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A Proper Epilogue | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, Romance Warnings: Death, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 188 Summary: Harry has just defeated Voldemort and everyone in the Wizarding World wants a piece of him, but there is only one witch with whom he wants to speak. How exactly can he hope that she still wants to see him? Hitcount: Story Total: 74362; Chapter Total: 4788 |
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“AARRGGHH!” huffed Hermione as she stamped her foot in utter frustration. She had exhausted her entire repertoire of charms, spells, and curses, but Ginny’s door remained utterly impassable. She had knocked, kicked, shaken the doorknob and … been reduced to frustrated tears. She had done everything she could think of or imagine, but to no avail. Hermione was under no illusion that her visit to Ron’s room the previous evening had gone unnoticed, but something told her that, no matter how understanding Molly had been at Hogwarts the previous day, things might be different if she and Ron were to be discovered together — in bed — under the roof of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Gathering a deep breath, she prepared to scream her loudest before catching herself and stifling the sound she had intended to make. “After all, she thought, it won’t improve my situation if I manage to wake everyone in the house who is not currently sleeping behind such impressive locking, silencing, and privacy charms.” She thought momentarily about heading back up to Ron’s room, but his incessant snoring would do nothing to solve her desperate need for real sleep. It simply wouldn’t do to camp out on the landing, which would call even more attention to her situation, and she lacked the cover of an engagement ring, which might — just might — prepare the Weasleys to accept the same behavior from Ginny. She checked the time and saw that it was already a quarter past five. Shoulders slumping in defeat, Hermione headed downstairs in hopes of finding a cup of coffee, but fearing the Weasley larder would have nothing available that would be more potent than tea. ****** As Ginny’s clock reached 5:30 a.m., an enchanted wooden cuckoo emerged from the workings and flew across the room, landing on Harry’s shoulder. The wizard jerked awake instantly, made sure his body was between Ginny and the doorway, and whipped his wand out from beneath the pillow. It took a few moments to realize what was happening, as Harry’s heart pounded feverishly in his chest. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, flinging the charmed wooden bird from his shoulder. “What?” mumbled Ginny, still groggy after only two hours of sleep. “The clock,” answered Harry grumpily. “You scared the crap out of me,” said Ginny as she snuggled back against him. “Sorry, I overreacted. I guess it’s going to take some time to get used to regular life.” “That’s okay, Harry. I’m here to help you through it,” she replied, a gentle smile sneaking across her face. “We can start by overlooking the fact that you’re seriously unhinged!” “I wouldn’t know what to do without you, but being hinged is totally overrated.” “Well, we’d better start by getting you out of here,” she said, disappointment showing in her eyes. “Mum and Dad are normally up by six, and it’s probably best that we not be together when they get up.” “Okay,” said Harry leaning forward to kiss her gently on the lips. “Ugh!” Ginny groused. “Who knew the world’s most powerful wizard would have morning breath?” “And you’re the breath of freshness?” “I most certainly am,” laughed Ginny, wrapping her arms around his neck before kissing him deeply. “Do that again, and I might never leave,” he said, smiling. “You’d better talk to Kreacher about fixing up Grimmauld Place today,” whispered Ginny against his ear. “I will,” promised Harry as he slipped into his clothes and prepared to sneak quietly onto the first floor landing. Before disabling the Privacy and Silencing Charms, he turned back and smiled broadly at Ginny. “Sneaking out in the wee hours … just like Hogwarts.” Ginny’s smile dropped from her face instantly. “Oh, Harry, you have no idea what it was like at Hogwarts this year. You wouldn’t have recognized the place.” “Yes, I kind of got that idea as soon as I came through the tunnel from the Hog’s Head and saw the situation in the Room of Requirement.” “No, Sweetheart,” answered Ginny, “that doesn’t even being to describe what life was like at school. What you witnessed was the little slice of paradise that we created as things grew worse. It was our refuge — a safe place, and without Neville I can’t bear to imagine what would have ended up happening.” “Oh, Gin… I’m so sorry.” “Stop that this instant, Harry. You chose not to let me go with you, and I know you still think it was the right decision to ‘keep me safe,’ and I have forgiven you for it. You did what you thought was right, but Hogwarts was no safe haven.” “Oh, Ginny,” Harry resumed, but found himself facing his fiancé’s outstretched palm. “No!” she snapped. “No sorrow … no sympathy. It was war, and war spreads its nasty tentacles everywhere. Gryffindor House was full of half-bloods, Muggle-born sorcerers, and the worst of the worst — Blood Traitors like me. Were it not for the old professors and, most importantly, Professor Snape, none of us would have escaped without serious, serious consequences.” “Tell me about it, Ginny. Please!” “I will, but not now. Mum and Dad will be up any minute and I really don’t want to embarrass them in front of all my brothers …” Ginny stopped suddenly, gathered her wits, and continued, “… well, all of my brothers except for Fred.” “I’m sorry,” was all Harry could find for verbal communication, so Harry gathered her shaking frame in his arms, slipped his fingers reverently into her beautiful hair, and kissed her gently.” She looked upon, brown eyes meeting green. “It’s okay, Harry. We’re okay. Now let me get some sleep and I’ll see you downstairs. With any luck, maybe Hermione will be ready to trade places.” ***** Harry opened the door silently and peeked cautiously out at the landing. It was empty, and he was unable to hear anyone stirring in the house, so Harry stepped out of Ginny’s room, his head swirling with doubts. The one action he had felt so certain of now looked like one of the worst he had ever made. Ginny had lived through her own hell and his actions had sent her there. Guilt pangs flooded over him in torrents. Sleep was out of the question. Harry headed down to the ground floor where, much to his surprise, Hermione was reading quietly at the kitchen table. “Morning, sunshine,” he whispered, hoping not to startle her. The effort was futile, as Hermione jumped, spilling her cup of tea and knocking her copy of Hogwarts, A History to the floor. “Honestly, Harry!” she exclaimed. “You gave me quite a fright.” “Sorry,” he answered, “I tried to be quiet. How long have you been awake?” “A little while,” she said softly. “Ron and I stayed up late talking.” Harry tried gallantly to keep a smirk from taking up residence on his face but was only partially successful. “What?” asked Hermione. “Nothing.” “Don’t try that with me, Harry Potter. I know it’s something.” “Well, isn’t an Imperturbable Charm a bit much for conversation?’ he said teasingly. “I’d have tried a Muffliato, perhaps?” “Oh, put a sock in it, Harry,” Hermione huffed. “You’re not going to be able to wind me up about sleeping with Ron. Anyway, you and Ginny had her room sealed up as tight as Hogwarts when I came downstairs.” “And what time might that have been?” “About half an hour ago. Happy now?” “Very much so,” he replied, deciding not to reveal Ginny’s comments to her. This guilt was something he would need to work through with Ginny, and Ginny, alone. For the time being, he would thank Merlin, Morgan, and Gandalf, himself, that somehow Ginny had escaped in one piece. “I should probably feel guilty for being so bloody happy, but I can’t. Can you believe it, Hermione? She said ‘yes’ and her parents aren’t having kittens about us getting married!” “Have you seen Harry Potter?” Hermione asked playfully. “You look a bit like him, but he’d never act like he was arse over elbow.” “But I am — arse over elbow, and not a bit ashamed of it!” “Oh, Harry, we’re all so happy for you and Ginny. You deserve it.” “Like you don’t? It was about time you and Ron admitted how you felt about each other and started to enjoy being in love.” “I do love him. He’s wonderful. And can you believe he’s going to come back to school just to be with me this year?” “I suspect he’d follow you into a den of Acromantulas if that’s what it took to be with you.” “That’s sweet to say, but I don’t think there is even the slightest chance that Ron would do that.” “He’d do anything for you, Hermione. Anything.” “Harry?” she asked as the smile faded from her lips. “Did you hear about Fred’s funeral?” “Yeah, two o’clock this afternoon — just family and a few close friends.” With that, Hermione excused herself and slipped up to Ginny’s room, saying she wanted to catch up on some much needed sleep. Harry thought momentarily about joining up with Ron but decided against it. He knew Ron would either be full of questions about Harry’s night with Ginny or snoring so loudly Harry would have no chance for rest. Neither option was very appealing, as Harry had no desire to share what he and Ginny had done with anyone, much less the bloke who was both his best friend and her older brother. So he chose to remain downstairs and wished Mr. and Mrs. Weasley a good morning when they arrived in the kitchen just before six o’clock. It was obvious from the start that both of the Weasleys were on edge, which was totally to be expected. Harry had been surprised at the way Arthur and Molly had been able to continue functioning throughout the previous day, almost as if nothing terrible had happened. Certainly, the day had been full of surprises, with Ron and Hermione becoming a couple and Harry and Ginny’s engagement. However, the happiness that those developments provided had burned away like a thin layer fog beneath the searing reality of death. Harry quickly spotted that Molly’s eyes were glazed over, and her hands trembled noticeably as she set about preparing breakfast. He offered to help, but she wouldn’t hear of it. She patted him on the arm, told him she could handle the cooking, and began to turn away when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. “What happened to your arm, Harry?” she asked, taking his left forearm into her hands and rubbing across the red scars of two puncture wounds. “Just a little bite,” Harry replied vaguely. “What kind of bite?” asked Arthur, stepping over to join his wife. The wound looked all too similar to those he had suffered a little more than two years previously. Harry looked around uncomfortably but could think of no way to divert their attention from his arm. He felt unable to deal with sympathy at the moment, especially not from the people who had been more like parents to him than anyone else in the world — people who had lost close friends — people who were about to bury their twenty-year-old son. “Harry?” prompted Mr. Weasley. While it had been asked as a question, the look on Arthur’s face made it perfectly clear that he had issued a gentle command. “I had a bit of a problem with Nagini when I went to Godric’s Hollow last Christmas.” “My goodness, Harry, how did you escape?” Arthur continued. “Well, I wouldn’t have made it except for Hermione. I made a foolish mistake, thinking Dumbledore might have left the Sword of Gryffindor with Bathilda Bagshot. Instead, she was already dead, and Voldemort had Nagini impersonating her. It was magic I had never seen before, just like Remus warned me.” The mention of Remus Lupin caused Molly to gasp, as she raised her hand shakily to cover her mouth. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley …” began Harry. “Nonsense, dear,” Molly replied. “Thank God you survived. It must have been terrifying.” “It was, but Hermione kept her cool. She’s a remarkable witch — truly remarkable.” Harry, Arthur, and Molly drifted into companionable silence as Mrs. Weasley finished preparing breakfast for the three of them. At last Harry gathered the courage to speak. “Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, if there is anything I can do to help today, please let me know. I realize there’s nothing I can do to make this any easier, but I’ll do anything that you need done.” “That’s sweet, son,” said Mrs. Weasley. “You’ve already done more for all of us than should ever have been asked of you. I hope you realize that, dear. You’ve also given us all something positive to look forward to.” Harry blushed furiously and could think of nothing to say. “Arthur says you and Ginny would like to have the wedding soon.” “We would, as long as you’re comfortable with it.” “Of course we are, dear,” she said, patting his arm. “Good morning, Mum … Dad,” said Percy as he entered the room, effectively ending the conversation. “Did you manage some sleep?” “A bit,” answered Arthur. “Same here,” continued Percy. “I let Bill and Fleur have my room, so I stayed with Charlie and George. We didn’t do much sleeping, but it gave George the chance to talk. He and Charlie fell asleep about an hour ago, so I thought it best to let them rest.” “That’s good,” said Molly. “It so nice to have you home, son.” As Percy entered into conversation with his parents, Harry took advantage of the opportunity to slip into the family room and settled into one of the comfortable wingback chairs. He carried with him Hermione’s copy of Hogwarts, A History that she had left in the kitchen. He checked his watch, seeing that it was not yet 7:00 a.m., and began to calculate exactly how little he had slept in the forty-eight hours that had elapsed since he, Ron, Hermione, and Griphook had set out from Shell Cottage. It was more than the human mind could readily accept, leaving Harry to wonder how they had done it all without even using a Time-Turner. As if beyond his control, Harry’s mind began a recitation of the events, beginning with the break-in at Gringotts. It was not something he wanted to repeat. It had been hard enough reliving everything with Ginny the preceding evening, so he forced his mind to focus on better things: the taste and feel of Ginny, the acceptance of her parents. However, this line of thought was almost as torturous as the first, for it made him hunger to be back in her bed, back where he belonged. So, in desperation, he opened the cover of Hogwarts, A History for the first time in his life. But before he could turn the cover page, the need for sleep overwhelmed him, and Harry drifted into a world populated only by blazing red hair and bright brown eyes. When at last Harry woke, his battered watch told him that it was nearly eleven o’clock in the morning. The ground floor was buzzing with wizards and witches, but not the one he most longed to see. Apparently Ginny had been serious about her intention of sleeping until noon. Arthur, Bill, and Fleur were gathered together by the front entry, and Percy was busily following his mother’s directions in the kitchen. “Molly,” called Arthur across the dwelling, “we’re off to the hilltop to meet the Delacours.” Harry recalled that Fleur’s family had arrived by Portkey the previous August to attend her marriage ceremony. He assumed that they would arrive in the same manner for Fred’s funeral but hoped that the similarities to that day would end with the arrival of the rest of the Delacour clan. At least he, Ron, and Hermione should not likely be forced to Disapparate from this family gathering. Voldemort was dead, Harry’s scar hadn’t burned for even a second since his nemesis had fallen, and he doubted that any of the surviving Death Eaters could have had a chance to reorganize as of yet. So Harry dared to hope that this Weasley family liturgy could be conducted in peace. Undoubtedly it was going to be terribly difficult on all of them to part forever from Fred, and especially difficult for Arthur, Molly, and George. “Merlin’s beard,” thought Harry, “Poor George! How in the world could George survive the loss of a constant companion who was not only his twin brother but also his best friend?” His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the Burrow’s front door. Molly hurried to answer it, mumbling audibly about how Arthur should be able to let himself in, and something about his predictable reaction to the arrival of women of Veela descent. But it was not the Delacour contingent that had been knocking. Instead, Molly greeted Alicia Spinnett, Katie Bell, and a distraught looking Angelina Johnson. Each of the young women was bearing a casserole dish brimming over with traditional English meals. It dawned on Harry that this would be the first funeral he would ever attend, other than Dumbledore’s, which could not have been a representative experience. He had been too young when his parents had been killed, and Sirius’ body had been consumed by the fluttering veil. “How strange,” he thought, “my life has been surrounded by death — defined by death — but I know nothing about funerals.” “Oh, my,” gasped Molly as she recognized the girls who had played on Fred and George’s Quidditch teams, “please come in.” “We thought you might not have time to cook, so we brought a little something for your family,” said Katie. “How kind of you,” replied Molly, obviously touched by the gesture. “Please come in, girls. I believe George is still upstairs, as is Ron, but Harry is right over in the family room.” The three young women waved cautiously in Harry’s direction before carrying their dishes over to the kitchen. For his part, Harry was pleased to see his former teammates but was surreptitiously cringing at the thought of having to answer detailed questions about what had happened during the Battle of Hogwarts and his final confrontation with Lord Voldemort. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione descended the stairs at that precise moment, hand in hand, and proved to be an adequate distraction. Moments later, the door swung open as Monsieur and Madame Delacour entered the Burrow along with their two daughters, Bill, and Mr. Weasley. Silently, each of the Delacours embraced Molly. Harry relaxed momentarily, thinking he might be allowed a few more minutes of solitude, but Gabrielle soon came over to the sofa and took a seat close to him. “So, ‘ello ‘Arry,” she said softly. “Hello, Gabrielle,” he answered. “How are you? Good year at Beauxbatons?” “Oui, but I understand you did not attend ‘Ogwarts.” “No. Hermione, Ron, and I spent the year working to destroy Voldemort. We weren’t able to go to school.” “But not Ginevre?” she asked with raised eyebrows. “No, Ginny went back to school, at least until Easter holidays.” A knock upon the Weasleys’ door distracted Harry momentarily, but Gabrielle’s attention had become even more intensely focused upon the young man who had once sacrificed a chance at winning the second task of the Tri-Wizard Tournament in order to ensure that she was not left at the bottom of the Black Lake. “Zen, you and Ginevre ‘ave stayed apart?” she inquired eagerly. “Not at all. In fact, Ginny and I are engaged,” Harry replied. “Engaged!” she exclaimed, practically screaming in surprise. Gabrielle’s outburst was timed to coincide perfectly with the arrival of Lee Jordan, Oliver Wood, Dean Thomas, and Luna Lovegood. “Engaged?” they asked, practically as one, and the force of their combined voices brought with it the attention of everyone else in the Burrow. Harry felt suddenly uncomfortable, not with the fact that his engagement to Ginny was rapidly becoming public knowledge, but out of a desire to maintain the focus of the day’s activities upon Fred Weasley and his grieving family — their grieving family. He hadn’t expected the news to slip out in quite this fashion, just as he had not anticipated that Ginny would hear that he loved her while he screamed at Ron. He looked across the room, finally locking eyes with Mrs. Weasley, fearful that she might resent the attention being shifted away from her son. Instead, his gaze was greeted with a tender smile. “Yes,” said Molly softly to the guests. “Harry and Ginny are to be married soon, though they haven’t set a date as of yet. We’re all delighted, of course, as I’m sure Fred would have been.” With that transition handled graciously by Mrs. Weasley, the focus of the guests returned immediately to the Weasleys, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief. ***** The moment she heard Gabrielle shouting the word “engaged” across the ground floor of the Burrow, Molly Weasley knew Harry would be mortified. In her opinion, never had so much attention been shined upon someone who sought it less, and she intended to protect her future son-in-law as if she was the mother who had been taken from him. So, she had said with a definitive edge to her voice: “Yes, Harry and Ginny are to be married soon, though they haven’t set a date as of yet. We’re all delighted, of course, as I’m sure Fred would have been.” Then, like the hostess she had so often been throughout her life, Molly greeted the latest group of four. While she had expected Lee and Angelina to attend the service, she had not anticipated that so many of Fred’s friends and classmates would be coming. She stopped for a moment to reflect on the situation and found she was grateful that the first group of young women had thought to bring food with them. The funeral was not scheduled to begin for almost four hours, and there were already more guests in her home than she had expected for the day. “Girls, would you mind if we served …” but Molly’s request was interrupted by another tapping at the front door. Molly watched as Percy stepped stiffly to the door and opened it to find Augusta Longbottom accompanied by her grandson, Neville, and a very pretty blue-eyed, blonde girl whose name she did not know. However, the fact that the young woman’s left arm was supported in a sling allowed Molly to recognize her as one of the students who had fought in the Battle of Hogwarts. “Hannah!” came Hermione’s voice from the staircase. “I didn’t know you were injured.” “Not too seriously. Anyway, Neville was there to pick me up and keep me safe,” she answered. Molly couldn’t help noticing that she was smiling adoringly at Neville despite the fact that she was talking to Hermione. Neville and the girl named Hannah made their way into the kitchen, walking directly up to Molly and Arthur. Neville was the first to speak. “Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, please allow me to introduce Miss Hannah Abbott.” “It’s nice to meet you, Hannah,” said Molly, a cloud of painful recognition passing across her face. “I’m so sorry about your mother, dear. It must have been such a terrible shock.” Hannah nodded silently, apparently at a loss for words. After swallowing deeply and batting back a few tears, she managed to reply, “I’m touched you would remember, Mrs. Weasley, especially now.” “We’ve all lost loved ones, my dear,” answered Molly. “It’s so kind of you to come … and a Hufflepuff …” “Fred was popular with people in all the houses,” replied Hannah, “as is George.” Molly suddenly found herself fighting back tears, touched by the knowledge that her son had made a positive impact upon many people, both at Hogwarts and in Diagon Alley. Arthur took notice of Molly’s reaction and gently slipped an arm around her shoulder. As she turned her attention back to the casserole dishes, Arthur cleared his throat. “Molly, dear, perhaps you should take it a bit easier.” “Nonsense,” she replied, “we have guests.” However, as she resumed her work in the kitchen, Molly Weasley noticed that her hands had resumed trembling. ***** Harry smiled as Hermione descended the stairs, followed closely by Ron. She had one hand trailing behind as she came downstairs, her fingers mingling gently with his. They came directly over to the sofa upon which Harry and Gabrielle were seated. “Good morning, Gabrielle,” said Hermione brightly. “Bon jour, ‘Ermione … Ronald,” answered Gabrielle. “ ‘Arry was just telling me of ‘is engagement to Ginevre.” “Speaking of Ginny,” said Harry, interrupting Gabrielle brusquely, “is she up yet, Hermione?” “Yes, but only just,” Hermione replied. “She seemed a bit knackered this morning.” “Well, I think we’re all a bit exhausted at this point,” said Harry, managing to keep a straight face despite the mirthful twinkle in Hermione’s eyes. “If you’ll excuse me, Gabrielle, I have a few things I need to cover with Ginny.” As Harry headed toward the staircase, he looked over his shoulder to see that Ron had taken his seat on the sofa as Hermione curled up on his knee. The couple was already in an animated discussion with Gabrielle, while Luna, Dean, Neville and Hannah had gathered around attentively. ***** As he reached the first floor landing, Harry came face to face with Ginny, who was clearly on her way to the bathroom. She gave him a soft smile and leaned against his shoulder, her arms filled with necessities. “I love you, Ginny,” he murmured softly against her ear, the words refusing to stay inside him. “God,” he moaned, “you’re going to get sick of me saying that, aren’t you?” “Never,” she whispered in return as tears fell from her eyes. “I’ll never be tired of hearing that you love me.” “Why the tears, love?” “Fred …” was all she could say before her towel and other toiletries fell to the floor and Ginny’s arms were flung fiercely around his neck. “I’m so sorry,” he said softly, knowing the words could do nothing to ease her pain. “Do you remember that day in the library when you wanted to contact Sirius?” she asked. “I play that moment over in my head more often that I’d like to admit.” “Do you remember what I said about growing up with Fred and George?” “Yes, that you began to think anything was possible,” Harry answered. “I never imagined the day when Fred would be gone forever. Dead … it just seems impossible,” she continued before breaking down into tears. Harry held her firmly as wracking sobs tore at her body. He had no idea what to say; what words could possibly help, so he poured all his love into their embrace — willing Ginny to feel every ounce of comfort he could provide. Before long, Harry’s cheeks were also covered in tears. The losses of so many people, most especially Fred, Tonks, and Lupin still stabbed at him like a knife, but this felt different somehow. His heart ached in a way it had never troubled him before, not even in his darkest hours of loneliness and despair. Then, as Ginny’s body lurched and she uttered an even louder sob, his ache grew more painful still. At last, Harry recognized that his heart was breaking not for himself, but for Ginny, and he realized in yet another way how Dumbledore had always been right — that love was, indeed, the greatest of all powers. How long they stood together on the first floor landing, Harry had no idea, but eventually they were interrupted by the emergence of Charlie and an ashen George. As they passed by, Harry was again at a loss for words, so he simply reached out and touched George on the shoulder. As a result of the physical connection, George looked up from the floor, upon which he had been focused, and he gazed momentarily at Harry. To his shock, Harry saw precious little more life in George’s eyes than he had seen in Fred’s moments after he had been killed. Harry became even more concerned when he realized that the only sign of life he had seen in George had been pain. Harry found himself again overwhelmed with emotion as he realized that while he was in love with Ginny, he had also come to love the entire Weasley family as his own. However, he knew it was not his place to fall apart, especially not on this particular day. Ginny needed his strength — his sense of purpose — and he was determined not to fail her. “Why did you come upstairs?” asked Ginny softly. “It’s a bit of a long story,” he answered. “Basically, Gabrielle planted herself next to me on the sofa and started asking if we were still apart. So I told her we were engaged, and she shouted it to the entire room full of people.” “Room full of people?” asked Ginny. “Yes … there’s quite a turnout developing. The Delacours are here, of course, but so are Neville, his grandmother, Hannah Abbott, Luna, Dean, Katie, Alicia and Angelina. Oh, I forgot Oliver Wood and Lee Jordan.” “That’s a room full of people,” Ginny agreed. “Well, your mum said something nice about our engagement and got the focus back on Fred. I figured that I was a distraction, so as soon as Hermione said you were awake, I decided to come up and get out of the way.” Ginny smiled gently at Harry and placed a palm softly against his shoulder. “Why don’t you wait in my room while I get cleaned up?” She leaned forward to give him a chaste kiss before walking to the bathroom. Harry gladly accepted her invitation and stepped into the solitude of her bedroom. He smiled as he looked at the picture of Gwenog Jones, confident that there would soon come a time when the rooms of young witches would be filled with posters bearing the caption, Ginny Weasley, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. He stopped in mid-thought to correct himself as the reality hit him that the posters would read, Ginny Potter, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. The thought temporarily drove all pain of loss from his mind. Hermione’s camp bed had been hastily assembled in the room, so Harry carefully wove his way across the crowded floor to the desk that sat in front of Ginny’s window. The thick envelope from Gringotts lay there waiting for him. The time was approaching noon, and the May sunshine and warm breezes were entering Ginny’s room through the open window. Harry reflected momentarily upon the weather and thought it might be more fitting had the day turned out cold and rainy, but then chastised himself for such morbid thinking. Certainly the Weasleys needed nothing to further darken their collective mood. He marveled at Molly’s determination to serve as hostess, rather than bereaved mother, although he noticed how her composure had begun to crack as more and more guests arrived. At last Harry’s attention returned to Ginny’s desk and the thick envelope made of fine parchment adorned with burgundy ribbon and matching wax seal. He slipped the index finger of his wand hand beneath the flap of the envelope and popped it open with care. The first page was an extraordinarily thick piece of parchment framed with an elaborate filigree of burgundy and gold and cut in a square to fit neatly inside the main envelope. The figures left Harry stunned and confused. GRINGOTTS BANK & TRUST - SUMMARY OF ACCOUNTS CASH ON HAND — 31 July 1997 Vault 687 Potter, Harry James, 100,000g, 11 s, 31 k Vault 17 Potter, James and Lily (D), 1,832,726 g, 7 s, 52 k Vault 34 Potter Family Trust, 105,389,262 g, 2 s, 17 k Vault 29 Black Family Trust #4, 237,509,189 g, 5 s, 30 k Vault 7 Peverell Family Trust #7, 14,887,415 g, 1 s, 67 k Total Cash 359,718,593 g, 9 s, 197 k JEWELRY Vault 17 Potter, James and Lily (D) Diamond and Ruby Ring, 17,287 g (appraised value) Gold and Ruby Ring, 3,308 g (appraised value) Ruby and Diamond Pendant, (11,805 g appraised value) Gold and Ruby Earrings, (5,207 g appraised value) REAL ESTATE Number 287 High Street, Godric’s Hollow 74,021 g (appraised value) Number 12 Grimmauld Place, London 254,851 g (appraised value) Chateau Peverell, Lac Annecy, France 12,812,376 g (appraised value) Potter Manor, Cornwall 9,684,271 g (appraised value) Plots 3 through 7 — Potter Family Garden 2,500 g (at cost) St. Andrew’s Church Cemetery Godric’s Hollow Plot 18 — Peverell’s Rest 500 g (at cost) St. Andrew’s Church Cemetery Godric’s Hollow Stuffed in the envelope was an assortment of ledgers and appraisals, none of which Harry found in the least bit interesting, for his eyes had fastened upon a smaller envelope made of fine pink parchment addressed simply to “Harry” in distinctively feminine handwriting. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he opened the envelope, trying not to tear or damage the precious paper in any way. He knew instinctively that the letter was from his mother. Our dearest son, Happy seventeenth birthday, Harry! If you are reading this letter, our greatest hopes have been fulfilled and you have lived to come of age! You are probably quite tired of our tradition of presenting you with letters on each of your birthdays, but we desperately want you to be continually assured of just how much we love you. I am fighting back tears as I write this letter, knowing that we may not be with you to share this momentous day in your life. However, if this letter reaches your hands, Voldemort will be dead or defeated and you will have survived against the greatest of odds. We pray earnestly that the accursed prophecy has had no impact upon your life. Know this, Harry, your father and I love you above all else in this world. Oh how we hope that these letters will have been unnecessary, and that we will have spent this most important day with you. I fear, however, that we will not. Dumbledore’s protections should be enough to protect us while at home, but James and I will have to continue fighting, and we fear that one or both of us may fall. Such is the way of war. But if we do perish, our lives will not have been given in vain if you, our son, have survived and Voldemort has not. We choose to work full-time in the Order of the Phoenix because we have no need for money and wish only to make the world a safer, better place for you. Again, I am filled with hope that we are spending this day with you and your brothers and sisters, and this letter will have been long ago destroyed, but logic tells me otherwise. Your father, wonderful man that he is, works tirelessly to bring down the powers of Darkness. We have thrice successfully defied him, as the prophecy states. Perhaps fate will continue to shine on us, but we cannot depend upon that for your future. For that reason, we have taken these steps and have prepared this, our final letter of love for you, our beloved son. We have entrusted this letter to the goblins of Gringotts because it will be accompanied by a statement of all the accounts and assets that become fully yours today. We take this step only to ensure that no act of jealousy will be made to deny you of what is rightfully yours. We are sure you will take steps to see that Petunia, Vernon, and your cousins are made whole financially for providing your care should the worst come to pass for James and me. All of our other letters, dealing solely with matters of the heart, will be given to you by my sister, whom I love as ever. While she may have lost affection for me, she will undoubtedly care for you as one of her own if that proves sadly necessary . As you will probably have guessed by now, you are one of the wealthiest wizards in Britain — perhaps in the entire world. We know you will use this wealth well. We offer no financial advice with the knowledge that your heart will guide you, as it should. We only pray that you will do as your father and his family have done for generations. Keep this information a secret, known only to you and, when the time comes, your chosen partner. Money is a blessing but can become a curse. Many generations have passed since the Peverell fortune was disseminated among many heirs, and there are few who realize the extent of your family’s wealth. Beyond Dumbledore and your godfather, only the goblins of Gringotts know the complete picture. Harry, your birth is the greatest gift that James and I have ever received. We love you beyond the power of words to describe. Oh how we hope that neither this letter, nor any of the precautions we have taken to ensure your safety, will have been necessary. But Voldemort is strong and gains more power every day. We would have been in more than enough danger had that prophecy not been made. Now that we know of it, and that Voldemort has taken it to mean that you are the only enemy who can ever defeat him, we would be utter fools not to do all we can to protect you. Again, the Fidelius Charm should protect us here in Godric’s Hollow; your father’s simplest, but most beloved of homes. Yet we cannot allow our friends to fight in our stead while we cower behind our protection. We must do what we can to protect our world and to give you a chance for a future free from fear and oppression. Your father is a great man, Harry. As a member of one of the oldest and most celebrated of pureblood families, James would be welcomed grandly by Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Instead, he has chosen to love me, a Muggle-born witch, and to fight against the evil which threatens to overpower all that is good. Always be proud that you are a Potter. If we live, it is my greatest dream to surround you with brothers and sisters. But for now we fight. All my love, Mum Appended to the letter was a short note written in a less delicate hand. My dearest son, Your wonderful mother has shown me this letter, and I can scarcely think of anything to add. She is, as always, perfect. Know always that we love you! Dad Harry moved the letter to the side of Ginny’s desk so his tears, which had begun falling freely, would not spoil the words that he had so longed to read throughout his entire life. His eyes repeatedly returned to one sentence: “You are probably quite tired of our tradition of presenting you with letters on each of your birthdays, but we desperately want you to be continually assured of just how much we love you.” Harry promised himself that once Fred was buried and the Weasleys were settled back into the Burrow, he would confront Aunt Petunia and claim the letters that she had unforgivably kept from him. Lost in his thoughts, Harry didn’t hear when Ginny returned to her room. However, he must have sensed her presence, for he relaxed the moment her soft hands settled gently upon his shoulders. “What’s wrong, love?” Ginny asked. Unable to form words, Harry reached for his mother’s letter and handed it to his fiancé. He had no desire to add to her burdens, especially not when her brother was about to be buried, but he had no choice. This was something she needed to see, and no delay could be acceptable. Harry watched as Ginny read the letter is silence, tears gathering in her remarkable brown eyes from the very beginning. She read slowly, and Harry knew she was taking in the full meaning of every word. At last she returned the letter to the desk and draped herself over his still seated form. “Oh, Harry, how could that awful woman have hidden your mum’s letters from you?” He melted into her, completely unsurprised that Ginny understood without explanation what had hurt him so deeply. After his emotions were finally under control, Harry rose from the desk and handed the Gringotts statement to Ginny. “You need to see this,” he whispered. Ginny’s eyes swept over the document, a small gasp escaping from her lips as she completed her review of the fortune that had come to Harry. “This is yours, Harry,” she said calmly, “you don’t need to show this to me.” “No, it’s ours, love,” Harry replied. “I don’t want this, Harry. It’s your money, and I’ll sign anything I have to make it clear that this is yours. Wizarding law allows for pre-nuptial agreements.” “No!” Harry repeated, more forcefully than he had intended. He calmed himself and continued, “I went to a Muggle wedding once with the Dursleys. I don’t remember much about it other than one line, when the groom turned to the bride and said ‘With all that I am and all that I have, I honor you.’ That is precisely how I intend to live my life, Ginny — honoring you with all that I am and all that I have.” Harry took her gently into his arms and held her lovingly, willing her to understand exactly what she meant to him, silently begging for her to see how he meant for their lives to be. So they stood together, locked in a silent embrace until a couple of desires took shape in Harry’s mind. “Ginny?” he asked quietly. “Would you think about two ideas I have?” She nodded wordlessly, her lovely eyes still watering, although her tears had ceased to fall. “I’d like to create an orphanage that will provide properly for children who have lost their parents — give them a proper home. I want to keep children from suffering the fate I had to endure, worse yet, the kind of existence that turned Tom Riddle into the heartless monster he became.” “That sounds wonderful, Harry. But you said you had two ideas,” she prodded him gently, seeing that he was reluctant to give voice to the second subject. “I want to bury Professor Snape at Godric’s Hollow.” |
| Reviews 188 |
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