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Mischief Managed! | ||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Tri-Wizard Tournament Challenge (2009-6), Tri-Wizard Tournament Challenge (2009-6) Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 9 Summary: ** Winner of Best Overall, Drama and Stealth (3-way tie) in the Tri-Wizard Tournament Challenge ** It was Christmas Eve…or at least a Christmas Eve—there have been so many throughout time and timelines. One wintry season would pay host to a Yule Ball, a mysterious fourth Triwizard task, an army of much taller elves, a strange, yet familiar older gentleman, more than a few surprises, and, if everyone is lucky, one or two of Ginny’s famous moonberry pies. Read on good friends! There’s mischief to manage…one last time. Hitcount: Story Total: 5748 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: The opening quotation is taken from a 1987 episode, of the same name, from the Tom Selleck series Magnum P.I. This story was produced in cooperation with the Christmas and Toymaker Elves Union, Local 104, to whom I offer my deepest appreciation. |
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By Spenser Hemmingway “Time has little to do with infinity and jelly donuts”–-Jim “Mac” Bonnick “Grandfather! It’s Christmas Eve, and I told you it was past your bedtime an hour ago…forty minutes ago…ten minutes ago! Did you take your medicine–-the correct dosage this time?” “Oops! Sorry about that your Majesty. I await transfer to the royal dungeon at your earliest convenience. Will it be the rack, a quick beheading, or will you actually make me drink the sour potion our good Healer sent over?” The girl cocked her head, hands on her hips, and then presented an excellent imitation of her Great Aunt Hermione’s sternest expression. That other woman’s look was famous in the various Potter and Weasley households–in any number of those of friends and acquaintances for that matter–and the old man did his best impression of cowering. In reality, he was biting his tongue to keep from laughing at the caricature. After four or five seconds, it was the great granddaughter who began to giggle at her own dramatic scene. “You really do need to take better care of yourself. Mum would have an outright fit if she knew what I’ve seen you doing lately, and at your age as well. You have no business going up into the mountains, especially in this weather, especially today, and I know you’ve borrowed Grandpa Albus’ spare broom since we had to take yours away. Please try to remember–you’ll be eighty-six years old this next July.” “Will you remember then that the man Albie’s named for lived to be well over a hundred years, and he was still flying a broom the day he was killed.” “He didn’t have a series of heart attacks, or the sudden shock of losing…” The girl’s voice trailed off with the realization of what she was about to remind him. He said it for her. “The shock of losing my dear, wonderful, sweet wife? You may say it Liliana. She’s been dead a month now. I do miss her, and my grief really is the knife that’s buried in my chest. It will kill me in the end. I comprehend and accept it.” Please don’t talk that way Grandfather.” “I comprehend and accept it,” the man repeated. “It’s time my family did as well. She and I had an excellent life together, but now I welcome death as an old friend, and I look forward to seeing your great grandmother again on the other side.” Liliana felt the tears welling up inside her. The girl caught herself, knowing she would choke on anything she could say next. She remembered only too well how much this man hated such sentiment if it was at his expense. Liliana’s new husband and she had brought the older man to their Hogsmeade home just weeks before, promising Grandfather Albus and Grandmother Jennifer that they would take proper care of him. It was universally agreed that a stay in the long-familiar Scottish Highlands would be infinitely better for him than some Wizards’ convalescence home in noisy London. Liliana doubted those same family members would approve of the daily wanderings she couldn’t seem to prevent. “It will be fine Cricket.” The Wizard rose from his desk, stepped across the bedroom, and pulled the girl into a warm embrace. “I promise I’ll get some excellent sleep tonight, as soon as I get to a breaking point in my little project.” “What project?” she asked, pulling away and then beginning to examine his eyes for some clue. “Oh, just a little something I’ve been meaning to do for quite a while now. It’s a little fancy I have–one I discussed…mused over with some friends a few times.” “Grandfather?” “Please don’t give me that worried face again child. I estimate it will take me perhaps a week to complete my sinister scheme, and I only have one more detail to see to this evening.” Slowly walking his youngest family to the open door, he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and made use of her momentary confusion to ease her out of the room. “Goodnight dear.” “Grandfather?” “Goodnight dear.” Closing the door, the Wizard took several cleansing breaths to calm his nerves. He didn’t want to think about the strain on his frail heart, or what his little project would really entail. “Goodbye Cricket.” It was his turn to feel the strong emotions rising up inside him. He couldn’t afford it yet. “Bernard!” he quietly called out. The name was scarcely off his lips before the elf appeared to him there. The diminutive fellow, dressed all in red, was gnawing at a frosted sugar cookie almost as large as his face. Rendering a quick mock salute, he immediately moved to listen at the door for any eavesdroppers before again turning to address the Wizard. Fortunately, he waited until his mouth was no longer full. “Are you ready Mac?” the elf asked, and in surprisingly good English. “Proper etiquette calls for you to address me as sir I believe, or at least Mister.” “You’re kidding, right?” The little guy gave the man an exasperated stare, but also a genuine smile. “I suppose, for the sake of convenience, you should start calling me Henry…Henry Porter.” He was grinning as well now. “That’s the name…the alias I’ll go with for this I suppose. Thanks again for your help, by the way; especially this time of year.” “Forget it. You and the big guy are like family. This year’s work is done anyway. I don’t think we could have found you a house-elf who could dance either.” “Well you Christmas elves are twice as tall…” “Twice as handsome.” “You can pass for a young human if we cover your ears,” Henry clarified. He retrieved a warm coat, hat, and gnarled old cane (for which he reluctantly conceded a need) from the closet, and then moved to the room’s lone window to take in the wintry scenery below him. He was going to miss this place, he knew. Finally, the man reached over to the nightstand to take up the small, yet much cherished, leather case he always kept there. “I’m ready. Will it be a long journey?” “Faster than you would think.” Henry chuckled at this. “Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?” “No Neville, really…I think it’s great that you’re going to ask Ginny to the Yule Ball.” Why do I feel as if I’m lying to him? Harry wondered. Well, Cho might go with me. Do I want her to? Of course, I do. “Thanks for saying that Harry. Uhm…do you think I should talk to her brothers about whether if it’s all right. I mean… if it isn’t too old fashioned or too formal?” Harry had to think about this, but only for a moment. “No, I wouldn’t do that. Ginny’s her own person, and she seems to think they’re overly protective already. Should I be protective? Do I want Neville to ask her? Hold on, this is Neville, and he’s a gentleman if there ever was one. “Makes sense Harry. I hadn’t thought of that before. I suppose Ron’s going to ask Hermione. Have you decided yet? I mean, being a Triwizard Champion, all the girls are probably coming up to you, aren’t they?” “Hmm…what?” Harry was only half listening to his friend as they moved through the school corridor toward the stairs. His attention was fixed on an elderly Wizard at the railing a floor above them. Beside him there was a slender, dark-haired boy in what appeared to be a strange red costume. “I said, is Ron going to ask Hermione to the Ball? Come on Harry, we’re going to be late for Charms.” “What was that? Ron and Hermione? Harry had never thought about the two that way before, but, in an odd way, it made perfect sense to him. The girl was like a sister to Harry, but did Ron feel the same? Is Ginny like a sister to me? Harry’s gaze was still transfixed on the strange Wizard above them there. He had glasses similar to his own, a close-trimmed white beard and the cut of his suit was more Muggle than it was Magic. A gray fedora held in his long, untamed hair. His features appeared to be friendly, and somehow, more than a bit familiar. So occupied was he with the stranger that Harry failed to notice how far ahead of him Neville had moved. Finally glancing after his friend, he saw too late how the other boy’s attention was on him, maybe to again prompt Harry to hurry. Walking backward, Neville wasn’t watching where he was going. “Neville!” Harry yelled, breaking into a run, but too late. Somehow the staircase had quietly shifted back, and moved away, leaving a gap for Neville to step off and into space. Rushing to the rail, he saw Neville on another set of moving stairs below, perhaps twenty-five feet down, unconscious and with his leg and arm at odd angles. “Ouch! I hated to do that. I really owe Neville now,” Henry told the disguised elf beside him. They would have to do something about his clothing soon, especially the felt hat covering the pointed ears. “Explain to me why you did it then.” Bernard leaned further over the railing, but couldn’t determine, from that distance, how badly the student below them was injured. “It has to do with the certain young lady you and I met earlier–-one who just transferred to Hogwarts from her exile on the Pacific island of Bora Flora.” “Huh? You don’t mean…?” Henry began to walk off, and the elf had to quickly trot to catch up with him once he noticed the man gone. “Her father left England shortly after his wife passed away to find relief from a rare malady that left him extremely sensitive to common British dairy products. They caused him to break out in hives and purple hair. Fortunately, someone discovered a cure about forty years ago, which…” “Which you brought back with us. That explains our quick stop on their island on our way here. They’re back in England already? She’s here at Hogwarts now? How does she…? Oh no! You didn’t? Tell me you didn’t.” “Very unfortunate. Rosalyn Stickworth–-an appropriate name for another Herbology prodigy–-suffered an identical accident on this very staircase twenty minutes ago. Neville and she will spend the next few days together in the infirmary, talking, arguing Herbology, becoming acquainted. It was either her or Hannah Abbot, and I’ve never thought that girl a good match for Neville. Hmm, I know! I’ll arrange for Hannah and the quarterback Joe Montana’s teenage son to meet.” “Uhm…yeah. I guess now this Harry is free to ask the Weasley girl to the Yule Ball.” “Let’s just say, the odds have dramatically improved. It’s really too bad Ron and Hermione are going to be trapped in the Ghosts’ Billiard Room, alone together, for the next three days. Be sure to provide them with an extremely large basket of food. This is a Weasley after all. Please set up a portable loo as well, and no house-elf rescues either.” “I’ll leave her a shovel to club him with too.” “Nice touch. Have the four artifacts been secured yet? Have all of them?” “All set. I’m off now to arrange the fun, if we can call it that. What do you have planned this morning Mac? Going to put the Slytherin Quidditch team in full body casts?” “Nothing so dramatic. I need to arrange for an anonymous tip to be sent regarding someone impersonating Professor Alastor Mad-Eye Moody, set up a much earlier introduction between Brandon Llewellyn and his future wife Kitty Fletcher, determine if one new student from Florida has arrived yet, and owl a colorful, and hopefully career-ending, file on Delores Umbrage to the Daily Prophet. Seven o’clock this evening Bernard–the Astronomy Tower.” Santa’s elf gave the Wizard another upside-down salute and popped off to set the stage for the festivities. Henry took a moment to rest, leaning heavily on the cane, and staring off into space, deep in thought. This has to work! It must work! So many lives could be saved if I can change history…again. If I can get my friends together a few years earlier as well, then so much the better. “Harry will you please slow down for a moment!” Ginny called to him, almost out of breath after trying to catch up with the Wizard. “I’m sorry Ginny,” Harry offered back over his shoulder. He couldn’t dawdle though. He’d lost a half an hour already in the Entry Hall when he’d inadvertently been on hand to assist in the capture of a Death Eater masquerading as Professor Moody. “Harry, I’m serious! Ron and Hermione are missing. No one…no one has seen them in hours.” This news did cause Harry to stop and turn to Ginny. A disappearance happening the same day as the Barty Crouch Junior incident and the staircase tampering couldn’t be a coincidence. Was there some new threat at the school? He had to find out, but, for the moment, he couldn’t risk Ginny’s safety. Harry took the girl’s hand and began a somewhat slower trot to his rendezvous with the Triwizard officials. The other champions would be in the Tower already with them. They would just have to understand Ginny’s accompanying him there under the circumstances. She was under his protection as of now. She was his best friend’s sister. That was all, wasn’t it? “Ginny, uhm…” Harry couldn’t say what was going through his mind just then, and instead pulled up the first safe subject he could to finish his sentence. “Neville wants to ask you to the Yule Ball.” Why did I say that? Stupid! Stupid! What if she tells him yes?! No, I’m going to take Cho...unless someone else has already invited her. “I was hoping you would ask me Harry, and yes, I am over the silly crush I had on you. We could go as maybe…friends.” She’d said it! She’d really said it finally! What did Ginny just say? Cho was out of his head as if she’d been erased. Harry didn’t have the opportunity to puzzle over Ginny’s words though. They had arrived at the entryway to the Astronomy Tower, where sat…a giant ceramic hippopotamus. It was painted purple, had a heavy glaze, and emitted a noise that sounded like someone passing gas. Could the day get any stranger? Despite himself, Harry found himself drawn to the statue, and reached out to touch it, still gripping Ginny’s right hand with his left. He barely heard her when she shouted a warning the same moment he came in contact with the hippo. A heartbeat later the two were gone. It had been a Portkey. All at once, Ginny and Harry found themselves in a large, unfamiliar chamber already decorated from floor to ceiling for the upcoming Christmas season. Fresh-smelling garlands lined the walls, three enormous trees reached high into the lofty room, and a string of colorful stockings hung over a blazing fireplace–one Santa would have to take care in passing through. From out of nowhere came wonderful holiday music as well. A long table was set for five, although only the final plate seemed to be unused. The remains of a turkey, ham, and several other dishes still lay about, advertising the fact that someone else had been there to eat earlier. Only their curiosity stopped the two from admiring the enticing aromas–curiosity about the man sitting at the far end of the table, enjoying his own meal, and patiently waiting for the questions that would surely come next. It was the same Wizard Harry had seen at the stairs just before Neville’s accident. “Good evening Harry. I was hoping you would arrive soon. I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting you to come as well Ginny, but this is hardly a problem. It’s actually a brilliant opportunity. It’s wonderful to see you again.” “Do we know you sir?” Ginny tentatively asked before Harry could. “No, I suppose you don’t really. I do know you however, better than I could ever describe. You see, I come from a place so close, yet so incredibly far away; it would boggle your imagination were I to tell you of it. Yes, I know you both very well.” “I don’t believe…” Harry began. “Ginny has seventeen freckles on her nose in three rows, her favorite flowers are lilacs, her favorite place at the Burrow is the old willow tree east of her house, and she also likes honey in her oolong tea. Her moonberry pies are legendary, in part because of her insistence on using Sri Lankan cinnamon in the crust. Harry here, on the other hand, prefers Japanese green tea, a habit I…” “Where are we? What’s happening here?” Harry demanded, cutting the man off. “The other Champions have already been given their tasks and sent off. I’m afraid you’ll have to eat quickly and then be on your own way. The fireplace there is on the Floo Network for your convenience. Ginny may accompany you as well if you’d like. Your being three years younger than the others, with three years’ less life and educational experience, I can easily justify her assistance.” “What is…?” Harry began again. “You’re at the school still–in the lowest level of Morgan’s Keep. We discovered it while exploring our seventh year at Hogwarts. Professor Morgan’s ghost has graciously loaned it to us today. You may call me Henry. I’m here to send you off on your second Triwizard task.” “Second task? Harry’s second task isn’t until next year after the snows melt,” Ginny pointed out to the man. As exasperated as she was with what was happening, the girl found herself actually liking this strange man before them. She was also thrilled at the thought of being able to assist Harry. “Everyone still has to discover the secret to the noisy objects they recovered from the Dragon task.” “Mermaid song,” Henry simply said, but succeeded in astonishing the students. “Open the egg underwater Harry, and you’ll be able to understand it. I’ve revealed this to the other Champions as well. Perhaps I shouldn’t, but my time among you is so short, I have so much to…rectify, and, as I’m taking it upon myself to add a fourth task here, there can’t be any harm in expediting matters a tad.” “Four tasks? Hold on, are you authorized to do this? Who are you? Why wasn’t this public knowledge–-your changing the Challenge so much?” Harry was growing impatient, and angry at himself for looking forward to working with Ginny. Naturally, Ron would be furious, and for a couple reasons. “If it isn’t safe for Ginny, then…” “It will be completely safe for both of you.” You two are the last people on Earth I would allow any harm, he didn’t add. “Of course, I’m authorized to do it,” Henry lied. Rule eighteen: It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission. The ends will justify the means right now. “You…no one was told about this task before because, by its very nature, it must be accomplished without any preparation whatsoever to be an effective test. You will have seven days to complete your charge.” Harry still wasn’t convinced…entirely. He did take a chair at the table, however, after helping seat Ginny next to his place. An additional setting appeared there before her. “What are we to do?” Ginny asked. She intended her words, in part, to convey the message that she was indeed going with Harry. Their friends, in passing on the warning about the dragons before, had already demonstrated how outside assistance could be quietly tolerated. The Wizard calling himself Henry smiled at her again. She found herself warming to him more with each passing moment, but still couldn’t explain the why of it. “We, that is, the Triwizard Committee, are sending you off on a little scavenger hunt.” Bernard suddenly appeared next to Henry, and quietly took his place beside the man’s chair. “You will be provided with three riddles.” Poetic devices under the circumstances. Small white envelopes materialized then before Harry and Ginny. “Bernard is, believe it or not, one of Father Christmas’ elves.” His red hat was removed to reveal the ears, and confirm this, again amazing the teenagers. “They have this marvelous ability to transport themselves, and those with them, literally anywhere. Including bringing crazy old men into alternative realities. “Bernard will be accompanying us?” Ginny couldn’t help but study the elf. This variety was so different from the house-elves they knew–so humanlike. “Not exactly. My friend here will provide you with a means of transport when you need and desire it. You will also pass on to him the objects you recover, as you recover them, and which he will bring to me here at our school. Our school? Be careful not to reveal too much about who you are. Please be patient when calling for him. He does have to support the others as well you know.” “What precisely are we searching for sir?” Harry asked, after weighing the conditions for almost a full minute. He was still suspicious and worried about taking Ginny away from Hogwarts for a full week. The two would essentially be missing, perhaps the object of a desperate search, and certainly the cause of great worry to family and friends. “Oh, just some artifacts we’ve obtained.” With extremely difficulty, I won’t add. “The ancient relics are now extremely well-hidden.” Including the Horcruxes. I’ve done the hard work for you, but you still need to be the one working to amass and then destroy them this time. Harry took a moment to again consider it all. He was bound by the magical contract initiated when the Goblet of Fire gave up his name that day. Ginny wasn’t though. She could, and should, go back. Reading his mind, the girl placed her hand on his, knit her brows in a determined manner, but also presented Harry with the warmest of smiles. If nothing else, Henry had initiated something wonderful more than two years before it would have happened anyway. “You said we have time for supper? We do? Excellent.” Harry reached for the potatoes and then for the envelopes. Unlike the other Champions, Harry decided Ginny and he should open the first envelope somewhere other than Morgan’s Keep. Ginny didn’t object, but neither did she understand at first. The simple fact was Harry was becoming more nervous about having Ginny along on his trip. She shouldn’t be with him, but he wanted her there regardless. This left him annoyed, anxious, and on the verge of becoming overprotective. Harry was smart enough to know this would push the girl away, perhaps irreparably. He couldn’t allow that, and he understood the fine line he was walking now. Beginning the task far away from the strangle old man was a reasonable step. Utilizing the offered Floo, Harry and Ginny traveled first to the Leaky Cauldron in London. The moment they emerged from that fireplace, Harry, still holding Ginny’s hand, turned and used it once more to take them to the home of Neville’s grandmother. The woman, Harry had been told, traveled to Hogwarts after the accident, being misinformed that her boy was far worse than he was. She’d also walked in on Neville and Rosalyn in the loud argument phase of their new friendship. In any case, the Longbottom home would be empty for the evening. Harry hoped they would only need a few minutes. “Go ahead and open the envelope Ginny,” Harry whispered, despite his certainty that they were alone. He found himself holding his breath as she broke the seal. “This is interesting Harry, and I think…I think I know the answer already,” she said, handing the card to him. The band you seek from your great house, On Lost Boy you will find, Avoid the curse, the wearers’ bane, But wield it with your mind. “Of course! Peter Pan’s statue in Kensington Gardens in London! What would the band mean though, and why wouldn’t someone want you to wear it?” Harry asked. His mind was racing, and something else occurred to him. “Why is it so easy? The Triwizard Tournament is supposed to be extremely difficult…deadly difficult. Remember the scorch marks on my robes after I danced with my dragon?” “I don’t know Harry. Do we Floo back to the Cauldron, or try to catch the Knight Bus, or…” Before Ginny had finished her sentence, Harry and she found themselves standing in the very park they needed, in front of the very statue they wanted. On its extended hand they saw a ring, no doubt charmed to hide it from passing Muggles. This was the band the riddle referred to? They again thought about how effortless it had been. The sudden transport question was answered when they spotted Santa’s elf off to one side. “Bernard’s Rapid Transit at your service. Peter Pan huh? Ah yes…a boy and his ticking crocodile. I actually dated Tinkerbelle a century or two back.” “Are you following us? Were you spying on us?” Harry demanded, working hard to control his anger. “Yeah, it’s that ‘sees you when you’re sleeping, etcetera’ routine. With his workload, Santa delegates some magic. I can also take you wherever you need, just like what’s-his-name told you.” “We refer to Voldemort by that sometimes still. I do suppose we’ll need you here to accept the ring.” Harry began to climb the statue to take it, but Ginny grabbed his arm to stop him. “Harry, don’t. It really is too simple for a Triwizard Challenge.” Harry looked her in the eye, nodded, climbed down again, and then turned his attention back to the ring there just feet away. It was so close. If they were still at Hogwarts, where the Tournament was supposed to be taking place; if only he was of age like the other Champions; he could apply a simple levitation spell to remove the ring at a safe distance. He wouldn’t risk underage magic. Ginny might be punished by the Ministry along with him. What would the ring do–explode? No, the riddle said it would affect the wearer. The harm was in physical contact. “Think Harry…think, think, think!” he told himself. “Use your mind–your brain like the riddle told you. Wait one! A stick!” “I’m not going to beat a solution out of you Harry,” Ginny giggled. “Oh, I see. We can flip it off with one.” The teammates spread out trying to find something appropriate. A wand was far too short, as they both agreed they needed that distance initially. Spreading out across the gardens, it took them almost fifteen minutes to locate just the right size fallen branch–Ginny did. Harry’s contribution was a large wad of bubble gum, purchased from a nearby newsstand, quickly chewed, and placed on the end of the stick. Ginny did the honors, gently lifting the ring free, and passing it to Bernard. As expected, he pulled it free using a heavy rag, depositing it in a small leather bag. “Great job sport! You just saved Dumbledore’s hand.” The elf had been at least as cautious when he first stole, and then planted, the ring on Peter Pan. “Better get going with the second riddle kids. Believe me, it will take you a whole lot longer to figure out...probably.” “Dumbledore’s hand? What are you…?” Harry’s question went unanswered. Bernard was already gone. Ginny pulled the envelope from the pocket of her robes, and at a nod from Harry, again broke the seal. As its sister came from the stone, In the Rock, you shall find this steel, Its lion shall not be sheared, But the serpent, its wrath shall feel. “Now what do think this means?” she asked. “Excuse me young lady, is this seat taken?” The girl, sitting at the far end of the Ravenclaw table, in her all-too-familiar imposed seclusion, looked up at the older gentleman, and motioned for him to join her. “Thank you. Your name is Luna Lovegood isn’t it?” “Yes sir,” she replied in a soft yet curious voice. “Aren’t you the man working with the Tournament?” “Indirectly. My name is Henry Porter.” Henry had utilized a mild memory altering spell to convince the elder Barty Crouch that he was legitimate, but from an extremely obscure section of the Ministry (The Traditional Christmas Fruitcake Liaison Office). A short note from Mr. K. Kringle, on official letterhead, cemented the cover. Plain and simply, in the ever-present bedlam that year at the school, no one was really paying the old man much attention. Even Albus Dumbledore had accepted the explanation, and he would offer Henry a friendly greeting when they passed in the hallways. Only Professor Snape seemed to be truly suspicious of him. Moody, who also would have been mistrustful, was spending some time in St. Mungo’s after his kidnapping ordeal. “May I help you with something sir? “Yes Luna, you can. I need an enormous favor from you.” Henry stood again, and reached out with his hand, offering it to her. “I see you’re done with your meal. Could you come with me for a little while?” “I’m sorry, I need to go to…” “Your Arithmancy class, and then Transfiguration? I’ve spoken with your instructors and promised them I would personally tutor you in today’s lessons this evening if you could help me this afternoon.” He again offered her his hand once Luna had risen, and this time she took it, accurately believing the frail gentleman would appreciate the added support. “I’m not in any trouble, am I?” “What? No, of course not. I promise you it’s a good thing.” As the two passed down the Ravenclaw table, the other students pointed and began to talk in hushed voices. Henry’s hearing, despite his years and health, was still excellent. He heard the name Loony used repeatedly, and so did Luna if the sudden squeeze to his hand meant anything. Without a corresponding word, the Wizard tapped his cane on the floor, causing three very full pitchers of pumpkin juice to discharge their contents all over the surprised students there. The pair walked on in silence, out of the Great Hall, and then to the base of the central stairwell. Henry took the time to again go over what he would say to the girl. He released her hand and instead raised his elbow, offering her that now and providing her with better leverage. Even in the short time he had been at the school again, Henry had noted how much his strength was waning. He did need Luna’s assistance. “Luna, let me tell you about a man I know named Spenser. He met and married a nice girl named Luna as well. That was a long time ago. In truth, you are the only other person I’ve ever encountered with the name. It’s actually why I thought of having you help me today. I heard one of your friends mention you in passing.” “I really don’t have any friends.” “Not Ginny Weasley?” “We’re just neighbors back home.” Henry took a deep breath, remembering how lonely this girl had been at this time. Well, he was about to fix that. “Anyway, my friend Spenser–do you know what he affectionately called his wife? His name for her was Luni.” Luna stopped dead, and instantly regretted it when Henry almost staggered. The look she gave him was both apologetic and questioning. “Yes, you did hear me correctly my dear. For him Luni, spelled L-U-N-I, is a magical, musical play on a beautiful name. For him it was no different than Jenny for Jennifer, Cindy for Cynthia…or Ginny for Ginevra. Only Spenser was given permission to call her that, and Merlin help anyone else he or their friends caught using the name. Perhaps you can concentrate on the special someone you might one day permit the same favor and ignore those who use it in a different context.” They began to walk again, both deep in thought. Luna was considering what she had just been told, and Henry was gauging her reaction to his story. Ten more minutes brought them across the castle and to a large, but little-used, room Luna knew once housed Muggle Studies artifacts. Entering, she saw how someone had emptied the chamber except for an ancient gramophone on a table in one corner. Beside it stood Henry’s strangely dressed associate, and an unfamiliar, sandy-haired boy, perhaps the same age she was–perhaps a year older. “Ah good! You’re here. Miss Luna Lovegood, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Rolf Scamander, newly returned home after several years in Florida. This is Bernard, and he has offered to teach the young man how to dance in anticipation of the upcoming Yule Ball. If you don’t mind, I would appreciate it if you could be his dance partner for few hours.” The teenagers stood there in silence studying each other, but smiling, which Henry took as a good sign. He took the opportunity to retrieve the leather case he’d left under the table. He walked it over to Luna. “I’m…I’m afraid I don’t know how to really dance sir,” she meekly told him. “Then it is all-the-more fortunate that I selected you to ask for assistance. Luna, I would like you to have this. It belonged to my late wife. I understand you play beautifully. Oh, and the violin has antitheft charms in place. Anyone handling it without permission will find themselves with itchy green fur.” Luna was almost overwhelmed then with emotion. It was something Henry had rarely witnessed to this extent. He saw the boy move to stand next to her as she caressed the instrument’s case. Yes, my work here is complete. It’s time to move on to my next task. Henry took a firmer grip on his cane and began to walk toward the door. “Sir…Henry, thank you, but why?” Henry was almost out of the room before he answered. “Because we are friends Luna.” Viktor Crum cursed his bad luck with as much vehement energy as he had praised kismet for the good two days before. The first riddle had been so amazingly simple, and the object’s retrieval so rapid, that the Bulgarian honestly believed he’d be done with the hunt far before the seven days had passed. The seventeen-year-old had already begun calculating the final points he would have at the end of the week. Ten had been awarded for obtaining his first artifact (before the others, he believed). Twenty would come if Viktor repeated the quick performance with the second. You shall sweep the clouds with its golden sheaves, It is found among the highest of leaves, In the darkest of keeps, in a wild land, The Impaler’s realm is near at hand. He knew exactly what the riddle referenced. The Golden Broom of Janice Eetor, and its location was at Dracula’s Castle high in the Transylvanian mountains–-surprisingly in a section now used for a Muggle museum. It was hardly a worthy hiding place. Not trusting the strange elf’s assistance (the old man was apparently British, and he and his servant, in all probability, favored his nation’s Champions over him), Viktor wasted a valuable day traveling to his first destination. Borrowing the famous broom (he laughed at the thought of someone actually returning it) however, had only required a few minutes effort. After passing off the broom to Bernard, Viktor greedily tore open the second envelope, hoping…expecting the next riddle to be just as simple. It was hardly that. At the bottom of the world, In the Land of Fire, Encased in The Light, The crown you desire. Viktor had immediately assumed the riddle indicated Australia should be his next destination. Another travel day expended brought him to Queensland–the land’s reference to the crown. Now, yet another day later, he wasn’t so sure. What was the actual object? Was it the light? No, it was supposedly inside the light. Wait, not the light–The Light! It had been capitalized…as had Land of Fire! “The Light at bottom of world.” Viktor picked up his barely touched, and now warm, Australian beer, sniffed it, and immediately returned it to the bar in front of him. He wasn’t a drinker. He had merely come into the small town’s only establishment serving hot food. At least the lamb had been good. “Vat is Land of Fire?” he asked no one in particular in his broken English. He still received an answer. “Y'must be thinkin’ of Tierra del Fuego mate. It’s at the very bottom of South America,” the barman told him. “The Lighthouse at the End of the World is a Jules Verne book about wreckers and an old lighthouse down there. Me boy read it last winter, he did. Viktor stood and threw down a wad of Muggle money, not caring about what the conversion rate from Wizarding gold had been. Thanking the server, but in his native Bulgarian this time, Viktor immediately Disapparated away in search of a different broom–a fast, long-range one this time. As is so often the case, no one believed the bartender when he related the incident to his evening crowd. There had been no other witnesses. All the proof the man had, as far as the stranger having even been there, was the small envelope he had dropped when pulling out the cash. This was now secured in the back of the receipt drawer in case the foreigner returned for it. Forty-eight hours later, and not yet having discovered his loss, Viktor presented the Ravenclaw Diadem Horcrux, found inside the ruins of an ancient navigational beacon, to a straight-faced Bernard (who had, in point of fact, hidden it there in the first place). “Harry, are you angry with me?” “What? That’s ridiculous Ginny. Why would I ever be angry with you? You’ve been brilliant these past days. I wouldn’t be here without you.” “Yes, you would Harry, and three days earlier. I shouldn’t have suggested we go to Gibraltar the way we did. It was beautiful, but…” The girl’s voice faded to nothing. Harry reached across the café table to take her hand. A week before he wouldn’t have even considered doing so. Now, he couldn’t imagine himself not being able to. Something wonderful had happened between the two and far greater than simple friendship. Their relationship now belied their ages but had grown in a way that didn’t strain their patience. On the fourth day of the scavenger hunt, huddled around their small fire in the small Spanish shepherd’s hut, Harry had finally asked her to the Yule Ball. It had been so easy, he decided afterward. “Ginny, you were the one who thought of this relic being a sword…probably the Gryffindor sword. Its sister pulled from the stone must have referenced Excalibur? Remember how you deduced that? The lion meant a Gryffindor object. It made perfect sense to assume it was the Gryffindor Sword inside the Rock of Gibraltar.” “It wasn’t there though, was it Harry? Now we’re in San Francisco living off what little money the Berkley pawn shop quietly gave you for your antique pocket watch. This…this… I’m completely worthless to you. I’m going to have Bernard take me home. Mum must be frantic about…” Harry stood up so quickly he almost upset the table between them. His hands went up in frustration, and his face tweaked as he tried to calm down and find the right words. Finally, he did. “Ginevra Molly Weasley, if I ever, ever hear you describe yourself as worthless again, I’ll…I’ll…” “You know my middle name Harry?” Ginny could only stare at his emerald green eyes in wonder. “What? I’ve always known…I think.” Harry unexpectedly found himself laughing. “Also, that your have seventeen freckles on your nose in three rows.” Harry somehow knew, for a fact now, that the strange old Wizard, despite his words, had meant from the start for Ginny to team with him. Who was he really? It had been a demanding time for them, those past days, with concerns about travel, food, shelter, simple toiletries, and such, all in addition to concerns with the search. They’d dealt with them all, without magic, and together. Ginny stood to face him, and it was her turn to take his hand. “Come on Harry. Let’s find a way to get out to this other Rock, Alcatraz or whatever, and find that bloody broadsword.” Cedric was in much better spirits than Viktor (now desperately searching for his lost third riddle), although his fortunes were not much better. He had just completed the fifth day of his hunt, and, even with the second relic, an odd-looking cup with the Hufflepuff crest, given over to the elf minutes before, he was sorely concerned about running out of time. How were the others doing? Still, even with these concerns, he was greatly enjoying himself. The mental challenge of solving the riddles was, relatively speaking, as great as the physical one of the first task. It was late evening in New York–-almost midnight. Cedric, while more comfortable in the Wizarding world, was adequately familiar with the Muggle as well…he thought. He’d never been to The Bronx. The young Wizard was tired, hungry, and anxious to make use of his bed for the night. He would open the final envelope just before he lay down to sleep. Cedric would allow his subconscious mind to work the puzzle as he rested. None-the-wiser, Cedric believed he was safe enough, with his hand on his wand, taking the shortcut through the dark alley to the cheap hotel he had been forced to utilize. He had few enough British Pounds in his pocket, let alone American Dollars, and the filthy establishment was the only one he’d found (and could afford) that would accept the foreign currency. Passing a dumpster and a large pile of wooden crates, which every respectable alleyway seems to always have, Cedric saw the Americans the exact same moment he heard the girl scream. Two of them, teenagers not much younger than he was, had a girl on the ground and were in a tug-of-war with her over a purse. Drawing his wand as he rushed forward, the Wizard threw stun bolts at the muggers, completely disregarding the fact that they were, without a doubt, Muggles. Cedric never suspected what was really happening. A third teenager appeared from a doorway, and, before there was any chance to defend himself, a shot was fired hitting Cedric on the left side and dropping him to the ground. In a daze, he barely perceived the girl jumping to her feet, and rushing up to the gunman. In a daze, he barely perceived the girl jumping to her feet and rushing up to the gunman. “Rachael, what did he do to Doug and Frankie?” It was a trap. Cedric had been the target of the robbery. “Something like this! Flipendo!” the Wizard somehow managed to say. The teenager was thrown against the far wall, with a satisfying crunching sound that had to be bones cracking. The girl, abandoning her friends, took off at a fast pace back into the darkness. Cedric, realizing he was seconds from passing out, forced himself to his feet. He had no recollection later of staggering out onto the street, to an all-night convenience store, and then collapsing there from pain and blood loss. “You cannot arrest me! I am a French citizen!” Fleur screamed. “Do you deny stealing the statue of Conga Conga Hooey?” the Kenyan policeman asked the Witch. “We have more than a dozen eyewitnesses who have identified you. Where is it?” Where Viktor’s hunt had met with more-or-less sideways luck, Cedric’s with a violent robbery attempt, and Harry’s with frustrating long hours of…frustration, Fleur’s was somewhere in the middle on the fortune index. Like the others, she had few difficulties in locating the first object (the locket Horcrux hidden/planted in a Dutch windmill), and nothing but trouble with the second. After finally identifying her second goal and arriving in the African nation (ala Bernard), she had first been kidnapped by a strange (yet ruggedly handsome) man in a loincloth swinging her through the trees. Then she was pursued while she made her escape by a band of equally love-starved gorillas. Finally, having secured the ancient idol, Fleur had no sooner passed it on to the Christmas elf than she found herself surrounded by a score of Muggle policemen. No, not all Muggle–someone had applied an anti-Apparation spell. “Bernard!” she shouted for the twentieth time. Still he didn’t come. Transported to their version of a jail, the Beauxbatons student was thrown wandless into the filthy holding cell and had to endure sharing the tiny room with the largest rodents she had ever encountered. At least she still had her third riddle, not that it would do her much good at this point, even if free. Throwing her hands into the air in surrender, the girl then proceeded to pull and violently tear open the worthless envelope. In the blink of an eye, Fleur was again at liberty. Cedric woke a full day later in the Manhattan hospital room. The Muggle medications he had been given left him groggy, and the endless string of questions pressed upon him by the doctors and police alike caused his head to hurt as much as his side did. He had no identification. He had no passport, despite clearly being British. He only had a flesh wound, more bloody than deep, but how had he received it? Could he identify his attackers? Why was he in the alleyway at such a late hour? Cedric thanked the large head nurse twice when she ushered everyone out of the room, citing the chief surgeon’s orders for patient rest. When they had left, the young Wizard slowly pulled himself up, and then off the bed, careful not to dislodge any of the tubes and wires attached to him. What little Cedric knew about Muggle medicine told him this would be a bad, maybe even dangerous, action. Fortunately, they came from a wheeled platform which would move a short distance with him. A quick search told him his clothes were gone, but his daypack, did hang on the door hook of the adjacent cabinet. He was pleased to find both his wand and the final riddle inside the pocket. By his count, the week was up. There was no possible way he could secure the final artifact. Regardless, Cedric had to know what the final clue was. Returning to his bed with the pack, he carefully sat down again, and then opened the envelope to remove the card inside. The medical team responded to the beeping alarm at the nurses’ station within seconds of the alert. No one could explain where their patient had gone in his condition with his door just feet away from their work desk. “Bernard, how did this sword go from Professor Dumbledore’s office to an abandoned prison a third of a way around the world? I would think he would have objected.” “I stole it Harry and put it there.” “What?” Ginny and he screamed, almost simultaneously. No one was near enough at hand to hear them that morning at the old Presidio military chapel. Even before they had closed the base, this one structure had been out of use for more than a decade. It looked it. “Harry, that Henry guy and I are doing something really nifty for all of you. Actually, a big part of it is something you have to handle personally sport, but we want it to at least look like a big group effort. When it’s over, the credit will be spread around, and your part minimized. It would have been miserable for you to shoulder all the hero stuff alone. Trust us on that–we know.” “Why did we have to gather all those things if you had them to begin with? Ginny demanded. She was more agitated than angry…if that. “It’s like I said–for show. We wanted it to look like all of you did it as part of the Tournament. You’re only going to need some of the stuff, but we don’t want people to know which ones, or why. Henry knew what the things were, where they were, and how to steal them. My crew works with a guy who breaks into millions of houses once a year. Someone like me, with that talent, came in handy for this here job.” For a full minute, Harry had to think over what they’d been told. “Do the other Champions know about all this?” “Nope, but they’re supposed to be with you at the end.” “Are you really one of Father Christmas’ elves?” Ginny asked then. “Sure am, cutie. He also employs toymakers, but they resemble house-elves more than us. Oh, and our boss, Nicholas, also made a special trip to see your folks–let them know you weren’t exactly missing. I don’t think anyone else but Santa could have convinced them this thing was okay for you. You should still look for a howler later. Whoa!” Bernard was taken aback with the sudden hug Ginny delivered. “Uhm, I’ve gotta go… Uhm…” With a quiet pop, the embarrassed elf was again gone. “What do you think this is really about Ginny?” She smiled, realizing that Harry was asking her opinion the way he would only do with Ron or Hermione before. “Maybe we should open the final envelope.” Ginny pulled it from her pocket, took Harry’s hand, calming both of them, and allowed Harry to pull loose the card. Tom The pair didn’t even have time to shudder before the special Portkey transported them back across the world. This time the couple materialized in the yard of a large estate, one which had seen much better days in years past. Seeing the fading sunlight, Harry and Ginny had to remind themselves of the time difference between California and, what they somehow knew to be, England. “Last to arrive again I see.” Henry was grinning ear-to-ear there in front of them. His eyes, however, betrayed some grave, yet-unvoiced concern. Ginny thought he appeared to be miles closer to death. Thinking back to the last time they had met, she remembered how he seemed to be shouldering an enormous amount of personal pain. “Sorry sir, we stopped for sourdough bread at Fisherman’s Wharf,” Harry sarcastically told him. He was suddenly too tired to have to deal with the man and his Challenge. Harry then noticed his fellow Champions, or what was left of them there. He and Ginny rushed over to Cedric, lying on a yard bench with Fleur and another Christmas elf magically tending to a nasty-looking wound. The Hufflepuff seemed to be wearing the remains of a Muggle hospital gown, and Harry had no doubt there was an incredible story behind it. Actually, he decided, this could be said for the other two as well. Viktor was black, blue, puffy, and broken (the loser in an Australian bar fight retrieving his envelope). Fleur’s dress was torn and grimy, as was she, and her hair had a small mouse nesting in it. Her face had numerous small abrasions. For maybe the first time in her life, the French girl was thoroughly unattractive. Ginny backed away from Cedric’s makeshift litter, returning to face Henry. They locked eyes, and as the elderly Wizard smiled again at her, a wave of memories flooding through him. This girl clearly was the equal of his. “Sir, what are they going to have to retrieve here? What does it have to do with Tom Riddle?” she asked. “It has everything to do with him. Bernard!” he called out. The elf instantly reappeared, followed a moment later by two more associates. “Are all the Dark Wizard sentries secured, my friends?” “Sure are Mac…I mean Henry. They’re all trussed up like clickerdags before molting season. We introduced them to their worst nightmares–elves with attitudes. That’s a line from a Christmas movie the boss especially likes. The guy who played me was fantastic.” “I’ve seen it, but they won’t be able to for a few more years,” Henry reminded him. “Fleur, you need to get Viktor and Cedric to Madame Pomfrey.” No dying on anyone this time Diggory. “Ginny, you’ll have to go inside the house with Harry. He needs you.” “No!” The other Champions shouted together. It surprised Harry as much as his not joining them in the protest. “Zee girl eez only twelve years old,” Fleur said. “Thirteen plus,” Ginny corrected. Her entire now-rigid body radiated her defiance. “She’s still too young,” Cedric added in a weak voice, “and she’s not even a Triwizard Champion.” “She is now, at least for this task,” Henry announced in an irritated tone. “Harry is only a year older than she is, and you’ve seen he’s your equal. He completed his portion of the hunt with the benefit of Miss Weasley in lieu of the magic he may not use away from Hogwarts. Her aid is appropriate, and I’ve made my decision. Bernard, please have some of your counterparts transport these three to the castle infirmary. I’ll be along very shortly.” Before the teenagers could object, they had vanished from sight. “Bernard, the four artifacts please?” The Christmas elf levitated a medium size red bag forward to Harry, and, with a wave of his hand, made the cloth covering dissolve away. What remained was a glowing, transparent ball safely encasing the four retrieved artifacts. “Harry, these are Horcruxes. Each contains a fraction of…Voldemort’s soul. You destroyed another one in the Chamber that day–the diary.” Ginny and Harry both stared in disbelief at these revelations. “Your final step in this Tournament task is to transport this orb to the upstairs room you see lit up in this house.” “And?” Ginny asked for both of them. “You’ll know what to do when the time comes,” Henry explained, or rather didn’t. “I must leave now. It seems I…uhm, we forgot to release Hermione and Ron from the Ghosts’ Billiard Room as we planned four days ago.” “You didn’t?” Ginny gasped, but was also on the verge of laughing. “We did provide them with an exceptionally large food basket.” Henry gave them another weak smile, and the red-haired elf to his left transported him away. Ginny stepped up to the floating ball and began to examine it. Not understanding why, she reached out to touch the glow. As she moved her hand, the orb corresponded to her direction, floating to one side. It was tied to the girl on some level. “Let’s go,” Harry told her, taking Ginny’s one hand, and allowing her to guide the Horcrux container with the other. As they neared the house, both became aware of how many of Santa’s elves there really were all about, and how many of the Death Eaters the little people had secured. Neither was particularly surprised to see Lucius Malfoy among them, wrapped up tightly in green ribbon and with a yoyo stuffed in his mouth. The door was open, and the orb’s glow was all that illuminated their way as Harry and Ginny proceeded inside. The interior of the house seemed as neglected as the outside, smelling musty and mildewed. It clearly had been an elegant mansion at some time in the distant past, but it was now just a hollow shell. “Ginny, do you hear something? It’s a strange voice. Almost as if… Down!” Harry grabbed the girl and pulled her back just as Nagini lunged at them. The two rolled out of the way at the last possible second. Ginny landed hard on top of Harry, not hurting him, but keeping him from bringing his wand to bear. An unexpected swing of the tail brushed her off him again, sending Ginny to his left, and, as bad luck would have it, knocking their wands away. Harry was instantly back on his feet, more concerned for Ginny than he was for himself, but fully aware with how the snake was targeting them both. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of someone else joining them and then tossing something in his direction. “Harry catch!” Bernard yelled. It appeared Nagini had not seen, smelled, or heard him come to their aid. Reaching upward, Harry caught the Gryffindor Sword’s hilt as if grasping a passing Snitch. His arm kept moving, circling around, picking up momentum as the blade arced. Still moving swiftly, the giant snake used the far wall to careen off, bounce back, and renew his attack from a new direction. The monster couldn’t know this was a mistake. It was an ideal setup, and Harry was ready. Nagini’s head didn’t follow the rest of its body across the room. Ginny finally took a breath, and Harry was quietly panting himself after the battle. “Sorry Harry. We missed this one. Hermie was supposed to pull the thing’s teeth. Hold onto the sword sport. You may need it again.” The elf was gone again as quickly as he came. “Yeah…right…thanks…” Harry told no one. He understood the serpent reference in the second riddle now. Harry, once more holding Ginny’s hand (which, in another setting, would have again delighted her), began to climb the wide staircase. Just as with the ring, both began to wonder if it was all too easy. In reality, it was ridiculously straightforward for them, as had been Henry’s intention. He knew the future, so with Bernard’s cautious guidance, could easily manipulate it. Henry knew everything about the Horcruxes, about Barty Crouch Junior, about Voldemort hiding at his father’s ancestral home awaiting the restoration ceremony which would never occur. Utilizing an army of Santa’s elves to defeat Tom’s forces was so comical as to be the stuff of a bad cartoon movie. Harry, Ginny, the other Champions, all of Henry’s friends and family from this reality had been expertly, yet benevolently, manipulated down to the most minute detail. Magical hindsight, obtained through a lifetime’s worth of experience and memories, gave Henry this capability. He had not foreseen the injuries the others would experience (other than Neville and Rosalyn’s), deeply regretted them, but for the most part, Bernard and he had completed the work for everyone beforehand. All they had to do, one and all, was show up and ride along. Henry wanted it too easy for them. He wanted a normal adolescence…a normal life for this Harry and Ginny now. The spark ignited there would grow over time, and they would be able to take their leisurely time fanning it. Harry wouldn’t have to endure being the Chosen One–-the Savior of the Wizarding World. There would be no battle at the Ministry or at Hogwarts later. There would be no mass escape from Azkaban. The Ministry would not fall. There would be no murder of their headmaster, Fred, Tonks, Remus, Sirius, Colin, Moody, or Hedwig. Everyone who had originally died would now live on, at least this one time. Henry knew there were an infinite number of other parallel universes out there he couldn’t help, but he needed to change just one for the better before passing on. He had to do this! He hoped his beloved wife, the woman who had died far too soon, was looking down on it all and could be proud of him. It was intentionally easy. Passing into that room, Harry didn’t have to lift a finger to restrain Peter Pettigrew, who was already encased there in clear resin and dressed as the Rat King from the Nutcracker. Tom Riddle, or what was left of him, just lay on the dusty daybed, too close to death himself to do anything more than hurl insults and benign curses at the two. Harry still pulled Ginny behind him to protect her. Easy? Easy would also have been to lift up the broadsword and take the life of the evil man who had murdered his parents. It would be wasted energy Harry knew. Voldemort had already taken his own life when his death curse bounced off Harry so many years before. Instead, Harry suddenly directed the force of the blade into the bright orb they had brought. He somehow knew he was meant to do this. This action brought Harry his first real difficulty, as well as a great deal of pain. As the point of the sword entered the orb, energy shot out at Voldemort’s tiny frame, and also down the length of the blade, enveloping Harry. He couldn’t know or understand what was happening as the portion of Voldemort’s soul joined to him was torn away and dispatched with the others. The last thing Harry remembered before he fainted was Ginny’s scream. He was completely unaware of the elfin magic carrying him back to Hogwarts then with the girl, the rat, and the charred corpse. “Mr. Henry Porter, is it? I was wondering if I might have a word with you?” “Certainly Severus–may I call you Severus.” Henry had expected this eventual meeting. The discovery that the four Champions, Hermione Granger, and Ron and Ginny Weasley were missing–had been gone a week by then–had set Hogwarts on a level of high alert. The universal confusion of having three schools in residence there had been replaced with the more specific mood of quiet fear that something Dark had happened to them. Its like had not been seen since the Chamber of Secrets incident two years before. The time when Henry could have just remained in the obscurity of the castle’s shadows had now passed. “No, you may not.” Snape’s voice, surprisingly, almost sounded gracious regardless of his words. “That’s too bad. I’d like to be your friend. You’re a great man you know, and one of the bravest ever to walk these corridors.” Snape looked as if he’d received an electric shock. Henry smiled and continued. “I’m aware of your friendship with Lily Evans; I know how her murder affected you and made you agree to work with Dumbledore against Voldemort. I know how you took Harry under your protection, while pretending to hate him. Albus Severus Potter–-if my plans work the way I expect, you’ll live this time to hold a godson by that name.” “Who are you?” Snape demanded, stepping back in near horror as he spoke. There was a degree of panic in his eyes and voice. “A friend, come here from another distant what if and if then. I’m here to correct a few things that shouldn’t have happened, save a few souls who passed over too soon, and, believe it or not, to make sure everyone has the correct date for the Yule Ball. Neville and Rosalyn have made excellent progress this week, and they got the last of their casts and bandages off this afternoon.” The professor now had his wand out and pointed at the old man. Snape was breathing heavily, and Henry saw desperation there as well. “Who are…you? Henry Porter? Henry Porter? No, you could not be him!” There was no conviction in his words. “Remove your hat! Show me your forehead!” Henry smiled, shook his head, turned and started away. He knew Snape was intelligent enough to realize how even the weakest stun would be the equivalent of Avada Kadavra for the dying Wizard. Severus was really a good man (not that anyone knew it), and he wouldn’t kill him. He was spared the confirmation of this belief by the arrival of the two house-elves. “Professor Snape! You must come quickly to Great Hall. Good Headmaster Dumbledore sends Beanie and Cecil to bring you. Come now please you must!” Henry looked back to see the professor had secured his wand again. He had, what Henry thought at least, was a pleading expression. The elderly Wizard tried smiling and nodding. He would keep Snape’s secrets for now. The Potions master seemed to get the message, and he breathed easier as he walked off with the tiny messengers. Pulling out and examining his pocket watch, Henry saw it was now the hour for the school’s evening meal. Good, we’ll have a better audience for the finale. Henry slowly walked into the Great Hall just as the headmaster shouted for order there. The great din preceding this could be heard even far off as the old man approached the chamber. Before the head table, as intended, now stood the four Champions (five including Ginny), Peter Pettigrew with an Auror on each arm, and, on the floor before them, there lay the remains of the self-professed Dark Lord. Henry walked up to join them there. “Good evening everyone,” he began. “I now declare this Triwizard Task complete. As the end was indeed a group effort, I also declare it a tie with each Champion receiving fifty Tournament points. Miss Weasley, not being an official entrant–perhaps an equal number of house points may be awarded her.” Now, not recognizing Henry as a part of the Triwizard Committee, Barty Crouch was completely at sea with who this man was and with what had really happened over the course of the week. More than ever since the incident with his son, Crouch’s face showed the enormous strain he felt. There was a glint of confusion in Dumbledore’s eyes as well, but also the conviction that something wonderful had just culminated before him. The headmaster would need to ask a great many questions and exercise a great deal of discretion he knew. “Mr.…Porter, would you be so kind as to join us in my office? To explain who you truly are among other things he didn’t add. The five of you as well I think,” the headmaster requested, indicating the teenagers still standing there. “I would be happy to,” Henry replied, but not sincerely. He had done enough. He’d set things in motion where events themselves would provide all the answers…the only answers he wanted them to have. His continued presence now would be counterproductive. Henry turned away and began to walk down the long center aisle. He met Harry and Ginny’s eyes and smiled back at them. He passed Ron and Hermione who had not heeded Dumbledore’s instructions for everyone to retake their seats. The pair still had wet hair from their welcome and long overdue showers. Henry gave them a sympathetic look, but he couldn’t give himself away by apologizing. Ron wasn’t holding Hermione’s hand, but those were touching, and, for some reason, he had a shovel handle-shaped lump on his forehead. Continuing on, he saw a number of other couples together now, including a much healthier-looking Neville and Rosalyn together at the Gryffindor table. Finally, coming up to Rolf and Luna across the way, Henry paused for a moment. The boy seemed to anticipate the question. “Luni agreed to attend the Ball with me sir. Thank you.” Henry didn’t miss how Rolf had called the girl by her affection nickname…very quietly. Henry smiled yet again, moved off several more steps, and then, despite his Healer’s admonitions, Disapparated away. “Are you mental sir?” Bernard screamed at the Wizard when he joined him in at Morgan’s Keep minutes later. Henry thought it was the first time the elf had addressed him in such a respectful manner. “Wizard Apparating can kill you, old man! It already looks as if you’re having a heart attack.” “I can’t…afford to. I have…one…more task…of my own to complete…before I go home. We also have…one last stop…to make.” “Hey there! Maybe you better sit down for a bit Mac.” “First…can you take me to…watch the Yule Ball…three weeks in the future?” Henry was having trouble breathing, and the tightness in his chest was almost overwhelming. “Somewhere I can see them…discretely.” Then ten minutes at a writing desk and I should be done. Bernard applied the palm of his hand to Henry’s chest, allowing a warming glow to pass between them. The Wizard seemed to stand taller, and his eyes cleared, but both knew it would only be a very temporary fix. Knowing the routine now, Henry took a hold of the elf’s sleeve, and, in a blink, found himself in a small hidden alcove above the improvised ballroom. He immediately began to scan the crowd for his friends. There were Hermione and Ron. He was wearing the much-improved dress robes he found on his bed the evening before. He was having trouble dancing but seemed to still be enjoying himself as much as the girl was. “They don’t open their own school like they did in your reality Mac. They live long happy lives here though. Both go to work for the Ministry. Neville over there teams up with Rosalyn right here at Hogwarts–in and out of the classroom.” “What about…?” “Luna? This Rolf isn’t a three-hundred pound, balding nudist with brown teeth. This kid is actually a stand-up guy. They have a great life chasing strange beasties all over the world for a long time to come. Henry, it seems that everyone you got together here…gets together here, just the way you wanted. You did pretty well.” Henry had to permit his tired mind a full minute for all this to sink in. “It seems I’m a real Mary Jane in this adventure,” he finally said with a great amusement in his words. It was a literary device where someone is inserted into a story to miraculously help everyone get to their happily-ever-after. “Yeah, I guess you do fit that bill,” Bernard had to admit. He was laughing too. The song ended, and perhaps twenty seconds later a violin began a slow, flowing tune Henry had not heard in far too long a time. It was Luna, playing his wife’s violin and drawing the student body into the melody with rapt amazement; discovering the Ravenclaw really had such a talent. After almost a minute and a half, the rest of the orchestra followed her in, and the dancing began. Henry finally saw Harry down there, Ginny resting her head on his chest as they swayed across the floor. He didn’t need to ask Bernard how things went with them in the future. Liliana, her husband Rueben, and I found my father at my mother’s gravesite the next morning–Christmas morning. He seemed to be almost…embracing her stone with one arm, while clutching the waterproof bag, containing this story, with the other. His eyes were closed, but we saw a smile there. He was with Mom again. We buried him beside her two days later, and Dad would have been embarrassed at the large turnout. Per his wishes, most of our emphasis was on the wild wake we had at The Three Broomsticks. “Who forgot to tell me those house-elves can’t pay their beer tab?” the bartender loudly complained at one point. Uncle Nicholas stepped up, plopped down a bag of Galleons, and then placed the man on his naughty list. Otherwise, the sendoff was a huge success and just what Dad would have wanted. My husband and I did need to have a couple long talks with our granddaughter to convince her Dad’s death wasn’t her fault. Deep down, she knew he was just too clever to be tied down as we attempted to do with him. He was the kind of person… Well, I’m sure that Mom’s and his spirits are already wandering off on some new adventure in the spirit world. I’m also just as certain that they have great coffee up there, and not a single Burundian kowtowing toady to be seen. It’s spring now, and I’m taking advantage of the nice weather to clean and plant some flowers at my parents’ graves. The soft footsteps and shadows announce the visit. I know who’s behind me. I don’t know why I was expecting them. “Hello Dad. Hello Mum.” My mother-in-law was always Mum, even if I do speak with too many Americanisms. “Did Albie tell you where I was?” “Good morning Jenny,” Harry offers. “Yeah, we saw him off at the train this morning. He’s not even to London yet, and he thinks he’s already sold those three custom brooms we built.” “How are you doing sweetheart?” Ginny asks then. I can only shrug. “Uhm…we wanted to speak with you about… Well, we finally sat down together last night and read your father’s last story.” “Good. It was about you after all. Most of them were,” I accurately point out. “I’m a little surprised you waited so long.” At first, the two just nod, as if trying to consider why they hadn’t opened it before. Then Harry’s brow crinkles up the way it does when he’s confused about something. I know what he was going to ask. “Jenny, do you think any of it could have possibly been true–especially the part where your dad leads an army of Santa’s elves against the Death Eaters?” Harry can’t prevent a smile at this. “I mean…well, the story does sound like the sort of thing he might do for all of us. We’ve all traveled to so many other realities over time.” “Which most people, who read about them, think only existed in your parents’ colorful imaginations,” Ginny adds. “I mean, the quill is mightier than a box of melted crayons.” She laughs then, remembering. “Your mother used to say that sometimes. I think I finally understand what she meant.” I finally set down my trowel and stand up. I have to think a bit before I can answer. Harry decides what to say before I do though, and his face now reflects it. “Who knows? Look how different things turned out in this universe compared to…say…the one from my biographies. There are infinite possibilities, and I gave up believing in impossible the day Ginny told me she loved me the way I did her.” Harry places an arm around Ginny, and they move to where he is able to do the same with me. The three of us just stand there studying the newly flowered gravesites before us. Despite his age, Harry passes on to me the wonderful strength that still endures in him. “It really is a nice headstone Jenny,” Ginny finally says. “Not too wordy?” I ask. “No, it suits him.” Harry’s right too. Professor, Humorist, Loving Husband and Father, Inept Carpenter July 17, 1980 to December 25, 2065 Mischief Managed! “Amen.” |
| Reviews 9 |
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