fragile, but was obviously determined.
‘We’ve got to remember that we’ve only been to five of the funerals. There has been ten times that number.’ Ginny twisted on Harry’s lap to face her brother and his girlfriend. ‘Ron, you’ve been so wrapped up in Hermione’s problems that you haven’t even asked Harry what he’s been doing while you were away. He and Kingsley went to see the families of everyone who was killed.’
Ron and Hermione looked at their friend for confirmation. Ashen faced, Harry looked over Ginny’s shoulder and nodded, his hands began shaking. The funerals were over and all he did not want to think about the other deaths. Would this ever be over? Would he ever be able to forget these past few days? Fragments of memories of the visits he’d made flashed through his mind. The bereaved relatives he’d visited were nothing more than a kaleidoscope of pale, red-eyed, featureless faces. Try as he might, he couldn’t remember any individuals, they all blurred into one.
Ginny stood, poured a hefty measure into each of the four glasses and pulled him to his feet. Ron and Hermione stood, too.
‘Wait,’ Ginny told Ron fiercely, when he reached for a glass. She stared at her friends.
‘Fred’s dead, Colin’s dead, Lupin, Tonks, Snape, Dobby ... Some insensitive idiot downstairs said that the list of the dead was endless...’ she looked at Harry sorrowfully and hugged him. She knew that he’d heard that remark.
‘It was Cousin Jason,’ Ron told her, vengefully, ‘we’ll get him next time we see him.’
Ginny nodded as she pulled a Daily Prophet article from her robes.
‘The list isn’t endless.’ She waved the newspaper cutting in confirmation. ‘But a lot of people are dead, including a lot of people that we didn’t know.’ She looked down at the list.
‘Moira Campbell, Law Officer; John Jenkins, Law Officer; Tina Jackson, Secretary…’ Harry, Ron and Hermione stood in silence and watched as, fighting back tears, Ginny read out the names of the dead. ‘Amanda Atkins, Student, Cuthbert Cleverley, Auror,’ she concluded, taking a deep breath and looking at her brother, her best friend and her boyfriend.
‘There are a lot of people across the country grieving for their losses, just like us…’ Ginny stifled a sob.
‘…But you three, especially you, Potter,’ she pointed an accusing finger at him, ‘need to remember something!’ She clenched the list tightly in her fist and waved it in Harry’s face. ‘This is not the names of the people who died because of what you did. This is the list of names of the people who died despite what you did. If it weren’t for you, that list would be longer, and who knows who else’s names would be on it. It might even be endless. So, thank you. Now drink the damn Firewhisky.’
They did so; then fell into each others’ arms, crying.
Harry and Ginny were still in a tight embrace on the cushions on the floor, as were Ron and Hermione, when Molly Weasley stormed into the room. She saw the Firewhisky first, but her accusing glare vanished when she saw first their tear-stained faces and then the list of names which lay unfurled on Ron’s bed.
‘Hi, Mum,’ said Ginny quietly, pushing herself up off Harry’s chest and standing. Molly Weasley watched as the four youngsters struggled slowly to their feet. Her breathing was slow and deep, her eyes sparkled with unshed tears. She picked up the Firewhisky bottle.
‘Pick up your glasses from the floor,’ she said sternly, ‘there could be an accident.’ She waited in silence while they obeyed. They watched Mrs Weasley carefully. All four were bracing themselves for the inevitable explosion of anger. It didn’t come.
‘We were just remembering,’ explained Ginny, hesitantly, obviously wrong-footed by her mother’s worrying lack of anger. ‘We’re going to miss Fred.’
‘And Tonks,’ added Ron cautiously.
‘And Professor Lupin,’ Hermione said timidly.
‘And Dobby, and Colin and…’ Harry continued determinedly.
‘We will always miss them,’ Molly Weasley interrupted. She looked sadly from one to another of them.
‘You’re so young, to have had to go through this, to have done the things you have,’ she told them.
‘I still miss Gideon and Fabian; even after all these years I find that there are things that I want to tell them.’ Molly sighed, ‘I know that I’ve told you this before, Ginny, but they never saw their niece, never saw you. I was pregnant with you when they were killed.’
‘I don’t think that there is anything that I can say to help you now. But I can give you some hope.’ Mrs Weasley continued. ‘It gets easier, it takes time, but it does get easier. But we’ll never forget those we’ve lost, will we?’
They shook their heads. Molly Weasley conjured another tumbler for herself and poured Firewhisky into everyone’s glasses.
‘You have toasted the recent dead?’ Molly asked as she looked at the list. They nodded.
‘Good, so now you can raise your glasses to Gideon and Fabian Prewett, to James and Lily Potter,’ she raised her glass, and watched them do the same. ‘To Albus Dumbledore and Sirius Black and so many others. There have been so many deaths over the years. But this time it’s finally over.’
She drank her Firewhisky and watched them do the same. They stood in silence, watching each other, thinking, remembering, realising how much Molly had lost, how much so many people had lost. No one, it seemed, wanted to speak. The silence drifted on for over a minute until Mrs Weasley finally broke it.
‘Now, we need to move on. We need to remember what has happened,’ she said gently, before looking sharply at them, ‘but we mustn’t brood on it. We must live our lives to the full.’
‘So,’ she continued, ‘we should go downstairs and eat. I’ve saved some cold meat pie. And then you can tell us all about the problem with your parents, Hermione. Come along, all of you. You may want to use the bathrooms on the way down, to tidy up.’
When the four finally descended, Charlie, Percy, Bill and Fleur were already sitting at the kitchen table. It was almost eight o’clock in the evening. The sink was stacked with dirty dishes, which were busily washing themselves, assisted by the occasional flick from Fleur’s wand. The table was laden with plates of pies and pasties.
‘I hope that there’s enough food,’ Molly said worriedly, ‘I didn’t put everything out for the wake, but there doesn’t seem to be very much left.’
‘You won’t let us starve, Molly,’ Arthur Weasley said cheerfully as he came downstairs. ‘I’ve put a watching charm on George, I can’t rouse him. Best to let him sleep it off I think.’
Molly looked anxiously at her husband.
‘It’s probably best to leave him, Molly,’ advised Arthur. ‘We’ve said our goodbyes to Fred and the others, so has George. Now we’ve got a family to look after. A family which…’
Arthur took a deep breath and heaved a sorrowful sigh. His wife hurried across and hugged him. With an effort he continued. ‘…a family which, despite the loss of Fred, seems to be expanding.’ Arthur looked his eldest son in the eyes. ‘Which is a good thing,’ he emphasised. Fleur nodded and placed a hand over her husband’s clenched fist.
‘Help yourselves to food, dears,’ said Mrs Weasley. She watched as everyone, except Fleur and Hermione, piled food onto their plates. Fleur took one small slice of pork pie. Hermione took nothing. ‘You need to eat something, Hermione,’ Molly chided gently. She piled food on a plate and handed it to Hermione.
‘Make sure that she eats, Ron,’ his mother ordered.
Over the meal, Ron and Hermione told the Weasleys what Hermione had done to protect her parents and what had happened in Australia.
‘What can we do to help?’ Ginny asked her mother when they finished the story. Molly and Arthur exchanged worried glances.
‘Er,’ Percy said. Everyone looked at him in amazement.
‘Obviously, you need to make up with your family, your parents,’ Percy began. Harry had never seen Percy look so nervous.
‘Obviously,’ Ron said sarcastically. Hermione simply nodded. With his left forefinger Percy pushed his glasses up his nose and began talking extremely quickly, his ears reddening as he spoke.
‘I’m sure that they are very nice people, because they have a very nice daughter. So they will want to make up with you no matter how stupid you’ve been and I don’t think that you’ve been as stupid as I was and it’s obvious that you want to make up with them so I think that the best thing for you to do is to do everything they ask of you until you can get things back to normal, if they’re reasonable and sensible you’ll be able to see Ron soon.’
Percy finally paused for breath, and everyone tried to make sense of his outburst.
‘What you’re saying,’ suggested Ron angrily, ‘is that Hermione should leave us, leave me, possibly for months!’
Percy nodded. ‘If her parents are reasonable and forgiving,’ he looked gratefully towards his own parents, ‘then they’ll talk things through and they’ll come to terms with the fact that she’s sorry for hurting them, but it’s not something an outsider can interfere with, not without making things worse.’
‘But…’ Ron made a desperate plea.
‘Your bruzzer ees correct, Ron,’ confirmed Fleur. ‘If you love ‘er, you must let her do zis.’ She glanced apologetically at Mr and Mrs Weasley before bravely continuing. ‘Ze parents of one’s love can … sometimes … be difficult to deal wiz. You must give ‘Ermione time to make peace wiz ‘er parents, and to tell zem about you. Your arrival in Australia as a fait accompli will not ‘ave ‘elped. Zey need time alone wiz zere daughter, time to forgive, time to adjust. Forgive me, ‘Ermione, but I believe zat, in your ‘eart, you already know zis.’
Hermione nodded sadly and burst into tears. She was sitting next to Ron. Twisting awkwardly in her chair she threw an arm around his waist. He extricated an arm, slipped it over her shoulder and pulled her closer.
Arthur Weasley exchanged a knowing look with his wife. He stood and put one hand on his youngest son’s shoulder, another on Hermione’s. ‘Sorry, Ron, but they are right. Anything we do would probably make things worse. If their daughter’s–boyfriend’s–family turn up to try to put things right, how will that look? To them, it will just be more interference by wizards.’
‘What exactly are you supposed to do now, Hermione?’ asked Molly practically. Hermione lifted her tear stained face from Ron’s chest and sniffed. Ron handed her his handkerchief and pulled her back into a tight hug.
‘I’m to go home and get the house ready for their arrival,’ she said while wiping her tears. ‘I am meeting them at the airport the day after tomorrow. They have got a lot of luggage. They took everything they could with them.’ She burst into tears as she said the words and again buried her head in Ron’s chest. Harry only just caught her next words.
‘I told you Ron,’ she muttered into Ron’s robes. ‘I know that you want to help, that you all want to help, but Percy’s right, and so is Fleur. This is something I have to do alone.’
‘What if they don’t want you to see me?’ Ron panicked. ‘They might want you to be a Muggle, to leave me … us.’
Hermione released him, stood and kissed him softly on the lips.
‘Ron,’ she said sadly, ‘they’ve always let me do what I want. I’ve missed holidays with them. I’ve spent a lot of time here, half of my summer holidays some years. I don’t want to lose them. It might take time, but Percy and Fleur are right. I need to spend time with them.’
‘What if we all met them at the airport? We could carry their cases,’ Harry suggested. ‘You shouldn’t be alone when you go to meet them, and it won’t be easy for you to get their luggage back to…’ Harry stopped, he had, he realised, no idea where Hermione lived.
‘Itchen Worthy,’ Hermione said, ‘it’s near Winchester.’
‘So you’d take the train to Winchester, Ron and Ginny and I could help get the luggage from the airport to … Waterloo?’ Harry guessed.
‘Do you think that will be all right, Hermione?’ asked Molly.
‘I don’t know,’ Hermione shrugged.
The discussions lasted until ten o’clock, when Bill and Fleur were ready to leave. When they walked out into the yard Bill, to Harry’s surprise, shook his hand firmly then pulled him into a tight hug.
‘I know when I’m beaten, Harry,’ her eldest brother whispered, as he crushed Harry to him, ‘but you’d better treat our little Ginny right.’
He stepped away, bade everyone else a cheerful goodnight, and left with his wife before Harry could reply.
The following morning, after a hearty breakfast, enjoyed by everyone but a white faced and shaking George, they prepared to leave for Hermione’s parents’ house. A worried Mrs Weasley extracted a promise from Percy and Charlie that they would take good care of George. From the wicked grins they exchanged when their mother wasn’t looking, Harry was sure that their definition of “taking care” was different to their mother’s. After walking up to the orchard, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Mr and Mrs Weasley Apparated to a field on the outskirts of Itchen Worthy. Their arrival startled a herd of cattle.
‘Ginny,’ Molly said in exasperation as Ginny once again disentangled herself from Harry and he removed his arm from around her waist, ‘you only need to hold onto his arm.’
‘Where’s the fun in that?’ Ginny asked her mother scornfully. Arthur Weasley chuckled. Molly rounded on her husband.
‘Ravenclaw Tower,’ Arthur said with a wink. Molly smirked, but said nothing. Her children exchanged puzzled glances.
‘Don’t ask,’ Molly told Ginny.
Hermione grabbed Ron’s hand and led them all out from behind a hedge and along the roadside into the village. Ginny slipped her arm around Harry’s waist and leaned her head against his shoulder as they followed. The main road was quiet and no-one paid any attention to the three rather shabbily dressed couples as they entered the village.
After a five minute walk, they reached Hermione’s parent’s house. It was large when compared to number four Privet Drive and the Burrow, but small compared to the adjacent properties. A square red brick dwelling with a separate garage block, it was set well back from the road. The garden was untidy. Weeds choked the borders; the lawns were overgrown and were infested with dandelions and daisies.
‘The place has been checked out by the Aurors,’ Hermione reassured everyone.
‘Kingsley told you. We know, you’ve told us dozens of times already,’ said Ron, exasperatedly.
Hermione led them down the long gravel drive to the front door. She pulled a key from the pocket of her jeans, opened the door, and gasped. The house had been searched, ransacked. Someone had written “Mudblud” in what Harry hoped was red paint on the hall walls. A check of the rest of the house revealed torn curtains and bedding, broken furniture and other random acts of vandalism. After the inspection Hermione was once again in tears.
‘I was afraid of this,’ Arthur Weasley observed grimly. ‘All that “checked by the Aurors” means is that there are no cursed items, dark magic or traps. They don’t bother about the aesthetics of the place. I’ll have words with Robards, and Kingsley if necessary, when I get back to work.’
‘Don’t worry, dear,’ Molly told Hermione kindly as they returned to the hall, ‘there’s nothing here that can’t be repaired, though it will likely take us all day. We’ll take a room each and get to work.’
Ginny grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him towards the bottom of the stairs.
‘Arthur and I will do the bedrooms,’ Molly said sharply.
‘Fine,’ said Ginny, ‘that sofa looks comfortable, c’mon, Harry, we’ll make a start in there!’
‘Ginny,’ Molly scolded, ‘will you please behave yourself? There’s a lot to do before Hermione’s parents get home tomorrow. I can always take you back to The Burrow and leave you there.’
‘Sorry, Mum,’ said Ginny contritely, ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour, I promise.’
‘Arthur, will you put that plug down!’
‘Yes, dear,’ Mr Weasley reluctantly obeyed.
Ginny watched her parents walk upstairs, dragged Harry into the living room, and kissed him.
‘Ginny,’ Molly Weasley shouted from the top of the stairs, ‘we’re here to work, to help Hermione. I want to hear you working.’
The next day, as they finished their breakfast at the Burrow, Harry told Ginny that he would buy her some Muggle clothes as a belated sixteenth birthday present. As he expected, she argued, claiming that she had never bought him a proper present.
‘My seventeenth birthday present from you was the best present I’ve ever had,’ he assured her with a smile. ‘And I couldn’t repay you on your sixteenth. So don’t argue.’
‘Good luck with that,’ Ron snorted.
‘I wouldn’t dream of arguing with my boyfriend,’ Ginny told Ron dismissively as she walked upstairs. ‘I’m going to get ready to go out.’
Molly shooed the others away from the table and sent them upstairs to get ready, too.
Harry was on his way downstairs from Ron’s room when Ginny collared him. She grabbed his arm urgently and dragged him into her bedroom. Bright spring sunshine illuminated the room. She stepped back and looked up into his eyes. He found himself falling into her gaze, picking up the tiny flecks of gold and amber within the rich brown of her eyes. He was disappointed by what happened next.
‘I wasn’t going to give Ron the satisfaction of being right,’ she whispered urgently. ‘But I don’t want your money, Harry.’
‘I want to buy you something,’ protested Harry, wondering why he hadn’t expected the stubborn Weasley pride to surface in Ginny, too. ‘We’ll need decent Muggle clothes if we’re going to meet Hermione’s parents. I have lots of money, too much probably. I want to treat you. I want to share everything with you.’
Ginny hesitated. She was about to argue, she folded her arms and gave him her best “Molly” glare.
‘Listen to me, Harry,’ she began in a voice so like her mother’s that Harry began to laugh.
‘No, Ginny, you listen to me, and don’t interrupt,’ Harry told her forcefully. ‘Wait until I’m finished before you try to scold me.’
‘I’m not scolding you,’ Ginny protested. Harry gently placed a finger on her lips. To his amazement, she fell silent.
‘Ron is the same, you know,’ he told her. ‘I’ve managed to persuade him to accept a loan until payday, but he won’t take a gift.
‘He thinks I’m feeling sorry for him, being “charitable,” when I offer to buy things. I’m not, Ginny,’ continued Harry, desperately trying to explain to his girlfriend. ‘I … I had nothing until I started at Hogwarts. I wore second hand clothes. I had no toys, I never got anything new. I know that it’s no fun not having any money. Now I’m rich, so what?’ He paused, Ginny did not speak, but she continued to frown. Harry took a deep breath and finally admitted something he’d known for years but never spoken of. ‘I don’t want the money, Ginny–you complain about your Mum and Dad, but…’ He couldn’t continue. Ginny’s disapproving frown faded.
‘But I’d rather have my Mum and Dad than all the money in the world,’ Ginny announced. ‘Oh, Harry,’ she hugged him, ‘so would you.’ She held tightly him as his tears fell.
‘Why now?’ he sniffed, ‘after all these years, why am I crying about them now?’
‘Because you can, Harry, because finally, the monster who killed them is gone.’ They stood, simply holding each other. Harry felt her heart beating against his ribs and realised that she could feel his, too. She was prepared to hold him until his heart rate returned to normal. He looked over her head, out into the morning sunlight. Behind him, the door banged open.
‘Put her down, Harry,’ Ron sniggered as he burst into the room. ‘It’s time to go.’
Harry dared not turn. He couldn’t let Ron see his tear stained face, so he stared out of the window. Ginny peered past him. She said nothing, and Harry couldn’t look at her face without letting Ron see his tears, but whatever she did worked. Ron backed out of the room saying, ‘I’ll just tell Mum that you’ll be five minutes.’
‘You can buy me some things,’ Ginny conceded, while Harry dried his face and blew his nose. ‘I will decide what you can pay for and if I buy more, you can lend me money until my first payday, like you’re doing for Ron.’
They used the Floo Network to travel from The Burrow to the Leaky Cauldron, as Harry needed to get more money from his Gringott’s account. After quickly saying hello to Hannah Abbott, they entered Diagon Alley. The place was still in poor repair, but several shops had reopened. It was still early, and there were very few people on the street when they entered Gringotts. Harry quickly changed two hundred and fifty galleons into Muggle money.
When they left the bank there was a crowd outside. They cheered. Cameras flashed. Harry watched the crowd anxiously while Ron grinned happily and waved.
‘Mr Potter,’ someone shouted, ‘I’m from the Daily Prophet, I’d like to ask you a few questions.’ When the reporter moved the entire crowd surged forwards with him. Ron cast a protection spell to keep them back.
‘We’ve got to go,’ Ron shouted to the crowd. ‘Let’s get out of here, quick,’ he ordered. Ginny and Hermione grabbed Harry’s hands and hurried him back along the street towards the Leaky Cauldron. Ignoring the pointing fingers and shouted greetings, they rushed into the pub and hurried straight through without stopping. Once they had achieved the relative peace of Muggle London, they slowed down and checked to see if they were being followed.
‘Damn,’ said Harry. ‘Thanks, Ron.’
‘No problem, mate,’ Ron smiled. ‘Let’s get out of here before anyone comes to look for us.’
They hurried along Charing Cross Road to Shaftesbury Avenue. At Piccadilly Circus, Harry and Hermione led Ron and Ginny onto Regent Street, where they began their shopping.
Harry bought a wide selection of Muggle clothes, all of which met Ginny’s approval. Ron relied on Hermione for advice. Consequently, his clothes were more conservative than Harry’s.
Ginny insisted on Harry’s approval for everything she bought. This caused Harry a lot of problems. He thought that she looked wonderful no matter what she was wearing, so he had serious difficulty deciding which items he preferred.
Ron’s opinions differed from Harry’s. He thought that one of Ginny’s skirts was completely unacceptable. Harry suspected that Molly would agree; it showed a lot more of Ginny than he’d seen before. Hermione had not bought much, but she had purchased a dress which was equally as short as Ginny’s skirt. Ginny pointed out vociferously to her brother that he had not objected to Hermione’s buy. When Hermione sided with Harry and Ginny, Ron finally realised that his attempts to influence his sister were doomed.
Their shopping done; they changed into the smartest, and most sober, of their new clothes and stowed the rest into Hermione’s beaded bag, which was then placed in Ginny’s new handbag for safekeeping. Wandering into the edge of Soho looking for somewhere to eat, they found an Italian Restaurant.
Their lunch was excellent, but was rather spoiled by Hermione, who was getting more and more anxious. The others wanted to relax and enjoy the meal, but Hermione, who was getting more pale and nervous as her parents arrival time approached, would not allow it. Eventually, in a near panic, Hermione paid the bill and rushed them from the restaurant to the nearest tube station.
‘We’ve got plenty of time, Hermione,’ Harry told her as she herded them back towards Piccadilly Circus. As he looked into her anxious face, he knew that there was no point in arguing. Ron winked at Harry and took Hermione’s hand.
‘I’m sure we’ll get there on time,’ Ron assured her. Hermione muttered something under her breath and dragged them into the tube station.
Ron and Ginny were horrified by the crush and bustle on the tube. Harry was proved correct; they arrived at Heathrow more than an hour before Hermione’s parents’ flight was due. They waited in a crowded caf near the arrivals area, drinking tasteless coffee from paper cups. The two purebloods, unused to Muggle bustle, sat nervously in the bustling airport. Ron grumbled under his breath at the crowds. Ginny watched them in uneasy fascination.
As the plane’s landing time approached, Hermione began pacing and resumed her muttering. She checked and re-checked the train tickets which would take her and her parents home. As she paced, she nervously shredded a paper napkin. She was only just prevented from shredding the train tickets by an observant Ron, who’d been watching her with increasing concern. He confiscated the tickets; then refused her subsequent appeals to check that he still had them. The flight landed just in time to prevent an argument.
The four teenagers made their way to the Arrivals Gate. They waited for almost half an hour before Hermione’s parents arrived. Mr and Mrs Granger were brown-skinned and appeared healthy, but both looked exhausted. Hermione burst into tears when she saw them and ran to hug her weeping mother. Harry, Ron and Ginny moved forward shyly and re-introduced themselves.
‘We know that you’ve told Hermione no magic,’ said Harry, ‘so we came to help her. You have a lot of luggage and you still have a long way to go. We will help you get your luggage to the station and onto your train and then leave, if that’s all right.’
For a moment, Harry thought that Mr Granger might argue, but after a whispered conversation with his wife, Hermione’s father agreed.
Harry, Ron and Ginny, as they had planned, carried Mr and Mrs Granger’s luggage from the airport. They stood with the luggage near the doors of the crowded tube train while Hermione sat opposite her parents. She was tearful for most of the journey. They rattled along on the underground, changed at Green Park and disembarked at Waterloo. At the railway station, Harry and Ron sweated and struggled up the stairs with the cases.
Upon reaching the concourse, they discovered that the next train to Winchester was leaving in twenty minutes. Harry took the opportunity to speak to Hermione’s parents.
‘I’d like to apologise,’ he began, ‘for what you went through this last year. Hermione thought that she was acting for the best. She’s a good friend. She saved my life on more than one occasion. If there is anything I can do for you … we can do for you … anything at all, please just ask.’
‘What’s done,’ Mr Granger said slowly, ‘is done: and it can’t be undone. You know, I expect that we have a six week holiday booked. Hermione keeps secrets from us, but she seems to tell you everything.’
At this remark, Hermione again burst into tears.
‘Our holiday was supposed to be for the end of her final year,’ her father continued as his wife embraced their daughter. ‘It now looks like she will be back at that school in September.’
‘Thank you for helping with our luggage, but we’d like some time alone with Hermione,’ he said firmly.
‘I understand,’ Harry nodded. ‘I’m truly sorry. Goodbye,’ he shook Mr and Mrs Granger by the hand, hugged Hermione tightly and kissed her cheek.
While Ginny did the same, he watched Ron, who looked as though his heart was breaking. This didn’t surprise Harry. There was no doubt that it was. Recalling his own separation from Ginny, Harry squeezed his friend’s shoulder sympathetically.
After shaking Mr and Mrs Granger’s hands, Ron kissed Hermione on the lips. Hermione, to Ron’s pleasure but discomfort, prolonged the kiss for as long as she could. She only stepped away when her father cleared his throat noisily.
‘Bye Hermione,’ sighed Ron, ‘I’ll telephone you, if I’m allowed.’ He looked hopefully at Hermione’s parents. Mr Granger looked impassive, but with a tear in her eye, Mrs Granger gave an almost imperceptible nod.
‘Bye, Hermione, bye Mr and Mrs Granger,’ Ginny and Harry chorused as they turned and left. Ron said nothing, he was crying. Ginny put her arm around her brother and hugged him. Harry walked ahead, pretending that he hadn’t noticed Ron’s distress.
Chapter 15: Postscripts
Author's Notes: Thanks to Amelíe and Andrea for their comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.
15: Postscripts
‘Hello, Mr Granger? It’s Harry Potter; could I speak to Hermione, please?’
‘I’ll just get her for you, Harry. She’s out in the garden with her mother, helping her with the weeding.’
(Silence)
‘Harry? Is that you, where’s Ron? He said he’d phone. Has something happened to him?’ Hermione sounded panicky.
‘He’s fine, Hermione, he’s standing next to me. We decided that I’d better start the conversation because his only other attempt at a phone call was a bit of a disaster. How are you?
‘I’m … okay. Put Ron on, please, and tell him not to shout.’
‘She says don’t shout,’ Harry handed the phone over to his friend, who lifted it cautiously to the side of his head, holding it well away from his ear as though he was afraid it would explode.
‘Er, hello?’ said Ron.
‘Oh, Ron, it’s great to finally hear from you.’
‘I know, ten whole days; I wanted to phone last weekend, but Harry told me not to. He thought that it would be too soon.’
‘Thanks, Ron,’ Harry grumbled.
‘How are you, how’s work, Auror training, everything?’ Hermione asked. Harry could hear her clearly but stood in silence and let his friends talk.
‘Fine, we’ve only been in the office for a week, but training’s already hard work and they’re giving us loads of research to do. Harry’s trying to take charge, of course. He’s got us working on a new security system for the Ministry building in our spare time — not that there’s much of that. Ginny’s started working for George. They hope to re-open the shop next week. We’re all keeping busy and working late. Harry’s still at the Burrow with us. He keeps talking about moving back to Grimmauld Place. Mum doesn’t think that he should be “all alone in that big old house,” and neither does Ginny for some reason. But I think that would be a good idea. He definitely needs to see less of Ginny. I’m getting fed up of walking in on them when they’re trying to lick each other’s tonsils; it’s disgusting.’
‘Don’t be cruel, Ron.’
‘It’s never much fun when you’re not around, Hermione. I miss you.’
‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’
‘I’m not being nice, I’m being honest. I even miss being told off by you! How are things with your parents?’
‘We’re … working things out. They were impressed with you all at Heathrow and Waterloo; almost normal, they said … which is good. I’m going to try to persuade them to let you visit before we go to France. Kingsley’s been here. He arrived in a car yesterday and spoke to Mum and Dad. He’s offered them compensation and had a long talk with us. He was brilliant — wore a smart Muggle suit and he had a copy of yesterday’s Prophet with him. The front page photo of him shaking hands with the Muggle Prime Minister helped, too. He made quite an impact on Dad.’
‘Did Kingsley leave the paper with you?’
‘No, why?’
‘There was an article on page six about Skeeter’s trial. She was found guilty of failure to register as an Animagus and of burglary.’
‘Burglary!’ squealed Hermione, ‘where did she burgle?’
‘Azkaban,’ Ron chuckled, ‘she pleaded guilty to both charges because Kingsley threatened to charge her with treason if she didn’t. She’s in Azkaban legally now, for six months. She was fined five thousand Galleons, too. We reckon she’ll be out in three months and trying to sell a new book on the prison system.’
‘It’s not long enough,’ Hermione grumbled.
‘Hi, Hermione, it’s Ron. I dialled the number myself, this time, and it’s only the third time we’ve telephoned you.’
‘I suppose that you think that’s a big achievement,’ Hermione laughed.
‘It is.’ Ron was too happy to be speaking to her to sound hurt. ‘How’re things? Going to let me in on your big secret yet?’
‘It wouldn’t be a secret if I did that, Ron,’ Hermione answered the second question first. ‘Things are good, very good. Mum and Dad would like you all to come over next Sunday. You, Harry and Ginny. Mum and Dad want to meet you all properly. I’ll meet you at Winchester Station at noon if you can make it.’
‘GREAT,’ shouted Ron, talking very quickly, ‘I’ll be able to come, I’ll be there. You can rely on me. Harry’s standing outside the phone box. Did I tell you that Harry wasn’t even in the box when I dialled the number myself? I’ll ask him …’
Ron’s voice was suddenly distant. ‘Can we get to Winchester Station next Sunday, at twelve o’clock, to meet Hermione? Ginny can come, too.’
Hermione heard Harry’s muffled voice in the background.
‘Harry says yes, we’ll all be there,’ Ron told her happily.
‘Just one more week then I’ll see you all, I can hardly wait,’ said Hermione, ‘how’s work going?’
‘Loads of homework; I really, really, miss you.’
‘It’ll do you good to do your homework yourself, Ronald, instead of relying on me to help!’ snorted Hermione.
‘Now that sounds more like the Hermione I know and love.’
Hermione gasped, ‘What did you just say, Ron?’
‘You heard!’
‘Sit down, Ron,’ Ginny ordered, ‘walking up and down the train won’t get you to Hermione any sooner.’
‘We’re nearly there,’ Ron told his sister, ‘it’s the next station. I’m going to stand by the door.’
He did so, his hand hovering over the “open” button. He was bouncing with excitement. He had loudly announced every station they’d reached, and had been counting down the stops.
‘Only four stations left,’ then ‘three more to go,’ until finally, ‘Winchester is next stop!’
Harry, his arm casually draped over Ginny’s shoulder, watched Ron with some amusement. He’d never seen his friend so excited. Ron was now busily checking his reflection in the train window. As he flattened his hair and adjusted the collar of his polo shirt for at least the twentieth time, Ginny gently squeezed Harry’s knee.
‘Better check your fly as well, Ron,’ she deadpanned.
He looked down, panic written across his face, only to realise that Ginny was joking. Harry, Ginny, and several other passengers who’d been listening to the exchange, burst out laughing. At that point the train began to brake, and Ron stumbled against the transparent plastic screen next to the door.
‘Wazzock,’ he told his sister when he regained his balance.
‘Pillock,’ she replied cheerfully.
Ron looked ready to continue the name-calling, but the train was pulling into the station and he realised that he was standing on the wrong side for the platform. He rushed across to the door opposite, reaching it just as the train stopped and the “open” button lit up. He was out before the doors were completely open and looking wildly up and down the platform. By the time Harry and Ginny reached the door, he was sprinting down the platform towards Hermione.
Harry and Ginny strolled along the platform, each with a hand slipped into the back pocket of the other’s jeans. Like most people in the station, they watched Ron and Hermione snogging passionately.
‘D’you think that they’ve spoken to each other yet?’ Ginny asked. Harry laughed and shook his head.
‘How long do we give them?’ he asked, ‘As long as they need?’
‘After all of the times Ron’s interrupted us over the past month?’ grinned Ginny wickedly as they reached the kissing couple, ‘I don’t think so!’
‘Hi, Hermione, not found anyone better than Ron yet?’ Ginny began, before putting on her “Ron” voice. ‘That looks disgusting! Will you two stop it! Do you have to do that in front of me? Just put her down, will you?’
Harry grinned as he remembered the many occasions in the past few weeks that Ron had directed those, and other similar comments, towards Ginny and himself. After some further hectoring, Ron and Hermione finally parted. Hermione hugged both Harry and Ginny.
‘I’ve brought a picnic lunch,’ said Hermione. ‘Mum wants us home at three o’clock for a chat, then Dad’s going to take us out to The Cricketers for dinner.’
‘A chat?’ Ron looked worried.
‘The Cricketers?’ asked Ginny, confused.
‘It’s a pub, Ginny,’ Hermione answered her before turning to Ron, a serious expression on her face.
‘They want to meet my boyfriend, and the other boy I’ve told them so much about. They want to get to know you.’ Hermione hesitated, ‘They … they want to see if you’re safe to be seen with.’
‘If they think that you’re weird,’ Hermione looked desperate, ‘we won’t be going out for a meal, and you won’t be invited back.’
‘Oh,’ said Ron worriedly, ‘do we look all right? We’ve done our best.’
‘We’ve been practicing,’ Ginny reassured Hermione, ‘Harry and I have been giving up our precious free time to drag Ron around the Muggle world. He’s getting used to it.’
‘They spend most of their time in the Muggle world,’ explained Ron, ‘mainly because the press and his fans are after Harry whenever he appears in Diagon Alley, or anywhere magical. It’s got a lot worse since the day we were spotted at Gringotts. Harry doesn’t like being pestered for photos or autographs.’
‘I can be invisible in Muggle London without a cloak,’ Harry agreed, ‘and the Prophet’s trying to check up on Ginny, too, now that they know we’re going out.’
‘They’re calling her “the Chosen One’s Chosen One,”’ Ron sniggered. Ginny pulled a face, and then grinned.
‘I’ve asked George for a raise,’ she told Hermione. ‘We’re getting people coming into the shop just because I’m working there.’
Hermione smiled before putting on a serious expression. ‘Ron,’ she looked worried, ‘when we go out for a meal…’
‘Don’t scoff my food, I know; Ginny’s already given me the lecture.’
‘I was going to say don’t get drunk,’ corrected Hermione. ‘Dad’s bound to offer to buy you a drink as you’re eighteen. But Muggle beer isn’t like Butterbeer.’
Ron nodded his compliance. ‘How are things?’ he asked as Hermione led them from the station.
‘Much better,’ Hermione smiled sadly, ‘I really hurt them, but I think that they understand now. They want me to be more … normal, more Muggle. I can understand why. I don’t want to hurt them again, so please try to act like Muggles today,’ she continued seriously, ‘try to fit in and be normal. It will really help with Mum and Dad.’
They stopped next to a small blue car and Hermione produced some keys.
‘Is this your secret?’ Harry asked, impressed.
‘I’ve been taking driving lessons, a belated eighteenth present. I passed my test two weeks ago. This is Mum’s car,’ said Hermione, nodding proudly, ‘I thought we could picnic in Micheldever Wood.’
After congratulating Hermione, they climbed into the car and were carefully driven away.
The meal was over. Ron had again been jokingly reminded by Ginny that, as none of their brothers were at the table, he didn’t need to eat quickly to stop them from stealing food from his plate. He’d been on his very best behaviour.
Although he had politely declined Mr Granger’s offer of a beer with his mixed grill, Hermione’s father had continued to press him. He’d eventually accepted a half pint of Hambleton Bitter. He’d hardly touched it, but had been polite about its taste when Mr Granger asked what he thought of it. Hermione’s father was on his second pint of the stuff and complaining about Australian lager.
Hermione had taken a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon with her steak. Ginny had wanted to try the wine, but had been reminded that, at sixteen, she was not allowed alcohol. Ron had been cross with his sister, but Mrs Granger, to the surprise of both her husband and daughter, had entertained them with some of her own experiences of underage drinking.
‘Thanks for the meal, Mr Granger, Mrs Granger,’ said Ron politely, Harry and Ginny chorused their thanks, too. ‘We’ve had a great day; I hope that we can see Hermione again soon.’
Mr Granger looked at his wife, who nodded.
‘We leave for France in two weeks,’ he told Ron, ‘and we’ll be away for over a month.’
‘Oh,’ Ron’s face fell, ‘I’d forgotten.’
‘We were wondering if the three of you might like to join us for the last two weeks?’ offered Mr Granger ‘Provided your parents agree, of course.’
‘I have no-one to ask,’ Harry said, ‘but if Ron and Ginny can go, I’ll come, too.’
‘No chance,’ Ginny scowled, ‘Mum’ll never let me go off on holiday with Harry.’
‘We’ll be there, too,’ Mrs Granger smiled, ‘to make sure that you all behave yourselves. Ask your Mum to phone us, Ginny; we can talk it over.’
‘I don’t think Mum’s ever used a telephone,’ said Ginny uncertainly, ‘but I’ll ask.’
They discussed the possibility of meeting Hermione in France for some time. It was late when they finally left the country pub and were driven back to Winchester Station by Mrs Granger.
‘We’ve kept you out much longer than we intended, sorry. When is your next train?’ Mrs Granger apologised as they climbed out of the car, Hermione joined them.
‘I’m not sure,’ admitted Ron, ‘but we’ll be able to get home, don’t worry.’
‘Thank you for a great day; I didn’t want it to end,’ Ron continued.
‘Well done, Ron,’ Hermione whispered as she kissed him goodnight, ‘you’ve won my Mum and Dad over. Now you’ve just got to persuade your Mum to let you come to France.’ She climbed back into her father’s car and buckled her seatbelt. They waved goodbye and watched the Grangers drive out from the station car park. Satisfied that they were gone, Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry, preparing for Side-Along-Apparition.
‘Take me to my bed,’ she told Harry.
‘Best behaviour!’ Ron begged, ‘Don’t even joke about things like that. We’ve got to be on our best behaviour for Mum. We could go on a real holiday! With Hermione!’
They Apparated back to the Burrow.
Harry stood up spluttering, shaking the seawater from his glasses.
‘That one caught me by surprise,’ he coughed while Ron watched laughing.
‘You should be watching the waves, not ogling my sister,’ Ron told him. A huge Atlantic wave crashed over Ron’s head and knocked him over. Harry, who had seen this one coming, jumped and allowed the wave to carry him closer to the shore. He waved at Ginny and Hermione.
‘You can talk,’ he said, chuckling.
Ron struggled to his feet in the undertow, ‘It’s those bikini things, very distracting. I don’t know what Mum will say when she sees the photos.’
‘We’ve been here nearly a week,’ Harry said, ‘D’you think we’ll get used to it?’
‘I bloody well hope not!’ Ron grinned. He stared at Hermione, who was standing at the water’s edge. ‘They’re waving; it must be time to go and get ready for your birthday dinner.’
‘We’ve been here all afternoon. We’ve been swimming, but they have just been lying in the sun. They haven’t been in the water yet,’ Harry pointed out. Ron winked at his friend. ‘Good luck catching Ginny, mate.’
‘Mum and Dad will be in the car park in fifteen minutes, you need to come out and get dry,’ ordered Hermione, hands on hips, as the two young men walked into the shallows. She was healthily tanned, relaxed and unsuspecting. Ginny, however, was watching Harry suspiciously.
One of the many things Harry had discovered over the past few months was that it was very difficult for him to ambush his girlfriend. Hermione was different. As she turned to walk back up the beach Ron grabbed her around the waist. She struggled and screamed but he lifted her easily and carried her into the waves. Harry glanced at Ginny; she seemed to be watching Ron. He made his move, but wasn’t quick enough. Ginny grinned, stuck out her tongue, and skipped back out of his reach.
There was a scream and splash behind him. Harry turned to see Hermione struggle to her feet. She was soaked and angry-looking. He watched Hermione curse at, laugh with, hug and kiss Ron.
Suddenly sensing movement behind him, Harry sidestepped. Ginny had darted forwards to push him over. He managed to grab her wrists and pull her into the ocean.
They met Mr and Mrs Granger on time by climbing up the steep path to the car park still in their wet swimwear, laughing and joking.
‘You’re the ones who’ll be sitting in it when we go out to the restaurant,’ Hermione’s father told them cheerfully, as they travelled back to the gite wrapped in their towels, covering the floor and seats of Mr Granger’s large car in damp sand. He sniffed the salty air. ‘This takes me back to when you were small, Hermione. The trips to the beach with those old school friends of yours and a car full of sand and sea smells on the way home.’
At the gite, Harry and Ron went into the bedroom they shared and chose clean clothes for the evening. Two hours later, showered and changed, they were sitting in a seafront restaurant ordering Harry’s birthday meal. Mr Granger ordered three bottles of the fine local wine. Ginny had been surprised at the Granger’s changed attitude, but Mr Granger had simply said ‘French law is different.’
Ron grumbled under his breath about the choice on the menu; he was not enamoured of French cuisine. Harry and Ginny, like Hermione and her parents, were enthusiastically trying new things. Harry had not found anything he didn’t like. He grinned to himself as he ordered moules marinires.
‘What’s funny?’ Ginny asked him.
‘’I’m eating “foreign muck”; my Uncle Vernon wouldn’t approve,’ Harry explained. ‘But he never approved of anything I did.’
‘They didn’t send you a card,’ Ginny observed, ‘or a present. I thought that eighteen was important to Muggles.’
‘I didn’t expect them to; I’m not important to them,’ Harry told her irritably.
‘Have you seen them yet?’ she asked.
‘No,’ replied Harry loudly, his temper beginning to rise. The tone of his reply was angrier than he’d intended and Ginny raised her eyebrows in surprise. ‘Dedalus took them home and told them that I was okay, and Vernon told him to get out, that he never wanted to see another wizard for as long as he lived. So I’m going to wait for them to contact me.’
‘Do you like your presents?’ Ginny abruptly changed the subject after his sudden outburst.
‘Sorry, Ginny. Yes, my presents are great,’ Harry told her honestly. He hadn’t actually seen any of them. They had agreed not to bring anything magical to Brittany with them, apart from their wands, of course. All Harry had were photographs. To his surprise, the DA had clubbed together and bought him a custom made dark detector. Ron, Hermione and Ginny, flush with the money she’d made working for George, had jointly bought him a Nimbus 2001. The 2001 was, Harry knew, being heavily discounted because of the forthcoming release of the new Nimbus Stormcloud on the first of September, but it was still an expensive broom.
Harry knew about the discount on the Nimbus because he’d almost ordered himself a Stormcloud a couple of weeks earlier. He’d decided that he didn’t really need a new broom yet. Instead, he had ordered a Stormcloud for Ginny for her seventeenth. The Nimbus Broom Company had an embargo on any sales before September the first. They had, however, been prepared to make an exception for Harry Potter after he’d called into their workshops to ask. Now, he didn’t know what to do. His surprise present for Ginny had been pre-empted.
‘It’s just that you seem a bit unhappy about it,’ Ginny pressed. He looked her in the eyes.
‘I like it; I almost bought myself a broom two weeks ago,’ he said carefully. Ginny opened her eyes wide, smiled, and kissed him. She’s guessed, he thought.
The meal arrived and Mr Granger filled everyone’s glasses. His wife was driving, but he pressed her to take a half glass. He raised his glass to Harry.
‘Happy eighteenth birthday, Harry,’ he smiled. ‘I can’t say that I approve of all of the things you’ve done. But I know that my daughter was a willing accomplice. I’m certain that Hermione hasn’t told us the worst of it, but it’s over, and you’re all safe, and we must be grateful for that. To Harry. Happy birthday!’
They clattered glasses together as everyone wished him a happy birthday then, to his horror, they sang “Happy Birthday” to him in the busy restaurant.
‘We didn’t know what to get you, Harry,’ Hermione’s mother said apologetically, ‘so we thought we’d get you something to remind you of this holiday.’ She handed him a soft parcel. Harry ripped open the wrappings; it contained a Breton jumper, which he immediately pulled on. He struggled to pull his head through the neck hole. This gave him the opportunity to wipe the moisture from his eyes.
‘Copycat,’ said Ron, when Harry arrived to give Ginny her carefully wrapped, but still obviously broom-shaped present. It was a glorious late summer day. The Weasleys and Hermione were sitting in the orchard above the Burrow. He had Apparated into their midst.
‘He bought it for me before we bought his,’ Ginny told her brother, confirming Harry’s suspicions from two weeks earlier.
‘Ordered,’ he corrected. Ginny gasped as she tore the paper from the broom-shaped parcel.
‘A Stormcloud! They’re not even released yet! How on earth did you get one? You shouldn’t have, Harry, it’s really expensive! Thank you.’
‘You’ll need a good, fast broom if you’re made Quidditch Captain,’ Harry told her. ‘You were brilliant on that old Cleansweep; you’ll be sensational on the Stormcloud. The professional teams will be queuing to sign you up.’
Ginny kissed him, and kept on kissing him despite complaints from her eldest brother.
‘Relax, she’s just warming up for a game of Quidditch,’ Charlie assured a puzzled Bill, while George, Percy and Ron laughed.
‘Seventeen today,’ she told Bill when she finally finished, ‘I can do what I like.’
‘Being seventeen makes no difference,’ George told her, shaking his head. ‘You always have.’
‘True,’ Ginny smiled. She grabbed Harry’s hand and dragged him behind a tree. Once out of sight of her family, her face changed.
‘Never, ever, spend that much money on me again, Harry,’ she hissed angrily.
‘You need a new broom,’ Harry protested. ‘I thought that you had guessed.’
‘I thought you’d bought a Nimbus 2001 because of the discount,’ her voice husky with emotion. ‘That was really too much. Ron, Hermione and I had to save hard to buy you the 2001. I borrowed from George, too. But you …you buy a Stormcloud, before they go on sale, and don’t even notice! You’re impossible, Harry. I can never repay you.’
‘I don’t want you to.’
‘Never again, Harry. Promise me.’
‘Okay, Ginny. I promise not to buy you expensive gifts ever again,’ he told her sadly. ‘I’ll buy you a cheap quill for the next twenty Christmases, okay?’
‘That’s not quite what I had in mind,’ Ginny’s anger faded as she gazed into his eyes. ‘It’s just that I don’t want people to think that I’m your pampered princess, Harry.’
‘You could never be that,’ said Harry smiling. ‘Pampered Princesses don’t play Quidditch, do they? They just lounge around doing nothing except spend other people’s money.’
‘Thank you,’ apologised Ginny. ‘It’s a great broom, and I should have been more grateful.’ She pulled him down for another kiss.
They were interrupted by a shout from Ron. ‘Owls,’ he pointed at two specks in the sky.
Everyone watched in silence as the owls swooped down and landed, one in front of Hermione and one in front of Ginny. ‘It’s our Hogwarts letters at last,’ Hermione squealed, tearing open her envelope. Something red and gold fell out and landed on the ground. Hermione shrieked excitedly, but Ron grabbed it before Hermione could pick it up. He looked at it, turned, and winked at Harry.
‘Some new security thing, I suppose,’ he told Hermione, clenching it tightly in his fist and holding it straight up in the air, well out of her reach.
‘Security?’ Hermione looked disappointed.
‘Yeah, a badge with your initials on it,’ he told her, ‘looks like Ginny’s got one, too.’
‘Except my initials aren’t QC,’ Ginny laughed, ‘Quidditch Captain!’ she held her badge up for everyone to see. Harry and her family rushed forwards to congratulate her. Ron lowered his hand, although not low enough for Hermione to reach it, and looked again at the badge he was holding.
‘Hermione Granger,’ he announced, ‘unless there’s something else HG could … wha-ha-ha,’ he staggered backwards as Hermione tickled his ribs. She hooked a foot around his ankle, making him stumble and fall. Jumping on top of him she straddled his waist and reached up to try to prise the badge from his hand.
‘You rotten sod, Ron,’ she squealed, as he lay on the grass laughing. He held the badge out for Hermione. When she snatched at it he grabbed her arms and pulled her down on top of him.
‘Head Girl,’ Ron shouted. He kissed her.
‘There’s still half an hour before the train leaves,’ Ron grumbled to Harry, rolling his eyes towards Hermione. ’We’ve never ever been this early, and we’re not even going!’
‘I need to meet up with Justin,’ Hermione reminded her boyfriend, as she dragged Ron towards the barrier.
‘My Mum and Dad were Head Boy and Head Girl,’ said Harry, winking at Ginny, ‘and they ended up getting married.’
‘He’s nice, isn’t he, Justin?’ Ginny added. ‘Not as nice as Harry. But he’s Muggleborn, like you, Hermione, and he’s split up with Hannah. His family are very rich…’ Ginny looked meaningfully at her brother, whose ears were turning pink.
‘Don’t listen to them, Ron, they’re just trying to wind you up ... Dean is back at school too, and Ginny has history with him,’ she added archly.
‘Never look back is my motto,’ teased Ginny, ‘so he’s the one boy in the school Harry doesn’t need to worry about. How many more does that leave me?’
‘Do you want me to leave you here?’ laughed Harry as they walked towards the barrier, ‘so you can check out the first years in peace?’
‘Cheek,’ Ginny scolded.
‘What happened between Hannah and Justin?’ Hermione asked.
‘They got together during the worst part of last year. But now that things are returning to normal, Justin decided that he shouldn’t be going out with a barmaid. He suggested that Hannah get a better job. When she refused, they argued and he chucked her,’ Ginny said. ‘At least, that’s what Lavender told me when she called in to the shop.’
‘Why did Lavender call in to the shop?’ Harry asked.
‘Gossip,’ Ginny said, ‘and company. You should go to see her. She’s been really depressed since Robards refused to allow her to take the Auror entrance exam.’
Harry nodded sadly. ‘I will, if that’s okay with you, Ginny.’ She smiled, nodded and kissed him.
‘I won’t,’ Ron said bluntly. Hermione didn’t comment.
Hand in hand, the two couples stepped through the barrier and onto Platform 9. The platform was already crowded. A hush spread out from them as they were recognised. Dozens of people stared them. Harry ignored the stares slid his arm around Ginny’s waist and looked up and down the platform.
‘There’s Nev,’ he said, surprised, ‘who’s he snogging?’
Ginny sought out Neville, ‘Romilda,’ she hissed. ‘So she’s finally bagged herself a hero. I hope Neville knows what he’s doing.’
‘Looks like he’s been getting a lot of practice to me,’ Ron observed. ‘How old is she, anyway?’
‘’Not much younger than me,’ his sister replied. ‘Seventeen next month, I think.’
‘Do you think Neville’s enjoying himself?’ asked a familiar, sing-song voice, ‘because that girl wasn’t very nice to us a couple of years ago.’
‘Best keep an eye on her, Luna,’ Ron suggested. ‘She nearly got me killed, too. And keep an eye on these two,’ he indicated Hermione and Ginny. ‘We don’t want them causing any trouble at school.’
‘Ron,’ Hermione protested, ‘I’m Head Girl!’
‘But I’m not even a Prefect,’ Ginny grinned.
‘Here’s an empty compartment,’ called Ginny. Harry and Ron helped Ginny and Luna with their trunks. Harry gave Ginny a quick kiss.
‘Ron and I are going to take Hermione’s stuff down to the Prefect’s carriage,’ Harry reminded her. ‘I’ll come back to see you before the train leaves.’
‘She’ll miss you both,’ said Ginny, nodding. ‘Go and say goodbye to her properly.’ Harry was reluctant to leave her, so she pushed him out onto the platform where Ron was waiting with Hermione’s trunk. He was refusing to allow her to carry it. Harry grabbed a handle, and he and Ron followed Hermione down to the prefect’s carriage. Justin hadn’t arrived, but Fenella Gray and another Slytherin girl were chatting to two fifth year Gryffindor prefects, one of whom was Dennis Creevey.
‘Hi, Dennis; hi, Fenella,’ Harry said, ‘prefects, eh? Ron can advise you.’
‘No, he can’t,’ Hermione said, forcefully, ‘I will. Who’re your friends?’
‘This is Vicki Frobisher,’ Dennis introduced his fellow prefect.
‘And this … this is Ermintrude Pepperell,’ Fenella whispered.
‘Trudi,’ the Slytherin fifth year corrected forcefully.
‘Just give me a minute, all of you,’ said Hermione, looking tearfully at her two young men.
‘I’m going to miss you two,’ she sobbed. She hugged Harry tightly and kissed him on the cheek. After passionately kissing Ron, she tried to push them both off the train. She succeeded with Harry, who was anxious to get back to Ginny, but Ron resisted.
‘Go! Just go!’ she ordered, ‘this is … wrong.’
‘I can stay with you until the train leaves,’ Ron pleaded.
‘I’m Head Girl, I have responsibilities,’ Hermione sobbed. ‘This is stupid, Ron; if you stay with me, I’ll just cry. You too, Harry, just go, both of you, I need to organise this lot.’ She struggled to shove her boyfriend out of the carriage. ‘Write to me, Ron, please,’ she begged.
‘I will. We’ll see you on the first Hogsmeade weekend,’ Ron called desperately. Hermione nodded and tearfully closed the door.
As they walked back towards Ginny’s compartment, Harry striding, Ron dawdling and making frequent backward glances, they spotted a small, dark-haired woman struggling to help a little girl lift a large trunk onto the train.
‘First year?’ he asked the girl. She nodded, staring dumbstruck at his forehead.
‘Need a hand, Mrs Cattermole?’ Harry continued, reaching across and lifting the trunk out of the little girl’s hands, ‘C’mon, Ron.’
Ron took the other end of the trunk from Mrs Cattermole, asking, ‘Reg all right, is he? You did get away safely?’
Mary Cattermole nodded, astonished.
‘C’mon, midget, find yourself a compartment; this is heavy, you know,’ ordered Ron. The little girl scampered into a compartment full of first year girls. Harry and Ron followed and struggled to put the trunk up on the rack.
‘Enjoy yourselves,’ Harry told the girls, smiling down at the slack-jawed and silently staring faces. ‘Best school in the world, Hogwarts.’
‘But watch out for the Head Girl,’ Ron added, ‘she’s extremely strict, and she’s got a terrible temper.’ They left the awestruck eleven year olds, said goodbye to Mrs Cattermole and strode through the train to Ginny’s compartment. When they got there, they found that Ginny and Luna had been joined by Jack Sloper and Dean Thomas.
‘I’m the only one from our dorm going back,’ Dean said sadly, ‘Seamus is only coming up for his NEWTs in October, like you two, and Neville.’
‘Look after Hermione, all of you,’ ordered Ron. ‘She’s always had me n’ Harry to take care of her. Who knows what sort of trouble she’ll get in without us to keep her on the straight and narrow?’
‘And win the Quidditch Cup, too,’ Harry told Ginny.
‘I’ll do my best,’ Ginny grinned, ‘I have fond memories of the last cup-winning celebrations I attended.’
Harry feigned puzzlement.
‘Could you remind me?’ he asked.
Ginny threw her arms around his neck and complied. Luna was watching Dean carefully.
‘You seem a little sad, Dean,’ she observed. ‘Would you like to kiss me?’
Ron snorted with laughter. Harry and Ginny simply ignored the commotion around them. They had better things to do.
Note: This is the end of the “Grave Days” but the story of Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and their friends (and enemies) continues in “Aurors and Schoolgirls”, “Hunters and Prey”, “Strangers at Drakeshaugh”, and all of my other stories.