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Harry Potter and the Heart of the Hero | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Oliver Wood, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Severus Snape Genres: General Warnings: Mild Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 206 Summary: Dumbledore is gone, or is he? Harry feels the weight of the world rests on his shoulders, but he is soon to learn that his brooding nature and desire to face his fate alone may be his greatest weakness. It is his emotions, or rather his capacity for emotion that makes him strong, and his relationships his greatest source of strength. When the summer begins and he faces a fortnight with the Dursleys everything he knows, or rather thinks he knows comes into question. Can he... should he do this all alone? And is he anywhere near ready? Hogwarts is to be re-opened, the Ministry officially endorsing it as the safest possible place to be. As his birthday approaches there are monumental surprises in store for Harry. Who is he really? And what about his family, who came before his mother and father? Why is the Potter name so famous, and yet so unknown? Encouraged not to run off to face his fate he returns to Hogwarts for his final year, but surprises abound at the school as well. Can Harry become the wizard he needs to be to face the Dark Lord? Will he let the people he respects and love really help him? And what of help from unexpected sources; sources he might never trust? Hitcount: Story Total: 118314; Chapter Total: 3618 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: I am very sorry it is taking so long between posts. |
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Godric's Hollow Harry emerged from the Ministry council chambers feeling worn and tired. It wasn't that he really was tired, he was just not used to the long drawn out debates of the politicians and the Military. He had come expecting a one-on-one meeting with the Minister, but found himself in the council chambers meeting with the Minister, his council members, of which Harry apparently was now one, and the leaders of the newly formed Army. Luckily, Moody had also been there to represent the Order of the Phoenix, which was now formally recognized as a Ministry sanctioned resistance and intelligence organization. As the Ministry for Magic had never before had a standing Army, there had been considerable debate over their structure. The Minister was of course the Commander-in-Chief, but he was obviously a bit out of his depth logistically in raising an Army from nothing. He had named several well reputed wizards as his commanding officers, and Harry could see that they would be able to create an organized force but they were trying to do so without sufficient resources. Unfortunately, magic could only go so far as a substitute for money, and that seemed to be what the Army needed most at the moment. There were practical limits to what could be conjured, and though many objects could be permanently transfigured, like uniforms, there still had to be clothing to transfigure and most recruits were objecting to having to provide things for themselves. Of course the soldiers, even though they believed in the cause of defending Magical Britain from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, still wanted to be paid. The Ministry had proposed a new tax for funding the Army, but that had come under much protest and was still in debate within the Wizengamot. Even if it did pass, the estimates of funding that it would produce was far short of what the commanders were saying was needed to form a large enough Army to meet the projected forces of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. By the end of the four hour session Harry had reached two conclusions. First, if these problems couldn't be solved, and fast, the idea of a standing Army would have to be scrapped, which would leave the defense of Magical Britain to the people. And second, that he really didn't ever want to hold a political office. Why had fate put him at the center of all of this? It was all he could think as he slogged through the Ministry hallways toward the lifts. Moody caught him up as he reached the elevator and quickly closed them in waving away several of the meeting attendees who obviously wanted a chance to talk to Harry. "Not much fun is it?" Moody said, as the lift rattled in to motion. "No," Harry agreed. After several seconds of silence, Harry asked, "What do you think about it all? Is an Army really worth all of this, could it make that much difference?" Moody turned to look at Harry. He cleared his throat; pulled his wand and cast a silencing charm. Then he spoke in his gruff tones. "The idea is a good one. Mounting an organized defense could make a great deal of difference, especially since Voldemort has gained so much ground in Eastern Europe. He is likely to come at us with a huge organized force. Last time he tried for power he tried from within using mostly espionage. Clearly he is still using that tactic as his Death Eaters are active throughout England, but his ambitions have grown and his goal is eventual world domination." He paused for a long breath. "You understand Harry, that the only reason his priorities have changed is because of his frustrations at not being able to eliminate you... If not for you, I believe he would have tried to take England first. Conquest of England is personal for him, and fear of the Prophecy is what drove him to choose this other path." "Yeah," Harry said resignedly, "I really hate that it comes down to me." "Harry," Moody continued, "the man is a megalomaniac of the first order, and so his motivations are about himself and his rule. The only thing he really believes in is magic and his belief that he is the supreme wielder of its power. You frustrate that belief, so I suspect that you are the only thing he really fears. Just remember two things about him. You scare him, and he cannot admit that to himself." The lift rattled to a stop, and Moody reached for the door. He held it shut rather than pulling it open, he turned his head to express a last thought. "Oh, and there is maybe one more thing to remember about him. When all is said and done, he is, as far as we know, a man... powerful, but mortal and a mortal man can be defeated." He smiled his broken smile and pulled the doors open. Harry couldn't help but wonder whether Moody's last comment meant that he knew something, or if it confirmed that he really did not. He flipped the hood of his cloak up and made his way out into the Ministry Atrium. He followed Moody to the fireplace corridor and stopped him short of stepping into the grate. "Moody," he said, loud enough to get him to turn around. "It is after noon already, can we maybe get a bite somewhere and talk some more? Somewhere, beyond prying eyes and ears?" Moody, nodded and said, "follow me." He turned, stepped in to the grate and announced "Diagon Alley," in a loud clear voice. From the Alley they made there way to the Leaky Caldron and from the back court yard Apparated to an empty room of Moody's choosing. The room was a second floor flat, which by Harry's estimation had not actually been lived in for a very long time. There were a few sparse bits of furniture, but the kitchen was obviously bare and unused. "We're far out of London in a small Muggle village. I keep this place as a safe house. No one knows, and I expect it to stay that way." Moody growled. Harry nodded. Moody quickly cast several glamour spells on himself to conceal his magical eye and false limb. He actually appeared quite a normal Muggle when he was done. "Leave your cloak here," he said. Harry removed his cloak leaving it on a chair and followed Moody out of the flat and down a couple of blocks of low brick buildings to a small pub. "The food here is quite good, and the Muggles mind there own business," he said as they entered. They took seats near the back of the pub and a waitress came over quickly to take their orders. "What can I get you gentlemen?" She said in an amiable tone. "We've got beef or pork pies today, or we can do up a nice Bubble & Squeak if you prefer?" "I'll have a pint, and a beef pie," Moody said. "And you love?" she said, turning to Harry. "I'll have a pork pie, and," he paused trying to think of one of Dudley's favorite soft drinks, "Do you have Tizer?" "That we do love." She notated her pad and left the table. Moody smiled. "Your Muggle knowledge is really quite good." "Well, I was raised Muggle... sort of," Harry replied. "Now what's on your mind?" Moody asked seriously. "About the Army. What if I funded it?" Harry started cautiously. "Would that be something worth doing?" Moody seemed a bit taken back. "Harry, I knew you were wealthy lad, but do you really have that sort of wealth to spare?" "I might," Harry stated flatly. Moody just stared at him as the waitress returned with the drinks. Moody grabbed his glass and downed nearly half his drink as Harry popped his can of Tizer and poured the red fizzy liquid in to a glass. "I am not sure what to tell you Harry, we are talking about a really large amount of galleons," he said finally, still in obvious disbelief. When the pies arrived and the waitress was gone, Harry began to explain to Moody about his inheritance. He explained that his grandmother was a seer and his grandparents had developed some basic foreknowledge of Voldemort's emergence. How they had concealed the family name and wealth and planned to leave certain resources to aid Harry in what he would have to do. Stopping short of any particular detail he concluded that yes, he commanded enough wealth that funding the Army would be within his grasp. "Well, if you can, and you're willing, it would certainly be to your benefit, because when Voldemort comes, he will be coming primarily for you." Moody said. Harry nodded. "I think I can also arrange for a proper place for the Army to train and live, on land outside of Hogsmeade Village," Harry added. "That would put them close to Hogwarts, which would also work to your advantage." Moody agreed. "But if I do this, I want to insist that Scrimgeour accepts you as a principal Military advisor, would you be okay with that?" Harry asked. "That would probably solve communication problems, but it might be a bit of a hard sell." Moody replied. Again, Harry nodded. They ate in relative silence until they'd nearly finished their meals, when Moody spoke again. "Harry. About this mission you're doing for Dumbledore. Is there no way the Order can help with that?" Harry finished his last bite of pork pie and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "No, unfortunately that has to remain entirely secret. I'm sorry, but I will not break Dumbledore's trust on that. But, I do need your help with these other matters, and I will provide the needed resources to give us a fighting chance." It was Moody's turn to nod. Harry's meeting at the Ministry and lunch with Mad-Eye Moody, had taken longer than he anticipated, but he was feeling pleased with his decisions. Following lunch, he and Moody had found a Muggle pay phone and after some fiddling with Muggle coinage, managed to place an international call to Mr. Prächt. A meeting was set up to discuss Harry's proposals and afterward, Harry Apparated directly to The Burrow. There he was informed that Ginny and Luna had gone to the Manor shortly after Harry's departure in the morning and had been there all day. Molly insisted that Harry sit for a cup of tea and enjoy some freshly baked tarts while she fussed about the kitchen and expressed her concerns about Harry's spending too much money on Ginny and alluding to her discomfort at Ron and Hermione having too much alone time at the Manor. Harry, tried to express that Ron and Hermione were both responsible individuals and any concerns Molly might have were appreciated but likely unwarranted, and brushed off entirely the idea that he might be too generous with Ginny. He confided to Molly that he was certain of his feelings for her daughter and that Ginny's health and happiness were paramount among all his many concerns. Afterwards, Molly apologized and acknowledged that Harry certainly must have much on his mind and she didn't need to burden him with her motherly concerns. Molly gave Harry one of her fondest hugs and sent him back through the pantry door. Back at the Manor, Harry gave his robe to Winky who met him dutifully at the door and made his way to the Library where Winky indicated the others had been most of the day. When he arrived at the Library he discovered Hermione deeply engrossed in reading a large book and Luna lying on the carpet in the sitting area surrounded by colorful fairies, reading aloud from a boldly illustrated children's book, one of a huge stack of favorites no doubt selected by the fairies. Luna, looked up as he entered, smiled and waved, which caused a fluttering amongst the fairies who also looked and waved. She offered a happy, "Hi Harry," and promptly returned to her place in the book. "Where are Ron and Ginny?" Harry asked as he pulled out a chair at Hermione's table. "Oh," she looked up halfheartedly, obviously still reading, "they got bored hours ago and went down to the Quidditch pitch for some practice." She placed a bookmark in the page she was reading and looked up fully at Harry. "How did everything go at the Ministry?" "Fine," he said; to which he received a quizzical brow. "It was all about the formation of the new Army, practical logistical considerations really," he said. "Mostly quite boring." Hermione seemed better satisfied at that so Harry quickly changed the subject. "What are you reading?" "Oh, I'm reading up on book preservation, and transportation magic. So that we can safely move your family grimoire, and The Book of Merlin up here to the library," she said. "I don't want to have to go down to the treasure room to study, and right now I am afraid to try to even touch The Book of Merlin." "Hmm," Harry muttered, "it just doesn't make a lot of sense that my grandparents would leave such volumes of information for me, without instructions, or a way to retrieve and make use of them." "They didn't," came Luna's lilting voice from across the room. "What Luna?" Hermione questioned. Luna closed her book and got up from the floor moving toward the table with some thirty fairies fluttering in her wake. "Your grandparents, Harry," she said. "They didn't leave you those ancient books without a way to use them," she stated flatly. "What do you mean, Luna?" Harry asked. "There is nothing in my grandfather's letter about how to retrieve those books from the treasure room, and so far Hermione has not read of a way to guarantee their safety and preservation." Harry looked to Hermione for confirmation of his statement and she nodded in agreement. "Harry Potter!" Luna said in astonished disbelief. "I always thought that you were quite a clever boy, and your grandparents obviously thought you would be, as they left the answer right in front of you. All you have to do is look around you when you are standing, as you are now, in the place where books belong." Luna crossed her arms and stood expectantly, silently challenging Harry to reach the right conclusion. Harry seemed stuck. "Luna, this is an absolutely beautiful magical library, with the best Librarians in the world," she gestured to the fairies flitting about behind Luna. "But, what has that got to do with retrieving the books from the treasure room?" Luna rolled her eyes, as though the answer should be as obvious to everyone as it apparently was to her. "Hermione," she changed tactics, "Some of the books in this library are nearly as old as the ones down in the treasure room are they not?" "Well, I suppose so, yes," Hermione agreed. "And have you removed even one book from these shelves that didn't look and feel like it was newly written, or just recently bound?" Luna asked. "Well, Luna," Hermione retorted, "I have only looked at a fraction of the books here, and the Manor was closed for over sixty years, so many of these books have never been read." "Actually, Hermione," Harry cut in, "that logically doesn't follow. Just because the Manor was closed doesn't mean the books have never been read. It just means, not recently." He turned to Luna. "So what are you trying to tell us, Luna?" He paused. "Is there something somehow preserving and restoring these books?" Luna's hands had moved to her hips and she was now tapping her foot impatiently as the fairies continued to flit around her, some of them landing on her head and shoulders their expressions mirroring Luna’s. "You mean the fairies?" Harry said. "Of course the fairies!" Luna blurted out. "Did you really think they just live in the dome and put stray books away?" "Well, yeah, I sort of did." Harry admitted. "I thought you did really well in Care of Magical Creatures, Harry Potter." She paused taking a breath as though quite exasperated. "Didn't Professor Hagrid ever cover fairies?" "Of course he did," Hermione jumped in. "At least he assigned some reading." she paused. "The common fairies of Britain are small winged creatures which otherwise appear to be human. They are mischievous and quarrelsome by nature and appear to be quite vain and desirous of attention." Luna cleared her throat importantly. "Fairies, beyond your simple text recitation, which is, I am afraid, extremely lacking, are members of the larger classification known as Fae. This classification includes many creatures commonly known to Wizards. Pixies, Brownies, Doxies, Gnomes, Sprites, Forest elves, even House-elves, all of which are characterized by their approximate human appearance, bipedalism and hands with opposable thumbs. Some of the higher order Fae, elves for instance, wield their own form of magic and speak in human language. On the lower order are creatures like Doxies which have no known form of communication, and are considered nothing more than pests. The fairies are those creatures within the classification of Fae which most closely resemble humans, and are commonly considered quite beautiful." She paused for a breath. "There are many types of fairies all around the world as they are known to inhabit every continent. And, they have varying degrees of magical ability, habits and interest in Muggles and Wizards. These fairies..." She held out her hand and one of the fairies quickly landed in her open palm, bowing nicely to Harry and Hermione. "Are much larger than the common British fairy, are far more intelligent and self aware, possess a discernable language, are highly interactive, capable of a high level of magic, and only mildly fearful of humans, or in our case Wizards. They are a unique species that I am guessing specifically shaped themselves through magic to adapt, inhabit and thrive in the environment of this library." Harry really wanted to ask how that was possible, but he had never seen Luna so passionate about anything before and he didn't want to set her off again, so instead he simply asked. "And, you think they can help us with the books?" "Absolutely. Here, look." She reached in to her large shoulder bag and withdrew a book, which upon closer examination was her fifth year Divination text. She set it on the table and several of the fairies immediately landed on or around it and began inspecting it. "Yesterday, I accidently left this book over in the sitting area. When I found it again this morning it looked like this." "There doesn't appear to be anything wrong with it Luna." Hermione observed aloud. "Exactly," Luna said. "The thing is; Divination is one of my favorite subjects and I've read that book so often that the spine cracked before the first month of school ended last year. By the end of the year it was cracked in several places and many of the pages had come loose." She reached for the book and handed it to Harry. "Now it looks like the day Daddy bought it for me new at Flourish and Blotts." Harry ran his fingers along the perfectly intact spine of Luna's book, and noted that even the edges of the printed, paper binding showed no signs of wear. "Are you certain the fairies didn't just find your used book and replace it with a new copy? They do seem to be particularly fond of you Luna," he said. "Open it." Luna replied. Harry did so; letting it fall open to a random page in his hands. "See, it is still full of all my notes." Sure enough the page edges were full of notes and scribbles. "Luna, I believe you," he said finally. Hermione took the book from Harry and examined it. After a moment she set it back on the table where the fairies seemed to be watching it closely. She reached in to her own handbag and withdrew a Muggle paperback book. Harry recognized it from the night they opened his first lock box. It was Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë. Hermione held the book out. It was worn and dog-eared with a spine that had been cracked and curled through multiple readings. The fairies looked at it with the expression Harry would have expected from Hagrid faced with an injured kneazle kitten. Hermione set the book on the table and the fairies began to gather around it, examining it. They seemed very concerned that it was badly worn and misshapen. As they watched the fairies began to run their small hands all over the book, massaging the cover, spine and page edges. To Harry and Hermione's astonishment the book slowly returned to it's like new form, with the spine straightening and months of handling magically wiped away from the page edges. Even the worn edges appeared to be gradually restored to pristine. After about ten minutes of attention from the Fairies, the book appeared just as Hermione had found it in the book store, as though it had never been read. Hermione picked it up and leafed through the pages. "This is amazing!" She exclaimed finally. The fairies were watching her expectantly and she bent down toward the table saying. "Thank you ever so much. I had no idea how special you all are." She reached in to her bag and withdrew the cellophane bag of gum drops she now always kept on hand. She opened the bag and set it on the table close to the gathered fairies; they eagerly began to queue up in order to retrieve a gumdrop each. "I have a theory Harry," Luna spoke again. "I think, that whichever of your relatives found and secured the Book of Merlin, they knew that it had become too fragile to be of practical use to anyone. It would need to be restored, and probably translated." she paused. "I am guessing that the need to keep the book safe and secret prevented them from soliciting help from others, and so they asked for help from the fairies. To the fairies the best way to help with such a problem would be to become natural magical keepers of books. In short they would create a whole new species of fairies in order to facilitate such a task. To do that isn't something that happens with one feat of magic. It requires time for adaptation, possibly several generations of fairies. It is possible that this whole library was created to encourage the fairies’ adaptation." She paused again and shook her head a little from side to side. "The only problem is, in order to convince fairies to do such a thing one would have to be on tremendous terms with the local Fae, and I have never met anyone who had cultivated such a relationship." Hermione blushed a bit and giggled, she looked at Harry who was himself chuckling a little. "Luna," she said, “Harry has a few ancestral memories that, with his permission of course, I think you might find enlightening." Harry nodded confirmation. Luna looked at them with an odd expression of curiosity. "The point is, of course," Luna continued, "that I believe that the fairies as they are here and now are up to the task of retrieval and restoration of the treasury books. That was probably the long term goal." "I agree completely with your ideas Luna," Harry said proudly. Luna blushed. "In fact, how would you feel about taking them to retrieve the books yourself?" "Oh, Harry," Hermione cut in. "Do you really want to send Luna down there by herself?" "Well..." Harry started. "You don't think I can do it, Hermione?" Luna asked. She seemed hurt by the apparent vote of no confidence. "No, Luna, it's not that," Hermione said pleadingly, "I am only concerned about your safety." "My safety?" Luna seemed genuinely confused. "There's nothing down there that..." "If I may finish?" Harry cut her off. "First, as Luna is a member of my extended family I don't think the security statues or other security precautions should cause her any trouble. Second, when we were down there before, it seems to me that it was only Luna who was more excited to be there than frightened by the unknown. And lastly, she would not be alone if she has a whole troupe of fairies along with her. My only concern is..." He turned to face Luna, specifically. "The required Apparition? Last time you went Side-Along with Hermione." "Oh, that," Luna smiled, "well, I don't actually have my license yet, but Daddy taught me to do that a few years ago. I am not allowed to do it in public of course." "And the fairies?" Harry asked. "Do you think they can?" "Hmm," Luna muttered as she looked to the side in thought. "Most Fae do seem to possess that ability either singularly, or in groups. I suspect they probably will have no problem." "Wonderful," Harry said. "I guess all that remains is to ask if it is something you would like to do?" Luna, smiled and nodded vigorously, as did the many, bulging cheeked, fairies on her shoulders, in her hair, and on the table next to her. "I know it is not the safest way to travel," Harry argued, "but, since none of us has ever been there before we can't very well Apparate blindly; we could end up Splinched through a wall or fence or something." "Well, we could use a photograph," Ron put in. "Okay," Harry agreed sarcastically, "Have you got one?" Ron looked a little put out. "I'm sorry mate," Harry added. "It's a good idea." "Harry is right," Hermione said. "Without knowing anything about where you are going, Apparation is far too risky." She paused turning to Ron, "And yes Ron, people use photographs all the time to Apparate places they have never been, but we haven't got any photos of Godric's Hollow." Ginny came into the Burrow sitting room carrying a large floppy book. "Yes, there is a listing for a public Floo connection in Godric's Hollow," she said. "Mum had a copy of the current Floo Book, tucked up in the pantry. I knew we had it because Dad gets one free every year from work." "Brilliant," Harry said, as Ginny came and sat next to him, holding the book so he could see the listing. "Alright," Hermione said. "But you know if there is anyone watching for you, they are sure to have the public Floo under surveillance." "Well, I think it is worth the risk," Harry retorted. "I want to visit the cottage where this all started and see my parents’ graves, and we have the portrait of my parents to retrieve as well." "How about, we take the Floo over," Ron said, "and if everything looks alright, then Hermione and I can go after the portrait, while you two go to the cottage and to... to see your parents." "Oh, I don't know that we should split up," Hermione objected. "Only if it feels okay, Hermione," Ginny interjected. "If it feels the least bit off, or anything happens we can immediately Apparate back here, or better yet call one of the elves and have them Apparate us directly back to the Manor." "Would that even work?" Hermione asked. "Yeah, I think it would, actually," Harry responded. "Elves can Apparate through Wizard wards easily when it is in the action of their duties to their master." "How do you know?" Hermione asked. Harry thought for a moment. "The summer after my first year at Hogwarts, Dobby showed up in my bedroom at Privet Drive. Supposedly the Ministry had every ward imaginable on that place and yet Dobby got in, and he was still in service to the Malfoys at the time." Harry paused. "And, on my birthday, when I was at the Ministry for my inheritance meeting, I tried to call Jarvy to come retrieve all my paperwork, but Dobby showed up instead and apologized that Jarphred could not get past the Ministry's wards because he was technically still a free elf. But again Dobby came through without problem because I had claimed him that morning." "Okay," Hermione conceded, "You've made your point, the elves can do it." "But..." Ron seemed confused. "How could Dobby get to you at Privet Drive, mate, when he was in service to the Malfoys at the time?" "I don't know for sure," Harry said. "But I would guess it had to do with – he was acting in secret, against what Lucius would have allowed, had he known. To do something that he genuinely felt was for my benefit." "Yeah," Ron said. "Makes sense... Sorta." After a few more minutes planning and checking that they had everything they needed, the foursome rose and stepped to the sitting room hearth. "Before we go," Hermione said. "Are you sure we shouldn't leave a note or something for when your Mum gets back from market?" "Naw," Ron responded. "She's most likely to think we are all at the Manor, and she won't worry about that, well... At least not about our safety anyway." "And if she does get curious and summons Jarvy, he'll tell her where we went. But, we'll hope that we're finished and back before that happens," Harry added. "Alright," Hermione responded not sounding at all appeased. "And, we are not worrying at all about Luna?" "I bet Luna is having a far better time than we are," Ginny put in. "I volunteered to go with her, but she wanted to go, just her and the fairies. She was pretty clear about that." "Yes, you're right, Ginny," Hermione said, "So, no, we are not worrying about Luna." Ron had already stepped into the fireplace. He tossed his Floo powder and spoke. "Godric's Hollow." The green flames leaped up to engulf him and he was gone. Hermione was next, followed by Ginny, and then Harry. The other end of the journey let out at a public Floo, which was little more than a large fireplace set in the outside wall of a building adjoining a service alley. Obviously, there had been some attempt to make the area presentable as there was a nicely kept wooden fence blocking the working alley from the street entrance which was arched in brick. As they stepped from the hearth a large sign appeared on the opposite wall. It was a beautifully carved wooden sign with painted letters. It read; Welcome to Godric's Hollow, birthplace of Harry Potter. Harry, stepped toward the sign and breathed out a long sigh. Beneath the words of welcome was a stylized map of the village with color coded twinkling stars showing the location of historical points of interest. The three largest stars illuminated the Potter cottage, the churchyard cemetery where the graves of James and Lily Potter were located, and the Potter memorial statue located in the main shopping square. While Harry swallowed back a twinge of disappointment at the most flagrant evidence of his fame he had thus far encountered, he was slightly relieved that there were a number of other locations of historical interest on the map. These included the ruins of what was thought to be the original Gryffindor estate and the birthplace of Godric Gryffindor, the historic home of the Dumbledore family, now an academic history museum, the restored home of Bowman Wright, inventor of the Golden Snitch, and the current home of Bathilda Bagshot, author of A History of Magic. There were a number of additional stars indicating more historic locations, along with smaller stars marking Wizard run businesses and restaurants for Wizarding families to frequent during their visit. At the bottom of the large sign was an official statement from the Ministry declaring that the village was occupied by Muggles, as well as Wizards, so visitors must assume responsibility, at all times, for maintaining the secrecy of Wizarding activities. As Harry stood before the sign trying to determine his exact emotions, he felt Ginny's hand slip into his and he was comforted that Ginny squeezed just a little. He returned the action confirming her presence and support. Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Sorry, mate, but you are famous after all," he said. "Yeah, I know," Harry responded, "But, I guess I wasn't expecting this. Caught me a bit off guard, is all." "Well, hopefully we are late enough in the day that there won't be many people," Ron said. Just then the grate behind them flared green and a young adult couple came through the Floo with three children. Harry turned away from them and pulled up the hood of his jumper. The youngest, holding her mother's hand, was asking if they could stop at the gift store for lightning pops before going to the church yard. The other two children, both boys, were arguing Harry's Quidditch record and speculating which team he would play for after dispatching He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The earnestness of their juvenile conversation, made Harry's stomach tighten. The family didn't linger, or pay them any attention, nor did they seem to need to look at the map. They simply proceeded from the alley quickly and were gone. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea," Harry said. "We are already here, we should at least try to get the portrait of your parents," Ginny said. "Yeah, Ginny is right, mate," Ron added, "We are already here... Maybe we should have disguised you a bit, with a glamour like you said Moody used earlier." "Oh, Ron, you're right," Hermione said. "I know a glamour that conceals blemishes, perhaps it would work on your scar?" "And, I know one that can lighten your hair," Ginny said. "Hermione, you've been practicing the invisibility spell," Ron started. "Maybe you could..." "That's a difficult spell, Ron," Hermione interrupted. "I couldn't make Harry invisible." "I should have brought my cloak," Harry said. "What I was gonna say," Ron said, "Is maybe you could make his glasses invisible. With his hair colored and his scar covered, and no glasses, who would recognize him?" "Yeah, that would probably be enough," Harry confirmed, "but, let's not split up. We stick together, okay?" "Sure, mate, of course," Ron confirmed. The girls cast the spells quickly and a minute later a dusty blonde-headed Harry, with no scar and no glasses stood before them. "Brilliant," Ron said. "Think we should disguise ourselves as well?" "Probably a good idea," Harry agreed. Ginny straightened Hermione's hair and made her a blonde, while Hermione darkened Ron's hair from red to a deep brown, before turning to Ginny and changing her fiery mane to a solid raven. Harry noted that it was a striking change, but he preferred the original. A few minutes later they were walking casually down the street like any normal couples on their way to see the famous little cottage where once a boy had survived an Unforgivable Curse. There was a bit of a crowd as they arrived at the cottage, and an official looking guard was preventing people from getting any closer than the front gate. There was a sign, much like the one in the alley. It read: On this spot, on the night of 31 October 1981, Lily and James Potter lost their lives. Their son, Harry, remains the only wizard ever to have survived the Killing Curse. This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters and as a reminder of the violence that tore apart their family. Harry was a bit disappointed. Without being allowed to go inside, there really was nothing much to see. The small cottage had been allowed to go to ruin with only a portion of the upper corner wall blown out. Harry wondered if there had always been a guard on hand, and if that meant that the house and the properties inside were still intact. Or if the house had been ransacked over the years. The outside seemed to be free of any graffiti, though the same could not be said for the outside of the garden wall that kept onlookers at bay. They didn't linger long at the cottage, instead proceeding up the lane back toward the village square and the churchyard. Ginny could sense that the trip was not going as Harry had hoped. She took his hand as they walked. They reached the village square and found it bustling with people. It was almost as if they had walked into some small town in the middle of an annual celebration. Every cafe' seemed to be crowding the sidewalks with tables, all of them full, with people waiting for vacancies. Children were running around waving Gryffindor banners or trailing balloons with various slogans printed on them. As they strolled by, vendors called after them barking their various offerings, carts were selling Gryffindor banners and replicas of Harry's quidditch jersey, copies of the Daily Prophet with the "The Boy Who Lived" headline, cards with Harry's picture from the Triwizard Tournament, and a spectacle of crazy items from wand fobs to round lens less glasses with pop up lightning scars. Ron insisted they stop for lightning pops, which turned out to be frozen lemon custard in the shape of a stylized lighting bolt, on a stick. It was actually quite tasty. Several food vendors were offering what they claimed to know were Harry's favorite foods. At the churchyard a long queue of people were waiting to shuffle in and have a moment at his parent's headstones, and they were all buying flowers from a vendor conveniently set up near the queue entrance. In the center of the square stood a statue of three people: a man with untidy hair and glasses, a woman with long hair and a kind, pretty face, and a baby boy sitting happily in his mother’s arms. Harry stepped closer so he could better see the carved faces of his parents. He had never imagined that there would be a statue, but now he was here he expected nothing less. It’s all a tourist trap, Harry thought to himself. Ginny nudged him and he reflexively put his arm around her. Having her close was a touchstone of warmth in an otherwise cold reality. His birthplace and early life, at least as seen from the perspective of the average British Wizard, was a tangle of rumor and half truth wrapped up in myth and expectation, and being sold as a carnival. "I've seen, more than enough," Harry said rather coldly, "let's go get my parent's portrait and get out of here." "Okay," Hermione said, consulting the sheaf of parchment from within her handbag. "We want to get to King Alfred road. It was on the map when we arrived," she pivoted in place facing east of the way they had come. "Should be this way," she said, and she started off, Ron in tow, looking as pleased as ever. "Are you alright, Harry," Ginny finally whispered as they followed a few paces behind Ron and Hermione. "Yeah," Harry responded, and he patted Ginny's hand on his arm. "I guess I will just never really be comfortable with the whole fame thing," he paused. "I mean, I get it. If I defeat Voldemort that will be something special... But, I didn't ask for any of this, I didn't seek it out, so yes, I am a bit bothered that I can't even get close to my own parents headstones for a moment to think of them in private." "I am sorry, Harry," Ginny said, "I know this trip is not at all what you wanted, but, shortly, we will collect a portrait of your parents, and that will be better than a couple of upright slabs of white granite." "You're right, Ginny..." Harry responded, "of course you're right, it will be much better." He patted her hand again and forced a wan smile to his face. Ginny took his arm and put it around her shoulders, leaning in to him a bit, and they continued to walk along in silence. With Hermione leading the way it was not long before they arrived at the specified address, on the outskirts of the developed village. There was no shop window, or sign to identify the place, just a simple wooden door, with the number displayed prominently. Looking more closely, beneath the number there was a small, nearly worn away, logo of sorts, that consisted of an up-turned paintbrush and a small pulled semi-circular stroke. They pushed open the door to the pleasant sound of a spring bell. Inside was a short narrow landing and a stairway leading up to the open second floor. Light from large first story windows flooded the space. The walls were filled with painted portraits of all sizes crammed in to the space so fully that it was difficult to discern that the walls were white beneath. They ascended the stairs feeling a slight, but not unpleasant tingling sensation as they passed the top of the stairway onto the large open gallery that was the front room of the first floor. "Harry, the glamours have come off you," Ron said as he followed Harry into the open room. "Yours have too Ron," Hermione said. "They all have." The foursome stood looking at themselves in confirmation. "That tingling as we came up the stair must have been a countering ward," Harry said. "Indeed you are correct," came a very pleasant voice from the portrait of a very attractive Victorian era woman, who was sitting on a flower decorated rope swing in a large painting directly across from the top of the stairs. "You will have to forgive the intrusive magic, it is only designed to counter any deceptive magic, and identify customers as Muggle or Wizard," she said. "After all, we need to know if we may speak, or if we must remain still and silent." Harry nodded to the portrait in understanding. "Welcome to the Georgiana Watts, Studio of Decorative Painting and Fine Portraiture," the painting continued. "Miss René has been alerted to your presence and will be with you in a moment." The four spread out through the expansive gallery examining the many portraits and landscape paintings which filled the space nearly as completely as the stairwell had been. Many of the portraits greeting them pleasantly as they stopped to look. "Watts, is not a common Wizard name," Hermione said out loud, to no one in particular. "Any relation to the famous British artist, George Frederick Watts?" "Yes, yes, there is," the portrait of an elderly gentleman replied, "though the Wizard branch of the family is little known and completely disconnected from Muggle history." "I see," Hermione responded. "Understandable, I guess," Harry said as he stepped next to Hermione facing the speaking portrait. "I empathize completely." Just then a door at the far corner of the room opened and a young woman only a couple of years their senior entered the room. "Hello, I am René Watts. How may I help you?" She was a slightly long faced and thin girl, with her long brown hair twisted in to a make-shift bun at the back of her head. Her sleeves were rolled up and she wore a dark apron that was smeared from top to bottom with a multitude of paint colors. She was rubbing her hands with a rag as she approached. She was proceeded by the distinct, but not unpleasant smell of linseed oil. She stopped a few paces before them in recognition. "You... you're Harry Potter," she stated matter-of-factly. There was a moment of silence. "I'm sorry," René offered hastily, "You must get that all the time, and I'll bet you don't like it, please forgive me." Harry nodded a silent Thank you. "How may I help you, Mr. Potter?" René said, standing up a bit straighter and adopting a much more business like demeanor. Hermione had retrieved the receipt from her bag and handed it to Harry, who handed it directly to René. "We have come about this," he said. René took the receipt and examined it closely. Her face scrunched up a bit in confusion. "This receipt is from well before my time here," she said. "I shall have to consult with my Grandmother. Please follow me." She turned and headed back to the door through which she had entered. The foursome following behind. Beyond the doorway was a long narrow corridor, it was clean and well kept, but still showed the age of the building with it's cracking plaster and heavily polished wood panel wainscoting. The walls here in contrast to the front gallery were devoid of any paintings. "René, if you don't mind my asking, you cannot possibly be much older than any of us, but I do not remember you from Hogwarts?" "No, you wouldn't," she answered, as she continued down the corridor. "I never attended. I have been apprenticed to my Grandmother since I was ten." "Really?" Ginny asked, "What about your education?" "I have learned my trade from my Grandmother, I attended Muggle public schools, for my basic education, and had a private tutor for magical lessons." "What about O.W.L.s, and N.E.W.T.s?" Ron asked. "Don't you need those?" "Technically, you do not," René responded, "But, they are available through the Ministry for those who wish to take them. I passed my O.W.L.s when I was thirteen and my N.E.W.T.s when I was sixteen." They reached the end of the corridor and entered a large studio. Massive windows dominated the entire back wall and filled the space with natural light. Along one wall was a large wooden rack filled with numerous canvases. The room was a clutter of work spaces for every aspect of painting from canvas assembly and stretching, to pigment grinding and paint preparation. There were numerous works in progress set up on easels, and the whole room was thick with the smell of oils and turpentine. At the center of the room was a huge canvas, the back of which faced the group as they entered. "Grandmother," René called loudly, "I have a special visitor to see you." There was a light clanking of wood on glass, a whishing of liquid sound, and from the back side of the canvas several slight, but observable depressions as a brush touched the opposite side. "A moment dear," came a response from beyond the canvas. A second later a woman emerged from around the large canvas. The family resemblance between grandmother and granddaughter was astounding, the woman was a bit shorter due to a distinct hunching of age, but was of the same thin build and long face. She was dressed in the same manner with rolled up sleeves and well used apron, even her hair, though silver and bushier, was twisted into the same make-shift bud at the back of her head and held in place with what appeared to be an old paint brush. She moved with the careful, more tentative steps of age, but there was the vitality of life in her eyes. The old woman approached the group silently stepping first to Ron. She reached up and softly touched the side of his face with her thin boney hand, gently turning his head a little. He smiled a bit nervously, but remained silent. "Handsome boy," she said, continuing on past him. She held her hands up, framing Hermione's face and squinting at her. "Pretty girl. Much prettier than you think." Hermione blushed with embarrassment. She stepped on to Ginny where she reached forward gently pulling a hand full of Ginny's hair from beyond her shoulder so that it lay forward and caught the sunlight. "My dear," she said genuinely, "your hair is a blaze. You simply must sit for a portrait one day soon." Ginny smiled brightly and nodded. Finally, the woman stepped to Harry and stared quietly into his green eyes. She reached up silently and swept the lock of hair off his forehead revealing his scar. "Mr. Potter," she said kindly, "I have painted those eyes before, and that lovely black hair of yours too. I was wondering when you would come to see me," she stated. She offered her hand, which Harry shook, surprised at the firm grip of the elderly woman. "I am Georgiana Watts, Mr. Potter, and you have met my granddaughter, René," She gestured to the younger woman. "Grandmother," René said, "Mr. Potter has come in regard to this rather old receipt." She held forward the slip of parchment for her Grandmother to take. "Oh, I well know why Mr. Potter is here, Sweetheart," she said utterly ignoring the proffered receipt. "Come with me." She turned, waving them all to follow. She wound them slowly through the clutter of easels and canvases to a wooden door, and producing a ring of keys from beneath her apron carefully slid a key in to the lock which opened with a metallic clank. Numerous oils lamps burst to light with a pop as the door opened and she continued through a store room stuffed with barrels and tubs, rolls of raw canvas, new brushes and shelves of large glass jars filled with a rainbow of raw pigments. "I've kept it safe, as your grandfather requested, Harry," she said as she fiddled again with her keys. Across the room was a heavy oak door with a thick metal lock. She deftly unlocked this door as well and pushing it open with a squeaking of metal hinges, took up one of the oil lamps, and entered a room filled on either side with deep wooden slats filled with wrapped paintings. She proceeded beyond the slatted shelves to the back of the room were numerous crated paintings were leaning against the brick walls. "The one you want, is the furthest back." Harry pulled his wand from his pocket and raising it toward the pile of crates asked, "May I?" Georgiana gave him a glace and answered, "Yes, Harry. But carefully." Harry nodded. He flicked his wand and the closest crate slowly and gently rose up from its place and moved to the side, landing gently against another pile. The next crate did the same, moving off in the opposite direction, as did the next three, until there remained a single large crate that had to be over two meters tall and easily a meter and half wide. "It is so big," Hermione said questioningly. "Life size," the old woman responded, "As requested." "May I open it?" Harry asked. "Of course, dear," Georgiana said. "But why don't we take it to the studio where the light is good. Can you manage that?" "Yes, I believe so," Harry said. The crate lifted from the wall and rose up over their heads turning sideways as it approached the doorway. The two doors were a very close fit and Harry had to concentrate to prevent the crate from scrapping either floor or door frame, but he managed to levitate the crate into the studio and to an open area on the far side near the windows. René quickly released the latches which held the front of the large crate in place and with Ron's help lifted the panel away. Harry stood before the life sized portrait of his parents and fought hard to keep the welling in his eyes from turning to tears. "It's beautiful," Hermione exclaimed. "Oh, Harry," Ginny said as she took his arm and leaned into him. "Your mother, she was so lovely." The painting clearly depicting them in their wedding finery, with James in smart formal dress robes, complete with cummerbund and silken bow tie, and Lily in her flowing white wedding dress. "They're not moving? Why aren't they moving?" Harry asked his voice rising a little with concern. "They will not animate until they are released," René said, pointing at a thin silver string tied around the painting and the frame. "You only need to cut the string and pull it away." Harry began to step forward, but Georgiana's voice stopped him. "That is best left until the portrait is in its home. There will be some disorientation at first, like waking up from a very deep sleep." "How will they be?" Harry asked. "I mean... some of the portraits at Hogwarts," he hesitated, "well honestly, some of them seem a bit off their nut." "Oh, you needn't worry about that Mr. Potter, your parents should be just as your grandparent's portraits," Georgiana offered. "They were created in the same fashion, with the best method available." "How is it done?" Hermione asked, unable to suppress her curiosity. René, shot her Grandmother a look at the question, and Georgiana nodded in response. "Most of the charming of portraiture is very carefully protected secrets among those who do the painting. Just as our methods are family secrets. But, it is widely known that there are several methods." René said. "All of them involve the incorporation of something of the subject into the process, a few strains of hair, saliva, or even bits of favored clothing. Each method yields a differing result. There are methods which can be done post mortem, using a person’s ashes, or pieces of bone rendered to dust, or even memories of a person from a living relative." "The best method," Georgiana continued, "Incorporates some of the subject’s blood into the paint itself, which is the method used here. Your grandfather supplied me with some of your parents’ blood to do this painting, he did not say how he obtained it. I am given to understand that the portrait was to be a surprise." Georgiana stepped closer to the painting and gazed on it with an expression of hope and wonder. After a long moment she turned away. "I dare say, it is some of my very best work." "It is truly marvelous," Ron said, “but how are we going to transport it, we can't very well levitate it through the street. And, I don't think I could Apparate with something so large." "Miss Watts," Harry said addressing Georgiana, "René," he turned to the granddaughter. "There is much about myself that I hold secret, you have held this painting for all these years, so I know my grandfather trusted you. Can I trust you now?" "Of course," Georgiana insisted, "I promised your Grandfather years ago, and I will promise you now, no one will ever know of anything that has happened, or will happen here today. René did not know of the existence of this painting until this very day, and none shall ever hear of it, or your visit here from us. This I vow." "We'll gladly make an Unbreakable Vow if you wish," René offered. "I do not think that will be necessary," Harry said. "You have already proven yourselves to my satisfaction." Harry reached in to his pocket and squeezed the summoning coin. With a 'pop' Jarphred appeared in the room, next to Harry. "Master Harry, you summoned?" Jarphred said with a slight bow. "Yes, Jarvy, could you take this painting to my study, please. And send Dobby to retrieve Ron and Hermione, then either he or you can return for Ginny and me." "Yes, sir." With a snap, and a 'pop' both Jarphred and the painting were gone, leaving the empty crate were it stood. Ginny turned to Georgiana and took her hands. "We cannot thank you enough for what you have done for Harry. It means so much more to him than he will say." Georgiana patted Ginny's hand, "And I cannot tell you what an honor it is to have done anything for Harry Potter," she replied. She smiled deeply at Ginny. "And I was serious about you sitting for me, young lady." Dobby appeared and stepping between Ron and Hermione took their hands. "See you two in a minute," Ron said, and they were gone with a 'pop'. "There is one more thing, Harry Potter, something I have come to treasure, but rightly belongs to you," Georgiana said. Sensing something important and private, Ginny turned away to bid goodbye to René. "What is it?" Harry asked, stepping closer. Georgiana reached around her neck and pulled a string up over her head. Attached to the string necklace was a very small sealed potions vial. Within it something glinted red. "When your grandfather arranged for the portrait, he asked me, if it was possible, to preserve a few drops of Lily's blood. He said that one day, he hoped her son, you, Harry, would come to retrieve the portrait, and on that day, if any of Lily's blood remained, I should deliver it to you. He did not explain himself, he only said that you would know what to do with it." Harry was beyond surprised. "But, I don't..." he stammered. "I don't know what to do with it." Georgiana pressed the small vial and string into his palm and wrapped his fingers around it. "Then I trust, Harry, that you will figure it out," she paused, there was a popping sound and Harry realized that Dobby had returned. "I kept it around my neck all these years, because I knew no better way to keep it safe," Georgiana continued, "it became a talisman of good luck for me, and I can feel that there is great power there. I hope that it will bring you great luck as well, Harry Potter." A bit stunned, Harry pocketed the small vial and moved to join Ginny and Dobby. "Goodbye, and thank you," he said. René waved them off as Dobby Apparated. Reality twisted tightly around them, and they disappeared. Please review - Thanks! NEXT Chapter Twenty-Four A Grim Old Place |
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