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Hail Odysseus | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny, Other Genres: Action/Adventure Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Spouse/Adult/Child Abuse, Violence/Physical Abuse Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 370 Summary: After believing that Harry Potter died in a house fire at the age of ten, the Wizarding world is shocked when he returns out of the blue, just in time to attend his seventh year at Hogwarts. They're even more shocked when he's Sorted into Slytherin. Hitcount: Story Total: 120153; Chapter Total: 7647 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: You may (or may not) be pleased to know that this is the lightest, least violent chapter in the whole story. For me, it was great fun to write and I enjoyed fleshing out Gellert’s backstory and giving some explanation as to why he abandoned his ambition to rule the world. Researching alcopops brought back a few memories, too, and British readers might be able to identify the brands I describe (assuming they can actually remember the nineties – it’s all a bit hazy for me). Huge squidgy thanks to Arnel for making me look more competent then I actually am. |
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“Come on, Melinda, just five more minutes,” Harry begged. “James! If we’re not careful my dad will come out here looking for me. I was supposed to be inside twenty minutes ago,” she protested, but then let out a moan as Harry’s lips started to place a trail of kisses down her neck. “James…” She pushed him in the chest and he reluctantly took a step away from her. She stood glaring at him with her arms crossed against her chest, although the mischievous smirk on her lips rather ruined the effect. “I know, I know; time for you to go inside,” Harry noted with a tragic sigh. “Will I see you tomorrow?” “Maybe, as long as you can keep your hands to yourself,” she replied saucily. “Why? You’ve never complained before,” he grinned back. “Pig!” she laughed, before stepping forward and placing a quick kiss on his lips. “I really have to go, James,” she apologised. “Swing by about seven o’clock tomorrow. I should be ready by then.” “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry agreed. “Sweet dreams.” “You, too,” she replied with a brilliant smile, and vanished up the path to her family’s house. Harry watched her go with sigh. He couldn’t believe that he’d got so lucky as to have Melinda as his girlfriend. She was just perfect for him: beautiful, intelligent, funny, and being a Squib, he didn’t have to hide his magical abilities from her. It was a match made in heaven. With a dreamy smile on his face, Harry turned and walked back through the darkened streets of Godric’s Hollow. He loved living here, he truly did. After having lived in the urban drabness that was Little Whinging for nine years of his life, this little West Country village was a breath of fresh air. Its quaint cottages and rural setting were much more to his liking than the unyielding conformity of his former home. He soon reached Bathilda’s house and let himself in through the front door. As always, Gellert was waiting for him in the living room, a book on his lap and a cup of coffee steaming beside him. He looked up as Harry entered. “Ah, Harry, you’re home,” he noted with a smile, “and how was your date with the enchanting Miss Cooke?” “Really great,” Harry replied, smiling so hard his face hurt. “She is a most delightful young lady,” Gellert agreed, the amusement plane on his face. “She is, Gelli,” Harry agreed, before looking at his guardian nervously. “I… I think I’m in love with her.” Gellert suddenly looked serious. “Well, it is possible, Harry, but first loves are always tricky things. Some will last forever, growing stronger as time goes by, but only if they are nurtured correctly. Others simply disappear, like a leaf on the breeze, leaving only a lingering sadness.” Harry looked distressed at Gellert’s words. “That won’t happen!” he said angrily. “Why would I stop loving Melinda? She’s brilliant!” “I wasn’t denigrating Miss Cooke in any way, my boy, it’s just that you are both young and have so much growing to do. As people age, they change, you know. In a year or two, you may well not be the same person that you are today,” Gellert said gently. Harry huffed and threw himself down on the sofa. “I wish I could tell her who I really am,” he moaned, “or even just let her see what I really look like.” “If you do that, you make not only yourself a target, but her too. Do you really want to put Melinda’s life at risk?” the old man challenged. “Of course not,” Harry replied moodily. “I know I can’t, I just wish that I could, that’s all.” “I suspect that in a few years it will be time to reveal yourself to the Wizarding world. At that point you will be able to tell her everything. I’m certain she will understand your need for secrecy,” Gellert said soothingly. “I suppose so,” Harry mumbled sourly, before fixing his guardian with a hard stare. “If you’re so knowledgeable about girls, how come you never married?” Gellert looked at him pointedly, before sighing. “Perhaps this is a story I should have told you, Harry, but it is one that hurts me even to this day. Once, long ago, I was engaged to be married.” “Really? Why have you never mentioned this before?” Harry demanded, his earlier surliness vanishing in an instant. “As I said, it is a painful tale for me to recount, but one that I think you will learn some valuable lessons from,” Gellert replied sadly. “Her name was Paula. Paula von Schirach, although her maiden name was Hoffman.” “Maiden name?” Harry repeated in confusion. “You mean she was married?” “Widowed, to be exact. Her husband had been an army officer of fine Prussian descent, but was killed in during the Polish campaign in the early part of World War Two. I was in my fifties when I met her, and she was nearly fifteen years my junior, but being a wizard, of course, I appeared much younger than I actually was. I can honestly say, I loved her from the moment I set eyes on her,” the old man sighed. “What happened?” Harry prompted. “I met her back in forty-one, at a party thrown by some high-ranking army officer. Paula was invited because she was a friend of the man’s wife, and I attended to drink expensive champagne and laugh down my sleeve at the Muggles. In the end, the joke was on me because I became captivated by her the moment I saw her. She had long, dark curly hair and the most wondrous brown eyes, so deep and clear. Naturally, I introduced myself and was delighted when we seemed to hit it off,” he said, smiling at the memory. “Wait, you mean she was a Muggle?” Harry exclaimed in surprise. “Indeed! Just imagine it, me; an all-powerful Dark Lord who was well on his way to engineering the conquest of all of Europe, suddenly humbled by a pretty brunette with a disarming smile. They said the face of Helen of Troy launched a thousand ships, well, Paula’s face stopped a thousand tanks! From the moment I met her, I could think of nothing but being with her. Obviously, my plan for global domination and subjugation of the Muggles took something of a dent,” he chuckled. “Wow, it sounds like you had it bad,” Harry laughed. “Oh, indeed, my young friend, I did! At first, I thought only to satisfy my lust with her, something I achieved remarkably quickly. I was handsome and charming, she was lonely and in need of comfort. Well, there was a war on, you understand. People’s morals change somewhat in such times. But even after I bedded her, I wanted more. Soon, I persuaded her to move to Berlin where I was living at the time and, after some coaxing, I got her to agree to marry me. Do you know, my boy, I could have used magic on her, or a potion, but instead I spent nearly a year begging her to accept my proposal! Proof positive, I feel, that love is stronger than magic,” he smiled wistfully. “So, why didn’t you get married?” Harry asked. “As I said, I’d somewhat neglected my duties and responsibilities since Paula came into my life, and it came back to bite me. That egotistical Muggle idiot I had placed in charge had managed to make a mess of things. I’d left him strict instruction that the capture of Moscow was his priority, but instead he’d tried to take the Russian capital and the oil fields to the south, simultaneously. Stupid little man,” Gellert snapped, clearly still irritated after all this time. “A greater problem then occurred, which, sadly was a direct result of my inattention. A group of Russian wizards had entered the fight, and magically managed to hide large-scale troop movements by Soviets in the south. They managed to encircle and destroy an entire German army at a place called Stalingrad.” “Oh, I’ve heard of the battle,” Harry gasped in awe. “I would be disappointed if you had not,” Gellert nodded. “Anyway, the situation had deteriorated so badly by early nineteen forty-three that I realised that I had to go and take command of the situation personally. I kissed Paula goodbye, and told her to remain in Berlin in the house that I had provided with extensive magical protection, unbeknown to her, of course. Naturally, being a strong-willed woman, she completely ignored me.” Harry had a dreadful feeling he knew what was coming next. “Paula’s family came originally from Hamburg in northern German and, bored with being cooped up in Berlin where she knew no one, she decided to visit them. She was therefore in Hamburg in July, the month that the English started a series of heavy air raids against the city,” Gellert said, his voice cracking. “A bomb hit the Hoffman’s house and levelled it. She died instantly.” “I’m sorry,” Harry said sincerely. “For a while, I felt intense hatred for the English, you know. First, Dumbledore had wrecked all my carefully laid plans by fawning over his mad sister, and then your bombers had taken from me the only woman I had ever truly loved. I wanted revenge. I wanted fire to reign down over England. I wanted every last one of you dead,” Gellert spat. Not knowing what to say, Harry sat silently, looking at his beloved mentor apprehensively. “But as soon as it had come, my hatred for the English slipped away, to be replaced by a much more intense hatred… of myself,” Gellert moaned. “I don’t understand,” Harry said, surprised by his guardian’s words. “By this point, I’d seen first-hand the horrors of war,” Gellert continued bitterly. “The Eastern Front was unimaginable. The inhumanity of the conflict was beyond my most horrific nightmares, and will haunt me to the end of my days. I saw atrocities inflicted by both sides, and I came to comprehend that it was I that had unleashed this Armageddon on the world. The burning bodies of those women and children were my doing, Harry, and the guilt ate at me like a cancer.” Gellert stood and walked over to the sideboard. A number of bottles were sat there, and he poured himself a large Firewhisky. “I was riddled with pain and regret, and I took less and less involvement in the war. The underlings I had appointed took over and it was like a madness infected them all. Death camps, executions, torture; it was a vision of hell, my boy, and I stood by, wallowing in my grief, and let it all happen. My little empire crumbled around me, and I could only be glad at its demise. By the time Dumbledore confronted me in forty-five, I was a hollow shell of a man. Albus could have fought me armed only with a feather and I would have capitulated.” “But the history books always describe the confrontation between the two of you as an epic battle,” Harry protested. “Yes, but remember that history is written by the winners, Harry, and Dumbledore was the victor. I suspect that he embellished the story of our meeting somewhat, and let the world think I was dead. I wanted to be dead, actually, but Albus, in his unthinking cruelty, had me imprisoned, instead. For forty-five years I sat in that tiny cell in Nurmengard Prison, a place which had ironically housed so many of my foes previously, and reflected on the disaster that was my life. It was a punishment that in time I came to welcome, and believe that I richly deserved. I still do, for that matter.” “If you felt that way…” Harry began cautiously. “Why did I break-out to find you?” Gellert said, completing Harry’s question. “Simply put, Harry, I was seeking at least partial atonement. I can never make amends for my crimes, but when I became aware of your treatment at the hands of my old comrade, I could not in good conscience sit back and do nothing. I hope that I have at least made one life a little better.” “You have, Gelli,” Harry assured him, “and to me that means the world.” “Then I am glad,” Gellert smiled, and downed his Firewhisky. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP “Buggering hell, Potter! How did you manage to do that?” Ginevra spat, climbing to her feet. Harry resisted smirking and merely sat down on one of the chairs that the Room of Requirement had provided. “A Shield Penetration Jinx,” Harry explained. “It’s particularly useful when facing opponents who can cast a strong shield, much like yourself. It creates a three foot by three foot gap in a shield, usually without the other person being aware of it. It’s a simple matter then to send whatever spell you want through the gap. I thought you’d appreciate a Leg-Locking Curse more than a Blasting Charm.” “You are going to teach me that Jinx, aren’t you?” Ginevra said firmly. “Of course,” he agreed readily. “You’re definitely going to have to improve your soundless casting abilities, though. I could see your lips moving half the time.” “Yeah, well, no one’s perfect,” she growled, before looking Harry straight in the eyes. “Who taught you, Potter?” Harry sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to tell you this, aren’t I?” “We agreed to be partners, Harry. That means no secrets,” she declared forcefully. “Everyone has secrets, Ginevra, but I suspect that this isn’t one that I should keep from you. I warn you now, however, that what I’m about to tell you must remain completely secret. Your Occlumency Shields are okay, but even so, you must bury this information in the deepest, darkest corners of your mind, and never think about it while in the presence of anyone. Understand?” Harry stated in hard voice. “I understand,” she replied seriously. Harry nodded. “Well, I’ve already let slip his first name…” Harry began. “Yeah, Gellert, but I couldn’t find any records relating to any wizard by that name, not recently living ones, anyway,” Ginevra interrupted. “I thought I asked you not to investigate that name,” Harry noted coolly. “You didn’t seriously expect me not to, did you?” she asked in genuine surprise. “I guess not. By the sounds of it, you probably saw the name of my guardian in your research and discounted it. You see, most people think he died in nineteen forty-five. Even those who knew better thought he passed on in nineteen-ninety,” he explained. “Nineteen forty-five? A man most people think died in nineteen forty-five called Gellert?” Ginevra gasped. “You’ve got it,” Harry confirmed. “My guardian and teacher was Gellert Grindelwald: Dark Lord and one of the most hated wizards in history.” “But…” Ginevra gasped. Harry had never seen her so utterly befuddled before. “He didn’t die in a duel with Dumbledore like most people believe,” Harry continued. “In fact, there was no epic duel; Dumbledore made that bit up or, at least, never bothered to correct anyone when that story came out. Gellert was in fact imprisoned for over forty-five years in a prison in Germany. When one day he read a newspaper article about me, he faked his own death and escaped. He was actually killed just this summer by Voldemort when Godric’s Hollow was attacked.” “So, does this make you the next Dark Lord in waiting, or something?” Ginevra asked a little uncertainly. “Nah, I have no intention of becoming like Voldemort, thank you very much,” he grinned. “In fact, Gellert was very much a changed man by the time I met him. He’d fallen in love with a Muggle girl in the forties, and that started to make him question everything he’d believed up to that point. When she was killed in the war he started, he began to feel remorse for his actions. The Gellert Grindelwald I knew was a very different person to the hideous Dark Lord that mothers still describe to frighten their children into behaving.” “But… but…” she spluttered lamely before her shoulders slumped and a look of amazement settled on her face. “Wow,” she murmured. “Yeah, wow about sums it up,” Harry agreed. “Look, don’t get too hung up on all this. Just remember that by the time he rescued me from my dreadful Muggle relatives, Gellert was a just man. I’m not saying he was a saint by any means, in fact, he could be an evil bastard when crossed, but he tried to do what was right, and I loved him for it.” “I guess this explains why you’re so advanced magically,” Ginevra mused. “You must have learnt loads of amazing things from him.” “Oh, did I ever,” Harry grinned evilly. “Will you teach me what you learnt?” she asked eagerly. “Hey, we’re partners! Of course I’ll teach you,” he assured her. Ginevra walked over to him and sat down on the sofa next to him. To Harry’s surprise, she grabbed his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. “The world isn’t going to know what hit it by the time we’re through,” she said with a malicious smile. Harry couldn’t keep from matching her smile. “Oh, you are so right, Miss Weasley,” he said, his thumb caressing her hand. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP “C an we get on with this? It won’t take long for the Headmaster to realise I’ve left the castle, and I can guarantee that he’ll come after me,” Snape snarled miserably. “Patience, my dear Professor, good things come to those who wait,” Harry smirked, amused by the man’s nervousness. “We just have to wait until Ginevra arrives.” “Why do we have to wait for your little girlfriend, Potter?” Snape spat. “I’m sure we can do this without her.” “That’s rather ungrateful,” Harry reprimanded him mildly. “After all, she was the one who came up with this escape route out of the castle.” “Contrary to what you believe, I was fully aware of this passageway, and could have recommended it if required,” the man grumbled. Harry ignored him. Despite Snape’s moaning, this route out of the school was perfect. It did make Harry wonder, however, just how Ginevra knew of the passageway leading from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack in which they were now standing. It was an ideal way to get off the school grounds without being noticed. The sound of footsteps approaching drew his attention. A moment later Ginevra entered the room dressed in Muggle-style clothing. Harry took a moment to admire her tight jeans and form-fitting sweater. The girl was looking good. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she apologised. “I got waylaid by my idiot brother on the way out. He was demanding to know where I was going ‘all dressed up’. I’m afraid I had to hex him a bit.” “Ha! I don’t believe you’ve ever hexed anyone just ‘a bit’, in your life” Harry laughed. “He’s probably in the hospital wing, even as we speak, isn’t he?” “Can we please get on,” Snape yelled, his temper at breaking point. “But of course, Professor,” Harry replied mildly, knowing that it would infuriate the man even more. “We need to Apparate to London; twelve Grimmauld Place, to be exact. It’s the old Black family home. Do you know where that is, Professor?” “I have visited the place in the past,” Snape confirmed stiffly. “Excellent. Ginevra, you’ll Side-Along with me. Shall we?” Harry asked, holding his hand out to the red-haired witch. Seconds later, they appeared in a rather messy area of scrub and bushes, contained within some metal railings. On the other side of the road was a line of three story townhouses. Harry removed a piece of paper from inside of the short leather jacket he wore and handed it to Snape. “Read this and then hand it to Ginevra,” he instructed the man. “The address?” Snape noted. “I take it the house is protected by a Fidelius Charm, then?” “Yes, and as you probably figured out, I’m the Secret Keeper,” Harry confirmed, taking back the slip of paper Ginevra had just read. “Is the house part of this escape network you mentioned,” Snape asked. “One small part of it, yes,” Harry agreed. “Come on, let’s get out of the open. Who knows who could be watching.” The three of them hurried across the road and into the house. Harry looked around critically, noting the thick layer of dust around the place. “Kreacher!” he called. A moment later, an old, wrinkled house-elf limped into the hallway. “Master Harry has returned,” he croaked. “Kreacher wondered if he would ever see him again.” “How are you, Kreacher?” Harry asked fondly. “Kreacher is old and tired,” the elf moaned. “He is afraid that the House of Black will fall into ruin, and that he will not live to see an heir grace this noble house.” “Merlin, you always were a cheery sort,” Harry laughed. “Have you been told what’s happening today?” “Indeed, is this the wizard who is to leave today?” Kreacher asked, staring at Snape in an unfriendly manner. “Yes, he is. Is the Portkey set up?” Harry asked. “Yes, master, it is set up in the drawing room, and will activate in ten minutes,” Kreacher confirmed. “Excellent! Just time for a cup of tea, if you’ll do the honours,” Harry said happily. “Oh, by the way, Kreacher, this beautiful young lady is Ginevra Weasley. You are to treat her with courtesy and respect, understand?” “Yes, Master Harry,” Kreacher replied, looking at Ginevra critically. “She is an acceptable pure-blood witch. Will she be the one to bear you heirs and finally fill this noble house with children?” “If I do, I bet they’ll be covered in fur and have tails,” she muttered under her breath so only Harry could hear her. He did his level best not to chuckle. They headed to the kitchen, where Kreacher supplied them all with steaming mugs of tea. “You’d better make the most of that, Professor,” Harry grinned. “I’m told the Yanks can’t make a decent cup of tea to save their lives.” “Quite possibly, but if I’m to avoid being tortured and killed by the Dark Lord, I rather feel it’s a small price to pay,” Snape replied acidly. “Are the arrangements all in place?” Harry handed Snape an envelope that Kreacher had provided. “In there should be everything you need initially: identification papers, immigration documents, and a Muggle passport. Once there, my contact will arrange for you to find temporary accommodation and to open a bank account. We’ve set you up with enough cash to keep you going for a few months until you find work.” “Artimus Higginbottom? Is this to be my name from now on?” Snape asked peering at the passport. He didn’t look amused. “Yes, I rather thought it suited you,” Harry replied with a straight face. “You’ll have a reasonable choice of locations to settle in. America, being rather large, has numerous Magical communities so you can take your pick. I’d stay away from the main one at Salem, if I was you, but that’s your choice.” “Who is this contact of yours I am to meet on my arrival?” Snape asked wearily. “Oh, you’ll recognise him when you see him,” Harry replied, his eyes positively shining with suppressed mirth. “Come, it’s nearly time. Let’s get this over with,” Snape growled. The three of them headed upstairs to the drawing room, where a small vase was waiting on the floor in the middle of the room. Snape knelt beside it and looked up at Harry. “How long?” he asked brusquely. “One minute,” Harry replied after glancing at his watch. “Well, I wish you good luck. This really might be a good opportunity for you, you know.” “Potter, due to my misguided decision to aid you, I have been uprooted from my home and my career, have a murderous Dark Lord baying for my blood, and am having to flee into exile, probably never to return. Please do not attempt to present this like it’s some wonderful life-choice,” Snape growled. “Sorry,” Harry said contritely. “I just thought that you might actually welcome escaping from the life you had.” “Well, I don’t,” Snape spat. “In fact, I have only one thing that I want to say to you before I leave, Potter. Please believe me when I say, most sincerely, that I hope you will go and fuck yourself.” A blue light flared and the Portkey activated, leaving a shocked pair of Slytherins standing in its wake. “Well, that was a bit bloody rude, considering you’re saving his neck by arranging all this,” Ginevra said indignantly. “I suppose,” Harry replied, before he stared to giggle. “What are you laughing at,” she demanded. “Oh, I’m just thinking about what Snape’s reaction will be just about now, when he discovers exactly who is waiting to greet him,” Harry chortled. “Who?” Ginevra asked curiously. “No one you’d know, but I think it’s fair to say it’s just about the last person Severus would want to see right now, apart from Voldemort, of course,” he grinned. “Okay, keep your secrets,” she said heatedly. “So, what happens now?” “Now, my dear lady, we head over to Diagon Alley and see about getting us some wands. After that, the day is pretty much ours. Snape arranged it with Dumbledore that I wouldn’t be back tonight, so we can do whatever we feel like. I suspect that as the Headmaster was expecting that Hagrid would be accompanying me, he was hoping that he’d discover something useful about me by staying out all night, such as where I’m living. Poor Hagrid got a bit confused about the date of the trip, however,” Harry grinned. “Really? I suppose you had something to do with that confusion,” Ginevra noted with faint amusement. “Not at all,” Harry replied firmly. “I definitely told him the trip was on the seventeenth.” “Potter, today is the sixteenth,” she pointed out, her lips twitching. “Is it really?” Harry gasped, his mouth open in shock and his eyes wide. “You really are the worst actor I’ve even seen,” she laughed. “Right, let’s get cracking. I hope you’ve already visited Gringotts, because you’re going to need plenty of cash to spend on me.” “Yes, dear,” Harry replied meekly. “By the way, when did we get married? I seem to have missed that bit.” Ginevra just winked at him. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP The trip down to Diagon Alley was brief and uneventful. They managed to make it through the Leaky Cauldron without attracting any attention, and headed straight to Ollivanders. As they approached the small shop, Ginevra revealed that although she had been passed the shop many times, she had never actually been inside, and was looking forward to it. Not wasting any time, they entered the narrow building and looked around. Inside, the shop was cramped and everything seemed to be covered in a fine layer of dust. Thousands of narrow boxes, presumably containing wands, were piled from the floor to the ceiling. The place was completely silent. “Shop!” Harry called in an effort to attract some attention. His efforts were rewarded a few seconds later when a small, white-haired old man appeared, seemingly out of thin air. He stared at the pair of them intently. “Mr Potter, a pleasure to finally meet you,” the man said. “I’ve been expecting you for some time. Ah, and if I’m not mistaken this must be the daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley accompanying you, yes? Young Ginevra, if my memory serves me correctly.” “Yes, you are correct. Do I have the pleasure of addressing Mr Ollivander?” Harry asked formally. “You do indeed, Garrick Ollivander, at your service. Do I presume that you are both here to purchase wands?” he asked. “Actually, I popped in to buy a pet Pygmy Puff,” Ginevra said sarcastically while eyeing the piles of wand boxes littered about the place. “Ah, a sharp wit you have there, Miss Weasley, but I don’t doubt my questions was rather foolish. After all, why else would you be here?” Ollivander noted with a faint grin. “Yes, we both require new wands,” Harry cut in, wanting to get things moving. “We are both rather pressed for time, so if you could…” “Find the right wand for you and stop wasting your time? Yes, I rather think I can do that,” the old man chuckled. He then turned and fixed Harry with an intense stare. “Normally, I find it rather amusing to play with my potential customers, somewhat. Generally, I let them try a few wands that I know will not be a good match for them, mainly so they can appreciate the difference when they finally do get their hands on the right wand. As I have no desire to be cursed by the lovely young Miss Weasley there, I will forgo that indulgence this time. Here.” Apparently without looking, Ollivander reached out and pulled a black box from a nearby pile and handed it to Harry. He opened it and found a light-brown wand inside. Gently, he picked it up and gave it a careful wave. Red sparks immediately appeared from the end of the wand, bright enough to leave spots before his eyes. “Excellent, excellent,” Garrick crowed. “Eleven inches, holly, with a Phoenix feather core. Nice and supple, too. A perfect match for you, if I do say so myself. I expect to see you do great things with that wand, Mr Potter.” “It feels amazing,” Harry noted in awe. “I thought I had a good wand before, but this is just wonderful. Phoenix feather, you say?” “Indeed, and from your surprised expression I suspect you’ve already made the connection. This is indeed the brother wand to the one that gave you that cosmetically enhanced scar on your forehead. The brother to the one still carried by the Dark Lord, himself.” “Bloody hell,” Ginevra gasped. “You mean that you’ve got the same type of wand as Vo…” “Don’t say the name,” Harry snapped, cutting her off. “Why? You say it all the time,” she protested. “Yes, when I’m within a secure, protected environment like Hogwarts,” Harry explained. “A person’s name carries great magical power, and that power can be tapped into. It’s quite possible that You-Know-Who has placed a Taboo on his assumed name, knowing that only strong-willed enemies of his would use it. Just speaking the name aloud might allow him to track our location.” “Very true, Mr Potter,” Ollivander agreed. “It’s heart-warming to see such a young wizard so well versed in magical theory.” “I had a good teacher,” Harry replied distantly. “I’ll take this wand, but we still need one for my friend, here.” “Ah, yes, Miss Weasley. You know, if you’d walked into this shop just a few months ago, I would, without hesitation, have recommended a dragon heartstring wand. Now, however, I feel something else is required…” He shuffled off to the back of his shop and returned with a rather battered box that looked distinctly faded. He handed it to Ginevra with an expectant smile. Rather nervously, Ginevra opened it and removed the dark-coloured wand inside. A quick wave produced a flurry of red sparks only marginally less bright than those that Harry had produced. “Yes, I believe another perfect match,” Ollivander grinned. “Hazel, nine and three-quarter inches. You really are most fortunate that I even have this wand in stock, Miss Weasley. The core is rather rare, you see.” “What is it?” Ginevra asked, still examining her new wand with an expression of delight on her face. “Why, it’s Phoenix feather, just like Mr Potter’s and the Dark Lord’s,” Ollivander said with malicious glee in his voice. Harry and Ginevra looked at each other in shock. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP “So, what does this mean, Harry?” Ginevra asked as they walked back up the ally. “I mean, Ollivander said that Phoenix feather cores are really rare. Why have we both got wands made of the same thing?” “I don’t know,” Harry admitted. “Then again, the fact we share the same Animagus form is pretty rare, too. Perhaps it means that we are soul-mates, destined to be together forever.” “What? Really?” Ginevra said incredulously. “Nah, but I thought I’d have a better chance of getting into your knickers if I said that,” Harry smirked. “Randy git,” she snorted. “You’d better believe it,” he laughed. “So, we’ve done everything we needed to do here, the rest of the day is ours. What do you want to do now?” Ginevra glanced at her watch. “Well, I’m getting peckish and it is nearly lunchtime, so how about you buy me a slap-up meal in the Leaky Cauldron. A few shots of Firewhisky might convince me not to hex you, too.” “Ginevra, I don’t think I should draw attention to us by buying you, an underage witch, alcohol in a public bar,” Harry said nervously. “What? You’re worried about that? After everything we’ve done in the last month or so, and you’re getting cold-feet about buying me some booze? You’ve got to be kidding!” she snapped in disgust. “Yes, I am,” he replied with a totally straight face. Ginevra glared at him. “Oh, you are so going to pay for that…” she growled. Harry burst out laughing. “Come on, did you really think I’d pass up the chance to ply a pretty witch with alcohol? I’m not totally stupid, you know.” “Ha! Think you can get me drunk and take advantage of me, do you?” she challenged. “I’ll have you know that I can drink you under the table.” “That, my fiery little witch, sounds like a bet, and one I intend to make you regret issuing. Come on, I’m feeling a little thirsty,” he smirked. “I’m going to enjoy hearing you beg for mercy,” she laughed evilly. “Oh no, it’s you who’ll be doing the begging,” he retorted, before offering her his arm. “Shall we, then?” “Let’s,” she agreed in a snooty voice, and linked her arm with his. With matching grins, they headed towards the pub. As soon as they entered the ancient establishment, Ginevra received an unpleasant surprise. “Ginny? What the hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you at Hogwarts?” a voice demanded. “I do believe our sweet little sister has bunked-off, brother-mine, and with a strange boy, no less,” a second voice added. Harry turned and saw a pair of identical young men with bright red hair and an abundance of freckles. They were stocky and well-built, and could be considered rather intimidating. Or rather would be, if you hadn’t spent the last few years of your life battling Death Eaters, that is. “Well, if it isn’t the gormless brothers, themselves,” Ginevra spat. “Careful, ickle sis, you wouldn’t want us to tell Mum that we’ve just caught you skiving from school, would you?” the left one said warningly. “Yeah, and who’s this with you? Found yourself a snaky boyfriend, have you?” the right one asked, glaring at Harry. “I have no idea who you are,” Harry began coolly, “but I can assure you that we have written permission from Albus Dumbledore to be here today. Ginevra and I both required new wands, and have been permitted to visit Ollivanders to obtain them. You do realise that it’s a Saturday, today, when no classes occur, don’t you?” “Oooh, get Mister Lardy-Dar, here,” right taunted. “I smell a stuck-up pure-blood.” “Yeah, and one heading for the pranking of a lifetime, if he isn’t careful,” left added. “Pranking? Merlin, are you two ten years-old, or something?” Ginevra snorted, rolling her eyes. “Harry, I have the misfortune to introduce my brothers, Fred and George Weasley; a pair of childish idiots who think they can make a fortune by selling joke items. Cretins, can I introduce Harry Potter; the famous wizard who defeated You-Know-Who when he was only fifteen months old, and Lucius Malfoy in a duel last summer. Please feel free to try and prank him. I’d enjoy seeing him beat the stuffing out of the pair of you.” “Harry Potter?” the one called Fred exclaimed, a little too loudly. “That’s correct,” Harry confirmed coldly, “and thank you for alerting the whole establishment to my presence. I was hoping to have a quiet lunch here, but that’s not going to happen now, is it?” “Err, sorry,” Fred said contritely. “Wait a minute, what are you doing walking around with your arm linked with my sister?” George demanded, clearly not as intimidated as his brother. “A gentleman will always offer his arm when escorting a young lady,” Harry replied, a faint look of disgust on his face. “I take it neither of you know anything about being a gentleman?” “No, but we do know about beating the snot out of any git who tries to take advantage of our sister,” George replied belligerently. “Trying to take advantage of me?” Ginevra yelled in anger. “Harry, unlike the pair of you, is a respectable wizard. Besides, when have you two given a hoot about me? What did you call me just a few months ago? A ‘slimy, back-stabbing, little cow who has no right to be part of the family anymore’; those were your words, weren’t they?” “You might have become a right little bitch, Ginny, but I’m damned if I’m going to stand here and let you whore yourself to the first famous bloke that comes along,” George growled. Harry’s wand was in his hand instantly, and pointed directly between George’s eyes. A second later, Ginevra also drew her wand and similarly pointed hers at Fred. “You really should be careful about what you say,” Harry said in a dangerous voice. “I’ve slaughtered Death Eaters that make the pair of you look like farts on the wind, and if you insult my friend again in that manner, I’ll give you a free demonstration as to how I did it.” “Yeah, and remember what happened to the pair of you after you pulled that prank on me back in my third year?” Ginevra added. “If you don’t get out of my sight within five seconds, I’ll make what I did to you back then look like a gentle tap on the cheek. Got it?” “Come on, George,” Fred said, grabbing his brother’s arm. “She’s not worth wasting our time with. Let’s leave her and her little boyfriend to do whatever they want to do. Probably hexing babies, or joining You-Know-Who, or something.” “Five,” Ginevra said firmly. “Four… three…” “We’re out of here,” George snarled, “but don’t think this is over. I’ve read all about you, Potter. You think you’re going to be the next Dark Lord, don’t you? Well, don’t count on it, and you’d better not try and drag Ginny down with you, either.” “Get out!” Ginevra howled. With one last glare, George allowed his brother to drag him away. Harry lowered his wand and turned to Ginevra. “What lovely family members you have,” he noted sourly. “I thought your brother Ronald was bad, but those two bookends make him look considerate and thoughtful.” “They weren’t always like that,” Ginevra said quietly. “We used to be really close.” “I’d love to hear about it, but I think we’d better get out of here,” Harry said looking around. “Our little slanging match with your brothers has attracted a lot of attention. I think we should rethink our plans.” “I agree,” Ginevra said, noting them number of people openly staring at them. “Where do you suggest we go?” “I know a great Muggle pub up in Camden,” Harry suggested as they made their way out of the Leaky Caldron. “They do great food, have a wonderful selection of drinks and, more importantly, don’t ask too many questions about their punters’ age. I have Muggle I.D. that says I’m eighteen, but you don’t.” “Do you think that’s a good idea?” she said with a frown. “I’ve never been in a Muggle pub in my life. I won’t know what to do.” “Oh, it’s pretty much the same as the Leaky,” Harry said dismissively. “The drinks are a bit different, and the toilets aren’t always as clean, but you’ll fit right in.” “Thanks, you’re really selling it to me,” she snorted. “What sort of stuff do Muggle’s drink?” “Do you like Butterbeer?” he asked. “Yeah, of course,” she replied. “Then you’re going to love alcopops,” he said with a knowing grin. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP It was some two hours after they had made their hasty retreat from the Leaky Cauldron and Ginevra was in a good mood. Hell, she was in a great mood. “This was a great idea,” she said, probably for the eighth time. “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, Miss Weasley,” Harry grinned, before taking another swig from his bottle of beer. As Harry had said, the Muggle pub they were currently sitting in wasn’t too fussy about checking the ages of their customers. The Muggle girl who first served them hadn’t batted an eyelid at either of them when they ordered their first drinks. It had been a challenge for Ginevra not to stare at the girl, however. She had a large, metal ring pierced through her nose, and large amounts of dark make-up on. Harry hadn’t given the girl a second glance, so Ginevra assumed this must be a normal look for Muggles, not that any of the other women in the pub looked like that. Her initial uncertainty about the place soon vanished, however. Harry told her that this particular place was popular with younger people, and that certainly seemed to be the case. The dark-wood booths were filled with young Muggles all merrily getting pissed, despite the fact that it was only midday. “Students,” Harry had informed her knowledgably. “They’ll get drunk at any hour of the day.” As Harry had promised, she’d also quickly taken to Muggle drinks. From his description, she’d thought that ‘alcopops’ was a specific type of drink, when in fact it was just a term to cover a multitude of brightly-labelled, super-sweet, alcoholic beverages. The first one she tried seemed to be just cloudy lemonade, but Harry assured her that it contained about five times the alcohol content of a Butterbeer. She’d gone on to sample a number of others, before deciding that a clear lemonade/vodka mix was her favourite. She was currently about to finish her fifth bottle, or was it her sixth? Either way, she wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the massive amounts of sugar that was making her lightheaded. Fortunately, the establishment also did a nice line in pub-grub, and the huge, greasy burger she’d demolished, along with a small mountain of chips, had helped line her stomach. Annoying family members aside, she was really enjoying her day out. “So, what was all that business with your brothers about, then?” Harry asked. Ginevra groaned, she was in too good a mood to ruin it by talking about Fred and George. Still, Harry had nearly been attacked in public by the pair of them, so he did deserve an explanation, she supposed. “I used to be pretty close to the twins,” Ginevra said, clutching her bottle tightly. “When I was little, I used to help them play pranks on my other brothers, and we used to cover up for each other. I’m closest to them in personality, I guess, and probably in looks, too. But, of all my brothers, apart from Ron, maybe, they took my Sorting into Slytherin the hardest. They seemed to take it as some sort of personal betrayal, and during my first year started playing pranks and tricks on me without mercy.” “They sound supportive,” Harry snorted in disgust. “Tell me about it. There was me, thrown into the snake pit, not knowing what’s happening or what to do, my housemates all hate me and are bullying me constantly, and I had that bloody diary to deal with, too. Imagine how helpful it was to suddenly find my hair had turned green, or all my school books had suddenly vanished. I tried to reason with them, but that only seemed to make things worse. In the end, I just started hexing them whenever a prank was played on me,” she recounted. “I bet that went down well,” Harry noted, a sympathetic look on his face. “Yeah, things dissolved into open warfare pretty quickly, and they had Ron and Percy on their side, as well. It’s weird, the twins always hated Percy, but when he came out on their side against me, suddenly he was wonderful. I guess if I’ve done nothing else, I’ve brought my brothers closer together,” she said bitterly. “Fred and George still hold grudges against you, I take it?” he asked. “Yes, the summer holidays are enormous fun for me, I can tell you. The twins were desperate to get their own place, but as all they do is sell tricks and games via mail-order, they’ve only recently been able to afford to move out. All the time we were living under the same roof, they took their frustrations out on me, or tried to, anyway. It’s like a war-zone whenever we’re all in the house together, with me verses the rest of my family. If it’s not the twins trying to play nasty pranks on me, it’s Mum lecturing me on what a disappointment I am! I don’t even have Bill to back me up, anymore,” she told him mournfully. “You said that part-Veela bird turned him against you, didn’t you?” Harry noted. “Yeah, that French bitch,” Ginevra raged. “I don’t know what Bill sees in her.” “What, apart from the whole Veela thing?” he asked with a smirk. “Yeah! Just because she’s ravishingly beautiful, has fantastic legs, an arse you could bounce a Knut off, and tits that would make a grown man cry, he’s infatuated with her,” she pouted. “Nope, from that description I can’t see why he would be interested, at all,” Harry chortled. “Damn, now I think about it, I want to shag her, too,” Ginevra giggled. “Well, it would be a good way to get your own back at Bill deserting you,” Harry noted with a smile. “Would I be allowed to watch, though?” “You know, Potter, I’m just beginning to realise what a massive pervert you actually are,” she said, waggling her finger at him. “You’re just beginning too?” Harry repeated in horror. “Damn it, I’m going to have to try harder. When we get back to Grimmauld Place, can I get out the spatula and the whipped cream?” “Total pervert!” she said, punching him on the arm. “Yes, it’s working! I’ve already gone from being a massive pervert to a total pervert. That’s progress,” he laughed happily. “Yeah, well, never mind about that. I’ve finished my drink and it’s your round,” she reminded him, plonking her empty bottle down in front of him. “It’s been my round ever since we got here,” he protested. “Yeah, great place this, isn’t it?” she smirked. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP It was several hours later before they left the pub and started to stagger back towards Islington. The trip was made rather longer by the fact that Ginevra kept stopping to laugh at various Muggle objects along the way. At one point, she spent five minutes rolling on the floor laughing hysterically at a set of traffic lights. Eventually, they made it back to Grimmauld Place and Harry managed to get a swaying Ginevra through the front door. As soon as the door closed behind him, he found her arms wrapped around his neck and her lips inches from his. “I wanna do it properly this time,” she slurred. “No wolfy shagging. Do me like this.” Harry sighed. “Ginevra, you’re drunk. You should…” “Whatsamatter?” she giggled. “You’ve been trying to get in my knickers for weeks! Come on, I’m up for it.” “You’re too tired,” he told her with a gentle smile. “I really think we need to get you to bed.” “In the bed, on the kitchen table, on the floor, anywhere!” she laughed drunkenly, before she started to kiss his neck and rub herself against him suggestively. She never saw him carefully remove his wand from his jacket and casting a silent Sleeping Spell on her. She slumped in his arms. Reaching down, he slid his arm under her knees and gently cradled her. He then carried her up the stairs, and placed her on a spare bed in one of the guest rooms. He removed her shoes and socks, before pulling a light blanket over her. Quietly, he left the room, extinguishing the lights as he went. Heading towards the bedroom he usually slept in when he was here, he stopped on the landing and shook his head. “Bloody hell, why do I keep turning down these free shags?” he muttered to himself, before entering his room and preparing for bed. HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP Next morning, Harry was sitting at the kitchen table, enjoying the tea and toast that Kreacher had provided him, when Ginevra entered. She definitely looked worse for wear, with her normally immaculate red hair sticking-up in all directions and her clothes rumpled. She glared at him as she threw herself down into the seat opposite to him. “Why?” she demanded. “Why what?” he asked innocently. “Why didn’t you screw me last night? I handed it to you on a plate, Potter. Why did you chicken out?” she said angrily. “As I recall, you fell asleep on me,” Harry replied mildly. “I rather like my sexual partners to be awake to enjoy my fine work, you know.” “Bullshit,” she snapped. “I wasn’t as drunk as I made out. You got me with a Sleeping Charm, didn’t you?” Harry looked at her and sighed. Lying at this stage would only make her angrier. “Yes, I did,” he admitted. “Why” she demanded again, a little hurt creeping into her voice. “Because I didn’t think that you were totally in control,” he told her honestly. “I nearly lost your friendship because of what happened in the forest that night, and I wasn’t prepared to have that happen again because I took advantage of you while you were drunk. If you genuinely want to take our relationship to that level, just tell me while you’re calm and sober. I promise that in that event, I’ll willingly screw your brains out and leave you a gibbering wreck.” Ginevra looked at him intently for a moment, while licking her dry lips. Slowly, she rose from her seat and walked round the table towards him. Bending down, she brought her lips just inches away from his. “Harry…” she began. “Yes?” he said, looking into her eyes. “Any more of that tea going? I’m parched,” she smirked. His jaw dropped. “You evil little cow!” he gasped. “Here’s me, protecting your virtue despite temptation being thrown in my face, and all you can do is wind me up. Bugger that! Next time you get drunk and start begging for a shag, I’m just going to do it. Don’t expect any foreplay, either!” “Oh, I wouldn’t expect that from you anyway. I imagine you’re more a ‘leap on, bang away for five seconds, roll over and go to sleep’ kind of guy,” she teased. “Weasley, when we finally do get around to doing it, I’m going to make you scream my name — repeatedly!” he growled. “That sounds like a challenge,” Ginevra replied unfazed. “Yes, it is! And, damn it, if we had time this morning, I’d prove it to you. As it is, we have to be back at Hogwarts within an hour, so drink your tea quickly,” he said, slamming a cup down in front of her. “Thanks,” she replied sweetly. “Got any bacon? I’m hungry.” Kreacher, who had been upstairs all this time, chose that moment to return to the kitchen. He idly wondered why Master Harry was swearing loudly at the girl he’d brought with him yesterday, and why she was laughing uproariously at him. Strange things, these humans. |
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