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SIYE Time:2:37 on 29th March 2024
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Bonds of Blood and Magic
By Duelist

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Severus Snape
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence/Physical Abuse
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 932
Summary: A few days before Bill and Fleur's wedding, Harry vanished. Two weeks later, Ginny disappeared, also alone and without a trace.

Someone has stepped out of the shadows for a moment, moved some pieces on the board, and changed the rules of the game.
Hitcount: Story Total: 406649; Chapter Total: 9883
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Hey, I'm not dead or hibernating! Hope you all enjoy!




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There were only a few people standing at the pier when Moody and Ron arrived, but a more odd-looking bunch, Ron couldn't imagine. Plaids and corduroys mixed with raincoats and frilly party dresses, topped with an eclectic collection of new and old hats.

The group was composed mostly of men, the majority of whom appeared to be at least Moody's age, and one old codger looked like he could have been Dumbledore's grandfather. That one dismissed his presence with a sniff, but two others, a burly pair wearing odd, flat berets and short, faded green jackets with patches on the shoulders, bracketed him.

“You didn't say anything about bringing new blood inta this,” one said accusingly at Moody.

“The boy's my apprentice. Let him be,” growled Moody.

The pair gave Ron a more thorough, calculating look before they nodded to Moody and stalked away.

“Apprentice?” said Ron quietly to Moody after they'd left.

“Hush, boy. Mind what I said: keep your mouth shut, eyes and ears open, and this'll be fine,” warned Moody.

Ron nodded silently and turned to face the group further up the pier.

“Moody,” each of the men and women gathered on the pier said as they approached. One reached a small package out toward Moody, who took it and returned a small leather envelope.

“Is it all there?” asked the man.

“Of course,” countered Moody. “Money, we can get, but this,” he said, as he carefully stowed the package in his long coat, “is something else.”

The man snorted. “Best deals I've made in years. You just tell me when and what you need more of, and keep bringing the gold. I'll take care of the rest.”

“Where's the meeting?” Moody asked.

One of them waved the question away. “We're all taking a portkey, mate. You sure about him?” he asked, indicating Ron.

“He's with me,” said Moody gruffly. “If that's a problem for anyone, say so now. Otherwise, ya leave 'im alone.”

Most of the group muttered, shrugged, and then the one who had asked last about Ron said, “Fine.”

“'ere is ze portkey. Eez everyone ready?” said one of the few women present, holding out a delicate, black, antique-looking woman's cap, complete with thin lace veil that she'd just pulled from her head.

In answer, everyone jostled together, trying to reach the hat, but there were too many to all reach it at the same time. Finally Moody grunted as he pulled his wand and enlarged the hat, trebling its size.

“Now, can we go?” he said, as he grabbed Ron by the collar and dragged him into the crowd.

The old woman looked furiously between her hat and Moody. “ Cuillon, ” she spat, before she tapped her own wand to the hat.

Ron felt himself jerked forward from the navel so fast, his head snapped backward and he though he might bend in half the wrong way. The swirling, dizzy, disoriented feeling, the mist that always accompanied portkey travel ended abruptly as the portkey deposited them a few inches above the ground.

He was embarrassed to land on his knees. As many portkeys as he'd ridden in his short life, he'd thought he was well over landing like a child, but at least, he hadn't sprawled out completely.

“Marie, that was a bit rough, don't you think?” said Moody reproachfully as he lifted his wand to her hat.

Marie snatched it away. “Non, Moody. You modified ze portkey. Eef eet was too rough for you, zat eez your fault. I weel feex eet ma'self,” she snapped, when he reached his wand toward it again. She shortly had her hat returned to its former state and perched carefully on her grey curls, the veil carefully arranged over her eyes. She sniffed archly at him, and walked off toward the front of the cottage they'd landed next to.

He sighed and turned away. “Lad, it looks like there's some people by that fire. Why'n't you go warm up for a bit,” he suggested to Ron, who was surreptitiously dusting his knees off.

Moody and the rest of the older people followed Marie toward the cottage, leaving Ron standing there in what appeared to be a farmyard.

Shrugging, he looked toward the fire. Ron noted that some of the people there weren't nearly as old as the cadre who had greeted them at the pier, and made his way toward them.

“Ronald Weasley? Whatever are you doing here?” asked a petite blonde witch seated by the fire.

“Luna?” said Ron incredulously. “Wow! You're over here? Wow. Well, erm, hi, I guess,” said Ron. “Well, I came over with Mad-Eye, didn't I?” He walked up and stood next to her, his hands thrust awkwardly into his pockets.

“Ah. I was not expecting to see you here.”

“Something wrong with me being here?”

“No, I suppose not. You have to be somewhere, and if this is where you are, then you aren't somewhere else, are you. Well, where are Harry and Hermione, then?” she asked, looking about as if to find them hiding in the shadows behind Ron.

Ron blinked a moment, shook his head, and sat next to her. “Hermione's … wherever Fred is,” he said heavily. “Harry's with Ginny, but where they are right now … I really don't know. They were at Bill and Fleur's place a little while ago, and visited Mum and Dad before that, but I don't really know where they are now. Supposedly staying with some of Harry's family, but I didn't think he had any, besides those Muggles, anyway.”

She blinked several times, her expression blank. Then, her face split into a huge grin. “Harry's with Ginny! Of course, he is. That makes ever so much sense now. And you're not with them because they're together, and you're not with Hermione … oh.” Her grin faded a bit as she looked at him. “Well, I suppose you're trying to find somewhere to be and not be the third wand. So. What are you doing here, then?”

He shrugged. “Me? I'm running around with Moody, doing whatever it is we're really doing over here. What're you doing over here, anyway?”

“Learning how to fight a war, so that when Harry calls, I will be ready,” she said with a tone of seriousness that Ron couldn't recall ever having heard from her before.

“What?” he said, rather stupidly.

“When Harry said to stay away from school, and said what was going on, Daddy and I had to find something to do, didn't we? The Snorkacks weren't in Sweden where we thought they would be, so when we left Stockholm, we went to Belgium to check on a couple of other places they've been seen before, and then we came to France, naturally, to visit some friends of Daddy's from the war, and that's when we ran into Professor Moody. He asked us to help here, and so here we are, helping. And I am learning,” she said as she produced her wand in her right hand, and a dagger in her left, suddenly, without seeming to move. “I know what it's like to have friends now, and I'm going to keep them.”

She cocked her head slightly to look at him. “Are you my friend, Ronald Weasley?”

“Sure, Luna, sure, I am,” he said, eying her dagger.

She glanced at her hand, flipped the dagger around, and it disappeared just as suddenly and smoothly as it had come.

***

Duncan walked up to the door to the Health Center just as Harry, Ginny, and Eirica walked out.

“Oh, good, you're back. Did everything go well?”

The three exchanged glances. Eirica shrugged and said, “Well enough.”

He smiled slightly. “You'll have to tell me the story over lunch. Ginny, I'm going to steal Harry for a bit. Eirica, Akiko is waiting for Ginny in her garden.”

Eirica glared at her father. There was no other word for it, it was a death glare. “ I can train her, you know.”

“And you will probably do so, but Akiko needs to assess her just now, so she is going there. Please take Ginny to the garden.” His face showed that he was, if anything, amused by the intransigence of his adult daughter.

Eirica's grimace might have been defined as a smile, by an amorous troll. “Fine. Come on, Ginny, it's time to meet my wicked step-mother.”

Duncan contained his snort, mostly, as he shook his head. “Harry, we're this way,” he said as he started off down the hall.

Harry and Ginny did not move to follow either of their ostensible guides. Instead, they exchanged concerned glances as their eyes flicked from each other to the departing Scots.

“What do you reckon?” asked Ginny.

Harry shrugged. “I think I'd rather go with you, if it's all the same to everyone else. I didn't think we'd be going different places. I don't like it.”

“Well, we haven't been apart for more than a few minutes at a time in months,” she pointed out. “Are you going to be alright?” She stepped closer, and whispered, “The Professor said we had to stay together, or it will cause problems, but when we were in France, sometimes I didn't stay right with you all the time. But you probably don't remember that.”

He frowned. “Well, we obviously don't have to be together every minute. Shall we try it, and see what happens, or make a scene?”

She shrugged, and started to speak, but just then, Duncan returned.

“Problem?” he asked, with a subtle glance at Harry's cane. He didn't mention it, but felt a moment of concern.

Ginny touched Harry's arm. “Go ahead. I'll see you later?” she asked, with a quick flick of her eyes toward Duncan.

“At lunch, we'd thought,” said Duncan quietly, his brow furrowing.

Eirica came back then. She looked at the pair of them pensively, and said, “Harry, why don't you and Da come along, so you can meet my step-mother, and then you and Da can go along to see whatever it is he's wanting to show you?”

Harry nodded in relief, took Ginny's hand, and started off in the direction Eirica had originally gone.

Duncan cocked an eyebrow at Eirica. She just shrugged and turned to follow after Harry and Ginny, and Duncan joined her.

It was only a few minutes later that they walked outside and into a silent garden. Warm air wafted about them, in spite of their relative latitude and season. In addition, the scent of jasmine and lilac filled the air, and somewhere, water gurgled.

Duncan lead them through the garden toward a large fruit tree in the center that was covered in blossoms. “This is where she likes to meditate,” he explained as they walked along the path, which was covered in fine, evenly raked gravel. “Akiko prefers a quiet environment for instructing and meditation.”

“And da built her this garden when she agreed to move in with him,” added Eirica in a neutral tone.

Duncan rolled his eyes. “We got married, Eirica. It's not as though I'm keeping her as a mistress.”

The conversation bore the symptoms of being about to descend into a row, one involving a family disagreement of long standing. Harry and Ginny made no comment as they walked, and were grateful that neither of their companions said anything further, either.

They shortly came to the base of the tree, at which was a wooden bench. A thin, dark-haired woman sat on the bench. She was dressed a flowing robe, and her head was bowed over her folded hands.

A soft, lightly accented voice came from the figure as they approached. “I expected only the girl, Duncan. Did you change your mind about the boy?”

“Not at all,” he said as he stepped past the others and stopped at her side, just inches away but not quite touching.

She raised her face to look at him. Harry had to stifle an instinctive gasp. The woman's face was perfectly symmetrical. The straight, heavy black hair flowed around her face like a veil of lace or silk. Her skin was ethereally clear, creamy, beautiful, and unblemished, except for a black cloth patch that covered her right eye. An ugly, jagged scar extended from beneath the patch up through her eyebrow, a bit onto her forehead, and down over her cheekbone. Her left eye, a deep, dark, liquid brown, showed an epicanthic fold in the lid above it.

She and Duncan gazed at the other's face for several quiet moments before Eirica cleared her throat.

“Da, you're doing it again,” she said quietly.

“Keep your hair on, m'dear. I prefer to think of it as takin' up where we left off, but … you're right, princess,” said Duncan as he turned back to face his daughter.

Harry tore his eyes from the woman's scarred visage, his back shuddering slightly as he thought, inevitably, of his own facial decoration. “What are we doing here, Duncan?”

Duncan considered him for a moment. “Look at us, both of ye. All three of us,” he commanded.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance, and looked each of the other three up and down in turn. When they finished, they turned their eyes back to him.

“You and all ye love are at war. What ye see before you are three who have seen the worst that war can be, had it bring the worst out in them, and who have survived. We are soldiers. We are warriors. Though you act at times like combat veterans, an' ye've earned th' right ta act that way, ye're neither warrior nor soldier. Yet, ye are at war. Ye must prepare. You must both become more than what you are, if you are to survive, and ensure the survival of those you love. The three of us, and a few others, will help you, if ye let us. What I propose ta do this morning is to have Akiko,” he indicated the seated woman, “evaluate Ginny for her aptitude with several things, while I work with Harry.”

“And what did you want me to do, da?” asked Eirica.

Duncan smiled slightly. “You'll get them both this afternoon, after Morgan drives them around, for your … speciality.”

She nodded. “I'll see you both this afternoon, then,” she said, turned on her heel, and strode swiftly away.

“What do you reckon?” asked Ginny again, in a low voice.

“Dunno,” he said, shaking his head. “What about you?”

She shrugged.

“Suppose we should just see how it goes, and talk about it at lunch?” he suggested.

She looked him in the face searchingly, and finally nodded. “Yeah, alright.”

“Ready, then?” asked Duncan.

Harry and Ginny nodded, and exchanged a short hug.

“Come along, then, Harry. We'll see the ladies at lunch.” He touched Akiko gently on the hand, kissed her knuckles, and turned and walked away without a further word.

As they walked away, Harry heard Akiko's voice floating over the garden as she asked, “Ginny, what do you know about swords?”

***

Neville's breath burned in his throat as he ran, faster than he had been before, down a wooded hill. He tripped over a fallen tree limb, rolled back to his feet, and dodged a couple of trunks as he tried to get back on his stride, but now there was a stitch in his side, and he couldn't quite manage it.

The bag he'd been gathering mushrooms and herbs in flopped against his side, and he noticed that it had torn in the fall. He flung it away and crashed through a hedge, coming through into a pasture. Two brown cows lifted their heads at his noisy entrance.

A dark-clothed man burst through the hedge a dozen or more yards away, looking about wildly, a wand in his left hand.

He smiled when his eyes found his target. “Ah, there you are, lad! Now, put your hands on the back of your head, and kneel down.”

Neville glared at him, his chest heaving.

“Do it, lad, or I'm going to have to hurt you,” barked the man, no longer smiling.

Neville's eyes narrowed, his only tell, just before his right hand flashed faster than his opponent's eye could see, and then the man flew through the air, his desperate shield only partially deflecting the effect of Neville's silent, colorless spell.

As soon as the man's feet left the ground, Neville tucked his wand and arms in, spun on the spot, and disappeared with a loud crack that sent the cows trotting off across the field.

***

Harry followed Duncan into a quiet hall. A long table stood near the entrance, but there were no chairs near it. Instead, what few chairs there were in the hall leaned against the walls.

On the table lay a lone, plain, unsheathed blade, next to a simple, unadorned wooden box.

“What is that?” asked Harry, pointing at the extremely long, wide-bladed dagger that, strangely to his eyes, had only one edge. The dark and light striped wood grip seemed to call out to him, and he stepped up to the table and touched the handle softly with his finger.

“That's a fighting dirk,” said Duncan as he stepped closer to the table.

“I've seen dirks before. Aren't they smaller, with thistles and such engraved on them?”

Duncan smirked. “Och, aye, there're showy toys for marching in the street with, sure.” He snorted. “Jewelry, is what they really are. But that's not one of those. That's practically a short sword, like a scramasax. Long as a gladiius, but better balanced. Not for parades and fancy bearskin hats, an' kilts an' such. That's a killing tool, pure and simple.”

“Whose is it?”

“Well, that's a new blade one of the lads just finished up. Nobody's claimed it yet, so, it's yours, if ye want it.”

Harry looked up at him, startled. “What?” he managed to say.

Duncan shrugged. “Ye've got to learn to handle a blade, lad, and ye may as well start with something that suits you.”

“A blade? What for?”

Duncan snorted. “In case ye need ta cut somethin', lad.”

“What would I need to cut?” he asked slowly.

Duncan just raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry blushed slightly.

“Right. Well, Akiko asked Ginny about swords. I always thought they were pretty cool. I guess could learn about them, too.”

Duncan nodded. “Aye, a sword's quite the thing, some days.”

“What was that sword you had when you killed those Death Eaters? I think I saw one of those in a movie once.”

“Ah. That's a katana. The katana's a fine, attractive blade. Katanas, in fact, number among the most beautiful blades in the world, and, it's definitely true that some of the deadliest of swordsmen have used them. They're efficient, effective, and, if Akiko says she'll take her on to teach, your Ginny will be getting some of the best training in their use that still exists. My wife is a Kendo master, ye see. I learned from her father, many years ago, an' either of us could teach you, but … just as I told my daughter, and as you well know, there are some limitations on what you can do. That blade requires a user to be strong, flexible, balanced, and have stamina to use effectively and efficiently. Now, ye're definitely strong, but … we can'nae count on your abilities from day to day in order to develop enough proficiency with it to rely upon. One day, you will likely take up the study of it, but that day is not this day. An' even then, it'll likely be a study, ta make ye stronger, but not somethin' ye'll use ta fight with.

“The blade before ye will be very easy to incorporate into the magical combat techniques I'm going to be focusing on with ye. For the now, I think it best for ye to learn something ye will be able to rely upon, no matter what happens to ye.”

“Well, I've already got a sword.”

“Have ye, now?” asked Duncan, with more focused interest. “What have ye got? Can I see it?”

Harry nodded. “Sure, but I'll need to call my elf.”

Duncan waved his hand and nodded.

“Dobby!” Harry called.

Dobby appeared before them moments later. He looked about in bug-eyed wonder. “Dobby is sorry, but he could not find Master Harry Potter, sir. Is this being where Master and Mistress is living now?” he asked.

“We're visiting for the weekend, Dobby. Can you find Mistress Ginny?”

“Yes, Master. I is here, she is being over there,” he said, and pointed in the general direction of the garden.

“Dobby, please bring me Mistress Ginny's leather rucksack.”

“Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir!” said Dobby as he popped away. He was back only moments later, and handed the bag to Harry. “Is Master Harry Potter, sir, wanting anything else?”

“Not at the moment, thank you, Dobby,” said Harry. “How are things at the old house?”

“Kreacher is being most unpleasant this morning, Master Harry Potter, sir. He is being upset at the floor in Master's room, and is throwing boards out the windows into the garden. He is saying they is full of badness, so we is putting in new floors in all the house.”

Harry's mouth opened a bit. He couldn't really thing of anything to say to that for a moment. “Well, that sounds like the pair of you are going to be quite busy, then.” He had a thought, and asked, “How are you paying for the new flooring?”

“There is being enough gold in the elf room to pays for it, Master, Dobby thinks.”

Harry nodded. “Let me know if I need to get you some more,” he instructed. “I suppose you'd better go help Kreacher, then. Keep him out of trouble. And no hitting, Dobby.”

“Yes, Master Harry Potter, sir, Dobby is not hitting bad elf Kreacher,” Dobby said, nodded and disappeared.

“Interesting elf, Harry,” observed Duncan.

Harry rolled his eyes as he set the bag on the floor. “You don't know the half of it! And the other one's worse. Had to threaten to cut his head off to get him to behave.”

He was looking at the rucksack, and so did not see Duncan nearly choke at that.

Harry opened the straps on the top flap of the rucksack and then, while Duncan watched, bemused, pulled a long shape wrapped in strips of cloth from the much shorter leather bag. He unwrapped it to reveal the sheathed Gryffindor sword, and, holding it in front of him with both hands, turned to face his father's cousin. “This is the sword of Godric Gryffindor.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at that, while Harry continued, “Honestly, what's so hard about using one? You put the sharp end into whatever you're trying to kill.” He pulled the blade free of the sheath and gave an experimental thrust, illustrating what he meant.

Duncan laughed a bit. “Really? That simple, is it? Well, then, what have ye killed with that?”

“Several things, actually. The largest was a Basilisk.”

“A Basilisk?” Duncan questioned skeptically. “Are you sure it wasn't just a really large snake? That's what they usually are when people say their neighbor is breeding Basilisks. Besides, Basilisks are smarter than a snake. Devilish tricky to kill.”

“It was definitely a basilisk. Biggest one I ever heard of, actually, and no, it really wasn't that easy to kill,” he confessed.

“How big?”

“Something like sixty feet. I can't be certain, as it was trying very hard to kill me at the time, and I was only twelve. No one ever actually measured it. It was quite huge, though.”

Duncan stared at him for a moment. “I see. And just how did a twelve-year-old boy kill this monster Basilisk with … just a sword?”

“The Basilisk was trying to kill me, and I couldn't really cut it, the skin was just … bouncing the blade off, every time I hit it. Maybe I just wasn't strong enough for that,” he mused. “Finally, it tried to bite me, and I sort of … let it bite down on the sword. The blade went up through the roof of its mouth, and into its brain. And, it isn't 'just' a sword. I told you, this is the sword of Godric Gryffindor. It's a powerful magical artifact. It's Goblin-made, you know. It absorbs things. Well, anything that would make it stronger, or more deadly.”

Duncan's eyes flashed. “Sheathe that thing, carefully!”

“Okay,” said Harry as he slipped the blade back into its sheath. “What is it?” he asked.

Duncan did not reply, but snatched the sheathed blade away from him.

“Hey!”

Duncan held up a finger. “If this blade absorbs anything that will make it stronger, or more deadly, then it has likely absorbed basilisk blood, or venom, or both, correct?”

“Erm, yeah, it has,” Harry said with a nod. “Of course, it has. That's why we have it,” he said, his voice trailing off at the end.

“Why do you need such a thing?” Duncan asked, his eyes narrowed.

“Erm,” Harry said, and looked away.

Duncan gazed at him shrewdly, speculation clear in his eyes, before he shook off the distraction and lifted the sheathed sword between them. “If what you say is correct, then this blade is not just a historical artifact, and not just a sword, not just a deadly weapon. The slightest cut with it could conceivably kill whomever you nicked, whether that person was an enemy, a friend, your training partner or teacher, your wife, or even yourself. And you blithely cart it about in a rucksack.”

Harry's mouth opened for a moment, but then he got a hard look in his eyes and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you're right. But we need it, exactly because it's so dangerous, you know.”

“Oh?”

Harry took a deep breath, and said, “It is the most convenient way we could think of to destroy … dangerous objects that have strong magical protections on them, so yes, we carry it around in case … we come across one.”

“What 'objects,' Harry?” Duncan asked slowly.

Harry shook his head and didn't answer.

Duncan pursed his lips, and nodded. “Everyone has secrets, and it's as well to leave you yours, but … you can't use this sword, lad, not to train or fight with. You may need it for destroying … dangerous things, as you say, but, carrying this thing around …” He snorted. “Weapons are supposed to be dangerous. That's why you have them, after all, but they aren't supposed to pose a direct threat to the user, or his friends.”

Harry nodded. “I guess I can see that.”

“So, why don't you find a good, safe place to keep it, and use it for … whatever it is you're using it for, but where it won't pose a threat to anyone when you're not using it? And, we'll train you with something else. And, for the love of all that's holy, don't wave that thing around anymore!”

Harry laughed slightly, and said, “Right,” as he began wrapping the sword again.

Once it was back in the rucksack, Duncan asked, “Did one of you make that bag?”

“No, it was a gift, from … the man who married us.”

“Ah. Quite handy, that.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Let's talk about the blade, and how we're going to get you mobile again.”

“Yeah, right,” said Harry, rolling his eyes.

“What happened to you during the fight the other day? Why were you lying on the ground hunkered behind a shield, instead of actually continuing your attack?”

“I tripped.”

“Right. So, why did that stop you from fighting?”

Harry looked hurt. “Duncan, you know …”

“I know that there's something wrong with your body, Harry, but there's nothing wrong with your mind, and certainly nothing wrong with your magic. Ye flipped that buggering wizard twenty feet with one spell, lad, and he hit that building hard enough to break most of the bones in his body. Ye're strong. Magic may be where yer strongest, so that's where we're going to focus our efforts, and when I say that we're going to get you mobile again, that's exactly what I mean.”

“How? How can I really fight like this?” Harry snapped. “Sure, I can toss off a powerful spell or two, but I can't keep up, I can't keep going, I can't even really do a martial arts class, for Merlin's sake. How can I fight?”

Duncan shook his head. “You can't, Harry. We both know it, and I'm not really going to teach you to fight.”

“Erm, what's the point to all of this, then?”

“Fighting won't do you any good, anyway, not really. Fighting presupposes that your enemies are going to get a chance to try to hurt you while you're trying to hurt them. Really, all that means is that if you go out expecting to fight, you're going to get hurt, your wife is going to get hurt, and maybe worse. I'm not going to teach you to do that. I'm going to teach you something else, something more important for a man in yer situation, but … it's a touch uglier. I know you have the capacity for it, though.”

“What, then?”

“I'm going to teach you how to kill.”

Harry stared at him. Reluctantly, he said, “I've … done that.”

Duncan nodded. “I know. But you've done it because you were desperate, because you had to, not because you really knew how, or when, or why. It's never been deliberate, just desperation. I'd wager you didn't kill that blond ponce on purpose, did you?”

Harry gave a start.

“What?” asked Duncan.

“How did you know?”

“Know what? I saw you do it, the wizard you threw into the building. What are you talking about?”

“He was blond?”

“Yeah. Long, straight blond hair.” Duncan snorted. “Bunch of silly nonsense, going to war with hair like that.”

Harry blinked, and went a bit more pale. “I killed his son, too,” he whispered.

Duncan's brows furrowed. “Did ye, now? The same way?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I hit him over the head with a vase. I was just trying to put him on the ground as hard as I could, to get him out of the way, and so he couldn't come after me.”

Duncan nodded. “Dead will do for that, you know. In combat, it's the preferred result of your violent action.”

His face got pensive again. “I've watched you and your wife. You're both … actually quite frightening to have in a class full of innocents, Harry. Some of the others in that class I had you in … they're older than you, but still children, quite young, mentally. I wasn't certain I'd,” he paused and laughed a little, “made the correct decision in letting you train with them, after that first day. Especially when your wife looks over every room she enters like a big cat on the prowl, sizing up everyone present with an eye for taking them out. Like I said to you both, you're like soldiers coming back from combat, you've seen and done terrifying things, but you're going to have to become … something even more dangerous than you already are in order to continue to survive.

“You're going to embody the spirit of that blade before we're done,” he said, gesturing to the dirk.

“I don't understand.”

“You will. What you are to learn from me is nothing more, nor less, than killing. It isn’t fighting, it isn’t dueling, it isn’t an ‘art’, martial or otherwise. It is neither pleasant nor pretty. We do not do our enemies minor injuries. We maim them, dismember them, and kill them. We don't hesitate, we don't deliberate. We never give them a second chance to hurt us, even if we were foolish enough to give them the first chance, and we never, ever, leave a live one behind us, to get us in the back.”

Harry took a deep breath, and picked up the knife by the carved handle. “So, what do I have to do?”

“Actually, just sheathe it for now. Sheath's in the box, there.”

Once Harry had put the knife in its leather scabbard, Duncan continued. “Put it in your bag for now. Take the box, too. It's a set. We're going to start with something else today,” replied Duncan.

Harry quirked his eyebrows, but did as he was directed.

“You apparate, yes?”

“Erm, yeah.”

“How well?”

Harry shrugged. “I passed all the classes last year, and I would have passed the test, but I didn't get a chance to take it because I wasn't of age.”

Duncan nodded. “But how good are you? How accurate, compared to your friends? How quick?”

He shrugged again. “I don't know, I never really thought about it.”

“Can you side-along?”

“Sure, Ginny and I do it all the time.”

“You apparate her?”

“Sometimes. We take turns. I side-alonged Dumbledore, the first time I did that.”

Another expressive eyebrow raise was Duncan's only reaction to that revelation. “Fine, then. I have a test for you,” said Duncan. He pulled out a very ordinary-looking brown wand and conjured half-a-dozen brass rings. Each was approximately one inch across. He tossed them out into the room and cast a quiet Engorgio at the same time. As they sailed onto the salle, they enlarged until each was about six feet across.

When the ringing of the metal hitting the floor stopped, Duncan flicked his wand at the rings. A flaming number appeared above each of them. “Alright. I want you to apparate between those rings, from one to the next, in numerical order,” he said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “We did that for our lessons,” he said as he raised his arms and started to twist in preparation for his first apparation.

“No, don't twist. This isn't a formal Ministry class. Just go. You know how to do this, now do it.”

Harry nodded his head, and without visibly moving, and barely an audible puff of air, disappeared and reappeared in the ring with the flaming numeral one floating above it. The numeral disappeared as soon as Harry arrived beneath it. He took a breath, oriented himself to the next circle in the series, and repeated his previous effort to the second ring, and from there on through the rest of the set.

When he finished, he turned to Duncan with a smirk and raised eyebrow.

“Good. Come here,” Duncan commanded.

Harry started toward him. “No, don't walk, apparate back to where you started.”

Harry rolled his eyes again, and popped to Duncan's side.

Duncan flicked his wand twice at the rings. They each shrank in size by about a foot, and the flaming numbers reappeared above them, but in a different order.

“Do it again, but this time, be certain to arrive exactly in the middle of each ring.”

Harry furrowed his brow, nodded, and began again. He was shortly back at Duncan's side.

“You missed the center on rings three and five. You hurried too much on those jumps, and you were too noisy to boot. Speed and precision both, please, but precision first. Otherwise, good. Do it again,” he commanded as he flicked his wand at the rings. As before, the rings shrank another foot, and the numbers resorted.

When, after a few more repetitions, Harry had successfully navigated all six rings at a diameter of just under two feet, Duncan called a halt to the exercise.

“Well, you've just done thirty-five short-range apparations in under twenty minutes. How do ye feel?”

“Erm, fine, I guess,” said Harry as he sank into one of the chairs.

Duncan snorted. “Ye look a touch grey, lad. Never done that many that fast, have ye?”

Harry shook his head. “No, but … my Healer forbade me to apparate at all, you know.”

Duncan glared. “And ye didn't think tae tell me that before ye started apparating all about the room?”

Harry waved vaguely at his head. “Thought you'd have picked up on that.”

“Right, because I'm obviously an expert mind reader. Ye didn't say a wa'rd 'an I asked ye if ye cud do it. Get up, we're going over to the Healers.” Duncan shook his head and muttered, “Idiot.”

“I haven't been having any trouble with it, when I have done it,” Harry protested.

“You haven't apparating like this, either, have you?”

“Well, no,” Harry said reluctantly as he left his chair and picked up the rucksack.

Duncan took it from him and slung it over his shoulder, which prompted a serious glare from Harry.

“I don't need kid-gloves.”

“I don't need your wife or the Healers coming after me,” Duncan replied blithely as he strode through the door. “Let's go. I want some clarity on your situation before I start telling you to do something else you aren't supposed to. Can't exactly teach you this way.”

Harry climbed to his feet, and, using his cane, followed him out the door.

***

“Erm, Akiko, I need to, erm … take a break?” said Ginny in an embarrassed, distracted tone.

“By all means, go ahead, it's almost time to end things for the morning anyway,” she said easily. “Just leave your bokken there, and I'll talk to you later.”

“Will you be at lunch?” asked Ginny as she laid the wooden sword down.

“Perhaps.”

Ginny nearly ran out of the serene garden, leaving deep footprints in the gravel.

***

“I don't understand what good all this apparating is going to do me if there are anti-apparition wards up,” said Harry as they started down the corridor.

Duncan gave a feral grin. “Lad, where did ye take yer apparation classes? Hogwarts. There and here, ye're under anti-apparition wards. Neither place has true apparition-suppression wards, but barrier wards. I wouldnae suggest ye try to apparate in or out of the Keep, or Hogwarts for that matter, but, if ye're powerful enough, ye can apparate here, inside. Hogwarts wards're set up tae allow students tae take their classes. Most anti-apparition wards, if ye're strong enough, ye can apparate within 'em. It takes a special set of circumstances to establish apparition-suppressing wards, they're no' quick to set up, and not many know how tae do it. Regular anti-apparition wards are enough to discourage most from trying it, since getting splinched is a real risk even under regular barrier wards, unless they're designed especially to allow it, like Hogwarts. Even simpler ones than what we have here will splinch the unwary, or weak.”

Harry nodded.

“Now, what pushing you through rapid apparitions does is the same as any other type of exercise. You don't get faster at apparating by throwing punches, and you don't get better at casting spells by apparating. Each type of exercise has to be improved by doing it. This is your mobility. You have to be able to move, Harry. This is what I've been concerned about for you ever since I first saw you. You can't run. You can't effectively dodge, since you fall on yer arse every time ya do it, and under fire, ye can't get back up. So, if you're going to be able to protect yourself, if you're going to be able to move at will and take on dangerous opponents and kill them, you're going to have to move using what you do have available — your magic. This is how you can do it. It should be the most reliable means for you, since if you rely on things like portkeys, you can lose them, whereas having a real developed skill in apparition will enable you to really be able to move about. Once we get to the Healers, we'll find out whether this is going to work, but from what I've seen, unless someone can give me a very good reason why I shouldn't, I'm going to absolutely wear you out, lad. You're going to apparate instinctively before I'm done with you. It'll be as natural for you as breathing and walking. Maybe easier than the walking bit, actually.”

The continued on until they came to the Health Center.

“Well, here we are. Let's find out how much trouble I'm in,” said Duncan with a mild glare at Harry.

Harry took a seat in the entry, while Duncan went off to find a Healer.

Duncan had no sooner disappeared into the back office than Ginny apparated next to Harry. She looked around, noted that they were back in the Health Center, and rounded on him.

“What did you do?” she said stiffly.

“Apparated,” he said sheepishly.

She frowned. “We do that all the time. You shouldn't feel like this,” she said as she sat next to him and put her arm around his waist.

“Erm, well, I did it a few times in a row, really fast.”

She shook her head. “That shouldn't really matter. Poppy told me she was probably being too cautious with you when she said you still shouldn't apparate, and we haven't had any problems.” Her eyes narrowed. “How many times?”

“About … thirty … erm, five?”

“Thirty-five! Harry! Are you trying to kill yourself? When have you ever done that many at once before?”

“Erm, never?”

“That's because no one does that,” she said.

She sat back, folded her arms, and lifted her leg to rest on his lap. He ran his hand down her calf to the cuff of her trousers and wrapped his fingers around her ankle, just under the cloth. They sat like that, just looking at each other silently for several minutes.

Duncan stopped short when he walked back into the waiting area, arrested by the view of his two teenaged students silently staring at each other.

His thoughtful look accompanied him as he finally moved to touch Harry on the shoulder.

“Harry, they're ready to do an Apparition evaluation on you,” he said quietly.

Ginny started to giggle.

“What?” asked Duncan.

“It sounds like you think he's a dirt-eater,” said Ginny, once she had enough of her composure back to speak.

It was Duncan's turn to laugh then.

“No, that's not it, but it is probably the same battery of tests,” he said.

“He didn't grow up in a magical area, there's no way,” said Ginny.

“Dirt-eater?” asked Harry.

“When you were a child, did you ever eat any dirt?” asked Duncan.

“I don't think so,” he said.

“Then you probably have nothing to worry about.”

Ginny hadn't really stopped giggling. “He's never even splinched,” she snorted.

Duncan rolled his eyes. “Come on, then, let's get this done,” he said as he reached his hand out to help first Ginny and then Harry to their feet. “After they do the Apparition evaluation, they want to do a full physical and then an overall power study,” he continued as he led them through the dividing door.

“Wow, it sounds like we'd better plan to be here all day,” said Ginny as she scooped up the rucksack and followed.

Duncan shook his head. “You've too much to do to stay here all day, but this is important. Harry overextended himself, so we need to make sure he's alright. I can't train him like that. It's not smart,” he said. “But the evaluations won't really take terribly long, and then I'll know what we can really do. I should have had you do this first, really,” he said more quietly.

“You should have had us take care of both of them first, mi'lord,” scolded a middle-aged woman in green hospital scrubs as they drew abreast of the examination room she waited in.

Duncan nodded silently as the three of them went in. “We should give them the full battery, as if they were going to be apprentices,” he said finally as Harry sat on a cushioned table.

“But, you said,” Harry began, before Duncan raised his hand to stop him.

“You're going to be training, regardless of your official status, and all we have to go off is that story you told the Muggles. I want to know exactly what's been going on, what your actual condition is, and what your prognosis is,” he said, locking eyes with Harry. “And, no, it's not because I ever thought you ate dirt as a child.”

“Oh, Morgana and Merlin, did he splinch?” fussed the Healer as she started waving her wand about.

“No! What are you talking about? I've never splinched!”

Duncan snorted. “I'll see you both later,” he said. “Martha, we'll need to go over their results as soon as possible. Today, preferably.”

***

“Dirt. Screws up apparating.”

“Only if you eat it as a child, Harry, and only if you have gnomes in the garden. Why do you think my mum was always on about heaving them out?”

“And they call them dirt-eaters.”

“Beats the alternative.”

“What?”

Ginny started to giggle again. “ Gernumbli Gibbets.

Gernumbli Gibbets ?” he asked. “Sounds like something Luna would say.”

“Yeah, it comes from Gernumbli Gardensis. ” At his blank look, she added, “You know, garden gnomes.”

“Okay, so, what about the Gibbets ?”

“Erm, they're like, coliformes fecaux, except it comes from the gnomes. It's in the dirt in the gardens gnomes infest, and then the littles eat it when they're outdoors playing. It gets on their hands, and then they put their hands in their mouths, or eat something without washing first.” She looked at him significantly.

Harry turned green. “From the gnomes?” he said weakly.

“Well, yeah. It's not really that uncommon. You'd be surprised who's had it, but nobody really finds out about it until they start apparition training, and they start some really nasty splinching.”

“So, Morgan, you back to apparating yet?” asked Harry abruptly, trying to draw their companion into the conversation.

“Hang on,” interrupted Ginny, “how is it you've got it now? Charlie had it, but they caught it when he was first learning to apparate. Aren't you at least twenty?”

Morgan, once again driving the Rover, was red from his collar to the tips of his ears. “I'm twenty-five, and yes, I have it now. Again. Stupid training exercises, anyway. It's really ridiculous, and vanishingly uncommon to have a recurrence like this. Takes three months to treat, and you're not allowed to apparate, even side-along, the whole time. It's not good to be medically unusual, you know.”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, no longer smiling. “We know,” said Harry.

Morgan sighed. “So, what do you want to see first? Towers, farms, rivers, training areas, or ritual sites?”

“I feel like we're on one of those history tours in France,” quipped Ginny.

“Well, you are in a way, except that we aren't in France!”

They all laughed. “Look, we still live here and do everything we used to. We're just better at most of it than our ancestors were.”

“What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Just, we've learned a lot as a people since our ancestors came here. We know better farming methods, and we know the land quite intimately. Nowadays, it's almost symbiotic, really.”

“Symbiotic?” asked Ginny. “How's that?”

“Well, the land knows us, knows our families, and we know it. We work together, help each other, depend on each other.”

A moment of silence came from the back seat. “You're talking like it … thinks, or something.”

Morgan laughed. “Oh, no, it's not like that. Sentience, that's the word you're looking for. No, it's just so imbued with our magic, from so many generations of us living here and protecting the place, living and dying for it, and then with the magic of the ley lines fueling things even more, it's just got … expectations of us, and pushes us to get it.”

“How does it push you?”

“Depends on the person, and what it's trying to get out of us.”

“You know, I think I want to see a ritual site first, since we're talking about magic you're doing here. You and Duncan both said you are sort of wizards. I want to talk about that, figure out what you mean,” said Harry. “I think, wherever it is you do magic, is where we should start.”

Morgan gave him a look, and said, “Sure, no problem.”

He started the Rover and they pulled off from the farmhouse.

“So, what are you wondering about, Harry?” he asked as he drove.

“Well, everything, really. You keep saying you're sort of wizards. What do you mean?”

“Well, we are wizards, and witches. Technically. If you follow the normal definition, anyway. At least, most of us are, in the family. We just … we don't focus on it so much, like most of the Sassanach wizards do. We don't define ourselves by it. There's so much more to life, and to what we do.”

“Like what?”

“Well, like regular military training. I did two years in the Army when I was eighteen. Just, you know, took time off from my active studies. Duncan … he was in three different armies, and worked as a mercenary for a long, long time. Mum was a paratrooper.”

“Wow,” Harry said.

“Yeah. She's such a lady on the outside, all sorts of prim and proper, but she's tougher than she looks.”

“What's a parrot rooter?” asked Ginny.

Morgan stifled a laugh. “Paratrooper. They jump out of airplanes, to get infantry and such into attack positions.”

“The wizards and witches?” her incredulous voice rose across the seats.

“No, it's mostly non-magicals that do it.”

Ginny blinked for a moment. “What?! Muggles jump out of aeroplanes? While they are flying?”

“Sure. Been doing it for more than fifty years.”

“From how high up?”

“Oh, that varies from a few hundred feet to several thousand.”

Ginny just stared at Morgan's face in the rear view. “You're … you're having me on, aren't you. That's not even possible. They'd die!”

Morgan's brow furrowed. “That's what the parachute is for.”

“Oh. So, they don't just jump. You made it sound like … But … erm, what's a parachute? Is that like a Muggle broom?”

“It's a kind of a … well, it's a kind of a large sheet of cloth, that they pack into a bag on their backs, and when they jump out of the plane, it opens up and they sort of … float to the ground.”

“Let me get this straight. Muggles strap big sheets to their backs, climb aboard an aeroplane, fly up in the air, and jump out, and that's part of the military?”

“Right. Essentially,” said Harry. “They're kind of a big deal, actually. Elite soldiers.”

“That's bleeding mental,” she muttered. “One thing to fly on a broom, or levitate, but they don't even … how can they keep the sheet from tearing in all the wind?”

Morgan laughed again.

“Was your mum really in the infantry?” asked Harry.

“Oh, no. Not at all, actually. She was a rigger. There's not so many jobs women can have. One of the ones that they can't do is infantry.”

“Why not?” asked Ginny indignantly. “I fight and fly as good as any of my brothers. Better than most of them, really. Why shouldn't women get to do whatever jobs there are in the military?”

Morgan shrugged. “Normal woman isn't as strong as a man. Men instinctively try to protect women, and that doesn't work so well if they're both soldiers. That's the gist of it, and the basic premise for the argument. It's a debate that's been going on for years, and every country that allows women to serve has it going on at one level or another. It's going to be going on for years to come, I expect. I just know that there are limitations on what women are allowed to do in most countries when they join the military. Mum had to pick from fewer jobs when she went over to the States than a bloke would have had available. That's all. In the U.K., she couldn't get a job she wanted or go for paratrooper, and in Italy, it was about the same, so she went over to the States. She went for a medic, and she's quite good at it, too, and then when they finally opened up a job to women that including jumping, she switched over to rigger and was one of the first female paratroopers in the Yanks' army.”

“They wouldn't let her be a medic here?” asked Harry.

“Not the same, and the Yanks were already talking about letting women into the riggers, so it lined her up for doing it. Wouldn't have worked here, or in Italy.”

“Italy?” Ginny asked, her brow furrowed.

He shrugged. “Sure, her mum was Italian, so she has dual citizenship, even now. The Yanks take non-citizens in their military, and would let her do a job she actually wanted, so that's where she went.”

“So, what's a rigger?” she asked.

“They pack the parachutes, and fix them, and make gear for the paras.”

“So, everybody here joins the military?” asked Harry.

“No, just … if they're told to, really. We kind of have our own, so … we take the training and experience from the various military units people work with, and then evaluate their training and so forth against what we do here. Then, we take the best from all of it, kind of distill it down, and use it for ourselves. Most of all of that's done by assignment, anyway.”

“Wow. Okay, so what else do you train in?”

“Martial arts, of course. You've been doing some of that,” Morgan pointed out.

“Yeah. How does that work?” asked Harry.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you're a wizard, and you were in the Army, why do you worry about martial arts?”

He waved his hand dismissively. “I was only in the Army for two years, you know. They really don't train all that much in hand to hand combat. Not like what we do, anyway. Martial arts trains the mind and the body. Makes us better at everything physical we have to do, just because of being more in tune with ourselves. Plus, when we do have to fight wizards, they don't expect swords and such. They're kind of dependent on their wands.”

“Morgan, you know, some wizards are really, really good at fighting with their wands. They're not all just, point the wand and blast a spell off. Dumbledore was an absolutely brilliant duelist. I saw him duel Voldemort once. Both of them were just frighteningly good.”

“Really? That must have been amazing. Do you …” He paused and shook his head. “I shouldn't ask. Anyway. There are some real advantages to being a specialist,” he allowed. “You can explore and maximize the potential of a specialised skill to a level no one else will ever see. But, it limits you, too. Not everyone is as good as Voldemort, or Dumbledore. What if you were one of those not-quite-as-good wizards, and your opponent knows how to counter what you can do, or something happens to make it fail, like if you broke your wand? You'd be left with not much in the way of options.”

“Morgan, how long have you been an apprentice?” Ginny asked.

“Erm, it's been eleven years now.”

“Really? How much longer will you go?”

“Well, Duncan went over twenty years, so it could really be quite a while,” he temporized.

“Oh. So, erm, what do you specialise in?”

He laughed humorlessly. “Nothing, and everything.”

“What? But you just said …”

“There's a Muggle author you probably haven't heard of, Heinlein, who wrote a book where one of the characters explains Duncan's philosophy. He says that a person ought to be able to do lots of different things really well, because humans are smart and adaptable, and that specialisation is for bugs.”

“Oh. So, what aren't you specialising in?”

That got a real laugh out of him.

“Look, I've been trained really extensively in lots of things, generally in a lot of other things, and I have a Baccalaureate in physics. Duncan has two Doctorates, and three Masters degrees, and is considered a Grand Master in two martial arts. That's on top of all of his magical and military training.

“He says that his apprenticeship never really ended. He just got the third of those Masters degrees a couple of years ago, because he says that 'if you stop learning, you start dying.' Or something like that.”

“Hmm. But he's not going to let us be part of that.”

Morgan laughed. “The apprenticeship, no, but that won't stop your learning, Harry. He's not going to have you pursuing all the expert, professional warrior skills. That's such a key part of being a War Mage, he just can't apprentice you, because you could never really do it. In fact, if anything, doing it this way just sets you up to learn whatever interests you sooner in your life. Me, I have to study whatever I'm assigned until I am deemed fit to leave the apprentice program.”

“Who decides that?” Ginny wondered.

“For me? Duncan, of course. I doubt I'll be finished before I'm thirty, and that's only if he doesn't make me get a doctorate in something or other, but I'd personally prefer to get married sometime while I'm still young enough to have a family, so I'll have to leave the program sooner or later.”

“Well, what about the other apprentices, then?”

“They have mentors, and the Council talks things over for each apprentice and makes a plan for them.”

“So, why did you get a physics degree? Why a Muggle degree at all?”

“We don't differentiate learning, Harry. Knowledge is power, and we get as much of it as we can. It's part of how we can keep ourselves going. As far as physics is concerned, it's interesting, I have an aptitude for it, and none of us has had a degree in it before.” He shrugged. “Just made sense.”

“Okay. Yeah, I guess it does.”

“So, there are several ritual sites near here. This one is interesting,” he said as he pulled off the road. He pointed to a small group of trees and a large chunk of white granite on the other side of a field.

“Doesn't seem like much,” observed Ginny.

“It isn't, really. Not to look at, anyway.” Morgan shut off the engine and got out.

Harry and Ginny joined him, but Harry quickly pulled out his walking stick as they started tromping across the muddy, rain-slickened ground. Ginny walked on his other side, but did not take his arm until he held it out to her part way to the site.

“Alright there, love?”

Harry looked at her and smiled a little before he nodded.

They continued toward the stone silently. Harry paused partway across the field, and turned to the side slightly. With a curious look on his face, he stretched out his hand, curled his finger, and tugged on a golden strand of light that appeared as his hand reached it.

A bell-like noise echoed softly through the air as he released it.

Morgan turned at the noise. His face instantly blanched as Harry and Ginny both reached for the light again.

“Harry! Ginny! Don't!” he called frantically.

They stopped, and looked at him. “What?” they said in perfect unison.

He blinked. “Erm, just … come over here, please. And don't do that again.”

“Why not?” they said as one as they started catching up with him.

He shook his head. “I'll show you in a minute.”

They shortly arrived at the site. It was a large stone, longer and wider than a single bed, with a moderately flat section on the top. That part, while it seemed to have seen much use and was worn as a result, still bore the craggy, rough surface of natural stone that is exposed to the elements.

Morgan started muttering as he walked around the stone, and stopped on the far side, his arms in the air above his head.

A mass of golden threads in the shape of a ball rose from the stone and stopped several feet in the air above Morgan's upraised hands. Countless thin gold lines spread out in all directions from the ball, including the one that stretched across the field that Harry and Ginny had been looking at.

“Okay, what is that?” Ginny asked.

“It's Mar,” Morgan said quietly as he lowered his arms. The tangled ball stayed where it was. “It's all of us, wherever we are. It's kind of the heart of all of this, the Nodus Centrum.”

“You keep the heart of Mar in the middle of a field,” said Harry incredulously.

Morgan snorted. “No. It's not a matter of keeping it here, any more than you 'keep' your heart in your chest, or your brain in your skull. This is where it is.”

“So, which is it?” asked Ginny.

“Which is what?”

“Which is the heart, the rock, or the ball of light strings that's going all over the place?”

“Both are part of the same thing.”

They all looked at it for several moments.

“What do you see? What do you feel?”

Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. “Just … curiosity, mostly.”

“Yeah, me, too.”

“Hmm,” was all Morgan said. “Well, that's pretty much all there is to look at here. There's another piece of … well, something else that's tied to this back at the Citadel, but we can go look at that later. Let's go look at a tower.”

“Hang on a minute! You can't just show us 'the heart of all Mar' and haul us away two seconds later, like there's nothing to it!” Ginny exclaimed. She walked around the ball of golden threads, and reached out a gentle hand to trace one of them on its path into the ball.

Harry's hand joined hers, and Morgan's breath caught for a moment. “Please, don't pull on that. I don't know how Harry did that before, but … I can only imagine what pulling on it wrong could do. Can you actually feel it? Physically?”

Harry and Ginny both nodded.

Morgan shook his head. “That is so odd. Please, don't pull on it until we talk to Duncan about it.”

Harry raised his eyebrow, but nodded in agreement. “How long has this been here?”

“No one really knows. Centuries, at least.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“So, what does it do? What's it for?”

“Nothing much, really. Not anymore, anyway. They used to do different rituals here. Whenever we train big magic, we usually do it out in the open, and this is one of the places that's been used for that for longer than anyone can remember. I think they even sacrificed a goat once, but the bloke that did it was struck by lightning as soon as he cut the goat's throat, so they never really did that again.”

“What kind of rituals?” Ginny asked sharply. She and Harry exchanged a look while Morgan replied.

“Erm, I never really got into that kind of thing. You should ask Duncan, or Eirica. I just thought it would be cool for you to see the knot. It's kind of … it shows all of us, all of us who are tied to it. It ties us together. That's all,” he said uncomfortably as he looked away.

They nodded together as they watched him, but then turned back to the fading, shimmering knot, which was turning translucent as it sank toward the stone.

As it faded completely from sight, Morgan said, “Erm, we should probably go. There's a tower over that way,” he said, pointing, “just on the other side of the river. It's got a really old stone bridge we'll cross to get to it, dates back to the Romans, or a bit earlier.”

***

Harry started walking down the bank of the river, angling toward the water. Ginny steered him back up and out of the mud.

“Come on, Harry! I want to show you this other tower before we go back,” called Morgan from the stone bridge just up the river from Harry and Ginny.

Harry shook himself and followed Ginny onto the bridge. They started across after Morgan.

Harry stopped midway across the bridge and stared over the low parapet into the water. It was a relatively quiet stretch of the river, deep, dark, and cold, with many large stones in the stream bed. Some of the stones broke above the surface, where they showed a thick coating of green moss.

He watched the water swirling, stirring, and lost himself in the depths of the river until Ginny called his name. He shook himself and turned to her. Just as he did so, a wave of water shaped like a hand swept up over the parapet of the bridge, lifted him off his feet, and threw him across the bridge and into the river, where he disappeared.

Without a glance or word, Ginny dashed across the stones and leapt in after him. Morgan stood at the end of the bridge, his mouth and eyes wide, as he watched the water swallow her.
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