Harry Potter and the Butterfly Effect by Brennus
Summary: Minor events can have repercussions far beyond their size and importance. When one of these minor events occurs to a ten year-old Harry Potter he finds his world turned upside-down and it starts him down a very different path than the one he expected to follow.
Rating: R
Categories: Alternate Universe
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2012.11.11
Updated: 2013.05.21
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1 – Ten Autumns Gone
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 – The Quality of Mercy
Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – The Prodigal Son
Chapter 4: Chapter 4 – Beauty Slept in a Serpent's Embrace
Chapter 5: Chapter 5 – In Secrets We Drown
Chapter 6: Chapter 6 – Summer Dying Fast
Chapter 7: Chapter 7 – Funeral by the Sea
Chapter 8: Chapter 8 – Sensei
Chapter 9: Chapter 9 – Deshi
Chapter 10: Chapter 10 – A Return to Haunted Shores
Chapter 11: Chapter 11 – Genesis of a Nemesis
Chapter 12: Chapter 12 – Under a Hunter’s Moon
Chapter 13: Chapter 13 – A Present from the Poison-Hearted
Chapter 14: Chapter 14 – Death Be My Guide
Chapter 15: Chapter 15 – To Catch a Raven
Chapter 16: Chapter 16 – Dark Desires of My Traitorous Heart
Chapter 17: Chapter 17 – As the Gods Laugh
Chapter 18: Chapter 18 – When Dreams Turn Into Nightmares
Chapter 19: Chapter 19 – A Serpent's Embrace Broken
Chapter 20: Chapter 20 – At One with Misery
Chapter 21: Chapter 21 – Into the Snake Pit
Chapter 22: Chapter 22 – Walls Divide Us
Chapter 23: Chapter 23 – In Truth You Will Find Joy
Chapter 24: Chapter 24 – Master of Misrule
Chapter 25: Chapter 25 – Sanctuary in My Arms
Chapter 26: Chapter 26 – To Rid the Disease
Chapter 27: Chapter 27 – The Dreadful Hour
Chapter 28: Chapter 28 – Death and Other Comforts
Chapter 29: Chapter 29 – The Devil’s Playground
Chapter 30: Chapter 30 – Blood of the Sunset
Chapter 31: Epilogue – A Business Matter
Chapter 1: Chapter 1 – Ten Autumns Gone
Author's Notes: Hello and welcome to the first chapter of my new story. Firstly, can I just say that if you’ve read any of my previous stories you will find this very different. It’s not quite a SuperHarry! story, but more a tale of what would have happened if he had been trained to his full potential from the beginning. It gets quite violent in parts, especially towards the end. Initially, we will follow Harry’s life until he’s sixteen, then go back and have a look at what Ginny was up to, before merging their stories. Don’t start worrying when we are seventeen chapters in and we’ve only seen Ginny once! Warning - extreme Dumbledore-bashing will occur and some of the Weasleys don’t come out looking too good either, although perhaps not the ones you would expect. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to my beta MinistryMalcontent who has again volunteered to wade through my multiple errors. Cheers Tom!
There is a well-held theory that the smallest events can have repercussions far beyond their size and importance. Thus, a butterfly beating its wings in Brazil can cause a tidal wave in Japan. Of course, the threads linking the two events are likely to be so thin and convoluted that they are barely worth considering. Furthermore, who is to say that the beating of the butterfly’s wings is the instigating event? Why not the birth of the insect itself? Or a gust of wind that prevents the creature being eaten by a bird one day? Really, these things are not worth the effort of examining them.
But occasionally, there are small, seemingly unimportant events that can be directly traced to much greater things. And it is with one of these minor events that we start this story. In a small, insignificant English town a small boy accidently dropped a plate. The plate itself is almost immaterial. It was, after all, a white piece of china with a brown floral pattern on it, the like of which can be found all over the world. Of much greater significance was the unusual boy who dropped it.
But what started this particular chain of events? Was the plate slippery due to the washing-up liquid? Perhaps it was due to the weakened state of the boy himself, a result of years of malnutrition? These questions are not worth considering, however, the consequences definitely are.
Friday, 12 October 1990
Harry stood on tip-toes to try to reach the plate that sat on the draining board next to the sink. He had already washed all the dishes and was now drying them so he could put them away. Many people would think it unfair that a ten year-old boy should have to do this task unaided, but Harry was unaware of this. It was just the latest in a long list of chores that he had to perform if he expected to receive any food. As he had not eaten in over twenty-four hours, this was something in the very forefront of his mind.
He should have moved the box that he had been standing on when he was washing up. He would then have been able to reach the plate easily, but he was tired and the box was heavy. By rights, at his age he should have been able to reach the plate anyway. Unfortunately, the effects of his poor diet and being forced to sleep in such a confined space had left him short and skinny, unhealthily so, in fact. So instead, he stretched up and managed to get his fingertips around the edge of the plate so he could lift it. Then disaster struck.
Just has he managed to lift the plate clear of the draining board it slipped from his fingers. He watched in horror as it plummeted and smashed to pieces over the linoleum floor. For a second he dared not move.
“BOY!” came the piercing shout that he had been dreading, as his Uncle Vernon stormed into the kitchen. His face was red and his mouth was twisted into a snarl. Harry instantly knew he wasn’t going to get away with this lightly. It would not matter to Uncle Vernon that the dropped plate was an accident. It was just further proof of Harry’s uselessness and disrespect. Vernon’s heavy fist contacted with the side of his head before Harry knew it was coming. It knocked him backwards and he twisted as he fell, banging his forehead on the edge of the kitchen sink.
His head impacted on the sharp corner of the sink unit, and caught him right where the scar was. The scar was a strange lightning bolt shape that he had had ever since he could remember. A reminder of the car crash that killed his parents, he had been told. Pain lanced through his skull on impact, and his head felt like it was splitting. This was not enough to satisfy Vernon’s desire to punish him, unfortunately, and once again the man’s meaty fist descended towards him. This time, however, it did not connect.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Albus Dumbledore sat in his office at Hogwarts, scratching away at various pieces of parchment. It seemed as if his days were increasingly filled with small, annoying tasks which he had to perform. More and more, the Board of Governors wanted to know every minute detail of the school's running, from the third years' Charms exam scores to this year’s potion ingredient expenses. Although his Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, pulled together most of the raw data, he was the one who had to put it all together.
He increasingly felt that somehow he was making a massive mistake. After all, he was Supreme Mugwump and a key member of the International Confederation of Wizards. He had his fingers in many pies, and all of them were far more significant than anything in the report he was compiling. He felt he was rapidly losing sight of what was important.
As if in direct response to that thought, a small rotating device housed within a glass jar started chiming loudly in front of him. He stared at it for a split second before hurriedly leaning forward and checking the small counter situated in the base of the device. What he saw horrified him. Within a second he was on his feet and heading towards the Floo. Quickly he called out to his Deputy Head, cursing every wasted second it took her to respond. Eventually, her severe countenance appeared amongst the green flames.
“Minerva! I’ve just detected a massive surge of magical energy at Privet Drive. Harry Potter could be in danger. I will make my way there immediately. Please make contact with the relevant people at the Ministry and follow me when you can,” he informed the shocked looking witch.
“Of course, Albus. I’ll be there as soon as I’ve talked to the Ministry,” she replied in her brisk, no-nonsense manner before disappearing. Knowing he could rely on her to pacify any agitated Ministry official who tried to get involved, he waved his wand and created a Portkey to take him to the house in Surrey. He just hoped that whatever had happened there, he wouldn’t be too late to stop it.
Dumbledore landed smoothly at the end of Privet Drive, approximately a hundred yards from where the Dursleys lived. Even from here he could tell things were not right. A curious blue light pulsed out the windows of the house, and he could feel the vibrations through the concrete of the pavement. People were already spilling out of the neighbouring houses and looking around in fear. Wasting no more time, he headed directly to the house.
Before he had gone more than a few steps, a thunderous explosion was heard and every window in the street shattered. Albus began to run as he heard screams coming from everywhere. People were starting to panic and run in opposite directions; no-one had the slightest idea what was going on or where the threat came from. Dodging past several crying women, he managed to reach the front door and, in order to save valuable time, he blew it off its hinges with a wave of his wand. He ran into the hallway and then turned into the living room. What he saw dumbfounded him.
A young boy with his eyes closed floated in the air. Around him was a strange blue glow which crackled with magical energy. The power radiating from the boy nearly took the air from Dumbledore’s lungs and left a burnt taste on his tongue. From his black hair and general resemblance to his father, Dumbledore realised that the boy was Harry Potter. The scar that would have confirmed his identity was not visible due to the blood plastered on the boy’s forehead.
The destruction of the room was nearly total. Furniture had been shredded and pictures ripped from the walls. The molten remains of what had probably been a television set sat against the far wall. In a corner, with terror on their faces, huddled the Dursleys. Vernon Dursley appeared to have been injured, and blood was dripping from his nose, while Petunia just clung to her husband with her eyes closed. The chubby boy, Dudley, was crying loudly and trying to crawl behind his parents.
For a second, Dumbledore had absolutely no idea what had happened or what to do about it. Young Potter was channelling enough magical energy to fry the brains of the average witch or wizard but, apart from the head wound, he appeared largely unharmed. Dumbledore could not envisage what possible event could have caused such a display, but he knew he had to stop it quickly or the boy’s magical core would become drained and permanently damaged.
“Harry!” he yelled over the crackling that filled the air, but the boy made no response. Reluctantly, he aimed his wand and shot a stunning spell at the floating child. It appeared to have no visible effect, and the red light of the spell was just absorbed into the swirling blue mist. Stealing himself, Dumbledore cast the spell again but on this occasion put as much power into it as he dared. This time it worked.
The blue light vanished and the body of the boy crashed to the ground. Dumbledore hurried over to him and was relived to find a pulse. He cast a few medical diagnosis spells, but didn’t understand the results he was getting. Blood was still dripping from the scar on his forehead, and there were no signs of young Potter being aware of his surroundings. He needed medical help immediately.
“Kill him!” cried a voice.
Looking up, Dumbledore saw Vernon Dursley struggling to his feet.
“Kill that freak before he wakes up and tries to kill us all again!”
Dumbledore quickly stood to block the large man’s path to the boy. “Calm yourself, Mr Dursley. There is no further danger. Young Harry here just had a rather large outpouring of accidental magic. We can fix everything up without any problem,” he said, trying to calm the large man.
Vernon hardly appeared to have heard his words. “That little freak has been a danger ever since he came here! I never wanted him. He should have been drowned at birth along with all the other freaks!” Dursley then tried to shoulder past Dumbledore to get at the boy's unconscious body.
The old wizard raised his wand and Dursley was pushed back against the wall. The big man’s words had unsettled Dumbledore and he was determined to see the truth for himself.
“Legilimens!” he cried. Within seconds he was in Dursley’s mind and what he saw appalled him.
Images flittered through the man’s vapid mind rapidly, and it was easy to pick out ones featuring the Potter boy. Dumbledore saw the regular beatings Dursley inflicted on him for the slightest of reasons. Harry was worked from morning to night and was treated worse than the lowest of house elves. He was forced to sleep in a cramped cupboard under the stairs and wear the cast-offs of his huge cousin. He was fed the meanest of diets and food was frequently withheld as a punishment.
Finally, Dumbledore witnessed the events of that day. He saw Vernon smashing his fist against Potter’s head for dropping the plate, sending the boy spinning until he fell and caught his head on the sink edge. With blood dripping from his forehead, the boy screamed in pain. This was not enough for Dursley who advanced on him with fists raised. He swung a second punch at the boy's head but it never connected. Instead, a blue light formed around Harry and as soon as Dursley’s fist hit it he was blown backwards. The boy continued to scream as his body started to float into the air. Suddenly, a massive wave of magical energy burst from his young body, shattering furniture and blowing out windows. At this point he passed out, but he continued to float while energy crackled around him.
Having seen enough, Dumbledore left Dursley’s mind. Never in his life had he been so angry at a person. He had trusted this man to look after his own young nephew, instead he had done nothing but abuse him. Suddenly, the anger turned to guilt. He had placed Harry with his Uncle despite Minerva’s advice that these were ‘the worst kind of Muggles.’ In addition, he had done nothing to check up on the boy’s welfare, trusting on magical instruments to ensure that he was safe. Unfortunately, those instruments were designed to warn against attack from outside the house, not from within. Even Mrs Figg, the squib charged with watching over him, had repeatedly described the boy as scrawny, which he had ignored. Small boys were often scrawny at that age, weren’t they?
Shame and anger battled within him. He stared at the Dursleys as they huddled together and he fought the desire to blast them into oblivion. Never had he wanted to hurt someone so much. But before he could act, a memory came to him. In his mind he saw his own father being led away to Azkaban for the torture and murder of a group of Muggles. Of course, his father had had good reason for his actions, but Albus had always held the belief that nothing could justify the murder of the young men in that manner, not even the attack on his sister. Revenge was always an empty, hollow thing. Now he found himself in a similar situation, with the burning urge to dispense justice on these foul people. Breathing in deeply, he forced down his anger and lowered his wand.
“You are all despicable. To have inflicted such suffering on your own flesh and blood is inexcusable. I pray that one day you will realise the magnitude of your crimes and feel remorse for your actions.” Without another word Dumbledore turned and picked up the unconscious body of the boy. He carried him through the front door and out of the house. As he walked outside, he saw that officials from the Ministry had started to arrive to undo the damage Harry had caused. Quickly, he activated his Portkey and was gone before anyone noticed his presence.
Saturday, 13 October 1990
The next day Dumbledore made his way to the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. Entering through the wide double doors, he was greeted by the reassuring sight of Madam Pomfrey going about her business. She spotted him as he entered and paused in her task, awaiting him.
“How is our young visitor?” he enquired of the Mediwitch.
“As well as can be expected,” she answered primly. “As well as anyone who had suffered years of malnutrition and physical abuse can be expected to be. That boy has been beaten black and blue over the years! His left arm alone has been broken three times and…” Albus cut her off before she could work herself into a rage.
“Poppy, I’m well aware of the terrible suffering inflicted on the boy. It is what we can do to help him now that I’m primarily interested in,” he said calmly. The Mediwitch nodded and returned to her normal professional demeanour.
“He is small and weak. For his age he should be at least three or four inches taller and maybe a stone heavier. He’s skin and bones. His eyesight is appalling, mainly as his glasses were completely the wrong prescription for him and were making things worse. I had to re-break his left arm as it had been badly reset several times. There are treatments that could help the boy, but they are frightfully expensive.”
Dumbledore nodded without comment. The boy had a destiny to fulfil, and he needed to be strong and healthy. A plan began to form in his mind.
Madam Pomfrey continued, “There’s more, Headmaster. A much more serious problem, in fact. While his body is weak, Mr Potter’s magical core is enormously strong. Quite the strongest I’ve ever seen, actually. I suspect that he only survived the multiple injuries he suffered over the years because his magic was healing his body. But while his magic saved him in the past, it is in serious danger of killing him now. As you know, children’s magical cores begin to grow significantly at this age; but normally their bodies are also growing at an equivalent rate. This poor boy’s core is growing at an unprecedented rate while his body is lagging dramatically behind. Simply put, he may soon be in the situation where his body is unable to contain his magic. It could well kill him, Headmaster.”
Dumbledore frowned. This certainly fit in with the display of accidental magic he had witnessed the previous day. Potter’s magic had spilled out of him and he was physically too weak to control it. This was extremely serious.
“We could try and put a block on his magical core, limit his power,” he mused.
“I’m not sure that would work,” the Mediwitch disagreed. “His magical power has already been unleashed and it would be virtually impossible to partially block it. It would have to be all or nothing and, to be quite honest, with the amount of magical energy the boy is generating, I’m not sure we would be able to completely block it anyway.”
“So, we need to strengthen his body urgently then,” Dumbledore confirmed. This fit in with his plan perfectly.
“Well, yes. I have a few potions that will help a little, but in this case I don’t think…” Pomfrey began.
“Don’t worry, Poppy. I think I know someone who will be able to help young Harry,” he assured her. Pomfrey nodded but didn’t look placated.
“But what will happen to the poor boy? He can’t be sent back to those Muggles. He needs to learn to control his power and that will require a very powerful witch or wizard to help him,” she pointed out.
“Indeed. Even if the Muggles had proved to be loving guardians, which they have not, Harry couldn’t be sent back there. As you say, one burst of magical energy from him could flatten the entire house he was living in, possibly the whole street. Normally, I would ask a trustworthy magical family to help; the Diggorys perhaps, or maybe the Weasleys. But in this case I think we need someone with a little more experience. Let me know when the boy awakens, Poppy.” With that he turned and left the hospital wing. He had an old friend he needed to speak with.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Nicolas Flamel breathed deeply as he took in the salty air. The Atlantic Ocean glittered in the May sunshine and brought a smile to the old man’s lips. In the six hundred or so years he had walked the earth, this was the one sight that never failed to bring him peace. Lately, that was something he desperately needed.
Few people would ever believe that he was unhappy. He was, after all, the creator of the Philosopher’s Stone which gave him eternal life and as much wealth as he could ever want. He lived with his precious wife, Perenelle, in sumptuous comfort. What more could he possibly need?
But lately he had begun to feel…wrong. He felt if his life was being pulled thin and that his time was fast approaching. He was beginning to strongly suspect that the Stone did not, in fact, grant eternal life. It just stretched it out to a previously unknown longevity. Perenelle, of course, felt the same. They shared every thought and emotion so naturally they would share these feelings as well. Soon it would be time to destroy the Philosopher’s Stone and let nature take its course. Nicholas was almost looking forward to it. If nothing else, it would stop Albus Dumbledore nagging him about it.
As if summoned by the very thought of him, the Floo flamed into life and Nicholas could hear the esteemed wizard calling him. He sighed as he tore his gaze away from the view of the Cornish coastline he had from his living room window and walked over to the Floo.
“Hello, Albus,” he greeted the man. “Calling to give me my monthly lecture on how dangerous the Philosopher’s Stone would be if it fell into the wrong hands?”
“Greetings, Nicolas. Actually, I’m calling for a completely different reason. Would it be possible for me to come through?” Albus asked. Nicolas moved backwards to allow the man through the Floo.
“Thank you for agreeing to see me, Nicolas,” Albus said after he had entered the room. “I wonder, is Perenelle about? This would concern her too.”
With some curiosity Nicolas went to the door and called to his wife, who he knew would be in the library. After a short while Perenelle entered the room and noticed Dumbledore’s presence with guarded interest.
“Hello, Albus,” she said. “Nicholas didn’t mention we were expecting guests.”
“You will have to forgive my unexpected visit, Perenelle,” Dumbledore apologised. “I’m afraid I have something of an emergency on my hands and the life of a young boy hangs in the balance. I desperately need your help.”
Nicholas frowned. “Albus, I have told you many times that we have no wish to involve ourselves in the troubles of the world any longer,” he sighed. The days when he and Perenelle involved themselves in the day-to-day problems of Wizarding society were long gone. In the long run, no matter what they did, it never seemed to make any lasting difference. As much as he would wish it to be otherwise, people didn’t change.
“You misunderstand me, my dear chap,” Albus smiled, “I do not wish you to re-enter the Wizarding world. Quite the opposite, in fact. No, it is your unique skills, your compassion and, indeed, your remoteness that I seek.”
“I think you need to explain yourself a little more clearly,” Perenelle frowned. She had always been somewhat colder to Albus than Nicholas had been. She made no secret of the fact she did not always approve of his methods, a point of view she had converted Nicholas to over time. Dumbledore nodded in acquiescence.
“I find myself a slave to prophecy…”he began.
“Prophecy!” Perenelle snorted. “You want to waste our time with some prophetic mumbo-jumbo some idiot came up with while staring into a crystal ball?” Of the two of them, Perenelle was always the practical one and never had much faith in Divination. Nicholas was more of a believer, but even he didn’t think that more than one in fifty prophecies made had any substance to them.
“I’m afraid that this prophecy has already proved itself partly accurate,” Dumbledore assured them. “Perhaps if you have a Pensieve handy? It may save some time.
Reluctantly, Nicholas went and retrieved their Pensieve from the other room and set it up. Dumbledore took his wand and retrieved a memory which he then dropped into the water. The three of them submerged themselves in the memory. Before Nicholas appeared a rather odd looking women wearing numerous shawls and strings of beads. Her eyes were grotesquely magnified by her oversized glasses. She spoke in a strange, otherworldly voice.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
The image faded and the three of them stood once again in the Flamels' front room. Nicholas looked at Dumbledore. “You say that part of this prophecy has already come true?”
Dumbledore nodded in confirmation.
“Then I take it that the Dark Lord referred to would be Voldemort? And the one with the power to overcome him, that would be the young Potter boy?” Perenelle asked.
“Very astute, Perenelle,” Dumbledore confirmed. “And herein lays the problem. Until very recently Harry Potter lived with his Muggle Aunt and Uncle. Unfortunately, it has not proved to be a good environment for the poor boy, and he has been badly abused. Harry has been starved and beaten by his own relatives to the point that his growth has been stunted and he is physically very weak. His eyesight is dreadful and I also fear for his mental state. At the same time his magical core has grown to unprecedented levels, and his frail body is struggling to contain it. Basically, the boy is dying.”
Nicholas and Perenelle looked at each other in shock. That this would happen to any child was bad enough, but how had a boy with such an important destiny been allowed to be abused in this manner? It was unthinkable.
“So what are you asking us to do, Albus?” Nicholas asked carefully.
“I ask for two things, my friend. Harry’s young body needs to be healed and strengthened urgently. There are, of course, potions that can achieve this but there are few with sufficient skill to create them potent enough for our purpose. Needless to say, you and Perenelle are among those few. I beg you to use your unmatched skills to create the necessary strengthening and growth potions to save young Harry’s life,” Dumbledore asked hopefully.
Nicholas looked at Perenelle and she gave the faintest of nods. Nicholas turned back to Dumbledore. “What you ask will be difficult but not impossible. The ingredients required are extremely expensive and hard to obtain, but we may be able to help you. What is the second thing you ask?” Even if he and his wife had decided to help the boy he was not prepared to appear too willing to Dumbledore. The man could be far too manipulative at times.
“This, I fear, will be more of an imposition on you.” Dumbledore looked rather concerned. “As I said the boy has enormous magical potential and, untrained, he is a huge risk to himself and others. He will need to be educated and taught to control his power. It would be, however, far too dangerous to do this in a regular school environment. The boy is also now effectively homeless with few options offering the security he needs. I ask that you take young Harry in to your home and educate him.”
Nicholas felt his jaw drop. Take a strange boy, one who was a potential risk at that, into his home? Surely Dumbledore couldn’t be serious? Besides, even if he and Perenelle wanted to, there was still the issue of the Philosopher’s Stone and the decision they had taken to destroy it. Once that happened, they would probably only have a few years at most. He decided to come clean on the matter.
“Dumbledore, I think I should tell you something. You have been encouraging me to destroy the Philosopher’s Stone for some time now, and your perseverance has paid off. Both Perenelle and I feel our time is drawing to a close, and we will soon be ready to move on to whatever is next. Once the stone is destroyed, we will have only a few years at most. I’m not sure that…”
Suddenly, Perenelle interrupted him. “Nicholas, I want to do this,” she announced.
Nicholas looked at her in surprise.
“While I agree that our time is fast running out, I’ve this…feeling that there was something I had to do before I departed from this world. I think this is it. I think this is what I need to do to find that sense of completion that I want. This poor boy needs our help, and even if it is for just a few years, we should do it. We can heal him and help him grow. We can teach him to control his power and make him safe to be around. Oh, Nicholas, there is so much we can teach him. If we stock up of the elixir before we destroy the stone, we might be able to be with him until he reaches adulthood. Let’s do this, please?”
In the face of this impassioned plea from the woman he loved more than anything in the world, there was no way he could ever say no. He turned to Dumbledore and nodded his agreement. He just wished the damn man didn’t have to look quite so smug about it.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2 – The Quality of Mercy
Author's Notes: I forgot to mention previously that pairings and character deaths will be as per canon – mostly. Ah, there’s my get out of gaol free card! I do reserve the right to kill off the odd character as and when I see fit. Oh, the power! Bwehahahah! Thanks as always to Tom (MinistryMalcontent) for his Beta work.
The second he awoke up Harry knew something was wrong.
Something felt different, and it took him several moments to figure out what. Then it occurred to him; he was comfortable. He was laying on a proper mattress with no lumps in it. It was large enough that he could stretch his admittedly small body as wide as he could and he still had room. He was also tucked under a set of crisp, white sheets with several warm blankets covering him. Finally, he was wearing a set of clean, comfortable pyjamas; something he was pretty sure he had never owned before.
Cracking his eyes open, he found he could see very little. He appeared to be in a large room and guessed that it might be a hospital. Had he finally been injured sufficiently badly that his aunt and uncle had been forced to seek medical help for him? Suddenly, a blurry figure swam into his vision.
“Oh good, you’re awake. Do you want your glasses?” a female voice asked.
“Yes, please,” Harry replied. He then felt his glasses being carefully placed on him and the room came into focus. In fact, things became a little clearer than normal.
“There you go,” the woman said. Looking at her Harry realised she was dressed in a nurse's uniform, confirming that he must be in hospital.
“Really, those glasses are completely wrong for you. I’ve tried to alter them, but you do need to see a proper optician as soon as possible,” the nurse said. Harry doubted his uncle would ever allow for such a thing, and he certainly wouldn’t pay for new glasses. He decided to change the subject.
“Excuse me, but what happened? How did I end up in hospital?” he asked as politely as he could.
“Someone’s coming to see you in a second, Harry, and he will explain everything better than I could,” she promised. The nurse then gently stroked his forehead with her soft hand while giving him an encouraging smile. Harry blinked. He couldn’t remember anyone ever touching him so affectionately before.
For a second he felt his eyes water and, for the first time that he could remember, he had the desire for someone to scoop him up into her arms and hug him. The realisation of what he wanted produced a wave of shame within him. As his uncle was fond of telling him, he was a freak and didn’t deserve anything good happening to him. He lay back and forced himself not to cry. Crying only brought more beatings.
It was some time before the promised visitor arrived, and Harry had nearly fallen asleep again. Sensing someone near, Harry turned his head and found himself looking at the strangest man he had ever seen in his life. He was tall and obviously very old, judging by his long white beard. Oddly, he was wearing something that looked like a long blue dress with silver moons and stars on it. He looked at Harry with twinkling eyes peering over his half-moon glasses. Although he was smiling warmly at him, for some reason Harry felt a sense of unease. This man looked friendly, but what did he want with him? Why had he been taken to this place? What weren’t they telling him?
“Hello, Harry. I’m very pleased to meet you. My name is Professor Dumbledore,” the man said. Harry was at a loss for something to say. He had the feeling that one wrong word would have him sent back to his aunt and uncle in a second, and he was enjoying the comfy bed. Seeing no answer was coming, the man continued.
“Firstly, let me tell you that you are safe. You are currently being looked after in the hospital wing of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. You had rather a large burst of accidental magic, my young friend,” the man smiled.
Witches? Wizards? What was the man talking about? Was he trying to trick him somehow? Admittedly, he was dressed exactly like Harry would imagine a wizard would dress, but this was all make-believe, wasn’t it? Magic didn’t exist; his uncle and aunt had told him that enough times in the past. Yet something had happened to him. He vaguely remembered dropping a plate in the kitchen and feeling fear as his uncle approached him. His uncle had hit him, he remembered…then pain. Fear and pain was all he could recall, although he did have a strange image of Uncle Vernon flying backwards through the air and hitting the far wall.
Suddenly, it came to him. He’d done one of those freaky things he had always been warned about. He’d done it again! He would be in so much trouble! Oh, his uncle would beat him black and blue for this. Harry started to panic.
“It’s alright, Harry,” assured the Professor. “You’ve done nothing wrong. It was all an accident, nothing more. You will not be punished.”
“But, I did freaky stuff again,” Harry blurted in fear. “Uncle Vernon said he would beat me if I did anything unnatural again!”
The old man smiled. “What you did was perfectly natural, Harry. After all, you are a wizard. Performing magic is perfectly normal for a wizard,” the professor assured him.
Harry shook his head. A wizard? What was this barmy old man talking about? The man seemed to understand his doubt.
“Tell me, Harry, have strange things ever happened around you? Objects moved by themselves? Things changed suddenly without any explanation?”
Harry could only nod, remembering when his teacher’s hair had turned blue for no apparent reason. Objects frequently moved or rattled when he was around them. Once, he had even found himself on the roof of the school after Dudley’s gang had been chasing him, with no idea how he had got up there. But these things happened because he was a freak. Vernon had told him this repeatedly.
“I never meant to do those things…” Harry began.
“It’s alright,” Dumbledore assured him. “Every young wizard does similar things before they gain control of their magic.”
“But…how can I possibly be a wizard?” Harry asked.
“Well, it doesn’t always work this way, but your mother was a witch and your father was a wizard. Both rather good ones, actually,” Dumbledore explained. Harry was stunned.
“My mother was a witch? Riding a broomstick with a big pointed hat?” he asked in awe.
“Well, it was your father who preferred riding broomsticks, and I don’t recall your mother wearing a hat very often. She had beautiful long, red hair and it would have been a shame to hide it.”
“You knew my parents?” Harry asked.
“Very well,” Dumbledore replied, “and two finer people you could not hope to meet.”
A thought occurred to Harry. “Then they lied!” he exclaimed. “My uncle and my aunt, they said my parents were drunken layabouts that died in a car crash! They lied to me!” This time Harry was unable to stop the tears.
Dumbledore reached over and gently patted him on the arm. “Your parents were wonderful people who loved you very much. They were killed by an evil wizard who was responsible for giving you that scar on your forehead. They died to protect you, Harry. Possibly, your aunt may have thought the truth was too hard for you to hear,” Dumbledore suggested kindly.
“They hated my parents!” Harry yelled in between sobs. “Why would they say they were drunkards? They said it was their own fault they died! That they lost control of the car when they were drunk. Why did they say that?” Unable to take any more, Harry buried his head in his hands and cried his eyes out.
Harry was not sure how long he cried, but when he finally did stop he found the old wizard still sat by his bed.
“Sorry,” Harry muttered, while wiping his nose on his pyjama sleeve.
“Not at all, Harry,” the Professor said quietly. “It’s always best to let these things out. A good cry has done me the power of good many times in the past. It’s certainly nothing to be sorry about.”
Harry nodded, but kept his eyes cast downwards.
“In fact,” Dumbledore continued, “it is I who owe you an apology. I must confess, Harry, that following the death of your parents, it was I who suggested that you go to live with your aunt and uncle. They were your last remaining relatives, and I never imagined in a million years that they would treat you so badly.”
Harry’s head snapped up. This man was responsible for him having to live with the Dursleys? Anger suddenly welled up in him, and he had the urge to strike out at the old man. He was vaguely aware that the glass of water sat on the table next to his bed had started to vibrate. Dumbledore looked at the glass with alarm.
“Calm yourself, Harry, please. I’m sorry you had such a wretched time, but think what choices I had at the time. The Dursleys were your only living relatives. If I did not place you with them, the only other choice was an orphanage. I desperately didn’t want you to have to be put in such an institution.”
“I would have been better off in a home,” Harry shouted, but he could feel his rage dropping away. Faced with having to put him in a children’s home or with family members what choice did this man have? He wasn’t to know what his aunt and uncle were like, was he? But it did raise a very important question. His anger replaced by fear, he quietly asked, “do I have to go back to the Dursleys?”
“No, Harry, I don’t think that would be a very good idea,” the professor said.
“So, I’ll be going to an orphanage when I’m all better then?” he asked. Strangely, he wasn’t too concerned. Anything had to be an improvement on what he had left.
“Actually, I think we can do something a little better than that,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “I have spoken to some good friends of mine called Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel. They live in a large house by the sea, and they have told me that they would very much like it if you come and live with them.”
Harry blinked. Someone wanted to take him in? But what would happen when they discovered he had freakish things happen to him?
The old man continued as if he had read Harry’s mind. “Nicholas and Perenelle are both magical. They are also very fine teachers and will help you control your magic. They’ll teach you how to use it properly. As soon as I told them about you they wanted to help. Just think, Harry. If you learn how to control your magic, you’ll never had another accident that no-one can explain again. You will be able to keep a tight rein on your power and only use it when you wish to. No one will ever call you a freak again.”
Hope began to swell in Harry’s chest. He could learn to control these things? These people wanted to help him? Doubts began to creep into his mind, however. “What if they don’t like me? I can’t pay them anything, either. My uncle always said I was a sponger living off his generosity. These people don’t even know me. Why should they have to pay to look after me?” he said in a broken voice.
“Hush, Harry. Firstly, you do actually have some money. Your parents put some funds aside for your education, so if necessary you can pay your way. However, Nicholas and Perenelle are very rich and they really don’t need your money. Even if they weren’t, they are not the types to turn away a child in need. Perenelle, in particular, can’t wait to meet you.”
Harry smiled. “They live by the sea? I’ve never seen the sea,” he said wistfully.
“Hopefully you’ll be well enough to visit them tomorrow,” said Dumbledore, happy at the look of anticipation that had come into the boy's eyes.
Sunday, 14 October 1990
Harry staggered and nearly fell over. When the Professor had informed him that they would be travelling to the Flamel’s house, he had assumed that they would be driving or maybe taking a train. When the Professor had just grabbed his hand and told him to brace himself, the last thing he had expected was to be suddenly squeezed hard enough to make him think his insides would explode out the top of his head, before being deposited with a thump on the ground. Nothing, however, compared with the shock of suddenly finding himself somewhere completely different from where he had been a few seconds before.
Standing somewhat tenderly, he turned in a complete circle, taking in his surroundings. He found himself in a well-tended garden that was enclosed by neatly trimmed hedges. Beyond the end of the garden, he could see the whole horizon filled with the sea, glittering in the sun. He couldn’t help but smile in happiness at the sight, the first time he had ever seen the sea. It was wonderful, he thought. His mind filled with images of golden beaches, rock pools and jagged cliff faces. He desperately hoped that he would be allowed to go down to the sea front later on. Turning, he viewed the Flamel’s house. It was a large white-washed building with a grey-slate roof and sturdy looking wooden doors. Although only two stories, it looked massive in comparison with the Dursley’s house. Harry was suddenly filled with hope that there might be room for him to stay within the large dwelling.
He felt a gentle pressure on his back as Dumbledore guided him towards the back door of the house. Once they stood in front of the dark wood door, the Professor knocked loudly to announce their presence. After a brief pause the door opened, and Harry had his first sight of Nicholas Flamel.
The man initially confused Harry. He appeared middle-aged with a thick brown beard and largely unlined face, but there was something about his eyes that spoke of immense age and experience. Harry shuddered as those eyes seemed to look straight through him. For a second the man held Harry’s gaze before he broke into a bright smile.
“Hello there,” he greeted him in a quiet but intense voice. “You must be Harry. I’ve heard a lot about you, young man. Come in. Come in and welcome.”
Encouraged by this warm greeting, Harry entered the house and found himself in a large kitchen which was dominated by a huge oak dining table. The whole room was immaculate and featured a long, spotless work surface running the length of the far wall, with shining copper pans hanging above it. A massive cooker was situated to the left, and the remaining room was taken up with cupboards and shelves. Harry gulped. Was he going to be expected to cook and clean here? It would take him all day to clean a kitchen this size, and this was only one room in the house. His visions of playing by the sea vanished and were replaced by the realisation he would be working very long hours to keep this house clean. Would he have to cook as well? He had no idea how to work the strange looking cooker which seemed to lack all of the normal controls that his Aunt’s gas cooker had. His shoulders sank.
Just as his spirits started to sink, his attention was captured by a woman entering the kitchen. He brown hair was flecked with grey and was currently tied up in a tight bun on top of her head. She was tall and regal looking, but had a gentle smile on her lips. Again, Harry was struck by the odd feeling that her eyes conveyed great age not reflected in the rest of her appearance. This, he assumed, was Perenelle Flamel. He just hoped she wouldn’t beat him as much as his aunt had done.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
On hearing the knock at the back door, Perenelle Flamel hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. She had been on tenterhooks all morning waiting for Harry’s arrival, but she couldn’t even begin to explain why she was so apprehensive. Perenelle had never had children and had never had any really strong desire to have them either. Her life had been dedicated to research and education. Children would just have been a distraction. But ever since she had learnt about the Potter boy, she had been filled with a sense of yearning. A desire to take the boy in and care for him. Maybe it was just that now as she was rapidly approaching the end of her long life, maternal instincts were surfacing; and this would be the perfect opportunity to fulfil those urges.
Entering the kitchen her eyes were instantly drawn to the boy, and she felt her heart miss a beat. Poor Harry looked totally lost, and she could see the misery in his eyes. She had been warned that he was small for his age, but she could barely believe this was a ten year-old boy. He was so skinny that the pathetic rags he wore looked like a tent on him. He looked at her through oversized round glasses held together by pieces of tape. Overall, he looked pitiful.
Yet the boy’s steady gaze held no malice or self-pity. Instead, there was a resigned acceptance of his fate which brought tears to her eyes. He had a mass of unruly jet black hair which was impossibly cute, and those bright green eyes of his were breathtaking. He was going to be a heart-breaker when he grew up, she thought. And in that first glance, Perenelle knew without a doubt that this poor boy had just captured her heart; and she would do everything she could for him.
Crossing the room, she knelt before Harry and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. She was appalled to see him flinch when she reached out to him, as if he expected to be hit. Those Muggles he lived with had better pray to whatever god they worshipped that they never crossed her path, she thought.
“Hello, Harry. My name is Perenelle, although most people call me Perry for short. My husband Nicholas, we just call him Nick normally, and I have been told all about you. We understand you need somewhere to live. Would you like to come and live with us?” she asked as gently as she could.
The boy looked rather uncertain. “It’s a very big house,” he said nervously. “Would I have to clean it all by myself?”
“What?” Perenelle blurted in shock.
“I mean, I’m sure I could, but it might take me a while. And I don’t know how your cooker works, so I would have to be shown. Is it just the two of you I would have to cook for, or do you have any sons or daughters of your own?” he asked.
For a second Perry was stunned. The boy thought he had been brought here so he could cook and clean for them? She looked up accusingly at Dumbledore who at least had the decency to look embarrassed.
“I’m afraid Harry’s aunt and uncle treated him as little more than a slave. I gather he was responsible for nearly all the household chores and was often refused food if he didn’t complete them to their liking,” Dumbledore explained.
A look of outrage appeared on Nicholas’s face, and Perry felt a hot burst of hatred for these faceless Muggles. How could anyone be so cruel, especially to their own nephew? Forcing down her anger, she faced the trembling boy again.
“Harry, I promise that we didn’t ask for you to come here just so you could cook and clean for us. You’re just a little boy and you shouldn’t be expected to do all that. Besides, we have house elves that look after us,” she explained. The boy just looked confused at this, and Perry realised he must never have seen an elf before. She called out, “Misty. Bolly. Could you come in here for a second?”
There was a pop as the two elves appeared in the Kitchen. Harry gave a screech and leapt behind Perry in fear. The elves just looked shocked by his reaction.
“Harry, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’d like you to meet Misty and Bolly. They’re house elves and they look after us. They do all the chores for us here using magic. Come and say hello.”
Nervously, the young boy emerged from behind her and approached the elves as if they would attack him any second.
Misty looked up at Perry in confusion at the boy's reaction. Perry just smiled and nodded at Harry encouragingly. Misty stepped forward.
“Hello, Master Harry. I am being Misty and I is very pleased to meet you. If you needs anything just calls my name and I’ll come,” she said politely.
Gathering his courage, Harry edged forward until he was a few feet away from the little elf. Cautiously, he offered his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you too, Misty,” he said.
Misty just stared in horror at his outstretched hand.
“Misty, I think it would be good manners if you shook Harry’s hand,” Perry said quietly.
The elf looked like her eyes would pop out of her head at this suggestion but did as she was told. Warily, she reached out and took Harry’s hand and gently shook it. Shyly, she smiled at the boy who, seeing she was as nervous as he was, smiled back.
Perry fought back her own grin. She had the feeling Misty would do anything for the boy now.
Releasing Misty’s hand, Harry then turned to Bolly and greeted him in a similar manner. He seemed equally stunned by this action, but followed Misty’s example and shook hands.
“See, Harry, you won’t be expected to do chores all day,” Perry said, gaining the boy’s attention again. “But you will have lots to do. You have immense magical power, and you need to learn how to use it. Nick and I would like to teach you how to control that power and help you become a great wizard. Would you like that, Harry?” she asked.
A look of hope came onto the boy’s face. “You’ll help me so I don’t accidently hurt people with my…magic,” he asked. He used the word magic tentatively, like he couldn’t quite believe it could apply to him.
“Yes, we will,” said Nick, jumping into the conversation. “The magical world is full of wonders, Harry. You can’t imagine some of the things we can teach you. By the time we’ve finished with you, you’ll be able to cast fabulous spells and charms. You’ll know all about fantastic magical creatures. Did you know dragons really exist, for instance?”
Harry looked up with wide-eyed astonishment and shook his head.
“That’s just one example, my boy. There’s a whole world of wonder out there, and we can teach you all about it. Would you like that?”
“Yes, please!” Harry exclaimed.
Perry nearly burst with happiness at Harry's enthusiasm. “Misty, why don’t you show Harry where his bedroom will be and get him settled in? Then bring him back down and we’ll have some lunch,” she suggested.
Misty bounced forward and, a little surprisingly, took Harry’s hand and led him from the kitchen. The boy favoured them with a warm smile as he went out the door. She heard Dumbledore chuckle behind her.
“Well, I think I’ve brought Harry to the right place,” the old wizard smiled. “It looks like you will have a very keen student judging by his reaction.”
“Maybe, but you were right in saying that his body is struggling to contain his magic. I could feel it seeping out of every pore on the poor lad. Building up his strength and helping him grow must be our absolute first priority,” Nick said.
Perry nodded in agreement. “He has the potential to be an incredible wizard,” she agreed. “I have the strengthening potion already brewed, and the growth potion will be ready tomorrow. Fortunately, I was able to find a good supply of Tigerweed, so I was able to produce a good quantity. By the time I’ve finished giving him the course of treatment, he’ll be tall and strong. I think I’ll also produce a batch of eye correction potion as well. It’s pretty clear his eyesight is terrible, and besides, it would be a shame to hide those beautiful green eyes behind glasses.”
Both men laughed.
“I think young Harry’s already won over Perenelle,” Nicholas grinned.
“He deserves to have some good things happen to him,” she scolded her husband. “After the life he has led, he should be given all the help we can provide.”
“I quite agree,” Nick nodded. “Leave Harry with us, Albus. We’ll take good care of him. I promise we’ll send you regular updates on his progress as agreed.”
With a contented smile Dumbledore left the house, certain he had picked the right people to look after Harry. After all, much would depend on the boy in later life.
Saturday, 20 October 1990
Tucked up in his warm, soft bed, Harry thought back to his first week was Flamels.
It had been, in many different ways, totally amazing. What had made the deepest impression on him, rather than then the strange magical creatures or the unbelievable magic spells, was simply how kind the Flamels had been to him. He was still stunned that he had his own room which was bigger than Dudley’s had been. The best thing about it was that it had a window which faced the sea. During his first night at the house, he had sat by the open window as the sun went down and watched the stars slowly appear. He thought it was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. Later, Perry had come into the room to check he was alright and had told him the names of some of the stars, with the promise to teach him more another day.
Perry had to be the kindest woman in the world, he thought. Ever since that first night she had made a habit of visiting him before he turned in and talking through the day with him. She always made sure he had enough to eat and never hit him. Nick was great too. He had started giving Harry lessons on controlling magic and had begun by explaining how it worked.
Apparently, in the next week or so, he was going to be given a magic wand! Once he had that he would be able to start casting spells himself and he couldn’t wait. Nick had done some incredible things with his wand which had made Harry’s jaw drop. To think he could do similar magic himself excited him beyond belief.
The worst thing he’d had to do was take a load of foul tasting medicines. Perry had told him that because the Dursleys had fed him so little he had to take these potions to make him bigger and stronger. Harry had always been much smaller than other children his age and so welcomed anything which would make him grow. He just wished it didn’t have to taste so bad.
The elves were brilliant as well, especially Misty. He’d watched her clean his room with just a few waves of her hand and had wished he could have done that when he had been at the Dursleys. Not that his uncle or aunt would have let him. They had both made clear how much they hated magic, and Harry now suspected he knew why. His aunt must have been bitterly jealous of his mum if she could do magic and Petunia couldn’t. That’s why they wouldn’t let him do magic, he bet.
Harry closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but in truth he was too excited. Perry had promised that tomorrow they would go down to the beach for the first time, although they would have to hide the scar on his forehead for some reason. He wasn’t allowed to be called Potter either. Whenever he went out now he was to be known as Harry Burns, and he was to tell anyone who asked that Nick and Perry were his grandparents. Not that he was worried about that; he wished that they really were his grandparents. Still, he was happy to pretend.
Suddenly, he had so much to look forward to that it took his breath. Soon he would get a magic wand, he was to be taught the names of more stars, and he had even been told that he would get to fly on a broom! Slowly he drifted off to sleep, imagining what other wonders he was going to see.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3 – The Prodigal Son
Author's Notes: A short chapter by the standards of this story but some important things happen that will impact on the way the story unfolds. Many thanks to Tom (MinistryMalcontent) for his great beta work and pointing out a large plot hole which would have come back to bite me on the bum in later chapters.
Thursday, 17 January 1991
Perry couldn’t believe it had been three months since Harry had come to live with them. Her life had come to revolve around the boy, and she loved every second of it. Knowing what a dreadful home he came from, she could not get over how well he had turned out. He was a polite and hard-working child who loved his lessons. Harry seemed to be of the opinion that learning magic was a great privilege and one not to be taken lightly. Privately, Perry suspected that the boy was afraid that if he didn’t study hard enough he might be sent back to the Dursleys, despite all their assurances that would never happen.
In any event, Harry should have had no worries about his magical talent. Nicholas had always been a good teacher, but even he was amazed at how fast Harry was picking things up. Initially, they had decided to school Harry just in the core subjects of Transfiguration and Charms to give him a basic grounding, but he had done so well that they had just started teaching him the curriculum he would have learnt at Hogwarts in his first year. Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions had been added to his lessons, and he was also being given starters in Arithmancy, Astronomy and Ancient Runes. They had decided that Divinisation and Magical History could largely be bypassed, while Care of Magical Creatures would have to wait until they could arrange access to the appropriate beasts.
There were other successes as well. Perry’s potions were working wonders, and Harry had already grown a couple of inches in height. A proper diet and her strengthening potion had also meant the boy was filling out a bit. While still quite thin, he no longer looked unhealthy. To help him grow and to stretch his muscles, Perry had started Harry doing yoga in the mornings. She had always believed it was a good way to start the day, and now she and Harry always spent an hour each morning practicing various exercises. The growth potion always worked better if it was used in tandem with physical exercises anyway, and Harry was reaping the benefits. The eyesight restorative worked perfectly as well, and Harry had been able to abandon his taped-up glasses completely. It was a shame the potion was so expensive otherwise more people could benefit from it.
Another thing Harry had loved was his first broom ride. They had gone to Bodmin Moor and, with the aid of a few Muggle repelling charms, allowed Harry to take his first flight. The boy was a natural. Dumbledore had told them that Harry’s father had been a superb flyer, and it was clear Harry had inherited his skill. Only after several hours had a clearly reluctant Harry landed, and they had needed to promise they would come back soon before he could tear himself away. Generally, things couldn’t be going better.
At the moment, she and Harry were walking down the High Street of the small Cornish village near their home. Normally, when visiting the place she would be wearing a strong repelling charm which would cause any Muggle who saw her or even talked to her to forget the meeting completely seconds after she left. They had lived in their current home for over one hundred and ten years now, and without the magical camouflage, people might well have noticed that she never aged. Since Harry had arrived, she had decided to do without the charm anymore. For one thing, it would do Harry good to have a sense of community, even if the locals knew him by the name of Harry Burns. And anyway, since they had decided to destroy the Philosopher’s Stone, she would probably only have a limited number of years left, not that they had told Harry that, of course.
As they wandered down the street, she noticed Harry’s attention being caught by activity over by the small village hall. A number of adults were leading their children into the building or dropping off slightly older youths. Several of them appeared to be wearing white pyjama-like outfits.
“What’s going on over there, Perry?” Harry asked.
She shrugged. “I really don’t know, Harry. Do you want to take a look?”
Harry nodded and pulled her over the road towards the single story building. A large notice board stood outside and lists of various activities and events were listed on it. A brief investigation showed that tonight the hall was being used for a Taekwondo group for under-sixteen year olds. Harry immediately asked what that was.
“I believe it’s a type of Muggle martial art. That’s learning to defend yourself without weapons,” she explained. Seeing Harry’s look of interest, she suggested they go in and watch.
Entering the hall they saw that the group consisted of about fifteen children of various ages with a couple of adult instructors. Most of the group were just finishing getting changed and were helping putting out mats over the floor.
“Can I help you?” A voice came abruptly from nearby, startling both of them. Perry turned and saw a large, aggressive-looking woman dressed in one of the white suits which was secured with a black belt around the middle. Perry guessed this must be the instructor. The woman certainly looked like she would be useful in a fight.
“Oh, hello.” Perry forced a smile onto her face. “My grandson and I were just passing, and he expressed an interest on what was going on here, so we thought we would pop in and take a look.”
The woman nodded while looking Harry up and down. “We take children of any age, up to sixteen when they transfer to the adult group. Training is once a week, although our best pupils sometimes enter local tournaments which would involve extra weekend training. My names Emma Eales, by the way. I’m chief instructor. Nearly made the Great Britain Olympic team a few years back, but just missed out.” The woman offered her hand and then proceeded to nearly crush Perry’s hand to dust.
“I’m Perry Burns and this is Harry. He’s ten years old,” she said, trying not to wince.
“Ten?” Emma questioned. “He’s rather small for a ten year old, isn’t he?”
“All the males on his side of the family were just the same. They were all were really short when young and then suddenly shot up,” Perry lied. She knew full well that the growth potion she had been giving Harry was starting to cut in, and he would be experiencing some impressive growth spurts in coming months.
“Ah, I had a cousin who was the same. Tiny little thing, he was, then as soon as he hit his teen years — boom! He’s six foot four now,” Emma nodded, eyeing Harry sympathetically.
Harry’s attention, however, was fully on the other students who were lining up and starting some stretching exercises. “Look, granny,” he exclaimed, “they’re doing stuff just like our yoga exercises!”
“Yoga? The boy does yoga?” Emma asked in surprise.
“I’ve been doing it for years and Harry enjoys joining in,” Perry explained. “Besides, the doctors told us it will help him grow.”
“Well, if he’s doing yoga that should be a big help if he wants to start doing Taekwondo,” Emma said approvingly. “Why don’t you stick around and watch the training session? If you’re still interested in Harry joining the group, we can chat at the end.”
Judging by the fascinated expression on Harry’s face, Perry doubted she could have dragged him out of the hall if she tried. Taking seats against the far wall, they watched the children going through their practice sessions; and at the end several of the older students sparred against each other. Perry had to admit she was quite impressed at the skills shown by the children and wondered if allowing Harry to join the group would be a good idea. On the plus side it would do wonders for Harry’s confidence, and it would give him a chance to mingle with other kids his age. Her only real worry was the boy’s control of his magic. To be fair, he was making great strides regarding this; and he hadn’t had an outburst of accidental magic for months. Silently, she made a decision.
“What do you think, Harry? Is this something you would like to do?” she asked him. Harry’s face lit up.
“Can I?” he asked excitedly. “I would love to do this!”
“Come on, then. We’ll go and speak to Emma about getting you enrolled.” Perry led the eager young boy over to where Emma was stood, a membership form already in her hand.
Friday, 5 April 1991
Nicholas and Perenelle sat in the garden of their home and watched the sun slowly set. Although summer had yet to arrive, it was still warm enough to sit outside; and they intended to make the most of it while they had the chance. Cornwall generally had a fairly mild climate but the spring rains were not uncommon. After a rather unpleasant winter, having such a nice day had been very welcome. Harry was currently upstairs finishing off an essay Nick had set him, and the Flamels were using his absence to discuss him.
“Well, Dumbledore will be wanting another progress report soon. What shall we tell him?” Perry asked her husband.
“The truth. That Harry is doing exceptionally well in his studies and has already learnt pretty much all of Hogwarts first-year curriculum. He’s just starting the second-year lessons now,” Nick said with obvious pride in his voice.
“Do we tell him exactly how you are teaching Harry?” she asked.
“What, you mean me imparting the information directly into his mind via Legilimency? I don’t feel the need to mention it, but I would be extremely surprised if Dumbledore hasn’t guessed that’s what I’m doing anyway. It has always been a favoured teaching technique of mine. For a boy who eleven months ago wasn’t even aware magic existed to have learnt so much in so short a time is bound to raise some suspicions. Besides, he’s still reading the reference material and completing all the course work.”
Perry nodded. “Of course, no matter what you taught him, it would be meaningless unless he had the natural talent. He’s going to be so powerful when he grows up. I’m sure he will do great things.”
“Me, too,” Nick agreed. “More so because of the type of person he is. I can’t believe he’s turned out so well after suffering all that abuse at the hands of the Dursleys. I struggle to believe he’s only eleven sometimes.”
“The fact he’s shot up so much probably helps,” she smiled. In the last few months Harry had gone from being a tiny, undersized child to a gangling youth taller than most other boys his age. He was still quite thin, but the morning yoga and his weekly Taekwondo sessions were starting to give him a wiry strength.
“His personality has changed, too,” Nick commented. “He’s a lot more outgoing than he was when he first arrived. Those Taekwondo lessons are really giving him some confidence.”
“It’s nice that he’s made some friends as well. One little girl called Lisa has really latched onto him. She insists that he partners her whenever they spar. I think he was afraid he would hurt her the first time they were partnered together, until she threw him on his back four times in a row.” Perry chuckled as she remembered Harry’s shock at being beaten by a small girl a year younger than him. “Still, I do worry about him being out of my sight and outside the protective wards.”
Nick pondered that for a second. “We could create a detection bracelet for him. Do you remember we made one for that Earl who was worried about his daughter, back in the eighteen hundreds?” he suggested.
“That’s an excellent idea. We’ll charm it so it can’t be removed or even noticed. That way we’ll be able to track him wherever he is,” Perry smiled in relief. She couldn’t help but get worried whenever she didn’t know Harry's exact location.
“One other thing,” Nick said. “I think it’s time Harry had a wand of his own. He’s been doing brilliantly with that spare wand of yours, but he really needs one matched to him.”
Perry considered that for a moment. “Are our wards strong enough to prevent the Ministry detecting Harry performing magic if he’s using a wand of his own? We don’t exactly want to advertise his presence here,” she said with concern.
“I think we’ll be alright,” Nick confirmed. “I know a few spells to confuse the trace on Harry and to mask his magical signature. In fact, I may just remove the trace altogether. It would probably be for the best, all things considered. The power he puts into some spells just using a borrowed wand is amazing. If he’s using a wand that chose him he’ll probably be setting magical detectors off every five minutes unless we do something about it.”
“Superb,” Perry smiled. “We’ll take Harry to Diagon Alley next week to get his wand and report to Dumbledore that he’s doing well. We just won’t tell him how well. I don’t want him turning poor Harry into a weapon. That’s just the sort of thing he would do.”
Nick smiled. “I rather think Albus would have a heart attack if he realised exactly how much we know about him and his past. He really should have guessed that his Occlumency shields would be no match for us.”
“Rather arrogant of the man,” Perry snorted, “but perfectly in character for him, I suppose. I really don’t trust that man anymore.”
“Neither do I, my love, neither do I,” Nick replied.
Thursday, 11 April 1991
Harry looked around him excitedly. This was his first trip to Diagon Alley, and having heard so much about the place, he couldn’t wait to explore.
Apart from the usual glamour charm he wore to hide his scar, his hair had also been changed to a light brown colour. As he no longer wore glasses and he was considerably taller than most boys his age, he was confident no-one would recognise him as ‘the boy who lived’.
He hardly believed it when Nick and Perry had told him about his past and his apparent defeat of the evil Lord Voldemort when he was just fifteen months old. However, their explanation of his parents' death triggered some dark memory in the back of his mind. He’d dreamed of a woman screaming and of a flash of green light many times before, and he was horrified that this might actually be a memory of his mother being killed in front of him. That the man who had killed her was also gone was of little comfort, especially as Nick had hinted that he might return one day.
Harry shook his head and tried to dispel the dark thoughts he was having. Diagon Alley looked wonderful and with his disguise in place he should appear to be just a normal boy out shopping with his grandparents. The idea that people might start fawning over him for something his mother did to protect him was abhorrent to him.
They made their way down the Alley, pausing to look in shop windows occasionally. Harry suspected that Perry wanted to hold his hand as they walked, but he had quickly stopped that. Not that he had anything against holding his adopted grandmother's hand, but he was ten years old after all. He’d reminded her that he was wearing his bracelet so she would know where he was at all times which had seemed to pacify her.
First stop on their shopping trip was Ollivander’s to buy his wand. This alone was enough to make him giddy with excitement. His own wand! They entered the dark shop, and a rather strange looking man appeared at the counter at the sound of the door-bell. The man looked straight at Harry, ignoring Nick and Perry completely.
“Ah, Mr Potter. I wasn’t expecting to see you another few months yet. Here for your wand, are you?” the man asked. Harry was stunned. How on earth had the man known who he was? Beside him he could feel Nick stir uncomfortably.
“I would really prefer if Harry’s identity could be kept to ourselves, Mr Ollivander,” Nick asked in a cool voice.
The shopkeeper just chuckled. “Well, this is a rarity. It’s so infrequent that I get visitors to my shop that I didn’t sell their first wand to. Of course, it was somewhat before my time when you were purchasing your first wand, Mr Flamel.” Ollivander gave Nick a leering smile which sent shivers up Harry’s back. “But no matter. It’s time to find this fine young man a wand.” And with that Ollivander shot into the back of his shop and moments later returned with an armful of small, oblong-shaped boxes which he dropped onto the counter. Selecting the first one, he opened it and removed a wand made of some light-coloured wood.
“Give this a try, young sir,” he said, handing the wand to Harry. Harry took the wand and gave it a wave. A few sparks shot out but it felt wrong in his hand, like the magic had to be dragged from him.
“No, no, no. That will never do!” Ollivander scowled. He snatched the wand out of Harry’s hand and replaced it with another. Harry waved this one and a stack of boxes which had neatly been sat in one corner flew into the air and came crashing down around them. The wand was snatched from Harry’s hand again and a new one provided.
The process proved extremely frustrating. Harry had tried twenty wands and results ranged from producing a few feeble sparks to blowing out several windows. Ollivander didn’t appear discouraged, however. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Finally, he stopped and regarded Harry with a critical eye.
“I wonder,” he muttered to himself before vanishing out the back again. When he returned he was holding a single box. “Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple; an unusual combination,” he informed them before handing Harry the wand.
The second Harry wrapped his fingers around the wand, he knew it was the right one for him. A shower of sparks shot from the wand so bright that all present had to shield their eyes. Harry stared in wonder. He could feel the power rippling up his arm and he couldn’t wait to start using the wand.
Ollivander just chortled. “I think we have a winner!” he announced with glee. “Curious that this is the wand that picked you, though. You see, the brother of this wand was responsible for giving you that well hidden scar on your forehead, Mr Potter.”
Harry shuddered at the thought that his wand was a brother to the one carried by Voldemort. Nick hurried forward and paid for the wand, obviously keen to be out of the shop as quickly as possible.
“I will be expecting great things from you and that wand, Mr Potter,” Ollivander called as they were just about to go through the door. Harry just nodded and hurried through the door.
After his encounter with Ollivander, Harry felt his enthusiasm for looking around the Alley dampened. His spirits only really picked up when they entered the bookshop. Since he had come to live with the Flamels, Harry had become a ferocious reader and devoured books at a tremendous rate. Of course, there was a huge library at home that he had barely scratched the surface of, but Flourish and Blotts offered a whole new variety of reading material.
Among the books selected were a few on magical history (Nick and Perry had stated they had lived through most of the events described in history books so they didn’t need to read about them), a defence book which caught his eye and one about Quidditch. He took his books to the counter to pay for them.
“Thank you,” smiled the sales wizard as Harry placed his purchases in front of him. “You not in school, then?”
“Um, no. I’m home schooled,” Harry responded, somewhat surprised at being asked.
“It’s just that it’s rare to see anyone your age in here at this time of the year. I would have expected you’d be at Hogwarts,” the man continued conversationally while ringing up Harry’s book. “You don’t know what you’re missing, being home schooled. Fine establishment Hogwarts! And the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, he’s a great wizard, he is!”
“We prefer to educate our grandson ourselves, thank you very much,” came Perry’s voice from behind Harry. “And I would appreciate you not questioning our choices.”
“Sorry, no offence intended!” the wizard apologised quickly. “I’m sure you’re doing a fine job with the boy.”
“Quite,” snapped Perry before scooping up Harry’s books and leading him from the shop. In a quiet corner a man watched the exchange with interest. The woman had seemed familiar to him but if she was indeed who he thought she was, she didn’t have a grandson. Which begged the question, who was the boy? The man tapped his cane thoughtfully against his leg and ran a hand through his long, blond hair as he watched Perenelle Flamel leave the shop with the mysterious young boy.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4 – Beauty Slept in a Serpent's Embrace
Author's Notes: When I started writing this story and decided it would be a ‘traditional’ HP story (Horcruxes, CoS, Hallows etc.) I quickly realised I would unavoidably be rehashing other people’s stories. Given that I’m working with a set group of characters that have to deal with various circumstances within certain parameters it’s impossible to be totally original in my opinion, especially as I’ve come quite late to this fan fiction writing lark. This chapter is a case in point. Recently, I was re-reading Count Westwest’s wonderful ‘Ginny Duty’ and I noticed that the way I deal with Lockhart in this chapter is exactly the way the Count does. Now, I read his story ages ago and maybe the plot stuck in my head, or maybe it’s just a logical way to deal with that character in those circumstances, but either way I’d just like to point out that the Count wrote it first! I’m sure there’s loads of stuff in this story that’s been done before, probably many times, but I am trying to write it in my own style. And now I’ve incriminated myself I’ll just shut up.
Saturday, 29 May 1993
It was a normal day in the Flamel house. Nick was currently instructing Harry in a Potions lesson. In recent weeks Harry had started what would have been Hogwarts fourth-year syllabus despite the fact he would in fact have just been finishing his second year if he had attended the school. He thoroughly enjoyed Potions and had a real flare for it. Of course, having just about the greatest alchemist who ever lived as your teacher helped too. He had just finished chopping the required ingredients into the correct size when he heard a voice calling from the Floo next door.
“Nicholas? Nicholas, are you there?” the voice called urgently. Both Nick and Harry stopped what they were doing and went to investigate who was calling. When they entered the room they were both surprised to see the head of Albus Dumbledore in the Floo.
“Nicholas. Oh excellent, you have young Harry with you. Splendid,” Dumbledore said in a somewhat agitated voice. “I’m afraid we have something of an emergency here at Hogwarts and I’m in urgent need of Harry’s talents.”
“Harry’s talents?” asked Nick, confused. “What can Harry do that you cannot?”
“Simple, Nicholas. Harry can speak Parseltongue,” the Professor replied. Harry and Nick looked at each other. They had only discovered Harry’s ability in this area quite recently when they had encountered an adder during a trip to the New Forest in Hampshire.
“Why do you need someone who can speak Parseltongue?” Nick asked.
“I must be brief as a girl’s life is in danger. In short, have you ever heard of the Chamber of Secrets?” Dumbledore asked. Harry could see the shock on Nick’s face.
“Yes, I have,” Nick responded. “It is reputed to be a secret chamber built by Salazar Slytherin himself. There are legends that he hid a monster in the chamber that would one day be released to purge the school of Muggle-borns and half-bloods.”
“An accurate summary, other than the story is not a legend,” Dumbledore said grimly. “Several pupils have already been attacked and petrified. Thanks to the efforts of one of our more brilliant pupils, we finally realized that the beast within the chamber is a basilisk. Fortunately, no-one has been killed up to this point and we should be able to revive the petrified children soon, but now a young girl has been taken. I believe I have finally located the secret entrance to the chamber but it will only open for a Parselmouth. I must ask that I borrow Harry so a rescue mission can be attempted.”
“There is no way Harry is going to face a basilisk!” Nick nearly roared.
“Of course not, my dear man. I just need Harry to open the chamber. I will be the one to face the beast,” Dumbledore assured him. “I beg you, please hurry. Every second lost lessens the poor girl’s chances.”
“I’ll do it,” Harry shouted before Nick could say another word. “Stand back, Professor. I’m coming through.” Before Nick could stop him, Harry jumped into the Floo. A few seconds later he was roughly deposited into an ornate room dominated by a large desk in the centre and rows of books all around. What really caught his eye, however, was the magnificent bird sat on a perch near the door. From his studies he recognised it as a phoenix, and he was thrilled to see a real one. The bird just regarded him with dark eyes.
“Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry,” said a voice by his ear, causing him to jump. Spinning round he found himself face to face with Professor Dumbledore. “While I would love to give you a guided tour I fear time is against us. We must hurry to the location of the secret entrance immediately. All the pupils have been sent to their common rooms so we should not be observed.”
The Headmaster turned and locked down the Floo much to Harry’s surprise.
“Err, shouldn’t we wait for Nicholas to come through before you do that, Professor?” he asked. Dumbledore looked at him solemnly.
“While I greatly respect your guardian, Harry, I feel that this is a matter we should attend to personally,” he explained. This made absolutely no sense to Harry at all, but he didn’t feel in a position to argue with the esteemed old man.
Harry followed the Professor out the door and down a strange spiral staircase. They hurried along corridors and up staircases, some of which moved as soon as they set foot on them. Soon, Harry had lost all sense of direction and knew he would be hopelessly lost without the Headmaster by his side. Eventually, he found himself in front of what appeared to be a girl’s bathroom. Outside the door stood a finely dressed man who offered them a dazzling smile as they approached.
“Can I help you, Gilderoy?” Dumbledore asked the man.
“On the contrary, I’m here to help you, Headmaster! When I heard you had discovered the location of the secret chamber and intended to confront the beast within, I naturally decided I must help. I do have some experience in dealing with these matters, after all!” the man said flamboyantly. Dumbledore looked unimpressed.
“Harry, may I introduce Gilderoy Lockhart. I’m sure you are aware of his extensive published works. Gilderoy, may I present…”
“Harry Potter!” Lockhart interrupted. “Bless my soul. What a story this will make. Gilderoy Lockhart and Harry Potter, standing side by side, vanquishing evil together!”
“I think we would be best served by moving right along,” Dumbledore said forcefully. He pushed past Lockhart and flung open the bathroom door with Harry hot on his heels. The Professor strode over to the set of sinks in the centre of the room and started examining them. He soon found what he was looking for.
“Right here, Harry,” he called. “Slytherin’s mark has been placed here. You just need to command the entrance to open.” Dumbledore stepped away so Harry could get to the sink. He was just about to speak when suddenly a girl's head appeared out of nowhere right in front of him. Startled, it took him a second to realise that he was looking at a ghost.
“Oh, hello. I’ve not seen you before. Are you going down to the chamber? If you’re killed, you’re welcome to share my bathroom with me,” the ghost said.
“Myrtle! Leave Harry alone. This is a serious business!” Dumbledore roared. The ghost gave a small shriek and disappeared down one of the plugholes. Harry tried to refocus his attention on the small engraving of a snake the headmaster had pointed out and tried to imagine the creature was real.
“Open,” he hissed. There was immediately a grinding noise and the row of sinks split open to reveal a dark passage which sloped downwards into pitch blackness. Harry looked down the passage dubiously.
“Stand back, Harry. I shall go first. I’m afraid I will need you to follow in case there are more doors,” Dumbledore said. Harry nodded and moved to one side slightly to allow the professor access to the passage.
“Never fear, young Harry,” Lockhart cried. “You’ll be safe with me watching over you. I’ve got your back!” Harry was about to tell the increasingly irritating man that he wasn’t afraid but was interrupted by Dumbledore sliding down the passageway. Without pausing, Harry sat himself down at the edge of the passage and pushed himself forwards. Within seconds he had picked up speed and was plummeting down into the darkness. He soon found his back was soaked as the passage was damp and dirty.
By the time he hit the bottom he had lost all sense of how long he had been sliding downwards. It felt like he must be miles beneath the school, and it gave him a brief sense of claustrophobia. He landed in a large puddle with a splash and was relieved to see Dumbledore standing nearby with his wand lit. Climbing to his feet, Harry cleared the passage in anticipation of Lockhart’s arrival and cast his own light spell. Harry felt a slight sense of pride that his light was just as bright as the elderly professor’s.
After what seemed like a very long wait, Lockhart came crashing down the passage and landed in the same puddle that Harry had ended up in. Harry could clearly hear the man using several words that he wasn’t supposed to know the meaning of, and he had to suppress a chuckle. Dumbledore helped Lockhart to his feet and addressed them both.
“Now we are all here we must press on with all possible speed, gentlemen. I would remind you that a young girl’s life hangs in the balance. Harry, I want you to stay behind Professor Lockhart and I. We will call you if you are required. If the basilisk should appear then close your eyes immediately, and we will deal with it. Ready, Professor Lockhart?”
“But of course, Headmaster!” the man answered cheerfully. Harry had to admit that although he came over as a bit of an arse, Lockhart certainly was brave. He fell into step behind the two professors and strained his ears for any sound of movement ahead of them.
The tunnel they found themselves in was surprisingly large, and they could walk upright with ease. It was constructed of bricks made of some unidentified dark stone and was dripping with moisture. It occurred to Harry that they may well be underneath the large lake that he knew was situated next to Hogwarts. He cast a worried glance up to the roof of the tunnel and tried not to imagine the tons of rock and soil above his head, not to mention the thousands of gallons of water.
After a long while they came to a door which was decorated with six large metal snakes across it. Dumbledore examined it for a second before he called Harry forward.
“I think your special talents are required again, Harry. If I am not mistaken, beyond this door will be the actual Chamber of Secrets and, no doubt, the monster itself. We must proceed with caution,” he advised.
Harry hurried forward and stood before the door. Before he could speak, however, he suddenly felt his wand ripped from his hand. Turning in shock, he saw that Professor Dumbledore had suffered a similar experience. To his horror, Lockhart was standing behind them with their wands clutched in his left hand, while pointing his own wand at them steadily in his right.
“Sorry, Headmaster, but I can’t allow you to go any further. A basilisk is far too dangerous a creature to risk being let loose. It will have to stay where it is, I’m afraid,” Lockhart snarled. His vapid smile had vanished.
“Oh, Gilderoy,” Dumbledore sighed. “I had hoped that the rumours about you were not true.”
“Rumours? What rumours?” Gilderoy snapped. “There are no rumours about me. Everyone knows how brave and dashing I am. And the few who believe otherwise are in no condition to speak about it.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said calmly. “And may I ask what you intend to do with us?”
“Regrettably, you were both killed while fighting the basilisk. In my despair at seeing you killed I managed to collapse the ceiling on top of the beast trapping it forever. If only I had been able to save you first! Still, never mind,” Lockhart grinned. “I’m sure your sad tale will make a great ending for my next book. Imagine the publicity. I was able to slay the monster that killed the great Albus Dumbledore!”
“So, am I to take it that the exploits you describe in such detail in your published works are equally figments of your imagination?” Dumbledore asked.
“Oh my, not at all,” Lockhart laughed. “All the events described in my books actually happened. I just might have given the erroneous impression that the events happened to me.”
“Ah, I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “And the true heroes of your works do not object to you borrowing their stories because…”
“Because I’m exceptionally good at memory charms,” Lockhart snapped, obviously tiring of the conversation. “Sadly, with two such powerful wizards as you pair I can’t take the risk of you overturning the charm. I’m afraid you will remain down here…forever!”
With that, Lockhart suddenly pointed his wand at the roof above Harry and Dumbledore’s heads and cast a blasting spell with the intent of bring the rock down on top of them. Simultaneously, Dumbledore stepped forward and raised his hand. Silently and wandlessly, he cast a disarming spell and Lockhart’s wand was ripped from his hand, along with both the stolen wands. Unfortunately, Lockhart had already begun to cast his spell and it shot out of his wand the same second it left his hand.
The blasting spell hit the roof, but not in the spot Lockhart intended. Harry staggered back as rock and dust showered down until he felt his back come up against the door. Through the falling debris he thought he saw Lockhart fall, hit by a rock. He could see no sign of Dumbledore at all.
Larger rocks began to fall and Harry realised the whole passageway was in danger of collapsing. With nowhere else to go his only hope was to get through the door. Fighting down his mounting panic, he tried to concentrate enough to command the door to open in Parseltongue. It took him three attempts, but on the third he heard a grating sound as if large metal bars were being dragged back. With a screech the door swung open, and he nearly fell through it, dust and rocks falling through with him.
For a second he lay on the floor too stunned to move. Behind him the rock fall appeared to have ceased, but the whole doorway was blocked solid by the debris. The way back would not be easy. Looking forward he realised he was in a huge chamber lit by spluttering torches. Lining the sides of the walls were statues of serpents all poised to strike. The sight of them was enough to send shivers down his spine. It suddenly struck him that he was trapped in this chamber, without his wand and potentially about to encounter a basilisk. Cold fear gripped him and he felt his stomach churn.
Seeing no point in staying where he was, Harry climbed to his feet. His robes were ripped and dirty, and he had dozens of cuts and scratches all over. He slowly made his way forward with fear dragging at his steps. As he moved forward, he noticed that beyond the last of the snake statues the chamber widened; and he saw a massive image of Salazar Slytherin cast in stone. In front of this he was shocked to see a figure standing over a strange-shaped lump. Feeling a little more hopeful, Harry hurried forward.
As he got closer, Harry saw that the figure was a Hogwarts student perhaps five or six years older than him. The boy was handsome and well groomed. His school robes were immaculate, and he looked like he didn't have a speck of dust on him. He was also transparent. Closer inspection of the lump at the boy’s feet revealed it to be the body of a small girl who lay face down with her coppery-coloured hair spread out around her head. The boy looked up at Harry, seemingly only slightly surprised he was there.
“Hello,” Harry greeted him. “Are you a ghost?”
The boy looked amused. “A ghost? Why in the world would you think I’m a ghost?” he asked in a slightly condescending tone.
“The fact that I can see through you?” Harry pointed out. The whole situation felt very wrong and he was concerned about the girl, who wasn’t moving at all. “What’s wrong with her? Is she hurt?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about her. Who are you anyway, and how did you get down here?” The boy was looking at him intently now.
“My name is Harry…Harry Potter. I came down here with Professor Dumbledore, but we got separated,” Harry explained. For a second the boy looked concerned.
“Dumbledore is here? Where is he?” he demanded.
“The roof caved in and I got trapped this side of it. I don’t know where the Headmaster is now.”
The boy nodded at this information, and a smile came to his face. “So you’re Harry Potter, are you? Well, isn’t that amazing. The very person I want to speak to, and suddenly you appear right in front of me.”
“Why do you want to speak to me? And what about that girl? She looks like she’s hurt,” Harry said. He was becoming increasingly agitated with the boy’s attitude.
“As I said, don’t worry about the girl. She’ll be dead soon. And as to why I want to speak to you? I want to know all about you. I want to know about your past. I want to know how a baby managed to defeat Lord Voldemort,” the boy demanded. A fierce look came over his face, and for the first time Harry noticed he had a wand in his hand. A solid wand.
“What are you?” Harry countered. “Why do you want to know about Voldemort? He’s old history.”
“LORD Voldemort is my past, present and my future. You want to know who I am? I’ll show you.” The boy bent down and retrieved something which had been lying in the floor next to the girl. Casually, he threw it to Harry, who was now convinced he was not facing a ghost. He caught the object and found it was a diary. Turning it in his hands he noticed on the front was printed a name ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’.
“Is this your diary?” Harry asked. The boy nodded. “I don’t understand.”
“Observe,” the boy grinned. With the wand, he drew in the air the name ‘Tom Marvolo Riddle’ in letters of fire. Giving the wand a swish, the letters began to spin and tumble, eventually rearranging themselves in a new order which read ‘I am Lord Voldemort’.
Harry stared at the boy in horror. How could this boy be Voldemort? None of this made sense. Seeing his confusion, the boy called Riddle smiled.
“Oh, don’t misunderstand me. I’m not Lord Voldemort. At least, not yet. I’m the memory of him when he was seventeen and was attending school here at Hogwarts. I placed this memory in the diary you are holding, knowing that one day I would need to emerge and set the world to order. This sweet little girl got hold of my diary and poured out her heart into it. You see, the poor thing was lonely. Her brothers ignored her. As she came from a poor family, no-one wanted to be her friend; and she was struggling with her school work. She put her soul into the diary and I took it willingly. I took her soul to give me life! And once she’s dead I will be complete, and I can continue where my older self left off. And the first thing I will do is kill the little brat who thought he could defeat me. Today, Mr Potter, you die!” Riddle strode forward towards the statue of Salazar Slytherin and in Parseltongue shouted, “Hear me Salazar, greatest of the Hogwarts four. Send forth your servant to aid me!”
Harry could hear movement and a deep hissing noise. He suddenly realised that Riddle had summoned the basilisk to kill him. Panic gripped him. He turned and started to run. He heard a noise behind him but dared not look behind him for fear of looking into the monster's eyes by mistake.
He darted behind the left hand line of snake statues and paused, trying to think what to do. The exit was blocked and there seemed nowhere to go. As he ran he suddenly noticed a side passage and turned into it. He came across an intersecting passage and for a second wondered which way to go. A crash from behind him signalled that the basilisk had found him and was knocking the statues out of the way. Harry shuddered to think how big the beast must be to do that. He sprinted forward and turned left.
The passage was narrow and slippery, and several times he nearly lost his footing. He could hear the monster right behind him and knew if he fell now he was dead. Dread filled him that he would die down in this place and not be able to say goodbye to Nick and Perry. He wasn’t even meant to be in the chamber. And why had the Headmaster not allowed Nicholas to come through the Floo behind him? Dumbledore hadn’t seemed surprised when Lockhart had turned out to be a villain; why had he allowed the man to come down here with them? Lockhart had nearly killed them both and now it was looking pretty certain that he was going to die as a result of the fraud’s actions. This was all so wrong!
Without warning the passageway ended, and Harry found himself back in the main chamber. He could see Riddle standing watching him with an amused look on his face, and it made Harry’s blood boil. That arrogant boy would grow into the bastard who killed his parents. At that exact second Harry would have done anything to get even. With that in mind, he changed direction and headed straight towards Riddle. As he neared Riddle he leapt at him intending to deliver his best Taekwondo kick directly to the boy’s stomach. He was shocked as he sailed right through Riddle’s body without resistance and crashed in a heap on the floor.
He knew he was dead. The basilisk had been right behind him and he could almost feel it’s breath on him. He flung his hands over his eyes to avoid being petrified but could just see the enormous body of the snake right next to him. Dimly in his mind he could hear Riddle laughing at him.
Never in his life had Harry been so angry. Riddle had killed his parents and now he had killed him. Impotent fury surged through him, and he felt like he was going to explode. His whole body shook with rage, and he could feel himself losing all control.
“Nooooooo!” he screamed and suddenly, like a pressure valve opening, he found release. His magic flowed from him like a breeched dam, and he was blinded as a brilliant blue light enveloped him. Power surged through his body, and he felt like he was being ripped apart by it. A million volts of electricity was coursing through his veins, directionless, seeking a way out of him and threatening to blow him to pieces. He screamed and screamed, praying that it would end. And then it did.
The first thing he was aware of was his own breathing. He was gasping for air, and his heart was threatening to burst out of his chest it was beating so hard. His vision slowly returned despite the spots before his eyes. He realised he was lying on the damp floor although he had no memory of having fallen. His whole body ached, and he felt like he had been beaten with a cricket bat for several hours. Then a thought struck him; he was alive.
He rolled on the floor and nearly screamed again as he came face to face with the basilisk. He started to scramble away until it occurred to Harry that the great snake wasn’t moving. Its eyes looked like they had been burnt out, and smoke was rising from the beast. It was dead. Harry had no idea how he had done it, but he had killed the monster. It lay on the floor in front of him with its great jaws open and its huge fangs exposed. Harry started to tremble.
“No!” cried a voice behind him. “How did you do that? You’re only a stupid, little boy. A half-blood brat! How did you do that?” Harry turned to see Riddle staring at him open mouthed. An intense feeling of satisfaction came over him, seeing how upset the boy was. Unfortunately, it was short lived.
“No matter! You have no wand, and I am only moments from regaining my body. Once this idiotic girl is dead, I will have corporeal form; and I will kill you myself,” Riddle snarled. Harry couldn’t argue. He was exhausted and doubted he had the strength left to fight even if he had a wand. He felt sorry for the little girl, though. By the sounds of it she had just been lonely and turned to that bloody diary for comfort. The diary! Riddle had said he put his memory into the diary. If he destroyed the diary, would it destroy the memory?
Looking round quickly, he spotted the diary where he had dropped it. He picked it up and looked around desperately for a means to destroy the thing. His eyes settled on the basilisk’s open mouth. He exchanged a brief glance with Riddle who seemed to guess exactly what he was going to do the second he started moving. Riddle raised his wand and a spell shot past Harry’s ear, but hope had given him renewed energy. He sprinted to the corpse of the snake and with the last of his remaining strength impaled the book on one of the serpent’s up-turned fangs.
Riddle screamed and began to writhe in agony. His translucent form began to shimmer and lose focus. With one final howl Riddle vanished in flash and the wand he had been holding dropped to the floor. Harry sunk to his knees in relief and exhaustion. His head dropped and he panted for air.
He sat trying to gather his strength for a minute or two when he became aware of movement in front of him. Looking up, he suddenly found himself staring into a pair of brown eyes that were watching him warily. The girl had awoken.
“Hello,” Harry said simply. The girl jumped like she hadn’t expected him to be able to speak. For a second she looked terrified.
“Who are you?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“My name's Harry,” he said gently, trying not to scare the girl further. At the mention of his name, however, the girl’s eyes shot to his forehead.
“Sweet Merlin! You’re Harry Potter! I’m not dreaming,” she squealed. Harry had to suppress a chortle.
“Yeah, I am. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ginny…Ginny Weasley.” With a start, she leapt up and started looking round her. “Where’s Tom? Oh, we have to get out of here before he comes back! If he…SHIT! The basilisk! It’s dead!” Harry did laugh this time. The girl was tiny and looked so young. He wouldn’t have imagined her swearing like that.
“It’s okay, Ginny. I killed the basilisk and then destroyed the diary. That seems to have gotten rid of Tom Riddle,” he assured her, pointing to the diary which was still impaled on the basilisk’s fang.
“That destroyed it?” she asked hopefully. “I tried to burn it and throw into water, but nothing worked.”
“Riddle vanished before my eyes, leaving only his wand behind,” Harry confirmed.
“MY wand, he took it from me!” she said angrily. She reached over and picked up the wand from the floor and regarded it sadly. “Not that I’m any good with it. I’m useless with spells.”
“You’re only young. You’re bound to get better.” He assured her. “How old are you anyway?”
Ginny looked slightly offended. “I’m eleven. Why?” she asked.
“I’ve just never heard an eleven year old swear as well as you, that’s all. My gran would box my ears if she heard me talk like that,” he grinned at her. Ginny giggled and put her hands over her mouth. Harry thought she looked very cute when she did that.
“I’ve got six older brothers. You do tend to pick up a few naughty words with that lot around. I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week if my mum heard me swearing,” she laughed. Harry laughed with her but then his smile faded a bit.
“Riddle said that your brothers ignored you and that was one of the reasons he was able to use the diary against you. Was that true?” he asked.
Ginny instantly looked sad. “Yeah. Four of my brothers are here, and none of them talk to me. Fred and George are always too busy, Percy thinks he’s too important, and Ron thinks he’s too cool. Only my friend Luna ever talks to me, and she’s in a different house so I don’t see her much. She can be a bit odd, too,” she said sadly.
“I’d talk to you if I went to school here,” he encouraged her. “You could teach me lots of new rude words.”
That set her off giggling again. “I can’t believe I’ve been rescued by Harry Potter,” she laughed, “and I know more swear words than him!”
“Hey, I’m a fast learner. I’m sure I‘ll pick them up quickly!”
The two of them sat there for the next ten minutes shouting out whatever rude words they could think of. The ruder the word, the louder they laughed. Eventually, they exhausted their combined supply of naughty language and Ginny went very quiet. Harry looked at her and realised tears were falling down her cheeks and her tiny body was shaking.
“Ginny, it’s okay,” he assured her. “It’s all over now.”
“No it’s not!” the girl wailed. “Everyone is going to hate me! I let that bloody basilisk attack so many people! Poor Colin and Hermione, and Percy’s girlfriend as well! He’ll never forgive me for that! I’ll be expelled from Hogwarts for sure. Oh, I’m so weak and stupid.”
Harry was stunned at this outburst until it occurred to him that Ginny had no idea what she had been up against.
“Err, Ginny, you do know who Tom Riddle was, don’t you?” he asked. The small girl shook her head. “Well, later in life Tom changed his name to Lord Voldemort and…”
“WHAT!” Ginny shrieked cutting him off mid-sentence. “I had you-know-who in my head?” She burst into tears once again.
“Look, Ginny, I can’t see how anyone could blame you for not being able to fight off Voldemort. You’re eleven years old and he’s one of the most powerful wizards who ever lived! How were you supposed to fight him? And no-one was permanently hurt; I heard Dumbledore say that everyone who was petrified would be revived soon.”
“Really?” she asked hopefully.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “For my money you did brilliantly!” Ginny tears stopped and she gave him a small, nervous smile. He reached over and took her hand again and gave it a squeeze. Her smile became wider and more optimistic.
After sitting for a while longer, Harry decided they had better try to find a way out. He stood and grabbed the diary and again offered his hand to Ginny to pull her up. As they made their way to the chamber's entrance, Harry noticed the girl seemed unwilling to let go of his hand. He decided not to make an issue of it but quietly thought he would not mention anything about this to his Taekwondo partner, Lisa. She always seemed to get upset when he talked to other girls, let alone held their hands. They reached the door to the chamber and were dismayed to find it completely blocked with rubble.
“I don’t think it’s very deep,” Harry said hopefully. “Ginny, why don’t you levitate some of the rocks out of the way? We should be able to dig ourselves out.” Ginny didn’t look very confident but pointed her wand at the rock pile. A few of the smaller rocks vibrated, but other than that nothing else happened. The girl shrieked in frustration and thrust her wand at Harry.
“Here, you try it,” she said in a miserable voice. Harry trained the wand and managed to move a large slab of rock, although with some effort.
“See! I’m useless! I can’t do anything right!” Ginny howled before bursting into tears. Harry lowered the wand and went over and took the girl's hand again. She instantly stopped crying but did continue to sniffle.
“Actually, Ginny, I don’t think you’re the problem,” Harry said.
“What do you mean? You could do the spell but I couldn’t. I’m a useless witch!” she cried. Harry shook his head.
“Do you know why I never came to school here at Hogwarts?” he asked. Ginny shook her head but looked very interested. “It’s because my grandparents tell me I’m really powerful. When I learn spells and stuff I have to do it in a specially prepared room with loads of wards on it. If I get it wrong I could end up injuring someone, so they thought it would be too dangerous for me to be taught here. But I tell you, Ginny. I’ve never really had any problems with levitation spells, but I found it bloody hard work using your wand. I think it’s knackered.”
“It was my granny's wand,” she said a little defensively.
“Yeah, maybe, but I still think it’s knackered. You need a new wand, Ginny.”
The girl looked doubtful. “I’m not sure we can afford it. We’re not very well off,” she said in a small voice.
“I’m sure that your family will get you a new one when they learn how worn out this one is,” he said confidently. Ginny didn’t look so sure but did give him a hopeful smile. Harry grinned back at her and started moving rocks again. It was slow going. His magic was still depleted from his run-in with the basilisk meaning he had to take frequent rests. After he had worked for an hour and made a sizable dent in the debris, Ginny suddenly put her hand on his arm.
“Hold up, Harry. I think I heard something.” They both paused and strained their ears for a possible sound. Sure enough, they could hear the sound of stone moving against stone.
“Someone’s trying to get to us!” Harry cried in delight and continued shifting rubble from his side. After another ten minutes work a small gap appeared in pile. Harry scrambled up and put his eye to it. He nearly shouted for joy when he saw a bright blue eyeball looking back at him.
“Harry? Is that you?” he heard a familiar voice call.
“Professor Dumbledore? Can you hear me?” he called back.
“Yes, Harry I can hear you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine and so is Ginny! I managed to kill the basilisk and destroy Tom Riddle's diary,” he replied. He was sure he heard the old man gasp.
“Hold on, Harry. I’m nearly through to you. Another few minutes and you’ll be free,” the old man assured him. Harry stepped back and returned the wand to Ginny. He was very tired and decided to leave the digging to Dumbledore. Ginny just smiled happily and took his hand in hers again. She seemed very fond of doing that, he noted.
Just as the headmaster had promised, within another few minutes the gap had been widened sufficiently for Harry and Ginny to scramble through. They found Dumbledore looking very much worse for wear, with his robes ripped and small cuts covering his hands and face.
Harry looked around. “What happened to Lockhart?” he asked warily.
“Alas, his plan backfired on him, Harry. He was buried under that large pile of rocks over there. I cast a detection spell and unfortunately found that he had not survived,” Dumbledore sounded genuinely upset.
“He tried to do it to us first, Professor,” Harry said with a slight bitterness in his voice.
“That may be, Harry. But no one should have to die like that. I can only hope that it was quick,” Dumbledore said with a sigh.
“So what happened to you, Professor?” Harry asked.
“It appears I had far fewer adventures than you, my boy. While I managed to avoid being caught when the ceiling collapsed, a stray rock did knock me unconscious for a while. When I awoke, I discovered the fate of Professor Lockhart and then began trying to dig my way to you. Clearly, you barely needed my help. May I ask how you managed to defeat the basilisk?”
“Remember my outburst of accidental magic at the Dursley’s?” Harry asked. Dumbledore nodded. “Well, I had another one of those. I managed to fry the big snake. Of course, Riddle got angry then and said as soon as he had his body he would kill me. But he’d already told me he was part of the diary, so I figured that if I destroyed that then Riddle would follow.” He handed the diary to Dumbledore.
“How did you manage to destroy this, Harry? I assume this large hole in the middle has something to do with it,” he asked.
“I stuck one of the basilisk fangs through it,” Harry admitted.
Dumbledore chuckled. “Remarkable! You have been exceptionally brave, Harry. Nick and Perry will be proud of you,” the Headmaster smiled.
“He was brilliant!” Ginny exclaimed.
Dumbledore couldn’t help but notice the way the girl's eyes were shining as she looked at Harry. “I quite agree, Miss Weasley. But I think it’s time we made our way out of here. Your parents are here, Ginevra, and are most eager to see you.” Ginny nodded but looked very apprehensive. Dumbledore handed Harry back his wand which he took gratefully. Wearily, the three of them made their way back along the tunnel with Ginny clutching Harry’s hand tightly all the way. At the exit they found a set of steps which took them most of the way out, and Dumbledore levitated them the rest of the way.
By the time they reached the Headmaster’s office, Harry’s feet felt like lumps of lead. He was more tired than he could ever remember and desperately wanted a bath. After he had bathed, he couldn’t decide if he would just sleep for four days straight or an entire week. As soon as they opened the door to Dumbledore’s office, a shriek wakened him from his stupor.
“Ginny!” a woman yelled and scooped the small girl into her arms. Judging from the red hair, he assumed the woman was Ginny’s mother. Ginny was swept up with her feet dangling off the floor, and Harry was sure he could hear her muffled pleas to be released. He started to wonder if he hadn’t saved his new friend from the chamber only for her to be crunched to death by her own mum. Eventually, the sobbing woman put her daughter down to allow a balding, spectacled man to embrace her in turn. The woman hurried over and grabbed the Headmaster’s hands.
“Thank you, Albus! Thank you so much for saving my daughter,” she cried.
“It wasn’t him!” came Ginny’s voice, sounding slightly annoyed. “It was Harry!”
Mrs Weasley spun and looked at her daughter in surprise. Her face then hardened, and she looked as if she was about to scold Ginny before Dumbledore interrupted.
“Young Ginevra is quite correct, Molly. Credit where credit is due. It was indeed Harry here who saved her. Single handed, he defeated a terrible monster and destroyed a dangerous dark magic artefact. Your thanks should go to him,” he informed the shocked woman.
Mrs Weasley turned to Harry clearly confused. Her eyes then suddenly went wide and Harry knew she had spotted the scar on his forehead. “You’re Harry Potter?” she asked, sounding awed. Harry just nodded, somewhat embarrassed by her attitude. A second later Harry found himself enveloped in a rib-breaking hug similar to the one Ginny had just endured. Fortunately, the woman released him shortly before he blacked out. He heard Ginny giggle as he struggled to regain his breath. A second later the man walked up to Harry and offered his hand. Relieved he wasn’t about to be crushed again, Harry warmly shook the offered hand.
“Thank you for saving my daughter, Harry. I can never tell you how grateful I am,” he smiled. Before Harry could respond, the door behind him swung open and Perenelle burst in followed by an angry Nicholas and Professor McGonagall. Perenelle threw her arms around Harry, but fortunately her embrace didn’t threaten to break any of his bones.
“Oh, Harry. Are you alright? You’re not injured are you?” she asked desperately.
“No, gran, I’m fine,” he assured her. “I’m just really tired and could really do with a bath. That chamber was filthy.”
“Well, that’s a first,” Perry smiled. “You, actually wanting a bath!”
“Boys! They’re all the same, aren’t they?” Molly laughed. Perry smiled at the unfamiliar witch and turned to Dumbledore.
“You said you just needed him to open the entrance!” she snapped. “Harry could have been killed down there!”
“Trust me, my dear lady; Harry’s situation was not intentional. It was only as a result of treachery on the part of Gilderoy Lockhart that he had to enter the chamber. Although, I must say, it was very fortunate for Miss Weasley that he did.”
“What do you mean? Treachery on Professor Lockhart’s part? I don’t understand,” said Molly, looking worried. Perry cut in before Dumbledore could explain.
“I’m sure there are all sorts of explanations and stories regarding this, but Harry is on his last legs here. If you have no objections, Albus, I will be taking him home now.” Her voice left everyone present little doubt that even if Albus did have an objection she was still leaving with her grandson.
“Of course not. Please take Harry home and get him cleaned up. He has been a true hero today,” Dumbledore smiled.
At that Perry began to shepherd Harry out the door rapidly. Before she could push him out the door completely however he turned and looked back.
“Bye, Ginny. I hope we meet each other again,” he called.
Ginny broke into a wide smile. “Me too, Harry. See you, and thanks for everything!” And with that Harry vanished out the door. Dumbledore turned and surveyed the remaining occupants of the room.
“Minerva, I think it would be a good idea if you took Miss Weasley to the hospital wing to have her looked over. I'll just have a quick word with Arthur and Molly, and then we will follow you there,” he said.
“Excellent idea, Albus,” Molly agreed. “Ginny, you go with Professor McGonagall, and I will be with you in a short while.”
Ginny mumbled something under her breath, but accompanied the Professor without further complaint. Once they had left, Dumbledore turned to the two remaining Weasleys.
“Now I’m sure that you will want to be with your daughter, so I will not keep you long. Firstly, may I ask if either of you recognised the witch and wizard who came and took Harry Potter away?” Arthur and Molly both looked at each other and shook their heads.
“No, Albus,” Arthur said, “I don’t recall ever seeing either of them before in my life.” Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction.
“I’m sorry to ask but I wanted to be sure. The problem I have, you see, is one of security. Young Harry has been hidden away for years. Quite successfully, I might add. There are, unfortunately, still many people who would wish to do harm to the poor lad for his role in the defeat of Voldemort. For some misguided reason, a number of former Death Eaters believe if they can kill Harry it will instigate the return of their former lord. This, of course, puts him at great risk.” Dumbledore paused and looked solemnly at Arthur and Molly, who both looked slightly shocked.
“We won’t mention seeing the boy at all, Albus. You can trust us,” Molly assured him.
“Naturally, as former members of the Order of the Phoenix I have complete confidence that you understand the situation. I am, however, more worried about young Ginevra. Harry is a handsome and famous young man who has just saved her life. Such things can turn a young girl's head, and I think it’s fairly obvious she has developed an attraction to the boy, judging from her attention to him,” he explained. Molly looked horrified.
“She’s only eleven, Albus. I’m sure it’s just a girlish crush,” she spluttered.
“Quite so, Molly. But a crush it is, none the less. At her young age I feel it would be very hard for her to keep to herself that she had met the famous Harry Potter, and that he had even rescued her. Young girls like to gossip, and it would be a great temptation for Ginevra to let slip that she had met Harry. I don’t think we could impress upon her the seriousness of the matter. Unfortunately, this whole diary episode has proved that her judgement is not yet mature enough for her to be trusted with secrets.”
Molly sighed and nodded wearily. “You’re probably right, Albus. I don’t think she would be able to keep this to herself. She still has a lot of growing up to do,” she said mournfully.
“I agree,” Arthur added. “I’ve told her many times never to trust anything that you can’t see where its brain is kept. I can’t believe she put her trust in this evil diary.”
“Indeed. I feel the best course of action is to ensure that she has no memory of Mr Potter. She cannot divulge what she cannot remember,” Dumbledore said.
Arthur looked shocked. “Obliviate her, you mean?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think we need to go that far. A few simple memory blocks should suffice. Normally, I wouldn’t use these, as anyone with a decent amount of magical strength can overwhelm them. However, judging from Ginevra’s school work, I don’t think this is an issue. I regret that she does not appear to be very powerful and has struggled with the practical portions of her lessons,” Dumbledore explained.
“Well, memory blocks are certainly a lot safer,” Arthur agreed hesitantly. “I don’t know why she’s doing so badly in her lessons. When she was small she had some tremendous outbursts of accidental magic. We all assumed she would be a very powerful witch.”
“Alas, a child’s magic can change dramatically as they grow, and Ginevra’s does not appear to have matured. Unfortunate, but not uncommon,” Dumbledore commented. “Well, if that is all agreed, I think we should head to the hospital wing.”
The three of them left the office and walked to the hospital wing. Within half an hour Ginny had completely forgotten that she had ever met a green-eyed boy called Harry.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5 – In Secrets We Drown
Author's Notes: A bit of a wordy chapter this one and unfortunately it does rehash quite a bit of the books, but it was necessary to show what exactly what the Flamels know about Dumbledore and why they are wary of him. Oh, and if anyone is upset about the character of Lisa just try and think of her as this stories Cho Chang - just a bit nicer. And with less emotional baggage. And a better kisser.
Monday, 25 July 1994
Days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months. Harry continued to learn and grow under the Flamels' careful guidance. Before he knew it another year and a half had passed, and his fourteenth birthday was fast approaching. If asked, Harry would have said that he was the happiest he had ever been in his life.
Just before Christmas the previous year, he had returned to Hogwarts for a few days to sit his OWL’s. For some reason this had caused Nick and Perry a great deal of concern, and they had insisted that one of them be with him at all times. They had also been rather hostile to Professor Dumbledore while they were there. Harry gathered there had been something of a falling out between his adopted grandparents and the headmaster. He wasn’t too bothered about this, as he still hadn’t forgiven Dumbledore for allowing Lockhart anywhere near the Chamber of Secrets. The knowledge that the old man was also responsible for placing him with the Dursleys also burned in the back of his mind.
Fortunately, there were no major confrontations and Harry completed his exams without problems. He received the results a few weeks later and was amazed to have received outstanding grades across the board. Nicholas had told him that he had expected nothing less from him, but his guardian had still glowed with pride, nonetheless. A framed copy of his results now decorated his grandfather’s study, and secretly Harry was delighted at Nick’s reaction. Of course, the next day they had made a start on his NEWT-level studies.
But things were far from being all work. Harry flew his broom whenever he got the chance, and Perry told him he was a talented flyer. He just wished he got the opportunity to fly more often. He also continued his Taekwondo and had become quite skilled. He was now one of the best in the group and had taken part in a couple of county level competitions where he had done quite well. Lisa had even had to find a new sparring partner as Harry had just got too big and strong for her, much to her disgust.
Harry was a little confused about his relationship with the small, brown haired girl. Lately, she had taken to telling her friends that he was her boyfriend, and he hadn’t particularly felt the need to correct her. They certainly spent a lot of time together, the beach being their favourite place to hang out. In summer they swam in the sea or lay around on the sand, while in colder weather they just walked along the sea front or sheltered behind the rocks. Lately, however, there seemed to be some tension between them; and Lisa alternated between finding excuses to sit very close to him or to start picking fights with him. Harry strongly suspected that she was waiting for him to confirm that she was his girlfriend, but he hadn’t been able to work up the nerve to do that yet.
It was a week before his birthday that Nicholas called him into his study and told him he wanted to have a chat. With mounting curiosity he sat in one of the comfy leather chairs opposite his grandfather. He became slightly concerned when Perry entered behind him and firmly closed the door. She sat beside her husband and looked at Harry with an unreadable expression.
“Harry, Nicholas and I have had a long chat and we have decided that we have something we must tell you,” Perry began. For some reason a sense of dread came over Harry. “We debated when to tell you this information, but in the end felt that you had a right to know.”
“Professor Dumbledore rather pointedly told us that he didn’t want you to be told this information we are about to give you. We are ignoring him. Over the years our trust in Dumbledore’s judgement has diminished greatly, and we feel he does not necessarily have your best interests at heart,” Nick informed him. Harry felt a wave of irritation at the Hogwarts Headmaster. He was not surprised the old man had tried to keep information from him; it seemed exactly the sort of thing he would do.
“What we are about to tell you relates to why Voldemort attacked your parents and why he tried to kill you as a baby. It will also explain why we have tried to keep you hidden for so long, Harry,” Perry continued before Nick took up the story.
“Just before you were born, a prophecy was made by the Divination teacher at Hogwarts. While I generally think such things are hogwash, this one has proved surprisingly accurate. The prophecy is as follows.” Nicholas recited the prophecy exactly as he had heard it in Dumbledore’s Pensieve several years before.
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies..."
Harry sat stunned for a second while he tried to wrap his brain around the words. A thousand thoughts went through his mind as he tried to find some logical reason why the words could not relate to him. He failed.
“So, this ‘one with the power he knows not,’ that’s definitely me, is it?” he asked.
“Dumbledore is convinced of it and, after some research, so am I,” Nick informed him.
“And that bit about ‘neither shall live while the other survives’ that means I’ve got to kill him or he will kill me, doesn’t it?” Harry could hear the slight tremor in his voice.
Nick and Perry glanced at each other with a worried expression.
“Yes, Harry. We believe it does,” Perry confirmed quietly.
“But…I…why?” was all he managed to say.
“Now, Harry, we don’t want you to get too worked up about this just yet. As far as we understand it, Voldemort does not even have a corporeal form at present. Until he regains a body, he is no threat to you. Now that might happen in ten, twenty or even thirty years time. You have lots of time to learn and train. You’re already off to a wonderful start. You’re magically powerful and I expect by the end of the year you will be taking your NEWT exams. You’re already way ahead of anyone your age!” Nick assured him.
“Yes, and you have other talents. You’re wonderful on a broom and look how skilled you are becoming at that Muggle martial art you love. You’ve achieved all this and you’re not even fourteen yet,” Perry added enthusiastically.
“And once your NEWTS are finished, we’ll still have so much more to teach you. You are a powerful wizard, Harry, and there is no limit to what you could achieve. Learn as much as you can, but don’t forget to have fun too. Enjoy your childhood, my boy. It will be years before you have to worry about any of this; we made sure of that,” Nick smiled encouragingly.
“What do you mean, you made sure of it?” Harry asked. Nick’s face fell slightly as he realised what he had said. Harry’s feeling of dread increased. “What have you done?” he asked quietly. Nick looked him in the eyes.
“As you know, Harry, Perry and I have lived incredibly long lives due to the Philosopher's Stone. That’s all well and good, but there has always been a risk that if the stone fell into the wrong hands it could be used for great evil. Just before you came to us, we became aware that the agents of Voldemort were seeking to steal the stone. The vault in which it was kept at Gringotts was even broken into. Voldemort has long sought immortality, and the stone would give him just that. We could not allow that to happen,” he explained.
“What did you do?” Harry repeated.
“We destroyed the stone,” Perry told him flatly.
“But…you’ll die,” Harry stuttered, unable to keep the anguish out of his voice. Perry shot forward and flung her arms around him.
“Not for a good long while, Harry. When we learnt we would be looking after you we made sure we had a large supply of the elixir that should last us years yet. But, truthfully, I think our years were numbered even if we had kept the stone, my love. Both Nick and I, we’ve felt worn and tired for some time. I don’t think the stone was ever meant to permit anyone to live forever, just for a very long lifespan. And that is running out for us. But don’t worry, we still have lots of time left,” she said, hugging him fiercely.
“Promise,” Harry begged through his tears.
“I promise,” she whispered, kissing him on top of his head. “We still have so many wonderful things to show and teach to you, Harry.”
Harry said nothing further but continued hugging his adopted grandmother tightly. They stayed like that for nearly ten minutes before Harry managed to get his sobbing under control.
“So, I have an evil Dark Lord who wants to kill me, and you two could drop dead at any moment. Any other good news you want to give me?” Harry couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“Don’t be like that,” Perry scolded lightly. “We have years together yet. And by the time we’re finished with you, Voldemort won’t stand a chance.”
Harry nodded and dried his remaining tears. In the space of a few minutes his world had been turned upside down. He dearly hoped that this would not be the start of more troubles, but somehow he didn’t think he would be that lucky.
Saturday, 27 August 1994
Harry took a bite out of his burger and looked thoughtfully round at the other party guests. He was currently sat in Lisa’s back garden with around twenty other kids celebrating her thirteenth birthday. Although he knew a few of the other guests from the Taekwondo group, most of them were Lisa’s school friends whom he had never met before. They seemed a fairly friendly bunch, although most of the girls were rather giggly. It had been a slightly strange party as Lisa had decided that now she was a teenager party games would be too childish. Instead, her parents had set up the family’s stereo system outside so everyone could dance. In reality, this resulted in the girls dancing and the boys standing around with their hands in their pockets looking lost. Much to his embarrassment, Lisa had grabbed him at one point and made him dance with her. Harry wasn’t at all sure if his efforts could actually be classified as dancing or not.
It was now early evening and the party, which had been going on all afternoon, was just breaking up. Harry had valiantly volunteered to help eat the last of the food while Lisa had teased him that he had hollow legs. He was a growing boy and needed his sustenance, he had insisted. Finishing the last of his burger he began to help Lisa’s parents tidy up. In truth, he was rather glad the party had finished as he had felt rather uncomfortable throughout it.
He’d never really felt that he was different from other children his age before, but for some reason today he’d been overwhelmed by the idea. Perhaps because he had been living as a Muggle before he came to live with the Flamels, he had felt perfectly at home amongst the other kids. But the more he studied magic, the more he came to realise he was different. He had incredible powers that these people would never understand, let alone duplicate. Somewhere along the line he had embraced his magical heritage and he could never again live like a Muggle. But now he had started to feel alienated and strange amongst the other teenagers. Memories of Vernon Dursley calling him a freak entered him mind and left a bad taste in his mouth. Suddenly, a voice from behind him jolted him out of his dark thoughts.
“Thanks for helping clean up, Harry,” said Lisa brightly. Harry turned and looked at the girl. She was still quite small, only coming up to his chin. She had, however, shed most of her puppy fat, and looked slim and attractive. Her brown hair shined and hung below her shoulder. Harry also liked her dark brown eyes which always seemed so full of amusement. He grinned at her.
“No problems, Lisa. Your parents fed me so much I thought I better do something to earn my keep,” he said.
“Yeah, just as well Dad got that extra packet of burgers out the freezer. How many did you eat? Five or six, was it?” She laughed and poked him in the tummy.
“Hey, I had three! And they were spaced out over the entire afternoon. Besides, your Dad cooked them so well it would have been rude to say no,” he countered.
“If you say so,” she laughed. A second later the smile left her face and she suddenly looked nervous. “Harry, I have something I want to show you. Can you come with me?” She reached out and took his hand and started to lead him to the rear of the garden. Like many houses on this side of the small village, the garden backed onto woodland. Lisa pulled him through a gap in the chain fence and out amongst the trees. They had gone a little way when Lisa stopped and turned to face Harry. He looked around him in confusion.
“What did you want to show me out here?” he asked.
“Well, I might have lied about that bit,” she confessed, chewing her bottom lip. “Really I brought you here because I think it’s time you gave me my birthday present.”
“But I already gave you your present,” Harry objected. The fact that Lisa was wearing the necklace he had given her rather emphasised that, he thought.
“No, not that one,” she said shyly. “I’m ready for my birthday kiss now.”
Harry gulped.
Although Lisa had been referring to him as her boyfriend for about a month now, they had never really done anything intimate. Not that Harry hadn’t thought about it. He had thought about it a lot. Probably more than was good for him, actually. But now Lisa was asking him to kiss her and he was terrified. Lisa took a step towards him until they were nearly touching, and Harry realised they were actually going to do this. With his pulse racing, he slowly bent down and brought his lips to hers.
Their first kiss was gentle and soft. Her lips were moist and he could taste her strawberry lip gloss. He slowly pulled away and looked at her in amazement. Although he had studied wondrous magic and had seen many unbelievable creatures, that kiss had to be the single most mind blowing thing he had ever experienced. Lisa seemed to agree and broke into a wide smile. Seconds later, she flung her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his again. Harry responded enthusiastically.
They ended up laying on a patch of grass behind a bush. With their arms wrapped around each other, they happily spent the next half an hour snogging like their lives depended on it. It was only when Lisa reluctantly informed him that she had better return home before her parents started to worry that they broke apart. They returned hand in hand and Harry no longer had any doubts that Lisa was indeed his girlfriend.
He kissed her once more before leaving via the side gate. He was pretty sure that he floated home rather than walked with his head swimming from her lavender scent that had rubbed off on him. Whatever thoughts he had earlier in the day of alienation vanished, and all he could think of was her bright brown eyes and her soft lips. He had never been so happy in his life and totally failed to notice Perry’s amused looks at him as he came into the house. He went upstairs and lay down on his bed, dreaming of his new girlfriend.
Friday, 9 June 1995
Life continued pretty much as it had done before for Harry. His fears about Nick and Perry dwindled in the face of this apparent normality. They looked the same as ever and, as they showed no signs of suddenly vanishing from his life, it was easy to forget his worries. As Nick had predicted, he was ready to sit his NEWT exams just before Christmas; and once again managed to get an outstanding rating in every subject. He’d even received a separate letter of commendation from the exam board congratulating him on some of the best results they had ever seen. A copy of the letter also went up on Nick’s study wall next to Harry’s framed exam results. Although he had long been aware of Nicholas’s teaching methods of implanting the information directly in his mind by a process called Legilimency, he didn’t feel it was cheating in any way. The method apparently wouldn’t have worked if his mind wasn’t receptive and, besides, he read all the reference material relating to the subjects. It just saved time, and time, they realised, might not be on their side.
After the NEWT-level material was finished, Nick began to teach him other things. He began to learn how to protect his mind from mental attack and how to read the thoughts of others. He started to learn how to Apparate even though he wouldn’t be allowed to hold a licence until he was seventeen. And all the while he learnt new and powerful spells, mainly from old, dusty tomes Nick dragged from the corners of his vast library. He even began to study animagus theory.
Of course there were other distractions to keep him busy. That February he achieved the tenth and final ranking in his junior Taekwondo group, and was awarded the red belt with a black strip that went with it. To celebrate, he demonstrated breaking three concrete paving bricks with his hand and received the applause of the rest of the group with Lisa clapping the loudest.
He spent as much time with his pretty girlfriend as he could. In good weather they wandered the woods and fields around their home, seeking the privacy they craved. Bad weather presented more of a challenge, but Harry did enjoy one very memorable Saturday afternoon when Lisa’s parents had gone out and she smuggled him up to her bedroom. Lisa had allowed him to put his hands in places he had never been allowed before, and he suspected that next time he practiced his Patronus spell he would have no problems coming up with some happy memories.
But not everything was perfect in the Flamel house. Returning from a date with Lisa one evening, he entered the house to hear shouting coming from the front room. He crept closer and tried to listen through the closed door, but only heard snatches of conversation.
“Won’t…to be…unacceptable…simply will not allow…” he heard Perry shout. He couldn’t hear the next part at all as the person was speaking in a much quieter voice. Whatever was said apparently infuriated his grandmother, however.
“How dare you say that, Albus!” she screamed. “You entrusted Harry’s welfare to us and I refuse to just turn him over to you whenever you see fit. I love that boy and I would never put him at risk!”
Harry stepped back. So the person Perry was arguing with was Albus Dumbledore. Clearly the Hogwarts Headmaster wanted Harry to do something and Perry had refused. He shuddered at the memory of what happened the last time had Dumbledore requested his help. He felt a surge of affection for Perry for protecting him and her declaration of love. Of course, she had told him she loved him many times before, but for her to proclaim it out loud like that warmed his heart.
He struggled to hear more, but the voices had returned to a more reasonable level. Fearing the conversation was coming to an end, Harry went and hid in the kitchen where he would be able to hear anyone leaving the front room. Sure enough, a minute later he heard a door snatched open and footsteps in the hall.
“Nicholas, Perenelle, I urge you to reconsider. There is more at stake than just one boy’s happiness. Hogwarts would be the best…” Dumbledore said before he was cut off.
“No. I won’t say it again, Dumbledore. There is nothing that you can teach Harry that I cannot. He has a good life here, he is learning at an amazing rate and above all he is safe! Hogwarts will only hold him back. Sweet Merlin, he’s already passed all his NEWT’s. You just want him somewhere you can keep an eye on him, don’t you?” Nick sounded as angry as Perry had been.
“That is simply not true, Nicholas. And while Harry may have finished his studies up to NEWT level, we have many fine teachers at Hogwarts who…” Again Dumbledore was cut off.
“Who can teach him nothing that Nicholas can’t!” Perry snapped. “We have bent to your will over many things in the past, Dumbledore, but not this time. In fact, I think it’s time for you to leave.”
Harry could hear no response, but as there was no further shouting he assumed the Professor had left.
“Harry, could you come in here, please,” called Perry a second later.
Harry was taken aback that his grandmother knew he was in there, but then remembered his bracelet through which Perry could track his movements. He suddenly had a wave of panic about his adventures in Lisa’s bedroom. Tentatively, he went into the front room.
Perry was sat on the sofa with an expression that would curdle milk, and Nick was pacing back and forth in front of the fire place. He stopped as Harry entered and gestured for him to sit.
“I’m sure that you heard part of our conversation with Professor Dumbledore, Harry,” he began.
Harry nodded his head guiltily.
“No matter, my boy. This is your home and we weren’t exactly making any pretence at secrecy.”
“As you might have gathered, we have had something of a disagreement with Albus,” said Perry, taking up the story. “He wishes you to attend Hogwarts this coming September. His arguments were that you would be safer there and that it would give you access to the expertise that the teaching staff would offer. Both points are ridiculous and we rejected them.”
“I do wonder, however, if there is a reason behind Albus’s sudden interest in your security. Perhaps he knows something we don’t. It would not be the first time he has kept information to himself,” pondered Nick.
“No, indeed. I suspect you are correct, love,” Perry agreed. “Harry, I think it’s time we told you a little of our past history with Dumbledore. It may explain why we are a little mistrustful of him.”
“It wasn’t always this way,” Nick explained. “We first met Albus in France at the turn of the last century. He was a brilliant young man and very keen to learn. I gathered from him that there had been some family tragedy in the past that had led him to travel and study to forget. He had some very interesting theories regarding Alchemy, and we did some work together. Not long after that he decided he wanted to teach and took a position at Hogwarts where he has been ever since. It was only some years later we discovered the details of this family tragedy he had not wanted to talk about.” Nick paused while Perry took up the story.
“Dumbledore came from a good wizarding family. His parents were well-off pure-bloods and he had a younger brother and sister. He was always the most gifted of the three, and from an early age it was clear he would go far. Unfortunately, things did not go to plan. While Albus and his brother were at Hogwarts, a group of Muggle boys spotted his sister performing accidental magic. They tried to force her to repeat what they had seen her do and, when she couldn’t, they became angry and attacked her. They got…rather carried away and the poor girl was never the same again. Dumbledore’s father, in a violent rage, hunted the boys down and killed them.”
“Sounds like they got what they deserved,” Harry commented. Perry’s implications as to what the boys had done were quite clear.
“Maybe, and maybe not. In any case, Dumbledore Senior had clearly taken things too far. He was arrested but refused to say why he had killed the Muggles because he wanted to keep his only daughter’s shame a secret. The girl had become mentally unbalanced and he was afraid she would be taken away and put in a home. He died in Azkaban some years later, having never spoken a word as to why he had committed those crimes,” Perry sighed.
Harry tried to sort out how he felt about Dumbledore Senior’s actions. What would he do, put in that position? What if someone hurt Lisa? It seemed only right that he would hunt the perpetrators down and make them suffer. You had to protect your loved ones, didn’t you?
“This left Dumbledore’s mother looking after the mentally ill, and quite dangerous, girl. Albus continued his education and achieved brilliant results, nearly as good as yours, Harry.” Nick grinned at him before continuing. “Just as Albus was about to graduate, his mother died. This left him as the head of the house and responsible for looking after his sister. To his credit, he didn’t shirk his responsibilities, at least not at first. Then one day a young man came to Godrick's Hollow where they lived and changed everything. That young man was called Gellert Grindelwald.”
Harry gasped out loud. He knew the name Grindelwald well from his history lessons. The man was evil and had caused the death of millions with his interference in Muggle politics. The Second World War started due to his influence with the Muggle dictator Hitler. Dumbledore had defeated the man, but not until 1945. He knew Grindelwald from an early age?
“Yes, I can see you are shocked, Harry. But you haven’t heard anything yet,” Perry said grimly. “In those days, Grindelwald was just a rather rash young man who had just been expelled from Durmstrang due to his radical ideas on how the Wizarding world should be run. He was, however, extremely intelligent and very handsome. Two things that appealed greatly to Dumbledore.” It took a second for Perry’s words to register in Harry’s mind.
“Hold on! You mean…is Dumbledore gay?” he asked in a shocked voice.
“Yes, he is,” Perry confirmed, “but frankly, I’m more concerned about his actual choice of partners rather than their gender. Grindelwald and Dumbledore became lovers and Grindelwald managed to convert his new friend to many of his ideas. Muggles are not capable of looking after themselves, he would argue. We wizards should take control so we can guide them, he would say. It’s all for the GREATER GOOD!” Perry spat the last words out in disgust.
“The ‘greater good’ is a term Albus is rather fond of,” Nick explained. “He believes that life resembles a game of chess and sometimes you have to sacrifice a few pawns to win the game. Unfortunately, he seems to think it’s his job to decide who the pawns are.”
“Anyway,” said Perry, getting the story back on track, “Dumbledore and Grindelwald started planning their conquest. They hoped to unite the Deathly Hallows to achieve this. Are you familiar with them, Harry?”
He shook his head.
“Well, you can look them up in the library later. While Dumbledore was busy plotting away with his boyfriend, he failed to notice his sister was not being taken care of properly. When his brother returned, he became enraged at the poor job Dumbledore was doing of looking after his sibling. This resulted in a confrontation between the brothers and Grindelwald. It quickly spun out of control and spells were exchanged. Then, suddenly, the poor girl dived into the fight. She may have been trying to help or maybe just stop the fighting, we will never know. She got in the way of a spell and was killed instantly. The thing is, no-one knows who cast the spell.”
“You mean, Dumbledore may have killed his own sister?” Harry gasped.
“It’s possible. Grindelwald fled the country and Albus was consumed with grief. He severed his links with Grindelwald and abandoned his previous plans. He took up a career in teaching so, he claims, he will never have the temptations of holding political power, which he feels is his weakness. Of course, Headmaster of Hogwarts is still a pretty influential position. And I’m not sure how being Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock doesn’t qualify as holding political power. In fact, the only position of power Albus has turned down is Minister for Magic, and I suspect that’s only because he likes to work in the background,” Perry complained.
Harry was beginning to realise just how much his grandmother disliked the Professor.
“Now, you will point out that Dumbledore did defeat Grindelwald in the end and helped stop the war. On the other side of the coin, it could be pointed out that he only confronted his former lover after he was virtually begged to do so by the Ministry. He could have confronted Grindelwald anytime in the Thirties or early Forties and could have saved thousands, if not millions of lives if he had acted sooner. So why didn’t he? There could be many reasons. It’s possible that it was the fear that the truth about what happened to his sister would come out. I suspect, however, that Albus still had feelings for Grindelwald and still sympathised with some of his beliefs. The only major difference I can see these days is that Dumbledore appears determined to control the Magical word ‘for the greater good’ rather than the Muggle one.”
“One of the main reasons Perry and I withdrew from the Wizarding world was the actions of Dumbledore and the Ministry during the war with Voldemort. This was another instance where many lives could have been saved if he had acted quicker. He knew Tom Riddle was evil, and yet he sat and watched him morph into Lord Voldemort and strike terror into the hearts of every witch and wizard in the country,” Nick explained while shaking his head in disbelief.
“Albus appears to have this thing about people redeeming themselves. He will permit people to commit the most hideous crimes without intervention if he believes there is even the smallest chance they will see the error of their ways. I suspect he had always hoped this was what Grindelwald would do so they could have been reunited. The only trouble with this is that he doesn’t seem too concerned with how many innocent people get hurt while he’s waiting for the evil-doer to repent! Why should the innocent suffer for the benefit of those that have made their choices and followed a dark path? It’s ridiculous!” Perry was inflamed now. “Did you know that even as we speak Dumbledore has an ex-Death Eater under his wing at Hogwarts? A man that overheard part of the prophecy about you and ran straight to Voldemort to report it.”
“What!” Harry exploded. “He did what? But that’s why Voldemort came after my parents in the first place! He as good as killed them himself!”
“My thoughts exactly,” Perry agreed. “Anyway, this Death Eater didn’t realise who the prophecy related to, and when he learnt your mother was involved he became racked with grief. He apparently was quite sweet on your mother when they were at school and begged Voldemort not to kill her. When that didn’t work, he went to Dumbledore and offered to become a spy in return for his help protecting Lilly. Of course, you know how well that worked out. While this Death Eater didn’t kill your parents directly like Voldemort or betray their location like Sirius Black, he’s still the one who made your parents targets in the first place.”
“What’s this man’s name?” Harry asked.
“Severus Snape,” Perry replied.
“Snape,” Harry repeated his voice as cold as ice. “I’ll remember that name. And one day I’ll kill him.”
“Now, Harry, don’t be so quick to start talking about killing. I haven’t put all this time and effort into raising you just for you to turn into a murderer.” Nick frowned at him. “While I agree the man deserves justice for his actions, everyone should at least receive a trial. Do not condemn him until you have heard the full story. You might find there are some unexpected twists in the tale.”
“Fair enough,” Harry sighed. In truth he didn’t want to kill anyone, not even Voldemort. Nick and Perry smiled at his apparent acceptance of the situation, but he felt uneasy. The conversation had left a bad taste in his mouth and he wondered what Dumbledore was up to. He had the distinct feeling that something bad was going to happen.
Sadly, he was proved right.
Chapter 6: Chapter 6 – Summer Dying Fast
Author's Notes: I’ve pushed the rating up now due to violence. BTW, I have a bit of trouble with formatting when posting my stories. When I write I always put cast spells in italics. Unfortunately, I assume that Word v.10 isn’t very compatible with the site’s software and wipes out italics, underlining, etc. If this problem is just me doing something stupid then I apologise, but otherwise I’m happy to blame Microsoft. More notes at the bottom!
Thursday, 29 June 1995
Harry walked slowly towards his house. The feeling that something was wrong had remained with him for weeks now and it was irritating him. Lisa had commented that he had been in a bad mood for ages, and she had been a bit annoyed at his surly behaviour. He couldn’t even really explain why he was feeling the way he was, which really didn’t help.
He was returning home after his weekly Taekwondo lesson which had at least allowed him to work out some of his frustrations. He had seen Lisa home, and the goodbye kiss they had shared had helped even more. Nothing bad had happened and Harry was beginning to think that maybe he was just being silly about things. Perhaps he should snap out of the mood he was in and lighten up a bit. With a new sense of determination, he increased his walking pace.
He was approaching the lane which led to the Flamels’ house when he saw a small, piggy-eyed man standing on the path ahead of him. He was staring in confusion at what looked like a map, and Harry assumed he must be lost. Certainly the only thing the lane led to was their house, so whatever the man was looking for he was not likely to find it here. Hearing Harry approach, the man looked up and gave him a slightly relieved looking smile.
“Excuse me, young man,” he said, addressing Harry. “I seem to have got myself a bit lost. Could you help me?”
“Yeah, no problem,” Harry replied, stopping in front of the short man. “Where are you trying to get to?”
“Well, it’s this point on the map,” the man replied, pointing to a spot on his map. “Can you see where we are on this?” He casually handed Harry the map to examine.
As soon as his fingers made contact with the paper of the map, Harry knew he had been tricked. He felt a familiar pulling feeling at his navel as the Portkey activated and snatched him away from the quiet Cornish lane. A few seconds later he was roughly deposited on the ground.
Standing up, he barely had time to look around before a popping noise behind him alerted him to the fact that someone had just Apparated in. Before he could even turn around, he heard a voice.
“Petrificus Totalus!”
Harry found himself locked solid. He cursed that he hadn’t had time to Apparate himself away from wherever the hell he was. He then felt himself being levitated and his back hit what felt like a stone wall. A second later, several conjured ropes tied him tightly to whatever he was pressed up against. Try as he might, Harry was unable to move a muscle and had a very limited view directly to his front.
After what seemed like a considerable length of time, someone came into his line of vision. Harry immediately recognised the small man who had handed him the map. This time the man was holding a bundle of what appeared to be old rags. With an evil grin on his face, the man pointed his wand at Harry.
“Finite Incantatem,” he called, and Harry suddenly found he was no longer frozen. Unfortunately the ropes were still tightly in place, meaning his head was the only part of his body he could move freely. For the first time he took in his surroundings.
He was somewhat shocked to find himself in a graveyard. The place didn’t look like it was used regularly and was in poor condition. Many of the headstones were crumbling, and weeds overran nearly all the graves. The whole place had an air of neglect and decay. Harry turned his attention to the small man who had by now moved to Harry’s right and was stood in front of what appeared to be a large cauldron. A fire had already been lit beneath the cauldron, and Harry could just see some clear liquid bubbling within it.
Increasingly, Harry was struggling to concentrate. The scar on his forehead felt like it was on fire and his whole head throbbed. Nicholas had explained ages ago that when he had been attacked by Voldemort as a baby, the contact had created a ‘connection’ between the two of them. Although his grandfather could not be certain, he had suspected that Harry’s scar held an imprint of Voldemort, much as the diary he had destroyed in the Chamber of Secrets had done. To protect Harry, Nicholas had taught him to create strong mental shields around this imprint. Normally, these shields were strong enough that Harry was oblivious to any connection, but at the moment it was all he could do to prevent himself being overwhelmed by the pain radiating from his scar. He struggled to strengthen his shields, but his mounting fear and pain made this difficult.
With horrified fascination, he watched the man unwrap the bundle of rags and produce what looked like a small, deformed baby. Just looking at the creature made Harry want to vomit. Never before had he seen anything that revolting. Then, to his utter shock, the man tossed the creature into the cauldron. Walking over to a nearby crypt, the man picked up what looked like a thigh bone which he also threw into the cauldron. He then called out in a shaky voice:
“Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son.”
The man then drew a large knife from his beneath his robes. He held an unsteady hand right over the cauldron. To Harry’s utter revulsion, in one swift chopping motion he cut off his own hand which fell into the bubbling liquid. The man screamed in agony and fell to his knees. After a minute or so he managed to struggle to his feet and cried out again:
“Flesh of the servant, willingly given, you will revive your master.”
Cradling his bleeding stump, the man then stumbled towards Harry. With mounting terror, he watched as the man brandished his knife. Harry screamed as he felt the cold, sharp edge of the knife bite into his left arm, cutting him deeply. The man then staggered back to the cauldron and let Harry’s blood drip off the blade into the cauldron. With a noticeably weaker voice the man called out again, “Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe.”
The liquid in the cauldron immediately began to steam and a large cloud of mist formed. Between the pain of his scar and the cut on his arm, Harry was barely able to keep his attention on the scene before him. After a minute or so, the mist began to clear and Harry was shocked to see a naked man standing in the cauldron. This was no normal man, however. He appeared to be completely hairless, and where he should have had a nose there were two small slits. His eyes were slanted and completely red while his skin was nearly chalk white.
The strange man raised his arms and appeared to be examining himself. Eventually, an ugly, sneering smile appeared on his thin lips. He then spoke for the first time. “Robe me, Wormtail,” he commanded.
Although in obvious agony, the small man, who was now identified as ‘Wormtail’, hurried forward to comply.
Once clothed, the white man stepped out of the cauldron and regarding his surroundings. He then reached out his hand. “My wand, Wormtail,” he ordered.
Wormtail dug into his robes and placed a wand in the man’s hand.
Then, suddenly, a loud popping sound announced another arrival within the graveyard. Turning his head to the left Harry saw the most wonderful thing he had ever seen in his life. His grandmother had arrived.
Wormtail had also seen her arrive and hastily raised his wand, but Perenelle had obviously been expecting trouble. She quickly cast a cutting charm at the small man before he could cast his own hex. The spell hit Wormtail squarely in the chest and he was knocked backward. He began to scream and Harry could clearly see that he had been cut to the bone. Feebly, Wormtail tried to staunch the flow of blood, but the front of his robes were already soaked. He was obviously in serious trouble.
The ghastly pale man seemed to regard his bleeding servant with only a passing interest before he turned his attention to Perenelle. Harry had never seen his grandmother so angry. The very air around her was crackling with magical energy, and the expression on her face alone would have caused brave men to turn and run. She pointed her wand at the white man but did not immediately cast a spell. Instead, with her eyes fixed firmly on her opponent, she addressed her adopted grandson.
“Harry, are you alright?” she asked, her voice shaking with rage.
“I think so, Perry. The man called Wormtail cut me and took some of my blood. He used it to perform some sort of ritual which conjured up this monster,” Harry gabbled, trying to relay as much information to his grandmother as possible. If anyone would understand what was happening, it would be her.
Before Harry could speak again, however, the stranger spoke. His voice was surprisingly soft and had an almost lisping quality to it. “I take it I have the honour of addressing Perenelle Flamel. It is indeed a pleasure to meet someone as learned as yourself, although I must express my surprise at your rapid arrival. But no matter. I take it you have worked out who I am?” he asked.
“I believe you call yourself Lord Voldemort, although I take no pleasure in meeting you,” Perry snarled.
Harry was stunned. His head snapped back to regard the tall, ugly man who stood in front of him. This was what the handsome young Tom Riddle had turned into? There was a definitely reptilian quality about Voldemort, and Harry wondered if this was deliberate: a device to scare people more? He was unarguably ugly and reeked menace. Just to see him standing there was an affront to nature itself.
“Oh, my dear lady,” Voldemort hissed. “It’s such a shame you do not recognise true greatness when you see it. You and your husband have done great things together, but my achievements dwarf yours. I will, however, enjoy raping your mind for knowledge before I kill you. I'm sure young Harry here will enjoy watching that. Of course, he will die shortly afterwards as well, so at least you will be together. Crucio!”
Voldemort had cast his spell so quickly Perenelle had no chance to avoid it. She fell to floor screaming in agony. The sound of her pain ripped at Harry’s soul and he wept tears of impotent rage. The ropes binding him dug into his skin as he fought fruitlessly against them. His grandmother’s screams went on and on, while tales of people tortured to insanity flashed through his mind. He couldn’t…he wouldn’t let that happen to her.
Before he realised what was happening, Harry started to feel a familiar surge of energy flow through him. He felt himself shake and he knew he was starting to lose control. Blue sparks started to shoot from his body as an overwhelming pressure built up inside him. This time, however, he knew what to do. On the previous two occasions this had happened, Harry had been scared and helpless. Now he knew that whatever was happening to him always resulted in an outpouring of magical energy. He just needed to direct it.
With supreme effort, he concentrated on the ropes binding him. He imagined them crumbling away to nothing and finding himself free. As the pressure inside him reached unbearable levels, he gave a great shout and forced the magic from his body. Then the world seemed to explode.
Slowly, Harry regained awareness. He was crouching on the grass with his ears ringing and body shaking. He glanced back and saw that the statue that he had apparently been tied to was completely destroyed; only the legs remained. As his head cleared, he suddenly remembered his grandmother. Forcing himself to stand, he saw her lying on the ground where she had been previously. He staggered over to her and flung himself down next to her still body. He gasped in relief when he found a pulse. The sound of movement across from him brought him to his senses. Voldemort was still about. Clutching at his forearm he was amazed to feel his wand was still there, right in the place he normally hid it when he was around Muggles. He quickly pulled it out and stood, scanning the area. Then he saw his opponent, standing about ten yards away, regarding Harry silently.
“You are powerful, my boy,” Voldemort said flatly, “but your power is unfocused and raw. I can see I must kill you quickly. ‘Avada Kedavra!” Again, Voldemort cast his spell with incredible speed.
This time, however, Harry was ready. “Expelliarmus!” Harry shouted. Although a rather simple spell, he knew that he was no match for Voldemort with a wand. His only chance was if he could disarm his foe.
Harry watched in amazement as his spell hit Voldemort’s directly. The two beams of light seemed to merge, and he found his wand connected to his foe's by the bright stream of light. He could barely hold onto his wand, but a voice in his head told him that losing his grip would be a very, very bad idea. Voldemort looked as shocked as Harry at the turn of events as he fought to control his own wand. The energy being given off by the beam of light was scorching the grass brown. Harry wasn’t sure how long he could hang on. Then he spotted something which froze his heart.
Crawling towards the inert body of Perenelle was a huge snake. Harry guessed the creature was at least fifteen feet long and was slithering forward at a surprisingly fast speed. He started to panic. With his wand locked in combat with Voldemort’s, he saw no way to be able to defend his grandmother. He had to break the connection but was unsure how to do it. Seeing he was running out of time, he prepared to pull his wand away and then dive to the side. Hopefully he wouldn’t get hit by the brilliant beam of energy generated by the two wands. He was just about to move when several pops announced the arrival of more people. To his immense relief Harry saw Nicholas and Professor Dumbledore Apparate into the graveyard.
“PERENELLE!” Nicholas screamed. With a swift flick of his wand he sent a blasting spell at the rapidly approaching snake. The curse hit the beast in the head which exploded into a million pieces.
“NAGINI!” Voldemort howled.
Suddenly, the beam of energy connecting their two wands was gone and Harry fell to his knees.
Voldemort stood, shaking with rage.
Out of the corner of his eye Harry could see Dumbledore hurrying forward to confront the evil wizard. Harry also raised his wand. Perhaps if he could force the connection with Voldemort’s wand to form again then Dumbledore could finish him off while he was helpless?
Unfortunately, it appeared the thought had occurred to Voldemort as well. He turned to Harry. “We’ll meet again, Potter, and next time I will kill you,” he hissed before vanishing out of sight.
Harry nearly collapsed in fear and frustration.
Dumbledore hurried up to him. “Harry, my boy, are you alright?” he asked.
Harry nodded and forced himself to stand. Ignoring the Professor, he staggered over to where Nicholas was tending his fallen wife. “How is she?” he demanded of his grandfather. “Will she be okay?”
“She’s been under the Cruciatus curse for a long time, but I think she will be alright,” Nicholas confirmed, turning to him. “I have some potions at home which will help her greatly. This will have been a great trial for her body, however. She’s not as young as she once was.”
“It was most fortuitous that you thought to give Harry that detection bracelet,” commented Dumbledore as he came up behind them. “Unfortunately, our foe was greater than we could have guessed and Perenelle has paid the price. I assume from the overturned cauldron and your bleeding arm, Harry, that Voldemort used you in some form of resurrection ritual. But how did he manage to abduct you? He must have had help.”
Harry suddenly remembered the man called Wormtail. He scanned the area quickly and then noticed a thick smear of blood on the ground where he had last seen the man. “There was a man named Wormtail…” Harry began to explain.
“Wormtail?” exclaimed Dumbledore. “You’re quite sure he was called Wormtail?”
“Yes,” Harry confirmed. “He tricked me by asking directions and handing me a map which turned out to be a Portkey. He was badly injured in the fight, though. I think there’s a blood-trail over there.”
Following Harry’s directions, Dumbledore followed the trail of blood with the boy trailing close behind. They had not gone far when they found the body of the small man, curled up behind a statue of a stone angel. His hands were gripping the statue's ankles as if he was appealing to it for help. Dumbledore flipped over the body and gasped.
Harry eyed the pale corpse with distaste. The man had clearly died of blood loss. “Who was he, Professor?” he asked.
Dumbledore appeared rather shocked to see the body of the man. “His real name was Peter Pettigrew,” Dumbledore explained. “Wormtail was a nickname, inspired by his animagus form which was a rat, appropriately enough. I must confess to being surprised to find him here, as I was under the impression that he had been killed over thirteen years ago.”
“He faked his own death?” Harry asked.
“Apparently, which raises some major questions regarding the man currently incarcerated in Azkaban for his murder,” Dumbledore said with a frown.
“Who was it that was supposed to have killed Pettigrew?” Harry felt sure he had heard the name Pettigrew before and it was stirring half-remembered memories in him.
“It was a man named Sirius Black,” Dumbledore said casually.
The name hit Harry like a sledge hammer. “Sirius Black? The man who betrayed my parents?” he gasped.
“Ah, I take it Nicholas has told you the story. Indeed, Sirius Black was your father’s best friend and was the secret keeper of the house they were hiding in. It was always assumed that it was he who gave Voldemort the location of the house, but these developments may cast doubt on that,” Dumbledore explained thoughtfully.
“But surely this would have been discovered at Black’s trial? Surely he would have been given Veritaserum or something, wouldn’t he?” The thought that the person who had actually betrayed his parents might of escaped scot-free disgusted Harry.
“There was no trial,” Dumbledore said flatly.
“What! Why? Surely if he was accused of murdering someone there would have been a trial?”
Dumbledore looked at Harry sternly. “In fact, it was believed Black murdered thirteen people: Peter and twelve Muggles who were spectators to the pair’s meeting,” Dumbledore explained. “But you have to understand something here, Harry. We had no idea exactly how you managed to reflect the killing curse back onto Voldemort. Only a handful of people realised that he was still alive in spirit form and that it was just his body had been destroyed. Moreover, most of Voldemort’s Death Eaters were still at large; and they too were seeking information on what happened. There was a real risk that if they found out exactly what happened they might find a way to return Voldemort’s body to him. Holding a trial for Black would have been a very public event, and the exact details of what happened that night would have become common knowledge. We could not risk that.”
“So, this Black bloke paid the price for you wanting to keep things hush-hush?” Harry asked, not bothering to keep the contempt out of his voice.
“We had every reason to believe in Black’s guilt,” Dumbledore countered. “I wonder, Harry, if you had been in my shoes at the time would you have been so keen to see the man get a fair trial? I believed he had betrayed his best friends, and the memory of your parents' dead bodies was still very fresh in my memory.”
Harry took a deep breath and nodded. Dumbledore might be right. He would have been baying for blood at the time. “So what happens now?” he asked.
“Clearly, Pettigrew’s body will be enough to get the case reopened. This time there will be a thorough investigation and, should it prove that Black is innocent, your godfather will be released,” Dumbledore stated.
“My what?” Harry shouted. “Black’s my godfather?”
“Indeed, Harry. Obviously, we never mentioned it before as Black’s incarceration in Azkaban made it a moot point. But don’t get your hopes up too soon, Harry. The Ministry is slow to react to this sort of thing and rarely willing to admit past mistakes. It may be some time before we can arrange a hearing. I promise, however, that I will pursue the matter without fail.”
With that, Dumbledore levitated Pettigrew’s body and made his way back towards Harry’s grandparents. Harry watched him go. Despite his declaration of surprise, Dumbledore hadn’t seemed too shocked to find Pettigrew alive, and Harry wondered just how far the professor had been prepared to go to prevent the events of that night in Godric’s Hollow becoming public knowledge. For the first time he began to feel genuinely scared that this old man had so much influence and control over his life.
AN
And so it all starts to fall apart.
Mrs Brennus was very angry at me for killing off Nagini so early in the story. She loves snakes and currently owns a Royal Python called Grandmother (don’t ask). In fact, when we went on the Warner Brothers studio tour last October she complained to one of the assistants in the gift shop that there was no Nagini-related merchandise (well, actually I did on her behalf. She’s far too nice to do that sort of thing).
Some of you maybe surprised I dispatched Wormtail so early in the story but there was a good reason for this which will become evident in four chapter's time. See, I didn’t just throw this story together, you know. I do have a plan!
Huge thanks as always to Tom for his mega Beta-ing. Not only are my commas wayward, now I’m inserting my paragraph breaks in interesting and exciting ways! What language did I learn in school and why wasn’t it English?
Chapter 7: Chapter 7 – Funeral by the Sea
Author's Notes: Warning! Angst-fest ahead. Please ensure that you have a box of tissues handy. Few more comments at the bottom.
Saturday, 1 July 1995
Harry sat in the kitchen slowly eating the lunch Misty had made for him, but his appetite was nearly non-existent.
Since returned from the graveyard, Nicholas had been at Perenelle’s bedside constantly. Harry had also spent some hours watching over her unmoving form, but he couldn’t stand seeing the anguish on his grandfather’s face. Instead, he had wandered from room to room, waiting for news that Perry had woken up. Nicholas had insisted that his wife getting so much rest was a good thing, but Harry had only to take one look at the man’s eyes to know he was lying.
Rather than eating his sandwich, Harry contented himself with pulling the crust off the bread while his mind endlessly regurgitated the events of last Thursday. He felt responsible. Wasn’t he supposed to be an incredibly powerful wizard, skilled in magical duelling and Muggle martial arts? He had been tricked into taking the Portkey with almost ridiculous ease, then allowed himself to be disarmed and tied-up without resistance. If it wasn’t for the freak coincidence of him owning the brother wand to Voldemort’s, he was certain he would now be dead.
It was his failure to look after himself that had resulted in Perry having to come and rescue him. Because of him she was laying in bed upstairs gravely hurt. The sound of her screams as she was hit by Voldemort’s curse echoed through his mind, making him want to pull his hair out and weep. He had never felt so wretched in his life.
The sound of footsteps coming down the stairs roused Harry from his gloom. He looked up as Nicholas entered the kitchen.
“Is there any news? Is she awake yet?” he asked urgently.
“She’s asleep at present,” Nicholas informed him, “but she did open her eyes briefly earlier.”
“Thank Merlin,” Harry breathed, not noticing the sad look on Nicholas’s face. The old wizard sat down slowly at the kitchen table and poured himself a cup of tea.
“Harry, we have to talk,” he said reluctantly.
“Why? Perry’s going to be alright, isn’t she?” Harry asked, his earlier anxiety returning instantly.
Nicholas regarded him silently for a while. “No, Harry, I don’t think she will be,” he said slowly.
“But…Dumbledore said that most people recovered from the Cruciatus curse after a while. Perry wasn’t under for that long!” Harry protested with tears in his eyes.
Nicholas just placed his hand on the boy's arm to silence him. He then looked him straight in the eye. “Harry, it’s not just about the curse Perenelle was subjected to. We explained to you a while ago that we felt that we didn’t have long left to us on this mortal plane, but that we had enough elixir to last us for several years, didn’t we?”
“Yes, you said you’d be around for a long time yet,” Harry confirmed, not liking where the conversation was going at all.
“That’s quite true. But what we hadn’t anticipated was the effect that a stressful incident like we just experienced would have. Perry expended an enormous amount of magical energy when she fought Voldemort, and the curse put a tremendous strain on her body. It has…hastened the end, shall we say,” Nicholas explained quietly.
“You mean that by trying to save me Perry killed herself?” Harry asked in a distraught voice.
“Right, you can stop that immediately, young man!” Nicholas snapped. “This is not your fault. If anything, it’s her own fault as she insisted on going after you by herself, while I went to Dumbledore for help. But I can’t even criticise her for that, as you may well be dead if she hadn’t reacted so quickly.”
“But if I hadn’t been stupid enough to be captured…” Harry began.
“Exactly how is that your fault? Were you supposed to avoid touching anything in case it was a Portkey? Avoid talking to anyone in case they were a Death Eater in disguise? No, Harry, there was no way you could have known. Voldemort was the one who abducted you, and he was the one who attacked Perry. He’s the one to blame. Maybe it’s my fault in part, too. I suspected Dumbledore knew something when he wanted you to go to Hogwarts in September, but I didn’t push the issue,” Nick pondered.
“If Dumbledore knew something was up, why didn’t he say or do something about it?” Harry asked bitterly.
“Now, this is all speculation on my part, although it does seem a remarkable coincidence. Unfortunately, I learnt in recent years that trying to pry information from Albus Dumbledore is an exercise in futility. I rather suspect he has guessed that his Occlumency shields are of little use against me, and he either avoids eye contact or removes important memories for storage before meeting me. But this does lead me onto the subject I wanted to talk with you about: what happens to you when we’re gone,” Nick said solemnly.
“When we’re gone?” repeated Harry. “What do you mean?”
Nicholas sighed. “Harry, Perenelle and I have been bonded together for hundreds of years. When she passes on, I will rapidly follow.”
“You mean... I’m going to lose you both?” Harry asked, tears falling freely now.
“I’m sorry, my boy, but this isn’t something we have a choice in. Even if the incident with Voldemort hadn’t happened, we could feel our time was growing near. Neither of us fears death, but we are devastated to be leaving you.” Tears began to fall down Nicholas’s face as well. “I always thought that I’d achieved everything I wanted to do in life and I know Perry felt the same, but we were wrong. We never thought of having children, always thought they would just get in the way, you know. But you showed us how wrong we were. If I could have had a son half as wonderful as you, Harry, I would have been so happy. But you were the son we never had, and we both love you.”
Harry looked up into Nicholas’s eyes and saw the truth of his words. He also saw the desperate fear there and knew it wasn’t about his impending death that Nicholas was worried; it was about him. In that instant, Harry resolved to be strong for his adopted grandparents, to show them that he would be alright once they had gone. He wiped away his tears and sat up straight.
“You’ve both taught me so much, Nick,” Harry said. “I couldn’t have asked for anyone better to take me in. I love you both too. What do you want me to do?” Nicholas looked up and Harry could see the relief on his face.
“You’re such a good lad, Harry.” Nicholas followed Harry’s example and wiped his tears away. He reached over and dropped a small folder on the table in front of Harry. “Dumbledore wants you to go to Hogwarts in September, but I disagree. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and the events of the last few days have convinced me I’m right. What you would learn at Hogwarts isn’t what you need right now. You need something different.”
Nicholas opened the folder and removed several pieces of parchment and a small ring. He held the ring up.
“This, Harry, is a Portkey. I get the feeling Dumbledore may object to my plans for your continued education and may intervene. I want you to wear this from now on and activate it when you’re ready.”
“So where will this take me?” Harry asked taking the ring.
“It will take you to a small island just off the coast of Japan. There is a small school there run by a friend of mine named Hiroshi Tamazuki. I met Hiroshi years ago when Perry and I were travelling the world. He is a great teacher and will instruct you in things that I cannot,” Nicholas said as he smiled encouragingly.
“What sort of things can this Hiroshi Tamazuki teach me that you can’t?” Harry asked, interested despite himself.
“Hiroshi Tamazuki has many skills, but foremost is his skill as a warrior. He is a fearsome magical duellist, but also an expert in Muggle fighting techniques.” Nicholas grinned at him. “Actually, it was your love of Taekwondo that made me think to send you to him. He knows many martial arts and is unrivalled with a sword. He can do what I cannot, Harry. He can teach you to fight!”
Harry nodded. This was definitely what he needed. He was determined that if he ever had to face Voldemort again, he would put up a far better performance than he had this time.
“Tamazuki’s methods are unusual, Harry. He is heavily into eastern mysticism, and you will be taught meditation as well as combat. He is a great believer in his pupils being at peace with themselves, which it not always an easy thing to achieve, believe me. But there is nothing the man doesn’t know about the mind of a wizard, and he will make the Occlumency and Legilimency I taught you look crude and childish by comparison. This will be a great opportunity for you, Harry.” Nicholas almost sounded excited.
“If you think this is the best thing for me, then that’s what I’ll do,” Harry confirmed. He looked at Nicholas sadly. “How long?”
Nicholas didn’t have to ask Harry what he meant by that question. “It’s hard to say. It could be any moment. No more than a week, maximum.”
Harry nodded. “I think I’ll go and sit a while with Perry while she sleeps.”
“Yes, that’s a good idea, Harry,” Nicholas agreed. He picked up the sheets of parchment that had been in the folder. “You may want to read these. They cover a variety of things you will need to know. Funeral arrangements, legal matters; that sort of thing.”
Harry took the sheets and headed towards the stairs. He was starting to feel he was living in a nightmare that he couldn’t wake up from. All he could do now was wait for the only people he genuinely loved to die.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Nicholas awoke with a start. He was instantly aware that something was very, very wrong. In the darkness he groped for his wife’s hand under the bed sheets. Finding it, he gripped it tightly.
Her hand was stone cold.
He was gripped by a sudden feeling of emptiness and loss so strong that it nearly overwhelmed him. Perenelle was gone. For the first time in nearly eight hundred years he couldn’t feel her presence within him. A croaking sob escaped him and he could feel the tears running down his face. But the sensation only lasted a few seconds and he then became aware of something else. Death stood before him, beckoning to him.
“I’m coming, Perenelle, my love,” he whispered and, with a sense of relief, reached for Death’s hand.
Sunday, 2 July 1995
Harry sat at the kitchen table cradling a cup of untouched tea. Misty and Bolly sat on their small stools near the fireplace. The house was completely silent. The three of them had been sat like this since Harry had got up several hours before. They were all listening for some sign of movement from upstairs, a noise that signified Nicholas or Perenelle were up and moving. With each passing minute the hope that they would hear that noise faded.
He couldn’t decide what to do. Sitting here waiting was slowly killing him, but the thought of going upstairs and entering his grandparent’s bedroom was too much. While he sat at the table there was still hope. Venturing upstairs might well destroy that hope. Indecision paralysed him, while fear tortured him. He was grateful he hadn’t eaten anything or he was sure he would have thrown up by now. Perhaps sensing his pain, Bolly stirred.
“Master Harry, should Bolly go and check on Master and Mistress?” he asked.
NO! Harry’s mind screamed. Don’t move! Don’t do anything. Don’t make this real.
“Yes, I think that would be best.” The words passed Harry’s lips like murderous traitors, all waiting to stab him in the back. With a soft pop, Bolly vanished. After an agonising few seconds, Misty gasped and also vanished. Shortly afterwards, Harry heard Misty’s voice wailing from upstairs and he knew.
He roughly threw his cup of cold tea against the wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. He dropped his head into his hands, but the tears wouldn’t fall. Harry just couldn’t cry anymore.
Monday, 3 July 1995
Numbly, Harry trudged down the familiar street which led to Lisa’s house. The last twenty-four hours had been the hardest of his life, and things were about to get worse.
Still feeling the strange sensation of unreality he’d had for the last few days, he knocked on the bright blue door of the house. After a short while Lisa’s mother opened the door and smiled at him.
“Hello, Harry. Lisa was wondering what happened to you yesterday.” She paused, perhaps noticing the look of misery on Harry’s face for the first time. “Are you all right, Harry?”
“No, not really. Is Lisa in?” he asked.
“Yes, of course. Come in.” Lisa’s mother was clearly worried by now. She ushered him into the front room where Lisa’s dad was sat in front of the television. Lisa herself was sat at the dining table doing her homework. She smiled at him as he entered.
“Hey, Harry. What’s up? I thought you were coming round yesterday, not today,” she said.
Harry stood looking at her for a second. He had rehearsed what he was going to say a dozen times in his head, but now he was here his mind had gone blank. All he could think about was how beautiful Lisa’s chestnut coloured hair was. She had obviously washed it that day and it shined. He so wanted to run his fingers through it, but knew that would only make things worse.
“Lisa, something terrible has happened. My grandparents…they…both died yesterday.” Somehow he managed to force the words out of his mouth. Both Lisa and her mother gasped.
“How?” Lisa said, with her eyes wide. This was the part Harry had rehearsed so as not to arouse suspicion.
“Perry’s been ill for some time; she’s just been really good at hiding it. The doctors think that she died sometime yesterday night in her sleep. Nick must has woken up and found her, and the shock was too much for his heart.” He managed to keep his voice fairly steady.
“Oh, Harry!” Lisa stood and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. Harry stood stiffly in her embrace, cursing himself for what he had to tell her next. Lisa’s mother, however, was looking straight at him with tears in her eyes and seemed to have guessed already.
“Who’s going to look after you now, Harry?” she asked.
“I’m going to live with a friend of the family who’s agreed to look after me, certainly for a year or two,” he explained. He felt Lisa’s body stiffen.
“Where does this person live?” she asked in a small voice.
“Japan,” he said simply.
“You’re…you’re moving away? When will I see you again?” she asked, tears already starting to fall.
“I don’t know, Lisa. Probably not for years and years,” he answered honestly.
“Noooo!” she wailed, and hugged him like she was never going to let him go. “Stay here! You can live with us.”
Harry closed his eyes and fought to stop himself crying.
Lisa’s mother again came to his rescue. “Lisa, darling, Harry doesn’t have a choice where he goes to live. I’m sure that if these family friends have offered to take him in they’ll take good care of him. We can’t just take him in, love,” she explained softly.
“Why not?” Lisa sobbed. “We’re his friends too. Why can’t he live here?”
“Nick and Perry said this was where I had to go if anything happened to them,” Harry explained. “They were my legal guardians so I have to go if that’s what they wanted.”
Lisa just cried harder into his shoulder.
Eventually, the small girl's sobbing subsided and she sat on the sofa next to Harry. He stayed for another half an hour making forced conversation about his grandparents and what would be happening now. It was to everyone’s obvious relief, apart from Lisa’s, when he informed them that he had to go home. He left them details of the funeral, and he departed with their promises that they would be there.
Harry stumbled home in as much of a daze as he had left in. He knew giving up Lisa was something he had to do. He was being hunted by Death Eaters, and now Voldemort had a body again, the danger to him had quadrupled. Voldemort knew at least part of the prophecy, and he was bound to keep coming after Harry until one of them was dead. If the Death Eaters knew about Lisa, they might use her to get to him; and she and her family were defenceless. He couldn’t put her at risk like that.
Entering the house, he greeted the elves before going upstairs to his room. He lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His grandparents' funeral was set for two day’s time, and after that he intended to follow Nicholas’s instructions and take the Portkey to Japan. Frankly, at that moment, he would welcome anything to take his mind away from the misery.
Wednesday 5 July 1995
The funeral was a simple affair in the local churchyard. Harry had been surprised at how few people were in attendance, but after thinking about it he had understood. Nicholas and Perenelle had outlived all their family members and had been pretty reclusive for years. The result was only a dozen or so people were clustered around the grave.
Harry had been grateful for the detailed instructions Nicholas had left him regarding the funeral arrangements and shocked to find how many of them had already been put in place. Professor Dumbledore had helped with the rest of it and had been hovering round for days. Harry was waiting for the man to raise the issue of him coming to Hogwarts at any moment. Frankly, he was surprised that he had not already done so.
The sheets of parchment Nicholas had left him had contained a number of other surprises. Most shocking to Harry was that he had been named as the Flamels' sole beneficiary in their will. A goblin from Gringotts had come out to see him and explained the details of the will. As he was not yet seventeen he could not yet gain full access to his inheritance, but his adopted grandparents had set up a trust account of sufficient size that he could foresee no financial difficulties until he became of age in two years. He was equally shocked to learn that his parents had set up a similar arrangement and, between the value of the two trust funds, he was a very wealthy wizard indeed. When the goblin had informed him that on receipt of his full inheritance from the Potters and the Flamels Harry would become the wealthiest wizard in the country, he had nearly fallen off his chair.
The goblin explained that the production of gold was in fact a by-product of the Philosopher's Stone. Every time the Flamel’s had produced the elixir they needed to sustain their lives, a considerable amount of gold was produced. To prevent the metal from being devalued, an arrangement had been made with the goblins to sell off the gold in small quantities on a regular basis, mostly overseas. While the Flamel vault still contained a sizable stockpile of gold, hundreds of years of regular trading had converted most of this to cash -- a lot of cash. Add to this the fact that the Potters were a wealthy pure-blood family and Harry stood to be worth more than most small countries in a few years’ time. To Harry’s mind the numbers involved were so large they just didn’t seem real. He therefore instructed the goblin to continue managing his accounts, and he would review things again on his seventeenth birthday, assuming Voldemort hadn’t killed him before then, of course.
He also found he was owner of quite a lot of property as well. Between the Flamels and the Potters he owned homes in eight different countries with sizable holdings in the British Isles. In the short term he had asked Misty and Bolly to continue looking after the Cornish house, although he decided against spending too much time there in the near future. The Death Eaters were obviously aware he had been living there, and without his grandparents the wards protecting the house would weaken over time.
The funeral service seemed to be over incredibly fast, although Harry speculated it may have just seemed that way to his confused mind. Everything that had happened to him recently seemed to be getting on top of him and at times he felt he was going crazy. The more he thought about it, the more grateful he was that he would be leaving for a while.
He found the physical act of burying Nick and Perry did not affect him as much as he thought it would. He had already shed his tears, and this was just giving them a place to rest. It gave him a focal point he knew he could return to in the future to visit them. That thought did make him start to wonder where his parents' grave was, and why he had never asked to visit it. That was something for the future, he decided.
As the local Vicar said his final few words and the mourners shuffled past the grave one last time, Harry knew he had two things left to do. Neither of these things were very appealing for wildly different reasons, but both were unavoidable. Squaring his shoulders, he walked over to where Lisa’s family had gathered.
“Thank you all for coming,” he said simply.
“That’s quite alright, Harry,” Lisa’s mother responded. “Nick and Perry were both wonderful people. They’ll be greatly missed.”
“Thank you. I’m sure they would appreciate you feeling that way,” Harry responded. He was aware the conversation was being conducted in pre-arranged sentences that people always used at such occasions. Tried and tested words that were safe to speak without the risk of giving offence or causing pain.
“When do you have to leave, lad?” Lisa’s father asked. Harry had never really spoken to the man before and wondered what he thought of him dating his daughter. It was a bit late to start thinking about things like that now, he realised.
“Almost immediately,” Harry responded. “I just have to go back to the house and change, and then I’ll be off. It’s a long way to go.”
“Yes, of course. We’ll just leave you to say your goodbyes to Lisa, then.” Lisa’s parents moved a little way down the path, but not far enough that they couldn’t keep an eye on them.
Their caution almost made Harry want to laugh. He turned to the small girl who was resolutely keeping her gaze directed downwards. He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look at him. Her eyes were red and it was clear she had been crying. He took a deep breath and hoped he could say what he had to say. “Lisa, I just want to tell you how much I’m going to miss you. You’ve been the best girlfriend a boy could ever want, and I’ve loved every second I’ve been with you. You know I would stay if I could, right?”
The girl just nodded slightly.
“If I could have stayed…if things were different, I…” Harry struggled to find the right words to say.
“But you’ll come back when you can, won’t you?” Lisa interrupted. “You’ll come back to England and we can be together again. I’ll wait for you!”
This was exactly what Harry had hoped to avoid. Lisa was a Muggle. His very presence made her a huge target. “I don’t know if I ever will return, Lisa. Even if I do it could be years and years before I do. You’re a wonderful girl and I know plenty of boys will be queuing up to go out with you…”
Again Lisa interrupted. “No! I don’t want to go out with other boys. I want to be with you. Don’t you like me any longer?” she sobbed.
“Of course I still like you,” he assured her. “I like you very much. But I’m going away and it might be for good. I can’t ask you to wait for me. We’re still young, Lisa. If I had stayed it would be different but I can’t. I’m sorry.”
Lisa closed her eyes tight and tried to get control of herself. They stood in awkward silence, both knowing that the next words they would speak to each other might well be the last they ever would. Instinctively, Harry realised Lisa wasn’t prepared to be the one that broke away first. With a lump in his throat, he stepped forward and took her hands in his. Her eyes snapped open and there was panic in them as she realised this was it. He leaned forward and gently kissed her before pulling away.
“Goodbye, Lisa,” Harry said.
“Goodbye, Harry,” she replied.
With feet of lead, Harry turned and started to walk away. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to look back. He headed directly towards Professor Dumbledore and the second of his unpleasant tasks. The man was wearing a ridiculous pin-striped suit that was probably last in fashion in the thirties. The suit was at odds with the serious expression on his face. Harry stopped a few feet away from the man and looked at him in anticipation.
“We need to talk about your future, Harry,” Dumbledore said.
Harry nodded. This was the conversation he had been expecting for days. “Let’s go back to the house. I need to change,” he replied.
He turned and headed towards the churchyard’s gate. He saw no sign of Lisa or her family and assumed they had not lingered, a fact he was very grateful for. Dumbledore followed Harry out of the gate and down the narrow lane that led out of the village. After about half a mile, Harry turned down another lane and entered the house, his house now, with Dumbledore at his heels. They had not spoken a word throughout the journey.
“Why don’t you take a seat for a second while I change?” Harry suggested. “Misty or Bolly will get you anything you want.”
“Thank you, Harry. A refreshing cup of tea would be very welcome, I must say,” Dumbledore replied with a smile.
Harry nodded at Misty who had been hovering in the kitchen looking miserable, and she scampered off to put the kettle on. Harry left the kitchen and went upstairs to his bedroom. He changed out of the dark Muggle suit he had been wearing and into jeans and a plain t-shirt. His duffel bag was already packed and waiting for him at the foot of the bed. He stood and took one last look around the room. Tears nearly started falling as he looked out of the window with its view of the glistening sea. He remembered his first night in the house when Perry had stood with him looking out that very window as she taught him the names of the stars they could see. Lovingly, he ran a finger down the windowpane, enjoying the feel of the wood against his skin. Then he silently turned, picked up his bag and headed downstairs.
The Professor was sat at the kitchen table with a mug of tea in front of him. Harry pulled back a chair and sat opposite him. Misty bustled forward and placed another cup of tea in front of Harry. As she did so Harry reached over and caught her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. The little elf took one look at him and burst into tears. She gave Harry a quick hug before running out the room, crying her eyes out. He had already said his goodbyes to the elves that morning and ensured they had access to his Gringotts account. Taking a sip of tea, he turned and looked at the old wizard.
“I see you are already packed, Harry. I’m glad you understand that you can’t stay here. I was rather afraid that you might be under that misapprehension,” Dumbledore said with what Harry assumed was meant to be a kindly smile.
Harry just shook his head.
“In the circumstances I feel it would be best if you come and live at Hogwarts for the present,” Dumbledore continued. “While more permanent living arrangements maybe possible later, with a resurrected Voldemort on the loose I feel Hogwarts is the only place that is really safe for you at the moment.”
This was the lead-in to the question Harry really wanted to ask.
“Professor, when you were last here you tried to convince Nick and Perry to send me to Hogwarts in September. You said then that the school was the safest place for me. Why did you say that?” he asked.
Dumbledore shifted slightly, but the kindly smile didn’t waiver. “Because, quite simply, it is the safest place for you,” Dumbledore replied.
Harry resisted an urge to shout at the old man in frustration at his glib answer. “What I mean,” he said with forced calmness, “is why did you suggest it then? I’d been living with the Flamels for years without anyone suggesting I needed to be at Hogwarts ‘for my safety.' What changed? Did you hear something?”
Dumbledore’s smile did falter this time. “Now, Harry, you can’t expect me to discuss such issues with a fourteen year-old boy.”
Harry felt his temper rise. Magic energy surged through him and he could start to feel the pressure build. The cups on the table began to vibrate slopping tea onto the wooden surface. Dumbledore looked up in alarm.
“Please, Professor,” Harry said through gritted teeth. “I’m trying to keep an even temper here, but answers like that are just going to annoy me. I will ask again; what changed?” Dumbledore’s smile finally faded and he looked Harry in the eye.
“We received intelligence that Voldemort had returned to this country to re-establish himself. He tried once before, back in 1991, when he possessed a teacher at Hogwarts in an effort to obtain the Philosopher’s Stone. That attempt was obviously thwarted when Nicholas and Perenelle destroyed the stone. After that setback we believed that Voldemort’s spirit returned to his previous hiding place in Rumania.” Dumbledore paused to drink more tea before continuing.
“Recently, a tournament was held at Hogwarts called the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Unfortunately, it was disrupted when it was discovered that the son of a senior Ministry official in charge of the event had infiltrated the school, possibly with the unwitting help of his father. This was something of a shock to us all as the son was not only a known Death Eater, but had been believed to have been dead for some years. Under interrogation he admitted that he was under orders to enter the school to try and find some clues to your whereabouts. Somehow, he had learnt a few details of your adventure in the Chamber of Secrets and believed you and I were in regular contact. With hindsight, it appears he was seeking your abduction so you could be used in the ritual you witnessed recently. I assume a rival Death Eater was the one responsible for your actual kidnapping. The servants of Voldemort are frequently in competition.”
Harry stared at the old man for a second. “So, let me get this straight. You want me to go to Hogwarts as it’s the safest place for me, despite the fact that it has already been infiltrated by a Death Eater and by Voldemort himself who was possessing the body of one of your teachers?” he asked in disbelief.
Dumbledore had the decency to look uncomfortable. “Since these events we have tightened up security, Harry. I am confident that no one bearing a Dark Mark can now enter Hogwarts,” he explained.
“So what happens if Voldemort uses someone who hasn’t taken the Mark? And don’t you think it would have been a good idea to mention these ‘events’ to my grandparents when you were talking to them? If we had known actual Death Eaters were at large and looking for me, we might have done things differently.” Again, Harry found himself struggling to control his temper.
“Really, Harry, this is all immaterial. The Flamels always knew that the agents of Voldemort were seeking you. Why else would they have made you wear that bracelet that was so useful in tracking you after you were kidnapped by Pettigrew? We had no idea that another Death Eater had managed to actually locate you. Indeed, the events at the Tri-wizard Tournament may even have been a diversion. The fact remains that out of all the possible places you could go, Hogwarts remains the safest option,” Dumbledore said forcefully.
Harry suspected the man didn’t like anyone arguing with him. He smiled at the Professor's irritation. “Actually, Professor, there is somewhere safer,” Harry said with confidence. “Somewhere no one knows I could be going to.”
“And where, pray, would this be?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry stood and slung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “That,” said Harry, gripping the ring Nicholas had given him, “would be telling.”
He activated the Portkey and vanished, leaving a very frustrated old wizard behind.
AN
Well, I hope that wasn’t too upsetting for everyone.
Next up — Japan! I did say in some of my reviews that I was about to venture wildly off-canon, but it will only be for a few chapters. I know there have been a number of other stories that have had similar ideas, but for all those groaning at the idea of a SamuraiHarry! I do promise I’ve given the concept a bit of a different spin (hopefully).
Huge thanks to Tom for Beta-ing as always. I suspect I will need his knowledge a great deal in the coming chapter.
Chapter 8: Chapter 8 – Sensei
Author's Notes: Firstly, can I say that while I always heavily rely on the help of my beta Tom (MinistryMalcontent) he has been a life-saver with this and the following chapter. How lucky am I that my beta just happened to have lived in Japan? The gods of fan-fiction continue to smile upon me! Tom has helped me with all things Japanese, particularly the names, and saved me from looking like an ignorant Englishman who just tried to throw this together with the help of some Manga paperbacks (which I am!). Several lines in this story are his completely.
Influences for these chapters come from a couple of sources. My desire to write a SamuraiHarry! came from the film ‘Yamada – Way of the Samurai’, which is superb. My training camp is largely unrecognisable from the film, although Tamazuki is heavily influenced by the master the film’s hero meets. I also don’t have an overacting ten-year old Thai girl trying to steal every scene she’s in either, which is a pity.
Tamazuki’s philosophy is largely based on the work of the guru Osho. I know Osho is a somewhat discredited figure but I find him quite interesting. My main source of information on the man was from the book ‘The Three Dangerous Magi,” by P.T. Mistlberger, which is also highly recommended.
Oh, I’m sure many of you will recognise the Sun Tzu quote in here, but I must confess I lifted it from ‘Weapons and Tactics of the Warsaw Pact’ rather than ‘The Art of War’, broken-down old cold-war warrior that I am.
I’ve never actually begged for reviews in any of my previous stories, but I genuinely would love to know what everyone thinks of this and the next chapter. It would help me decide how to pitch future works. Thanks.
Note: Sensei = master
Harry hit the floor with a thump, after what was definitely the longest Portkey journey he had ever taken. Once he came to his senses, he found himself in a large, dark, wooden building. The room was sparsely furnished with only a few wall mounted silk banners to brighten things up.
Sitting cross-legged in front of him was a man. He was obviously oriental, if rather bigger and more rugged looking than Harry had expected. He wore red silk robes, tied at the waist by a long black belt. The man was paying no attention to Harry at all; his total concentration was being given to a bowl of what looked like noodles which he was devouring rapidly with a set of chopsticks. Harry stood and approached him.
“Err, hello…” he began.
The man paused from eating for a brief moment to hold up one finger before returning to his meal. Harry stood looking at him feeling rather confused. Clearly this person didn’t want to be disturbed while eating. Deciding he was the guest here and should bow to the wishes of his host, Harry returned to his duffle bag and sat on it. He then pulled a small book on charms out of a side pocket and began reading.
It was a full ten minutes before the man finished eating. He put down his bowl and approached Harry, who put down his book and stood up to greet the man. Before he could speak the man raised two fingers and silently cast a spell at Harry. The spell hit him before he could react but otherwise seemed to have no effect. He looked at the man who was regarding him without emotion.
“You, I take it, are Harry Potter,” the man said in perfect English.
Harry blinked in surprise. It suddenly occurred to him that the man had cast a translation spell on him so they could both understand each other. He offered a small smile and responded to the somewhat intimidating man. “Yes, I am. Would you be Hiroshi Tamazuki?” he asked.
“I would indeed. My name is more correctly said Tamazuki Hiroshi here in Japan. I am the sensei of this school. Your timing is woeful. In future you will learn never to disturb me during a meal. I am very approachable at any other time but not during meals,” Tamazuki said flatly.
“I’m very sorry. I didn’t know you were eating. Please accept my apologises,” Harry said in what he hoped was a contrite manner. After his conversation with Dumbledore he really didn’t want to face being sent back home to England.
“Now you do know,” Tamazuki said. Although his face was expressionless, Harry had the distinct feeling that the man was laughing at him. That feeling lasted for only a moment before a much more sombre atmosphere prevailed. “I gather from your presence here that my friend Nicholas has passed away?”
“Yes, just a few days ago,” Harry confirmed. He could still barely believe Nick and Perry were actually gone.
“That is most saddening. Nicholas was a good friend and performed many helpful acts for me. He has told me much about you, Harry. I gather you are very powerful magically but have only limited experience in martial arts?”
Harry bridled a little at having his Taekwondo skills referred to as limited, but on reflection they probably were by this man’s standard. “Yes, that’s correct,” he agreed.
Tamazuki nodded. “Normally I would not accept a boy such as yourself for training. Most boys come to me much younger and they are here for eight years. Nicholas begged me to try to teach you as much as I could as fast as I can.” Tamazuki stepped closer and looked Harry straight in the eye. “Are you ready for the challenge?”
“Yes,” Harry said simply. He was determined that if he ever faced a Death Eater again he would be better prepared.
“Well, I am not convinced you are. Do you know exactly what we teach here?” Tamazuki asked.
Harry blinked. It was clear the man was not impressed with him and there was a real risk of him being sent back home. He’d have to be very careful what he said. “You’ll teach me how to fight?” Harry said cautiously.
“I’ll teach you how to be a weapon. We teach three main things here: combat training, magical warfare and mental strength. That is all you will study here. The combination of all three skills can create the most awesome of warriors. Some of the pupils that have left this school have turned into the greatest of heroes: mighty soldiers in the fight for justice and peace. But we run a terrible risk in doing this. Imagine someone with all the skills we teach turning to evil. What a terrible foe that person would be. I have personally taught over a thousand young men, and do you know how many turned to evil?” Tamazuki glared at Harry like he was daring him to come up with the wrong answer.
“Err, none?” Harry guessed.
“Wrong! Three! Out of over one thousand pupils, three have turned to evil. Of those three, one was lured away from the path of righteousness by a young woman with poison in her heart. The other two both suffered great hardships and loss which changed them. This tells us two things, young Potter. Can you guess what they are?”
This time Harry knew he had no hope of answering correctly. He just shook his head.
“One, it tells us that no man has left the gates of this school with the intent to do evil. All three of those I mentioned left with pure hearts. It was circumstances later in life that changed them.” Tamazuki's expression made clear that he still felt shame that his pupils should suffer such a fate. “Two, it teaches us that no matter how hard we try and what precautions we take, sometimes things will turn to shit.”
Harry blinked. He wasn’t sure if he was meant to laugh or not. Judging from the expression on Tamazuki’s face he gathered not. He continued to remain silent.
“So, you will ask yourself,” Tamazuki continued, “how does any man know the heart of another? How does Tamazuki know that his pupil will not use his teachings for evil? The answer — I do not. But what I teach is for my pupils to know their own heart. To look inside themselves and know their own morality. I then ask them to swear that they will follow what is inside them. If they see evil inside them, then I will know and I will banish them from the school instantly.”
“But how will I truly know myself?” Harry asked. “I mean, I sometimes think bad thoughts. How do I know what is right and what is wrong?”
“Ah, but that is not what I asked you,” Tamazuki grinned. “Consider a tiger out hunting. It sees a young deer which it tracks and kills. The deer suffers pain and death, but is the tiger evil for performing this act?”
“Um, no. It’s just obeying its natural instincts,” Harry reasoned.
“Precisely,” Tamazuki agreed. “The tiger may have had young cubs to feed. Would the tiger allow it’s young to starve? No, that act may actually be considered evil. Let us think of another example. Nicholas wrote and told me something of what is happening in your country. An evil lord seeks dominance with the help of his followers who are called Death Eaters, is this correct?”
“Yes,” Harry confirmed. He found himself interested in what Tamazuki would say about Voldemort and his supporters.
“These Death Eaters are pure evil, correct? They kill and torture without mercy. It would be reasonable to kill them all without hesitation, yes?”
“No!” Harry snapped. “Despite what they do, they’re still human. To just kill them would make me as bad as them.”
“But what happens if you have the opportunity to kill a Death Eater and you do not take it? You show mercy to your enemy because you have a good heart. What happens if that Death Eater then goes and kills an innocent? Are you not as responsible for the death of that innocent as the Death Eater?”
Harry was appalled at this idea. “No, look the Death Eater has free will, right? He’s responsible for his own actions. If I gave him a chance and let him live, that doesn’t make me responsible for everything he does after that!” Harry protested.
“But the fact remains, the innocent person is dead because you did not stop the Death Eater when you had the chance. To become a Death Eater a person must be willing to perform terrible acts, I’m told. Why would you think that just by sparing his life he would change?” Tamazuki shook his head. “It is like I said, Harry. Everyone must follow their own heart. Some people’s hearts, however, seek dominance and control. They will destroy anyone who does not bow to their wishes. If they are following their own true path, what can you do to change that?”
“No-one is completely evil,” Harry objected. “There’s always some good in anyone, no matter how well hidden.”
“Very true,” Tamazuki agreed. “But we are not dealing in absolutes. A man may kill for many reasons: religion, politics, even love itself. This does not instantly make them evil. They may take life with the very best intentions. But if you disagree with those intentions, what can you do? You can try reasoning with the person, but if they have already killed to support their views it is unlikely that will succeed. You can protest, but surely you will be killed as well? Or you can try to stop the person. The only criteria for doing this without doubt is that you must know your heart is pure and true.”
“But how can you ever know that for sure?” Harry demanded.
“This is part of what we teach you here, Harry. A wise man once said ‘if you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the results of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory you will suffer a defeat. If you know neither yourself nor your enemy you are a fool and will meet defeat in every battle.’ Of course you must find out everything you can about your enemy, but you must know yourself first. This is part of what we will teach you. To look inside yourself and know your own mind and heart.”
Harry for some reason felt a shiver of fear at this.
Tamazuki seemed to pick up on this. “Trust me, Harry. This is not an easy thing to do. All men fear what they will find inside themselves. But before we get to that, I must know what is inside you. Before I agree to train you, I must enter your mind and see what your intentions are, and whether you have the strength of will to survive. Nicholas said that you have already had some training at protecting your mind. Will you lower your mental shields please and let me in?”
Seeing no choice, he reluctantly lowered all his Occlumency shields, even those surrounding that small part of his mind that Voldemort had touched when he was just fifteen months old. Instantly, he felt Tamazuki’s presence in his head. He could feel the man sifting through his memories, rejecting some and examining others. He had visions of half-remembered events and a tantalising glimpse of a woman with long red hair and green eyes. But no image stayed very long and he was rapidly becoming disorientated. His mind seemed to be racing at a hundred miles an hour, and things were becoming a blur. Then, as suddenly as it started, it all stopped. Harry looked up to see Tamazuki staring at him.
“I have decided,” he said in a grim voice. “As I said, I owe Nicholas much. I will, therefore, give you a year of education. In exactly a year's time you must return to your home, but in the meantime I will teach you what I can. I warn you now; it will be extremely hard, both physically and mentally.”
Harry nodded. “Thank you very much.”
“I think I should also warn you, Harry, that you have a problem. A great evil lives within you and you must destroy it if you ever hope to live a normal life,” Tamazuki said. “Keep your Occlumency shields in place at all times. Do not listen to the voice in your head for it will feed you lies.” He then clapped his hands loudly. A man dressed in similar robes to Tamazuki entered and bowed low.
“This man will take you to your accommodations,” Tamazuki explained. “We will talk again another time.”
Harry imitated the bow he had just witnessed and, picking up his bag, followed the man out of the hall. He couldn’t suppress the feeling of dread that was rising in him at Tamazuki’s warning.
Saturday, 5 August 1995
With his back aching, Harry lowered himself down gratefully onto his sleeping mat. It had taken a month but he was just beginning to adjust to the hectic schedule Tamazuki’s school ran to. It had been a cultural shock on many levels; from the living arrangements to the food, it was completely different from anything he knew.
If the practical arrangements were unusual to him then the training was something else. He rose at six o’clock each morning for exercises and martial arts training. If Harry had thought he had a good grounding in martial arts, he had quickly realised he had been deluding himself. He found even the younger pupils were far ahead of him, and he regularly found himself beaten and bruised by boys three or four years younger than him. He was also surprised to find the school didn’t teach a specific style of martial arts. Instead, he found himself learning a mix of different disciplines with his instructors teaching him moves and throws that they thought would best suit his style. Harry’s glowing triumph so far had been pinning a twelve year-old boy half his size to the floor two days ago.
From unarmed combat they then moved on to fighting with weapons. He had begun with a simple club called a jutte, then a larger staff-type weapon called a bo. Neither of these weapons were particularly dangerous, at least not in Harry’s hands. His classmates, however, seemed quite capable of beating him black and blue when they used them. He was gradually improving however, and in the last week they had started training with the wakizashi, a short sword. To prevent serious injuries the blades were magically cushioned, which Harry was immensely grateful for. Without the protection spell he probably would have ended up being sold for sixty pence a slice at Sainsbury’s.
The weapon everyone was itching to get their hands on was the katana, the sacred long sword of the samurai. This blade was one of the reasons they were all here. The samurai traditionally went into battle carrying two swords; a katana and a smaller blade such as a wakizashi or the similar tanto. But everyone in the camp was magical. In battle they would discard the smaller blade and carry a wand instead. They would fight with steel in one hand and magic in the other, which is why they would be known by a different name. If they graduated, they would become tsuesenshi — wand warriors.
Although that was everyone’s dream, for Harry it seemed an impossible goal. He was a long way behind and everyone seemed far superior to him in training. He was given hope by two things: his magical ability and his new best friend.
Harry had quickly discovered that as inferior as he was in hand-to-hand and weapon training, he was superior in magical duelling. Many of his classmates who had been openly asking what he was doing at such a prestigious school quickly shut up when facing him with a wand. None of the pupils came near him in ability and only a few of the more experienced instructors could rival him either. Tamazuki himself had duelled with Harry several times and the results had been spectacular, if a little one-sided in the sensei’s favour. Never the less, Harry gained the respect of his classmates who now appreciated his talents.
The other thing which had greatly helped Harry was his new roommate, Kato Riku. Riku came from a village near Osaka and had quickly become a good friend to Harry. Although a couple of years older than Harry, they were roughly the same height and build. Riku wore his long black hair tried back into a ponytail and his warm, brown eyes seemed to radiate calm. He’d initially helped Harry adjust to all cultural changes (Harry had feared he was going to starve until Riku taught him how to use chopsticks) and had provided encouragement when things had become overwhelming.
The two young men had also found they were able to help each other greatly in training. While Riku was a master swordsman and martial artist, his magical training was sadly lacking. Harry had spent many hours helping his new friend, showing him the correct wand movements and incantations. He was surprised to learn that not many wizards or witches in Japan used a wand. Most practiced wandless magic which, while a very useful ability, greatly limited their power and casting speed. Wands were normally reserved for the upper-classes and royalty, he learnt. Harry was very glad that this idea had never occurred to the pure-bloods back home.
In exchange for his help with magic, Riku undertook additional sparring with him and taught him how to use the various weapons. Fortunately, both of them appeared to have some talent as teachers, and they were reaping the benefits of each other’s help. Harry was beginning to think he actually had a chance of graduating successfully, if only a small one.
Even without the additional training, Harry felt he would have taken to new roommate. Riku was quiet and unassuming, but had a good head on his shoulders. The two frequently talked about their lives before it was time to sleep, and Harry was building a great respect for his new friend. Riku had also had a hard life. His parents had been killed when he was six, and he had been taken in by his uncle. Unlike Harry’s experience, Riku’s uncle had been a good man and had encouraged him to start combat training. It was his guardian’s influence which had brought him to Tamazuki’s school and encouraged him to be the best he could. Harry felt there was definitely more to the story then he had been told but didn’t want to push his friend into revealing more than he was comfortable with.
Tonight, Harry was very tied and looking forward to getting a good night’s sleep. He had just settled down when he heard his roommate’s voice call across to him.
“Harry, are you still awake?” he asked.
“Since I only just this second laid down, surprisingly, yes I am,” Harry replied. He really was not in the mood for conversation.
“You did most admirably in sword training today, my friend. You are definitely improving,” Riku continued, obviously not picking up on Harry’s sarcasm.
“Thank you,” Harry replied. “You picked up the blasting charm pretty quick today, too. It’s been a busy day for both of us, we should get some sleep.”
Silence reigned for nearly a whole minute.
“Why did you come to this school, Harry?” Riku asked, just as Harry had started to drift off to sleep. Harry opened his eyes and sighed. Clearly his friend was in the mood to talk.
“I’ve told you before,” Harry explained with as much patience as he was able to muster. “An evil would-be Dark Lord has arisen in my country and I need to be ready to fight him.”
“But why you? Why is it you who must confront him?”
This brought Harry up short. How much did he want to tell his friend about the prophecy? Maybe it would be better to just avoid the subject.
“He killed my mum and dad and was responsible for the death of my adopted grandparents. Why shouldn’t it be me?” he reasoned.
“Revenge can be a two-edged sword, Harry,” Riku replied quietly. “As for why not you: you are a fifteen year-old boy. Do they not have officers of the law in your country, people whose job it is to fight such evil?”
“This man, Voldemort, has tried to kill me three times now. Even if I didn’t want to go after him, I’m pretty sure he’s coming after me. I need to be ready.”
There was a long silence but Harry had found thoughts of sleep had deserted him.
“What about you?” he asked. “I know your uncle wanted you to come here, is that the only reason?”
“No.” For a second, Harry thought Riku would say no more but after a pause he continued. “I’m not sure how much I should tell you of this for your own safety. Before I was born a prophecy was made stating I would be destined to fight against great evil. A gang of warlords, fearing the words related to them, killed my parents and tried to kill me. My sister and I were lucky to survive.”
For a second Harry was too shocked to respond.
“You have a prophecy made about you?” he managed to gasp.
“Do not dismiss all prophecy, Harry. I would be first to admit most of them are nonsense, but sadly this one appears to hold some truth,” Riku said slightly defensively.
“No, no! You don’t understand! A prophecy was made about me as well. It stated I was the only one able to defeat Voldemort, that’s why he came after my family,” Harry blurted. In the dark he could just make out Riku sit bolt upright.
“We have both had prophecies made about us?” he said in disbelief. “Remarkable. We live on opposite sides of the world yet we are brothers in purpose. Maybe this is why Tamazuki Sensei put us together?”
Harry laughed softly. “Yeah, maybe. We could put up a sign outside, ‘pawns of prophecy only’. Mind you, we could find out tomorrow that everyone in the camp has had a prophecy made about them!”
“I doubt that, Harry,” Riku chuckled. “But seriously, a ‘pawn of prophecy’? Is that how you see us?”
“That’s how I feel sometimes,” he replied gloomily. “If that stupid seer hadn’t spouted all that rubbish in the first place, my life would have been completely different. My parents would be alive, I would have somewhere to call a home, and no bloodthirsty, snake-eyed lunatic would be trying to kill me…”
“Maybe that is true,” Riku said in a sympathetic voice, “but can you definitely say, without fear of contradiction, that the same events might not have occurred? Your parents fought against this Dark Lord, yes? Who is to say that they might not have been killed anyway?”
Harry sighed. “It’s possible, I suppose. But really, it’s too late for me to be thinking about this sort of thing. Let’s get some sleep and we’ll talk more in the morning.”
“An excellent idea, Harry. Good night.”
“Night, Riku.”
The silence lasted for thirty seconds this time before Harry sat up.
“You never said you had a sister, Riku,” he said.
“Naturally not, my friend” Riku replied. “My sister is young and very pretty. A handsome young hero such as yourself could not fail to impress her. I have no wish to have to kill you, Harry, to defend my sister’s honour.”
Harry blinked. Such a comment required either a thousand word reply or none at all. He settled for a sarcastic ‘thanks!’ before he settled down to sleep again. He hoped when he found the girl of his dreams, she didn’t have some overprotective prat of a brother making life difficult.
Chapter 9: Chapter 9 – Deshi
Author's Notes: The second of my Japanese chapters, as I refer to them. This one gets a bit trippy in places and that’s entirely intentional. Elsewhere, I hope to give a small taste of what Harry’s training has really been like. I hope you enjoy it and please, let me know what you think. All reviews will be answered even if it’s just with a thank you.
And talking of thank you’s, a massive one to Tom (MinistryMalcontent) for his extensive knowledge of all things Japanese and his usual wonderful beta work. I’m particularly grateful for him pointing out I had got the words ‘dodging’ and ‘dogging’ mixed up. I know Harry’s in need of some female company in this story but that’s really taking things too far!
Deshi = disciple
Saturday, 3 February 1996
Gasping for breath, Harry dropped to the cold stone floor. He had been dodging spells for the last fifteen minutes and was nearly ready to collapse. In front of him, Hiroshi Tamazuki stood calmly with his wand at the ready. The Sensei had been launching spells at him at an incredible rate, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before one of them hit him. He rose to a half-crouch and got ready to throw himself to the left.
“Stop!”
Tamazuki’s voice caught him by surprise. Never in any of their previous dodging sessions had his master halted unless Harry had been hit. Never the less, with the instant obedience that had been drilled into him since he arrived, he stood and awaited further instructions.
“That was very good, Harry,” Tamazuki congratulated him. Harry blinked. Praise from his teacher was as rare as hen’s teeth. “Sit down. I thought we would talk awhile.”
Harry sat down cross-legged on the floor. Although it was not unknown for his master to do this, the resulting conversations could be rather unexpected. Previously, they had discussed everything from his childhood to comparative religions. Harry was intrigued as to what today’s discussion would be about.
“I have talked with you about many things, Harry,” Tamazuki began, “but I must confess I am concerned. Although in many ways your training is going well, as it stands, you are set to fail in your efforts to become a true Tsuesenshi.”
For a second Harry was stunned. Within days of arriving at the camp he had demonstrated his superiority with his wand. Although he had struggled initially with the physical and martial arts training, he was now, thanks largely to Riku’s help, among the top in his group. Why was he failing? As if he had read Harry’s thoughts, Tamazuki walked over and looked him straight in the eye.
“You lack…understanding, Harry. You do not know your own heart and you mistrust yourself. If you go into battle in this state you will lose and probably be killed.”
Harry could only stare at his master, open-mouthed. “But I…what…” Tamazuki silenced him with a wave of his hand.
“See, you do not even know what questions to ask,” Tamazuki said. “Let me give you an example: the death of your adopted grandparents. You have told me in the past you feel guilt at their deaths. If you had never gone to live with them, they would have lived out their lives in peace. Probably true. But tell me, Harry, do you think your grandparents loved you?”
“Yes, Sensei" Harry answered without hesitation, “and I loved them.”
“Ah, and here we are seeing the most powerful force in the world in action. Tell me, if the situation was reversed, and your grandparents had been taken by this evil wizard rather than you, would you have gone after them?”
“Of course,” Harry snapped in frustration, “but they wouldn’t have been in danger in the first place if I wasn’t with them.” Tamazuki shrugged.
“Maybe and maybe not. Voldemort may have wanted them to create another Philosopher’s Stone perhaps? But think. These people took you into their home; they adopted you as their own, and when you were in danger, they risked their own lives to save you. Why? Quite simply because they grew to love you. To love someone is a wonderful thing, and if that love is reciprocated then it is a thing beyond description!”
Without warning Tamazuki dropped to the floor and sat cross-legged a few feet away from Harry.
“But love is a strange beast, my young pupil. Its nature is different for everyone and its effects vary as well. Would I be correct in stating that your grandparents were the first and only people you ever loved?”
Very briefly Harry thought about adding Lisa to the list but quickly dismissed it. They had been too young to truly know love, and besides, he had walked away from her without looking back. As much as he liked her, he wasn’t in love with her.
“Yes, Sensei, you are correct. I never knew my parents and the rest of my family hated me. The Flamels were the first people to show me any kindness and I loved them for it,” Harry said.
“I think we are getting to the root of the problem,” Tamazuki said grimly. “While I have no doubt as to the depth of your feelings for your grandparents, you lack experience in handling your feelings. You have so little else to judge your emotions on, you are becoming confused. To put it plainly, Harry, you do not love yourself.”
“I don’t understand,” Harry said. “What has loving myself have to do with anything? What effect would that have on how I feel about anyone else? Besides, it’s a bit egotistical, isn’t it?” Tamazuki sighed.
“Foolish boy,” he said in a disappointed voice. “What have I been telling you for months? A Tsuesenshi avoids evil because he is true to his own heart! Never, ever obey a command anyone gives you unless it comes from within you as well. How can you trust your own heart to give you this guidance if you do not love yourself and what you truly are?” A glimmer of understanding sparked with Harry.
“So when you say ‘love yourself’, what you are saying is love what you stand for, who you actually are?” Harry asked hesitantly.
“In part, certainly,” Tamazuki said, smiling for the first time. “Every human being is an amazing thing! We are the stuff of stars, my pupil, and capable of the most wondrous deeds. I have talked of religion with you previously, but first and foremost remember that every man should be his own church! There is no god other than life itself and life is right here, in front of you.” Harry blinked in surprise at this last statement.
“I think the local Vicar in our village may have something to say about that,” he muttered. Tamazuki waived a dismissive hand.
“What is the purpose of all religions, Harry?” he asked. Harry just shook his head. “To find enlightenment! The churches of the west seek to do this using an external source; an all-powerful god to show the unenlightened the way to the truth. Here in the east, we believe that enlightenment must come from within ourselves and we meditate to try to reach a higher level of consciousness. But both methods seek the same goal.”
Harry was silent as he tried to assimilate these concepts. What exactly was Tamazuki trying to make him understand?
“This prophecy that relates to you, it states you will have ‘a power the Dark Lord knows not’, is that correct?” Tamazuki asked.
“Yes, but I have no idea what that actually means,” Harry confirmed.
“I think I do, and I rather suspect you do as well,” Tamazuki smiled. “Simply, it is love. This Dark Lord of yours knows no love. His heart is hardened and set in its ways. Ultimately, he will always fail because his heart will not tell him the truth. He will seek to dominate and control. He will lash out and destroy in his anger, but in the end he is empty and unable to see the truth in front of him. He is therefore inflexible and unable to change. The tree that does not bend in the face of the storm will be destroyed.”
“But if I have this capability for love, Sensei, why am I failing?” Harry asked.
“Because you still do not trust your heart. The people you love, your parents and your grandparents, have died. You believe that to give your love to someone is to sign their death warrant.”
Understanding broke through and Harry got what his master was saying. He could never have loved Lisa for fear that she would become a target. But by cutting off his feelings he was denying his own heart. How could he know the difference between right and wrong if he ignored his own heart? He hung his head.
“Perhaps you begin to understand,” Tamazuki said. “I think I can help you further, Harry. The truth is within all of us, you do not have to search anywhere else for it. But to see the truth you must become nothing. Nothingness itself is the means, the goal and the attainment. Die each moment, so you can greet each new moment anew.”
Harry looked blankly at his master.
“Drop your Occlumency shields and clear your mind,” Tamazuki instructed him sternly.
With a gulp, Harry did as he was instructed. Seconds later he found himself floating in a pitch-black nothingness.
He had no sensation of movement although he might have been falling.
He couldn’t tell if he was breathing although he might have been drowning.
He may have been dreaming although he could have been dead.
It was only at this point Harry realised that he didn’t exist, at least not in the form he understood himself to be. He was simply a part of the universe around him, united but separate. He felt no concerns or fears; he was in a perfect state of equilibrium.
But gradually he felt himself change. He began to take shape, substance and form. He felt his heart start to beat, unaware that it hadn’t been doing so before. He was warm and comfortable, enjoying a sense of security he had never felt previously. Nirvana.
But he continued to grow and he started to feel confined. He hadn’t even been aware of the walls around him. What was that Muggle story? Alice in Wonderland. He was like Alice trapped in the white rabbit’s house. Would he be crushed if he continued to grow?
Suddenly, his world was ripped apart and he was thrown into harsh light. It was cold and his senses were assaulted by a million new sensations. He felt fear for the first time, his sense of security having vanished in an instant. He was naked and alone, abandoned and left to die!
Then everything was right again. Soft arms cradled him, transferring warmth to his body. He opened his eyes, unaware that they had been closed. He saw a woman of such beauty that it froze his heart. She glowed with a light sheen of sweat but looked incredibly happy, like her greatest dream had just come true. Her long, auburn hair was plastered to her head, but still it took his breath away. Lastly, he looked into her brilliant green eyes and was nearly overwhelmed by the love he saw in them. It was a love that could part oceans, uproot mountains or stop the earth turning. It was a love that could defy death itself.
Mother.
Harry found himself sprawled out on one of the straw mats that covered the floor of his master’s house. For a second he was uncertain how he got there before his memory returned to him. With shaking hands, he forced himself to sit up and found Tamazuki looking at him expectantly. With a tremor in his voice he addressed his teacher.
“I understand, Sensei.”
Tamazuki nodded once, stood and left the room. It was some time before Harry found the strength to follow him.
Wednesday, 10 April 1996
“First position!”
“HURRAH!” Harry yelled in perfect time with his fifteen classmates. His gripped his sword with both hands and thrust it in front of him.
“Second position!”
“HURRAH!” Harry yelled again and as he swung the blade into a blocking position. At the edge of his vision he could see Riku mirror his own movement.
“Third position!”
“HURRAH!” He took a step forward and shifted his weight slightly so he was perfectly balanced. His sword was now back directly in front of him, and the evening sunlight reflected off its polished metal.
They had been performing sword drills for two hours now, and the sweat dripped down Harry’s body. He was glad that he was stripped to the waist as any clothing he had been wearing would have been soaked by now. The drills were supposed to be a punishment for the indiscretions of one of the younger pupils, but Harry suspected the Sensei would have found a reason to inflict the training on the group no matter what.
It was a warm day and the group had all been a bit sluggish during training. The additional drills were a reminder that ‘sluggish’ was not a word that was acceptable in Tamazuki’s school. Harry’s arms and legs ached and he was desperate for a drink. He doubted that the sword-master would stop until one of them collapsed. That was fair enough, but he was damn sure that the person who keeled over wasn’t going to be him.
It had been a hard day already. With only three months left at the school, his teachers had been training Harry to start putting all the skills he had learnt together. Less than a week ago he had been allowed to start fighting in the classic manner of the Tsuesenshi, with his wand in his left hand and his Katana in his right. He had spent most of the morning conducting realistic battle training and duelling with his instructors.
Spell casting using his offhand had been a skill that he had been forced to work on. He had picked up the basics of wandless casting from his adopted grandfather and had often felt that it would have been easier than doing things this way. The trouble was that wandless casting limited the amount of power you could put into a spell and in combat that was not an option. So Harry had practiced and now he could claim he was ambidextrous when it came to using a wand.
The sword felt good in his hand. If he was successful in becoming a Tsuesenshi, on graduation he would be presented with his own blade. A Tsuesenshi’s Katana was an unusual weapon, and normally had mystic characters carved on the blade to provide magical resistance. Not only did it mean the sword could not be summoned by anyone other than its owner, but also that it would be used as a shield of sorts. The greatest swordsmen could use the blade to divert oncoming spells away from them. While Harry had mixed luck with this skill during practice, he was getting better at it. Riku had been rather jealous of his abilities in this area.
While everyone was encouraged to develop a fighting style unique to them, one move was a Tsuesenshi trademark: same no ha which translated to mean ‘the shark tooth’. As battlefield tactics go, it was a very simple idea. But like many simple ideas, it was very hard to get right.
Simply put, the idea behind the shark tooth was to Apparate behind your enemy and run him through with your sword. But in practice, it was a lot harder to do than it sounded. Firstly, you had to keep your foe pinned down to one spot. This was usually done by firing a volley of spells at them. If one got through and finished off your target, more the better, but generally it kept them on the back-foot and having to maintain a shield spell. You then had to Apparate and arrive facing the opposite direction than you started. This was achieved by twisting further than you would normally, but it was a hard skill to pick up. When you Apparated you had to do so quickly and with as little noise as possible. All in all, the number of people who could perform a good shark tooth was very small.
Harry was startled out of his musings by the sight of one of the pupils on the right of the group collapsing. No-one moved a muscle but Harry was certain that everyone gave a collective mental sigh of relief.
Sure enough, after their Sensei yelled at them for being weaklings for another five minutes, they were dismissed. A few of the collapsed boy’s friends rushed over to care for him, meaning Harry was free to return to his hut. He looked over at Riku who nodded wearily and they turned and headed to their accommodation.
“How much longer are you here for, Harry” Riku asked as they walked.
“Until early July,” Harry reminded him. Right at that moment it seemed very far away.
“Ha!” his friend laughed. “I will be gone before the end of May. I will think of you when I am home and living in comfort as you continue to suffer here.”
“Thank you, my friend. I will continue to think about your sister, as I have been doing for many months,” Harry replied in a deadpan voice.
“You are wise to tell me this now, Harry, when I am too tired to kill you,” Riku replied matching his tone.
“Yes, well, it was unwise of you to show me that picture of her. She now haunts my dreams.” Harry was nearly successful in suppressing the smirk on his face. “Let me tell you of the dream I had last week of her and I bathing together in the hot springs. She had just removed her kimono and I…”
Harry got no further with his story as Riku let out a gasp and made a grab for him. If he had thought about it, Harry would have been amazed he still had the energy to run and laugh at the same time.
Friday, 24 May 1996
The gentle sound of the tiny waterfall next to him soothed Harry’s mind. He was sat in the water garden attached to the school, which had become his favourite place to meditate.
At that time, the garden was a riot of colour. The cherry-blossom trees were in full bloom making the lower slope a sea of pink, gently rippling in the wind. In non-magical Japan the last of these blooms had faded more than a month before, but here in this magical garden, their beauty endured. Harry opened his eyes and watched a koi carp swim by in the pond. With the breeze cooling his brow, Harry felt as relaxed as he had since arriving in Japan. At that moment his only concern was the imminent departure of his friend Kato Riku.
Riku sat across from Harry, with his back against a large rock. They truly looked like brothers now. Their largely outdoor training had given them both a weathered look and a tan. Harry had grown his hair so they both wore it down their backs tied into a ponytail. They also shared the lean, muscular physique of a warrior. Harry looked over at his friend. “So what’s the first thing you’ll do when you get back home then?” he asked.
Riku looked a little uncomfortable. “It depends, Harry. I have been away a long time and I do not know what I will find when I return home. I might find myself thrown into combat immediately.” For a second the grim look on his face shifted. “If I have a choice, however, I would like to visit my favourite restaurant with my uncle and eat until I am fit to explode!”
Harry laughed. Food portions were always a sore point in the school.
Riku looked over at him with a serious expression. “Will you be alright here by yourself, Harry?” he asked.
“I’ll only be here another month or so myself,” Harry pointed out. “Besides, Tamazuki Sensei has me so busy these days I doubt I’ll even notice you’re gone.”
“You say that now, but wait until you need someone to help you with sword practice,” Riku grinned. They both laughed. It had been some time since Harry had needed his friend's help, but it was still a cause for much joking between them.
“How bad do you think it will be when you get home?” Harry asked after a pause.
“I do not know. Others stayed to fight while I came here. I do not know how successful they have been,” Riku replied, his face a mask.
“I would offer to come and help you,” offered Harry, “but I suspect I’ll have my own problems when I return to Britain.”
“We each have our own tasks, my friend. I have a feeling that we are not permitted to help each other fulfil them,” Riku pondered.
Harry just nodded sadly. “I will miss you, though,” he told his friend. “I don’t know how I would have got through this year without you.”
“And I you, Harry” Riku replied. “I had thought myself capable with a wand, but I was sadly mistaken. If you had not coached me in learning those more difficult spells I would have failed.”
“It seems strange to think that in a month's time we’ll be on different sides of the planet,” Harry mused.
“Indeed, but distance means nothing. You will still be my brother in everything but blood,” Riku said, smiling. “You know, Harry, we should do something to mark us as brothers. Something that will help us never to forget the bond we have shared!”
“Is this another ploy to keep me away from your sister?” Harry grinned before ducking as a small rock was thrown his way.
“It is just as well you return to your own country soon,” Riku said shaking his head. “The lack of female company is starting to become an obsession for you. But seriously, we have a few hours to ourselves tomorrow. Let us go down to the village and visit the shop of Imada Ryuji”
“Really?” Harry said in a startled voice.
“Yes. Why, do you not wish to?” Riku asked.
“Well, I never really thought about it. I’m not even sixteen yet; would Imada even let me in the door?”
“Harry, you are nearly a Tsuesenshi. Do you really think he would stop you?” Riku grinned.
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Harry agreed nervously.
“Excellent! We will go to the village after lunch. Remember to bring plenty of money with you. The services Imada offers do not come cheap.”
Harry nodded at his friend but in truth he was extremely worried. Was this something he was ready for? Mustering his courage he decided he would accompany Riku tomorrow and just see how things went before committing himself. He knew one thing; he wasn’t going to get much sleep that night.
Tuesday, 2 July 1996
After nearly a year’s hard work, judgement day had finally arrived.
Harry knelt before his master, Tamazuki Hiroshi, awaiting his decision. If Tamazuki Sensei presented Harry with his own sword, it would signify he was worthy to be called a Tsuesenshi. If, instead, he was given a handful of water rushes, he knew he had failed and was forbidden from using the title.
He was knelt on the raised platform in his master’s house, his ceremonial robes pulled down to his waist and his head bowed down. Clearly visible on his chest was his large tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail dragon which he had got during his visit to the local village with Riku. They had originally wanted to get the same design but in the end his friend had wanted a Chinese Fireball which hadn’t appealed to Harry at all. The Horntail had looked the coolest design by far, so he had gone with that.
The silence in the hall was oppressive and Harry desperately wanted his master to reach his decision. Instead his Sensei just sat cross-legged across from him unmoving. Time dragged on and Harry became more and more unsettled.
After what seemed hours, Tamazuki stood and made his way to the back of the platform. It took all of Harry’s willpower not to turn and watch him. He kept his head bowed and his eyes downcast.
“Hold out your hands,” Tamazuki instructed him. Obediently, Harry held out his hands.
He felt it before he saw it: the cool lacquered wood of the scabbard placed carefully into his outstretched palms. It took a few seconds for it to register in his mind what the sword meant. He had passed! He was a Tsuesenshi.
“Draw the sword,” Tamazuki commanded. Gripping the scabbard in his left hand, Harry wrapped his right hand around the sword's hand grip and pulled. The blade was beautiful. The metal shined and along it were inscribed Japanese characters which were the protective spells cast on it. Now they just needed to be activated.
“Stand and let your blade taste blood for the first time,” Tamazuki ordered.
Harry stood and extended his left arm. He then lightly ran the razor-sharp blade of the Katana against his skin. He bit down the pain as the length of the sword was covered in his blood. A second later the blade appeared to glow and the blood slowly vanished, as it sunk into the metal. A strange warmth ran up Harry’s right arm. It was a sensation similar to when he had first held his wand.
“The blade is now bound to you, Harry Potter,” Tamazuki proclaimed. “The sword will not permit its use by any other and will serve you will as long as it exists. Use it well.”
Harry was a little surprised at his master’s words. The way he talked it was almost as if the sword was alive. Although the way the Katana felt in his hand, it might well be, he thought.
He returned the sword to its scabbard and tucked it into his belt. He then faced his master and bowed low.
“Sensei, I cannot thank you enough for all your help. I have learnt so much here, and I will be sad to leave,” he said.
“But leave you must, Harry,” Tamazuki replied. “A year I promised you and a year I have given you. There were times I did not think you would successfully complete the training, so emotionally blocked-up you were. But you have learnt and grown. Your magic is impressive and powerful. You have become skilled in the use of a blade. If required, you can defeat a foe with nothing but your hands and feet. But the greatest thing you have learnt here is to listen to your own heart. For it is a great heart, Harry, and it will serve you well in the dark days ahead.”
“Thank you, Sensei,” Harry said simply.
“Come, Harry. Let us take tea and we will discuss your return to your native land.”
Harry followed Tamazuki to a side chamber where they both sat, and he served tea for his master and himself. As his nerves had been somewhat strained for the last half an hour, Harry was grateful for the strong, hot drink. They finished their tea in silence before Tamazuki put his cup down and addressed him. “Within the next three days you must return home, my young friend. Have you given any thought to what you will do when you get there?” he asked.
Harry sighed. “I’ve been putting off thinking about it too much, but I guess I’m going to need help when I get back,” he acknowledged. “I’m completely out of touch with what’s been happening in Britain. I’ll need somewhere to stay as I doubt the Flamels' place will be too secure. And most of all I need allies. This isn’t a battle I can fight alone.”
“What you say sounds like wisdom, Harry. No man is an island; try and fight this battle alone and you will be doomed to failure. So what do you intend to do?” Tamazuki asked.
Harry stared into his empty tea cup for a moment. He knew what he had to do but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “I guess it’s time I made contact with Albus Dumbledore,” he said reluctantly.
Chapter 10: Chapter 10 – A Return to Haunted Shores
Author's Notes: Massive thanks as always to Tom aka MinistryMalcontent for his beta work and in-depth knowledge of cherry blossoms in the last chapter. No shrubberies were harmed in the writing of this story.
Chapter 10 — A Return to Haunted Shores
Saturday, 6 July 1996
As the Portkey deposited him with a thump, Harry was pleased to note that he had returned to Britain with a great deal more grace than he left. The martial arts training had been good for one thing at least.
Sensing someone behind him, Harry turned and was unsurprised to see the figure of Albus Dumbledore standing there with his hands folded in front of him. Harry was tempted to laugh out loud at the garish purple robes the man wore, but as he was dressed in oriental-style robes he thought it was probably him who looked more out of place. Slightly behind Dumbledore stood a stern-looking witch whom Harry recognised as the Deputy Head of Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall. She at least was dressed in sensible black and green robes.
“Professors.” Harry nodded a greeting in their direction.
“Ah, Harry. It’s good to see you again. I trust your time in Japan was well spent?” the old wizard enquired.
“It was extremely beneficial,” Harry replied in a neutral tone, making sure to display no surprise that Dumbledore knew where he had been. It had only been a matter of time before the old coot would have figured it out.
“Excellent, Harry, excellent. Well, why don’t we all head to my office for a nice cup of tea? I’m sure you could use a drink after a journey of that distance. It will also give us the opportunity to discuss your future plans,” Dumbledore said. Harry just nodded and followed the elderly teachers through the front gates of Hogwarts. He fought down the feeling that he had just voluntarily entered a prison camp.
The walk to the Headmaster’s office was a long one, but Harry noted that both the professors maintained a sprightly pace despite their age. Personally, he was just glad to stretch his legs after such a long and uncomfortable Portkey trip.
He’d only visited Hogwarts a few times before. Then he had spent most of his time either some distance underground or stuck in an exam room, so he found the walk interesting. Hogwarts was certainly an imposing building, and you could sense the history of the place. The moving staircases were somewhat bemusing, and he definitely could have done without the rather obvious interest that every picture’s occupants showed at his presence. Eventually, they arrived at the seventh floor and entered Dumbledore’s office, the entrance to which had been hidden behind a statue of a Gargoyle. At the Headmaster’s command it leapt aside. One short trip on a moving, spiral staircase and they finally arrived at a polished oak door.
Dumbledore went ahead and flung open the heavy door. Professor McGonagall followed next and took a seat beside an enormous desk, behind which Dumbledore had also sat himself. When Harry entered he was surprised to see another man already sat there.
The man could best be described as roguishly handsome with black hair which hung to his shoulders and a neatly trimmed goatee. He was well dressed and exuded a casual elegance. His grey eyes regarded Harry with amusement in them.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said, attracting his attention. “I’d like to introduce to you Sirius Black who…”
Dumbledore got no further, as at mention of the man’s name Harry had instinctively summoned his Katana, the point of which was now pressed into Black’s throat.
“HARRY! NO!” Dumbledore shouted. “Remember what I told you in that graveyard last year? Sirius has been declared innocent of betraying your parents and the murder of the Muggles. It was all Peter Pettigrew’s doing.”
Slowly, Harry dropped the blade. He noted with slight satisfaction that Black no longer had that amused look on his face. Harry vanished his sword and regarded the man who he had been informed was his godfather. Black took a second to compose himself before addressing him.
“Well, that was quite some greeting there, Harry,” Black commented with a wry grin. “Next time can we just shake hands? Where did you get the sword, by the way? And for that matter where did it go?”
“A secret of the Tsuesenshi” Harry replied. “My blade is linked to me and can be summoned in the blink of an eye. Since I’m assured I don’t need to cut your head off, I returned it to its normal place.”
“Oh, wacko! Just what I need: a psychopathic godson with his own instantly summonable sword. Well, that will a great trick at parties,” Black moaned.
“Harry, really. There’s no need for hostility,” Dumbledore implored.
“Perhaps if you’d warned me Black was going to be sitting in your office, I wouldn’t have reacted on pure instinct,” Harry growled.
“I rather thought it would be a nice surprise for you, Harry,” Dumbledore replied.
“I don’t like surprises,” Harry snapped. “Normally, when I get surprised bad things happen. You remember: I nearly blow up Privet Drive, I get kidnapped and get taken to Voldemort; that kind of thing.”
“Right, no surprises. Duly noted,” Black murmured. “I am rather attached to my head, after all.”
Harry felt a bit shame-faced at threatening the man. He was angrier with Dumbledore for playing his stupid games than he was at Black, after all. “Yeah, sorry about that. When I left England you were still officially a guilty man,” Harry explained. “I’ve been a bit out of touch and hadn’t heard about you being cleared.”
Black beamed at him. “No damage done that a clean pair of underpants and a shower won’t fix.”
Harry sniggered despite himself. For a man who had spent so long in Azkaban, Black certainly had a keen sense of humour.
“Quite,” Dumbledore interrupted. “Well, now that little misunderstanding is all cleared up, we need to have a chat. You left the country in rather a hurry last time, Harry. There is important information that I have to impart on you. Information that will be difficult for you to hear, I’m afraid.”
Harry nodded. He rather suspected he knew what was coming and decided to knock Dumbledore off his perch a little.
“This wouldn’t relate to the Prophecy, would it? The one that says that I’ve got to be the one to kill Voldemort?” he asked.
The room became totally silent. For the first time in his memory, Harry had the pleasure of seeing Albus Dumbledore totally lost for words. Interestingly, Sirius Black looked totally confused as well. Harry decided to wait and see how Black fitted into things before he related the Prophecy to him.
“May I ask how you came to know the contents of the Prophecy, Harry? This is very sensitive information and would put anyone who knew it at great risk,” Dumbledore asked after he had managed to regain some composure.
Harry suppressed a snarl. The old man had to get a dig in that it was wrong for anyone to know anything important apart from him, didn’t he? “Don’t worry, Professor. I was told about the Prophecy by Nicholas and Perenelle,” he said coolly. “As they are dead, your little secret is safe. Although, as the Prophecy relates to me directly, I reserve the right to tell whomever I feel is appropriate.”
“I hope you will restrict that information, Harry,” Dumbledore bristled. “As I say, such knowledge would make the recipient a huge target.”
“Only if it was known that they had knowledge of it,” Harry reasoned. “But as I say, if anyone has a right to decide who knows, it’s me.”
Dumbledore was expressionless, but his eyes managed to convey his disapproval.
As Harry had no desire for the conversation to end up in a blazing argument, he decided to change the subject. “So, can I ask what happens now? I have no particular desire to attend Hogwarts; I have all my qualifications, after all. I’m guessing as Sirius is here, your plans involve him?” Harry asked.
“Actually, I suggested I come here today, Harry,” Black interrupted. “When Albus informed me of your imminent return, I rather expected that you would not wish to attend school here. Therefore, I would like to offer an alternative. Come and live at my house and let me help continue your training.”
Harry blinked, somewhat surprised at the man’s offer. “No disrespect, Mr Black,” Harry began, “but I was raised by two of the most knowledgeable scholars in the world and have just spent a year under the tutelage of a master warrior. What could you teach me?”
Black smirked. He had clearly been expected this question. “A few things, Harry. While I don’t pretend to be up to the standard of your previous teachers, before my imprisonment I did accumulate several years of experience in fighting Death Eaters. Can you say the same?” Black asked.
Harry shook his head. He couldn’t really include his duel with Voldemort as experience.
“If I do say myself, I rather think that I have an element of sneakiness that you will not have encountered in your training previously. I can help teach you to do the unexpected and to confuse your enemies. That could be a big help,” he continued.
“Sneakiness?” Harry asked in disbelief.
“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. Besides, I have other things I can teach you. Did you know that I’m an Animagus?”
Harry became instantly attentive. He had toyed with the idea of becoming an Animagus but had never got very far in the process.
Black noted the interest in Harry’s eyes. “Yes, Harry. I can help you become one, too. In addition, my house is large and has plenty of room for you to train in safety. Apart from me, there are others willing to help you. One of the greatest Aurors ever to serve says he will help with duelling, and my best friend, who was a Defence teacher here at Hogwarts for a spell, will help with whatever research projects you wish to pursue. I’m sure you can even convince Albus here to come over and give you the odd lesson,” Black grinned.
Harry thought for a moment. In many ways this would be a perfect arrangement. Black seemed prepared to let Harry dictate how he trained, and it sounded like valuable help would be on hand. The lure of Animagus training was a big draw for him as well. Still, he didn’t know Black from Adam, and he had no idea if he could work with the man. Deciding he could always change things if the arrangement didn’t work, Harry gave his agreement.
“Very well. I guess I’m coming to live with you then, Mr Black,” Harry confirmed.
“Please, Harry. Call me Sirius. Mr Black was my father and trust me, you don’t want me to be anything like that bastard,” Sirius said.
Although the man’s tone was light-hearted, Harry fancied he could detect real pain buried in Black’s voice. No doubt he would learn the reason for it at some point.
“Excellent,” Dumbledore declared. “As Sirius suggested, Harry, I do have a number of things I need to tell you about. I would like, if I may, to set up a regular diary of lessons with you. These would be of a twofold nature: firstly to give you information about what you face and about your foe, Voldemort; secondly, I would also like to give more orthodox lessons to impart some of the not insignificant knowledge I have accumulated. This would cover a number of subjects: Charms, Transfiguration, Ancient Runes and such. But I believe it would all be immensely useful to you.”
“I think that would be a good idea,” Harry agreed. He didn’t trust the Professor, but he did appreciate the vast knowledge the man had at his disposal.
“Splendid. Well, why don’t you and Sirius head to his place of residence and get you settled in. I shall pop by tomorrow so we can work out the details,” Dumbledore smiled.
Nodding, Harry stood and followed Black to the Floo. In the back of his mind he was worried if anything that so obviously pleased Albus Dumbledore could be a good idea.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Harry stepped from the Floo into a grim, dark kitchen. The room had an oppressive feel about it, and it almost invited shadowy thoughts to enter his head. Dominating the room was a long wooden table which at least looked fairly clean. Further back, the stove and food preparation surfaces all looked as if they hadn’t been touched in about twenty years. A number of metal pots hung from the wall and were all in such a condition that Harry dearly hoped they would never see use in food preparation again.
“This is it, Harry, number twelve, Grimmauld Place. Home of the most ancient and noble house of Black, of which you have the pleasure of addressing the only remaining male descendant. No greater advertisement for male contraception could you possibly find,” Sirius grinned. “Well, what do you think?”
Harry stared at him in disbelief. “I’ve just spent the last year living in a small wooden hut, and right now I’m feeling homesick for it. This place is filthy!”
“Um, yes. Well, we do tend to eat out a lot, I must admit,” Sirius replied, looking embarrassed.
“What a surprise,” said Harry, peering at the strange sludgy substance that lurked in the sink. “Have you only just moved in or something?”
“Actually, I’ve been here six months,” Sirius admitted. “Some of the bedrooms are alright. To be honest, with one thing and another I haven’t had the time to do much around the house. There is meant to be a house-elf looking after the place, but the little git is worse than useless.”
“Why? What’s wrong with him?” Harry asked. He had never heard of a useless house-elf before.
“Oh, just wait until you meet him. Let’s just say his family loyalties don’t include me,” Sirius spat bitterly.
“Okay, next question,” said Harry, who had just unwisely opened the fridge. He slammed the door shut again forcefully after viewing the contents. He hoped whatever the mess was that was in there wouldn’t try to escape and attack him. “What do you mean ‘we’?”
As if to answer his question there was an enormous crash from outside the kitchen door. Harry could just make out a woman’s voice cursing before the door was flung open.
“Miscreants! Blood-traitors! I hope you all rot, you vile scum! Get out of my house, you…”
The door mercifully closed, cutting off the tirade. Before Harry stood two people. The first was a rather shabbily dressed man with greying hair and tired brown eyes. He gave off the impression of someone who had led a hard life while managing to retain his dignity. The second person was female. She had bright pink hair and dark, twinkling eyes. She wore a tight t-shirt and jeans which showed off her slim, athletic figure to good advantage.
Harry realised he was staring at her and quickly looked away.
“Harry, may I introduce your new house-mates,” announced Sirius. “On the left we have Remus Lupin, my best friend and, I may add, also a very good friend of your father’s. On the right, and no doubt responsible for that cacophony we just heard, my cousin Tonks. I will reveal her first-name to you later, when she’s not around, but I strongly advise you not to ever use it. Remus, Tonks, may I present my long-lost godson, Harry Potter.”
Harry raised his hand in greeting, still trying to avoid looking directly at Tonk’s chest. “Who was making all that noise outside?” he asked.
“Ah, that was the portrait of Sirius’s mother, Walburga Black,” explained Tonks in an apologetic tone. “She’s not what you would call a welcoming sort. I’m afraid I woke her up when I tripped coming down the stairs.”
“Amazing woman, Tonks,” Sirius laughed. “One of the youngest Aurors they have ever had, she’s a metamorphmagus and one of the best duellists I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately, she’s the clumsiest person you could ever hope to meet and regularly trips over her own feet.”
“Oi!” Tonks protested as the two men started laughing.
“I’m pleased to meet you, Harry,” Remus said after he had stopped laughing. “I don’t know if Sirius mentioned it, but I used to teach at Hogwarts; and I’d be happy to offer my services to you in any capacity you may need. There is a rather useful library here, if you should need it, and a couple of rooms given over to training.”
“Yes, Sirius did say,” smiled Harry. He instantly took a liking to Lupin and his helpful attitude. “I’m sure we can find something useful. I’ve completed my NEWTS so I’ll require tutoring beyond that standard.”
“Wow. Finished your NEWTS already? How old are you?” Tonks asked.
“Err, I turn sixteen at the end of the month,” Harry said, suddenly embarrassed. He mentally slapped himself. Tonks was practically the first girl he had seen in nearly a year and he was mortified at the reaction he was having to her. He hoped the effect wore off quickly.
“Impressive,” Remus said, smiling. “I’m pretty sure I can find plenty of useful things for you to study that you haven’t covered yet. Education is, after all, a journey not a destination.”
“Boring!” yelled Sirius. “Right, after all that talking I need a cuppa. Kreacher!”
After a noticeable delay, a small, ancient House-Elf hobbled into the kitchen, muttering to itself. Only when he came closer could Harry make out what he was saying.
“Oh, the shame of it. Not only is my poor Mistress's house turned over to blood traitors and werewolves, now my worthless Master brings a Half-blood brat in as well. My poor Mistress!” the Elf grumbled in a voice not unlike that of a bullfrog. One thing Kreacher said immediately rang alarm bells.
“Werewolf?” Harry asked. “Why would there be a werewolf in the house?” There was some uncomfortable shuffling among the three adults.
“I’m afraid you’re looking at the werewolf, Harry,” Lupin admitted quietly.
Harry looked at him in disbelief. “Really? You’re a werewolf? I mean, um, sorry. I’ve never met one before and you’re not quite what I expected,” Harry admitted.
Tonks grinned. “No, he isn’t, is he?” she laughed. “Trust me, Harry. Forget all that rubbish you’ve probably heard about werewolves. You couldn’t meet a nicer, kinder, more educated man than Remus here.”
Harry couldn’t help but notice the way the young woman’s eyes shined when she talked about the older man. Something was going on there, he’d bet.
“Master called for Kreacher?” the Elf interrupted rudely.
“Just put the kettle on, you useless beast,” Sirius snarled.
The Elf moved towards the sink moving extremely slowly and muttering to itself all the way.
“Oh, forget it!” Sirius cried. In three steps he had overtaken the Elf. He grabbed the kettle and filled it with water from the sink himself, before putting it on the stove to boil. He turned to Harry.
“I’m sure you can begin to see why we have something of a hygiene problem in the house. Kreacher here is somewhat disappointed that I’ve taken over the family home and feels it’s his duty to be as unhelpful as possible. In addition to that, the house is full of dark objects and trinkets, most of which are trapped and, ta-da! We have the perfect residence! Merlin, I hate this place!” he spat.
Harry looked at Kreacher with mixed emotions. His experience with house-elves had been so different he couldn’t believe Kreacher hadn’t been forced to act in this manner. Maybe he was just old and needed some help? Harry grinned at the thought. “Sirius, clearly Kreacher here can’t clean this house all by himself. What do you say I summon up a bit of help for him?” he asked.
“Feel free, Harry. Anything would be better than relying on this little sneak,” Sirius replied.
“Misty! Bolly! Are you there?” Harry called.
A second later there were two pops as the Elves arrived. Misty took one look at Harry and threw herself at him. “Master Harry! You’s is being back! I’s missed you so much!” The little Elf was crying with joy as she wrapped herself around Harry’s leg.
Harry just smiled and reached down to hug her. “And I missed you too, Misty. How have you been? And you as well, Bolly. It’s really good to see the both of you,” Harry grinned.
“It’s so good to see you again, Master Harry,” Bolly said enthusiastically. “We’s been keeping the old Master and Mistress’s house clean and secure, but it has been rather boring without you.”
“Well, I’m back now,” Harry confirmed. “I’m going to be living here for a while. I just wondered if you two would like to stay here as well, or would you be happier staying in Cornwall?”
The two Elves looked at each other in horror. “Master Harry is living here?” Misty squeaked. “In this nasty, dark, dirty place? Oh, no. We’s can’t allow that! We’s coming here too and clean the place up. Nasty magics are here too, I’s can feel it. Leave it to’s us, Master Harry! We’s make this a nice place in a jiffy!”
“Okay, I’m glad to have you both here,” Harry told them. “But don’t go mad. We’ve got plenty of time so don’t feel like everything has to be done immediately. Make sure you only work your normal hours. And if you do find anything you’re not sure about, don’t try and tackle it by yourselves, got it?”
“Absolutely, Master Harry!” cried Bolly, who looked like he couldn’t wait to start work.
“Who is being this one?” Misty asked, pointing at Kreacher. The old Elf just scowled.
“I is being Kreacher, and I have served the noble house of Black well since before you were born!” he snapped.
“But this place is being filthy!” Misty protested. “Is you ill? Can’t you work anymore?”
“Why should I’s work for blood traitors and scum?” Kreacher snarled. “Now’s this half-blood brat is here too…”
Kreacher never finished the sentence as both Bolly and Misty launched themselves at him. Misty had the old Elf by the throat and Bolly was punching him in the stomach.
“Stop!” Harry yelled. “Stop it! You’ll kill him!”
“He deserves to die, Master Harry!” Bolly yelled, glaring at the old Elf who was now laying on the floor clutching his throat. “When an elf turns on his master like this, it is being a great disgrace! Death would be better!”
“No, just leave him be,” Harry replied. “I don’t know what happened to make him like this, but I’m sure there’s a reason. Kreacher is old and tired. Just let him rest and as long as he does nothing to endanger anyone in this house, then just let him be.”
“Umph,” muttered Misty, in what was a very un-elf like gesture. She stomped over to where Kreacher was laying. “You hears that? Master Harry is the bestest master in the whole world. He even is nice to Kreacher when’s he doesn’t deserve it! But listen you’s and listen good; if you ever do anything bad to Master Harry or any of his friends Misty will kill you! You understands?”
Kreacher looked up at the small Elf in amazement and slowly nodded his head. He then turned and looked at Harry quizzically.
“Well, that’s a sight you don’t see every day. Your elves must really think highly of you, Harry,” Sirius said, surprise clear in his voice.
“And I think highly of them,” Harry replied, before turning back to Kreacher. “And what they said goes for me too. I’m willing to give you a fair chance, Kreacher. Play fair by me and I’ll do the same for you. But if you do anything to hurt anyone, especially Misty and Bolly, then you will regret it, clear?”
Again Kreacher nodded without saying a word.
“Fair enough. Right, who wants that cup of tea?” Harry asked, moving towards the now boiled kettle.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Harry woke with a start. For a second he had no idea where he was and panicked slightly. Then he remembered and sank his head back onto the pillow.
It was pitch black in the bedroom with not a chink of light anywhere. He had hoped he would sleep well after the long and tiring day, but he was restless and uneasy.
After the confrontation with Kreacher, Misty and Bolly had thrown themselves into starting to make Grimmauld Place habitable. Sirius had briefed them on what could be thrown out (which seemed to be pretty much everything) and the elves had got to work. By the time they stopped to make dinner at five o’clock, a huge pile of rubbish had been accumulated for removal. Sirius could barely contain his delight and praised the two elves so extravagantly they both turned pink with embarrassment.
The evening had been spent around the kitchen table with Sirius and Remus telling Harry stories about his parents. As he knew so little about them, this had proved an interesting and heart-warming experience. By the time it was time for bed, Harry had a vivid picture of his parents. His father had been a care-free if rather irresponsible young man until he fell for Harry’s mother and realised that he had to change if he ever stood a chance of winning her heart. His mother had been a warm and generous person, but was strong-willed when required. When the two had finally got together, they had proved a perfect match; James teaching Lily to relax and enjoy herself more, while Lily taught James responsibility and compassion. Harry heard dozens of stories about them, and he got the impression Sirius and Remus had barely scratched their stockpile of tales.
He’d gone to bed immersed in thoughts of his parents. His vision of his mother he’d seen in Japan filled his head and was the last thing he remembered before sleep claimed him. If he had hoped this would give him a night of pleasant dreams he was sadly disappointed. The nightmares had begun almost as soon as he had closed his eyes.
Breathing deeply he realised that his scar was hurting, and that the little piece of memory that Voldemort had left behind in his head was fighting to get out. Quickly, he reinforced his Occlumency shields and let out a sigh of relief as the pain ebbed away. His scar had not felt like that for ages, not since that terrible night in the graveyard when he had seen Voldemort reborn. He briefly wondered why he should be so troubled tonight.
It was this house, he decided. This house had evil soaked into its very foundations. Every brick held a memory of terrible deeds and every room recalled suffering. If he stuck out his tongue he could almost taste the blood that had been spilt here in the vilest of ceremonies.
The house was also full of ghosts. Not the sentient, remorseful ghosts that witches and wizards encountered everyday, but malevolent, hateful spirits that lurked in the dark corners and fed on pain and suffering. These malign apparitions called to him, begging for blood and anguish and urging him to embrace insanity. This truly was a house of horrors.
Harry laid back, staring blindly into the dark. Earlier he had heard Sirius say that he hated this place. He now understood why. Try as he might, sleep would not return.
Chapter 11: Chapter 11 – Genesis of a Nemesis
Author's Notes: Author’s notes are celebrating the return to their traditional place at the end of the chapter.
Chapter 11 — Genesis of a Nemesis
Sunday, 6 July 1996
The sweat felt strangely cleansing as it rolled down Harry’s back. His muscles ached by this point, but he didn’t care. He needed to exorcize the awful memories of the previous night and this felt like the best way. He rolled onto his back and began another series of sit-ups, enjoying the burning in his abdominal muscles as he did so.
He’d been in here nearly two hours now. As the first rays of light crept into his room, he had abandoned his attempts at sleep and come here. The previous night Sirius had pointed out this room as one of the ones they set aside for training. This particular area had appealed to Harry as it was practically empty. There was no furniture or ornaments anywhere to be seen, and the walls were largely undecorated. The floorboards were also bare, if in desperate need of a few layers of polish. A smell of mouldy plaster and slow decay hung in the air.
But for all it’s neglect, this was by far Harry’s favourite room in the house so far. The feeling of ancient evil and malice that permeated everywhere else was absent, and only a lingering sensation of sadness remained. In here he could attempt to shrug off the dark emotions that had washed over him with hard, honest exercise.
He’d restarted his routines from Japan easily, despite having missed a few days training. First came the stretching exercises and yoga. He’d then moved onto harder, muscle building activities: sit-ups, press-ups and such like. He then started his martial arts training, aiming kicks and punches at his imaginary opponents. Normally he would then have just completed some more stretches to cool down before finishing. Today, he was filled with a nervous energy born of frustration and felt the need to extend his work-out. He wished he knew if the room was warded so he could practice spells as well. He’d just rolled onto his front again to start another round of press-ups when the door opened and Sirius entered.
“Ah, here you are, Harry,” he said. “I was starting to worry. I thought you might have done a bunk in the night.”
“I almost did,” Harry replied, climbing to his feet. “This place doesn’t exactly have a friendly atmosphere conducive to a restful night’s sleep, does it?”
“I suppose not,” Sirius agreed. “Frankly, I’m used to it, but it does take visitors a while to get comfortable here. Some people are more affected than others. I’m guessing it got to you a bit, did it?”
“You could say that,” Harry said harshly. “This place stinks of dark magic. I can’t believe you are happy to stay here with it in this state.”
“As I said, I grew up here. I don’t like it one little bit, but I am used to it,” Sirius pointed out. “Besides, the way your two wonderful little Elves are going, this place will be cleaned out within the month. They’ve just about worked their way through the ground floor and have accumulated a pile of items reeking of dark magic. I’ve put them in a secure trunk so Professor Dumbledore can have a look at them. Kreacher kept trying to steal them back, but Bolly threatened to break his nose off; and that seems to have done the trick.”
Sirius let out one of his loud, barking laughs which Harry found vaguely amusing. Deciding that now he had company he could end his work-out, Harry started performing his cooling-down stretches.
Sirius looked on with amusement. “Bit of a fitness fanatic, are you?” he asked. “Can’t see the point in it myself. But then again, when you have the body of a god like I do, why try and improve on perfection?”
Harry just shook his head at his godfather, while stretching his left leg out before him.
“Actually, while we’re discussing bodies, I couldn’t help but notice that you were very interested in my cousin Tonks's body last night, judging by the way you were staring at it,” Sirius said carefully.
Harry instantly turned bright red. “Oh, um…no. It’s not like that, Sirius, I swear,” he stuttered.
“Now, don’t get me wrong, Harry,” Sirius continued, raising his hands defensively. “I’m not one of those over-protective types, and Tonks can look after herself. It’s just you’re barking up the wrong tree if you’re hoping to get anywhere with her.”
“She’s crazy about Remus, right?” Harry asked.
“Yes, indeed,” Sirius confirmed, looking surprised. “Did she tell you?”
“No, but it was pretty obvious from the way she talked about him,” Harry explained. “But really, it’s nothing to worry about. You know I’ve been in Japan for the last year?”
“Err, yes,” Sirius said in a confused voice.
“Well, I was in a male-only training camp all that time. I didn’t even see a female in that time, apart from once when my friend and I went into the local village so we could get our tattoos.” Harry tapped the impressive tattoo of the Hungarian Horntail dragon on the upper left side of his chest. “Seeing Tonks in a tight t-shirt and jeans was just a bit much after all this time. I just need to adjust to being in the company of girls again.”
“Oh, my poor boy! I had no idea,” Sirius cried, grinning from ear to ear. “If only I’d known, I would have organised a more suitable welcome. A troop of go-go dancers, perhaps? A bevy of swimsuit clad witches to greet you? Maybe the odd stripper?”
“Thanks, Sirius,” Harry said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I nearly had a total meltdown at the sight of one girl in a tight top. Merlin knows what would have happened if I’d been exposed to anything more than that!”
Sirius howled with laughter at Harry’s discomfort. Unfortunately, this only increased further when a second later Tonks entered the room.
“What’s so funny…whoa! That’s one cool tattoo, Harry! Where did you get it done?” she gasped.
Harry turned bright red, suddenly remembering he was clad only in his shorts. “Um, in Japan, actually,” he mumbled.
Sirius grinned at his discomfort. “You’ll have to excuse Harry,” he said to Tonks. “I’ve just learnt that he has been deprived of any female company whatsoever for the last year. It’s rather taken its toll on the poor lad.”
“You haven’t seen a girl in a year?” Tonks gasped in disbelief.
Harry nodded but avoided looking at her.
“Poor you! I pretty sure that the average bloke’s brain regresses to caveman levels without female conversation occasionally. Oh, I almost forgot the reason I came up here. Professor Dumbledore’s here and he wants to have a chat with you, Harry.”
“Oh, right. I’d better go and get changed then,” he said unenthusiastically. Tonks noted his change in attitude and frowned, but Sirius gave her a ‘I’ll explain later’ look.
As Harry started out the door, Tonks called to him. “That really is a fantastic tattoo, Harry. It really looks good on you, too,” she said.
“Um, thanks,” Harry replied, somewhat flustered, before hurrying out.
Tonks's eyes followed him all the way.
“Well, I had that little talk with him as you requested,” Sirius smiled.
“I gather. So, basically, he was goggling at me last night because he hadn’t seen a single girl for a year. I could have been a right minger and I would have got the same reaction?” Tonks asked.
“Yeah, I’m afraid so,” Sirius said, barely suppressing his mirth.
“Well, that’s a blow to my ego,” Tonks moaned.
“You seemed to be having a good look yourself just then. Regretting not giving him a bit of encouragement now?” Sirius asked.
Tonks thought about it for a second. “Nah, if he’d been a few years older it would be a different story. I’ll just admire that physique from a distance, thanks. Besides, I’m still hopeful that your idiot of a friend notices me one day.”
“Oh, Remus has noticed, my dear Tonks, let me assure you,” Sirius said, throwing a comforting arm over the girl's shoulder. “He’s just a bit hung up about the whole ‘I’m a werewolf’ thing.”
“I guess I’m going to have to knock that idea out of him, aren’t I?” she said with determination.
Sirius hugged her tighter and laughed. “That’s my girl!”
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
After a brief shower and a change of clothes, Harry headed down to the kitchen where Professor Dumbledore was waiting.
“Morning Professor,” Harry greeted the man as he entered the kitchen before heading over to the kettle to fix himself a cup of tea.
“Good morning, Harry. And how are you settling in here?” Dumbledore asked.
“Well, apart from the fact the house is barely fit for human habitation, there are dark artefacts everywhere which are frequently life threatening, and the resident House-Elf hates everyone with a passion, fine,” Harry said, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.
“Ah, but I see that you have engaged the help of your own Elves, and they seem to be making a fine start in clearing the place up. Why, I’ve just been given this large box of dark objects for investigation and disposal.” Dumbledore tapped a trunk which sat on the floor beside him.
Harry took one look at the trunk and suddenly his scar exploded in pain.
“Harry? HARRY! Are you alright, my boy?” Dumbledore asked as he hurried over and supported him.
“My head,” Harry complained. “I just looked at that trunk and my scar suddenly felt like it was on fire.”
Dumbledore helped Harry to a seat. “I must say, Harry, you do seem very sensitive to dark magic. When I think about it I shouldn’t be surprised, really,” the old man mused.
Harry took a minute to calm down and let the throbbing in his head die down. “So, what did you want to talk about today then, Professor?” he asked eventually.
Dumbledore looked stern. “As you know, I was somewhat shocked to learn that you know of the prophecy made about you and Voldemort. I fully admit I had not intended to tell you of this yet until I had a chance to get to know you better and establish how you would react to that knowledge.” Dumbledore paused to drink some of his tea while Harry bristled at the man’s calm confession.
“But now you know this information, I feel it is vital to provide you with other facts. Precisely, I need to explain to you why Voldemort did not die when you deflected the killing curse back on him when you were a baby.”
Harry stared at the old man in shock. Whatever he had been expecting this wasn’t it. He thought about it briefly. This was obviously another example of information that Dumbledore had been sitting on like a mother hen. Harry felt it was reckless to keep information of such importance to just the two of them. What happened if they were both killed?
“Don’t you think that Sirius and Remus should hear this as well?” Harry asked Dumbledore. To Harry’s surprise he did not dismiss the idea immediately.
“If you think it’s wise, Harry, we will include them in this discussion,” Dumbledore said. “Indeed, I find it gratifying that you have come to trust them in so short a space of time.”
Silently, Harry thought it wasn’t so much that he trusted Sirius and Remus as that he distrusted the Professor, but he said nothing. Instead, he rose and called for both men to come down to the kitchen. In a short while they joined Harry and Dumbledore around the table.
“As I was saying, Harry,” Dumbledore continued, “I believe I have discovered the reason Voldemort was not killed on the dreadful day in Godric’s Hollow.” With that the old wizard reached into his robes and withdrew a book. The thing looked in very poor condition and appeared to have a hole right through the middle.
Harry recognised the book with a start. “That’s Tom Riddle’s diary!” he exclaimed.
“Indeed, Harry. And if it was not for your destruction of this book, we would have no idea of Voldemort’s plans,” Dumbledore said. “But to explain to Sirius and Remus, this diary was used to possess a young girl at Hogwarts a few years ago. Harry was involved in her rescue and the annihilation of this book as a threat. Tom Riddle is Voldemort’s given name. He attended Hogwarts like any other boy his age and proved exceptionally gifted. He rose to be Head Boy and gathered quite a following among his school mates. Most of these followers went on to become the first batch of Death Eaters.”
“But why is this information not public knowledge?” Remus asked. “Voldemort appeared to have come from nowhere and nothing is known about him. It’s created a mystique which only adds to the fear of him. Wouldn’t it be better if everyone knew of his origins?”
“Sadly, I fear not,” Dumbledore said. “Riddle was an orphan, rescued from a Muggle institution for such children. If this information became public knowledge there would be an outcry and calls for such children to be excluded from our society. For the misdeeds of one, many would be punished. Besides, most of evidence linking Voldemort to Tom Riddle was destroyed by the man himself, so keen was he to hide the fact he is a half-blood. But there is evidence if people truly wanted to find out. Why in Hogwarts library there is a copy of an interview Tom Riddle gave shortly after leaving the school. On graduation he made a number of public statements regarding the blood status of children attending Hogwarts which created something of a stir. There was a minor feature in the Daily Prophet asking why the out-going Head Boy would say such things and Riddle provided some explanation. During the interview he asked to be referred to as Lord Voldemort, much to the reporter’s amusement. But I fear that unearthing such a story would cause much potential harm to many unfortunates who would be tarred with the same brush.”
Remus nodded, although he didn’t look totally convinced by the Professor's explanation.
“But to return to the diary, this appears to have been left by Riddle as an act of vanity. The diary is documentary proof that by him succeeding in opening the Chamber of Secrets he was, in fact, the heir of Salazar Slytherin,” Dumbledore continued. “Mr Riddle had a very high opinion of himself and had ambition unrivalled by any, even in his own house. He sought for himself nothing less than immortality.”
The three other men at the table gasped. Dumbledore dropped the diary onto the table.
“This diary is proof of his efforts. Have any of you gentlemen ever heard of a Horcrux?” he asked.
Remus was the only one to respond. “I’ve heard the name but nothing more than that,” he acknowledged. “All I know is that they involve the darkest of magics in their creation.”
“Indeed. This diary, which Harry so valiantly disposed of, contained an actual piece of Riddle’s soul,” Dumbledore explained.
“But, why?” Harry gasped.
“Very simply, while a piece of his soul remained protected within the Horcrux, Riddle, or Voldemort if you prefer, could not be killed. His body could be destroyed but he would cling to life until he could find a new body,” Dumbledore stated grimly. “You, of course, Harry, were unfortunately to witness a ritual to achieve just that.”
“So, Harry destroyed this Horcrux thing. That means Voldemort can be killed now, right?” Sirius asked.
“Sadly, I fear not,” Dumbledore replied. “It is my belief that Voldemort, in his desperate madness, has created more Horcruxes.”
“How many?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know. To create a Horcrux involves a ritual during which a murder must be committed. At that point, the caster’s soul becomes splintered and it is possible to detach a piece of it. I have evidence that Voldemort killed in similar circumstances, but I cannot say how many times this was done,” Dumbledore confirmed sadly.
“Can he use any object? I mean, could he have used a shoe or an old bottle or something? How would we ever find out?” Sirius asked despairingly.
“No, he would have had to use something which would keep the integrity of his soul,” Dumbledore stated. “Also, Voldemort is extremely arrogant. I suspect he would have only used objects of great importance or value to him, the diary being a good example.”
“So until all the Horcruxes are destroyed, Voldemort can’t be killed, is that right?” Harry asked.
Dumbledore nodded.
“And we don’t know how many of these things exist or where they are?”
“I have a few clues and some ideas where to start searching, but it is vital we find out how many Horcruxes were created. For that, Harry, I think I need your help,” Dumbledore said with a smile.
Harry just nodded, resigned to his fate. It seemed like this task was becoming harder by the minute.
Monday, 7 July 1996
“…and don’t let me catch you mentioning them again,” the image of an angry Horace Slughorn yelled at the image of Tom Riddle.
Harry felt a by now familiar pull and he found himself standing back in Professor Dumbledore’s office.
They had been viewing memories in the Professor’s Pensieve for most of the day. Harry felt that he was beginning to understand the sort of person Tom Riddle actually was. From the earliest memory of Dumbledore rescuing the boy from a Muggle orphanage, to the just viewed refusal of this Professor Slughorn to help him, Harry had seen much of Tom’s history. The last scene didn’t feel quite right, however.
“That last image, Professor, was there any more of it?” he asked.
“Ah! Now we come to the point where I require your help,” Dumbledore said, taking a seat behind his large desk. “As you have clearly noticed, the memory is far from complete. In fact it has been altered, quite crudely too, I might say.”
“Altered? By who?” Harry asked.
“By Horace Slughorn himself, of course. I suspect that the memory contained something incriminating or shameful to Horace, and so he tampered with his memories. Unfortunately, this is the only memory I have where Riddle is talking directly about the construction of Horcruxes. I believe the missing parts hold vital clues for us,” Dumbledore explained.
“Where is this Slughorn bloke? Can’t you just go and force the memory out of him?” Harry asked.
“Horace has been quite elusive of late,” Dumbledore said with a grin. “He seems to think Voldemort will kill him if he does not join with the Death Eaters soon. In this I think he is quite correct. I do believe, however, that I have discovered his current location. As for forcing the information out of him, I fear this would be extremely difficult. In addition to being a superb Potions Master, he is a wily old wizard and quite capable of repelling any Legilimency I may perform on him. Likewise, I suspect he keeps a vial of Veritaserum antidote on him at all times. No, we must employ more subtle methods.”
Harry privately thought that threatening to stick his Katana up the bloke’s fat arse might be a better method, but he kept that to himself.
“Horace does have one major weakness. He loves to be seen as the guiding hand behind many of his more successful pupils’ rise to fame and riches. He is a classic example of someone who views himself as the power behind the throne. Of course, once his protg’s have obtained greatness, he is more than happy to accept the odd token of gratitude from them. Be it a hamper of his favourite foods or an invite to the best social functions, he cultivates these relationships with a view that assistance is a two way street,” Dumbledore said with the faint look of distaste on his face.
Harry felt slight annoyance at the Professor's expression. The man might be quite willing to manoeuvre people into doing his bidding, but he condemned what seemed to be a simple exchange of services. At least what Slughorn did was straightforward.
“This is where you come in, Harry,” the Professor continued. “Horace loves establishing contacts with the rich and famous; I rather think you qualify in both categories. I suggest we pay him a surprise visit, ostensibly on the premise that I wish him to return to Hogwarts to teach, not that I would object if he said yes. In reality, you will be trying to persuade him to give up the real memory.”
“And how will I do that?” Harry asked. “I don’t know this bloke at all. If it’s something incriminating like you say, he’s hardly just going to give it to me!”
“I have every faith in your capabilities, Harry,” Dumbledore grinned.
Harry rolled his eyes. “So when are we going to pay Mr Slughorn a visit, then?” he enquired.
“There’s no time like the present,” Dumbledore said, standing up and starting to move to the door. “Let’s strike while the iron is hot!”
Harry followed the Professor out the door. He had a bad feeling about this.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
After leaving the grounds of Hogwarts, Harry and the Professor Apparated to a small village that Dumbledore identified as Budleigh Babberton in Devon. The place seemed completely unremarkable and contained the usual mix of shops, pubs and houses you would expect to see in any English village. Behind them the church clock struck eight which surprised Harry. They had obviously spent longer immersed in the Pensieve than he had thought. It certainly explained why his stomach was growling with hunger.
Dumbledore led them down a side street, and soon they found themselves outside a small, neat stone house set in its own pleasant garden. The only thing ruining the picture of an idyllic country residence was the fact that the house’s front door was hanging off its hinges.
Without needing to be prompted, Harry pulled out his wand and Dumbledore did likewise. Carefully, they edged their way into the house expecting the worst.
Fortunately, it was still light enough to see; and Harry was presented with the sight of complete devastation in the front room. A piano lay on its side with its keys strewn across the floor. Furniture was scattered everywhere, most of it ripped and damaged. The floor was covered in glass where a chandelier had fallen. Ominously, the far wall was splattered with something red and glutinous.
Dumbledore strode into the room and looked around. He then moved to the far wall and examined the red stains. Much to Harry’s revulsion, the Professor dipped his finger into the oozing liquid and then licked it. A grin came onto the old man’s face.
“Fear not, Harry,” he said. “While this is indeed blood, I rather think it’s from a dragon. Of course, what a dragon would be doing in a small house in Budleigh Babberton is open to speculation.”
Dumbledore then turned in a complete circle, examining the room carefully. Without warning, he suddenly swooped on an overstuffed armchair and plunged the tip of his wand into its seat.
“Ouch!” the armchair cried, before morphing into a fat, bald old man with an enormous, walrus-like moustache. Harry recognised him as Horace Slughorn, whom he had seen in the Pensieve.
“Merlin’s beard, Albus!” the man cried. “There was no need to stick your wand in so hard. That hurt!”
“My apologies, Horace, but for all I knew you could have been a Death Eater waiting in ambush,” he replied.
“Yes, well. No harm done. Now I see it’s you come to pay a visit I suppose I’d better set this place to rights,” Slughorn said, looking around.
“Permit me to aid you,” Dumbledore offered. Both men began casting repair spells and in just a few minutes the room took on a more orderly appearance.
“Thank you for your aid, Albus,” Slughorn said, “but you’ve had a wasted journey. My answer is still no. I have no desire to return to Hogwarts.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Horace,” Dumbledore said with a smile. “But that’s not my only reason for this visit. Horace, may I introduce a friend of mine, Harry Potter.” Dumbledore indicated where Harry was standing at the back of the room.
The second Slughorn’s eyes fell on him they lit up.
Harry suddenly felt like a captured insect about to be placed in some young boy’s collection.
“Harry Potter, indeed! Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my boy,” Slughorn said, waddling forward with his hand extended.
Harry shook it reluctantly.
“So, my lad, will you be attending Hogwarts in the autumn? Is this how Albus intends to persuade me to return?” Slughorn asked.
“No, I’ve already taken my NEWTS. I’ve no need to go to Hogwarts,” Harry replied.
Slughorn frowned. “Really? While I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, of course, may I ask why you have chosen to visit this broken, old Potions Master tonight?” Slughorn asked, his eyes suddenly wary.
“You have something I need,” Harry said simply.
Slughorn looked directly at him intently for a second before spinning on his heels and looking at Dumbledore accusingly. “Damn and blast, Albus! We’ve been through this a million times! There is no more to that memory than I have already supplied you with. If it is your intention to quiz me about this again, you can leave now!” he roared.
“Now, Horace, There’s no need for unpleasantness. Let’s just sit and have a drink, and I promise I will not mention that subject again,” Dumbledore said in a calming voice.
Harry immediately noted that the Professor had said nothing about him bringing up the subject.
After some hesitation, Slughorn went to the sideboard and poured three drinks from a bottle filled with amber coloured liquid. He handed one each to Harry and Albus, keeping one for himself. The fat man then waddled over to a chair and sat down. He regarded Harry with a keen eye. “I must say, you do look a lot like your father but…”
“I have my mother’s eyes. Yes, I’ve heard that said a lot in the last few days,” Harry interrupted. “You knew my parents then, Professor Slughorn?”
“Oh, indeed. I must say your mother was one of my all-time favourite pupils. She had an instinctive way with Potions. She always seemed to know what ingredient to add to make something just that little bit better. Wonderful girl -- so kind and vivacious. I always said it was a shame she wasn’t in my house. I was Head of Slytherin, you know.” If this was meant to impress Harry it failed.
“You heard what happened to my mother?” Harry asked rather gruffly. His first impressions of Slughorn were of a self-serving man quick to run if presented with danger. He was not impressed in the slightest.
“Oh, yes. Terrible shame, just terrible,” Slughorn muttered, looking genuinely sorry.
“Yes, it was,” Harry agreed. “And that’s why I intend to do everything I can to defeat Voldemort.”
“Ah, yes. Him.” Slughorn winced at the name. “Well, good luck with that. But there’s nothing a worn-out, old Potions teacher with a weak chest can do to help, I’m afraid.”
“You can give us the missing memories,” Harry said flatly.
Slughorn turned red. “I told you, there are no missing memories!” he shouted.
“Bollocks!” Harry yelled back. “We know the memory you gave Professor Dumbledore was altered! Hell, I could tell that after one viewing. I don’t care if it makes you look bad or incriminates you or whatever. I need information if I’m going to beat Voldemort and you have it.”
“Harry, perhaps we should…” Dumbledore began.
“NO!” Harry shouted.
Slughorn was starting to look extremely uncomfortable in the face of Harry’s wrath, and he squirmed in his chair.
Harry loomed over him. “If you thought so much of my mum, then you should help her son. She died fighting Voldemort and all I’m asking is for you to give up a few memories. We won’t even say where we got them from. We’ll lie and say we drugged you. Whatever you want, I don’t care! Just give me those memories!”
Slughorn stared at Harry in horror.
Harry realised he was starting to glow with a blue light which crackled with energy. He hadn’t been this close to an outburst of uncontrolled magic since he faced Voldemort. He breathed deeply and fought the urge to grab the fat man by the throat.
“It’s true, isn’t it? What they say? That you’re the chosen one? The one who will fight and kill you-know-who?” Slughorn stuttered.
“I don’t know anything about being ‘the chosen one’,” Harry snarled, “but I’m certainly going to be the one to fight Voldemort!”
Slughorn wavered. He was clearly terrified, but just couldn’t decide what to do.
Harry decided to give him some further incentive. Without a word he held out his hand and summoned his Katana to him.
Slughorn shrieked and started to stand, but was forced back by the blade against his neck.
“This is my personal sword,” Harry explained in a cold voice. “I trained for a year in its use and I could cut individual hairs off your moustache with it if I wanted to. Now, in my book you are either for us or against us. If you are for us, you will surrender your unaltered memory of that meeting with Tom Riddle to us now. If you are against us, then I’m going to have to select what body part to cut off first.”
Slughorn looked close to tears. “It’s not that I don’t want to help,” he said in a trembling voice. “It’s just that I think I did terrible harm that day. I didn’t mean to! It’s just that Tom was…very persuasive.”
Harry lowered his sword. “It’s alright, Professor,” he said in a conciliatory voice. “I know just how persuasive Riddle can be. You weren’t the first to be taken in by him, and you certainly won’t be the last.”
Slughorn hung his head and sobbed for a few minutes. He then raised his head and looked directly at Harry. With a look of determination he raised his wand to his head and withdrew a silvery wisp of light.
Dumbledore hurried forward and produced a vial from his robes into which the memory was deposited.
“You’re not very much like your parents, are you, Mr Potter? Other than looks, of course.” Slughorn said in a hard voice.
“I wouldn’t know,” Harry replied, matching his tone. “I never got the chance to get to know them.”
Slughorn nodded sadly before turning to Dumbledore. “If it ever gets out that I’ve helped you then my life won’t be worth living. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you-know-who doesn’t know we’ve talked already. He has ways of finding things out, you know. I think on the whole I would be safest at Hogwarts from this point. I’ll accept that job offer, if I may.”
“Indeed you may, Horace. And may I say I’m glad you’ll be joining us,” Dumbledore said smiling.
“Well, if that’s settled, I’ll be at Hogwarts in the morning. Would you mind seeing yourselves out?” Slughorn said quietly.
Without another word Harry and Dumbledore left the small house. They had walked a few hundred yards before Dumbledore broke the silence. “While I can’t deny their effectiveness, I must say I’m a little disappointed in your tactics in there, Harry. Horace is not our enemy, and he deserves better treatment than that,” he said.
“We don’t have time to be subtle, Professor. If we had played his game, Slughorn would have kept us waiting months for that memory. Anyway, I’m the one who acted aggressively. When you talk to Slughorn next you can blame it all on me. You’ll still be whiter than white,” Harry growled.
“White I may be, Harry,” Dumbledore replied, “but I would appreciate it if you don’t turn black.”
Without another word the two wizards Apparated back to Hogwarts.
AN
Hands up who thought Harry massively overreacted at the end? One…two…what do you mean? Of course I can see you while you’re sat at your computers. Frankly, most of you should be ashamed of yourselves with what you get up to! Anyway, Harry’s reaction will be dealt with in the next few chapters and might end up being a blessing in disguise for a certain person.
I hope I’ve put to rest any concerns anyone might have had about Harry’s reaction to Tonks. Rest assured this is a Honks free zone. It’s just that being without female company at his age can do funny thinks to a lad, the British public school system being a good example of that.
Coming next; a Horcrux hunting we shall go! (Have I mentioned how much I hate bloody Horcruxes?)
Chapter 12: Chapter 12 – Under a Hunter’s Moon
Author's Notes: Firstly, can a say a big thank you to everyone who voted for me in the Annual Trinket Awards. Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you.
Right, while I’m full of warm, fuzzy feelings, let’s get onto the next chapter! The Horcrux hunt begins. I have to say that the end scene with Dumbledore was something I’d been itching to write for a while and was one of my main starting points when I decided to write HP&TBE (the others being the chapters set in Japan and another yet to come). I‘ll leave you to speculate what impact this scene will have on the rest of the story.
Big thanks as always to MinistryMalcontent for his beta work (sorry to have bamboozled you with my sentence construction!). My success in the awards was largely down to his help and advice. Also thanks to Mistress_Lrigtar for pointing out my formatting problems were the results of my (non) use of HTML. As soon as Mrs Brennus has given me a crash course in its use then future chapters will feature the exciting use of italics and underlining! Whoopee!
Chapter 12 — Under a Hunter’s Moon
Tuesday, 8 July 1996
“Seven!” Sirius cried. “There are seven of these bloody things that we need to find and destroy?”
Harry, Sirius, Remus and Professor Dumbledore were all sat round the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. At Harry’s insistence, Dumbledore had just explained to the others about the existence of the Horcruxes and the need to destroy them all before Voldemort could be killed. The news had not been well received.
“Six, actually,” Dumbledore corrected. “Remember, Voldemort must retain one part of his soul in his current form. Harry has already kindly destroyed one of the Horcruxes for us in the form of the diary, and I believe another may have already been eliminated as well. So, this leaves four to collect and destroy.”
“I obviously know about the diary,” Harry said, “but what was the other one you think was destroyed?”
“After your battle in the graveyard with Voldemort, I spent some time reviewing my memories of the event,” Dumbledore explained. “I became somewhat intrigued by the amount of control Voldemort had over his pet snake, Nagini. Even with his affinity with snakes, this did not seem normal. I took the liberty of examining the snake’s corpse and discovered that the body had been home to two souls. It was not difficult to deduce from this that Nagini was a Horcrux.”
“A living creature?” questioned Remus. “Is that even possible?”
“It’s quite possible, if not entirely desirable,” Dumbledore explained. “For one thing, Voldemort couldn’t place any extra defences on Nagini. The diary attempted to protect itself from destruction, and I suspect the other Horcruxes will be no different. In addition, a living creature will have it’s own needs and desires which might not always be in Voldemort’s best interests. Finally, as was demonstrated, a living creature is easier to destroy than a protected, inanimate Horcrux is likely to be.”
“You mentioned you had some ideas what forms the other Horcruxes could take and where to find them?” Remus asked the Professor.
“Indeed, careful study of Voldemort’s past has revealed something of a pattern regarding these things,” Dumbledore explained. “Firstly, he only uses items which are important to him or are considered worthy of housing his soul. Likewise, I suspect the locations he hides them in also have significance to him. The diary is a fine example. It proved that he was the heir of Salazar Slytherin and was initially given to the first and most trusted of his Death Eaters, Lucius Malfoy.”
“That’s something I don’t understand,” interrupted Harry. “Why did Malfoy give the diary to Ginny Weasley? Surely he should have kept it under lock and key at all times?”
“Ah, I believe dear Lucius let his ambition get in the way of his common sense. Admittedly, at that point Malfoy had no way of knowing that Voldemort would return. He had been missing for years, after all. Thinking his master would not be coming back to claim the diary, he decided to use it as a weapon. I doubt he knew what the actual purpose of the diary was, or he wouldn’t have dared part with it.”
“But why did Malfoy attack an eleven year old girl?” Harry persisted.
“I’m afraid young Ginevra Weasley was just a means to an end,” Dumbledore explained. “Malfoy’s true target was her father, Arthur Weasley. At that time Arthur was trying to get some important legislation passed which would have afforded much greater protection to Muggles and sterner sentences for witches and wizards caught abusing them. Malfoy strongly objected to the amendment and set out to discredit Mr Weasley. He had already bribed various Ministry officials to view Arthur’s work with disdain and planted several malicious rumours about him. When he refused to back down, Lucius slipped the diary to the man’s young daughter, and when the dust settled used the incident as proof of Arthur’s incompetence. The plan worked too. Arthur was sacked and the legislation never reached the Wizengamot for consideration.”
“Shame,” said Sirius. “Arthur and Molly Weasley seem like good people. I’ve only ever met their oldest boy, Bill, but he seemed a good chap, too. The Malfoys really are scum.”
“Quite,” Dumbledore said, but without quite the same conviction. “But to return to the point, I have a number of ideas regarding potential Horcruxes and their location. I suggest we compile a list and then start investigating them as carefully as we can. It is vital Voldemort receives no warning as to what we are up to. Indeed, gentlemen, I feel we all need to give a magical oath that this information will not be passed to anyone else.”
All three wizards looked uncomfortable at the idea, but realised the importance of what they were doing. One by one, the three joined Dumbledore in pulling out their wands and swearing an oath of secrecy.
“Excellent,” Dumbledore said approvingly. “Let’s start work on this list, then.”
Dumbledore pulled out a roll of parchment and grabbed a quill. After half an hour of suggestions, ideas and arguments, the list was completed. Dumbledore looked at the parchment thoughtfully.
“Well, that certainly is enough to be keeping us busy for the moment,” he mused. “Of course, some of these locations are a lot more likely than others. I think the first place to try is the house of Marvolo Gaunt at Little Hangleton. I assume you have no objections to returning to the area, Harry?”
Harry shivered as he remembered the graveyard at the town and the events that occurred there. “As long as we don’t need to visit the graveyard unless absolutely necessary, then no problem,” he replied.
“Good show, Harry,” Dumbledore said, still pondering the list. “I do have to say, I strongly doubt that your suggestion that there’s a Horcrux at Hogwarts will turn out to be correct. I just don’t think Voldemort would risk placing one right under my nose.”
“I think that’s exactly what he’d do,” Harry argued. “He’d think it a wonderful joke. Plus Hogwarts was one of the most important places in his whole life. By our thinking, it almost has to be a hiding place for one.”
“Hmm, I most certainly have never encountered anything that might resemble a Horcrux at Hogwarts, and I know every inch of the place,” Dumbledore disagreed.
“You didn’t know about the Chamber of Secrets until Ginny Weasley opened it,” Harry countered. “What makes you so sure there isn’t another place like it, hidden away somewhere?”
“It’s always possible,” Dumbledore acknowledged. “But I think there are a number of other locations we should try first. If they yield nothing, we can always organise a thorough search of the school.”
“That makes sense,” Harry agreed.
“Well, if that’s all agreed, I think we should visit Little Hangleton tonight. The moon will be bright but not yet full, so Remus shouldn’t encounter any difficulties.” Dumbledore gestured at Lupin who bowed his head in acknowledgement. “We’ll meet here at eleven-thirty and then make our way to the house. Hopefully, we will avoid being seen by any Muggles by going at that hour.
“Great,” said Sirius. “We should be at the place by midnight. The perfect time to visit a haunted house!”
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Albus Dumbledore entered his office and gratefully sat down. After years of planning and preparation, things were finally coming together. Of course, they still had a long way to go, and any number of things could still go wrong.
His chief worry was Harry. Fate had decreed that Albus had far less influence in the boy’s upbringing than he would have liked. Yes, Harry was now superbly trained, but that could be a double-edged sword. He was far too independent, and the fact Albus was unable to perform Legilimency on him was a worry. Albus was also concerned about Harry’s behaviour when confronting Horace Slughorn. If the boy turned dark they were doomed.
Dumbledore pondered the matter for a while. While he might not regard Sirius Black as the most reliable of guardians for Harry, he was almost certainly the right choice at this point. It was highly unlikely Harry would turn evil with warm-hearted Sirius watching over him. Remus Lupin would also act as a steadying influence, and the presence of Nymphadora Tonks about the place wouldn’t hurt either. No, Harry’s actions were understandable, bearing in mind where he had just spent his last year. Sirius would blunt the boy’s ruthlessness and anger.
Twisting in his seat slightly, Dumbledore’s eyes fell onto the wizard chess set he kept on a side table. He reached over and removed a couple of pieces from both the black and white sides. The removal of Nagini and Pettigrew from Voldemort’s forces had been an amazing stroke of luck. The death of the Flamels, while unfortunate, was for the best in the long run. Dumbledore would never have placed Harry with the couple if he had been aware of the animosity they had built up towards him. It was vital Harry trusted him, so the Flamels’ removal from the board was a necessity.
Viewing the re-arranged board, Dumbledore smiled in grim satisfaction. The pieces were all in place now. The game could begin.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
As he looked up into the sky, Harry cursed the brightness of the moon. Although only three-quarters full, it shone brightly enough to illuminate the whole landscape. As the four wizards were currently walking across a large field, devoid of cover, Harry felt extremely noticeable.
Following the meeting at Grimmauld Place, Harry had attempted to get a few hours’ sleep in preparation for tonight’s activities. He had, unfortunately, failed miserably, partly due to the oppressive atmosphere in the house, but also because of his own doubts about his actions in dealing with Horace Slughorn. In his mind, he defended the violent threats he had made to the man, but his heart had misgivings at the speed his anger had risen. He decided he would just have to try to be more restrained if he was put in a similar situation again. Taking a deep breath he forced his attention back onto tonight’s task.
To be sure of not triggering any alarms, they had Apparated a good mile away from the Gaunt house. They had followed a small country lane for about half a mile before striking out across country. Harry fretted that any casual observer would be able to see them clearly in the moonlight in such an empty space. Dumbledore had ruled out casting Disillusionment charms this close to the house for fear of setting off any magical detectors.
Thankfully, they reached the cover of a tree line without apparent detection. They then scrambled down an embankment and found themselves on a narrow path. This, Dumbledore assured them, led to the house.
They paused every few yards to cast magical detection spells. These spells used so little magic they were virtually undetectable themselves and should give the group warning of any traps or alarms ahead. Harry was surprised they had not encountered any yet, and this made him start to doubt if the house held anything of value to them.
Eventually, they reached the house, if that was what it could be called. The property was more accurately described as a run-down, wooden shack. It appeared structurally sound, if completely neglected. The windows at the front were broken, and there were holes in the roof. Home, sweet home, thought Harry.
Dumbledore moved to the front door and cast a more complicated series of detection spells. He gathered the others around him so he could speak quietly.
“There are a number of alarm and protection spells on the house, but nothing more than any normal wizard's house might have. Of course, this may just be a ploy so the property does not appear anything unusual,” he explained. “We shall disable the spells and see what awaits us inside. Remus, would you tackle the alarm spell while I deal with the protection spell, if you would?”
The two wizards moved forward and started casting the dispelling charms required while Harry and Sirius kept watch. After a short while, Harry heard Dumbledore cast an Alohomora spell then the front door swung open. The four wizards furtively entered the shack.
Harry looked round to a scene of utter devastation. As bad as the house had looked from the outside, it was much worse inside. Many of the floorboards were missing, making movement perilous. By the light of their combined Lumos spells, Harry could see bits of broken furniture and rubbish strewn everywhere. The wallpaper hung off in ragged, damp strips revealing rotting plaster. There was a smell in the air as if several large animals had died in the house some time ago.
Dumbledore and Remus again began casting detection spells. This time Harry joined them. He was particularly looked for any traps of a runic nature, their respective roles in checking the place having been worked out beforehand. He cast several spells and was immediately rewarded with several blue glowing lights appearing in a number of spots around the shack. Several orange and red spots also appeared as a result of Dumbledore's and Remus’s spells. The house was a death-trap.
“Well, that’s probably an indication that something’s here,” Remus said quietly.
“Indeed,” Dumbledore confirmed. “The most heavily warded area appears to be in that far corner. Remus, would you help me start removing the traps in that direction. Sirius, if you could work to the area to the right and, Harry, to the left.”
Harry immediately began removing the simpler traps before starting to dismantle the runic ones. Although he was highly skilled in Ancient Runes -- it was one of his favourite subjects -- one particular trap caused him a lot of problems. It contained a counter-curse designed to trip up anyone attempting to deactivate the trap. He’d been lucky to notice the curse and dreaded to think what would have happened if he’d set it off. After some effort, he succeeded in disabling the trap and cleared his side of the room. Looking up he saw Sirius had already finished clearing his space, while Remus and Dumbledore were approaching the corner of the room.
“There’s definitely something here,” Dumbledore announced. He and Remus paused to confer quietly between themselves as how best to proceed. After a short while, Dumbledore started to cast an incantation Harry was unfamiliar with. The whole corner of the room glowed a sickly yellow colour for a second before the light faded.
“That’s got it,” Remus exclaimed in triumph.
Dumbledore merely smiled at him before he started to pull up several of the rotting floorboards. He then reached down and removed a small box from the gap. Placing the box on the floor, he cast several more detection spells on it before looking up.
“I believe this is what we came for, gentlemen,” he declared. He then slowly reached down and opened the box.
The tension in the room was unbearable and Harry shuffled forward to get a better view. Dumbledore reached into the box and withdrew a gold ring with a large black stone mounted on it. The old professor gazed at the ring in wonder.
“Is it a Horcrux, Professor?” Remus asked, but was ignored. Instead, Dumbledore stood up and began to put the ring on his finger.
“NO!” Sirius yelled. “Stop him, Remus!”
Remus lunged forward but it was clear he would never make it in time.
Without thinking, Harry aimed his wand. “Stupefy!” Harry shouted and a bright red bolt of light hit Dumbledore, knocking him off his feet. The ring dropped from his limp fingers and rolled on the floor.
“Don’t touch it!” Sirius warned, before pointing his wand at Dumbledore. “Rennervate.”
Dumbledore immediately sat up and looked around groggily. He looked surprise to see both Harry and Sirius pointing their wands at him, before a look of understanding appeared on his face. He raised his hands in contrition.
“I’m alright, gentlemen,” he assured them. “I just rather stupidly fell for one of the oldest tricks in the book. An attraction charm... largely undetectable and completely lethal. I dread to think what would have happened to me if I had actually put that ring on my finger.”
“I’ll just levitate the ring back into the box, shall I?” asked Remus.
“I think that would be for the best,” Dumbledore agreed. “I will need to study the ring for a while before attempting to destroy it. Well, we’ve got what we came for. I suggest we leave now. I’ll recast the exterior protection spells so to the casual observer the house will look untouched. Hopefully, Voldemort will have no reason to come here to investigate further.”
The other three wizards agreed enthusiastically. Soon they had exited the small house and were making their way back up the lane. Dumbledore tucked the small box away, deep into his robes. He carefully hid the feelings of joy and anticipation that were bubbling inside him.
Although he said nothing to the others, they had found much more than just a Horcrux.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Sat behind his large, wooden desk, Albus Dumbledore trembled with excitement. He had finally done it.
On top of his desk lay three items. The first was his wand. Albus had carefully hidden the fact that the wand he carried was the legendary Elder Wand: the Deathstick, the Wand of Destiny. It had been his since he defeated Grindelwald back in the forties, and he had kept that fact a secret for all these years.
The second item was an invisibility cloak. It had once belonged to James Potter, but Albus had borrowed it from the man to examine shortly before he was killed. Having no real use for an invisibility cloak, Albus had kept it with the idea of passing it onto Harry when the boy was old enough. Fate had determined that he never had the right moment to pass it to him, a fact which Albus was now immensely grateful for.
The final item was a small, black stone which had a jagged crack running down it’s centre. On the stone was a symbol: a white line intersecting a circle with a triangle within, the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. The stone had been hidden within Gaunt’s ring which now lay to the side, destroyed by a fang of the Basilisk Harry had killed years before. How had Voldemort not known it was there?
How many years had Dumbledore been searching for them? When he and Gellert Grindelwald had been making their mad plans together, the Hallows had been at the centre of their schemes. Dumbledore had long ago abandoned the idea of bringing them together, but here they now were. He was now truly the master of death.
During those long years of fruitless searching, there was always one thing that he had yearned to do if he succeeding in finding the Resurrection Stone. Now, finally, he could make good the errors of his youth. With shaking hands, Dumbledore reached out and picked up the stone. He closed his eyes and turned the stone over in his hand three times. He heard the slight rustle of someone’s clothing, and he knew he had been successful.
Dumbledore opened his eyes and saw a teenage girl with long, sleek brown hair. She wore a plain blue dress with yellow flowers embroidered on it. Albus nearly cried at the sight of her.
“Ariana,” he croaked. “Oh, my sister! How I’ve yearned to see you again.”
“Albus,” she replied coolly. “Why do you disturb my sleep?”
Albus sighed. So, she was still angry with him. With surprise he noted that Ariana was showing more sanity and control than she ever did in life.
“I…I wanted, no, needed to tell you how sorry I am,” Albus said, looking the girl in the eyes. “I don’t know if it was my curse that killed you or not; it doesn’t matter. It was my fault for bringing Gellert into our home. I’m so, so sorry, my sweet sister. Can you forgive me?”
“You brought me back to tell me this?” Ariana asked, her voice unreadable.
“Yes, yes!” cried Albus. “And to see you again. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Do you not think that Aberforth also missed me?” she asked. “Why have you not asked him here to see me also?”
Albus blinked. He had not thought about his wayward brother in some time and most certainly would not share the secret of the Hallows with him.
“I could not, Ariana,” he explained. “Ancient magic brought you back to me, and the secret of the Deathly Hallows is too important to share with anyone.”
For the first time a smile appeared on Ariana’s face, but it was a bitter smile, laced with regret.
“So once again you have taken it upon yourself to decide what secrets can be shared and which must be kept to yourself? Who appointed you as guardian of all knowledge, brother?” she asked. Albus stood and looked at her sternly.
“Much has changed since you departed this world, Ariana,” he explained. “I have defeated one dark lord and I am in the course of defeating another. If I have to keep a few secrets to make that happen, then I make no apology. Sometimes we must consider what is in the best interests of the masses.”
“Oh, you mean what you must do ‘for the greater good?’ I believe that was the phrase you and that disgusting man you called your lover came up with,” Ariana spat. “As for defeating dark lords — you helped create one, and you did nothing to stop the creation of the other. Only when millions are dead and countless lives are ruined do you act. And how do you act? Bravely? With courage and conviction? No, you manipulate others, sacrificing lives where you feel appropriate.”
Albus stared at his sister. He could feel his temper rising. Why could the stupid girl not see the truth? He didn’t want to do those things. He hated having to control other people’s lives. But, simply, it was the only way to get the job done.
“Ariana,” he began, “Clearly you do not understand…”
“No!” Ariana cried. “It is you who do not understand. Do you still think me some poor little girl, her mind broken by unthinking cruelty? The dead watch, my brother, and we see all. You think that you control people because that is the only way they will do what is necessary, but you are wrong! You control them because you do not trust them! You think that only the great Albus Dumbledore has the wisdom and knowledge to decide what is right! You have not been right since you graduated from Hogwarts!”
“Shut up! SHUT UP!” Albus yelled. “What do you know! Have you any idea what I’ve been through?”
“I see all, Albus!” She cried. “I see your petty manipulations and plots. I see you ruining good people’s lives ‘for the greater good’! I am ashamed to call you my brother. Do I forgive you? No, NEVER!”
“Silence!” Albus roared. In his rage he lashed out and threw the Resurrection Stone clutched in his hand directly at the girl. As soon as the stone left his grasp the image of his sister vanished. The stone flew through the air and hit the far wall with a crack. It fell back to the floor in two pieces.
Dumbledore fell to his knees, his eyes locked on the broken stone. For a brief moment he had united the Death Hallows, and now, in a fit of anger, he had destroyed one of them. The Hallows were sundered, never to be united again.
Ariana’s words stung his heart, and tears began to run down his cheek. He had just wanted to say he was sorry, that was all. For the first time in his adult life, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, Order of Merlin First Class, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, cried like a baby.
Chapter 13: Chapter 13 – A Present from the Poison-Hearted
Author's Notes: At the bottom again.
Tuesday, 16 July 1996
Tonks stood opposite Harry with her wand held casually in her right hand and a smug grin on her face. Harry had every intention of wiping that silly smile away and making the young woman pay for her arrogance.
Things had been going well at Grimmauld Place. Misty and Bolly had been working tirelessly, and the house was already much more appealing than it had been just a week before. Harry had cleared out one room and converted it to training exclusively. It was now shielded against spells and warded against magical detection. He could practise without the worry of Ministry interference. He had also discussed a training program with Remus and even started work to become an Animagus with Sirius. Then, of course, Tonks had to open her mouth.
It had been a minor insult; she had made a casual remark about her starting to train Harry at duelling. Harry had immediately pointed out that he had just spent a year studying under one of the greatest fighters in the world and she had laughed. His honour besmirched, Harry had immediately challenged the Auror to a duel.
So here they both stood in the training room with Remus and Sirius looking on eagerly. Harry suspected Tonks was not going to play fair. She had already stripped off her jacket under which she was wearing the tight t-shirt that had got him so hot and bothered the previous week. She was also wearing the same tight jeans that accentuated her shapely legs. That’s not going to work this time, Harry thought. He’d been in the company of Tonks for most of the week, and he was already beginning to think of her more as an annoying older sister, rather than the object of his desire.
“Are you ready?” called out Sirius. “You will start on the count of three. One, two…three!”
Tonks raised her wand and quickly threw a stunning spell at Harry. Her casting was fast, accurate and she put a lot of power into the spell. She was surprised therefore when Harry casually knocked her spell aside with a silently cast shield.
Before she could react, Harry returned fire. His first blasting curse blew her hasty erected shield away like it was made of rice paper. His follow-up stunning spell was cast so quickly she never even saw it coming. The next thing Tonks knew she was being revived by a laughing Sirius.
“You might want to show Harry’s skills a bit more respect from this point, eh, Tonks?” he said. Tonks turned to Harry and performed a small bow.
“I humbly apologise for doubting your skills, oh boy-who-lived,” she said mischievously.
“Don’t call me that!” Harry groaned.
“I must also congratulate you on your skills,” Remus said, still smirking at Tonks. “As one of your teachers, I think it would be a good idea if I tested my talents against you as well. Tonks was somewhat overconfident; that’s not a mistake I’ll make.”
“The more the merrier,” Harry replied.
The two wizards faced each other. As soon as Sirius had given them the signal to start, Remus unleashed a barrage of spells against Harry in the hope of quickly overwhelming his shields. Unfortunately for Remus, Harry was no longer there. As soon as the first spell had left Remus’s wand, Harry had rolled to the left and come up to kneeling position. A single stunning spell later and Remus was flat on his back. Sirius and Tonks both clapped and cheered. Once Remus was awakened he joined in the praise, even if he did look a little put out.
“Right, just me left,” Sirius said. “Fancy having a crack at an old man like me?”
Harry snorted.
“An old man who came in drunk at two o’clock in the morning ever night last week?” he laughed. “It’s not your age you need to worry about. More like if you’re sober enough.”
“Harry, I’m hurt. You know I wouldn’t neglect your training just because I have such a full social life,” Sirius replied, grinning. “I’m sure I’ll cope.”
“Okay, if you’re sure,” Harry said, shaking his head.
The two wizards squared up, and this time Remus started them off. Sirius sent a quick stunner at Harry but was not surprised that the boy had already moved. Instead of tracking him Sirius lowered his wand and cast a spell at the floor.
At the first sign Sirius was going to cast a spell, Harry had rolled to his right. He doubted the same trick would work twice, but he was confident he could put Sirius on the back foot. Harry tucked in his shoulder, rolled and started to stand up. He then promptly fell flat on his face.
Looking round, Harry saw that the floor was now covered in strange, vine-like plants. As soon as he had tried to stand the plants had wrapped themselves round his ankles tripping him up. Desperately, he tried to turn himself around to face Sirius.
“Expelliarmus!” he heard Sirius cry, and Harry’s wand was ripped from his grip. He heard Remus and Tonks hooting their approval behind him.
A few moments later Sirius’s legs came into view. He dispelled the plants which by now had Harry completely pinned down and knelt beside his godson.
“There’s a good lesson for you, Harry,” Sirius said with a big smirk on his face.
“What? Don’t trust the disreputable old bloke because he’s bound to cheat?” asked Harry sarcastically.
“Close,” Sirius laughed. “Remember, being sneaky can be a good thing. Frankly, Harry, I doubt I could have won any other way. Your speed of spell casting is phenomenal, you have an excellent range of hexes, and your movement is incredible. But you did try the same trick twice which was your undoing. Rather than let you dance rings round me, I just conjured up a few Devil’s Snare plants and let them slow you down a bit. Worked rather nicely, if I do say so myself.”
Harry tried to glare at his godfather, but couldn’t pull it off. He laughed at the man’s evident joy at getting one over on him. Reaching up, he let Sirius help him stand.
“Okay, you win that round, old man. But let’s see how well you do against me again,” Harry said grinning.
“Oh, look at the time,” Sirius said, looking at an imaginary wrist watch. “Almost dinner time and we can’t keep those wonderful elves of yours waiting, can we?”
“Coward!” Harry yelled, but he was still smiling. “I’ll just get you next time.”
“Quite possibly, Harry,” Sirius said throwing an arm around Harry’s shoulder. “Unless I get you first.” Laughing, the two of them headed downstairs towards the kitchen. Behind them Tonks turned to Remus and fixed him with a stern gaze.
“You could have warned me he was that good,” she said accusingly.
Remus just grinned. “Sorry, I thought you could take a fifteen year old boy,” he laughed. “Besides, you did laugh at him when he told you he was skilled at duelling. I think that did deserve a little punishment.”
“Okay, okay. Lesson learnt,” Tonks said. She looked towards the doorway where Harry and Sirius vanished from sight. “Just how good is he, Remus?”
“I’m not sure yet,” Remus replied carefully. “At a rough guess, in terms of knowledge and capabilities I would put him at the level of a Senior Auror at present, but he maybe better than that. He was educated by the Flamels and they did a marvellous job. He was taught to fight by the Japanese Master Tamazuki and he didn’t skimp on the job either. And he’s powerful, Tonks, by Merlin he’s powerful!”
“He’s the one, isn’t he? All those rumours were true, weren’t they? He’s the chosen one,” she asked, all trace of humour gone from her voice.
“I believe so,” Remus said simply.
The pair stood in silence for a moment before Tonks spoke. “Well, just have to make sure ‘the chosen one’ achieves his full potential, won’t we?”
“I guess we will,” Remus replied, smiling. For a second the pair’s eyes met and they gazed at each other.
“Remus, I…” Tonks began.
“Come on, it’s time for dinner,” Remus interrupted, looking away sharply. “The others will have wondered what’s happened to us.”
Remus hurried out the room, leaving a sad-looking witch standing behind.
Friday, 6 September 1996
Harry made his way down from his bedroom to the kitchen. Today was going to be a very interesting day for him, as today he was going to be inducted into the Order of the Phoenix.
Ever since Sirius had told Harry about the order, he had pushed for entry into it. Dumbledore had initially been extremely reluctant, stating that he felt membership of the organisation would put Harry in unnecessary danger. The Professor had eventually caved in after Sirius calmly stated that he would tell Harry what occurred at any of the meetings anyway. Harry had also reasonably pointed out that he was already involved in the search for the Horcruxes, and that was already pretty dangerous. Dumbledore conceded the point.
Starting down the stairway, Harry paused to admire the much improved condition of the house. The elves really had done a marvellous job, and Grimmauld Place was now warm and welcoming. As the dark magic was stripped from the house, the oppressive atmosphere began to disappear; and Harry found he could sleep peacefully of a night. Despite his initial reservations, Harry was definitely beginning to enjoy living here.
Since his arrival in July, Harry felt real progress had been made. Dumbledore had confirmed that he had been able to destroy Gaunt’s ring, meaning another Horcrux had been disposed of. His training was also going better than he had imagined. Remus was an extremely knowledgeable teacher, and he spent a lot of time researching new things for Harry to learn. Sirius was good at introducing Harry to new ways of thinking and acting; the man definitely had a devious streak in him. He also helped Harry with his Animagus training which was progressing nicely. He hoped to achieve his animal form by Christmas.
Harry couldn’t help but grin at the thought of spending Christmas in this house. If his birthday was any indication of how celebrations were conducted at Grimmauld Place, then the holiday should be a riot. When Sirius had heard Harry was to turn sixteen at the end of July, he pulled out all the stops to throw an incredible party. Sirius also introduced Harry to the dubious pleasures of Firewhiskey that day. Harry still had only the vaguest memories of what had happened after that, but he did recall throwing up in a toilet at some point. He’d much preferred the elf-made wine he’d had with his birthday dinner and vowed to stick with that in future.
By now he had reached the kitchen, and he entered to find the room half-full already. He looked around and saw a mix of familiar faces and complete strangers. He started to walk over to where Remus was seated when he spotted two people he recognised. He headed towards them.
“Mr and Mrs Weasley? Hello, do you remember me?” Harry asked the red-haired couple sat in front of him. They both looked up sharply at him, their faces filled with astonishment.
“Why, yes. Of course we remember you,” Mr Weasley said. “Good to see you again, Mr Potter. What are you doing here?”
“Well, actually, I live here now. Sirius Black is my godfather, you know. As for why I’m at this meeting, I believe Dumbledore will initiate me into the Order today,” Harry explained.
“Initiate you into the Order?” Mrs Weasley repeated in horror. “But you’re just a boy! You’re far too young to be mixed up in this sort of thing.”
“Mrs Weasley,” Harry began, trying to keep his temper, “I have faced Voldemort directly more times than anyone and I’m still alive. I can also assure you that I’m a better fighter than anyone in the Order, with the exception of Dumbledore and Alastor Moody. I have earned the right to be here.”
Mrs Weasley gave a snort of disapproval, but said no more. Harry decided to change the subject.
“So, how’s your daughter Ginny doing now?” he asked. He noted both the Weasleys shift uncomfortably at this question.
“She’s very well, thank you, Harry,” Mr Weasley said with a weak smile. Mrs Weasley just stared straight ahead, pointedly ignoring Harry.
“Glad to hear it,” Harry replied. Seeing the pair really didn’t want to talk to him, he decided to end the conversation. “Well, give her my best when you next speak to her. Nice to see you again.”
“And you, Harry,” Mr Weasley responded. He then turned away clearly relieved the conversation was over. Harry walked over to where Remus was sat and took a chair next to him, still wondering at the Weasleys' odd reaction to him.
By now the room was full and Harry noticed that Professor Dumbledore had entered as well. The old wizard stood at the front and called for attention.
“Good evening, one and all. Thank you for coming this evening.” Dumbledore smiled kindly at the assembled group. “Now, we have a number of things we need to cover tonight: progress reports, details of Death Eater activities and such. But before we go any further, I would like to introduce you all to our newest member, Harry Potter. Please stand and make yourself known, Harry.”
Feeling extremely embarrassed, Harry stood to the general astonishment of the Order. Behind him he could hear Sirius cheering and Tonks giving him a wolf-whistle. He turned and glared at the pair who just smirked back unrepentantly. Harry was about to sit down again when a sneering voice called out.
“Professor, you cannot be seriously considering inducting this…boy… into the Order?” the voice asked.
Harry spun round and saw the voice belonged to a pale-faced man with a large, hooked nose. He had black, greasy-looking hair which hung down to his shoulders. The man’s dark eyes were regarding Harry with a look of near hatred.
“I have not only considered it, but I have actually done it,” Dumbledore responded in a mild tone. “Harry will prove a valuable addition, I’m sure.”
The man scowled at Harry one last time before turning his head. He didn’t say another word, but his annoyance was clear. Harry could only speculate as to why the man seemed to dislike him so much. After sitting down, Harry leaned over to Remus.
“Remus, who was that man who objected to me so much?” Harry whispered.
“His names Severus Snape, Harry,” Remus replied quietly. “Don’t worry about him. He never has a good word to say about anyone.”
Snape! Harry instantly recognised the name as the one Nicholas and Perenelle had warned him of, years before. So this was Dumbledore’s pet Death Eater. He certainly looked the part. Harry burned with fury at the thought that this was the man that had told Voldemort of the Prophecy, effectively condemning his parents to death.
Harry tried his best to concentrate on the rest of the meeting, but his eyes kept drifting back to Snape, who sat by himself with a face that would have curdled milk. In any event, what little Harry did hear seemed of little importance. There was some speculation regarding the whereabouts of some Death Eaters and a few reports about training, but nothing earth shattering. Harry couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed that the Order were not a little more dynamic.
Eventually, the meeting ended, but Dumbledore called for Harry, Remus and Sirius to remain for a moment. Harry noted Snape hover for a moment like he was expecting his presence to be requested as well, but then he turned and headed out the kitchen door.
“Um, can you just give me a moment?” Harry asked before darting out the door himself. He managed to catch up with the lank-haired man before he left through the front door.
“Snape?” Harry called. “Can I have a word?” The man turned and sneered at Harry.
“That’s Professor Snape to you, boy,” he snarled. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to address your betters?”
“Why should I call you Professor?” Harry asked aggressively. “You’re not my teacher and you never will be. And when I see someone who’s a better person then me, I will address them with the appropriate level of respect.”
“You little whelp!” Snape snapped, glaring at him. It was then that Harry felt the attack on his Occlumency shields. Snape was obviously skilled at Legilimency and was trying to break into his mind. Harry strengthened his shields and mentally knocked back Snape’s assault. Growling with anger, Harry began to summon his Katana, but the memory of his overreaction to Slughorn stopped him in tracks. Violence wasn’t always the answer, he knew. Instead, Harry just closed the distance between him and Snape, until they were practically nose to nose.
“Do not ever try a stunt like that again,” Harry snarled at the man. “If you do, I promise, you will regret it.”
“Arrogant and childish, just like your father,” Snape spat back.
“I wouldn’t know, seeing as my father died when I was just a year old. But you know all about that, don’t you? Seeing as you’re the one that sold them out!” Harry yelled.
“That was Pettigrew, not me!” Snape yelled back.
“Yeah, and who told Voldemort about the Prophecy in the first place? You might just as well have painted targets on my parents’ backs! You Death Eater scum!”
For a second Snape looked horrified.
“How did you know about that?” he stuttered. “Dumbledore would never…”
“Oh, don’t worry. Dumbledore didn’t betray your dirty little secret!” Harry interrupted. “Let’s just say the Headmaster isn’t quite as good at keeping these things to himself as he thinks.”
Snape just stared at Harry with undisguised hatred. The knuckles of Harry’s hands were white as he clenched them at his sides. The desire to take his sword and cut off Snape’s head was nearly overwhelming. Then, somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Tamazuki tut at him in disapproval. The red mist cleared from his eyes and started to calm down. He was a better man than this worthless Death Eater, and he didn’t need to kill to prove it.
“I don’t trust you, Snape,” Harry informed the man in a low voice. “I’ll be watching you from now on, and if I even get a hint that you’re working for Voldemort again, I will have your head on a spike. I’m going to be the one to take down Voldemort, and not because some stupid Prophecy tells me I have to. I’m going to stop him so no one else will have their lives destroyed by that lunatic. And if anyone tries to stop me, I’ll take them down, too. Understand?”
Snape stared at Harry in a mix of disbelief and contempt. Without a word he turned and vanished out the front door, slamming it closed behind him. Harry turned to head back to the kitchen and found Dumbledore watching him with an unreadable expression on his face.
“Come, Harry. We have important matters to discuss,” the old wizard said eventually. Harry just nodded and followed him into the kitchen.
He sensed Dumbledore’s disapproval, but something important had just occurred to Harry’s mind. For the first time, he had admitted to himself that he was going to be the one to face Voldemort and his reasons for doing it. It wasn’t a matter of revenge or even self-preservation. It was simply he didn’t want others to suffer as he had. He wanted the killing to end. His heart had spoken and his motives were pure. Harry suddenly felt a little better about himself.
He sat at the kitchen table, ignoring the quizzical looks he was getting from Sirius and Remus. Dumbledore sat as well, clearly willing to disregard what he had seen in the hallway.
“Gentlemen, I have some good news. As you will remember, you recently presented me with a box of dark objects you had collected from around this very house. While examining the contents I came across this.” Dumbledore paused and reached into his robes. He withdrew a heavy locket with a stylised ‘S’ etched on the front. Harry recoiled at the sight of it.
“Yes, indeed, Harry,” Dumbledore said, noting his reaction. “This is another Horcrux.”
“What?” Sirius gasped. “You mean it was just laying around here all the time?”
“Indeed,” Dumbledore confirmed, amusement in his eyes. “The Black family were all loyal servants of the Dark Lord until you came along, Sirius. It is quite believable that he could have trusted them with an important object such as this.”
“I never knew my family were that trusted by him,” Sirius frowned. “If it was given to anyone it must have been given to Regulus.”
There was a sudden pop as Kreacher appeared in the kitchen. The little Elf made a desperate lunge for the locket, but Dumbledore snatched out of his grasp. Kreacher looked longingly at the locket before collapsing to the floor and bursting into tears.
“Kreacher has failed Master Regulus,” he croaked.
“So, Regulus told you to hide the locket, did he?” Sirius growled.
“No, no,” Kreacher cried, “Master told me to destroy it!” The four wizards stared at each other in shock.
“Hold up a second,” Harry said. “I’m missing something here. Who is Regulus?”
“My younger brother,” Sirius explained. “He was the golden boy of the family, as he went off and became a Death Eater. Mother loved him for that.”
“Master Regulus did not want to be a Death Eater!” Kreacher cried. “He did not want to serve the Dark Lord, but was made to. When he realised the Dark Lord was going to kill him, Master steals this locket from him and orders Kreacher to destroy it. Kreacher has failed!”
“Regulus was forced to become a Death Eater?” Sirius said in a stunned voice. “Why didn’t he come to me? I would have helped him.”
“Master still loved his mother!” barked Kreacher. “If he had refused to join, it would have broken Mistress's heart.”
“Bloody hell,” muttered Sirius. “The poor kid. It looks like I had him wrong all these years.”
Harry, in the meantime, was watching the heart-broken little elf as he wept. He turned to Dumbledore. “Professor, were you intending to destroy the Horcrux tonight?”
“Why, yes, Harry. I have a basilisk fang with me for just such a purpose,” he confirmed. “I think the locket needs to be open for it to be destroyed, and that will require your Parseltongue skills.”
“Do you think Kreacher could be the one to actually destroy the locket?” Harry asked. Kreacher’s sobbing stopped instantly and he looked up hopefully.
“I don’t see why not,” Dumbledore said. He reached into his robes and pulled out the fang which he handed to Kreacher. “Now, Harry. You must command the locket to open. Kreacher, as soon as the locket opens you must strike immediately, understand?”
The elf nodded enthusiastically and Harry moved round the table until he stood right in front of the locket.
“Okay, Kreacher. I’ll command it to open on three. One…two…three…open.” The last word came out as a hiss and the golden doors of the locket swung open with a click. Before Harry could react, Kreacher gave a blood-curdling scream and plunged the fang into the locket. There was cracking noise and the locket blew apart.
“It’s done! It’s done!” cried Kreacher as he performed a grotesque little dance around the kitchen floor. Even Sirius smiled at the elf’s joy.
“Well done, Kreacher,” Harry congratulated him. The elf stopped and looked up at Harry with wide eyes.
“Bolly and Misty is being right,” he croaked. “Harry Potter is a great wizard!”
Harry smiled at the little elf’s praise. Dumbledore retrieved the basilisk fang, and a very happy Kreacher retired for the night, still grinning from ear to ear.
“Excellent,” Dumbledore said happily. “I believe this means we have only two more Horcruxes to find. This really is better than I could have ever hoped for. Now, I have selected the next place for us to investigate. You will recall, Harry, that when I showed you some of my memories from the Muggle orphanage Tom Riddle lived at as a boy, the woman in charge made mention of an incident that occurred during a school trip. If you remember, a pair of young Muggles were taken to a cave by Tom against their will. I believe I have located this cave and we should investigate it as soon as possible.”
“I’m not doing anything important tomorrow,” Harry said casually.
“Wonderful!” Dumbledore said. “One other thing, Harry. I recently remembered I had an item in my possession which belonged to your father. You must forgive me, but I completely forgotten that I had it. I feel it should now be returned to you.”
Dumbledore handed Harry a small package and then said his farewells. Harry eagerly ripped open the wrapping paper and discovered a cloak inside. Sirius gasped.
“James’s invisibility cloak!” he cried. “I always wondered what happened to it. Oh, Harry, you are going to love this cloak! It’s superb.”
Harry smiled as he ran his hands over the silky material. Irrespective of the cloak's usefulness, he finally owned something of his father's. Today truly had been a great day.
Saturday, 7 September 1996
The four wizards stood on an outcrop of dark rock, with the raging sea surging and pounding around them. Ahead stood a towering cliff face of black rock, jagged and foreboding. Harry didn’t think they could have found a more awe-inspiring or terrifying spot if they tried.
“Where exactly is this cave, Professor?” Sirius asked. “I can’t see an entrance.”
“We have to go on a little further,” Dumbledore replied. “You can’t see the cave from here.”
Carefully, the group began their descent among the slippery boulders and rock. At last they reached a very large stone at the edge of the cliff face. They were already soaked from the sea spray which washed over them, and Harry could taste the salty tang on his tongue. When the group reached the edge, Dumbledore pointed to the rock wall in front of him.
“Do you all see that fissure in the cliff?” he asked. “That’s our destination. I hope you’re all strong swimmers.”
Without another word Dumbledore leapt into the dark, swirling waters and began to swim into the crack in the cliff face. Harry had plenty of practice in swimming in the sea from his time in Cornwall, so he jumped into the water without hesitation. He began to swim after Dumbledore using strong, confident strokes. Judging by the amount of swearing he heard coming from behind him, Sirius and Remus had also entered the cold water.
Harry found himself entering a large cave. He soon felt sand beneath his feet and he began to wade towards dry land. Without warning, the cave was suddenly bathed in light and Harry saw Dumbledore ahead, his wand lit with a Lumos spell. Harry made his way towards him, and they stood awaiting the arrival of the other two wizards. This took some time; it appeared neither Sirius nor Remus were strong swimmers.
Dumbledore then led them further into the cave until they reached the back wall which appeared to be a dead end. The group took the opportunity to cast drying and warming charms on themselves. After some investigation, Dumbledore found something he believed to be the entrance they sought.
“This is the door, I believe,” he informed the group. “Unfortunately, we are required to give payment to pass. The door requires a blood sacrifice.” With that, he pulled out a small silver knife which Harry noted Remus eyeing with distaste.
“I’ll do it, Professor,” Sirius offered with reluctance. “It shouldn’t require much, should it?”
Sirius took the knife off of Dumbledore and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his forearm. Gritting his teeth, he ran the edge of the blade against his arm, cutting it open. Blood immediately began to drip against the rock and a few seconds later, a door-shaped hole appeared. Sirius immediately cast a healing charm on himself, closing the cut. The group then made their way through the newly created entrance.
They found themselves on the edge of a great, black lake so wide that the far shore couldn’t be seen. In the middle of the lake they could just see a greenish glow which was reflected in the black waters.
“That is our ultimate goal, gentleman,” said Dumbledore, pointing at the light. “Follow me, and please be careful not to touch the water.”
They walked around the edge of the lake for some time until Dumbledore unexpectedly stopped. He then examined the immediate area before walking to the water’s edge. Pulling out his wand, he waived it once and suddenly a thick chain appeared out of nowhere. Dumbledore gripped one end tightly in his hands and started to pull. The others rushed over and helped. After only a moment, the prow of a small boat broke the surface of the water and beached itself in front of them.
“I think that there is only room for two in this boat at best. Indeed, I think it was only designed for one wizard,” Dumbledore declared after examining it. “Call it a hunch, but I think Harry and I should be the ones to make the crossing.”
“Why Harry?” Sirius asked sharply.
“I have a feeling that it was intended for only one wizard to be in this boat. Harry is still underage so he may not register,” Dumbledore explained.
After some argument, it was agreed that Harry and the Professor would enter the boat. They got in and found themselves pressed up against each other awkwardly. Without any warning, the boat began to silently glide across the water. They sailed on relentlessly until they couldn’t see the shoreline. Harry glanced down into the water and received a shock.
“Professor, there are bodies in the water. I think one of them just moved!” he exclaimed.
“Yes, I fear they are part of the Horcrux's protection,” Dumbledore confirmed. “They are Inferi. Hopefully we will not have to deal with them, but if we do, remember fire spells are most effective.”
Eventually, the green light they had seen grew stronger until they were close enough to see that it emanated from a small island of smooth rock. As they approached the island they saw the light came from a basin, mounted on a pedestal, which stood in the centre of the rock. They carefully exited the boat and approached the basin.
It was full of a glowing, green liquid which was the source of the light. Dimly, at the bottom of the basin, they could just see a golden locket. Dumbledore sighed.
“We have had a wasted journey, Harry. The locket is an exact duplicate of the one we destroyed yesterday. This one is quite probably a decoy left by Regulus Black to hide the fact he had stolen the original, or else a trap.”
“But why didn’t Kreacher tell us about this?” Harry asked in frustration.
“Very simply, Harry, because we didn’t ask him. House elves have some peculiar habits and rarely think to offer information unless directly asked about something. They think it disrespectful, you see,” Dumbledore explained. “In any event, we didn’t actually tell Kreacher we were coming here, did we? He might have saved us the trip otherwise.”
“Great,” Harry said sarcastically. “So, do we try and get this locket to be sure, or just leave it?”
“I’m inclined to leave it,” Dumbledore replied. “I suspect its removal will be difficult and it would serve no useful purpose. Let us return to Remus and Sirius and explain that they just took a swimming lesson for no good reason.”
Grinning, Harry headed back to the small boat. He sat himself in the bow and Dumbledore seated himself took the stern. The boat silently began to move back the way it had come when suddenly a bony hand shot out of the water and grabbed the edge of the boat. It was soon joined by other hands, all grasping at the sides.
“Harry, I think we have set off a trap!” Dumbledore shouted. “Evidently there was some task we were meant to accomplish on the island, and failing to do so, we have unleashed the Inferi! Fire spells, now!”
Grasping his wand, Harry started casting Incendio spells as fast as he could. Between the two of them they managed to burn off all the initial wave of creatures, but the water around the boat was foaming with bodies, all trying to get to the boat. Harry knew they would be quickly overwhelmed unless they did something quickly.
“Professor, duck!” yelled Harry and made an intricate movement with his wand. A second later, fire erupted from it in a long stream. The fiery mass began to swirl and shift, writhing as it expanded. A second later and it formed itself into the shape of a huge serpent, burning all in its path.
“Fiendfyre!” Dumbledore exclaimed. “Harry, do you know how to control it?”
“I think so!” Harry yelled back. In truth, this was the first time he had ever cast the spell and he was desperately trying to keep it under control. Gritting his teeth, Harry forced the fiery beast to circle the boat, incinerating Inferi as it passed. The boat was still moving forward, making control of the spell even harder, and a couple of times he came dangerously close to allowing the serpent to crash right into them.
With Dumbledore still casting incendiary charms to dispatch individual Inferi, Harry continued to allow the Fiendfyre to move in ever increasing circles. By now the smell of burning flesh was overpowering and Harry fought the urge to vomit. The water was filled with chard remains which made things worse.
Gradually, the fire serpent's orbit moved further and further from the boat. Seeing where the beast was heading, Harry had an idea. His face dripping with sweat, he directed the serpent towards the small island they had just left and crashed the beast directly into it. The island seemed to be enveloped in a fireball for a second before the serpent moved on. Looking back, Harry could see the basin and pedestal had been vaporised, and hopefully the locket along with them.
“Good work, Harry,” he heard Dumbledore call. “Better safe than sorry!”
Such was the destructive force of the Fiendfyre spell that soon no more Inferi could be seen. Feeling like he was at the end of his endurance, Harry carefully allowed the fire serpent to disperse. It flickered and died, leaving a few glowing embers hanging in the air.
“Marvellous, my boy, just marvellous!” Dumbledore congratulated him. “I’ve never seen anyone cast that spell with such a level of control. You’ve become a tremendously powerful wizard, Harry.”
“I don’t think I’ll be trying it again for a while,” Harry said, drooping. It had taken everything he had to keep the spell on course, and it had nearly got away from him several times. He slumped down and tried to relax as much as his cramped position would allow.
Eventually, they reached the shoreline where Sirius was beside himself with worry.
“What happened out there?” he demanded while helping them from the boat. “It looked like the entire cavern was on fire!”
“We ran into a few Inferi,” explained Dumbledore. “Harry decided to let his pyromaniac urges out. I was rather lucky not to have my beard singed off.”
“Was there a Horcrux out there?” Remus asked.
Harry shook his head. “This trip was a waste of time, I’m afraid,” he said wearily. “Let’s get out of here and we’ll explain all.”
With Sirius half-carrying an exhausted Harry, the four wizards began their trek back outside.
AN
So Snape escapes with his head still on his shoulders. See, everyone, this is why I had Harry feeling he overacted during his confrontation with Slughorn, so his reaction here would be tempered somewhat. It was all part of the plan! Although Snape won’t be Harry’s teacher at any point in this story, I still have a lot of uses for him. I need him alive!
The end scene in the cavern was put there for two reasons. Firstly, I thought the Horcrux hunt was going a bit too smoothly. It was about time the gang hit a snag. Secondly, I really wanted a scene where Harry casts Fiendfyre! Fire good! That’s a cool spell, as long as you can control it, eh, Mr Crabbe?
The eagle-eyed among you will notice that my formatting problems have vanished. A huge thanks to all those who offered help and advice. As Emlyn correctly point out to me, under the site’s help option, there is an extremely useful HTML FAQ which sorted me out in about five minutes. I swear I checked there as soon as it was explained what my problem was. How the *%$ did I miss it? Me so stupid…
Thanks as always to MinistryMalcontent for his beta work. Despite what he says, I consider the Trinket Awards I recently won to be partly his. Don’t argue, Tom, I doubt I would have got half these chapters validated without you!
Chapter 14: Chapter 14 – Death Be My Guide
Author's Notes: I think I had better flag up a warning about violence in this chapter. The war catches up with Harry and the results are grim. Thanks to Tom for his superb beta work as ever.
Wednesday, 18 December 1996
The sky was dark and overcast as Harry casually made his way down Diagon Alley. The weather was chilly, but not unpleasantly so. It made a nice change for him to be able to be able to take his time and window-shop to his heart’s content.
Although he had arrived with Sirius and Remus, they had headed off in different directions, both citing urgent errands. To be truthful, Harry had been quite pleased that neither man felt the need to keep an eye on him.
He wasn’t concerned that he would be recognised by the busy crowds attending to their Christmas shopping. A glamour charm covered his scar, and that would have been the only real giveaway as to his identity. The last published photograph of him had been printed nearly eight years ago. A lucky reporter had spotted him while he was out shopping with his Aunt Petunia, and the subsequent picture had shown a small, nervous looking child with short, spiky hair and thick glasses. He was now a tall, athletic-looking young man with his long hair tied back into a pony-tail. Additionally, thanks to Perenelle’s potion skills, he no longer needed spectacles. If his younger self had been shown a photo of him now he wouldn’t have recognised himself, glamour or no glamour.
Feeling relaxed and full of festive spirit, he paused to look in shop windows and examine the items for sale. Everywhere had decorations up, and all it needed was a sprinkling of snow to give the Alley the final Christmassy touch. He’d already bought gifts for Sirius and Remus, but was struggling to think of something to get Tonks. Obviously, buying presents for girls was not his strong point.
Continuing down the Alley, he came to a stop outside a bakery. The shop had a mouth-watering display of cakes in the window, and Harry couldn’t help but admire the artistry that went into the decoration on some of them. He was seriously considering the purchase of a delicious looking chocolate-orange cake, which someone had drenched in fresh cream, when he heard a female voice beside him.
“They all look wonderful, don’t they?” the voice said.
Harry turned and saw a young woman, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old he would guess, standing admiring the display. She was fairly small, around five foot five, and had a mass of golden-brown hair which hung down her back in curls. Her robes were cream coloured and looked fairly expensive. She turned and smiled at Harry, and he felt himself automatically smiling back. She was beautiful.
“My parents always buy a cake here every Christmas. I thought this year I’d get ahead of them and see what’s on offer. More chance of me being able to get them to pick my favourite,” she explained.
“Good plan,” Harry agreed.
“I thought so,” she laughed. Her voice was clear and bright, and for some reason made Harry’s knees tremble. He still hadn’t got used to being around girls again after his time in Japan, he decided. Desperately, he tried to think of something interesting to say.
“So, which one is your favourite, then?” he asked, gesturing at the display. The girl made a show of looking over the selection again before pointing to a cake in the middle.
“That one,” she declared. “The three layer chocolate cake with chocolate decorations. Oh, and chocolate flakes sprinkled on it, too!”
“Do I detect a theme here?” Harry laughed. “You don’t happen to be a bit partial to chocolate, do you?”
“Could be!” she giggled. “I’m Emma by the way.”
“Harry,” he replied, offering his hand which the girl shook enthusiastically.
“So, what do you do, Harry?” Emma asked. “I thought you would have still been at school, but I guess that as you’re not at Hogwarts, you must have already graduated. How old you are?”
“I’m sixteen,” he replied, desperately hoping Emma was of a not too dissimilar age. “I’m home schooled, you see.”
“Ah, I see. You’re the same age as me,” she said, to Harry’s relief. “I attend Beauxbatons; my mother went there and wanted me to attend as well. They break-up for the holidays earlier than Hogwarts. I get to do all my Christmas shopping before the shops get too busy, which is great.”
“Beauxbatons? I’m not surprised. I heard they only accept really pretty witches there,” Harry said, before inwardly cringing at the cheesiness of what he had just said. Sirius could probably get away with a line like that, but he doubted he could.
“Flatterer!” Emma said, giving him another of her wonderful smiles.
Maybe I will get away with a bit of cheese after all, he thought. In fact, she seemed very friendly indeed. Harry found himself liking Emma very much and was desperately thinking of ways to continue the conversation. She said she liked chocolate, and there was a caf up the Alley which did really nice hot chocolate. Perhaps she would like to join him for a cup? Suddenly feeling brave, he decided to ask her.
“Actually, Emma, I was just about to…” Harry got no further as he was suddenly interrupted by a thunderous explosion coming from further down the street. He spun around to see what had happened.
At first, he could see nothing. The crowd of shoppers, obviously able to see something he couldn’t, had started to panic and were running in all directions. Now Harry could hear screaming, and the sound of breaking glass. Then, a gap appeared in the crowd; and he saw a figure dressed all in back wearing a gruesome-looking mask in the shape of a skull.
“Death Eaters!” he exclaimed in surprise.
“Oh no! My parents are down there!” Emma cried. And before he could stop her, the girl ran into the crowd, obviously intent on finding her mother and father.
“Come back, Emma!” Harry yelled. “It’s not safe.”
But it was too late. The girl vanished from his sight, hidden by the mass of bodies as people tried to get away. Gritting his teeth, Harry drew his wand. He had to get closer to the Death Eater as he currently had no chance of getting a clear shot. He fought against the tide of shoppers as they all tried to get further up the Alley. Fortunately, the mass of people soon started to thin as they found cover.
Harry managed to get within about twenty yards of the Death Eater who was shooting hexes at people fleeing into an adjoining street. Harry took careful aim and prepared to launch a stunning spell at the figure. Unfortunately, just as he released the spell an elderly witch slammed into him in her haste to escape. As a result, Harry’s stunner missed the Death Eater by several feet. The cloaked figure spun around to see where the curse had come from and instantly spotted Harry.
The Death Eater was quick and fired off a volley of cutting charms at him. Harry managed to deflect the first one with a shield spell and dodged the other two. After seeing the potentially lethal spells pass narrowly by him, he was feeling a lot less charitable towards his opponent. He responded with a pair of cutting curses of his own. The Death Eater handled these without problems.
The pair were soon locked into an intense battle. Apart from his brief duel with Voldemort, this was the first time Harry had ever been in a real life or death fight. His initial fear and hesitance faded as he became drawn into the battle. His foe had a definite preference for cutting charms, while Harry tried to use a wider spell selection.
He could sense his opponent getting more frustrated as the Death Eater began to cast spells frantically at him. Fortunately, this gave Harry an opening. While the Death Eater was intent on attack, he was neglecting his defence. Harry waited until his foe had sent a cluster of spells at him rapidly before he struck back with a powerful cutting spell. The Death Eater was caught in the middle of casting his own spell and didn’t have time to get a shield in place. Harry’s spell struck him in the chest, knocked him backwards.
Warily, he approached the prostrate figure and saw that his spell had done more damage than he had intended. A large pool of blood was forming on the cobbled street, and Harry could see a large gash in the Death Eater's side. Carefully, he rolled the man onto his back and he gasped at the sight.
His cutting spell had sliced right through the Death Eater, killing him instantly. But this was not what had shocked him the most. While moving the body, the skull-shaped mask had slipped and fallen to the ground.
Harry stared in horror; the Death Eater was a witch.
She looked to be middle-aged and had a plain, unremarkable face. Harry stood rigid, unable to comprehend what he had done. Not only had he just killed someone for the first time, he had killed a woman. What if she was a mother? She certainly looked old enough. Had he just orphaned some poor child somewhere?
Suddenly, an explosion nearby knocked Harry out of his daze. Military training is repetitive for a reason. It builds muscle-memory which enables a solider to react automatically, no matter what the circumstances. Although his brain was in a state of near shock, thanks to the endless drills he learned in Japan, his body reacted without conscious thought. Harry returned fire before he even realised he had lifted his wand.
Standing further down the Alley were two more Death Eaters, both casting spells at him as fast as they could. A sickly green light flashed close by him, and Harry realised they were using the killing curse. Anger flared within him and he quickly formed a battle plan.
The Death Eaters were standing quite close together. Earlier, Harry had noticed that the cobbled streets had cut-up comparatively easily under spell-fire. Putting as much power as he could into the spell, Harry cast a blasting curse at the ground a couple of yards in front of the Death Eaters. The spell hit the cobbled street, ripping it open. Due to the angle the spell hit, it blasted a mass of stone and debris straight at the pair. They were both blown backward and landed in broken heap several yards away.
Running forward, Harry could see that his spell had been lethal. One of the Death Eaters appeared to have had an arm blown off, and the other appeared to have lost both legs below the knee. Harry was appalled at the damage he had managed to do. He stared at the bodies for a moment, glad that both of them still had their masks in place. He couldn’t stand the thought of looking at the faces of more people he had killed. Nevertheless, he knew he couldn’t give up now.
With adrenalin pumping through him, Harry didn’t pause. He took off down the Alley in a slow jog, seeking more Death Eaters. He had just reached Flourish and Blotts when he saw three more Death Eaters, but these were already locked in combat with several witches and wizards. Harry charged into the fight, sending a volley of hexes and curses at the nearest opponent. The figure dropped like a stone, and the others turned to look in Harry’s direction.
“Reinforcements!” One of the Death Eaters yelled, his voice muffled by his mask. “Let’s get out of here.” With that, the man grabbed at something hung round his neck and vanished. His surviving companion did likewise and also disappeared.
Harry’s body sagged in relief. He wearily looked about for any new threats, while silently praying that the fight was actually over. Only then did he start to appreciate how much damage had been done to Diagon Alley. The whole place was strewn in glass and debris. Several buildings looked like they had collapsed in on themselves, and were little more than a pile of rubble. Further down the alley he could see several shops were on fire.
Harry suddenly remembered Sirius and Remus. Desperately, he began looking around for them, hoping that they were unharmed. Thinking that Sirius had mentioned something about visiting Gringotts, Harry began to run back down the alley in that direction. He was just passing a small side street when the sound of crying caught his attention.
He stopped and noticed a middle-aged woman on her knees cradling a body. The woman was sobbing loudly as she held the unmoving form. A chilling fear gripped Harry, and he moved towards the woman. As he got closer, he got a good look at the body she was holding. It was a young woman with long, golden-brown hair. Blood was splattered all over the girl’s cream-coloured robes.
Harry just managed to turn and reach the entrance to the side street before he vomited.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
The three wizards sat silently around the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place. The only sound was the ticking of a clock mounted on the far wall.
Harry cradled a mug of tea in his hands which was now stone cold. He stared unseeingly at the table top, completely motionless. Sirius sat next to him, equally still. The man knew that nothing he could say at present would help his godson, so he merely sat nearby, trying to offer comfort by his presence. Across the table sat Remus. Occasionally, he would look up at the other two in concern, but he too remained silent.
Suddenly, the kitchen door opened, causing all three of them to look up with a start. Tonks entered, looking tired and stressed. She sat down next to Remus, dropping a number of paper files she had been carrying on the table top. She sighed, but seemed unwilling to break the silence which hung heavily about the room. Eventually, Remus spoke up.
“You look worn out, Tonks. Would you like some tea?” he asked.
“Thanks, Remus,” she replied, favouring him with a small, tired smile.
Remus got up to prepare her drink.
“So, what was the total damage, then?” Sirius asked. He sounded reluctant, like he didn’t really want to know the answer.
“Twenty-three dead, forty-four injured,” Tonks replied in a flat voice. “About half a dozen shops were totally destroyed, and nearly every other shop in the main alley suffered some degree of damage.”
“Diagon Alley is supposed to be protected. How did the Death Eaters get in?” Sirius wanted to know.
“Looks like they got in via Knockturn Alley,” she replied.
“Damn it!” Sirius swore. “That’s the most obvious entry point. There are supposed to be Aurors posted there. What the hell were they doing?”
“They’re dead,” Tonks spat back.
There was a long silence.
“I’m sorry,” Sirius said eventually. “Was it anyone we know?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Tonks replied, her anger gone as fast as it had arrived. “They were a couple young blokes who had recently graduated from Auror School. They were supposed to be paired with more experienced partners but, well, you know how stretched we are at present.”
Another long silence followed until Harry’s voice disturbed the still.
“The Death Eaters I killed; did you find out who they were?” he asked.
Tonks looked at him compassionately. “Are you sure you want to know, love?” she asked.
“Yeah, I think I need to,” Harry replied quietly.
Tonks nodded slightly and selected one of the report files laid out in front of her. She flipped over some pages until she found what she wanted.
“Okay, starting with the female Death Eater you dispatched, her name was Alecto Carrow,” Tonks read.
“Carrow!” Sirius exclaimed. “That evil bitch! Harry, she was one of the old guard. Voldemort recruited her during the first war. She and her brother were among the vilest excuses for human beings it’s ever been my misfortune to meet.”
“Harry got her brother as well. He was one of the two Death Eaters taken out by that blasting charm,” Tonks supplied.
“Harry, I have no idea if this will make you feel any better, but the world is a far, far happier place without those two in it,” Remus said, with surprising heat in his voice. “Sirius is right, the Carrows were vile! Some of the things I’ve seen…they were just repulsive people. Let me know when their funeral is, Tonks. I want to be there to dance on their graves.”
Harry looked up in shock at the normally mild-mannered man. It was rare that he ever lost his temper, and Harry wondered what Remus had witnessed that left such a terrible memory. Maybe it was best if he never found out.
“The other two only became Death Eaters recently, we think,” continued Tonks. “Tiberius Carmichael and Curtis Davenport. They weren’t even on the suspected Death Eaters list, although they both had criminal records a mile long.”
“Voldemort’s been recruiting,” Sirius noted.
“How many Death Eaters took part in the attack in total?” Remus asked.
“We’re not sure, but we think between fifteen and twenty,” Tonks replied.
“So, the four Harry disposed of represented losses of at least a fifth of the attacking force,” Sirius noted. “Voldemort won’t be pleased with that.”
“But it’s a fraction of the number that were killed by them,” Harry snapped. “If I’d been faster maybe more people would have survived. Maybe I could have saved Emma.”
“Emma?” questioned Tonks.
“A rather attractive girl Harry met just before the attack, apparently,” Sirius explained quietly. Tonks turned her attention back to the file in front of her and turned a page. She ran her figure down the list of victims of the attack.
“Emma Carlisle, aged fourteen,” she read.
“Fourteen? She lied about her age. Funny, she looked much older,” Harry said. He gave what sounded like a forced laugh, but came out more like a sob.
“Actually, witches are generally older than they look, Harry,” Sirius informed him. “Why, Tonks here is in her mid-forties.”
“Oi!” Tonks protested to gentle laughter.
“I wondered why you always needed so much make-up,” Remus said.
“Bloody hell! What is this, wind-up Tonks day?” she huffed, but she didn’t appear really angry.
Harry knew the others were trying to lighten the mood and appreciated their efforts, but he need to get things straight in his head before he could move forward. He needed answers.
“I just feel so confused,” he said, instantly quietening the others. “When I realised I had killed that first Death Eater, I was horrified. I kept thinking, ‘this can’t be real, I couldn’t do that’, you know? But, later, when I saw Emma’s mother holding her body, I just wanted to kill again. I wanted to hunt down every Death Eater in the world and slaughter them all. Then I started feeling guilty for wanting to kill, I’d be no better than them, would I? I just don’t know what to feel at the moment, let alone think!”
“Harry, you’re sixteen years old. No-one your age should have to go through what you have,” Sirius said, putting his arm round Harry’s shoulders. “Don’t try and analyse anything at the moment. Give it time, it will help put a bit of perspective on things.”
“Have…have you ever killed anyone?” Harry asked nervously. Sirius looked grim.
“Yes, yes, I have,” he answered simply.
“I have too” Remus replied to Harry’s unspoken question. “I don’t think there’s a surviving member of the original Order that hasn’t taken life. I doubt they would be here otherwise.”
“I’ve been lucky,” Tonks mused, “I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve had to kill. If attacks continue like this, however, I expect that will change.”
“Just try and think about the harm those Death Eaters could have done if they lived,” Sirius urged. “The Carrows, especially. How many lives have you saved by ridding the world of those bastards?”
Harry nodded, and the memory of a similar conversation he had in Japan with Tamazuki came to mind. Well, he had done what he had been trained to do: he had stood his ground and killed his enemies.
He just wished someone had warned him how much it hurt inside.
Monday, 3 March 1997
It had been a long, cold winter and spring was slow to arrive. Harry kicked at a lump of ice that lay in his path, the remnants of last week’s snow. The bitter wind tried to find gaps in his heavy winter clothing and succeeded with uncomfortably regularity.
He had spent a sombre Christmas at Grimmauld Place before the group resumed their Horcrux hunt. Unfortunately, their early success was not to be repeated; and they had made no further progress. Several locations had been scouted without luck. The most memorable had been Godrick’s Hollow, the place where Harry had been born and had lived until he was fifteen months old.
In truth, he had been in the wrong frame of mind when he had visited the village. They had gone to the old Potter residence and it had brought a few half-remembered memories to him, but they were distant and hazy. Sirius had then led him to his parent’s grave, but that had been even worse. It was just a lump of stone with some writing on it, perched on a plot of dirt. He could feel nothing of his parents there. They were long gone, onwards to the next great adventure. He had left feeling depressed and lonely.
Various other locations had been visited. The orphanage where a young Tom Riddle had stayed was long gone, they discovered. The Riddle manor house had proved to be empty and desolate. They had even tried breaking into Borgin and Burkes, but despite finding a lot of illegal objects, there was no hint of a Horcrux. They had left the shop and then sent the Aurors an anonymous tip about certain hiding places within the building.
Life had bogged down into an endless routine of training and studying. Even successfully completing his Animagus training had not raised Harry’s spirits greatly. Everyday the newspapers brought more stories of Death Eater attacks and mounting casualties. There had been a mass breakout at Azkaban, and the Dementors had abandoned their posts. Panic was starting to spread, and it had been sufficient to bring down the Minister of Magic himself. Cornelius Fudge had been a self-important idiot, but at least his replacement, Rufus Scrimgeour, was something of an improvement. Auror numbers were increased and security tightened. But it was still just pissing in the wind, Harry thought. Voldemort was still out there spreading terror.
It hadn’t helped that since the incident at Diagon Alley he was now being hounded by the press. Some journalist had managed to take a picture of him while he was fighting, and it made the Daily Prophet’s front page. Most of the subsequent articles had been complete rubbish, but it hadn’t stopped the press from fixating on him. Written requests for interviews had been put straight in the bin.
In an effort to keep his skills sharp and give himself the illusion of doing something useful, Harry had taken to joining the regular Order of the Phoenix members when they undertook their normal tasks. Today, he and Tonks were patrolling a windswept Hogsmeade.
From the main street, Harry could plainly see Hogwarts School sprawled on the high ground above the village. He was still convinced that the school was the perfect location to hide a Horcrux, although Professor Dumbledore had assured him that he had undertaken another search without finding anything. Harry snorted. He had never had much faith in the supposedly ‘greatest wizard of the age,’ and nothing the man had done during the Horcrux hunt had convinced him to change his mind.
Harry had just reached the Three Broomsticks pub and was seriously considering nipping in for a warming Butterbeer when he heard a series of popping noises around him. He spun around to see a dozen Death Eaters Apparate in the middle of the road. Harry was surprised to see them, as he had assumed they would only attack on a day the school children were allowed into the village. He didn’t hesitate, however.
His first blasting curse hit the nearest Death Eater in the chest before he had even had the chance to look round. The man was thrown back into a wall and he slumped to the ground. He would not be getting up again. The remaining Death Eaters started to spread out and return spell fire. In addition to the Order members, a number of Aurors were permanently assigned to Hogsmeade; and, judging by the commotion coming from further down the street, they had been quick into action.
Harry started to duel the next two Death Eaters simultaneously. One of them appeared significantly more skilled than the other, and Harry kept his attention on him. A rapidly cast series of spells broke the man’s shields down before a bludgeoning hex knocked him flying. He lay on the ground, moaning. The other Death Eater panicked and started to back away. A powerful cutting curse ended his retreat.
Looking down the street, Harry was heartened to see a number of villagers had joined in the fight. The remaining Death Eaters were outnumbered and falling fast. Harry frowned; the Death Eaters were falling too fast. They seemed poorly trained in comparison to the rest of Voldemort’s forces that he had encountered. Something was definitely wrong.
Soon the last of the Death Eaters had been defeated and the Aurors, helped by the villagers, were moving among the bodies checking for survivors. Harry couldn’t see Tonks, and he wondered if she had the same misgivings as he did. He kept himself hidden in the shadows, remaining watchful.
Suddenly, a further series of popping noises announced the arrival of a second wave of Death Eaters. Rather than arriving in the middle of the street, this group arrived at either end. They were instantly into action and were evidently more skilled than their comrades.
The Aurors and villagers were caught in the open, and many fell under the first barrage of spells. Harry was angered to see the familiar sickly green bolts of light that signalled the Killing Curse being used. He leapt into action.
He took down the nearest Death Eater easily, as the man was simply looking the other way. His strangled scream as he fell unfortunately alerted others to Harry’s presence, and he was soon in a hard fight. He again faced two Death Eaters simultaneously, but this pair were a very different prospect to first ones he fought. They worked efficiently as a team, one shielding while the other launched offensive spells. When the Death Eater maintaining the shield tired, they swapped roles.
Knowing the longer they fought, the more chance they had of reinforcements arriving, Harry took no risks. He stayed mobile and shielded more than he attacked. He was somewhat surprised, therefore, when a cutting curse hit his left-hand opponent. He suddenly realised he had cast the spell just as the pair were changing over their shielding responsibilities. The man fell, clutching at his chest and screaming.
The remaining Death Eater became enraged at this. He flung curse after curse at Harry, forcing him on the defensive. While he was able to dodge and shield successfully, Harry could make no progress against the man. He would just have to hang on and hope the Death Eater tired himself out soon.
Unfortunately, his previous good luck chose that moment to desert him. Dodging to one side, his foot landed on a patch of ice and he slipped. The Death Eater took immediate advantage and hurled a cutting curse at him while he struggled to rise. It hit him in the stomach and sent him spinning.
Harry screamed as he fell. He felt like his stomach had been ripped open and he desperately pressed his hand to the wound. Blood was spurting everywhere, and he felt himself start to panic. Every tiny movement was agony, but he forced himself to roll over and face the Death Eater. The man stood over him, his wand raised triumphantly. Harry knew he was dead.
The Death Eater pointed his wand directly at Harry’s head, and he couldn’t help but wince. He screwed his eyes closed and waited for the killing blow.
It never came.
Realising something should have happened by that point, Harry opened his eyes and saw the Death Eater lying in a heap in front of him. Looking up, he was relieved to see a grinning Tonks standing there.
“Tonks, I’m hurt,” he gasped, the pain threatening to make him pass out.
“Shit!” Tonks exclaimed, seeing the blood collecting on the cobbled street for the first time. She knelt and cast several healing spells. Harry groaned with relief as the pain subsided and the bleeding stopped. Tonks stood and looked down at him with a worried expression.
“Harry, we need to get you to St Mungo’s quickly. That wound is…argghhhh!” Tonks suddenly let loose a blood-chilling scream and toppled forward. Harry could see her eyes were vacant and unseeing.
Looking up, he saw a witch stood perhaps fifteen yards in front of him. Although dressed in the robes of a Death Eater, she wore no mask. Really, she didn’t need to as her face was gaunt and skull-like. She had long black hair which hung limp and bedraggled. The worst thing about her was the manic grin she wore on her face which betrayed the sheer pleasure she had found in killing Tonks.
Harry knew of her. Everyone in the Order knew of her. Some had even met her but none had lived to tell the tale, or at least, lived and been able to tell their story. Following the break-out at Azkaban this witch’s picture had featured on wanted posters spread far and wide, and she was listed as the ‘most wanted’ right behind Voldemort himself.
Bellatrix Lestrange.
The witch gave a ghastly cackle which gave Harry the feeling she had only a distant relationship with sanity.
“Bye, bye, Nymphadora!” she laughed. “Oh, my lovely little niece is all hurty! Poor ickle Tonksy!”
For a second, Harry could only stare at the witch in disbelief. Then a seething rage filled him. His anger was so overwhelming he thought he would explode unless he found an outlet. He was surprised to find his wand still in his hand and he aimed it direct at Bellatrix.
He started to hurl blasting charms at the witch. In his rage, he pushed every drop of power into the spells that he could. There was no conscious thought behind his actions, only pure, white hatred.
Bellatrix seemed to be caught by surprise and barely managed to get her shield in place in time. Harry’s relentless assault battered her, and her mocking grin turned into bitter snarl. Bellatrix was a powerful witch, but even she was struggling under the barrage.
Laying on his side, and with a red mist in front of his eyes, Harry’s aim was rather random. Only about half his spells actually impacted on Bellatrix’s shield, the rest either sailed past her or ripped gaping holes in the road. Bellatrix was gradually beaten back until she nearly had her back to a stone wall that lined the street. Then one of Harry’s spells slipped just wide of her shield and hit the wall, blasting it to pieces.
Bellatrix screamed as bit of debris ripped into her back and she fell. For a second Harry lost sight of her in the dust and smoke, and he prayed she was dead. To his frustration, a second later she stood, clutching her side in obvious pain. For a second the two of them stared at each other in undisguised hatred.
“I’ll remember you, little boy,” she hissed, before grabbing at a chain around her neck. She vanished instantly.
Harry slumped back. He realised during his exertions he had reopened the wound Tonks had so recently sealed. He looked at her mangled body, and despair washed over him. He tried to crawl towards her, but pain just tore through him as he attempted to move. As the blood began to flow freely through his fingers, his vision started to darken and, mercifully, blackness claimed him.
Chapter 15: Chapter 15 – To Catch a Raven
Author's Notes: Why is it the chapters you think are straightforward always end up causing the most headaches? Poor Tom (MinistryMalcontent) had to put in a bit of extra work in sorting out my plot holes on this one and huge thanks to him. Hopefully the policemens actions come over as believable although I don’t think they would ever try and fire a warning shot in real life. Anyway, here’s Harry vs. Bellatrix, round 2!
Saturday, 8 March 1997
Had it really only been three months since he had been in this same situation, Harry wondered to himself.
He was sat at the kitchen table at Grimmauld Place with Sirius beside him and Remus sat across from him. Last time he had been feeling wretched following the slaughter at Diagon Alley and his confusion at having taken another human’s life. Now he was back sitting in the same place, hurting once again in body and soul. The worst thing was that he wasn’t even the one hurting the most.
Harry had been released from St Mungo’s that morning with a bag full of potions to be taken at regular intervals and strict instructions to rest. He didn’t have much hope of complying with the instructions to rest. Every time he’d tried to sleep, he’d awoken with dreadful nightmares which involved a cackling, dead-eyed witch killing everyone he knew. Bellatrix had really got to him, he had to admit.
Across the table Remus absently played with his glass of firewhiskey. As soon as they had sat down, Sirius had poured them all a glass of the stuff. Harry was pretty sure that drinking would have been on the list of activities banned by his Healer, if the man had thought to warn him about it. Remus had barely touched his drink. Indeed, he had barely said a word since they had picked Harry up from the hospital. From the look on Sirius’s face, Harry could tell he was worried about his best friend.
“So, another week and you should be back to full health, eh, Harry?” Sirius asked, seemingly just in an effort to break the oppressive silence.
“Yeah, as long as I take my potions and get plenty of rest, according to the Healer I’ll be fine. He didn’t say what I was supposed to do in the event of being attacked by a psychopathic Dark Lord or his deranged followers, though,” Harry replied.
Sirius chuckled.
“You should have asked for a doctor’s note. ‘Dear Mr Voldemort, Harry is excused duelling at present as he has not been feeling well’. That should…”
“SHUT UP!” Remus suddenly screamed, making them jump. “Just shut up! I can’t stand your insane babbling any more.” He slumped in his chair, tears running down his checks.
Sirius stared in shock at his friend for a second before jumping from his seat and walking round the table. He then grabbed Remus in a rough hug.
“It’s alright, mate,” Sirius said quietly. “Just let it all out.”
“It’s not alright!” Remus wailed, his voice muffled as he pressed his face into Sirius’s shoulder. “Nothing will be alright ever again.”
“It’s okay to feel like this, Moony. We know how you felt about Tonks. You should…” Sirius began before being cut off.
“But that’s just it!” Remus spat. “I never told her how I felt. I never told her that I loved her. Never once. And now it’s too late.”
“She knew how you felt,” Harry insisted.
“Did she, Harry?” Remus asked disbelievingly. “Does anyone know for certain unless they hear the words? She told me she loved me once, but I just said that I was too old and too dangerous for her. I took her love and threw it away. She must have hated me.”
“No, she loved you,” Harry said urgently. “You could see it in her eyes every time she looked at you. Tonks understood you were trying to protect her. She just didn’t agree with your reasoning, that’s all. But it never changed the way she felt about you.”
Remus stared at Harry helplessly for a second, before breaking down in tears again. He buried his head in his hands, and his body shook with agonizing sobs. Sirius just held the man tight before looking up at Harry.
“Why don’t you go to bed, Harry. You need your rest, and I can look after things down here,” he suggested.
Harry just nodded and quietly left the kitchen. Closing the door behind him, he instantly felt relief at leaving the highly-charged atmosphere.
Wearily, he started to make his way upstairs. As he did so, he brooded over the relationship between Remus and Tonks. They had quite obviously been crazy about each other. Had Remus been wrong to keep them apart because he felt he wouldn’t make a good partner for her? Being a Werewolf undoubtedly coloured his thinking, but the man had that under control, didn’t he? In the nine months Harry had been in the house, he had never seen nor heard anything of Remus’s transformations. There was apparently a secure room in the basement, and Sirius ensured a supply of Wolfsbane Potion was always on hand, so was it really an issue? As for him being too old and poor, well, Tonks didn’t seem to care in the slightest.
Was denying your feelings to protect the other person the greatest show of love, or was it selfishness? Was Remus protecting Tonks, or just himself? In this case, Harry strongly felt that Remus had got it all wrong. By pushing her away, he hadn’t made Tonks any safer and certainly not happier. With their work for the Order, either of them could have been killed at any time. Now Tonks was gone, and Remus was just left with guilt and regrets.
Harry signed. If he was put in the same position, he wondered, would he do things differently? He didn’t know, but he promised himself that he would always remember this moment if he was.
Monday, 9 June 1997
Walking carefully, Harry picked his way among the rubbish that littered the floor of the abandoned warehouse. This time he knew she was close; he could feel her presence here.
Approaching the staircase, he spotted a crumpled figure lying on the ground. He approached carefully with his wand extended in front of him and his Katana ready in his other hand. As he reached the body, he noticed the blood smeared on the ground, like it had been dragged along the floor. He crouched down and, putting his wand down for a second, gently turned the body over. He instantly recognised the person: Hestia Jones.
“Oh, Hestia, I told you not to get too close to her,” he whispered bitterly.
He’d liked Hestia; she’d been a warm-hearted, sensible witch who had always been friendly to him at Order meetings. Hestia had been meant to merely observe this building, not enter it. Harry wondered what had happened to change that.
Suddenly, the large panel door on the far wall burst open and six men ran into the room. They were all dressed in dark blue overalls and were wearing helmets and goggles. They all also carried sub-machine guns which were pointed directly at Harry.
“Police!” screamed the nearest one. “Drop that sword! Raise your hands and back away from the woman!”
Harry observed the Muggles with a calm detachment. Picking up his wand, he casually stood and surreptitiously cast a quick spell. He looked the lead policeman in the eyes.
“You’re too late, she’s dead,” he informed the man.
“Drop the weapon and raise your arms above your head,” the policeman persisted. “I won’t warn you again!”
“They won’t work, you know. Your guns, I mean,” Harry said conversationally. One of the policemen snorted at that.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, sonny,” he growled. “Mr Heckler and Mr Koch may disagree with you.”
“I’m not the one who killed her,” Harry continued, ignoring the warning. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you chase after the person who did. She’s just too dangerous. You’ll have to leave her to me.”
“What the hell are you talking about, you arsehole?” the lead policeman shouted. “I told you to get your hands above your head. Do it! Now! This is your last warning.”
“You really don’t know what you’re getting into,” Harry said. “But don’t worry about it. In a little while some people from the Ministry will turn up and wipe your memories of these events. You’ll all be able to carry on your lives in complete ignorance.”
“DROP THE SWORD AND PUT HANDS ABOVE YOUR HEAD!” the policeman yelled, his weapon pointing squarely at Harry. “Damn it!”
The policeman shifted his aim slightly, pointing the gun just over Harry’s head. He then pulled the trigger, intending to send a warning shot over his head.
Click. Nothing happened.
In a panic the man re-cocked his weapon, sending an unspent bullet shooting out the ejection port. He aimed and pulled the trigger again.
Click.
The second policeman rushed up and pointed his gun directly at Harry’s head.
Click.
One by one, the other policeman all tried firing their weapons at Harry. Several of them tried pulling their back-up pistols from their holsters, but they proved no more effective than the sub-machine guns. The policeman all looked at each other in bewilderment.
Wanting to try and calm the policemen down, Harry banished the Katana from his hand. The men collectively gasped and stared at him in shock.
“Sorry, I cast a dampening field over the room,” Harry explained. “I told you guns wouldn’t work, didn’t I? Now, gentlemen, I suggest you just take a seat and wait quietly for the Obliviators to arrive. I’m sure they won’t be long.”
Suddenly, an eerie cackling laugh echoed through the building. Everyone in the room automatically looked up in fear.
“Pooootter! Oh, ickle baby Potter! Come and play with me! I’m soooo bored,” the faint voice called.
“What the bloody hell was that?” asked one of the policemen.
“That was the evil witch who killed poor Hestia here,” Harry replied, his eyes staring at the ceiling like he was trying to look through the concrete.
“Look, what the hell is going on here? Who are you and how did you stop our guns working? What did you bloody do with that sword?” The senior policeman seemed to be losing it. He took a step towards Harry in an aggressive manner but soon found himself frozen stiff.
“I…can’t…move,” he managed to say.
Harry raised his hand and stopped the others rushing forward. Something very strange was happening and they seem to understand that.
“Please don’t make me hex the rest of you,” Harry pleaded with them. “Now, I’m going to go upstairs and deal with that evil bitch up there. Please do not try and follow me up there as you’ll all be helpless, unless one of you happens to be a wizard in disguise, of course.”
“Wizards? Witches? Are you some kind of head-case?” one policeman demanded.
“How do you think I stopped your guns working? How do you think I froze your boss in place? Gentlemen, please take a seat and relax. The Ministry will be here shortly to tidy everything up. Goodbye.”
And with that Harry turned and made his way up the staircase. The policemen all looked at each other doubtfully for a moment before slowly sitting down on the cold, stone floor. None of them said a word.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Moving carefully up the stairs, Harry paused in the stairwell to plan his next move. He could faintly hear manic laughter coming from the floors above, and it sent a chill through him.
This moment had been coming for months. Since the death of Tonks, the Order of the Phoenix had been in near open revolt against Dumbledore’s policy of passive defence. Remus, Sirius and Harry had all screamed for blood, and most of the rest of the Order had agreed. Only a few people, such as the Weasleys, had appealed for a more cautious approach. They had been heavily outvoted.
The result was that the Order had begun to attack the Death Eaters aggressively. Their contacts within the Aurors Department allowed them to be alerted to any Death Eater raids quickly, and a series of warning charms placed at strategic locations also aided rapid response. It was hard on the Order members, who had to maintain a response group twenty-four hours a day, but it was yielding results. Few Death Eater attacks, save those on the most remote of locations, were conducted without losses to Voldemort’s forces these days. It was turning into a battle of attrition, and that was a battle Voldemort could never hope to win.
Another positive element of the Order’s offensive tactics was the response from the general public. Pictures of dead and captured Death Eaters were being regularly printed in the press, and this seemed to give people heart. Harry himself had become something of a poster-boy for resistance against Voldemort and, despite it being something that he personally loathed, he allowed it to be encouraged. How different would that day in Diagon Alley have been if all the witches and wizards present had fought instead of running?
But all through the battles Harry had taken part in, he had been looking for one person alone. Unfortunately, their paths had stubbornly refused to cross. Until today, that was. Harry was under no illusion that Bellatrix herself had engineered this meeting. They had been dancing around each other for weeks now, both eager for a confrontation. Harry could imagine Bellatrix begging her master to be allowed the honour of being the one to kill him.
He stood on the landing of what a sign on the wall indicated was the fourth floor. She was here, he could feel it. He yanked at the door and walked purposely into the large, empty room. Bella knew he was coming so he saw little point in subtlety. Briefly, he pondered summoning his Katana again, but decided to save it as a nice surprise for Bellatrix instead. He walked to the centre of the room, his boots echoing in the bare space.
“Hello, ickle Harry-kins,” a silky female voice said behind him. Without undue urgency, Harry turned to face her.
Bellatrix looked very different from the skeletal figure he had seen in Hogsmeade several months before. She looked well-fed and contented. Her hair, which had previously looked lank and dull, was now shiny and luxurious. The robes she wore were black and revealing, displaying her shapely legs and her chest which had been built up into an impressive cleavage. Harry felt disgusted with himself that he could think her in anyway desirable.
Noticing his eyes linger on her, Bellatrix smiled seductively. She walked towards him with an exaggerated swing of her hips, delighted that she could have such an effect on the young man. Oh, she was going to enjoy this so much.
“Hello, Bella,” Harry replied after a pause. “I see you’ve recovered from your little holiday in Azkaban.”
Bella stretched like a cat, taking the opportunity to flaunt her chest at Harry. “Oh yes, Harry. I’m feeling much more like my old self. It’s amazing how much better one can feel after being able to indulge yourself a little. And trust me, I’ve indulged.”
Harry shivered at the thought of what she meant by that comment.
Bella stood about five yards away from Harry, idly twirling her wand between her fingers. Despite her casual demeanour, her eyes burned with a manic energy and a desperate longing. She reminded Harry of a lioness that had smelt blood and was eager for the kill. He might have felt it strangely arousing if her bloodlust had not been directed at him.
“You know, Harry, a powerful wizard like you would do well for himself with my Lord’s guidance,” she began.
“Please, Bella,” Harry interrupted. “We both know Voldemort wants me dead, so spare me any long speeches about how great it would be if we joined forces. All I would get is a knife in the back. I’m not going to join your side, and you’re not going to join mine. Let’s cut the crap and get on with what we came here for.”
“Really, Harry,” Bellatrix said with disapproval. “Always rushing things. Don’t you know a girl likes a little foreplay first?”
And with that Bellatrix struck. Her first spell was cast so fast Harry barely had time to dodge it. He rolled to his side and returned fire. Bellatrix deflected the spell and sent a flurry of hexes in his direction.
The fight quickly became a slogging match. The witch and the wizard appeared fairly evenly matched, and they threw spells at each other at a ferocious rate. Bellatrix was extremely agile and, like Harry, favoured a mix of movement and shield spells to avoid being hit.
Harry could taste the magical energy sizzling in the air around him and feel the concrete beneath his feet heating up. He was beginning to wonder if the derelict building around them could stand up to the about of raw power being discharged by the two of them. Sweat was dripping down his brow at the effort he was exerting, but adrenalin was surging through him, filling him with energy.
A vicious cutting curse sailed by his head so close he could feel the heat from the spell. Bellatrix cackled with delight. It looks like she’s having the time of her life, he thought.
Deciding at this point the battle would only be won by one of them making a mistake or doing something unpredictable, Harry decided to change tactics. It was time to introduce Bella to the classic shark tooth ploy of the Tsuesenshi. It had already proved successful in a number of encounters with Death Eaters, and he hoped it would prove so again. Bracing himself, he cast a powerful blasting spell before Apparating directly behind the witch. His Katana was in his hand before he realised he had summoned it. His blade ripped through the air intent on taking Bellatrix’s head.
Unfortunately for Harry, her neck was no longer there and his sword encountered nothing but thin air. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his side and he twisted to see Bellatrix right beside him with a dagger in her hand. He swung his arm and managed to catch her head with a glancing blow from the pommel of his sword.
Bella staggered back clutching her head, while Harry gasped in pain. He managed to cast a quick healing charm to stop the bleeding before Bella regained he senses and began to start casting spells at him again. Stalemate.
“Did you think that little trick would work on me, Harry?” she taunted. “Please, give me a little credit. It may have worked against a few of my Lord’s underlings, but I’m not going to fall for it!”
Harry just gritted his teeth. No matter how much he hated the deranged bitch, he had to admit she was bloody good. The two of them continued trading spells while circling each other. Both of them were looking for a weakness in the other or some opening they could use. Harry wondered how long they had been fighting as he was rapidly losing all sense of time. Surely the Ministry would be sending people soon, wouldn’t they?
He was beginning to think they would be fighting all night when a freak accident happened. By chance, both of them launched a blasting charm at each other at exactly the same second. The spells hit each other and exploded in mid-air. The huge blast sent them both flying backwards in opposite directions.
For a moment, Harry was deaf and blind. As his vision returned and the ringing in his ears subsided, he looked around desperately for his opponent. Bellatrix was on her hands and knees, blood dripping from her face. He tried to roll over so he could get a clear shot at her but a sharp pain in his chest sent him sprawling. Definitely some broken ribs there, he thought; probably internal damage as well.
Bellatrix didn’t seem to be much better off. He heard her give a muffled scream as she tried to stand. Ignoring the pain, Harry also tried to get up, but Bella beat him to it. Giving a deranged shriek of triumph, she cast a cutting spell at him. Knowing he had no hope of getting a shield up in time, he beat at the spell with his Katana. The magically protected blade managed to deflect the spell, but the sword was torn from his hand with the force of the impact.
Bellatrix looked completely shocked at this, but she recovered quickly. More curses rained down on Harry, but he was now in a position to block them. He returned fire and soon they were back to trading spell for spell. At the moment, it was just a question of which of them would collapse first.
Harry’s chest was on fire and he suspected that the wound in his side had reopened. Bella was limping badly and appeared to be having trouble breathing. Both of them were covered in blood and dirt, with their robes hanging off them like rags. The speed they were casting spells had noticeably dropped, as had the power that was being put behind the hexes and curses.
As it was more likely that Aurors, or possibly an Order member, would turn up rather than a Death Eater, Harry was becoming worried that Bellatrix might decide to run. Death Eaters generally carried emergency Portkeys, and he was convinced that Bella wore one around her neck. He had to get it off her.
Bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming, Harry prepared to sprint directly at Bellatrix. He timed his run just as she was firing a burning hex at him and then he moved. Maybe it was fear that motivated him, but he covered the ground between them surprisingly quickly. It was obviously not a tactic that Bella was expecting as he saw her eyes go wide as he charged at her. She managed to get two spells off at him before he closed the distance; one passed harmlessly to his left but the other impacted on his shoulder painfully. Momentum was with him however, and he crashed into her sending them both sprawling. He desperately grabbed at Bella as they rolled, trying to pin her down; but she managed to squirm away. Before he realised what was happening, he found himself lying on his back with Bellatrix standing over him with her wand pointing directly at his head. He had lost.
She stood right by his feet, looking at him in disbelief. She then seemed to realise the position they were in and she started to laugh. Desperately, Harry groped around with his left hand seeking his wand, but without success. Bella was so close that if he had his sword she would easily be within his reach, but he had already summoned his Katana, which lay on the floor behind him somewhere. The blade could only be summoned or banished directly from his hand, which meant with the sword well out of his reach, he was currently defenceless.
Bellatrix stopped laughing and her face twisted into a cruel sneer. The hungry look he had noticed before returned to her eyes and she started to pant like a dog. She seemed to be getting a sort of sexual gratification from the thought she was about to kill him. Harry hated the idea that he was giving her pleasure nearly as much as the fact that he was about to die.
With an effort borne of desperation, he tried to summon his sword to his hand. Never before had he yearned for the familiar feel of his Katana in his hand so much, but right now he would take the meanest of blades.
It took a moment for him to realise that something was in his hand. Certainly, it felt different than the familiar grip of his own sword, but he didn’t stop to think about that. Before Bellatrix could react, he swung the blade and it bit deep into her thigh. She screamed and grabbed he leg, her wand dropping to the floor forgotten. With a tug, Harry pulled the sword from the witch’s leg, sending a shower of blood spurting everywhere.
After fighting to find his feet, Harry looked at the sword in his hand. Rather than his Katana, he found he was holding a traditional long sword of Goblin manufacture. Rubies were mounted in the sword's hilt and the word ‘Gryffindor’ was etched onto the blade. He stared at it in disbelief.
A wretched gurgling sound brought him to his senses. Blood was dribbling from Bellatrix’s mouth and she clutched at her thigh desperately. Growling with pain, Harry turned and scanned the floor. He quickly found his wand and then he hobbled over to where his Katana lay. After picking up and vanishing his familiar blade, he then returned to where Bellatrix lay bleeding on the floor.
She watched him with fear in her eyes. This only served to make him enormously angry. How many people had she slaughtered while they lay begging for their lives? How dare she, who had been death's obedient servant, fear it now? The long sword was still in his hand; one quick thrust and it would be over. The world would be rid of this evil bitch and Tonks would be avenged. He placed the sword over Bellatrix’s heart, ready to strike.
But as he looked down at her, other images began to superimpose themselves. He saw a terrified Horace Slughorn staring at him in horror. He was replaced by a sneering Severus Snape, mocking Harry for his hypocrisy. Finally, he saw Tamazuki, shaking his head and telling him how disappointed he was another of his pupils had turned dark. Grinding his teeth, Harry slowly lowered the sword.
The Horcrux hunt had hit a brick wall. Bellatrix was Voldemort’s most loyal follower and was deep in his council. The information they could get from her could be invaluable to the war effort, but it did mean one thing: he had to take her alive.
Harry let loose a deep, primal scream and begged Tonks for her forgiveness. Without realising he had done it, he banished Gryffindor’s sword and gripped his wand in his right hand. He quickly cast several healing spells on Bellatrix and staunched her bleeding. Gripping her arm tightly, Harry then Apparated them away, hoping with all his heart that he wouldn’t live to regret this decision.
Tuesday, 10 June 1997
Harry awoke to find the sunlight radiating through his bedroom window. He briefly thought about closing the gap in his curtains through which the light had intruded, but a brief look at his alarm clock convinced him that he really should be up and about.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he nervously stretched himself. He was pleasantly surprised to find that he felt no real pain, even in his chest. He’d been in a pretty bad way by the time he’d made it back to Grimmauld Place and was a little hazy as to what had happened after he had arrived. He vaguely remembered a lot of shouting and someone treating his wounds but not a great deal else. Whoever it was that had looked after him, they had done a great job.
He experimentally tried standing and found that his legs supported him very well, thank you very much. Deciding a shower would be a good idea, he headed to his ensuite bathroom and luxuriated in the stream of scalding hot water for a good twenty minutes. He then dressed and went down in search of a late breakfast.
As soon as he left his room, he was confronted by the sight of Kingsley Shacklebolt leaning against the far wall. He smiled as soon as he saw Harry.
“Good morning, Harry,” he greeted him in his deep, melodic voice. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah, I feel fine, apart from the fact I could eat a hippogriff right now,” Harry replied. “Why are you hanging about here on the landing? You’re not waiting for me are you?”
“No, Harry. I’m on guard duty. We decided to put your ‘special guest’ in this bedroom.” Kingsley indicated the bedroom opposite to Harry’s. “The healers are with her at present, and I’m just here to make sure they are not disturbed.”
“The only people in the house are Order members, Kingsley,” Harry objected. “Why would they disturb the healer?”
“Well, we had a bit of trouble last night,” Kingsley explained quietly. “Remus tried to get into the room.”
“Ah,” Harry said simply. Although most of the time Remus Lupin was a mild-mannered man, Harry didn’t doubt for a second that he would tear Tonks’s killer to pieces if he was given the chance. Sometimes the inner werewolf came to the surface.
Nodding his understanding to Kingsley, Harry continued his way down to the kitchen. He entered to find it surprisingly crowded and noisy. Everyone went silent as they noticed him.
“Harry, how are you feeling?” Sirius was first to speak, leaping from his seat to greet his godson.
“I’m pretty good, actually,” he replied. “Surprisingly so, bearing in mind the abuse Bellatrix dished out. I’m starving though. Any breakfast left?”
“We’ve saved you some. Let me get it for you,” said Mrs Weasley.
Harry was surprised to see the woman here and even more stunned by her considerate behaviour, bearing in mind the cold shoulder she had given him last time they spoke.
A minute later a large plate piled with breakfast items was placed in front of him. Thanking the red-haired witch profusely, Harry tucked into the mountain of food with enthusiasm. He was very pleased to note that most people in the room continued their conversations at that point, and at least allowed him to eat before they started questioning him.
Eventually, he managed to clear the plate, even going so far as to wipe it clean with some bread he had scrounged. He pushed the empty plate away with a contented sigh, and looked up to see Professor Dumbledore looking at him expectantly. The room had gone silent and Harry realised that everyone had been waiting to hear about his latest adventure.
Knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to put it off any longer, he launched into a detailed account of his encounter with Bellatrix. There was a murmur of shock at the news that Hestia Jones was dead, and Arthur Weasley was immediately dispatched to recover her body from the Muggle authorities. Harry felt extremely guilty that he had not mentioned Hestia before, but for some reason had assumed the Order would have known. Dumbledore assured him that everyone understood and urged him to continue with his story.
Harry told them about him preventing the Muggle Police from trying to intervene and his eventual confrontation with Lestrange. His description of the fight was punctuated by gasps and exclamations of surprise from all present. He was also questioned closely by Dumbledore, Moody and Sirius for at least half an hour. Eventually, they ran out of questions and Dumbledore addressed him gravely.
“While the capture of Bellatrix Lestrange is quite an achievement, Harry, I must express my disappointment that you chose to face her alone. It was foolhardy, my boy,” he scolded.
Harry bristled at the man’s tone and being referred to as ‘my boy’.
“I had to face her alone,” Harry disagreed. “If she had got the slightest whiff of anyone else being around, she would have been out of there like a shot. Bellatrix was too valuable a target to let slip away. Besides, I was confident I could take her.”
“May I remind you that you were grievously injured in the fight,” Dumbledore said, frowning at him. “She could very easily have killed you.”
“And may I remind you who came off worse in the fight and that I came very close to killing her?” Harry snapped. He then took a deep breath, not wanting to start an argument. “Look, we all run the risk of being killed every time we step out the door. We’re at war with Voldemort, and that means we occasionally have to put ourselves in harm’s way. There are only a handful of us who could take on Bellatrix, and I happen to be one of them. I didn’t have time to try and find you, Professor, or Mad-Eye here. I took a calculated risk in facing Lestrange by myself and it worked. I certainly wasn’t going to let the bitch get away. Would anyone here have done anything different?”
“Harry did the right thing,” Remus piped up. Harry hadn’t even seen him tucked away in the corner. “Bellatrix was worth the risk.”
“You would say that,” objected a witch Harry didn’t recognise. “You haven’t been thinking straight since Tonks died!”
“You’d just let Bellatrix get away with that, would you?” yelled a small wizard called Dedalus Diggle. “And what about poor Hestia? You think any of us would hesitate to go after that murderess if we were in the same position as Harry?”
The room degenerated in anarchy as everyone tried to get their opinion across, generally by shouting. Harry could feel his temper starting to rise.
“QUIET!” bellowed Dumbledore. Everyone was so shocked he had yelled that they shut up instantly. Harry could feel raw power radiating from the old man and was keenly reminded why so many people respected him.
“This bickering achieves nothing,” Dumbledore continued in a calmer voice. “What’s done is done, although, Harry, I would ask that you refrain from taking such risks with your personal safety in future. You have become a symbol of resistance to Voldemort, and your loss would be a disaster for all concerned.”
Harry gave the briefest of nods in acceptance. A second later everyone’s attention was diverted by a woman entering the kitchen. She had the appearance of being a no-nonsense sort of witch, although her face looked kindly. Her grey hair was tied back and her clothes were prim and proper. Harry thought she looked vaguely familiar. She made her way directly to Dumbledore.
“Ah, Poppy. Have you news on regarding our guest?” Dumbledore enquired of her.
“It’s not good, Headmaster,” the witch replied. “She was extremely badly injured, and she lost a lot of blood. I’ve stabilised her for the moment, but I would only put her chances of survival at about one in ten.”
“Is she likely to regain consciousness?” Moody asked.
“I can induce consciousness for a while,” the witch replied, obviously realising what Moody was asking, “but it might kill her, particularly if she becomes upset.”
“I think we have some hard decisions to make,” Dumbledore announced. “Due to the sensitive nature of what we are about to discuss, I’m afraid I will have to ask everyone to leave. Sirius, Remus and Harry, can you remain please while I talk to Poppy. Alastor, can I ask you to stand guard at the door.”
All the other Order members started to file out of the room, most of them muttering to themselves. While waiting for them to depart, Dumbledore addressed Harry.
“I don’t know if you remember Poppy, Harry. She looked after you briefly after you left the Dursleys,” he said, indicating the grey-haired witch. “Poppy is Hogwarts resident Mediwitch and it was she who treated your injuries last night.”
“Thank you, Poppy,” Harry said sincerely. “You did a marvellous job. I feel as good as new.”
“You’re welcome, Mr Potter” Poppy replied, “but I would remind you that prevention is better than cure. You were lucky that one of your broken ribs didn’t puncture your lung. Please be more careful in future.”
“I’ll try” Harry promised meekly, while Sirius sniggered at him. By now, all the other Order members had departed, and they were able to talk freely. He turned to Dumbledore.
“Professor,” he addressed the elderly wizard. “About that sword that I managed to summon, the one with ‘Gryffindor’ written on it. What is it and how did I manage to summon it to me?”
Dumbledore smiled. “The sword is the last remaining relic of Godric Gryffindor, one of the founders of Hogwarts. It’s rumoured that the sword will appear for any worthy Gryffindor who needs it in a time of stress. As you’ve never been sorted into a house at Hogwarts, I’m at something of a loss as to how you managed to call the sword to you. The only possibility I can think of is that you are in some way related to Godric. With the convoluted family trees most pure-blood families share, it is entirely possible. But onto other matters; what to do about Bellatrix?”
“Bellatrix is one of Voldemort’s most trusted lieutenants; she’s bound to know something about the remaining Horcruxes,” Sirius began.
“Indubitably, but the trick will be getting her to reveal that information,” Dumbledore pointed out.
“With respect, Professor,” Harry said, “can’t you just obtain the information we need by Legilimency?”
“I’m afraid not, Harry,” Dumbledore said apologetically. “Bella’s mind is extremely well protected. I have managed to enter her thoughts, but all useful information is locked away. I might be able to break into some of these guarded memories but there would be no way of knowing beforehand what information I was attempting to access and I would run a very serious risk of wiping her mind completely.”
“What about Veritaserum?” Sirius asked.
“Mr Black, remember what I said about Bellatrix’s fragile state,” Poppy interrupted. “Veritaserum would almost certainly kill her.”
“But how quickly?” Remus asked. “How long would we have to question her?”
Just for a second Poppy looked scandalised, but then the reality of the situation sank in. She pursed her lips and looked thoughtful.
“I can’t say exactly,” she said. “If Bellatrix goes all out to fight the Veritaserum then she could be dead in minutes. If she can be kept calm you’ll have longer, but no more than half an hour at the very most.”
“So, do we risk it?” Sirius asked. “Do we give her Veritaserum and risk killing her on the spot or wait when she could potentially pop her clogs at any moment anyway?”
“If you put it that way, Sirius, I believe we have no choice,” Dumbledore said in a resigned voice. “We must, however, do our utmost to keep her calm and relaxed.”
“Let me question her,” Harry said suddenly. The others looked at him oddly.
“I don’t think she will respond very well to the person who put her in that condition in the first place,” Sirius said doubtfully.
“Don’t worry. I know how to do this,” Harry replied firmly.
He knew just how to approach Bellatrix Lestrange.
Chapter 16: Chapter 16 – Dark Desires of My Traitorous Heart
Author's Notes: At the bottom, and I really think I may have a bit of explaining to do after this one…
Harry, Dumbledore and Sirius stood around the bed Bellatrix Lestrange lay in. By his own choice Remus had remained outside, fearful that he would not be able to keep his temper in the witch’s presence.
Bellatrix was obviously in a very bad way. Her skin was pale and her breathing raspy. Harry pulled up a chair and sat by the side of the bed. He knew he was responsible for putting the witch in this condition but could not find any sympathy for her within him. He fought down his emotions; he would need to be calm to pull this off.
“Once you’ve administered the Veritaserum, Professor,” he said, addressing Dumbledore, “can you and Sirius move out of Bellatrix’s sight? I want her to think it’s just her and me here.”
“You know you can’t threaten her, don’t you, Harry?” Dumbledore asked carefully.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going to threaten her,” Harry promised him.
With that assurance, Dumbledore took the stopper from a small bottle he had been holding and approached Bellatrix. Carefully, he pulled her lips apart slightly and deposited three drops of Veritaserum into her mouth. He then hurriedly withdrew to the other side of the room to stand next to Sirius.
Harry leaned forward and rested his arms on the side of the bed. His face was only inches away from Bellatrix’s. He studied her profile carefully, taking in every line and curve. She must have been beautiful when she was a teenager, he thought.
Slowly, as if aware of Harry’s attention, Bellatrix opened her eyes. She turned her head slightly until she was looking directly at him. “Potter…” she hissed weakly.
Harry gently put a finger to her lips. “Hello, Bella,” he said in a quiet, intense voice. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. I’ve been worried about you.”
“Worried?” she whispered, before breaking into feeble laugh. “Worried you hadn’t killed me, more like.”
“Don’t be like that,” Harry said lightly. “I wanted to talk to you and was afraid you wouldn’t wake up again. You know you’re dying, don’t you?”
“Yes,” she replied after a long pause. Her voice was flat and emotionless.
“It can’t be helped, I’m afraid. The healer’s done everything she could. Merlin, she was barely able to save me, the amount of damage I had,” Harry snorted.
Bellatrix actually smiled. “Nearly got you, didn’t I, Potter?” she said. “If I’d known you could summon two swords, not just the one, I would have defeated you.”
“Yeah, you would have,” Harry admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life as when you were standing over me. I really thought my time was up.”
“I had you at my mercy,” she hissed.
Harry smiled. “You did,” he admitted. “But tell me, were you just going to kill me, or were you going to play with me first?”
“You wouldn’t have begrudged me a little fun, would you?” she purred.
“It depends what you had in mind,” he answered softly. Their faces were only inches apart.
“Oh, you wouldn’t have believed what I would have done to you, Potter,” she said. “You know, the line between pain and pleasure is very thin. I would have had you screaming my name by the end.”
“I nearly didn’t believe it was you when I saw you yesterday,” Harry continued. “When I saw you in Hogsmeade a couple of months ago, you looked like a skeleton. But yesterday, in the warehouse, you looked like some dark goddess.”
“Would you have worshipped me?” she asked.
“Wearing those robes — willingly,” he replied.
Bella laughed softly. “I saw you looking. Admit it; you wanted me, didn’t you?” Bella’s eyes blazed with a dark intensity.
“Oh, god, yes,” Harry gasped. “I’d never seen a woman more beautiful than you.”
“You should have agreed to join us,” Bella whispered. “I would have taken you to my bed and taught you of pleasures you couldn’t even imagine. I would have driven you insane with desire, Harry. Of course, I would have killed you afterwards.”
“It would have been worth it,” Harry said. Their lips were inches apart.
“Oh, yes it would,” she breathed.
“Would the Dark Lord have approved, though?” he asked. “I know he would have been happy that you killed me, but surely he wouldn’t have wanted me to touch his most beautiful servant?”
“Oh, my lord would have understood. He knows that we, his servants, still have base needs we must satisfy. My lord has risen above such things, and now only seeks higher desires.” Bella’s eyes shined with wonder.
“Like his quest for immortality?” Harry asked.
“Yes! My lord will rule for eternity! He will become a living god,” she gasped in near ecstasy.
“I’m sure you’ve been a major part of helping him make that dream real,” Harry speculated. “I’m sure he relies on you greatly.”
“Of course!” Bella agreed. “He trusts me with his greatest secrets. I am guardian of his most precious treasures!”
“That must be a great burden,” he sympathised. “Where could you possibly keep the Dark Lord’s treasures safe? It must be a terrible worry.”
“No, it’s safe,” she smiled. “Those Goblin scum are useful for one thing. No one can enter my vault without permission.”
“So the…cup is safe, is it?” Harry guessed that the item was Hufflepuff’s cup. As they didn’t know exactly what the other Horcrux was, he had little choice.
“Oh, it’s quite safe…wait! The cup! How do you know of the cup? What have I said?” Bellatrix began to panic.
Harry grabbed her shoulders and forced her back onto the bed. “Quick, sedate her!” Harry yelled.
By now Bellatrix’s whole body was having convulsions, and she was making gagging sounds. In the background Harry could hear Sirius yelling for Poppy Promfrey, and Dumbledore was casting a calming charm. But it was too late. To his horror, Bellatrix began to vomit blood and her seizures became more violent. Then, as suddenly as it had started, it all stopped. Bellatrix gave one last rasping cough and was still. Harry let go of her shoulders and stepped back.
A moment later Poppy came running into the room. She briefly examined Bellatrix before confirming that Lestrange was indeed dead. Leaving Poppy to watch over the dead witch, the three wizards stepped out into the hallway.
“Well, I’m sorry I had to watch that, but I do have to say the world is tonight a little bit better place without Bellatrix Lestrange in it,” Sirius said.
“Sadly, Sirius, I fear you are correct. While I have been accused of being the eternal optimist in regarding my willingness to grant second chances, I think Bella was too far gone to ever hope of achieving redemption,” Dumbledore commented. “Most importantly though, we do have something to thank her for. She has confirmed the location of another Horcrux.”
“Although how we get to it will be another matter,” Sirius said gloomily.
“Quite. Well, I think we will discuss that tomorrow,” Dumbledore said. “Harry, I must say I was surprised by your interrogation technique, effective though it proved.”
“It was just something Bellatrix said yesterday about ‘indulging’ herself,” Harry informed them with a disgusted expression on his face. “I got the impression she liked to seduce her victims before she tortured and killed them. I thought she would…respond…to me better if I went along with it.”
“Well, that’s not sick or creepy in the slightest, is it?” Sirius asked sarcastically.
“I’m afraid sick is the correct word, Sirius,” Dumbledore commented. “Bellatrix was genuinely ill. Whether an extended stay at St Mungo’s would have done anything to help her we’ll never know. Perhaps it’s for the best that she has moved on from this world. I hope she finds peace in the next.”
Dumbledore then made his excuses, stating he needed to get back to Hogwarts, but would return in the morning to plan their next move. Sirius went to find Remus to tell him what had happened, leaving Harry to return to his bedroom.
He sat on the edge of his bed for ten minutes trying to subdue the acid that was burning in his stomach. This proved a forlorn hope, and he had to bolt to the toilet where he repeatedly threw up. His body purged, he washed his face and brushed his teeth, before returning to his bed.
For an hour he laid there, the conversation with Bellatrix going round and round in his mind. He kept visualising her as she had been just before their fight. Her short black robes revealing her long shapely legs encased in see-though black stockings. That low-cut top displayed far too much of her large breasts that heaved as she panted in her blood-lust.
This was the evil bitch that killed Tonks, he kept reminding himself. She was a psychopathic lunatic that would have liked nothing more than to have drunk his blood. How many atrocities had she committed? How many murders? How many acts of torture? And yet…he couldn’t stop thinking about how she had said she was going to seduce him.
Crying with shame and self-disgust, Harry laid back on the bed. Images of Bellatrix’s lush body filled his head as desire battled with shame. Tears ran down his cheeks as he rolled over and buried his face in his pillow.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Dumbledore collapsed into his chair with relief. It had been a busy couple of days, but it had been well worth it.
Another Horcrux had been located. Although, as Sirius had noted, retrieving it would be problematical. Still, he would give the matter some thought.
Almost as welcome was the death of Bellatrix Lestrange. Of all Voldemort’s servants, Bella was the only one he had ever really feared, mainly due to her unpredictability. Voldemort’s other followers were all the same: greedy and power-hungry. Bellatrix was probably the only one of the inner circle who genuinely loved her master. That had made her dangerous.
With a smile of satisfaction, Dumbledore turned to the chess board sat on a table by his desk. He reached over and picked up the black queen, removing it from the board.
It had definitely been a good day.
Wednesday, 11 june 1997
Here we are again, Harry thought, as they sat round the kitchen table arguing. He wondered if Voldemort ever had these problems.
They had been at it for nearly two hours, which translated to four cups of tea and six chocolate biscuits, but they were still no closer to an agreement. As Sirius had predicted, trying to decide how to obtain Helga Hufflepuff’s cup from Bellatrix’s vault at Gringotts would be no easy task. They had debated, planned and argued about various schemes, but were no closer to an agreement. At present Sirius was pushing for an attempted robbery of the Goblin bank, while Dumbledore and Remus favoured legal action, possible with Ministry involvement.
So far, the only thing they had agreed on was the disposal of Bellatrix’s body. Kingsley Shacklebolt had departed earlier that morning to turn her remains over to the Ministry. He had taken a statement from Harry before departing. As there was a standing warrant for the capture of Bellatrix, dead or alive, they did not anticipate any problems. Harry might even get a reward, he was told.
As the arguments continued to rage back and forth, Harry felt his attention drifting. He had had very little sleep the previous night and was feeling light-headed. That little area in his mind that Voldemort had touched had ached all night. Normally, his Occlumency shields protected him from any interference from this pocket of evil within him, but last night they had barely been up to the task. He sensed that Voldemort had learnt of Bellatrix’s death, and his rage knew no bounds. Harry was becoming convinced that he had some form of connection with Voldemort, which was a very disturbing idea indeed.
Even after Harry had felt Voldemort’s presence leave him, his sleep had been fitful. He had been plagued by nightmares which had constantly snapped him awake. He had lain there, covered in sweat, trying to remember what the dreams had been about. All he could recall were hazy images of dark places and unseen terrors lurking just out of sight. He’d abandoned his attempts at sleep around five o’clock that morning and instead undertaken an extra-long training session. Now he was tired and his muscles ached.
Misty bustled about, refilling tea cups and offering cake and biscuits. She gave Harry an encouraging smile as she passed, and he grinned back at her. It had taken his move to Grimmauld Place for Harry to realise just how different his relationship with the Elves was to most other people. Even Remus, classified as a ‘magical creature’ himself, barely acknowledged the Elves as sentient beings. Sirius, as warm-hearted a man you could ever meet, was even worse and treated the Elves virtually as household appliances. In those circumstances, Harry was unsurprised his godfather had such a bad relationship with Kreacher, while he had managed to forge a guarded friendship with the old elf a few weeks after moving in.
Increasingly, Harry felt frustration with the Wizarding world. While the Muggles had many of the same problems, they at least gave the impression of trying to find solutions. Why did the Wizarding world, with all the advantages it had, still seem happy with a society riddled with prejudice and corruption? Despite their pronouncements otherwise, the Ministry of Magic did virtually nothing to prevent discrimination against Muggle-borns or cruelty to other magical races. No wonder the Goblins had rebelled so many times.
The Goblins. Harry had to admit apart from what he had read in various (suspect) history books and his few visits to Gringotts, he knew very little about them. They were obviously very intelligent beings and controlled nearly all of the Wizarding world’s finances. In addition, their mining operations were vital for extraction of minerals, metals and precious stones used in the creation of magical items. Their metal working was of the very highest order and generally surpassed anything created by humans. As a race they had every right to be proud of their achievements, but they were treated as little more than vermin by most wizards and witches.
A thought occurred to Harry. “Have the Goblins supported Voldemort in any way?” he asked.
The three wizards stopped arguing and looked at him.
“Goblins in general are rather distrustful of all wizards, Harry. A few Goblins have joined Voldemort’s ranks in the past, but these have been mercenaries working purely for gold,” Dumbledore explained.
“I bet they’d love to see us all destroyed,” muttered Sirius with a frown. “I wouldn’t put it past them to join up with Voldemort.”
Harry suppressed a groan at his godfather’s attitude. “That doesn’t make sense, Sirius,” he disagreed. “Voldemort doesn’t want to destroy the Wizarding world; he wants to take it over. He’s a strong believer in pure-blood politics so he’s unlikely to have a very positive attitude to any non-humans. That’s hardly an incentive for the Goblins to join him. In fact, it would be contrary to their well being. We are their main source of income from banking, mining and metalworking. Fighting against us would just hurt their profit margins. Voldemort would rather enslave them than pay for their services.”
“They’ve fought us enough times in the past without worrying about losing our custom!” Sirius snorted.
“To be fair, Goblin rebellions have only occurred when wizards have attempted to limit their rights, or impose unfair restrictions,” Remus corrected.
“So what exactly are you suggesting, Harry?” Dumbledore asked.
Harry shrugged. “We ask the Goblins to give us the cup.”
“Ask the Goblins?” Sirius shouted. “Are you insane? Those little gits would cheat you as soon as look at you!”
“I’m not saying they aren’t a bit underhanded at times, but this would be in their best interests,” Harry argued. “The main problem would be deciding how much to tell them.”
“No way,” Sirius was adamant. “They would refuse just to spite us.”
“We have to do something,” Harry insisted. “With Bella’s death the contents of her vault are bound to pass to her husband or even Narcissa Malfoy, and if that happens we’re buggered. Look, if we try and force the Goblins to hand over the cup, or worse still try and steal it, we’ll alienate them completely. They’ll never trust us unless we trust them.”
“I think we should trust Harry on this,” Dumbledore said after a pause.
“What! Not you too. Have you all gone mad?” Sirius yelled.
“I think it’s worth a shot, as well,” Remus added. “Harry and Albus carry a lot of influence between them, even with the Goblins. We may have to make some concessions to them if we win, but we need the cup if we are going to do that. Yes, it will alert the Goblins that we’re after something in one of their vaults, but I hardly see that will make our task much harder anyway.”
“It looks like I’m outvoted,” Sirius said sourly.
“I’ll set up an appointment with the Head of Gringotts,” Dumbledore offered. “If nothing else, this will be a most interesting discussion.”
Thursday, 12 June 1997
Shifting uncomfortably in his chair, Harry glanced at his watch again. The Goblins were deliberately keeping him waiting, he suspected.
He sat in a large wood-panelled room that smelt of polish and rotting paper. On the far wall were numerous shelves that held thick ledger books bound in dark, red leather. Harry idly wondered if this was some sort of test, and the Goblins were watching him to see if he tried to look in any of the books. He resolutely remained in his seat, as he had done for the last thirty minutes.
Harry had to admit he was extremely nervous about the coming meeting. Dumbledore had briefed him regarding Goblin customs and how best to phrase his request, but had declined to accompany him, claiming the Goblins were unhappy with him due to some unpopular legislation passed by the Wizengamot under his leadership.
Finally, the heavy, dark-wood door to his left swung open and an elderly Goblin entered.
“Rocktooth will see you now,” the Goblin announced.
Without a word, Harry stood and followed him through the door. They walked down a long empty corridor before they stopped at a large door with elaborate gold-leaf decorations surrounding it. The Goblin opened the door and gestured Harry in.
He found himself in a rather welcoming room which was smaller than he was expecting. Its rows of bookcases and tasteful furnishings gave the feel of a cosy study rather than the office of the most powerful Goblin in the country. Rocktooth himself was sat behind an expensive wooden desk that had been polished to the point Harry could see his reflection in it. The Goblin smiled at him, which was a sight so unsettling he fervently hoped he would never see it again.
“Mr Potter, welcome,” Rocktooth said.
Harry noticed the Goblin didn’t rise to greet him which wasn’t a good sign. “Thank you very much for agreeing to see me, honourable Rocktooth,” Harry greeted the Goblin.
“Naturally, I’m always at the disposal of our largest depositor,” the Goblin replied.
This immediately seemed wrong to Harry. As Rocktooth correctly stated, he was one of the richest wizards in the world and his gold filled vault was the largest in Gringotts. Why then was he kept waiting for so long? The Goblins were shrewd businessmen, and wouldn’t have risked insulting their best customer without a reason.
“Except we’re not here to discuss my finances, as you already know,” Harry said.
The Goblin nodded, seemingly pleased. “I was told you weren’t stupid,” Rocktooth said. “I take it your presence here is in some way related to the recent death of Bellatrix Lestrange?”
“You are quite correct,” Harry confirmed. In some ways, he was relieved the Goblin had guessed this information. If he knew this already and had still agreed to see Harry, there was some hope.
“I’m afraid if you hope to claim the contents of Mrs Lestrange’s vault then you will be disappointed. The legal position is quite clear and…”
Harry cut the Goblin off. “Don’t worry, I’m not after Bella’s gold,” he said. “I do believe, however, that the vault contains an item that does not rightly belong to her. An item that was stolen some time ago and given to Lestrange to hide.”
“Can you prove legal ownership of this item?” Rocktooth asked.
“No, it doesn’t belong to me either,” Harry said calmly. “The woman who did rightfully own it is dead and there is no clear path of inheritance.” Rocktooth paused to consider this information.
“May I ask what your interest is in this item?” he asked.
“I want to destroy it,” Harry informed him.
The Goblin looked surprised. “So, let me get this clear. You want me to hand over an item from the vault of a dead woman that you freely admit you have no right to possess, solely so you can destroy it?” he asked.
“Yes, that about sums it up,” Harry confirmed.
The Goblin looked at him shrewdly. “You know full well, Mr Potter, that there is no way that I would ever help you based on the amount of information you have given me. You really will have to do better than that,” Rocktooth said aggressively.
Harry nodded. This was where things were going to get tricky — trying to decide exactly how much to tell the Goblin.
“I can’t tell you everything,” Harry started, ignoring the scowl that came onto the Goblin's face. “But I will tell you as much as I can. The item we are looking for originally belonged to Helga Hufflepuff and is a cup. It’s the only known relic of the Hogwarts founder still in existence. Some years ago, the wizard now known as Voldemort stole the cup from its owner and…corrupted it. I wish to destroy the cup as it will represent a major blow against him.”
The Goblin snorted. “The Goblin nation remains neutral. We have no interest in wars between wizards.”
“I’m aware of that, and I understand why you have no love of wizards in general,” Harry agreed. “But I would ask you to consider what would happen if Voldemort won.”
“One wizard is no different from another,” Rocktooth dismissed.
“Don’t act the fool,” Harry snapped, earning him a glare that would have sent most people running to the hills. “I might as well say all Goblins act the same. We both know that’s not true. Goblins and wizards might have an uneasy relationship at the moment, but we need each other. Wizards are your main source of income, and we need your goods and services. If Voldemort takes control, he will just take what he wants. He would rather enslave other magical races rather than work with them.”
“That’s not what he says,” Rocktooth disagreed.
“Voldemort’s record of honesty is not particularly good, now is it?” Harry retorted. “He is fully committed to extreme pure-blood politics and beliefs. When have the pure-bloods ever treated the Goblins with respect?”
Rocktooth considered this for a moment. “That might well be, but as I said, the Goblins are neutral in this conflict. We will not be seen to help or hinder either side.”
“I would not wish you to,” Harry agreed. “In fact, we would wish to hide your involvement. I propose to destroy the item right in front of you, so you can see that it has no benefit to my side. We would then place a replica of the cup in the vault so no-one would realise it was gone.”
“Irrelevant,” Rocktooth objected. “We would still be helping you, Mr Potter. In addition, you have not explained why it is so important to destroy this cup.”
Harry sighed. He hoped to avoid this, but it was clear the Goblin would not help him without hearing the truth. “Unless the cup is destroyed, Voldemort cannot be killed,” Harry explained.
The Goblin eyed him neutrally. “So the cup is a Horcrux, then?” he asked.
Harry looked up in surprise.
“Come, come, Mr Potter. Do you think we Goblins do not know what is stored in our vaults? Wizards have tried to deposit potentially dangerous items before, and we make it a point to examine everything we accept for storage.”
Harry actually laughed. For all his thoughts regarding the Goblins' achievements, he had underestimated them as well. Rocktooth had known what he had wanted from the moment he walked in. The only question was what the Goblins wanted in return.
“So, you know what it is that I want, and you know what it does. I assume that as you’re actually talking to me that you must be open to negotiation?” he said.
“What can you offer us?” Rocktooth asked.
Harry was about to offer gold in exchange for the cup but he stopped himself. The Goblins obviously knew more about the situation than he would ever have guessed, so logically they probably knew all about him too.
“I think you know everything I could possibly offer,” Harry countered. “The question is; what do you want?”
There was a long pause.
“If you defeat Voldemort, what do you intend to do next?” Rocktooth asked. The sudden change in direction caught Harry on the hop.
“Um, I don’t really know. All things considered, I haven’t really mapped out a long term career plan,” he responded.
“But what do you want to do?” Rocktooth persisted. “You’re already virtually a national hero to most wizards and witches. If you finish Voldemort, you could take your pick of any position of power you want. You could be Minister of Magic within a few years, perhaps become something more.”
Harry snorted. “No thanks,” he said simply.
“Why?” Rocktooth asked intently. Harry had the sudden feeling his answer would be very important.
“I don’t want to be a leader. If I had my choice, I would just have a normal life: go to school, play a bit of Quidditch, get a girlfriend. That sort of thing. I really don’t think the Wizarding world would be ready for me to be its leader,” he said.
“Explain,” Rocktooth commanded.
“I’d try and make too many changes. I’ve seen both the Muggle world and magical world, and I’ve been bitterly disappointed by the magical one. Oh, the Muggle world has more problems than you can imagine, but at least they’re trying to progress. The Wizarding world just seems to be happy to be stuck in the past. I mean, we’re in conflict with Voldemort about blood-status. The founders of Hogwarts were fighting about the same thing! All that time and no resolution.”
He paused and looked at Rocktooth. The Goblin was eyeing him expectantly, and he could sense there was something he wanted to hear from Harry.
“It seems that at every level of Wizarding society there is corruption and intolerance,” he continued. “From treating House Elves as slaves to making werewolves virtual pariahs, there’s bigotry and prejudice. Even among wizards themselves, how you’re treated depends on your blood. Has anyone, ever, found a link between parentage and magical potential? Of course not! A squib is as likely to be born to pure-blood parents as to Muggle-borns or half-bloods. It’s all bullshit, anyway. With the amount of interbreeding that’s occurred over the centuries, there’s no such thing as a totally ‘pure-blood’. If these people had their way, we would all end up having to marry our sisters or something!”
Harry was starting to warm to his subject.
“And what about the political organisation? Fudge must have had to keep a diary so he could remember who was bribing him any given week! The Wizengamot is a hereditary parliament with no accountability to the average witch or wizard. They’re more interested in protecting their own pockets than running an effective government. The Ministry itself is a bunch of petty-minded, self-serving bureaucrats squabbling over insignificant problems and covering their own arses. No wonder nothing ever changes.”
“But you could change that,” Rocktooth urged. “You could become Minister and turn it all around.”
Harry sadly shook his head. “I couldn’t change things because nobody wants change,” he disagreed. “Do you really think I could change the hearts and minds of every witch or wizard in the country? They might say differently, but everyone likes things the way they are. Oh, everyone has their own ideas how things should be done, but I’ve never encountered anyone who wants anything radically different. I’d last five minutes in charge; everyone would be appalled when I tried to introduce a democratic system or removed restrictions from werewolves.”
“So what will you do?” Rocktooth persisted.
“Just live my life. I’ll stay out of politics and just change things where I’m able. Our society is too inflexible to accept revolution. If things are going to change it will take years; I doubt we’ll see any progress in my lifetime.” Harry mused. “I’d set up charities and donate to worthy causes. Perhaps I’d invest in businesses that were forward thinking, that offered some form of progress. Personally, I’d like to travel and see something of the world. Maybe things are done better in other places? Other than that, my priority is to find a nice girl and enjoy myself a bit.”
“So who would you have in charge? Dumbledore?” Rocktooth asked.
“No, definitely not,” Harry answered, perhaps a bit too quickly.
“Why?” The Goblin’s eyes bored into Harry.
“Dumbledore’s part of the present system, and I don’t think he has any real desire to see change. He has a rather inflated opinion of himself and believes only he knows what’s best for everybody. He’s happy to allow individuals to suffer if it’s for the ‘greater good’ but doesn’t seem to care what the ‘greater good’ actually represents. I’m afraid I see him as part of the problem, not the solution,” Harry explained.
“A very honest answer,” Rocktooth commented.
“I don’t see any benefit in trying to lie to you,” Harry said directly.
Rocktooth leaned back in his chair and drummed his clawed fingers on his desk. His eyes never left Harry’s face. Harry accepted the Goblin’s gaze without flinching, although inwardly he was in a near panic with fear that his request would be rejected. After what seemed like hours, Rocktooth spoke. “I’m going to help you, Harry Potter,” he said.
Harry suppressed an urge to shout for joy.
“If you had said you intended to seek a position of power, I would not have. For exactly the same reason I would never have supported Voldemort, even if he offered the Goblins assurance of his good intentions. It is why we do not approve of Dumbledore.”
Harry frowned. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
“Power, Harry Potter! Power! You have it, Voldemort has it and so does Dumbledore. To put a wizard of your level of capabilities in charge would be a disaster,” Rocktooth growled. “To borrow a phrase I heard from a Muggle human, ‘power corrupts, total power corrupts totally’. Even you, a wizard we Goblins consider to be a good person by the standards of a wizard, would fall to temptation. It would start with the best of intentions; a desire to right injustices and force change. It would end with dictatorship and tyranny. It always does. Better to have what you referred to as ‘petty bureaucrats’ running things, small men without the power or drive to force their will on the populace.”
Harry stared at the Goblin in shock for a second. As much as he bristled at the idea that he would become a tyrant, he could imagine a scenario where, in frustration at the magical world’s refusal to change, he would try and force the issue. Dumbledore would, of course, try to manipulate everything to his wishes, no matter who got hurt. Voldemort would simply destroy anyone who argued with him. He looked up at Rocktooth. “I think you have a point,” he acknowledged sadly.
“Do you have the means to destroy the Horcrux on you?” Rocktooth asked.
“I do.”
“Then let us visit the vault of the late Bellatrix Lestrange,” the Goblin said.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Three quarters of an hour later Harry left Gringotts with the shattered remains of Helga Hufflepuff’s cup in a bag. On a high gallery overlooking the main banking hall two Goblins watched him leave.
“Are we doing the right thing, Rocktooth?” one of the Goblins asked.
“I believe this is the wisest course of action. The duplicate cup we created will fool all but Voldemort himself, and if he comes looking for it all will be lost anyway,” Rocktooth replied.
“It’s still a risk,” the other said doubtfully. “Dealing with wizards is always a bad idea.”
“I think we can actually trust Potter, to a degree anyway,” Rocktooth argued. “Besides, he is a very powerful wizard and I believe he will succeed in laying the path of Voldemort’s destruction.”
“Do you think he knows he’s a Horcrux?” the other Goblin asked.
“I doubt it,” Rocktooth replied. “Shame, really. We could have worked with Potter.”
The two Goblins turned away and went to continue with their business of the day.
Author’s Notes
What was I trying to say in the first part of this chapter? Evil can be seductive? Beauty is only face-deep? Teenage boys think with their gentleman-sausages? That Harry REALLY needs a girlfriend? All of the above?
I have to make clear that Harry wouldn’t have actually done anything with Bella in a million years. Maybe something happened between Harry and Bella during the fight: a feeling of respect for each other’s abilities or perhaps even a little physical attraction between them? This, along with her comments to him, led Harry to believe that this method of interrogation would be the most effective. That didn’t stop him feeling ashamed of acting that way or of the reaction he had to her.
The Goblins enter the story here. I like to think I’ve made them a little more intelligent and thoughtful then they are shown in a lot of stories. A lot of times they are portrayed as little more than vicious, self-serving, little gits who would sell their own grandmothers for a Knut and still think they got a good deal. We’ll be seeing more of Rocktooth and his merry goblin band later in the story.
Thanks as always to MinistryMalcontent for his beta work. I really had some weird grammatical errors in this chapter! I blame it totally on being distracted by England’s glorious progress in the six-nations rugby tournament at the moment. Swing low, sweet chariot, coming for to take me home…
Chapter 17: Chapter 17 – As the Gods Laugh
Author's Notes: Okay, I really don’t think I’m going to be very popular after this chapter. Let me just remind everyone that at the start of this story I said all relationships/character deaths would largely be as per canon and I’m just following that promise through. What happens in this chapter is a vital part of the story and needs to occur, no matter how much some people may wish it didn’t. By all means comment, but remember; non-constructive criticism will be ignored, flames laughed at, and as for death threats…well, let’s just say I’m bigger and meaner then you are.
No, really, I am.
And on that happy little note I’ll leave you to enjoy the chapter. Thanks/apologies to beta Tom aka MinistryMalcontent for his efforts. I’m sure my spelling and grammar are getting worse rather than better.
Sunday, 20 July 1997
“I’m sorry to drag you down here at this late hour, Harry, but our intelligence suggests that Voldemort will be making his move soon. This will not wait any longer, I’m afraid,” Dumbledore said as they made their way along the dark, tiled corridor deep inside the Ministry of Magic.
“That’s alright, Professor,” Harry assured him, although he secretly thought this was something that should have been dealt with months, if not years, ago.
Dumbledore had arrived at Grimmauld Place earlier that evening, wanting to talk with him urgently. Neither Sirius nor Remus had been around, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the elderly wizard had timed his visit accordingly.
An early bone of contention between him and Dumbledore had been the prophecy. The Flamels had discovered its existence years ago and wisely told Harry all about it early in his life. Dumbledore had clearly wanted the information suppressed and had been extremely upset when he found out that Harry had been told of it. Harry could only speculate on why the elderly Professor had been so adamant that he be kept in the dark about it, but he firmly did not believe Dumbledore’s protestations that it was to protect his childhood.
Following Dumbledore’s visit that night, Harry had learnt that he was, in fact, mistaken. He didn’t know everything about the prophecy, after all. There were two things he was unaware of: that Voldemort had only heard the first part of the prophecy and was desperate to learn the rest, and that a copy of the damn thing was held in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic.
Both of these things had angered Harry greatly. The fact that Voldemort had an incomplete version of the prophecy was of vital importance and would be a major factor in the Dark Lord’s motivation and tactics. That a copy of the prophecy still existed was pure idiocy. When it became clear Harry knew the whole thing, why wasn’t it destroyed? Dumbledore acknowledged his point and suggested they rectify the matter immediately. As only those directly named in the prophecy could retrieve it, Harry needed to make this trip to the bowels of the Ministry that night.
They had picked a time when the Ministry would be largely deserted. After registering with the front desk, they had descended in the lift and were now approaching the Department of Mysteries itself. Dumbledore seemed to have complete access throughout the building, and the plain black door swung open at his touch. Harry then found himself in a large circular room which was completely black. There were multiple unmarked black doors all around the room, but Dumbledore was able to go straight to the one he wanted. Harry knew that if he was separated from the old wizard, he would have a very difficult time finding his way back out.
They passed through a strange room that appeared to be full of clocks, but Dumbledore’s brisk pace prevented examination of any of them. They then passed through a further door and entered a huge room filled with tall metal shelves. These shelves were all filled with dusty glass orbs.
“Come along, Harry. We require row ninety-seven,” Dumbledore informed him, and they set off in search of that row. After what felt like miles, they located the row of shelves they had been seeking.
“I think the orb we seek will be towards the end,” Dumbledore decided after peering at the nearest orb and started to walk down the row, occasionally stopping to check his progress. Soon he found what he was looking for.
“This is what we are after,” he said, tapping at the shelf with his finger.
Harry looked where Dumbledore was indicating and read the small label attached to the orb.
Dark Lord
and (?) Harry Potter
Knowing only he would be able to touch it, and with a nod from the Professor, Harry reached up to take the orb. The second his fingers closed around the glass ball, he heard a sinister, hissing voice behind him laughing. He spun around and to his horror saw the last person in the world he wanted to set his eyes upon — Voldemort.
“Hello, Harry,” he said in an amused voice. “And Albus, too. What an unexpected bonus. How lovely to see you both here tonight.”
“Hello, Tom,” replied Dumbledore in a calm voice. “I’m most surprised to meet you here. How in the world did you know we would choose this night to retrieve the prophecy?”
“As always, you underestimate me, Albus,” Voldemort said lightly. “I always know approximately where Mr Potter is. We do, after all, share so much.”
A cold shiver ran down Harry’s back. He had suspected that he and Voldemort shared some sort of connection for some time, and after Bellatrix’s death he had become sure of it. He had, therefore, spent a lot of time and effort in building up the already considerable Occlumency shield he had in place. This was proving to be a very good idea; this close to Voldemort his scar was throbbing painfully and without the reinforcement he had little doubt he would have been in agony.
“Now, Harry. I would be grateful if you could pass me the copy of the prophecy you have in your hand. Do so and I promise you both a quick, painless death. Resist me and, well, some of my associates are rather upset with you,” Voldemort said pleasantly.
As soon as he spoke at least ten other people stepped out of the dark. They all wore the familiar black robes of Death Eaters and most wore masks. The man who stood closest to Voldemort did not, however. Harry thought he should recognise the man.
“I’m not sure if you’ve had the pleasure,” Voldemort said, clearly enjoying himself. “Harry, may I introduce Rodolphus Lestrange, dear Bellatrix’s husband. Understandably, he’s rather annoyed with you, Harry. In fact, he begged me to allow him to be the one to torture you. What do you think, my boy? Should I allow you two to get better acquainted?”
Mentally cursing, Harry looked around. They were badly outnumbered and he suspected only the elite of Voldemort’s inner circle were present. He glanced at Dumbledore who appeared calm but alert. As Harry saw it they had one advantage: Voldemort needed the prophecy intact and they didn’t. He held the glass orb out in front of him in his left hand while drawing his wand in his right. The Death Eaters instantly pointed their wands at him and Dumbledore.
“Get them to back off, Tom,” Harry said clearly. “One false move and I drop the orb.”
Unnervingly, Voldemort chuckled.
“While I might have been concerned by your threat before, the fact that both you and Dumbledore are here makes it almost irrelevant,” he explained. “Once I kill the pair of you, the contents of the prophecy no longer matters. I admit, I’m interested in hearing the whole thing out of curiosity; but it’s hardly vital. Give me the orb, and I will kill you. Don’t give me the orb, and I will kill you slowly and painfully. The choice is yours.”
Harry turned and looked at Dumbledore. Although he remained completely expressionless, his eyes briefly flicked to one side. Harry thought he could guess what the old man was suggesting and if not, well; they really had nothing to lose. He turned back to face Voldemort.
“Okay, Tom. Have it your way. Take the orb!”
As soon as the words left his lips, he threw the orb straight at Voldemort as hard as he could. He then spun around and fired several blasting curses at the Death Eaters stood behind them. Instantaneously, Dumbledore drew his wand and started cursing the Death Eaters to their front. Harry thought he heard breaking glass and Voldemort swearing.
Harry’s blasting charms hit one of the Death Eaters squarely in the chest, blowing him backwards. The other hit one of the shelves sending pieces of broken glass flying everywhere. The two other Death Eaters ducked instinctively as they found themselves in a blizzard of glass.
Using the distraction to his advantage, Harry charged the two cloaked figures. His Katana was in his hand before he realised he had summoned it, and he buried the blade deep into the stomach of the nearest Death Eater. The man screamed and tried to grip the blade with both hands, presumably trying to pull it out. Fortunately, his body shielded Harry from attack from the other Death Eater who looked on in shock. While gripping his embedded sword tightly in his right hand, he pointed his wand over the dying man’s should and cast another blasting curse. It hit the Death Eater in the face and virtually took his head off.
Placing his foot in the Death Eater's stomach to give extra purchase, Harry pulled his sword from the man. It slid out with a sickening sucking sound, and the Death Eater crumpled to the floor, sobbing. He was bleeding so badly Harry gave him no more than a few minutes to live. He turned and found Dumbledore hard pressed against Voldemort. The remaining Death Eaters were stood behind Voldemort and were unable to join the action without fear of hitting their master in the back. Harry decided this wasn’t a luxury he could afford and carefully aimed over Dumbledore’s shoulder. He sent several blasting charms either side of Voldemort in the hope of taking out the remaining Death Eaters. It didn’t have quite the effect he was hoping for.
One charm must have bypassed his targets and hit the far end of the row. It managed to topple the entire shelf and set off a domino effect. Harry’s eyes widened as he saw the tall shelves crashing down, sending razor sharp slivers of glass flying everywhere. Worse still, the shelves were falling towards them.
“Run!” he heard Dumbledore yell, and he needed no further encouragement. Turning on his heels, he sprinted down the rows of shelves before they came crashing down on him. Surprisingly, the elderly Professor appeared to have no trouble keeping up.
The rows of shelves created junctions at various points, and he blindly ran down one. Only after he passed three more rows did he realise he had been separated from Dumbledore. He could no longer hear the sound of breaking glass, so he slowed his mad charge and tried to work out where he was. Unfortunately, all the rows looked identical; and he realised he was completely lost. He wandered among the rows for a while, his blood-coated sword and wand at the ready, until it occurred to him to look at the row numbers. He was soon hurrying along one of the bisecting access strips, watching the row numbers descend rapidly.
Eventually, he hit row one and found the back wall. He walked along it until he discovered the entrance to the room and slipped out. Once again, he found himself in the black, circular room containing the unmarked doors. From here, he had no idea where to go next. Did he just randomly start trying doors or did he go back and try to find Dumbledore? He would have been tempted to try and take on Voldemort, but with a Horcrux unaccounted for, that would be pointless. He vanished his sword to give him a free hand and was about to start opening doors when his head exploded in pain.
“A valiant effort, Harry, but all for nothing,” he heard a familiar voice say behind him. Harry dropped his wand and pressed both his hands to his forehead. The pain was indescribable, and he felt like he was being ripped apart. He fell and was vaguely aware he was writhing on the floor, screaming his head off. Harry felt a massive pressure against his Occlumency shields, and he dimly realised Voldemort was trying to break through them. If that happened Harry would lose all control; he would effectively be possessed.
Despite the unbelievable pain he was suffering, the thought of possession brought up the memory of little Ginny Weasley and how Tom Riddle had taken control of her. He remembered her laying on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets, her life force slowly draining away. Irrationally, he suddenly wished he could see her again to find out how she was doing. A second later, Harry realised his shields were failing and he could do nothing more to maintain them. The shields shattered and Voldemort entered his mind. It took a few moments before he realised he was no longer the only one screaming.
He suddenly snapped to and guessed he must have passed out for a moment. His body was trembling and his face was covered in blood. A disgusting smell informed him that he lost control of his bowels and he had fouled himself. The floor in front of him was covered in vomit which he suspected was his. He was appalled to see how much blood it contained.
A groaning sound made him look up, and he was horrified to see Voldemort laying on the floor only feet away from him. He didn’t look in much better shape than Harry and seemed to be having trouble focusing. What had happened to Voldemort? What had he seen within Harry’s mind that caused him to react so?
Suddenly, Voldemort’s head snapped up; and Harry found himself looking into his slanted, red eyes. He could practically feel the hate radiating from the dark wizard.
Glancing down, he realised that Voldemort’s wand had slipped from his grasp and lay on the floor inches away from the Dark Lord’s hand. If Voldemort reached it he was a dead man. Voldemort appeared to have realised the same thing and was crawling forward, his hand outstretched. His fingers started to wrap around the wand and Harry panicked.
Using the very last of his strength, Harry lunged forward, summoning his Katana as he did so. The blow lacked real strength but was sufficient to sever Voldemort’s hand at the wrist.
Voldemort screamed a hideous, high-pitched scream that turned Harry’s stomach. Blood pumped from his severed wrist and spilled out onto the already filthy floor. Voldemort grasped the stump in an effort to stem the bleeding and rolled into a ball, clutching his wounded arm tightly.
Suddenly a figure hurled itself into the room. In despair Harry saw the man wore the robes of a Death Eater. The man flung himself down next to Voldemort and ripped off his mask. Harry recognised him as Lucius Malfoy, long suspected of being Voldemort’s right hand man. Malfoy immediately started casting healing spells on his master and succeeded in stopping the bleeding.
“Harry!” a voice came from just inside the Prophecy room. Harry realised it was Dumbledore’s.
“I’m here!” he managed to yell.
Malfoy’s attention snapped from his wounded master to Harry. He pointed his wand at him. All Harry could manage in return was to feebly raise his sword. Maybe it was the fact the sword was just in reach of Voldemort’s head or the fact that Dumbledore chose that moment to burst into the room, but Malfoy thought better of trying to kill Harry and instead grabbed at a pendant hanging from his neck. A second later he and Voldemort vanished as the Portkey whisked them away.
Vaguely, Harry thought he heard Dumbledore yelling his name as his vision swam before him. He fell forward onto the floor, rolling in his own blood and vomit. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Voldemort’s severed hand, lying in a pool of blood, a few feet away from him.
Saturday, 26 July 1997
Dumbledore carefully closed the door to Harry’s bedroom so as to make no noise. Poppy Pomfrey was again by the young man’s bedside and was maintaining her self-imposed vigil while he healed. Albus could only breathe a sigh of relief that he was indeed healing and that Voldemort’s attempt to possess Harry had not left him with any permanent mental damage. The physical damage had been bad enough, and once again the boy had suffered terrible internal damage and blood loss.
He had managed to make it as far as the front door of Grimmauld Place before he was intercepted by an angry Sirius Black. He had hoped to avoid further confrontation with the man, but Black was determined to force his point of view home.
After the disaster at the Ministry, Dumbledore had transported Harry directly to the hospital wing at Hogwarts. He feared that if he took Harry to St Mungo’s too many questions would be asked. Poppy had loudly complained that the boy should be in a proper hospital, but had eventually been persuaded to attend to Harry’s care herself. Dumbledore rather suspected that Pomfrey had become rather attached to the brave young man, and secretly wanted to look after him herself anyway. She had performed to her usual high standards, and Harry was soon well on the road to recovery. After a few days he was well enough to be moved to Grimmauld Place, and Poppy had accompanied him.
Since then, Dumbledore had been in near constant conflict with Harry’s godfather. Sirius had been livid that he had persuaded Harry to go to the Ministry without him, or indeed without any back-up. Dumbledore’s protests that the trip should have been risk free fell on deaf ears, and Sirius had grown more and more angry. Truthfully, Albus could not refute that the whole thing had been a near-catastrophe. If Harry had been killed at this point, then all would have been lost. No matter what remorse Dumbledore expressed, however, it was not enough for Black.
“I thought I said you were only to visit Harry with me present,” Sirius snapped.
Albus bit his tongue.
“I only looked in on him and Poppy was present at the time,” he replied in what he hoped was a conciliatory tone.
“I’ve made myself quite clear, Dumbledore. You leave Harry alone. Haven’t you done enough to him?” Sirius continued, obviously not pacified.
“You know as well as I that I cannot leave Harry alone. He has a prophecy to complete and a destiny to fulfil. Only he can defeat Voldemort,” Dumbledore said wearily.
“Oh, you remembered that, did you?” Sirius growled. “Then can you explain why, if Harry is so vital, you nearly got him killed?”
“Sirius, I…” Dumbledore tried to say but was interrupted.
“How could you let Harry face Voldemort? You know that until the final Horcrux is destroyed the bastard can’t be killed? Were you trying to throw Harry’s life away?” Sirius yelled.
“Now, you know that I…” Dumbledore tried again.
“NO! I should have been there! What right have you to come here and take Harry away without my permission? I’m his godfather and legal guardian, I would remind you!”
“And Harry is a member of the Order and an experienced fighter!” Dumbledore said forcefully. “He’d be the first to complain if we tried to wrap him in cotton wool.”
“There’s a difference between wrapping him in cotton wool and leading him on a suicide mission!” Sirius persisted.
Dumbledore raised his hands in supplication. “If I had thought there was any danger involved, I wouldn’t have let Harry anywhere near the Ministry,” he said.
“Well, unfortunately, your judgement seems to have become somewhat impaired of late,” Sirius shot back. “In the future I will have the final say in any mission or task that you want Harry to perform. Got that?”
“Your message is quite clear,” Dumbledore confirmed with a calmness he didn’t feel. “I’ll bid you goodnight, Sirius.” He slipped out the door and away from Black’s malevolent gaze.
An hour later Dumbledore sat at the desk in his office brooding. First the Flamels, now Black, had turned against him. It appeared that his original gut instinct to leave Harry with the Dursleys had been correct. Maybe if he’d applied some memory charms to the family Harry could have remained there? Dumbledore scowled; it was pointless thinking such things now. In just a few days Harry would be seventeen and legally an adult.
Dumbledore’s chain of thought was suddenly interrupted by the arrival of Severus Snape. The man staggered into the office in obvious pain, his normal pale completion now deathly white. He dropped into a chair.
“Severus, what happened?” Dumbledore asked in alarm.
“The Dark Lord is not pleased,” Snape gasped. “All week he has been in the foulest of tempers. He’s killed three minor Death Eaters stone dead. I myself have experienced the Cruciatus Curse on a level I have never imagined in my worst nightmares. I was lucky to escape with my sanity intact.”
Dumbledore hurried over to a cupboard and removed a large purple bottle. He handed it to Snape who drank from it gratefully.
Only when the bottle was nearly drained did Snape continue. “I’m not going back, Albus. Next time he’ll kill me,” Snape said bitterly.
“You must, Severus. It’s vital you maintain your position within Voldemort’s inner circle,” Dumbledore implored.
“I won’t be much use to you dead,” Snape snapped. “The Dark Lord already doubts me. He feels someone as close to you as I am should be proving more in the way of useful information. Frankly, I see his point. If I’m to go back I need to give him something of value.”
An idea immediately entered Dumbledore’s mind. Initially, he rejected it — it was far too much of a betrayal. But, when you are in a position of responsibility, you have to look at all ideas, no matter how unpleasant they could seem. Mentally, he weighed up the positives and negatives, and then sighed deeply. He would have no choice. He turned to Snape.
“I think we can provide some information that will please Voldemort,” he said before outlining his plan.
Tuesday, 5 August 1997
“This is a waste of time, Moony,” Sirius griped. “Do you really think they’re learning anything?”
“It’s all good practice, Sirius,” Remus assured him. He pointed to the two new Order members making their way carefully through the rubble. “Those two seriously need training. There’s no way they're ready to face Voldemort’s forces.”
Sirius frowned as one of the new recruits slipped and nearly fell flat on her face. “Maybe your right,” he sighed.
“Besides,” Remus continued, “it gives us something to do while we’re waiting for Harry to get back on his feet.”
Sirius acknowledged the logic in that. They had been sitting twiddling their thumbs for a week now while Harry inched back to complete health. He was back in training but still had some way to go before he was back to full strength. Yesterday, Mad-Eye had cornered the pair of them and suggested they take two of the more inexperienced Order members for a training exercise. This explained why they were currently sifting through the ruins of this old castle under the pretence of it being a ‘reconnaissance’ mission.
“So, what’s your evaluation of our recruits, then?” Remus asked with a smile.
Sirius rolled his eyes. “The witch, whatshername? Oh yeah, Tyburn, she’s not too bad. A bit panicky, though. Ronson’s a bit of a waste of space, if you ask me. I wouldn’t trust him to do a cleaning charm right,” he grumbled.
Remus only chortled in reply.
The two recruits were a little way ahead of Remus and Sirius. They were in a box formation, but the amount of rock and debris from the crumbling castle made this difficult to maintain. Ronson was a little ahead of the rest of them when he was forced to scramble up a pile of rubble. When he reached the top he stopped in surprise. “Who are y…” he began.
“Avada Kedavra” a voice shouted from the other side of the rock pile. Ronson fell limply to the ground.
“COVER!” Sirius screamed, diving behind the remains of a wall. He looked over to see Remus dart into an alcove, his wand at the ready. Tyburn stood mesmerised for a second before turning around and running. As she ran past him Sirius reached out and grabbed the back of her robes, pulling her to cover.
“What’s going on?” the shaky witch asked, her eyes wide.
“Death Eaters, that’s what’s going on,” Sirius informed her while trying to peer round the wall. Just as he did a blasting hex sailed towards him and impacted on the wall, sending fragments flying everywhere. Sirius darted back under cover. He turned and grinned at Tyburn. “I think your training has just become a bit more realistic.”
“Sirius,” Remus called from cover. “Whoever these people are, they’re good. I think a tactical retreat is called for.”
Sirius frowned. He hated the idea of running without putting up a fight. The sound of Tyburn whimpering convinced that wouldn’t be a good idea, however. “Okay, let’s Apparate out of here,” he called back. He was just preparing to stand when he heard Remus swear.
“Shit!” the werewolf cursed. “Anti-Apparation wards!” Sirius grabbed at a small locket which hung around his neck. Nothing happened.
“Bugger,” he yelled. “Same with the Portkeys.”
“You mean we’re trapped?” Tyburn asked. She sounded like she was starting to panic.
“We’re not finished yet,” Sirius snapped. “I’ve been in tighter jams than this.” He was well aware that might have been a complete lie because he hadn’t a clue how bad the situation actually was. They’d not caught a glimpse of their opponents at all, and the silence was ominous.
Suddenly, a curse hit the wall right next to Tyburn. Sirius turned and launched a spell at a shadowy figure he thought he saw lurking in the ruins of a tower. He doubted he hit anything.
“Damn, they're behind us. We have to move…now!” Grabbling Tyburn by the arm he sprinted over to where Remus was knelt. The alcove gave some cover but they couldn’t stay there forever.
“Any ideas?” Remus asked.
“Fight our way back the way we came,” Sirius shrugged. There really didn’t seem anything else they could do.
“Okay,” Remus agreed. “Sirius, you go first, then Tyburn and I’ll follow up the rear.”
“Right. Go!” Sirius charged from cover and ran as fast as he could towards the ruins of some old buildings. He could hear Tyburn behind him and he only hoped Remus was following. Halfway across, spells began to impact around them.
“KEEP MOVING!” he yelled as fragments of stone and wood battered him. He was nearly to the buildings when he heard a scream from behind him. He turned and saw Tyburn sprawled on the floor.
Remus was running up from behind and grabbed Sirius to stop him turning back. “She’s dead!” Remus bellowed. “Keep going!”
The two men sprinted the last few yards and darted into the nearest building. Remus flattened himself by the doorway and tried to peer out while Sirius looked for an exit. There wasn’t one.
“Shit,” he cursed. “I think this is an old stable block. The far end is totally caved in. This is the only way out.”
“Damn,” Remus snarled. “We can’t afford to get pinned down in here. Let’s move now!” He made to run out the door but a volley of spells impacted around him, forced him back.
For a second Sirius was worried the whole wall would collapse, such was the force of the explosions battering against it. He covered his face with his arm and waited for the barrage to end.
A few moments later the onslaught ceased and silence reigned. He looked up at Remus who was pressed flat against the wall with his face bleeding. He looked fearful. Then, a voice called out clearly to them.
“Sirius Black! Remus Lupin! We know you’re in there. We’ve been watching you since you arrived. You have no hope of escape so make things easy on yourselves. Throw out your wands and surrender,” the voice called.
Both men stared at each other in horror. They both knew that voice well.
“Lucius Malfoy!” Sirius spat. “What’s that bastard doing here?”
“Let’s find out,” muttered Remus, before putting his head round the door frame and yelling, “What do you want, Malfoy?”
“Why, I want you, you miserable werewolf. You and that traitorous disgrace to the name Black.” Malfoy called calmly.
“How did they know we were here?” Sirius demanded. “It can’t have been luck, can it? Have we stumbled on a Death Eater base by mistake, or something?”
“I think we’ve been set up,” Remus said. “I caught a glimpse of some of them out there. In addition to Malfoy I saw Dolohov and Yaxley. I’m not sure but Fenrir might have been there too.”
Sirius risked a look out of a window. “Hell, there must be at least twenty of them out there! I’m pretty sure I saw Macnair as well,” he gasped.
“So, we’re outnumbered ten-to-one; we can’t Apparate; and there’s no other exit from this building?” Remus asked in a flat voice.
Sirius looked up at him sharply. “Don’t give up yet! We’ve got out of some tight spots before. We’ll think of something,” he urged.
“There’s no point hiding,” Malfoy’s voice called again. “If you don’t come out, we’ll just blast that building into dust.”
Sirius and Remus looked at each other for a second. Sirius’s mind was running a mile a second but, try as he might, he couldn’t think of a plan to save them.
“Well, we’ve had a good run,” Remus said quietly.
Sirius looked at him in horror. They couldn’t just give up, they just couldn’t. But what else was there to do? He suspected that the force out the front weren’t alone, and they had run out of options. A lump formed in his throat. “Yeah, we have,” Sirius replied after a moment.
Remus looked pale. “I want to tell you, you’ve been the best friend a man could ever want. If I hadn’t met you and James, I don’t know what would have happened to me,” Remus said in a thick voice.
“You too, mate,” Sirius replied. “I guess we’ll get to see James and Lily again, and Tonks.”
“Do you think she’ll forgive me?” Remus asked.
“Mate, I know she’ll be there waiting for you,” Sirius said with a smile.
“We’re waiting,” Malfoy called again.
“Do you know who I feel sorry for?” Sirius asked.
“Us?” Remus replied with forced humour.
Sirius laughed. “No. Harry. First he loses his parents, then, after the Flamel’s take him in, they die, too. Now, just as he gets close to us…” he left the last part unfinished.
“Any way we can get a last message to him?” Remus asked.
“Not that I can think of,” Sirius shook his head sadly.
“Right, you have ten seconds,” Malfoy yelled. “ Ten…nine…”
“We’re going to take a lot of the bastards with us, right?” Sirius growled.
“Oh, bloody hell, yes!” Remus grinned.
“On three?” Sirius asked.
Remus nodded.
“One…two…three…MARAUDERS!”
Both men charged from the building, hurling spells in all directions as they ran.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Sitting alone in his office at Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore nursed a glass of Firewhisky in his hand.
Sometimes he hated the injustice of his life. Why had fate decreed that he should shoulder the burden of command? Why was it that he had to make all the hard decisions? He sighed; it was an old argument he had with himself many times. The answer was simple — with power came responsibility, and his responsibility was to the Wizarding world at large. He couldn’t afford to think of just a few individuals.
He drained his glass with one well-practised flick of his wrist. He then turned and looked in disgust at the chess board which sat nearby. With a heavy heart, he reached over and removed the two white knights from the board.
Wednesday, 6 August 1997
Harry walked slowly across the courtyard, his face a mask. His stomach clenched when he spotted Mad-Eye Moody standing in front of four sheet-covered shapes lying on the ground. They had been arrayed in a neat line with perfect spacing between them. With every part of his body screaming at him to stop, he made his way over.
Mad-Eye intercepted him a few yards in front of the shapes. He clamped his hand on Harry’s shoulder.
“Sorry, lad,” he said gruffly. “The two on the right.”
Harry made his way over to where Moody had indicated and gently lifted the sheet off the shape on the extreme right. He looked at the body underneath for a moment, before replacing the sheet. He then stepped over to the next one and repeated the process. For a second he stood, desperately trying to get his emotions under control. He had to get out of there. This had been a really bad idea, insisting he saw their bodies…
He quickly made his way back, aware of Moody watching him all the way. Once he was clear of the courtyard, he Apparated back to Grimmauld Place. He paused for a moment on the doorstep, not sure he had the strength to enter. This was Sirius’s house. With tears in his eyes he pushed the door open and went in.
The Elves bustled about him in concern the second he walked in. Even Kreacher, who hated Sirius, wisely kept silent. Harry was led into the kitchen and a steaming mug of tea forced into his hands.
The kitchen. It was always the bloody kitchen. Whenever someone he loved or cared for died, he always ended up in the kitchen, drinking cups of bloody tea. He had an urge to throw the mug at a wall, but thought it would only upset Misty. Instead, he sat there, drinking tea and stewing in his own misery.
He’d lost track of how long he’d been sat there when the kitchen door opened and Dumbledore walked in. He looked tired and old, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. Without being asked he flopped down in a seat opposite Harry and looked at him.
“I’m truly sorry, Harry,” he said in a softly. “Sirius and Remus were fine, fine men. They will be missed.”
“How…why…I mean, what were they even doing there?” Harry asked in a broken voice.
“A simple training exercise for two new recruits. We picked that castle because we thought it was completely empty. The Death Eaters had no reason to be there.” Dumbledore explained.
“Then why were they?” Harry spat. “How did they know Sirius and Remus would be there?”
“I suspect we have a spy within the Order,” Dumbledore said. He quickly raised his hand as Harry looked up in anger. “And before you say it, no, not Professor Snape. I can give you my assurance that I’m one hundred per cent certain that the information leak didn’t originate from him.”
“Then who?” Harry asked.
“I don’t know, but I will do my utmost to find out. Have you given any thought to what you want to do now?” Dumbledore asked.
The question caught Harry by surprise. There was still a war going on and one more Horcrux to find. But the more he thought about it, the more uncertain he became. He was an adult now and could theoretically do whatever he pleased. His first thought was to carry on with what he had been doing, but he quickly dismissed that. They had come up against a brick wall with no idea where to look next. He glanced round the kitchen and also realised he couldn’t stay here. It would just be too painful. He looked at Dumbledore. “I suppose you have a suggestion?” he asked rather gruffly.
“Actually, I do,” Dumbledore replied, seemingly not taking offence. “Are you still convinced that the last Horcrux is at Hogwarts?”
Harry though for a second. “I can’t think of anywhere else it might be.”
“Well then, I think you should be given the opportunity to search for it. Harry, I think you should suddenly develop a desire to finish your education at Hogwarts.”
Harry stared at the old wizard for a moment before nodding. What other choice did he have?
Chapter 18: Chapter 18 – When Dreams Turn Into Nightmares
Author's Notes: Yes, as promised we finally get to see Ginny again. For the next three chapters we will be seeing what happened to her while Harry was having his adventures. And before anyone asks, chapter 21 is where the pair will meet up again. So be warned; if anyone asks me ‘where’s Harry?’ before then I will hunt you down and beat you with a soggy kipper. Oh, and another thing; yes, I know a certain cat doesn’t die in canon, but I wanted the mangy thing dead! Bwahahahah (I think I’m starting to lose it; I need a holiday).
Thanks as always to Tom for his beta work. I am backsliding, I know! I even got a wave/waived mistake in there and I thought I was long past those!
So far we have followed the journey that one young man has taken until he reached the gates of Hogwarts. That journey, due to a minor accident, has not been as direct as may have been the case. But like a pebble dropped into still water, the initial action will cause waves which will affect everything around it. Let us, therefore, consider the effect the more circular path that Harry took has had on another person. A person whose destiny is closely linked to his own.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
If asked, Ginny Weasley would probably have said that she had a wonderful childhood. Ginny had known she was a witch from her earliest memories and had always loved magic. She had first performed accidental magic when she was four with such devastating results that her brothers refrained from playing pranks on her openly for years.
She lived in ramshackle but comfortable house in the Devon countryside. Right on her doorstep were fields to play in, woods to explore, and rivers to swim in. She was never lonely either, not with six older brothers around the place. She loved all her brothers, but in very different ways. Bill, the oldest, was her favourite and always treated her like a princess. If she ever had any problems she took them to Bill. Charlie was the next oldest and was always cheerful. He was a bit more rough and tumble than Bill, but he always had time for Ginny. Percy was next and, while not as affectionate as the rest, he always tried his best to explain something to her if she didn’t understand. The twins, Fred and George, were just a riot and were always full of fun. Ron, the youngest brother, was only a year older than Ginny and as a result they ended up playing together the most.
If she wanted a female friend her own age then she could visit her best friend Luna who lived over the hill. Luna loved being outside and was fascinated by animals and plants. She and Ginny would spend hours wandering the fields and riverbanks, watching the birds and small animals or picking the flowers that grew everywhere.
Central to her life, of course, were her parents. Her mum was kind and protective, if a little scary at times, normally when Ginny had done something wrong. She was the best cook in the world and made the most wonderful pies Ginny had ever tasted. One of Ginny’s favourite things was collecting the fruit from the trees and bushes around their home, because she knew it meant one of her mum’s fabulous fruit pies would be the result.
Her father was a quiet man, but Ginny knew he loved her immensely. She loved it when he came and tucked her into bed at night before telling her a story. Her favourite was about the Boy Who Lived, and Ginny would dream of him meeting her one day and them falling in love. Her brothers found this very funny, but they were only boys, so what did they know?
All in all, Ginny’s life was wonderful. Unfortunately, like many things, she only really appreciated it when it all began to fall apart.
The collapse of her happiness began slowly and without warning. It started one day when she was nine when her mum called her into the kitchen and told her that there had been a terrible accident. Luna’s mother had been killed in a magical explosion, and her friend had witnessed the whole thing. Ginny was horrified. She knew Mrs Lovegood very well, and the woman had always been very nice to her. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what life would be like without her own mother, so she was devastated for her best friend.
The very next day Ginny was dressed in her best clothes and went with her parents to Mrs Lovegood’s funeral. She tried to talk to Luna and make her feel better, but her friend was just too upset. In the end she had just hugged the girl and told her she would see her soon. In fact, it was over a month before she saw Luna again when she called at her house. Although Luna seemed pleased to see her, the girl had definitely changed. Luna no longer laughed or joked like she used to, but instead spent most of her time staring off into space with a dreamy smile on her face. When she did speak, Ginny could hardly understand what she was talking about most of the time. Often Luna would seem to be talking to strange beasts that were apparently invisible. By the time Ginny went home, she was confused and a bit sad.
Time did not improve things and, if anything, Luna’s behaviour became stranger. Ginny saw her less and less, and she just couldn’t understand what had happened to her friend. Not all of her brothers were there to keep her company, either. Bill and Charlie had both moved out, as they had found jobs in other countries. When Bill had told her he was going to live in Egypt, Ginny had cried her eyes out. She’d been nearly as bad when Charlie announced he was going to Romania, but that was slightly tempered by the news that he would be working with dragons which thrilled her.
Of her remaining brothers, she barely saw Percy. Of course, she had got used to her brothers going away to school at Hogwarts, but even in the holidays Percy spent most of his time in his room studying. At least the twins were as fun as ever, but they were always off doing something together. As a result, Ginny spent most of her time with Ron, often swimming in the river or talking about Quidditch.
But before she knew it, Ron was celebrating his eleventh birthday. That summer he received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, and it dawned on Ginny that she would be alone. Her parents would be with her, naturally, but she would have no one her own age around. That September she had stood on the platform at King's Cross Station and begged her mum to let her go to Hogwarts early. Her mum had told her that she would have to wait, and she had been forced to watch the Hogwarts Express pull away carrying four of her brothers while she stayed rooted to the spot.
The trip home had seemed to take a long time, and only when she arrived home at the Burrow did she realise just how quiet the place had become. Days dragged into weeks and weeks dragged into months. He brothers returned for the Christmas holidays, and Ginny had another nasty surprise. Ron seemed to have completely changed. He talked constantly about his new friends and how popular he was. Ginny had begged him to tell her stories about Hogwarts, but he had just told her that he wasn’t interested in spending time with a ‘stupid little girl’. She had tried not to cry, but she needn’t have made the effort; Ron just ignored her anyway. Percy vanished as usual and the twins seemed wrapped up in some secret project of theirs, meaning that Ginny felt more alone than before. She was almost glad when her brothers returned to school.
It had been a wet nasty winter and spring was late coming, forcing Ginny to spend a lot of time in the house. When she could, she still sneaked out in the dead of night to ‘borrow’ one of her brother’s brooms and secretly go flying; but this was the only excitement she had. Time seemed move very slowly, and she felt very lonely and bored. She tried to hide this as much as possible, as if her mother saw her mopping around the house she normally was given extra chores to do. Everyday Ginny wished it was time for her to follow her brothers to Hogwarts.
Tuesday, 1 September 1992
Finally, the day she had been waiting for was here. An eleven year-old Ginny Weasley walked onto platform nine and three-quarters, along with her four brothers, about to board the Hogwarts Express for the first time. Her mother fussed around and reeled off a list of things she was expressly forbidden to do. Frankly, the list of things to be avoided, which ranged from never skipping her homework to not sneaking out to meet boys, all sounded quite fun. She was going to enjoy Hogwarts, she decided.
“Now, Ginny, remember to write as soon as you’ve been sorted. I’ve no doubt you’ll be a Gryffindor, but I won’t feel happy until I know you’ll be in a House where your brothers can look after you,” Molly Weasley instructed her daughter.
“Don’t worry, mum. I’m a Weasley. Where else will I get sorted?” Ginny laughed.
“Well, I just want to know you’ll be alright,” her mum said, before a whistle announced the train was about to leave. “Everyone on board! Fred, George, help your sister with her trunk. Ron, you behave yourself. And everyone, I want regular letters, got that?”
“Yes, mum,” the three boys all agreed, while Percy just vanished into the train carriage so he could perform his Prefect duties. Soon, they were all aboard and the train moved off from the platform. Ginny waved to her mother out the window until she was out of sight.
“Right, short stuff, where do you want your trunk?” asked George.
“Err, I don’t know. I don’t really know anyone other than you lot,” Ginny said nervously.
“Well, you’re not sitting with me!” Ron snapped, “I don’t want a stupid firstie hanging around. I’m off to find Dean and Seamus.” Ginny watched as her brother vanished down the corridor. She heard Fred tut.
“He’s definitely developing an attitude problem,” he said, shaking his head.
“Yeah, we might have to take him down a peg or two this term,” George agreed. “Come on, sis, let’s find some other first years for you to meet.”
Ginny trailed behind as her two brothers carried her trunk up the aisle. After passing a few compartments, they paused and beckoned her forward.
“How about this one, munchkin?” Fred asked. Peering in, Ginny saw a number of girls who appeared to be her own age. To her delight, she noticed one of them was Luna. “Oh yes, this one will do,” she agreed.
The twins manhandled her trunk into the compartment and swung it up on the luggage rack. Then, bidding her farewell, vanished rapidly.
Ginny hurried over to Luna and sat next to her. “Hi, Luna,” she greeted the blond girl brightly. “It seems like I haven’t seen you in ages. Are you looking forward to going to Hogwarts?”
For a second Luna stared at her like she was surprise to see her there. She then pulled a copy of the Quibbler, the magazine her father ran, and started reading it. For a second Ginny thought her friend was going to completely ignore her.
“I suppose so,” Luna replied after a while. “But I am worried about all the Nargles that might be there. They like old, drafty castles you know.” Ginny blinked and wondered how to reply before a dark haired girl sat opposite butted in.
“Oh, you’re friends with this freak, are you?” she snarled.
Ginny looked up at the girl, surprised by her hostile attitude. “Yes, Luna and I grew up near each other,” Ginny replied, trying to be polite. “My name’s Ginny Weasley, by the way.”
“Oh, sweet Merlin, not another bloody Weasley. My sister warned me about you lot. Blood traitors the lot of you,” the girl spat.
Ginny felt a sinking feeling. She’d bet her last Knut that this girl’s sister was a Slytherin, and she was a stuck-up pure-blood. “Oh, shut up!” Ginny snapped back. “Only an idiot worries about stupid things like blood status.”
“You better watch it, Weasley,” the girl growled back. “Bad things happen to people like you! You and that idiot you call a friend.”
Several other girls in the compartment shifted forward in support of the dark haired girl, and Ginny felt uneasy. She looked over at Luna for support, but the girl was just reading her magazine, apparently oblivious to the conversation going on around her.
Seeing she had no chance in a fight against three other girls, Ginny huffed and sat back in her seat. This seemed to amuse the dark haired girl who smirked at her. The journey continued with Ginny and Luna sitting in complete silence, while the three other girls chatted merrily away. Ginny must have nodded off, because she snapped awake when a voice loudly declared that they were getting close to Hogsmeade and that they had better put on their robes. Sighing, Ginny reached up to her trunk and pulled out her own robes which she slipped on.
To her shock, the three unfamiliar girls burst out laughing.
“What are you wearing, Weasley? Those robes look about a million years old!” the dark haired girl laughed.
“Oh, look at all the patches on it! I’ve seen tramps where better things then that!” the blond haired witch sitting across from her howled in amusement.
The three girls then took great fun in throwing every insult they could at Ginny.
She kept her mouth shut and looked straight ahead. She’d known that her robes weren’t the best available. After all, she’d been with her mother when she’d picked them out of the second hand section of the clothing shop, but she hadn’t realised how worn they looked in comparison with the brand new robes the other girls were wearing. She tried to ignore their comments, but some of them were very nasty. She bit her bottom lip and forced herself not to cry. The lack of support from her friend stung as well.
It was a great relief to Ginny when the train reached Hogsmeade a few minutes later. She left the carriage with Luna, although the blond girl still barely said a word to her. She’d been worried that Luna was angry because Ginny hadn’t seen much of her over the summer, but her friend didn’t appear upset. In fact, she didn’t seem much of anything. Luna just obediently went where she was told with a look of mild curiosity on her face.
Together they followed directions to the small boats which had been provided to take them across the lake. Ginny and Luna shared the boat with two girls who appeared to know each other well, so there was little communication between them. Fortunately, the wondrous sight of Hogwarts itself distracted her and the boat trip passed quickly.
The new first years were then guided into the great hall for sorting. To her immense relief she was sorted into Gryffindor, despite the sorting hat's attempts to convince her that Slytherin would be a good option. All four of her brothers clapped and cheered as she took her place at the House table, and for the first time since she stepped foot on the train that morning, she started to feel good. The feast was delicious and she even managed to have some conversation with her new school mates. After the meal was finished she was directed to her dorm room and, feeling more hopeful, she had a restful night’s sleep.
Wednesday, 9 September 1992
With her book bag dragging on the floor, Ginny walked out of the Transfiguration classroom. Never in her life had she felt so wretched. Her first week in school was rapidly turning into a nightmare. Nothing seemed to be going right for her.
She had initially looked forward to her lessons and was pleased to find that she understood most of the material she was taught. Unfortunately, when it had come to the practical side of her classes, she had barely been able to get a spell right. Ginny was mystified by it; she understood her lessons, made the right wand movements and spoke the correct incantations. But no matter what she did, none of the spells worked for her. Some of the other girls, particularly the Slytherins, had noticed her failure and had taken to teasing her about it. That, and the poor condition of her robes, meant she had become she had become the snakes' favourite target for bullying.
If anything, she was getting worse. Back at the Burrow, she had ‘borrowed’ her brothers' wands many times and had never had a problem casting spells. Her bat-bogie hex had been feared and had dissuaded the twins from trying to prank her too many times. But when she had tried to cast the spell at one particularly nasty Slytherin girl, it had been pathetic. The girl had effortlessly dispelled her curse and responded with a stinging hex that brought tears to Ginny’s eyes.
She had tried to talk to her brothers about it but they were no use. Fred and George had even seemed a little pleased that they no longer had to live under the threat of her hexes. Percy had given her a long lecture on how she would never amount to anything unless she put more effort into her school work. Ron had refused to even talk to her, cruelly shouting at her that he didn’t have time to deal with ‘stupid firsties’. She thought of writing home, but dreaded to think what her mum’s reaction would be to the news she was doing badly in her classes.
No-one in her year seemed particularly interested in talking to her anyway. Some of the mud slung by the Slytherins had stuck, and most of her schoolmates had no time for a stupid, poor little girl who couldn’t get a single spell right.
Although it was dinner time, Ginny had no appetite. Instead, she wearily dragged herself up to her dorm room and threw herself on her bed. She pulled the curtains closed and felt relief at the solitude. She was surrounded by people but had never felt so alone. Even talking to Luna had proved useless as the girl continued to act strangely. If only she had someone to talk to!
With a start, Ginny remembered a discovery she had made on her first day. Grabbing her book bag, she hunted within it until she found the diary. She had no idea where it had come from and assumed it was a present from her parents. It had completely slipped her mind until now. Grabbing a quill she began to write about her terrible first week.
She nearly screamed in surprise when the diary began to write back.
Friday, 20 November 1992
With mounting panic, Ginny dived behind the tapestry that hid a secret passage. That she even knew the passage was there was concerning, but as it had just allowed her to avoid Argus Filch, the foul-natured caretaker, she wasn’t complaining.
She paused and tried to control her breathing. Ginny had absolutely no idea how she had got here or what she had been doing. The last thing she remembered was climbing into bed and drifting off to sleep. The next thing she knew, she had found herself standing in a draughty corridor on the other side of the castle. To make things worse, this had happened several times before.
This was most definitely not the time to start sleepwalking. The whole school was in a panic as it was believed a terrible monster was on the loose. It had started when the caretaker’s cat had been killed, with a message written on a nearby wall in the animal's blood stating that the ‘heir of Slytherin had opened the Chamber of Secrets’. No-one had the slightest idea what this meant, but rumours started running through the school like wildfire. Then, Colin was attacked.
Colin Creevey was one of the few people in her year who was quite nice to her, and Ginny was devastated when she heard he had been attacked. Fortunately, he had not been killed; but he had been petrified. He was currently in the hospital wing while the staff desperately sought a cure. A cold shiver of fear had run through the school, and everyone was desperately looking forward to the Christmas holidays.
Peeking round the tapestry, Ginny saw the coast was clear. She darted from her hiding place and ran back to the Gryffindor common room as fast as possible. She was starting to feel she was losing her mind and wished she had someone to talk to. If it wasn’t for Tom she would have gone mad by now. In the morning, she would have to write about this adventure in the diary. Hopefully, Tom would know what to do.
Thursday, 11 February 1993
Her life was becoming a nightmare. There was no other word for it.
Too late, Ginny had realised that Tom was not her friend. The gaps in her memory were becoming more and more common now, and she frequently found herself in strange places with no knowledge of how she had got there. She no longer needed to write in the diary any more as Tom seemed to be in her head. He was always there, whispering to her and urging her to do terrible deeds. Without knowing how, sometimes she became aware of how to do dreadful things that no eleven year old should know. For some reason she had started to hate all Mudbloods, and when she saw one she would dream of unpleasant ways to kill them. Everyone around her was an inferior who ought to be squashed like a bug. But she knew it wasn’t her thinking these things, it was Tom.
The only positive thing happening to her at present was that she had started to be more successful in spell casting. It was small compensation for her losing her mind.
There had been more attacks around the school, and Ginny was now convinced she was responsible for them. Last month a second-year boy she didn’t know from Hufflepuff had been petrified. Then, a few days ago, two girls, Hermione Granger and Penelope Clearwater, had been attacked. Penelope was her brother Percy’s girlfriend, and he had been devastated. Ginny shuddered to think what he would do if he found out she had been involved somehow.
She wasn’t certain when she had become aware that the diary was taking her over. The knowledge had dripped into her brain too slowly for her to do anything about it. She had tried to destroy the diary, but nothing seemed to work. The diary was apparently indestructible. Even an attempt to abandon the book in the Forbidden Forrest had failed; the diary just appeared back in her bag the next day with Ginny having no idea how it got there. Her one attempt at telling a teacher had failed as well. She had approached Professor McGonagall with best intentions, but before she knew it, had found herself walking away with no memory of ever talking to the teacher.
She was fighting Tom every second of the day, but Ginny knew it was a losing battle. All she could do was pray that no one would be killed before Tom eventually killed her.
Chapter 19: Chapter 19 – A Serpent's Embrace Broken
Author's Notes: The second of three ‘Ginny alone’ chapters. Those of you that have been reading this story from the beginning will recognise the start of this chapter as being a re-write of chapter 4 but from Ginny’s POV. We then get the long promised details of how Arthur got sacked and the repercussions from that. Hang in there, guys; Harry’s back in the chapter after next!
Tuesday, 20 April 1993
Ginny awoke to find herself lying on a cold stone floor. All she could remember was Tom taunting her, telling her what a pathetic, useless little girl she was, and how her weakness had allowed him to triumph. For weeks now, her head had been filled with terrible visions and thoughts. She had seen things which would haunt her for life, she was sure. Ginny knew Tom was going to kill her soon, and she was beginning to welcome it.
Her body ached, and she felt as weak as a new-born kitten. Judging from the black stone she was laying on, she was down in the Chamber. That meant that the basilisk would be around here somewhere, and the thought caused Ginny to shiver in fear. She hated that snake with a passion.
Slowly, she raised her head and looked at what she at first thought was Tom. Gradually, she began to realise that the boy in front of her wasn’t Riddle. He was too young to be Tom, and he had the most beautiful green eyes. With a sigh, Ginny realised she must be dreaming.
“Hello,” the boy said, nearly causing Ginny to jump out of her skin. The boy spoke! Perhaps he was real after all.
“Who are you?” Ginny managed to ask. She could hear the terror in her own voice.
“My name’s Harry,” the boy said.
Ginny had always liked the name Harry. It reminded her of her childhood hero, Harry Potter. At the thought of her fantasy idol Ginny glanced up at the boy’s forehead. For a second, her brain failed to register the lightning bolt shaped scar that was there. Then, as if she had been smashed over the head with a hammer, the truth hit her.
“Sweet Merlin! You’re Harry Potter! I’m not dreaming,” she squealed. He was here, right in front of her!
“Yeah, I am. What’s your name?” he asked.
“Ginny…Ginny Weasley,” she replied automatically. Then she came to her senses. There was danger here. Where were Tom and the basilisk? Desperately, she looked around for them. “Where’s Tom? Oh, we have to get out of here before he comes back! If he…SHIT! The basilisk! It’s dead!”
Harry just started laughing. “It’s okay, Ginny. I killed the basilisk and then destroyed the diary. That seems to have gotten rid of Tom Riddle,”
Ginny stared in disbelief at the diary which was currently impaled on one of the basilisk’s teeth. Was Tom gone? “That destroyed it?” she asked hopefully. “I tried to burn it and throw into water, but nothing worked.”
“Riddle vanished before my eyes leaving only his wand behind,” Harry confirmed.
“MY wand! He took it from me!” she said angrily. She reached over and picked up the wand from the floor before regarded it sadly. “Not that I’m any good with it. I’m useless with spells.”
“You’re only young. You’re bound to get better.” He assured her. “How old are you anyway?”
Ginny felt slightly offended. Potter couldn’t be much older than her. “I’m eleven. Why?” she asked.
“I’ve just never heard an eleven year old swear as well as you, that’s all. My gran would box my ears if she heard me talk like that,” he replied, grinning at her.
Ginny giggled and put her hands over her mouth. She couldn’t believe she had sworn like that in front of Harry Potter! “I’ve got six older brothers. You do tend to pick up a few naughty words with that lot around. I wouldn’t be able to sit down for a week if my mum heard me swearing,” she explained with a laugh.
Harry laughed with her but then his smile faded a bit. “Riddle said that your brothers ignored you, and that was one of the reasons he was able to use the diary against you. Was that true?” he asked.
Ginny felt a huge lead lump form in her stomach. “Yeah. Four of my brothers are here and none of them talk to me. Fred and George are always too busy, Percy thinks he’s too important, and Ron thinks he’s too cool. Only my friend Luna ever talks to me, and she’s in a different House so I don’t see her much. She can be a bit odd, too,” she said sadly.
“I’d talk to you if I went to school here,” he encouraged. “You could teach me lots of new rude words.” That set her off giggling again.
“I can’t believe I’ve been rescued by Harry Potter,” she laughed, “and I know more swear words than him!”
“Hey, I’m a fast learner. I’m sure I‘ll pick them up quickly!”
The two of them sat there for the next ten minutes shouting out whatever rude words they could think of. The ruder the word, the louder they laughed. Ginny felt better than she had in months. Tom was gone at last. She was free of the bloody diary and, best of all, Harry Potter was sitting right there, joking with her. It was not quite how she had dreamed she would meet him, but she was bloody glad she had.
After a while they ran out of rude words, much to her disappointment. In the silence, Ginny suddenly felt a wave of guilt hit her. Here she was, laughing and joking with Harry, while the victims of her attacks lay in hospital beds, frozen forever. What had she done? As soon as she left this chamber she would be thrown out of school, maybe even imprisoned in Azkaban! Tears began to fall down her cheeks and her body started shaking.
“Ginny, it’s okay,” she heard Harry say. “It’s all over now.”
“No, it’s not!” the she wailed. “Everyone is going to hate me! I let that bloody basilisk attack so many people! Poor Colin and Hermione, and Percy’s girlfriend as well! He’ll never forgive me for that! I’ll be expelled from Hogwarts for sure. Oh, I’m so weak and stupid.”
Harry looked at her in surprise. “Err, Ginny, you do know who Tom Riddle was, don’t you?” he asked. Ginny shook her head, unsure what he was talking about. “Well, later in life Tom changed his name to Lord Voldemort and…”
“WHAT!” Ginny shrieked cutting him off mid-sentence. “I had You-Know-Who in my head?” She burst into tears once again.
“Look, Ginny, I can’t see how anyone could blame you for not being able to fight off Voldemort. You’re eleven years old, and he’s one of the most powerful wizards who ever lived! How were you supposed to fight him? And no one was permanently hurt; I heard Dumbledore say that everyone who was Petrified will be revived soon.”
“Really?” she asked hopefully. Ginny felt relief wash over her that everyone was going to be alright.
“Yeah,” Harry said. “For my money, you did brilliantly!”
Ginny's tears stopped and she gave him a small, nervous smile. The thought that Harry believed she had done nothing wrong meant the world to her. He then reached over and took her hand again and gave it a squeeze. Ginny felt her smile become wider, and she was filled with hope. Maybe everything would be okay, after all.
Letting go of her hand for a second, Harry stood and retrieved the diary from the basilisk and then offered her his hand again to help her to her feet. Ginny grasped it happily and was delighted at how warm and comforting it was. As Harry had not immediately released her hand after pulling her up, Ginny decided she was going to keep hold of it as long as she could. Maybe for the rest of her life, if she could manage it. Allowing herself to be led, they soon reached the door to the chamber and were dismayed to find it completely blocked with rubble.
“I don’t think it’s very deep,” Harry said hopefully. “Ginny, why don’t you levitate some of the rocks out of the way? We should be able to dig ourselves out.”
Somewhat doubtfully, Ginny pointed her wand at the rubble and tried to move some of it. Despite putting all of her effort into it, she could barely manage to shift the smallest of the rocks. She howled in frustration and thrust her wand at Harry.
“Here, you try it,” she said in a miserable voice. Harry took the wand and managed to move a large slab of rock immediately, to her immense aggravation.
“See! I’m useless! I can’t do anything right!” Ginny wailed, before bursting into tears.
Harry walked over to her and took her hand again. He seemed to be doing that a lot and she definitely approved. Her tears dried up almost immediately.
“Actually, Ginny, I don’t think you’re the problem,” Harry said.
“What do you mean? You could do the spell but I couldn’t. I’m a useless witch!” she cried. Harry shook his head.
“Do you know why I never came to school here at Hogwarts?” he asked.
Ginny shook her head but couldn’t wait to find out why he hadn’t.
“It’s because my grandparents tell me I’m really powerful. When I learn spells and stuff, I have to do it in a specially prepared room with loads of wards on it. If I get it wrong, I could end up injuring someone, so they thought it would be too dangerous for me to be taught here. But I tell you, Ginny, I’ve never really had any problems with levitation spells, but I found it bloody hard work using your wand. I think it’s knackered.”
“It was my grannie's wand,” she said a little defensively. Her mum had told her this enough times.
“Yeah, maybe, but I still think it’s knackered. You need a new wand, Ginny.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “I’m not sure we can afford it. We’re not very well off,” she said in a small voice. Her parents had barely had enough to send her to Hogwarts in the first place. New wands were expensive.
“I’m sure that your family will get you a new one when they learn how worn out this one is,” he assured her.
Ginny wasn’t too hopeful, but at least she knew why she was struggling with spells. Maybe they would be able to find another wand which worked better for her from somewhere?
Feeling a bit useless, Ginny stood back and watched as Harry started moving the rocks. He looked exhausted, but only allowed himself the briefest of rests before he started working again. He had been at it for about an hour when Ginny heard a noise.
“Hold up, Harry. I think I heard something.” She said, touching him on the arm to get his attention.
Now Harry had stopped moving rocks, they could definitely hear the sound of stones grinding together.
“Someone’s trying to get to us!” Harry cried in delight and continued shifting rubble from his side. After another ten minutes he had managed to create a gap in the pile of rocks. He scrambled up to look through the gap and immediately gasped.
“Harry? Is that you?” she heard a familiar voice coming through the gap.
“Professor Dumbledore? Can you hear me?” Harry called back.
“Yes, Harry, I can hear you. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine and so is Ginny! I managed to kill the basilisk and destroy Tom Riddle's diary,” he replied.
Ginny grinned as she heard the old man gasp in surprise.
“Hold on, Harry. I’m nearly through to you. Another few minutes and you’ll be free,” Dumbledore called.
Harry took this as a sign to stop working. He came over and handed Ginny’s wand back to her.
Relief flowed through her as she realised that they were safe. Seeing Harry’s hand hanging unused, she shyly slipped her own into it. She was delighted when he didn’t complain. The two of them stood hand in hand waiting for the headmaster to break through to them.
It only took Dumbledore a few more minutes to reach them, and Ginny found herself slightly disappointed. The small gap he had created meant she had to let go of Harry’s hand for her to scramble through it. On the other side she found the Headmaster looked dishevelled and bruised.
“What happened to Lockhart?” Harry asked warily.
“Alas, his plan backfired on him, Harry. He was buried under that large pile of rocks over there. I cast a detection spell and unfortunately found that he had not survived,” Dumbledore sounded genuinely upset.
Ginny was shocked. She knew Lockhart was useless, but couldn’t believe he was capable of such a terrible betrayal.
“He tried to do it to us first, Professor,” Harry said with a slight bitterness in his voice.
Ginny instantly stopped feeling sorry for Lockhart. Anyone who tried to hurt Harry deserved everything they got, she decided.
Dumbledore then proceeded to question Harry on what had happened in the chamber. She listened as Harry explained how he had fought the basilisk and destroyed the diary. Although she didn’t fully understand everything he talked about, it was clear he had been incredibly heroic.
“Remarkable. You have been exceptionally brave, Harry. Nick and Perry will be proud of you,” the Headmaster congratulated him.
“He was brilliant!” Ginny exclaimed. She noticed Harry flushed at her praise and she smiled. He was modest as well as brave.
“I quite agree, Miss Weasley. But I think it’s time we made our way out of here. Your parents are here, Ginny, and are most eager to see you.” The Headmaster’s words wiped the smile from her face. She’d been taken in by that stupid diary and caused so much trouble. What would they say?
Feeling apprehensive, she slipped her hand into Harry’s again. She was rapidly discovering that holding his hand made her feel better. After what seemed an extremely long walk, they reached the exit. Ginny remembered a set of steps which led them part of the way out, and the Headmaster levitated them the rest of the way. Wearily, they dragged themselves to the Headmaster’s office and entered.
No sooner had Ginny entered the office than she heard her name being shrieked, and she was swept off her feet by her mother. While pleased to see her mum, she was in serious danger of being crushed. Only after she had begged her mother to loosen her grip was Ginny put down. Her father then immediately pulled her into his own embrace, but at least she could breathe during this.
“Thank you, Albus! Thank you so much for saving my daughter,” she heard her mother cry.
“It wasn’t him!” Ginny corrected, annoyed at her mother’s presumption. “It was Harry!” Her parents glared at her like she had said something wrong, but she returned their look defiantly.
“Young Ginevra is quite correct, Molly. Credit where credit is due. It was indeed Harry here who saved her. Single handed, he defeated a terrible monster and destroyed a dangerous Dark Magic artefact. Your thanks should go to him,” Dumbledore confirmed to Ginny’s delight.
Her mother turned to Harry and a second later her face lit up. “You’re Harry Potter?” she asked.
Harry just nodded and a second later was swept up in her mum’s arms as she hugged him like his life depended on it. Seeing him struggle Ginny giggled. His face had gone red as a beetroot! Her dad then added his thanks leaving Harry looking completely embarrassed. Before Ginny could tease him about it, the office door flew open and a tall, grey-haired woman hurried in and immediately flung arms around Harry. She was followed by a man with grey in his beard. Ginny realised this must be grandparents that he had talked about. She smiled as the woman fussed over her grandson, looking for any sight of injury. Satisfied Harry was unhurt, the woman turned on the Headmaster, scolding him for allowing Harry to be put in danger.
After a brief conversation the woman announced she was taking Harry home, much to Ginny’s disappointment. She had hoped he would be staying a bit longer so they could talk some more. She felt her bottom lip start to tremble slightly as the boy was led out the door. Just before he left, however, he suddenly turned back and looked directly at her.
“Bye, Ginny. I hope we meet each other again,” he called. Ginny broke into a wide smile, her sadness dispelled in a second.
“Me too, Harry. See you, and thanks for everything!” she called. And with one last smile he was gone.
Dumbledore then decided that she needed to be checked over at the hospital wing, and Professor McGonagall led her out.
Walking down the corridor, Ginny realised she felt better than she had in months. Tom Riddle was gone! She no longer heard his voice in her head and knew she didn’t have to follow his commands any more. The basilisk was dead, and there was no chance of it ever being unleashed again. Even better, no-one had died. She had managed to prevent the serpent from killing anyone, and the pupils who had been Petrified would soon be healed.
She couldn’t believe that it had been Harry Potter who had saved her. Best of all, Harry liked her! He had been nicer to her than any boy she had met at Hogwarts and had held her hand. She nearly giggled out loud thinking about their game of trying to think up the rudest word. He had even explained to her that it was her wand that was preventing her from casting spells correctly, not that she couldn’t do them right. Somehow, Ginny knew she would meet Harry again and she made a silent prayer that it would be soon.
Before she knew it, they were at the hospital wing and Madam Pomfrey immediately started checking her over. Declaring her weak but uninjured, the Medi-witch made Ginny change into a hospital gown and climb into bed. A short while later her parents came to visit her accompanied by the Headmaster. She was so busy telling her mother about her experiences that she didn’t notice Professor Dumbledore pointing his wand at her. Ginny immediately fell into a deep sleep.
She didn’t awake until the next morning when she found herself in the hospital wing with no idea how she got there.
Tuesday, 1 June 1993
Arthur Weasley hurried along the busy corridor as fast as he could. It was unusual that he received a personal summons from the Minister of Magic himself, so he was trying to get to the man’s office as fast as possible. Eventually, he made it to the Minister’s outer office and was waved straight in by his secretary. Entering the room, he looked around and instantly knew he was in trouble.
The Minister was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk with a grim expression on his face. More concerning to Arthur was the presence of another man sat in front of the desk, casually sipping a cup of tea. At Arthur’s entry the man put down his cup and offered him a smile which made him grind his teeth.
“Ah, Weasley,” Fudge snapped. “I’m glad you came so promptly. I believe you know Lucius Malfoy?” The Minister gestured to the blond-haired man who was sitting with a smug smile on his face. Arthur hated to think what that smile meant for him.
“Yes, Minister,” Arthur replied with forced politeness. “Lucius and I are well acquainted.”
“Good,” Fudge said, clearly missing the ice in Arthur’s voice. “I’ve called you here due to a most regrettable incident. Now, normally I wouldn’t be too concerned about events that occur to family members of my staff, but when these events may have repercussions that reflect on the Ministry I have to get involved.”
Arthur could easily guess what this was about. Lucius Malfoy was a member of the board of governors at Hogwarts and was obviously going to try and use the recent events involving his daughter for political gain. He glared at Malfoy with undisguised hatred.
“Now, I’m sure you are aware of the events I’m referring to. This terrible business at Hogwarts involving the Chamber of Secrets and the supposed heir of Slytherin,” Fudge droned. Arthur looked at the Minister sharply.
“You can’t possibly be blaming my daughter for that. She was possessed by a dark artefact. How could an eleven year-old girl possibly resist that?” Arthur asked angrily.
“That’s just it, Weasley,” Fudge snarled. “We don’t blame the girl. We blame you.”
“What!” Arthur gasped. “How could this be my fault?”
“Clearly you are incapable of teaching your children right from wrong,” Malfoy said, entering the conversation. “As a parent it is your responsibility to watch over your young. Can you explain to us how a young girl managed to obtain this ‘dark artefact’ you mention?”
“Well, no. I don’t know how…” Arthur started but was cut off.
“Could it have been something you picked up during your Ministry duties? You do encounter a large number of charmed items, do you not?” the Minister questioned.
“I’d never seen that diary before…” he started before being cut off again.
“You’re quite sure, are you?” Fudge eyed him suspiciously. “You’re certain it wasn’t something you picked up and took home to examine? After all, I’m told you take a lot of items home. Items which rightfully belong to the Ministry!”
Arthur stared at the Minister in confusion. Yes, he took things home with him, but only useless Muggle items that no-one would want, other than him. He was starting to sense a set-up.
“To be quite honest, Weasley, we’ve had our eye on you for some time. Aside from you feeling you’ve got the right to appropriate whatever goods that take your fancy, your work has overall been of a very poor quality.”
Arthur blinked at the Minister’s words. His work had never been criticised before.
“I’ve been looking over some of your previous reports and I have to say I’m very disappointed, Weasley,” the Minister continued, shaking his head. “I mean, it’s not exactly a difficult job that you do. I really would have expected you to show a little more competency in your work.”
Malfoy’s smile became more malicious.
“I’m afraid this affair with your daughter is the final straw,” Fudge said. “I have no choice other than to dismiss you forthwith on the grounds of incompetency, theft, and bringing the Ministry’s name into disrepute. Please clear your desk and vacate the building within the hour.”
Arthur stared at him in horror. “You can’t do this! I have a family to support”
“Perhaps you should have thought of that before, Weasley,” Malfoy said smugly.
“This is your doing!” Arthur snapped at Malfoy. “This has nothing to do with my daughter or the standard of my work. You just don’t want my Muggle Protection Act to be made law.”
Malfoy laughed. “I don’t care about your idiotic act one way or the other. I’m confident it would never have been passed as law anyway, but of course, now we’ll never know,” he grinned.
Arthur looked at the man helplessly. He was clearly lying. Arthur bet that he had bribed Fudge to sack him using the events at Hogwarts as justification. A sick feel washed over him. He had tried to push the system and the system had pushed back. He turned and stormed out of the Minister’s office, barely registering the look of contempt on the secretary’s face. As he headed back to his office to collect his meagre belongings, his feelings turned to despair. What on earth was he going to tell Molly?
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Ginny sat in the front room of the Burrow. As it was the summer holidays and a beautiful day, she would normally have been outside, but she just couldn’t face it.
Ever since she had been discharged from the school hospital wing a month ago, she had suffered from terrible nightmares. This wasn’t exactly surprising, bearing in mind what she had been through; but she was worried that things didn’t seem to be getting any better. Her nightmares always ended the same: with her in the Chamber of Secrets and Tom standing over her triumphantly. Occasionally, she saw herself running wildly around the Chamber but, try as she might, she couldn’t find a way out. She had a distinct feeling that if she knew how she had been rescued this might ease her mind a little, but the Headmaster had been frustratingly vague. As it stood, she had bad dreams every night and was exhausted from lack of sleep.
Her family’s reaction to the whole thing had been varied. Her parents had been extremely worried about her, to the point they had nearly wrapped her in cotton wool. Both Bill and Charlie had written supportive letters which had meant a lot to her, and the twins seemed to be trying to cheer her up. Ron had been largely indifferent but had made a few comments about how silly she had been to trust a strange diary that wrote back to her. Not that she could argue with that. Worst of all had been Percy. His girlfriend, Penelope, had been one of the people that had been Petrified; and he was furious about it. He had barely spoken a civil word to her for weeks. She sighed and tried to concentrate on the book she was reading.
Suddenly, the Floo flamed and her father stepped out.
“Arthur? What are you doing home at this time of day?” asked Molly, who had entered the room at the sound of the Floo activating.
For a second Arthur just stood looking at her numbly. Eventually, he spoke in a quiet voice, “Molly, can you get all the kids in here, please. There’s something I have to tell everyone.”
With concern written all over her face, Molly went and called in Ron and the twins who were outside and then fetched Percy who had been studying in his room. The family gathered and sat waiting for the head of the household to speak.
“There’s no easy way for me to say this,” began Arthur, “so I’m just going to come straight out with it. I’ve been sacked.”
There was complete silence for a second before the room erupted in noise. Everyone began shouting questions at once and Molly hurried over to her husband and caught him in a rough embrace. Eventually, the noise subsided sufficiently for Arthur to continue.
“I was called into the Minister’s office this morning and he told me he wasn’t happy with my work! I just don’t believe it. I’ve worked for the Ministry since I left Hogwarts and I’ve never once have a complaint about my work. They’re just making excuses!” Arthur said bitterly.
“But they can’t just sack you!” wailed Molly. “They’ve no right. After all the hard work you’ve put in. Why would they do such a thing?”
Arthur was barely listening to those around him, so caught up in his misery as he was. “This is all down to Fudge! Just trying to cover his own back and make sure nothing ever comes back to him. Bastard!”
“What do you mean, father?” Percy asked. “Why would the Minister have anything against you?” Arthur looked up at his son.
“Oh, he was worried that there might be some negative reaction to this business with Ginny and the diary! Somehow, he thinks that as it was the daughter of a Ministry official, it will reflect badly on him. All this stuff about my work being sub-standard is just rubbish,” he spat.
“But what will become of us?” Molly asked, close to tears. “We barely make ends meet as it is. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, Molly,” Arthur said sadly. “As I was sacked, I’ve no hope of getting a reference from the Ministry, at least not one that wouldn’t do more harm than good. I can’t think who would employ me without one. Maybe I can find a job in the Muggle world, but I’ve no experience in anything.”
“What about our education?” Percy asked desperately. “Can we afford to continue at Hogwarts?”
“You’ll be okay, Percy. You’re fully paid up until the end of your seventh year. The twins are paid up to the end of their fifth year and Ron for the next two terms. Ginny has her second year covered but beyond that…there are some grants that Hogwarts can offer to help families in financial difficulty. If I speak to Professor Dumbledore he may be able to help.”
“I’m sure that Bill and Charlie will chip in if we ask,” Molly suggested.
“We’ve got some savings as well, Dad,” George added. “We’ve been selling a few prank items and made a bit of cash. It’s not much, but you’re welcome to it.” Molly gave the twins a rather forced smile.
“I don’t know whether to scold you for making more of those dreadful joke items, or hug you for being so generous.” In the end generosity won, and she pulled them both into a crushing embrace.
“It’s not fair!” a voice shouted. Releasing the twins, Molly looked up to see Percy standing in the centre of the room looking livid.
“It’s not fair!” he repeated. “All the work I’ve put in. It’s all wasted.”
“What do you mean, Percy?” Molly asked carefully.
“What was the one thing I wanted to do with my life? The one job I always said I wanted? To work in the Ministry! I studied morning, noon and night to get those OWL results, and it’s all meaningless. With dad’s name blacklisted, I don’t stand a chance of getting a job at the Ministry now,” he spat. He turned to Ginny. “And it’s all your fault, you stupid little girl!”
‘Percy!” Molly protested, but Percy ignored her. He bore down on a frightened Ginny with murder in his eyes.
“Wasn’t it enough that you nearly killed my girlfriend?” he snarled. “No, it wasn’t, was it? You had to go and destroy my dreams as well. How could you have been so stupid? How many times has father warned us about strange magical objects? But no, that didn’t matter you, did it? Little Ginny wanted a magical diary to be her special friend, so she just ignores what she’s been told!”
Ginny just sat on the couch trembling at her brother’s outburst. Tears began to fall down her cheeks, but Percy wasn’t finished.
“Well, congratulations! Because you were so idiotic in trusting that bloody possessed book, you have driven this family to its knees. Just look at what you’ve done to your father!” Percy pointed to Arthur who was sat slumped at the table. “You destroyed his career and left us without a Knut. Ron and the twins will be lucky if they get to finish their education, so you’ve screwed up their lives as well. Just as well Bill and Charlie graduated before you had a chance to muck them up too! Why don’t you burn the house down as well and finish the job properly!”
Before anyone could say another word, Percy turned on his heels and stormed out the house. Ginny’s whole body began to shake as she sobbed. She lasted a few more seconds before she stood and bolted out the room. Running upstairs, she threw herself on her bed and cried her eyes out. Eventually, she sobbed herself to sleep and awoke hours later to find the room dark.
Part of her was glad she now wouldn’t have to face anyone again until morning. Another part of her noticed no one had come up to comfort her, either.
Chapter 20: Chapter 20 – At One with Misery
Author's Notes: Here we go; the last of the ‘Ginny alone’ chapters for you.
Now, during the beta process it was suggested that I may have made Ginny too passive and meek up to this point. To a certain extent I agree, but would say that just as have made Harry different from canon, I have equally changed Ginny slightly. Bear in mind that ‘this’ Ginny genuinely believes she got her father sacked and was responsible for the whole CoS incident because she was so gullible. Add to the fact she’s poorer than in canon and that defective wand is making her little better than a squib and you can account for our girls lack of spunkiness. That said, I do think I’ve left a few signs of Ginny’s true character here and there, and the end of this chapter will mark a hardening of her attitude. Trust me, I’ll NEVER write a weak or subservient Ginny in one of my stories.
Thanks as always to Tom for his beta work and introducing a new addition to Team Brennus…Arnel! Really guys, thanks a million for your time and effort in helping me.
Friday, 22 October 1993
Sitting alone in the Gryffindor common room, Ginny wondered if school could get any worse for her. She’d been back at Hogwarts for nearly two months now, and things just didn’t seem to be getting any better.
As her father had suggested, the Weasleys had approached the school to see if any financial aid could be given. The Headmaster had taken pity on them and granted them a support package which at least guaranteed that they would all be able to complete their schooling. Unfortunately, it did mean that Ginny had to use second-hand quills and books, which reinforced her poverty-ridden image with her fellow pupils.
At least here within the walls of the common room no one was outwardly hostile to her. Most of her house-mates were rather wary of her; as if she would suddenly be possessed by a dark spirit again and attack them. A few of the older pupils just looked at her with pity. She wasn’t sure which reaction she liked the least. Even the other girls in her dorm room ignored her. As their conversations revolved around clothes, makeup and boys, she couldn’t blame them; those were things Ginny had no experience with.
Outside of Gryffindor her only friend was Luna. The blond girl was still as strange as ever, but Ginny felt she was getting use to her friend’s weirdness. Ginny drew comfort from Luna and often sat with her. She did wish they could have a normal conversation once in a while, though.
The Slytherins, however, were a major problem. The whole house had seemed to take offence with her following the Chamber of Secrets incident. They had accused her of trying to usurp the title of Heir of Slytherin, and had become vicious in their baiting. Ginny could barely walk down a corridor these days without someone slamming their shoulder into her or trying to trip her up. The only time these acts abated was when the twins were anywhere nearby.
It was her relationship with her family that caused the most misery. Her dad had managed to find work at a large Muggle home improvement centre in Exeter. Although Arthur enjoyed working amongst all the tools and gadgets, the job wasn’t very well paying.
She still wrote to Bill, Charlie and her mum regularly. The replies she received were all welcome, even if the ones from her mother were filled with warning and instructions on things to avoid. As far as Ginny could tell, according to Molly it was vital that she avoided anything which might be fun or distract her from the misery she felt.
Here at school, her rapport with her brothers was very mixed. The twins were largely supportive, if not around much. At least they were encouraging and friendly when she did see them. Percy was totally the other way: completely hostile. No matter what she was doing, he always seemed to feel the need to come over and lecture her on ‘proper behaviour’ and what a disappointment she was to the family. He frequently delivered these stinging lectures on her inadequacies in front of her Housemates just to add to the humiliation. It was just as well most of Gryffindor thought he was a pompous twat or her poor reputation would be even further tarnished.
Of all her brothers, the one that confused her the most was Ron. He was changing rapidly from the boy she knew just a year ago. He had, in recent months, become extremely popular with his Housemates. He was often to be seen talking with pupils of all years in hushed tones, often in quiet corners of the common room. Even people from other Houses seemed keen to talk to him. While he was seldom very far from his best mates, Seamus and Dean, he appeared to have become everybody’s friend for some reason. He did at least talk to her occasionally now, but that was something of a mixed blessing. While he was protective of her, often with his fists, he did treat her like she was five years old, even to the point of telling her when it was time for her to go to bed.
Huffing with frustration, Ginny picked up her Transfiguration textbook. While her written school work continued to be of a high standard, her spell work had not improved at all. No matter how hard she practiced, nothing seemed to work for her. Looking across the common room she spotted Hermione Granger and considered approaching her for help some time. Hermione didn’t seem to have many friends and was a bit bossy, but she was very clever and had always treated Ginny decently. She didn’t even seem to blame Ginny for her being Petrified last term, either.
Vowing to talk to the older girl soon, Ginny returned her attention to her school book. There was nothing else to do anyway.
Wednesday, 16 March 1994
Ron Weasley ambled down the third floor corridor towards the Defence against the Dark Arts classroom. He was probably going to be late, but frankly he didn’t care. Besides, Professor Lupin wasn’t a bad sort, and Ron doubted he would punish him if he apologised for his tardiness.
He grinned to himself at just how much he was enjoying his third year at Hogwarts. Following all the problems the previous year, he couldn’t believe how much his life had changed for the better. It was amazing that such an awful thing as his dad getting sacked would indirectly turn out to be such a good thing.
Oh, he had been furious at first, and was nearly as angry at Ginny as Percy had been. But after he had thought about things for a while, he had changed his mind. Ginny was just a little girl, after all. It only seemed like five minutes ago that she was playing dollies with that weird girl Luna. His poor sister had been thrown into the big bad world before she was ready, and it had all been too much for her. Ron felt some guilt for not watching over her a bit more closely, but he vowed to make up for that error this year.
During this period of reflection something had occurred to him. His family had all rallied round trying to help; Bill and Charlie sending part of their salaries home, Fred and George offering their savings, even Percy sold off a few possessions to raise funds. But Ron could do nothing to help. He knew life was going to get harder and luxuries would be few and far between. The thought of having to give up his addiction to Chocolate Frogs filled him with horror. But surely there was something he could do to help?
Inspiration had come from close to home. On his first week back at Hogwarts he’d watched the twins selling pranking products to a group of fourth year Ravenclaws, and it struck him that they had the right idea. There were hundreds of kids at Hogwarts, all with pocket money burning a hole in their pockets. But how could he take advantage of that? He had no skills in making the items the twins sold, or much of anything else come to that. Again, inspiration appeared right in front of him.
After the first Quidditch match of the season had resulted in a victory for Gryffindor against their hated Slytherin foes, there had been a massive party in the common room. During the celebrations, Fred and George had managed to produce several bottles of Firewhiskey which went down a storm. The next day Ron had asked them where they had managed to get hold of the bottles, and they had explained that the stockman at the Hogshead Pub wasn’t adverse to selling stuff on the side.
During the next Hogsmeade visit (Ron’s first) he had insisted the twins take him to meet their contact. He had discovered the man was rather bitter at the poor wages his employer paid, and was always on the lookout for ways to make additional money. Very soon a plan was formed.
Ron knew plenty of pupils at Hogwarts would pay good money to get their hands on a little Firewhiskey now and then, so he proposed to the unscrupulous stockman that he would be distributor in the school. The stockman, who for some reason liked to be called Spaggs, would obtain the bottles at trade price as part of the pub's normal order. Ron would then buy them at a marked up price, the difference going straight into Spaggs’s pocket. Ron was then free to sell the booze at school.
When the twins had heard about the deal, they had proved surprisingly helpful. They had taught their younger brother several ways of getting in and out of the school without being seen, which eliminated Ron’s biggest problem. They also cautioned him to sell the Firewhiskey only to people he could trust not to turn up for lessons pissed out of their minds. Fred and George’s only condition for this help was that Ron sent a percentage of his profits home, which he had intended to do anyway. They even fronted him several Galleons to buy his initial stock of the liquor.
Roping in Dean and Seamus, they soon had their first few bottles safely back in the castle. Realising that no-one would really want to buy a whole bottle of Firewhiskey, they ‘liberated’ a box of potion bottles and transferred the booze into them. This proved a great system; it allowed them to sell the Firewhisky a few shots at a time, and no-one would question any of the pupils having a potions bottle. Once word got round about what they were selling, the three friends found themselves very popular all of a sudden. Their first few bottles were sold rapidly and they made themselves a handsome profit. The procedure was then repeated on a weekly basis, and the boys soon found themselves rolling in Galleons.
After the second week Ron had paid the twins back, and shown them the envelope he was sending home with a clutch of coins accompanied by a cover letter saying he had got a part-time job in Hogsmeade with the school's permission. Fred and George were so proud of him that they gave him a great gift: the Marauder's Map.
The map was a godsend. Created by an earlier generation of trouble makers, it allowed Ron and his friends to move about the castle without running into prefect patrols or teachers. It also opened up even more secret pathways in and out of the castle. Best of all, they discovered a hidden room to store their stock and to re-bottle the Firewhiskey in safety.
Business had boomed and around Christmas they had been forced to all but abandon any pretence at doing homework to meet demand. If Ron had any doubts that the gods had blessed this business venture, they vanished on Christmas Eve when a potentially disastrous situation was suddenly turned into something positive. Argus Filch, the mean-spirited caretaker, came perilously close to catching them bringing a case of Firewhisky into the castle. Rather than reporting them, however, a bit of quick talking by Ron allowed a deal to be reached. From that point on, a bottle of Firewhiskey mysteriously appeared in the caretaker’s office every Friday, while the man himself seemed to forget to lock certain doors on particular nights of the week, and became less diligent in patrolling the corridors of a weekend. Another problem solved!
But a good business man is always looking for new ways to make a profit and expand his business. A couple of months ago Spaggs had introduced Ron to a mousey looking girl called Teresa who worked in the Apothecary shop in Hogsmeade. The girl had the same light-fingered approach to the shop's stock as Spaggs had, and a deal was struck. Soon, Ron and his helpers were able to offer a range of potions to his customers in addition to the alcohol. The best sellers turned out, unsurprisingly, to be hangover cures and pregnancy-prevention potions.
Currently he was working on supplying new lines. Some of the younger pupils had expressed a desire for the less potent Butterbeer to be supplied, and Ron, always sensitive to his customer’s needs, had been happy to oblige. Another request for more interesting reading material than the school supplied had resulted in him adding a stack of ‘Playwizard’ and ‘Playwitch’ magazines to his regular supply of merchandise.
For the first time in his life Ron felt like he was a success. His schoolwork might have been of an appalling standard, but among the pupils of Hogwarts he was a virtual hero. He was everybody’s friend (even some Slytherins) and the guy to go to for all your entertainment needs. His pockets groaned under the weight of all the Galleons he was earning, and he had even been able to buy himself some snazzy new clothes. Best of all, he had gained the twins' respect, and for the first time ever, they treated him as an equal.
Another added bonus to his improved school status was all the interest he was getting from girls. Everyone loved a rebel it seemed, and with his new image as a roguish smuggler he found young ladies fighting for his attention. After he’d taken up the offer of a visit to a convenient broom cupboard from an attractive fourth-year Ravenclaw, he’d found out just how good this bonus actually was.
Ron was now convinced this was what he was supposed to be doing with his life. Maybe his activities weren’t exactly legal, but they weren’t hurting anyone, either. No, things were going great and as far as he was concerned he was going to make the most of every second of it!
Friday, 23 December 1994
With a scowl Ginny kicked at the snow lying around her feet. She and the other assembled pupils, mostly third-years and below, stood waiting in the freezing cold for the carriages to take them to Hogsmeade station. She was the only one of the Weasleys heading home for Christmas this year as her three bothers still at the school would all be attending the Yule Ball.
It had definitely been an unusual year. It had been announced at the start of the year that the school would host the first Tri-wizard Tournament in years, and representatives of two other schools would be arriving soon. Despite the age restriction on the contest, Fred and George had both tried to enter with disastrous results. Ron had shown no interest in participating, but had been delighted at all the extra business he was likely to generate by having more potential customers at Hogwarts. Ginny was amazed that her parents still had no idea what Ron was up to and continued to believe his ‘part-time job’ allowed him to buy those nice new clothes and send home a few Galleons a week.
The announcement of the Yule Ball was of more interest to her. Being only a third year, she could only attend if invited by a fourth year or higher. She had prayed a boy might ask her. The closest she had come was when Neville Longbottom had approached her friend Hermione to go with him, only to be turned down. For a second, Ginny thought he would ask her, but instead he mumbled something and practically ran out the room.
It had been a bitter disappointment. It was not like she was interested in Neville, it was just she would have appreciated any attention from a boy. After all, she was pretty enough, wasn’t she? Admittedly, she couldn’t afford any nice clothes or make-up like her dorm mates, but she wasn’t ugly. Ginny was starting to strongly suspect that her over-protective brothers had let it be known they would not be pleased with any boy who asked her out. No one was likely to go up against the Weasley brothers with the possible exception of some of the Slytherins, but none of them were going to show any interest in her.
So, while everyone else stayed at school and looked forward to the ball, she and the other underage children went home to spend Christmas with their mummies and daddies. Great, she thought, more being treated like she was five years old.
With the family still so poor, it was unlikely to be much of a Christmas at home anyway. Thanks to her brothers all chipping in they got by, but things were still very tight. If she was lucky, she might be given a few second-hand clothes for Christmas, not that she wouldn’t be grateful for them. Most of what she had at present was on the verge of falling apart, and mending charms could only do so much.
At least Bill had promised to try and make it back from Egypt for the holidays. Ginny desperately wanted to see her favourite brother and frantically hoped he could stay for more than a few days. He was one of the few people she felt she could really talk to.
At least this year hadn’t been as bad as the first two at school. Having shown no inclination to suddenly turn into some evil possessed creature for some time now, memories of the Chamber of Secrets faded from her classmates. She wasn’t treated with fear or loathing any more. True, the Slytherins were still mean to her, but no more than any other Gryffindor.
While she wasn’t being treated like an outcast any more, no-one seemed very interested in making friends with her either. Luna was still friendly if rather remote, and the girl had a tendency to vanish for long periods of time. The only other friend Ginny had made was a fourth year called Hermione Granger. Hermione was a rather bossy, bookish girl who had a tendency to rub her classmates up the wrong way. Ron absolutely hated her.
But after a fashion, Hermione had become a good friend to Ginny. They were both outcasts who spent a lot of time studying, although for Ginny’s part it was only due to a lack of anything else to do. If Hermione could be a bit overwhelming and domineering, she also had a good heart. She’d tried to help Ginny with her spell casting but had reluctantly had to admit that there was nothing she could do to improve things. Ginny simply must not be a very powerful witch.
Of course, it pissed Ginny off no end that swotty, bushy-haired Hermione had been asked to go to the ball while she hadn’t, but she couldn’t hold it against her friend. Ginny had just bit her lip, told her friend to enjoy herself, and packed her bag for the trip home.
One day, Ginny thought, something good will happen to me.
Saturday, 21 October 1995
Practically bouncing with excitement, Ginny rushed down the stairs from her dorm room and out the door of the common room. She was going on a date! A boy had actually asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him! A handsome, intelligent boy at that.
When Michael Corner had stopped her in the corridor two days ago and asked her if she wanted to accompany him to Hogsmeade that weekend, she had nearly fallen over with shock. She had just about managed to splutter out her acceptance and agreed to meet him in the Entrance Hall that morning. Ginny had barely been able to contain herself for the last forty-eight hours.
Rushing down the staircase, she was delighted to see Michael was already waiting for her by the main doors. She jumped the last few steps and hurried over to where the older boy was standing. On catching sight of her, Michael grinned but quickly the smile left his face and was replaced with a frown.
“Um, Ginny. You do know that this is supposed to be a date, right?” he asked carefully.
Ginny blinked, unsure what Michael was trying to tell her. “Yeah, this is a proper date. Why are you asking?”
“Well, it’s just that I would have hoped you would have made a bit of an effort to dress nicely for our first date,” Michael huffed.
Instantly, tears began to cloud Ginny’s vision. She had spent ages going through her meagre collection of clothes trying to decide what would look best. She had even left her heavy cloak behind, easily the warmest thing she owned, because it had used to belong to Charlie and was rather masculine in style.
“These are the nicest things I own,” she said, trying to keep her voice from trembling.
Michael looked mortified.
“Oh, Merlin! I’m sorry Ginny; I didn’t mean to upset you. Err, shall we go then?” he asked, with his face flushed red with embarrassment.
The walk into Hogsmeade was rather quiet, with both of them feeling awkward following Michael’s gaff. Eventually, they reached the small town and wandered around the shops. It was the first time Ginny had ever visited the place, as her mother had previously refused to sign her permission slip. Michael was proving a good guide. They mostly looked in shop windows without entering them, but Michael was keen to go in the book shop.
“I can’t help it, I am a Ravenclaw,” he explained. “I don’t suppose a Gryffindor like you will be much interested in books. I’ll try to be quick.”
Although she bit her tongue initially, Michael’s comment rather annoyed Ginny. It was as if he was suggesting that all Gryffindors were thick.
“Funny, Hermione Granger loves books and she’s a Gryffindor. She gets the highest grades in your year, doesn’t she?” Ginny replied.
Michael scowled at her, clearly angry that the smartest person in his year wasn’t a Ravenclaw. He didn’t reply and instead stomped into the shop in a huff. Ginny hoped this wasn’t his normal behaviour when he became upset about something.
After about fifteen minutes Michael came out of the shop holding a bag that looked like it contained several books. Ginny had thought about going inside, but knew she’d probably see a book she wanted and would be disappointed she couldn’t afford it. The two of them resumed their walk around and eventually Michael came out of his funk and started talking again. Ginny was just glad to be moving again as she had got rather cold waiting outside the bookshop. The chill weather seemed to be getting to Michael as well.
“Let’s go to the Three Broomsticks and get a couple of Butterbeers to warm us up,” Michael suggested.
Ginny’s face fell. She had exactly four Knuts on her at the moment and couldn’t afford to buy anything at the pub. She’d assumed that they would head back to Hogwarts for lunch. Michael picked up on her distressed look.
“Don’t worry, the drinks are on me,” he assured her.
Feeling happier, Ginny headed to the pub with Michael. She even linked arms with him, the first physical contact they had shared. They found a small table in the busy pub and Michael went and bought them their drinks.
“There you go, Ginny,” he said, placing the foaming glass in front of her. “No need to worry about paying for drinks while I’m here!”
The comment slightly rubbed her up the wrong way. Yes, she was grateful for him buying her the Butterbeer, but she didn’t really like having it shoved in her face. She still had a little pride, after all. Unfortunately, things got worse. A group of Michael’s friends came in and he somehow managed to work into the conversation that he had bought both their drinks. What did the boy want, a medal?
When Michael asked if she wanted another, Ginny snapped at him that she was fine, thank you very much. He frowned, clearly unsure what he had done wrong. Although Ginny desperately wanted a boyfriend, she was beginning to think that Michael might not be the right candidate. A little later, the choice was taken out of her hands.
Deciding to head back to the school, the two of them left the pub and, as luck would have it, ran straight into Ron and his mates. Ginny groaned.
“What’s all this then?” Ron enquired. Michael looked a little nervous but stood his ground.
“Ginny and I were just having a drink in the Three Broomsticks. What’s it got to do with you?” he said, a little defensively.
Unfortunately, Ron didn’t seem to like that answer and squared up to Michael, who was much shorter. Seamus moved to one side of the Ravenclaw boy and Dean moved to the other, effectively surrounding him. Michael now looked very worried.
“That’s my sister! That’s what it’s got to do with me,” Ron said, getting right in Michael’s face. “And let me tell you, I don’t like snotty-nosed Ravenclaws trying to take advantage of her!”
“I didn’t!” Michael exclaimed. “I didn’t lay a finger on her.”
“Just as bloody well or you’d be visiting the hospital wing by now,” Ron snarled. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from Ginny. Got that?”
“I…um, well…” Michael stuttered.
“GOT THAT?” Ron shouted. To emphasise his point he shoved Michael hard in the shoulder. He stumbled back but ran into Dean who pushed him back forward. Ron shoved him again and this time Seamus pushed him back.
“Okay, okay! I’ve got the message,” Michael said.
With his cheeks flaming and his head down, Michael pushed past Ron and started walking fast back towards Hogwarts. After a second, Ginny nervously ran after him, ignoring the catcalls coming from Ron and his friends.
“I’m really sorry about that,” Ginny apologised. Michael said nothing and continued walking fast with his head down. They continued in that manner until they reached the school.
They paused briefly in the Entrance Hall where Michael stopped and looked up at Ginny with a hard look on his face. Without a word, he turned and stalked off in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room. Ginny watched him go. There was no need to ask if there would be a second date.
Tuesday, 10 December 1996
Ginny snuggled down further into her favourite chair in the common room. The chair faced a window and had a high back, so if she sat right back no-one could tell she was sat there. Of course, it was a long way from the fireplace, but that’s where the cool kids sat. Ginny had no illusions that she was part of that group.
Squirming a little, she returned her attention to her Potions book. This was her OWL year and it was as brutal as she had been warned. She was hopeful of doing well in a number of subjects: Potions, Astronomy, Runes and History of Magic, for instance. Basically, anything that didn’t require her to cast a spell.
Her attention was torn away from her book by the sound of a group of people throwing themselves onto a nearby sofa. She instantly recognised the voices as Ron, Seamus and…Dean. Ginny wasn’t quite sure when she had started to fancy Dean, but she had become quite obsessive about him over the summer.
Ron’s friends had been frequent visitors to the Burrow over the holidays, and Ginny had found herself watching Dean a lot. He had been polite, but probably hadn’t said more than half a dozen words to her in all that time. Still, she made sure to smile warmly at him whenever she saw him or try to sit near him at the dinner table. Best of all was when the boys decided to go swimming. Ginny had found some thick bushes near the pond where she could watch them without fear of discovery. The sight of Dean in just his swimming trunks had made a distinct impression on her, and she frequently found she had to relieve her frustrations. She just wished it was Dean doing it for her instead.
The boys were completely unaware that Ginny was sat there, and were happily discussing who they were going to take to Hogsmeade that weekend.
“I reckon I’ll just ask Lavender to come with me again,” said Ron.
“Lavender again?” Seamus responded. “If you’re not careful, mate, she’ll think you two are an item.”
“Why not?” Ron’s voice replied. “She’s probably the best looking girl in our year, and she’s got great tits. Always horny, too. Maybe a bit of monogamy will be good for a change. It would certainly make life a bit less complicated.”
“Yeah,” Dean’s voice agreed, “You might actually remember which girl you’re supposed to be with! I still can’t believe you arranged to meet two different girls in the same broom cupboard at the same time! I hear Su Li’s still avoiding you.”
“A simple mistake,” Ron laughed. “Could happen to any bloke. Anyway, imagine the fun I could have had if they’d agreed to share!”
The boys all sniggered with laughter, and Ginny found herself blushing. The last thing she wanted to do was hear about her brother’s perverted sex-life.
“Well, I’ll probably ask Pavarti to come with me to Hogsmeade,” Seamus announced. “I can always rely on her to get her knickers off. Besides, she can sit and gossip with Lavender if we need to go and attend to any business. What about you, Dean?”
“I’m bored with all the sixth-year girls. I might think about taking one of the fifth-years instead,” Dean replied.
“Hey, yeah!” Seamus laughed. “You could take Ginny!”
Ginny froze. Although Seamus had put forward her name as a joke, she was desperate to hear Dean’s reaction. Ron had succeeded in chasing away every boy who had shown the slightest interest in her, but Dean was his mate. Surely if he expressed an interest in going out with her Ron wouldn’t object, would he? With her heart in her mouth Ginny listened for Dean’s reply.
“Yeah, I could take her to Hogsmeade. I could buy her a lollypop and we could play dollies!” he laughed. The other boys howled with laughter.
Ginny’s heart sank and she started to tear up. She hated crying, but Dean’s words had stung. Eventually the boys quietened down and Ron addressed Dean.
“Seriously mate, I don’t want you even thinking of asking Ginny out. You know what she’s like. If she even gets a hint that you like her she’ll be all over you, and then I’d have to kill you!”
“Give me some credit, mate!” Dean protested. “Why would I be interested in her in the slightest? There are plenty of hot girls in her year I could take. Why would I look twice at a silly little girl like her?”
“Yeah, well. Ginny’s not very worldly. She can get taken in easily. Just look at that bloody diary thing; ‘Hello, evil magic object, will you be my friend?’ Merlin, she can be so stupid at times. If I find some git of a boy has taken advantage of her they’ll be dead meat!” Ron snarled.
Dean and Seamus both voiced their agreement with Ron and the conversation moved on to a survey of which fifth-year girls had the largest chest. Ginny had stopped listening by this point. When Dean had called her a silly little girl it had taken all of her will-power not to leap up and run to the solitude of her dorm room. Instead, she forced herself to remain in her hiding place as tears gently fell. She stayed in that position for a full twenty minutes before slowly standing and making her way up the stairs to the girls' accommodations in a dignified manner. Only when she reached her bed did she close the curtains, throw herself down and cry her eyes out.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when Ginny Weasley unexpectedly rose from the seat nearby and walk towards the stairs to the girls' bedrooms.
“Merlin!” Seamus swore. “How long has she been there? You don’t think she heard us talking about her, do you?”
“Nah,” said Ron. “Trust me, if she heard us she would have bolted up those stairs, crying her eyes out. The slightest thing and she starts blubbing.”
“Yeah, you’re right, mate,” Dean agreed. He let his eyes continue to linger on Ginny’s retreating form, admiring the round curve of her bum. That girl really was growing up to be a cracker. He could tell she liked him, and frequently caught her watching him out of the corner of his eye. Under different circumstances he would have been in there like a shot.
But Ginny was Ron’s little sister, and he had a huge over-protective streak in him. Dean knew that if he made any move towards Ginny his best mate would come down on him like a ton of bricks. Not only would he probably get his head kicked in, Ron might cut him out of his business activities; and that was just too big a risk to take. Besides, as cute as Ginny was, there were plenty of other fish in the sea.
As if in answer to that thought, a tall girl with dark brown hair came down the steps from the girl’s dorm. She had long, graceful legs and an impressive chest. Dean grinned and leapt up to intercept her.
“Hey, Demelza. Do you fancy going to Hogsmeade with me at the weekend?” The girl responded with a wide grin. No, Ginny was no loss at all, really.
Wednesday, 11 December 1996
It was still completely dark when Ginny awoke. She guessed it was about two or three o’clock in the morning, but couldn’t summon the energy to look at her bedside clock.
She’d cried herself to sleep last night. Initially, she had been full of wild ideas as how to prove to Dean that she wasn’t just a little girl anymore. She imagined dressing in sexy, revealing clothing and strutting past the boy, while her brother looked on in shock. But it was ridiculous; she didn’t own any sexy clothes. How about that chunky jumper her mum knitted her? Or that that mangy t-shirt with a picture of a pony on it? Oh yes, they both screamed sexiness.
Eventually, she had drifted off to sleep and, laying there in the dark, a new perspective had come to her. What had she been thinking? She had spent the summer dreaming about Dean falling in love with her and sweeping her off her feet. The conversation she had heard proved Dean was after only one thing. As much as her teenage body was starting to desire some physical contact, she’d imagined her first romantic experience would be with a loving, caring partner. With Dean she would have been lucky to get a knee-trembler in a broom cupboard somewhere before he moved on to his next conquest.
Unlike many of the girls that hung around her brother and his mates, she was not a slag and she had no intention of becoming one. What had she expected? Dean was Ron’s best mate. She had heard them discussing other girls at school in the crudest of terms and making it clear they only wanted them for one thing. Why had she thought it would be any different for her? Dean was right; she was a silly little girl.
So where did this leave her now? Her crush on Dean lay shattered on the floor. Her eyes had been opened and she’d seen what he was really like. The chances of her finding a nice boy at Hogwarts seemed remote. Ron would chase off anyone who looked at her twice. Hell, he wouldn’t even let her try out for the Quidditch team, he was so over-protective. Any romance while she was at school looked an unlikely prospect, unless it was in her seventh-year after Ron had left.
No, it was her fate to be lonely and miserable while she was here. Her only friends were a bossy girl who liked lecturing her and a nut-job. The Slytherins viewed her as a target, and the other houses tolerated her at best. She couldn’t cast a decent spell to save her life, and she still regularly had nightmares about Tom Riddle.
Well, fine. If that’s the way it was, so be it. Screw the lot of you!
Ginny decided that she would just bide her time at Hogwarts, dreaming of the day she could leave. She would try her best to get as many qualifications as possible, and hopefully get a reasonable job when she left. Not that she would be able to do anything exciting, not with her magical abilities, but as long as the pay was half-decent that would do. Maybe then she would have a chance to actually live her life.
Until then she would just have to make the best of things, no matter how crappy that might be.
Chapter 21: Chapter 21 – Into the Snake Pit
Author's Notes: Yes, it’s only taken me twenty-one chapters to do it, but Harry’s finally arrived at Hogwarts! Huzzar! I know I made a rod for my own back by keeping Harry and Ginny apart for so long but hopefully the next ten chapters will make up for that.
Huge thanks to my beta buddies Tom and Arnel for all their help. I’m sure I’ll be able to sneak a few SPaG errors through despite their best efforts.
Thursday, 19 December 1996
“Oh my god, look at this!” Hermione screeched, waving her copy of that morning’s Daily Prophet around.
Ginny looked up without enthusiasm. She had experience of the sort of thing that got her bushy haired friend excited. There was probably a half-price sale on quills somewhere. She continued to eat her scrambled eggs without responding.
“I said, look at this,” Hermione persisted. “Honestly, Ginny! You’re the one who’s always so interested in reading about Harry Potter. I would have thought a front page story about him would have got you excited.”
Ginny looked up.
“Well, I didn’t know it was a story about him, did I?” she snapped. “Don’t tell me, another positive sighting of him. What is he doing this time? Raising hippogriffs in Spain? Fathering a secret Goblin love-child? Starting as the new conductor on the Knight Bus next week?”
Ginny felt a little guilty at snapping at her friend. She had been in a foul mood all week after her encounter with Dean. To make it worse, she had refused to tell Hermione or Luna what was troubling her, so things were getting a little strained between them. Looking at the hurt expression on Hermione’s face, Ginny decided she really needed to stop taking her frustrations out on her friends.
“Look, I’m sorry, Hermione. I know I’ve been in a snit all week and I’m sorry I’ve been taking it out on you. I promise I’ll try to be nicer from now on, okay?” she said in an apologetic voice.
For a second it looked like Hermione was going to tell her where to stick her apology, but she evidently changed her mind and gave Ginny a small smile. “I wish you would tell me what was bothering you, Ginny. I might be able to help,” Hermione pleaded.
“You can’t,” Ginny said, shaking her head. “It was me being stupid about something. It’s never nice to come to the startling realisation that you’ve been an idiot.”
Hermione nodded, but didn’t look happy.
Ginny sighed, knowing her friend wouldn’t let it drop until she had forced her to reveal what was bothering her. The older girl would then analyse the problem in minute detail before offering a mass of advice that was probable very sensible, but utterly useless. Ginny decided to divert her attention. “So, what was all this about Harry Potter?” she asked.
Hermione’s face lit up again. “Raising hippogriffs in Spain? I don’t think so. Try breaking up a major Death Eater attack in Diagon Alley single handed!”
“What!” Ginny exclaimed, before pulling the paper over to her.
On the front page was a clear picture of a dark haired young man. He wore his hair long, and it was pulled back into a pony-tail. His robes were dark. At first Ginny thought they were black, but then she realised they were in fact dark green. The picture had him crouching down while firing off a spell at some unseen foe, before it repeated itself. The picture was taken from the wrong side to show if the young man had the famous lightning bolt scar on his forehead.
Interestingly, the paper had printed another picture next to this of what they claimed was the previously only confirmed sighting of Harry Potter. It showed a small, thin boy dressed in ridiculously baggy clothes looking into the camera in surprise. The scar was clearly visible on the boy’s forehead. The caption stated the picture had been taken when the boy was seven and went on to make several comments about how Potter had changed in ten years. Ginny’s eyes returned to the main story.
Apparently twenty Death Eaters had attacked Diagon Alley, and Harry Potter had fought them off, killing several of them. The DMLE had publicly confirmed the man in the picture was indeed Potter and that he had ‘helped Ministry officials battle unknown assailants in Diagon Alley’.
Ginny’s eyes returned to the main picture. She studied every line on the young man’s face. Why did it seem so familiar to her? She could almost imagine hearing his voice in her ear. A small smile came to her face. For some reason she felt immensely happier now she knew that Harry Potter was out there, fighting evil. He was the handsome hero she had always imagined him to be. While Hermione was finishing her breakfast, Ginny slipped the paper into her bag unnoticed.
That evening Ginny retired to her bed early. She pulled the curtains and retrieved the newspaper from her book bag. She sat and stared at the picture again for a while before grabbing her wand and, using her weak cutting spell, carefully cut out the picture of Potter. She then stuck the picture to the headboard of her bed.
After she settled down to sleep, a gentle smile came to her lips. Harry Potter was above her head, watching over her as she slept. Now she had a new boy to dream about, and this one wasn’t going to break her heart.
Monday, 1 September 1997
Desperately trying to stop the flow of blood from her nose, Ginny stumbled back to the compartment where Hermione and Luna were sat. As she yanked the door open and flung herself inside, relief washed over her.
“Merlin!” Hermione cried. “What happened to you?”
“You need to ask?” Ginny spat while trying to restrict the bleeding. “Slytherins!”
“They attacked you here on the train?” Hermione gasped. “But where were the prefects? Oh, we have to tell a teacher at once!”
“Are you mad?” Ginny gasped. “And will you please stop me bleeding!”
Hermione looked flustered and grabbed her wand. “Oh, sorry, Ginny. Episkey!”
Ginny sighed in relief as her broken nose straightened and repaired itself. The bleeding stopped and she was able to start wiping away the stains.
“I still think we should tell a teacher,” Hermione persisted.
“What good would that do?” Luna interrupted. “Snape will just get involved, he’ll decide Ginny was lying, and a week later she’ll be found at the bottom of a staircase with broken legs, just like that Hufflepuff boy last year.”
Ginny looked sadly at her friend. For the first time, she started to miss the dreamy-eyed Looney Lovegood she had known for the last few years. Luna had dropped a lot of her strange mannerisms over the last two terms, no doubt as a result of the frequent beatings she had received from the Slytherin girls. Not that the cowards in the girl’s own House had been a lot better, abusing Luna and stealing her things. Luna’s eyes now had a hard and distant look in them, and she rarely spoke anymore. Ginny was starting to become concerned at her mental well-being which, bearing in mind how the girl had acted before, was saying something. ‘Looney’ had been a happy girl; ‘Luna’ was definitely not.
“She’s right, Hermione,” Ginny agreed. “You know nothing will happen if we report the attack. I’ll just get more grief off those bitches.”
For a second Hermione looked like she was going to argue, but then just huffed and flung herself back into her seat. Ginny could sympathise with her friend to a degree, but Hermione needed to understand that she couldn’t always rely on authority. No doubt she felt as Head Girl this term she should report any breaches of the peace. It said a lot about the state of Hogwarts that Hermione had finally realised that it would be no use.
“How did they get you, Ginny?” Luna asked. “You’re normally so careful.”
“I think they must have put a detection charm on the toilet,” Ginny grimaced. “There was certainly no one about when I went in. When I came out it was the usual crew waiting for me: Parkinson, Greengrass, Bulstrode and the rest. For one horrid moment I thought they were going to drag me into the compartment with the boys in it.”
All three girls visibly shivered. There had been some very frightening rumours going around the school last term about a girl that had been caught by herself by a group of sixth-year Slytherin boys. It was true that a fourth-year Ravenclaw girl had been withdrawn from school under mysterious circumstances, but no-one appeared to receive any punishment regarding the matter. There were other, darker rumours stating that it wasn’t an isolated incident by a long way. The girls intended to stick together this term. They had never guessed they needed to begin on the Hogwarts Express.
By the time the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station, they had managed to get all the blood out of Ginny’s blouse. It was her only really good one, and she was relieved it wasn’t ruined. As the train stopped the three girls pulled on their cloaks as protection against the drizzle that was falling.
As she stepped onto the platform, Ginny looked around at the now familiar scene of chaos as everyone left the train. She nervously glanced at the Slytherins who all seemed to be grouped together at the end of the platform. Silently, she sent out a prayer to whatever gods might be listening that things would change for the better this year.
Lost in thought, she didn’t notice a solitary falcon sweep low over the station and then fly away.
HPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHPHPHP
Harry approached the top of the mountain and landed softly. A second later he transformed back into human form. He turned and looked back towards Hogwarts, which was barely visible in the grey drizzle. It truly was a miserable day.
He had thought that flying in his Animagus form for a while would cheer him up, but it had not. The weather was horrid and his heart wasn’t in it. In just an hour or so he would be enrolled into Hogwarts and he was not looking forward to it one little bit.
The last month had flown by. Following the funerals of Sirius and Remus, Harry had taken some time to grieve, but as he had suspected, Grimmauld Place had become unbearable. He’d ended up staying at Mad-Eye Moody’s house for a couple of weeks, and that definitely wasn’t an experience he wanted to relive.
The worst thing had been the reading of Sirius’s will. It had been slightly out of date in that it still bequeathed a sum of money to Tonks. It was ruled that as Harry was the recipient of nearly all of Sirius’s assets, the amount left to Remus and Tonks would go to him as well. Great, Harry thought, more cash I’ll probably never get around to spending. In the end, he’d given a sizable sum to Tonks’s parents and made a very sizable donation to St Mungo’s as well. Initially, he’d wanted to make the donation anonymously, but then he’d changed his mind. Lucius Malfoy had obtained a lot of positive publicity over the years as a result of his charitable contributions; Harry might as well get the same benefit.
More meaningful to Harry than the cash he’d been left was the personal message Sirius had included for him with his will. It had basically told him how proud Sirius had been to be Harry’s godfather, and how much he’d enjoyed their time together. Sirius had then left him strict instruction not to mope about and to live his life to the fullest. Harry was also told to polish off Voldemort as soon as possible and, Sirius was adamant on this point, to get himself a hot girlfriend as soon as he could.
Sirius’s message still brought a smile to his lips and ache to his heart. It had been so typical of the man. Harry also intended to follow his godfather's wishes, as well. He knew that death was just a journey that everyone must take one day, and he fondly imagined Sirius, Remus and his father reunited somewhere, getting into trouble together and no doubt driving his mother spare. He would honour his godfather’s memory by living his life without regrets and by sticking his Katana through Voldemort’s black heart as soon as he was able. As for a girlfriend…well, he wasn’t averse to the idea, put it that way.
As the start of September approached, he and Professor Dumbledore sat down and worked out how they were going to explain Harry’s presence at Hogwarts. A cover story was agreed upon in which he would be attending as a seventh-year student so he could sit his NEWTS. They hoped no-one would check Ministry records and discover Harry had already taken the exams.
There were a number of things Harry and the Dumbledore disagreed on. Harry had flatly refused to sleep in a shared dorm room, and the Headmaster had reluctantly agreed he would have his own room, the justification being ‘security’ issues. Harry had also refused to follow the normal curriculum. If he was at Hogwarts he was going to learn something new, not rehash old stuff. A compromise was reached where Harry would attend most of the normal classes, but the teachers would give him more advanced work. He’d also refused to be taught by Severus Snape, the new Defence teacher that year. Surprisingly, Dumbledore had readily agreed to this and offered private lessons with him instead. Although Harry still didn’t trust the old wizard, he would have been a fool to turn down the offer.
So here he was, killing time before the House Sorting and the welcome feast. He’d flown over his soon to be fellow pupils a few minutes ago and was shocked at how young some of them looked. He supposed he was just not used to being around young people any more. Still, some of the older girls looked attractive. That was one bonus about the whole thing. He briefly wondered if Ginny Weasley would still be at the school. She was certainly of the right age, but after the horrific experience of the Chamber of Secrets, he wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d been pulled out of school or transferred. Still, if she was here it would be nice to see her again.
Glancing at his watch, Harry realised it was time to head back to the school. Dumbledore had said that he wanted Harry to make a ‘big entrance’ which he wasn’t sure about. On the other hand, a small, evil part of him thought it might be amusing. If nothing else it was bound to piss off Snape. Taking a deep breath, Harry morphed into his Animagus form again and launched himself into the air.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Feeling depressed and slightly soggy, Ginny followed Hermione into the Great Hall for the welcoming feast. As was normal, Hermione walked to the far end of the hall and took a seat as close to the teachers as she could. As Head Girl it was expected that she would sit there, but Ginny suspected Hermione would have done it anyway.
As she took a seat next to her friend, she felt a pang of sorrow for the bushy-haired witch. Hermione had been desperate to be Head Girl since the third year. Now she had achieved her dream, it was spoilt by the fact Draco Malfoy had been named Head Boy. Hermione had worked hard and deserved the recognition, Draco had not, and it was clearly his father’s influence that had secured him the position. Draco also hated Hermione and never wasted a chance to insult her. As the two of them were supposed to do patrols together, Hermione was becoming genuinely worried about her own safety. Ginny didn’t blame her in the slightest.
She glanced down the table and saw Ron with his friends gathered around him, already holding court. While his popularity offered her some protection, he simply was never around much. In addition, while useful with his fists, in a magical duel he was only average. Malfoy and his cronies would make mincemeat out of him. Ginny had long since realised the only person who could protect her was herself. She kept her head down, avoided any Slytherin like the plague and, if all else failed, she had a wicked right-hook that had surprised several bullies in the past.
Soon the Sorting process was underway, which she barely registered. She clapped whenever Hermione clapped, and let her thoughts wander. By now she was feeling hungry and just wanted the ceremony to be over so she could eat. At last, the final first-year was Sorted and vanished towards the Hufflepuff table. Strangely though, Professor McGonagall remained standing on the raised dais, the Sorting Hat clutched in her hand. The Headmaster stood.
“While the placing of the last of our first-years into their House would normally be the end of the Sorting Ceremony, this year we have a rather unusual occurrence,” he announced. Ginny sat up, interested in the break from routine. “This year we have a previously home-schooled student joining us. He will join the seventh-year classes in order to take his NEWTS. As he has never been to Hogwarts before, he obviously will require Sorting. Professor McGonagall; if you would please continue.”
The stern Professor unrolled a sheet of parchment in what Ginny thought was a rather overdramatic manner and called out the name of the new student.
“Potter, Harry!” she called.
The entire hall burst into near pandemonium. Many of the younger Slytherins looked like they were going to flee the Hall, while the older ones had grabbed their wands in preparation for a fight. Everywhere people were on their feet trying to get a glimpse of the Boy Who Lived.
“Silence!” yelled McGonagall and the hall quietened down. Ginny noticed a figure dressed in black step onto the stage. He lowered his hood and Ginny gasped. Although she had his picture plastered on the headboard of her bed, the sight of him in the flesh just took her breath away. She felt her heart beating rapidly and a burst of excitement like she had never before experienced shot through her. Potter walked over to McGonagall, pausing only to taunt the Slytherins which made her giggle. He pushed the stool that sat between them away roughly with his foot, and bowed slightly to allow the professor to place the hat on his head.
Ginny held her breath.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
As the gaggle of first-years nervously entered the Great Hall, Harry stepped from the shadows and followed them. As soon as he was in the hall, he immediately turned and, hugging the wall, made his way past the bottom of the Ravenclaw table and up to the Slytherins. He turned and walked the length of the table until he reached the far end, near where the teachers were sitting. He was wearing a travelling cloak with the hood pulled over his head so he was unrecognisable. He’d also cast a Notice-Me-Not charm on himself, which was working perfectly.
He lounged against the wall to await his turn to be Sorted. While waiting, he took the opportunity to listen in to the Slytherins' conversation and was appalled by what he heard. The boys were openly discussing things which would have earned them a one-way trip to Azkaban if they turned out to be true. The girls were little better, if rather more petty and spiteful. Harry had heard many tales of the activities of the Slytherins from Sirius, but from the sound of it their actions had risen to a new level. Obviously, Voldemort’s increasing influence had emboldened them. Why had Dumbledore not stamped down on this ages ago?
Lost in thought, Harry nearly missed McGonagall calling his name. Cancelling the charm, he stepped forward and was amused to see several Slytherins jump out of their skin as he appeared suddenly from behind them. In fact, the whole table was looking at him in horror, like he was going to attack them without warning. He lowered his hood and stepped on the raised platform but stopped and looked back at them. He couldn’t resist.
He raised his right hand to show them his crossed fingers. “Here’s hoping for Slytherin!” he called out.
Half the hall laughed at that, while the Slytherins themselves just looked either horrified or furious. He chuckled to himself.
He approached Professor McGonagall and looked down. The stern Transfiguration teacher had earlier informed him that he had to sit on the stool while the Hat was placed on his head. Frankly, if he sat on that little thing he would look ridiculous with his knees up past his head! He shoved the stool out of the way and grinned at the professor. She glared back for a second before giving a gasp of exasperation.
“Oh, just bend down, Potter!” she muttered.
A smile on his lips, he did just that and felt the Hat being placed on his head.
“Ah, Potter!” the Hat spoke directly into his mind. “Took your time getting here, didn’t you? I expected to be on your head years ago.”
“I took the scenic route,” Harry replied. He was definitely feeling cheeky today. Sirius had obviously rubbed off on him more than he had previously thought.
“Quite,” the Hat drawled, clearly not amused. “Well, that’s have a look at you. Oh my, you have been a busy boy, haven’t you? The Flamels, Japan, Sirius Black; you have got around a bit.”
Harry felt rather uncomfortable that his entire history was so transparent. The hat seemed to sense this.
“Don’t worry, Potter. Your secrets are safe with me. Whatever I see in your head stays between the two of us,” it assured him.
“You don’t tell the Headmaster?” Harry asked.
“Especially not him,” the Hat confirmed. Harry instantly felt more relaxed.
“Now, where to place you? Hmmm, tricky. You have traits that mean you could be in any of the four houses,” the hat pondered.
“You could put me in the House with the best-looking girls,” Harry joked. There was a long silence.
“Did you know, Mr Potter, that Hufflepuff has the largest percentage of blond-haired girls out of all the houses?” the Hat said. Harry blinked in surprise.
“Err…no,” he said carefully.
“While on the other hand, Ravenclaw has the highest number of brunettes,” the Hat continued.
“Is this meant to mean something?” Harry asked.
“No, nothing at all,” the Hat replied smugly. “But I would warn you that your interpretation of ‘best-looking’ might be somewhat different to mine.”
“Okay, point taken,” Harry sighed. “Can we get on with this? I seem to be getting some strange looks because this is taking so long.”
“I doubt the strange looks are for that reason,” the Hat sniggered. “Right, to business! Hmmm, despite what you said earlier, I don’t think I’m going to put you into Slytherin,”
“Oh, but think what fun we all could have after lights-out,” Harry said, laughing evilly.
“Exactly!” the Hat replied. “I’m here to help promote school unity. Placing you in a situation where half the House would likely be slaughtered before morning does not achieve that!”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Harry objected. “I’m not a mass-murderer, you know.”
“Yes, but you have a strong sense of justice and I’m afraid you might get carried away. So, no, you will not be put in Slytherin,” the hat snapped.
“Spoilsport,” Harry muttered, but was ignored.
“Having established that, I have to say that you’re no Hufflepuff. I don’t think they would quite be ready for you, Mr Potter. So, it’s out of Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. You have a very good mind and an aptitude for learning but… no. I’m going to send you in the footsteps of your mother and father. GRYFFINDOR!”
Ignoring the cheers coming from the Gryffindor table, Harry stood and removed the Hat before handing is back to Professor McGonagall. She looked at him sternly.
“Took you long enough,” she sniffed.
“Well, the Hat and I were having a nice chat,” he said, grinning at her.
“Never mind that the rest of us were waiting to eat, I suppose,” she said sternly. “Just remember, you’re in my House now, Mr Potter. I’ll expect good behaviour from you.”
“Oh, always,” he said with the grin still plastered over his face. After facing down Voldemort less than a month ago, he just couldn’t be too intimidated by the witch. He was pretty certain he saw her lips twitch slightly. She turned and pointed to the end of the table at the far right.
“See that young lady with the brown hair? That’s Hermione Granger, the Head Girl. Get her to show you round the castle and fill you in on our rules, customs and traditions. We’re putting you in what would be the Head Boy’s room if he’d been in Gryffindor, so she can show you where that is as well. Your things will automatically be sent there,” McGonagall informed him.
Harry nodded and made his way over to the table. He resisted smirking when he saw the Head Girl’s eyes widen at his approach. Then he glanced over at the girl sitting next to her.
He nearly stopped dead in his tracks. It was her: Ginny Weasley. She’d grown so much he hardly recognised her. Gone was the cute puppy-fat and pig-tails. Now her bright-red hair hung down her shoulders like a coppery waterfall. She still had freckles across her nose and cheeks, but they suited her perfectly. She looked slim, but her figure had developed wonderfully, and Harry caught himself staring at her chest for a moment before he forced his eyes away from her. He suddenly felt decidedly odd. Trying to keep his voice calm, he approached the Granger girl.
“Hello, Hermione Granger? I’m Harry Potter. Professor McGonagall said you’d be able to show me around the school and tell me a bit about the place. They’ve put me in what would have been the Head Boy's room in Gryffindor Tower, and she said you’d be able to direct me.” Harry offered his hand to shake which the girl grabbed and enthusiastically pumped.
“Oh, you’ll be right next door to me!” she squealed. “Yes, I’d be more than happy to show you round. We can take a tour right after dinner. But what are you doing at Hogwarts? Why did no-one know you were coming? Did you really fight Bellatrix Lestrange?”
“Steady there, Miss Granger,” Harry laughed. “One question at a time.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. But it’s just so exciting to have you here! There’s a million things I want to ask you!”
“Well, I’m sure there will be plenty of time later,” he said, trying to palm her off. His eyes caught Ginny’s as she looked up at him, and he smiled as he addressed her. “Hello again”
The girl went bright red, and a confused expression came on her face. “I don’t think we’ve ever met,” she replied hesitantly.
For a second Harry felt quite resentful. He’d saved the girl’s life; surely she should at least remember him? But then he remembered how uncomfortable her parents had been around him. Without thinking about it, he maintained eye contact and, using his Legilimency skills, entered into her mind.
He found the memory block immediately; it was a huge crude wall within her mind. He was mystified by its positioning though, placed just to eradicate all memories of Ginny meeting him. His first instinct was to tear the block down, but he resisted. There might be a good reason for the block, after all. Not wishing to infringe on the girl's privacy too much, he retreated from her mind, but not before he’d seen a good number of recent memories. He was amused and slightly flattered that she had his picture above her bed. What saddened him, however, was just how miserable Ginny was. Harry had caught only a general impression of the reasons behind this, but he felt he could help her. He wanted to help her.
“Sorry,” he apologised. “My mistake.”
He sat opposite Granger and tried not to look at the now confused red-haired girl. Granger also had a puzzled expression for a moment but shook it off. Then the food arrived.
Harry filled his plate and was pleased to see that at least the food was of a high standard. Pausing between mouthfuls of roast beef, he looked over at Ginny again.
“I don’t think you mentioned your name,” Harry said.
“Ginny… Ginny Weasley,” she said shyly.
“Weasley? Ah, no wonder you look familiar. I’ve met your parents several times,” Harry said, intending to cover his tracks. Ginny blinked at him.
“You know my parents? They’ve never mentioned meeting you. Where do you know them…oh, yes. Perhaps you do,” she stumbled. Clearly she knew something of her parents' involvement in the Order and had just realised Harry would know of it, too.
“How do your parents know him?” Hermione asked.
Harry frowned. He had the feeling Miss Granger was one of those people who liked to know everything that was going on around her.
“From years back,” Harry interrupted, saving a clearly floundering Ginny from answering. “Back when her dad worked for the Ministry.”
“But that was years ago,” Hermione objected.
“So?” Harry said a little forcefully.
Hermione went red and looked back down at her plate.
“How are your parents?” Harry asked Ginny. He caught the scowl on her face before she managed to replace it with a more neutral expression.
“They’re fine,” she said sharply.
“Where’s your dad working now?” Harry asked.
“Some place called B&Q in the Muggle world. I can’t tell you any more than that,” she replied, her anger starting to show.
“I didn’t know your father worked at a B&Q,” Hermione said indignantly. “It’s a home improvement shop that…”
“I didn’t say I wanted to know anything about it,” Ginny snapped. An uneasy silence settled between the three of them for a moment. Harry decided asking Ginny anything about herself directly was a mistake, so moved onto more general topics.
“So, what does everybody do to keep themselves amused round here?” he asked them both.
“Well, we do have one of the finest libraries in Europe...” Hermione started enthusiastically.
Ginny rolled her eyes.
Harry managed to catch her gaze and grinned at her. He was delighted when she returned a small smile.
“…and our general education facilities are the envy of the Wizarding world! Really, Mr Potter, you should have attended Hogwarts much earlier. You’ve probably missed out on a great deal.” Hermione was in full lecture mode.
“Guess I was too busy fighting Death Eaters,” he said casually. “Oh, and by the way, you can both call me Harry.”
Hermione stared at him like he was from another planet.
Ginny glanced at her and managed to look embarrassed on her friend’s behalf.
“We play a lot of Quidditch,” Ginny said. “Do you play, Harry?”
“No, never really had the chance. I’m a pretty good flyer, but I’m not even sure I can remember all the rules,” he admitted.
“Oh, well. Generally the whole House turns out to support our own team. I could explain the rules during the next game if you like,” she said nervously.
“Yeah, that would be great,” he replied, trying not to sound too enthusiastic. “Do you play then?”
“I think I would make a pretty good Chaser, but I was never allowed to try out for the team.” That bitterness he sensed earlier came to the surface earlier.
“Why not?”
“My darling brother doesn’t think I should. He’s worried I might get hurt, despite the fact half the Gryffindor team has been made up of girls for ages. As he’s captain this year, I guess I’m not going to get the chance,” she said in a tightly controlled voice.
“That’s a bit unfair,” Harry sympathised.
Ginny looked at him searchingly for a moment, perhaps wondering if he was being patronising. “Yeah, it is, but that’s the story of my life really,” she said, obviously deciding he was being genuine.
She really has major issues, Harry thought.
“Have you finished eating, Harry?” Hermione asked, her earlier embarrassment apparently forgotten. “I could show you round the castle now.”
“Yeah, great,” Harry responded. He stood and looked down at Ginny. “You want to come along?”
Ginny looked at him in surprise for a second before a look of determination came onto her face. “Yes, I could do with a walk after all that dinner,” she said.
The three of them made their way out of the Great Hall. They didn’t notice most of the rest of the school watching them as they left.
Chapter 22: Chapter 22 – Walls Divide Us
Author's Notes: My word, we’re whizzing through these chapters, aren’t we?
Hopefully this chapter will please those who felt a bit short changed by the lack of time Harry and Ginny actually had together in the last one. Harry also starts to experience the problems at Hogwarts first hand. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
Massive thanks to my beta’s Tom and Arnel who have been working overtime on this story. The rapid up-dates are all down to them, folks.
“…and here we have a statue of Septumus Barnikel, founder of the school’s Board of Governors, who first came to Hogwarts in…” Hermione’s voice droned on as it had been doing for the last fifteen minutes. Harry had the impression that she was quoting directly from some dreary book or other.
They had been tramping around the school, ostensibly to make him familiar with the place, for what felt like a lifetime. Unfortunately, Hermione had taken ‘making familiar’ to mean that she should describe every statue, picture or landmark in excruciating detail. While he was impressed by the girl’s memory, he didn’t think it was going to help him navigate round the school particularly.
“The Charms classroom is just down that corridor on the right,” Ginny said quietly.
Not for the first time, Harry was very relieved he had invited the red-haired girl to accompany them on the tour round the castle. The pair of them had fallen in a few steps behind Hermione, and Ginny had been pointing out all the things he needed to know, such as the location of classrooms.
“So, are you going to tell me why you thought you knew me?” Ginny asked suddenly, surprising him. The change of topic had caught him off guard.
“I told you…” he began, but she cut him off.
“Yeah, you said. Because of my parents,” she confirmed. “But that doesn’t make sense. I’ve got my mother’s hair and my dad’s freckles, but I don’t look that much like them. Besides, I get the feeling you don’t work with the Order that much.”
“Well, I have... for the last six months, actually,” he corrected. “But why are you so worried about it?”
Ginny paused for a second. “Because, despite the fact that I know that I’ve never met you, you seem…familiar,” she said hesitantly.
Harry paused, unsure how to continue. He had the overwhelming urge just to tell her everything, but that memory block must have been put there for a reason. What if she didn’t want to know the truth? He decided to move carefully. “Have you ever had parts of your life you can’t remember? That you feel like something was missing?” he asked.
Ginny looked at him sharply. So much for being subtle. “Yes, yes I have,” she said intently.
Harry sighed; there was no backing out now. “Was it around the time you were taken into the Chamber of Secrets?” he asked.
“How did you…” she said in a loud voice, before dropping her head when Hermione looked back at them sharply.
“This is all really interesting, Hermione,” Harry said quickly to cover them. “You really know your stuff.”
Hermione beamed at him and launched into a long explanation of the architectural oddities of this part of the castle.
As soon as Hermione resumed her lecture, Ginny turned and glared at him expectantly.
“Not here,” Harry said quietly. “We’ll discuss this some place a bit more private. But I have to ask you, do you really want to know what happened?”
“What? Why wouldn’t I?” Ginny asked.
“You might find something out that you really didn’t want to know,” Harry replied. “And remember, knowledge can be a dangerous thing.”
“I don’t care,” she muttered. “I have a big hole in my life that I can’t get past. I need to know what happened if I want to move on.”
“We’ll see,” Harry said cautiously.
The three of them walked on with Hermione’s continual commentary accompanying them. They’d just reached one of the lower levels of the castle when Hermione suddenly veered off into a side passage.
Harry looked back down the corridor. “Hold up, Hermione,” he called. “What’s down here?”
“Oh, um. The Slytherin Common Room is down there somewhere. We don’t want to go near there,” she replied nervously.
He glanced at Ginny for an explanation, but she just stared at her feet.
“What do you mean, ‘we don’t want to go near there’? We went past the Hufflepuff Common Room, why can’t we go near the Slytherins'?” he asked, although he thought he already had an idea as to the answer.
“The Slytherins don’t like anyone trespassing near their area,” Hermione admitted.
“Trespassing?” Harry asked in disbelief. “I thought this was a school? And you’re the Head Girl; surely you can go anywhere?”
“Look, you’ll find out soon enough, Harry, but there are problems here at Hogwarts,” Ginny interrupted.
“Explain,” Harry said, looking at the two fidgeting girls.
“Ever since You-Know-Who returned, the Slytherins have been nearly out of control. They practically run the school now. They bully other pupils, openly attack Muggle-borns and, well, there have been some really nasty rumours going around about things that have happened,” Ginny explained.
“But why has this been allowed to carry on?” Harry asked angrily. “Why haven’t the teachers stopped this?”
“Well, we did used to complain, but nothing ever got done about it,” Hermione said, close to tears. “Slytherin’s Head of House always protects his pupils, and anything we say just gets turned back on us.”
Harry suddenly had a sinking feeling. “Who’s the Slytherins' Head of House?”
“Professor Snape,” Hermione answered. “Do you know him?”
Harry growled. “Yeah, I know all about Severus bloody Snape,” he spat. “And I can’t say I’m surprised. This is just the sort of thing I’d expect from the mean-spirited, petty bastard.”
“Ah, you have met him, then,” Ginny said, grinning.
“Oh, yeah,” Harry smiled. “Let me tell you, things are going to change around here. And if I have to go through Severus Snape to do it, then tough.”
The two girls looked at each other nervously for a second before turning back to Harry.
“If we can do anything to help, just let us know,” Ginny said with determination.
“Yes, we want to help,” Hermione confirmed.
Harry grinned at them, before surprising them by pulling them both into a hug. “That’s the spirit, ladies,” he said. “Come on, let’s head back to the Gryffindor Common Room. It’s been a long day.”
With his arm wrapped around each of the girl’s shoulders, the three of them turned and headed back the way they came.
Wednesday, 3 September 1997
Ginny sat at the table with a huff and began to fill her plate. Despite Harry’s promise that they would talk in private, fate seemed to be preventing it. Although Harry always made a point of eating his meals with Hermione and her, as soon as he was finished some teacher always swooped on him to whisk him off, or he had to be somewhere straight away. She didn’t think he was avoiding her deliberately, but it was frustrating.
As if summoned by the very thought of him, Harry chose that moment to flop down on the bench opposite her. He grinned at her.
“Hi, Harry,” she greeted him. “So, how are things going?”
“Well, let’s see. I seem to have already covered most of the stuff they’re trying to teach me so I’m bored rigid in class; the Slytherins all look at me with complete hatred; and if one more person asks me how I beat Bellatrix Lestrange, I’m going to punch them in the face. But apart from that I’m fine,” he explained breezily.
Ginny smiled. “The price of being an all-round hero and the most powerful wizard since Merlin, I’m afraid.”
Harry’s lips twitched. “Merlin? Pah! I’d eat him for breakfast,” he replied with a straight face.
It occurred to Ginny that she and Harry had very quickly slipped into a comfortable friendship. She was largely shunned and ignored by most of the pupils within Hogwarts, but he, one of the most famous wizards in the country, had strolled in and accepted her instantly. He didn’t care if her clothes were patched and worn, or that she struggled to cast anything but the simplest of spells. At mealtimes he automatically made his way to Hermione and her, despite numerous other girls trying to catch his attention. It meant a lot to her.
“Where’s Hermione, then?” he asked, shaking her from her musings.
“Library,” she replied.
“Ah, stupid question,” Harry laughed as he helped himself to several cuts of roast chicken breast.
Ginny eyed him for a moment. “So, when are you and me going to have that promised private conversation?” she asked.
Harry looked up from his meal and held her gaze. “Well, if you know of an out-of-the-way location, I’m free after dinner,” he responded.
Ginny suddenly felt a mix of excitement and trepidation. She was happy that she might finally get some answers about what had happened to her, but worried that she might not like what she heard. But surely anything was better than not knowing, right? “There are some classrooms on the third floor we can use,” she confirmed. Over the years she had become good at finding out-of-the-way places to hide away in.
“I don’t think we should advertise that we’re going to be having a private conversation,” Harry said, intriguingly glancing at the teachers' table. “When we’re ready, you leave; and I’ll follow behind at a discrete distance.”
Ginny was a bit surprised at the need for the cloak and dagger approach, but nodded her agreement.
She rapidly finished her dinner and watched in frustration as Harry took his time eating his. It took great restraint on her part not to leap over the table with a spoon and force feed him the last of his peas. Eventually, he finished and pushed his plate away.
“I’ll see you later,” Ginny announced before standing and walking out of the hall. It took a great deal of will power not to glance back and see if Harry was following her, but she managed it.
With mounting excitement, she climbed the staircase until she reached the third floor. She hurried down the long corridor towards the classroom when suddenly two figures stepped out of a side passage and stood in front of her. She cursed as she recognised them as two seventh-year Slytherin boys: Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini.
“Well, what do we have here?” Nott said with an evil smile on his face.
“Looks like a dirty little blood traitor to me,” Zabini replied.
Ginny didn’t like the way he was looking at her.
“You really shouldn’t be up here, Weasley,” Nott continued. “Not many people about at this time of the evening. No witnesses.”
Ginny pulled out her wand. “You stay away from me,” she warned.
Both boys laughed.
“What are you planning on doing with that thing, Weasley?” Nott practically purred.
“I think she’s trying to attack us,” Zabini noted.
“Well, in that case I think we’re entitled to defend ourselves,” Nott smirked, drawing his own wand, “and of course punish her afterwards.”
“If anyone’s going to be doing any punishing, it will be me,” came a voice from behind Ginny. She looked over her shoulder and was relieved to see Harry approaching.
“Piss off, Potter,” Nott snarled. “You’ll keep walking if you know what’s good for you.”
Harry laughed, to the discomfort of the two Slytherin boys.
“You lay a finger on us and Snape will expel you faster than you can blink,” Zabini warned. He too had pulled out his wand.
“Snape? I don’t give a toss what he thinks. And what are you going to do with those wands, boys?” Harry taunted. Clearly, he had heard all of the conversation.
“We’ll hex you into the middle of next week!” Nott warned. “It’s two against one, remember.”
Harry glanced at Ginny. “I’d say it’s two on two, actually,” he said casually. “And of course I have quite a bit of experience dealing with Death Eaters. A couple of wannbes like you is hardly worth the effort of drawing my wand.”
“More fool you!” yelled Nott and cast a curse at Harry.
Ginny felt herself pushed out the way as Harry dived to one side. Nott’s spell had passed over Harry’s shoulder, and he used the opportunity to close the gap between them. He then launched a vicious kick into the Slytherin boy’s stomach. As Nott gasped and bent double in pain, Harry grabbed him and shoved him into Zabini, preventing the dark-skinned boy from using his wand. As Zabini staggered backward, Harry leapt forward and delivered a powerful punch to the boy’s face. Zabini collapsed.
Calmly, Harry reached down and picked up both of the Slytherins' wands. Nott was now lying in a foetal position and glaring at Harry with his teeth clenched.
“You’ll regret this, Potter!” he gasped
“I regret many things in my life, but I’m pretty sure this will never be one of them,” Harry replied. He waved Nott’s wand in front of his face. “I’d be doing you two a favour if I snapped these. It might prevent you from making… bad choices later. You don’t have to become a Death Eater, you know.”
“Don’t make me laugh.” Nott’s face was a mask of hate. “I’ll follow the Dark Lord willingly, and I’ll be right there with him when he destroys you.”
“He hasn’t done a very good job up to now,” Harry replied nonchalantly. He threw the wands at Nott. “Take these, pick up your mate, and get the hell out of here. If I even think you’re trying to pull a stunt like this again, you’ll be having an extended stay in the hospital wing, got it?”
Nott said nothing but snatched up the wands. He managed to revive Zabini, and the two of them stormed off, occasionally glancing back angrily.
“You realise all of the Slytherins will be after you now, don’t you?” Ginny asked quietly.
“Bring them on,” Harry said. “But I don’t think I’ll be standing alone. In my experience, once people see that bullies can be stood up to and defeated, they’ll fight themselves. They just need that bit of encouragement at the start.”
“I hope you’re right,” Ginny said. “Err, I think we’d better use a room away from this corridor.”
She led Harry down the passageway and turned right. In the end she found a room a considerable distance away from the one she originally intended to use, but she didn’t want Snape finding them. She didn’t doubt that the Professor would be searching for Harry to extract revenge for his injured Slytherins. Once they entered the deserted classroom, Harry cast a locking charm and a silencing spell. He turned and looked expectantly at Ginny.
“You promised to tell me how you knew me,” she blurted.
“I said I would talk to you about it. I never made any promises,” he countered. “But I will tell you something. You’ve had a memory charm performed on you. It blocks your memory of everything between the moment you were taken into the Chamber for the last time and when you woke up in the hospital wing.”
“But…why?” she asked. She could hear her voice quivering.
“Possibly to hide my involvement in what happened. I was in hiding at the time, after all. It could also be to protect you from the knowledge of who Tom Riddle was and what he was trying to do to you,” Harry speculated.
“I know what he was trying to do! He told me!” Ginny’s nearly shouted. “He was trying to return to life so he needed my life-force. He was draining me.”
Harry stood and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Ginny couldn’t help but shiver under his touch. Suddenly she had a memory of him touching her before. Not just the other day when he put his arm round her shoulder, but before. He’d held her hand! She remembered now! “You held my hand! After we left the Chamber, you took my hand in yours and led me out. You were there!” she blurted.
Harry looked at her in surprise for a second before smiling. “You’re breaking through the memory charm,” he told her. “I thought you could. You’re a powerful witch and it wasn’t a very strong charm.”
“I’m not a powerful witch,” she said with disgust. “I can’t cast a spell to save my life! I’m little better than a Squib. That’s why I needed your help when those Slytherins jumped me. I hate being so defenceless!”
“Show me your wand,” Harry said, still grinning. Ginny pulled out her wand which had once belonged to her grandmother, Polly Prewett. Harry looked at it with disdain.
“You’re still using that bloody thing? No wonder you’re having problems! The damn thing's knackered, Ginny. It’s core is completely spent. I doubt Dumbledore could do much with that wand,” he told her.
She stared at the wand in horror. “But this wand was…”
“Your grannie’s," he interrupted. "Yeah, you told me. It’s still knackered, no matter who owned it."
“Can it be fixed?” she asked with a sinking heart.
“I doubt it,” he responded. “And even if it could be, you’d be better off with a new wand: one that picks you.”
“I can’t afford a new wand,” she said despondently. “My family can barely afford a pot to piss in, as it is.”
Harry laughed out loud. “Ha! You’ve still got that colourful turn of phrase, Ginny,” he said, snorting with laughter. “You look like a little angel, but you haven’t half got a potty-mouth.”
“Hey!” she protested and playfully swatted his arm. But even as she did, another memory stirred within her. Something about the two of them saying something rude and then giggling about it? She bit her lip in frustration. “This is really horrible! Everything is half-remembered, just like a dream. Can you just tell me what happened, please,” she begged.
Harry looked at her for a moment. “No, I don’t think I should,” he replied before quickly raising his hands to stop her protests. “Look, I just don’t feel comfortable just telling you about it. It would all be from my perspective anyway, which might be very different from yours. Besides, you’re already starting to break down the memory block yourself. I don’t think it will be long before you work your way through it completely.”
“Harry, I need to know!” she begged.
He pondered her request for a moment. He was still not absolutely certain why the memory block had been put in place, although he strongly suspected Dumbledore had placed it there to hide Harry’s involvement in the Chamber incident. It would be far better for Ginny’s mental wellbeing, however, if she broke through the charm herself. Besides, he wasn’t certain how she would react to the information. No, it would be far better if she did this at her own pace.
“I will tell you one thing, and then it will be your choice if you follow it up,” he offered. “Tom Riddle; do you know anything about him?”
Ginny felt a chill go through her at mention of that name. “Not really, he was just some dark wizard, wasn’t he?”
“He was more than that,” Harry disagreed. “I think Riddle is the key to your memories returning. I don’t know if you recall, but Riddle was a pupil here at Hogwarts. In fact he was Head Boy. I know there is information on him in the library and one particular piece that will tell you what became of him. If you really want to know what happened, you have the choice to discover that information. But I do warn you though, you might not like what you find.”
Ginny glared at him in frustration, but Harry looked unrepentant. Eventually, she huffed in irritation and accepted he wasn’t going to tell her anything more.
“Okay, I’ll look in the library," she conceded reluctantly. "But once I’ve found this information out, do you promise to talk to me about it again?”
“I promise,” he said with a relieved smile. He then looked at her appraisingly. “Are you doing anything on Saturday?” he asked.
Ginny looked at him in surprise and not a little excitement. “I’ve got nothing planned. Why? Are you asking me on a date, or something?”
“Sort of,” he said. “I thought I might prove to you what a powerful witch you actually are.”
Ginny looked at him wide-eyed, but he just continued to grin at her. Suddenly, she started to look forward to the weekend very much.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
They had nearly made it back to the common room when a dark figure suddenly appeared in front of them. Harry sighed. He knew what was coming.
“POTTER!” Snape spat at him. “You are in deep trouble! You’ve been at Hogwarts for five minutes, and you’re attacking your fellow pupils already! Who do you think you are? I’ll have you expelled for this!”
“Expelled for what, exactly?” Harry said coldly.
“I just told you! Attacking two fellow pupils completely without provocation! Damn expelling you, I’ll have you arrested!” Snape shouted.
Several pupils had stopped to watch the show by now, and were looking on with interest.
“Isn’t it customary to hear both parties' sides of the story before reaching a verdict?” Harry asked.
“Don’t give me that rubbish, Potter!” Snape growled. “You’ve always thought you’re above the law. I have witnesses to your actions.”
“And so have I. Your little Slytherin bully boys threatened Miss Weasley here and then tried to hex me. I never even drew my wand,” Harry said forcefully.
“Lies! And I wouldn’t believe a word a Weasley says anyway. Their family are born trouble makers!”
“Really?” Harry replied. “You know, Professor, I don’t think you’re entirely impartial in this matter. I think we need to get the Headmaster involved.”
“Just what I intended. Come with me,” Snape spat and turned on his heels.
Harry grabbed Ginny’s hand and followed on behind. They made their way to the Headmaster's office at a rapid pace. The Professor snarled the password at the Gargoyle guardian and stormed into Dumbledore’s office. Harry was not surprised to see Nott and Zabini already there, a smug look on their faces.
“I have located Potter,” Snape said addressing Dumbledore, who was seated behind his desk. “I recommend that his wand is snapped before he is expelled.”
“If you don’t mind, Severus, I would like to hear what actually happened first,” Dumbledore said pleasantly.
“Of course,” Snape responded. “Nott, explain to the Headmaster how you were attacked.”
“Well, sir, this is what happened,” explained Nott, a hurt expression on his face. “Blaise and I were taking a short-cut along a third-floor corridor when he heard what sounded like someone arguing. We turned a corner and found Potter trying to drag Weasley into an empty classroom. He was yelling something about having already paid and wanting his money’s worth…”
“That’s a lie!” Ginny shouted.
“Silence, Weasley. You’re in enough trouble as it is,” Snape yelled. “Carry on, Nott.”
“Naturally, we went to stop Potter as he looked like he was getting really angry. He told us to mind our own business and then punched Blaze without warning. I drew my wand to stop him but he kicked me in the stomach. Potter and Weasley ran away at that point, but I did hear him threatening her to keep her mouth shut as they went. Of course, I then immediately went to Professor Snape as soon as possible to inform him of what happened.”
“I see,” Dumbledore said before turning to Harry and Ginny. “Is there anything you would like to say regarding these allegations?”
Harry nearly groaned at the Headmaster’s reaction. It was clear Dumbledore was perfectly content to allow Snape to act in any way the ex-Death Eater wanted. There was no pretence of professionalism or objectify from the old man at all. Clearly, just explaining what happened wasn’t going to be enough.
“I’m just pleased that this matter can be cleared up so quickly,” Harry said with a smile. “Headmaster, can you get your Pensive, please.”
“What!” Snape said in surprise.
“I’m more than happy to submit my memory of the event which will clearly show that Nott is lying through his teeth,” Harry said calmly.
“Pensive memories can be altered,” Snape objected.
“Yes, but not quickly. I wouldn’t have had nearly enough time to alter my memory and besides, I’m sure Miss Weasley would be happy to submit her recollections as well, and I’m sure she doesn’t have the skill to alter a memory,” Harry reasoned.
“The Pensive is not normally used for a simple matter of school discipline,” Dumbledore said.
Harry stared at the Headmaster in fury for a second before he turned to the two Slytherin boys.
“Very well. If the Pensive is not to be used you leave me no choice. You two!” He looked at Nott and Zabini. “You’re both over seventeen, right?”
“Yes, what of it, Potter?” Zabini replied.
“You have made serious allegations against me and thereby insulted the House of Potter. I therefore challenge both of you to a duel,” he said formally.
“What?” Nott shouted, suddenly looking fearful.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said sharply. “I forbid this! I refuse to allow any duels to take place at Hogwarts.”
“Then we do it at Hogsmeade,” Harry countered. “As we are all adults, you have no basis to intervene, Professor. Either they withdraw their allegations and apologise, or we duel and I get to show them how I kill Death Eaters.”
“Harry, I demand that you withdraw this challenge…” Dumbledore yelled.
“The Pensive or the duel. Your choice, Headmaster!” Harry interrupted.
Dumbledore stared at him in annoyance for a second. “Severus, we seem to be at an impasse here. Do you think it is possible that Mr Nott and Mr Zabini were mistaken in what they thought they saw?” Dumbledore asked in a natural voice.
Snape looked like he was about to explode. “It’s possible, Headmaster,” he said, sounding like the words had to be dragged from his mouth.
“Well, I’m glad this could all be sorted,” Dumbledore said in a relieved voice.
“Wait,” Snape objected. “My Slytherins have been physically injured. Is there to be no punishment for this?”
“I think in the circumstances, Mr Potter can serve detention with…” Dumbledore began.
“No,” Harry said simply.
“Harry, you are in no position to…” Dumbledore persisted.
“I said no,” Harry said firmly. “Unless you want me to insist that the Pensive is used, in which case these two morons will have to be expelled or arrested. Or do I follow through with the duel, in which case they will end up dead?”
Dumbledore stared at Harry with a disappointed look on his face. After a while he turned to the Slytherin boys. “Well, gentlemen, it appears the choice is yours. You may either agree to submit your memories of the alleged event for viewing, face Mr Potter in a duel or, and this is my recommended course of action, admit that you were in error and apologise to Mr Potter and Miss Weasley,” the Headmaster offered.
Nott and Zabini both looked furious, but not nearly as much as Snape. For a while Harry thought that the two boys had decided if they kept quiet long enough the whole matter would be dismissed. After a while, however, Nott turned to Harry.
“I was in error. I apologise,” he said quickly.
“Yes, I apologise too,” added Zabini, sounding anything but sorry.
“Thank you, gentlemen. You may now go,” Dumbledore told them.
Both boys nearly sprinted out the room.
Snape gave Harry one last look of hatred and followed his pupils out the door.
As soon as they had left, Dumbledore sighed and looked at Harry in disappointment.
“Harry, I did not allow you to attend Hogwarts just so you could start a war within its walls,” he said in a weary voice.
“Allow?” Harry started, but after glancing at Ginny who was still in the room, he decided not to continue that line of thought. “Those two Slytherins have got off scot free. I dread to think what they would have done to Ginny if I hadn’t been there!”
“I’m sure their bark was worse than their bite, Harry,” Dumbledore insisted. “Besides, I think the punishment you dealt out was far in excess of their supposed crime.”
“Supposed? Have you any idea what is happening in this school? All the other Houses are living in fear of the Slytherins. I’ve seen evidence of intimidation, beatings, sexual assault…” he raged.
“Harry! I assure you I would be aware if any of those things occurred,” Dumbledore said angrily. “You have fallen prey to anti-Slytherin sentiments that prevail within Gryffindor.”
“Nobody has told me these things, I‘ve seen them with my own eyes!” Harry objected.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said coldly, “can I suggest you remember why you are here. In turn, I will not choose to question what you were doing with Miss Weasley apparently looking for a deserted classroom.”
Knowing there was little he could say with Ginny in the room, Harry turned and indicated that she should leave. He looked back at the Headmaster. “Don’t worry, Professor. Ginny and I were just chatting. We do, after all, have a lot in common.” And with that he darted out the door, slamming it behind him. He motioned Ginny to silence until they were well clear of the office.
“That total wanker!” fumed Ginny. “He was practically looking for excuses for those Slytherin bastards to get off! We could have been expelled for being attacked, for Merlin’s sake. And that little shit Nott practically called me a whore and the Headmaster did absolutely nothing about it! I don’t believe it!”
“We’re going to change this, Ginny. I promise you,” Harry assured her. “But it looks like we’re going to have to do this without Dumbledore’s help. That means we might have to get our hands dirty.”
“Count me in!” Ginny said enthusiastically. “I’ll do whatever it takes. But I don’t understand. I always assumed that Dumbledore was a bit senile and just didn’t know what the Slytherins were like, that Snape had kept it from him. But it’s like he knows and is protecting them! Why is he doing that?”
“I can think of a few reasons,” Harry said. “The most likely is that he believes if he treats the Slytherins with kindness it will stop them turning into Death Eaters later.” Harry also suspected it was also part of Snape’s cover as a spy, as Voldemort would be happy seeing the Slytherins treat the other houses badly.
“But that’s ridiculous, Harry. Half the house is acting like Death Eaters anyway. Does Dumbledore think that if he turns the other cheek they’ll see the error of their ways and become all sweetness and light?” she asked in an exasperated voice.
“Apparently so,” Harry confirmed, although he was as bemused as she was. “Anyway, nothing we can do about that yet. Just remember our day trip on Saturday morning. I want you ready and waiting in the common room by nine o’clock.”
“Bossy, aren’t you?” Ginny giggled. “Any hints about where we’re going?”
“Nope,” Harry said with a wink. “But if you’re a good girl, you might get a present.”
Ginny definitely couldn’t wait until Saturday now.
Chapter 23: Chapter 23 – In Truth You Will Find Joy
Author's Notes: In response to all the hints/begging/death threats requesting the next chapter, here it is! Apart from someone getting a richly deserved kicking at the start, this is just about the fluffiest chapter in the whole story. Several important things happen in it, however, and Ginny learns a lot of shocking information. And before anyone asks; yes, she will be confronting her family about this. You’ll just have to wait until the Christmas holidays for that merry little conversation.
Oh, and by the way. I gave Ginny that type of wand (rosewood with dragon heartstring core) for a specific reason: it was the wand I was given on Pottermore. I just liked the idea of Ginny playing with my wand (oh-err! I say, Matron! etc.)
Massive thanks to Tom (MinistryMalcontent) and Arnel for their wonderful beta work. Between JKR’s grammatical inconsistencies and HP Lexicon getting things wrong, what chance do I stand?
Saturday, 6 September 1997
Saturday morning arrived, cold and windy. As she had the feeling they would be spending most of their time outside, Ginny dressed warmly; and she had her heavy cloak with her. While Harry had called it a ‘sort of’ date, she suspected that dressing nicely wasn’t a requirement.
At nine o’clock on the dot, Harry appeared out of the archway that led to the Head Boy’s quarters. She experienced a sudden irrational burst of jealousy that Hermione had her room right next to Harry’s, but she fought that down. As soon as Harry caught sight of her, he broke into a big smile.
“Morning, Ginny. Ready for out little trip?” he asked.
“Well, apart from having no idea where we’re going or what we’re doing, yes. Are you sure you’re not just luring me out the castle so you can have your wicked way with me?” she teased him. It was a great surprise to her that she felt so comfortable flirting with Harry, bearing in mind how little time she had known him.
“My intentions are entirely honourable,” Harry assured her, to her slight disappointment. “Come on, we have a fair distance to travel. Let’s get started.”
They left the Common Room and headed down the main staircase. They reached the Entrance Hall and were just about to go outside when they heard a shout from behind them.
“Oi! Ginny! What do you think you’re doing?” cried a male voice.
Ginny turned and groaned. Walking towards them at a fast pace was her brother Ron, accompanied by Seamus and Dean. The last thing she needed right now was her over-protective moron of a brother. Sure enough, Ron squared up to Harry in an aggressive manner, while the other two boys stood either side, clearly trying to intimidate him. Ginny really couldn’t believe they would be so stupid as to try to threaten a man who recently killed Bellatrix Lestrange.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing with my sister, Potter?” Ron spat.
“I’m taking her out for the day,” Harry informed him coolly.
“And who said you could do that, eh? Just think cos’ you’re some big hero you can have any girl you want?” Ron was going bright red, a sure sign his temper was rising out of control.
“Actually, Ginny said I could take her out,” Harry retorted.
“That’s my baby sister, scumbag,” Ron raged. “You bloody well stay away from her or you’ll regret it.”
Harry glanced at his watch before he turned and looked back at Ginny.
“Ginny, we could stay here and argue with your brother, but he seems a bit of an idiot to me. Do you mind if I hurt him a little bit?” he asked.
Ginny pretended to think about it for a moment.
“Nah, do what you like with him,” she responded after a second. “But try not to hospitalise him. Mum would only get upset.”
“Okay,” Harry agreed pleasantly.
If Ginny had not seen Harry in action a few days before, she doubted she would have believed anyone could move as fast as he did. As soon as he turned back to face Ron, he suddenly lashed out with his left elbow catching Seamus in the mouth. The Irish boy went down hard, spitting teeth. Harry then twisted and punched Dean hard in the face. Dean fell with blood streaming from his nose.
To his credit, Ron reacted fast. He threw a punch at Harry, but missed. Harry grabbed the boy’s wrist and twisted it hard, causing Ron to howl with pain. He then turned while still holding Ron’s arm and managed to throw him over his shoulder. Ron hit the floor hard and lay there, moaning.
Harry stood in the middle of Ron’s fallen gang with his hands on his hips. He bent down to address the injured redhead. “Hopefully, Weasley, you will now realise that you can’t intimidate me. Now, I’ll say this slowly so you can understand: Ginny is sixteen and quite capable of deciding if she wants to go somewhere and with whom. You do not control her life. I strongly suggest you do not annoy her any further, or you might not like the results, got it?” Harry said firmly.
Ron raised his head and glared.
“WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE!” a stern voice bellowed.
Everyone turned their heads toward the staircase and saw Professor McGonagall standing there with a face like thunder. The intimidating witch stormed down the steps and approached them swiftly.
“I said: what’s going on here? I want an explanation,” she repeated with a voice as cold as ice.
“I’m afraid there’s been a terrible accident, Professor,” Harry said calmly. “These three boys were coming down the staircase and they all slipped on the polished floor. I think they’ve hurt themselves.”
“That’s true,” Ginny added, catching on fast. “I think Mr Filch has over-polished the floor. It’s very slippery!”
McGonagall looked down at the floor and slid her foot along it. It was, to be fair, very highly polished.
“Is this true, Mr Weasley?” she asked.
“Yes, Professor,” he said, looking like he was raging inside. “I think we were going a bit too fast and didn’t realise how shiny the floor was.”
“The caretaker should leave warning signs out or something,” Harry added helpfully.
McGonagall looked at Ron, Seamus and Dean in turn, but none of them looked like they were going to contradict that story. She huffed in frustration. “You three had better go to the hospital wing immediately. And do try to avoid bleeding on the floor, Mr Thomas!” She turned an unfriendly eye on Harry. “I suggest you proceed to wherever it is you are going to, Mr Potter.”
“Righty-oh!” Harry said cheerfully, before looking back at the three injured boys. “See you, guys. Hope you get patched up alright. And remember, no running in the corridor. You’ve seen how dangerous it is!”
Ginny had to stop herself laughing at the indignant expression on Ron’s face. She then made a point of linking her arm with Harry’s as they headed out the door. As they passed through the courtyard and started to cross the main bridge, she gave in and started chortling.
“I hope I didn’t go too far, Ginny,” Harry said, sounding slightly worried.
“Merlin, no!” She assured him. “Ron’s a moron. He and his two goons aren’t averse to throwing their weight around, so it’s high time they got a taste of their own medicine. I’ve lived with him treating me like I was five years old for ages now, and I’m sick of it. Maybe he’ll get the message now.”
“I hope so,” Harry agreed.
“So,” she said, changing the subject. “Where are we heading?”
“Over there,” Harry said, pointing to the tree line.
“The Forbidden Forest?” she asked apprehensively.
“Only the outskirts. We just need to be past Hogwarts's protective wards so we can Apparate,” he explained.
“Apparate? You can do Side-Along-Apparition?” she asked. “Where exactly are we going?”
Harry just tapped the side of his nose and smirked.
Soon, they had reached the outskirts of the forest, and Harry indicated that they had gone far enough.
He turned to look at her. “Have you ever Apparated before?” he asked.
“No, first time,” she confirmed nervously.
“Well, hold tight!” Without warning he grabbed her firmly round the waist and twisted slightly.
Ginny suddenly felt like she was being squeezed through a very small tube very fast. Before she knew what was happening, her feet hit the ground hard; and she would have fallen over if it wasn’t for Harry holding her. “What the hell… where are we?” she gasped before her senses returned. “Bloody hell! We’re in Diagon Alley!”
“Diagon Alley’s main Apparition point,” Harry confirmed. “Come on, we’ve got some shopping to do.” Harry linked his arm with hers again and led her down the Alley.
Ginny couldn’t help but look around excitedly at all the sights. She’d only been to the Alley a few times when she’d been younger. As most of her school supplies were donated to her by Hogwarts, there had been no need to visit in recent years. They were about half-way down when Harry came to a halt. “Why have we stopped?” Ginny asked.
“I told you if you were a good girl you’d get a present. Well, you’ve been a good girl,” he explained, indicating the shop in front of them.
Ginny looked up at the sign which read: ‘Ollivanders: Maker’s of Fine Wands since 382 BC’.
“But I told you, I can’t afford a wand!” Ginny said forcefully.
“It wouldn’t be much of a present if you had to buy it yourself, would it?” Harry laughed.
“But you can’t. It’s too much! I couldn’t accept a gift like that,” she objected.
“Look, Ginny, that wand of yours is useless. I said that I would prove that you are a powerful witch, right? The only way to do that is for you to see the difference in your spell casting when you’re using a decent wand. Besides, with a properly working wand, you won’t need my help in tackling aggressive Slytherins or overprotective brothers,” he reasoned.
Ginny looked back toward the shop with longing in her eyes. What if it was true, and she’d actually be able cast spells properly with a new wand? She’d have a chance to do well in NEWT exams and maybe get a good job! And like Harry said, it could mean no more running in fear from bullies; and she could teach her idiot brothers a lesson or two. But wands were expensive. She couldn’t accept a gift of that value.
“Harry, I can’t,” she said miserably. “It’s a lovely thought, but wands just cost too much!”
Harry laughed again.
“Ginny, do you know who looked after me for many years? The Flamels. That is, the creators of the Philosopher's Stone. You know, that thing that could create gold? I was their sole heir. Oh, my godfather, Sirius Black left me everything when he died, and the Black family were very rich. Do I need to add that I was sole heir of the Potter fortune as well? Gosh, that must make me one of the richest wizards in the country. Oh, wait, that’s wrong. I’m THE richest wizard in the country,” Harry said, grinning.
Ginny stared at him open mouthed. Coming from the mouth of some rich pure-blood, Harry’s words would have sounded the height of narcissism, but the wry twist to his lips as he said the words made it clear that he didn’t take his apparent wealth too seriously.
“If you think the price of a new wand means anything to me, you’re nuts,” he continued. “Especially as it would mean you could look after yourself. I thought we agreed we were going to stand up to the Slytherins together? How are you going to do that with a broken wand?”
“Okay! You win! Waste your money on me, see if I care,” she laughed.
With a triumphant smile, Harry guided her through the door into the musty shop. Ollivander himself was stood behind the counter as if he had been waiting for them.
“Good morning, Mr Potter. Good to see you again. I trust that wand of yours is still working satisfactorily?” the old man asked.
“It’s working fine, thank you, Mr Ollivander,” Harry confirmed. “We’re here today to get a new wand for my friend here.”
The old man’s eyes turned to Ginny. “Ah, a Weasley! Young Ginevra if I’m not mistaken. That old wand of your grandmother’s finally given up the ghost, eh?” he asked.
“How do you know about that?” Ginny said in surprise.
“Do you have the wand on you?” Ollivander asked.
Ginny handed her wand over to the man who started to examine it closely.
“Yes, there we are, you see. This crack running along the length? Your parents asked me to repair this wand before you were born. I warned them it would be a temporary measure at best, but your mother was quite insistent. I rather got the impression that she was keen for her mother’s wand to be passed down to you.” The old man sighed. “It’s really most unfortunate. I tell people that wands should be individually tailored to a witch or wizard, but they will insist on thinking that they are transferable.”
“You mean my parents knew this wand would stop working for me?” Ginny said indignantly.
“I did explain to your mother, but she is a very strong-willed woman. This wand's core was damaged badly, and nothing I could do would change that,” he confirmed.
“But… why? Why did they do that?” she spluttered. Her face was going an alarming shade of red.
“As I say, your mother was very keen for you to inherit your grandmother’s wand. Of course, repairing a wand is a lot cheaper than buying a new one,” Ollivander replied.
“I don’t believe it!” Ginny raged. “My education, my job prospects; it all could have been ruined because my parents wanted to save a few Galleons! And mum, with her bloody obsession with family! Why didn’t she just put gran’s wand in a display case rather than forcing it onto me?”
She was furious. All the disappointed looks she received when her parents saw her report card, all of Percy’s sodding lectures on ‘trying harder’, and all of the despairing looks from her teachers: they were all her parents’ fault!
“Easy, Ginny,” Harry said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure they didn’t mean for this to happen. Some people just don’t understand wand lore.”
“I know,” Ginny said, fighting back the tears, “but why does this all happen to me?”
Wordlessly, Harry pulled her into his arms and held her. A few tears ran down her cheek, but she fought against them. She hated crying, especially in public. Using the cover of Harry’s arms, she wiped her face and managed to get herself under control.
“I’m okay now,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Harry looked down at her. “What do you say we find you a decent wand?” he suggested.
She nodded happily and they turned to Mr Ollivander who was watching them with an understanding look on his face. The old man vanished into the back of his shop for a minute or two and returned clutching an armful of small, rectangular boxes.
It was the fifth wand Ginny tried that was the one. As soon as she picked up the rosewood wand with a dragon heartstring core, she knew it was the one for her. A shower of red sparks confirmed her choice, and it was all she could do to keep from jumping in the air with joy. She suffered a moment of guilt when Harry dropped nine Galleons into Ollivander’s hand, but in truth, she was just too happy with her new wand to get too worked up about accepting the present.
As soon as they left the shop Harry guided them back to the Apparition point. Ginny couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed their trip was ending so soon.
“So, we heading back to Hogwarts now?” she asked, trying to sound up-beat.
“Actually, I thought we could go somewhere you could try out your new wand,” he replied.
“Where?” Ginny asked
“You’ll see,” he replied mysteriously.
The experience of Apparating was no better the second time, and she staggered a bit on arrival. After her head had cleared, she looked up and was surprised to see the sea stretching out before her. A quick look around revealed that she was standing in a rather overgrown garden attached to a large white house with a grey slate roof. She looked at Harry questioningly.
“Welcome to Cornwall,” Harry said. “This house belonged to Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel, who I came to live with when I was ten. They were truly wonderful people and I have so many happy memories of this place. Nick and Perry were also great teachers, and to enable me to learn magic, they built a heavily warded room where I could cast any spell I liked without detection. I think the wards should still be in place.”
“So I can try out my new wand?” Ginny asked excitedly.
“Absolutely,” he confirmed.
Ginny squealed with delight and practically dragged him into the house. The door opened automatically at his touch, and she found herself in a large and surprisingly clean kitchen.
“Wait up a second, Ginny,” Harry said. “Bolly! Misty!” At his call two house-elves suddenly appeared.
“Master Harry!” the female elf shouted excitedly, and flung herself around Harry’s legs.
“Master Harry!” the male elf echoed. “You’s is coming back to the old master and mistress’s house! Has you finished at Hoggywarties already?”
“I’m afraid not, Bolly,” Harry laughed. “This is just a flying visit. Tell me, what is the state of the wards on the house? Can magic be detected by the Ministry?”
“The wards is being still in place,” Bolly confirmed. “They’s not as strong as they was, but they are good enough. No one’s will know if magic is being done here.”
“Great!” Harry said. “Guys, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Ginny Weasley. Ginny and I are going to use the training room for a while. Do you think you could have some lunch waiting for us about twelve?”
“Of course!” Misty cried happily. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Weaszy.”
“Um, hello,” Ginny replied uncertainly. She had very little experience with house-elves.
“Thanks, you two,” Harry said. “Come on, Ginny. Let’s see just how good you are with that new wand.” Harry took her hand and led her up stairs to a large, bare room that clearly had been set aside for spell casting. They entered and shut the door. Ginny stood with her new wand in hand feeling a little nervous.
“How about we start with something simple?” Harry suggested. He conjured up a small, blue ball. “Try a Levitation Charm first.”
“Okay,” Ginny said uncertainly. She’d always been rubbish at Levitation. “Wingardium Leviosa.”
The ball shot into the air and hit the ceiling with such force that it burst.
Harry cried out in delight. “What did I tell you? Are you a powerful witch or what?”
For the next hour Ginny ran through every spell she could remember with the same positive results. Quite a few of the spells she had never managed to cast before and she needed a bit of help from Harry. He even taught her a couple of defensive spells she had never encountered before and for the first time in her life, she managed to produce a Shield Charm. With each new success her excitement grew.
“I can’t believe it! After all these years thinking I was useless, I can actually do this stuff. It’s brilliant!” she cried and threw her arms around Harry’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“You’re welcome, Gi… umph!” Harry was suddenly cut short by Ginny pressing her lips against his. She had intended to plant a kiss on his cheek, but somehow in her excitement she missed. Neither of them moved for a moment before Ginny slowly pulled away.
Oh gods, what had she done? Harry had been so kind to her, and she had just thrown herself at him! She’d only known him a week; what would he think of her? She felt her face go red, and she was afraid to meet his eyes. Then she felt his finger under her chin forcing her to look up. She saw Harry had turned an equally bright shade of red.
“Err, thanks, Ginny,” he said shyly. “If I’d known I was going to get such a nice thank you gift, I’d have bought you a dozen wands.”
They stared at each other for a second before they both burst out laughing. Ginny couldn’t remember when she had been so happy. Years of frustration and worry about her magical ability just fell away. For the first time since she had been a small girl, she was actually feeling positive about the future. And, to top it all, she’d just kissed Harry Potter and he’d liked it. Life, suddenly, was good.
“Come on, Ginny,” he said after they had both calmed down. “All this magic has given me an appetite. Let’s see what the elves have made for lunch.”
They headed downstairs to discover that Misty and Bolly had interpreted the request for some lunch as an excuse to create a small banquet. The two famished teenagers sat and proceeded to make a sizeable dent on the small mountain of food laid out before them.
“You know, Harry,” Ginny said in between taking bites out of a chicken leg she was holding, “I really enjoyed leaning those new spells. You’re a good teacher.”
Harry ate another forkful of coleslaw and looked at her. “Thanks, Ginny. You were pretty quick in picking up new things. In fact, this leads me onto something I want to talk to you about.” He put down his fork and suddenly he looked nervous. “Ginny, I like you. I like you a lot, and I hope we’ve become friends in this last week,” he began.
“Of course we have,” Ginny interrupted.
“Good,” he said smiling. “But the thing is, I’m a dangerous person to know. My adopted grandparents, the Flamels, died because someone tried to get to me. My godfather and his friends died while fighting Voldemort. Hell, even my parents died because Voldemort was trying to kill me when I was a baby. To put it bluntly: people who hang around me have a tendency to get hurt.”
“Are you trying to push me away?” Ginny asked with a hard edge evident in her voice.
“Not really,” Harry said, looking embarrassed. “If I was a stronger person I should. The fact is I’m lonely, and I really enjoy your company. But you have to understand that being around me will make you a target and, frankly, I don’t think I can stand to see another person I care about hurt.”
Ginny was silent for a second, clearly thinking things through. She then stood up and marched round the table to stand directly in front of him.
“Harry, I’m already a target. My family are marked as blood traitors and my parents are well known supporters of Dumbledore. Mum and Dad fight for the Order, and I think my two older brothers are joining as well. Yes, knowing you might bring more unwanted attention to me, but I’ve done pretty well defending myself up to this point. Now I have a working wand, I feel even safer,” she said firmly. “Besides, I’m a bit lonely, too. Oh, I have Hermione and Luna, but as well as they know me, they've never made a difference in my life like you have.”
Harry smiled and looked relieved.
“Oh, and just for your information, if you ever try and push me away just to protect me, I’m going to have to hurt you.” To prove her point she lightly slapped him round the head before returning to her seat.
“Ow!” Harry complained. “There’s no need to get violent. But seriously, I’m glad you said that, but I do have a condition on us being friends.”
“A condition?” Ginny asked. “Who puts conditions on friendship?”
“I do,” Harry insisted. “When we were training I was a bit worried that you’d never been shown how to create a shield.”
“We’ve had some really awful Defence teachers,” Ginny pointed out.
“Yeah, I figured. Gilderoy Lockhart was one, wasn’t he? But my point is, if I’m going to make you a bigger target by knowing you, I want to make sure that you can defend yourself. I want to give you a few extra lessons myself so I’m certain that if it comes to a fight you can hold your own.”
“You’re going to teach me Defence? Harry, that’s wonderful!” Ginny shouted enthusiastically. A thought occurred to her. “Can I invite Hermione and Luna as well? The Slytherins are always picking on them, too.”
“Sure,” Harry agreed. “But no more than those two. We want to keep this secret, and I have no desire to teach half the school!”
“Great!” Ginny said happily. “Oh, wait until Hermione hears about this. She’s going to burst with excitement at learning from you.”
Harry snorted. “Yeah, can’t wait,” he joked. “She’ll probably start telling me I’m pronouncing the incantations wrong.”
“Probably,” Ginny agreed laughing.
Harry looked sober for a second. “It must have been really difficult for you, Ginny,” he said sympathetically. “I’d forgotten that your family was already targeted by Voldemort’s supporters. I suppose ever since Lucius Malfoy got your dad sacked from the Ministry, the Weasleys have been marked.”
Ginny looked downcast. “It was me that got dad sacked from the Ministry, Harry. It was my fault for allowing myself to be possessed by that bloody diary.”
“Who told you that load of crap?” Harry said dismissively. “Oh, I know that Fudge used the diary incident as a final justification to sack your dad, but it was just a matter of time anyway.”
“What are you talking about?” Ginny asked coolly.
Harry looked surprised. “Malfoy and your dad have been at loggerheads for years. Arthur was trying to get the law changed to provide extra legal protection for Muggles and, of course, Malfoy hated that idea. I’m afraid the law was a bit of a nave idea, really.”
“What’s wrong with trying to pass a law to protect Muggles?” Ginny asked hotly, feeling she should defend her father.
“Nothing at all,” Harry agreed, “but the law had no chance of getting passed. Lucius Malfoy owned Fudge. He’s spread so much gold around the Ministry, he’s got influence in nearly all departments. Once Malfoy got wind of what your dad was trying to do, he was bound to stop it. First he bribed your father’s superiors to discredit his work. Then he started rumours about theft and incompetence. Finally, he paid Fudge a fat bribe to sack Arthur once and for all. The diary was just an excuse.”
“You mean, even if I had never touched the diary, my dad would still have been sacked?” Ginny asked in shock.
“Oh, yes,” Harry confirmed. “As soon as he declared his pro-Muggle stance, he was a target. I admire his courage, but I can’t help but think that with a family the size of yours he should have been a bit more careful.”
Ginny stared at the floor, thinking her head was going to explode. It wasn’t her fault! None of it was her fault! If anything, she was the victim of her father’s political views. Oh, she agreed with his ideas totally and was proud that he had stood up to the pure-bloods, but why did she get the blame for his sacking? It was like she had become a scapegoat for all the family’s problems. Add in the issue with her wand and she was beginning to think her parents had it in for her.
“Are you alright, Ginny?” Harry’s voice broke her out of her thoughts.
“It’s just… I never knew any of this. All my brothers blamed me solely for Dad getting fired from the Ministry. Why did he never say anything? Why did I have to take the guilt?” she asked, tears forming in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Harry apologised. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No!” Ginny shouted. “Harry, you are the first person who has ever told me the truth about all this. My family have lied to me and punished me for something that wasn’t my fault. I needed to know these things!”
Harry sat by her and awkwardly put an arm round her shoulders while she cried a little.
Damn it, she was turning into a right hosepipe. She really didn’t want Harry to see her like this. “Sorry,” she muttered. “You must think I’m some stupid little girl acting like this.”
“Merlin, no!” Harry said fervently. “I’ve been told lies and had secrets kept from me all my life. I know what it’s like. Maybe you should talk to your family about this? Perhaps your parents had a reason for their actions?”
“Yeah, of course,” Ginny said bitterly. “I bet they had a really good reason for making me the target of some madman with a possessed diary, wiping my memory, sabotaging my education, and making me the pariah of the family. There’s bound to be a good reason for all that, right?”
“I don’t know, Ginny,” Harry said sadly. “But I’m sure they didn’t do any of this on purpose. There must have been something behind it all.”
“I don’t know, either,” Ginny said in a miserable voice. “But I think I’m going to have to think all this through before I confront my parents about it.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Harry agreed. “Say, why don’t we take a walk along the beach? That always used to cheer me up when I was feeling down.”
“Okay,” Ginny agreed. “That might be nice.”
The two of them stood up and prepared to go out. Harry suggested Ginny’s cloak might look a little odd to the Muggles, so he lent her one of Perry’s old coats. He found an old jacket of his which just about fit still, and they left out the back door. Harry led them out of a small gate at the far end of the garden and down a small lane. They then followed a narrow path which led directly to the beach.
Ginny’s head was spinning from the events of the morning. It was barely afternoon and she was already a sadder, if wiser, witch than she had been at the start of the day. No matter how she turned things over in her mind, one question kept coming back to her: how could her parents have done this to her? Try as she might, she couldn’t work out what she had done to deserve such treatment.
Realising that it was just all too much to deal with at the moment, she tried to push all such thoughts from her head. She decided that she would just try to concentrate on the positives of the day. In her pocket was her brand new wand which would enable her to shake her reputation as a near Squib. She was also free of the guilt that her actions had ruined the careers of her father and her brother Percy. Finally, she had found that in Harry she had a true friend.
Feeling a little bit better, Ginny started to take notice of her surroundings. The beach was fairly deserted, no doubt due to the chill wind rolling in off the sea. She was glad of her borrowed coat which was warm, despite its apparent thinness. It probably had an in-built warming charm, she suspected. The beach itself was surprisingly long and stretched out into the distance. Ahead she could see the ground on the landward side begin to rise and form cliffs about a mile on.
As they walked they began to encounter outcrops of rock and small pools. Harry had a dreamy expression on his face and it was clear how much he was enjoying being back. It must have been a wonderful place to grow up, she thought. It was only when they approached a sizeable group of rocks did it dawn on her that Harry was holding her hand. A little spark of happiness ran through her, and her earlier worries slipped away a little more.
Harry stopped by one of the flatter rocks and sat down, gently pulling Ginny down next to him. They sat there for a second, watching the waves crashing onto the shore.
“I’ve missed this place, you know,” he said.
“You were lucky growing up here,” Ginny commented. “I know I grew up in Devon, but we were miles from the sea.”
“I was ten when I first came here. This bunch of rocks was one of my favourite places to hang out. Lisa and I used to spend hours here in the summer,” he continued to reminisce.
“Lisa?” Ginny asked.
Harry turned and grinned at her. “My first, and to date, only girlfriend. I met her when I joined a martial arts class when I was ten years old. She was about half my size and she beat the stuffing out of me!” he laughed.
Ginny snorted. “She sounds like a girl after my own heart. Is this why you wanted to come back here? Hoping she was still around?”
“Nah,” Harry said looking a little wistful. “I gave Lisa up years ago. Well, actually now I think of it only a couple of years ago, but it seems like a lifetime. I don’t think I could date a Muggle now; I just couldn’t hide my magic that well.”
“I know what you mean. The village near our house is all Muggles, and we had a terrible time trying to blend in whenever we visited it. And by Wizarding standards we’re Muggle experts,” she said, remembering all the trouble that her brothers had managed to get themselves into.
“Before I came here, I lived with my Muggle aunt and uncle who were right bastards. I never even knew that magic existed until my uncle took a swing at me one day and triggered a burst of accidental magic that nearly flattened the house.” Harry was pleased that he could smile at the memory now. “This was the first place I was truly happy.”
“Your uncle used to beat you?” Ginny asked, shocked. “The Boy Who Lived was abused by his Muggle relatives? Wasn’t someone watching over you?”
“Yeah, it was supposed to be Dumbledore but I guess he had better things to do.” A trace of bitterness had crept into his voice. “It took for me to nearly burn out my magical core for him to notice me.”
“Really? My parents worship the ground Dumbledore walks on,” she confided. “Personally, I think he’s as nutty as a fruitcake.”
“I bet they don’t know the half of what he’s got up to over the years. Trust me; Albus Dumbledore is a long way from being the shining beacon of light he’s made out to be,” Harry said indignantly. “One day the truth will come out and it will shock everybody.”
“What about your aunt and uncle?” Ginny asked. “I’m surprised you didn’t go back and hex them to oblivion when you turned seventeen.”
“Oh, I decided that would be my reward to myself once I’ve dealt with Voldemort,” Harry grinned evilly. “Once he’s gone I’m going to make sure my darling aunt and uncle get what they deserve.”
“Can I help?” Ginny asked eagerly.
“Absolutely!” he agreed. They both grinned at each other in anticipation.
They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they sat and watched the sea rolling in. After a while, they decided it was time to head back to Hogwarts. Standing, they made their way back along the beach, still holding hands.
Chapter 24: Chapter 24 – Master of Misrule
Author's Notes: I can’t believe that we're up to chapter 24 already; it seems like only five minutes ago I started to post this story. Can I just give a massive thank you to everyone who has left a review. Some of these reviews have been quite challenging, and forced me to justify some of the things I’ve written, which I love. It certainly keeps me on my toes. Others have just been supportive or funny, but they were all very, very appreciated.
Please also give a massive round of applause (virtually) to my beta’s Tom and Arnel. Oh, and as Arnel pointed out, I’ve gone down the cinematic route of having the disarming spell knock people back, as opposed to just having their wands ripped from their grasp. There’s also an unusual combat spell towards the end that I took from Lexicon that sounded fun. Well, Harry admitted he used the Blasting Curse too much; it’s nice to have a bit of variety.
Monday, 22 September 1997
“What exactly are we doing here?” Hermione asked, sounding baffled. “There’s nothing of interest up here.”
They were standing in a draughty corridor on the seventh floor of the castle. After some difficulty, Harry believed he had finally found a place where he could give Ginny and her two friends self-defence training. He’d searched Hogwarts high and low in the last fortnight, primarily in his hunt for the last Horcrux, but also for a suitable out-of-the-way place he could teach the girls. He’d nearly given up when he’d had a flash of inspiration and asked Misty, who had insisted in accompanying him to school, for help. Misty had in turn asked the other elves and they had told her about this place.
“According to the elves, this is the spot we want,” he replied, pointing to the wall. “There’s the tapestry of that mad twat who thought trolls and ballet were a winning combination.”
“So what do we do now?” Ginny asked.
“Apparently, I have to think very hard about what I need and then walk up and down three times past this spot,” he explained.
“Don’t tell me; once you’ve done that your fairy godmother will appear and grant your every wish! Honestly, Harry, I’ve never heard such rubbish!” Hermione scoffed. She clearly didn’t believe that the ‘come and go’ room, as the elves called it, could possibly exist.
“You should have more faith,” Luna told the bushy-haired witch. “Hogwarts is a very clever castle. If she thinks people need something, she’s bound to work out a way to give it to them.”
Hermione glared at the blond witch. “Of course, I’m sure that’s exactly what a non-sentient pile of bricks and stone thought.”
“Oh, don’t insult Hogwarts!” Luna wailed. She looked up at the ceiling and waved her arms around. “She didn’t mean it, you lovely castle! She didn’t mean it!”
Feeling his afternoon was definitely turning a bit surreal, Harry started to think about a training room like the one at Grimmauld Place. With the image fixed firmly in his mind he started to walk backwards and forwards in front of the tapestry. He did this three times and suddenly a large wooden door appeared in the wall.
“Well, that’s a sight you don’t see every day,” Ginny said, grinning. “Say, Hermione, if my fairy godmother is in there, do you think she’ll get me a nice new set of dress robes for the next ball?”
Hermione glared at her.
“Right, shall we see what the lovely castle has created for us, then?” Harry asked, hoping to head off whatever snippy comment Hermione had lined up.
He moved to the newly created door and swung it open. He was delighted to find a large training area about twice the size of the one at Grimmauld Place. There were padded mats stacked in one corner, and a bookcase against the far wall. The floor had various lines and circles drawn on it which represented duelling areas. In short, it was perfect.
The three witches followed him into the room, clearly in awe of everything had been created for them. Hermione naturally headed straight to the bookcase and began examining the contents while Ginny and Luna looked at Harry expectantly.
“Alright, ladies, I need to see what you’re capable of. Let’s start with a little Disarming exercise,” he informed them. Starting simple was definitely a good idea, he thought.
“Disarming?” Hermione challenged. “Harry, I’m in my seventh year of education at one of the finest magical schools in Europe. I think I can manage something a bit more advanced than a Disarming Spell.”
“Glad to hear it,” Harry said smiling. “As you’re so confident you’ll get to face me first.”
He was pleased to see that Hermione suddenly looked considerably less confident now she knew she was facing him. The two of them took their positions and stood facing each other with wands at the ready. Hermione had adopted the classic duelling stance while Harry stood in a relaxed posture with his wand held lightly by his side. Ginny gave them a three second countdown before they started.
“Expelliarmus!” Hermione yelled. Her incantation was perfect and her wand movements were crisp and precise. Unfortunately, it was all for nothing as Harry just took a side-step and the spell shot past him.
Hermione looked slightly shocked that her spell had missed, but not as shocked as she did a few seconds later. Harry merely raised his wand and suddenly Hermione found herself flying backwards through the air with her wand ripped from her hand. She landed heavily on some crash-mats which materialised underneath her just before she hit the floor. For a while she lay there, breathing heavily, before she painfully propped herself up on her elbow.
“Soundless casting? You could have warned me, Harry,” she complained.
“What? Do you expect a Death Eater to give you warning? You need to be ready for anything,” Harry chastised her.
“Message received,” Hermione said, before collapsing back on the mat.
Harry duelled with each of the three witches in various scenarios, using a mix of spells. All of the witches had strengths and weaknesses, but what stuck him was how unrealistic their previous training had been. They had been taught to duel using rigid rules which had no place in the real world. He would have to break them of these habits before they could progress.
Of the three, he felt Ginny was slightly the best. She did, however, have a tendency to overpower her spells, particularly if she got annoyed or frustrated. Harry put this down to previously using a wand that was the magical equivalent of trying to force a concrete block through a small funnel. On the plus side, Ginny used her feet well and was difficult to hit. Once her spell repertoire increased, she would be a formidable duellist.
Hermione, on the other hand, had a fantastic knowledge of spells and performed them all faultlessly. Her main problem was that she lacked aggression and tended to stay rooted to one spot. Harry decided he would set her a series of increasingly difficult dodging exercises to counter this.
Unsurprisingly, Luna’s main strength was her unpredictability. Her spell selection was sometimes bizarre, and her movement impossible to foresee. She too lacked aggression and needed to learn some new offensive spells, but she certainly showed promise.
The one thing Harry had not expected was how much he was enjoying himself. Since he was ten, Harry had received some of the most rigorous and comprehensive training a wizard could ever wish for. He had learnt from masters of nearly every magical discipline and witnessed an amazing variety of different teaching styles. Now, for the first time, he had an opportunity to pass on some of that learning, and he loved it.
Of course, he was honest enough to admit his group of students may have had something to do with his level of enjoyment. Due to their strenuous activities, the witches had quickly shed their robes, and Harry was confronted with the sight of three very pretty young girls jumping about in flimsy blouses and skirts that didn’t go below the knee. He was reminded of the first time he had met Tonks, and the discomfort he had felt. Desperately, tried to keep his concentration on observing their duelling skills, but achieved only mixed results. He was pretty sure Ginny had noticed his attention wandering at one point judging by the way she smirked.
Two hours later, Harry had three exhausted witches and a clear idea on what training they needed. They agreed that they would meet once a week (Hermione didn’t want the training to cut into her revision time) and to keep the whole thing secret. Hopefully, with just the four of them that shouldn’t prove too difficult. As they filed out, Ginny lingered to talk to Harry.
“So, Harry, what did you think of the first training session?” she asked. “You certainly seemed to find it rather…stimulating, didn’t you?”
Ah, he thought, she did notice when he was looking at her.
“Well, of course, Miss Weasley. It’s all part of my secret plan,” he informed her, trying to bluff out his embarrassment.
“What plan is this?” she asked with an amused expression on her face.
“My plan to select the three prettiest girls at Hogwarts so I can create my harem of kick-ass, killer witches to do my bidding,” he explained. He just about managed to keep his face expressionless.
“Oh, that’s your plan, is it?” Ginny asked. “I wish we’d known. Next time I’ll tell the other girls to wear something a little more revealing, shall I?” She started to fiddle with the buttons on her blouse. Harry felt himself turning bright red despite his best efforts.
“Um, best not,” he mumbled. “Not if you want me to maintain any concentration at all.”
“Harry, you are just too easy to wind up, you know that?” she said, sniggering.
“Yeah, I know,” Harry sighed. “But I warn you, I’m only human. One day you’ll tease me too much, and I won’t be responsible for my actions!”
Ginny laughed and accompanied him back to the Gryffindor common room. She didn’t mention that she fully intended to find out exactly how much teasing was required before she pushed him over the edge and he did something irresponsible.
Tuesday, 4 November 1997
Leaving his cosy little room, Harry turned and descended the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room.
He could barely believe he had been at Hogwarts for over two months now. Overall, his time here had been a pretty mixed bag of success and frustration. On the plus side, most of the Professors were indeed as good as Dumbledore had promised. Once the teachers had established Harry was familiar with the normal curriculum, they had started setting him new tasks; and he found himself being given a variety of interesting and challenging work. He was surprised that he was learning so much of interest, if a little tired of stopping Hermione trying to get involved with his work in addition to her own.
He was also proud of how well ‘his’ little group of witches were doing under his tuition. They were all intelligent and eager to learn. This definitely reflected in their success rate and, he was certain, by the end of the school year all three of them would be able to hold their own in a fight with all but the most experienced Death Eaters. Of course, they still had a long way to go, but he was hopeful. Besides, after spending so much time in recent years in the company of male adults, it was nice to be around pretty young witches his own age.
On the down side, he was still having no luck in locating the final Horcrux. He was certain it was in the castle, he could almost smell it, but its location continued to elude him. It didn’t help that the school seemed on the point of outbreak of open warfare between the Slytherins and the other houses. His humiliation of Zabini and Nott had infuriated the snakes, and they were taking their revenge wherever they could. So far they had refrained from attacking Harry directly, but he had a feeling it was only a matter of time before they tried something. In the meantime, he tried to keep an eye on his three favourite witches as much as possible.
Entering the common room, Harry immediately encountered his most favourite witch of all. She sat in a battered looking armchair, leafing through a Potions book. He flopped down in the chair next to her.
“Morning, Ginny. You okay?” he greeted her.
“Yeah, I’m good. You’re late getting up by your standards,” she noted.
Harry grimaced. “It’s these bloody beds. They’re just too comfy; I always end up oversleeping. I did mention I slept on the floor for a year in Japan, didn’t I?”
“Several times,” she said grinning at him. “Oh, poor, Harry. Are you fishing for sympathy?”
“Yes, but I’m not going to get it from you, am I?” he mock pouted.
“Not likely, is it?” she replied with an impish smile.
Harry snorted at her. It was then that he noticed that the noise level in the common room was higher than normal. Turning in his seat he saw a significant proportion of the house gathered round the notice board, chattering away excitedly.
“What’s up with that lot?” Harry asked.
“Oh, they’ve just announced that next weekend is a Hogsmeade weekend. Everyone who’s third-year or over can go into the village,” she replied.
Harry noticed she kept her eyes firmly on her book when she said this. He thought the matter for a second. Hogsmeade definitely held some bad memories for him. It was there that Tonks had been killed right before his eyes. His initial reaction was that he didn’t want to go near the place, but his teacher, Tamazuki, had always been very adamant about facing your fears. He couldn’t avoid the village just because he’d had a terrible experience there. It wasn’t anything to do with the location, after all, just the experience. Besides, he’d never really been in any of the shops or pubs. It might be fun.
“You know, I’ve been to Hogsmeade several times,” Harry admitted, “but I’ve never really visited any of the places in it. Do you fancy showing me the sights, Ginny?”
Ginny looked embarrassed.
“Um, Harry, you probably didn’t know, but if a guy asks a girl to go with him to Hogsmeade it’s generally understood to be a romantic date,” she said quietly, her eyes never leaving her book.
“Oh,” said Harry. Did he really want to do this? Sod it, of course he did! “So, Ginny. Do you fancy coming with me to Hogsmeade and showing me the sights?”
Ginny’s head shot up. She looked at him open-mouthed for a second before a wide smile came onto her face.
“I’d love to, Harry,’ she replied.
“Great!” he said, smiling back at her.
HPHPHPHPHPHHPHP
Across the Common Room, Harry and Ginny’s conversation did not go unnoticed. Ron scowled as he saw the two of them smiling at each other.
“It’s not right,” he declared angrily.
“What isn’t?” Seamus asked, looking around in confusion.
“Bloody Potter putting the moves on my sister,” he growled. “He’s bloody dangerous, is Potter. And what’s he doing with Ginny? He could have any girl he wanted in the whole school? Why’s he hanging around with her?”
Dean looked at Ron’s angry face. He had nearly blurted out that Ginny had grown up into one of the best looking girls in the whole school, but felt that Ron might not appreciate this information.
“Oh shit!” Ron suddenly exclaimed. “You don’t think Potter's taking advantage of her, do you? Ginny’s always been a bit nave, I bet that git could talk her into doing anything for him. Oh, bugger! I bet that’s why he spends all his time with her; he thinks she’ll be easy!”
Dean doubted that severely, but he wasn’t going to say that to Ron. On the other side of the coin, he certainly wasn’t going to tackle Potter about it, either.
“We need to get Ginny away from that bastard,” Ron declared.
Dean glanced at Seamus who had an equally worried expression on his face. This wasn’t going to be good. He nearly flinched when Ron turned and stared at him.
“Ginny’s fancied you for ages, hasn’t she?” Ron asked him.
Dean resisted the urge to run. “Umm…I…” he mumbled.
“I think it’s time you started showing some interest in my sister,” Ron said smugly.
“What?” Dean yelped.
“The Hogsmeade weekend! You’re going to ask her to go with you,” Ron explained. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! I just mean as a way of getting her away from Potter. You ask her out, she’ll jump at the chance and you can just string her along until Potter moves onto his next conquest. I’m sure we can encourage a few nice girls to approach him, anyway.”
“Err, Ron. You do remember that I’m going out with Demelza, don’t you?” Dean said hesitatingly.
“Oh, just tell her that you need some space, that you’re feeling cramped in the relationship. That always works. And once we’ve got Ginny away from Potter, you can just apologise to Demelza, tell how much you missed her and everything will be fine,” Ron said confidently.
Dean though for a moment. His relationship with Demelza was going really well, but he’d fancied Ginny for years. Now Ron was practically ordering him to take her out. This could work out well.
“Okay, Ron,” Dean agreed with forced reluctance. “I’ll do it for you.”
“Great!” Ron looked at him sternly for a second. “Just remember, this is all make-believe, okay? Don’t you lay a finger on her!”
“Of course not, mate!” Dean replied. Well, what Ron didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?
Thursday, 6 November 1997
Ginny walked from the library in frustration. Despite her begging Harry to tell her more about the events in the Chamber of Secrets, he had insisted that she find the information out herself. He maintained that she had to prove that she really wanted to know what happened, and as a result she had spent countless wasted hours searching for clues. She huffed in frustration; Harry just didn’t understand. It wasn’t that she wanted to know, it was that she needed to know.
Suddenly, a shout from behind her roused her from her thoughts. She turned and was surprised to see Dean Thomas running towards her.
“Ginny!” he called. “Hey, Gin. I’ve been looking all over for you. Where you been hiding?”
“The library,” Ginny answered in confusion.
“Oh, right. Didn’t think to look in there,” Dean muttered.
“What is it you want, Dean?” Ginny asked in a tired voice.
“Oh, well, you know that this weekend is a Hogsmeade trip? Well, I’d like you to go with me,” Dean said with a smile.
“What?” Ginny asked, completely shocked.
“Yeah, we’ll have fun together. So, what do you say?” he asked.
“But… why now? You’ve ignored me for years. And what about Demelza? You’re supposed to be going out with her,” Ginny pointed out.
“Actually, me and Demelza are having a bit of a rough patch and we’ve split up,” he explained. “Come on, Ginny. I know you’ve fancied me for ages, and I really like you too. I just haven’t been able to say anything because of Ron.”
Ginny nodded. “And does Ron know you’re asking me out?”
“I don’t care what Ron thinks,” Dean said dismissively. “If he gives us any trouble I’ll sort him out.”
Ginny stared at him for a moment before understanding suddenly hit her. She started to laugh.
“Um, Ginny, what’s so funny?” Dean asked uncertainly. “You’ll come with me to Hogsmeade, right?”
Ginny just laughed harder. Eventually she got herself under control and looked him in the eyes.
“No, Dean, I will not go to Hogsmeade with you,” she said.
“But why?” asked Dean a little angrily. “You fancy me, admit it!”
“Fancied, Dean! Past tense. I’ve overheard one too many of your conversations with my brother and started to realise what sort of person you are,” she said aggressively. “And while we’re admitting things, why don’t you admit that this was my brother’s idea?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean said loudly. The revelation that Ginny was no longer interested in him stung.
“Oh, come on! You’d never do anything without Ron’s agreement. You’d be too afraid he’d cut you out of his little business deals! No, Ron told you to ask me out, didn’t he? He just doesn’t want to see me with Harry!” Ginny yelled.
“What are you doing with that big-headed ponce anyway?” Dean yelled back. “What, did he say you could hang round him if you got your knickers off?”
A cold fury gripped Ginny as Dean said these words. Her wand was in her hand before Dean could twitch a muscle and it was pointed straight at his head.
“Um, easy there, Ginny!” Dean said nervously. “We, that is, I don’t want you to get hurt. Potter’s bloody dangerous, you know.”
“So am I,” Ginny snarled. “Chiroptera Mucous!”
Dean screamed as a hoard of bat-sized creatures attacked his face and neck. He frantically beat at them with his hands before turning and running back down the corridor, bellowing at the top of his voice. Ginny watch him go.
“Damn, that felt good!” she said huskily, before turning and heading back to the Gryffindor Common Room. With a bit of luck she could spend some time with Harry before bed.
Saturday, 8 November 1997
Saturday turned out to be a windy, overcast day with the odd shower throw in to make things really miserable. Frankly, Ginny couldn’t care less what the weather was like; she was going to Hogsmeade with Harry.
This time she dressed sensibly and put on her heavy travelling cloak that had once belonged to her brother Charlie. The fact it was rather masculine didn’t matter to her as she knew Harry didn’t care what she wore. He just wasn’t that type of bloke.
She happily walked down the stairs from the girl’s dorm rooms to find Harry already waiting for her. He had a thick Muggle-style jacket with a hood to protect him from the elements.
“Hi, Ginny,” he greeted her. “Glad to see you wrapped up. The weather looks bloody awful out there.”
“We’re in Scotland and it's November, what did you expect?” she said with a smile. “Don’t worry; once we get to the village we’ll largely be undercover.”
“Good! My hair's uncontrollable enough as it is without all this wind,” he moaned.
“Why, Mr Potter! I never knew you were so vain! Oh, is the nasty wind going to mess up your lovely, luscious locks?” she asked, stroking his hair.
“Don’t touch what you can’t afford!” Harry joked, swatting her hand away. “I’ll have you know I have to keep my hair long. It sticks up everywhere like a haystack if I don’t.”
“Well, I think it looks very nice,” she continued to tease. “My brother Bill has his hair just like yours, but he’s cooler because he has an earring.”
“An earring? That’s a bit effeminate, isn’t it?” he dismissed. “No, us truly macho types have tattoos, not earrings.”
“You have a tattoo?” Ginny asked surprised. “Where abouts?”
“That would be telling, Miss Weasley,” he said with an evil grin. “Let’s just say I’m wearing too many clothes for me to be able to show it to you easily.”
Ginny linked her arm with his and guided him through the portrait hole. “But you will show me later, won’t you?” she asked seductively.
“If you’re a good girl,” he answered shortly.
“And if I’m a bad girl?” she teased.
“Then I’ll definitely show you it,” he laughed. “Come on, we’ll never get to Hogsmeade at this rate.”
They left the common room and headed down the staircase towards the front door. Due to their relatively late start, the Entrance Hall was already fairly busy with pupils making their way out to the front gate. They continued outside and were stopped by Filch at the main gate who was checking permission slips and for ‘smuggled items’, although he couldn’t explain why anyone would want to smuggle anything out of the castle. As Harry was over seventeen he didn’t need a permission slip, but Ginny dutifully presented hers. She gritted her teeth at the memory of what it had taken to convince her mother to sign it a few years ago.
With Filch duly satisfied, they continued along the path to Hogsmeade. The wind was raw, and they could feel flecks of rain in it, so they hurried along. It was a relief when they entered the magical village and found some shelter from the wind.
“What do you want to do first?” Harry asked.
“I generally do a bit of window shopping and just have a wander round to see what’s new,” Ginny explained.
“Well, it’s all new to me so that sounds good,” he agreed.
They spent the next forty minutes strolling from shop to shop, peering in windows and amicably chatting. Harry had insisted they go in Honeydukes and had purchased a selection of sweets for them to nibble on as they walked. Harry was extremely taken by the home-made fudge they sold there, while Ginny favoured a large bar of their own-brand chocolate. She loved popping a square of the chocolate into her mouth and letting it melt on her tongue. Eventually, they ran out of shops so they paused.
“Anything particular you want to see, Harry?” Ginny asked.
“Can we go and see the Shrieking Shack?” Harry requested.
“Yeah, if you want,” she replied a bit unenthusiastically. Her brothers had told her many gruesome tales about the shack, and she’d never wanted to visit the place as a result.
“It’s alright,” he assured her. “The place isn’t really haunted. It’s really a bit of family history. When my father and godfather were at Hogwarts, they befriended a werewolf called Remus Lupin. To help him out they became Animagi so they could keep him company when he transformed, and the shack was where they used to go every full moon. I’m sure that it was Remus howling that started all the ghost stories.”
“Remus Lupin? What, the bloke who taught us Defence in my second year? It was rumoured he was a werewolf, but I never believed it!” Ginny exclaimed.
“Oh, yeah,” Harry said. “I forgot he said he’d taught at Hogwarts for a year. Yes, well, he was one of my dad’s best friends, so I’d like to see the place they used to go.”
“Sure! I’d like to see it myself now I know the real story,” she said eagerly.
They linked arms and headed out of the village itself. Ginny was actually pleased Harry had shared a bit more of his life before Hogwarts with her, as it was normally hard to get him to talk of such things. Now they were away from the narrow streets, they were once again exposed to the biting wind; and Ginny snuggled against Harry for warmth.
As they walked, Ginny thought about the day so far. She was having a great time, but she’d fully expected to before they left the castle. From the moment she’d met him in the Great Hall after he’d been Sorted, she’d felt a connection with Harry. Of course, the revelation that they had met before and that he’d been the one to save her in the Chamber probably had something to do with it. But there was more to it than that. She felt safe and comfortable when Harry was with her. He might not tell her everything, but he was up-front about it. He would never lie to her, she was certain.
Another thing that made her happy was that her feelings appeared to be reciprocated. Many of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts had virtually thrown themselves at Harry, and he had ignored their advances with a nonchalant shrug. Ginny found it amazing that he spent most of his spare time with her, Hermione or Luna. He’d gathered three lame-duck witches: the near-squib, the bossy brain-box and the weirdo, and was turning them into a group of formidable fighters. And if he seemed to spend more of his time with her rather than the other two, well, she wasn’t going to complain.
Ginny was roused from her thoughts by their arrival at the Shrieking Shack. The shack itself was fenced off, so they stood and looked at the small building from a distance.
“It’s weird to think that my dad and his mates used to go there,” Harry murmured.
“Do you remember anything about your dad?” Ginny asked.
“Nah, not a thing. I remember a few things about my mum, but not a lot. I went to my family vault at Gringotts, but there wasn’t much in the way of personal items there. I guess that’s one of the reasons I agreed to come to Hogwarts; to feel some connection to my parents.”
“I’m so sorry for you, Harry. I mean, I have major issues with my parents at the moment, but I can’t imagine life without them,” she said sympathetically.
“I guess I never had the choice,” he replied quietly.
Not being able to think of anything comforting to say, Ginny slipped her arm around Harry’s middle and hugged him. He gave her a grateful smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. They stood there for a while drawing comfort from each other.
“Well, isn’t this a beautiful picture,” a sneering voice said from behind them.
Harry let go of Ginny and turned around. About ten yards away stood a well-dressed young man with white-blond hair and a superior expression on his face. He held a wand in his hand which was pointed directly at him and Ginny. Behind the young man stood four more boys and a girl, all with their wands drawn. Harry instantly recognised Zabini and Nott among them. From the eager expression on their faces, Harry guessed that they weren’t here for a friendly chat.
“What the hell do you want, Malfoy?” Ginny snarled beside him. A quick glance showed she already had her wand in her hand as well.
“What do I want?” Malfoy replied in mock surprise. “Why, I want to teach you two scum your place. Potter here needs to learn if he raises his hand against a Slytherin he will pay. And you, my little blood-traitor, will get to find out what happens to girls who pick the wrong side. Crabbe and Goyle here are especially looking forward to teaching you that lesson.”
So this was Lucius Malfoy’s son, thought Harry. He certainly looked like his father, and he appeared to share the man’s arrogance and prejudices. Harry wondered if the boy had anything to do with Ginny being slipped the diary four years ago, and the thought made his blood boil. They were outnumbered by three-to-one, but Harry didn’t think it would be a problem.
“You might find that a bit harder to do than you imagine, Malfoy!” Ginny yelled defiantly, but Harry could hear the fear in her voice.
“I really don’t think so,” Malfoy drawled lazily. “There’s six of us and two of you, if you can even count yourself, after all, you’re practically a Squib. No, I’m going to hand Potter over to the Dark Lord and he will give us all our Marks as a reward. We’ll be placed among his most trusted servants for this! Oh, but I’m afraid you won’t be around to see any of this, Weasley. After the boys have had their fun with you I don’t imagine that they’ll find it very convenient to leave a witness.”
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Malfoy?” Harry asked.
“Sweet Merlin, it speaks!” Malfoy exclaimed mockingly. “I thought you were so scared that you couldn’t talk. At least if you aren’t, you should be!”
“As I said, aren’t you forgetting something?” Harry repeated.
“What?” Malfoy sneered.
“That I’m the person who killed the Carrows and dozens of other Death Eaters. Or how about that I killed Bellatrix Lestrange and her moron of a husband when he came after me. Oh, and let’s not forgot how I cut off your precious Dark Lord's hand, and next time I fully intend to take his head!”
Harry could see the nervous looks Malfoy’s gang were giving each other. He used the opportunity to whisper to Ginny to get ready to cast a shield. He saw her slight nod out the corner of his eye.
“You say you did those things, Potter, but I don’t believe you for one second! Incarcerous!” Malfoy yelled, starting the attack.
“Protego!” Harry heard Ginny shout from beside him. By this point he had thrown himself to one side and rolled away. Gaining his feet, he instantly returned fire.
“Confringo! Confringo! Confringo!” He sometimes worried that he was getting too predictable, but to his mind casting a barrage of Blasting Curses was a perfect way to start a battle when you were outnumbered. Not wanting to kill any of the Slytherins, he had aimed low and the curses hit the ground just in front of them. Most of the group were blown off their feet and screams filled the air.
Glancing to one side he was pleased to see Ginny had moved and was casting Stunning Spells as she ran after him. He nearly glowed with pride at her performance; she was performing the battle drills he had taught her perfectly. The only opponents standing at the moment were Malfoy and Zabini, who were dodging Ginny’s spells.
“Glacius!” He aimed a Freezing Curse at Zabini which hit him in the chest. The boy instantly froze and a layer of ice formed over him. The spell wasn’t lethal unless he was left in that condition for more than a few hours.
“Damn you!” Malfoy yelled. “Crucio!”
Harry was shocked that the boy would risk an Unforgivable Spell, and that he had the power to cast it. Clearly, Malfoy had been given extra training. Unfortunately for him, his aim was off and the curse sailed past Harry’s shoulder. Anger filled Harry’s heart.
“Diffindo!” he yelled. The Cutting Curse hit Malfoy in the stomach and he fell screaming. Harry waited a second to see if any others of the group would attack, but none of them seem capable at that time. Signalling Ginny to stay back and cover him, he walked forward.
Apart from the frozen Zabini, the other five Slytherins were all laying on the ground in varying states of distress. The girl was moaning and holding her face, as was Nott. The two large boys that Malfoy had identified as Crabbe and Goyle were pressing their hands to large gashes on their legs, which were bleeding freely. Malfoy was covered in blood and was obviously seriously injured. Reluctantly, Harry cast several healing charms on him and he at least stopped screaming. He still clutched his stomach, however, and looked up at Harry in fear.
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill all of you?” Harry asked.
“Don’t give me that crap” Malfoy spat, pain, fear and defiance battling for dominance on his face. “Your beloved Dumbledore wouldn’t stand for it!”
Harry crouched in front of Malfoy. “You’d be surprised how little I care what Dumbledore thinks,” he told the startled boy. Harry stood, sensing that further conversation would be a waste of time.
“Let this be a warning to all of you,” he informed them. “I could easily have aimed those Blasting Curses a bit higher, in which case they would be looking for bits of you all over Hogsmeade! Oh, and you’re welcome to report this to anyone you like. Remember, I can easily submit a Pensieve memory of this little event. As Mr Malfoy here cast an Unforgivable, that might not go down so well. See you later, guys, and don’t forget to unfreeze Zabini there!”
Harry walked over to Ginny and took her hand. Together they calmly walked back towards the village. They continued on until they were well out of earshot of the fallen Slytherins.
“Those BASTARDS!” Ginny swore. “Did you hear what they were going to do to me? Why didn’t we kill them, Harry! They would have deserved it.”
“Don’t be so quick to start wanting to kill people, Ginny,” Harry said sadly. “People who’ve never had to take a life think it’s easy; trust me, it’s not. I think a little piece of me dies whenever I have to kill someone. It doesn’t matter that I have to do it to save others; that doesn’t make it any easier.”
“Oh, Harry. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m talking about. It was just the fear and the anger talking,” Ginny said in a downcast voice.
“I know,” Harry said pulling her to him. “But I always vowed that I would only kill those that had taken the Dark Mark. By their own admission that lot haven’t yet. I don’t doubt that they will and one day I may have to finish what I started, but not until then.”
“But what will we do?” Ginny asked. “They’ll be screaming for revenge now.”
“Leave that to me. I think it’s time I gave Hogwarts a demonstration of how that type should be dealt with.” He gently kissed the top of her head. “Trust me to deal with it?”
“Always,” Ginny said intently.
“Good. Well in that case, we are still on a date. What do you say we go to the Three Broomsticks and grab a few Butterbeers?”
“Sounds bloody wonderful,” she said with a huge grin.
With their arms wrapped around each other, Harry and Ginny returned to the village.
Chapter 25: Chapter 25 – Sanctuary in My Arms
Author's Notes: Hello everyone, and welcome to the latest chapter.
There are a couple of things I’d like to say about this one. Some of you may (potentially) be a bit concerned with Harry’s actions at the start of this chapter. Remember, this version of Harry spent a year learning to fight with a highly skilled tutor, and has fought and killed numerous Death Eaters. For him this is showing restraint!
Both of my (American) Betas expressed surprise that I suggested that Hogwarts conducted graduation ceremonies. While it is true that most British schools don't go in for such things, a lot of sixth forms and colleges do, particularly if they are private schools. As Hogwarts is about as private as you can get, I felt justified in letting them have such a ceremony.
Thanks to Tom and Arnel for once again correcting my (numerous) errors and to everyone who has left me a review. I can’t believe how many people have taken the time to tell me what they think. I’m full of warm, fuzzy feelings!
Friday, 14 November 1997
Looking around the Great Hall, Ginny nervously glanced at the teachers' table. All the professors were happily digging in to their breakfasts without any apparent indication that anything was wrong. Eager to give the appearance of normality, she scooped up a forkful of scrambled eggs and continued eating.
Since the confrontation at the Shrieking Shack, the Slytherins had been nearly uncontrollable. Word had it that most of the group that she and Harry had defeated in the fight had spent several days apiece in the hospital wing. How they explained their injuries, and why neither of them had been questioned regarding the matter, she could not explain.
They had told Hermione and Luna of the incident immediately on their return to the castle. Hermione had, naturally, gone into meltdown and begged them to tell the Headmaster. Luna, on the other hand, seemed very interested in the level of injuries suffered by the Slytherins, particularly by Malfoy, Parkinson and Nott. Ginny worried what they might have done to her friend that she was unaware of. In the last year Luna had suffered quite a personality change, and Ginny was concerned what had caused it.
The last week had been terrible. Professor Snape had been an ogre, handing out detentions and deducting House points like never before. The Slytherins themselves had been on the warpath, openly attacking pupils from other Houses and generally causing trouble. There had been threats of expulsions and even criminal charges, but that is all they were — threats. By mid-week Harry had decided to take matters into his own hands. The results of his actions were about to be revealed.
Despite her protests and near hysteria, when Harry explained what he was going to do, Hermione had helped. Using her status as Head Girl, she had cleared a path from a corridor just outside the Slytherin Common Room to the Great Hall so there were no witnesses. Luna and Ginny had helped Harry ensure their victim was alone and then aided with transportation. Finally, they had agreed a cover story between them. Pretty soon they would see if it was required.
“Any minute now,” a voice whispered in her ear. Ginny glanced around at Harry and smiled. Soon, it would be show time.
It happened gradually. At first, a few heads looked up from their breakfasts and looked round in confusion. As time went on more people started to look around them, including several teachers. Soon everyone was turning to their neighbour and asking the same question: what’s that noise? Eventually, the teachers decided they had to investigate.
“Can everybody please be quite for a moment,” Dumbledore called, getting to his feet. Silence descended in the Great Hall. Then the mysterious noise came again and this time everyone could hear it.
“Help… me… please… help… me,” sobbed a quiet voice. Instantly, the hall was filled with noise as everybody started asking everyone else questions.
“SILENCE!” cried Dumbledore. He then turned in circles as he attempted to locate the source of the pitiful voice. He left the teachers' table and walked slowly down the centre of the hall. About halfway down the hall he stopped and looked up. He quickly drew his wand and pointed it upwards.
“Finite Incantatem!” the Headmaster called out. The Disillusionment spell that had been cast vanished instantly and the whole hall gasped in shock.
Suspended from the ceiling by a rope tied around his feet was Draco Malfoy. He was completely naked and had obviously been beaten with an inch of his life. Bruises and cuts covered his body and one of his arms hung at an awkward angle suggesting it had been broken. His fine blond head of hair had been shaved off and only rough stubble remained. As a final touch someone had written ‘sadist’ in bright red letters across his back. The whole hall started in shocked silence.
“Draco!” screamed Pansy Parkinson from the Slytherin table and the trance was broken. The other teachers hurried forward to help lower Malfoy to the ground and Madam Pomfrey instantly started work on him. There was shouting and yelling between the tables and several Slytherins had pulled out their wands. The whole hall was in virtual chaos.
“QUIET!” came a shout, but this time it came from Professor Snape. The hook-nosed man looked livid, and he stalked towards the Gryffindor table with murder in his eyes. Ginny would have felt intimidated, but she knew the man was not heading for her. Instead, he was bearing down on Harry.
“You disgusting little wretch!” Snape yelled. “You won’t just be expelled for this, Potter. I’ll have you thrown in Azkaban.”
“What are you talking about, Professor?” Harry asked calmly.
“You think you can get away with this! You’re finished, you brat. Thought you could just get away with anything, did you? This time you’ve gone too far!” Snape yelled.
Harry stood angrily.
“What are you going on about, Professor?” Harry said loudly. “What exactly am I supposed to have done?”
“This!” Snape yelled pointing to Draco, who was still lying on the floor being treated by Madam Pomfrey.
“Oh,” said Harry, sounding relieved. “I didn’t have anything to do with that!”
“You lying little bastard,” Snape screamed. “I know it was you!”
“Where’s your proof?” Harry shouted.
For a second Ginny thought Snape was going to attack Harry. Instead, Snape stared intently at him with such murderous intent that if looks could kill, they would be measuring Harry up for his coffin about now.
“I do hope you’re not attempting to use Legilimency on me, sir,” Harry said loudly. “I’m sure that you’re aware that it’s illegal to use it on those of school age.”
“Severus!” Dumbledore yelled.
“Headmaster!” Snape yelled back. “I demand that Potter be expelled and his wand snapped immediately!”
“Where’s your proof that I had anything to do with Malfoy’s little accident?” Harry retorted.
“Accident?” Snape spat. “Is that what you think happened?”
“No, I’ll tell you what I think happened,” Harry said. He walked round the table and stood where everyone could see him. “What I think happened is that his own actions came back to bite him. Draco Malfoy has been responsible for violence and intimidation in this school for years. I’m speculating here, but maybe a group of third or fourth years got tired of him insulting and attacking them. They looked around and realised that together they outnumber the Slytherins three to one. I reckon that they all got together and ambushed him in a corridor somewhere. After all, there are a lot of dark corridors in this school, aren’t there? What you see here is a result of frightened and hurt students getting justice the only way they can, because, let’s face it, the staff of Hogwarts have been no use, have they?”
Harry paused to allow his words to sink in for a second.
“Of course, now that everyone’s seen that this can be done, I wouldn’t be surprised if this sort of thing happens all the time,” he continued. “Some Slytherin starts trying to act the way they’ve always done, and those not-so-frightened third and fourth years decide to take care of him or her. The only way I can see that stopping is if the staff of Hogwarts actually get their act together and stop the bullying and intimidation once and for all.”
“Harry,” Dumbledore addressed him with annoyance written all over his face. “I don’t know who told you these things, but you are gravely mistaken. There is no culture of bullying at Hogwarts…”
The Headmaster got no further as howls of protest from every side drowned him out. Virtually every member of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw were on their feet shouting at him. Accusation and protests flew at Dumbledore from all directions, and he stood with his mouth open, stunned by the ferocity of the complaints. He turned back to Harry in surprise.
“You don’t even know what’s going on in your own school, do you?” Harry said to him calmly. “Word to the wise; those portrait paintings that you rely on so much for information don’t cover nearly as much of the school as you think. They can be easily confused by some basic spells, too.”
Dumbledore looked at him in horror.
“While we’re at it, can I make another suggestion? You may wish to get Madam Pomfrey to start a program of medical examination for some of the girls here. Check for anything unusual, like a combination of forced intercourse and memory charms. I think you’ll be surprised how often those things will be found together.”
“Albus?” Professor McGonagall had come up to stand behind the Headmaster and had heard what Harry said.
“Minerva,” he spluttered, “I’m sure that this…”
“We will be checking this, Albus,” McGonagall said loudly. Most of the shouting had stopped and the school was listening intently to the conversation. “Compulsory medical exams! And if anyone wants to report any incidents of abuse made against them, they may come forward in the strictest confidence. If any of these accusations I’ve heard today turn out to be true, there will be hell to pay!” Noticeably she had turned to glare at the Slytherins when she said this.
“And what about Malfoy?” Snape snarled. “Is Potter… I mean, whoever did this, going to get away with it?”
“If I was… whoever did this,” interrupted Harry, “I would have made sure that my face wasn’t seen.”
Snape glared at Harry for a second before turning and walking rapidly out the hall.
“Harry, I wonder if I might have a word with you?” Dumbledore said wearily.
“Certainly, Headmaster. We were going to meet at three o’clock anyway, weren’t we? We can talk then.”
Without another word Harry turned and collected his school bag from under the table. Ginny and Hermione instantly stood and joined him as he walked out of the hall. On the way Luna joined them from the Ravenclaw table, and they soon disappeared from sight.
Dumbledore surveyed the chaos around him and growled to himself. Once again Harry had asserted his independence in dramatic fashion. The Headmaster shook his head and let his anger slip away. In the long run, it didn’t matter how independent Harry thought he was. The results would be exactly the same in the end.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHHPHPHP
With a sense of foreboding, Harry made his way up to the Headmaster’s office. In his head, he repeatedly replayed how he imagined the forthcoming conversation would go. He wasn’t looking forward to it.
Reaching the top of the spiral staircase, he knocked once and entered without waiting for an answer. He found Dumbledore sitting behind his large wooden desk with a serene smile on his face. Harry resisted the urge to wipe that annoying expression off the man’s face by punching him in the teeth. Instead, he flopped into a chair and waited for the lecture to begin.
“Hello, Harry,” Dumbledore greeted him. “I trust you have been having a pleasant day?”
“Not too bad,” Harry replied in a neutral voice. “I had Charms this morning, and I have to say Professor Flitwick is an excellent teacher.”
“Glad to hear it, Harry,” the Headmaster responded. “I know you had significant doubts that you could learn anything worthwhile during your time here at Hogwarts. I’m pleased to see that this has not proved to be the case.”
Just get on with it, you old goat, Harry thought.
“I must admit, I find myself somewhat distracted by the events of the morning,” Dumbledore continued. “I was highly distressed by what befell Mr Malfoy. You seemed keen to formulate a theory as to who the perpetrator was, I noticed.”
“From what I’ve seen of this place, you shouldn’t be distressed as to what happened to Mr Malfoy at all,” Harry retorted. “Unless, of course, it’s due to the fact that the little bastard was allowed to get away with so much that his fellow pupils had no choice other than to take matters into their own hands.”
“Harry, there is no justification for pupils instigating such acts of violence. Despite what some people may think, Mr Malfoy is entitled to protection within the walls of this school as much as any other pupil,” Dumbledore said with some heat.
“Protection?” Harry repeated in disbelief. “It was him that the other pupils needed protection from! Didn’t you hear the outcry from the other Houses this morning? The Slytherins have been engaged in a campaign of rape and torture throughout Hogwarts right under your nose!”
“Please do not exaggerate this matter…” Dumbledore objected, but Harry cut him off.
“I’m not exaggerating! Half the girls in this school live in absolute terror that they’re going to get pulled into some deserted classroom by the Slytherin boys. If anybody stands up to them they end up with broken legs! How can you ignore what is happening?” Harry shouted.
“I have discussed this matter with Professor Snape and he assures me…” Dumbledore tried to begin.
“Snape is a major part of the problem!” Harry snarled. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you talk to your own staff? Before I came here I visited a couple of people. The first was Madam Pomfrey. Now, she was reluctant to talk to me at first, but when I said I was speaking to you regarding this matter she became very forthcoming. Have you looked at any of her admittance reports over the last few years? Every month she submits to you a report on pupils who have been brought to her for treatment and she has detailed it all. The list of casualties looks more appropriate for the Battle of Stalingrad rather than a bloody school!”
“Harry, this is a magical school. Accidents happen, unfortunately!” Dumbledore pointed out.
“Then explain why the vast majority of the ‘accidents’ occurred outside of classes? And while you’re at it, explain why only six per cent of the pupils admitted were from Slytherin?” Harry challenged.
Dumbledore said nothing but looked alarmed at the hard facts.
“After I visited Poppy, I called in to speak to Professor McGonagall. After her offer this morning that pupils could report any incidents of abuse confidentially to her, I was interested to see if she had anyone take her up on it.”
“And?” Dumbledore asked despite himself.
“She’s had over sixty written parchments alleging assaults. In fact, in the short time I was in her office two more letters were shoved under her door. And guess what? Not one of those letters came from any pupil in Slytherin house as far as Professor can tell.”
Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair.
“Both Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey are prepared to put in writing their belief that a systemic climate of abuse has existed within Hogwarts for some time, and both of them are willing to defend their views in front of the Board of Governors,” Harry informed him.
“Harry, if this information was made public, it would be a disaster for the school!” Dumbledore protested.
“I don’t give a toss about Hogwarts’ reputation!” Harry yelled. “I’m more worried about school kids getting beaten, tortured and sexually abused. You must have had some idea this was going on. How could you allow it?”
“I had no idea the problem was this large,” Dumbledore admitted. “I’ve always allowed Professor Snape a certain latitude in dealing with disciplinary matters within his own House. Obviously, I’ve allowed things to get out of hand.”
“But why?” Harry asked in disbelief. “Why one rule for Slytherin and another for the rest of the school?”
“Harry, you must understand that most pupils within Slytherin have a tremendous amount of outside pressure placed upon them. Nearly half the pupils within the house come from families with direct links to Death Eaters. Punishing these pupils or expelling them would be to drive them directly into Voldemort’s hands. They must be shown there is another way. A more caring, compassionate way,” Dumbledore explained.
Harry stared at him in shock. “Are you insane? How in the hell does allowing these thugs to do whatever they want teach them the difference between right and wrong? And what about the rest of the pupils? The innocent ones, who never did anything wrong? Do they just have to put up with the abuse so the poor, misguided Slytherins can learn compassion?”
“Alas, it is always the innocents that suffer first in any conflict,” Dumbledore said sadly.
Harry nearly exploded.
“You two-faced bastard!” he screamed. “You’d let three-quarters of the school live in misery in the hope a few Slytherins didn’t turn out to be Death Eaters?”
“As I said, I had no idea how out of hand things had got. And I still maintain much of this has been exaggerated!” the Headmaster insisted.
“Right!” Harry declared. “You’re obviously not going to accept this until you see it with your own eyes. Fetch your Pensieve!”
“What? Why?” Dumbledore exclaimed.
“Because I’m going to show you how bad things have got!” he replied.
Reluctantly, Dumbledore fetched his Pensieve and placed it on the desk. Harry pulled out his wand and withdrew certain selective memories for the old man to view. He started gently, with Hermione and Ginny’s description of the school when he was being shown around on the first day. He then went to his memory of Ginny being attacked by Zabini and Nott. He then included a variety of comments he had overheard from numerous pupils, detailing the abuse they had suffered. It was the sort of things he heard everyday just walking around the school. Finally, he recalled the fight between him and Malfoy’s gang, particularly the chilling threats Draco had made to himself and Ginny. He waited for the old man to absorb the memories.
Eventually, Dumbledore stood and regarded him with a sombre expression.
“Why didn’t you inform me of this attack, Harry? he asked.
“What would you have done about it if I had?” Harry countered.
“I assure you, Mr Malfoy would have been disciplined appropriately!” Dumbledore responded.
“How? Would he have been expelled? Would the Aurors have been summoned?” Harry asked contemptuously.
“He would have been punished appropriately!” Dumbledore insisted.
“In other words, a few detentions and maybe some lost House points. A gentle slap on the wrist. Pathetic!” Harry spat.
“Mr Malfoy is in a unique and dangerous position,” Dumbledore insisted. “If he is not seen to be following orders from his father, his life may well be at risk.”
“Better his than mine or Ginny’s,” Harry retorted.
“I think this goes back to my point about providing equal protection for all my pupils,” Dumbledore said, clearly feeling he had made a point.
“Enough! We’re getting nowhere here,” Harry said decisively. “Let me explain what needs to happen here. Two of your senior staff are ready to publicly state that Hogwarts is riddled with a culture of bullying and abuse, and I’ll give press interviews supporting them. I don’t need to tell you what the implications of that will be.”
“Go on,” Dumbledore told him angrily.
“In addition, I will not permit the likes of Malfoy to continue his reign of terror. This time he got beaten and hung from the ceiling. Next time he’s going to end up as dinner for the Acromantulas out in the forest,” Harry warned.
“So you are allowed to commit acts of violence, but they are not? That is little short of playing God, Harry,” Dumbledore shouted, as angry as Harry had ever seen him.
“The difference is that I would be doing it to prevent others being harmed. I’m talking about innocent children here, Dumbledore! I’m reacting to Malfoy’s crimes, not instigating them. I don’t think that makes me God, but it does make me an instrument of justice! And trust me; unless things change, I will be handing out justice!”
Dumbledore glared at him. “What do you want?”
“Two things,” Harry said. “Firstly, Draco Malfoy has to leave Hogwarts. I don’t care if he’s expelled or its ‘suggested’ to him that he’s in danger because he’s made himself so unpopular, either way he needs to be kicked out. If this doesn’t happen I will ensure he’s either arrested or ends up as spider food.”
“And your other demand?” Dumbledore said coldly.
“Severus Snape is replaced as head of Slytherin House. I know you can’t sack him as he’s too valuable as a spy, but he’s proved incapable of keeping his Slytherins under control and has covered for them once too often. He needs to be replaced with someone who will not permit his charges to act like mini Death Eaters.”
Dumbledore was silent for a long while. “Very well,” he said eventually. “I will do as you request. It seems you have left me with little option anyway.”
“Thank you, Headmaster,” Harry said gratefully. “Can I suggest we skip my scheduled lesson for the day? I doubt either of us is in the right frame of mind.”
“I think you are right, Harry,” Dumbledore agreed. “Hopefully, after this we can agree to work together in future.”
“I hope so,” Harry said and left the office.
As he made his way back to the Gryffindor Common Room, he pondered the Headmaster's parting words. He seriously doubted whether he and Albus Dumbledore could ever work harmoniously together again. Why was the man so hell bent on protecting the Slytherins? He certainly didn’t seem to show the same level of concern for the other Houses. For a man who was supposed to be the leader of the Light side he seemed strangely unwilling to confront the pure-bloods, or put them at risk in any way. That was a courtesy he had not extended to the Order members.
What tiny amount of trust Harry had left for the Headmaster had just been removed completely. Just what was the old man up to?
Friday, 28 November 1997
Ginny pushed the book she had been looking at away in frustration. She really was getting sick of the library.
Once again, she found herself rooting through endless books in the hope of finding something relating to Tom Riddle. She was becoming annoyed at her lack of progress and frustrated at Harry’s continued refusal to give her some clue as to what she was supposed to be looking for.
Her anger at Harry was tempered by the recent changes at the school that he had brought about virtually single-handed. Draco Malfoy was gone, with most rumours agreeing that his father had not allowed him to return after he was released from hospital. Additionally, due to his ‘excessive workload’ Severus Snape had been replaced as head of Slytherin House by Horace Slughorn, and the effects had been instantaneous. The bullying and abuse had stopped virtually overnight, and an uneasy peace had settled over the school.
This hadn’t stopped Hermione, Luna and herself from continuing their training with Harry, of course. The three girls had felt helpless in the past and were determined that would never happen again. Besides, the training was fun, despite the hard work.
She leaned back in her chair and stretched. Merlin, she was sick of this. It did occur to her just to give up her search, but she knew she could never live with that. She had to know exactly what had happened to her. The trouble was, she was running out of places to look.
All her research had turned up so far was that Tom Riddle had been a pupil at Hogwarts between 1938 and 1945 and that he had been Head Boy in his final year. After that he apparently vanished off the face of the earth. Or maybe he’d fallen down a very deep hole?
Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. What if something had happened to him? She’d concentrated her search assuming Riddle had gone on to do other things. What happened if he was killed or injured somehow just after leaving school? If something had happened to him surely it would have been reported in the press. With renewed enthusiasm, Ginny leapt up and consulted Madam Pince, the librarian. She was delighted to find that old copies of the Daily Prophet were kept in date order. She was directed to a large folder containing all the newspapers from the year Riddle graduated and she sat down to read.
In the end she came across the article surprisingly quickly. It had been printed just a few days after Riddle’s graduation and described a ‘minor altercation’ at the Hogwarts graduation ceremony that year. Controversy had occurred when the Head Boy for the year, one Tom M Riddle, had used his graduation speech as an opportunity to attack Muggle-borns and demand their exclusion from Hogwarts. The correspondent had approached Riddle afterwards and demanded him to justify his opinions. The reporter had clearly not been impressed with the young man and had openly mocked his demands that in future he be known by another name — Lord Voldemort.
As soon as she read those words, Ginny felt her world collapse. Riddle was Voldemort. She had been possessed, not by some minor dark wizard as her parents had told her, but by Lord Voldemort himself. The most evil wizard of modern times had seen her every thought and desire. She had been touched by the ultimate evil and now she was dirty, tainted. No wonder Harry had not wanted to her to know about this. Tears began to fall and she felt herself tremble.
And then he was there. She felt him slip his arm around her and hold her tight. She flung her arms around him and clung to him for dear life. Just as he had done in the Chamber, he had arrived out of nowhere to save her.
“How did you know I’d found it?” she whispered.
“I placed an Alarm Charm on the copy of the Prophet to notify me if it was touched,” Harry explained. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I just couldn’t tell you about this. You had to find out for yourself.”
“I understand,” she said, her voice trembling. “If you’d just told me, I don’t think I would have believed it… or I would have blamed you for it or something! Oh, shit! This is horrible.”
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
“Just hold me,” she begged. The two of them stayed there, hidden away in the dark corner of the library, until Madam Pince called out, saying the library was closing. Silently, Harry picked up the folder containing the newspapers and returned it to its place. Gripping Ginny’s hand, he led her out and towards the common room. They had reached the portrait hole when Ginny pulled Harry to a stop.
“Harry, I just can’t face anyone at the moment. Can we go up to your room? Just for a bit?” she begged.
“Of course,” Harry told her, his voice full of concern. “For as long as you need.”
They gave the Fat Lady the password and entered the Common Room. Fortunately, very few people were about, and no one noticed the pair dart up the steps to the private rooms normally assigned to the Head Boy and Girl. Harry opened the door to his room and guided her in.
Ginny had never been in his room before. It was small and simple, with the standard four-poster bed in one corner and a desk and chair in another. A more comfortable armchair was situated in front of a small fireplace. It was compact and cosy. Ginny walked over to the bed and sat down on it.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry asked, sitting next to her.
“No, not really,” she said simply. Then, despite herself she asked, “Why didn’t they tell me?”
“I think they were trying to protect you. Maybe they thought you couldn’t handle knowing who Tom Riddle actually was,” Harry speculated.
“But you thought I could, didn’t you?” she asked. “I mean, I know you didn’t come straight out and tell me, but you gave me a clue and told me the information was in the library.”
“I thought you could handle it. No, I know you can handle it. You’re strong; you’ve already proved that,” he said.
“Strong?” she snorted. “How the hell do you figure that?”
“How many people do you think can stand up to Voldemort for even five minutes?” he asked. “You fought him for nearly a year. Even at the end you were fighting him and you were eleven years old! Most grown witches would have lasted five seconds!”
Ginny looked at him in shock. “But I didn’t stand up to him. He made me Petrify people!”
“But didn’t you say he wanted to kill them, not Petrify them?” he reminded her. “You fought him and stopped them being killed. You defied Lord Voldemort! They should have given you a bloody medal, Ginny.”
“But… they were still nearly killed. My brother Percy hates me because of what happened to his girlfriend!” she wailed.
“And how long do you think Percy would have lasted against Voldemort?” Harry countered. “It wasn’t your fault you were given the bloody diary, and it wasn’t your fault that it took control of you. But you did amazingly well at fighting it and stopping anyone dying. You were a hero, Ginny.”
“Really?” she said, hoping desperately his words were true.
“Damn right,” he said. “You’re my hero.”
He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and hugged her. She clung to him like a lifeline.
“Harry,” she began nervously, “can I stay here tonight? Just to sleep… I just need you to hold me tonight.”
Harry looked at her and saw the vulnerability and need in her eyes.
“Of course you can,” he said without hesitation. “Are you ready to go to bed now?”
“Yes, please,” she said gratefully. “Um, do you have anything I could wear?”
Harry rose and went to a small chest of drawers that sat at the foot of his bed. He selected the largest, baggiest t-shirt he could find and handed it to Ginny. Hopefully it was large enough to serve as a make-shift nightdress. She examined the logo on the front.
“Puddlemere United, Harry? This could be the end of a beautiful friendship,” she joked.
“Sorry,” he insincerely apologised. “I don’t own a Harpies top.”
Shaking her head in mock disgust, she retreated to his small bathroom to change. Using her absence to get changed himself, he stripped down to his boxer shorts and donned a plain blue t-shirt. He pulled down the covers of the bed and waited for Ginny to return.
She only kept him waiting for a minute before she stepped back into the room. The t-shirt only came to her upper thigh and revealed a lot of shapely leg. Although quite baggy, the shirt did little to conceal her chest; and Harry suspected she had removed her bra. As a final touch she had taken her hair out of the pony-tail she normally wore, and it hung down around her shoulders. Harry suddenly felt very nervous. Sharing a bed with Ginny wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.
Without saying a word, Ginny climbed into the bed and laid with her back to him. Harry climbed in after her and, after extinguishing the lights, he put his arm around her middle and they spooned together.
Harry quickly got an erection, but fortunately Ginny was too polite to mention it.
Chapter 26: Chapter 26 – To Rid the Disease
Author's Notes: Naughtiness warning! The first part of this chapter contains scenes of unrepentant naughtiness. If you are offended by such things what the hell are you doing reading my stuff? you may wish to skip a bit.
Thanks as ever to Tom and Arnel for correcting the many, many mistakes I made. I’m getting worse, I swear I am…
Saturday, 29 November 1997
Ginny awoke slowly, feeling warm and contented. Harry still had his arm around her middle, and his body was pressed up against her. She suppressed a giggle when she realised he once again had a bit of a ‘problem’ down below. She’d enjoy teasing him about that later.
Squirming back within the covers slightly, she thought about the events of the previous night. While she’d been horrified to discover Tom Riddle’s true identity, this morning she found she could accept the knowledge without too much difficulty. In some small way, she’d always known Tom wasn’t just a normal dark wizard. To learn that he was, in fact, the ultimate horror wasn’t a surprise. She’d seen the face of evil and knew it for what it was.
Whether she would have been so calm this morning without Harry’s presence was another matter. Just like when she was eleven, when she’d needed him he’d been there for her. That she loved him was no longer in doubt, although she’d been afraid to admit it to herself previously. If he wanted her, she would give herself to him totally; and she was pretty certain by this point he did want her.
A contented sigh alerted Ginny to the fact Harry was waking up. She wiggled in his arms and turned to face him. Her movement must have roused him to full wakefulness and his eyes opened.
“Morning,” she whispered.
“Morning,” he replied with a small smile tugging at his lips. “Did you sleep okay?”
“I slept great,” she informed him before deciding to have a little fun. “Although I woke up a couple of times when something hard started poking me.” She pressed herself against him. “Hmm, there it is again!”
Harry turned bright red and tried to pull away from her, but she held him tight.
“It’s okay, Harry. I don’t mind. In fact, I consider it a compliment. It’s nice to know I can have that sort of effect on you,” she giggled.
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?” he mumbled. He was less red, but he still sounded embarrassed. “When you came out of the bathroom last night wearing just that t-shirt, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. You looked incredible!”
Ginny looked into his brilliant green eyes and decided it was time to be bold. She wanted more from their relationship, and it was time to get it.
“Harry, what are we?” she asked. “I mean, I know we’ve become close, but I’m not sure where I stand. Am I just your friend or your girlfriend or what?”
“A friend I end up sleeping with? That’s a pretty good friend!” he joked before a serious look came on his face. “Ginny, I really like you. I mean, really, really like you. And I would like us to get a bit more serious if you would. I just… I don’t want to put you in danger, but I don’t want to push you away, either. I guess if you’re prepared to take the risk, so am I.”
Ginny smiled so hard she thought her face would split.
“I have a couple of conditions though,” he added quickly. “You have to understand that being with me makes you a target. Just think of Malfoy and his goons; that sort of thing might happen again. With that in mind, I want you to promise me that you will take all precautions possible for your safety. You also need to continue your training, so you can make sure you can defend yourself. I need you to be as good as you can be. Understand?”
“I understand. Trust me, Harry, with the way things have been around here, I’ve got used to being careful and I’m not going to get complacent now. As for the training, you couldn’t keep me away if you tried,” she told him sincerely. “Right, now that’s out of the way, will you kiss me?”
He grinned and brought his lips to hers. Although they had kissed before, this was the first time with them as a couple and it felt different. His lips gently caressed hers as he pulled her closer, and she snaked her arms around his neck. She moaned as she felt his tongue run along her bottom lip, and she quickly opened her mouth to allow him entry. She felt herself becoming aroused very quickly, and she hooked her right leg over him, pressing their lower halves together. Sweet Merlin, that boy was excited!
Their bodies rubbed together as their tongues battled against each other’s. Unexpectedly, Harry pulled his mouth away from hers and began to trail hot kisses along her jaw line and neck. She groaned in pleasure and felt herself responding to him. Bloody hell, her knickers were going to be soaking before long. She gasped with excitement as his hand crept up under the bottom of her t-shirt and slid up her body. She desperately wanted to feel his rough hands all over her, but he was moving with infuriating slowness. Unable to take any more, she grabbed his hand and forced it onto her breast. He growled in approval as he gently cupped her, his thumb lightly rubbing over her. Damn, this felt wonderful, she thought. Slowly she allowed her left hand to run down his body, her fingertips brushing his skin and she reached down to slip her hand into his boxer shorts.
Harry gasped and pulled away from her. He looked at her with a wild look in his eyes.
“Ginny, I… we need to slow down. We’ve only just got together and much more of this I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I want you so badly, Ginny, but I think we're rushing things,” he gasped.
Ginny moaned in frustration. It wasn’t fair! How dare he get her into this state and then stop! She wanted him more than anything in her life. She flung herself onto her back and prepared to have a major tantrum.
But once she broke physical contact with Harry, she began to cool down. Bloody hell, she’d got a bit carried away, hadn’t she? Thank Merlin Harry had a bit more self-control than she did! Shit! She hadn’t even taken a contraceptive potion!
“Thanks, Harry,” she said in a shaky voice. “I’ve never lost control like that before. I’m not normally like that, I promise.”
“It’s okay, Ginny,” he assured her. “I was in the same state! I guess we shouldn’t be too surprised. I mean, we’re in bed together and were not exactly wearing much. We’ll just have to be a bit more careful in future.”
“Yeah. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to do it; I do. I really do! But you’re right, we’ve only just got together and we weren’t even taking any precautions. I can just imagine what my mum would say if I got pregnant while I’m still at school.” She looked at him shyly. “Besides, we can work up to it. I’m not adverse to a little… experimentation.”
Harry grinned at her. “Experimentation sounds like fun,” he agreed.
A wicked thought came to her.
“I’ve come up with a new nickname for you now, by the way. You’re not the ‘Boy Who Lived’ any more,” she told him with a smirk.
“What’s my new nickname?” he asked dubiously.
“Mr Pokey,” she laughed pointing at his distended boxer shorts.
“Mr Pokey? Why, you cheeky, bloody witch! Come here!”
Harry made a grab for her, and she tried to roll out of the way. They engaged in mock wrestling match on the bed with Ginny howling with laughter all the way through. Eventually, Harry managed to pin her to the bed. She looked up at him with a mischievous grin and shinning eyes.
“Got you right where I want you now,” he told her.
“Oh, help. No, stop, please,” she said in a wholly unconvincing tone. He leaned down and gently kissed her before pulling back and gazing at her.
“I think you better be getting back to you own bedroom, Ginny,” he said softly.
“Yeah,” she agreed reluctantly. “But how am I going to get back to my room without being seen?”
“You can borrow my Invisibility Cloak; you can give it back to me later. I just hope your roommates haven’t noticed you’ve been missing all night.”
Ginny glanced at his alarm clock.
“Nah, its Saturday. I bet those lazy cows are still asleep. Even if they are awake, they’ll just assume I got up before them,” she assured him.
Harry got up and retrieved his cloak while Ginny nipped into the bathroom to get dressed. When she was ready, she wrapped the cloak around her; and Harry carefully opened the door to his room. After checking the coast was clear, he gave Ginny one last kiss before she pulled the cloak over her head and vanished. Harry closed the door and let out an explosive breath.
Feeling a bit light-headed, Harry headed towards his bathroom. He definitely needed a cold shower. Or something.
22 December 1997
With a deep sigh, Ginny flung herself back on her bed. She’d been back home at the Burrow for just two days, but she was bored and desperately missing Harry already.
At least things weren’t as bad as they could be. Just before she left, Harry had given her a couple of early Christmas gifts. The first was a beautiful silver pendant with an emerald embedded in it. The pendant was practical as well, he had explained. If Ginny held it in her hand and spoke the words ‘help required’ it would send an alert to a similar pendant he wore. It would also allow him to track her location, no matter where she was.
The second gift was a simple hand mirror. This was a marvellous bit of magic which was in fact a two-way communications device. With it, Ginny could see and talk to Harry whenever she wanted. To avoid discovery, they had agreed to set times they would contact each other; and it was a huge comfort to Ginny to be able to stay in touch with her boyfriend, especially as the atmosphere at home seemed a bit strained.
She really hadn’t wanted to come home for Christmas. For the first time, she could honestly say she loved being at Hogwarts. With her new wand, practical lessons were a breeze; and she was finally getting marks to match her written work. Professor McGonagall had been particularly pleased at her improvement and appalled to find that Ginny had been held back by a defective wand. In addition, her private training with Harry was going really well. He’d now started Luna, Hermione and herself on using simple weapons as well as spells, which she had enjoyed immensely. A quick demonstration of his use of his Katana had been enough to convince the girls that the training was worthwhile.
Her personal relationship with Harry was moving along nicely too. Although she had yet to spend the entire night in his room again, she was nevertheless a frequent visitor. Their ‘experimentation’ was proving to be extremely stimulating, and Ginny was sure it was only a matter of time before they went all the way. When they did, she would at least be prepared this time. She’d persuaded Luna to purchase a number of contraception potions from Ron on her behalf, which she found deliciously ironic. Harry had been especially passionate during their last night together before the holidays and she purred at the memory. Thank heavens for silencing charms, that’s all she could say.
“Ginny, could you come down here for a moment,” she heard her mother’s voice call her from the foot of the stairs.
She groaned, what was the problem now?
She left her room and made her way down stairs. When she entered the front room, she stopped short. The whole of her immediate family was there, including her brothers Bill and Charlie whom she thought were still overseas. She was about to run and hug them when she stopped, halted by the grim expression on their faces.
“What’s going on?” Ginny asked with a sense of foreboding.
“Ginny, we need to talk to you,” her mother said primly. “We felt it would be best if everyone was here, so you could see that we are all in agreement in this matter.”
“What matter? What are you talking about?” Ginny asked in confusion. She was starting to get a really bad feeling about this.
“It has come to our attention that you have been seeing a boy at school. Now, while I don’t specifically object to you having a boyfriend, under certain criteria, I do object to your choice in this case,” Molly Weasley explained.
“What? You object to Harry? Harry Potter, hero of the Wizarding world? How can you possibly object to me seeing Harry?” she gasped.
“Well, hero he maybe to some, the fact remains that this young man is dangerous! Ginny, he’s killed people for heaven’s sake. How could you possibly like someone who’s done that?” Mrs Weasley exclaimed.
“He’s killed Death Eaters!” Ginny shouted. “He’s fought vicious, evil killers and defeated them. You’re members of the Order; how can you possibly object to Harry doing that?”
“Watch your tone, young lady!” Molly snapped. “I will not have disrespect in my house. And yes, I’m aware of young Potter through the Order, and I must say he’s always seemed a little unhinged to me. Professor Dumbledore specifically warned us not to get too close to him, and I’m damned if I’ll allow my daughter to carry on with someone like that.”
“Unhinged? Harry’s the sweetest, bravest, most wonderful person I’ve ever met! This is another one of Dumbledore’s stupid plots to control him, isn’t it?” Ginny said loudly. She was struggling to keep her temper.
“Don’t you dare insult Albus Dumbledore! He’s a great man and we owe him everything! And if he says Potter is not stable then that’s good enough for me. Why, I understand he’s even attacked Ron! Your own brother! You are forbidden from seeing that boy again,” Molly shouted.
A cold fury came over Ginny. Once again her family were intent on ruining her life. She hadn’t wanted to do this now, just before Christmas, but this day had been coming. It was time some truths came out.
“Harry attacked Ron, is that what you’ve heard? I wonder how you learnt about that. I guess you’ve been telling tales, eh, Ron?” she said in a cold voice.
“Your brother was worried about you, young lady, and he quite rightly wrote to me about what’s been going on. It’s just a shame that you haven’t followed your brother’s example on proper behaviour,” Molly said.
This was just too much for Ginny. “Proper behaviour? I can’t believe you’re so hypocritical! Ron sends home a few Galleons a week and suddenly he can do no wrong! Pathetic!” Ginny yelled.
“It’s a damn sight more than you do, my girl. He works hard for his money!” Molly yelled back.
“Really? Does he? Haven’t you ever thought it a bit odd that Ron could send home that much money from a mere Saturday job? And he buys all those new clothes, as well. Have you ever heard of a part-time job paying that well?”
“Ginny!” Ron growled in warning.
“Shut it, Ron! You were happy to rat me out, now I get to return the favour. I ask you again, Mum. What is it exactly that you think Ron does to earn all those Galleons?” Ginny looked at her mum questioningly.
“Well… I,” Molly began before scowling. “We’re not here to discuss your brother…”
“Happy to bury your head in the sand for a bit of cash, eh?” Ginny interrupted with a look of disgust on her face.
“Alright, what does he do, according to you?” Molly glowered.
“Well, the moron twins over there should be able to confirm this; they set him up in business, after all. And business is good, isn’t it Ron? If a fourth year fancies a few shots of Firewhisky you’re the boy to go to, aren’t you? Or the smuggled Butterbeer is a big hit with the second years, I hear. What about if one of the seventh year girls needs a contraception potion? You can supply them without problems, can’t you? Oh, and I was especially impressed when I saw that first year looking at that porn magazine you sold him; that’s a great new little side-line!”
“You’re selling porn mags now? Great idea!” chuckled Fred.
“Shut up, you cretin!” Ron muttered. Fred instantly looked embarrassed.
“Ron, is this true?” Molly asked with a horrified expression on her face.
“I wouldn’t worry, Mum,” Ginny said intent on going for the kill. “After all, with his appalling exam results, he needs a trade to fall back on. I never did understand that. How come I got so much grief about my marks at school, but Ron could fail everything and not a word is said? Why was that, Mum?”
“Ron was never going to be gifted academically, so we made allowances,” Molly replied in a hard voice. “You, on the other hand, are a bright girl and should be doing better than you are.”
“Which brings me to my next point,” Ginny said triumphantly. “Didn’t you ever think it a bit odd that I did so well in my written exams, but always failed at the practicals?”
“You’re a good witch, Ginny. You just need to apply yourself a bit more,” Molly told her sternly.
“That’s Percy talking,” Ginny said dismissively. “No, I’ll tell you the real reason. This!” Ginny pulled her grandmother's wand out of her sleeve. She always kept both wands with her, particularly when she was home. “This is the reason I’ve been failing. This wand is useless.”
“How dare you! That wand was your grandmother's. She performed wonderful magic with it. How dare you try and blame my mother for your shortcomings!” Molly screamed.
“I’m sure she did great magic with this wand,” Ginny acknowledged, “when it was working! Now, ignoring the fact that a wand chooses the witch, and no matter how good it was it might not have worked for me, this wand is broken. But you knew that, didn’t you? When you took it into Ollivander’s to have it repaired, he warned you that it was only a temporary fix. Just to save a few Galleons, you practically doomed my education from the start!”
“What? How did you know? I mean… damn it! It worked fine in the shop!” Molly cursed.
“And who are you to talk about dooming people's educations?” Percy yelled, entering the argument.
“Oh, thank you, Percy!” Ginny yelled. “You so neatly bring me to my next point. Nasty little Ginny! Got her daddy sacked from the Ministry because she was so stupid and we’ve been poor ever since. More crap!”
“What are you talking about?” Percy yelled back. “Have you forgotten your stupid stunt with that bloody diary? Dad was sacked because of your stupidity!”
“No, he wasn’t!” Ginny nearly screamed. “He was sacked because of his bloody Muggle Protection law!”
Suddenly, everyone went silent. Molly looked aghast.
“You take that back, Ginny!” she said in a trembling voice.
“No, I won’t, because it’s the truth! Dad was right on the verge of being sacked before I was even given the diary. He’d made himself a target as soon as he tried to introduce that new law. Now, I’m not saying Dad wasn’t trying to do the right thing, but he must have known all the pure-bloods would never allow the law to go through. They would have done anything to stop it and that includes getting Dad sacked. Lucius Malfoy had already bribed Minister Fudge to get rid of Dad; the diary was just the icing on the cake.”
“But you gave them the excuse to sack him, didn’t you?” Percy persisted.
“And why do you think that happened, Percy? I’ll tell you: because Lucius Malfoy specifically targeted me because I was Arthur Weasley’s daughter. He was the one who slipped the diary into my cauldron that day in the book shop. That bastard knew the diary would possess me, and he could put the blame on Dad.”
“But… oh, Ginny,” Percy sounded bewildered. “Why did you write in the damn thing? You were warned about dangerous objects so many times. If you’d just thrown it away none of this would have happened.”
“I didn’t throw it away for the same reason I couldn’t have stopped myself writing in it if I’d wanted to!” Ginny said, close to tears. “It was too bloody powerful. Do you have any idea just who Tom Riddle was?”
“He was just a dark wizard, wasn’t he? Some boy at Hogwarts who went bad. Nothing unusual there, it happens to loads of Slytherins,” Percy said dismissively.
“Watch!” Ginny instructed. She pulled out her new wand and began tracing letters in the air with it. The words she wrote were:
She then waved her wand and the letters rearranged themselves:
“That’s why I couldn’t just throw the diary away, Percy. I was fighting the most powerful dark wizard the world has seen for years. And do you know what? I did fight him! For nearly a whole bloody year! While you and the rest of my idiot brothers ignored me, I battled Voldemort. And what’s more I won! I stopped him killing anyone. Yeah, your precious Penelope might have been Petrified, but without me she would have been basilisk fodder! I fought him and it nearly killed me!”
She paused to get her breath and look at the stunned faces of her family.
“But he didn’t kill me. Do you know why? Because one brave boy, who didn’t know me from Adam, risked his own neck to save me. He managed to do that despite Dumbledore bringing a complete fraud with him who nearly killed them all. No, that boy did it by himself. That boy was Harry Potter! Harry saved my life!”
Ginny noticed her parent's look of guilt. So they had known about it. Bastards!
“And so what happens then? Little Ginny, still reeling from nearly having her life force drained by an evil wizard, is taken and memory wiped! I was left having no idea what had happened in the Chamber or how I got out. I had no closure! I had nightmares for years about it. Always the same: trapped down there with no idea how to escape and no memory of the one person who had helped me.”
“Mum, Dad? Is this true?” asked Bill in a shaky voice.
Molly ignored him. “I suppose Potter told you all this?” she asked accusingly. “And where did you get that wand?”
“No, Mum, Harry didn’t tell me. Oh, he gave me a few clues, but left it to me to decide if I wanted to find out what happened. Eventually, I burned through the memory charm anyway. You see, I’m quite a powerful witch,” she grinned. “The wand? Oh, it was a little gift from Harry. It’s amazing what a decent wand can do!”
Ginny waved the wand and cast a Levitation Spell. Instantly her six brothers all rose five feet into the air. They gasped and desperately tried to move, but they were locked rigidly in place.
“Get the message about the wand now, Mum?” she asked, before casually waving the wand again. The six boys crashed to the ground as she cancelled the spell. Most of them stayed on the ground moaning. Ginny turned back to her father.
“There’s just one thing I want to know. Dad, why did I have to take all the blame for you being sacked? I know I’m not totally innocent in all this, but why blame everything on me?”
Arthur Weasley looked at her with tears streaming down his face. He couldn’t hold her gaze for more than a few seconds, however. “I’m sorry, Ginny. I’m so, so sorry. It’s all my fault,” he moaned.
Ginny looked at him for a while but, seeing she was not going to get a clearer answer, just shook her head.
“Right, let’s wrap this up. Mum, you said that the family had all gathered today because they felt I was making a mistake in dating Harry, and they wanted to show their agreement in this. Well, let’s put this in context shall we? This family has let me be targeted by a ruthless pure-blood politician because of my father’s beliefs. I was then ignored by my brothers as I was possessed by an evil dark wizard. When I was rescued, my family then wiped the memory of that and took away what little comfort I had. Since then I have been nagged, criticized and controlled. I have been made to feel like the pariah of the family, and all blame for this family's woes have been dumped on my door. I’ve been palmed off with the worst of everything, including a broken wand, because my mother thinks more of family tradition than my education. Finally, I met a decent, loving boy who would do anything for me, and you gang up on me and tell me not to see him again.”
She glared at her family, daring any of them to challenge her words.
“On the other hand, Harry saved me from the Chamber of Secrets when he was twelve years old. He comforted me and held my hand when I was frightened. Now we’ve met again, he’s helped me by pointing out my wand was broken and replacing it out of his own pocket. He’s defended me against two separate attacks by Slytherins and one by my shit of a brother and his dumb mates. He’s taught me and my friends how to defend ourselves because no-one else was doing it. Finally, he’s been my friend and asked for nothing in return. I love him, and I’m pretty damn sure he loves me.”
Her family stared at her in disbelief.
“So, Mum, to sum things up: I’ve considered your request for me to stop seeing Harry, and with due respect, I must decline. And let me tell you something else: I’ll be turning seventeen next year, and when I do I’ll be out that door faster than you can blink. And, if you all keep treating me the way you have been doing, I guarantee you’ll never see me again!”
Without waiting for a response, she turned and stomped up the stairs. Slamming the door behind her, she flung herself on her bed. Hearing the sound of feet coming up the stairs, she turned and cast a Locking Charm on the door followed by a Silencing Spell. She had no wish to see or hear from her family at the moment.
She nearly pulled out her mirror and contacted Harry, but decided to wait until she’d calmed down. Seeing her in this state would only upset him. She lay back down and let the tears gently flow. Her bridges had been burnt, and there was no going back. Now, all she had to do was get through the rest of the holiday before she could return to Hogwarts and Harry.
The thought of Harry made her ache for him. She’d stopped herself from having full sex with him so far for some vague notion that her family would disapprove. That idea was going out the window! When she got back she was going to pin him to the bed and screw his brains out! But more importantly, she was going to tell him exactly how she felt. She’d just admitted to her family that she loved him, and now she had to tell him.
She had only one home now, and that was with Harry.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Ron watched as Bill charged up the stairs in pursuit of his sister. A few minutes later, his older brother returned with a frustrated look on his face.
“She’s locked her door and cast a Silencing Charm. I could get it open if need be, but I think that would do more harm than good at the moment,” he informed everyone. He then walked over to where Arthur Weasley sat quietly weeping. Molly looked up at her eldest son fearfully, and Ron could almost see her silently begging Bill to keep quiet.
Bill ignored her. “Was it all true, Dad?” he asked. “The reason you were sacked, the memory charm, all of it. Was it true?”
For a brief moment Arthur looked up, but unable to look his son in the eye, dropped his head again. “Yes, it’s all true,” he whimpered.
“Why, Dad? You nearly destroyed Ginny! Why… how could you do that?” Bill yelled. His anger was sudden, if not unexpected.
“BECAUSE I WAS ASHAMED!” Arthur bellowed, glaring at Bill. “I was ashamed I’d let my own principles become more important than my family! After I was sacked, I was so afraid that I couldn’t feed and clothe my family; I felt like a complete failure. Then, when Percy started blaming Ginny, it just seemed to help ease my guilt. I didn’t realise it was affecting her so!”
“You’re blaming this on me?” Percy roared. “Why the hell didn’t you say anything when I accused Ginny of getting you sacked? Did you think we would be angry because you were fired for trying to do the right thing? We would all have stood up for you if you’d just told us. Instead, you let your own daughter unfairly take the blame! Sweet Merlin, I was so horrid to her! She’ll never speak to me again!”
Bill looked at his younger brother and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’ll talk to her, Percy. She’ll understand that you were only acting on what you’d been told. You’ve been betrayed as much as she has,” he assured him.
“Will she understand?” Percy asked doubtfully. “I’m not so sure. I was so angry because I’d been denied a career with the Ministry, I treated her like dirt. And I accused her of trying to kill Penelope! She must hate me, and with good reason.”
Percy looked around with a slightly wild look in his eyes. “I can’t stay here anymore. I’m going back to my flat.” Without another word he got his cloak and vanished out the back door.
Bill watched him go. “I’m not staying here, either,” he declared. “I’m going back to my place.”
“Have you got a spare bed, mate?” Charlie asked.
“Of course, Charlie,” Bill assured him. “Let’s get out of here. I never thought I’d see the day when I was ashamed to be a Weasley.” Bill and Charlie followed Percy out the door without a backward glance.
Ron looked around. The twins had vanished without saying anything to anyone. Unable to stand the sound of his father crying, Ron stood and mumbled something about going to his room. He climbed the stairs, but paused outside Ginny’s door. He thought briefly about knocking, but he decided against it. He was pretty sure he was one of the last people she wanted to talk to.
He entered his bedroom and flung himself down on his bed. He lay staring at the ceiling and tried to sort out his feelings.
Ron always had very clear ideas about how a bloke should act. A proper man should be tough. He shouldn’t be over-emotional, or show weakness. Ron never had any time for blokes who liked to ‘show their feelings’ or ‘embrace their feminine side’. So why now did he feel like breaking down and sobbing?
It was the image of his dad crying like a baby that affected him the most. His father had always been a constant in his life. While his mum might rant and rave at him one moment, the next she would be hugging and kissing him. His father, however, always approached everything in a calm, reassuring manner. If he’d ever been confused or frightened about something, he could always rely on his dad’s wisdom and support.
But now that was gone.
Ron’s image of his father as an infallible, loving parent was in tatters. He could scarcely believe the way Ginny had been treated, especially as it had all been so avoidable. Ron also found that he had to take a good, long look at himself as well, and he wasn’t sure he liked what he saw. His treatment of his sister had been deplorable. He’d either ignored her, or tried to control her. He’d scared away any boy who tried to show her affection. When she finally had got a boyfriend, he’d attacked him and then tried to break them up. He knew exactly what his treatment of his sister made him — it had four letters and rhymed with ‘hunt’.
Although he still wasn’t sure Potter was the best person for her to be hanging around, he had to admit Ginny was happier now than he’d ever seen her. Still, Potter had done an awful lot to fight Voldemort. He did seem a decent sort as well. Ron knew that if he’d been in his position he would have been bedding every witch he could get his hands on. Potter spent all his time hanging around with Ginny, that Looney girl and Hermione bloody Granger. Harry must be a saint if he could stand to be around that bossy, stuck-up, infuriating cow. Whenever he sat near her at meal times she was always going on at him about his table manners! Why, she…
Why the hell was he thinking about Granger at a time like this?
Mentally slapping himself, Ron forced his thoughts back on track. The question was what was he going to do going forward. He doubted that he would ever stop wanting to protect his little sister, but he knew he had to start giving her a bit more space if he didn’t want to alienate her completely. Hearing her remind everyone that she would be an adult witch next year was a shock to the system, and he would have to start treating her appropriately.
He sighed deeply. He had a feeling 1998 was going to be a tough year for everyone.
Chapter 27: Chapter 27 – The Dreadful Hour
Author's Notes: At the bottom this time
30 April 1945
Albus awoke suddenly with the taste of blood and dirt in his mouth. Slowly, he lifted his head and tried to figure out what had just happened.
His memory began to return to him. He had been duelling with his one-time lover Gellert Grindelwald, when the world had suddenly exploded around him. As his vision began to clear, he realised he was lying face down in the mud. He wiped his face with his hand and found that he was bleeding from his nose. Weakly, he managed to rise to a kneeling position.
It was then that he noticed a large crater nearby that he would have sworn that had not been there before. It suddenly dawned on him what had happened; a stray artillery shell, no doubt fired by the Russians, had impacted close by. He dimly remembered the horrific screaming noise that had signalled the shell’s arrival, and being thrown through the air before blackness claimed him.
Grindelwald! Albus’s mind cleared sufficiently for him to suddenly realise the danger he was in. Quickly, he hunted around for his wand which had been torn from his grasp. He found it a few moments later and grasped the wood gratefully. It was only when he picked it up did he realise that the tip of the wand had been broken off and the core exposed. The wand was useless.
With fear building in him, he desperately looked around for his foe. After a minute or two, he noticed what appeared to be a foot peeking out from behind ruins of a wall. Cautiously, he made his way forward and peered around the rubble.
Grindelwald lay in a tangled heap on the ground. His arm was bent at an unnatural angle and he was bleeding from a dozen wounds, clearly visible through his ripped robes. Albus staggered towards the fallen man, half expecting him to suddenly leap to his feet and attack him. It was then that Albus noticed a wand laying a few inches away from Gellert’s outstretched hand. He hurried over and grabbed it.
As soon as his fingers closed around the smooth wood, Albus felt a surge of power run up his arm. In wonder, he examined the wand and his mouth dropped open in surprise.
It was the Elder Wand!
How had Gellert managed to find the wand that they had both spent years hunting for? More to the point, how had Albus managed to survive so long in a duel with the man when he wielded such a powerful tool? He pondered these questions when he suddenly noticed a pair of bright blue eyes staring at him.
“Ah, realised what it is, have you?” Gellert said in a wheezy voice. Strangely, he was smiling weakly.
“The Elder Wand,” Albus confirmed. “How did you find it?”
“Gregorovitch had it, would you believe,” Gellert said quietly, “I’ve kept it a secret for a while, but the wand is yours now, my friend.”
“But how did you not defeat me?” Albus demanded. “Surely with this wand I should have had no chance?”
“I guess my heart wasn’t in it,” Gellert replied. The man looked pale and he was having trouble breathing. “I have made a terrible mistake, Albus. Death will be a fitting punishment for me.”
Albus knelt down besides his former friend. “No, I will heal you. I promise you will receive a fair trial.”
“No, do not heal me,” Gellert insisted. “I have committed a crime that merits my death. I have unleashed a horror onto the world the likes of which have never been seen before. I have inadvertently signed the death warrant of the magical world, Albus.”
“What do you mean?” Albus replied in horror.
“These Muggles, Albus. They will destroy everything that we stand for, and we will be lucky if they don’t destroy the whole world!” Gellert gasped. “I have meant to use them for my own means, but I let loose a monster!”
Albus stared at the wounded man in confusion.
“When I returned to Germany in the thirties, I decided I would create a puppet government to hide my involvement in their politics. I found a potential candidate to lead this government who was a skilled orator, and guided his rise to power. We then decided to conquer Europe. At first, we knew nothing but triumph after triumph. Country after country fell before us. But I had created a monster. These Muggles… their cruelty and their love of destruction knows no bounds! Their airplanes bomb cities, uncaring if they kill women, children or old men. They herd their religious enemies into camps and slaughter them like cattle, just because their beliefs differ slightly from their own. And their technology, Albus, it’s terrifying! Their scientists nearly succeeded in creating a bomb that would incinerate a whole city! Just one bomb! What sort of madman would conceive of such a thing?”
Gellert broke down into a coughing fit. Albus conjured a glass of water and pressed it to the man’s lips. After taking a long drink, Gellert looked back at Albus.
“Thank you,” he said. “I do not deserve your kindness. This war machine that I helped create is a terrible thing. It grew out of my control. I thought that by controlling their leader I would control the nation, but I am just one man. I could not be everywhere at once, and the machine was too great to be controlled by one person. I soon found out that faceless Muggles all with their own agendas were making decisions without my knowledge or agreement. They scuttle about like ants in a nest, building their evil weapons and committing acts of horror. And I couldn’t stop them!”
Gellert’s breathing grew more ragged, and a wild look came into his eyes.
“We were wrong in wanting to control them, Albus!” Gellert moaned. “We should have wiped them from the face of the planet, or hidden ourselves from them completely. Our plans were flawed, my friend. For a while I have realised that I have been following the wrong path, but was not able to change it by myself. I have unleashed great evil, Albus. This is why I could not defeat you in the duel, I simply didn’t want to. I deserved… to die… for my… sins.”
With one shuddering gasp, Gellert’s body stiffened and was then still. Albus looked down at his former lover with tears freely flowing down his cheeks. He leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to the dead man’s.
“Rest easy, Gellert,” he whispered. “I forgive you, my love.”
For another hour Albus sat and cradled the body. His mind was reeling with the enormity of what had just happened. Together, he and Gellert had planned to unite the Magical world and lead them in taking over the Muggles. It appeared that plan might have been a mistake.
Albus looked around at the ruins of the once great city of Berlin. How easy it had been for the Muggles to reduce it to this dire state. What else would they be capable of? What if they built those terrible bombs Gellert mentioned? These Muggles were animals!
But even if they were animals, Albus realised, they were highly dangerous animals. No, it would be best if the Magical world and the Muggles parted ways. Witches and wizards must remain hidden and their society must be protected from the murderous ways of these people. Any magical child born to a Muggle family must be rescued and shown a more civilised way of living. The Wizarding world MUST be protected.
No, the Muggles could go their own way, and no doubt they would end up destroying themselves eventually. Witches and wizards must bide their time and rise up once the Muggles had wiped each other out. But to do this the Magical communities must be united, and that was not an easy thing to accomplish. There were many divisions in the Wizarding world and feelings ran deep. It might be years before Albus could create the right conditions to pull everyone together and unite them in one glorious society.
Crouching in mud among the ruins of Berlin, Albus Dumbledore began to put together his plan for a magical utopia.
5 January 1998
Well, this is a new experience, thought Harry as he tried to pull his heavy robes tighter to his body. Ice cracked under his boots and he stomped his feet in an effort to restore the blood circulation to his feet.
Foolishly, he had thought it would be a romantic gesture to be waiting on the platform of Hogsmeade Station when the Express carrying Ginny back to school arrived. Unfortunately, rather than an attentive boyfriend, she was likely to find a solid lump of Harry-shaped ice instead. Sweet Merlin, it was cold! Half-a-dozen Warming Charms and he was still freezing.
He was just about to check his watch again for the fourth time in five minutes, when he heard the whistle of the train and saw a column of steam in the distance. With relief, he realised it would arrive just in time to prevent certain of his body parts from being frozen right off.
With agonising slowness, the train pulled up to the platform and children of all ages started to pile out. Such was the rush that Harry was worried he would miss Ginny in the mass of heaving bodies, until he was suddenly hit by a small, red missile.
“Harry!” it shrieked. “You came to meet me!”
“Welcome back, Ginny,” he said after establishing that the missile was indeed his girlfriend.
“And you’ve no idea how glad I am to be back,” she said with some heat.
He and Ginny had been talking two or three times a day via the two-way mirrors, so he was pretty sure he did know how glad she was to return to Hogwarts. She’d been in tears several times when she called him, including once right after the family Christmas dinner. Apparently, a jolly time was most definitely not had by all.
The remainder of the holiday had apparently been just as tense for Ginny, and it seemed it was impossible for more than three Weasleys to be in a room at any one time before an argument broke out. Harry was desperately worried about the effect that this was having on Ginny, but she just shrugged and repeatedly stated that she was glad the truth had come out. If some of her family couldn’t handle the truth that wasn’t her problem.
After giving Ginny one last hug, Harry turned and greeted Hermione and Luna who had been sharing a compartment with his girlfriend. Both of them had amused looks on their faces at Ginny’s enthusiastic reaction to finding him here. The little group turned and started to make their way to the waiting carriages, when a voice called out.
“Potter! Oi, Harry! Wait up a second,” the voice called.
Harry turned and was surprised to see Ron Weasley hurrying towards him. He was startled to see the young man by himself as normally he always had his two mates in attendance. He felt Ginny stiffen at Ron’s approach.
“Afternoon, Weasley. What can I do for you?” he asked in polite voice. He was determined not to cause more problems with Ginny’s family if he could help it.
“I, err, wanted to talk to you,” Ron said nervously. “I just wanted to apologise. It was stupid of me to try and scare you into staying away from Ginny. I’m sorry.”
Harry blinked in surprise. It certainly wasn’t expecting this change of face from the boy.
“Okay, Ron. Thank you for that. Does this mean you won’t be trying to split us up any more?" Harry asked.
“No, I won’t,” Ron said, a little shame-faced. “Ginny’s old enough to make her own decisions. I just have a hard time not thinking about her just as my baby sister any more. I can’t believe she’ll be of age in August.”
Harry was about to acknowledge the boy’s difficulties when Hermione decided it was time she added her contribution.
“That’s your problem, Ronald Weasley, you don’t think!” she snapped at the red-headed young man. “Maybe if you tried using your brain occasionally instead of spending all your time trying to flout the rules, it would be better for everyone!”
“What the hell’s it got to do with you?” Ron replied angrily. “What’s your problem? Every time you open your mouth, it’s to tell me how to run my life!”
“Someone has to, as clearly you don’t have the sense to do it yourself! If you think you’re doing a good job at the moment, you’re sorely mistaken,” Hermione retorted.
“Agghh! Damn it, woman! Is it your role in life to make mine miserable? Is this why you were put on this planet?” Ron yelled in indignation.
Harry, Ginny and Luna regarded the pair as they continued to argue loudly. Quietly, he pulled the two girls to one side.
“Shall we just grab a carriage and let them get on with it?” he asked.
“Sounds like a good idea,” Ginny agreed. “Those two could be at it for hours. They really loath the sight of each other.”
“Oh, no,” Luna disagreed as they stealthily moved away. “I think it’s some kind of mating ritual. Once they stop arguing they’ll probably have sex right there on the platform.”
Harry and Ginny both burst out laughing.
“Well, I for one have no desire to see my brother getting his end away,” Ginny exclaimed. “Let’s get out of here!”
Still laughing, the three of them leapt into one of the last remaining carriages and rode back to the castle.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Harry eagerly leapt up at the sound of light tapping on his door. After dinner Ginny had told him that she would sneak up to his room, and he had been waiting for her in anticipation.
Opening the door, he found his beautiful girlfriend standing there with a big grin on her face. Strangely, she had put on her school robes for some reason. He stood to the side to allow her to enter before quickly closing the door. He then hurried over and took her in his arms. After several minutes of passionate kissing he pulled away to catch his breath.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he greeted her. “Have I told you how much I missed you when you were away?”
“Yes, but feel free to tell me again,” she giggled.
Instead, he decided a practical demonstration would be more effective, and he pressed his lips to her again. Several more minutes passed before they broke apart again.
“Are you sure you’re alright, Ginny?” he asked in concern. “You’ve had a horrible time over the holidays. I’ve been worried about you.”
“I’m alright,” she insisted. “Of course, I’m sad it all happened, but things couldn’t have gone on the way they were. I had to confront my family, and I’m glad it’s all out in the open. Now I’m back in your arms, everything is okay again.”
“I feel the same,” he told her. “You wouldn’t have believed what a pathetic git I was without you. Professor McGonagall kept asking if I was sickening for something!”
“Oh, that’s sweet,” she said. “I was just the same way. In fact, to prove how much I missed you, I’ve brought you a late Christmas gift.”
“Really? You didn’t have to, you know,” he said. “What is it?”
“This,” she replied, before slipping out of his arms and backing away a few feet. She then shrugged off her heavy school robes.
She wasn’t wearing anything underneath them.
Harry gawped at her stupidly. In the course of their ‘experimentation’ over the last month or so, he’d seen quite a lot of her body; but this was the first time he had seen her completely naked. It was, simply put, the most wonderful sight he had ever seen. Since he’d first set eyes on her, he’d thought of her as beautiful; but standing in front of him as nature intended he thought she was a goddess. He briefly considered dropping to his knees and praying in thanks.
“Ginny… you… you, oh, sweet Merlin!” he gasped.
“I’m ready, Harry,” she told him in a trembling voice. “Being away from you these last couple of weeks made up my mind. I want you.”
Harry stepped towards her before he realised he was moving. He wanted her so much it hurt, but he didn’t want her to feel pressured.
“I want you, too but are you sure? This is a big step,” he asked.
“I’m quite sure,” she said and closed the gap between them. She grabbed the bottom of the sweatshirt he was wearing and dragged it over his head. After she’d thrown the garment to one side she traced the edges of Harry’s dragon tattoo.
“That thing is such a turn on,” she whispered before letting her hands drop to his belt. With trembling fingers she undid it, before unbuttoning his jeans. With exaggerated slowness she lowered the zip, and then yanked his trousers down to his ankles. Finally, she gripped the waistband of his boxer shorts and pulled them down.
They stood and hungrily gazed at each other’s nakedness. After what felt like a lifetime, Ginny stepped towards him and snaked her arms around him. Suddenly, a wicked smile came to her lips and she looked down.
“Hello, Mr Pokey. We meet again,” she said, grinning.
Harry couldn’t stop himself bursting out laughing and in response hoisted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She squealed in protest as he carried her. Roughly, he flung her on the bed and leapt on top of her, pinning her down. He looked into her brown eyes and the laughter died on his lips as it was replaced by pure lust. He crushed his lips to hers before he pulled away, gasping.
“Last chance to back out, Ginny,” he offered in a husky voice.
“No chance,” she replied urgently. “I love you, Harry. Now make love to me.”
He stared at her in wonderment for a second. “I love you too, Ginny. More than I can say.”
“Then show me instead,” she begged.
He did just that.
Saturday, 7 February 1998
“So, you’re telling me that the diary contained an actual piece of Voldemort’s soul?” Ginny exclaimed in shock.
“Yeah,” Harry confirmed.
He really hadn’t been sure about this, but he was running out of ideas. He’d been at Hogwarts for six months now and he was no closer to finding the last Horcrux. Despite the fact he was starting to think Dumbledore was right and it was not in the castle, he was still left with the lingering feeling his instincts were correct.
Having searched the castle from top to bottom he decided to enlist help. The first person he had to enlist simply had to be Ginny. He felt he owed her a full explanation of what the diary had been, anyway. Besides, during her years at the school, she had explored the place pretty thoroughly and might have some ideas where the Horcrux could be hidden. He had, therefore, brought Ginny to the Room of Requirement and given her a full explanation of what Voldemort had done to try and achieve immortality.
“Okay, so the only clue you have is that this might be something that belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw?” she asked.
“Um, yeah,” he confirmed. “I have to say, you’re taking this information a lot better than I thought you would, Ginny.”
“I knew I had been possessed by Voldemort,” Ginny reasoned. “Does it matter what bit of him did it?”
“I guess not,” Harry acknowledged, impressed by her pragmatic approach. “So, any ideas as to where this object might be hidden?”
“After due thought and consideration, I have to say no,” Ginny admitted.
“Bugger,” observed Harry.
“Sorry,” Ginny said.
“Not your fault, babe. It was worth a try,” Harry assured her. “I think I’m going to have to trust a few other people with this secret. I think I need Hermione’s big brain for instance.”
“Just her brain?” Ginny sniggered. “You don’t need any other part of her?”
“Nah, just her brain will do,” Harry laughed.
“We should get the Room of Requirement to change into a sinister laboratory, and we can keep her brain in a big jar on one of the shelves,” she giggled. “Err… you have checked that the Horcrux isn’t in here, haven’t you?”
“What do you mean?” Harry asked in confusion. “I can’t see anywhere in here that it could be hidden.”
“Yeah, but we asked the room for somewhere cosy we could talk,” she pointed out. “What happens if we ask the room for somewhere to hide things in?”
Harry stared at her in shock. It couldn’t be that simple, could it? He leapt to his feet and grabbed Ginny’s hand, dragging her out of the room. With building excitement, he walked backwards and forwards in front of the room mentally repeating the same wish: I need a place to hide something. On his third pass he noticed a familiar door reappear in the wall. With a shaking hand he opened the door and looked in.
The room was huge. In all directions were piles of objects of all descriptions. There were stacks of books, clothing, furniture, old brooms, weapons, even an old Muggle bicycle. Harry couldn’t believe the variety of items in front of him. The Horcrux had to be here!
“You’re a genius, Ginny,” he cried, pulling her into a rough embrace.
“Are you only just realising that?” she asked cheekily. Harry didn’t answer; he just kissed her soundly before dragging her into the room.
“Wow, this place is enormous,” Ginny said looking around in wonder. “It could take months to search through all this junk.”
“I don’t think so,” Harry disagreed. “I’m pretty good at sensing when a Horcrux is near. I think all I need to do is walk near to it and I’ll know it’s there.”
“Let’s take a walk, then,” Ginny suggested and hand in hand they started to explore the room. They had been wandering around for ten minutes when Harry suddenly stopped.
“It’s here, Ginny! I can feel it!” he told her.
“Okay, let’s look around. Any idea how near we actually are?” she asked.
“We should be pretty… wait! That’s it! I’m sure it is!” Harry rushed over to a mannequin which had a feather boa draped around its shoulders. On it’s head was sat an expensive looking tiara, and it was this that had caught Harry’s attention. He reached out and carefully took it from the dummy’s head.
“Are you safe touching that?” Ginny asked nervously.
“Yeah, should be. I handled some of the other ones,” he assured her. “This is definitely it, Ginny. This is the last Horcrux, I can feel it.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” she demanded. “Destroy the bloody thing!”
“Actually, I think you should do it,” he told her. “I think it’s only fair. You didn’t get to destroy the diary, so I think you should take care of this one.”
For a second Ginny looked scared before a hard expression came on her face. “What do I have to do?” she asked.
Harry grinned at her and placed the tiara on the floor. Without a word Harry summoned the Sword of Gryffindor and handed it to Ginny.
“Just strike the Horcrux with this,” he told her encouragingly.
Ginny nodded and stepped towards the tiara. Suddenly, a cold wind swept through the room and Ginny looked nervously up at Harry. He just nodded and she positioned herself so she could strike the tiara with the sword. As she started to raise the blade a voice started whispering at her. At first she couldn’t understand the words, but they quickly became clearer.
“What are you doing, Ginevra? You realise that as soon as you destroy the Diadem Harry will leave you? He only came to Hogwarts to find it and now he has he’ll leave,” the voice taunted.
Ginny paused. As much as she hated it, the voice had a point. Harry had admitted to her that finding the Horcrux was the only reason he came here. What would he do now?
“He was never going to stay with you, you silly girl!” the voice continued. “He’s Harry Potter! He could have any girl he wanted. Oh, he liked you for a while, but now he’s got what he wanted he’ll move on. What would he see in you, after all? Just some impoverished slip of a girl. Now you’ve spread your legs for him, he’s had the only thing you could possibly offer to him. He’ll be off looking for his next conquest.”
She nearly dropped the sword as she started to sob. It was true! What else she could offer Harry now he’d had her? He’d leave Hogwarts and she would never see him again. Oh, maybe she might see him in the newspapers. They were bound to print pictures of his wedding, weren’t they? He’d find some busty beauty from a good family somewhere, and she’d be left alone.
“Ginny!” she heard Harry yell. “Don’t listen to it! It’s just like the diary; it will tell you lies!”
“He doesn’t love you. He never loved you. Even your own family think you’re pathetic. Potter can’t wait to be rid of you!”
Harry stared desperately at Ginny. It simply hadn’t occurred to him that the Horcrux would use this method of attack. The idea that Ginny thought he would leave her wrenched his heart; he would sooner cut off his own arm than give her up. But Ginny clearly had been harbouring unspoken fears, and telling her that he had only come to Hogwarts to find the Horcrux this morning had exacerbated them. He desperately tried to think of words that would reassure her.
Then a memory came to him. For a second he was back in Japan sitting at the feet of his master. The wise words of Hiroshi Tamazuki came back to him and he knew what to say.
“Ginny, I love you and I won’t leave you, I promise,” he yelled to his struggling girlfriend. “Just listen to your heart, Ginny. That’s where you’ll find the truth!”
Ginny looked up at him in surprise, like she’d been unaware that he’d even been there. She held Harry’s gaze for a moment before a shy smile crept onto her lips.
“Listen to your heart, love,” Harry repeated.
“Potter can’t wait to be rid of you,” the voice hissed. “You’re fooling yourself if you think he would ever…”
The voice died suddenly as the Sword of Gryffindor cut into the tiara. It split into two pieces and an acrid green mist rose from it before dispersing. Ginny stood gasping for breath, the sword held limply in her hands. Harry walked over and took the shaking girl into his arms.
“I love you,” he whispered into her ear. “I won’t ever leave you. I want us to be together forever.”
The sword slipped from her fingers as Ginny threw her arms around him. She pressed her face to his shoulder and sobbed softly for a while. They stood in silence until Ginny lifted her head and looked into Harry’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I should have had more faith in you, but I was so scared. You mean so much to me, I’d just be lost without you. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologise,” he told her. “I should have told you about the Horcruxes ages ago. No wonder you thought I’d leave as soon as I dealt with this one.”
“So, you’re not leaving Hogwarts now?” she asked.
“Not yet,” he promised. “I think I’ll stay until the end of the school year as I planned. I’m learning useful stuff here, and I can’t see any benefit in going. But even when it comes time to leave Hogwarts, that doesn’t mean I’m leaving you. Even if we’re in different places for a while, we’ll still be a couple. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me now.”
“And you’re stuck with me,” she said with fire in her eyes. Harry never could resist that blazing look and he pressed his lips to hers. It was some time before they pulled apart.
“Come on, love,” he told her. “Let’s go and show our handy work to Dumbledore. This should make the old goat’s day!”
Harry bent down and scooped up both halves of the tiara. He was about to head for the door when he noticed Ginny was making no signs of moving. Instead, she remained rooted to the spot with an angry expression on her face.
“Ginny, are you okay?” Harry asked hesitantly.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” Ginny challenged. “Dumbledore. He was the one that put that memory block on me.”
“Yeah,” Harry confirmed reluctantly.
“Then why the… why haven’t you done anything about this? The old bastard nearly ruined both of our lives. Why are you acting like nothing happened?”
Harry sighed; he had known this issue would come up sooner or later.
“It’s very simple, love,” he said. “I can’t fight a war on two fronts. Right now, Voldemort is the greatest threat, so I have to concentrate my efforts against him. I can’t do that if I’m in open conflict with Dumbledore. As much as I hate the idea, I still need the old bastard’s help to bring down Riddle.”
Ginny seemed to ponder this for a moment. “And when you’ve defeated Voldemort, what then?”
“Then, I’m going to take my Katana and shove it so far up the twisted tosser’s arse that he’ll be able to use the tip as a toothpick,” Harry grinned evilly. “There’s no way I’m going to let him get away with what he’s done to the both of us.”
Ginny closed the gap between them and again pressed her lips to his. “Have I told you how much I love you today?” she asked.
“No, but that’s okay. I’m quite happy to allow you to demonstrate it to me later,” he replied.
Ginny just winked at him.
Then, hand in hand, they went to seek out Dumbledore to inform him of their success. Half an hour later, they were sitting in the Headmaster’s office having explained their adventure.
“Quite remarkable,” Dumbledore exclaimed. He had the broken tiara in his hands and was examining it closely.
He looked up and looked at the two young people sitting opposite him. He’d been convinced Harry was wrong when he’d insisted that the final Horcrux was hidden within Hogwarts, but it appeared it he was the one who was in error.
“If I am not mistaken, this is the lost Diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw. Quite where Voldemort found it, I doubt we will ever know. Its destruction is a massive blow against him. Well done, Harry,” he said.
“Well, Ginny was the one who actually destroyed it,” Harry said looking admiringly at the young woman. “After everything she went through, I thought it was only fair.”
“Indeed, Harry,” Dumbledore said in a neutral tone. Inwardly, he frowned at the thought that the Weasley girl had been told about the Horcruxes. He’d specifically told Harry that no one else was to know of them, but once again the boy had defied his wishes. That Ginevra Weasley was intimately familiar with the subject was no excuse.
“I must say I am pleased to learn that you intend to stay at Hogwarts for the moment, as well. I think little purpose would be served by you leaving at present. We must plan our next move carefully, but that is a discussion for another day,” Dumbledore looked pointedly at Ginny.
“Yes, of course,” Harry agreed, obviously agreeing that was a conversation his girlfriend didn’t need to hear. “Right, well if there’s nothing else we need to discuss immediately Ginny and I will be heading back to the common room.”
“Of course, Harry, and thank you. My thanks to you too, Miss Weasley.” The girl beamed at Dumbledore before taking Harry’s hand and leaving the office.
Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and broke into a wide smile. Finding the final Horcrux had been a fantastic piece of luck. He’d been resigned to a long and arduous search which could have lasted years. To find the diadem right on their own doorstep was a wonderful bit of news.
Of course, this meant that he would have to change his plans somewhat. He had envisaged he would have months if not years to put favourable conditions in place, but he would now have to accelerate his timetable. The end game had already commenced.
Dumbledore stood and walked to the Floo. Bending down, he placed a call to Professor Snape asking him to come up to his office immediately. Albus would be needing the services of his favourite spy as soon as possible.
Wednesday, 4 March 1998
There really must be better ways to spend a Wednesday afternoon, Harry thought. Since lunch he had been stuck in the library trying to find enough information to complete the two foot essay Professor McGonagall had set him on a branch of Transfiguration so obscure it didn’t have a name. This, of course, was a major hindrance to looking up information about it.
As he sat at the table struggling to find anything meaningful about the Transfiguration of crystals, his attention was suddenly diverted by a figure appearing beside him. He looked up to see a brown-haired girl wearing the robes of a Slytherin. He vaguely remembered the girl was called Greengrass, but he couldn’t begin to guess at her first name.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“I was given a letter,” the girl said in a neutral voice, “now I’m giving it to you.”
Without another word the girl dropped an envelope on the table in front of him and walked away. Harry stared distrustfully at the envelope. The girl had touched it with her bare hands, so it was unlikely to be poisoned. He picked it up and felt something sliding inside it. Fearing a Portkey, he ripped open one end of the letter and let the contents drop onto the table. When he saw what had fallen from the envelope he gasped in horror.
Lying on the table was the pendant he had given to Ginny for Christmas. He picked up and saw the chain had been broken, as if the pendant had been forcefully removed. Forcing his brain to work, Harry looked into the envelope and discovered a letter. He quickly pulled out and read it.
We have your blood-traitor whore Ginevra Weasley. Come to the entrance to the Forbidden Forest on the other side of the Quidditch pitch if you ever want to see her again.
If you are not here within half an hour, she will die a painful death.
If you tell anyone about this, she will die a painful death.
If you are not alone, well, I’m sure you get the idea by now.
Be seeing you shortly, Potter.
Harry suddenly felt nauseous. They had Ginny and they would kill her if he didn’t give himself up. Damn, they had been far too complacent in recent weeks!
Aware that he was probably being watched, he scooped up the pendant and the letter and shoved them into his pocket. With mounting fear, he turned and walked out of the library and headed to the front door of the castle. Despite the feeling of terror building in him, he maintained a brisk pace; he had a long way to walk in just half an hour.
He barely registered his surroundings as he walked. His head was filled with visions of a raped and tortured Ginny. Had being associated with him gotten another person he loved killed? If they had harmed a hair on her head he would begin a war like the world had never seen. He would wade in Death Eater blood and not rest until he had Voldemort’s head on a spike.
He was so engrossed in these dark thoughts that he barely realised when he walked past the last of the spectator stands surrounding the Quidditch pitch. The old forest rose before him and a familiar figure stood waiting for him just at the edge of the tree line. It took all of Harry’s willpower not to kill Lucius Malfoy right there and then. Instead, he meekly followed the blond haired man when he turned and walked into the woods.
The walk was a fairly short one. They soon came to a small clearing and there, stood in the middle with her arms bound by ropes, was Ginny. Standing beside her with an unreadable expression on his face was Voldemort. Harry’s eyes were drawn to the silver hand that had replaced the one he had severed. Pure hatred flowed through him and he pulled his wand and pointed it directly between those red slits of eyes.
“No, Harry!” Ginny screamed as soon as she saw him. “Run! Get out of here! Please leave. If you love me run!”
“Silence, girl!” Voldemort commanded and cast a Silencing Charm at her. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she wordlessly continued to yell at him. Malfoy came and stood next to Ginny with his wand pointed at her head.
“Drop your wand, Potter, and I will let the girl live,” Voldemort offered.
“Why should I?” Harry spat. “I don’t trust you an inch. You’d just kill us both, anyway. It’d be better for us to die together. At least I’d stand a chance of taking you out with me.”
“Foolish, boy,” Voldemort sneered. “I am immortal. You cannot hurt me. Now put down your wand, or Miss Weasley here will suffer the consequences.”
“If you’re immortal, why didn’t you just walk into Hogwarts and kill me? I seemed to be able to hurt you just fine back at the Ministry,” Harry responded.
“Start cutting the girl’s clothes off. Don’t be gentle,” Voldemort casually instructed Malfoy.
“Wait!” Harry yelled desperately trying to think. “I… a magical oath! Give me a magical oath that Ginny will be allowed to return to Hogwarts in safety.”
“And if I do?” Voldemort asked.
“I drop my wand and I don’t fight back,” Harry said, his voice shaking slightly.
Voldemort stared impassively at him before raising his wand and performing the oath.
“And him!” Harry insisted, nodding at Malfoy. After a quick glance at his master, Malfoy repeated the oath. Silence reigned over the forest for a second.
“Now fulfil your side of the bargain, Potter,” Voldemort insisted.
This was it. Harry had no choice, and he was about to die. With his body trembling he lowered his arm and gently tossed his wand to the ground a few feet away from him. He couldn’t bear to see the look of triumph on Voldemort’s face, so he turned his gaze to Ginny.
She was still fighting against her bindings and crying. When his eyes met her she stopped struggling and a look of heartbreak came onto her face. Harry bitterly thought of the life he had hoped to lead with this young woman. He would have taken her round the world and they could have had wonderful adventures together. He hoped they would have married and built a home together and, one day, she might have given him children of his own. He nearly broke down in tears when he thought of a bunch of green-eyed, red-haired children running around. Or would that have been black-haired, brown-eyed kids? Either way, they would have been the family he had always dreamed of. But now that dream was dead, and in seconds so would he.
In his last remaining moments he continued to gaze into Ginny’s rich, chocolate-brown eyes and he tried to convey how much he loved her in a single look. His heart shattered as he saw the look of fear in those brown orbs and he knew it wasn’t a fear for herself. He just hoped she would be able to move on and live her life afterwards. If only he…
“Avada Kedavra!”
The green light hit him and he knew no more.
AN
And that’s your lot folks, I hope you enjoyed the story and…
Nah, just kidding.
I must admit that originally I wasn’t going to include quite as much exposition regarding Dumbledore’s past. However, I’ve had loads of interesting and challenging reviews for this story, and I came to realise that I wasn’t going to get away with Albus spouting a few lines of explanation for his actions in the last chapter; hence I included the flashback scene. Of course, you may now wonder what is the ‘butterfly effect’ I refer to in the title? Was it Harry’s burst of accidental magic back in chapter 1, or the stray Russian shell that did for Grindelwald? The answer is… I’ll let you decide.
The last three full chapters will cover the events of just a few days so things will be coming to a head quite rapidly. Coming up: is Harry really dead? Will Voldemort let Ginny go without harming her? Is this the last we will ever see of Mr Pokey??
Huge thanks to Tom and Arnel for beta’ing this chapter. Hopefully I didn’t corrupt her teenager with the content of this one.
Chapter 28: Chapter 28 – Death and Other Comforts
He wasn’t sure what it was that he first became aware of. Maybe it was the feeling of lying on something soft and damp, or perhaps the familiar sound of the waves crashing against the shore. Either way, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of comfort. He breathed in and, yes there it was: the tang of salt air in his nostrils. He’d gotten used to that smell, waking up in his comfortable bed in Nick and Perry’s house back in Cornwall.
It was then that Harry realised something was wrong. He wasn’t in his bed at all. If he wasn’t mistaken, he was lying on the beach, judging by the damp sand pressed against his face. He lifted his head, and he saw that he was indeed on the beach near his adopted Grandparents' home.
But things were not right. He realised he could see nothing beyond a few hundred yards in any direction. The beach and sea seemed to disappear into a white hazy mist his eyes could not penetrate. The familiar rock outcrop that he and Lisa had spent so much time around was indistinct and ethereal. He had a distinct feeling of unreality about everything. Then he remembered.
He was dead.
So this was the afterlife? Or maybe it was just the first part of it? He stood and raised his hand to wipe the sand from his face, only to realise there was none. The damp sand was completely smooth and unmarked where he had lain. He also realised he was naked, yet he felt neither cold nor warm. His body was returning to the earth; clothes were not necessary.
Not knowing what to do next, Harry started to walk towards the rocks. He felt the cool sand under his toes, but his feet left no impression. As he neared the large, flat rock he always used to sit on, he remembered bringing Ginny to this place. He suddenly felt the pain of their separation, and he desperately hoped the Voldemort would allow her to return to Hogwarts unmolested. Would he ever find out what happened to her, he wondered?
He sat on his rock and watched the sea rolling into the shore, like he’d done a hundred times before in his youth. He could almost hear Lisa chattering away happily by his side, or Perry talking about potion ingredients on one of the days they decided to move their lessons down to the beach. This place was the only real home he’d ever known, and he was grateful to return to it.
Slowly, Harry realised he was not alone. A whimpering noise was coming from behind one of the rocks. Standing, he carefully made his way round the formation until he could see who was making the sound. There, lying on the sand was a small, naked child. It was horribly misshapen, however, and its rough, red body looked like it had been flayed. It clutched at itself and made pathetic crying noises.
Harry didn’t know whether to try to help the child or turn and run. It revolted him and he felt a strange fear of the tiny infant. Surely, he should do something, shouldn’t he?
“You can’t help it, Harry,” a voice said.
He spun rapidly. Standing before him was a beautiful woman with long red hair and shining green eyes. She wore a flimsy, white slip which seemed to shimmer in the non-existent wind. Her skin was pale and unblemished and seemed to shine in the white haze. Her breasts were full, and her long legs were shapely. She was, quite simply, one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen. And he remembered he had seen her, once before, in his vision back in Japan. He fought to keep the tears from his eyes as he approached her.
“Mother,” he said simply.
“My son,” she replied, opening her arms. He ran to her and caught her in a crushing embrace. He felt her warm kisses on his check as she held him. Eventually, she pulled away slightly and held his face in her hands. They stared into each other’s eyes.
“Harry, my darling boy, I’ve missed you so much,” she told him. They were both openly crying now.
“You too, Mum. You don’t know what it’s been like, growing up without you,” he said. Suddenly, he had a million things he wanted to tell her.
“I do, Harry. You father and I have watched you as you grew. We’ve seen the wrongs that have been done to you. All your pain and suffering. But we’ve seen your joy and happiness, too. Your dad cheered when you first kissed Lisa, you know.”
Harry laughed. He nearly cheered himself as he recalled that happy moment.
“And Sirius and Remus are here. I knew you’d grow to love those two. Sirius has been babbling about what a wonderful girl Ginny is and how lucky you are.”
“How lucky I was,” Harry corrected.
“Ah, well. That’s the thing, Harry. You’re not dead. You can go back to her,” Lily said.
“What? But what… how… I don’t understand,” he said, shaking his head in confusion.
“Voldemort’s curse did not kill you, my love. The protections I gave you when I died were still in place, and Voldemort taking your blood to create his body only strengthened them. The curse therefore destroyed the only other living thing it could find.”
The wretched child wailed loudly at that point, causing them both to look back at it.
“I was a Horcrux, wasn’t I?” Harry asked hesitantly.
“Yes, but that part of Voldemort’s soul that was in you is gone now, destroyed by his own spell. He is mortal again,” she told him, her eyes shining.
A thought occurred to Harry.
“Dumbledore knew, didn’t he? He knew I was a Horcrux,” he said, his anger mounting.
“Yes, he knew, my darling. Of all the people who have hurt you, I think he has been the worst in many ways. You will discover he has betrayed many others, Harry, and his crimes are numerous. His pride has led him to believe only he can decide the course of events, and he manipulated and plotted until things are the way he feels is best. He is, of course, completely wrong and has caused countless misery in his efforts to control things for ‘the greater good’. You will have to confront him about this eventually.”
Harry stared at his mother. “Confront him? You mean I’m going back?”
“The choice is yours. There are many here who are waiting to see you: your father, Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Nicholas and Perenelle. Oh, Perry’s desperate to see you! But I don’t think it’s your time yet, Harry,” Lily said sadly. “I’d be so happy if you stayed with me. We could move on together to the next phase of life. But other people need you, and I want you and Ginny to make me a grandmother someday.”
“So I have a choice?” Harry clarified. “I can stay with you and see everyone else, or I can go back and face both Voldemort and Dumbledore?” It didn’t sound much of a choice.
“Could you live with yourself knowing you had the chance to finish Voldemort and you didn’t take it?” Lily asked. “Or that you let Dumbledore continue to wreck innocent people’s lives just because he felt it was the right way to do things? Would you leave Ginny alone in a world like that?”
Harry gazed sadly at his mother. Of course he couldn’t. He would have to go back and fight. “No, I’ll go back,” he confirmed.
“We’ll see each other again,” Lily told him, her hand caressing his cheek, “but not for a good long while yet, I hope. I love you, Harry, and I’m so proud of you.” She stood on tip-toes and softly kissed his forehead.
“I love you, Mum,” he replied. He had no other words.
With one last, sad embrace, Lily turned and began to slowly walk away. After a few yards she stopped and turned to face him, a mischievous smile on her face.
“Oh, and Harry? If you’re going to be standing around on a wind-swept beach, you really should wear a robe, you know. You’ll catch your death of cold running around with nothing on.”
And with a surprisingly girlish giggle, she was gone, leaving a highly embarrassed Harry standing there with his cheeks flaming. He was so mortified that he didn’t notice the beach starting to dissolve into nothingness.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Was it raining?
That was the first thing that Harry thought. He could feel raindrops gently hitting his face. He then became aware of other things: a pair of arms wrapped around him tightly, someone’s body shaking against him, and voices in the background. He strained to listen and realised he could hear the voice of Lucius Malfoy talking in a concerned manner.
“That will do, Lucius,” came Voldemort’s voice. He sounded angry and upset.
With his enemies so close, Harry dared not move. Only then did it occur to him that the arms wrapped around him were Ginny’s, and the raindrops he felt were her tears.
“You, child!” Voldemort snapped. “Is he dead?”
“OF COURSE HE’S DEAD, YOU BASTARD!” Ginny screamed, nearly causing Harry to flinch. Fortunately, he just managed to catch himself and remained deathly still.
A strange sound began to fill the forest clearing. At first Harry had no idea what it was and became quite alarmed. He longed to open his eyes and look around, but knew that would be to invite disaster. The strange high pitched noise continued until Harry managed to figure out what he was hearing.
Voldemort was laughing.
It was the most dreadful sound Harry had ever heard. It sounded like the ravings of a madman and could only have come from the lips of someone who delighted in pain and death. If Harry had ever doubted what effect splitting his soul had on Voldemort, that awful screeching laugh dispelled any illusions. Voldemort was insane.
Mercifully, the laughter subsided and silence fell once again. What would Voldemort do now, he wondered? Would he try to find a way round the magical oath? Harry wasn’t sure where his wand was, but should Voldemort try anything he would have no option to throw himself forward and hope it lay nearby. He didn’t fancy his chances.
“Come, Lucius, we must be away. We have plans to make,” Voldemort said at last.
“What about the girl?” Lucius asked. Harry could feel Ginny stiffen in fear beside him.
“We gave our oaths that she would not be touched, did we not?” Voldemort said mockingly. “No, the girl can be my messenger. Who better than Potter’s lover to take the news of his death to Dumbledore. Oh, how I wish I could be there to see his face when he realises that he’s lost! How sweet that would be.”
There was a pause and Harry could hear footsteps approaching. Despite Voldemort’s words, Harry prepared himself to move if need be. His whole body ached and he was exhausted, but he was damned if he’d give up without a fight.
“Return to the castle, girl,” Voldemort said from nearby. Harry heard something hit the ground. “Take your wand and carry the body of Potter before you. Let all see what happens to those who defy Lord Voldemort. Oh, and don’t think you have escaped punishment, little girl. It is merely postponed. I will be catching up with you and your disgusting family soon. Goodbye for now, Ginevra Weasley.”
Ginny started crying again and held onto Harry even tighter. Irrationally, he was annoyed at her, as he was trying to listen to what Voldemort and Malfoy were doing. Then, he heard two distinct pops and he knew they had Apparated away. He allowed himself to take a deep breath.
“Have they gone, Ginny?” he whispered. Ginny’s shaking body was abruptly still, her tears instantly halted.
“Harry?” she asked hesitantly.
Harry opened his eyes and found himself staring directly into his girlfriend’s rich brown ones. They were puffy and red from crying, but were still the most beautiful things he’d ever seen in his life.
“Hi, babe,” he murmured. “That’s twice that bastard has done that to me. You’d think I’d be used to it by now.”
“HARRY!” Ginny screamed and flung herself on top of him. He gingerly tried to move his body so the sore area where the curse had hit him wasn’t in direct contact with her. She clung to him so tightly that his efforts were in vain, however.
“Oh, Harry. I thought you were dead!” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I was stupid and nearly got you killed!”
“How did Voldemort manage to catch you?” he asked. He was genuinely intrigued as to how Ginny had been lured out of the castle.
“A couple of Hufflepuff girls, Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott, came and told me you wanted me. I never thought in a million years those two would be traitors. Both of them have had family killed by Voldemort!” Ginny snapped.
“Perhaps they were under the Imperius Curse,” Harry speculated.
“We’ll sort it out when we get back to the castle. I want Madam Pomfrey to look you over,” Ginny said decisively.
“Hold up, Ginny,” Harry said. A plan was beginning to form in his mind. “We might be able to use this situation to our advantage. Voldemort thinks I’m dead, right? Why don’t we keep letting him think that? I trust Dumbledore about as far as I could throw him; it might be a good idea if he thinks I’m gone, too.”
“What?” Ginny exclaimed. “Why?”
“Obviously, Voldemort won’t be trying to kill me if he thinks I’m already dead. I’m pretty sure now that Dumbledore knew I was a Horcrux and…” Harry stopped as Ginny gasped. “Yeah, sorry, Ginny. I only just worked this out. When you think about it, it makes a lot of sense. I reckon he was planning on making a Horcrux when he tried to kill me when I was a baby. Instead of going into whatever object he was planning to use, the piece of his soul that he had detached went into me. That’s why I can speak Parseltongue and can feel his emotions at times. Hitting me with the Killing Curse again just destroyed the piece of his soul in me. I’m going to make it a point of not getting hit by that curse again.” He gently rubbed the sore spot where the curse had hit him.
“Okay,” Ginny acknowledged in a shaky voice. “So you think Dumbledore knew about this?”
“I’m sure of it. That old bastard has been trying to control me for years, and I think he was just waiting for the right moment, so I could be sacrificed for the greater good!” he growled.
“So what do we do now?” Ginny asked.
“I want to you to go up to the castle, crying your eyes out, and tell everyone I’m dead. Tell Dumbledore that Voldemort took my body with him. Offer to show him a Pensieve memory of my death, but make sure you end it just as I apparently die. And, whatever you do, don’t look directly into his eyes.”
“But what will you do?” she asked.
“Not sure just yet, but I need to start thinking of a plan. I’ll head to the Shrieking Shack for now, so I’m close by if you need me. Contact me via the two-way mirror tonight and we’ll decide what to do next. Oh, I nearly forgot.” He reached into his pocket and withdrew Ginny’s locket. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get the chain repaired. Try and keep it with you anyway.”
“You will be careful, won’t you?” she begged. “Thinking I’d lost you nearly killed me.”
Harry slipped his arms around her and kissed her passionately. “I promise, Ginny,” he assured her. “I’m going to finish Voldemort and give Dumbledore a good kicking, then I’m going to come back and we’ll be together. Forever, if I can manage it. Now, go back to Hogwarts and use whatever actress skills you have. Convince them I’m dead.”
“I will,” she agreed. “But remember, I’m holding you to that promise. Trust me; if you go off and get yourself killed, I’ll make you wish you’d never been born!”
Harry burst out laughing. You just couldn’t argue with logic like that.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Four hours later
Severus Snape sat and slowly digested the latest bad news. He’d never made any secret of his hatred for the Potter boy, or his opinion that his skills were overrated. But even so, the news was a massive shock. He was stunned that the Dark Lord had not mentioned his plan to kill Potter to him, but the Weasley girl had confirmed beyond doubt that it had happened. Harry Potter was dead.
What of the prophecy? Did his demise signal their defeat? Severus brushed away such thoughts and tried to concentrate on the Headmaster’s words.
“It’s been confirmed that both Abbott and Bones were placed under the Imperius Curse, so no blame can be apportioned to either girl,” Dumbledore said.
Severus came to his senses.
“The question is surely, Albus: who placed the curse on the girls in the first place?” he asked.
“It appears to be the work of Lucius Malfoy,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Although it is far from clear how he managed to get the two girls beyond the protective wards to perform the curse. Unfortunately, they have been partially Obliviated, so we may never know.”
“This represents a major security breech, Albus,” Severus said with concern. “If Malfoy was able to gain access to students in this manner, who knows what other havoc he could wreak in future.”
“I will investigate the matter fully, I promise,” the Headmaster said in a dismissive tone. “Unfortunately, we have another problem and one that affects you personally.”
“Explain,” Snape demanded. He suddenly had a very bad feeling.
“I have learnt through other sources that Voldemort has discovered that you have been acting for the Order as a spy,” Dumbledore informed him calmly.
“WHAT!” Severus yelled. “How was I discovered? Albus, I’m a dead man!”
“Calm down, my friend,” Albus said soothingly.
“How can I calm down?” he snapped. “I’ve seen how Voldemort deals with traitors! Now he has eliminated Potter he will devote all his energy to destroying me!”
“I think you’re getting a little carried away,” Albus chastised him. “Indeed, you are due to meet with Voldemort tonight, are you not? I suggest you attend that meeting as planned.”
“Are you insane?” Severus asked in shock.
“There are many who would say that I am, but in this matter I believe I am correct.” Dumbledore looked at Severus intently. “I suspect that Voldemort has been aware of your activities for some time now, but has done nothing about it.”
“But… why?” Severus asked, now completely confused.
“To put it simply; you’re still useful to him,” Dumbledore explained. “Voldemort is unaware that we know that he knows you are a spy. As long as he is unaware of this he will continue to use you to disseminate misinformation.”
“Simply put!” Severus snorted sarcastically. But now he thought about it, it made sense. Voldemort could continue to use him to feed lies and half-truths to the Order. If the Dark Lord was careful, that would be a valuable tool.
“Nevertheless, I believe this to be the reason Voldemort has kept you safe,” Dumbledore said confidently.
“But will it continue to keep me safe?” Severus demanded. “With Potter dead Voldemort may well decide my usefulness is at an end.”
“On the contrary, you have never been more useful to him.” Dumbledore stood and gazed out of a nearby window. “Poor young Harry has fulfilled his part in the Prophecy, and his death has removed Voldemort’s last protection against death. The time when Voldemort and I must confront each other approaches. You, Severus, hold a position uniquely close to me and as such are a vital asset to him. That almost certainly guarantees your safety.”
“Almost!” Severus repeated in a derisory tone.
“If you are still concerned, arrange to change the location of your meeting tonight. Say you cannot get away for long, and request that you meet Voldemort at the Shrieking Shack. That way, if anything should go wrong, help will be close by, as will be a means of escape,” Dumbledore suggested.
Snape nodded, realising this was as much comfort as the Headmaster could provide. He couldn’t help but feel, however, the steel jaws of a trap closing around him. With fear building inside him, he stood and left the office.
Dumbledore silently watched Snape leave. It was nearly all over now, and he savoured the calm before the coming storm. While he sat there he took the opportunity to examine his chess board. Very few pieces remained on the board now, and more would be removed shortly. Now Harry Potter had met his end, it was time to remove another piece.
Albus let his hand linger over the board. He imagined what most of the Order would be thinking at this moment; that with Potter’s demise they had suffered a major blow and that they had lost an important figure in their battle against Voldemort. Dumbledore snorted at the thought. The truth was that by dying and inadvertently destroying the final Horcrux within him, Potter had served his purpose and fulfilled his place within the prophecy.
Dumbledore removed a single white pawn from the board. That was all Potter had ever been.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Later that night
“Poor Susan was sobbing her heart out when she’d learnt what she’d done. Madam Pomfrey had to sedate her. I knew she couldn’t have willingly done anything to harm you.” Ginny’s face filled the small mirror in Harry’s hand and her voice sounded strangely distorted as she described what had happened after he had left.
Since taking refuge at the Shrieking Shack, Harry had desperately been trying to come up with a plan of action. Unfortunately, inspiration eluded him, and he could not decide what to do next. In the end, he decided to simply wait for Ginny to call him at the pre-arranged time to see if she had any more information.
“I’m more worried that neither she nor Hannah had any idea how they were put under the Imperius Curse,” Harry mused. “It could mean an agent of Voldemort’s is in the castle. Please watch your back, Ginny. Try and stay with either Hermione or Luna at all times.”
“Okay, Harry, I’ll try,” Ginny replied sounding a bit annoyed. “Dumbledore seemed to think that they were lured out of the castle somehow.”
“Excuse me if I don’t take his word for that,” Harry grumbled.
“So what are you going to do now?” Ginny wanted to know.
“I’m not sure,” he said frowning. “It’s not like I had this planned out. The lack of information is going to be the real problem. Unless I can find a source within the Order, or within the Death Eaters, I’m working blind. I can only react to events, assuming I find out about them at all, that is.”
“Do you think this is the right decision?” Ginny asked. “You pretending you’re dead, I mean.”
“Yeah, I’m convinced this is for the best. I just wish I’d had a bit of notice so I could get a plan in place. You know, I think if… wait!” A faint warbling sound interrupted him.
“What is it?” Ginny cried in alarm.
“Someone has triggered one of the Warning Charms I put out,” he informed her. “I’m going to have to go. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”
“Okay. I love you,” Ginny said before her image vanished.
Stuffing the mirror into a pocket, Harry considered his options. The alarm that had been set off was in the tunnel leading from the shack to the Whomping Willow just outside Hogwarts, so he couldn’t go back that way. Deciding it was his best option, he grabbed his Invisibility Cloak and started to throw it over his head. As the cloak twirled around him, Harry noticed it giving off a strange silvery shine. Gripping it tightly, he held it in front of him and he could see it giving off a weak reflection from the pale light inside the shack. Cursing that now of all times the cloak should fail him, he threw it into a corner and changed into his Animagus form. Quickly, he flew up through a large hole in the ceiling and perched on one of the rafters. It was a perfect spot, cloaked in shadows but affording him a clear view of the room below.
A short while later, the trap door in the room opened and Severus Snape entered. Harry watched him with in fascination, wondering what the man was up to. Snape appeared to be waiting for someone, and was pacing restlessly backwards and forwards.
After about ten minutes, Harry was startled by three people Apparating directly into the shack. Two of them Harry thought he recognised as Death Eaters named Macnair and Rowle. The third person was instantly recognisable: Voldemort.
“My Lord,” Snape said, bowing low before Voldemort, “congratulations on your victory over that brat, Potter. Dumbledore is in despair over his death.”
Voldemort stood perfectly still and stared at Snape. He continued to look at the man silently until Snape started to fidget, clearly unnerved by the Dark Lord’s examination of him. Eventually, Voldemort spoke.
“Tell me, Severus, what is your opinion of Dumbledore?” he asked in a quiet voice.
“My Lord?” Snape seemed confused by the question. “I have told you everything I know about him. I have kept nothing from you!”
“I did not say that you had, Severus. I merely asked your opinion of the man,” Voldemort responded.
“He’s a powerful wizard, as you know, my Lord,” Severus said hesitantly. He appeared to have been caught completely on the hop by being asked his own opinion.
“I didn’t ask for a description of him. I wanted your opinion.” Anger started to creep into Voldemort’s voice.
“I think he has a number of flaws in his character,” Snape offered. “He is far too trusting and forgiving. He can be easily deceived, and he is far too ready to forgive people for their crimes. He wastes the opportunities his position of power offers him.”
Voldemort nodded, but remained silent. From his hiding place Harry could practically feel Snape’s discomfort.
“Do you know why I like Albus Dumbledore?” Voldemort asked after a while.
“My Lord?” Snape asked in bewilderment.
“I’ll tell you why,” Voldemort said, ignoring Snape. “I like the man because he knows how to play the game. He knows when to protect someone, and he knows when it is beneficial to sacrifice that person. While he and I have vastly different views on how the world should be run, we both know what needs to be done to achieve that vision.”
Snape stared at Voldemort in disbelief.
“Answer me another question if you will, Severus,” Voldemort asked with something approaching a smile on his face.
“Anything, my Lord!” Snape said at once.
“Did you really believe that you could keep your thoughts hidden from me, the greatest master of Legilimency the world has ever seen?” Voldemort asked.
Snape’s legs buckled and nearly collapsed beneath him. He felt his stomach cramp with fear and a cold sweat appeared on his brow. He had been uncovered, and all he could expect now was a slow, painful death.
“Despite my earlier words, there is one major difference between Dumbledore and myself,” Voldemort continued conversationally. “You see, he never likes to get his hands dirty. If a person needs to be killed, he would much rather someone else takes care of it for him, which is why he has given you to me; I like dealing with these little matters personally.”
Snape’s jaw dropped. “He knew?”
“Of course Albus Dumbledore knew that I was aware of your treachery,” Voldemort laughed. “You thought you could deceive both of us, but in truth we have been playing with you like some little puppet on a string.”
“If you knew I was spying for Dumbledore, why did you permit me to continue?” Snape asked, his voice sick with despair.
“Because at times it has been necessary for me to pass information to Dumbledore and vice versa. It has almost become a game between us, deciding what information is true and what are lies. To those skilled at the game, even a lie can give an indication as to your opponent’s intentions,” Voldemort explained, the amusement clear in the Dark Lord’s voice. “The final battle approaches and your usefulness is at an end.”
“So that was all I was? A go-between and a toy for your amusement?” he snarled. Severus realised his whole life had been a lie. From the moment he had stepped into Hogwarts, he had been manipulated and used by powers much greater than himself.
“Oh, you’ve always been nothing more than a toy, Severus. You presumed to try to walk amongst giants, and now you will be squashed like the insignificant insect that you are.”
Without warning Voldemort drew his wand and cast a Cutting Charm at Snape. It hit him in the stomach and slit him open right across his belly. Snape screamed and fell back against the wall, clutching at his midriff in an attempt to prevent his innards spilling out onto the floor. Voldemort stood over the fallen man with a look of glee on his face.
“I regret that I do not have the time to deal with you in the manner you deserve, so I will leave you to the tender care of Macnair and Rowle here.” Voldemort gestured at the two Death Eaters who were waiting eagerly. “I am quite busy, you see. My final confrontation with Dumbledore approaches and I must prepare. In two days’ time I shall assault Hogwarts and kill all who refuse to bow before me. Dumbledore may think himself safe, lurking within the castle; but he is unaware that I have discovered a method of bringing down the protective wards. It is a shame that you will not be around to see my final triumph. Goodbye, Severus.”
With that, Voldemort turned and Apparated away. Harry looked on in horror. Despite his distrust of Dumbledore, he couldn’t believe that the old man had so callously arranged for Snape to walk into a trap. He felt panic rising in him at the knowledge that Hogwarts would be attacked and Voldemort was confident that he could breach its defences. He needed to get Ginny out of there immediately.
His thoughts were disrupted by Macnair. The big Death Eater had approached Snape who was looking up at him with a mix of fear and anger on his face. Macnair only laughed.
“You have no idea how much I’m looking forward to this, Snape. Crucio!” Macnair aimed his wand at the fallen man and cackled as Snape’s body convulsed under his curse. Harry knew he has to do something. He glided down from his hiding place and landed behind the two Death Eaters. He silently reverted to human form and aimed his wand.
“Confringo! Confringo!” Harry sent a Blasting Curse into the back of each of the Death Eaters. They were blown off their feet and they landed heavily. A quick glance at them told Harry that neither of them would be getting up ever again.
Pausing only to retrieve his discarded Invisibility Cloak from the corner and stuffing it into a pocket, he hurried over to where Snape lay. It only took one look for Harry to realise the man was beyond help. The deep cut to his stomach had been ripped open by the Cruciatus Curse, and a large pool of blood had formed around his body. He was convulsing and making gagging noises. Harry knelt beside him but had no idea how to offer comfort to someone so grievously injured.
Seeing him, Snape grabbed the front of his robes. With a superhuman effort he managed to whisper to him.
“Take… it,” Snape gasped.
A strange white wisp of light had started to seep from the dying man’s eyes. Recognising what it was, Harry quickly conjured a small glass vial and, using his wand, gathered the memory that Snape was trying to give him. Once he had the memory safely secured, he looked back at the man he had hated for years.
Snape stared at him with wide, panicky eyes, and it was clear the man knew he had moments left to live. His lips moved and it looked like he was trying to say something. Harry gripped Snape’s arms, trying to comfort him. He could no longer hate the man and only wished for his suffering to end. Then, as if in answer to Harry’s silent prayer, the Professor’s body stiffened and his eyes glazed over. He was dead.
Harry sat back and shuddered. He was sitting in a pool of blood surrounded by corpses. Desperately, he tried to arrange his thoughts into some sort of order. Looking around, he realised the first thing he needed to do was get rid of the bodies of the Death Eaters. If they were found here it would alert either Dumbledore or Voldemort that someone had witnessed Snape’s final moments. After that he would need access to a Pensieve.
Forcing his body to move, he grabbed the legs of the two dead Death Eaters and Apparated to the Forbidden Forest. There were plenty of animals within the woods that would appreciate the extra food. After that he decided he would return to Cornwall. Nick’s Pensieve should still be in his study where he left it.
With his mind reeling at the revelations he had just witnessed, Harry made ready to Apparate to the Flamels' old house. Secretly, he began to dread what new surprises he would discover in the memories of Severus Snape.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Dumbledore stood by the window staring out into the night. It was over two hours since Snape had left for his meeting with Voldemort. It should all be over by now.
Of all of the recent actions he’d had to take, this was the one that hurt the most. Severus had become more than an ally; he’d been a friend he could confide in. While Albus had many acquaintances, he had virtually no friends any more. The burden of command was indeed a lonely thing.
As much as he regretted the passing of Severus, it was an unavoidable necessity. The man was a loose cannon who simply knew too much. Dumbledore had a very clear vision of the how the magical world should be after Voldemort was dealt with, and the likes of Severus Snape had no place in it. Snape had a vast knowledge of dark magic, and, for someone as damaged as he was, it would only be a matter of time before he made use of it.
Sighing, Dumbledore made his way to his chess board. With a heavy heart he removed both a white and black bishop from it, Snape having represented both sides in the conflict, after all. There were very few pieces left now; only a scattering of pawns and both kings. It was nearly time for those kings to enter the battle.
Sitting himself at his desk, Dumbledore went through his plan one more time. Things had become far too rushed for his liking. Haste always left room for mistakes or deprived one of the ability to react to changes, but hopefully that wouldn’t matter now. All he needed was Voldemort to remain inactive for another week, and everything would be in place. Albus was planning a trap, and he just needed a little more time to bait it properly. Fortunately, Hogwarts and its impenetrable wards gave him that time. As long as he didn’t venture beyond its walls for the next seven days, Voldemort would have no opportunity to launch the first strike.
Dumbledore sat back, pleased with the way things were going and completely unaware of the impending disaster about to befall him.
AN
The first part doesn’t come over as too Freudian, does it? I didn’t intend to give Harry an Oedipus complex. Well, not too much of one, anyway.
Hopefully, I’ve made Dumbledore’s motivation for betraying Snape clear. This version of Albus is much more ruthless than the canon one, and has a very clear vision of how the magical world should be. Snape is a damaged soul, who displays signs of neurosis and mental instability. The transference of his issues with a dead man to his enemy’s son is an obvious sign of non-rational thinking. Add to that the fact that he has a vast knowledge and general fascination with dark magic and you can begin to see why Albus didn’t see a place for Severus in his magical utopia. Besides, Snape knows too many of Dumbledore’s dirty little secrets.
Thanks to the wonderful Arnel for beta’ing this, despite battling technology issues at the same time.
Chapter 29: Chapter 29 – The Devil’s Playground
Author's Notes: Pathetic excuses at the bottom
“Lumos!”
The glow from Harry’s wand lit up the deserted kitchen. It seemed like a lifetime ago that Albus Dumbledore had led him into this room for the first time. He could almost see his ten year-old self hesitantly entering through the back door.
He reluctantly dragged himself away and entered the hallway. Making his way down the corridor, he opened the door to Nicholas’s study. The room was pitch-black, but he found some candles and lit them.
Most of Harry’s lessons had been taken in this room, and he had happy memories of the place. Magic had been a new and wondrous thing to him in those days. Every time he sat with Nicholas he had been exposed to amazing and exciting things; be it learning about some fantastical creature or perfecting a marvellous new spell, he had lapped it up. Now, sitting in the faint light in the deserted house he wondered if it had been worth it, and if he wouldn’t have been better off remaining with the Muggles.
He dismissed such gloomy thoughts as worthless. He was what he was, and there was no going back. Rousing himself to action, he moved to Nick’s desk and removed his Pensieve from one of the drawers. He set it up and carefully removed the vial containing Severus Snape’s memory from his pocket. Dropping the contents into the Pensieve, he gave it a quick swirl with his wand before plunging into the memory.
Instantly, he found himself in Dumbledore’s office at Hogwarts. The Headmaster himself was sitting at his desk with Snape on the other side.
“It is a most unfortunate situation,” Dumbledore was saying. “If I had had any idea of the hostility Nicholas and Perenelle hold for me then I would never have placed the boy with them permanently.”
“You should have left Potter where he was,” Snape sneered. “His Uncle may be a poor excuse for a human being, but he would have at least instilled some discipline into the boy.”
“Now, Severus, you are letting your prejudices show,” Dumbledore chastised. “No, his Uncle was becoming unhinged. If the boy should die at the man’s hands… no, it doesn’t bear thinking about. Unfortunately, Harry’s terrible physical condition meant I had little choice at the time. What we need to do now is get him back under our control. We need Harry Potter at Hogwarts.”
“How will you achieve that? The Flamels are his guardians now, and they seem dead set against it,” Snape pointed out. “Frankly, the pair of them are capable of providing an education far beyond what we could achieve here, so you can see their reluctance.”
Dumbledore appeared to ponder the matter. “I think we need to emphasize the security aspect of Harry coming to Hogwarts, rather than the educational side. If the Flamels can be convinced he will be safer here, then I’m sure they will relent.”
“My understanding was that the Flamels’ property was heavily warded. Why would they believe that the boy was at risk?” Snape asked.
“I think we need to introduce an element of danger into Harry’s current environment,” Dumbledore decided. “Severus, I think it’s time that one of Voldemort’s old followers discovers the location of the Boy-Who-Lived.”
“But isn’t that a massive risk? Voldemort’s followers will stop at nothing to kill Potter,” Snape objected.
“I think the risk is justifiable. I rather suspect that the person I have in mind to receive this information will not be looking to kill Harry immediately. Besides, as you correctly state, the Flamels are well protected. No, just a sighting of a Death Eater near the house should be enough to convince them,” Dumbledore reasoned.
“I hope you’re right, Albus,” Snape said, clearly not convinced.
The scene within the Pensieve swirled and changed. Harry found himself looking at a scene nearly identical to the one before. It was clearly a different occasion, however, judging by Snape’s distressed state.
“He will kill me next time, Albus. The Dark Lord’s patience grows thin,” Snape said in a anxious voice. “He needs to be given something useful.”
“I think I can provide you with something,” Dumbledore assured him. “Tell me, of all the people who have stood against Voldemort, who do you think he considers as the greatest traitor to the pure-blood cause?”
“Potter,” Snape snarled.
“You forget Harry is a half-blood,” Dumbledore pointed out. “Try again.”
Snape looked hesitant for a second. “Black?” he suggested.
“Exactly,” Dumbledore confirmed. “Sirius Black dishonoured the noble house of Black in Voldemort’s view. His continual aid to the Order is a constant annoyance to the Dark Lord. He would consider Sirius to be a worthy prize.”
“You would give him up?” Snape asked in surprise. “Don’t get me wrong, if I could give Black to the Dark Lord it would do much to repair my standing with him. I’m just rather startled that you would allow it.”
“Sirius has always had a rather unfortunate habit of ignoring the rule book. He takes too many risks and this is regrettably rubbing off on Harry. I no longer consider Black a safe or worthy guardian for him,” Dumbledore said.
“So, once again it all comes down to Potter, doesn’t it,” Snape sneered.
“It always has, Severus,” Dumbledore replied.
“How do you propose to do this?” Snape asked after a pause.
“We need to separate him from Harry. Fortunately, young Mr Potter is still recovering from his injuries, so that will not be too hard to do.” Dumbledore pondered for a moment. “I think I may suggest to Moody that Sirius would be the perfect person to supervise a little on-the-job training for some of the Order’s newest recruits at some remote location. If Voldemort should learn of that location…”
“I understand,” Snape confirmed. “May I suggest that the werewolf also accompanies Black? Lupin is equally loyal to the Potter boy, and nearly as much of a troublemaker as his friend.”
“Very well,” Dumbledore agreed wearily. Snape wore a vindictive smile as he rose from his chair.
Once again the image swirled and Harry found himself following Snape as he exited the Headmaster’s office. Although he could only guess, the troubled look on Snape’s face suggested that he was looking at a different event then he had just witnessed. Snape had just walked past the Gargoyles guarding the entrance when he encountered Professor McGonagall coming the other way.
“Ah, Severus. Is Albus in?” she asked.
“Yes, I have just spoken with him,” Snape replied.
Harry could hear how unsteady the man’s voice was and now that he looked at him closer he noticed he was paler than usual.
“Thank you… are you alright, Severus?” McGonagall asked. “You look like you’ve just had some upsetting news.”
“No, I… I’m just on my way to a meeting with… him,” Snape replied.
“Ah, I understand,” McGonagall said, the anger clear in her voice. “I swear, one day I will hunt down and kill that evil bastard for what he did to poor Harry.”
Harry realised that this scene must have taken place shortly after he faked his own death. He felt his heart warmed by the reaction of the stern witch. She must have liked him after all.
“Yes, well…” Snape clearly was less concerned about Harry’s apparent demise. “Did you have any luck discovering how Lucius Malfoy managed to get into the castle grounds?”
“No, no I did not,” McGonagall replied with a frown. “There’s been no apparent breech of the wards and I can detect no forced entry at all. Somehow Malfoy senior managed to waltz into the school completely undetected. It’s almost as if the wards had been altered to allow him entry.”
“Most strange,” Snape agreed. “Hypothetically speaking, who would be able to amend the wards to allow Lucius entry?”
“Why, only myself and the Headmaster,” McGonagall replied primly. “Clearly, there must be another explanation; I just have yet to discover it.”
“Quite,” Snape replied, with a knowing expression on his face. “Well, I must be away. Wish me luck.”
Snape briskly walked away leaving a rather confused-looking professor in his wake.
The image swirled and Harry found himself standing back in the study. In stunned disbelief he stumbled to a chair and sat down heavily.
In his wildest dreams he would never have believed Dumbledore was capable of such treachery. To maintain his vision of ‘the greater good’ the old man was willing to throw away lives like they meant nothing.
The deaths of so many he loved could be placed at Dumbledore’s feet: Nick, Perry, Remus, Sirius…and they were only the ones he knew about. Snape was a trusted ally of the Headmaster’s yet he had been sacrificed. How many more had died at the old man’s whims? Had his parents suffered a similar fate? Had it been Dumbledore’s intentions that he would die at Voldemort’s hands?
Harry momentarily felt sick. Not only did he have to defeat Voldemort, he now realised he would need to bring down Dumbledore as well. It was just too much for him to do alone; he urgently needed help. But who could he turn to?
In frustration, Harry slammed his fist down on the desk in front of him. He had never felt more alone or angry, even back in his days with the Dursleys. It was ridiculous; here he was, a tremendously skilled magic-user and one of the richest wizards in the world and he was powerless. Of course, he was assuming he was still rich, the Goblins would have heard about his supposed death by now and…
Harry stopped dead. Of course! How could he have been so stupid? Allies were right there waiting for him, even if he would have to pay for them. But would it be enough? A plan began to form in Harry’s mind. Maybe it was time to take a leaf from Dumbledore’s book. It was time to choose the lesser of two evils, or maybe the lesser of three evils would be a better way to put it. And what he needed right now was a go-between.
Reaching in his pocket, he pulled out his two-way mirror. He tapped the mirror with his wand, hoped Ginny would still be awake. It only took a couple of seconds before Ginny’s face appeared.
“Harry!” she exclaimed. “I was so worried. Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, Ginny,” he confirmed, feeling a surge of guilt that he had not contacted his girlfriend earlier. “Sorry I took so long to come back to you. A lot has happened and none of it good.”
“Who came to the Shrieking Shack?” she asked.
“Snape. He was meeting Voldemort there. He didn’t survive the encounter,” Harry explained. “But forget that for the moment. I need your help. I urgently need to speak with someone and I need you to arrange a meeting.”
“Who?” Ginny asked in confusion.
“Your brother Bill,” Harry said. He grinned at the look of utter shock that appeared onto his girlfriend’s face.
Thursday, 5 March 1998
Making sure the hood of his cloak stayed up, Harry squeezed through the small door located at the back of the dark alley. Who knew that Gringotts had a back door?
Contacting Bill Weasley had obviously been a good idea. The man had been surprisingly willing to help and he assumed this was down to Ginny’s influence. Bill had fallen over himself to arrange this meeting, and to ensure Harry managed to attend without being seen.
Looking around, Harry saw that he was standing in a cave-like corridor. As he followed behind Bill, he noticed the floor was very gently sloping downwards. The two of them continue walking for a good ten minutes before they reached a junction. Turning left, they soon found themselves in a circular room which was completely bare apart from three doors set into the curving wall. Without hesitation, Bill opened the door on their immediate left and gestured for Harry to enter.
Once inside, Harry found himself in a comfortable office of the type that he would have expected to find in any well-appointed business. A large wooden desk dominated the room and behind it sat the Goblin Rocktooth.
“Greetings, Mr Potter,” he said. “May I compliment you on how well you look for someone who is apparently dead.”
“I was dead,” Harry confirmed, “but I got better.”
“Indeed,” Rocktooth noted with amusement as Harry slipped into a chair in front of the desk. The goblin peered at him intently. “Ah, all becomes clear. I see you have rid yourself of your unwanted visitor. Very wise; carrying around a piece of someone else’s soul can be quite tiresome.”
Harry resisted the urge to stare at the Rocktooth. He had underestimated the goblins before and he shouldn’t have been surprised they had known he was a Horcrux. A bit of warning would have been nice, but never mind.
“Yeah, it’s not really an experience I would recommend,” Harry replied, trying to appear nonchalant.
“I imagine. Well, as pleased as I am to see you in such good health, may I enquire why you requested this meeting so urgently?” the goblin asked.
Harry inwardly grinned. He felt it was time to starting handing out a few surprises of his own.
“Basically, I need the goblins’ help and I’m prepared to pay for it. This whole conflict is likely to be over in the next few days and I would like your help to ensure that I’m on the winning side.” Harry paused to observe the goblin’s reaction, which, he was disappointed to note, was minimal.
“Continue,” the goblin requested.
“Tomorrow, Voldemort will attack Hogwarts with everything he has. I understand that he has obtained a means to bring down the protective wards of the castle. If he manages to do this it is likely to result in massacre which will probably include Dumbledore himself. I doubt the Ministry would survive the backlash of such an event, either. I intend to ambush Voldemort and destroy him. For that I need to assemble a force capable of taking him on and I don’t have long to do it. I therefore request to hire as many goblin fighters as you are willing to provide. As you are aware I have the means to pay for them.” Harry took a breath and waited nervously for Rocktooth’s response. It came quickly.
“I’m not adverse to you hiring our troops, Mr Potter, and I am aware that you have the means to cover the costs. Unfortunately, in the timeframe you propose, I could only offer you around two hundred warriors. This would be insufficient for your needs,” Rocktooth informed him.
“Which leads me onto my second request,” Harry replied. “It’s not only Voldemort that I have to defeat. Dumbledore’s influence needs to be suppressed as well. He seems to think he has the automatic right to govern the Wizarding world as he sees fit. As much as I hate to admit it, it’s time for the Ministry to take control again. Is it possible you can arrange for me to speak to Minister Scrimgeour this afternoon?”
This time Rocktooth did look surprised.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
That afternoon
Rufus Scrimgeour stared at Harry intently. He’d initially been irritated by the goblins’ request for an urgent audience. After all, the Ministry was on the verge of collapse and he had better things to do. On the other side of the coin, he’d never known a goblin waste anyone’s time, so when they said the matter couldn’t wait he’d agreed to the meeting. It looked like he’d made the right decision.
“I must say I’m surprised to see you here, Mr Potter. Albus Dumbledore assured me that you had been killed yesterday afternoon. May I ask why you are pretending to be dead?” Scrimgeour had never been one for beating around the bush.
“I would take anything Albus Dumbledore says with a pinch of salt if I were you,” Potter said, clearly irritated. “I’m playing dead to stop him interfering with me while I deal with Voldemort.”
Scrimgeour raised his eyebrows. His sources had said that there was tension between Potter and Dumbledore, but clearly their relationship had deteriorated even further. Scrimgeour had never trusted Dumbledore much and he resented the man’s interference with Ministry matters. Potter, on the other hand, was something of an unknown element. There may be something here that he could use.
“I take it you are unhappy with Dumbledore’s influence then?” he asked, testing the waters.
“Unhappy?” Potter snorted. “That doesn’t even begin to cover it. But before we get into that, there is important information I need to tell you. Sometime tomorrow, Voldemort will be launching a full scale attack on Hogwarts. As it stands, I believe that attack will be successful.”
“What?” Scrimgeour exclaimed. “Hogwarts? Why would he attack there? He’s much more likely to attack the Ministry.”
“Three reasons,” Potter said calmly. “One, as you say, you are expecting him to attack the Ministry so he will do the unexpected. Two, Voldemort believes that there is an object hidden within the castle that is extremely important to him. In fact, the object has been destroyed, but he doesn’t know that. Three, he considers Albus Dumbledore to be the main threat to him. Voldemort has stated that he has discovered a means of taking down the wards at Hogwarts. If he can do that, then he will have Dumbledore trapped and heavily outnumbered.”
“Alright,” Scrimgeour acknowledged, “that sounds plausible. But I will need to see some evidence of this before I commit Ministry resources to defending Hogwarts.”
At this, Rocktooth reached into a drawer in his desk and removed a Pensieve. He placed this in front of Scrimgeour without a word.
“I’m afraid this might take a while,” Harry said, taking his wand and pointing it at his forehead. “I have rather a lot to show you.”
Potter withdrew a long line of silvery, gossamer-fine strands from his head and deposited in the Pensieve. Scrimgeour regarded the young man for a second. He had to admit that he was excited to learn what Potter had to show him. Without further pause for thought, he submerged himself in the boy’s memories.
It was some considerable time later when Rufus finally pulled his consciousness from the Pensieve. He glanced at his watch and was surprised to see he’d been in there for nearly an hour. He looked up at Potter and Rocktooth who were both drinking tea. For a second his brain reeled as he tried to process all the information he had seen.
“It’s all true?” he questioned the pair. “The prophecy? The Horcruxes? Dumbledore’s history?”
“I haven’t held anything back,” Potter said quietly. “I assume I’ve no need to tell you how sensitive this information is. You must tell no-one else what you’ve seen.”
“Of course,” Scrimgeour snapped. Did Potter think he was stupid? “Are you sure you got all the Horcruxes? I mean, how do we know Voldemort didn’t create more?”
“Impossible,” Rocktooth interrupted. “My experts are astounded that Voldemort managed to create seven of them in the first place, including Mr Potter here, of course. As you can see from some of the most resent memories, the Dark Lord is barely human anymore and his grip on sanity appears to be slipping. His soul is so fragmented that any further attempt to split it will almost certainly leave him a gibbering wreck.”
Scrimgeour glared at the goblin. He had never trusted the little bastards and as far as he was aware they hated all wizards equally. This made him wonder.
“Why are you so keen to help Potter all of a sudden? What’s in it for the goblins?” he asked.
“Actually, we have already helped Mr Potter with the destruction of one of the Horcruxes that was stored in the Lestrange woman’s vault. All part of the service for one of our best customers.” Rocktooth smiled, displaying far too many pointed teeth for Rufus’s liking. “But if you ask me why we feel Mr Potter is worthy of our support I have a simple answer. He has no desire for power. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you what a rare trait this is in a wizard. We therefore feel we can trust him.”
“But why support him at all? Why not just stay neutral?” he pressed.
“Look to history for your answer,” Rocktooth replied. “How many centuries have wizards and goblins been in conflict? How much blood has been shed? How many battles fought? But in the last hundred years or so we have had an uneasy peace. Wizards now depend on us for banking and finance. Our mining operations are vital to your wellbeing, as well. On the other hand, you wizards are the main source of income for us goblins. In other words, things are nicely in balance at the moment and we do not wish to see that change.”
Scrimgeour nodded before turning to Potter. “If you don’t want power, what do you want?”
“Firstly, just to survive,” he said frankly. “After that, I want to actually live my life. Thanks to Dumbledore, I had a miserable childhood. From my tenth year onwards I have spent nearly all my time fighting Voldemort’s lackeys or training. I just want to be normal for a while; spend time with my girlfriend, travel a bit, just enjoy life for a while.”
“And after that? How do I know that after a few years of sitting on your arse that you won’t suddenly decide to become the next Dumbledore, or worse, Voldemort?” Scrimgeour asked intently.
“Apart from it’s not in my nature? I’m not sure what I can do to convince you as to what I’ll be doing to five years’ time,” Potter said earnestly.
Scrimgeour was ready for this.
“As the sole surviving Potter and as heir to the Black legacy you are entitled to a place on the Wizengamot,” he informed the young black-haired wizard.
Potter just looked confused by this information.
“You wish to make him part of the system,” Rocktooth commented.
“Exactly,” Scrimgeour confirmed. “The Ministry may have many faults and it can be bureaucratic and inefficient at times, but it’s still a much better option than the alternatives. As part of the Wizengamot you will be where I can keep an eye on you and eventually you will become a cog in the machine. Maybe even a vital part of the whole thing.”
“It didn’t work very well for Dumbledore, did it?” Potter pointed out.
“Dumbledore wears too many hats and has his fingers in too many pies. I would expect you to have a seat on the Wizengamot and maybe a Ministry post, but no other position. If you suddenly decide you want to start influencing the education of the Wizarding community or start forming private armies, I’ll know it’s time to start reeling you in.” Scrimgeour stared intently at Potter awaiting his reaction. He was surprised when the young man laughed.
“I’ve already got a private army,” Potter said with a smile. “Three Witches; a blond, a brunette and a red-head. I figured that’s all I needed.”
Scrimgeour looked at him in confusion. It was obviously some private joke Potter was referring to. Fighting down his irritation, he pressed the youth for answer.
“Well? If I’m going to work with you I need to know you’ll co-operate with the Ministry.”
“As I said, I want to enjoy life for a while. How about I agree to take my place on the Wizengamot within five years?” Potter offered.
“Acceptable,” Scrimgeour confirmed. “You’re rather young to be taking a seat at the moment, anyway. So what’s the plan and what do you need the Ministry to do?”
“Our intelligence suggests Voldemort can muster a force of around three hundred and fifty wizards and witches,” Rocktooth informed him. “In addition, we are aware he has managed to bring six giants into the country and, of course, he has the Dementors who recently abandoned their posts on Azkaban.”
Potter looked up sharply at this. Scrimgeour mentally cringed that the goblins had become aware that the Dementors had changed sides. He had thought that information had been suppressed.
“Ignoring whatever resistance will come from within Hogwarts, we have agreed to let Mr Potter hire two hundred goblin warriors. If I’d had more time I could have assembled a bigger force, but as it is that will have to do,” Rocktooth said with a shrug.
“I’m not sure that will be wise,” Scrimgeour said. “The Wizarding population won’t look kindly on the Ministry co-operating so closely with goblin troops.”
“Think about it this way,” Potter suggested. “You can justify the goblin’s presence by stating that Voldemort had made a direct threat against Gringotts. That’s on top of Voldemort attacking the school. Just think; you’ll be saving the public’s cash as well as their children. They’ll be erecting statues of you for decades if you pull this off.”
Scrimgeour nodded. He didn’t feel the need to point out that if he didn’t pull it off he would become the most hated Minister in history, or more likely dead.
“Very well,” he agreed. “The only problem I have is getting sufficient Ministry forces together in time. Do we have any clear idea when Voldemort will attack?”
“Dusk or dawn,” Potter said confidently. “He’ll need darkness to hide a force that size. He’ll also need a large staging area and I’ll lay odds he’ll use the Forbidden Forest.”
“I will arrange for scouts to be posted to give us warning,” Rocktooth stated. “There is an ancient treaty between the goblins and the centaurs. They will help us watch for Voldemort’s arrival. They may even help us fight. The question now is how many fighters can the Ministry provide?” Scrimgeour sighed; it was time to come clean.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “The Ministry has been heavily infiltrated by Voldemort’s agents. I suspect a large number of officials have been subjected to the Imperius Curse. In an ideal world I could count on around a hundred Aurors and over three hundred DMLE staff, but I’m not sure how many can be trusted at present. The trick will be assembling the force without Voldemort being warned.”
“Well, you’ll need to figure out a way and soon,” Potter insisted. “Recruit Mad-eye Moody to help you. He can spot someone under the Imperius Curse at a hundred yards. I can get in touch with him now if you like?”
“Yes, that’s an excellent idea. I’ve known Moody for years and he’d be perfect to lead an operation like this,” Scrimgeour agreed.
“Great,” Potter exclaimed. He stood and handed a small mirror to both Scrimgeour and Rocktooth. “Two-way mirrors; these will enable us to stay in contact. Minister, I’m sure you want to get back to the Ministry as soon as possible. We’ve all got a lot to do and not much time to do it.”
“Let’s just hope Voldemort chooses dusk to attack,” Scrimgeour said as he stood. “If he attacks at dawn I don’t think we’ll be ready.”
The three of them looked at each other in concern. This was going to be a close-run thing.
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Friday, 6 March 1998
Ginny looked nervously round the Great Hall. Tension had been building within her all day and it was now nearly at fever point. She could see Hermione was the same and the bushy haired girl could only push the contents of her dinner around her plate with her fork rather than actually eat it. Only Luna, who had joined them at the Gryffindor table, appeared unconcerned.
Ginny had spoken to Harry just under an hour ago via the two-way mirror. Harry had been immensely relieved that Voldemort had yet to attack. He informed her that the Dark Lord’s forces had started to gather and they were being monitored. He had then begged her to be careful before he rang off. Ginny had sat staring at the mirror for nearly five minutes before she willed herself to move. If anything happened to Harry at this point… she just didn’t want to think about it.
The three witches had spent most of the day trying to subtly warn anyone they considered trustworthy that something was going to happen that day. She could almost feel the tension in the air and she noticed many of her house-mates kept patting their robes to ensure their wands were easily accessible.
“The Slytherins are up to something,” Ron declared, jarring Ginny out of her contemplation. Her brother was one of the people she had shared more information with. He’d been genuinely supportive of her over the last couple of days when he’d thought that Harry had been killed. Once she had told him that Harry was alive and that the castle was about to be attacked, he’d leapt into action, placing warning charms on all the secret entrances to the castle and helping her rally support. It looked like he was itching for a fight.
At Ron’s warning, Ginny turned and looked at the Slytherin table. There did indeed seem to be some sort of activity going on over there and several of the older students were huddled together giving furtive glances towards the teachers table.
“Keep an eye on them, but don’t do anything unless it’s clear their making they're move,” Ginny urged.
Ron nodded, his eyes never leaving the far table. Ginny looked over to where the teachers sat, seemingly oblivious to the Slytherins glances. Professor Dumbledore sat in the centre with his attention apparently on his pork chops and nothing else.
Without warning, the sound of a large gong rang through the hall. Ginny happened to be looking directly at the Headmaster when this happened and noted the look of shock that appeared on the old man’s face. The other teachers also looked up in alarm. Dumbledore rose and quickly walked round the head table.
“Attention, everyone!” he called. “That gong signals a potential attack on the castle. Everyone is to stay here in the hall while the teachers establish what is happening. Prefects are to…” Dumbledore never completed the sentence as several things happened at once.
On the Slytherin table someone shouted ‘now!’ in a loud voice and a dozen of the older students all pulled out their wands and started hurling curses at the teachers’ table. Caught unawares, several teachers were hit, including Professor Sinistra who screamed and clasped her hands to her face, blood dripping between her fingers. The remaining teachers threw themselves under the table trying to find cover.
The Gryffindors, who had been waiting for this, all pulled out their wands and began sending spells at the Slytherin table. They were somewhat hampered by the fact the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws were between them and their targets, but by standing or jumping on the table they were able to get a clear shot. A number of Slytherins fell in the first volley.
Realising they were under fire, the Slytherins reacted with unfortunate speed and soon curses were flying backwards and forwards across the hall. The students caught in the crossfire wisely threw themselves to the floor. On the raised dais, Hagrid, who had been hit several times, overturned the teachers table to provide them with some cover. Several Professors, including McGonagall and Flitwick, had started to return fire at the Slytherins. Dumbledore just stood rooted to the spot, apparently too shocked by the sudden battle to respond.
Ginny crouched down, firing curses as fast as she could. She was taken by surprise when Luna suddenly stood and sprinted forward. The blond witch reached the Hufflepuff table before dropping back down into cover and continuing to hurl spells. Realising what the girl was doing, Ginny threw herself forward and was soon kneeling next to the Ravenclaw girl. Soon, most of the Gryffindor’s had joined them. This enabled the previously pinned down Hufflepuffs to join the fight. Ginny was aware of Susan Bones clambering up next to her, screaming her head off as she flung curse after curse at the Slytherins.
“TAKE THAT YOU BASTARD RAPIST,” Luna suddenly screamed in triumph. Ginny looked over in time to see Theodore Nott fall with half his face blown away. She felt sick as she realised why her friend had suffered such a change in personality in recent times. Luna had never said a thing.
By this point, several Ravenclaws had managed to crawl out of the line of fire and had joined the Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors. The weight of fire was simply too much for the Slytherins and they began to fall like dominoes. Ginny vaguely heard someone shouting to cease fire but a red mist had descended before her eyes. Years of fear and hatred had built up in her and now it was being released. She wanted blood.
Eventually, it dawned on her that there was no return fire coming from the Slytherin table. She stopped casting and looked around. The same thought seemed to have occurred to everyone simultaneously, and the hall was suddenly silent apart from a few moans coming from the far side of the room.
After a few moments, an angry looking Professor McGonagall approached the wrecked Slytherin table. She looked about before turning back to the teachers table.
“Poppy, you’re needed,” she called. Muttered conversation started all around the hall and some of the younger pupils started crying. Ginny stood and walked over to where her Head of House was standing. From here she could see the fate of the Slytherins.
It had been a massacre. The whole place looked like a slaughterhouse and the floor was thick with blood. In horror, Ginny realised most of the younger Slytherins had been caught in the barrage of spells and their small bodies were spread out over the floor. It occurred to her that probably only a small proportion of the House had actually attacked the teachers and the rest had just been caught up in the fight. She felt her stomach churn and she thought she might be sick.
Her thoughts were suddenly distracted by the sound of the gong she had heard earlier. This time it was being beaten at a much more rapid tempo.
“No!” came a loud shout of horror. She, and most of the hall’s remaining occupants, turned to the source of the cry. It had come from the Headmaster.
“The castle’s wards have been breached!” he cried. “We have enemies within the grounds!”
For a second everyone looked stunned. The battle in the hall had forced out all thoughts of what was happening outside.
“Minerva! Filius! Activate the castle’s defences,” Dumbledore commanded, his earlier hesitance gone. “Pomona, we need to evacuate the younger pupils.”
“How?” Sprout yelled back. “If the outer wall is breached how do we get them out?”
“I know a secret passageway,” Ron shouted. “It leads directly to Hogsmeade. They can get out that way!”
“Well done, Mr Weasley,” Dumbledore congratulated him. “Show Professor Sprout the passageway’s location and help her get the youngsters out. As for the rest of you, anyone who is willing to fight, follow me!”
Ginny glanced over at Hermione and Luna who both had a look of determination on their faces. She joined her friends and three Witches turned and followed the Headmaster out of the hall. She just prayed that Harry would arrive soon.
AN
Yes, I know what you’re thinking. Goblin mercenaries: what a massive clich. If it’s any consolation, after I wrote this chapter I repeatedly hit myself over the head with a copy of ‘1001 fan fiction clichs and how to sneak them into your story with no-one noticing’ (for all non-authors out there I should explain you get sent a copy of this book after you post your first story, honest). In my defence, the goblins fitted in sooooo well: Harry had already established a relationship with them and he is as rich as Croesus. It works, damn it!
Just to be clear, Scrimgeour and the Ministry are not white knights in shining armour. They are simply the best of a bad bunch. Faceless bureaucracy can be inefficient, heartless, inflexible and at times mind-bogglingly stupid, but it’s rarely actually evil. If Harry wins there will be no massive revolution of the Wizarding world, but maybe he can work for progress from the inside. Assuming he gets past Voldemort and Dumbledore, of course.
Finally, you may think the actions of the Slytherin students were unrealistic, and that they would be committing suicide by attacking the teachers in the Great Hall. In fact, I’ve modelled their attack very much on the tactics used by Soviet special forces (Spetsnaz to give them their common name) during the cold war. In both the invasion of Czechoslovakia and Afghanistan, small groups of Spetsnaz initiated the fighting by attacking vastly superior forces, normally to capture airports to allow follow on forces to arrive. In this case, the Slytherins (or at least the older pupils) were aware Voldemort would be attacking and they only needed to disrupt the staff from mounting any defence. The Death Eaters would then rapidly relieve them. The Slytherins didn’t need to win, just slow the teachers down. Of course it didn’t work out that way, but that’s the risk they took.
Massive thanks to Arnel for super-speedy beta work. The rapid up-date is thanks to her. Next up: the final chapter! I can’t believe it, it’s nearly all over! Sob!
Chapter 30: Chapter 30 – Blood of the Sunset
Author's Notes: Warning! This chapter contains scenes of extreme violence, blood, gore and general nastiness. If you are squeamish about such things, look away now. Huge thanks to Arnel for beta’ing this chapter (and so quickly!). Full author’s notes at the bottom.
Voldemort surveyed the scene before him with delight. It had taken years for him to find a means of destroying the protective wards around Hogwarts, but the spell found in an ancient Russian spell book had worked perfectly. The runes empowering the wards had crumbled to dust, leaving Hogwarts defenceless.
The castle’s defenders had been slow to react. The curtain wall had been breached before he’d seen any activity from within Hogwarts at all. His force of giants was already breaking down the inner wall, and his Dementors were rapidly approaching the main buildings. He could see a few Petronius spells being cast by the defenders, but they were insufficient to repel the mass ranks of the Dementors. His Death Eaters were now formed up, ready to storm the castle as soon as the main doors were broken down. All his best fighters were positioned in the front ranks of his army, waiting to spearhead the attack. Unfortunately, due to recent losses, he’d been forced to pad out his troops with barely trained wizards and thugs, but they were in the rear, and unlikely to be needed if things continued the way they were going.
With a satisfied smile on his lips, Voldemort started making his way forward, as he wanted to be in the vanguard of his forces once the main assault went in. Dumbledore was in there somewhere, and he was still a dangerous foe. Voldemort knew the final confrontation with his old enemy was only minutes away. He was looking forward to it immensely.
Suddenly, a cacophony of shouts and screams came from behind him. He spun and was stunned to see the rear ranks of his Death Eaters falling under a barrage of spells coming from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Unfortunately, he was too far away to see exactly what was happening, but it was clear a sizable force was attacking his army from the rear. He grabbed the nearest Death Eater, not caring who it was, and order him to find out what was going on.
By now, most of his Death Eaters had realised they were under attack from the rear. They had turned and were beginning to return fire. Voldemort could see his forces were at a major disadvantage. The rear ranks contained his poorest quality followers, and whoever their foes were, they were clearly well trained. His mysterious enemies also had the advantage of cover, while his forces were out in the open. His Death Eaters were being cut down like swathes of corn before his eyes.
Desperately, Voldemort looked round for someone he could trust. The whole attack was falling apart, and he needed to get the momentum moving in the right direction. In the mass of bodies he spotted Avery, who he immediately called over.
“Avery, take half of my Death Eaters and assault whoever is attacking us from the Forest. If you can’t overwhelm them immediately at least keep them pinned down. I will take the rest of our forces and storm the castle. Once that is done, you may fall back and take positions under cover. Our foes will then have to come out in the open and the boot will be on the other foot.”
“At once, my Lord!” Avery agreed and hurried off to comply with his orders.
Voldemort cursed. For such a large force to have been waiting in ambush they must have known of the attack in advance. Maybe Severus Snape wasn’t Dumbledore’s only spy within his ranks. His fears about the disappearance of Macnair and Rowle had apparently been warranted. He had even briefly considered delaying the attack, but such an opportunity to destroy Dumbledore was unlikely to present itself again.
Forcing all apprehension from his mind, Voldemort commanded his remaining forces to advance with all possible haste. He needed to get into the school.
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Harry peered out from behind a bush. The Death Eaters were being slaughtered out in the open, but it was clear to him that he and the goblins were facing Voldemort’s worst trained followers. Already the main group of Death Eaters seemed to be splitting in two, with the larger force heading towards Hogwarts. He cursed his luck.
Grabbing his two-way mirror, Harry called Moody.
“Mad-eye, where are you? The main force of Death Eaters is heading towards Hogwarts, while we’re pinned down dealing with their rear-guard. We need the Ministry forces here now!” he snapped.
“They’re coming, Potter,” an irritated Moody informed him. “Most of the bloody team leaders here couldn’t organise a piss-up in Firewhisky factory, but the first wave should start to Portkey in a few minutes.”
“Voldemort will be in the school grounds by then!” Harry objected.
“We figured,” Moody said grimly. “We’ve changed ours plans somewhat. The DMLE staff will arrive just as we planned, so between them and your group you should catch the Death Eaters in a pincer movement. The Aurors are now going to go directly into Hogwarts. Dumbledore managed to alert most of the Order of the Phoenix, and they are already in the school. Kingsley Shacklebolt decided the Aurors would do more good fighting alongside the Order, so as soon as the castle’s wards fell he ordered them in.”
Harry felt a surge of relief that Hogwarts was now defended by professionals. “Okay, Moody, that was a smart move by Kingsley. The giants and the Dementors led the attack so the Aurors will have their hands full. If they hadn’t been there then… SHIT!”
“Potter, what is it?” Moody yelled.
“Acromantulas! They’re swarming out the Forest to our left. As soon as the DMLE arrive we’re going to have to break cover and attack. If we don’t, Hogwarts will be overrun before we even get into the fight,” Harry snapped.
“Okay, Potter. I’ll start kicking some arse here and get them moving faster. I’ll be seeing you soon.” Moody’s face vanished from the mirror.
Harry swore loudly. Things had started so well, but Voldemort had recovered from the initial ambush faster than he had hoped. Everything now depended on how fast the DMLE personnel could deploy. He just prayed they would be in time.
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Bill Weasley ducked as a piece of masonry flew just over his head. He watched as the advancing giants smashed everything in their path, causing massive damage. The Order had managed to bring down three of them, but two more giants were still attacking. He was sure there was a third one about, but it seemed to have vanished for the moment.
Looking to his left, Bill was relieved to see his fianc Fleur Delacour was still unharmed. He and Moody had managed to gather most of the Order the previous evening, so when Dumbledore’s urgent cry for aid came through they were able to move instantly. It was a fortunate thing they did; they had arrived just in time to repel a major assault by Dementors on the school. If those evil creatures had managed to get among the pupils… well, Bill didn’t even want to think what might have happened.
After the Dementors had been beaten off, the giants, backed up by the first wave of Death Eaters, had attacked. The Order would have been wiped out if not for the arrival of the Aurors. Kingsley Shacklebolt had led them straight into the fight and their massed fire had so far managed to hold off the giants. The Hogwarts staff and many of the older pupils had also joined the battle and they had been just about holding their own.
Unfortunately, more and more Death Eaters were arriving, and their sheer weight of numbers was turning the tide of the battle. The giants had battered their way through the outer defences, and one of them was at the main door of the castle. Everyone was directing their fire at the giant, but so far it was still on its feet.
“Bill!” Fleur yelled excitedly. “We ‘ave got ‘im!”
Bill turned in time to see the giant collapse under the barrage of spells being thrown at it. It fell to its knees and toppled forward. In horror, Bill realised that the giant’s body was going to hit the large wooden doors of the castle. It impacted with a tremendous crash, and for a moment everything was obscured by dust. When the air began to clear Bill saw one of the doors had been knocked from its hinges.
“Bollocks!” he yelled. “The doors are down!”
Almost as soon as he yelled out, black robed figures began running over the fallen body of the giant and through the open doorway.
“Death Eaters are in the school!” someone called out in a panicky voice. Bill cursed. They were in trouble now.
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“Diffindo!”
Harry’s Severing Charm neatly cut off all four legs on the huge spider’s right side leaving the creature helpless. He barely paused as he ran forward, throwing curses at any foe he could see. Beside him ran a section of goblin soldiers. Harry couldn’t fault their enthusiasm at all. In fact, they were bloodthirsty little buggers.
Their charge from the cover of the Forbidden Forest had very nearly worked. The DMLE troops had finally deployed, and the goblins had broken cover and advanced in the hope of catching the Death Eaters between the two forces. Unfortunately, the DMLE had just been too slow and a good portion of the Death Eaters had managed to escape into the school. Not all of them had been so lucky, of course, and Harry estimated that maybe a hundred of Voldemort’s followers had been slaughtered where they stood, along with most of the Acromantulas.
Harry was now leading the goblins into the school itself in pursuit of the Death Eaters. He was pleased to see that Voldemort’s supporters hadn’t left much of a rear-guard, and his force was making rapid progress. To his right, he could see the DMLE staff finishing off the last remaining giant.
Picking his way round the ruins of the main gate, Harry entered Hogwarts itself. He was horrified at the destruction he saw. Most of the front of the main courtyard had been reduced to rubble and he could see that Ravenclaw Tower was on fire. The main doors were in splinters and a substantial part of the front wall had collapsed.
Feeling a sense of panic, he ran forward. If anything had happened to Ginny he swore he would not stop until he had butchered every bastard who had ever taken the Dark Mark. As he charged through the battered front door of the castle, he silently preyed that Ginny was alright.
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Unknown to Harry, the object of his prayers was currently running along an empty corridor on the third floor. She, Luna and Hermione had taken position on the fifth floor, and had been pouring spells and hexes on the heads of Voldemort’s forces relentlessly. Once the Death Eaters broke into the school, they decided they would be of more use downstairs. Unfortunately, in the confusion the three witches had become separated.
Ginny was about to descend the main staircase when she caught sight of a black robed figure running towards her. She hastily threw a pair of Blasting Charms towards the Death Eater, before she was forced to erect a Shield to deflect the return fire.
The Death Eater was good. He gracefully dodged her spells while maintaining a constant barrage of lethal hexes. Ginny has rapidly becoming aware that she was out of her depth and was trying to desperately think of a way to escape. She was wondering if she should just risk turning and running, when an especially powerful Blasting Curse managed to penetrate her shield. She found herself blown off her feet and she landed heavily.
It took a few seconds for her to come to her senses and by the time she had it was too late. Her wand had slipped from her grasp and the Death Eater stood just a few yards in front of her.
“Crucio!”
Indescribable agony ripped through her body as the Death Eater’s spell hit her. Every nerve ending was on fire and she thought her skin must be actually melting off her body. Then, as quickly as the pain had arrived, it stopped. With tears dripping from her eyes, Ginny looked up.
The Death Eater had removed his golden mask and lowered his hood. Ginny gasped in horror as she recognised the man standing in front of her: Lucius Malfoy.
“Good evening, Miss Weasley,” he greeted her in a conversational tone. “How lovely to meet you again. I was rather hoping I would run into you. It’s been such a long time since we’ve bumped into each other, hasn’t it? I believe we have some unfinished business.”
“You bastard,” Ginny snarled. “Not got Voldemort with you as protection this time? Such a brave man, cowering behind that half-blood maniac. Mind you, it must have taken real courage to slip that bloody diary to an eleven-year-old girl. What a hero.”
“Ah, yes. The diary,” Malfoy said. “My lord was most upset when he learned that it had been destroyed. By the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll have wished you died down in the Chamber. Crucio!”
Ginny screamed again as the spell hit her. It seemed to last forever although she may have only been subjected to the curse for a few seconds. There was no way of measuring such terrible pain. She yelled and begged for Malfoy just to kill her, anything just to stop torture. Just as she thought she was going to lose her mind, the agony stopped. Sobbing to herself, she realised she couldn’t last much longer. If she didn’t do something immediately she was finished. She needed to get Malfoy nearer so she could strike back. Rolled over, Ginny glared at him.
“So what next, Malfoy? Are you going to try and rape me just like that dickless wonder you call a son?” she goaded. “From what I’ve heard, what Draco has between his legs is so small I doubt I would have even noticed it. Like father, like son, I bet!”
“Dickless wonder? Why, you little slut! You’ll regret that!” he shouted with his face turning red.
Malfoy lunged forward in anger. Ginny waited until he was stood directly over her and had started to unbutton his trousers when she struck. She held out her right hand and silently summoned her weapon. Grasping it in both hands she thrust it forward with all her might.
Malfoy grunted with the impact. This can’t be right, he thought to himself. How is this even possible? He stared down in bemusement to see several feet of wooden shaft protruding from his stomach. With a shaking hand he reached behind him and his fingers encounter the rest of the weapon sticking out of his back. His strength suddenly deserted him, and he fell to his knees.
“You might be interested to know that this weapon is called a Naginata,” Ginny gloated. “Harry has been instructing me in its use for months now. I wouldn’t have had time to learn how to use a sword like he does, so he taught me how to fight with this. Pretty cool, huh?”
With his hand desperately clutching at the shaft of the Naginata in a vain attempt to pull it from his body, Malfoy stared at the young witch. Even for a man almost used to having the Cruciatus Curse cast on him, the agony was unbearable. He tried to speak, but only managed to vomit blood instead. As death claimed him, he still could not believe a mere girl had killed him. His body fell sideways with a thump.
Ginny shakily stood, making sure to kick Malfoy in the head as she did so. A grim smile of triumph appeared on her lips as she gazed at the body of the hated man. At last she had her vengeance for Malfoy giving her the diary. Without a word, she picked up her Naginata and Vanished it. After a brief search, she found the beloved wand that Harry had purchased for her and she picked it up with relief.
Her legs were shaking and she felt like she was going to be sick, but she forced herself to move. Somewhere in the middle of the battle was Harry and she had to find him, no matter what. She staggered down the stairs towards the sounds of the fighting.
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This was not how things were meant to be, thought Draco Malfoy as he looked anxiously round a corner. Seeing no one in sight he hurried down the deserted corridor.
This whole thing was turning into a nightmare. When the Dark Lord announced that they would be attacking Hogwarts, and that the Death Eaters were being given free reign within the walls, he had nearly jumped for joy. At last he would have his revenge on Potter and all his little friends. He desperately wanted to be the one to deal with the Weasley slut, but if he couldn’t find her then the Mudblood Granger would do, or maybe he would enjoy having that weirdo Lovegood again.
The initial assault, however, did not go as planned and Draco had deliberately let himself drop back to the rear ranks of the Death Eaters when they began to encounter stiff resistance from the castle. Then, they had been ambushed from behind and he’d had to hurry forward to avoid being caught in that battle. Finally, he had made it into Hogwarts were he found, not frightened schoolgirls begging him for mercy, but fully trained Aurors trying to kill him. He had decided that caution was the better part of valour, and slipped away. He now found himself wandering deserted hallways looking for easy prey.
“Hello, Draco,” said a voice from behind him. He spun with his wand held out before him. Seeing who greeted him, he smirked.
“Well, if it isn’t old Loony Lovegood herself. I was hoping to run into you. I thought we could continue the little… conversation we had a while back,” he said grinning. This was what he had come to Hogwarts for; a pretty girl who would be powerless before him. Oh, he was going to enjoy having her again, and this time he would kill her when he was done.
“Things have changed since you left, Draco. I’m not the helpless, lost little girl who you and Nott violated,” she said calmly. “You see, I was lucky enough to become friends with Harry Potter. You recall Harry, don’t you? He slit you open like a dead fish and then beat you within an inch of your life, but I’m sure you remember that. Well, anyway, apart from being extremely handsome and incredibly powerful, Harry’s a wonderful teacher. He taught me all sorts of useful things. Ginny’s very lucky to have him.”
“What did Potter teach you?” Draco sneered. “Some nice cookery spells? How to do laundry? Oh, I know, a useful charm to clean the loo!”
“No, this,” Luna said with a radiant smile. “Diffindo!”
Draco hadn’t been ready, and barely managed to get a shield charm in place. He only managed to deflect part of the curse however, and a large cut appeared across his left thigh. He swore loudly in pain, and began throwing hexes of his own at the blond girl.
Luna dodged most of the spells cast at her. She was small and light on her feet, so always favoured this form of defence. Despite her movement, she was able to send a steady stream of spells back at Draco with little effort. The surprised expression on the boy’s face told her that he hadn’t expected her to show this level of skill. Luna intended to use that to her advantage.
As their duel progressed Luna noted that Draco was slowly edging backwards. As he retreated, he neared an archway which had sets of heavy drapes pulled to one side within it. Yes, she thought, that would be a fitting fate for Draco.
Soon, Draco had retreated until he stood just under the arch. At that moment, Luna struck.
“Expulso!” “Incendio!” “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Her first spell blasted the archway and knocked loose the heavy drapes. The incendiary spell then set them alight while she used the levitation charm to fling the drapes over Draco’s head.
“Incendio!” “Incendio!”
Two more fire charms struck the drapes, and in a second they were completely ablaze. Luna watched as Draco screamed and thrashed in an attempted to pull the drapes off. Despite his efforts, the boy just couldn’t seem to wrench the heavy material off of himself, and within a minute he was a human torch. His screams became more and more agony filled.
Eventually, the drapes began to disintegrate and Draco managed to pull them off him, but it was too late. By this point his hair and clothes were engulfed in flame and even his hands were burning in front of him. Screaming, he ran without any idea where he was going. Somewhere dimly in his mind he remembered the lake outside and in his crazed state attempted to reach the cooling waters the quickest way he could. He threw himself out of the fifth floor window and crashed to the ground.
Luna looked out the broken window and down at Draco’s still burning body. Two years ago she would have felt pity for Draco, and sorry for the agony she had inflicted on him. But now, she just couldn’t. It just wasn’t within her to feel sorry for the evil rapist.
Sighing deeply, Luna turned away. She was damaged and she knew it. It would take a long time for her to get over all of this, but she was determined that she would get through it somehow. Maybe she needed to get away from everyone for a while. Perhaps she could go on an expedition to find proof that the Blibbering Humdinger really existed! Yes, that was a brilliant idea!
Feeling happier than she had for ages, Luna turned and skipped back down the corridor.
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“Blast it!” Hermione cursed as a slab of rock gave way under her foot. She managed to scramble back and avoid slipping further.
Normally, Hermione prided herself on her reasoning and logic, but for the life of her she couldn’t figure out what had possessed her to come out here. After losing contact with Ginny and Luna, Hermione had made her way down to the ground floor and out into the grounds. The fighting was still raging all around and she immediately was drawn into a fight with a Death Eater. The man had proved unskilled and she quickly Stunned him before tying him up and snapping his wand.
Encouraged by the easy victory she had sought a new foe, but somehow had managed to drift away from the main battle. She was now picking through the ruins of one of the small outer towers trying to make her way back to the fighting. She paused to consider her best route to the entrance hall.
“Hello, little girl,” a raspy voice said.
Hermione looked up and saw a large, grey-haired man standing on a pile of rubble nearby. He had an evil grin on his face, which showed his yellowing teeth. His black robes were shabby and were worn uncomfortably tight. She felt dirty just looking at him.
Without bothering to reply, Hermione fired a Full Body Bind Curse at the man, but she was dismayed to see him knock it away without difficulty. She tried a Stunning Spell followed by another Full Body Bind, but he blocked them all. Clearly, this Death Eater was a lot more formidable than her last opponent.
The man then started firing curses back at her and she found herself hard pressed. The big Death Eater seemed to be trying to close the gap between the two of them, and Hermione nervously noticed he had long dirty nails and his teeth looked strangely pointed.
“Come here, my lovely,” he called to her. “I only want a little taste.”
Hermione was starting to panic. None of the spells she used seemed to be having any effect. In her fear, she started using deadlier spells, something she normally tried to avoid, but they were having no more effect. A Blasting Spell at least ripped open a wound on the man’s arm, but he appeared to actually find that funny. All the time he got closer and closer.
Seeing she couldn’t defeat the man by herself she turned to run, but was betrayed by the uneven ground. Her foot twisted on a loose rock and she fell. Scrambling, she managed to grab her wand which had momentarily slipped from her fingers and she turned to defend herself, but it was too late. The man was on her and, with a savage kick, knocked her wand from her fingers. He stood over her and Hermione could smell his rancid breath from where she lay.
“Oh, my little pretty, you look so good. I can almost taste your flesh already,” he growled, licking his lips. Hermione was terrified. Who was this disgusting man and what was he going to do to her? As if in answer, the man dropped down and pinned her to the ground. Up close she could see how sharp and jagged his teeth really were.
“Get off! Help me!” she screamed as she struggled. It was no use; the man was large and powerful. She had no hope of breaking free of his grasp. In horror, Hermione watched as his face got closer to her and his mouth opened wide as if to bite her. She screamed until she thought her vocal cords would snap.
Suddenly, she felt the man stiffen, and his weight rolled off of her. She looked around in confusion and saw someone she never expected to see: Ron Weasley.
“Are you okay?” he asked urgently.
“Yeah, I think so,” she answered in shaky voice.
“He didn’t bite you, did he?” Ron said examining her in a slight panic.
“No, he didn’t. Why was he going to bite me? Was he a cannibal or something?” she asked.
“Nah, a werewolf,” Ron answered and held up what appeared to be a silver knife which was covered in blood.
“A werewolf!” she exclaimed. “How did you know? And where did you get that knife?”
“I recognise him,” Ron revealed. “That’s Fenrir Greyback. That nasty bastard attacked my brother Bill a while back, so you could say this was personal. The knife, well, it’s from a standard Potions kit. When I heard that the Death Eaters were going to attack I figured there might be a few werewolves in their ranks, so I grabbed the knife.”
“That’s brilliant, Ron!” Hermione exclaimed and threw her arms around his neck. It took a few moments for her to register that she had also pressed her lips against his.
Her first instinct was to pull away and apologise, but then she realised he had slipped his arms around her and was enthusiastically kissing her back. Finding the experience rather pleasant, she let the kiss continue while running her fingers through his hair. Eventually, due to lack of breath more than anything, they pulled apart.
“Wow! Bloody brilliant!” Ron declared. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long. I never dreamed that you might want to kiss me back.”
“Yes, well, when you’re not breaking rules and being a pig to your sister, you are quite handsome,” Hermione admitted. “But I’m not one of your cheap sluts, so don’t think I’m just going to jump into bed with you!”
“Nah,” said Ron with a grin. “We’ll have some fun in a broom closet somewhere first.”
Hermione gasped at his presumption. “Ronald Weasley! If you think that I’m… muph!”
Hermione’s lecture about proper behaviour was cut short by Ron crushing his lips to hers again. She immediately found she couldn’t remember what she was going to tell him off for. Oh, well. She’d remember eventually.
While the battle raged around them two young people stood pressed together ignoring everything but each other.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
As another explosion occurred somewhere over by the greenhouses, Albus Dumbledore could only despair at the damage being done to his beloved school.
In many ways, Hogwarts was more than just a building to him. Since he had broken up with his last partner, Elphias Dodge, the school had been his one true love. On reflection, he had to admit it was rather sad that he loved a castle more than any living being.
He strode back towards the Great Hall. The situation outside was stable and the goblins were now arriving in greater numbers. Between the Order and the Aurors they had been able to contain most of the Death Eaters and keep them away from the students. But one major problem remained: Voldemort. Albus had no idea where he was or what he was doing.
Entering the hall, Albus looked sadly over at the smashed and broken Slytherin table. Someone had started to pull the bloody bodies of the students into rows and cover them, but had obviously been disturbed in the middle of the job. He didn’t want to get too close, he might start to recognise the bodies.
“I thought you would return here,” a cold voice said from behind him. Albus had no need to turn and look to know whose voice it was.
“Hello, Tom. I’m surprised you’re not outside fighting. I’m afraid it’s not going well for your Death Eaters,” Dumbledore replied, turning to face his former pupil.
“Where is the Diadem?” Voldemort asked abruptly.
“Harry found it and had it destroyed. He was such a vivacious young man. Just another life you’ve snuffed out without remorse,” he said in a disapproving tone.
“You hypocrite,” Voldemort sneered. “I never did figure out how Malfoy managed to get into the school grounds to place the Imperius Curse on those two girls so easily. Even he was surprised he succeeded. I think you let him in. You knew Potter was a Horcrux and you set him up, didn’t you?”
“Yet you killed him,” Albus pointed out.
“Horcrux or not, I couldn’t afford to let him live. I believed I had other Horcruxes, except it appears I don’t anymore, do I?”
“No, Tom. They’re all gone,” Albus confirmed. “Harry was most efficient.”
“I see. Well, in that case, I must end this quickly.” Without warning Voldemort struck. A barrage of hexes and curses flew Dumbledore’s way and he barely had time to block them. The Dark Lord was throwing everything he had at him, obviously intent on overwhelming him fast.
From the first moment, Dumbledore was on the defensive. He struggled to cast an offensive spell of his own against the maelstrom of curses being thrown at him. Even so, Voldemort’s strategy was a risky one. He was expending so much magical energy he could not keep this up for long. If Albus could just weather the storm he might be able to wear down Tom and gain the upper hand. Unfortunately, that proved to be a wholly inappropriate metaphor.
The Cutting Curse slipped through Dumbledore’s weakening shield before he realised and he howled in pain. For a second, he blacked out and once he regained his senses he found himself kneeling on the floor. In disbelief he stared at his severed right hand, which was lying on the floor in front of him still clutching his wand.
Voldemort casually walked over and picked up the wand. With amusement, he loosened the fingers still clutching the wand one by one, until the hand dropped to the floor with a sickening slap. Albus realised in horror that Voldemort was actually giggling.
“So you had it all the time,” he laughed. “The Elder wand! The Deathstick! The Wand of Destiny! Now I have won it from you, I will be invincible. My Horcruxes are gone, but with this wand no one will be able to stand against me. I will become a god!”
Dumbledore gritted his teeth against the pain. He feared he would pass out shortly from the blood loss, but he desperately wanted to taunt his foe one last time.
“Tom, once again you are in error. For someone who claims to be so intelligent your education is woefully lacking in certain areas,” he managed to gasp.
“Albus, what are you talking about?” Voldemort said in a conversational tone. He had won and he knew it. “I know my wand law as well as anyone. I have defeated you and claimed your wand. It owes its allegiance to me now.”
“The wand, yes. The power behind the wand, no. You forget that the Elder Wand is one third of the Deathly Hallows. Don’t you know the significance of that?” he asked.
For a second Voldemort looked puzzled.
“I don’t care about the other Hallows,” he spat. “The Invisibility Cloak? Pah! I can cast better Disillusionment Spells. And the Resurrection Stone? Why would I wish to talk with the dead?”
“Don’t be stupid, Tom,” Dumbledore chastised him. “You know the strength in magical numbers. The Hallows were linked. Three is a powerful number and the three items were joined in a magical bond. If one of the items was destroyed, the other two would lose their powers. That’s why you defeated me so easily. That sad old stick is not half the wand it used to be!”
“What are you talking about?” Voldemort demanded.
“The Resurrection Stone! I destroyed it! I summoned my dead sister and do you know what she did? She told me off! Me, Albus Dumbledore, she told me off like I was some naughty first year caught doing something inappropriate behind the broom sheds! So I destroyed the stone in my anger, never stopping to think I would effectively halve the power of my own wand. I have been a fool most of my life it seems, but now at least I can face the next adventure knowing you have failed. You are not immortal and you are not invincible. Death calls you Tom, and soon you will meet the Reaper!”
Howling with rage, Voldemort cursed him. Again and again he hurled hexes at the fallen old man until Dumbledore was just a bloody mess on the floor. Trembling with anger, Voldemort stared at the wand. It was true; he felt no special power coming from it. It was just a normal wand.
“So you killed Dumbledore? Well, that saves me a job,” Harry said.
Voldemort turned and looked at Harry Potter, who was standing a few yards away with his wand in his hand. He briefly wondered why he felt no surprise that the young man was still alive, but he realised that he had suspected it as soon as his forces had been ambushed earlier in the day. It certainly explained why Macnair and Rowle had never returned. He felt a strange acceptance of his fate; as Albus had so recently pointed out, he had failed. He was not immortal and he was not invincible. For the first time for years he felt a tang of fear build up inside him.
He had stupidly discarded his Phoenix wand and now he was left with this worthless stick in his hand. He would need to try to summon his own wand if he was to have any chance at all, but that would leave him vulnerable for a few moments. He pondered his next move. What he needed was an opening, some advantage he could use. He decided to play for time.
“I’m most surprised to see you still alive, Potter,” he sneered.
“Yeah, you really should have checked I was dead back in the forest, shouldn’t you?” Potter replied.
“I should have realised that little whore of yours would lie,” he spat.
Voldemort howled in pain as a Cutting Charm hit him in the shoulder. He’d obviously made a mistake insulting the red-haired bitch. He threw himself to one side to avoid the next curse and returned fire. The Blasting Spell he hurled at Potter was weak by his standards and the young man swatted it away with ease.
“Not up to your usual level, Tom,” Potter jeered. “Something wrong with your wand?”
Voldemort had no time to reply as a barrage of spells flew at him. He barely managed to maintain his shield and staggered backwards. He needed his own wand or he wouldn’t last five minutes! If only he could think of a way to distract Potter for a second so he could summon it. Maybe if told Potter he had already killed his little slut? It was worth a try.
“I must confess my spells lack a certain power at present,” he began. “No doubt it’s because I spent to long torturing the Weasley girl before I killed her. It can be very fatiguing to…”
He never managed to complete his sentence as a series of powerful Blasting Hexes hit his shield. He could feel his protection being smashed to pieces in front of him and he knew he had run out of time. He had to try and get his wand now or he would be overpowered. Mercifully, the Blasting Spells stopped for a second and Voldemort grabbed his chance.
“Accio wand!” he screamed.
A second later he felt the familiar wood of his wand as it appeared in his hand. He raised the wand to hurl a curse at Potter, but he was gone. For a fraction of a second Voldemort pondered where his enemy had vanished to.
The pain that suddenly ripped through his chest was as overwhelming as it was unexpected. At first he thought someone had thrown a rock at his back, such was the force of the impact, but he quickly realised that was not the case. Looking down he could see around two feet of polished steel protruding from his chest. The metal was so bright it hurt his eyes, but he could just make out beautiful oriental characters etched into the blade.
Voldemort tried to lift his arm, but all his strength had deserted him. His precious wand dropped from his numb fingers and rolled away. Breathing was becoming difficult and he could taste blood in his mouth. His knees started to buckle and he fell.
A searing pain shot through him and he realised the sword had been wrenched from his body. Feebly, he tried to crawl forward, but he could barely move. His life-blood was pouring from his body and terror gripped him. He was going to die. How much time and effort had he devoted to finding a way to avoid that fate? How close to immortality had he come? But it was all for nothing.
He ceased trying to move and propped himself up with his left arm. His right hand clutched at his chest, but could do little to stop the flow of blood. With his vision dimming he looked up and saw Potter standing in front of him. He held his sword by his side and was looking at him with hard eyes.
“Goodbye, Tom,” Potter said.
Voldemort would never have believed that those simple words could inspire such dread within him. He tried to speak, to beg the boy to spare him. He would do anything not to be sent onto that great unknown. But he could not get the words out. He saw Potter swing the sword in a wide arc towards him.
He saw no more.
Harry stood and watched Voldemort’s head fall from his body and tumble to the ground. For a second the body remained upright before it gracefully toppled down. It was finished; Voldemort was dead and this time he would not be coming back.
Quickly, he grabbed the pendant that hung around his neck and was relieved to feel Ginny’s presence through it. Voldemort had lied.
Glancing over, Harry looked at the broken body of Albus Dumbledore. In truth, he was glad Voldemort had killed him as he had been uncertain what to do about the man. Harry would not have allowed him to go unpunished for his crimes, but would have felt deeply uncomfortable in killing him himself. Despite everything, Dumbledore’s reputation would have meant trouble for Harry if he had been the one to dispatch him. He had intended to let Scrimgeour deal with the matter, but he doubted the Minister would have done much other than strip Dumbledore of his positions of power. Still, that was all academic now.
As if summoned by his thoughts, Harry looked up and saw Rufus Scrimgeour enter the hall. With him were Kingsley Shacklebolt and a number of Aurors. Scrimgeour walked up to Harry and looked around at the scenes of devastation.
“It’s over then?” he asked Harry. “He’s gone for good this time?”
“Yeah, Voldemort’s truly dead,” Harry confirmed.
“Dumbledore too, I see,” the Minister noted.
“Voldemort must have killed him just before I arrived,” he explained.
“Ah. Well, maybe it’s all for the best,” Scrimgeour noted.
“Um, Harry?” Kingsley interrupted. “Your sword is making the Aurors a bit nervous. You couldn’t put it way, could you?”
Realising how standing next to the Minister for Magic holding a blood-drenched sword might upset his bodyguards, Harry vanished the blade. He hoped he wouldn’t need to summon it again for a very long time.
“What now?” he asked the Minister.
“I think we’ll need to declare a few days of national celebration for Voldemort’s defeat. We’ll also need to arrange a ceremony to commemorate the dead. After that, we patch up this place and everything goes back to normal,” Scrimgeour said in a no-nonsense manner.
Harry nodded. “I really don’t want to get caught up in the celebration. Perhaps I should just vanish for a while.”
“As I said; maybe that would be for the best,” Scrimgeour confirmed.
Harry nodded and turned to leave the hall. Kingsley offered his hand and he shook it warmly. With a sad smile, Harry walked towards the door.
“Don’t forget,” Scrimgeour’s voice called after him. “You’re to take your seat on the Wizengamot within five years. I don’t expect to have to hunt you down when the time comes!”
Harry just gave a quick wave over his shoulder and kept walking. Frankly, he couldn’t get out of his place fast enough.
“HARRY!” a voice called to him.
Looking up he saw Ginny running down the main staircase towards him. He opened his arms and she flung herself into his embrace.
“Is it over, Harry?” she whispered into his chest. “Is it done?”
“Yes, love,” he assured her. “We’re free. We can do what we want and go where we want. And I don’t know about you, but I need a holiday. A very long holiday.”
Her smile was like the sun coming out. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down into a long, passionate kiss. Afterwards, he took her by the hand and led her out of the ruined front door of Hogwarts. They hadn’t gone very far when a pair of voices called to them.
“Harry!”
“Ginny!”
They turned and saw Hermione and Ron running towards them. They paused and allowed the couple to catch up. Ron stopped a few feet away from his sister and Hermione pulled up beside him. The red haired boy looked at them with a rather sad smile on his lips.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” It was more a statement than a question.
“Yeah, Ron,” Ginny answered. “We need to get away.”
“But where will you go?” Hermione asked, sounding a little distressed.
“Anywhere! Everywhere!” Harry replied. “There’s a whole world out there and I’ve only seen a fraction of it. Besides, I have a few friends in Japan I’d like Ginny to meet.”
“I won’t be gone forever,” Ginny told her brother. “But after everything that’s happened I need to leave for a while. I’m not completely abandoning my family, I still love you all. But I need time and space before I’m willing to forgive everyone completely, especially Mum and Dad. And I’ll be with Harry, so don’t worry. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
“Great,” said Ron laughing. “So I’ll be the poor sod that has to tell Mum that you’ve run off with some boy.”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” Ginny grinned, not sounding in the least bit sorry.
“Oh, I’ll miss you two so much,” Hermione said sadly. Ron put a comforting arm around her shoulders.
“We’ll see you again, Hermione,” Harry assured her. “Besides, it looks like you’ve got someone to look after you.”
Ron and Hermione just grinned at each other.
“Well, we’ve got to go,” Harry told them, taking Ginny’s hand again. “We’ll see you guys around.”
“Hey, Potter!” Ron called as they started to move away.
“Yeah?” Harry said turning back to face Ron.
“Look after her, alright mate?” Ron said.
“Always, Ron, always.”
Harry and Ginny turned and walked out of the school grounds, hand in hand.
AN
Okay, I think a few explanations are in order.
One question I’m sure I will be asked is why didn’t the Death Eaters just Apparate directly into Hogwarts as soon as the wards fell. My answer to that is that it would be tactical suicide. Apparition makes a distinct sound on arrival, and for a moment the traveller is disorientated. Apparating into an enemy held building with no idea what would be waiting for you at the other end would be incredibly risky. A second year schoolgirl could defeat one of Voldemort's finest with a simple Stunning Spell before the Death Eater even knew where he was in those circumstances. Better to tackle your enemies with a Shield Charm in front of you.
Magical Numbers. In canon, the significance of magical numbers is stressed: three Deathly Hallows, Voldemort’s seven Horcruxes, etc. But this always puzzled me. Throughout the HP stories it was rare when there was a time when Voldemort actually had seven Horcruxes. I assume he had seven soul pieces prior to the diary being destroyed (diary, cup, diadem, ring, locket, Harry and Voldemort) so he went down to six until Nagini was turned into one. However, once the ring was destroyed by Dumbledore, Voldemort never again the magic seven Horcruxes. But what effect did this have? Did it weaken the remaining Horcruxes? Did it change them in any way? In short, why was it so important to have seven in the first place? In this story, I decided to give the numbers some significance, not so much with the Horcruxes, but with the Hallows. The three Hallows were magically linked and the trinity of objects relied on that link for their power. Once that link was severed, the remaining objects became useless. Once Dumbledore destroyed the Resurrection Stone, he also effectively destroyed the power of the Elder Wand and Harry’s cloak, which is why it didn’t work properly in the shrieking shack.
The Naginata is a pole arm, normally around one to two meters long, that was generally (although not exclusively) used by women. As soon as I decided Harry was going to have a Katana, I wanted to put a Naginata into Ginny’s hands. Unfortunately for Lucius, I did!
Some people might be a bit upset that I didn’t let Harry send Dumbledore on his ‘next great adventure’; after all, he was due a bit of payback from the old goat. In the end, I decided it would just create problems for Harry in the future if I let him chop Albus into little pieces. Dumbledore was still well respected by the majority of the Wizarding community, and no matter what explanations were made, there would always be people who would have hated Harry for killing the man. Better to let Voldemort do it, I think.
Right, just the epilogue left. Harry, after all, has left a loose end unattended…
Chapter 31: Epilogue – A Business Matter
Tuesday, 7 May 2002
“I cannot emphasise how important this meeting today will be.” Jonathan Damien looked round at the other occupants of the meeting room. There were a lot of worried faces, and with good reason.
Jonathan had been Managing Director of Grunnings Plc. for nearly two years now and this was the biggest challenge he had faced in his time with the firm.
“So, what can you tell us about this man?” asked the Head of Marketing.
“Not a great deal,” Jonathan admitted. “Apparently he’s been quietly buying up shares in Grunnings for some time. It was only last month that his holdings started to exceed fifty-one per cent and trigger the takeover. I understand he made a very generous offer to the remaining shareholders and they nearly ripped his arm off accepting it.”
“I must say, I’ve never heard of him before,” the Financial Controller admitted.
“Very few people have,” Jonathan agreed. “Apparently, the man is a bit of a globetrotter. He was born in the UK, but currently lives in the south of France. He lived in Japan for a while, too. His legal representative described him as young, handsome and incredibly rich. From what I’ve dug up, he has major holdings in dozens of firms all over the world. As I said, he seems to spend most of his time at his large mansion near Toulon, and I gather he has some French heritage. Unsurprising with a name like that, I suppose.”
“You mean he’s a bloody frog?” growled the Head of Distribution. Every person in the room turned and glared at the man. Jonathan had to resist the urge to leap up and slap the fat idiot around the head.
“Dursley, if I hear you use that kind of language again you will be out the door before you know what hits you!” Jonathan yelled.
The fat man mumbled something that may have been an apology and stared at the tabletop.
“The last thing we want to do is upset Mr Flamel,” Jonathan insisted. “He holds the very future of Grunnings in his hands. It is literally make or break time! We have to impress him during his visit here this afternoon.”
“Have we any idea what his plans are for the company?” Marketing asked.
“It looks like it could go one of two ways. Mr Flamel has a history of good investments and he’s turned a number of failing business around. It’s rumoured that he may be prepared to invest in the new automated production line we so desperately need,” Jonathan explained.
“But that’s wonderful!” the Head of Sales exclaimed. “If we can get the automated line installed we can expand and diversify. We’ll have the chance to break into the East European market at last!”
“Absolutely,” Jonathan agreed. “It would make a huge difference to this business. But as I said, that’s only one option. I have been warned by a friend on the local planning council that there have been some enquiries about building a luxury housing development on this very site.”
“What!” a number of voices shouted.
“Oh, yes” Jonathan said grimly. “And from what I gather, the council will look at any such application favourably.”
“But why? We’re a good local employer,” the Head of Production objected.
“Oh, use your head, man!” the Financial Controlled snapped. “We employ half the numbers we did ten years ago, and if we go automated that trend will continue. And just think how much a major housing estate would be worth this close to London! The Government is screaming at councils to redevelop Brown Field sites and we have a lot of land here we don’t use.”
“So that’s the choices?” Marketing summed up. “Investment and expansion or asset-stripping and closure?”
“Yes, pretty much,” Jonathan agreed. “So it is imperative we make a good impression today. Got that Dursley?”
“Yes,” the fat man snapped, sounding just like a spoilt child who had just been told he couldn’t have anymore sweets.
“Good. Right, everyone head back to your departments and prepare for the visit at two o’clock. I want this place running like clockwork by then!”
The meeting broke up with most people practically sprinting back to their workplaces. Jonathan slumped back in his chair; he had the feeling this was going to be a very long day.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
Four hours later
Jonathan stood by the front door and watched as the Aston Martin Vantage pulled up in front of the building. He was a little surprised that Mr Flamel drove himself, but Jonathan supposed that Grunning’s new owner was a young man and, besides, if he had a car like that he’d want to drive it all the time as well.
Flamel got out and reached back into the car for his suit jacket. He then walked round to the passenger side and opened the door. Jonathan got a tantalising glimpse of a shapely, tanned leg before his view was obscured. The solicitor had said Flamel and his wife travelled everywhere together.
The couple made their way over to the main entrance and Jonathan got his first good look at the pair. Mr Flamel was an impressive young man. He was tall and extremely handsome. His long jet-black hair was tied back into a ponytail and he wore what appeared to be an extremely expensive suit, which fitted his lean frame perfectly. His wife was small, almost petite, but very beautiful. Her fiery red hair was extremely striking, as was her curvy figure, which filled out her designer dress wonderfully. The pair moved with a confidence that screamed power, money and influence. The Flamels clearly looked like they should be hanging round some swanky hotel in Paris, not a dreary industrial estate in Surrey.
“Mr Flamel? I’m Jonathan Damien,” he said hurrying forward and offering his hand. “I’m very pleased to meet you.”
“Likewise, Jonathan, and please call me Harry,” the man replied, shaking Jonathan’s hand firmly. “This is my lovely wife Ginevra”
“Very pleased to meet you, Jonathan,” Ginevra said shaking his hand in turn. He could detect a faint French accent in both their voices.
“Please come this way,” Jonathan urged, guiding them into the building. “We have a full tour of our facilities lined up and I’m sure you’ll be impressed. Firstly, we have all of the management team here so if I make a few introductions…”
“YOU!” a voice cried out making Jonathan jump. “You FREAK! What are you doing here? I’ll finish you off once and for all!”
To Jonathan’s amazement, Vernon Dursley lunged forward and tried to grab Harry Flamel by the throat. Fortunately, Mr Flamel appeared to know how to look after himself and twisted out of the fat man’s grasp. He then grabbed Dursley by the arm, bent it backwards, and slammed the man’s face directly into the wall. Dursley collapsed onto the floor.
“WHAT IZ ZE MEANING OF ZIS!” screamed Ginevra Flamel, whose accent seemed to become more pronounced when she was stressed. “Ow dare zis fat pig attack my ‘usband!”
“It’s alright, my dear,” Harry Flamel assured her. “I’m sure it was just a case of mistaken identity, wasn’t it?”
By now Jonathan’s brain had unfrozen. “DURSLEY! What the HELL are you doing!” he screamed at the fallen man.
Dursley lay on the floor looking about him in confusion. “But I… he looks just like… I’m sure he…”
“Mr Dursley?” Harry Flamel addressed him. “May I ask who you thought I was? I don’t recall ever meeting you before.”
Dursley appeared to have just realised what he had done. He turned bright red and awkwardly climbed to his feet. “I’m very sorry… I thought you… you look just like… I was sure…”
“I am so, so sorry, Mr Flamel!” Jonathan said in a distraught voice. “I don’t know what Dursley was thinking. I assure you he’ll be sacked immediately!”
Dursley went pale.
“Non, I am intrigued as to who Mr Dursley thought I was. Maybe I have a twin?” Flamel joked. Everyone laughed in a sycophantic way. “Would it be possible for me and him to have a little chat in private?”
“Of course! Come this way,” Jonathan agreed. He grabbed Dursley by the arm and shoved him into the nearest reception room. Mr and Mrs Flamel followed him in, closing the door behind them.
Dursley stood looking like a naughty schoolboy about to be given the cane. He shuffled his feet and stared at the floor.
“I am so very sorry, Mr Flamel,” he started to explain. “You see you look so much like a relative of mine, but now I think about it, you never could have been him. He was a useless waster who sponged off my family for years. You, obviously, are a man of wealth and taste. How I mistook you for that freakish little brat I have no idea.”
“Oi, fatso! Watch what you’re saying about my husband!”
Vernon looked up and saw it was Mrs Flamel who had spoken. But instead of her having a French accent, she had spoken with a soft West Country accent. She also was pointing a black stick directly at his head. In horror, he realised it was a wand.
“It is you!” he gasped in shock.
“Hello, Vernon,” Harry greeted him. “Long time no see. My wife Ginny here has been dying to meet you. She said something about gutting you like a fish and hanging your entrails out for the birds to peck on.”
“Oh, no, Harry,” the pretty girl corrected him. “That was last week’s idea. This week I want to cut off his genitals and feed them to some rats in front of him.”
“Sorry,” Harry apologised. “You just have so many good ideas I can’t keep track of them all.”
“What are you doing here?” Vernon shouted.
“Didn’t they tell you? I’m the new owner of Grunnings Plc. You see, it turns out that I’m filthy, stinking rich. I mean, loaded!” Harry explained smugly. “I found some loose change down the back of the sofa recently and thought it would be fun to buy the firm you work for.”
“Just think, Vernon,” Ginny added. “If you’d actually been nice to Harry all those years, you could have shared that wealth. He could have made you a millionaire ten times over and not even scratched what he owns!”
“And what I own now is your pathetic, fat arse!” Harry said with any pretence of humour gone. “Your life is about to take something of a downward turn. You see, I’m going to tell Jonathan out there that I don’t think you should be fired, but I do think a demotion is in order.”
“And that’s just the start!” Ginny chipped in. “Don’t think that shrew of a wife or that disgusting tub of lard you call a son will avoid punishment, either. We’ve got plans for them, as well. Harry is now one of the most powerful and respected wizards in the world. He could do anything he wanted to you! Anything! And let me tell you, from this point on your life will be hell!”
“You can’t do this!” Vernon shouted. “I have rights! I’ll report both of you!”
“To whom?” Harry asked. “The police? They’d either laugh at you or arrest you for wasting their time! The Ministry of Magic? Even if you can figure out a way, they’d be more likely to throw you in prison for abusing a wizard.”
“That Professor chap,” Vernon shouted in triumph. “I’ll tell him! Dimpledore, or whatever his name was!”
“You’ll have a hard time, fatso,” Ginny laughed. “Professor Dumbledore contracted a serious case of dead. He’s unavailable to read your correspondence at this time, I’m afraid.”
“But… this was all years ago!” Vernon objected. “We never wanted you in the first place! We looked after you though, took you in and fed you!”
“You half-starved him and tried to kill him!” Ginny roared. She stepped forward and rammed her wand under Vernon’s chin. “And nobody, I mean nobody, hurts the man I love and gets away with it!”
“So you see how it’s going to be, Uncle,” Harry said pleasantly. “Good bye, Vernon. We’ll be seeing you soon. Very soon”
“Au revoir, fatty,” Ginny chirped, her French accent mysteriously reappearing.
Vernon turned and with a stunned look on his face shuffled out of the room, meekly closing the door behind him. With a wide grin, Harry scooped Ginny up into his arms and kissed her soundly.
“Oh, that felt sooo good!” he exclaimed.
Ginny giggled.
“So what do we do next? Hit their house with that charm that turns all their food rotten? Magically back-up all their plumbing? No, the Flatulence Hex! Let’s do that one!” she said laughing.
“Actually, I know what I want to do first,” Harry told her. Without warning he grabbed the bottom of her skirt and pulled it up. Then, grabbing her backside he dumped her onto the nearby table.
“Harry!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing? The entire management team of Grunnings is just outside the door!”
“So what?” Harry asked while slowly pulling her knickers off. “I own this bloody company and if I want to screw my wife on one of their conference tables then they can wait until I’m bloody well finished!”
“Well, when you put is like that…” Ginny began to unzip his trousers.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
After leaving the interview room, Vernon didn’t bother to return to work. He expected he’d be moving desks pretty soon anyway. Probably to the caretaker’s cupboard or the security guards’ hut. Ignoring the inquiring looks of his colleagues, he stomped out of the front door and headed towards the car park. He had to go home and give Petunia the bad news. He climbed into his car and started the engine.
Why had he allowed that brat to be taken in all those years ago? Better yet, why hadn’t he finished him off that day when he nearly flattened the whole street with his freakish magic?
For the first time in years, Vernon thought back to that fateful day back in 1990 when he’d thumped the boy for dropping a plate. What a stupid thing to get upset about, a bloody plate!
Of course, the really ironic thing, he thought as he backed his car out of the parking space, was that he’d always hated the pattern on the plate Harry had dropped. He should have rewarded the boy for breaking it!
Laughing bitterly, he headed for home.
AN
And that’s all folks!
I’ve very deliberately not gone into too much detail about Harry and Ginny’s life after the battle. I’ll leave you to speculate about whether Ginny forgave her family, or if Harry did take up his seat on the Wizengamot. As far as I’m concerned this story is now quite finished and really doesn’t require a sequel. Harry and Ginny are very happy, and that’s where I’m going to leave them.
A massively huge thanks to Tom and Arnel for their hard work throughout the story. Thank you both; you’ve been brilliant! And I would also like to thank all of you who left a review. Some of the questions asked were really quite challenging and really made me think about what I had written and, in one case, even made me change a large section. And finally, thanks to Mrs Brennus for her encouragement, advice, and for putting up with my Harry Potter obsession. Yes, one day I will write a Nagini story for you, Laura, I promise.
Right, I’m off to have a celebratory pint of cider and write something without bloody Horcruxes in it. I do hate those things…